#bless that journalist thank you for that question

[savebylou]

“I saw that the fans were talking about it online and I think I've only done it once before, and I think was in México too. Those shows are usually were they are really excited and euphoric, there is not other reason. At that moment I took the flag and wrapped it around myself, which was really cool”.

Louis' answer to about the unique gesture of him taking the mexican flag in the Tecate Pa'l Norte [Biobio Chile, 06.04.24].

x x

[ilydeku]

izuku loves to talk about you during interviews

- anything and every topic it will ALWAYS be about you

- the question won't even be remotely related to you and still izukus answer will revolve around "y/n, my wife!!" <3

- oh, the glint in his eyes, the peaking smile when he speaks about you, lover boyyy

- the media knows he LOVE LOVES you, they think it's funny for this big, confident, mighty hero to be reduced to sap when it comes to you

- it's like his whole is personality is HIS WIFE

- the journalists lowkey get so SICK of him for this, they don't want to invite him anymore 😭

- but they kinda have to, due to to his status as #1

"Good evening everyone and welcome Hero Talk! Tonight we'll be staring someone you all know and love, single handedly the greatest hero of all time, Deku! Alright, Deku how are you tonight?"

"Feeling pretty good! This is one of my wife's favorite shows, so I'm even more grateful to be here. And how are you?"

"Oh, same old. Really, just living. Now, we wanted to ask you some fun questions. Let's start with this one. Why did you want to become a hero?"

"Wow, haha! That really brings be back to my youth. When I was kid, my biggest influence was All Might, and he miraculously became my mentor. He was a good hero, and a good man. I wanted to be just like him: fearless, persevering, saving people with I smile. I would beg my mom everyday to watch this video on the computer of him saving a bunch a people. I was really swayed by All Might. I wanted to become a hero to make an impact in the world. I wanted to save people with a smile too."

"That sounds really endearing, Deku. I remember All Might's reign. He wasn't number one on the top charts all those years for nothing. So, did you ever think you'd be standing as Japan's top hero?"

"Well, it was never really my goal to become number one. That was Kacchan's- Dynamight's. My dream was, like I said, to become a hero and save others. But I have to say, it really is a blessing. I'd like to thank my Mom, All Might, my friends, and especially my wife for who I've become. My Mom has really done a lot for me growing up: protecting, encourage, and just always caring for me. All Might has kinda been that father figure for me when my Dad was away. My friends have shown me what it's like to work together and really be part of a heart. And my wife? Haha...I can't thank her enough for all the times she's been right by my side, even before we were together. Nothing I can say or do will ever be enough to express how much she means to me."

"Mm. Quite the supportive group. Your wife sounds like quite the lady!"

"She is. She's wonderful."

"Moving on to the next question, do you use social media often?"

"Occasionally, yes?? My wife uses it regularly, posting about us when we go out and stuff. It's mostly for her family to see how she's doing. She handles most of my official accounts. She says it's to be more appealing to the public, and I guess to show that there's more to heroes on the inside?? I'm not really sure, but I trust her process. Although, I'd rather be appealing to her alone."

"The public will always interested in a hero's private life! Now, Deku, what is your ideal setting of relaxation?"

"My wife doesn't like places that are too crowded or noisy, so maybe a cozy day at the beach?- but early in the morning or in the evening when the crowds calm down. Maybe a movie theatre, but days after the movie is released so it's just us together. Actually, a lazy day at home together is great too! Cooking meals and watching a movie on the couch? Really, any place is relaxing if my wife is with me."

(am i questioning Deku's wife or Deku!?) "How scenic! Those sound very fitting for you!! How about any restaurants?"

"Not really. My wife really knows how to cook, it's amazing! I love her home-cooked meals, so there's no way I'd go out of my way to a restaurant. But if my wife is feeling it, I'll be sure to make reservations."

"(sigh)"

"(smiling warmly)"

[vaaaaaiolet]

A broken backspace key, two rival magazines, and love letters sent through email. It’s the 2000's and Raccoon Mag’s prize photojournalist lands himself a secret admirer. 

You. 

gn / m, fluff, romance via email love letters, how to lose a guy in 10 days-esque, just a cutesy romcom, reader works a stereotypically female job but no pronouns mentioned!

word count: 2.4k // read on ao3

a/n: title inspired by the alicia keys song ofc. thank you to the lovely @kennedysbaby for the prompt inspo and endless support while writing this! this isn't my usual writing style so i'm kinda nervous AHGH but i thought it was cute LMAO. i <3 u!!

From: howtodept@starsweek.com To: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com 

Subject: You Don’t Know My Name

Dear Mr. Kennedy,

I hope this email never finds you well. 

No, no, that came out wrong, I swear! Gosh, I’m not sure how to work the backspace on these new computers. What I mean to say is that I hope this email never finds you.

I’m the new hire for the How To column at STARS Week magazine. They haven’t quite set up an email address with my name yet: I’m using the one readers mail their questions to. It’s a bit of a blessing to not have my name attached to this mortifying message now that I think about it. 

You must be wondering, why does an Agony Aunt columnist from your media rival have your email in the first place? You, the top photojournalist at Raccoon Mag, the highlight of all newsstands. You must think I’m crazy. 

But the thing is that I think you’re simply wonderful.

You visited our office last week. Surely you remember walking into the great big glass doors of the STARS building. Aren’t they glamorous? They make me feel like a hotshot movie journalist when really I just write back to teenage girls and help them pick out the right nail color, or tell middle-aged moms how to dress less like they rolled out of an outdated Sears catalog. I’m eternally grateful to get to work here – Ms. Hunnigan really did a favor taking me on – but I can’t help feeling like a bird with its wings clipped, stuck in a glass cage. I could be doing so much more with my talents. And don’t tell me that I already am; I know my advice articles don’t work because my own mom still wears stripes with polka dots.

Yeesh.

So when you came by last week with your great big camera filled with pictures of all your travels around the world, you caught my eye right away. 

You weren’t wearing a suit like all the other big shots in the STARS office. Mr. Kennedy, you came to what Ms. Hunnigan would consider “the biggest business risk of your life” dressed in a polo and slacks, still looking sharper than our Man of the Month, with not a word extra to say because your photos spoke for themselves.

Mr. Kennedy, I was working my measly little column when I overheard Ms. Hunnigan’s surprise at your refusal to take a dime for the photojournalism you brought to our office. Your manila folder was filled with pictures from a recently hurricane-hit island, one I’m embarrassed to say I only learned of from your spirited tirade. You didn’t care that Raccoon Mag and STARS Week were sworn enemies. All you cared about was combining readers’ donations for disaster relief. I thought it was mighty noble of you.

You didn’t flinch once at Ms. Hunnigan’s unforgiving stare and I know how hard that can be because I got the same one when I asked to switch to a journalism department instead. Ms. Hunnigan isn’t too keen on putting effort where there isn’t turnover. But you came anyway, and you left victorious simply because you wanted to help people that badly.

I think you can assume why I scrapped my article this week about getting over crushes. There’s going to be a horribly empty space in my column if I don’t figure out how to type something other than your name soon. Hence this email. 

(You left your business card on Ms. Hunnigan’s desk, if you’re still wondering how I’m sending this to the right email address. I’m not too shabby at snooping around, in a journalism kind of way, of course.)

I don’t think this counts as getting over a crush. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?

Yours sincerely, You Don’t Know My Name

> Saved as Draft (7/7/2003)

> Continue Saved Draft? YES

From: howtodept@starsweek.com To: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com

Dear Mr. Kennedy,

Did you see the smiles of the children who got their school rebuilt thanks to your disaster relief proposal? I’m sure you did: their pictures, along with all the other photos from the donation effort, got printed front and center on this week’s issue! I nearly sold out the newsstand from all the Raccoon Mag copies I bought the morning they came off the press. Had to hide them from Ms. Hunnigan too; she wasn’t too happy about my less-than-juicy column last week. 

But that’s not for you to worry about, Mr. Kennedy. I’ll figure something else out. Like what color fabric makes your eyes pop, subtle ways to tell a coworker you’re interested in more than just drinks after work, what to eat to look and feel your best in less than two weeks.

On a completely unrelated note, I can’t help but look forward to when you come back to STARS Week in less than a month (according to Ms. Hunnigan’s desk calendar).

You’ve inspired me to get back into journalism; put my degree to use. I didn’t graduate top of my class just to tell people what hairstyle goes with what neckline! I’m clumsy with cameras and not too nifty with technology (I still can’t figure out where that backspace key is!) but I’m a sure hand with a pen. I go to the library after work now and spend hours researching global issues to write about when I get home. My collection of research articles is coming right along. Kind of like your manila folder. I flatter myself.

I wonder what you write, what you read. What makes Leon Kennedy laugh? What does he read before bed, what makes him think? I wonder if we laugh at the same bad jokes. 

Email is a strange mode of communication. There’s an awful lot of dishonesty involved. You get to pick and choose what you leave out. I suppose I don’t get that luxury with my lack of backspace, but it’s the same in conversation when you don’t get to backtrack on what comes out of your mouth. Would it be silly of me to dream that I’m having a conversation with you like this? Through my keyboard?

I’d much rather hear you in conversation, I have to admit. You’ve got a lovely voice. The rest of us are just lucky you decided to use it for good and speak out about the problems of the world despite what may or may not sell (sorry, Ms. Hunnigan). I might even be lucky enough to hear my name fall from your lips one day. Are…oh gosh, this is making me shy. Damn you, backspace key. But I wonder what it feels like to kiss you, Mr. Kennedy. 

I hear tying cherry stems with your tongue makes you a good kisser. I’ll be sure to learn. Maybe if we ever hit the town and we get drinks, I could show you? I’m not even sure what kind of drinks have cherries on top. That’s more a milkshake or ice cream thing. I’d be delighted to get either with you; I even know a trick to cure brain freeze in a second! I hope that’s incentive enough. I’m quite partial to cookie dough if you’d like to share. Not so much if you’re a fan of rum raisin.

And then over ice cream, we could talk about everything under the sun. Your pictures, my writing, bad jokes, good jokes, your favorite rom-coms, important questions like that.

(I’m kidding, promise. The rom-com one is important though. I hope you understand.)

There so much I’d love to talk to you about. But for now, I’m content with sitting in my cubicle in the corner, hiding behind my potted plant and hoping for a glimpse of your golden hair through Ms. Hunnigan’s office doors when you come by. But as all good things must come to an end, here comes the end of this email to my Raccoon Mag Romeo. 

Looking forward to your nonexistent response, You Don’t Know My Name

> Saved as Draft (8/12/2003)

> Continue Saved Draft? YES

From: howtodept@starsweek.com To: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com

Dear Mr. Kennedy,

You used to be in the police academy before you worked for Raccoon Mag? 

Gosh, I hope my snooping doesn’t come off untoward, truly, I don’t mean to – it’s just that you’ve been coming to STARS Week so frequently this month and you didn’t visit in the last few days and…well, I missed seeing you. So it seems I’m remedying that with novice-level stalker work. Er, journalism. 

I’m marvelously impressed by you is all. Your sense of justice runs deeper than I thought. I wonder what made you choose this line of work instead of the force? 

For what it’s worth, digging up your past work introduced me to several fascinating topics. If Ms. Hunnigan lets up on her workload, she might even have time to look at the piece I’ve been drafting all month! You’ve inspired me in more ways than one, Mr. Kennedy, so you understand why I’m eager to see you again in the hope of showing you what I’ve written. I could slip my article into your folder, leave it in an envelope next to the cup of coffee you always let cool on the receptionist’s desk before going into the copy room…

But there might not be a point avoiding you anymore. I’m afraid you’ll run into me sooner than later with the number of errands Ms. Hunnigan sends me on around the office.

Worse yet, I think someone’s caught on to me. 

Claire from Sports is starting to ask about all these emails I type up while my How To assignment of the week sits by its lonesome next to my potted plant. I wish these keyboards weren’t so loud and cranky! They rattle up a storm when I type these emails to you, but turn quiet as mice when it comes time for me to work on my dreadful How Tos. Snitches get stitches, don’t you know?

But I’d never snitch on you, Mr. Kennedy. A tiny part of me hopes you’ve caught on to who hides an extra donut in the fridge for you from our office breakfasts. Rest assured that I can do much better than slightly stale office donuts, though. 

So if that ice cream date doesn’t work out, we could head downtown to Marvin’s on a Thursday for the best chocolate donuts I swear you’ve ever tasted. Thursday is when they bake them up fresh and I know a table by the street where the sunset looks the prettiest. A treat for you and a treat for your camera, how’s that? 

You don’t even know what you’re doing to me. I feel all crazy inside, giddy and smiling over my research like unpaid overtime I’m all too happy to take on. I really hope to show you my article soon. There’s nothing more romantic to a journalist than setting your facts straight next to somebody who smiles like the sun, like you, Mr. Kennedy. I might even dream of my article being printed next to your pictures one day.

But as short as today’s email to you might be, I hope our time together isn’t. The security team is redoing the How To department’s computers after Ms. Hunnigan’s keyboard started acting up – something about manufacturing issues. Remember that pesky backspace key of mine? They’re fixing it later today! 

Actually, they’re fixing it right now. The team’s coming over to my desk, so I’m going to have to enDKJJL

> Send Email? SFHALFNO

> Input detected. Email sending… NJOS NON DON”T SEND 

> Email sent successfully! (9/16/2003)

From: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com To: howtodept@starsweek.org

Subject: RE: You Don’t Know My Name

I’m submitting an answer for July’s How To: how do I get over a crush?

If I’m being honest, I’ve written and rewritten this email a fair number of times. I’m not good with my words. That’s why I take pictures: they say everything I leave unspoken. But it’s also why I’ve grown so fond of a certain How To columnist because they’re not afraid to put their feelings to pen, rather, keyboard. 

It’s just a shame that their name isn’t on any of the sweet emails they sent me. And it’s not like I can just go up to my boss and ask. If I’m their Raccoon Mag Romeo (see what I mean when I say they’ve got a way with words?), they’re the Capulet I’m after. 

So I took a page out of my admirer’s book and went snooping. It’s what a journalist does best, right? 

Marvin’s an old friend of mine. I went to his shop last Thursday to find out who comes for donuts and stays for the sunset. His donuts taste better than the office ones for sure, but there’s something a little sweeter about the thought behind the latter. FYI: my lips are sealed.

All this donut and ice cream business makes me think my admirer’s got a sweet tooth. I’m willing to share any ice cream that isn’t rum raisin either. Cookie dough is a close second to my personal favorite – mint chocolate chip – but that brain freeze trick is enough to convince me to have both. What do you say we try out all the flavors? You might even come across a scoop to write about, you never know. (RE: your question about bad jokes, how was that?)

And last but not least, Claire from STARS Week Sports isn’t too tight-lipped. She was perfectly charming when I asked about any deskmates with clunky keyboards who’ve been quite busy recently, so it really wasn’t that hard to find out who this kind, endearing, and incredibly talented admirer of mine is. 

You needn’t sneak your article into my folder because I found a copy of it on your desk with my name written on the bottom. You say you’ve only been working on this since I came for the disaster relief deal? That’s only two months!

Color me impressed. Ms. Hunnigan would be a fool to miss out on the untapped talent sitting in her How To department, so I think it would be a great idea to bring your article to her together. I’d be honored to straighten out any facts with you, though I doubt there’s much I can add to what you’ve compiled. My camera is at your disposal.

Let’s talk details over those donuts, then? It’s Thursday. I’ll wait by the bench outside the STARS building. I have a feeling it’ll be a nice change from sending emails. 

Yours sincerely (and I do know your name), Leon

(P.S. Personally, I hope this isn’t a crush you need to get over.)

(9/18/2003)

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[multifandomfanatic02]

"You didn't know, pt.1"

Pairing: Alastor x fem!OC?? (pulled the name out of a hat honestly)

Warning: mentions of r*pe, detailed murder,

Summary: it was never mentioned as to why Alastor turned to murder. Maybe it could have been because he lost someone important to him? Who knows really?

a/n: I tried my best to stick to Alastor's character and respect his sexuality. If you think this needs any improvement or if you have some kind criticism, please let know! And if this liked enough I'll make a part two! (itsbeentwelveyearssinceihavewrittenanythingpleasebenice)

Spring of 1915

Alastor had been a victim of his mother's matchmaking since he was seventeen. Seven dates have been attempted in 5 years total.

No, he was more focused on his occupation as a writer. What Alastor was truly in love with, the smooth jazz that blessed his ears, to the dancing, the books. He was clearly an art enthusiast. And there was one artist's work he admired more than anything. Lillian Fletcher. She was a high position in a very popular magazine and newspaper. Decided what was trendy and what wasn't. While her job is more in the line of sales, Lillian's colleagues agree to let her put her own articles in them. They get hella cash flow.

Crazy as it is, no one has seen what she looked like. When conferences with celebrities happen, it's like she's there in spirit and the articles just show up in the papers one day. I guess you could say it's what Alastor admired about Lillian, she was obviously a humble woman. Someone who cared about her work as much as he did his. Even more so loved the same things he did.

A special night was approaching, Alastor was going to join the press as a journalist for a conference. Even get to do an interview with the famous guest. It was such a grand occasion, he wore his best suit. A black suit rimmed with red buttons and red seams around the collar and of course a red dress shirt underneath. Took the breath away from most of the women that glanced at him during the little shindig.

"Look at my handsome little man, I'm so proud of you, mon cœur." Alastor's mother beams at him with pride, rubbing her fingers against his cheek. He grabs her hand and guides her to the bar.

"Thanks mama, I'm really glad you get to be here with me tonight. Can't imagine anyone else to spend this night with, I mean that." Her eyes start to swell as tears spill out of them. He chuckles wiping them away with the back of his hand. The lights finally begin to dim and the guest comes out on stage. "It's time mama, I need to join the crowd." Alastor unpockets his pen and pad and walks to the chaos of the press unfolding before him.

2 hours gone by and he gets maybe 3 questions out of him. This guest isn't particularly nice. He's obviously rushing the journalist and being very um.. kind of an asshole with his replies. Then again it was to be expected from this one. It's why he's Alastor first real job after all.

"Can you please answer respectfully for once? Stop being an ass to the people who will write your story one day." Everything goes quiet and all heads turn to the back of the crowd. A woman.

"Who are you to speak to me that way, slut." He says giving her a disdainful expression.

"I apologize sir, I just want to know as to why you treat everyone like garbage."

"Miss.. does your husband know you are here." He scoffs, taken aback by the woman's comment.

"I am not married, sir." Her eyes are stoic, there's no signs of kidding on her face.

"That explains a lot. No one wants a woman with a mouth like that.. anyhow, ma'am I think you are done here. Guards! See to it that this.. woman.. leaves the building." He snaps his fingers calling the guards over.

Everyone in the crowd obviously disgusted by attitude. Who gave her the right to talk to HIM that way. Only one pair of eyes saw her differently than anyone else. Alastor. She was glorious. He has never seen someone so beautiful in AND out like this before. The woman wore a royal blue drop-waist dress made of silk and velvet with beads and tiers. Thick mid length hair pinned up in a bob, in attempt to keep it all in place. Pearls adorned her neck beautifully.

He walked out the building following loosely behind, his hand rubbing the back of his neck briefly.

"Are you alright, miss?" He speaks softly to her, trying to not speak the woman.

"Ah yes, thank you, I apologize for my behavior back there. You didn't have to come after me." She hugs her arms and paces back and forth, irritation clearly visible on her face.

"I believe it was very much needed. He certainly needed to be put in his place. Who better than you." Alastor's lips grew into a soft grin. She stopped pacing finally taking a really good look at him. Handsome, is all she thought. "May I ask for your name?" He bent down grabbing her hand kissing the back of it.

A blush flooded her face from her cheeks to the tips of the ears. "L-Lillian Fletcher... and you are?" He looked up in shock to her response, clearing his throat.

"My name is Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure indeed!" His smile turned into a starstruck expression. "So you are the Lillian Fletcher that works for the magazine?!" She nodded nervously as Alastor struggled to keep his cool. "I love your articles and sales pitches! It's what inspired me to shoot my shot with an actual job in journalism. I've been writing for as long as I can remember."

"I'm so glad to hear that, my job is my everything. I'm very passionate about it." Her hand hovers over her mouth to hide her giggle.

"Say, Ms. Fletcher, would you like to have dinner with me?" He holds out his arm for her to take as she gladly accepts, wrapping her hand around it with a smile.

"Call me Lili."

Summer of 1917

"How do I look, mama?" Lillian looked at her future mother in law, holding back her tears. Her knuckle grazed under her eyes to keep from ruining the makeup. The dress she wore was an ivory colored low v-neck dress full of lace and the sleeves were nothing but loose tassels. The most gorgeous wedding dress you'd have ever seen. Her hair was neatly curled and pinned up, feathered boa wrapped around her back and arms, elbow length silk gloves, a string of pearls around the neck, and finally a flower crown. Never has someone looked so elegant.

Alastors hands ran through his hair pacing around in the dressing room. No way was this perfect day about to happen for him. He never thought that one day he'd be married. Alastor has always kept to himself, never found anyone attractive enough. He believed the romance life wasn't for him. While it's partly true, he surely was in love deeply. However both agreed that they never wanted children. Never thought they needed to have intimacy to have love. It would be the perfect life with their work, passions and each other of course.

"Ooo honey, you are looking handsome. Can't wait for you to see Lillian. She's glowing." She says letting herself into his room. She walks towards and pulls him down by the collar to fix his bow tie. "My baby boy, finally getting married."

"Thank you mama, for everything. I'll be sure to pass on your jambalaya recipe to her." He snickers, getting a whack in the arm from her.

"Don't start with me now, boy, you're never to old for a whoopin. You hear me?"

-----

The wedding has started in the chapel and everyone takes their seats. Alastor already tearing up from the band playing music. His fingers fidgeting with eachother in front of him. His bride in all her glory walking down the aisle as if she was a star in the sky.

They took each other's hands holding their breaths as the priest gets through his speech. The wedding was very simple and short event. Due to both groom and bride's status, it was best to keep it a secret and only allow close family. Meaning Alastor's mom and their pet black cat.. Lucifer.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride." That moment lasted for what felt like forever.

Winter of 1928.

Eleven years have passed, both are 34 years of age and their relationship has nothing but flourished since they were married.

Lillian has retired from her life of writing for the public to devote herself to her husband. It's been peaceful and life has never felt better. Alastor on the other hand was promoted to radio host as soon as they were being sold to consumers. It's one thing to write it all out on paper but another to broadcast his interviews and music live to listeners with similar interests. It was... a thrill to him. He and his wife have became quite the team on radio. She often helps him figure out pitches to his audience to boost it.

"Al dear, don't you think it's time for bed?" Lillian's hands wrapped around his neck and ran down his chest, leaning down enough to place a kiss on his head. "You've been working on next week's interview all day. Time to rest, darling."

He sighs and squeezes her hand before nodding. "Alright mon amour." He stands up dragging his feet to their shared bed, tucking each other in. Lillian stroked his hair in hopes to bring him some comfort. He pulls her into his chest. "I will never love anyone other than you. You are mine for eternity."

-------

"Why haven't you told me about this before?!"

"I just didn't want you to worry about it.. you've got a big show coming up soon."

"Hate to break it to you, darling, but someone stalking you is a lot more important to me than a damn show!" Lillian silenced herself, looking away from Alastor's gaze. "I'm staying home."

"No! You can't! That show is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"YOU are my one opportunity! If something happened to you.. I would go Insane." He gripped her shoulders tightly.

"Fine.. Let's make a deal, Al dear. You stay at home all week, but on the day of your show, we take extra precautions to the house and you go. After that you can stay home as much as you want." Lillian says in a serious tone and holds out her hand.

"Deal."

⛧ ⛧ ⛧

The day had finally come and both were feeling nervous. In truth, neither of them wanted Alastor to leave. But with the extra precautions in the house, there was no point in staying home. She was right, this chance will never come again.

The stalker in question had done this sort of thing to several women in the past, many of which had simply gone missing. The ones that were found had been abused and stabbed in the spine causing paralysis, and yes, dead. What a horrific way to die, they both thought. So far there have been 6 victims.

"Are you ready, dear?" Lillian asks helping his coat on. Alastor's expression looking out of place. He was scared and couldn't look her in the eyes, fearing it could be the last time he sees them.

"Are you sure you can't come with me?" He grabs her hand and holds it to his chest. His heart beat a mile a minute.

"You know I'm not allowed there anymore. Or have you forgotten?" She chuckles in attempt to comfort her husband. Obviously not working. Alastor was heartbroken, the only thing he could think of now was to hurry up and get his show done and over with so he can come home. Almost like it wasn't important anymore.

"I've got you a gift." He pulled out a velvet box from his pocket. Lillian took the box and opened it, revealing a locket. 'Mon amour'. She opened it up to see a picture of them on their wedding day. Happy as can be. "No matter what happens know that you are the most important thing in my life." She smiled up at him and gave him a big hug before thanking him. It's beautiful.

"Time to go, my darling." She gives him one last passionate kiss before pushing his butt out the door and locking it. It was cruel to do that however, if it dwelled on it any longer he'd surely break his promise. In reality, she was panicking about being left alone. For good reason...

.

.

.

Alastor's body finally relaxed after 4 hours of his show, it was the most enjoyable one so far. Interviewing the mayor, he was a lot nicer than expected and obviously cared for his people. It wasn't until one of the new journalists came barging in that everything changed.

"Uh oh we've got some breaking news! A new victim of the killer. Our seventh victim is the magazine writer and trend-setter, Lillian Lili?!..." He held his breath as a lump formed in his throat. Immediately getting up, turning on his heels, and hurrying out of the building. His hands were shaking in hopes that she was at the very least still alive. Maybe this was a different situation.

Police and the press had already arrived hours before. Pushing through the crowd, a policeman placed a hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

"Are you Mrs. Lillian's husband?" The policeman asked. Alastor's glared down at the man keeping him away from his wife. "I'm afraid I have to tell you that she was killed. I cannot let you go on further for your own good."

"H-How did this happen.. the house was covered in as many locks as we could find! Wood bolted to the windows and-"

"It was not a break in, sir. He had been living in your cellar for what may have been... a week?." Alastor's color drained from his face. In the cellar? He had locked his wife in there with that criminal?

He pushed past the policeman and ducked under the police tape. No one stopped him in time before he saw the scene unfold in front of him. Just like the other women. She had been assaulted and puddles of blood ran from her back. Alastor drops to his knees and grips his hair, crying hysterically. Something snapped within him. His cries suddenly turned into insane laughter. It appalled everyone. He goes over and picks her up and cradles her lifeless body in his own. The blood staining his clothes.

"You can't do that! This is a crime scene! You can't mess with evidence. It belongs to the police department!" The police officer yelled at him. Alastor said nothing continuing to hold her. He knew what to do..

Winter of 1933

̷̍̇̄̐̂̏͊̒̈́ "Breaking News! We have an update on Paul Benjamin. You know the one serial killer who has had an open case for 20 years. Well.. HE'S DEAD HAHAHAHA!" Alastor beat on his desk laughing before clearing his throat. "I apologize for my outburst, it just about time it happened don't y'all agree?" He said calming down and wiping the tears from his eyes. "I wonder who's next on this antihero's list."

It had been 5 years since Lillian's death. While he is working through the pain, his methods to cope is questionable. Four years ago Alastor had decided he wanted to deal with his wife's murderer himself. A year of following his movements and actions eventually paid off. A new addiction emerged to the surface. How easy it was to pierce human skin, to the screams of misery and pain. It was such an amazing feeling. Why stop there? There are people who deserve the same. Nine monsters.. nine people killed by Alastor's hand. Each deeply researched and carefully chosen.

The walk back home from the studio was peaceful. Nothing could make this night better. Many horrors have been removed from the streets of New Orleans thanks to him. Thankfully he was never suspected in any of them. Alastor was very particularly careful how he handled them. Every single seeming to be an accident or su**ide. To the public, it was almost like a miracle. But to the criminals themselves, they knew. Who was next on this mastermind's list? Paranoia set in to them all.

"Ahh what a day my dear, wish you could be here to see what I've accomplished." His laugh was maniacal. He removed his jacket and put it on the hanger on the door. "You are safe now, my darling. We're getting closer to having a free city of monsters."

"I knew it was you.." a voice whispered to Alastor from behind him, holding a knife to his neck. "The only monster left in this town is you, Al." Alastor stayed quiet and slowly reached for the knife in his vest pocket. "I d-don't want to kill you. I understand why you did it but your wife would not like this. Just submit yourself to the police and I will let you go."

He belted the insane laughter, making the man steadily walk backwards in fear. "Understand? You could never understand." Alastor swiped his finger across the cut on his neck left by the knife, and licking it. "I just enjoy doing it." He swiftly shoved the knife into the man's chest.

"Hmmm.. where to put this one. Ah I got it." Unlike all the others, this one was a surprise bonus to the collection. The only possible place to deal with this one was the forest a few acres behind his home. No one went in due to the stories of crytids and it being haunted. It was perfect.

He grabs the shovel sitting against the treeafter placing the corpse in the hole, filling it up with dirt. Upon hearing voices creeping upon him, he looked over his shoulder briefly just for everything to go dark.

"Uh.. I don't think that was a deer, Bill."

"What?"

Present day in Hell

"Congratulations, your highness. Never doubted you for a second. The hotel is starting to gain attraction. " Alastor bowed to Charlie with his hand on his chest.

"You know damn well you're only here for the entertainment. You even said it was a ridiculous idea." Vaggie tapped her feet and crossing her arms.

"Ah yes well... I apologize. Regardless I'm glad everything worked out this way." He gripped his cane, his static-y voice glitching out a bit.

"Speaking of attraction, don't you think it'd be a good idea to put out more commercials and articles about the hotel. Maybe the sinners will take it seriously this time." Charlie paced back and forth before looking to Alastor.

"Good idea! And I know just the person." The one he referred was a commonly feared overlord. One that could potentially out matched Alastor himself. Maere. The dream demon. His shtick was that he can sneak into nightmares and manipulate humans and sinners to sign away their souls for something as simple as a piece of clothing. A soul for an easily attainable item. Despicable.

All the souls he owns have been known to be abused within his possession. On top of it, he rents them out to customers for whatever they need. Because of his collection of talented souls, he has earned his spot in several companies from technology and fashion to restaurants and sinful services.

Now Alastor does not like dealing with demons like him. He was a murderer but only to those who deserve it or push his buttons. Being acquaintances with Maere was useful at times. In the past he has secretly helped free some of them from the contracts with him. This was not one of those times.

The square of pentagram city, where you will find all the fashion stores and new technology. Anything you may need really, including Maere's headquarters.

"Alastor! Our beloved radio demon. I figured your ass would show up around here at what point, old friend." He rubbed his cigarette between his fingers putting it in the ash tray before standing up to greet him.

"Ah ha ha.. don't call me that. I'm just here to do business." He swiped his dhoulder pad before putting both hands atop his cane. "I'm sure you've heard about princess Charlotte's hotel kicking up attention. I'm here to see if you have any souls that would be perfect in advertising the hotel. Someone who is persuasive and talented with writing."

"Hmmm I may have someone like that. Only if you promise to STOP RELEASING THEM FROM MY CONTRACTS!" He held out his hand in hopes of agreeing on a deal.

"I guess I could.. fine, you've got a deal." He grapped Maere's hand, shaking it. Maere grips his hand and leans closer to Alastor.

"I mean it. You're dead if you do." Alastor's expression stayed composed.

. . . . .

"Let me introduce you to my star saleswoman. She does a lot of the Vees advertisements in tv, newspaper, and magazine. Quite the talented one if I do say so myself. She's good for other things as well if you kbow what I mean." He was quite a cruel 'master'. Every single soul he owned was only allowed to do anything unless they are rented or if he decides to use them. And the way he made sure were restraints on both the face and arms. A metal mask was bolted to behind there heads covering their whole face with matching metal restraints that kept their forearms tight against their backs.

This woman was no different. On the other hand, her clothing was rather elegant. A beautiful evening gown that looked like it'd have been popular in the 1920s. It was a loose-fitting floor length dress that flared at the knees; low v-neck, flowy mesh sleeves. The base of it was red silk while the outside was full of fringe and black lace details. Her hair was black with curls that reached her shoulders, with long ears sticking out the top of her head. Little fluffy tail sticking out the back of her dress, and to top it off were her very long paws. I guess her feet were to big to find shoes for her. A rabbit demon?

"Does this one at the very least have a name?" Alastor questioned Maere. He thought about it before snapping his fingers.

"Ah yes! She is soul 19,281!" He pushed her into Alastor's chest, making her stumble and drop something off around her neck. Maere released her from the restraints letting her scramble for the necklace on the ground. He disappeared letting Alastor do his thing.

"I despise having to do dealings with that demon. Are you alright little lady." Alastor leaned down to grab the necklace for her. A locket? He opened it seeing the inside, having it suddenly be ripped from his hand. It was him and his wife. The two finally gazed up at each other in awe.

"...Lili?"

[lauralot89]

"Now, sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You'll excoose me refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjects afore meals. I gives the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea afore I begins to arsk them questions."

Did journalists actually used to write out accents phonetically or is Bram Stoker just doing this for fun

That 'ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three grey ones that came from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off him four years ago.

Charles Jamrach was a real wildlife dealer, most (in)famous for the time when a tiger escaped and grabbed a small child, who survived. This incident is now immortalized with a statue:

You could just do anything back in the day

He 'ad white kid gloves on 'is 'ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says: 'Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.'

Thanks, Dracula, very helpful.

That there man kem over, and blessed but if he didn't put in his hand and stroke the old wolf's ears too!

Dracula is a Disney princess (countess) confirmed

anceterer

it took me like five tries to understand this

"Well then, sir, I accounts for it this way; it seems to me that 'ere wolf escaped—simply because he wanted to get out."

This one ain't been used to fightin' or even to providin' for hisself

Hence why Dracula had to lob him at the window like a basketball

well, then I shouldn't be surprised if the census is one babby the less

How is babby formed? how is babby formed how girl get pragnent

I shall take this cylinder with me, and then I can complete my entry on Lucy's phonograph.

Can't you only record like two minutes of audio on those?

Did you not get my telegram?

GREAT WORK, VAN HELSING

I flew downstairs and returned with it, taking care to smell and taste it, lest it, too, were drugged like the decanter of sherry which I found on the table.

For as much shit as I have deservedly given Jack "Medical Malpractice" Seward, I have to hand it to him, I would never have thought of that

I noticed that Van Helsing tied a soft silk handkerchief round her throat.

Professor, I hate to tell you this, but I think that vampires can bite through silk

I fear to trust those women, even if they would have courage to submit.

why though

"What's the matter with me, anyhow?"

QUINCEY MORRIS MY BELOVED

A brave man's blood is the best thing on this earth when a woman is in trouble. You're a man and no mistake.

Everyone who meets Quincey is immediately in awe, as well they should be

I found Van Helsing with a sheet or two of note-paper in his hand

She wrote all that in two pages? How small is her writing

Do not trouble about it now. Forget it for the present. You shall know and understand it all in good time; but it will be later.

He can't keep getting away with this

What is it that's wrong with her? The Dutchman—and a fine old fellow he is; I can see that—said, that time you two came into the room, that you must have another transfusion of blood, and that both you and he were exhausted. Now I know well that you medical men speak in camera, and that a man must not expect to know what they consult about in private. But this is no common matter, and, whatever it is, I have done my part...I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done already what I did to-day. Is not that so?...if you may tell me without betraying confidence, Arthur was the first, is not that so?...

Quincey is the smartest character in this whole damn book

His very heart was bleeding, and it took all the manhood of him—and there was a royal lot of it, too—to keep him from breaking down.

Everyone's gay for Quincey

Whilst still asleep she took the paper from her breast and tore it in two. Van Helsing stepped over and took the pieces from her. All the same, however, she went on with the action of tearing, as though the material were still in her hands; finally she lifted her hands and opened them as though scattering the fragments.

This is fine.

Van Helsing seemed surprised, and his brows gathered as if in thought, but he said nothing.

The Van Helsing Standard

Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra (Unopened by her.)

WHY MUST YOU HURT ME IN THIS WAY

Mr. Hawkins has died very suddenly.

Oh for fuck's sake, Dracula (yes I know it wasn't him)

Forgive me, dear, if I worry you with my troubles in the midst of your own happiness; but, Lucy dear, I must tell some one, for the strain of keeping up a brave and cheerful appearance to Jonathan tries me, and I have no one here that I can confide in.

I'm dying (Just like Lucy! Heyo!)

[crepesuzette2023]

Your account is honestly such a blessing. I’ve found so many good Mclennon fics because of you it’s actually insane. Now for my ask, what are some good AU Mclennon fics ?

Thank you for asking! I already listed a few AU stories in my overall faves post, e.g., under J/P without the Beatles—but I didn't really focus on fully realized, different-time-different-place-different-everything-AU stories. Here are a few I loved:

in our house we never get bored (@backbenttulips): The Beatles live in a polyamorous marriage à la sedoretu (Ursula LeGuin). Enchanting and enchanted. Soothing.

a great threat (@pauls1967moustache). Yoko is a woman and an artist, and so is Paul. Theirs is the superior battle for John Lennon's apple. A battle for each other, really. I can't overstate how much this works for me. They compete for fame and artistic collaboration, not for anyone's half-hard dick. This feels like the real Paul/Yoko dynamic in many ways.

@saint-mona: You Gave Me the Word. 1958. John is troubled after his mother's death, and befriends Paul, a bookstore owner who shares a past with Julia. Paul and John become friends—and more? Sensual and tender. Younger John & older Paul are good for each other.

snugglesweaters: You Might As Well Arsk: Hilarious, uplifting, and profound epistolary/email modern AU, with excellent (written) supporting turns by Ivan and George. It does take a fucking village.

@dailyhowl: Sleeping Sand, Morning Moon : On the other end of the tonal spectrum, this is a long, dreamy and wintery novella about grieving London playwright Paul and Scottish village eccentric John, and their long, slow way to each other. Set in 1966. Contains a surprising core of Paul & Brian, and very interesting memories of Paul/Ian.

Only a Northern Song (@stonedlennon): 1963, Liverpool: Paul works in a record store (yes, for Mr. Brian), and John is a dock worker and poet. They find each other. A long, long time after reading this, I can still 'hear' the two of them talking to each other.

Thank you @javelinbk for pointing me to and why the sea is boiling hot (madamboogie)—a reincarnation fic set starting in the late 90's. I'm only a few chapters in, but it's interesting and different!

Speaking of: @javelinbk also wrote many great AU's: John and Paul as the two nice men at the flowershop (Double Fantasy), Paul as wealthy business man, and reluctant #1 son, with John as his hot mess driver (The Life of Riley), John and Paul as stepbrothers after Jim gets married to Mimi (Brother Dearest with the follow-up I love even more, because it's melancholy and romantic and complicated, and it has Mike McCartney: Father and Son)—but a recent favorite is Our Version of Events, in which John Lennon is introduced to Beatles fan fiction by May Pang, and has questions for Paul. Set in '71. I love how this one is both an ode to fan fiction and a damn good story (with a non-tropey ending).

I also enjoyed many AU stories by @unchaineddaisychain. For instance: You've Got to Pick Up Every Stitch (Halloween! Modern AU, Paul is John's boyfriend for the night to stick it to John's ex, very sweet morning after), We are Stardust (Brit Paul and NYer John meet at Woodstock in '69, and it's so fucking romantic), and These Nights (modern AU, slightly jaded rock journalist John unexpectedly spends a night with rising pop star Paul. Cold shower, please!)

[multifandominfj]

A New Beginning: A Supergirl 6x20 Re-Write

Chapter Ten: Down The List

To say she was nervous asking Cat Grant for her blessing to marry Kara was a severe understatement. Lena knew Cat had an icy cold stare, a sharp wit, and was fast on her feet. She also knew that Cat was also very protective of Kara in her own way. Asking the right way, and leading into said question would be tricky.

Pulling into an empty parking space, and taking the familiar route up to the bullpen, Lena tried to remain as cool as possible.

That all went out the window when she saw Kara in charge, directing the other reporters to their assignments, with Nia at her side. Seeing Kara fully comfortable, happy with her job and thriving was beyond attractive to her.

“So everyone has their…” The minute Kara’s eyes locked with Lena’s, her heart skipped a beat. “That will be all, everyone.” She super speeds over, nearly knocking Lena off her feet.

“Hi to you too.” Lena laughs heartily before placing a delicate smooch on her girl’s cheek.

“What are you doing here?” Kara was still clueless about everything; just as Lena hoped.

“Do you know if?”

And right on cue… “Miss Luthor.”

“She says she doesn’t have any powers; I don’t believe her. Also, holler if you need help.” Kara returns Lena’s peck on the cheek as she gets back to work.

Following right behind, Cat shuts her office door behind them and pulls the blinds. “I know why you’re here.”

“Do you?” Lena sits in one of the chairs present, raising that ever famous eyebrow of hers.

“You’re here to ask for my blessing to marry Kiera.” Cat hands Lena a class of whiskey.

“Seriously, how do you do that?” Lena was left aghast, not daring to refuse the free drink.

“She talks about you any chance she gets, and your voice and body language were about as easy to read as a teen drama on the CW.” Cat nonchalantly takes a sip of her drink. “Of course you have my blessing, Miss Luthor. That photo she has of the two of you on her desk, I know how much you mean to her; I will catch her staring a moment too long before she gets back to work. You have made her the happiest she’s been in quite a long time. When I interviewed her, you came up a lot; the mushy feeling was a bit much for my taste, but it made Kiera happy. I just want you to promise me a few things.”

“Anything.” Lena sets her glass down nervously.

“Entertain any crazy idea she has, chances are it has merit and value behind it. Make her feel like she’s the best journalist in the world, even when she has a couple of misses. Most importantly, whenever she begins to get that sad puppy look on her face, and stops talking…non verbal communication will help heal whatever she’s feeling when she says, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I can do that.” Lena stands to exhale, and shake her hand. “Thank you, Miss Grant. And I will send you the details of the party as soon as it’s all ironed out.”

“Of course. Best of luck, Miss Luthor.” Cat shuts the door behind her.

And while Kara was nowhere to be seen, Lena slips out of sight. Next stop: Her other future Mother-In-Law, Eliza Danvers.

Her drive to Midvale definitely felt longer than it actually was. The amount of lead-ins, questions and pleadings she had going through her head was even a lot for her. Lena had never been this much of a perfectionist, but that’s what Kara did to her: she made her crazy and self conscious, but in the best way possible.

Recognizing the house from photos Kara has shown her, she pulled right up to the driveway. Scanning her surroundings, she looked for her future mother in law. “Doctor Danvers?” Lena called out.

“In the backyard, Lena.” Eliza hollered from far away.

Following the echoed tone of the voice, Lena would come to find Eliza doing…

“Target practice? Picking up a new hobby, Doctor Danvers?” She chuckled, watching.

“It’s never too late to pick up a new hobby.” Eliza smirked, putting down her bow and arrows. “And please, it’s Eliza. We’ve known each other long enough, Lena. By the way, to what do I owe this surprise?” She greets Lena with a warm, motherly embrace.

“I actually came up here because I…” She starts to reach for the ring box in her jacket. “Wanted to ask your permission about something, and hopefully your blessing.”

Being the incredibly smart woman she was, Eliza immediately figured it out. “Oh, Lena. This is stunning. I gotta say, I was hoping for this moment. The entire time Kara sang at Alex’s wedding…it’s like you were the only person there for her. It was like she was singing to you. And I think I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come through for her…you not only have my permission, but my blessing as well.” With a joyous grin, she cups the ring back into Lena’s hand, and gives her another hug.

“So I don’t have to plead my case? Provide reasons?” Lena was surprised at how easy it was.

“I mean unless it would make you feel better… “ Eliza heartily chuckled.

“No, not at all.” Lena’s tensions were nowhere to be seen. “Thank you, Eliza. It means a lot. As soon as I finish asking the rest of the people closest to Kara, I will start sending out the party details.”

“Looking forward to it.” Eliza bids her goodbye as she watches her future daughter-in-law back out of the driveway.

“Up next, Barry and Iris. This is going to be interesting…” Reason being, the Central City Citizen was one of the many publications there to cover her foundation's opening, and the first big fundraiser a month later. Even then, she knew convincing Iris would be easier than convincing Barry, who had known Kara for longer. But considering Kara attended their wedding, and was the one who sang for them…this would be quite the task.

Driving up to the main CCC building, she takes a few deep breaths before she enters. With every step she climbed, she could feel her heartbeat speed up. Opening the doors, she strode up to the information desk. “Hi, is Mrs. West-Allen in?”

“She’s currently in a meeting? I can call and leave her a message. Who may I ask who’s requesting—…”

“Lena Luthor.”

“Lena!” As if appearing out of thin air, Irish was at the door of the stairs. “Right this way. This is quite the surprise. What brings you out to Central City? How’s Kara?”

“Kara is great, more than great actually. I’m sure you saw the interview Cat did.” She couldn’t help but have her heart swell any time she mentioned it. That was her girlfriend.

“We did.” Iris invites Lena to sit in her relaxed area of her office “Everyone at STAR Labs saw it, and Barry is now bragging that Supergirl is his best friend.”

And like a fresh gust of wind. “Someone ordered Lunch?” Barry, with his signature grin, holds up two big bags of Big Belly Burger. “Lena, hey. What brings you by?”

“Barry, good you’re here. Now I can tell both of you.” Like she did with Eliza before, she takes out the small box and shows them the ring she had designed for Kara.

“Is that? Are you?” Barry was immediately speechless.

“It is, and I am.” Lena blushes as she pockets the ring. “I wanted to stop by to see if…if could bet your blessing. You two were her friends before I ever was, and having just met at Alex and Kelly’s wedding, I felt the need to do this. But, with Kara bringing up singing at your guys’ wedding, and all of the crazy missions she’s done with you both, I feel like I know you to some degree. I know how much she means to you both, and…”

“Lena.” Iris takes both of Lena’s hands in hers. “You wholeheartedly have our blessing. We saw how you two were together at Alex’s wedding. To use my favorite analogy, you’re her lightning rod. You two are drawn together, and whenever you two are together, you’re unstoppable.”

“And to add to that, Kara has always told me she wants someone who gets every part of her life. That’s you, Lena. I couldn’t be happier for you both.” Barry congratulates.

“Thanks, you guys.” Lena brings them both into a hug. “I will send you the party details as soon as I check off everyone on my list.”s

“We’re looking forward to it. And say hi to the others for us.” Iris waves her friend off.

“I will.” Lena bids adieu with a warm grin as she heads off to see Sara and Ava. Kara had told her about the both of them so she knew what she was getting into: Warmly welcomed by them, and their daughter, Laurel, a little small talk followed by the reveal of the ring, nervous on how to present her news, and a resounding yes for all three of their blessings.

She had everyone in the loop. Time to start planning a party.

Hope you enjoyed the very cute, and very adorable Chapter Ten of Lena asking those closest to Kara! I had fun writing it. 🙏🏻

[multiversxwhore]

☾☾☾Hello! Hope you enjoy what you’re about to read, I would appreciate if you like, and reblog my work here on tumblr. Please do not share my work anywhere else, and if you see it has been, or someone is claiming the work as their own please tell me. My master list is pinned to my page if you wish to see more! ☽☽☽

Pairings: Namor x black!oc

Warnings: none, no spoilers from Wakanda Forever

Word count: 887

Summary: Dominique Nyongo is a journalist for the New York Times newspaper. Thanks to her pristine reputation she’s been blessed to interview the Royal Wakandan family a few times. This times she’s returned to the beautiful sunny country to review the life, food, and cultures of the locals. Upon her stay, she finds herself using the spiritual energy of the land as means to heal herself of heartbreak she’s faced back home. On the surface Dominique was searching for inspiration for work, but ended up stumbling upon something deeper beyond the waters.

Con El Agua pt.1

“Don’t talk like you know me.” She hissed, Dominique Nyongo, she was visiting Wakanda on a “business trip,” but really she’s found herself back at the water more times than she can remember.

“Of course I know you, I’ve known you ever since you’ve been coming to my waters to speak to them. You would talk for hours to my waves, and I would be listening from underneath them.” Namor said, his accent slithering around her ears, and caressing them.

“I didn’t know I was talking to you; I wasn’t talking to you.” Dominique rolled her eyes for the third time during this conversation.

“Then who else could have been listening?” His eyebrows raised, and his arms spread wide showing her that there’s no one around for probably miles, especially at this time of day.

“…I don’t know.” She mumbled, despite her being on this spiritual journey for a year, some words still didn’t feel right coming from her lips. It’s probably a lack of confidence on her part.

“You said you were feeling alone, though you have plenty of family…I can only assume, you did not mean the love of a mother and father. You and I want the same thing. You want to be loved, and I want— must have you.”

“That’s not the same thing!” She shouted, her attitude did not move Namor, as his demeanor was calm, and unwavering. It got on Dominique’s nerves, this man never seemed to be angry, that wasn’t normal, but then again nothing is normal about him.

“Look I didn’t come to Wakanda for this, I can’t get wrapped up in drama, and that’s all you would bring me.”

“Drama is the last thing I’d wrap you in. You came to Wakanda because that is where your heart led you. Then you stumbled upon something even more magnificent…me, and my ocean.” Namor says arrogantly, he wasn’t wrong, him and his whale riding people were quite the spectacle.

“Could you be more egotistical?” She rolled her eyes, and folded her arms. Dominique could lie to herself all she wanted, but Namor knew the truth. She claimed to have come here in search for information to write in her column in some “newspaper” she works for. That much he supposed was true considering he’s heard her asking the citizens a few questions. But after that ran dry, she found herself spending the rest of her time on the beach almost every evening.

“I usually don’t have to ask for anything more than once, Domonique.” The way he pronounced her name was wrong, very wrong, but it was the tone in which he said it is what caught her. His voice never rose above normal volume, since the moment he came out of the water, Namor had Dominique’s undivided attention.

“Well then you must not date a lot of Black women.” She rubbutled quickly.

“And you could change that.” Namor replied quicker, she was stumped, he wasn’t going to let it go.

“There’s nothing worse than a stubborn God.” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head, and switching the weight in her hips, his eyes watching the movement closely. Many nights before he decided to come to the surface and greet her, he’d think about how soft her skin is, or how his hands would feel wrapped around her curved hips. Perhaps her lips would taste of the many mixed fruits she always ate, maybe they would melt with the shape of his own lips perfectly. There was no shortage of heated scenarios that ran through his mind.

“Think about it, Domonique.” There he goes again saying my name like that, she thought to herself as she clutched her cell phone in her hand. Her knees weak during this whole encounter, Namor held her attention the whole time, not once did she want to look away from those deep brown eyes.

“When you’re finally tired of not being desired or worshiped like the goddess you are, blow into this horn, and I will come to wherever you are.” He floated towards her, he made sure to keep a few feet between them, though he could take her right now without breaking a sweat. He thought it would be wise to pull back in his approach, and let her be the one to make a move. He’s learned a little something about the surface women of her culture, being told what to do, when they don’t want to be told what to do is a bad idea.

Namor set the shell down on the sand between them, but she did not make a move to retrieve it. He floated backwards until he reached the tide that was calmly reaching into the beach. The water gently lapped against his ankles, from there he turned and lept back into the water disappearing out of sight.

Though she could no longer see him with her own two eyes, Dominique could feel him watching her just below the surface.

“Fine.” She sighed, picking up the shell, and making her way back to the home Shuri so kindly set up for her. That night all she dreamed about was Namor, his dark intense stare, and how glorious he looked coming out of the water bringing the ocean with him as water droplets rolled off him.

a/n: okay so I definitely am in love with Namor/Tenoch and his people. This man is so damn fine, y’all know I love villains, and anti-hero’s. This definitely just started with no solid beginning to the story, but I just had to get this out. It’s not as well written as some of the others I’ve seen y’all are so amazing by the way.

*con el agua– with the water. (I was inspired from the song apart of the Wakanda Forever Score: Con la Brisa–With the breeze.)

[celestiarambles]

Game Night

Happy holidays everyone! Here's the Carchelle fic I've promised!

Also shout out to @turtlethebean @nobodyisneurotypicalinthebureau because I was also inspired by their headcanon of Carmen being Filipino-American

Summary: Inspired by the Brooklyn 99 5x10 episode Game Night, Carmen finally introduces Michelle and Sanjay to her family after 6 months or more of being together. However, her family’s old-fashioned ideals clash with her definition of what a family really is.

(Also cross-posted on Ao3: Game Night - celestiamirasol - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own])

Blood is thicker than water, they say. 

“Mooomm, how long till we get there?” Sanjay complains in the backseat, holding an elephant plushie.

“We’re almost there, Sanjay, don’t worry.” Michelle chuckles, pulling Sanjay in for a hug. “Right, my sweet?”

“Right…” Carmen sighs, gaze fixated on the taxi window. 

In the now former agent/investigative journalist’s lifetime, she had a lot of experiences, some that even cost her her life. It had been 6 months ever since SOMBRA was defeated, and she was glad that the threat of that criminal organization was no longer looming on her family’s heads. But now, it’s time to face the real challenge…

Introducing her family to her real family.

Once the taxi stopped, they all stepped out as Carmen paid. Even though it was the middle of December, there was still a tinge of a warm breeze as they were in the Philippines. In front of them stood a modernized home, which would already seem fancy based on the standards of the country they’re in, but only Sanjay was the one who seemed fazed.

“Wow…”

“Is this the place?” Michelle asked, looking at Carmen, hand holding a huge metal ring attached to the gate of the house.

“Yep.” Carmen sighed. “Just like I remembered. Just bang that thing.”

Michelle nodded as she did what Carmen said, the sound of metal clacking against its own, like knocking in a louder way. Soon enough, the gate opened, revealing a woman who almost looks like Carmen, only with pin straight hair, hooded Asian eyes and honey-brown skin. Her eyes widened upon seeing Carmen.

“Ate Carmen, oh my god!” The woman hugged her, almost pulling her in. 

She didn’t seem to notice Carmen’s companions, so she cleared her throat to break the hug. “Michelle, Sanjay, this is my sister, Carmina. Come on in!”

“But - “ to avoid further questions, the older sister strode past Carmina, and she watched as her other visitors followed suit. Michelle smiled at her, while Sanjay waved.

“Mother.” A frail, older looking woman turned her head to Carmen, and she softly smiled.

“Carmencita, you’re back!” Carmen’s mother responded as she stood up to approach her daughter, and Carmen took her hand and blessed as a greeting. Behind her awkwardly stood Carmina, Michelle and Sanjay, and she gestured for everyone to sit down. “How was traveling the world, my dear? Got any pasalubong for us?”

“Well, I took down a huge criminal organization, stopped various nefarious schemes, and almost died in the process multiple times and shit, but before we went home we were able to get some dollar chocolates I guess.” Carmen pulled out a plastic bag filled with some chocolates and set it down on the table.

Her mother chuckled. “Didn’t I teach you to rinse that foul mouth? But thank you so much for this. Carmina?” She handed the plastic bag to her other daughter and she took it, grabbing a chocolate bar from it.

Michelle leaned over to her girlfriend, as her girlfriend’s son was pouting. “I thought those were for Sanjay?” 

“I’ll buy him new ones.”

“So Ate, who are they?” While eating a chocolate bar, Carmina pointed to Michelle and Sanjay.

“Oh yeah.” Carmen nervously smiled and shifted in her seat. “Mother, Carmina, this is my girlfriend, Michelle, and my son, Sanjay.”

“You have a son?!”

“You’re married?!”

The two Martinez women exclaimed at the same time. “Who is the father, Carmencita, and how come you didn’t invite us to your wedding?!”

Carmen furrowed her eyebrows. She knew that they wouldn’t understand. “With all due respect, it’s none of your fuck -“

Before she could continue her sentence, Michelle just simply held her hand. “Carmen’s not married, but Sanjay is her son -“

“Carmencita, you’re not yet married?!” Her mother exclaimed, cutting off Michelle. “Why, that is a sin!”

“What my girlfriend here is trying to say is that Sanjay is adopted, Mother.” she tried not to glare at her own mother, who is still seemingly not getting the hint.

“Even if that child is adopted, you still shouldn’t be raising kids on your own! You clearly must have someone!”

“ANYWAY,” Carmina loudly cleared her throat. “You all must’ve been jet lagged from the flight! Why don’t I show you to the guest room so you could rest?

“Oh, of course! Carmina, show them the guest room!”

Carmina nodded and ushered the three upstairs, helping them with their bags. As Carmen reached for Sanjay’s hand, she then realized that she reacted that way in front of her kid, who just simply stared at her with curiosity and a bit of sadness. “Mom, do they not like me?”

Crap, I shouldn’t have cursed in front of the kid. She just simply squeezed her son’s hand. “Let’s talk about this upstairs, okay?”

Even if Sanjay’s been her son for more than a year, Carmen still feels a bit lost at times about the concept of motherhood. He’s 14, which is why there are times where she treats him like a toddler, and there are times where she treats him like a teenager. And while being a mother mellowed her down a bit, there are times that she forgets that she is one and shows her impulsiveness and hotheadedness to others, but she would never do it to the ones she loves.

The guest room was quite big. There were two beds inside, a walk-in closet and its own bathroom. The walls were painted a nude beige, with the occasional Christmas decor inside.

“I apologize for mom’s comments ate, but you adopted?” Carmina asked as she helped settle their things inside the guest room.

“Yeah, about more than a year ago, after one of my missions.” Carmen pursed her lips, glancing at Sanjay. “He was a street kid who unfortunately fell victim to SOMBRA - which was the criminal organization that we hunted down all across the world by the way - and then yeah I adopted him so that he’d be safer and feel like a real kid his age.”

“So long story short, you took pity on him because he’s from the streets?”

Carmen quickly turned her head to Sanjay, who was thankfully preoccupied with Michelle helping him unpack. She closed her eyes and sighed, trying to calm herself down. “I suggest you shut up, Carmina.”

“Hey, I’m not sorry that you decided to become so charitable all of a sudden. But what about Michelle, you two are like, best friends?”

“As I said, she’s my girlfriend. We’re more than best friends.”

“Like ride - or - die type of girl friends?”

“No, we’re lovers, dammit!” Carmen exclaimed, attracting the attention of the other two.

Carmina’s eyes widened. “Ate, we always knew that you were a tomboy, but -“

“Carmina, get the fuck out of our room before I make you.” Carmen whispered. Defeated, Carmina raised her hands and walked out.

“Was she pestering you again?” Michelle approached her girlfriend as Carmen rubbed her temples.

“I just think I need more sleep.”

Once everyone was all settled, they all took a quick nap, with Sanjay in the other bed and Michelle and Carmen sharing the other, cuddling each other. The couple then woke up by around 7 pm, in which the Martinez family had already prepared dinner for them.

“Where’s your son?” Carmen’s mother asked as the two settled down in their seats. “It’s getting late, you should wake him up.’

“And we’re all still jet lagged from the flight, mother. Let him be.” Carmen responded.

After that exchange, they all just simply ate in silence. Finding it awkward, Carmina cleared her throat once again. “Y’know, how about we play Pictionary, just like old times, with dad? I’d even get us some snacks!”

“Oh yes, that seems like a great idea to all commemorate your father, my dear Carmina. Especially since your sister here wasn’t able to attend his funeral.”

Michelle could almost hear her girlfriend’s teeth grinding in anger. She tried to calm her down by placing a hand on her shoulder. “That seems fun.”

“Great! I’ll set up the place.” 

As Carmina left to get the things needed, their mother then turned to Michelle. “So, where were you from? How did you and my Carmencita meet each other?”

“I’m half Colombian and half Singaporean, but I grew up in the States.” Michelle smiled at Carmen, trying to reassure her that this night wasn’t going to turn out as bad as she thought. “I uh, originally was an informant for the Bureau until I got hired after a lack of employees after their mole problem, and then Carmen and I got closer while working together, then we simply just fell in love.”

“Oh, so you know who the father is?”

“What?”

“The father of her son!” Carmen’s mother exclaimed. “Carmencita wouldn’t hastily adopt a child without having a husband, right?”

“Mrs. Martinez, with all due respect -”

“Mother - “

“Hey, so this is the easel!” Breaking the tension once again, Carmina came back holding a red children’s easel, which surprised Carmen a bit. “I couldn’t find our old easel, so let’s just use this instead. I even found the old prompts we had! Let’s start?”

The game definitely did help in easing the tension in the family. A few prompts in, everyone forgot the hostility between each other and everything just became friendly fun.

Until Jonah called.

Right beside Carmen, her phone was ringing loudly, with a photo of Jonah and his girlfriend Marina flashing on screen. “Carmencita, who’s that? Are you going to answer that?”

Carmen glanced at the screen and declined the call. “That’s just Jonah. I can call him back later.”

“Is he the father of your son? He almost looks just like him.”

If Carmen was eating or drinking something, she could’ve spit it out by now. “What the fuck, mother? He has a girlfriend!”

“Oh. You’re the other woman?”

“Hell no!” 

Carmina placed a comforting hand on Carmen’s shoulder then glanced at Michelle. “Mom, let’s not talk about ate’s homewrecking and cheating habits while we’re playing a family game. We can do more catching up later.”

“‘Catching up?!’ So you’d rather think of me as some kind of mistress and cheater than accepting the fact that I’m gay?!”

“What are you talking about, Carmencita?”

“How about we just focus on the game?”

While the Martinez family was bickering, Michelle fiddled with the piece of paper in her hands. She got the prompt family.

She was mostly an only child, and her parents were never around growing up. Doña Amarga wasn’t a familial figure to her either, since she mostly emotionally abused her and gave her claustrophobia. In fact, the only people that were close enough to family was the Bureau.

Especially Carmen and Sanjay.

Most especially Carmen.

Once Carmina gestured her to continue on with the game, Michelle stood up and took the marker, and drew two women holding hands and a child in the middle.

“Ooh, friends!” Michelle shook her head at Carmen’s mother’s guess and pointed at the women’s hands, her gaze on Carmen. “Friendship!” She shook her head once more and encircled the hands.

“Siblings? Sisters?” Michelle urged Carmina to say the answer.

“Ooh! Tomboys!”

“They’re a family, goddamnit!” Carmen yells at them, currently at her breaking point. She stands up and points at the easel. “They’re clearly holding hands and that kid is their son! Sanjay is my son and Michelle is my girlfriend, like lover girlfriend! Nothing is going on between me and Jonah! God, is that so hard to understand?!”

“...what?”

Carmina sighs. “She’s a tomboy, mom.” “I am not -” “Oh, this must just be one of your phases, Carmencita, just like you were young. But you’re 42 now, so please, act like a mature woman and find yourself a husband. Life’s short, and us women are getting older by the minute, no?”

“NO!” Carmen holds Michelle’s hand, frustrated. “This is not a phase, and I know what I want! If you’re going to treat my family this way, then we’re leaving this house tomorrow!”

“Oh yes, leave, just like how you weren’t there at your own father’s funeral.” Carmen’s mother rolled her eyes.

That was the final straw for Carmen. Just like her, her father was also an investigative journalist. They both covered the war in Yemen together… but only Carmen came out alive.

“Don’t you dare bring that up, he died right by my side!” Tears began to flow down her face. “I couldn’t be there, mother! I almost didn’t want to accept the Pulitzer without him. The Bureau immediately took me in for a mission after our coverage of the war in Yemen… you all held dad’s death against me all this time just because I didn’t show up at the funeral, but we also almost died there! You didn’t even bother to ask or contact me the whole time I was traveling all around the world, thinking I was out on some fucking vacation… Well, don’t bother anymore. We’re leaving tomorrow. Michelle, let’s go pack.” 

Leaving her sister and mother quiet, Michelle followed Carmen up to their guest room. She immediately went straight to her suitcase, silently crying as she pulled out her clothes and started fixing them up.

“Hey.” Michelle wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. “I’m sorry tonight ended up this way.”

“No, I’m sorry, Michelle. To you and Sanjay.” Carmen wiped her tears off with her hand. “I shouldn’t have brought you here in the first place. I should’ve known that they would treat you guys like this.”

“They’re your family, sweetie, of course you wouldn’t have known. Sometimes, the people closest to us are the ones who we’d least expect to hurt us.”

That same night, they packed up all of their things, including Sanjay’s, who woke up in the middle of the night. But by that time, Carmen was asleep once again, exhausted from how the night transpired.

“Mom, why do we have to leave early tomorrow? I thought we were gonna celebrate Christmas here?” Since Sanjay slept a long while, he wasn’t able to sleep anymore. Because of this, Michelle snuck the both of them down the kitchen to prepare a snack for Sanjay.

“Something came up.” Michelle frowned. “But don’t worry, okay? Carmen and I will both make sure that you’ll be able to experience the Christmas you always wished to have.”

“Michelle, right?”

The two turned to see Carmina in the kitchen, wearing pajamas. Her eyes seemed swollen, like she had been crying as well.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be quick here. Sanjay just got hungry.” Taking an extra biscuit and returning a washed plate to the plate rack, Michelle took Sanjay’s hand and was about to leave.

“No, no, take whatever you want. You’re still our guests here anyways.” Carmina sheepishly smiled. “Listen… on behalf of my mom and I, we’re sorry about what we said… and how we treated you guys. These things are just simply new to mom, and I just had a miscarriage a few months ago…which caused my marriage to fall apart…”

“...I’m sorry.” Things got quiet when Carmina started crying. All Michelle could do was place a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“...When I learned that ate Carmen willingly chose to adopt and raise a child all on her own, I didn’t know what to feel… and how she was able to have a family like this. A family like you.” Carmina sniffled. “I know I should be apologizing to her especially due to all the things we’ve done, but I don’t think we’re ready. We just… need time to process all of this.”

“All of you need time.” Michelle smiled. “We’ll probably be going back to America, but we’ll be back once Carmen is ready.” “I don’t like how you talked to us and my moms…” Sanjay spoke up. “But if they’re willing to forgive you, then so will I.”

“I understand.” She simply nodded and left the room, wiping her tears.

However, while everything went against Carmen’s favor, that doesn’t mean that it would ruin her celebration of the holidays with her real family.

Under Michelle’s insistence, they transferred to a nearby hotel and stayed in the Philippines for 3 more days before flying back to America. Even when they arrived, Sanjay requested for them to go Christmas shopping in Times Square.

“Remember when we were able to take down SOMBRA?” Michelle asked Carmen, looking at the old crime scene that was now once again filled with a sea of bustling people. 

“Let’s talk about something happier for Sanjay, honey.” Carmen smiled, looking down at her son who was eating ice cream. Sanjay smiled back, his mouth messy. She laughed. “Michelle, do you have a tissue?” Michelle giggled too, grabbing a pack of tissue in her bag in which Carmen used to wipe his face. They then walk back to their apartment, wherein when they reach their door…

“The door’s open…” Carmen’s eyes went wide as she jammed the doorknob and noticed that it was loose. Unfazed, Michelle simply urged her to open it. Once she opened it…

“SURPRISE!” Confetti sprayed at the door, revealing Ingrid, Marina, Jonah, Athena, Jack, Elliot, Lars, and even the triplets at their apartment.

“What…”

Michelle kissed her on the cheek. “Happy holidays, sweetie. Let’s have our own game night.”

All of them brought various game boards and food. As everyone bustled to prepare everything, Carmen turned to Michelle, still shocked. She grinned. “Is this why you wanted to extend our vacation?” “Yeah.” Michelle chuckled. “I had to at least give everyone leeway to arrive here in New York.”

Carmen grinned as she watched Sanjay play with the triplets. Even if her own family doesn’t accept her for who she really is, at least the Bureau’s here to make her feel that she actually has people who support her wholeheartedly.

“Carmen!” Jonah passed by, carrying a box of beer. “You haven’t been answering my calls!”

“Yeah, sorry, something came up.” Carmen scratched her head. “What is it that you wanted to tell me?”

“Marina and I are getting married!”

Blood may be thicker than water, but the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

[mybeingthere]

Caroline Coon, British counterculture artist, tells about herself:

"On 5th August 2016, a white male journalist aged 45 asked me this, a question fixed in status quo prejudice of independent women: “And your life now, how do you feel about it? You are not married. You have not had children. Do you feel any bitterness?”* Since I understand journalism and the limitations of print, here is a full answer to this man’s question: “My life has been blessed. Looking back at both the splendours and miseries I can only be profoundly thankful. I have benefited from the political and social revolutionary struggles that have provided me with many enlightened, human, civil and legal rights. I have been free to choose whether or not to get married. I have been free to choose whether or not to have children. I have been free to choose whether or not to have abortions.

I have been free to choose my sexual orientations. I have been free to choose whether or not to have lovers. Free speech and feminism have given me the freedom to be an artist. For women in the West there has never been a better time, my lifetime, to live. My life has been of my own volition. My life has been everything I wanted it to be, and more. My life is the antonym of bitterness! To live my life truly and effectively I gave up the idea that I could, considering my limited talent, trying with hope to better my skills, also be financially wealthy. To live my own life according to my own independent vision was, and is, richesse a plenty – to which I owe my happiness. And, as far as I can, for the rest of my life, I intend to support all those who are steadfastly holding on to and improving and furthering this happy, liberationist and humanist agenda.”

Caroline Coon was a trailblazer of London’s countercultural movement. She has campaigned for women’s rights since the 1960s; co-founded Release in 1967, a legal-advice agency for young people charged with the possession of drugs that continues today; and was central to London’s nascent punk scene, managing The Clash from 1978 to 1980.

Coon studied Fine Art at Central Saint Martins in the mid-1960s, opting for a medium and subject deemed unfashionable at the time – figurative painting. Her distinctive style is characterised by crisp-edged lines, bright colours and hyperrealism redolent of Paul Cadmus and Tamara de Lempicka.

In a recent review in The Art Newspaper, Louisa Buck writes: “Only now in her seventies is the importance of Coon’s paintings being acknowledged… It seems that at last the self-styled ‘great offender’ is getting the favourable attention she richly deserves—and now on her own terms.”

[midhaonna]

[twirling hair] tell me about tartagliatalks and mikaenari and birdxiao

im SO glad you asked

tartagliatalks is my little baby my everything my buzzfeed style journalist childe/dusty musty archon zhongli brainchild. childe writes silly little antagonistic articles with clickbait titles slandering liyue (he has a real hatred for liyue, for some reason, which zhongli is continuously furious about and intrigued by) and he has a whole wider social media presence outside of that. zhongli comments on his articles like the fanboy that he is, and like the archon that he (as far as everyone else knows) wasn't. here's a little snippet of childe's articles and zhongli's comments!

Tartaglia Talks: Why the last Cryo Archon, The Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya, was the BEST Archon! 

ZhongLiyue: Tartaglia, while I appreciate that this article is a love letter to your homeland (and I am sure Snezhnaya is a most wonderful nation), I must affirm on this occasion that your opinion is incorrect. Please revise. 

tartagliatalks: ZhongLiyue, I am ever grateful for your continued support of my work. May the Tsaritsa grant you blessings and a sense of humour. 

Tartaglia Talks: Infinite Mora!? Fifteen inaccuracies about the Archon Morax, and why he wasn’t actually THAT cool!

ZhongLiyue: Tartaglia, I regret to report that none of the ‘facts’ in this article are, in fact, factual. The Archon Morax is well known for his contribution to trade and commerce across Teyvat. The most famous example of this may be his ability to create Mora from his bare hands; this is an entirely accurate detail (see: The Creation of The Golden House and the subsequent sister article The Fatui, and Their Role in the Destruction of the Common Mint.) While I sympathise with your clearly tight budget, I would implore you to employ a historian or fact-checker of some kind. If it would be of interest to you, I would be eager to offer my services, of course provided the terms of the contract are agreeable. 

tartagliatalks: ZhongLiyue, thank you again for your continued support. I find myself in the rather unusual position of mourning that the Archon Morax does not live today, for if he were able to supply you with infinite Mora, perhaps you would not find it necessary to use my article as a job application. 

next is MiKaeNari, which is a sweet little established MiKaeya au in which Mika suddenly (for a variety of possible reasons which im yet to fully decide) grows ears and a tail, and Kaeya (who cries when Mika gets so much as a papercut) immediately enlists Albedo to help with the pain and general support for Mika. Albedo directs them to Tighnari, so the two embark on the journey to Avidya Forest to meet the man who they HOPE will be able to help Mika. And, well. It gets a little filthy from there, I can't lie. It's a very sweet relationship but also I can't overstate how important mommy-tighnari with his sweet voice and soft hands are to Mika and also to me, and Tighnari lets Mika sit in his lap and massages the ache out from where the growing pains are really setting in. Kaeya will do anything to make Mika comfortable, so maybe he occasionally suggests that they kiss, or that Tighnari touches Mika, etc. lots of fluff but lots of opprtunities for porn and Mika body worship. i started writing this before Mika's release, lol .

Even with his ears pressed flat to his head, Mika hears the sharp, piercing sound of glass shattering followed by Sucrose’s despairing moan. They’re rooms away from each other, but Mika almost feels the blush that no doubt rushes over her face. 

Albedo heaves a great sigh and pauses his questioning abruptly, offering Mika a quick, terse apology before leaving the room. The next few minutes are silent, save for Kaeya’s pounding heartbeat and Albedo’s quiet assurances to Sucrose that smashing an empty vial is of no consequence to their tests. 

Mika feels rather a lot like the smashed vial. Every one of his bones seems to ache as though splintered, every inch of his skin fizzing and popping with each tiny movement. 

“Alright, Mika?” 

Kaeya does not often ask if Mika is alright, usually only tells him that he is alright, as though he was never taught to comfort instead of assert. The finality of Kaeya’s attitude, how it makes everything feel so sure and complete, is usually of great comfort to Mika. So he does not quite know how to answer Kaeya. 

Inarticulate and lacking energy, Mika only burrows further into Kaeya’s chest. He’s warm but never too warm, and Mika loses the last wisps of lucidity in the prosaic scent of Kaeya’s fear. 

He sleeps for quite some time. Kaeya must have tended to him in his sleep, changed him into smallclothes that are significantly less sweat-soaked, and his face is no longer caked in dried tear tracks or snot. The wash basin on the side table is still warm, though the water in it is murky, and Mika’s hands tingle with the remnants of Kaeya’s presence focused on the centre of his palm. 

and finally zhongchibirdxiao which is sooooo sweet and also a lovechild of ry and i's brains. its basically little bird xiao accompanying childe and zhongli on their excursions (dates) and being VERY suspicious of childe, and VERY possessive of zhongli. childe doesn't know who the bird is, or that it's anything other than a strangely intimidating finch, but zhongli is familiar with xiaos form and knows immediately. there are so many concepts for this little universe that are yet to be written, but as the whole thing was based on a tumblr post, lol, i will share a snippet of that relevant section, which happens to be their first meeting with xiao in his finch form :3

A bird lands delicately on Zhongli’s arm. It pecks at his jacket gently, and waits patiently for Zhongli to turn his attention to it.

“Oh, my archon…what a sweet little bird.” Childe coos in Snezhnayan, his voice higher than usual before he switches back to common Teyvatian, “Oh, he’s such a sweet little guy, I think he loves you, Zhongli.” He gasps excitedly, because the bird - a finch, perhaps? - appears to preen under Zhongli’s attention, puffing its little chest out and fluttering its wings contentedly. 

Zhongli pets the little bird with great care. 

“I love him – please, Zhongli, tell him that I love him in Liyuen.” 

With a small chuckle, the words are relayed to the bird in Old Liyuen, and Childe takes a moment to enjoy the sweet look on Zhongli’s face. 

The bird steps forward a little on Zhongli’s arm, steadied by a firm hand held out in front of him, and watches Childe for a moment. It feels like a glare, and Childe pouts at how such a sweet little bird could turn such an angry attitude on him. 

Zhongli talks for a little longer than Childe thinks is quite necessary to simply relay Childe’s love, and when he finishes the bird looks back at Zhongli, chirps a quick, short response, then promptly flies away. 

“Heh,” Zhongli scratches the back of his neck, uncharacteristically bashful, “He said ‘go back to Snezhnaya, Fatui scum.’”

[ohtobealady]

🌧️ 🌈

Yay! Thank you!

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP:

From Ch2 of The Pleasure in a Secret or Of Days in Goodness Spent (working titles. IDK yet):

“Shall we find David?”

He watched as Cora’s smirk spread into a smile, and turning, he held out his hand to guide her through the gallery. 

It was as if the crowd made space for them as they finally approached it. A large group, following a stout little man holding a small yellow flag and speaking in a language that Robert could not understand, tumbled out through the giant arches just as Cora’s pink skirts rustled into the alcove where he stood. And Robert followed at her heels. 

“Oh,” he heard he sigh quietly as he, too, gazed upward at the sculpture. He looked at the feet, the knees, the lines of veins of his hand. 

“Oh,” he heard himself echo her, and he felt as Cora moved her gaze from the statue and to himself. 

He smiled before he looked back at her, and let his smile linger on as his eyes met hers. “Are you happy?”

The question felt strangely juvenile, especially because in looking at how her face was more alive than he’d ever seen it. Of course she was, and it delighted him.

She pushed away a tight grin, and moving nearer to him to allow an older woman to move closer — for the crowds had all returned in earnest — he felt her slender hand slip through the bend of his arm. 

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP:

From Ch16 of Things Given to Tomorrow

“Sybil was always the good one. The sweet one. Edith was much more clever,” she met Sybbie’s eye, “Though I will deny I ever said that.”

Sybbie rolled her eyes and stepped in closer. 

“And I was the one who should’ve been a son.” She shrugged.

“Mama or Papa never said, of course. But I wanted to be. Looking back now I’m not sure; George is a much better future Earl than I would have ever been. He certainly makes better decisions.”

“You didn’t answer the question. Coco says that there was a letter…that you knew the angle the journalists–”

“--Yes.” Her aunt peered into her lap. “The article will be about their marriage.”

Sybbie looked around the room, looked at the little side table that held the dog-eared page, looked at Granny’s little glass bottles on her dressing table, at the golden chair Mary sat in. And then she looked at her aunt. 

“You’re upset, aren’t you?”

Aunt Mary’s breath shuddered. And she nodded. “Papa hates it. He hates it. Hates to be reminded of their beginnings. But what was I to do? They were only interested in the Cash for a Title angle, the way it was in those days. And I couldn’t put them off. And we need the money. Because soon —“

“— Death Duties. I know. George told me.”

“I suppose it’s a blessing he has no real grasp of the present. He won’t know that the last thing people will know of him is that he married her for her money.”

Sybbie tipped her head. “They’ll write that he loved her, too, Aunt Mary. Still loves her. That he still visits her.”

Mary laughed sardonically. “Yes. And that he sometimes doesn’t even recall that she’s dead.” Sybbie watched her aunt shut her eyes, and when she opened them she took in a deep breath.

[luhafraser]

I wasn't here that time, and I don't know who Jerry or David is.

So I want to know the validity of this information circulated:

ln the pic of Cait and Sam at the People’s Choice Awards-2015

Gerry Braiden said:“the one on the left is McGill’s girl”

Then the OL fan asked if he meant Caitriona, he replied: i do

shippers attacked Gerry with Tweets, then David McCarron commented:”1 of these outlander super fans? Bless. I felt the same when Tfound out Reg Hotdsworth and Bet Lynch weren't a real couple”he meant Sam and Cait weren’t a real couple.

How reliable and correct is this information being circulated?

Who are Gerry and David?

Are they Cait's friends?

Thanks 🙏🏻🌹

Hi Anon. In 2015, I wasn't in the fandom either. I started watching OL in 2016... And following fandom and SC on social media in 2017.

What I know about this matter is... This journalist, Gerry, responded to some Twitter account (which no longer exists) that Cait was McGill's girl. It seems that Gerry was a friend of Tony, from the friendship circle with Baz from The Fratellis. What I was told is that there was a discussion with shippers, but I don't know what was written.

Another strange story... Why would Gerry, being Tony's friend, expose his friend's personal life on Twitter? 🤷🏻‍♀️🤔

You should ask this question to someone who has been in the fandom longer 😉

[tayfabe75]

Hang on a minute, what I said recently about Taylor Swift has been totally taken out of context and painted me out to be some idiot misogynist. Now I may admit to being an idiot on occasion but I am not a misogynist. That suggestion makes me really sad. For the sake of truth and clarity what I said was. A. We never dated and B. When speculation suggested we were dating I was for a very short time immersed in a celebrity world that I found confusing and scary. At that time I had fears of being "somebody's boyfriend" (remember this is all speculation as we never dated!) before even being recognized for my music or presence as a person in my own right. I said that I felt the idea of being "someone's boyfriend" before establishing myself as an artist in my own right would feed into the type of dinosaur thinking that all men are afflicted with. NEWSFLASH!!!!! Men are stupid and sometimes think about stuff like that!! OMG!! What a revelation!! To be attacked for pointing out the ridiculousness of my own irrational fears via any publication through the use of an out of context quote is a tough pill to swallow. Sure, many people will say if you don't want stuff printed then don't say it, but we all have the right to be quoted fairly, right? The truly annoying thing is Laura Barton, the journalist who wrote the piece from which said "quote" was pulled, understands what I was saying completely and was in no way trying to sensationalize or decontextualize it, but one media publication leapt at the opportunity to do just that knowing many others would follow. Now I don't pride myself on being more intelligent or worldly or wise, progressive or even regressive than the next man but I DO pride myself on being honest. I was being HONEST about all the thoughts, feelings and situations that come along when people ASSUME you are dating the most famous woman on the planet. I am telling you from experience, it's an all consuming whirlwind and something that for me elicited a lot of self-exploration. Now if you want to talk about Taylor Swift that is easy… Since she came to my show in December of 2014 I would say that 90% of journalists that have interviewed me have asked me about either her as a person or what our "interaction" was like. I have said on countless occasions that I found her to be one of the most gracious, hard working, creatively gifted, and beautiful women that I have had the pleasure to meet. I personally have a lot of respect and admiration for her. Why would I not? There are countless positive things I have said about her but these quotes aren't as interesting and don't appeal to the keyboard bound social warriors that patrol the internet making sure we can all sleep at night (yes, I'm being sarcastic and rolling my eyes). Now imagine what it's like for her, bless her. I didn't even date Taylor, but the media's incessant and brutal obsession with her has meant that even a guy who DIDN'T DATE HER has been so battered by their never ending questioning that he's inevitably said something that can be lifted and molded into something that resembled "shade". It's really sad. Finally, to whoever lifted that "quote" first knowing it would spread around the media world…. Fuck your sensationalism and your sidebar of shame. You're the true misogynist and upholder of patriarchal oppression. You try and morally absolve yourself by "defending Taylor" when it is YOU that cultivates an environment in which people's personal life's are fair game for your petty speculation and entertainment. If you want to pick fights, do your research and pick fights with the right people and not people who actually stand for something positive. Go fuck yourself. Matty xx PS. Thanks to all the fans who have stood up for me I appreciate it xx

March 19, 2016: Matty posts an open letter to address the controversy surrounding his comments regarding Taylor Swift during his interview with Q Magazine. (source) (original comments here and follow-up clarification from author here)

[lostcauses-noregrets]

Hi Lost! I'm pretty new to the snk and eruri fandom (about 3-4 months in), and I find it absolutely delightful to discover your tumblr! Thank you for your meta and analysis posts! (I haven't venture into the realms of fanfic in the fandom yet)

Sorry if you've answered similar question before, but the other day I watched an Arcane analysis video on yt about how the characters' parents/parental figures influence them, and I've been thinking about eruri in this regard. Like how Levi had a loving mother, and Kuchel's love & tender nature helped him to be kind and compassionate despite their struggles, but he was also influenced by Kenny, who struggles to show his compassion and has doubts about himself in raising a kid.

Then about Erwin who grew up in (I'm assuming) a very well-educated environment under his dad's care, he seems to be very logical, confident, and unshakable, but also have troubles to even acknowledge his emotions (like some stereotypical fathers?). Although it's probably caused by his character or mental health as well.

Something about the differences of kids who grow up with mothers, and who grow up with fathers?? Also, I kinda get the idea that they both admire each other because of this, like Erwin admires Levi's warmheartedness, and Levi admires Erwin who is visionary.

I def don't know anything about developmental psychology, and this rambling might have a lot of missed points, but what do you think?

Again, thank you for your blog!

Hello and welcome to the fandom!  I’m glad you’re enjoying the meta, Erwin and Levi have such a deep and nuanced relationship that there’s a wealth of commentary to explore. If you aren’t already following @tsuki-no-ura’s blog, I can highly recommend it, they’re still posting fascinating meta on a regular basis.  And just wait until you get on to the fic! This fandom has been blessed with so many hugely talented writers over the years. 

Anyway, in response to your query, “what do I think?”, I think I agree with every word you’ve said! There’s no question that both Erwin and Levi’s characters are influenced by their formative childhood experiences and their relationships with parental figures, both positive and negative.  I think it’s also true that, despite the loss they both suffered, that they did experience love, warmth and affection as children, otherwise I don’t think they’d have been able to forge such a balanced relationship with each other and with the people they care about.  It’s significant that despite their loss and the hardship they both endured, they never lost their faith in humanity; neither Erwin or Levi grew up to be driven by hatred and vengeance, unlike some other characters. I think that’s at least partially due to the love they experienced from their parents.  (That doesn’t always hold true of course.  There’s no doubt that Eren was loved by both Grisha and Carla, and look how he turned out.)

Levi is undoubtedly the more outwardly compassionate of the two.  Erwin himself acknowledges this in the Smartpass Erwin & Levi Up Close Interview where he waxes lyrical about Levi’s character to the interviewer.

Erwin: …Alright. Starting with Levi…I think he is excellent at shouldering important duties. With the title “Humanity’s Strongest” as part of the SC, our reputations have also been elevated. On the battlefield, he has also faithfully completed the tasks I have assigned to him. Despite his warmhearted nature, I’ve asked him to carry out some cruel missions…

Journalist: Is Captain Levi very…”warmhearted?"

Erwin: You’ve already interviewed his subordinates, right? Then you must have heard just how much they trust their captain.

Journalist: Indeed. I even heard the same thing from new recruits who are not from his squad.

Erwin: He just has a rude attitude…but he cherishes his comrades’ life more than anyone else. His reputation cannot be established based on strength alone, Humans can subconsciously detect how much concern others have for them… and when they notice this kindness, it inspires power…That is something that I can’t do.

It’s very easy to love Levi, and I think we can see that in the way other characters and fans respond to him.   Erwin is quite different. On a superficial level he appears to be the epitome of the cold, ruthless, military commander who will sacrifice anyone and anything to achieve his goal, but of course Erwin’s emotions run deep, concealed beneath complex and contradictory layers of guilt and self-loathing.  Once you get a glimpse of what lies beneath those layers, it’s impossible not to love and empathize with Erwin too.  Erwin’s seiyu, Ono Daisuke, expressed this contradiction beautifully:

“Erwin has so much emotion that it’s difficult for people to see it. The amplitude of his emotions is so great that to those around him it looks as if the needle isn’t moving at all.”

Sorry, I’ve strayed off topic a bit here, but I do certainty agree that Erwin and Levi’s characters are at least partially shaped by their relationships with their father and mother respectively.  I've written a couple of other posts in response to similar asks over the years if you're interested:

What was Erwin's mom like?

What would Levi's life look like if his mother was still alive?

Thanks for sharing your thoughts, I really enjoyed reading your ask.

[winterproductions]

CHAPTER FOUR

Disclaimer: This is an idol!Jungkook and OC fanfiction, preferably for my POC queens but anyone who reads can envision themselves in the character, if they like.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04

___________________________________________

May 2021

8 PM

"Welcome to the billboard music awards red carpet!" The journalist greeted the live cameras as A-list celebrities past around her in the background. "I have besides me the trio that is taking over the industry! Amara, Emerald and Starr, also known as Three Seconds. "Welcome to your first BBMAs experience ladies, you're performing tonight aren't you." The journalist continued the interview.

___________________________________________

Amara

Alot has happened in the past four years. The scholarship became a blessing to me and my boyfriend. Opportunities arose and were taken by both of us; Emerald came to visit Daniel and I in Britain and all of us were just in the right place at the right time.

Karaoke nights have never been more of a blessing to partake in.

Daniel was approached with an offer to audition for a boy group but instead they made him a soloist and placed myself and Emerald with another female to form an r&b and pop centric girl group.

___________________________________________

The performance of their single from their debut album received a standing ovation. They returned to their seats in their stage outfits as they awaited the results of the category that they are nominated in.

"And the award for billboard's top new artist goes to!!" The announcer opened the enveloped and the words that left her mouth made everything become a blur. "Three Seconds!!" The boom of sudden screams and cheers warmed the hearts of the three females who did the same as they hugged their dates and team.

Their speech was short with the usual messages of thanks to their label, team, family, friends and lovers. They were in disbelief with the award.

___________________________________________

Amara

"I'm bummed they didn't show." Emerald whispered to me as we watched BTS acceptance speech. I turn to her and nodded "well, we finally get to see them. Don't we?" Emerald chuckled and nodded "you damn right." To witness their performance, despite it being virtually due to the pandemic, it was an honor.

The award show came to a close and we all hit greeted the paparazzis for post-show photos and interviews

"Daniel, babe, are you alright?" I notice his silence all night due to the Weeknd beating him in the three categories they were in. "Forget that question, it's ok. We all win some and lose some. We have the AMAs, VMAs and Global, there's so many more achievements you can get in the near future. Besides, everyone knows you're the better performer."

I saw the peak of his smile and hugged him from behind. "Your performance made headlines tonight, trust me, that is way better than the awards that may be rigged to serve indust4 favorites." He turned to me and pouted "babe, you just won your first award." He kissed me and I played with his hair "yeah, it's exciting and an accomplishment. It's contradictory, I know." He laughed and removed his tie.

He approached me okce again as I began to unzip my dress; he assisted me and began kissing my shoulder as he pushed the expensive fabric from my skin. Being left in my underwear, I felt my body be lifted and laid on the bed. "Daniel, I'm still not ready. I'm sorry." He sigh and I covered my face in embarrassment, it's been four years into our relationship and we've never fully made it into home base. I've used ways to keep him pleasured but the way I always fail to submit into him the way I always imagine makes me humiliated.

"It's ok" he mumbled and I bit my lip as so many emotions ran through me. "No, it's not." He held my face and looked me I'm my eyes. "Babe, it's ok." He pecked my forehead and left to the bathroom where I heard the shower turn on.

I collapsed down onto the bed and exhaled as the urge to just fall asleep consumed me. After about five minutes, I hear Danny's voice "babe, I'm done." I nodded and pushed through tiredness to take a hot shower.