#and unlike them i am not a shoot now ask questions later sort

[kinserresnik]

Man, the 'creative' part of the Ghost fandom is a mess, I’ll tell ya that much.

Kids, FYI :

Just because you accuse people of fatphobia when they don't draw Aether 50 pounds heavier than the actual man (Chris Catalyst) doesn't actually make them fatphobic; it usually makes YOU fatphobic.

And just because you accuse people of racism when they don't make Swiss, frankly, a caricature of a stereotypical black man doesn't make them racist; it usually makes YOU racist, especially if you can’t even be bothered to remember that the actual man (Justin 'Jutty' Taylor)  is bi-racial.

Put your pitchforks away now, they’re very dangerous to children afterall- and actually TALK first rather than rally your posse into defending the fight you started. This isn’t a 13 Reasons Why cosplay convention. ^^

You haven’t just jailed a pedophile with your own two mitts. Most of ya’ll didn’t do a damn besides drag your own posterior into the open cause fact is, your have somehow forced the actual men behind the masks into your own projections.

Aether/Chris is NOT fat, don’t be so rude as to insinuate he is. Meatier and shapely does not = fat.

And how dare anyone who preaches about race and inclusion try to erase and invalidate all the heritages that Jutty hails from and associates with in the same breath. Stop chit chatting about ‘inclusion’ if you can’t get his race straight.

Look in the mirror first before you drag people through the dirt. You’re mortal. And your shit stinks worse than the people you’re witch hunting. <3

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Please I’m begging you on my hands and knees please elaborate on Luis and Ada being foils

I am SO happy that someone finally asked me to talk about this I know I asked you to ask me I love you so much thank you because once I had this realisation it made me love both of their characters - and the re4 remake as a whole - so much more than I already did.

Explanation below the cut:

So first lemme define what a foil is when it comes to characters, not because I think you personally don't know Wilfred but in case anyone's reading this and wondering why I'm calling these characters aluminum wrap. I'm not, I promise it's a real narrative device. A literary foil is "a character whose purpose is to accentuate or draw attention to the qualities of another character". Essentially, a foil requires two characters to be identified, and they exist to contrast, reflect, or exist in an opposite way to their co-foil so as to highlight the other character's weaknesses, strengths, and personality. However, they are often also very similar in technical ways, and thus their behaviours and/or quirks that set them apart show the audience how some things just work for one character but not the other. Think of it like an inverted image, how some details look better in negative space but worse in positive space. This is true of narrative foils. In the remake of Resident Evil 4, Luis is written as a literary foil to Ada.

We first meet Ada in re2, and she's introduced as this mysterious woman who claims to be of the FBI but reveals no further details about herself. We as the audience/player behind Leon have to trust her to get to where we need to go, and she proves herself worthy of that trust. Leon doesn't question why she's helping him, because he believes that she really is FBI and that helping people is her job. He doesn't know her goal, but he's willing to help, and receive her help. However, at the end of re2, we find out that she's actually not FBI, that she was using that as a cover and she is actually a mercenary and spy, whose goal was to acquire a sample of the harmful G-virus and bring it to Wesker who was obviously going to use it for nefarious purposes, and she knew that. Leon (the audience) doesn't know this until the very end.

We first meet Luis in re4. Now in the original, he barely had any substance as a character, and his personality was simply an expression of cultural stereotypes and misogyny, masked under "charming flamboyance". In the remake, however, Luis does have substance as a character. We not only get more out of his personality, but we now know his goals, his flaws, and his interests. And just like Ada, he is a mysterious character with a dark past that led to him making bad decisions and aligning himself with bad people. However, the difference between them and the beginning of what sets them up as foils is that Leon (the audience) finds all of this out about Luis almost immediately. Unlike with Ada, where Leon took her word and went the entire game believing what she said, Leon was sceptical of Luis and had Hunnigan look him up - and sure enough, Hunnigan was able to find all sorts of information on Luis, despite Luis actively trying to make that information as well as himself untraceable. So rather than having the audience trust Luis outright like we did with Ada, and then having that trust threatened when we learn who she is later one, we learn who Luis is immediately, setting him up as someone who we should be sceptical of.

With Ada, by giving us a character to trust and see good in for an entire game only to end it with the reveal that she's actually working for the "bad guys", we are led to think that all of her actions up to that point were fake, that she was simply putting on a cover of kindness and care for Leon. And of course that's the wrong idea, as she clearly does care for him, which we see when he stupidly dares her to shoot him. And she refuses. IDK, even if I loved Leon, I would've shot him then just because he was being a cocky shit about it, but Ada is certainly stronger than me. Ada's actions prior to us finding out who she really is now are tainted, and we're led to see her actions as that of a facade. Adversely, with Luis, by giving us a character who's bad past we know outright and repeatedly meet up with throughout the game, we are led to see all of his actions from that point on as acts of redemption.

We first see Ada as a Good character and therefore all of her actions are that of someone just being herself, but with Luis we first see him as a Bad character, and therefore all of his actions are that of someone who must redeem himself. However, they are both very similar characters; but in the way the stories introduced them to us, and in the order they revealed information about these two characters to us, the narrative influences how we see these characters. Imagine if we had gone the entire game not knowing Luis used to work for Umbrella, thinking he was just Some Guy who happened to live in this village. Leon most definitely would have trusted him much quicker. But that 'Umbrella' background being the first real thing we learn about Luis means that his dark past will always be on our minds when we see him next. And it makes sense to us, given the events of re2, that Leon wouldn't trust Luis, even if the audience does. (Same with Ada; the audience could be distrusting of her, but narratively we see why Leon would've trusted her implicitly in re2.)

Both Luis and Ada are mysterious characters whose real moral alignment we are uncertain of for almost the entirety of their games. Both Luis and Ada tell lies to protect themselves or their cover. Both Luis and Ada withhold information they either feel too ashamed to admit or can't admit, again, to protect their cover. Both Luis and Ada - specifically in re4r - have a recurring theme of change. They both speak to Leon about people changing. They both show their own relationships with change. And yet, their endings are vastly different.

Where Ada withholds information and succeeds, Luis withholds information and is found out by Hunnigan. Where Ada can double cross Wesker and escape, Luis attempts to double cross Los Iluminados and gets found out and captured, which is how we meet him. Where Ada gains Leon's trust almost immediately and loses it at the end, Luis doesn't gain Leon's trust until the very end. Even when Leon shows situational trust in him - accepting Luis's help in the safe house, agreeing to partner with him to get the suppressant for the plaga for Ashley - he still doesn't trust Luis's motives, his goal, or even his character. Leon constantly questions Luis throughout their interactions, unwilling to believe this man would help them unless he had some ulterior motive.

That brings back up the theme of change. Luis asks Leon if he thinks people can change, and then Leon asks Ada if she has changed. Luis's death scene could very well be the first time - or at least, the first significant time - Leon has been forced to confront the idea that people change. His confusion regarding Luis's real motives the entire time as a result of learning that Luis used to work for Umbrella seems to be proof enough to Luis that Leon does not see him as someone who has changed, even though Luis desperately wants that to be seen. Adversely, Leon desperately wants to see some proof that Ada has changed, that she's not using him. He's learned from Luis, but he's stumped by his own personal lack of change. Leon doesn't understand how to identify that kind of change in someone; or at the very least, he doesn't know how to voice it. Ada replies "what do you think?", and this could be passed off as her usual way of avoiding the truth, but really she's asking him "Are you even able to know if I've changed? Did you ever pay attention to who I am, or did you lose sight of my character as soon as you learned something bad about me? Have I changed, or has your perception of me changed? Can I change to you if you never really knew me at all? What do you think about how people change?" (And I love this about her.) Luis is Ada's foil because the way Leon perceived Luis's change was so abrupt that now Leon is looking for change in everyone, even himself. And where Luis doubts himself and has to ask Leon - as he's dying - if Leon thinks people can change, Ada is sure of it.

And of course I have to add some serennedy in this. As @thebrokengate kindly mentioned, the dynamics between Leon and Ada, and Leon and Luis, are opposite. Leon trusts Ada and then that trust is broken; Leon doesn't trust Luis, and then that trust is earned, but too late. Luis isn't just a foil for Ada, but his relationship with Leon is also a foil for Ada's. We see where Luis fails in ways that Ada succeeded when it comes to their characters; but when it comes to their relationship with Leon, Luis succeeds where Ada failed. And it makes his death even more devastating as he had the potential to go further with Leon than Ada could, but he was killed, leaving Leon alone regardless. In both instances, Leon lost someone who affected him personally; but where one was lost with trust broken, the other was lost with their life taken.

Again, by giving us Ada's personality first and her background last, we soften up to her as a character before having to question everything we thought we knew about her, as who we find out she is contradicts what her actions have been. However, by giving us Luis's background first and his personality last, we start out sceptical of him, and when his actions contradict what we found out about who he is, we forgive him. I'll also take this opportunity to point out the misogyny in this fandom, as many fans still dislike Ada or believe her to be a bad person, when they love Luis. in many ways, they are the same character. We were just given details about them in a different order that influenced how we perceive their actions.

[seefullforecast]

D.M

Captivatingly Reckless

Draco x oc

Part 1 Nott manor

☀︎☽☁︎⭐︎

They had both arrived to an evening at the Nott's home along with a handful of other families. The excuse was a send off to the children leaving for school again in a few days when in actual fact they would be neglected and forgotten about all night. Flora found this to be her favourite of all the outings her mother would drag her to. Theodore Nott was her age also, they were in the same house at Hogwarts, both going into their fifth years and Merlin they could make each other laugh. Flora and Theo would gravitate towards each other during these little get togethers to people watch. 

"Oh honestly Flora I am quite astonished!" Theo chuckled as some of his drink splashed due to his careless and over exaggerated arm gestures. 

"You can stop with the posh voice, no one is around to listen to us Theo." Flora rolled her eyes recalling the countless times she would trick him into thinking his father was approaching the two of them in the midst of their commentaries. "Besides the Attwoods need all the fashion advice they can get. Surely you can only turn so many animals into scarves, it's just barbaric." 

At this point Flora had propped her feet onto the chaise lounge along side Theo who was starting to get more comfortable. He hated these parties, they put him on edge and he couldn't stand when his father held them.

"Yeah well neither of us need to be getting an earful later tonight for speaking out of turn, or falling asleep!" Theo nudged the girl now pretending to snore. 

"Theo it's that posh boy voice, it just drones on and then next thing I know..." Flora snored loudly again to receive a hard nudge almost sending her to the floor. 

"Okay okay whatever, you're just jealous I can turn mine off and speak normally. You're stuck sounding like that forever. Before we know it you'll have a fluffy little woodland creature sitting around your neck." Theo referred to the fashion faux pas Mrs Attwood adorned and prodded at his friend to which she slapped his hand away.

"On to more pressing news however, Elise told me Pansy was asking after you. Maybe she has finally moved her sights from Malfoy to yourself Mr Nott." Flora teased Theo fully aware of the disdain the two of them held for the pug faced girl. 

"We both know your bestie Elise likes to gossip and exaggerate things though don't we Flower. And let's be honest the day pug face stops fawning over Malfoy will be the same day Trelawney actually predicts something!" A snort escaped him as he mulled over his own words.

"Don't shoot the messenger. Parkinson is probably just covering her back for when Malfoy finally caves and rejects her outright. She will need a new target, that's what leaches do they suck all of your energy and you happen to be in her line of sight behind Malfoy." Flora stated matter of factly shooting a pointed look to Theo almost warningly.

"You two already that bored that you've resorted to talking about yours truly?" A new voice drawled out startling the two. Platinum blonde hair came into view. It had grown since the last time Flora seen him. He was taller too but he still looked as pristine as ever and unlike Theo's, his shirt was still tucked in neatly.

"Ah speak of the devil and he shall appear!" Theo theatrically sang making Flora giggle and Draco playfully roll his eyes. 

Draco often found the two in a corner at these sort of functions. They never really mingled around the room. Now Draco wouldn't go as far as to say he was jealous but whilst those two could sit and chat all night to each other, his parents would showcase him to any and everyone they could find and make him converse with people he had never met. So indeed he was jealous.

"Manage to sneak away then Malfoy?" Theo questioned as Malfoy only ever seemed to talk to them for a few moments at these parties before he was back to working the room. 

"If so then you really did a horrid job because here comes your mother now with mine close behind." Flora grumbled clearly agitated as her and Theo stood up straightening their postures. 

In a moment of realisation Flora also quickly grabbed hers and Theo's glasses and discarded them on a table behind them to which Draco sent a knowing look. Flora shrugged at him and the three of them put on wide smiles simultaneously. 

Lilian Dalton and Narcissa Malfoy had been acquainted for quite some time and would often write to one another. Flora couldn't tell if they were actually friends or whether they simply kept each other company. It was clear the two didn't have many other people to turn to for solace. 

"My look at you three, you all look lovely all dressed up!" Narcissa beamed at the small group that were already starting to grow taller than their parents. Draco sent a smirk to Theo and Flora who were mumbling small thank yous. 

"Oh Draco your Mother has been telling me all about how your studies are coming along. I must say how lovely it is to hear of such excellent work." Lilian's words whether she intended it or not were icy to Flora but her smile did not falter. 

"Yes indeed I also mentioned to Lilian about how well you..." At Narcissa's input both Theo and Flora found an escape to slip away whilst the attention was on the Slytherin Prince himself. Flora thought it to be the one time she had ever been grateful for his presence. The two scurried off but not before she quickly turned back to mouth a 'sorry' and give the boy a small shrug knowing he was now outnumbered.  

Draco watched them both leave and perch themselves across the other side of the room where Mrs Attwood was now making her way towards unbeknownst to them. His line of sight drifted from his mother directly in front of him to Flora and Theo as the night went on. He couldn't seem to find an exit in the conversation. 

At this point the party was dwindling down to an end and Draco and his mother were merely waiting for his father and Mr Nott to return from the upstairs study. Lilian Dalton wouldn't leave until Narcissa did so that meant during this entire time Draco could see Flora and Theo in fits of laughter in the far corner. For some reason Theo was now wrapping a dead fox scarf around an unimpressed Flora which had him doubled over clutching his stomach. At least Elise Campbell wasn't here, the three of them would've been wrecking havoc by this point. Most likely in a strategic manner to end the dreaded evening sooner. 

"So whatever are the plans for this year Flora? The papers say Potter avoided expulsion in the end after his hearing. Fancy that, he can defeat The Dark Lord as a mere baby but struggles to make it all the way through school." Theo was now sloshing around a new drink he had picked up from somewhere and was tugging Flora to sit by him near the fire after escaping Mrs Attwood. 

"You know this is the last place we should be speaking of such topics." Flora became all too aware of some of the guests within the room. She was also aware of the select few who had left sometime ago upstairs and were yet to return, Theo's father included. 

"Besides I think what you really want to ask me is however do you catch the attention of a girl, now you have Parkinson on your tail. If you could call her a girl, I see her as more of a demon sent to bring misery to our lives." Flora held a hand to her heart to show she was there for him when he needed the girl advice he clearly wasn't about to seek out anytime soon. 

"Oh is that right Flower? I'll make sure to send pug face your way then the next time I see her since you deal with her so well, best of friends you two." His sarcastic lopsided grin earned him a playful shove but Flora's expression warned him of the severity of his words. 

"She may be horrid but she certainly does not compare to this oaf I know. Oh what was his name? Leo? No Rio? Whatever it was, this boy..." 

"Is devilishly handsome, a comedic genius, the sun of your universe that you revolve around?!" Theo interrupted before any insults could be thrown his way. 

"He wishes! No, this boy can really throw a temper tantrum like none you've ever seen." Theo was already rolling his eyes at Flora's exaggerated arm movements and mocking voice, and she was trying to say he was the dramatic one. "I remember on one occasion he refused to leave the common room to go on the Hogsmeade trip because it was raining!" This earned her an exasperated groan in response from him as he hated any time she brought this up.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you, I had a pumpkin pasty that just didn't agree with me." His eyes grew distant as he shuddered at memories that seemed to haunt him.

"Merlin forbid anyone cross you when you're not feeling your best. You really did shout at me for suggesting it wasn't the pasty but rather you didn't want to get your hair wet." Flora took a large swig of her drink and looked to the fire that was still going strong. Although she loved talking with Theo, she really was tired.

Mesmerised with the flames before her, she yawned. 

"That boring am I?" Theo had turned his head towards her, it still resting on the large armchair. The glow of the fire illuminated his face. Flora could also see his heavy eyes and hoped this meant it was getting late and the party would end soon.

"I should go find my mother, should be leaving soon." He gave her an understanding nod. The two stood and faced each other neither knowing whether to hug one another or shake hands but resulted in a simple high five before departing ways. There was no need for proper goodbyes as they would see each other soon at school. 

In no time at all Flora had spotted her mother over next to the door where herself and all three of the Malfoys were putting their coats on. 

"Ah there you are Flora, where on earth have you been?" Lilian hushed her voice slightly as she passed her daughter her coat. 

"Just keeping up appearances mother, just how you like it." This elicited a tut from her mother and a secret grin from Draco who found it amusing to watch their little squabble. He liked seeing it wasn't just his parents that were overbearing. 

"Well Lilian as always it has been a pleasure." Lucius graciously bid his farewell followed by a hug from Narcissa and a promise to write soon to her.

"And you write to me also while you're at school. It feels like you and Draco have grown so quickly, where has the time went." Flora's eyes darted to him where he seemed to be in a similar situation with her own mother. Narcissa squeezed Flora's arms before bringing her into a quick hug. 

"I shall don't worry." Lilian and Flora gave one last farewell to the three Malfoys before all of them disapparated out of the Nott home. 

☀︎☽☁︎⭐︎

Like most nights, Draco was writing in his journal upon returning home. His thoughts still lingered on the party as he tried to recall the names and faces of new people he met. It would be embarrassing for his family if he was to mix any of them up the next time he seen them. 

Minor things like remembering names seemed futile now. He felt the change that was happening, something much bigger than him or anything he could imagine. Draco wasn't stupid. He was certain it had everything to do with Harry Potter supposedly encountering the Dark Lord during the Triwizard Tournament last year. Whatever was around the corner seemed to have his mother in a constant state of worry and had his father locked away in his study all too often. 

To Draco family meant everything and that was something his mother had taught him from such a young age. She would tell him he could have anything and everything he wanted but none of it would mean anything if he wasn't with the ones he loved. Draco was sure he loved his family or at least was certain he would be upset if anything was to happen to any of them. That's what love is, isn't it? 

"Draco." His mother quietly called with a single knock already pushing his bedroom door slightly ajar. He quickly threw shut his journal and lost it amongst his bed covers. "You're still awake I see."

"You aswell." He nodded towards her as she sat herself down on the edge of his bed. She looked around his room before her eyes finally landed on her son.

"It was nice to see you with your friends tonight." She spoke as if she was trying to find anything at all to say.

"We only spoke a short time mother. The three of us aren't that close." He explained but her reaction was only of confusion. 

"You have all known each other all your lives, I find that hard to believe." Narcissa was always so sure of Draco but he was growing up quickly. Too quickly she feared. 

He was her only child and it was important she knew him. She never wanted him to think she didn't care because that would be far from the truth. She probably loved him too much that it was all she was capable of. Some nights when he was away at school she couldn't sleep because she was so filled with dread. That was because she knew what was looming. Draco may have had his suspicions but never would he come close to the actual fact of the matter. 

"Theo and Flora seem like much better company than, who is it again, Gregory and Vincent?" Narcissa had met Crabbe and Goyle a handful of times. She would struggle to tell you anymore about the two other than their names for truly they seemed to be quite frankly dull.

"Crabbe and Goyle are my friends mother, what is this about?" Draco suddenly became curious why he was being questioned of the company he kept so late at night and so close to returning to Hogwarts.

"Nothing dear honest." She sweetly smiled. "Just if anything, promise to make more of an effort with others this school year. Good friends are so important. And Flora's a lovely girl, we wouldn't want her getting into any trouble. Her mother has been telling me she's been turning into a bit of a handful as of late." Narcissa was a smart woman. She wanted Draco to be supported in every aspect of his life. His destiny was out of her hands but so help her she would do anything in her power to protect him. 

"Are you trying to ask me to spy on Flora this year so you can report back to her mother?" Draco was simply baffled and couldn't understand what his mother was trying to say to him.

"No of course not don't be silly" she began "I'm looking out for you Draco. People like Flora Dalton and Theodore Nott, you want them in your life. They're the kind of people that will have your back..."

"Crabbe and Goyle have always had my back!" Draco sharply interjected.

"But they will also be honest with you and tell you what you need to hear even if you don't want to." Narcissa finished as if he hadn't even interrupted her. "I'm not saying to betray the friends you have now but simply to consider what may be best for you."

That was not the first time in his life Draco had heard such similar words. He was always being told to sacrifice what he was comfortable with to instead endure what would make him, more importantly his family, look good. 

Draco's mother left him with his thoughts and the memory of her saddened smile. He could never truly think back on a time when he saw his mother happy. Draco feared this was what kind of life awaited him in the future and dreaded never escaping from it. 

He considered his mother's suggestions and continued writing in his journal as if to find the answers within the pages if he wrote enough. 

☀︎☽☁︎⭐︎

Read Part 2

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Con Man's Daughter

Posting this because there isn't enough biodad! John Constantine content.

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

-----

I feel like this should be a Damianette story or just platonic relationship after Jon got aged-up to seventeen and Damian wanted a friend his age but doesn’t want to admit it.

So basically there is this big bad in Gotham using magic that Batman was fighting at the time and enlisted John Constantine to help out.

John realizes that the villain is using a Miraculous.

“Oh. I think I know how he gets his powers. And lucky for you, Bats, I know an expert on this special brand of magic.”

And he did the smart thing and called up Marinette who at the time was already Guardian and was looking for other lost Miraculouses like in the Treasure Hunter AU I wrote.

He calls her at a really bad time. She was in the process of being chased by the guardians of the place. Monsters and evil spirits.

“Hello, Dad. What do you need and can you do it quickly?”

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s me. How is my little cupcake up to these days?”

“You called at a bad time.” Gunshots.

“WAS THAT A GUN I HEARD? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOUNG LADY?!”

“Somewhere in Japan. Getting a Miraculous. And why can’t you call me to check in on me and not ask me to help you with whatever mess you got yourself into.” More gunshots sounds and it was telling that Marinette was using a gun.

“Where did you get a gun? And don’t you have school?”

“It’s summer break. Don’t worry Maman and Papa know. Well, the fact that I am in Japan anyways.” Marinette sounded a little out of breath. Roaring and horrifying sounds at the other end. “Can we do this later?”

“As it happens, there is a villain going around Gotham with what I think is a Miraculous.”

Swears on the other end.

“Oi. Watch your fucking language, young lady.”

“How about a No and move the fuck back, old man. I am coming over right now.”

“Old man? I am not that old-” as a magic blue portal opens up in the Bat Cave.

And a red Chinese dragon comes out with someone riding it.

Its rider was a black-haired girl. She had a trench coat similar to Constantine's. I imagine her with a fedora. Like Carmen Sandiego style but not red. Sometimes red but only when she has to steal it from a museum or high security places and she leaves a name card with the name Carmen Sandiego. A sword strapped to her back and a dagger to her thigh.

She had a gun in her hand which she used to shoot the monsters as it was halfway through the portal and yelled out the spell to close it.

“Brilliant entrance but you are in lots of trouble, little lady. What were you thinking about going to another country unsupervised? And isn’t there still a butterfly problem in Paris?”

“One, I wasn’t unsupervised. I had Tikki, a billion years old being and a sort of god. Two.Well, it got boring trying to track Hawk-bitch down. And I found this legend about a guy with a Miraculous who disappeared in the temple and thought hey, more miraculous could mean another edge to defeating Moth-man.”

More bickering and John grounding Marinette who was acting very nonchalant about it.

Okay, at this point, I should say that Batman and Robin are in the background trying to make some sense.

Batman is surprised to find out that Constantine has a daughter who is also involved in magic like her Father but an apparently more specialised kind called the Miraculous. He is a little miffed that he didn’t know about John having a daughter. He did consider it weird at first that she had a slight french accent unlike her father’s Liverpool accent although she pronounced some words like he does.

He also connected some dots that she is also the Parisian heroine, Lady Rouge who Wonder Woman introduced to the League a while back and had declined to join the Young Justice or Teen Titans until everything in Paris was resolved.

Damian on the other hand was suspicious of the new arrival and came to the same conclusion as his father about the daughter thing.

Batman after a few minutes, clears his throat.

The Constantines stop arguing.

“Bonjour. Batman. Robin. Pleasure to meet you. I am Mari Constantine and yes, I am this homeless looking man’s brilliant daughter.” “Hey”

“Well, Mari. Your father thinks you can help us with this new criminal turning Gotham upside down. Literally in some cases. He said that you might be able to help us.” Batman said as he pulled up zoomed in picture of the Miraculous.

Mari looks through the Miraculous grimoire and tells them all about it and power-ups, basically the most effective thing to defeat the guy is to get the Miraculous off them. Plus a spell that would make the Miraculous ineffective if casted within a certain radius of it.

“Thank you for the information, Mari. Constantine, let’s go.”

Mari made to follow them.

“You young lady are grounded and staying here.”

“I don’t need another supervillain using the Miraculous which are my responsibility as Guardian to retrieve them for their own misuse and wreaking havoc on the city. And what if there is an akuma in Paris? I can’t go there if I am grounded in the Batcave although it is a cool place to hang out.”

“You can portal back to Paris but you are not going to follow me. Understood?”

“yes. crystal”

“Good. After me and Batsy get the Miraculous, you can do your Guardian duties.”

Damian snickers. Until Batman cut his mood short, “You are staying behind too. Robin.”

“But Father, why? I am much more capable than Constantine.”

“Hey!” Both father and daughter.

Damian is staying behind too because of the Miraculous power or other reasons and keeps an eye on Mari.

Damian stays behind and there were some protests about mari mad about having a babysitter and Damian doesn’t want to be a babysitter. Despite the two of them being around the same age.

“I got an eye on you so no funny business.”

“Okay, Dad, I am not going to have sex with Robin.” Mari said with a shit- eating grin. Robin definitely didn’t blush.

“I hate you sometimes.”

“I love you too, Dad. Go save the world. Byee.”

John eyes her suspiciously because she is not one to give up that easily usually.

He casts a spell to watch her as they leave. and which she totally knew about.

“So...I have one question.”

“Tt, ask and don’t bother me anymore.”

“Is Batman Bruce Wayne?”

Damian looks up, totally caught off guard.

“I am going to take that as a yes.”

Puts sword at her neck. “How did you find out?!”

“Opened up Google Maps and saw that we are under Wayne Manor. Connected the dots. Also I already knew when Dad made a bet with me once to find out Batman’s secret identity but he never did confirm it for me. And can you please not tell your father about this? I don’t feel like being interrogated by the Bat in the future yet.”

“Father must know about this.”

“I saw you looking at Scarlet here. An animal lover then? You can give her some belly rubs. She deserves it after helping me outrun those monsters.”

His silence was brought. To pet a dragon.

One thing after another and he ends up bringing out his pets-Jerry the turkey, Goliath the dragon-bat, Titus- and her introducing him to her other pets like a hellhound, griffin and other mythical creatures who mostly roam free but come to her when she calls for them and also the kwamis, at least the ones who came with her.

After 30 mins have passed, “So Robin how do you feel about disobeying our fathers?”

“I am in.”

“Depends. Are we going after the (villain's name) ?”

“Yes.”

Awesome montage of them getting rid of the spell John casted and flying out of the Batcave on their respective giant flying pets to the villain’s base.

Meanwhile, their fathers are not doing so well and are trapped in a death trap. John can’t say the spell because the villain made him unable to talk.

“At least, the kids are staying put.”

Cut to Damian and Mari jumping off their pets and onto the roof. Taking out the guards posted there and going into the building all sneakily and also taking out the guards that come their way.

They dropped into the room where their fathers and the villain is.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Villain starts an evil monologue about his mastermind plan to which Damian cuts it short by trying to cut him down with his katana. Mari goes to deactivate the death trap.

They are evenly matched with Damian’s training and the Miraculous.

Mari steps in as Damian was about to be killed. Taps on the shoulder of the villain and when he turns around, gives an awesome right hook that knocks him out.

Takes away the Miraculous and curses him. Wiped the dude’s memories of it.

“When I said stay in the Batcave, I meant stay behind at the Batcave. What point of being grounded, don’t you understand?”

“You mean, Oh, Mari, light of my life, my wonderful daughter, thank you for saving my ass. You are the best.’ by that, right?”

-----

Mari and Damian exchanged numbers and email addresses.

As she was about to leave the Batcave, “It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Wayne.” and leaves with a wink.

John ‘ungrounds’ her for the look on Batman’s face.

-----

After this, Marinette and Damian become friends who bitch and vent to each other about their alter egos and various villains of their respective cities. (In codes, just in case) They also share updates about their pets and love of drawings.

They have that type of friendship where they trade favors. Mari calls Damian to Paris sometimes to help out with the akuma of the day and Damian sometimes calls her in when Bruce doesn’t let him go investigate a case so he can sneak out by magical means or as back up for when his brothers were too annoying to deal with.

It’s summer break so no missing school.

John and Bruce are aware of their friendship and some of the shenanigans the pair gets into behind their back.

-----

-----

Right. how this all started...

John and Sabine first met when the latter was still in college somewhere in France. John was tracking down a demonic entity which was targeting Sabine for some reason and she was the next target.

John saved her life and exorcised the demon. There was a heat of the moment thing and they had a one-night stand. There were a few more flings and hook-ups after that night.

And nine months later, Marinette Cheryl Cheng-Constantine was born.

When Sabine first found out, she called John to come over and he thought that it was a call for another hook-up and was very surprised to find out that it was not and that he was going to be a father.

They both like each other but do not want to be in a relationship together so they both remained as friends and John agreed after some strong-arming at the very least to meet his daughter before he goes to do his job. And pay for child support. And help Sabine during her pregnancy.

Pregnant Sabine was someone you don’t want to mess with. And John has never met a demon or anyone scarier than her.

He was at first not into meeting his child and there was a self-pity party he threw himself with how the child was going to live a bad life because he was the dad and how he destroyed every good thing in his life.

That’s why he is going to meet the baby once and leave maybe a letter and the occasional birthday present and stay out of their life. Forever.

The day Marinette was born and it took one look into her eyes for the HellBlazer to fall under the spell and all of his plans to stay out of her life to burn away.

At first, he tried. He really tried but he couldn’t do it.

Lasted 4 months before he came back, wanting to place protection spells on her and sigils around the house to keep away the forces of Heaven and Hell and other entities so they won’t use her against him as a bargaining chip.

Sabine calls him to babysit. He could have refused and Sabine would have easily found a babysitter. He moans and whines about how he is a great mage and not a bloody babysitter. Sabine retorts that it is actually called parenting since he is Marinette’s father. He grumbles but in the end, agrees.

The great John Constantine is wrapped around the little girl’s finger.

He was around for some of Marinette’s firsts. Her first word was “John”.

It made him cry. He wasn’t a good man and he doesn’t deserve someone this precious. His daughter doesn’t deserve someone like him as a father but fate made it that way and what can you do about it.

After an exhausting week of doing the usual and coming back from Hell, he saw that Sabine had sent him a video. It was Marinette taking her first steps.

Chas swears that in all the years that he has known John Constantine he has never seen the man look so happy.

------

When Tom came into the picture, John was there to take care of a toddler Marinette while Tom and Sabine went on dates.

Insert John threatening a much bigger Tom while holding a baby Marinette with wide eyes and hugging a teddy bear with the same coat as John’s. (It was something Sabine brought on a whim and to tease John when he came around.)

Tom is supportive and treats Marinette like his own flesh and blood.

John resolved to leave for good now that Tom would be there to be a father figure for Marinette.

That plan fell into the drain the moment he was going to leave for what was supposed to be the last time before Sabine pulled him back and knocked some sense into him.

His face was a big giveaway. Sabine knows that despite his claims of being a terrible father for Marinette, he was a good one and damnit she was going to make sure that Marinette would get to know her actual father.

Tom later made an awkward talk with John about how he was not going to replace John’s role as Marinette’s father.

Marinette was the flower girl at Tom and Sabine’s wedding. John was there too.

During bedtime, John would read her stories and use his magic to make it come to life. Although he would feel a little drained afterwards, it was worth it to see her smile.

Sometimes he told stories about his tamer adventures. (After cutting out some of the inappropriate bits)

------

When Marinette was about 5 or 6, Sabine was out on an errand and Tom was at home with Mari and helping her with her homework. There was a crash downstairs at the bakery. Tom went down to check it out to find John lying on the ground.

With a weak cough, he said, “Close the door. Close it.” Before losing consciousness

Tom did before a man with pitch black eyes slammed against it.

Thankfully John had installed heavy wards around the bakery when it first opened.

They held against the demon on John’s tail. Tom brought John inside and unsure of what to do, grabbed a rolling pin on the counter.

The man outside started pounding on the glass door and every time his hands touched the door, light glowed outwards, showing the invisible magic barrier around the bakery. Sparks and steams fizzled with every pound.

Despite the reddening and burns of his hands, the not-human didn’t slow down.

“ʝօɦռ....ʏօʊ ӄռօա ȶɦǟȶ ɨȶ'ֆ օռʟʏ ǟ ʍǟȶȶɛʀ օʄ ȶɨʍɛ ɮɛʄօʀɛ ɨ ɮʀɛǟӄ ȶɦʀօʊɢɦ ȶɦɛֆɛ աǟʀɖֆ. օռƈɛ ɨ ɢɛȶ ʏօʊ,” He laughs, the sound sends chills down the large man’s spine, “ȶɦɛʀɛ ǟʀɛ ֆօ ʍǟռʏ ȶɦɨռɢֆ ɨ ɦǟʋɛ քʟǟռռɛɖ ʄօʀ ʏօʊ.”

Tom knew that Marinette’s father was a con man. Come on, Master and Practitioner of the Dark Arts and Occult. But he was a good father nonetheless despite all his flaws and Sabine liked him enough so that was good enough for him.

Before today, magic was just the sleight of hands and use of fancy tools to sell the illusions. Now, with a could-be-a-demon knocking on his door to get to the father of the girl he sees as his daughter, he’s not so sure.

“Tom? Qu'est-ce qui se passe? (What’s going on?)” A little voice came from the stairs, “Dad!” Marinette padded across the floor to the body of her passed out father.

She shook him awake and there were a few soft slaps to the face.

“Dad, what’s happened?”

John mumbles, “Demon…. possessing some rich guy….. Exorcism…. Doesn’t like me very much…Don’t worry...wards going to hold.”

John manages to stand before falling down and Tom catches him before he hits the floor. He has a concussion. Tom turns to Marinette, “Go, Hide and don’t come out until It’s safe.” which she did

Unfortunately, a while later, Sabine returns from her night out and the demon upon seeing Sabine. “ɛӼƈɛʟʟɛռȶ..”

The demon possessed Sabine and the previously possessed dude hit the sidewalk with a thud.

“ɨռȶɛʀɛֆȶɨռɢ....” The voice coming out of Sabine didn’t sound like her mother which scared Marinette a lot. “օքɛռ ȶɦɨֆ ɖօօʀ օʀ,”the demon pulled a knife out of thin air, ,“ȶɦɨֆ ɮօɖʏ ɢɛȶֆ ɨȶ.”

Tom hesitated until the demon put the knife on Sabine’s neck and put enough force for a thin line of blood to be shown.

He opens the door and the demon knocks him out. Stepping over his unconscious body and looking down on it, “ʄօʀ ȶɦǟȶ, ɨ ǟʍ ɢօɨռɢ ȶօ ʟɛȶ ʏօʊ ʟɨʋɛ ʊռȶɨʟ ɨ ǟʍ ɖօռɛ աɨȶɦ ʝօɦռ, օʄ ƈօʊʀֆɛ.” and cackles. The sound was so wrong and unnerving and little Marinette tried very hard for her sobs not to be heard.

Too bad the demon had super hearing. “Come out, my little blossom. Maman is home. Why don’t you come out and give me a hug?”

It sounded so much like her mother and she nearly believed that it was her mother and not some entity in control of her body.

But she knew better from John’s stories of dealing with demons and how they would use the voice of loved ones to lure them out and into a trap. (Definitely not something one should tell as a bedtime story but Marinette was very different and had an unconventional childhood with John Constantine as her father.)

Wait...she got struck with an idea but she wasn’t sure if it would work.

Before she could do anything, the door of the cabinet she was hiding in was opened and she was dragged out.

The demon lifted her a few feet above the ground by the collar of her dress.

It heard Marinette saying something. “աɦǟȶ ǟʀɛ ʏօʊ ֆǟʏɨռɢ ƈɦɨʟɖ, ֆքɛǟӄ ʟօʊɖɛʀ?”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” Marinette was now screaming the words at the top of her lungs. She repeated the spell over and over again with fierce determination.

John, being his paranoid self, taught her the spell for an exorcism, just in case. Demons spared no one, not even a girl.

It screamed “NO….” as Sabine’s body contorted in strange angles before a dark shadow seemed to be dragged down into the ground. It made a desperate attempt to possess John before it was pulled away and disappeared. There was no sign that there was a demon attack.

After John woke up, he managed to piece together that his 5-years-old (Sorry 5 and a half) daughter sent a demon back to hell.

He was a very proud dad. (He was a tad worried about the consequences from this event and demons hold one hell of a grudge. He wanted his daughter to live a very safe and happy life. The bakery’s wards also need an upgrade.)

He also got the job of explaining what he actually did to Tom. And lots of reassuring.

Sabine, on one hand, was not happy that Marinette knew how to do magic. That is until John told her that he did it just in case so she can protect herself and later it was agreed that Marinette can learn some Magic spells and charms to better protect herself and when she is older, she can decide if she wants to continue or not.

----

(Part 2)

[dracowars]

LOVED YOUR TOM RIDDLE. Can I please request a arranged marriage au where yn is in love with him but he hates her so when she decides to let him go or someone else wants to marry her, Tom finally realises he’s in love with her. happ ending :))))

my heart belongs to you | tom riddle

pairing: tom x black!reader

word count: 3,3k

summary: where tom and y/n are in an arranged marriage

a/n: i'm so sorry for being so inactive recently, uni is taking its toll on me.. i had to do a bit of research for this one and also tom is a pureblood here!

warnings: toxic relationship, violence

universe: harry potter

“Get out of my sight, will you?”, he angrily snaps at you out of nowhere, for the third time already on this still very early day. Furiously, he stomps past you, pushing you to the side harshly, the filled glasses on your tray swaying dangerously. Knowing that you should just leave him alone, you stand there completely frozen at the door, still feeling the breeze on your skin after he stormed past you.

The glasses clink on the serving tray as you try to keep your trembling hands under control, but you terribly fail while tears shoot into your eyes. A lump forms in your throat and you gasp in desperation, losing your composure after hearing the front door slam shut.

Slowly, you slump down and therefore with a loud rattle let happen what could have been foreseen already: a thousand shattered pieces of glass scattered across the floor around you while you cower against the wall, your elegant dress pulled over your knees, your forehead leaning against it. Heavy sobs rock through your body and tears find their way down your cheeks, dripping from your chin onto the expensive fabric of your dress.

You just wanted to spend some time with him. Together, in the house of your parents, who went on a daily trip with their close friends early in the morning, all part of the most notorious popular pureblood families in the wizarding world – the Nott’s, the Macmillan’s, the Malfoy’s, the Lestrange’s. And if his parents were still alive, probably with the Riddle’s as well.

This is primarily the reason why you even are in this position right now; crying and huddled in the living room because your fiancé hates you profoundly.

After graduating from Hogwarts last year, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you, descendant of the pureblood Black family, got engaged to Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last living heir of the Riddle’s. He would offer you a good future, they said, and you would never have to worry about anything again.

But nobody knows that in reality, your own beloved fiancé really does not want to have anything to do with you. He does not even want to stay in the same room as you.

You can’t explain why he acts like this towards you. You do not know why he harbors such an abysmal hatred for you and any clear-headed, rational person would have done something about it long ago. Unfortunately for you, you feel the exact opposite for him.

Your heart belongs to him and only to him.

You have liked him since you first met him at Hogwarts, back in 1938, when the two of you were sorted into the Slytherin house. This initial friendly liking has quickly evolved into something more than that over the years and lead you to where you are now, at a point where you would have never seen yourself back then.

You have already tried everything to convince him that you are not as bad as he seems to think. Every morning you bring him his breakfast, you give him everything he needs. Even when you were still at Hogwarts, you always looked after him, finished his homework for him when he was too busy to do it by himself, and helped him pass all of his exams.

And not once did you hear a thank you. Not then and not now either.

Slowly gathering your thoughts together again, you rub the long sleeves of your velvet dress over your damp face, wiping away all of your tears before you get up on shaky legs and begin to clean up the mess that you have created. After you went back to the kitchen with the broken pieces and some injuries on your hands, your gaze longingly slides out the window.

Outside, the sun stands high over the magnificent garden of the mansion, making the clear water in the fountain shimmer in its bright light. A gentle breeze blows through the air and rustles through the perfectly cut trees that line a small path through the garden.

The loud, excited voices that suddenly roar through the house snap you out of your daydream and you quickly wipe the blood from your fingers before you step into the huge marble entrance hall. You arrive at the front door just in time to open it for your parents, who, to your surprise, did not come back alone. You are amazed to find not too familiar faces in front of you as they climb up the stairs to the door where you are still standing.

“And that has to be Y/N. Oh, how you have grown!”, an older man smiles friendly at you and you return his smile with a certain uncertainty in your face.

“Darling, we brought guests over for dinner today. You surely remember the Lestranges?”, your father announces happily and only now do the faces that you have seen at numerous balls and celebrations seem familiar again. Especially one.

“Reinhard?”, you ask in amazement when you spot him standing behind his parents, a big smile on his face when he sees you.

“Y/N, how nice to see you again”, he grins, carefully pushing his way past your parents in order to slightly bow venerably to you, taking your hand in his to place a kiss on the back of it. “It has been some time.”

“I am sure you have a lot to tell each other”, your mother mentions in a sweet voice, but before she can continue, she watches how your facial expression changes from one second to the other as you look past them, out into the yard.

Next to the carriage with which they have returned, Tom is standing now, petting one of the splendid noble white horses before he joins all of you.

“Tom! There you are, I was already wondering where you went”, your father says, visibly pleased when he too spotted his future son-in-law, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“Reinhard?”

“Tom?”

Within a few seconds, the two former best friends lay in each other’s arms, obviously happy to finally see the other again.

“Let us go inside. We want to show you our newest masterpiece of art in our wonderful collection, come on”, your mother announces happily and leads the Lestranges inside, but not without turning around to you once more. “The children can catch up on what they have missed.”

“I can’t believe it! You are really here, Tom. Man, you look even better than at Hogwarts”, Reinhard laughs, playfully pushing Tom to the side while you watch them in silence. “What are you doing here with the Blacks?”

“They kindly took me in”, Tom lies to him and for a moment you think he threw you a glance out of the corner of his eyes after uttering these words. His statement makes Reinhard realize that you were still there with them, who had apparently completely forgotten that you were even there.

“I am so happy to see you again, Y/N!”, he grins and takes a step closer to you, probably to be able to take a closer look at you. “Still just as beautiful as I imagined. And just as smart, I guess?”

Reinhard’s sudden compliments make you blush and your cheeks glow, which is why you nervously avert your gaze from him, directly falling on Tom, who looks at the scene in front of him with incredible resentment.

Unlike Tom, Reinhard was always there for you. You spent a lot of time together in your school days and if your parents had known about your close friendship, you are sure that he would have been your fiancé by now. Which, to be honest, does not sound bad anymore right now.

And yet your heart still belongs to Tom.

When you all sit together at dinner later in the evening, where your parents are talking about irrelevant things like Ministry of Magic, you keep making eye contact with Reinhard, who seems to be staring at you.

“Is there something on my face?”, you ask uncertainly and put your glass back on the table when you can no longer bear his piercing gaze.

“No, no, not at all. I was just wondering how a beautiful witch like you could have become so much more stunning”, Reinhard winks at you, causing you to swallow hard. You are not used to getting compliments, especially not from a handsome young man like him. Before you can answer to him, however, there is a loud clink and you startle, your eyes immediately fixed on the cause of the noise.

The glass, which you have certainly placed far away from the edge, is now lying in your lap, the little liquid that was still inside now spread over your elegant evening gown. You move your chair back in shock when, in the corner of your eye, you see how Tom puts away his wand. And not only did you notice Tom just now, but the rest of them follow your gaze.

“Tom, darling, how about you tell our guests how you and our daughter got to know each other”, your mother suddenly prompts him, not even realizing that he has just deliberately spilled your drink on you. But why did he in the first place?

„I would love to“, Tom puts on a really believable smile that no one but you questions and starts telling them how you met and fell in love with each other. He tells one lie after another, explaining the web of lies that you have spun around you over time to make your relationship as credible as possible, at least in front of other people. And suddenly nobody cares about you or your still soaking wet dress anymore.

“What a wonderful story”, Mrs. Lestrange applauds and everyone else seems to be completely enthusiastic about Tom’s fairytale. To top it off, he then reaches across the table to take your hand in his, just like a real affectionate couple would do.

You lower your gaze as he gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, trying your best to not show how uncomfortable you are. Oh, how much you wish that this were real, that Tom would actually treat you like this when you are alone, the same way as he does in front of your parents.

But he does not and deep down you know that he will never do.

“So, you are engaged?”, Reinhard scrutinizes the statement of his former best friend, his eyes focused on you suspiciously, as if he is expecting an answer from you and not from Tom. A slight pressure on your hand makes you flinch and look up.

“Y-Yes”, you force a smile onto your lips, whereupon Tom seems satisfied with your answer, letting go of your hand again with a - what seemed to you like a – disgusted expression on his face.

An uncomfortable silence spreads between the three of you, which is drowned out by the loud conversation of the adults on the other side of the table. Finally, making up your mind, you clear your throat loudly and get up from your chair, gaining everyone’s attention in a matter of seconds.

“Excuse me, I have to go freshen up for a moment”, you explain with a slight polite bow before turning away to leave the dining room.

“Reinhard, would you be so kind and help Y/N”, Mr. Lestrange asks his son, who stands up with furrowed brows, apparently just as surprised about this sudden request as you, but then follows you out into the hallway with no further objection.

“I really do not need any help, thank you”, you try to get rid of him as you walk up the large staircase leading to the first floor together, only wanting to be alone.

“Dinner like these are totally boring anyway”, he chuckles softly and shows no intentions of leaving your side any time soon, which is why you do not even try to search for further arguments. He follows you to your room where you are able to tear yourself away from him to put on a new dress while he waits outside in front of the door.

With an equally elegant burgundy red dress you step out of your room after a few minutes, Reinhard’s eyes greeting you with a sparkle.

“Wow”, he breathes out barely audible and takes you hand without asking to swirl you around, causing your dress to fly around gorgeously. Unintentionally, warmth rises in your face again and your hearts makes a barely noticeable jump inside your chest when he looks deep into your eyes after catching you back in his arms.

The loud clearing of a throat behind you makes you turn around in shock, only to see that Tom himself is now standing at the end of the corridor, not seeming very enthusiastic.

“We did not see you there, Tom”, Reinhard disguises his obvious nervousness with a laugh, acting like Tom had just caught you in doing something he should not have seen. Tom, however, does not even react to his words, but looks past Reinhard at you, his eyebrows raised meaningfully.

But when you do not move under his piercing gaze, his facial expression changes and he quickly approaches you, Reinhard instinctively pushing you behind him so that you can only see Tom approaching further over his shoulder. Before neither you nor Reinhard can say or do anything, Tom has already pulled out his wand and aims it directly at Reinhard, who flies back through the air only a few seconds later, hitting the hard marble floor at the end of the corridor with a thud.

“What the-?!”

“Come with me”, Tom orders, now standing directly in front of you. When you stubbornly refuse, he suddenly grabs your wrist to pull you away from there. No matter how much you fight against his firm grip, you cannot tear yourself away from him as he pulls you into the closest room, which turns out to be the library.

Once there, you can finally free yourself from his tight grip, but before you can reach for the doorknob to leave immediately, he locks the door with a spell. Angrily, you turn to him, despair written all over your stunning face.

“What is this supposed to be, Tom? Let me out of here, now!”, you command him in a loud voice, not caring if anybody can hear.

“What did he want from you?”, he asks you urgently and steps closer to you. Since the door is in your back, every possible escape route is blocked, and you are caught.

“We just talked to each other, you know. Like normal people do”, you answer irritably and cross your arms in front of your chest, not in the mood to justify yourself, especially not in front of someone who does not care about you at all and not after what he has done.

“But that did not look like it.”

“Tom, stop it.”

“You belong to me and nobody else!”

These words coming out of his mouth echo loudly through the dark library, his face wrapped in an eerie candlelight. Before you can even control yourself and fully process what he said, you severely slap him.

Frightened by your own horrible deed, you immediately pull your hand away, your gaze filled with fear, but the anger that keeps building up inside of you winning the upper hand after all.

“How dare you call me your property?!”, you scream in rage and tears form in your eyes because of your uncontrollable anger. However, Tom needs a moment to collect his thoughts after your heavy smack before he can answer you.

“You are my fiancé”, he spits out coldly, a touch of shock in his voice, apparently not expecting you to react like this.

“And that does not make me nowhere near your property! You never treat me like your fiancé anyway, so why now all of a sudden?!”, you bicker at him, your voice loud and constant, even though you would like to flee from this situation right away if you were able to.

But Tom does not have an answer.

“Fine, okay. If you have nothing to say to me, like you never have, then I will go back now and ask my parents to end this damn failed engagement and engage me with someone else who truly cares for me!”

Suddenly, without letting you time to catch your breath after your outburst, he presses you with your back against the door completely, his hands tightly grabbing your wrists, a little too tight for your personal liking.

“You mustn’t do that”, he softly whispers, his head lowered as if he does not dare to look you in the eyes.

“What is stopping me?”, you hiss, still full of anger and – probably for the very first time – hatred towards him.

But when you feel his lips on yours all of a sudden, all of these emotions evaporate and all that remains is your racing heartbeat, which is being repaired at this very moment. You never would have thought that at some point in your life the moment would come when Tom Marvolo Riddle, who absolutely loathes his fiancé, kisses you.

After kissing you, he looks straight into your eyes, and the Tom you met in 1938 is standing in front of you again. The Tom you fell so deeply in love with.

“I can’t explain it to you”, he finally breaks the silence, his gaze directed to the floor as he moves away from you, giving you enough space to breathe regularly again. You, however, do not say anything but just stare at him.

“I was not aware that I am capable of feeling such feelings for someone. I am unfamiliar with this feeling and I did not know how to deal with it, Y/N. I treated you badly because I did not want it to be true, I did not want to accept it. I could not imagine having feelings for the little nuisance that has always been running after me”, Tom explains, choosing each and every single word very carefully, trying to put his emotions into words which does not really work the way he would like it to. But that is how you know him. You know that this confession must be extremely difficult for him, but you can’t help but feel a sense of relief inside of you.

“When?”, you ask and manage, with this tiny little word, to make him look up at you. “When did you know?”

“Since I have been here. You served me every day and took care of me, even though I wanted to push you away from me with all of my might. You have already helped me so many times in the past without me even asking, you have always accepted me for who I am”, he desperately tries to but his feelings into words, asking himself what he is even doing right now.

“Tom..”

“No, I have to sincerely apologize to you. I had no right to treat you the way I did. And also today.. when I saw you with him and how well you got along, it finally became clear to me. Reinhard has felt something for you since our school days, I know that even though I could never understand, but now I do. I understand why he fell in love with you”, Tom continues without breathing, pouring out all of his feelings that he has hidden for so long.

“I understand if you want to dissolve this engagement and I will not stop you if that is what you want”, he quickly adds, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. He already prepares himself for the worst when you are the one getting closer to him this time.

“Idiot”, you smile slightly and place a gentle kiss on his lips while he looks at you puzzled. “I love you, I thought you knew that.”

“I know, but-“

“But nothing”, you interrupt him and take his hand to lead it to your fast pounding heart. “It always belonged to you.”

[bestintheparsec]

Between the Lines

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: A trip to the bookstore brings you more than you’re looking for.

A/N: This is just something short/sweet I came up with (it’s probably the least deep or angsty thing I’ve ever written, unlike my usual). It’s a standalone, but obviously I have a thing for coffee...anyways, I hope you like it!

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: none

(Masterlist pinned to my page)

~

You've found it.

After countless stops at multiple bookstores, you've managed to track down the book you've been searching long and hard for. It's a new release you've been eager to get your hands on—collector's edition, special content included. Every store you've gone to has been completely sold out of it, but after many phone calls and Google searches you'd found a store, one town over, that still had it.

Determined to get it this time, you'd shown up as soon as the store opened today. Stepping inside you see that it's a fairly big store, but it seems to be a local place since you'd never heard of it prior to your extensive search. You make a mental note to come back here more often, taking in the quaintness of it. There's plenty of books, of course, but there's also a section full of cute memorabilia and stationery, and a cozy coffee place tucked into the back corner.

It doesn't take you long to find the section you're looking for—you easily spot the beautiful cover on a display at the center of the store. There's only one copy left, and you're giddy with excitement and relief as you reach for it, sliding it out of its spot. It's the last one on the shelf, but it's in impeccable condition—no wrinkles or folds on the cover or pages, and not a single fingerprint on the jacket. Usually the last ones to go are ones that have been handled by other readers, shoved aside for a more pristine copy on the shelf. But this is your copy now, and it's perfect.

Smiling to yourself and cradling it in your arms, you walk hurriedly back to the front to pay for it and finally take it home. Turning quickly around the corner and not paying attention to anything else in particular, you wonder how long it'll take you to finish it.

And then you crash into something large and sturdy. The book falls onto the floor with a clunk and you feel something hot splash onto your skin. Someone steadies you, only for a moment before stepping back.

You gasp and blurt out an ouch! before realizing that said large and sturdy person was holding a cup of coffee, which is now spilled all over the front of your shirt and the floor.

“Shit, I'm so sorry, are you okay?” a deep voice asks frantically. Still processing what happened, you haven't looked up, focusing on shaking the brown beverage off of yourself.

Some of the hot liquid is on your arm so you briskly brush it off and shake out the front of your shirt, trying to cool off your skin. It's not until a large pair of hands gently takes your wrist, dabbing your arm with a napkin hastily pulled out of his pocket, that you finally look up at this person—and find an unassumingly handsome, albeit panicked-looking, man with wide brown eyes and a face that looks about as hot as your skin feels. You let yourself imagine that if this weren't an inconvenient moment, you might be looking at him as if something clicked into place.

“I'm so sorry, we should get some cold water on that,” he says again, urgently, wiping away at your skin before realizing he's still holding onto your arm and awkwardly letting go.

“No, it's fine, I'm a klutz, really,” you mutter to yourself, dropping your eyes to the book on the ground. It's covered in coffee now, too, much to your disappointment. Way to go, you chide yourself, deflated at the sight. Not only have you ruined the book you've gone through so much trouble to find, but you've also embarrassed yourself in front of this cute stranger in the process.

This is why you stick to books.

“I've ruined your shirt...and this book,” the man murmurs, bending down to pick it up. His furrowed brows and pursed lips make him appear softer than you might expect.

He meets your eyes, swallowing hard and peering at you with what can only be considered as puppy dog eyes. You really look at him for the first time, noticing the unruly dark curls poking out from under his cap, and the distinctly “outdoorsy” attire he has on, worn-out flannel button-up and suede jacket and all. Honestly, he looks mortified, but it's sort of endearing that he's so concerned when many others would've just muttered a curt apology before leaving you to your business. In any case, you find yourself wanting to know more about him. It's a thought you immediately push away; after all, you'd only just met him and he probably only thinks of you as some clumsy girl.

“It's okay, really, it's my fault,” you shake your head at him. “I'm an idiot, I wasn't watching where I was going.”

“But that coffee was really hot, it might've burned you—” he insists.

“I'm wearing another layer under this,” you reassure the man. Taking the book from his hands, you sigh quietly. “I can't say the same for this, though.”

He looks like he's about to ask you something else when another man, probably his friend, walks up next to him, glancing back and forth between you before making a face like yikes when he sees the large stain on your shirt.

"It's not his fault," you sputter at the same time that Coffee Man mumbles, "It was my fault."

After inquiring if you're alright, his friend reaches down to pick up the now-empty cup from the ground, then playfully smacks the man's arm.

“I can't even leave you alone for one minute,” he shakes his head jovially and you almost miss the mischievous eyebrow raise he gives him before turning back to you. “You know...you should let Francisco here take care of that. He's military—first-aid-trained and all,” the friend says with a grin and knowing wink. Coffee Man's jaw clenches, glancing timidly at you as his friend keeps talking, then shooting him a glare that says please stop fucking talking.

"Now you've ruined my coffee and a pretty girl's shirt," his friend jokes.

Coffee Man tries to smile but is visibly embarrassed as he swats his friend on the arm. “Get your own fucking coffee, then, Santi,” he tells him under his breath, which elicits a grin out of you.

Santi throws his hands up in mock-surrender. “Alright, alright. It was nice meeting you,” he nods and smiles at you before walking away.

“I really am sorry,” he tells you again as soon as his friend is out of sight. He fidgets with his hat, removing it for a second to smooth out his hair and then pulling it snugly back down. “I—I'll get you another copy of the book. And a new shirt…”

You chuckle, trying to put him at ease. “Seriously, it's fine…um, Francisco, was it?”

“Oh—Frankie,” he tells you, the smallest of smiles on his lips. He peers at you with that concerned gaze again and you both keep eye contact for what feels like several moments longer than necessary. Despite yourself, you start to feel heat creeping into your face.

Smiling softly back at him, you suddenly feel self-conscious and hug your arms to yourself. “Well, Frankie, it's no big deal. I was going to go home after this, and this shirt is old, anyways." You examine the damage to the book, flipping through the pages. "Mostly I just wanted this book—it's the last copy in the store...but that's okay, too. There are worse things.”

“What's it about?”

“Hmm?” you reply, looking back up at him.

“What's, um, what's the...book about? It has to be good if you were so excited to get it.”

You hadn't expected him to care what you were reading, and you can tell by the shy look in his eyes that it's a genuine question and not anything more.

“Oh. Well…” you start, and it doesn't take long for you to go off about its synopsis and why you've been waiting forever for it. It takes a while for you to realize that you're rambling, and you stop your muddled train of thought. But by the soft look in his eyes as he listens, you get the feeling that Frankie doesn't mind. That, or he's the kind of person who always makes the people around him feel comfortable.

"Anyways, I should let you go on with your day…" you trail off, but both of you remain where you are, not seeming to want to move.

“Wait—will you let me pay for the book?” Frankie insists. “They'll want someone to cover the damage. It's the least I can do.”

“Actually...I think I'm going to keep this copy,” you tell him. “It's still in decent condition and I can read it while I wait for them to get more in.”

Frankie smiles at you, genuinely and without embarrassment for the first time. “You really are excited for it, aren't you?”

“Yep,” you reply with a nod. “It's the same story, even if covered in your friend's drink,” you tease.

“Okay, if you're sure,” he continues. “I'm sorry again, um…I didn't catch your name.”

You tell him and he smiles again, repeating it.

“It was nice meeting you, Frankie,” you tell him as his large hand shakes yours. “Please don't worry about all this.”

Returning the sentiment, Frankie turns to head back to his friend. For a second you consider calling to him, asking to see him again. Not that you'd be bold enough to actually do that. But he quickly disappears behind the rows of shelves and you figure he has other places to be, anyways.

~

It's almost a week later when you return to the bookstore.

You'd given the front desk your number so they could call you when more copies came in, so you asked them to hold one for you, which they happily did. When you get to the register you find the same cashier who helped you last time, greeting her with a smile. She knows what happened last time, grinning as she hands you the book carefully wrapped in a plastic bag.

When you reach for your wallet she shakes her head. “Oh, no, honey. You're good to go,” she tells you. 

You look at her, confused, and she smiles again. “Think of it as a makeup for the last one you already paid for.”

After her insistence, and many thanks on your part, you take the book and leave. When you get to the car, you take it out of the bag, pleased to finally have it. You find the smooth receipt neatly tucked in between the pages and pull it out.

What you don't expect is, at the bottom, it has some handwriting scribbled in pen along with a phone number jotted down under the note. Warmth sneaks into your cheeks and you smile as you read the words.

Would you maybe like to get coffee sometime? I promise not to spill it on you this time. -Frankie

 ~

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[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Part I

A lamb in a den of lions, he thought, watching the newcomer as she settled in, ordering whiskey neat. A fool, for sure.

A fool she may be, perhaps, but even fools could be dangerous. Eren had known that the young woman was a Hunter from the moment she entered the bar (everyone else had, too) but something told Eren that she was hardly cut from the same cloth as the average Bane of Creatures. There was something in her movements— a predatory grace in her stride, perhaps, or a stiff, straight posture, with muscles tensed and ready for action— that betrayed her power to him; but for all that, she really was lovely, and the image of a rabbit caught in a patch of bramble came to mind whenever he looked at her.

Sitting in a corner, drinking his B-neg, he watched the woman as she sipped her drink, checking over her shoulder now and then. She was wary— as anyone with good sense would be— but she didn't appear frightened, and Eren's curiosity was piqued. It wasn't every day that someone so bold happened across his path, and it became harder and harder for him to resist the urge to approach her.

Eventually, Eren gave in to his curiosity— he never had been very good at or even particularly fond of restraining himself— and when he came silently up behind her, the newcomer didn't even notice his presence until he murmured a greeting close to her ear.

"Hello, little love," he said, and she startled in her seat. "Are you lost?"

She turned around then, her eyes big and bright in the dim lighting of the bar, but by the time she managed to look at the spot where Eren would have been, he was already seated on the barstool beside her. Eventually, though, her eyes found his, and when their gazes met, Eren was amused to find no fear in her visage.

"Far from it," she told him, turning her body towards him. "I am precisely where I mean to be."

Eren blinked, nonplussed.

"Curious," he said, leaning forward so that she could see the sharpness of his teeth as he spoke. "Do you fancy yourself a wolf among sheep, little Hunter? Did you really not think we would know you for what you are the moment you crossed the threshold of this place?"

Any normal, human ear would have missed the way her heart leapt in her chest, but Eren missed nothing. The fear he had hoped to inspire in her was present after all, but her face never moved from its impenetrable mask— an affectation that was somehow both soft and steely at once.

"That's not what I'm here for," she told him, widening the distance between her knees as she readjusted on the stool. "I'm here to discover the truth."

The truth— what an odd notion!— and yet Eren sensed no lie in her.

"You're a strange one," he told her, but forced himself to relax his posture to appear lazy, almost drunk. "Most Hunters— even ones so pretty as yourself— shoot first and worry about the truth later. What's your name?"

Her nose crinkled. "It's polite to give your own first."

Sharp, he thought, watching her closely. Names have power.

"Eren Jaeger."

"Eren Jaeger," she echoed, then extended her hand. "My name is (Y/N)."

That name sounded familiar to Eren— and though most names did after living a few centuries, this one seemed to hit closer to home. He knew that name, and knew it well…

"What's your surname?"

(Y/N)'s eyes flashed with an emotion that Eren didn't catch.

"Kirschtein," she replied, averting her eyes. "I'm Jean Kirschtein's great-great-great granddaughter."

And damn if Eren didn't want to laugh. Perhaps his nosiness into the posterity of his old acquaintances really was as bad of an idea as Armin always seemed to imply.

"I see," he said, and he truly, truly did. "Then you know who I am— what I am— and what I've done."

More than that, if she truly did know who he was, it was unlikely that she had come without a specific purpose in mind.

(Y/N) nodded, confirming his suspicions. "I was digging around in my family history and— well— I read what my grandfather wrote, and I just— I wanted the truth."

So wide-eyed, so innocent— so alive. Eren could see now her resemblance to Jean; if they were not similar in looks, she had his sharpness, his humanness… and, as he always had Jean, Eren envied her for it.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure you know that you don't get something for nothing," he told her, sipping his drink just to watch the expression on her face as he let the warm blood slide down his throat. "And that dealings with me can be dangerous."

"Jean Kirschtein loved you, Eren Jaeger," she told him fiercely and with such conviction that Eren nearly choked on his drink. "To take such a tone with me, to threaten me, the last living remnant of him, is the most disrespectful thing I've ever heard."

Eren was about to say that he didn't owe her, Jean Kirschtein, or anyone else any sort of respect, but she plowed on, unwilling to let him say his piece.

"You broke his heart a million ways by doing what you did, but— but he was your friend through all of it, no matter what side each of you were on," (Y/N) continued, passion aflame in her eyes. "I can't even imagine what inspired such a love, such a loyalty from him that he would forgive you for the horrors you caused. That's what I'm here to find out— what you have that a man such as him would find you redeemable."

The reproof in her words stung, but Eren was too old to argue. She could never understand what it was like back then.

"I understand more than you think," she snapped, and Eren actually flinched. "I understand that you hurt the woman my grandfather loved immeasurably, and that he forgave you for that even though he never even particularly liked you. I understand that you were ready to sacrifice the world for that selfsame woman, for Jean, and for all the others. I understand that you're a monster who loved and was loved back, but I want to know why."

How? Eren thought, shaken.

How had she known his thoughts? It was as though she had seen straight through to his innermost being.

Without speaking, she answered his question. (Y/N) took a hand and rolled up her left sleeve, presenting to him a scarred marking in the shape of a pentagram.

"My grandfather didn't settle down with just anyone," she told him, holding his gaze. "I come from a line of powerful witches, all of whom possessed strong claircognizance. Paired with my nature as an empath, you can assume I know what you're going to say before you say it."

Eren hummed, trying to appear less perturbed than he was.

"And yet you hunt Creatures for a living; strange, since you're practically one of us yourself."

(Y/N) glowered. "I hunt monsters that prey on my people, not Creatures. No innocent has died by my hand."

The unlike you went unsaid, but that didn't mean that Eren didn't hear it anyway.

"Don't get high-and-mighty with me, girl," he told her roughly. "Knowing is one thing, but experiencing what we experienced is another."

"I'm not here to judge you," she replied. "I told you, I'm here for truth, nothing more."

"And I told you that the truth doesn't come for free," he told her darkly. "You must give me something in return."

(Y/N) set her jaw.

"What would you have of me?"

It was a mean, base request. Eren was wicked for even thinking it, and vile for wanting it— but looking at the great-to-however-many-degrees granddaughter of a good man that he had once known, seeing the vitality that brought a flush to her cheeks and thumping to her heart, he knew he couldn't pass up this golden opportunity.

It had been so long since he'd had a Companion.

"Become my cupbearer for six moons," he told her, crossing his arms. "Starting with tonight, the moon becomes new; let me drink from you until six of these have passed, and along the way, you will learn what you want to know."

(Y/N) eyed him warily.

"Can you assure my physical safety?"

Eren grunted, almost amused. It was a bit late to be worrying about that.

"I think you know that I can."

"And will you let me continue in my duties as a Hunter?" she asked, her eyes searching his own as if she would find the answer to her question there inside the same eyes he'd had since he was nineteen. "Completely uninhibited?"

"That depends. Will you kill Creatures in the discharge of your duties?"

(Y/N) made a face. Eren had forgotten how expressive mortals could be, but he found that being reminded was not altogether unpleasant.

"You know I will," she replied, "But you have my word that any killing won't be unprovoked."

Eren supposed it was as close to a compromise as he could expect.

"As you wish it, so shall it be."

He turned away, signaling to the bartender for another drink, but a lightning-fast hand shot out to grab his wrist.

"Swear it," she demanded. "I need us to be Bound by it."

The meanness in Eren finally won over. He reached forward, grabbing (Y/N) by the neck, and the silver rings on her fingers burned him as she pulled at his hand to try and restore her breath. Eyes from all around the room were on the two of them— had been, since the very beginning— but it was only once the Hunter before him began to look appropriately humbled that he withdrew.

"Do not touch me without my permission," he said, "And I will return the favor."

(Y/N) looked at him then, but there was still no fear in her eyes. Anger, yes, but no fear.

She must be mad, or foolish one, he thought, considering her for a moment. I always have been partial to mad fools in general, but…

Something about her seemed different, and Eren didn't know what to do other than accept what she had to offer. Heavens knew he was getting the better end of the deal anyway.

"Swear it," she repeated, this time more quietly. "Give your word, and I will be your cupbearer."

Eren brought his hand up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. At his will, the nail tip of his forefinger sharpened, hardening into a point; he used it to draw an 'X' onto the skin just over where his heart rested inside his chest, cold and dead. Blood welled into the cut— precious little, compared to that of a human, but still enough to run down his chest in smudges— and it was by that blood that he swore. He spoke the terms of their agreement, then took the blood from his wound with the pad of his finger and marked the same spot over (Y/N)'s own heart.

"Satisfied?" he asked, their faces almost touching, and (Y/N) shivered.

"Yes."

Her warm, living breath fanned over his face with her reply, and Eren took the moment to close his eyes and appreciate the scent and sensation of it.

"You may think you're satisfied," he told her, pulling away, "But you don't know the meaning of the word."

She eyed him warily, but before she could speak, he added, "In six months' time, I'll ask you the same question, and it is then that you will truly know what it is to feel satisfied— satiated in every way."

"As you say."

It was a throwaway comment, nothing more than a dismissal, really; but Eren felt like it was the start of something truly remarkable.

[true-blue-megamind]

What Makes Hal a Great Villain?

Okay, I’m saying it upfront: this one is going to get a little dark and very real.  Potential triggers for harassment, stalking, sexual predation.  Nothing graphic or heavy, of course, but if these are especially highly sensitive subjects for you, please proceed with caution.

Also, SPOILER ALERT for anyone who has not yet watched the animated awesomeness that is Megamind.  (If you are that person, the DVD is on sale on Amazon, and the movie is available to stream on NowTV.  Go watch it.  I’ll wait.)

We all know Megamind is an awesome protagonist--multi-layered, relatable, and surprisingly complex-- but, truthfully, his antagonist is just as interesting.  In fact, when compared with other animated villains of the early 2000′s, he’s by far the most memorable... and the most terrifying.

Many may question my assessment.  I mean, let’s be honest: this guy doesn’t exactly look like the face of evil.  But make no mistake: Hal, who later becomes Titan, is an extremely scary person.

I don’t want to leave readers with the impression that this character is one-sided, however, so before we get started on just what makes this fellow complete nightmare fuel, let’s look briefly at a few of the other reasons that Hal makes a fascinating Bad Guy.

One of my favorite things about Hal’s character arch is that it defies expectations.  Superhero comics have a long tradition of Average Nobodies who somehow receive extraordinary powers and go on to save the city.  Or the world.  Or the universe.  You get the idea.  Many comic book fans, upon watching Megamind for the first time, probably expected Hal to do the same, but he doesn’t.  In fact, he goes rogue, choosing to use his newly-obtained gifts for wanton destruction.  Thus the film inverts the established trope.

Like the protagonist he faces, (and is thankfully conquered by,) Hal is complex, and his true nature reveals itself slowly.  I’ve heard some people say that they actually felt a bit sorry for him in the first scene he appears, as he awkwardly tries to express his feelings to reporter Roxanne Ritchi.  At first he seemed like nothing worse than a socially inept and sexually frustrated nerd.  Only as the move progressed, and the aforementioned viewers saw his creepiness more clearly, did they begin to revile him.  One of the many clever things about the movie is that the gradual development provides audiences with the experience of slowly getting to know the characters.  While Megamind is the somewhat anarchical Goth who worries you a little at first, but whose heart of gold has you loving him once you really understand him, Hal is that guy you really, really regret talking to at a party.  You know, the one who quickly starts sending your internal Creep-o-Meter off the scale and persistently follows you around for the rest of the night.  This is, indeed, part of what makes Hal disturbing; just like real villains, he hides in plain sight, wearing the guise of an ordinary fellow.

Which brings us back to the scary part.  Even before he gets superpowers, Hal is bad guy deep down.  He’s a creep and a stalker.  He harasses Roxanne at work and keeps pestering her for a date no matter how many times she says no.  Either consciously or unconsciously, he assumes that she’s shallow, and that once he has a muscular body and a bevy of godlike abilities, she’ll fawn on him.  The idea that he himself might be the problem never seems to occur to him.  In fact, he seems to feel that she will then owe him her affection.  This is because, even before becoming Titan, Hal appears to have an overblown sense of self-importance and an unrealistic concept about what he deserves.  (I go into detail about that in an earlier post, Megamind and Identity, which you can read here.)  The fact that he doesn’t get what he feels is his right seems to have created a deep-seeded bitterness in him that rises to the surface once he obtains power.

But Hal really is the problem.  His combined possessive harassment and complete lack of empathy are exactly why Roxanne neither likes nor trusts him.  And she’s right to feel that way.  Almost immediately after gaining his powers, now feeling that he is above society’s rules, Titan begins revealing just how terrible of a person he really is.  He uses his supervision to spy on Roxanne while he and Megamind (disguised as Space Dad) are in the park, and that must not be the only incident because he later tells Roxanne: “I know everything about you.”  This is just before he grabs her off of her balcony, without her consent, and begins throwing her around like a rag doll, terrifying her and putting her life in real danger because, apparently, he thinks she’ll be impressed.

Yeah.  This guy is pretty much human garbage.

Once he finally understands (more or less) that Roxanne really means it when she says she’s not interested, Hal/Titan reveals himself to be a man-child.  He  begins by using his abilities for selfish and criminal reasons, essentially stating that he doesn’t feel heroism is worth his time.  When he learns that Megamind has been dating Roxanne, (albeit in disguise,) he reacts with violence.  This is because Megamind, like Hal himself, is an outsider: unpopular, unwelcome, and considered unattractive by most of the population of Metro City.  In Hal’s mind, this revelation highlights the fact that none of these factors were the cause of Roxanne’s rejection, leaving only he himself to blame.  (In fact, the movie contrasts Megamind, who, although imperfect, respects Roxanne’s wishes and intelligence, with Hal, who basically views her as an object to be won.  Again, you can read more about that in Megamind and Identity.) Hal can’t handle that.  He can’t accept it.  So instead he turns his rage on the city as a whole.  (This is despite the fact that, deep down, Hal knows he is the problem, hence why he rejects his identity as Hal and fully embraces the new one as Titan.  That’s illustrated by his final line before abandoning Roxanne on Metro Tower: “It’s Titan, not Hal!”)

Hal abuses his power, and society suffers as a result.  Even then, however, Hal/Titan still tries to lay claim to Roxanne.  He accuses Megamind of “stealing his girlfriend,” and later tells Roxanne: “Let me guess, after seeing how awesome I am, you’ve come to your senses.”  All the way to the end, Hal still can’t quite seem to accept that reality is not following his design.

If the idea of a man who lets power go to his head, objectifies women, won’t take “no” for an answer, and reacts violently when denied what he feels he’s owed sounds familiar, that’s because it is.  Humanity has a huge problem with these sorts of behaviors, ranging from sexism and sexual predation to unfeeling abuses of power.  The Sarah Everard case in London, and the fact that several officials essentially blamed the victim, asking why Sarah was walking home alone rather than asking why some guy felt he had the right to attack her, is the most recent well-known testament to this, but it’s sadly far from the only one.  A.J. White said it best in his YouTube video, The Terror of the Incel Superman, when he expressed that news archives are full of stories about women being murdered by the sort of overgrown boys who can’t accept their refusals.  And although men of that sort do not have the ability to fly or shoot lasers out of their eyes, some of them do rise to social and political power.  They are Hals. 

That is exactly what makes this character so especially scary.  Unlike more farcical supervillains, he is based upon something that truly exists.  Preternatural abilities aside, Hal is terrifying because he is very real.  Let’s just hope our world will see more Megaminds willing to stand up to them. #BeMegamindNotHal

[haidyn-reeves]

Lie to Me

Summary: The classic truth spell trope with a wicked twist.

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4948 

Warnings: Dean’s an asshole. Angst makes the world go ‘round. Insecurities briefly mentioned. Did I mention Dean’s an asshole? Fluff if you squint.

A/N: I’m back! This is my entry for @jawritter‘s Make Me Cry challenge and @deanwanddamons 2k Celebration! My prompts are in bold. I hope y’all enjoy!

It was no secret that Dean had changed since he took the Mark of Cain. He was more reckless than normal, which only progressed after taking out the entire Stine family for what they did to Charlie and almost did to Y/N. Y/N was in the bunker when the Stines invaded, resorting to hiding in one of the trunks of the classic cars in the garage to stay safe. Once Dean left Castiel bloody and battered in the library, he raced to the garage, having told Y/N not to move until he came for her. When he found her, his features only softened once he saw how terrified she was of him; the amount of blood covering his clothes and hands was enough to turn her stomach. Y/N, as usual, did her best to clean up the older Winchester, using it as a way to distract her from what happened only hours prior. When it was time to say goodbye to Charlie, Y/N separated herself from the brothers, the tension between them so thick you needed a chainsaw to cut through. Dean tossed some heated remarks to Sam and Y/N sank to the muddy ground, furious that this was happening in front of the pyre that held their dear friend. Dean stormed off and Sam came around to help her up, the pair watching the bow-legged hunter climb into his Impala and drive away.

Dean was angry, and the only way he knew how to release that anger was to hunt and kill whatever he could. He scoured the news, desperate to find something he could take down, preferably alone. He couldn’t look at Sam, blaming his brother for the death of his surrogate sister. He didn’t want to bring Y/N with him, he just wanted to drive, hunt, and kill.

Dean found a case, one that would hopefully settle the Mark’s need for blood and his own anger. The fact that it was a witch was an added bonus.

He left in the middle of the night when Sam and Y/N couldn’t try to stop him or tag along. He felt a little bad leaving Y/N behind but the Mark stung too badly for him to care at the moment. He wouldn’t be gone long, the case was only two states over, he’d back soon enough. 

In the bunker, Y/N was pissed that Dean was ignoring her calls. Sam expected it, he knew how angry Dean was, so he expected for his brother to ignore him, but Y/N? He adored her, for Dean to ignore her was unlike him. Y/N was confused, she wasn’t part of the plot to save Dean, Sam explicitly kept her out of the loop because he knew asking her to sneak behind Dean’s back was out of the question. She was loyal to the older Winchester, to a fault, and asking her to go against his wishes was more than even Sam could muster. 

Ever since the Stines invaded and killed Charlie, Y/N was thinking about her feelings for Dean. She called him immediately when they broke the door down and he’s the one who instructed her to hide in the garage; it was a plan the two agreed on for these situations. While she was hiding in the trunk of one of the vintage vehicles, all she could think about was that she could die and never be able to tell Dean how she felt. She decided then that she’d tell him, and soon. That’s why she was so upset that he left without telling her, it just prolonged her getting everything out in the open.

While the two waited in the bunker for Dean’s return, Dean handled the witch with ease. She tried at the last minute to hit him with what he assumed was a spell of sorts, but the witch killing bullet was in her before she could finish the incantation. He felt better, the Mark’s hunger was satiated, and there was one less witch causing trouble. A win all around, in his book.

Y/N was sitting in the library researching when the bunker door opened three days later. She was trying to keep the hurt and the anger at bay, still upset that Dean was ignoring her for reasons she couldn’t figure out while she was ready to tell him how she felt. Sam was out grabbing dinner, she assumed it was him.

“That was fast,” she remarked, getting up to help him unpack, until she was face to face with Dean. “Oh, not Sam. Welcome home.” She moved to greet him with a hug, only for him to step back out of her reach. Her face fell, Dean never rejected her touch, even with the Mark. “Dean?”

“Don’t touch me,” he growled, “I hate it when you throw yourself at me like that.”

“You…what? Since when?”

“Since forever. Just shows how clingy you are.”

Y/N stared in shock before letting her eyes cast to the floor, the heat in her cheeks so warm coupled with his venomous glare that she was growing physically uncomfortable before him. “I’m s-sorry. I didn’t realize…I thought we…I thought you and I…“

“What? You thought there was something here?” Dean motioned between the two of them. “Far from it.” He looked her over, his eyes running over her figure. “You think I’d ever want you?”

“I…I thought m-maybe…”

“Well I don’t. I don’t even want you here.”

“That’s not true,” she whispered, knowing if she was really that unwelcome, he’d have no problem kicking her out.

“True? You want the truth? Oh, sweetheart, you can’t handle the truth. But I’ll give it to you. Don’t you think if I wanted you, I’d have done something by now? You’re just another burden that was dumped on me that I didn’t ask for.” He paused, circling the war table, Y/N visibly shaking before him as she tried to keep herself composed, though it was obvious she was already broken at his words. “You’re always in the way, you know? You’re one more person I have to protect on hunts, since you’re not exactly reliable these days. Maybe if you were in shape you’d be less of a liability, then I wouldn’t have to constantly be saving your sorry ass-“

“Dean!” Sam barked, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Y/N hadn’t even heard him come in, the blood was pounding in her ears as she fought back tears, refusing to cry in front of Dean for fear he’d throw that in her face, too. He already implied she was fat, using her biggest insecurity against her, she didn’t need him throwing another one her way.

“What? I’m just saying,” Dean shrugged.

“You don’t just say that,” Sam glared before shooting a knowing look to Y/N, nodding his head towards the kitchen. She took the hint and all but ran out of the room. “What the hell could she have said to make you say that to her? She didn’t do anything to you.”

“She’s just annoying, another mouth to feed, a cockblock at the bar. We don’t need her here bringing us down. I wish she’d just leave.”

“Do you even hear yourself? That’s Y/N. She’s done more for us than anyone else has. She takes care of us when we’re sick and hurt, she puts up with our shit, specifically all of your shit and you…what the fuck Dean?”

Dean rolled his eyes, picking up his bags and turning to leave the room. Sam watched in disbelief before joining Y/N in the kitchen finding her with her head in her hands at the table. “Hey, hey, shhhh,” he whispered, sitting down next to her and pulling her into his arms. She sobbed harshly into his flannel. 

“He h-hates me,” she cried, the words muffled against his shirt. Sam shook his head, furious with his brother.

“He doesn’t, he couldn’t.” He rubbed her back soothingly, gently rocking her from side to side. “That wasn’t my brother.”

“I…I d-don’t understand,” she whimpered, sniffling.

“What exactly happened? Can you tell me?”

Y/N sat up slightly, wiping the tears off her cheeks and taking a deep breath to steady herself. “I thought he was you, I said hello, went to hug him. He backed up and when I tried to see what was wrong, he just started in on me.” She looked down. “I was finally ready to tell him, Sam.”

His eyes widened, knowing exactly what she meant. “Oh fuck no,” he muttered, pulling her back into his embrace. “Something must’ve happened while he was gone…but even then he had no right to talk to you like that. For everything that he’s been through, even with the Mark, he’d never, ever, talk to you like that. If it was anyone else, they’d be dead. If he could’ve heard himself…“ Sam stopped, shaking his head in anger. “Something’s not right.”

“Am…am I clingy, Sam?” Y/N asked quietly, Dean’s words echoing in her head.

“God, no, Y/N. You’re not. A few hugs and cuddles here and there doesn’t make you clingy.” Sam smiled sadly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You are one of the best things to happen to Dean and me. You look after us, keep this place running, you help with hunts and research. You’re incredibly important to us and you’re a part of this little family, regardless of what my brother said. I love you, he loves you…hell, the real him adores you. You’re the little sister I always wanted, I always want you around. You’re not a cockblock or another mouth to feed and you certainly don’t bring us down. You build us up and help us keep going, every day. And before you say anything, no, there is nothing physically wrong with you, so please don’t get back into that headspace. You’re doing so well, don’t let this bring you back into that dark place. I’ll talk to him.”

Y/N smiled weakly, eyes brimming over with tears at Sam’s reassurance. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, placing a soft kiss to her forehead. “How about you go take a bath and relax a bit while I try to figure out what’s going on, okay?”

She nodded and he squeezed her in another hug before letting her go, watching her leave the kitchen and make her way towards her room, which was unfortunately next to Dean’s. Y/N tiptoed passed his room, terrified of doing anything to set him off on her again. Once in the safety of her bedroom, she gathered her comfiest pajamas, slippers, and her favorite bath soap to bring to the bathroom. She set those items aside, rummaging for her duffle. She didn’t like being so close to Dean after what happened, so she decided to throw her necessities and some clothes into the bag, topping it with her favorite pillow and blanket. She knew the bedroom next to Sam’s was empty, for now she’d make that her room until she felt comfortable being around the older hunter again.

On the way to the bathroom, Y/N dropped her bag, blanket and pillow into the spare room, closing the door behind her before heading into the private, smaller bathroom in the bunker. She turned the water on in the tub, adjusting the temperature before plugging the drain and adding her bath soap before shedding her clothes and sinking into the water below the bubbles.

Down the hall and a few twists and turns away, Sam was making his way to Dean’s room, having already sent a quick prayer to Castiel in hopes he could help him figure out what was wrong with his brother. 

“Sam,” Castiel greeted with a flutter of his wings, “what’s going on?”

Sam sighed heavily. “Something’s wrong with Dean, I don’t know what but the way he just lashed out at Y/N tells me it’s bad.” They stopped outside Dean’s door, Sam knocking hard three times before opening the door, not bothering to wait for an invitation.

“Get out,” Dean growled, ripping his headphones off his ears. 

“Not until you tell me what happened when you were gone to make you come back a grade A douchebag,” Sam shot back.

“Nothing happened, now get out.”

“Dean, you’re not yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Dean glared, his eyes on Castiel. 

“The Dean I know never would’ve said what he did to Y/N, so that’s bullshit,” Sam argued.

“She had it coming,” he shrugged. Sam’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared with anger. “Oh, calm down.”

“You know what Dean? Maybe you should leave for a while,” Sam started, advancing towards Dean, “sort your shit out.”

Dean rose from his bed, glowering at his little brother. “You’re really gonna kick me out? For her?”

Before Sam could respond, Castiel took the opportunity to move around Sam, placing his fingers to Dean’s forehead to see if he could use his grace to identify the problem. “He’s under a spell.”

“A spell? What kind of spell?” Sam asked, looking between the angel and the thoroughly pissed off hunter.

“I’m not sure, but it’s there, clinging to him.” Castiel pressed his fingers to Dean’s forehead again to try and ease him a bit to get him to cooperate better. Dean sat back down on his bed, a little more relaxed.

“Dean, you have to tell me what happened when you were gone,” Sam pleaded.

“I was on a hunt, it was a witch.”

“Do you remember anything that she said?”

“She was chanting something but I killed her before she could finish.”

“Or maybe you didn’t,” Sam sighed. “I’ll call Rowena, see if she can maybe give use insight as to what kind of spell the witch used.” He pulled out his phone before looking at his brother again. “You stay the hell away from Y/N, got it? You’ve done enough damage.”

“I’ll watch him,” Castiel offered, Sam nodding in agreement before shooting his brother one last look and heading to the library, dialing Rowena’s number.

“Samuel,” she answered.

“Rowena, I need your help.”

“You seem to be needing a lot of that lately, Samuel. And yet you’ve done nothing for me in return.”

“I’m working on it,” he responded curtly, “the quicker you get to the bunker, the faster I finish the deal. It’s about Y/N.”

The witch sighed, having developed a soft spot for the girl. “Fine, fine. I’ll be there soon.”

After her bath, Sam informed Y/N that Rowena was coming and that there was some sort of spell involved. Y/N cringed at his brother’s name, her body tensing. Sam explained that he knew the spell wasn’t an excuse for what Dean said to her, but it helped piece a few things together. Y/N just wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look at the hunter the same way again.

Until Rowena arrived, Y/N stayed in her new bedroom, locked away from everyone but Sam. He brought her meals, knowing she wasn’t up to wandering the bunker halls and risking the chance of running into Dean. As strong as he knew she was, even he didn’t think she’d be able to handle another run-in with the older hunter. 

Two days later, Rowena made her way down the steps of the bunker. Sam did his best to fill her in on what little information he got from Dean, which was a terrible pronunciation of whatever the young witch chanted at him, plus the crap attitude he’d been exhibiting ever since, including what he said to Y/N.

“But here’s the thing, I know my brother and I know how he feels about her, and it’s…it’s like everything he said to her is the exact opposite of what he’s ever said to me about her. He’s said some pretty fucked up things in his life, even to me, but to her? He’d never. It doesn’t make sense, he said the witch didn’t even finish the spell.”

“Perhaps your brother changed his mind.”

“Rowena, no. Cas was able to detect the remnants of a spell that seems to be stuck to him. That’s why I need your help, I don’t know what spell it could be.”

“Your brother, he possesses the Mark of Cain, correct?” Sam nodded. “Then whatever spell she cast…the Mark in a way protects the person who bears it. The person can’t die, as you know. In this case, it sounds like the Mark warped the spell that was thrown at Dean and it’s now sticking to him instead of wearing off like it normally would after a few days.”

“But what kind of spell? A truth spell wouldn’t make him say all that…”

“No, but the Mark could twist a truth spell into making him lie, instead. Do you know anything about the witch?”

“She was casting truth spells and tearing couples apart around town,” Dean answered, making his presence known as he entered the war room. “She was angry that her husband had an affair and she took it out on everyone else.”

Sam groaned. “So that’s it. It was a truth spell but the Mark made you lie instead of actually tell the truth.”

Rowena rolled her eyes, “and turned you into quite the dick.” Dean shot a glare at the red-head, ready to bark a nasty reply when Sam stepped between the two.

“You don’t speak unless we ask you to,” he ordered, staring down his brother. Dean’s eyes widened before he cocked a brow, smirking.

“You don’t think there’s more I could say to you this time?”

“I don’t care what you say to me, I know it isn’t you. But Y/N? She’s off limits.”

“Too late for that-“

“ENOUGH,” Rowena yelled, both hunters jumping in surprise, “now, Samuel, you can fetch me these ingredients and Dean, well, you can sit down and keep your mouth shut.”

As Sam went to the storage room to gather the ingredients needed for the spell to reverse the one stuck to Dean, Rowena followed him to Y/N’s makeshift room, knocking on the door. 

“Go away,” Y/N answered pitifully.

“Someone’s here to see you, honey,” Sam answered, “its safe, I promise.” He unlocked her door and left her and Rowena alone while he went to find her supplies. Y/N sat up on her bed, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the witch.

“Hi,” she smiled weakly, moving over on her bed to make room for the witch.

“Oh darlin’, Auntie Rowena will fix it,” she soothed, sitting at the foot of the bed. “You see, Dean was hit with a truth spell, but because he bears the Mark, the spell backfired and made him lie instead. Sam’s fetching me the ingredients I need for a reversal to get rid of the spell that’s clinging to him because of the Mark.”

“So…all the things he said…”

“I’m guessing whatever he wanted to say, he said the opposite. Apparently the witch was cheated on by her husband and due to her anger she took it out on everyone, especially men, and cursed them to tell the truth. But in Dean’s case, he was cursed to lie.”

“And be a douche,” Y/N muttered. “He said some awful things, Ro.”

“The man’s not exactly kind on a good day if you’re on his bad side,” Rowena noted. “I’ll fix him. He’s going to remember everything and run in here and apologize, you’ll see.”

“I’m not sure I can look at him, I mean, he was so cold…so brutal. If I look at him that’s all I’ll see.”

“I think once he realizes what he said and how badly he hurt you, you’ll see a side of him you’ve never seen before. Dean’s very protective of you, we all know it, so once he realizes he’s the one who hurt you, he’s gonna be devastated. You just have to remember, it wasn’t him.”

Y/N nodded, though still apprehensive. Rowena smiled warmly, patting her legs before leaving the room to see if Sam found everything. Y/N curled back up under the covers, thinking about what Rowena said. Knowing that a spell made him say those things made her feel the smallest bit better, but it was still replaying in her head since it happened. She could still see Dean’s look of disgust and hear the hatred dripping off his tongue. The idea of facing him, even after he was cured of this spell, still terrified her.

In the library, Dean was sitting at one of the tables nursing his whiskey while Rowena and Sam worked on the spell. Cas was on standby, ready to intervene if Dean got out of hand somehow and also to see if the lingering spell faded. 

Minutes later, Rowena was chanting the incantation for the reversal, Sam and Cas on either side of Dean as a precaution. A beat passed before Dean’s stoic expression faded and his eyes glowed green. Rowena sighed with relief and Cas pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead, nodding. The spell worked, Dean was back to normal.

And oh, what a crash it was.

Dean blinked a few times, looking around at their worried faces as he registered what had happened. When he realized who was missing in the room, his eyes widened as it all came flooding back like a movie scene in his head. 

“Where is she?” He choked, a wave of panic washing over him as he realized the magnitude of what he said to her.

“You remember?” Dean looked at Sam, shame and regret on his face.

“Everything.”

“She’s in the room next to mine, just go easy on her, Dean. You really did a number on her.” Dean nodded, hastily leaving the library and racing down the bunker halls until he got to the room Y/N was in. He took a deep breath before knocking softly.

“Come in,” she called, voice quiet. Dean turned the knob slowly, opening the door to find her curled up on the bed. The blatant fear on her face didn’t go unnoticed by Dean, the grimace leaving a sharp pain in his chest.

“Sweetheart,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “we need to talk.”

“I think you’ve said enough,” she answered, less bite in her reply than she would have liked.

“That…that wasn’t me, you know I’d never-“

“I thought I did, Dean. But that…even with a spell…,” She looked away from him, shaking her head. Dean’s face fell, eyes filling with tears. He really fucked up and it wasn’t even his fault this time.

“Y/N, I swear on Sam’s life, I didn’t mean a single word that I said to you that night. That wasn’t me talking, that was the spell. It’s like everything I wanted to say to you came out the complete opposite, the Mark completely took over and I’m so fucking sorry.” Dean paused, slowly making his way to her bed. When she didn’t object, he sat down by her feet.

“Sweetheart, I need you to look at me,” he begged. Y/N looked up from the spot she was fixated on on the floor, her eyes meeting his teary ones. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, you are perfect exactly the way you are. I wouldn’t be able to go on day after day without you supporting me. You aren’t a burden and I never want you to leave even though I think you deserve better than this life. Selfishly, I can’t let you go. You make this place feel like a home and I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re not clingy…you mean so much to me, Y/N. I can’t tell you how sorry I am and how much I hate that I’ve hurt you. I’m supposed to protect you and you’re…you’re scared of me.”

“You looked at me with such hate,” she whispered, cringing. “I can’t unsee it no matter how hard I try.”

“Sweetheart, I could never hate you,” Dean breathed, “not when I’m too busy loving you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “You…what?”

“When I got back that night you said you thought there was something between us and I told you there wasn’t because of the spell’s influence. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve agreed with you. There’s always been a different connection between you and I. I don’t see you as a little sister the way Sam does. I know what I said, but Y/N, how could I not want you?”

Y/N blinked, trying to process what he was saying. “Uh, well, for starters, look at me.”

“I’m always looking at you. I think you’re beautiful exactly the way you are. You take care of me, you put up with my shit, and you’re my best friend. I can’t see myself with anyone else.”

“Dean…I-“

“You don’t have to say it back. I put you through hell, I don’t expect you to feel that way about me anymore.”

“No, I do, and that’s been the hardest part.”

Dean smiled sadly, reaching out to cup her cheek. “If you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life, however long that is, proving to you that I mean everything I just said.”

“It wasn’t you,” she whispered, “you don’t have to.”

“But I’ll do it if it means you’ll forgive me.” He wiped a few stray tears off her cheek, his thumb grazing her cheekbone. “Can I hold you?” He asked meekly, biting his lip. She nodded into his palm before getting scooped up in a hug, her face buried in his neck as Dean finally broke, tears landing in her hair. “I’m so sorry,” he cried, squeezing her to him.

“Dean,” she mumbled, her lips against his skin sending shivers down his spine. “Please don’t cry.” She rubbed his back softly, trying to soothe him. She didn’t expect this. 

“I hate this thing so much,” he muttered, her eyes casting down to his forearm where the Mark was hidden by his henley sleeve. “All it does is make me angry and it’s getting harder and harder to control it, especially after…”

“I know,” she nodded, knowing he meant Charlie and the Stines. “That whole thing…that’s what made me want to tell you how I felt about you. Waiting for you in the trunk of the car felt like an eternity and I knew I would be okay as long as you got to me. I always feel safe when I’m with you, Dean, always. But I was so scared that they’d find me first and I’d die before getting to tell you. You were so angry and it felt wrong to tell you right after we lost Charlie, but I gathered the little confidence I had while you were gone-“

“And then I came home under a spell and said what I said.” Dean sighed, his grip tightening on her. “When you called me and told me the Stines broke in, Y/N, I’ve been in awful situations like that before with Sam but this…this felt so different. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, not until I saw you and knew you were okay. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion, no matter how fast I drove.” Y/N shuddered at the memory, digging herself deeper into Dean’s chest, face pressed against his neck. She inhaled deeply, relaxing as his scent that can only be described as Dean calmed her senses. “You’re okay, you’re safe,” he whispered, kissing her hair. He laid them down on her bed, tucking her under his chin.

“Dean,” she whispered, fisting his henley. 

“Yeah baby?”

“I do love you, you know.” She could feel the chuckle rumble through his chest.

“I maybe had a small feeling, or at least hoped I was reading everything right.” He ran his fingers through her hair gently, breathing in her shampoo. “Will you give me a chance to make it all up to you?”

She pulled back to look up at him, cupping his cheek. He nuzzled against her palm, eyes locked on hers as his stubble tickled her skin. “Of course, handsome.” He grinned, pressing a kiss to her palm as she blushed. She couldn’t stay mad at Dean, never was able to. But knowing how he truly felt about her, that everything that happened was the work of a witch, she knew she couldn’t hold a grudge. That wasn’t her Dean, the man who sang her back to sleep when her nightmares took over even though he hated singing to anyone but Baby’s steering wheel. The man looking at her so intently, holding her so tightly, this was her Dean. “And Dean?” 

“Sweetheart?”

“I forgive you,” she smiled, Dean’s eyes softening as he let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, pulling her impossibly closer. He kissed her forehead and her nose before softly kissing her lips, pulling back and brushing his nose against hers. Dean knew what happened wasn’t his fault, and Y/N may have forgiven him anyway, but he fully intended on spending the rest of his life, however long it may be, making sure she knew just how much he loved her, and doing his very best to deserve someone as incredible as her.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Multi-Dimensional Pt. 5

 In which you have a genius idea to take these suckers out, you accidentally do something you’re not supposed to, and you take the taller bit of your friends out. 

----

And then, you realize, that it's getting deeper into October.

As it got deeper into October, the dwarves and hobbit remain in your house. It's been a total of 2 1/2 weeks, now, and you can tell they're getting antsy from staying in one place for so long.

Like, around halloween time.

An idea strikes you in the head like a bag of bricks, and right away you realize that you're a genius.

You're sitting on the couch with Bilbo, Oin, and Bofur when the lightbulb goes off in your head suddenly, and once it does you hop to your feet and run upstairs at top speed, successfully baffling everyone idly watching the nature documentary you put on.

You pass Dwalin and Balin while you zoom to your bedroom, and when they see you run past them like freaking Speedy Gonzales they're both super confused.

Right away you grab your laptop off your bed and pull up a window.

The keys of your compute clack softly while you type in your town as well as 'Halloween Festival' and the first few results as well as images on the Google engine prove your theory.

Every year here people dress up in advance and celebrate throughout the duration of the week leading up to it. Of course, the trick-or-treating only happens on the day of, but there are a plethora of other things for people to do during that week.

People dress up, children go on field trips, there's a festival, and even the grocery stores have little events they put on to promote their business.

You've never really gone before since crowded places aren't the most comfortable for you, but you actually feel a little giddy about taking them all to see the town with you.

Right away you know you're going to have to buy them all costumes, but for the last week you've been pet sitting this rich couples Rag-doll cat, Princess, and your going rate is $18/hr for a week... Do the math ;).

You're going to get paid later in the day today after you drop her back off at their house, and that's not even accounting for the other animals you've been watching for varying amounts as well.

So, essentially, you're gonna be perfectly fine financially.

Anyways, as soon as you're done doing your little bit of research there on your computer you close it and leave your room again, hopping down the stairs with a big bright smile on your face.

When you reenter the living room, everyone is gathered there and looking at you expectantly.

At first, you don't do or say anything since you're super confused, but when the silence begins to drag on for too long you ask hesitantly, "Uh... Is everything alright? What's going on?"

"Well, you left to your room very quickly." Bilbo comments, standing up from his spot on the couch, "But from the smile on your face, I'm assuming it wasn't because of anything bad?"

You nod your head and sigh, leaning down to pet Mittens who is rubbing herself against your legs, "Yeah, everything's fine. It's great, actually." You pause for dramatic effect, then add, "I just figured out a way to take all of you out! Like, to see the town and stuff!"

"You have?" Thorin asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Mmhm!" You stand up straight and nod your head quickly, bouncing on the balls of your feet, "See, I figured I'd probably be able to take you and maybe Kili, Bofur, and Dwalin out at some point... like, if some of you were to groom yourselves different or wear hats...," once more you stop your speech and realize that may be offensive, "N-Not that I think there's anything wrong with how you look-"

"Nobody is offended, I'm sure. Go on." Thorin urges, amusement present on their faces from your sudden frantic backtracking so you don't offend them.

"R-Right, uh... anyways, you guys are taller so I knew I could probably bring you along sometime, but I wasn't sure how to get everyone else to come along, and then I realized that this next week is the week leading up to halloween!" You say it like it will answer all their questions, forgetting that they probably don't know what halloween is.

Silence passes by for a few seconds as they wait for you to go on, and when you don't Kili asks, "What's 'halloween'?"

"Oh, yeah, it's like, a holiday where children dress up and go to peoples houses to get candy. And when I say dress up, I mean in costumes." You rub the back of your neck while you explain and add, "In my city, the place we are now, we celebrate throughout the whole week. There are games, festivals, and lots of events... and there are people running around in masks all of the time. So I can get some of you costumes and then I can bring you all along!" Your smile returns as you pick apart the details, and it seems your excitement is contagious.

"Wait, so we will get to walk around the town and see other things?" Nori questions, looking over at his brothers with a smile.

"Yeah, but I gotta get you costumes first. Like, ghosts and some masks of different things. But if we wanna make the most of our time then I should probably go now."

You turn after that and go to the counter to grab your purse, pausing when Balin asks, "So it's a holiday where people run around in disguises, getting candy, and playing games as a community?"

Once again you nod your head, turning around to look at him with the same bright smile on your face.

"So, anyone can be anyone?" The older dwarf asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yeah, pretty much." You look down and go through your purse, making sure everything you need is in there before walking over to put on your tennis shoes.

"Even the man who was here the week before?"

Now that certainly gives you a pause.

Before you were never worried about it, but now with what's happened with him, you aren't so sure that it's so safe anymore.

"Um... yeah, I guess." You'd rather not think about it, so you start to tie your laces up. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Well, you already said that you can bring some of us, so why not do that now? Just to make sure?" Balin asks, though it's more of a 'you should really do it cause we're gonna freak out if you don't'.

You don't respond and instead finish tying your shoes first, thinking over his request.

When you're done doing up your shoes you turn and see that they're all looking at you with similar expressions of worry, and it makes you sigh, "Okay, fine. But whoever goes can't wear their normal clothes cause people will be weirded out. The halloween thing doesn't start for another day."

There's a moment of silence while some of them exchange looks before Thorin speaks, "You mentioned Kili and myself first. Surely that should be fine."

"Um..." You look between the two and tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, arms crossed over your chest. "Sure. But your hair is definitely going to stick out, Thorin."

He nods his head in understanding.

"And what about me?" Kili asks eagerly. It seems he's really excited about finally being able to leave your property.

"You're fine, I think. Am I taking both of you?" You inquire with furrowed eyebrows, walking a few steps forward.

"You might as well." Kili says with a big silly smile.

Well, you can't argue with that logic.

You shrug your shoulders and head up the stairs again, "Alright, go get changed into some of the clothes I gave you."

---

Once they're dressed in t-shirts and sweatpants (you didn't know their sizes so you got whatever would fit at the time) you observe them both with narrowed eyes while rubbing your chin.

"Hm... On a scale of 1 to 10, I give Kili a 9 and Thorin a 6." You say after a moment, turning to look at everyone else and get their opinions.

"What is the scale referring to?" Fili pipes up suddenly, looking up at you.

"How convincing they are."

"Why do I get a 6?" Thorin grumbles, looking at you pointedly.

"Your hair." You reply simply, walking over with a hair tie stretched between your fingers, "Hold still."

You gather his hair over his shoulders and pull it back, putting his hair through it and wrapping it around until it's nice and tight.

As soon as you're finished, you step around him and look to see if it's made a difference, and when you've determined that it's good, you smile, "Okay, now it's at least an 8." You turn towards Kili and ask, "Your hair is fine, right? Or do you want me to put it up?"

He doesn't say anything and neither does anyone else, and when the silence persists you raise an eyebrow, "Hello? Earth to Kili, I just asked you a question."

"Uh, no, you don't have to, thank you." He shakes his head and seems to come to some sort of realization since he starts to smile at his uncle in that big teasing grin you've, unfortunately, become accustomed to.

You nod your head and skip back over to the counter, swiping your keys off of it before heading to the front door.

"Come out whenever, I'm gonna get my car started."

Once you're out of the house some of the dwarves begin to laugh, and Kili pokes fun at his uncle, "Thorin, you have quite a red face, are you sure you can go?"

Thorin glares at his nephew and replies coldly, "She meant nothing by it."

"Right, but is that disappointment I hear?"

The glare he throws his nephew is so withering it could suck the life right out of a flower, but Kili is no flower, so he only laughs more.

"She offered to do yours too, you know." Fili adds when he begins to feel bad for his uncle.

Kili pauses his laughter and glares at his brother, "But she didn't do it."

"She would've."

"Oh hush, you're just upset that she didn't ask to do your hair." Kili shoots back, glaring at his brother.

"I am not, because unlike everyone else, I knew she meant naught by asking." He shoots back with a smirk.

Kili huffs indignantly and glares at his brother, saying no more as he heads out the door after you.

Thorin turns to everyone before following and states, "Try not to destroy anything while we are gone." His voice is firm and he waits until he gets nods from them all before leaving after you.

---

Once you're all in the car you put it into drive and go, turning up the radio so the car won't be completely filled with silence while you drive.

Occasionally, you'll glance at Thorin in the passenger seat or Kili in the back, and each time you do they're looking out the window at the passing scenery with awe.

"If you're impressed now, wait until we get into the big city." You comment suddenly, smiling to yourself while you watch the road ahead.

And when you do arrive in the city, they are impressed indeed.

The gasp that leaves Kili when you drive through the first big street draws a giggle from you, and when he presses his face against the window as you pull into the parking lot of the seasonal halloween store, your smile grows even bigger.

Even Thorin is impressed by all the wonderful things around, and when you turn off the car after parking you turn to look at them, "Thoughts so far?"

"It's wonderful." Kili breathes, looking at the bright, moving signs and huge stores all around.

"Yes, I don't believe I've ever seen anything so grand before." Thorin agrees, looking over at you with a smile of his own.

"Well if this impresses you, wait until we get inside the store. Try not to get scared."

---

The three of you eventually make it inside, and when you do they are in awe once more.

The seasonal store is dark with black painted walls and bright white florescent lights, and there are various halloween and horror things everywhere.

When you walk in there is one of those electronic jump-scare things, and while you were expecting it, the poor dears behind you weren't.

The witch thing pops out and cackles loudly, saying one of her many phrases, and as soon as she does both Kili and Thorin freak out. And when I say freak out, I mean 'pulled out some small weapons they decided to bring and screaming' freak out.

Luckily there is no one around at the moment, so you step between them and the witch and laugh nervously, "Put those away please. We're gonna get kicked out if anyone sees you with those."

They look between you and the electronic woman a few times before slowly putting their knives away and relaxing their stances.

"Thank you..."

"What is that?" Kili asks, glaring at the ugly jump-scare machine while you walk past it.

"It's a halloween decoration designed to scare people. And it seems like it worked too." You reply easily, looking back at them with a more mischievous smile.

Kili looks around slightly nervously and grumbles defensively, "I wasn't that scared... Uncles screams are what startled me."

"My screams? Kili, let's not lie now, clearly you were horrified." Thorin says disapprovingly, shaking his head.

"Aw, you guys are cute." You purr jokingly, waltzing up to the kids costumes isle.

They stop arguing after that.

You browse through the messy shelves quietly for a little while, trying to find the best ones, when you see a doggie in the cutest ghost costume.

A squeal leaves your lips when you see the cutie pie and you cup your cheeks as an adoring expression comes onto your face.

Without hesitation you hop over to the owner and ask excitedly, "Where did you get that?"

The man with the dog looked up quickly upon hearing your excited yelp and when he saw your exuberant form he smiled too, "I bought it a week ago here. They're near the back."

His answer fills you with joy, and you continue to stare at his pupper for a moment before he says, "You can pet her if you want, she doesn't bite."

He doesn't need to tell you twice.

You kneel down right away and scratch behind her ears, and her tail begins to wag wildly at the attention.

It seems that she likes you just as much, because she takes a seat and leans into you when you scratch her all over like you do with your dogs. It's at that moment when you begin to wonder if she'll fit in your purse.

Before you can finish your calculations and plans on stealing this mans dog you hear someone clear their throat and you realize then that you forgot all about Thorin and Kili.

You turn your head and see the two of them standing there with amused expressions on their faces.

Upon realization that they're watching you, and have been for a little while now, you jump to your feet and feel your face heat up. "I-If you make fun of me I'll leave both of you here." You threaten very unconvincingly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kili starts to laugh but he doesn't say anything about it, looking at his uncle who also releases a few chuckles of his own.

You glance back at the man and see that he's looking at them, and you realize he probably thinks Kili's short stature is a little odd.

"U-Uh, thanks for letting me pet your dog!" You say quickly, heading back over to the two of them with a blush on your cheeks.

You turn back to the shelves of costumes and the man and his dog walk away, and once their gone you glare at the two of them half heartedly. "You guys are total meanies." There is faux bitterness in your voice when you speak as well, and it only brings more laughter from them.

"I only find it cute." Kili states, smiling good naturedly before continuing, "Every time you see an animal you get very excited."

"Cause I love animals."

"Yes, we can tell." Thorin muses, stepping up next to you to look at the spiderman mask in your hand.

You tap your foot against the ground a few times before putting the mask back.

A ghost costume for Bilbo; check.

That is all.

You literally don't have anything for anyone else, and honestly you're beginning to think that it's impo-

And then another idea hits you.

Class of middle/high-schoolers in a fantasy club. It's farfetched and barely believable, but most people won't say anything about it out of fear of being offensive, so it's perfect!

You don't have to buy them costumes at all (minus Bilbo), all you need is stuff to make them look less like dwarves and more like children pretending to be dwarves.

It sounds easier than it actually is, but you think you can pull it off. All you need is some netting, makeup, wigs, and nose and scar wav and you'll be set.

Once you get this idea you run away from the kids section with the ghost section and head toward the halloween makeup isle, seeking out the items mentioned previously without hesitation.

You find what you're looking for in minutes, and once you've got everything you zoom to the checkout since you're going to need to look up some tips on how to pull this off.

You're so excited you nearly forget to make sure Kili and Thorin are still with you, but once you see them you smile in relief and pay for everything.

Once you're all back in your car, Thorin asks, "I thought we were going to get masks?"

"Well, we were. But then I had an amazing idea consisting of pretending you're all students or something who invested in really expensive dwarf costumes. It's perfect, 'cause no one will ask and we'll get lots of compliments."

Thorin nods his head slowly and puts his belt on like you showed him, but before you go you turn and look at Kili expectantly.

The young dwarf doesn't say anything at first, but when your staring consists he asks slowly, "What...?"

"Put on your seatbelt."

There's more silence until he puts it on, raising an expectant eyebrow at you, "Is that better?"

"Much."

[uomo-accattivante]

Great article about Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter - a poker movie that’s not really a poker movie...

Some filmmakers write a hit movie and spend the ensuing years trying to escape its shadow. Paul Schrader never flinched. Forty-five years after his “Taxi Driver” script put him on the map, the writer-director has developed a body of work loaded with alienated anti-heroes compelled to violent and reckless extremes for the sake of a higher calling.

That includes “The Card Counter,” in which Oscar Isaac plays guilt-stricken Abu Ghraib vet William Tell, a man with a gambling addiction compelled to help the revenge-seeking son (Tye Sheridan) of a former colleague. Taking justice into his own hands, Isaac’s William Tell slithers through the Vegas strip in search of questionable salvation, not unlike a certain Vietnam vet named Travis Bickle did from the driver’s seat. As if to cement the comparisons, “The Card Counter” features Martin Scorsese as an executive producer, marking the first time the two men share a credit since 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead.”

For Schrader, “Taxi Driver” comparisons are inevitable in all his work. “My tendency is to look for interesting occupational metaphors,” Schrader said in a recent interview. “‘Taxi Driver’ hit the bull’s eye of the zeitgeist and it doesn’t die. There’s no way I could’ve planned for that, but it does inform the stories I tell.”

At 75, Schrader continues to churn out movies much like his compatriot Scorsese, albeit on a much smaller scale. “The Card Counter” is the latest illustration of the secularized Christian dogma percolating through his work. “Our society doesn’t like to take responsibility for anything,” he said. “But I come from a culture where you’re responsible for everything. You come into the world soaked with guilt and you just get guiltier.” In his own prickly fashion, Schrader makes movies steeped in empathy for lost souls in search of redemption despite the daunting odds. “We’re all certainly capable of forgiveness,” he said, and chuckled. “Anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

The “Taxi Driver” dilemma looms large in nearly all of Schrader’s work, from the dazzling high-stakes activism of “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” all the way through Ethan Hawke’s eco-conscious priest in “First Reformed.” While the latter, Oscar-nominated effort brought Schrader new fans, “The Card Counter” is an even more precise distillation of his aesthetic — a moody, philosophical drama about the vanity of the personal crusade.

Schrader, who has labeled his homegrown character studies as “man in the room” dramas, embraces the parallels as usual. “There is this kind of myth that the taxi driver was this friendly, joking kind of guy who was a character actor in movies,” he said. “But the reality is that it’s a very lonely job, and you’re trapped in a box for 60 hours a week.” He saw the same logic with gambling, a wayward profession generally depicted in the movies in the context of escapist romps, rather than the somber rituals that afflict most players. “I thought about the essence of playing cards every day, or sitting in front of a slot machine. It’s kind of zombie-like,” Schrader said. “You see commercials of people in casinos laughing. But it’s a pretty glum place. Today with slots you don’t even have to pull the lever. You just sit there and let the numbers roll.”

The gambling figure led Schrader to the bigger picture of his character’s conundrum. “I was wondering why someone would choose to live in that sort of purgatory,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be alive, but he can’t really be dead, either. What could cause that? It can’t be a simple crime, murder, or a family dispute. It has to be something unforgivable. And that was Abu Ghraib.”

After the fallout of that debacle, William did time in a military prison, and reenters society before the movie begins. That was a world the filmmaker wanted to understand in clearer terms. Though Schrader has received blowback for his controversial Facebook posts in the past, in this case, the platform was an asset: He used it to track down soldiers who had done time in the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, the only military prison in the U.S., to better understand the initial claustrophobic world that Tell endures, as well as the conflict between the justice he’s received and what he deserves. “This man has been punished by his government, set free, and paid his due, but he doesn’t feel that,” Schrader said. “What does he do then? How does he fill his time? That’s how it all began.”

Schrader himself toyed with gambling when he lived in Los Angeles early in his career, but soon gave it up. “I very quickly realized I was only interested in gambling if it was really dangerous and I didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of danger,” he said. Years later, though, the experience helped inform his story. “There is this whole fantasy of gambling movies from ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ to ‘California Split,’” Schrader said. “But poker is all about waiting. People will play 10 to 12 hours a day and two to three times a day, a hand will happen where two players both have chips. Now you’ve got a face-off. But that doesn’t happen very often. Most guys who are there are running the numbers, the probability.”

He envisioned “The Card Counter” as a repudiation of the traditional poker movie, which builds to the giddy release of a final tournament. When that moment arrives in the movie, Schrader takes the movie in a bleak, shocking new direction. “It’s not really a poker movie — that’s a red herring,” he said.

William is immersed in his casino journey when he encounters Cirk (Sheridan), the crazy-eyed son of another Abu Ghraib soldier who committed suicide. Cirk blames the soldiers’ former commander (Willem Dafoe), and hopes to loop William into the plan. Instead, the older man decides to take Cirk under his wing to talk him out of the act, which doesn’t prove so easy. In the process, the gambler forms a curious bond with La Linda (Tiffany Haddish), a gambling agent and pimp whose icy, relentless drive to make the most out of the poker circuit brings William some measure of companionship on his wayward journey.

It should come as no surprise that the “Girls Trip” breakout is nearly unrecognizable in the role of the calculated La Linda, which is also a distinctly Schraderish touch: From his work with Richard Pryor in 1978’s “Blue Collar” all the way through Cedric the Entertainer’s supporting turn in “First Reformed,” Schrader has made a habit of seeking out comedic actors willing to play against type. That’s partly opportunistic on his part. “They’re eager to do it because they want to expand their palette, so you can get them for a price,” Schrader said, chuckling again. “That’s necessary, given the kind of films I make.” But that’s not all: “They will always find a way to be interesting, even when they’re not getting a laugh.”

Which is not to say that the process comes easily to them. Haddish recently told the New York Times that Schrader had to coach her out of speaking in a comedic sing-song. The filmmaker put it in blunter terms. “On the first reading of the script we had, frankly, she wasn’t very good,” he said. “I told her to go back and read every single line without emotion. Then I said, ‘You’re not going to do that in front of the camera, but you can’t hit every line either. So let’s pick five or six lines you can hit where you get a smile or reaction.’ Quickly she got that it was a different rhythm.”

As for Isaac, whose disquieting turn suggests a maniac lingering just beneath the surface, Schrader once again turned to metaphor. “I told him to imagine himself on a rocky coast in the ocean,” Schrader said. “Waves are going to come up and get you all day every day. They’re going to try to batter you. Let them. The waves will go away. You’ll still be there. Don’t compete. In the end, the rocks will win. You have to learn to trust that the way these things are put together has more power than the individual movement.”

William’s routine includes an odd ritual in which he covers all the furniture in his various Vegas hotel rooms with white paper. While the motivation is never explained, Schrader said it stemmed from an experience with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti on the set of 1982’s “Cat People,” when Schrader realized the man was doing the same thing. “He said, quite simply, ‘I have to live here surrounded by these ugly hotel furnishings,’” Schrader recalled. The concept inspired the new movie’s most compelling visual motif. “Casinos are very ugly places. There are no exceptions,” Schrader said. “Often you aspire to finding pockets of beauty and there weren’t really any here except the only place he could control, which was his hotel rooms, where he could privatize his visions. I came up with this ritual for him to control those visuals.”

At a certain point, Schrader himself couldn’t control the visuals of “The Card Counter” for more prosaic reasons: After an extra tested positive for COVID-19, the production shut down last March, with five days of shooting left, and couldn’t resume until July. Though Schrader initially took to Facebook to fume at his producers, the pause eventually opened up an opportunity to tweak his vision. “I edited the film and put in placeholders for the five or six scenes of consequence that I hadn’t shot,” he said. “I didn’t have a fully finished film but I could screen it for people. Normally you only get that privilege if you have a big-budget film and you’re allowed reshoots.” The early audience included Scorsese, who provided a crucial note. “I asked Marty, ‘What am I missing?’ He said to me that the relationship with Tiffany and Oscar was too thin. So I rewrote those scenes.”

Schrader asked Scorsese to take on the executive producer credit as a favor. “I said, ‘Marty, wouldn’t it be nice to share a card again? I thought it would help sell the film but it would also be a cool thing to do after all these years,’” Schrader said. “Then a couple of weeks later his agent called wanting to work out a deal. What deal? I asked Marty and he said yes. That’s the deal!” Now, the pair are trying to collaborate on a new long-form TV series based on the Bible, though the timing has been delayed by production on Scorsese’s upcoming “Killers of the Flower Moon.”

In the meantime, Schrader has been mulling over the way “Taxi Driver” not only continues to inform his storytelling but the world at large. “Hardly a week goes by that I don’t notice or hear some reference to it,” he said. “But I don’t know how you’d tell such a story today. A number of writers have tried and I don’t think they’ve succeeded because it has to come out of a certain place and time. We have plenty of these incels around, but they’re not as original or revealing as they were 45 years ago when that character came on the scene. I wouldn’t know how to write about it.”

Instead, his next project is a love triangle called “Master Gardener,” which he hopes to shoot in Louisiana before the end of the year. He has several other potential scripts ready to go after that. And while he has expressed trepidation about the future of cinema in the past, he’s not convinced that audiences have given up on it yet. He recalled a conversation he had with Cedric the Entertainer when “First Reformed” made the rounds. “He said off-handedly to me, ‘You know, I didn’t realize there were so many people who liked serious movies,’” Schrader said, and chuckled once more. “Well, yeah, there are.”

“The Card Counter” premieres next week at the Venice Film Festival. Focus Features releases on September 10, 2021.

###

[botwstoriesandsuch]

hey Kip! I’m sending asks into different writer’s askboxes, inquiring about cool themes/development facts/stuff the author wants to share about their personal favorite work of their own. What’s yours? :)

Ok so this ask is old and when I first got it I was like “dang I don’t really have a lot to talk about, what should I talk about I could those revalink headcanons the Kip Cut that turned into a working fic uhh hmm maybe I’ll just make something new to talk about real quick” and then I did and now there is a 12+ chapter Revalink fic in my drafts and I’m gonna talk about that now, whoopsie doopsie [click "j" to skip]

aHEM, OK so allow me to break out the primary school white board because yeah, I have a lot of thoughts and the oxford comma has not yet made it’s home into my brain. oh and spoilers for paraphrase. for both all of Chapter one and future events in later chapters, but it’s really nothing you couldn’t surmise from the AO3 tags

so I really wanted to tell the story of Revali and Link learning and struggling to love again after the less-than-fortunate events of Botw, but I wanted a...how you say...fresher, approach on the subject? Like I know we always say that fanfic writers writing the same tropes and stories time and time again is good because we eat that shit up--but at the same time I had asian parenting as was told never to half ass anything ever, no matter what. So now I'm gay and extra and have depression maybe and oh would you look at that @motherhyrule has dropped a beautiful revalink prompt right into my lap

Great so now that we have, that, I shall take you on the step by step process on how to make a :sparkles: story. So step one is to spend at least five to eleven business days for your white board to dismantle your genre and themes and work them around your character arcs. Luckily I have prepared one ahead of time

s*breaks out those laser pointers that uni professors use* So let's start with defining genre. As define because I HATE you, fuck you. I want you to suffer and writhe on the ground, motherfucker. How dare you think that I would give you nothing but pure predictable fluff, fuck you and yours

is the set of expectations that your audience has when consuming a piece of media

And the great thing about fanfiction is that unlike movies or book where the genres are more vague like, "oh it's a noir mystery genre. so there's a crime, maybe a murder, and a detective and a criminal." or "oh it's a teen romance. so there's some white people and a morally questionable six-pack 18 year old love interest that will be painted as desirable for some reason" BUT with fanfiction HALF of the work out the window, because as soon as you see those #revalink #aro sidon #zelpha #revali is an idiot and #found family tags you already know what's up.

Now what's so great about genre and expectation? Well the fun thing about it is that

I will use it to fucking break you.

... ... ...

<3 For example! <3

In Chapter 1: Holes, you already expect there to be revalink, you already expect them to be soulmates with the soulmarks and there's angst and yadayada ya. Revali and Link have to match because thatttss what this is all about, this is about them! This is about cute, little soulmarks and romantic words!

But whoooopsie doopsie [disney channel laugh track plays] they DON'T match anymore! Link's got a different mark! The number one rule of this entire genre has been broken whoooooooooooooooops. *ba dum tiss*

You might notice with a lot of my writing that I do this a lot, this whole..."oop but there's one little thing that's different." TebaSaki sick fic? Ok cool, but what if Teba burns an irreplaceable relic of the Rito champion to fight a wizzrobe first to characterize why his dumbass clicks with Saki. Mipha deciding to persue Link? Ok what if she chases after a dragon to externalize this conflict as she pierces it's flesh for a scale. Link fighting a Lynel? Ok but what if it's actually a sidlink angst fic in disguise and it's also world building on how Link deals with the bloodmoon that erases all of his efforts which is sort of similar to how his existence was erased from Hyrule 100 years ago mwaahahaha! Ok now that I say this outloud I think I just have a pattern of using fight scenes to externalize character growth. I like fight scenes...anyways.

I think another great thing about the realm of fanfiction is that with the tagging system, I can basically use a chekhov's gun sort of deal, without doing any writing. You know I'm gonna use that gun marked "soulmates" but you don't know when I'm gonna shoot it, and you SURE as hell don't know how.

And huzzah! One of the main points of conflict both drives the tension between Revali and Link, solidifies the unique genre and setting of this world, while also creating a new mystery that will carry over for the next few chapters.

Is Revali right in that Link's rebirth makes him destined for someone new now? What will Link do with the information that his soulmark has changed? Why did it change? Did Revali's change as well? How does anything fucking work right now?

And sure, you might be able to tell where things will end with them, but you sure as fuck will not know how because I HATE you. Fuck you. I want you to suffer and writhe on the ground, motherfucker. How dare you think that I would give you nothing but pure predictable fluff. I am not your goddamn fairy godmother, I will do as I fucking please. You will suffer as you fucking deserve, fuck you and your little tiny--

/j

Oh! But you might have noticed on my little planning whiteboard thing that there was a little T-Chart! For Revali and Link! That's because the next important thing besides plot (and in a lot of cases, including this one, it's argued to be even MORE important than plot) is

~CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT~

[to the tune of that history of the world video on youtube]

So yes, it's a little T-Chart outlining their character views in relation to the themes. And the great thing about themes is that they're not something you can necessarily predict in the same way you can with the genre and plot.

But now see, I'm very lazy so I'm just gonna plagiarize @hyrule-kingdom-updates thingy [that you should read btw] because they said my point quite clear enough

Now I don't really need to care about those points about bond and relationships and being understood, because I'm dealing with already established canon characters. I'm not some NERD who dabbles with entire casts of ocs who even cares about ocs not me that's for sure ahaahahaahahahahahaahahahahahAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH *cries in my orphaned WTTU fic* AHAHAHA*sobs*DONT FUCKING LOOK AT ME THAT WAY I SWEAR--

/j I love ocs

But the points I do wanna focus on is the idea that characters provide new perspectives on the theme, and that characters growth can be tracked based on their wants, lies, and needs.

So see, themes can be predicted the same as genre/plot because while you can have the same fanfic plots and tropes, theme will always vary!

Sometimes it's a journey of selfworth with Revali! Sometimes it's an exploration of trauma with Link. Sometimes it's about how you deal with the vulnerabilities of love with Mipha. Sometimes there's straight up NOOOO theme, and people just be fucking, and kissing, and baking, and having a good time. And that is totally fine too!

But I'm not a fucking coward.

I'm gonna weave in themes with my plot, because I fucking can.

I'm not a weakling like you.

Do you hear me, 2019 Kip? Do you hear me Demmers? Do you hear me Quill? I'm coming for your ass. You think you're so great, but I'm coming for you. Rest assured that your graves will be as deep as your sculptured pride--

Heeeere is that T-Chart again, plus more!

yyyyyYou might notice that Revali and Link are quite parallel, to paraphrase. Ayoooo, see what I did there? *dabs* I'm a genius. Anywho

They both start off the same way: 100 years ago they were in love and happy. Basically the equivalent of childish naivety. For the first time in their lives, life is whimsical and charming, and they make each other happy. In fact, it's almost a flaw with how they perceive this happiness. But don't worry! It doesn't last long!

You know what happens.

I think the chart is pretty self explanatory. Revali builds walls fast enough to give a republican a wet dream. Meanwhile Link makes every aromantic in the chat groan with his doubled down sentiments in the idea that his chances of being truly happy again are gone.

Now, I can't exactly describe the full on process of the inbetweens, and where Revali and Link are gonna go from here, because...you have to read it for yourself! Heehee...but something I did think was fun was how these character views on the themes are revealed. Because you'll notice that, I never give exposition. Ever.

Ok well, let me rephrase that. I never give exposition scenes. I will never give you a big LOTR fancy wizard scene explaining the ins and outs of a character's question or the world's magic or whatever. I'm a very impatient Kip, and I value efficiency. Nonono, it's all about multi tasking, baby!

Chapter 1: Holes is divided into three parts.

Post 100 Years - Medoh (Establishes Ghost Rev/Bonk Head Link's view)

100 Years Ago - Flight Range (Establishes old Revalink views)

Post 100 years - Mark (Develops Ghost Rev/Bonk Head Link's view in contrast to who they once were)

I think the way that you structure flashbacks is incredible vital, as it's a very quick way to characterize people without having them say stuff like "I used to be like you, until I took an arrow to the knee" or whatever.

And with the main structure of the chapters and the fic as a whole is focus on their characters, that means I can hide whatever other stuff I want in those scenes, becuase you're too busy absorbing the fun character stuff to realizing I'm giving you boring exposition. Like for example:

Post 100 Years - Medoh and Mark

Foreshadowing for the end of the fic

Set up connection to Medoh with Revali

Link has defeated Windblight

Link has been visiting Revali every night for the past few days

Link has already met Kass and presumably Teba

Link doesn't have the Mastersword

Revali's Gale is still an ability that needs master and practice on Link's end

And that's just some of the stuff.

And see, the only reason I can efficiently give all of this information regarding character, and even exposition, is because of the theme. The themes make everything relevant, and everything circles and encompasses one another, so there's absolutely no wasted space. I mean don't even get me started on how it's gonna be to characterize the other characters around this

I don't wanna talk about the other characters too much either because that's spoilers, but you can probably take a gandar based on my notes.

And oh my god this is just on the theme of the faults that come with "soulmates" and "true love" and all that, and how even magical destined relationships still require work and effort, and that no one thing or person solves all your problems. And that's not even TOUCHING the shit on trauma and scars. I didn't think it was even possible for me to talk about botw without touching on that, ha. Ah well, I've been talking for too long.

Revalink has a lot o' writing potential so das pretty cool yeah, I am excite

[thebluestbluewords]

Silver(ware) Storm Today’s fic is brought to you by the burning question: How does dining service even WORK at Auradon prep??? Also, why are there only like six characters with full names and backstories? And WHY has nobody created a charming exchange student from a Don Bluth movie yet??

“Students work here?” Evie asks sweetly, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. Her hair is tied up in an elegant braid for dinner. They didn’t have time to curl her front pieces again, but they’re still holding well enough from the morning. Unlike Mal, Evie looks as cool and unbothered as a mermaid on a misty morning. “That’s nice of them.”

Mal is sweating through her undershirt. Fuck, she’s going to have to change later if they don’t want everyone in the halls smelling her from a mile away. Doug isn’t even as sweaty as she is right now, and he’s a teenage boy.

He’s still stuttering at Evie though, which will never not be satisfying for Mal to watch. “Some of us!” He explains. “It’s not-- you won’t have to. The king is covering your tuition.”

“How generous of him.” Mal deadpans. “He really seems like the generous type, what with all the smiling and waving and stuff.”

Doug glances at her. Interesting. “Yeah,” he says flatly. “That’s him. Generous.”

Oh, now this could be interesting indeed. “I thought Ben wasn’t the king yet,” Mal says, leaning in. “Isn’t he a good prince?”

Doug glances over at her. It clearly takes him some effort to pull his eyes away from Evie’s tits, as it should. “No, um,” he says, glancing nervously at Mal’s face, then landing somewhere over her right shoulder instead. “King Adam is covering the cost of your tuition.”

“King Beast?” Mal says, eyebrows shooting into her hairline before she can stop herself. “The big guy himself is paying for us to go to school with all the little princelings?”

Doug is still wildly trying to avoid eye contact, “Ah, that is, Prince Ben thought it would be best if--”

“Does King Beast know that he’s covering our tuition?” Mal asks, leaning forwards.

Doug deflates with a sigh. “No,” he admits. “That is, he knows, I’m sure. But Prince Ben is the one who put through the order for the children of the isle of the lost to have their tuition covered by the crown.”

Interesting indeed. “And is this a partial scholarship, dependent on good behavior, or?”

“It’s a diplomatic one.” somebody says from behind Mal’s shoulder. “Contingent on not getting kicked out of school.”

Mal’s head whips around so fast she can hear something in her spine protest. “Kicked out?” She manages, though her heart is beating practically out of her chest. “What sort of person do you think I am, getting kicked out of school?”

The kid laughs, and holds out a hand. “A villain, of course. I’m Aza, son of Dimitry. Here on a diplomatic scholarship as well.”

“Hi.”

“It’s so good to meet you,” Aza says, looking Mal square in the face as they shake hands. “It’s been so long since we had new kids here from outside of Auradon.”

The kid is taller than Mal, which isn’t hard. He’s not tall by any means, but the strength of his grip and the width of his shoulders probably means he’s stronger than his height suggests. He’s got brown hair, and unlike most of the kids with their gelled and tamed styles, it flops in front of his eyes when he moves. Mal sort of wants to hit him, just to see what he’ll do. She’s got a suspicion that the answer won’t be “curl up and cry” the way that she’s guessing it would be for most of the sugar-sweet royalty she’s seen around so far.

“Charmed,” she says, giving his hand a little squeeze before she lets go. “It’ll be nice to know we’re not the only ones who aren’t… from here.”

Aza laughs. “Oh, you aren’t.” he says. He doesn’t smell like anything at all, which is so odd that Mal almost wants to take another whiff at him. “There’s a whole squad of us, if you will. The international students. Some of us have been in Auradon for years, but others are just here for high school, like you.”

“Thank you, Aza.” Doug says, back straight and more life in his eyes than Mal’s seen out of him yet. “I need to keep showing our new students the dining hall, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Aza says, moving around to stand next to Jay, at the back of the little huddle they’ve instinctively formed upon walking into the new space. “I’ll just tag along if you don’t mind, always nice to see the old place with fresh eyes again.”

“The tour is supposed to be for new students only.” Doug says. He’s not glaring, but there’s certainly an expression on his face.

“Let’s pretend I’ve forgotten where I am,” Aza says, eyes flashing. “I need the tour again, da?”

[amlovelies]

from which they never recovered

fandom: fhr pairing: Julia Ortega/f!sidestep (Cynthia Basri) rating/warnings: M--alcohol use/abuse as well as death/suicide reference. light spoilers for retribution. there’s some soft fluffy moments, but it ends with pretty heavy angst  words: 2.4k read on ao3

“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise 

 1525 days before            

               Julia winces and drops her hand. The angle she needs to start the braid is putting too much pressure on her injured shoulder. Her long dark hair is still damp after the shower washed away all the traces of blood and grime and God knows what else the fight had left on her. She could just leave it alone, let it air dry, but that’ll just mean a bigger fight later. Better to grin and bear it now, get it braided and tucked away even if hurts. It’s just pain. Julia is no stranger to pain.

               “Let me idiot” Sidestep says from as she rises from her chair on the other end of the breakroom.

              “What are you plotting?” Julia narrows her eyes. She never should have introduced her to Anathema. Themmy had always enjoyed pranks, but they had gotten much more effective ever since Sidestep had begun hanging out at HQ.

               “Nothing, I promise.” It’s amazing how Julia can hear the eye roll behind the unmoving mask. “It’s just a little pathetic watching you struggle, old woman.”

              Not afraid to ruffle feathers this one, maybe that’s why she likes having her around, even if the old barb stung a little. That’s fine, two can play at that game, “do you even know how to braid? For all I know you could be bald under there.”

               “I know how to do lots of things, Marshal.” Sidestep crosses to stand behind the couch, and Juila has to tilt her head back to keep her in her sights. Is she flirting?

               “Oh really? Have any other skills you’d like to show me?” Julia replies with a wink. Is she flirting back? This is new.

               “Do you want help or not?” She doesn’t wait for an answer instead pushing Julia’s head forward and beginning to gather the hair in her hands.  

               Julia is used to other people touching her. The doctors checking on her mods, the media team preparing her for an appearance. Hair and makeup and wardrobe buzzing around her making sure she looks presentable, attractive, heroic. It comes with the territory. So why then is a quiet tension building in her stomach, a fluttering awareness of how close Sidestep, no not Sidestep—Cynthia, stands? It’s still a new concession, the name, a small piece of the mystery of Sidestep. She rolls it around in her mind, still not used to it, but the moment feels too personal, too intimate for aliases.

               Her gloves are off, Cynthia’s bare fingers brushing against the shell of her ear, the back of her neck as she gathers all the loose strands together. Cynthia’s breath ghosts over on her scalp, her body standing so much closer than usual. Cynthia’s movements are soft and timid; the braid is looser than Julia would prefer, as if she’s afraid of making it too tight of pulling her hair, of hurting her.

               A world of difference from training where she never pulls her punches. Julia had gotten more than a handful of bruises from their sparring matches. Had given them too, Sidestep was never one to tap out, just a single minded intensity and desire to win. Julia could understand that.

��              “I should have been quicker,” Cynthia’s words breaking the silence. Her voice cracking, just a little, just enough to make Julia reach back and grab her hand. Her skin is cool, softer than she expected.

               “And I should have been more careful.” A gentle squeeze of the hand

              “Fat chance of that happening,” Cynthia says with a laugh, extracting her hand, and returning her attention to finishing the braid.

              “You know me,” Julia’s chuckle is soft, her hand slowly returning to her lap. Her skin tingles, itches and she fiddles with the emitter. “I’d be a hell of a lot worse off than a sore shoulder if you hadn’t been there.” Hospitalized for sure, maybe dead.

               “I couldn’t let that happen when you owe me dinner.” A final twist and the braid is finished.

               “I better clear my debt then; c’mon I know just the place.”

1329 days before            

               “You don’t even know what I look like.” Cyn paces back and forth in the empty training room.  Frustration rolling off of her in waves.

              It had been six weeks, two of which Julia had spent worried sick because Cynthia wouldn’t return her calls. Finally breathing a sigh of relief when she’d shown up at HQ as if nothing had happened, resolutely sidestepping all of Julia’s attempts to get her alone, to talk to her about the kiss.

               Like dealing with a skittish animal, Julia had done her best to give her space. This was all new for her too, but dinner was a safe place to start, wasn’t it?

               “So?” Julia smile is soft her voice certain, “I know you.”

              “You only think you do” Cynthia scoffs, her pacing finally stilled as she stands with her arms crossed. No doubt glaring behind the mask.

               “Then show me, tell me.” Just one step closer. She isn’t moving away.

               “Nosy.”

              “I am.” A pause, “I would also like to kiss you again.” It comes out softer than Julia had intended, more an admission than a tease.

              She waits. Waits for a quip or an insult, something caustic and sharp, a way to put more distance between them, but it doesn’t come. Just silence.

               A deep breath, and then quick, so quick, Cynthia’s hands are moving and the mask is off. Her voice is hard as she asks, “still want to kiss me?”

               She looks smaller without the mask, smaller and younger and fragile. Just Cynthia, not Sidestep. She won’t meet Julia’s eyes. Her stance rigid and fierce as if expecting some sort of condemnation, as if Julia would take one look at be disgusted.

               “Very much so,” Julia admits, and it’s the truth. She’d hardly allowed herself to speculate on what lay under the mask. There were things she knew; facts gathered from the bits and pieces she had seen. The warm tawny color of her skin, the full swell of her lips, the way her smile goes crooked, images which had haunted the edges of her dreams.

               “You’re ridiculous,” Cynthia’s voice is brittle, all the hardness from before falling away.

               Had she really expected rejection? Couldn’t she see how beautiful she is?

               “I’ve been told that once or twice.”

              She’s rolling her eyes, but she isn’t pulling away as Julia tilts her face up. Her lips are chapped, but still soft. Soft, like the gasp that falls out of them just before their lips meet. Cynthia’s arms rising to wrap around Julia’s neck, and the kiss deepens into something molten and breathless.  

               The kiss breaks, and Julia pulls back. Not far, just enough to watch Cynthia’s face, to try and memorize her features and make them fit into the idea of Sidestep, for her brown eyes to begin to replace the white of her mask in her mind.

              She kisses her again, a small peck, and Cynthia chases her lips. Pulling her down, the kiss is hungry and unexpected. Soon, too soon, she’s moving away. Mask pulled down, features concealed, only the familiar blank visage of Sidestep and even that is turning away.

              “I should go,” mumbled almost as an afterthought as she nearly runs for the door. Julia watches her go hoping it won’t be weeks until she sees her again.

 518 days before

               Cyn is sleeping again. Good. Maybe those dark circles under her eyes will start to fade. She’d slept for most of the drive, passing out almost as soon as they left the city limits. Something is wrong, has been wrong for weeks now. Should have forced her to go to the hospital after the nanosurge. Thrown her over her shoulder and carried her there if she had to. It wasn’t right to see her this way. Julia knew using her telepathy took a lot out of Cyn. Had seen her drained and exhausted, but never like this.

                The city would be smoldering ruins if the military had their way.  Julia would be . . . she shudders at the memory. There wouldn’t be anything left but her mods. No piece of Julia left to bury, just Charge.

               Cyn had saved them all, and maybe broke herself in the process.

              At least she’s at the ranch now. Oh, it had taken days to get her to agree, but in the end, Julia had worn her down.  Mama hasn’t quit fussing over her; Cyn has offered little resistance, probably just because she is too sleep deprived and weak to protest, but it’s still a victory.

               Julia rejoins her mother in the kitchen. The last thing she needs is for Cyn to wake up and accuse her of watching her sleep. It would be true, but she can’t let her have the satisfaction.

               “You should have brought her sooner,” Elena admonishes.

               “I tried, Mama. She’s stubborn.”

               Her look is pointed, “so are you. Never stopped me.”

              “It’s not the same, Mama.” Julia sighs. They’ve struck a delicate balance the last few years. Cyn still disappearing on occasion, but only for days at a time. Not like before when she would be gone for weeks at a time. Reappearing with no explanation, but always looking worn. She keeps hoping that one day Cyn will share her secrets and let her help.

              Mama purses her lips, and Julia knows that look, knows she has more she wants to say and prepares herself for the old arguments and questions. Questions she wishes she had the answer for. Or at least wishes she knew Cyn’s answer. Julia knows hers, has for a while now.

              A shuffling sound as Cyn joins them and stops the lecture in its tracks. The circles are still there, but the deep crease between her eyes has softened. Good.

               “Did we wake you mija?” Mama voice is gentle unlike the glare she shoots at Julia. As if she hadn’t been talking too.  

               “It’s fine,” Cyn says with a yawn. “I’ve been napping too much today as it is,” she adds as she leans against Julia.

               It’s still a surprise when she’s willing to do that. To lean in, to hug, to kiss, to initiate contact rather than waiting for Julia to bridge the gap. Perhaps it’s a testament to how much stopping the nanosurge took from her. Cynthia not just accepting comfort, but seeking it out. The nosebleeds haven’t stopped, but at least they are less frequent. Leaning down, Julia presses a quick kiss to Cyn’s temple. She doesn’t even push her away.

              “Well, in that case, come help me with the vegetable, and Julia can work on the sauce.” Mama says as she begins grabbing ingredients and piling them on the counter.

               The three of them work well together, and Julia doesn’t even mind being the butt of all their jokes. Not that she’ll let them know that, after all she has a reputation to uphold. The bruising to her ego is worth it though, because at least Cyn is smiling and laughing. Almost looking like her normal self. Julia doesn’t trust her when she says she’ll be fine, but she hopes its true. Maybe a few days away from the city will be enough.

              Later, Cyn joins her outside. The stars are an unfamiliar sight, so used to the neon haze of Los Diablos, it’s easy to forget about them. It’s strange to think that they are still there, just hidden. They feel so much a part of the ranch and the open air, of childhood and more innocent times. A different world than the one of heroes and villains.

               Slipping her hand in Julia’s she whispers, “I won’t say that you were right, but thank you.”

              Julia can’t hide her smile as she captures Cyn’s lips in a kiss, but at least she resists the urge to say I told you so.

6 days after      

               She’s out of tequila. Fuck. Her edges are coming back into focus and there’s nothing to dull them.

              There’s a bar in walking distance, or she could get a cab. Have it take her to the wrong part of town, maybe get into a fight. Feel someone’s bones crunch under her knuckles, pretend it’s her own face. It’s all her fault after all. Should have trusted her instincts, should have made her stay out of it. Should have been quicker, should have had a firmer grip. Flash of green and the sound of breaking glass, right there in the back of her eyes. Nearer is better. Just need to get another drink. Need to make it all disappear, stop feeling the skinsuit slipping out of her fingers. Stop seeing her face (oh god she’ll never see her face again, never hold it in her hands, never see her crooked smile). Tequila, she needs more tequila.

                Her braid is a sad and tattered thing in her hands. Jagged edges where she’d had to fight to get the knife through the thickness. She shakes her head and it feel light, her hair swinging around, wrong. It feels so wrong. Everything feels wrong now.

               It still feels unreal. An empty coffin in a grave marked by a fake name, it can’t be real, it has to be some cruel joke.

               The braid goes in the trash, she can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at it without feeling Cyn’s ghostly hands. Always so careful and thorough (not anymore, they can’t do anything anymore), pulling loose strands back from her temple. It had been such a fragile thing at first. A closeness she hadn’t looked for. She could never have expected the way the touch of her hands would make her breath catch. Need more tequila. Have to keep the memories at bay.

               The feeling of loss when the braid was finished and Cynthia stepped away. As if she knew the first thing about loss then (is that her laugh?)

                She’d been such a coward. So afraid of pushing too hard, but she’d lost her anyway and it was her own fault. She’d lost her anyway and the words she never said burn in her stomach. Tequila. She wants to drown them (it won’t be enough) wants to drown herself.

               Tequila. She’s no stranger to pain.  She just needs (needed to tell her, will never get to now) more tequila.

tagging: @lord-king-saint, @roses-and-roo @lilyoffandoms @pearlsandsteel @kittlesandbugs and @bunny-loverxiv

[napoleondidthat]

Anon, who was asking about Louis and Caroline is back :} Though it was quite interesting to talk with you about them, you shouldn't have seen the face of my Dutch friend when I showed your answer on Louis! Oopses. First off he would love to know the sources of claims of such hardcore mistreatment of Hortense. And second off he would like to disagree with you on Louis openly rebelling against Napoleon. The situation was more difficult. First example is that Napoleon simply looked down on the Dutch. The time, when newly made king decided to make a new military rank in Holland „marshal“, emperor wrote him that this is stupid and there's not anyone in the country deserving this rank, so that didn't happen. Also there was this situation with troops. Napoleon always demanded more troops from Holland, but it was quite a bad idea, since it's a pretty small country and they didn't have enough of men for their own protection. Louis would often openly write to his brother asking him to stop since because of that he was practically shooting himself in the leg, which would later backfire. Retrieving 40 000 soldiers from a country with a population in 2 mln., wasn't obviously a good idea, but Napoleon dismissed that. So later the British saw an opportunity and attacked the fortress of Bak, by capturing which they got an open road to a pretty significant city of Antwerp. Though Dutch were able to fight them off, emperor of the French wasn't okay with how they dealt with it and got very angry at Louis. Then there was the story with a blockade, but both of us assume that you know how ruinous it was to finances. So yeah there wasn't any such open rebellion that got him dethroned.

Sorry for writing such a looong question. He would just love to talk on the subject and maybe when he's finally going to get the app himself (!!!) he will write you personally. Consider me as a person in between of sorts. Basically he would be very interested to discuss more this topic with you and I think it's a good idea, since unlike him who is Dutch you're not and there are less chances that you're biased. The one thing that I hope is that we didn't tire you with this rambling. Apologies in this case :{ (Also I might be mixing some stuff since I am not Dutch and live pretty damn far from Netherlands)

Hello :)

I don't think I necessary disagree with your friend. Two things can be true at once. Yes, his points are valid. I am not sure on Napoleon's opinions of the Dutch, but I don't doubt that he didn't maybe think highly of them. And Napoleon absolutely did use the countries he overtook as places to get bodies for his army and taxation and all that.

Louis could have been a good king because he was looking out for his subjects and his "conquered" country. But let's spin it from Napoleon's view. Did Louis deserve Holland? No, none of his siblings deserved to rule, have kingdoms or anything like that in my opinion. What did Louis do to get the throne? Did he land grab? Did he fight for it? No. He had a brother who did and then because he had all this land to rule handed it out to his family like candy. The best Louis could do, he did, he tried to rule fairly. But in Napoleon's mind, he has placed a proxy on the throne. A person who is to represent him not Holland. So when Louis (and the others) decided they were going to play ruler because they could, Napoleon had issues. In his mind, HE won the throne and it was HIS and his family should back HIM. Now was Napoleon right? Yes and no. Not right from an enlightened point of view, but then he shouldn't been toppling thrones and giving them away to family either. In Napoleon's world he was absolutely right in telling his siblings how to rule and what laws to follow since they were technically his kingdoms.

Ultimately Louis AND Napoleon shouldn't have been on Holland's throne.

Louis was absolutely correct that conscription and taxes would burden Holland and could ultimately crush Holland, not to mention public opinion. But when Louis is writing to his brother and saying this, this isn't what Napoleon wants to hear. In Napoleon's mind he thinking: What have you done to win the throne, Louis? Who gave you Holland? What war did you lead, when were you at the negotiating table, who surrendered Holland to you? No one. Holland was surrendered to me. I won Holland. And you serve and my pleasure. I put you on the throne and it's really in reality my throne. And you will not dictate to me, the CEO of the family and France, how you will lead. I will tell you how you will lead.

Napoleon ultimately would have found his "I'm Dutch now" stance ridiculous. Napoleon's argument would be I won Holland for France, you are French, Holland is here to serve France. He wouldn't let Louis sit there and become his enemy, no way. When it came to these matters, Napoleon didn't play around and he had no real patience for upstart family members trying to compete or one up him. Louis and Napoleon also had bad blood between them for years that just kept getting worse. They weren't on good terms even when they were on good terms.

It's now for history to decide and debate over who is morally more right in the stance: Napoleon or Louis?

As for Louis's mental issues and behavioral ones, it's mostly documented in various biographies on Napoleon and/or the Bonaparte family. The original source? I am sure quite a bit from Hortense, but it also seems to have been common knowledge at court. Several court memoirs have dropped that Louis and Napoleon weren't on good terms and Louis was pretty much weird at best. In fact, I just picked up a book, a memoir (and yes, memoirs are problematic too but that's a whole another topic), and the very first chapter is about how Louis is unstable. Some of this could be disease related, other could be because of just the general break-down in the relationship between Napoleon and Louis.

One famous example: Napoleon adopted Louis' eldest son because of this band-aid belief that it would be something akin to Napoleon having a child with Josephine. Louis, for some very good reasons, wasn't comfortable with this, feeling his son would not really be his to parent AND because his son would out rank him as being heir to Napoleon's throne, (don't forget the Bonapartes all were stupidly entitled and jealous of one another). He ultimately went along with it grumbling all the way. Court rumors started circulating that Hortense and Napoleon had a relationship that this child was the product of and that was the reason Napoleon wanted him as his heir. No truth to the rumors, but Louis got wind of them and suddenly he is thinking maybe there is some truth this this. When the boy dies, Napoleon does want to adopt the second son but Louis won't go along this time.

So tell your friend, I don't disagree with him on the points he made. Louis did do those things and they are commendable and probably why he's liked to this day by the Dutch. Just that Napoleon wouldn't have gone for that and he's right also. Like I said, two things can be true at once.

[marjansmarwani]

would’ve loved you for a lifetime

Tarlos || 7.6k || ao3

Prompt: Characters are secretly married and one of them is hurt at work 

-----

The story of how TK and Carlos came together, and how they almost missed out on their future before it even got a chance to start.

For the wonderful @acejuddryder on her birthday! I hope you enjoy this AC and that you have a day as good as you deserve 💕

I came across this prompt a while ago and @bellakitse encouraged me to write it and I am so glad she did! I have been wanting to do a non-linear narrative for a while, and this worked perfectly for that. Shoutouts to both @officereyes and @firefighterstrand for helping me with bits and editing for me, you’re champs 🥰

--------

Judd watched as TK went about repacking the first aid kit with a smile on his face, humming to himself. This had been going on for the majority of their 24-hour shift now and in hour 23, Judd’s patience was finally up. 

“Okay kid, what gives? You’ve been grinning like the butcher’s dog all shift.” 

TK glanced up from his work, startled, “I have not.” 

“Yeah, you have dude,” Marjan informed him as she tossed him more supplies, “want to fill us in?” 

“It’s not just today either,” Paul noted, coming around from the other side of the engine, “you’ve been suspiciously chipper for a few days now.” 

“Can’t a guy just be happy without getting the third degree? Jeez.” 

“There’s happy, and then there’s this.” 

“You too Mateo, really? I thought you had my back, man.” 

“Don’t guilt-trip the probie,” Paul admonished, throwing his polishing rag at TK for emphasis, “just tell us what’s up.” 

TK was saved the trouble of dodging the question by the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. 

“Saved by the bell,” he declared as he fished it out of his pocket and stepped to the back of the rig for some semblance of privacy. 

“Don’t count on it lasting,” Judd called after him, “we’re getting right back into this as soon as you are done.” 

The others returned to their tasks, eager to finish with the end of their shift in sight. Their focus was soon broken by the sound of a gasp and a clattering sound from where TK stood. They all looked over to see TK, standing on the other side of the engine bay, expression stricken and body trembling. 

“TK?” Paul asked hesitantly but got no response. Not even an indication that their teammate had heard him. They crossed over as a group but Judd got there first and reached down to grab the abandoned phone. The call was still going. He watched as Marjan approached TK, comforting hands reaching for his and Paul reminded him to breathe in his even, calming voice as he lifted the abandoned phone to his ear.

“Hello?” 

“Mr. Strand?” 

“No, this is his friend. He seems to be...a little out of sorts right now.” 

The voice on the other end sighed, “that’s understandable. Would you please just inform him that his husband should be heading into surgery shortly and that he should check in upon his arrival so that the doctor can give him an update?” 

Husband? Judd was so stuck on that word he almost missed the rest of the sentence. He managed to unfreeze his brain long enough to answer, “Of course, I’ll make sure he gets there. What hospital?” 

“St. David’s.” 

“Thank you.” 

Judd hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. He felt the eyes of the team on him but he took a steadying breath before he looked up. When he did he ignored the curious gazes of the others and looked directly at TK, “they said I should tell you that your husband should be heading into surgery shortly, and that you should check-in when you get there so a doctor can update you.” 

TK nodded, but said nothing else. No explanation, no objection that they were wrong; that he didn’t have a husband. 

Because as far as Judd had known as of a few minutes ago, he didn’t. 

“I need to go,” TK finally said and his voice was so pained it almost hurt to hear, “I need to get there.” 

“I hate to break it to you man,” Paul said gently, “but you are in no shape to drive right now.” 

“I’ll take him.” 

The words were out of his mouth before he had even fully processed them. But when the eyes of the team fell to him, he repeated them: “I’ll take him. Clear it with Cap?” 

The others nodded and he hoped they had picked up on what was left unsaid: tell Owen that he apparently has a son-in-law he doesn’t know about; tell the Captain that TK is a wreck but that Judd had him. 

“There’s only a bit of shift left, we should be able to hold down the fort. Go, and keep us updated.” 

Judd nodded at Paul and the others before reaching out a hand to put on TK’s shoulder, “C’mon kid, let’s go.” 

His voice and guiding hand were gentle, and TK barely nodded before allowing himself to be led out of the station and to Judd’s truck. He climbed into the passenger seat silently and didn’t utter a word for the whole drive. All Judd could do was shoot him concerned glances and try to push back all the unanswered questions in his mind. Now was not the time for answers —his one and only concern was making sure TK was okay. The rest could come later. 

----------

They started on a Tuesday. 

As things went it wasn’t a particularly notable day for a beginning, but there wasn’t much notable about their start. 

They were two people colliding; contrasting desires meeting in the in between, in the common ground. They wanted different ends but the means suited them both just fine. It was hot and heavy; it was rough and quick. It was needy and physical and everything they wanted (if only for a moment). 

Then eventually, it was more. 

Not at first —it wasn’t more for a long time. For months it was just blowing off steam, just mind blowing sex. There were a few dates of varying success, but they continued their dance around each other and the feelings they both had. Then TK got shot and they both watched their potential future teetering on the edge, ready to topple over with the weight of uncertainty. Eventually TK woke up to the chaos of adjusting to life again and a solar storm, and in the quiet that followed the chaos they found themselves in each other. 

From there it was simple: after the start they had it couldn’t be anything but. In all that time they had gotten to know each without really meaning to and now they found themselves fitting together like a pair of gloves; fine on their own, but infinitely better together. They slipped into rhythms like they did embraces, and they were happy. 

They dedicated time to getting to know what they were without an audience and without really realizing it, they had become a secret. A badly kept one, but a secret none-the-less. They existed in the peripherals, their life together a separate entity from their lives as seen by the rest of the world. 

From the outskirts they became TK and Carlos and as time went on, there was less and less space between their bodies, their names, and their hearts. 

And with each passing Tuesday, they grew closer. 

---------

Judd kept stealing glances at TK. 

They were in the waiting room of the hospital, and TK had spent every moment since they sat down anxiously bouncing his leg while he fiddled with the necklace he always wore. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” 

“You don’t know that Judd.”

His voice was strained and quiet, so unlike the TK Judd was used to. He followed his gaze to the door the nurse had informed them the doctor would be coming through to give TK an update. That was nearly 10 minutes ago and TK’s eyes hadn’t left the door once. 

Judd had so many questions but wasn’t sure how to broach the topic. How do you ask your friend about a spouse you didn’t know they had when they are full of fear of losing them? 

He was saved the trouble of trying when TK spoke beside him, “I know what you’re thinking, just go ahead and ask.” 

His voice was resigned and Judd felt bad for even thinking about the question, but he did need to know. 

“You have a husband. Is it...someone we know?” 

TK pulled his glance away from the door long enough to glance at Judd. After a moment, he nodded: “Carlos.” 

“How long?” 

“Not long.” 

“Are you…” he began, but trailed off. He wasn’t sure what to ask. He had been leaning towards “happy,” but that seemed wrong in this context.  He didn’t know what the right thing to say was;  he had no idea how to approach this situation. He wished Grace was here. She was so much better at this kind of stuff.

They were quiet again until TK spoke, “I love him Judd.” 

The admission was made quietly, TK’s voice low and sad. Judd turned to look at him and TK met his eyes as he continued, “I need him in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without him. I can’t lose him, Judd.” 

Judd swallowed as he studied TK’s expression. It was full of a familiar fear; one that he had felt anytime he thought about the mere idea of losing Grace. He reached out a hand and gave TK’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. He knew better to promise that it would be alright — they had no way of knowing that. Instead he settled on a truth he knew. 

“You’ll get through this,” he told TK firmly, “and you won’t be alone.” 

--------

Time passed and they began to learn the mysteries of each other past the physical. Before TK knew just the spot to kiss to make Carlos moan each and every time, now he could tell you the name of his childhood dog and that when he was 5, he had wanted to be an astronaut. 

Carlos still knew all the ways to make TK melt under his touch but now he also knew how TK had pushed himself in the fire academy so he could feel worthy of the legacy of being the legendary Owen Strand’s son. Their secrets emerged from the shadows into open hearts, more and more revealing themselves with each passing day.

Stolen hours became endless evenings and frantic hookups became languid movie nights. Time passed and they began to feel at home with each other. Soon it became normal for TK to show up at Carlos’s home at the end of his shift as it slowly became more of a home to him. But, then again, the person who lived there was starting to feel an awful lot like home too. 

Their connection was generally known; they weren’t trying to sneak around. But while seeing them dancing at the bar or grabbing lunch at a food truck became more and more commonplace, the depth of their relationship was still a secret from most —including them, for a time. Michelle likely knew, Paul surely suspected; but the fact that they were falling more and more in love each passing day was a surprise to even them. 

It was TK who said it first; in a casual moment without a second thought. Carlos nearly tripped over his own feet when he heard it, but it had been like a dam breaking and soon it became commonplace, almost like breathing for them both. 

Time went on and their love grew. Time went on and they grew together —learning each other's edges and finding out where they fit. They were a puzzle, slowly coming together until the right piece was found. From there, it was a quick solve before the final picture revealed itself. 

And what a picture it was, Carlos thought to himself as he lay in his bed, watching TK sleeping soundly beside him. There were times he had to stop himself from reaching out to touch him, to make sure he was real. Sleep didn’t come easily to the other man and once it was found it was easily lost, so Carlos refrained, allowing his gaze to do the work for him. After everything he could scarcely believe they were here, after everything he couldn’t believe that they had found each other.  

These were his favorite nights, he decided. The ones where he got to fall asleep to the sight of TK beside him, the nights he was lulled to sleep by the sound of his breathing. He knew he wanted more nights like this — really, he wanted every night to be like this. 

But it was too soon for that, so for now he would savor the nights they had.

[continue reading on ao3]