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youcouldmakealife · 11 months ago

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LBTE: Jared (161-163)

Christmas, New Year's, and media.

If you'd like to read along, the series page is here.

161. Strategic Retreat

Final arc, baby!

Big ol’ summary to cover some ground because I DO need to end the story eventually, despite what Bryce thinks. So zoom, here comes Christmas.

Bryce being on LTIR means he doesn’t have to deal with media unless he explicitly seeks them out, and if the Canucks refuse to make Jared available for reporters, there’s not much they can do about it except like, shout questions in the parking lot.

Which does actually happen, incredibly; the security guards were apparently the right idea, but also, ironically, aren’t actually present the one time they’re needed. But Jared has Gabe and Dmitry with him, and Dmitry makes for a very friendly but also completely immovable barrier between said reporter and the getaway vehicle.

Except for the one scene before Christmas, in which Dmitry gets to play bodyguard and Gabe gets to play getaway driver, and they both have a blast.

“Who the fuck even was that?” Jared asks, twisting around to look through the back windshield as Gabe pulls out of his spot. “I’ve never seen them before in my life.”

“Should I take detours?” Gabe asks.

Jared thinks that’s unnecessary, but he also thinks Gabe looks hopeful, like maybe he’s always secretly dreamed of being a getaway driver.

“Can’t hurt,” Jared says.

Thank you for humouring Gabe’s ambitions, Jared.

Bryce looks down at the open suitcase, which is frankly more cords than clothes at this point. Bryce didn’t pack any cords whatsoever, which was a problem considering they have different phone models, and then there’s Jared’s laptop, and Bryce’s iPad, and backup cords for their phones, because they have a tendency to disappear, and Jared prefers his electric toothbrush, so he packed the cord for that, and —

Got to be prepared for everything in the great wilds of suburban Calgary.

But wait. Jared has parents. Parents who can retrieve things for them. Also they can get same-day delivery for just about anything. Maybe not on Christmas, but: parents. Dad would grumble, but he’d make the Christmas morning drive to Shopper’s Drug Mart. He’d probably even insist on it, rather than let either of them do it. Definitely before he let either of them drive his car.

Shoppers Drug Mart: your best friend when you realise on Christmas morning that you forgot to get someone a present.

“I don’t know,” Jared says. “I’m being ridiculous in my head, that’s all.”

“If you tell me, I promise I won’t judge,” Bryce says. “I’m ridiculous in my head all the time.”

<3 Bryce

The one tiny sliver of a silver lining to Bryce’s injury is that he isn’t going to be game ready until after their next game in Calgary. May miss playing in the Saddledome entirely this season, and selfishly, Jared hopes he does, not just so Bryce doesn’t have to deal with what they yell at him, but also so Jared doesn’t have to hear it, doesn’t have to know just how ugly it is. He wants to be able to come back there.

Something uniquely special about getting booed by your hometown team. Not in a good way.

Dad picks them up at the airport, and Jared doesn’t know if that’s because he’s worried some Uber driver will recognise them, or to continue the weird charade that Mathesons are a nice, welcoming family they all do whenever Elaine’s around. At some point they’re going to get tired, right?

Elaine continuing to bring out the best in everyone.

Dad and Elaine catch up in the front — well, Elaine catches dad up, dad just tells her all the food he’ll be making — as Jared takes the opportunity to nap on Bryce’s shoulder in the backseat, waking up for flickers of exit signs and snatches of appetizers and Elaine’s laugh, Bryce’s fingers threading through his as dad takes their exit, squeezing when they pull onto Jared’s street, a gentle wakeup call.

This is all very soft.

…insisting on taking Elaine and Bryce’s bags — ‘don’t want you to screw up the recovery timeline’ he told Bryce gruffly, but Jared has two hands and thirty less years on the planet, so he can probably handle it.

More baby steps!

“Can’t come, watching pots!” his mom yells as soon as they open the door, with the exasperated tone of someone who does not appreciate the duty they’ve been assigned, and dad beelines straight for the kitchen, presumably to make sure she didn’t fuck up pot watching.

‘Watch my pots’ is said way too frequently by Don considering nobody watching them knows what to look out for.

Erin shoves one into her mouth and puts a protective arm around the rest before she pulls her phone out, aiming it in their direction with intent while she chews bread in the most obnoxious manner possible.

Erin’s got the right priorities.

“Not awful, I’m going to post it,” Erin declares, but she shows the picture to him and Julius first — Jared guesses they’re all a little gun shy where social media is involved right now. She’s right though, it’s not awful, and Jared doubts anyone who doesn’t know him personally could see all the spite in that smile. Julius scoffs at it, so Jared definitely didn’t fool him, but strangers? They’ll buy it.

Jared smiles rarely enough that you’d have to know him quite well to be able to differentiate his smiles. Julius is one of the few who can.

“Guard my rolls from these thieves, Elaine,” Erin says, then somehow bullies Jared and Julius onto one half of the couch while taking the other half for herself.

All the right priorities.

Jared would argue, but he peers over Erin’s shoulder to see a picture of them wearing the same fake smile on their faces while Julius looks faintly terrified between them. Exact same. It’s horrible. And Jared can’t even make a face at Erin right now, in case she makes the same face back.

She would make an identical face and Jared knows it.

They get a better one later, one where Jared and Erin look related but not too related, and Julius doesn’t look traumatised, and dad has an objectively ridiculous expression on his face, which will hopefully quiet some of the ‘Don Matheson is a silver fox’ narrative — Jared doesn’t know if that’s still a thing, and he’s afraid to ask in case it is — and Elaine looks like she just popped in from a complete different, much fancier event. Bryce is just a sweater sleeve and a ringed hand on Jared’s knee, because he was reaching for the wine when Jared’s mom took the picture, but that still would have made this a picture that would have needed to be deleted, or at least cropped, Bryce carefully excised from the frame.

But instead, when Erin asks if she can post it, Jared shrugs and looks at Bryce, who shrugs right back, and they collectively ignore his dad’s protests that it’s an awful picture of him as Erin fiddles with approximately seventeen different filters before posting it for all to see.

Bryce just a sleeve and a hand, but he’s there! And of course everybody knows exactly whose hand it is. A small thing compared to the media they’re going to be doing, but after years of carefully censoring what photos make it to social media (or are taken at all), this is a small thing that means a lot.

162. Ritual

When the clock strikes midnight on Christmas, Jared’s drowsy, contentedly full of dinner — ‘don’t expect this tomorrow’ his dad warned, but Jared is fully expecting a repeat, judging by the overloaded fridge and his mom’s longsuffering expression — and also pie, because his dad made a fucking pie. From scratch. He’s officially out of control and Jared will happily reap the benefits.

Don’s cooked throughout Jared’s life, albeit mostly in a ‘let’s get food on this table before your game’ sort of meals, rather than his new passion for it, but pie? PIE? The closest thing to baking his dad did before was pancakes, and Jared’s pretty sure that doesn’t count.

Elaine’s gone back to the hotel room she got rather than kick Bryce and Jared out of his room, his parents to bed. Bryce is asleep, Jared’s pretty sure — he put his head in Jared’s lap after the third jaw cracking yawn, and hasn’t moved a muscle since. Julius doesn’t look like he’s far behind, slow blinking like a toddler fighting sleep, though if Jared says as much he’s going to get something thrown at him, and while he’s almost certain he could dodge it given Julius’ current condition, he doesn’t want to disturb Bryce when he looks so comfortable.

This whole scene is very soft.

“Hey,” Erin says, and when Jared looks over, she takes a picture.

“Delete that,” Jared says immediately.

And then Erin happens.

“Not that one,” Jared says. He doesn’t even need to look at it to know it isn’t one he wants people to see. “It’s too — not that one.”

For all Bryce said 'what’s the point of coming out just to pretend to be different people', Jared needs that distance between him and his relationship and what people see of him and said relationship.

“Who turns ‘hey you’ into a pet name?” Jared asks. “What’s next, ‘sup dude’?”

“Okay babe,” Erin says.

“We barely even use babe, so whatever,” Jared says.

You shameless liar.

“Bryce? Bed?”

“S’that, babe?” Bryce mumbles, and Erin gives Jared a mocking look. Jared doesn’t know how she understands Bryce from across the room when Jared can’t understand Julius after literally living with the guy, but it’s probably helpful that it’s just sleepy, rather than sleepy and/or Finnish.

You deserve that look. Also do not start competing with your sister on ‘who can understand mumbles better’ Jared, I swear.

“I told him that, but he got all ‘what do you know, you’ve just known Jared since the day of your birth’,” Erin says. “‘I am the only one who truly knows him, due to our sacred former liney bond’.”

I will have you know she says this in a gruff monotone with a faintly sardonic expression on her face.

“You know half of what he says is just looks,” Erin says. “The withering look definitely said ‘Erin, you must know the sacred liney bond is much deeper than something as simple as blood’.”

This time she curls her lip.

Jared swears he knows exactly what look she’s talking about, but for him it was ‘Jared, you cannot possibly understand the nuances of the music I listen to with your weak North American ears, now apologise to the Finnish death metal bands you confused’.

This is the softest, fondest Matheson mockery.

“Can’t believe you stole my liney,” Jared says.

“You abandoned him in Edmonton,” Erin says.

The door to Erin’s room opens, and Julius scowls out at them. “Stop talking about me,” he says.

“Why would we even talk about you?” Jared says, over Erin’s, “Big head, much?”

I love them.

Julius gives them a withering look, then shuts the door.

“I’d say that one was ‘pathetic, who taught you how to lie?’” Jared says.

“With a dash of ‘I am on the other side of the door and have ears, Mathesons’,” Erin agrees.

They both adore him.

“He shouldn’t do that,” Jared says, skating over to Gabe.

Gabe gives him a questioning look, and Jared reminds himself that Gabe isn’t actually psychic.

It’s easy to forget considering he always seems to read Jared’s mind. Or, more accurately, the expressions Jared doesn’t hide as well as he thinks he does.

And nothing — not being dirty, not being selfish, not being cocky, not being a convicted fucking criminal — is as bad in this league as being a whiner. Maybe diving comes close, if you do it incessantly. Maybe.

Sad truth.

The last thing Jared needs to be is the gay guy who is also a whiner.

Jared absolutely has a legitimate concern here because he knows people are looking for things to dislike about him that aren’t who he’s married to.

“Hey, Jared?” Gabe says. “You’re not the only player on the ice that sign was directed at, whether they know it or not. Not everything is about you.”

But yeah, this.

“It’s okay,” Gabe says. “Just keep that in mind. And also keep in mind a lot of kids are paying extremely close attention to how people are treating you and Bryce right now, and that’s not the kind of shit I want them to be seeing.”

Also this.

“They’re going to say you’re stealing Bryce’s man,” Jared says, and gets Gabe’s glove in his face in response. He spends too much time with Dmitry. They all spend too much time with Dmitry, Jared very much included.

“Leaving me out!” Dmitry says, crashing into both of them, and nearly sending Jared into the boards.

Did someone call for more Dmitry?

Jared’s first kiss of the new year is a smacking one on the cheek from Dmitry fucking Kurmazov. He doesn’t know what that signifies, but he doubts it’s anything good.

It indicates another year of Dmitry, lucky you.

“Mom’s drunk,” Bryce says.

“I’m not drunk!” Elaine says loudly. “I am celebrating a new year with my beautiful baby boy, who I am so proud of. You too, Jared. I’m so proud of you too. You boys have been so brave, and I am so proud of both of you.”

“Mom’s drunk,” Bryce repeats.

Elaine is a very happy drunk, to the surprise of no one, I’m sure.

Jared would take a drunk Elaine over Dmitry any day.

“Aw mom,” Bryce says. “Why are you crying, don’t cry.”

Also an emotional one.

“You’re hiding somewhere,” Bryce says. “Vending machine room?”

Jared scoffs. He’s not an amateur, and that’s the worst possible hiding place, considering people tend to actually use it.

“There’s this nook kind of thing,” Jared says. “It has a couch for some reason. I have no idea who the hell designed this place.”

Look at this trust on display. Not even a moment of suspicion before he tells Bryce his exact location.

“How did you even find me?”

“Bullet,” Dmitry says, and Jared, mentally rewinding his conversation with Bryce, realises he’s been betrayed by the person he loves most in the world.

Jared is the most dramatic person in the entire world.

“Math,” Gabe says, after handing Jared another hard seltzer and listening to Jared’s complaints. “Buddy.”

“You’re going to tell Stephen about this, I know,” Jared says.

Gabe waves a hand. “He’s bored of these stories by now.”

This is the meanest thing Gabe has ever said to Jared.

Jared takes his hard seltzer and his remaining shreds of dignity and relocates himself to the video game playing room, where people won’t kiss him or tattle on him or refuse to tattle on him.

Poor Jared, so hard done by.

163. Take Five

The problem with Bryce and Jared putting off any and all interviews until the new year is that, inevitably, the new year arrives.

Every procrastinator’s nightmare: when later becomes now.

Not that their agents aren’t involved or anything, but Jared’s imagining Greg trying to field all the interest, and it’s not a pretty picture. Summers is a different story, but Summers also recently found out that Bryce has Jared’s name tattooed on his chest, and as a result Summers is currently not particularly happy with them.

Dave is so tired. So tired.

“We have interest from hockey journalists, obviously,” Grace says. “But also some 2LGBTQ+ media, and some local lifestyle pieces, which we think are probably a good idea considering Bryce was born and raised here. Makes you Vancouver’s, you know? Not just Vancouver Canucks. And then there’s some mainstream national interest. We’ll let Bell and Rogers fight over who gets dibs. Presumably Rogers will take it, considering they have our broadcast rights, but I wouldn’t count Bell out. There are a lot more eyes on CTV than City.”

Blah blah blah, Canadian telecom stuff (Rogers (Sportsnet) has NHL rights, Bell (TSN) gets the leftovers, also they co-own the Leafs? Canada is just several monopolies in a trenchcoat). Also 2LGTBQ+ is Approved Government Order of the acronym in Canada — putting two-spirit first.

“Telecom cockfight,” Jared says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, like roosters, or like—“ Bryce says, then gestures at his lap.

Grace returns to Jared in tears of laughter and Bryce indignantly saying, “You’re never going to let go of the truffle thing!”, which means, of course, that Jared has to tell her about the truffle thing, but only after he catches his breath again and manages to force himself to stop picturing a literal cockfight.

Bryce’s grandchildren will hear about the truffle thing. Not the cockfight, though.

“You know,” Grace says. “You two just keep being like this and everything is going to go perfectly.”

Grace why.

“What is wrong with you!” Grace says, throwing her hands up. “Why are you being like this right now, I know you have personalities! They’re good personalities!”

Jared shrugs, while Bryce commences a brand new sulk.

You brought this upon yourself, Grace.

“You’re in front of cameras all the time,” Grace says. “You’re used to interviews.”

“Talking about hockey, not, you know, us,” Jared says. “It’s not hard to rattle something off about having a good group of guys and getting pucks deep. It’s pretty much scripted for you.”

Plus people’s expectations for how articulate you are are pretty low when you’re panting and wiping your sweaty face. ‘uh, we had, uh, a pretty good twenty minutes, and um, I like our effort and we just gotta keep it up and stay in their zone and uh, we’ll be good’. ‘thanks for your time’ ‘yup.’

“Okay, fair enough,” Grace says. “Then — just say nice things about Jared. You love saying nice things about Jared.”

She found it. She found the button.

“Plus, Jared has to listen to you saying them,” Grace says. “And he can’t cut you off in the middle without looking like a jerk on TV.”

“Hey!” Jared says, as Bryce looks increasingly thoughtful.

Nailing that button, you got this Grace.

“Try to convince the viewers to love Jared as much as you do,” Grace says. “Shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

“I don’t like you very much right now,” Jared says through his teeth, as Bryce cracks his first smile of the day.

And Bryce Marcus has officially changed his stance on media. Get him in front of a camera, he has a husband to embarrass with his gushing.

Bryce and the interviewer have a nice little laugh together, and Jared adds ‘smart’, to join so great at cooking, so fun and so funny, and so supportive, which certainly is Bryce changing his tune from after shoulder surgery. Also ‘just look at him’, which Jared doesn’t quite classify as a compliment, but knows Bryce means as one.

And just look at Jared: face on fire, because he is in hell.

Sucks to be you, Jared, you smart, fun, funny, supportive, hot as fuck cook.

(Jared would argue he is maybe half of those things.)

"You don’t have to say nice things about me, babe,” Bryce says. “I don’t mind.”

Jared’s three defiant compliments into his interview before he realises Bryce knows him a little too well.

How does it feel to be handled, Jared?

He goes to slump into Bryce, realises they’re in public, then realises that doesn’t matter.

Bryce wraps an arm around his shoulders, kisses the side of his head.

In public! Not in front of their friends, or family, or team, but a bunch of total strangers (albeit total strangers who had to listen to compliments about Jared ad nauseum)

“I don’t actually give you a look like ‘how did you even graduate high school’, do I?” Jared asks.

“Sometimes,” Bryce says.

“Fuck,” Jared says. “I’m sorry.”

“In your defence, the last time you did was because I thought Alaska was an island,” Bryce says.

BC and Alaska are ATTACHED. (Bryce says in his defence they always show it as little floating land in the north in maps of America. Jared says ‘IT BORDERS YOUR PROVINCE’)

It actually got interesting with a few American towns bordering BC when the US-Canada border was closed to non-essential traffic — some Alaskan kids went to school in BC, and Point Roberts, Washington is basically surrounded by Canada (look at it on a map if you want to laugh), so they had some significant issues.

But also Jared feels bad and he will try not to give Bryce that look going forward.

“You’re giving me the face again,” Bryce says.

“Okay, but seriously, B,” Jared says, and Bryce tips his head back and laughs.

BUT SERIOUSLY.

#liveblogging the end

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astralplanes3 · 2 years ago

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Judge Angel Origin

This is my rendition of Judge Angel’s origin story. None of this is official canon (original story here). I hope you enjoy ^v^

Danny Clark brought the still steaming coffee to his lips and turned to the next page in the newspaper. He knew there wasn’t going to be anything interesting, he was just killing time. An unusually calm manner for a man whose wife was giving birth. Knock knock.

“Come in,” Mr. Clark answered, looking at the door. One of the nurses walked in. She was clearly nervous as the bookshelf next to her seemed more interesting than the man in front of her.

“Did something go wrong?” The woman tensed.

“The delivery went just fine, Mr. Clark. Your wife is resting and your.. child seems healthy.” He raised an eyebrow at the pause. “I think you should see your daughter, Mr. Clark.” Sighing, he put the paper down and stood up. He let the nurse lead him down the hall and into the room with his wife and daughter. Mr. Clark glanced at his wife, Rachel Clark. She seemed tired and relieved. She glistened with sweat as she laid there, catching her breath. The nurse holding his daughter walked up to him. Mr. Clark’s face contorted with confusion, then rage. He grabbed his wife by the collar of her shirt.

“Did you have an affair? Which demon did you lie with to produce something like that?” Mr. Clark screamed at his now terrified wife.

“Mr. Clark, Mrs. Clark’s body is still recovering, please restrain yourself!” the buffer nurse said, pulling him away and out of the room. Seething, Mr. Clark called his lawyer and friend, Taylor Lawrence. Inside the room, Rachel saw her daughter for the first time. She had pale skin like both of her parents but other than that, she looked completely different. She had blonde hair where her mother’s was red and her father’s brown. That wasn’t even the most shocking part. Her eyes were completely black. Not just her irises, but the whole eye. Rachel smiled at her daughter, holding her close.

“I know she is his child, he will see that. It doesn’t matter how she looks, she is my daughter and I love her. My little Dina.”

“She is indeed your child Danny. I have the results right here.” Taylor concluded, dropping a folder on the desk. “Funny how genetics work, ain’t it?”

“No, Taylor, it isn’t,” Mr. Clark paused his pacing to glower at him. ”What are people going to think? They’re going to think I have a demon for a child!” He continued pacing behind his desk. Taylor stood silently, unsure what to say next. “What are my options for handling this discreetly?”

“You could put the kid in an orphanage.”

“No, I can’t risk people finding out it’s mine.”

“Alrighty, umm…” Taylor tried to think of other options.

“As a friend, what would you suggest I do?”

“As a friend, I wouldn’t want you to go to jail. But considering the child’s appearance,” Taylor sighed, ”You'd probably be able to get away with getting rid of her, like an unwanted litter. If you still think that’s risky, keep the child inside and try for another.” Mr. Clark stopped pacing and closed his eyes, mulling over his options.

“Thank you Taylor, you’ve been a great help.” Mr. Clark said in his typical ‘I need my space’ manner.

“Course, Danny. Do let me know what you decide,” he shook Mr. Clark’s hand and left.

“What do you mean you don’t want more children?!” Mr. Clark exploded. Fists shaking he glared at Rachel, who sat on the side of her bed. Dina laid in her crib quietly.

“That’s not what I said and you know it, Danny! I don’t want to. We both knew that the chances of getting pregnant were slim. It was difficult enough getting pregnant the first time” Mrs. Clark explained. “I tried because I know you wanted children, you have a child-”

“That thing is not my child! It never will be!” Mr. Clark pointed in the direction of the crib. The yelling caused Dina to start crying. Mrs. Clark looked at him sadly, she never expected he would hold on to this kind of reaction. She walked to the crib and picked up Dina. Dina quieted as she hushed and cooed at the baby. Still holding her, Mrs. Clark turned back to Mr. Clark.

“Whether you want her or not, she is still your child. If you want other children, we can adopt, like we said we would.” Mrs. Clark stated flatly. Mr. Clark stared at her indignantly before huffing and leaving the room. Sighing, Mrs. Clark sat on the edge of her bed.

“He he he,” I giggled quietly. I have the bestest hiding spot ever! Momma’s never gonna find me here! The glass cases slowly caught my attention. I kept looking at the cases from my hiding spot. Curiosity got the best of me as I scanned for mom from behind the curtains. Seeing she wasn’t, I crept out of my hiding spot to peer into the cases. All sorts of pretty things were inside! Jewelry ranging from necklaces to hairpins sat in the display. I excitedly moved from case to case. Some of the things weren’t so pretty. They were rusty and sharp, with stains on a few of them. I tried reading the labels, but didn’t understand enough of the words to make sense of them. A few words appeared over and over. Mainly ‘torture’, ‘war’, and ‘victims’. I know what victims are. Mr. Clark sentences bad guys based on what they did to their victims. I just don’t know why Mr. Clark would want things like that. There was one last case to look at. It stood in the very back of the room, separated from the others. The case displayed an elegant silver sword. The blade shone as though it radiated light itself. A beautiful scarlet gem sat at the top of the hilt. Pale green metal shaped like a wing or flame surrounded the gem. I moved closer to the sword, breathless. Pressing my hands against the cool glass, it captivated me. A sort of soundless vibration came from it, calling me. Telling me to pick it up, to hold it in my hands. I don’t know how much time had passed when the door opened. I turned to look and saw Mr. Clark staring at me, surprised. He got over his shock and stormed towards me.

“You’re not allowed in this room! You hear me, you little demon?!” Mr. Clark roughly grabbed me by the arm and pulled me towards the door. I glanced at the sword once more as the silent reverberation ebbed away. He pushed me outside of the room and slammed the doors.

“Dina, I told you, your father will get very upset if you go into that room,” mom fussed. “Are you alright? He wasn’t too rough with you, was he?” I shook my head, still thinking about that sword.

“Mom?” I asked, staring at the door. Mom hummed in response. “What’s that sword in there?” She thought for a moment.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to do your homework before I do,” she said. Oh, right. Homework. “You didn’t forget did you?” I sheepishly nodded my head. “I thought so. Come, I’ll help you,” mom held my hand as she led me back to our room.

“Oh! I get it now!” I exclaimed, “Why would the textbook put it like that? So confusing.” I turned to mom, “Now mommas, the sword!”

“Ok ok,” she turned to face me, “It all began with a terrible war.”

My blade cut through anything in my path. Demons fell left and right. Their blood soaked into the ground. At the very least, their bodies could be used to create new life. They deserved to be nothing more than fertilizer. A new presence filled the air.

“I take it you are the one in charge here?” I pointed my sword to it. It laughed and lunged at me. We fought in a fury, neither side gaining or losing ground. Both of us slowly sustained more and more injuries. For a second, I distracted myself with the cries of a child. Its sword flung mine out of my hands. I raced to the source of the sound, to find that it was another demon. It didn’t get to live much longer. Pain shot up through my right leg. Damned demons, always playing with their foes… I suppose I should be grateful. Spinning around, I let my elbow collide with its jaw. It let out a grunt of pain and slashed at my chest. I broke its arm in one swift motion. I continued pummeling it. It saw this as the beginning of a fist fight. Tossing its sword to the side, it punched back. I dodged and raced to the sword. The second it was in my hands, I turned around and decapitated the demon. I cast an eye over the battlefield. There were a few demons scattered about, wondering if they should take their chances against me. I went after each and every last one of them. None escaped my wrath. I heaved a sigh of relief. It’s done. A moment to recompose myself was all I needed. Quickly, I looked for my sword. An aura search turned up nothing, as I should’ve expected. There was too much spiritual residue to get an accurate read. A manual search turned up nothing either. I was spending too much time here. There are others still fighting.

“Nothing? You’re certain, it’s nowhere to be found?” I cursed. It’s gone. “Let us leave then. We should spend our time preparing for the next battles. Thank you for helping me search.” I retreated to my private gardens. My dear, dear sword is gone. Its grand flames and dutiful protection are no longer here. And there is nothing I could do. I wept, tears seeping into the soil. There’s no time for this. I hold faith that it will show. Let it take all the time it needs. I stood up, dusting the dirt from my legs and clothes. I left the garden. After all, there is still a war to win.

“Uriel, come quickly. We have new information.”

“The sword had fallen into the human realm, where many used the sword. Some used it to protect their loved ones and communities. Others used it to hurt people. In more recent times, people like your father use it in a more passive sense. They use it for its reputation as a status of their wealth. It’s said that whoever takes good care of the sword will become its master forever,” Mom concluded. The story entranced me. She got out of her chair and walked over to the door, “Come help me with dinner.”

“Sure!” I burst out of my seat, rushing to the door. The rest of the night was uneventful, we had dinner and got ready for bed.

The next day, Mr. Clark called me into his study, “This is Maisha Qwest, she’ll be taking care of you from now on.” Maisha gave me a strange look. I couldn’t tell what it was but it wasn’t a nice look. She had light brown hair and hazel eyes. Her clothes looked very tight on her. Like someone put colored shrink wrap on her and called it her outfit. Her shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show her chest.

“Hi, Dina,” the sugar-coated words fell from her lips. I didn’t like that she was talking down to me.

“Hello, Ms. Maisha,” I said politely. Mom told me that even if people are being rude to me, I should at least try to be polite to them. Mr. Clark waved us out of his study. I went to my favorite window to watch the gardener, Mr. Garing. He gave me flowers and taught me how to press them. Learning from him was tons more fun than learning from my tutor. He taught me what plants are edible and the names of the flowers he brings to me. He spotted me and waved. I waved back with a smile. It was nice watching him work. He moved carefully through the bushes, down the different paths. I could see him pick some of the flowers and put them in his pouch to show me later.

Around 3, I went to the back door to meet him, as I usually did. When he walked in, he was dirtier than usual.

“Did you do some digging Mr. Garing?” I asked.

“Oh, ahh, yes. Yes I did,” he fumbled.

I gasped, “What kind of plant are you going to grow?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” he rubbed his chin, “Why don’t we go look through our plant book and you can help me pick one?” I ran to grab the book, not noticing the ruined flowers in his pouch or Maisha sneaking back in with a crooked grin.

It’s been a few weeks since Maisha started working here. Mom started to find her jewelry going missing and Mr. Garing stopped bringing in flowers. One day, I caught Maisha going through my mom’s jewelry box.

“Hey!” I snapped, “That’s not yours!” Maisha spun around to look at me, startled. She got this very dark look on her face. She walked closer to me and bent down so she was level with me.

“And what are you going to do about it?” I didn’t know. I opened my mouth to speak but she pushed me. I fell on my butt and she left, laughing at me. I didn’t understand. Why would she do that? Why would she steal from my mom? I had to do something. I got up and dusted myself off. I’ll tell Mr. Clark. It wasn’t as easy as that though. What if he took her side? Why would he take her side though? What if he won’t listen to me just because he hates me? But Maisha’s probably stealing from him too. I made up my mind. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Come in.” I walked into the study. Maisha was there, sitting on his desk, shirt unbuttoned more than it usually is. Speaking of things that weren’t as they usually were, Mr. Clark’s hair was messy and his tie was undone. “Well? What do you want?”

“Maisha’s been stealing from mom,” I mumbled, tears in my eyes. The words barely came out. I don’t understand why I was having so much trouble. I was just standing in front of my father. Yeah, he hated me, but he’s never done anything to me. So why does it feel like there’s this heavy weight on my chest?

“Oh, sweetie,” Maisha said with her all too familiar sweetness, “ I’ve covered for you and you turn around and do this?” I look at her, confused. “You’ve been the one stealing and from your own mother at that.”

“What? No I haven’t! I just caught you taking things from her jewelry box!” I cried.

“Enough!” Mr. Clark pinched the bridge of his nose, “To your room, child. No dinner for you.” My jaw dropped, why was I the one in trouble? I tried to get something out but Maisha winked at me. She knew that this would happen. She knew he was going to take her side. I left crying.

And that’s how it went, she would take something and blame me for it. Mr. Garing and mom stuck up for me, saying I would never or that I was with them when it was stolen. Sometimes Mr. Clark listened, sometimes he didn’t. Then it happened. A screech tore me from my sleep. I raced to the stairs, not even bothering to put on proper clothes.

“Mom! What-” the words died in my throat when I saw what she was looking at. Tears pricked my eyes before overflowing onto my cheeks. Time seemed to stop and the house stood quiet. Mr. Clark ran out, followed by Maisha.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, then he looked down the steps. Mr. Garing lay at the bottom of the steps in a pool of blood. Dead.

“We need to call the police,” mom stammered. But nobody moved.

“We can’t," Mr. Clark said, “They’ll find out about the child.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?! My god Danny, there’s a dead man in our house! Dead, Danny!” mom shouted frantically. She never shouted. It finally hit me, Mr. Garing was dead. The man who had given me flowers and taught me about flora, laid on the floor of our house lifeless. I started crying. Not the silent crying, but the ugly kind. The kind where snot’s coming out of your nose and you can’t even open your eyes, you’re crying so hard. Mom hugged me and started moving me away, consoling me.

“Maisha,” I heard Mr. Clark say quietly, “Get rid of him. Leave no evidence that he was here.”

“Yes sir,” Maisha replied. I peeked around my mother long enough to catch a glimpse of a smirk on her face. Like she had just gotten away with murder.

I sat in my room. It was quiet. I kept replaying the scene in my head. There was nothing I could do to stop seeing Mr. Garing like that whenever I closed my eyes. The more I thought about it, the more something strange stirred within me. A sense that judgment needed to be carried out. Maisha killed him, and Mr. Clark probably knew it. For as long as I can remember, mother always said he was a fair and just judge. But I don’t think he is. I think he’s only “fair and just” when it suits him. I recalled seeing something odd around Maisha when I saw her. A soft glow. It was red and muddy. It crept out of her like the real her was seeping through the cracks of the fake her. Knock knock knock. Mom walked into the room with a plate. She handed it to me along with utensils and a napkin.

“I think Mr. Garing would still want you to eat when he’s gone. I know you’re upset, so I gave you a smaller portion.” She smiled at me. It was soft, understanding, and sweet. Not Maisha’s kind of sweet, something genuine. I picked at my food and ate what I could.

“Good job, Dina. I know it’s hard. Loss is never easy, especially under these circumstances.” She hugged me and gave me a kiss on the forehead. I noticed that she had the same aura as Maisha, but different. It was soft and golden. Instead of oozing out it radiated, like she was glowing.

“Is something wrong dear?” she asked.

“Mom, I think… I think I’m seeing things,” I confessed. She looked at me confused then pressed her lips to my forehead.

“You don’t have a temperature. What are you seeing?”

“Auras, there’s one around you and there was one around Maisha when…” I cut myself off.

“Hmmm. Let’s wait a couple of days and if it doesn’t get better, I’ll talk to your father about getting you a doctor. Ok?”

“Ok.” I smiled. She took the mostly untouched plate, utensils, and napkin out of the room. Later that evening, mom walked into the room with a plastic bag. She set the bag down on the table and motioned for me to come to her. She pulled out a few books, pencils, pens, markers, and a set of colored pencils.

“I got you some coloring books and a sketchbook in case you wanted to draw.” I smiled and got really excited. I hugged her tightly and thanked her before flipping through the books. One of them had blank pages, the others had everything from fruits and flowers to animals and people. There was even this thing called mandala. I opened the colored pencils and started on one of the mandalas. After a while mom told me that it was time to go to bed.

“Five more minutes? Please?” I asked.

“Oh alright, but just five more minutes.”

“Thank you!”

It’s been five years since Mr. Garing died. Mr. Clark has gotten stricter, meaner. He started hitting mom. She tried not to let me see the bruises and hid when she cried. I could feel mom’s aura grow sad whenever she cried. The auras never went away. No doctor could figure out the reason behind them and they grew stronger over the years. I could now sense people before seeing them. Standing in front of my favorite window, I dolefully looked at the garden. It was no longer dutifully maintained. Branches spread from the trees and bushes wildly. Grass and flowers bloomed in between the stone path. Mom approached me.

“Dina, I’m going out, do you want anything? Maybe some food, a new coloring book, stickers maybe?”

“No thank you.”

“Dina,” she sighed, “Things are difficult right now but you aren’t eating well. I’m worried about you.” She got closer and gave me a hug. Eventually she let go, “I’m going to bring you back some things ok.”

“Ok, mom,” I finally relented. She gave me a kiss and left. I wandered the house for a few minutes before sneaking into the collections room. The sword sat stilly in its case. For some reason it never needed to be polished. Maybe it’s just because it’s never taken out of the case. I pressed my hand against the glass, relishing the cool, smooth surface on my skin as I had so many times before. If only you were mine. I’d finally be able to protect mom. I felt Maisha outside the door and hid. She walked in and checked behind some of the cases before leaving. She started patrolling the house, especially whenever she couldn’t find me. I tried to stay away from her nowadays. She’s revealed her true personality at this point. Malicious and violent, but still sickly sweet and manipulative. I glanced at the sword before leaving too. I waited in the lounge for mom to get back. I heard the door open and close, then a voice.

“What did you get?” Mr. Clark demanded.

“I just got some things, nothing more.” I peeked around the corner to see Mr. Clark pull the bag out of her hands and rummage through it.

“Just as I thought, you got some things for that little demon,” he scowled. He took out a box of colored pencils and started snapping them in half.

“Enough Danny!” Mom reached forward to grab what was left of the box out of his hands. He smacked her across the face and pushed her to the ground. I ran to mom and stood in between her and Mr. Clark. We stared each other down. Finally he huffed and left. I turned to mom who had gotten up already.

“Sorry about your colored pencils dear.”

“No no, it’s fine. As long as you’re ok.” I picked up the broken pencils and put them back into the box as best I could.

“You’re so sweet Dina. I wish your father would see that.” She smiled woefully. I wish he did too, mom. We ended up spending the next couple of hours chatting with each other while working on our coloring pages. When we finished preparing dinner, we were a little surprised to find Mr. Clark sitting at the table waiting. By his side sat Maisha with her cheshire grin. Grimacing, I set the food I carried on the table and sat next to Mr. Clark. I didn’t want to give him an easy chance at getting to mom. Everyone was silent. The tension was suffocating. It made its way down my throat and settled into a lump that made it hard to eat. For the sake of my mom, I choked the now bitter tasting food down. All I wanted to do was run away. Away from Mr. Clark. Away from Maisha. Away from this stupid house! But mom would be sad if I left. And god knows what Mr. Clark would do to her if I did. What if mom ran away with me? The thought circulated in my brain. I started to formulate a plan. One that would take us out of here for good.

“Goodness, that woman,” mom uttered. She walked into our bathroom to get changed. I sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly unsure if I should tell her.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Dina?”

“... What if we ran away?” Silence. “I mean, neither of us are happy here and I know that if we left we would be a lot happier.” Mom came out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed next to me. She cupped my cheek in her hand. My heart sank. She always did that before telling me something I didn’t like.

“I’d love to. But your father knows many people, he’d find us. I wouldn’t want to give you that taste of freedom just for you to long for it here.” She wants to, that’s all I needed. If she wants to then I’d be able to convince her eventually.

“We could go somewhere he’d never find us! Another country maybe, we’d just need to leave!” I beamed, “We could go anywhere we wanted, do whatever we wanted, and he wouldn’t be able to stop us!” Her eyes glazed over, thinking of what could be.

“Do you even have a plan?” she asked. I eagerly explained the plan I had come up with. Mom interjected with suggestions from time to time. It was decided that we would leave on Christmas Eve. A fitting Christmas present for him. We packed our backpacks together and hid them under the bed. And for the first time in a long while, we fell asleep with smiles on our faces.

The couple of days we waited seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. I tried my best not to seem happier or anything, so Mr. Clark or Maisha wouldn’t suspect anything. Dinner seemed agonizingly slow. The Christmas chicken seemed to taste even better than usual knowing that it would be our last meal here. Mom and I headed to our room to get ready. Out of a drawer, she pulled out a box in bright Christmas wrapping paper.

“An early Christmas gift. Go on, open it.” She handed me the box. I carefully took off the wrapping paper and opened the box. I pulled out the soft white fabric to find that it was a beautiful winter dress. It had braids and a fur hood. I noticed that there was more. Still in the box were some black leggings, white gloves with fur on the wrist, socks, boots that also had some fur on them, fluffy earmuffs, and a pair of sunglasses.

“They’re so pretty!”

“Try it on,” I looked at her excitedly, “If we’re going to escape, we should at least do it fashionably.” I hugged her and ran into the bathroom, blurting out a thank you on the way. The clothes fit perfectly and were super warm and cozy. I strutted out of the bathroom, showing off my new outfit (and probably favorite if we’re being honest).

“Ooo, look at you. My little girl’s going to be a supermodel. Next thing I know, you’ll be on the cover of Vogue.” At the flattery, I struck a pose. I giggled and went to hug mom. She got ready too and, like me, struck a few poses while I “ooo”-ed and “ahh”-ed at her. We sat down on the bed waiting for Mr. Clark and Maisha to finally go to sleep.

“Why don’t we stop by that antique shop you’ve told me about, the one that opened recently? After all, I still need a gift for you,” I suggested. Mom laughed.

“Oh Dina, you are the greatest gift I could’ve asked for. But if you want to go, then we can.” We watched the seconds tick by slowly. Finally, it was time to leave. We grabbed our backpacks from under the bed and snuck through the house. Mom opened the front door and we left. Something about the fresh air was different when you’re outside. Taking a deep breath, I realized that I could see my breath in the air! I did it a couple more times before mom grabbed my hand and led me towards the city for the first time. Everything was enveloped in the fluffy snow. A few snowflakes fell on my face as we walked. The bushes and trees looked different than the ones I could see from the house. I think Mr. Garing said that these kinds of plants were evergreens. I couldn’t take my eyes away from, well, everything! Just before we got into the city, mom pulled out the sunglasses from her pockets. Oops, I forgot that. She put them on my face. We finally made it to the city. A few people walked by us and cars passed on the street. Golden lights streamed outside from the houses and shops. A few minutes later we stood in front of the antique shop. It was a small place that was slightly run down but in a homely sense.

“I think it’s still open, but it won’t be for very long. Let’s be quick Dina,” mom said. Inside the store, the smell of dust greeted us. Trinkets and the glossy eyes of some dolls twinkled under a flickering lightbulb to our left. Towards the back sat a few chairs and blankets that have certainly seen better days. On our right stood racks of different clothes that had a few bright garments peeking from behind the dull ones. A glass case had jewelry, ornate daggers, and a few guns on display. The side closest to the wall was wooden and had a till and a card scanner on it.

“Welcome, need some last minute gift?” the shopkeeper greeted as she came from a doorway in the back. She was an older woman that wore her hair in a low bun and a brightly colored shawl.

“My daughter wanted to get a gift for me,” mom replied. She nudged me forward and I waved a hello.

“I see,” she looked at me through her glasses, “Oh what a darling little thing you are! Do you have something in mind or would you like some help?”

“Some help please.”

“Of course, of course,” she waddled to the trinkets, waving me over. She talked me through the things on display. None of them seemed to be quite what I was looking for. Looking for a gift is hard. It seemed so simple. Mom always got me things that I liked. Maybe she felt the same while looking for gifts. The old lady pulled down a jewelry box and opened it. She searched through the things inside until one caught my eye. I carefully untangled it from the mess of other necklaces and bracelets. It was a simple chain with an elongated metal sphere. It seemed to open on one side. In it were two small frames with photos inside.

“I know that look when I see it. That’s the one, isn’t it?” the old lady intoned. I nodded. We walked over to the till and mom paid for it. The shopkeeper was even kind enough to let us borrow some scissors so we could fit our pictures inside.

“This is a beautiful gift dear. Thank you.” Mom hugged me and we headed out the door, saying our goodbyes. The cold air didn’t hesitate to begin its biting the second we stepped outside.

“Aww, what a cute mother-daughter moment,” a familiar voice jeered, “I almost want to cry.” Maisha sauntered over to us, that awful smile plastered on her face. Mom stepped in front of me.

“Maisha, I don’t you don’t exactly like either of us, but please don’t tell him. At the very least give us some time to get away,” mom pleaded. Unexpectedly, Maisha actually seemed to be considering it. Then she grabbed mom by her hair and started wrangling her to her car. I rushed to her side and grabbed Maisha’s arm. Maisha opened the car door and shoved mom inside. She turned, throwing me in too. She got in the driver’s seat and started the car. Mr. Clark was waiting for us as we pulled up to the house. His furrowed brows and frown were the only greeting we got from him. The two of them escorted us to our room and locked us in. I immediately checked the windows to find that they had been nailed shut. Mom covered her face with her hands. She started crying. Seeing mom cry in front of me like that hurt. It hurt in the same way it had every time she was hit. I sat down on the floor, staring a hole into the carpet. I’m not sure when it happened, but I eventually fell asleep.

The sound of the door opening loudly woke me up. It was now morning. Mr. Clark and Maisha strode into the room. Mom stood up and before she could speak, Mr. Clark smacked her, hard. I got to my feet and rushed to her. Maisha stepped in the way and pushed me back. Mr. Clark was now dragging mom out of the room. I struggled against Maisha as the door shut. Suddenly I was on the ground writhing in agony. Maisha proceeded to kick me repeatedly in the stomach and head. She pulled me up by my hair and held my face close to hers, enjoying every second. I hated her. I hated her so much. I hated her with every fiber of my being.

“Bitch,” I spat out as I poked her in the eye. She let go of me and brought her hand to her face. She stomped on my stomach before grabbing a fistful of my hair again. This time she punched me in the face over and over and over. As much as I didn’t want to, I started crying. I didn’t want her to have that satisfaction of making me cry. This incited her to keep punching me with a renewed fury. Just as I began to fall unconscious, I heard a voice. It was firm and soft at the same time. It wasn’t masculine or feminine.

“Dina, it’s now or never. It is time for Maisha Qwest to be tried, and you are the judge. Guilty or innocent?” the voice requisitioned. Memories, or visions, flashed through my head. Maisha killed many and committed so many wrongs, even if I didn’t know her I’d say she’s guilty.

“Guilty,” I said through gritted teeth. A fiery strength surged through my body. It flowed hot and powerful, like a fire was lit inside of me. I punched Maisha in the face. She stumbled back, but I didn’t let her recover. I kicked her knee out and she fell to the floor. I got on top of her, hands around her throat. She grabbed at my wrists but it was no use. I am stronger than her now.

“Maisha Qwest, for the murder of several people, theft, abuse, and seducing a married man, I pronounce you guilty.” The words fell out of my mouth smoothly, like butter, like they were meant for me to say. My lips contorted into a twisted grin and my eyes widened. Hers did too, but in terror. Seeing her choke underneath me, living her last moments in fear of me, was blissful. Cathartic, even. With her last bits of strength, she clawed at my face, neck, and arms. The pain meant nothing anymore. It only served to fuel my ecstasy. When she finally blacked out, I snapped her neck. There was no point in wasting the energy trying to make sure she was really dead. I stood over her, admiring my work for just a few moments. The fiery strength weakened, fading from my body. With no time to waste, I stumbled out of the room and made for the study, where mom would likely be. I passed by the collections room and stopped. The soundless resonance was stronger than ever.

“Go ahead, claim it. It will serve you well.” the voice urged. I entered the room, not bothering with any of the other cases. Unable to open the case, I rammed my fist through it. The sword practically leapt into my hand. That inaudible vibration filled the void left by the waning fire. A renewed strength within me, I ran to the study. Mom’s body lying on the ground unmoving welcomed me. I shot towards her.

“Mom? Mom, wake up, come on! We can go now!” I shook her but there was no response. “Mom! Mom, please!” I broke down into sobs. Through blurry vision I barely made out the blood coming from the side of her head. I was torn from my grief by a hand grabbing me by the hair. Mr. Clark came into view shortly before his fist collided with my face. Relentlessly, he beat me up. I tried to reach the sword, somehow convinced it would help me. Each time he pulled me back to him and continued hitting me. I’ve never used a sword, nor have I trained physically. Maybe I was searching for some kind of assurance that I wasn’t going to end up like mom. I managed to grab a trophy and hit him over the head with it. He cried out and clutched his head. I took the opportunity to finally grab the sword and held it in front of me. His now bloody face snapped to me with a rage I’ve never seen before. He noticed the sword unsteadily held in my hands and laughed.

“You can’t do anything with that! It won’t save you, Dina.” That was the first time he’s ever called me by my name. He didn’t deserve to call me by my name. Not now, not ever. I swung the sword at him. Mr. Clark side-stepped and got me in the stomach. I fell to the ground, heaving. I saw hazy feet in front of me and a gentle hand on my head. I didn’t get the chance to see who it was, but I had a feeling that they belonged to the mysterious voice I’ve been hearing. Memories poured into my head again. They weren’t the sins of another but training sessions. Years of practice with the sword. I saw how to wield it, but no longer had the strength to utilize it.

“Allow me to assist you.” I felt this weird feeling, like there was now someone else in my body with me. They slashed upwards, leaving a deep gash in Mr. Clark’s chest. He stumbled backwards, tripping over his feet. They stood me up and guided my arms to inflict several more cuts and stabs on his legs and arms. They exited my body, leaving behind some of their strength. I stabbed into his stomach several times. Mr. Clark’s memories played in my head, just like with Maisha. What I saw disgusted me. This ‘fair and just’ judge had been paid off by many. To convict an innocent person or to release a criminal. How dare he hold such a high standing for such low deeds?

“Danny Clark, for the abuse and murder of my mother, for your unfaithful behavior, and for stooping so low as to accept bribes from people, I judge you-” through his delirium he laughed at me.

“You? Judge?” he sputtered through his blood, “Only the perfect are fit to judge others. You- you are not perfect you little demon.” He spat out the last part. I did nothing. I just stared at him.

“You are far less perfect than I am,” I raised the sword above my shoulder, “I am the chosen judge, here to determine your fate. I am the true judge. I am Judge Angel.” With those last words, I swung the sword and took off his head. “And I judge you guilty, Danny Clark.” Unlike Maisha, there was no ecstasy in judging him. Just a quiet satisfaction, knowing that he finally got what he deserved. I stood beside my mother’s corpse, letting go of the tension from the fights. With the tension, left my borrowed strength. The last thing I remember was collapsing on the floor.

When I woke up, my body ached something fierce. I laid there gathering my strength before standing up, much to my body’s displeasure. I stumbled to the bathroom and took a Tylenol. Looking in the mirror, I was a mess. My nose was bloody and both of my eyes were black. The blood from my clothes dripped onto my outfit. The one mom just gave me. I fell to the floor. There was nothing I could do to stop my crying and I didn’t want to. Once the Tylenol started taking effect, I got up and cleaned myself up. I put peroxide on the blood stains of my dress and cleaned the blood off of my boots. Once they were clean, I put them back on. From our room I grabbed a large suitcase and brought it to the study. Carefully, I placed mom inside. I think you’d like to be buried somewhere beautiful. I brought the suitcase and my backpack outside of the house, to the shed. In the shed, I grabbed one of the jerry cans and the fertilizer. One of Mr. Garing’s books said the nitrogen in fertilizer was explosive when exposed to fire. I spread a trail of gasoline into the study, leaving a little trail for me to light outside. Then I placed the fertilizer in the middle of the room. I leisurely grabbed the matches and walked back to the beginning of my trail. I lit the match and dropped it into the gas. Lugging the heavy suitcase, I headed in the opposite direction of the city. It wasn’t long until I heard the explosion. I quickened my pace.

In the middle of a clearing on the edge of a cliff, I knelt in front of my mother’s grave. It took me a while, but I finally found a pretty place to bury you mom. The clearing was bursting with a variety of flowers. A river cut through the edge of the clearing, flowing over the edge. Freshness practically seasoned the air. I felt an aura behind me and spun around to face it. A glowing, masculine figure stood before me. Plants grew to meet his figure. He had short, curly dirty blonde hair. Behind his head hovered a fiery ring emanating power beyond anything I could compare with. His robes seemed to almost float around him. Looking him in the eyes proved futile, he did and didn’t have any. I don’t know what he is, but I don’t think he’s here for a good reason.

“Hello, Dina,” it was the unknown voice, “A lovely spot you’ve found for your mother. I think she would be happy to know that she was buried here.”

“Are you eventually going to tell me who you are?” I asked warily.

“Simple, I am your patron.”

#dinaclark #judge angels #origin story #not canon #headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta fandom #judge angel

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dragonsareourfuture · 3 years ago

Text

Ways the Death Note Cast Show They Trust You

I lost some inspiration towards the middle there, I’m sorry!!

- he will always have Watari make extra servings of food just for you. It’s a bit startling at first. So suddenly there’s just food in front of you that you think is for L, but when you push it towards him, he pushes it right back to you.

“You don’t want it?” He’d ask, leaving you confused until you finally put the pieces together.

“Oh, I…I guess I didn’t realize it was for me. My bad.” You begin eating. “Thank you.”

L simply hums and continues with whatever he was just up to.

- You know that thing cats do where they’re sitting perfectly still, eyes closed, guard slightly down, but still not quite asleep? I can picture L doing something like this during any moment of downtime he gets. Just sitting, scrunched up in his chair or wherever he happens to be, eyes closed but the cogs in his brain are still turning. You notice him doing this when it is only you and him in the room, simply thinking it’s because of the moment of rare solitude. Little do you know, it’s because he trusts that you won’t hurt him or let anything bad happen to him.

- L is a person who prefers to be in charge of his own life. He likes knowing what’s going on around him at all times and when things are out of his hands he can’t help but feel uncomfortable. However, with a person he’s developed a close relationship with and knows he can trust with everything he has, L will feel more comfortable leaving decisions up to them. You’ll have to start small though, like being the one to plan a surprise date. He might feel a bit uncomfy at the beginning, shifting around and possibly even insisting he sit so that he can see the exits clearly, but he eases into it eventually. Soon you both find yourselves joking around in the odd way that you do and gorging on cake and ice cream.

Mello

- being vulnerable is something Mello isn’t too keen on. He already feels vulnerable most of the time and would kick himself if he let that show through his actions. If Mello truly trusts you, he will feel as though he can be vulnerable around you without any judgement on your end. Small acts that show vulnerability such as asking you to help him with something he can’t quite handle on his own — even if it’s something as simple as not being able to reach something off a shelf or being unsure about how to fix something. Eventually, he’ll work his way up to the bigger stuff like being physically wounded in front of you or having a mental block.

- Sharing his clothes with you or letting you pick his outfit for him. Now, it sounds like he’s just being a little diva and that’s only partially true. But his clothes are important to him, they’re a factor that sets him aside from his plain-dressing rival and in his eyes they make him more interesting than him, visually at least. He’s happy to dress you up, and it is true that he has to have a close relationship with you to want to do so, but you should be especially proud if he lets you alter his appearance in any way.

- He likes to believe that he’s had his goals set out from the beginning. Surpass Near, become the next L, and go on from there. What he pushes to the back of his brain are the moments he’s been studying and he’s asked himself ‘What if I went down a different path?’. He quickly pushes these thoughts away, but they keep coming back. What would life be like if this wasn’t an option for him? What if he were a writer? What if he lived in the city with people he loves and went to the movies every Friday? Unwillingly, he has a whole list of possibilities. If he truly trusts you, he’ll share every single one with you. Whether it’s dropping hints or confessing them one by one late at night, he can’t help but feel that they’re safe with you.

Misa

- it seems a bit surface level, but it’s true — Misa will talk down on Light in front of you if she trusts you. But it’s not straight away. She had developed a lot of courage to actually break up with him, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still doubt her decision to do so. It’s only when she finds out from you how loved ones are supposed to treat each other — with kindness and respect — that she feels her decision to ditch Light was the entirely right one. Slowly, she’ll start to admit to you all the things she hated about Light, starting with some of his mannerisms and building up to something like how he forced her to leave the entertainment business.

- Misa is…dramatic. She likes to go above and beyond for someone she’s infatuated with and make sure they’re the happiest they can be. If she trusts you enough to develop this kind of infatuation and, with some development, less of an obsession and more of a strong, bonding love, you will be doted on to the point where it’s almost ridiculous. You could be at home during one of her work days and you’ll get a delivery of lunch from your favorite takeout place because Misa was ‘thinking of you <3’, as she explains when you text her asking why food randomly showed up at your place. It’s rather sweet.

- Misa’s a pretty talkative person in general, that’s a well known fact. She’ll talk about clothes, a cute birdie she saw on her way home, really anything that comes to mind. But, she’ll do that with about anyone who’ll listen. It’s gradual, so it’s hard to notice, but if Misa grows to trust you she’ll start talking about some of the more serious things that have been on her mind for a while, those things that she thought would scare off anyone she liked because of how personal they are to her. Her family before they died, for example. It’s something that Misa thinks about. So much. But she doesn’t really talk about it. She wants to forget, put the past behind her but because she’s never talked about it with anyone it’s hard to do that. She’ll talk about her family to you, the little things her sister used to do and some things her parents did that she misses.

Matsuda

- Matsuda often begins to idolize those who he thinks are trustworthy and have a good heart. He starts to tell you how much he loves when you do x and that he wishes he could perform as well as you in that area. In a sense, he trusts you with his vulnerability, letting you know that he thinks of himself as less than satisfactory and how he wishes he could do better, only he channels it by pointing out good things about you. If…that makes sense.

- This sounds dire, but he’ll risk his life for the people he completely, without a doubt trusts. He was willing to do so with Chief Yagami, someone he saw as a father figure, and he would certainly be willing to do so with you, someone who he feels he has a deep emotional connection to. Whether you’re in a situation where he would need to or he’s just saying that he would, he means it.

- Matsuda trusts you to not make fun of him when he overshares or talks too much or anything his coworkers brush him off for. He feels that he can talk about things he finds funny and talk about his life without worrying about what you think of him when he does.

Matt

- he would drop everything to help you. Whether that’s dropping his game to help you kill a bug or leaving his duties behind to help you out of a life or death situation. Whichever scenario you happen to find yourself in he’s there no matter what.

- He’ll invite you into his personal life. I know this is kind of a given but Matt had the chance to become the next L. He had the chance to become something “great” and he said “ummm rather not” to it because it wasn’t something he wanted. If he shares this information with you, he trusts you not to leave him for something better when you discover the status he could have had and refused. He trusts you to appreciate him because of him and not the intelligence everyone but him cherishes.

- He leaves you alone around important technology and software he’s hacked. Unfortunately for him, betrayal comes with the business he’s got himself into and, if Matt really trusts you on both a professional and emotional level, he won’t have a problem worrying about whether or not you’ll take advantage of his coffee break to gather information for some other organization or something. He will literally just go “mkay babe I gotta go fuel up on caffeine real quick, you’re good watching the hacked government database right? Cool cya.”

Near

- Near trusts you to take him to public places. Sounds simple, yeah. But Near has never liked crowds, or even just too many strangers in a wide open place. It’s strange to everyone observing how one day he decides he needs a new toy, his old one having broken due to old age, and asks you to take him to the toy store. He’s questioned, people wondering why he wouldn’t rather you just go alone but Near insists. Apparently the toy that broke is special addition and he wants to make sure you get the right one. He stays close to you the whole way, not really saying much, but he’s there and that’s a big step for him.

- He helps you out with puzzles. Basically cheats for you. When he’s eyeing one specific empty slot, coughing lightly to get your attention, just know that he’s not helping you because he thinks you need it. Quite the opposite actually. With anyone else, he believes that they should be able to solve it on their own. He thinks that if they can’t, then that’s their fault. But with you…it’s as if he trusts that you’re intelligent enough without the puzzle being an indicator of that intelligence, so much so that he thinks the puzzle itself is obsolete when it comes to you. He doesn’t need a puzzle to know how smart you are.

- He’ll eat the foods you make him. Near’s picky eater-ness is above that of a child who only eats chicken tenders and pizza. He doesn’t eat that many people’s food because he knows it’s probably not he way he likes it. But with you, he trusts that you respect his eating habits and know him well enough to get it right the first time. Though he does check the food out for a bit, he’ll eat it. Sometimes all of it. Fuckin astonishing to Rester who had attempted many times to heat up microwave dinners for the guy.

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sunder-soul · 4 years ago

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PROMPT 1: Hellooooooo! First off ur writing goes off, second off listen to this idea that i truly think u can bring to life... reader n tom r in a relationship and someone tried to slip tom to love potion but ofc he doesn't fall for it and his gf is like ??? and then they rub their relationship in her face LOL. anyways no worried just thought this would slap! Admire u n ur work!!

PROMPT 2: hey i love your the last of your rules series and everything else you’ve written. i’m not very creative so idk what exactly i’m looking for plot wise i just trust you since everything you’ve written is good but i was wondering if maybe you could write a tom x ravenclaw reader please. the ravenclaw reader tends to be more emotionally reserved and isn’t big on physical affection and maybe tom finds that interesting in a way? idk this idea might suck but felt like asking anyways...

Decided to combine these two because I could see them working really well together… :D

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Retribution

Summary: After somebody tries to slip Tom a love potion to break up him and Ravenclaw Reader’s relationship, they get a little bit theatrical in response...

Wordcount: 1.8k

Content warning: none.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Good morning,” says Tom evenly, lifting a wide-brimmed cup to his lips and taking an even sip as he looks at you.

“Is it?” you say dryly, sitting down opposite him at the Slytherin table and pulling out the new Magical Theory textbook. “Have you looked over this yet?”

“I have,” Tom replies with a very small smile. “Not to your liking?”

“Sophus writes like it’s still the seventeenth century,” you say with a shake of your head, “which isn’t surprising considering I don’t think he included a single reference from the last two hundred years… I mean honestly –” you wave at the title on the front of the book, “– ‘Corpus Magikus?’ Even the title makes it sound ancient.”

“Did you have any criticisms about the actual content per chance?” Tom asks as he lifts his tea again – though it doesn’t quite hide the amused smile on his lips. “Or did you not manage to get past the articulation?”

You give him a look. “The articulation is just as important as the content.”

“I completely disagree,” he replies easily, his cup clinking as he rests it back on its saucer, “regardless of how it is written, his points are extremely sophisticated.”

“I’m not talking about the quality of his points, I’m talking about how well he makes them accessible,” you say at once, picking up a piece of toast and buttering it lightly, “he can have the best criticisms of Magical Theory in the world and no one will care if they can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Tom arches a brow and leans forward on the table, resting on his forearms. “You’re placing the responsibility of understanding an argument on the person presenting it, and not the person receiving it,” he says fluidly, “personally when I find something difficult to understand, I take it as an indicator that I need to return to the topic after better preparing myself.”

“That works fine as an individualistic perspective,” you reply at once, leaning forward to match him, “but a book isn’t written for an individual, is it? It’s written for an audience. A book like this is measured by how wide an audience it can reach, meaning the responsibility is half on him to write accessibly, and half on the audience to go away and fill the holes in our own understanding. That’s when information is dispersed most effectively.”

“Your priority is the dispersion of information as a whole and not the expansion of your personal field of knowledge, and that is the crux of our differing opinion,” Tom says, sitting up straighter and tilting his head calmly.

“I am very aware,” you say dryly, “but you shouldn’t dismiss the importance of charisma when it comes to spreading information. After all, academics aren’t exactly known to be the most charismatic people most of the time, so you end up with intelligent, useful tomes that are utterly incomprehensible to most people –” you nod at the text again, “whilst compelling idiotic drivel is widely consumed.”

The Daily Prophet lands with a thump on your breakfast plate as the delivery owl swoops away with a mournful hoot, and you share a pointed, very wry look with Tom.

Tom breathes a little laugh and laces his fingers around his cup. “So you’re not looking forward to Magical Theory, then.”

“I am,” you amend, frowning, “I just hope the class follows more like Waffling’s work than this.”

“Of course you like Waffling,” Tom smirks, lifting his cup, “he effectively writes in verse –”

Tom suddenly freezes, his brow furrowing lightly. You raise a brow at his sudden reaction. “What?”

He looks down at his tea, still frowning.

“Tom?” you prompt, bemused.

“Someone has attempted to drug me,” he says in complete seriousness, looking up at you.

You stare back, bewildered. “Is… is this more Tom humour?” you ask after a moment, “you seriously need more practice at making jokes, Tom, you really are terrible at it –”

“I’m not joking,” Tom interrupts crisply.

Your scrutiny drops to the cup in his hand. “How can you tell?”

“My tea smells like you.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?”

“My tea,” he repeats evenly, his dark eyes coming alight with a flicker of amusement as he leans closer, his cup still in one hand, “rather suddenly smells like you. I can only assume someone has managed to slip Amortentia into my cup sometime during this conversation.”

You blink at him. “Oh,” you say simply.

Tom’s lips curve into a more defined smirk at your expression.

“Well who’s trying to drug you then?” you ask quickly, looking away.

“An excellent question,” he says silkily, eyes still on you. “Their motive is hardly a mystery, so that should narrow it down.”

You roll your eyes and level him with a flat look. “Nothing could narrow it down less, Tom,” you drawl, “half the school is in love with you, and the other half is in denial about being in love with you.”

Tom arches a brow and looks very pleased with himself. “Should I drink it and we can find out?” he asks in amusement, lifting the cup.

You huff a laugh and take a bite of your toast. “Go on then, but don’t expect any sympathy from me when you’re pouring your heart out to some random stranger in front of the whole school a minute from now.”

His hand freezes with the rim of his cup an inch from his mouth, amusement faltering.

“That’s what I thought,” you smirk. “If you want to play it that way you’re going to have to be smarter than that.”

“Oh?” he asks, dark eyes narrowing. “And what would you suggest?”

“If someone drugged you during this conversation then they’re probably watching for your reaction,” you say casually around bites of your toast, “so just look out for someone who’s waiting for you to dramatically break up with me.”

“According to you, that would be the entire school,” Tom mutters, looking significantly more disgruntled than before.

A grin slowly builds on your face. “That was nearly a real joke, Tom,” you say ironically, “Merlin you’ve come so far…”

He shoots you a flat glare and you snicker. “Alright, sorry, I’ll stop – look, if I storm out of here looking upset and you act all conflicted and brooding for the rest of the day, whoever it was will probably try to come talk to you.”

“How theatrical,” Tom deadpans.

You shrug. “Do you want to know who drugged you or not?”

His eyes remain on yours for a moment, and then he lifts the tea to his lips. You watch him pretend to drink, your eyes lingering on the tea glistening on his lips as he lowers the cup.

“Don’t lick your lips,” you say quietly, not quite able to look away.

Tom’s other hand shifts slightly where it’s resting on the table between you, and the tea vanishes both from his lips and the cup. You give him another dry look. “Show off,” you accuse, smiling, “wandless and non-verbal, huh?”

“If you ask nicely, I’ll teach you how to do it,” he smirks.

You huff a laugh and slide Corpus Magikus back into your bag. “I should make my dramatic exit soon,” you say casually, finishing your toast and looking around the hall absently. “Perhaps we should have a fight first.”

“That would make it more convincing, yes,” he says delicately, still looking amused.

“What shall we fight about?"

Tom’s expression immediately cools and he leans in so close that you can see the patterns in his dark irises. “The content doesn’t matter,” he says smoothly, a glimmer in his eyes despite his utterly blank expression, “rather, the articulation.”

You hold his gaze for a second, fighting the urge to smile. You force yourself to stand suddenly, as if he’s said something of great offence. “I’ve never seen you so quickly converted to my opinion, Tom,” you say icily, leaning down to him over the table and hoping it looks like you’re angry.

“You made your argument very convincingly,” Tom says immediately, lifting his chin coolly.

“Actively demonstrating my point, I suppose,” you snap, standing straight. “I’m going to storm out now.”

“I’ll see you in class,” he says dismissively, pouring himself more tea.

You turn on your heel and leave, ignoring the curious eyes following you on your way out and not letting the smile break on your face until you’re well outside the Hall. Now all you have to do is wait.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Amelia Staghart,” Tom says in your ear before swiftly sitting down next to you in Potions that afternoon.

You raise a brow at him, watching as he arranges his Potions kit on the desk – Staghart is sitting a few desks behind you at that very moment and can most definitely see the both of you. “Are we no longer having a fight?”

“I grew tired of that pretence rather quickly,” Tom says curtly.

You smirk. “Did she talk to you?”

“Yes.” He looks decidedly irritated.

“A lot, huh.”

He shoots you a glare and you bite back another smile. “Are you going to report her then?” you ask, writing the date out on your parchment.

“No,” Tom says softly. You glance up curiously at his tone and find his dark eyes watching you write, before they flick up to yours. “I can think of a more pertinent retribution for her to endure,” he finishes quietly, not looking away.

“Retribution?” you echo, arching a brow with a slight smile. “And you accuse me of being theatrical.”

But Tom only leans closer and – to general astonishment – places a very gentle kiss on your cheek. His lips linger soft and warm on your skin for a moment as you’re frozen in place, staring at him as he slowly draws away an inch. His eyes roam your face as you blink in surprise, his lips curving into another humorous smile at your expression when there’s a sudden SMASH from behind you.

The entire class turns from where they’ve been staring wide-eyed at Tom’s display of affection to see Staghart’s inkwell knocked asunder on her desk, spreading black ink across the wood and dripping down to the floor, her eyes wide and her expression thunderstruck as she stares at you.

“Clean that up at once, Staghart!” Slughorn says disapprovingly as he strides into the room. “I certainly hope your clumsiness does not extend through today’s lesson – we’re brewing poisons today, class!”

Staghart goes red as the rest of the students titter and chatter, furiously glaring at the pool of ink dripping into her lap.

You glance at Tom and share a silent look of amusement before the two of you simultaneously turn back to your notes, still smirking.

#Tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #established relationship #ravenclaw reader #amortentia #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #harry potter #minific #retribution #prompt #Anon #gn reader

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snifflesthemouse · 3 years ago

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Harry’s the Problem. His wife is the symptom. He is the real Diana 2.0 Wannabe...

Since the Oprah interview aired, my whole perspective regarding the spare and his spouse has shifted. It would seem that I’m not alone in my thought process as more and more media outlets start reporting similar stances. Just recently, there was an article suggesting Harry didn’t change; but rather, he is only finally revealing his true self. The more I think about it all, the more I’ve come to the realization #6 is the real culprit behind everything.

I’m not saying that his wife doesn’t have her own agenda or shares responsibility for her part in all this. Her hands are far from clean. What I am saying is it’s finally time for all of us to consider the cold, hard truth. Harry is his mother’s child. Harry is the bad egg, and his wife is only a side effect of the real problem here.

Had it not been for the Oprah interview, I would have never put it all together. The problem with oversharing is too much information gets put out in the public. Most assume PR firms would worry about oversaturation in the press, but the real problem comes from personal interviews they cannot control in real-time. Puff pieces can be edited before publishing so facts and statements align; live interviews cannot. Over time, one of two patterns form from this oversaturation. Consistencies, repetitions, and similarities can be found in oversaturated truth-telling. Inconsistencies, changes, and huge differences result from those like Harry who prefer their trousers scorching hot from bursting into flames from deception. When you consistently lie, the only constant is the inconsistencies.

Now, those of us who have been following these two already know by now inconsistencies and changing stories should be expected. But the Oprah interview really highlighted some interesting things I had previously missed. The interview with Dax Shephard only solidifies my theories. Up until lately, those two have been together through most everything. Very seldom have we seen Harry alone in an interview or speech. There’s never a time where the missus isn’t popping up. James Corden proved that. Then we have the Oprah interview where she was supposed to be the star of the show. But, that was the moment it all changed. That interview was the moment she became the understudy.

Think about it. Who is the one being used in the media lately? Most people would suggest that the impending delivery of child number dos is why the missus is absent. One would then argue the Apple + special with Oprah started production well before the second child was a topic for discussion. The missus is being used less and less on camera or in the media. Everything is all about Harry. Forget about when Harry met Sally; Harry Met Hollywood!

Harry is the one doing the interviews, dropping projects, and talking with big Hollywood names. Even their announced Netflix projects are focused on one of Harry’s pre-married concepts. All the wife has going for her is a book that’s only number one in the “Books written by ex-Royals who couldn’t hack it” category. Seriously though, as of this posting the Bench is #2130 on the Amazon Books list, #12 in Children’s Black and African American Story Books, #73 in Children’s Emotions Books, and #167 in Children’s Family Life Books. Being pregnant isn’t a disqualifier for being interviewed. But, apparently being just the wife is.

So, if it was his wife’s plan from the beginning to marry Harry, get him to abandon his family, move to California, and become a big star with a Prince for a husband, her plans have been ruined. And if you think about what she said in the interview with Oprah, you can actually see the moments she told us all exactly that. She clearly tells Oprah Harry was her direct link and source to the Royal Family and everything she needed to know. She didn’t misspeak or misunderstand a thing; she was telling us that Harry’s next to be markled. In every weird answer or revelation where she gave her versions for why their child(ren) were without title, saying they wed three days before the chapel, or having to cry out to HR since Harry failed to help her while she was so depressed she wanted to kill herself and her unborn child... all of it. It was all just the beginning. It may seem like she is attacking her husband’s family, but Harry’s the real target now.

In just a couple sentences, she managed to reveal who Harry really was. Harry, of all people, should (and does) know how to navigate the press. Clearly, he failed to not only help her acclimate to Royal life, but it could also even be argued he set her up for failure for the get go. Let me give you an example. When my husband introduced me to his family for the first time, he told me little tidbits of information he found important for me to know. He essentially prepped me for the meeting so things went well. He wanted his family to like me because he loved me. I wanted them to like me because I loved him, too. So, I took to heart everything he told me. Yet, Harry’s wife shared with the world how little Harry cared about that. She credits Fergie with teaching her to curtsey, google for teaching her the National Anthem, and even said Her Majesty made her feel especially welcomed. So how did Harry not do more? If they started seeing one another in the early Summer of 2016, how is it Harry failed to teach or explain anything to her prior to meeting his grandmother, the Queen, when he had months and months of time to do so? How is it he failed his wife so miserably, she didn’t even understand basic UK custom, laws, or protocols? Why might you ask?

Simply put, Harry is so much like his mother, all he knows is how to play the victim narrative while using the link to the Royal family as a nonstop ATM machine. Many people aren’t honest with themselves when it comes to Diana. She wasn’t the Mother Theresa everyone makes her out to be. Mother Theresa wasn’t a Mother Theresa either, though. Did Diana do some great things? Absolutely. Did she do them only because they were nice or great? Absolutely… not. Diana’s PR team would even have her switch up her charity causes whenever they felt it was getting to martyrdom level. They’d refer to her PR stunts as flavors. Does that sound like an innocent woman?

Not to me. This whole time we all have seen his wife as the root of all issues, but she’s the side effect. It’s becoming more clear by the day that Harry searched out her. He wanted someone with the basic Hollywood connections that he could capitalize. Someone that seemed so controlling and ambitious it would be easy to believe they were controlling him, too. Of course he knew she would invite all the celebs she did. He probably inspired that guest list. Instead of guiding her in the press and in British society, he leads her to slaughter. He hides behind her repeated gaffes and wokeness to keep on his own mission.

You see, Harry is obsessed with his brother eventually becoming king, being the “Second Son of Diana” and being the misfit. He is obsessed with his brother and father. They are all he talks about. When you obsess on something like that, it is more revealing than anything you say. Harry’s true motives aren’t protecting his wife and children. His real motive is making a name for himself like his mother did. If he can manage to get some revenge by making the Firm feel some backlash, hey that’s a bonus.

While his wife may think in her mind she will be the next Diana 2.0, the truth is we all missed who really will be. Harry is the one wanting to be Diana 2.0. If that’s the case, then that means the much older spouse for whom there are two children with, aka the wife, would be his Charles. Remember, Diana lost her HRH and titles. And we have Harry being very aggressive and pushy, to the point it seems he is trying to get ahead of a Palace announcement of them losing their titles. But it makes sense now.

They aren’t trying to lose anything, but instead Harry keeps opening his mouth to create pressure in the media. He knows his wife does not want to give those titles back. But if he himself keeps saying outrageous things, then it would put everyone in ultimatum mode. Either Harry will push hard enough that Parliament and the Queen will have enough, or the press will get so critical of the two, Harry will push his wife to agree to returning the titles.

Harry is following the Diana business model. While in the Royal Family, they both were seen as rock stars who had more star power the the Sovereign, which was an issue. Then, they couldn’t take all the abuse, coldness, and inhumanity, so they bolted for freedom. Instead of putting the past behind them, they use the past to monetize grief and trauma in such a way, they become their own brand. Right now, the trauma being monetized comes from the past, but the problem will soon come when that trauma is tapped out. He will need a source of new pain or victimhood. Enters the wife stage left.

The wife is a tool. She of course has her own plans and thinks she is the one in control or the genius. She thinks she is the one everyone wants to work with. But it’s becoming clear to her that isn’t the case and she’s been played by her elite buddies. They all want him, not her. They all duped her for him. If I can see it, and I can see her already finger pointing that Harry is the failure here, then she can see it. And that means paradise will soon be lost in those Montecito hills. His wife won’t go down without a serious fight here. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she eventually causes him to lose his special visa.

Overall, Harry hides behind his wife like a beard or shield protecting him from the press’s glaring lens. He lets her do and say whatever she thinks is great so he can keep plotting his own plans. He allows her to take the fall, look stupid, pull stunts people can see through, etc. for a reason. He isn’t completely sure he can make it in his new California life. He knows he can’t if he keeps her for too long, but he also knows he needs an exit strategy in case it blows up. So, he pins the press to attack her as the true culprit. If they split and he has to, he can return home and play the victim of her. If they split and he is doing okay in Hollywood, she can be the reason he plays victim to big named people like Oprah and Gayle.

I can see it now. An Oprah Special with Harry tonight on Apple +. Something cheesy or corny that is almost plagiarism. Like Narcissus and the Prince or something. Watch. Mark my words. Oprah talking to Harry about surviving the marriage while trying to rescue two small kids, being in the spotlight as a Royal while being gaslit by a narcissistic wife… yes I can see the green screen set up now.

I know this is difficult to digest, but I do ask you to try. While his wife is not innocent, she clearly is guilty for her own part indeed, his wife isn’t the true problem. The true problem here is a man who has a serious issue with living in the shadow of his future-King father and future-King brother, and his future-King nephew, that he has chosen to use the same exact attack model his own mother used to merch and marginally disrupt the institution that made her a star. Harry and his mother both wanted the entire spotlight, but both knew they could never have it the way they wanted it. So, they wrote their own victimhood narrative.

And here we are now. Mark my words. Harry will keep pushing until those remaining titles are removed by them forcing the hands of Parliament and the Queen. Or, they’ll push and push in the press so much the outrage and hypocrisy will leave them no other option but to renounce and re-gift those titles and rights to the line of succession. That is what he wants, even if his missus doesn’t. Also make no mistake about it. Harry is the real Diana 2.0 wannabe, not his wife. Keep an eye out. I have this gnawing feeling that soon enough, there will be plenty leaks from the wife about the husband. She won’t go quietly into the Beverly Hills… but neither will he.

#megxit #6 #harryswife #yankeewally #murky meg #diana2.0

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labarch · 3 years ago

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Witch Hats and Prejudice Part II

<-- Part I

Olruggio, my love, my man, I’m sorry your proposal to Qifrey in chapter 40 didn’t go as you hoped, let’s sit down and discuss your workaholism, temper issues and saviour complex, yes? Yes. It’s couple therapy time at last, we’ll have a look at Qifrey and Olruggio’s relationship and at chapter 40 in particular through the following points:

-Panelling in the Orufrey conversation in chapter 40

-Prejudice and power imbalance in Qifrey and Olruggio’s interactions

-Help as a collaboration between equals (spoiler: they haven’t made it to that stage yet)

-What Olruggio wants from Qifrey

Panelling in the Orufrey conversation in chapter 40

The conversation in chapter 40 is never framed as a happy reunion. If we reuse the analysis of the panels from Coco and Qifrey’s conversation I made in my previous post, we find the same markers of unease between Olruggio and Qifrey. Most of the panels are narrow, and get darker and darker as night falls. Qifrey and Olruggio rarely share a panel, and even when they do, they rarely make direct eye contact: Qifrey looks down, or Olruggio walks away from him, or they are curled in on themselves or standing on a slope at different eye level. For a while Qifrey is up in the air and mostly talking to himself. Oh yeah, and there’s a hat that gets in the way at some point.

It gives the sense that they are having two separate conversations, and that they never truly achieve the connection that we saw between Qifrey and Coco. On top of that, while the conversation is supposed to be about comforting Qifrey and earning his trust, Olruggio never manages to get a smile out of him, except for wobbly, miserable little grimaces. So what’s going through both of their heads, and why are they failing to meet halfway?

The chapter has an outward pull to it. The scene takes place on a slope that leads away from the atelier. The chapter opens with a herd of dragons flying away and into the night. Then Qifrey takes flight to look into the distance, while giving a very contradictory speech about how fulfilling yet dull his life is here, how happy yet trapped in an illusion he feels. He has to hold on to his cape as it flaps in the wind. It brings those dragons back to mind, like they are a metaphor for the side of him that wishes to escape. Qifrey’s migration season is just starting folks, it’s a confusing time for him okay.

In contrast to Qifrey looking ahead into a dark wilderness, Olruggio in this chapter is almost always looking back. He walks away from Qifrey to talk to him over his shoulder, or he looks back towards the atelier. In the only scene where he faces Qifrey full-on, the past is so present on his mind that he de-ages them both. It’s interesting, because it adds a caveat to his pledge of listening to everything Qifrey has to say: he is not so much trying to adapt to Qifrey’s new situation as he is trying to bring them back to the childhood stage of their friendship, when they were always together and kept no secret.

This whole looking ahead / looking back dichotomy brings me back to the mentality of the Great Hall, a society obsessed with keeping itself in an insulated bubble, wrapping itself in good intentions and noble ideals, and ignoring its own inner darkness and complexity. Qifrey, because of his inability to be content and stay in place, threatens that delicate balance. That sends the other witches around him into such a state of panic and outrage that even those who genuinely love him end up lashing out at him with uncharacteristic brutality.

Prejudice and power imbalance in Qifrey and Olruggio’s interactions

I have described in my previous post how vicious and oddly personal Beldaruit got in his attacks against Qifrey in chapter 36, but you can make the same case for Olruggio, especially since the two scenes run in parallel. There is something excessive about the violence with which Olruggio confronts his friend. For one, he is choosing a hell of a time to do it: the girls are safe, there is no urgency to press Qifrey for answers right this instant – except if he is hoping to shock Qifrey into honesty while he’s disoriented. Qifrey has just woken up from a three-day coma; he is half-naked in a place Olruggio knows worsens his nightmares; his scar is exposed; he is half-blind because Olruggio has taken his glasses; Olruggio is literally an angry dark blob looming over him. I’ve often heard it say that Qifrey is manipulative towards Olruggio, but in return Olruggio isn’t above using intimidation tactics against him, consciously or not.

There is also the staggering lack of empathy of the approach: what started this whole thing is that Olruggio learnt about Qifrey’s impending blindness. And his knee-jerk reaction was to attack Qifrey about it. Like, um, my dude, your friend almost died, he is going to go blind and lose his job, you wanna try being sensitive about it? (Note that Qifrey running after the Brimhats didn’t trouble Olruggio that much at first: after his interview with the Knights Moralis he is mainly concerned with “getting his story straight with Qifrey”; it’s only later on, when we see him staring at the glasses he’s just repaired, that he starts voicing his doubts about Qifrey’s intentions). He may be right to suspect that Qifrey is hiding things from him, but there’s a pretty big leap between “you are keeping secrets” and “you are wilfully using your own child as bait”.

This whole suspicious climate, that makes Olruggio jump straight to the ugliest conclusion possible, is once again a feature of the Great Hall mentality. The mind of a person who has been in contact with forbidden magic is forever corrupt, and his actions are forever suspect. Had Qifrey been anyone else, he would probably have been given the benefit of the doubt for losing track of his students while he was, you know, extremely concussed and suffering from blood loss. Interestingly, Olruggio’s concern – whether, when faced with a chance to go after the Brimhats, Qifrey would choose his quest over his students’ safety – is addressed as early as chapter 22: after an instinctive movement to rush into danger, Qifrey pulls himself back and takes measures to keep Coco and Tetia safe, and even plans to call Olruggio and the Knights Moralis as reinforcements to help rescue the others. Then he gets hit in the head by a giant snake golem, and the rest is history.

In general, Beldaruit’s and Olruggio’s accusations that Qifrey is using Coco as bait without caring for her wellbeing just don’t hold up. First, all the attacks by the Brimhats so far have occurred in completely mundane, teaching-related settings with other adults present (at the stationary shop, or during an exam), so pushing blame onto Qifrey clearly comes from prejudice rather than evidence. Second, if Qifrey’s sole aim was to get clues on the Brimhats, he would pressure Coco into taking the Librarian test as early as possible, but we keep seeing the opposite: he encourages her to take breaks and to enjoy her training rather than be laser-focused on her goals. Hilariously, out of the two tests Coco passed so far, Qifrey gave his approval for none, thinking it was too early for her (extra-hilariously, Beldaruit is the one who speed-ran Coco through her second test). I’m just saying, if Olruggio hasn’t noticed any of this and can’t take it in consideration before bringing out the accusations and threats, maybe he’s not doing that good a job as a Watchful Eye.

Another thing about this climate of suspicion, added to the power imbalance between Qifrey and Olruggio, is that it prevents them from having a healthy fight. Olruggio invokes his duties as Watchful Eye to berate Qifrey whenever he steps out of line, but when Olruggio lets his temper carry him too far and misuses his own power (when he drags Coco out to the Knights Moralis even though she had already been officially accepted as an apprentice in volume 2, or when he accuses Qifrey of using Coco as bait in volume 7 without proof), Qifrey never criticises him for doing so. It’s not that he is shy about speaking up to power – he is more than happy to yell at Beldaruit and Easthies when they mistreat his students. But when it comes to Olruggio, Qifrey is compelled to shoulder as much blame as he can, and seems almost afraid of saying anything negative to him.

It would have been justified for Qifrey to start chapter 40 by getting mad at Olruggio for his earlier accusations: Olruggio had been insensitive, unhelpful and completely out of line. But instead Qifrey pretty much encourages Olruggio to attack him again: from his “I thought you might be mad at me” to frantically denying that Olruggio might have ever done anything wrong. In return, there is something defensive in Olruggio’s delivery during the “I’m angry that I wasn’t someone you could trust” segment: he walks away from Qifrey as he gives the non-apology, and it comes out sandwiched between criticisms of Qifrey for being reckless and a long speech of Olruggio praising himself, and how everything would be alright if only Qifrey behaved himself and relied on him more. It’s an issue that this old distribution of roles is so well-entrenched between them, with Olruggio as the golden student and Qifrey as the eternal problem child.

Qifrey’s exaggerated gentleness and praise towards Olruggio participates in the feeling of wrongness that weighs on chapter 40. The memory erasure scene is framed like a kiss, and Qifrey keeps complimenting him even after sending him into an unnatural sleep. It would come across as condescending and manipulative, except for how fervently Qifrey seems to want to believe that Olruggio is perfect, and that any dysfunction in their relationship has to come from him.

Qifrey, focused as he is on his own dark secrets, is utterly unwilling to see any darkness in Olruggio. It makes sense when you consider that Qifrey has also been absorbing the prejudices of the Great Hall: he thinks very little of himself, and has probably been looking up to Olruggio as a moral compass ever since Olruggio took him under his wing as a child. He must also comfort himself with the thought that, when/if his quest drags him away from the atelier, Olruggio will be a perfect teacher for the girls. Having to come to terms with Olruggio’s flaws must be terrifying to him. But what about Olruggio’s perspective in all this?

Olruggio is an example of how even those who materially benefit from an elitist, close-minded society are damaged by it in some way. He grew up in the Great Hall as a bright-eyed, idealistic genius, and even as an adult he clings to the principles of that society like a mantra: “bring the blessings of magic to the people”. He is successful and respected by his peers, popular with the nobles and well-liked among the commoners. Yet somewhere along the way he became a ragged, workaholic hermit.

I have mentioned in previous posts that I suspect Olruggio of grappling with his own, deep-seated fear of being unwanted and left behind. He betrays that fear in the way he is attacking Qifrey: his concerns about Qifrey’s treatment of Coco aren’t based on evidence, and underneath that veneer he is mostly complaining that Qifrey is neglecting him. “Be straight with me”, “Don’t lie to me”, “You wouldn’t even tell me about it”, “You took her as a student without a word to me first”. There again, Olruggio is being a bit hazy on how far his influence goes as Watchful Eye: from what we know, Watchful Eyes are meant to ensure that students don’t get mistreated, but they don’t get a say in who teaches whom: it’s the disciples who choose their masters. Olruggio grumbling about Qifrey adopting more and more children behind his back is cute when we treat them as a couple. But from the perspective of their professional relationship, Olruggio is claiming the right to veto Qifrey’s students and take them away from him without any evidence of abuse.

The problem is that Olruggio is very bad at expressing his feelings without using his job, and therefore his authority, as a crutch. It’s endearing when he uses it to explain away his gifts to the girls (“I just want them to test a prototype”) or his marks of affection and care (“Drying your hair so you don’t catch a cold is part of my duties as Watchful Eye!”). However, it adds a layer of threat to his arguments with Qifrey, because he is constantly dangling that authority over his head, even when he is urging Qifrey to trust him. In his more agitated moments, it turns into a one-man good-cop / bad-cop performance (“Step out of line and I’ll report you” / “Why won’t you confide in me? I’m your best friend!”). Sure, he is willing to side with Qifrey against the Knights Moralis when he deems it appropriate, but here’s the catch: Olruggio gets to decide where the line in the sand lies, and that line seems to shift depending on how hot his temper is flaring at any given time.

It’s no wonder their conversation lends them in a dead-end when it is so one-sided. Thourghout the manga, and in volume 8 in particular, the author explores the idea that help should be a collaborative effort between equals, that encourages both parties to grow and learn more about themselves. Trying to unilaterally “save” someone is almost guaranteed to miss the mark and come across as condescending; it might even cause further harm.

Help as a collaboration between equals

Therefore, Qifrey and Olruggio can’t really come to any connection unless they make it clear that they are helping each other, not just endlessly acting out their roles as the golden student who knows all the right answers, and the problem child who must be saved from himself.

Aside from the framing, help as an equivalent exchange is the other key difference between chapter 40 and Qifrey and Coco’s dialogue earlier in the volume. In order to counter Coco’s doubts and growing self-hatred, Qifrey reinforces everything he admires about Coco: from her social skills and capacity for teamwork to her practical skills and her straight lines. He reminds her of all the things that she achieved so far. He also strongly hints that her fight is his fight, too, and that they should hold onto hope for each other’s sake. Finally, he makes a (pretty dramatic, unnecessarily literal and definitely unsafe, but still awesome) leap of faith by letting her decide what direction she wants to take next. His support isn’t conditional on Coco making the “right” choice, but freely offered. In return, Coco makes a display of saving Qifrey as well, saying she wants him right by her side while she figures out her path. The rescue itself is symbolic (it would actually have been safer for Qifrey to go back on his own), but Qifrey��s gratitude is genuine, because Coco made him feel valued, irreplaceable, just as Beldaruit and Olruggio were making him doubt his place as a teacher.

By contrast, Olruggio’s speech of friendship contains a grand total of ONE compliment, served in such a back-handed way that it sounds almost like a warning: “To Coco, you are a good teacher, so don’t betray that trust”. This is weighted against a slurry of criticisms about Qifrey’s recklessness, and heaps of self-praise. Olruggio is making a case for why Qifrey needs help and why Olruggio is best-qualified to deliver that help, like he is making a sales pitch to a client. It’s probably not a coincidence that Olruggio is remembering his successful bout of diplomacy in chapter 39 as he gears himself for his conversation with Qifrey. Olruggio, look, I get that you have more faith in your professional persona than in your regular self, but you can’t talk to your best friend like you are doing customer service, it just doesn’t work that way.

The help that Olruggio offers leaves no room for Qifrey’s input: once Qifrey has confided everything and laid himself bare, Olruggio will pick apart “where he needs the help” and “when he is about to do something stupid”, and either support or stop him as he judges appropriate. It reinforces Qifrey’s inferiority complex and interiorised guilt, by implying that his moral compass can’t be trusted. It also places the blame for Qifrey’s rash actions solely on his lack of judgement, rather than on having to grapple with complex, life-threatening situations and being caught in a pincer between a terrorist group and an oppressive system. There’s no mention that the definition of what’s “lawful” and “responsible” and “just” has gotten a bit messed up lately, and that Olruggio himself has had to compromise with his duties to cover for the kids. Olruggio fakes confidence in his capacity to fix everything, and pretends that things can go back to the way they were, but it would have been more honest of him to ask Qifrey to work with him so they can form a united front to face their new, complex reality.

Instead, by claiming that he is helping Qifrey out of a sense of duty, as Watchful Eye and as a friend, Olruggio reinforces the feeling that Qifrey is a burden to him. This gives Qifrey more incentive to keep his friend away from his investigations, and to see himself as expendable. In that light, since their friendship brings Olruggio so much trouble and so few benefits, betraying him and stealing the memories that relate to Qifrey’s secrets start to look like the lesser evil.

The only way that the conversation in chapter 40 could have gone well is if they both freely admitted to needing each other. However, it is too early in Olruggio’s character arc to be honest about his own feelings and worries. And it is too early in Qifrey’s character arc to see past his own self-loathing and recognize that his “perfect” friend also needs support and guidance. Yet, when they do, it is hinted that Olruggio can draw inspiration from Qifrey, and help Qifrey in a more meaningful way by highlighting how Qifrey matters to him, letting them reach this stage of true collaboration.

What Olruggio wants from Qifrey

I think Olruggio is repressing a sense of disillusionment about his work, the fairness of the system, and his usefulness as a witch. We see glimpses of his anxiety in chapter 39 notably. While he says that his true role is to help the commoners, circumstances keep reminding him that like it or not, his main function is decorative. He gets dragged in on short notice to be yanked around by petty nobles and arrange light shows at weddings; he has to act in secret to help the destitute, and even then can only do so much before the rules of magic society get in his way. So far he manages to keep his head above water, using his talent for diplomacy and showmanship to keep the nobles appeased, and finding small, creative ways to help commoners without breaking any law. But it leaves him with the feeling of being trapped in an increasingly constraining role, and is slowly pushing him towards a burn out.

He seems to feel a kinship with princess Mia, who like him is used as a tool in petty squabbles between nobles. He even metaphorically puts himself in her shoes: after likening her situation to being trapped in the spotlight in a dance she doesn’t want, he applies the same metaphor to himself and his inability to act outside the narrow constraints of witch rules, of being constantly watched and judged. And then, adorably enough, Olruggio actually brings Qifrey into the metaphor. He muses that Qifrey, who has gone against established rules before, might be the key to escaping that dance.

For all that the “problem child” / “star student” dichotomy has been weighing on Olruggio and Qifrey and warping their friendship, there is a flip side to it as well. As a prodigy who always pressures himself to perform perfectly (to the point where he will work himself to a zombie-like state and then hide behind a mask to look perfect and pristine in front of his clients at parties, Olruggio no), Qifrey provides a chance at escapism. For all that he berates him for causing trouble, Olruggio seems to fondly remember their old adventures. It’s possible that he valued the opportunity to do rebellious, forbidden things without having to jeopardise his reputation. His fear of being left behind by Qifrey is then also a fear of losing his hope that, when the pressure of being the perfect witch becomes too much to bear, Qifrey will be there to break him free.

In summary, Olruggio wants Qifrey to be his rebellious prince who breaks him free from the ballroom, and we respect him for it. Qifrey had his reasons for not being able to confide in him, and they both have a lot of character development to do before they can reach a stage of actual collaboration and trust. But I don’t dispute that taking his memories was a dick move. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#witch hat atelier #witch hat meta #qifrey #orugio #olruggio #orufrey

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dessarious · 3 years ago

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How the Sirens Adopted a Ladybug Pt4

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Ivy was only half listening to Harley and a green Kwami detail various calming techniques, such as meditation and breathing exercises. Being around so many creatures radiating power was extremely uncomfortable, especially since she was fairly certain Ladybug’s Kwami was annoyed with her. That comment about her being able to feel that something was off in Paris seemed rather pointed. In her defense she had no idea a kid was involved. She just wanted to stay away from problems that weren’t hers, and it’s not like she wanted to be able to feel the disturbance.

She looked back to the girl and thought about her reaction. It likely meant she couldn’t feel the Miraculous either, which meant she couldn’t sense the ones that were missing. That explained why she was still fighting in the first place.

“You seem awfully interested in something.” Tikki appeared in front of her and Ivy flinched at the glare. She’d zoned out but it probably looked like she was studying Ladybug. Given how protective the Kwami were of the girl she was glad it was only a nasty look.

“She said that she’d never come across anyone who could sense the Miraculous. All of you put off different amounts or types of power and I assume the person you’re fighting would give off their own variation. Perhaps I can help find them.” Tikki just blinked at her for a moment before a grin broke over their face.

“It’s possible. We’ll have to test if you can feel the Miraculous in different states and how close you have to be to feel them. But since you can sense Ladybug transformed, worst case scenario you can try and move throughout Paris during Akuma attacks and see if you can feel Nooroo.” Well at least she wasn’t being glared at anymore.

“Different states?”

“Well you can obviously sense us when our holders are transformed and when you can see us, but we don’t know if you can sense an inactive miraculous or a Kwami on their own if you don’t already know they’re there.” Ivy nodded. Yes, she’d felt the power Ladybug radiated but she hadn’t felt different sources. She wasn’t sure if it was because Tikki was so strong or the other’s had been dormant. None of the Kwami were on her now though and that raised a different question.

“Does your power rub off on her? Because she’s emitting a similar energy but it’s not the same as any of you.” Tikki narrowed their eyes at her. Great, she was on the shit list again. Didn’t seem to take much.

“It’s possible you feel the Miraculous themselves but more likely you’re simply sensing her natural gifts.” Ivy sucked in a sharp breath.

“She’s meta?” That meant she wasn’t registered. France was pretty particular about keeping track of them, especially in large cities. If they had one as a hero the European Justice League would be all over it.

“No, at least not the way you mean it. Any true Miraculous holder is innately gifted depending on which Kwami they’re attuned to. Once paired with that Kwami those gifts become more and more pronounced. Also anyone who holds a Miraculous for an extended period of time will develop abilities. The most common being longevity and intuition.” Yeah, that still sounded like a meta. Wait… they said gifts.

“You mean like a savant?” Tikki gave a thoughtful hum before nodding slowly.

“I suppose that’s a good comparison. It’s not usually quite to the extreme most people think of with prodigies but it is enough to be noticed in the general population.” The creature looked at the girl sadly. “She had an amazingly bright future… before the imbalance destroyed it.”

“Imbalance?” The question came from Selina. Ivy hadn’t even noticed that the other’s were paying attention to their conversation. Plagg was scowling but Tikki just let out a weary sigh.

“It isn’t pertinent to the current problem. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you.” Selina looked like she wanted to argue but a knock sounded at the door. All the Kwami just disappeared. At least they wouldn’t have to explain a bunch of tiny gods to the delivery person. Selina went to grab the food and the second she closed the door the Kwami all swarmed her except Tikki. Ivy couldn’t understand anything they were saying.

“Tikki!?” The startled shout caused all of them to look back at Ladybug who seemed about to have a panic attack. Tikki was trying to reassure her but the girl seemed not to hear as her eyes bounced between Ivy, Harley, and Selina. Finally Plagg flew into the girl's face, pulling her focus.

“Calm down kit. Trixx has an illusion covering you. They still only see Ladybug, I promise.” Her eyes darted to the other Kwami who were all nodding and smiling at her, then she focused on the table where the creatures had eaten and her face went red again. Ivy wasn’t certain if it was more embarrassment or anger.

“Plagg, what did you do?” Ivy cringed at the girl’s tone. It was an odd blend of rage, exasperation, and shame. Plagg’s ears actually drooped.

“We all need to be ready if you need to use us kit. Using more than one Miraculous at a time is hard enough without us being drained at the beginning. I understand why you don’t want to give us out to others but I won’t stand by and watch you kill yourself because you’re too stubborn to ask for help. You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. You were never meant to.” The anger in the last few words was obviously not directed at the girl but she flinched anyway.

“I had to take you back. The power difference… and him revealing himself to the others forced my hand.” She sounded close to tears and all the Kwami swarmed her, offering comfort.

“You did the right thing and none of us think otherwise. My point is that you shouldn’t have had to. You shouldn’t have to be the only responsible one and you certainly shouldn’t have had your entire life destroyed for doing the right thing. Those brats left you to defend yourself even before they renounced their Miraculous. I still can’t believe they tried to blame it all on you.” The Kwami was getting more and more agitated and Ivy could feel their power pulsing.

“We all do what we can with the information we have.” More than one of the Kwami let out a frustrated breath at Ladybug’s defense. Selina looked ready to do murder at this point. So much for keeping their emotions in check.

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Ko-Fi

Tags

@asrainterstellar @scorchdragon88 @arty-shadow-morningstar @toodaloo-kangaroo @solangelo252 @smolplantmum @jayjayspixiepop

#Gotham Sirens #protective kwami #maribat #Mom Squad #marinette dupain cheng #Selina Kyle #Harley Quinn #Poision Ivy

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youreallyshouldtalkmore · 2 years ago

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Fears that Live_Part 5

A.N: This is a seven part Malleus-centric featuring Diasomina with my TWST OC Mia Anderson!

Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

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The next day between classes, she was unexpectedly cornered by Sebek, who folded his arms and stared down at her, “What are your intentions with Malleus-sama?”

Mia cowered a little with a blink, “Uh….I’m not sure how to answer that….”

Sebek gave a frustrated sigh, easing out of his stance and rubbing his head, “I do not intend to bully the friend of Malleus-sama, but as his retainer I do not know what to do to help our Great Lord.”

Mia relaxed, “Is he okay? He didn’t show up for club meetings yesterday.”

“Neither Silver nor I have seen him since lunch yesterday. He has disappeared, but Lilia has assured us that he knows where he is.”

“Did he leave campus?”

Sebek shook his head, “No, he’s restricted to campus, but apparently there are places accessible by fae easier than humans. Lilia assures us he is there. If not for Lilia’s word, I would not trust such a thing.”

“Is he angry?”

“Probably. What Lilia did yesterday was….well, I shouldn’t speak of such matters, as it is not my place. I shouldn’t speculate, either.”

In lue of words, Mia just patted Sebek’s arm before they went their separate ways.

Mia was heading to the lunchroom when suddenly a robin flew by her. She instinctively ducked as it flew around her before chirping and landing on the railing. Mia cocked her head as it chirped at her. It had a piece of paper tied to its neck.

Mia cautiously approached it, and it let her take the piece of paper.

“Mia, may I speak with you this lunch hour? This bird will guide you, if you choose too. Thank you in advance, Silver.” she murmured to herself.

She blinked. It must have been something if Silver was using a bird. Quickly, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Ace and Deuce before saying to the bird, “Lead the way!”

The bird chirped happily before it flew off. She followed, allowing it to lead her to a small forest nearby. The bird chirped loudly as Silver came into view, making him look up. Mia gave a smile at the animals that surrounded him.

“You rang?” she teased once she was close enough.

Silver stood with a squirrel on his shoulder, “Thank you for coming, Mia.”

“No problem! But any particular reason for the special delivery method?” she asked, sitting down. Silver followed suit as the animals spread out quietly around them.

Both had brought their homemade lunch for the day and was into it before Silver answered, “I wanted to talk to you. Privately, and somewhat at length, about Malleus.”

“Yea, he didn’t attend clubs today. Sebek said, he went somewhere only Lilia knows?”

Silver nodded, “Yes, that’s correct. In lue of time, I’ll get straight to the point. You are truly not terrified of him?”

Mia frowned, swallowing a bite as she gave him a sidelong look, “You make it sound like you wish I was.”

Silver shook his head, “That is not my intention by any means, Mia. It’s just we are so used to people being terrified of us, of him, that having one that truly isn’t is…well different. Even little things that we brush off, he might construe it as true terror.”

Mia’s head bobbed, “I do admit, it is a bit like eggshells. I’m never really sure if I’m walking into a landmine or not. Not that I’m scared, it’s just, sometimes things do startle you, but he takes it as a great fear. Which is not… I’m not making any sense, am I?” Mia blew out a frustrated sigh.

“No, I believe I can understand. But I think the problem is his perception of how you feel.”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t think he understands the difference of a jump scare as opposed to true fear. For him, fear is fear, no matter how minute. Because of that, I could imagine that he is constantly waiting for the day to come where you are truly terrified of him. Though I do not speculate to know his mind, so perhaps it's not my place to say all of this.”

Mia hadn’t really thought of it like that. All the times she tried to reassure him, that she wasn’t, he seemed to accept it with words but not in his heart.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that. It seems he is the one truly terrified, if that is the case, then.”

“As humans, we may understand the difference very well, but I don’t Malleus does yet. I just hope he’s capable of understanding that. Lilia often says that Malleus is here, not to learn magic, as he could teach us all, but to learn about humans and relationships.”

Then he inclined his head, “Please have patience with our Malleus-sama. I know it’s not my place to sound so selfish, but I don’t want to see him lose the first friend he has made.”

Mia waved him up with a sweet smile, “It’s fine, Silver. I do like Malleus. He’s sweet and a gentleman, unlike some of these other idiots I go to school with. I really do want to be his friend if he’ll let me.”

Silver beamed then and the animals tittered.

Mia giggled.

“So, Mia, can you help us execute a plan that Lilia has?”

Mia cocked her head, “As long as I don’t get in trouble.”

—

“So you are not going to club meetings this week?” asked Lila.

Malleus stared out the window of his dorm room, brooding. Lila had finally got him back to the dorm, but he refused to come out of his bedroom.

When Malleus didn’t answer, Lila cried exasperated, “For goodness’s sake, stop acting like a child!”

Malleus turned and glared at him. He still hadn't quite forgiven him for what he did at lunch. Was that really a week and a half ago?

Then suddenly Lila beamed, “Well, if you insist on this venture. I cannot stop you. So….”

Malleus’ eyes narrowed at how chipper Lila was, as he bounced to the door. Flinging it open with dramatic flair, he stuck his head out. Had Malleus not have great willpower, his eyes would have popped out of his sockets as Mia entered with a tray of tea. Silver and Sebek followed behind her and gave a bow towards him but said nothing.

After a moment, Malleus found his voice, “What is the meaning of this?”

His voice was calm, composed and cold.

Lila waved away his words, “You didn't want to go to club meetings, so we brought the meeting to you.”

“Yes, and I need your input on this drawing, don’t you remember?” Mia added as Silver lifted the sketchbook of hers he had been charged with.

Mia poured the tea, sitting them out on the table. Malleus studied her. She seemed calm. When she lifted her head, she gave him a warm smile.

Then she pointed at the cup in front of him, “Drink.”

Malleus took a sip before speaking, “Did they coerce you to do this?”

Mia took a seat across from him with a sigh, “Do I look coerce to you?”

Did she? She didn't, but could she be a good actress? Malleus looked troubled. He really could not tell.

Lilia eyed Malleus steadily, “I simply asked if Mia wanted to have the meeting today here. She came of her own free will. I'd thank you not to insult be by implying that I would do something so debased.”

Malleus dipped his head slightly, the only acknowledgment of his wrongdoing. Perhaps she wasn’t coerced then. If not then what was it.

Hmm….

“Lilia told me you haven’t even been attending classes, why?” Mia asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“I can pass with my eyes closed.”

“So can Leona, but he failed not because he wasn’t smart but because he wasn’t there.”

“Malleus this needs to stop. You need to speak about what’s troubling you.” Lila prompted.

Malleus glared at Lila, “Like you did for me?”

“Is that what’s this about?” Mia asked surprised.

“Indeed. Lilia had no right to speak of such things to you.”

Mia conceded, “Well, you are entitled you your privacy.”

“Privacy had nothing to do with this.” Lilia almost hissed, “It’s about fear.”

Malleus voice went low, “Lilia…”

Silver and Sebek tensed. As Malleus’ retainers, Lilia felt it involved them to understand their lord. They had been allowed to be privacy to this conversation, but they had already promised Lilia that they would stay out of it.

Whatever happened.

Although the temperature rose in the room, Mia asked mildly, “So what is it your fear, Malleus?”

Malleus blinked. He would have never suspected for Mia to outright ask him. He turned his gaze towards her. She didn’t flinch and held his gaze.

Even still, words failed him.

Mia’s head bobbed, “I know you seem to think I’ll come to fear you. I keep telling you I don’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Mia huffed, “I’m 17 years old. I think I’m old enough to be aware of what scares me. I know what scares me. I don’t like bugs. I don’t like rollercoasters. I don’t like haunted houses because I’m terrified of them. I don’t need anyone to tell me what I am or am not scared of. I don’t do scary movies because I’m scared.”

“Malleus….” Lilia started.

“I don’t need anyone to tell me what I’m scared of. And this boy, keeps trying to tell me what I’m supposed to feel. I know when I’m afraid.”

Lila turned to the Ramshackle prefect, “Mia.”

Mia pouted as she slid down in her seat, “I don’t need anyone to tell me that I’m afraid.

“Mia.”

“I know when I’m scared.”

“Mia?!”

Mia looked up at Lilia who looked amused, “Focus, my dear.”

“Yes, but when, when, did I ever say I was afraid?!” Mia asked with a bang of her hand on the table.

A smile played on Lilia’s face, “You never made mention of it.”

Mia gave him a pointed glare with a strong nod before folding her arms in a pout.

Silver and Sebek exchanged amused glances.

Malleus then leaned forward towards her, “One day, you could regret being my friend. Now you know that I’m part dragon. That doesn’t terrify you?”

He knew he was trying to push her buttons, even as a part of him scold himself. But wasn’t it better to get it over with? Have her witness his terrifying power and know what he said was correct.

He continued, almost glaring at her, “My power is vast, uncomprehensible to mere humans. You cannot fathom the chaos I could cause with a mere word.”

Even Silver and Sebek inwardly shuddered at Malleus’ words. Even as they both had their eyes firmly fixed on the scene. Lila watched expectedly.

But to his surprise, Mia leaned forward and glared, “What?! You act like you fixin’ to do something. Just get to a point: do you want to barbecue me or something?”

Malleus looked like he got slapped in the face, recoiling backwards in his seat, and this time it showed. Lila might have laughed at the moment, but kept it inside. Instead, a small playful smile lingered on his face. The more he learned of this prefect, the more the liked her. If she could stand up to Malleus’ maybe there was some hope after all.

Mia cocked her head, her face softening to curiosity as she sat back in her seat, “Ahh, is that the problem? You don’t want to hurt me, and you’re afraid you will?” She glanced at Lila, “Is that why you were upset that Lila mentioned you being a draconic fae?”

“Child of Man, let us cease this foolishness.” Malleus no longer pretended, as he gazed at her coldly. He was developing a headache from this conversation, “I have more power than anyone on this campus. I have no need for this school, and if I wanted, I could raze it to the ground. The students are right to fear me. I can understand it. What I don’t understand is you. You are the most baffling Child of Man, I’ve witness, thus far. Since you don’t have the sense enough to be afraid, what does that say about you? Makes you seem far more idiotic that the others, do you not think?” Here Malleus smirked.

Silver and Sebek straightened and tensed, while Lila slapped his head in his hand and gave an inaudible sigh. Was this child of a fae really so determined to dig his own grave?

What was he doing? Silver wondered. Wasn’t this a surefire way to push Mia away? Wait, was that what he was trying to do? If this was the path that Malleus was choosing, Silver wouldn’t be able to convince Mia to keep giving him chances after chances.

He turned his gaze to Mia who just stared at him with an unreadable expression.

TBC

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst diasomnia #twst malleus #malleus draconia

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strangerthings4theories · 4 years ago

Text

Billy Is Going To Find The Byers

IMPORTANT: If you haven’t read my post “The Demogorgon Is Billy’s Dark Reflection,” please check it out, as it goes hand in hand with this one. Thanks :D

A few months ago, we all got our first look at some of the new characters for S4. I checked them out with great interest.

“Lt. Colonel Sullivan... military dude in Hawkins... cool, makes sense. Victor Creel... ooooooh, played by Robert Englund, betcha he’s gonna be one of El’s predecessors. Eddie Munson... damn, he’s super sus. Argyle... Jonathan’s new bff, who delivers pizza for--”

I stopped.

And freaked. OUT.

Argyle delivers pizza for Surfer Boy Pizza.

Surfer Boy Pizza.

SURFER BOY PIZZA.

A whole constellation of dots connected, and I knew IMMEDIATELY where this is heading. Let’s walk through it step by step... starting with the inception of Stranger Things itself.

The Duffers love the movie Jaws, to the point that they give it pride of place in their list of inspirations. Hell, Stranger Things probably wouldn’t have existed without it. Initially, as a homage to the movie, the show was set in a Long Island beach town called Montauk. The setting didn’t change until the Duffers began pre-production:

They began by scouting locations on the northern tip of Long Island, but the community - so integral to the script - didn’t look as they had imagined, and its distance from New York City made the idea of anchoring the production there unfeasible. A new approach was required. (Worlds Turned Upside Down, p 25)

After that, they rewrote the script to take place in Indiana, and “Hawkins was born.”

Still, you can tell their love for Jaws lingered. Hopper’s truck looks like Martin Brody’s:

Meanwhile, the Demogorgon was inspired by the shark, and the show isn’t shy about that fact. In S1, when Nancy explains her theory for what the Demogorgon is, she likens its bloodlust to that of a shark:

In the final episode, when Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve are hiding from the Demogorgon in Will’s room, the Jaws poster hangs prominently in the left side of the frame:

Furthermore, the Demogorgon’s behavior emulates that of the shark. Like Nancy points out, it hunts alone, emerging from the Upside Down (*COUGHTHEOCEANCOUGH*) to pick people off one by one. And though we don’t see its full form until the end, its presence haunts us throughout, infusing the story with dread.

Okay! So the Duffers originally set Stranger Things in a beach town, and the Demogorgon was inspired by the Jaws shark. Cool. What does this mean for us?

Everything.

Think about it. The Byers have moved to a new town. We aren’t sure where they went, but in S2 Bob suggested Maine. Maine is on the East Coast, not far from Long Island.

And as you can see, it has hundreds of miles of beaches.

If the Duffers have any sense, they wouldn’t drop the Byers in another town like Hawkins. That would be redundant and hella boring. Instead, they would seize the opportunity to explore a new setting with a different feel. Not an inland town surrounded by woods and farmland, but... oh, idk... a beach town.

On top of that, the Byers’ move gives the Duffers the perfect opportunity to return to the show’s roots. Finally, they can bring Montauk to life.

If that’s what they’ve done, and the Byers have moved to a beach town, we’re headed for prime Billy territory.

Billy OWNS the beach. In the context of the show, we get our first glimpse of a beach in his mind, for God’s sake. And he’s deeply connected to water as an element. He’s a surfer, lifeguard, swim instructor... need I say more?

He’s also likened to the Demogorgon - the monster inspired by the shark in Jaws.

I’ve already discussed the similarities between Billy and the Demogorgon. Those were fresh on my mind when I read Runaway Max for the first time. So, when I read this paragraph where Max describes the Camaro, I freaked out (I do that a lot):

Once, for two weeks back in April, I thought that Camaro was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. It had a long, hungry body like a shark, all sleek painted panels and sharp angles. It was the kind of car you could rob a bank in. (pp 12-13)

It’s a motherf***ing equation, y’all. Billy (by way of his Camaro) = the Demogorgon = the shark in Jaws.

And the Byers have just moved to a town where the local pizza place is called Surfer Boy Pizza.

A name like that doesn’t make sense unless they really are in a beach town.

Hence why I completely lost my shit when I read about Argyle. When you take all the evidence together, it looks like the Duffers have set up a situation where, figuratively, our heroes will think they see a shark in the water (aka the Demogorgon).

But they’ll find out it’s not a shark. It’s a surfer boy coming back to shore.

Hints and leaks have confirmed this idea so far. The Stranger Things social media accounts teased the following exchange last year:

“What if it’s the Demogorgon?” “It’s not the Demogorgon.”

Just a couple weeks ago, we got our first photo of the Surfer Boy Pizza delivery truck (credit: strangerinsidebr on IG). And the writing on the side is telling.

The writing in the center doesn’t say, “Surfer Boy Pizza delivered hot to your door.” It says, “Surfer Boy delivered hot to your door.” The ‘pizza’ is way off to the side.

They’re making a joke, guys. A fuckin joke.

“Surfer boy delivered HOT to your door ;)”

Jokes aside, the potential for Billy’s intro scene is so CLEAR and VIVID that I took a stab at sketching out how it could happen. Obviously I don’t think it has to happen this way; the writers have plenty of wiggle room. But it illustrates the kind of scene I have in mind:

Episode 3: “The Survivor”

All this time, hints have been building that Billy is still alive. Creepy things keep happening that remind us of Will trying to communicate from the Upside Down in S1 (flickering lights, people feeling "haunted" by his "ghost," etc). At the end of the episode, a thunderstorm rolls into the Byers' beach town. Will and El are together at home, probably alone. As it's raining and thundering, strange things begin to happen that frighten them. They get a creepy phone call; the power goes out, but only at their house; etc. Remembering that horrific night three years ago, Will races to the window to look out. El follows him. Through the rain, they see a form swaying toward the house. Terrified, Will wants to leave, but El stops him. "But El, what if it's the Demogorgon?" "It's not the Demogorgon." They back away from the door and wait. To their shock, the chain unlocks by itself. The door opens, and their visitor walks in, looking like a drowned cat with a nosebleed. Billy.

God, I’m freaking out again just writing all this out lololol. I need to go lie down.

BILLY’S COMING BACK, BITCHES.

Peace. ✌️

»»————-　✼　————-««

The “Billy Is Alive” Meta Series (So Far)

Billy Is Not a ‘B’ Character In Stranger Things

The First Rule of Analyzing Stranger Things: The Upside Down Is Symbolized By Water

The Lifeguard And The Rip Current: Our First Big Hint That Billy Is Alive

Why Haven’t We Seen Dacre On Set?

The Demogorgon Is Billy’s Dark Reflection

Frequently Asked Questions

For updates, follow the hashtag #billy is alive meta

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years ago

Text

Out of the Blue

*This was a request*

Warnings - smut / unplanned pregnancy / talk of abortion

I've used a fictional family for Cillian for this, names have been changed.

"That's it then," Cillian sighed, reading the letter from his solicitor, his friend Adam sitting opposite him in the kitchen of Cillian's new apartment in North Dublin. The Decree Nisi, his divorce from Kate now final. He felt a tinge of sadness, he couldn't help it, they'd spent most of their lives together and shared two teenage boys, but he couldn't forgive her cheating on him while he was away filming, the trust had left him completely.

"To a fresh start, Cill." Adam raised his bottle of beer to Cillian's pint of Guinness as they toasted, Ada ln trying to lighten the darkness in his best friend's eyes. "You're better off without her - now you can move on."

"Yeah no thanks, I'm done with women for a LONG time Ad, they're all the fucking same!" Cillian smiled, almost a laugh. "All I'm interested in now is the boys, they've been through one hell of a rollercoaster this last year."

"When are they coming to stay?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, I've got them all weekend."

"Then tonight Mr Murphy I am taking you OUT! Come on, we can go check out that new bar in the city, there's a band on!" Cillian groaned, that was not his plan for this evening. All he wanted was his pyjamas, a good book and an early night. This wasn't lost on Adam. "I'm not taking no for an answer here, come on! It's been months since you went out, let's do this!"

"Adam please... Not tonight yeah? Maybe next week, or.."

"Enough! No! You're not moping any more, I'm taking to out and that's the end of it." Cillian rolled his eyes. Fuck it, arguing with Adam was pointless, he'd known this since high school.

Within an hour they were ready, both of them in jeans and Timberland boots, Cillian in a blue striped t shirt and Adam in a green one. Hair fixed, they headed out to the waiting taxi outside.

"The first sign of someone trying to take my picture, I'm out of there Adam..." Cillian dreaded the thought of being papped out on the town following his divorce. The papers just wanted a scoop on who he'd be sleeping with now he was freshly single and available. Adam nodded in agreement a deal, as the taxi pulled outside the bar.

******************************

Y/n woke up, her head pounding. Opening her eyes she looked around at her surroundings, not recognising a single thing.

"The fuck have you done this time y/n..." You groaned, rolling your eyes and sitting up gingerly, trying to stop the contents of your stomach from evacuating violently over the unfamiliar bedsheets. Glancing at the alarm clock, you groaned again. 8am... Why the hell was it so damn early.. and where the fuck was she?? She heard a door downstairs open and close, and froze. She wasn't alone. Footsteps up the stairs, she quickly hid back under the covers pretending to be asleep as she heard the bedroom door open and the pressure on the side of the bed as someone sat down next to her sleeping body.

"Hey.. you awake?" An Irish voice filled the silence, as the smell of fresh coffee found its way under the duvet you were hiding under. Clenching your eyes tightly together, you slowly pulled the duvet back and opened them, seeing the man you clearly spent the previous evening with. Your eyes found his.. my god they were so blue.. he was handsome.. bit older than you, maybe? You couldn't tell for sure. You definitely recognised him from somewhere other than last night though, maybe he went to uni with you?

"Um... Morning.. I uh -" you sat up, taking the coffee from his hand, thanking him.

"Did we -"

"Did we.."

You both spoke at the same time. Clearly neither of you remembering the night before. You smiled, he smiled, before you both burst out laughing.

"Fucking hell, how wasted were we? We can't even remember if we had sex or not? I've NEVER been that drunk.. listen I'm sorry, this isn't exactly a great morning after huh?" He took a sip of his coffee, blushing slightly.

"Hey this is not something I do regularly okay.." he shook his head agreeing, neither did he.

"Cillian." He offered you his hand to shake, still smirking. "Listen if you can't remember if we had sex, you definitely can't remember my name..." Your turn to blush now.

"Y/n. And no. I definitely don't remember. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm still fully clothed? I don't think we had sex then redressed, do you?" You laughed, showing him you were still wearing the top and jeans you had on last night.

The pair of you laughed in relief.. eyes meeting again as the tension finally left the room.

"I can drive you home whenever you're ready y/n. If you need to get back?" Cillian offered.

"Erm.. oh yeah.. that'd be great, thank you.. listen, would it be cheeky to ask for a shower, or..."

"Hey, no not at all! Just through there," he pointed to his en suite. "I'll fetch you a towel, take your time."

You smiled. Those beautiful blue eyes were captivating you completely, you couldn't drag your own eyes away. He couldn't take his own from yours either, that tension was back, but it was a different kind of tension this time. Neither of you could remember how you got here, but neither of you minded that it had happened.

"You.. I'll go have that shower, yeah?" You moved to stand but stumbled slightly, landing closer to Cillian. He didn't move. Your face was now a mere few inches from his. Those eyes, once again never leaving yours. Your core burned, glancing down you saw the obvious excitement in his trousers, causing you to groan quietly.

He leaned in slowly, lips brushing yours carefully. You couldn't stop yourself kissing him back, within seconds the kiss becoming heated, tongues colliding. He leaned you back down onto the bed, moving his body to cover your own. You couldn't stop yourself, it was as if you were moving in autopilot, everything inside your core was on fire, demanding more of this incredible man immediately.

He stopped kissing you and hovered over your face, rubbing his nose against yours.

"Are you sure about this y/n?" You nodded, and kissed him again hungrily, parting your legs as he fell between them, grinding his own hips against yours. You could feel his hard-on, and you bucked your hips against his.

"Please... Don't stop now... I need this.. even if I never see you again after this Cill, just let me.."

"Baby I don't do one night stands... I'm taking you for breakfast as soon as we're done. Deal?" You smiled, no that was probably a grin. Breakfast sounded damn good right now, but not as good as he'd feel buried inside you.

"Deal. Now fuck me.. please?"

"Your wish is my command." Clothes removed, he grabbed a condom from his jeans pocket (Adam bought them the night before, he remembered that part at least, him slipping a couple into his jeans pocket as Cillian protested he wasn't going to sleep with anyone that night anyway...) Slipping it on, he pushed himself inside you, filling you completely.

"Fuck... Cillian that's fucking it..." You raised your hips with each thrust, he buried his face into your neck, biting the skin and sucking it slightly. You could hear him moaning into your collarbone.

"Shit you feel good... So fucking tight y/n..."

"Harder... Cillian, harder..." Your nails scratched down his back - if he was marking you, you were absolutely marking him in return. His thrusts now came hard and fast, as your walls clenched around him, your body finding that sweet release you needed, you hands pulling his hair hard. He came immediately after you, with a low moan into your hair as he pulled it in return, both of you panting trying to catch your breath.

"Shit me... I wasn't expecting that.." Cillian eased himself out, catching the condom before throwing it on the floor by the bed. Collapsing next to you, he turned to face you.

"I'm sorry... I don't even know you and I'm fucking you.. this isn't me y/n, I mean it, I don't do this, I've NEVER done this before."

"Hey, you've never had a one time thing? Seriously?"

"I was married for 20years until last night y/n!" He laughed, causing you to smile too. Suddenly your smile dropped a little.

"How old are you? If you don't mind me asking.."

"42. You?"

"If I tell you, don't freak out yeah?"

"Y/n I know you're younger okay, just tell me. It's okay."

"24." His eyes widened, was that in horror? Shock? Disgust? You couldn't tell but it didn't look good...

"24?? Shit me... The press are gonna have a field day with this..." You sat up, suddenly extremely self conscious. Age was never an issue for you, you actually preferred an older man, but it clearly bothered him.

"The press?" You asked, confused. "Why on earth would they be bothered?"

Cillian looked at you. You looked back at him completely deadpan. Shit, you were serious.

"Google me. Cillian Murphy." You reached into your jeans pocket for your phone and typed his name.

"Oh shit..."

**********************************

"Y/n, you still with me?" Cillians voice floated through the screen, knocking you from your daydream. Filming over in England for Peaky Blinders, Skype calls were your norm now.

"What? Shit sorry, baby, I was in a world of my own then! What did you say?"

"I asked if that delivery had arrived from Amazon, those books I ordered? You ok?"

"What books? Oh, those.. erm yeah I think so, something arrived for you earlier anyway, I left it on the kitchen side for you for when you get home next week. At least I think I did..."

"What's going on with you? Are you okay? You haven't been yourself for a few days now, forgetting things? You left your keys at work the other day, your phone in your friend's car.. what's going on?" Truth be told, you had no idea. Since your chest infection four months ago, you'd lost the ability to adult. You and Cillian had moved into a new home on the outskirts of Dublin 4 months ago, that morning after being the start of a blossoming romance, that led to you moving in together within the space of 6 months. Everyone had something to say, especially his ex wife who was still telling everyone who'd listen that you were obviously sleeping together while Cillian was still married, obviously he traded her in for a younger model, obviously blah, blah, blah... Never mind the fact that SHE cheated on HIM, no mention of that... Luckily your friends and family saw past all of it, and welcomed the new relationship - seeing how good you two fitted together, it wasn't hard to see why. You were the gin to his tonic, exactly what you both needed without you knowing you needed it. But these last few months, you'd felt completely spaced out - not even you could deny it.

"That chest infection really knocked the wind out my sales Cill, I haven't been right since! My mind's gone to absolute mush! Maybe I'm just run down, I've got the rest of the week off now so I'll get some rest, I promise."

"Maybe book a doctor's appointment y/n, you should be over this by now, you took all your antibiotics, yeah?"

"Yep, every one, right on time. Babe I'm so tired! I can't explain it!"

"Hit the sack babe, get an early one. I'll call you tomorrow. Don't forget to make that appointment okay?" You agreed, eyes growing heavy. You told each other I love you before closing the call and heading straight to bed.

You left the doctor's appointment the following day with tears in your eyes. This couldn't be happening... You took out your phone to call Serena, your best friend.

Approaching her front door, she opened it and immediately held you as sobs racked your body. Taking you inside away from any prying paparazzi, she put the kettle on.

"He's gonna kill me Serena... This isn't supposed to happen! We agreed - this wasn't part of our plan!! What am I going to do? How could I have been so stupid?"

"This isn't your fault y/n.. and he is not going to kill you, okay?" Nausea overcame you and you ran to her downstairs toilet, your breakfast evacuating violently into the toilet bowl. Serena made you a glass of water. Your phone vibrated, Cillian's name appearing on the screen. You ignored it. Again. Three times he'd called, three times you ignored it.

"You have to tell him sooner or later, y/n..." Serena was at the door, glass of water in hand.

"How? How exactly do I tell the man who is adamant he wants no more children that I'm fucking pregnant Serena? And I'm already 13 weeks gone? How did I not know?" Sobs overcame you again, your phone vibrating a fourth time. This time, a voicemail was left. Shakily, you listened to it.

"Y/n what the fuck? Call me. Call me right now." He didn't sound happy - from just a few missed calls, that was a bit extreme! Once you'd calmed down, Serena left you alone in her kitchen while you called him back via WhatsApp, hands still shaking.

"Baby, what's going on?? Paul's just shown me a photo on Twitter of you leaving the doctors with tears in you eyes, what the hell is happening?" You cursed yourself.. fucking photographers everywhere!

"Babe, are you alone? And sitting down? Put your phone on video call." He did as you asked and you saw his panic-stricken face fill the screen as you settled your phone on the counter. He saw your pale, tear-stained face and turned a shade of white.

"Y/n what is it?"

"I went to the doctor's -"

"I know that, y/n..."

"Look, this is easier if you don't interrupt me, yeah?" He nodded an apology and sat back, arms folded. "So that chest infection.. I had to take antibiotics. And it would appear that antibiotics... Well.. they render the pill completely useless and -" his eyes widened as he listened to you.

"The fuck are you saying y/n?"

"I'm pregnant, Cillian. 13 weeks." You closed your eyes, waiting for him to scream at you. Shout at you. Curse you. But he said nothing. Silence. Complete radio silence. You opened your eyes, tears threatening to fall any second. "Well fucking say something Cill!"

"I... I don't... Fuck y/n... This is a joke, right? You're joking? It's April 1st and you're having me on, yeah?"

"No, Cillian, it's July 15th and I am not FUCKING JOKING!!" The tears fell freely now, how much of an arsehole could he be. You saw him stand up and walk across the room out of view and your tears fell harder. Serena re-entered the room hearing your sobs but you waved her back. Composing yourself..

"Cillian... Cillian are you still there? Cillian?!" He came back into view and sat back down, eyes wet. He was crying.

"I'm sorry.. baby I'm sorry I didn't mean.." choking his words, so many emotions running through his mind. Another wave of nausea saw you suddenly dash out of view to throw up in the toilet again. All he saw was you run.

"Y/n?? Baby?? Where you going??" Serena came into view.

"Cill she's fine - it's morning sickness. She's okay don't worry." Cillian breathed a sigh of relief seeing your best friend there, at least you weren't alone.

"Listen, go take care of her yeah, tell her to call me when she's feeling okay.. and tell her I love her. We'll be okay. Everything will be okay, I promise." Serena smiled, nodding her head, ending the call, making her way back to you, still wretching into the bowl.

*************************************

"How are you feeling?" Cillians voice helped to ease the pain. Your morning sickness had subsided, at least for the last couple of days. Your bump appeared out of nowhere once you'd found out you were pregnant, but with the sudden change in your body came changes you really didn't appreciate - your pelvis was agony. Since you hit the 7 month mark, it felt like it was on fire daily.

"Like dogshit. Like my hips want to cripple me. This is hell Cillian, I miss you so much!" You started to cry again, Cillian feeling completely helpless. He'd already missed so much of this precious time filming, neither of you able to come home or visit due to Covid restrictions and y/n having a high risk pregnancy. Severe morning sickness, coupled now with severe pelvic girdle pain, doctors had signed you off on sick until your maternity leave kicked in in 6 weeks time. You couldn't walk now without crutches, relying on friends and family to bring you groceries. You were beginning to resent your own baby, which made you feel even worse.

"I'm on the first flight home tomorrow morning, we wrapped filming up a month early so I could come home sooner. I wanted to surprise you, but I'm shit at surprises!" He chuckled, causing you to giggle too. You perked up, still lay on the sofa like a bloated whale but at least you were smiling now.

"Really? You'll be home tomorrow?"

"Flight lands at 7am. I'll be home by 7:45. And I'm not going anywhere, y/n, I've cleared my schedule. Nothing coming up, no press, no interviews, I'm completely yours and the baby's for the foreseeable future. I promise." Tears fell again, but this time, happy ones. He'd be home in less than 12 hours. One more sleep, and he'd be home.

*************************************

"Come on y/n... You can do this!" You gripped Cillians hand hard as another contraction rippled painfully across your abdomen. Why the fuck did you refuse the epidural? What the hell were you thinking??

"I can't... I can't do it... Cillian I've been doing this for hours I can't..... Aaaaahhhhhh!" You screamed as your body took over and you bore down. The midwife ordering you to push.

"You can, you can baby, come on... She's nearly here! So close now, just a little longer..." He breathed with you, patting your head with a cold flannel to cool you down. Another contraction, another push...

Suddenly the room erupted with a baby's loud cry, swiftly followed by your own. Cillians eyes watered as your daughter was lifted in the air, still attached by the umbilical cord. Cillian cut it, taking your daughter into his arms. It was already decided he would hold your baby first, after all, you'd been carrying her for 9 months! You choked, seeing him holding your baby for the first time, as he carried her over to you to hold to your chest.

"She's here... She's beautiful.. look at her eyes Cillian!" Ocean blue, just like his.

"She has your nose y/n... My god she's perfect..." He kissed your head gently, openly sobbing now and not caring in the slightest. He thanked you. He thanked you for bringing his daughter safely into the world, for going through hell during the worst pregnancy you could've imagined..

"All worth it... Every second.. but I'm never doing this again Cillian.. I mean it, never again." You glared at him then at the scissors on the table, then down at his groin.

"Fuck off, y/n, I'm not having anyone snipping anything down there..."

"Looks like a life of celibacy then Murphy, that's the only logical conclusion."

"I'll book an appointment next week." You smirked. Very rarely did you not get your own way, and now he had two girls against him, he knew he'd never get his OWN way ever again.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Taglist:

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0

#cillian x smut #cillian x fem!reader #fanfic #cillian x pregnant reader #cillian x childbirth

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kissmetae · 4 years ago

Text

Hope

❧ AU: x Taehyung || Friends to Lovers (Lowkey slow-burn)

You felt distressed, caught up in your own emotions and confused by your over-thought thoughts. Going through a rough patch as some would say, where everything felt hopeless and you found yourself scrolling pinterest till 1am looking for "angsty" core aesthetics to fit your new "vibe" of life. But it was easier said than done to dig yourself a hole when your best friend constantly stood by filling the hole back up as you dug in an attempt to stop you, help you and make you feel better, despite having his own issue to deal with... his crush on you.

|| ANGST + SMUT | 11k | x reader | masterlist in bio ||

❧ Disclaimer: This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and to a certain degree unrealistic. Please have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.

❧ Rating: EXPLICIT || sexual content, unprotected sex || Warnings: mention of feeling hopeless, "deep reflection", (reader is troubled by something going on in their life but it's open for interpretation/unspecified)

❧ Smut features: Vanilla, desperate, first time together, unprotected, reassuring/concent asking/'checking in' (is this ok? Does it feel good?) top!Tae and a power outage.

How do you know when you've reached the complete state of hopelessness? Do people ever become 100% hopeless? You inhaled deeply and sighed it out. Gaze to the white ceiling, back on the bed and legs up against the wall. The tingle in your feet from the lack of circulation made them look somewhat less alive and feel cold. With a tilt of the hips you allowed your legs to slowly fall to the side, forming a new pose in the shape of a 90 degree angle on the bed and allowing for the less zombie-ish color to return to your feet. Hopelessness. Feeling like there is no point yet still stubbornly aching in the inner crevice of the head with a wish for there to be a chance for something else. A change, a plot twist a sudden eureka to make the entire world loose it's zombie color pallet and become lively and vibrant again. Hope. Or a wish for hope. It's probably some basic programming, like survival instinct, hope instinct. But at this point you didn't want to believe. You wanted to be grumpy, upset, frustrated. To curse society and curse what isn't fair and curse all the norms and expectations around you regardless of who made them up! Curse the media, curse the mold for perfect and the lip filler ads, curse the restrictions planted by your own beliefs and curse the cause of said belief! But feeling frustrated and angry is hard. Not only is it exhausting but it's the hardest emotion to let out fully and feel satisfied by after. If anything anger and frustration feels like a self-fueling fire that keeps burning more and more until you get exhausted and slump down on the bed with your legs up the wall. Crying would've been easier. You sat up, feeling a brief spin in the head due to your advanced modelling poses and reached for your water bottle. Water, Zen, calm rivers, refreshment, sound of clucking water in the harbor... rain. You turned towards your bedroom window at the sudden raging pattering sound outside. Even the sky needed to cry today. You reached for your phone, having it be faced down for the past hour or so after giving up on ranting about your dilemma to your friend. You had two types of friends. Those who were there for you when convenient and those who were there for you regardless. Taehyung was one of them. 3 missed calls. 15 texts- make that 16. A sting of guilt washed through realizing he must've been worried sick the past hour. Too exhausted to use your vocal chords you opened the text chat. Taehyung was the definition personified of a caring person. Sometimes to the extent where you'd question if it was more than anyone deserved. Did the world deserve Taehyung? You didn't make it through the second text before your doorbell rang followed by a loud bang. It sounded urgent... You got up from bed and slipped your feet into your white fluffy slippers and made your way to the front door of your apartment. You unhooked the clasp and unlocked your door to see one of the rainstorm's victims dripping water onto your doormat. Taehyung, Dressed in a green raincoat and hair clinging to his forehead and temples. His chest was rising unnaturally with his attempts to regain his breathe. "Tae-" He stepped in, an arm wrapping around your side and the other pressing your head to his wet shoulder. "If you didn't make me so worried... I would've removed my raincoat before hugging you." He squeezed. "See this as my revenge." His heart was beating fast. He pulled back after a few seconds, breathing stable and his red hands reaching to unbutton his raincoat. Did he not wear gloves? He pulled the door shut behind him and gently kicked off his boots. Apparently not. "I'll... go hang your raincoat in the bathroom for it to dry" you said, taking it from him. He was quick to address the elephant. "Why didn't you reply to my texts?" He followed behind you. "I... I left my phone to charge and I got distracted..." you made up, hanging his raincoat up in the shower. "I didn't come here to scold you, but when you tell me you're feeling hopeless, you get that it makes me worried right?" His voice was gentle and he looked at you with concerned eyes, stood in the door to the bathroom. Actually.... you didn't. Why would anyone worry... everyone seemed to always take it as nihilistic comedy or something and swat it away with something along the lines of "you’re just hungry" or the classic "are you on your period?" Maybe you were or maybe you weren't but why would that matter? Just thinking about it made you feel annoyed. As if any deep emotion only was caused by a period, it's just a period, why would anyone, let alone someone with a period themselves ask someone else that in a way that minimizes the reason they feel upset or angry or whatever emot- "Hey?" Taehyung pulled you back out from inside your head. "I don't know..." He crossed his arms over his chest and you knew that look far too well. "We'll talk about it, but right now, I'm here to make it better and take care of you. Did you eat?" You shook your head. "Great! Because I stopped by at the shop on my way... before the rain attacked me and picked up some stuff, including~" he said with an eager tone and walked towards the grocery bag you hadn’t noticed until now. He picked it up and dug his hand in for something. "Du du du du" he sang dramatically and slowly pulled out the familiar dark blue packaging. The love of your life, the source of all things good. Chocolate. The good one! Not the weird orange wrapping one you hated, but the blue one, the holy blue one, your favorite one. "I remember your frustration when you saw the empty shelf of horror last week and it was restocked today so i picked up three just in case." "THREE?!" "Mhm!" He nodded proudly. You could cry, finally, but for other reasons. "TaeTae you're the best." You walked towards him, hugging him tight. He was the bestest of the best, the hero, the savior, chocolate delivery man. Oh what would life be without him. A blush spread across his cheeks. "You did it again." He said shyly "Hm? Did what?" "You called me TaeTae." "You don't like it?" "... I do." -- Taehyung had you stationed at the kitchen table while he cooked. With a focused gaze he scrolled on his phone, reading the next step for the recipe while stirring the pot. You were pretty sure he knew this recipe by heart now, he'd cooked it for you before and he should be confident in it but seemingly not enough yet to put the recipe down. The kitchen smelt amazing and you could feel your hunger cry out for whatever was simmering in the pot. Taehyung gently tapped the wooden spoon against the pot as he added another ingredient. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked. That's where you'd left him hanging in your texts when exhaustion took over... "I just..." "Is it /that/ thing?" Taehyung asked, very much knowing of your source for distress already. "Kinda... but this time it feels different... I’m not nervous or eager, I just felt like I was waiting and waiting and what if I waited so long for nothing and I.... it doesn’t make sense but I just feel numb at this point and like I'm losing hope. Like every odd is set against me and I'm the only one dumb enough to still bet on myself." "And me. Except I'm not dumb, nor are you and I'll always bet on you. Always." Oh Taehyung... "Well, as your personal doctor and advisor and therapist and nurse, care-taker, comfort teddy and so on, I am going to prescribe you with some stuff." You chuckled. "Please go ahead." He placed a plate in front of you and another on the opposite end of the table. "Firstly, a good healing meal." "And you’ve already done everything in your power right now, you’ve been working hard. Maybetoohard." He mumbled under his breathe followed by a fake cough. "That said, let me distract you." "How?" "Well, some old school friends wanted to go out clubbing this weekend and-" "You don't like clubbing." "Hold on, let me get to the point. My suggestion is that you can come too, it won’t only be them. There will be the general club people too of course and I think most of them were bringing other friends or their girlfriends too so... it might be fun? If it sucks, we'll ditch and go to the midnight bowling place or noraebang, yes?" Maybe having some social interaction, an excuse to dress up and good music wasn't such a bad idea? The only thing bugging you was the potential mess there could be... and lately with your stressed mind you hadn't been the best at handling those environments, but after all this was just a club, with dancing people... it couldn't be that bad right? Bowling did sound fun too though... But you knew distraction and fun was what you probably needed. Maybe it wouldn't solve the issues but maybe it'd make it weigh less. The small distractions did a lot, a big one should do even more. "Sure." "Really?!" You could've sworn you just witnessed his ears wiggle from excitement. "I'll come." -- When Taehyung said "clubbing" you expected big flashy neon signs, a red rope and a guard and pulsing music coming from inside... not a giant base, a sax and a set-up of almost 4 different types of synthesizers. A jazz club. You should've known. The band was some sort of electro jazz fusion sprinkled with funk type band, as they introduced themselves as and they weren't bad, not at all. In fact this was a lot cozier than an uncomfortable packed nightclub. You just wish Taehyung told you so you could've worn your comfy flowy favorite dress rather than your tight little black one, wanting to fit in with the scene... Taehyung was dressed in black slacks, a green sweater and a brown coat that was hung over his chair, paired with his trademark assortment of bracelets on his wrist. Including the one you gave him for his birthday two years ago. He never took it off since the day he got it. It made you smile seeing it on his wrist. Taehyung's old school friends, the few you had managed to great during the evening were all really nice and most of them had their arm either around another or a hand held by another. You couldn't help but feel a little awkward, the questioning looks that didn't need to be vocal for you to understand. "Is this your girlfriend?" Taehyung just smiled, maybe playing it off was best... or did he just not notice the silent question? At first you expected a shrug or something but nope... "Would you like something more to drink?" Taehyung asked, leaning in so you'd hear him over the music and pointing towards your nearly empty glass. "I think I'm alright." "What?" "I'm ok." You leaned in closer. "Do you want to dance?" You and Taehyung were seated alone at one of the many tables as the majority were occupied dancing to the beats of the band and the rest drinking at other tables or mingling around. You had been up there at least twice, maybe even three times dancing the best you could and Taehyung always being by your side but your brain was starting to get a little drowsy. "I think I'm going to call it a night. But you can stay if you want." "No no, if you want to go home I'll come with you, let me walk you home." "I'll take a taxi its ok" "I insist." "So do I" the few drink he had had were enough to make his words braver and bolder. "It's late, I don't want you to go back alone regardless of if you take a taxi. I'll walk you." Fine. "Ok" Taehyung swept the remainder of his wine and grabbed his coat and waved some quick goodbyes. It was cold outside. Dark and empty... maybe it was good Taehyung insisted after all. He stumbled slightly, alarming you. Your hands instinctively reached for him and he giggled. "You only had two glasses I doubt you're drunk right now." "Maybe I wiwwle tipdie" he giggled, clearly acting up. "Does wiwwle tipdie Taehyung need help? Should I carry you on my back?" "No! I should be carrying you, do you have a blister on your heal from your shoes? Sore feet? Sore legs? Anything I can use as an excuse?" You laughed, patting him gently on the back. A cold breeze travelled through the street and you pulled your jacket tighter around you. "You're cold?" Taehyung asked "A little... my choice of dress wasn't the best." "I think you look beautiful." The sudden compliment caught you off guard. "... thanks." "Thanks? For what?" "The compliment" "I'm simply stating the facts." He said, looking to the side and slipping his hands into his pockets. "It sure is cold..." Why was it feeling awkward suddenly? Silence between the two of you would usually be comfortable... "Thanks for bringing me too." "Did you have fun?" He turned to face you again. "Yes, it was better than I expected." "I'm glad to hear that." "But let’s go bowling next time." "Sure!" He smiled widely. A source of warmth suddenly surrounded you and you looked up to see Taehyung's face turned away yet again but his arm resting around your shoulder, wrapping his coat around you and urging you closer into his side till your hips almost brushed against each other. The rest of the walk back home was a few minutes of silence, but luckily you didn't live far. "Home sweet home" "How will you get home?" You asked, concerned. "Ah..." he checked the time on his phone. "Well I've missed the last train... so unless I can find a taxi which so far I've seen none I'll have to sleep at the station." "No you're not, come, you can call a taxi from my place and at least wait inside instead of out in the cold." You said, grabbing his arm and pulling him with you through the entrance. "Nobody's picking up?" You asked Taehyung looked down at his phone with a confused look. "It keeps hanging up on me? I don't know if maybe their line is down or something?" "It would explain why we didn't see any on the walk back." "I guess so... so now what?" He looked up at you. "Guess you'll have to stay the night." He grinned. "Can't remember the last time we had a sleep-over" he chuckled and removed his coat. He was right, it must've been years ago... the last time you could remember was a movie night gone sleep over during winter when it had snowed so no traffic was able to move at all. You grabbed a spare cover and a pillow and handed it to Taehyung, sleepiness already present in his eyes. "Hey." Taehyung said, laying out the pillow and cover on your sofa. "If I have a nightmare can I come lay next to you?" He grinned. "If you have to." He replied with a puppy gaze. "Good night TaeTae." His eyes widened and he looked down at the couch. "... Good night." -- The question was when would you wake to the sound of birds chirping instead of the aggressive rasp of the snow plow dragging across the street? It almost sounded like it was more ir less plowing the asphalt off the earth rather than the snow. More irritating was that it just added to your unsatisfying sleep and rough awakening streak. One good morning was all you asked for... You sat up, slid off the edge of the bed and slipped into your slippers that were neatly set up by its side. A scratch of the head and an adjusting pull of the bun on your head and you headed to you first destination; tea. With heavy steps you dragged yourself out of your room and were met by the surprise you had forgotten was left on your couch from last night, sprawled across the sofa... in only boxers. Oh god. The covers were halfway on the floor, only covering his legs, barely. It was cold too but should you just ignore him... no, you couldn't... but what if you woke him up? He was only in boxers and you were already trying your best not to look but your brain had already registered that they were black and Calvins... please no more information... thigh muscles NO! Chest, focus on the chest. He was breathing, he was alive. Inhale, exhale. You carefully made your way towards him. His chest was toned... the type perfect to rest your head on NO! Messy hair... It really didn't help that your best friend was as attractive as he was. You bent down and carefully picked up the cover, pulling it back up over his upper body. He must've been really cold, his nipples- NO. You shook your head furiously to get rid of the thought. You turned around 180 degrees and marched to the kitchen. Tea. Tea. Tea. Tae. TEA! You could hear the covers rustle as he shifted, followed by a soft groan. Oh no... Please no. Although... why was it so dangerous for him to see you in your own home, making tea. I don't know! But regardless it felt like an action movie stealth scene for the grand heist judging by your heart beat. The boiler was too loud, the accidental clink of the mug as you set it to the counter too, the rip of packaging of the tea bag, the wind whistling outside! Sweat? You were sweating, stress consuming you yet again over the moist pointless little thi- "Hey?" The tea cup smashed against the kitchen floor along with your gasp and you grabbed the door handle of the kitchen cupboard for support. Taehyung starred at you with wide startled eyes. Maybe your screech scared him as much as his sudden presence scared you. "Sorry." He chuckled, voice so deep and raspy you could practically feel his vocal chords vibrate. Your heart was pounding hard. Could he at least have been swaddled in the covers and not in his boxers right now... You diverted your eyes to the porcelain shards across the floor. "Wait wait wait!" Taehyung yelped, holding his hand out to stop you from moving. But it was too late. The dark kitchen along with your giddiness had of course resulted in the unfortunate miss step. You sighed, lifting your foot from the chard as you felt something wet trickle down your foot. Taehyung quickly reached to turn the lights on, the bright shine blinding both of you briefly and making the view of him even clearer. "Stay there." Taehyung ordered. Your kitchen was pretty small so there wasn't much space to move without risking another wrong step. A cup of tea and now all this. You slapped your arms to your sides in a deep pout. Making a new cup now just felt wrong but you craved a cup so bad and it was cold... the floor was cold, you were cold... and not to mention everything hanging in form of heavy weights on your shoulders and chilling on top of the imaginary storm cloud above you right now. It's like your issues were mocking you and just making everything worse. Maybe the issue was that you related to the once-was intact mug. You felt split and unorganized, all over the place and dependent on things you knew you shouldn’t be depending your hope and happiness on but yet day after day you’d lose yourself in a visualization of a scenario of perfection were everything would be ok until again the door was slammed in your face and you had to start all over again. No matter how many times you felt like this time would be different and this time you were ready, this time it'd all go your way because the past was forgiven and your time wasn’t right but again and again .... Your patience was running out. You sniffed, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. Taehyung came back holding a broom and a dust pan when he saw your face of tears. "No..." he sounded panicked. He leaned down quickly sweeping the chards to the side of the kitchen and tossing the broom and pan into the pile so he could approach you. Strong lean arms embarrassed you like out of a 6 different angles k-drama scene. A hand found its place on the back of your head, softly petting you as the other pressed you closer to his warm chest. Never had you expected that hugging Taehyung would feel this safe. May it be because he was the one you could be truly vulnerable with or that he was the one that knew what was going on right now, but whatever he did... he did it just right. "You don't need to say anything." He whispered. "I know." He squeezed you a little firmer. "I know." He reassured. "Sssh" his hand felt so gentle as it caressed you. "It's going to be ok." He felt so warm. "I'm here." His skin felt so soft against your hands. "I'm not going anywhere." Your heart calmed down. Taehyung didn't pull away until you became silent and your breathing stable. But even then he didn't pull away completely, only enough to look at your face and caress his thumbs under each eye gently. "I'll reheat the water for you." He smiled softly and reached for the switch on the kettle. You didn't want to let go, not just yet. But he slipped away carefully and kneeled to sweep up the shards and discarded the pieces into the bin. He briefly disappeared and came back holding his sweater, arms slipped in and pulling it over his head as he entered, causing his shoulders to naturally flex slightly as he slipped it on. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, added a bag in each and filled them with the hot water. You tugged and fidgeted at your sleeve as you watched, feeling unusually shy in his presence. "Come, let’s sit on the sofa" Taehyung said and grabbed a mug in each hand but quickly came to a halt. "Your foot!" You had forgotten about it too. He placed the mugs back down and watched you as you lifted to check the cut. "Fuck." Taehyung said and quickly ripped a piece of kitchen towel off and handed it to you. Holding one hand against the fridge for support and the other wiping the smeared mess on your foot you watched as Taehyung quickly disappeared and reappeared again with your med kit. "Does it hurt?" He asked, rummaging through the kit. "No, it just stings a little." He pulled out some disinfectant solution and eyes you quickly up and down. Before you knew it he was stood in front of you, kneeling slightly as you felt his large hand grab a hold behind your thigh and his arm scooped you up on him. Your heart was back to its rapid pace again. He set you down on the sofa carefully and went back to grab the disinfectant and the tea mugs. He sat on the floor in front of you, soaking a cotton pad with the solution and gentle pulling your foot towards him by the ankle. "Ah, thanks goodness it doesn't seem to be deep." He said with relief, gently dabbing the cotton pad to the wound. It stung a little but it wasn't too bad. "All nice and clean, do you have cute band-aids?" "Only boring plain ones I'm afraid." Taehyung scrunched his nose. "Boo." With a band-aid beneath your foot and your longed for tea in your hands you sat next to him on the sofa. "An eventful morning." "I should become your fulltime caretaker at this point." Taehyung joked. "Not that I'd mind." "Will you pay me?" He raised his brows as well as the mug to his lips. "No way." You smiled. "Charity work is good for karma." "I already have good karma!" Taehyung protested, pretending to be offended. He laughed that trademark warm laugh that was like a smooth cackle that somehow always triggered a little firework to go off in your chest. You smiled, looking into your mug as if it'd tell you a fortune. ... you swallowed and looked up. In winter the sun rose late and had begun its voyage above the horizon, painting the sky a bright warm orange tone as it shined in through the window behind Taehyung. No. You didn't have feelings for him. You just felt some post-event shakiness and nerves and for the matter of a fact you finally got your much needed cry. It must just be your chest feeling lighter thanks to the cry. "So, do you have any planes today?" Taehyung asked. "I don't even know what day it is." "Good, I don't have plans either and it's Saturday for your information. But I do have a potential plan and that is, since I'm already here, to spend the day with you unless you have important to do's, which you shouldn't, because you need a break." He whispered towards the end. "A fmnn break." He repeated, biting his lip on the word to censor himself, but he got his point across. "A break would be nice... but when I try, I feel distressed as if I shouldn't be doing it because I'm wasting my time. I need-" "A distraction" Taehyung filled in. You nodded. "Then thou shall sit here and watch my live-in-action cooking show live from your kitchen." He said cheerfully, slapping his hands to his thighs as he stood up. "Do you have strawberries?" He asked. "In the freezer." "Yes!" He made his way to the kitchen, worth to mention is the open floor plan of your apartment so you could see him well enough from where you were seated. The soft messy curls on his head bounced with him as he walked. He dramatically pointed at you with a spatula in his hand. "Welcome." He said, speaking deeply into the spatula. "The pancake and strawberry smoothie extravaganza extraordinaire show with your host." He point his thumb and index under his chin. "Kim Taehyung." His goofiness never failed to bring a smile to your face. He went to grab his phone on the sofa table. "I need background music...." he hummed as he scrolled, spatula still in his other hand. "Jeopardy music 10 hours?" He looked up at you for an opinion. "Please no." He giggled and a calm upbeat song started playing from him phone as he put it back down and resorted to the kitchen. While frying up the first batch he was spaced out, humming on the theme tune to jeopardy anyway. You had made yourself comfortable on the sofa, lying down. The sofa smelt like him now. The same sweet comforting scent as the hug had... and his coat the numerous times he'd wrapped it around you when it was cold or shielded you from the rain with it. But speaking of memory, thinking back at those often occurring times you were also reminded about how a previous "friend" used to try and provoke you into being nervous and shy in Taehyung's presence. You'd been close for years and maybe she had an issue with that or something but she'd always find ways to tease you in way. Claiming Taehyung was giving you "looks" or "checking you out" in ways she as a self-declared expert in men deemed were of more than friendly nature. And since she as expert of men by that likely thought all men were the same, proves how reliable of a source she was. Taehyung he just.... you were close. She just wanted to make you feel embarrassed and self-conscious and make it awkward between you. You hated thinking about that. It made you overthink and feel awkward. Like an evil loop. You looked up at the breakfast chef, catching his eye as he quickly looked back down to the pancakes. You could get used to this view. Handsome man in boxers and sweater making you pancakes when you’re feeling blue, the headline in your head spelled out. The Zen experience of the kitchen fan being turned off brought stillness and Taehyung emerges with a plate of pancakes, disappearing and re-appearing again after denying your offer to help with the strawberry smoothies, plates, forks, knifes and every suitable pancake topping he had been able to locate in your kitchen. And a tube of mustard as a joke that you only kept in your fridge for when your dad came over to dinner and his weird obsession with having mustard on everything. It was probably even expired. "Enjoy your meal." "You're my hero Taehyung." You said, stabbing a pancake. "I can be your hero baby." You froze. "What?" "Haven't you heard that song?" He smiled. Oh.. "Hero? By Enrique Iglesias?" "Ah, now that you mention it-" "With the weird music video were goes on this road trip with the girl and then he's suddenly rubbing money over her body in this random stone house." "Is this what you binge on youtube at 2am when I wake up to 15 links and emotional texts." "Do not judge me!" You giggled. "I'm not, I like waking up to those texts from you. You sent them to me for a reason." Taehyung smiled shyly. "Yeah... anyhow! I have a suggestion, a proposal, a-" "Go on" "Since I'm your hero, but even I weren't. I thought maybe I could stay here a few days? Only if you want me to, of course. I just-" he became shyer. "I like to think that you seem to feel better when I'm around and you're going through a rough time so I'd like to be there for you, like you are for me." Your heart made its presence in your chest known yet again. "You should think.... because it's true." "So?" "It'd be nice." He smiled widely. "Great! But I do need to go home and pack some clothes and... some pajamas and Yeontan! He is a great comforter trust me, he has cheered me up many times when I've cried." "Cried? What were you crying about?" "Oh- uhm it's nothing, it's ok now so." He swatted it away. "Boys cry too." He joked, but it tasted weird. "But he's staying with my parents this weekend, but if you want I can go pick him up." He suggested. "It's ok, he needs time with his grandparent." Taehyung chuckled. "Well they love their grandson so I'm sure they wouldn't mind having him stay an extra day or two." -- You couldn't help but feel bad that Taehyung had to sleep on the sofa... His bag with clothes and necessities was placed in the hallway and the covers neatly hung over the backrest. "We could take turns and sleep in the bed every other day." "I told you it was fine." Taehyung insisted, again. "I just feel bad..." "Then let’s both sleep in your bed and call it even." "...." your cheeks felt hot. "See, so I'll sleep on the sofa. Don't worry about it!" What does he mean "see"? ... you were simply imagining what excuse to use as to how your head would coincidentally end up on his chest instead of your pillow. "Or we'll both sleep on the sofa, but it might be a bit cramped." He continued. "Maybe this was a bad idea..." "Hey no! No, I'm just joking. Don't feel bad ok." Taehyung's hands smoothed down your arms. "Beds are better at healing wounds on the feet too." You exhaled deeply. "Oh TaeTae..." "Doesn't this feel like we're having a pajama party or sleep over?" He smiled. "Kinda, should we build a blanket fort and watch movies?" His mouth dropped open. "I'm just kidding!" You laughed He pouted. "Oh you want to?" A nod. "You want to build a fort and watch movies?" You asked with more excitement. More enthusiastic nodding. You both cracked up laughing on the sofa together. "I'm serious though." Taehyung grinned. -- You lied awake in your bed, eyes to the ceiling. For some wild reason you both thought it would be a great idea to binge through the entire twilight saga series as a source of comedy but you only made it up to half-way through eclipse when it became too much to handle for both of you. The first movie was easy to mock and laugh at and make fun out if but once it got more serious and romantic in new moon it started getting a little awkward. To say the least, feeling flustered from watching twilight but not due to the movie itself but from the presence of Taehyung right next to you in your make-shift sofa blanket fort. You couldn't stop thinking about him. And he was out there... on your sofa, right now. And who knew if he was in cute polka dot pajamas with his hair a mess on the pillow or his tight fitted boxers and his hair tied up.. You bit your lip, crossing your legs at the visual. You remembered the first time you witnessed Taehyung tie his hair up and how it felt like being punched in the gut. It's not possible to be that attractive. "Then aren't you attracted to him?" The voice echoed in your head. Just because you find someone attractive doesn't mean you're attracted to them! Which is very much true. But Taehyung's personality was attractive too which was harder to justify the same way. And his person. And him. The entire package. You sighed. Maybe the stupidest thing you could do right now was reach for your phone and google "do I have feelings for my best friend?" Ah yes. A quiz. Maybe it wasn't so stupid after all, it'd say maybe you like him but you're not into him at the very most. Question 1, do you find them attractive. Well who wouldn't? And like mentioned it doesn't mean you're attracted to him. Yes. Question 2, do they like you? Pfft... what kind of question is that? How would you know? I don't know... or yes I guess? I mean he clearly likes you as a friend or he wouldn't be up to making all this effort for you but do they mean platonically? You ticked maybe. Question 3, Do you stalk them on social media? What the??? He's your best friend! The algorhythm shoves his posts in your face weather you like it or not. Sometimes. Question 4, Do you see them a lot? Yes. Question 5, Do you want to know more about them? You already know everything ... but what he cries about to Yeontan is something. Yes. Question 6, when you see them with somebody else who isn't considered their friend, how do you feel? Jealous. Question 7, when they're around you how do you feel? Nervous or self-conscious or nothing or i don’t know... well nervous AND a little self-conscious depending on the situation and if he's dressed or in just his boxers. Nervous. Question 8, Do you think about them? Yes. Always. Question 9, Do you laugh at their jokes? Another weird one but yes. Question 10, are they your ex? Huh? No. Definitely. A lot. You placed your phone screen down on your chest and let out a sigh. Maybe visualizing a kiss or two while in the shower was a crime after all... or was the question why were you in the first place? He was amazing in every type of way and you wanted to know if he was amazing at kissing too andmaybeinbed but you can't just ask him that or try it out, so you had to resort to imagination.... Who were you even trying to convince at this point? You liked him. Definitely. And a lot. The realization did nothing to help you fall asleep unfortunately. Another 15 minutes in dark silence passed when you suddenly heard the floorboards squeak. Maybe Taehyung was going to the bathroom or grabbing a glass of water... But the soft pats of his feet should've stopped by now... Your half open door pushed open a bit more shyly and Taehyung peaked in. Dressed in pajama bottoms, but no shirt. "You're awake." He said, whispering. "So are you." "I can't sleep..." he rubbed his arm. "I feel lonely." As if you'd deny him looking all shy and vulnerable in your door. You scooted to the side in your bed, making raise his brows in hope and anticipation, fingers fidgeting. "Come." You said, patting the bed next to you. The bed dipped gently as he lied down and you put the covers over him. He shifted onto his side, placing his head on your pillow. This was better. But since you just took an online quiz to realize you had feelings for this man currently shirtless in your bed, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly awkward. "How come you're feeling lonely?" You asked, trying to conceal your stiffness "To a start I sleep better when I get to hold something." He said shyly "Who?" You asked, intending for it to be a thought. "When I'm at home, Yeontan." Of course... "He lays on the bed and I feel less lonely and hearing him walk around or do something makes me feel soothed knowing I'm not alone... for the most part." "Are the tears you cry... tears of loneliness?" You could tell it triggered something in him. He bit his lip and nodded gently, eyes glossy. "For the most part it's just me and a pillow." He confessed. "But you could say-... it's something like that, yes." Face to face, mere inches apart. You thanked the darkness of the room that he couldn't see you blush right now but unreasonable fear that he'd somehow "sense" it in the atmosphere still worried you. You shouldn't have taken that stupid quiz it only made you start overthinking and it was probably rigged and the questions were weird so why should you listen to it? Get back to your senses! He's your best friend and you're comfortable with him! Calm down! "... I know it's dumb" Taehyung mumbled. "I know it seems like I'm this easy-going social butterfly with lots of friends who can find someone to hang out with within seconds... but when I'm alone at home, I just feel so empty. Like if nobody sees me, I don't exist. Thus when I'm alone, I'm not real anymore." "That's very philosophical, but what if someone thinks about you while you are alone? Then wouldn't you exist since somebody has you on their mind?" "But it'd be impossible for me to know and people have better things to do than walk around and daydream about me." It stung a little inside hearing him say this. "People are actually capable of multitasking you see, they can do these better things you speak of and think about you at the same time. I think about you a lot, sometimes I think about you while doing the laundry, riding the bus or taking a show- that sound's wrong." Taehyung chuckled. "But you get what I mean." "What do you mean?" He asked "That I think about you and that you aren't alone TaeTae, you never are. If you're ever feeling lonely, maybe think about me. If that helps. Or get to know yourself more, become your own friend or create an imaginary friend!" "I already do that." "Have an imaginary friend?" "Think about you." Oh. "... does it help?" You asked shyly. He shook his head. "It just makes me miss you and want to come to see you." Is it possible to experience a softer heart attack than you just did? Rather than a heart exploding in saw gore-level mess it gently poofed and became a small cloud of red feathers gently falling to the ground. Since when had you become a softie? Two hours ago you were all if there's no sex in the romance novel, it's not worth my time but now you suddenly felt an urge to ransack the romance section of the nearest library to read every cheesy romance story you could find until you could find one similar to your own. Your... own? What? With... with Taehyung? ... not that you’d visualize every male lead character as coincidentally similar to him regardless of how their looks were described in the book.... "Maybe I do need to spend some time with myself to get over it..." No! Stay here with me! "I can spend more time with you." Taehyung looked up. "I think that could benefit us both." He sounded more hopeful now. "Well, you're already here so it's also convenient." Despite the darkness you could make out the smile on his face that appeared. Cute. But wait... did Taehyung suggest he could stay here for you, because he felt lonely? He shifted slightly and the sheets rustled. His leg accidently brushed against yours and your first thought was to tangle your legs with his in a leg tackle war... but you still felt too on edge to act casual and playful with him like you normally could. You swallowed. "How long have you felt this way?" "A while... a long while. At first it was nothing but then it got worse and even more worse when I realized this one thing." "What thing was that if I may ask?" He sighed. "It's hard to explain... but, say a friend." "Mhm?" "A friend feels kinda lost, existentialism and stuff going on, doesn't like to be by himself, then he finds this person and they make him forget it all but once they’re apart it all returns to him again like they were his escape but only for as long as they were together." "Is that only with that one person or all?" "No no, only that person. And then he realizes he might be in love, or he's addicted to the person in a way, but in a good way not an obsessive way just-" "In love?" "Something like that." "You're in love?" "Huh?! What no! This was about a friend! I'm not talking about me!" "Then what did you realize Taehyung?" You could tell his mind briefly blanked in panic. "I realized that maybe I, as said friend need to find that person for me." "A person?" He nodded shyly. "You want to fall in love?" "I don't know... something like that." 'Something like that' seemed to be his catchphrase this evening. But in love? A person? His person?... that couldn't be you... could it? Did he want you to be his person? Were you his person?? The questions and confusion kept spiraling through your head, (finally) making you feel tired and exhausted. "I think... I just want to tend to someone else than myself, to not have to think so much about it and instead take care of somebody else." "Is that why you offered to stay?" "Yes and no, I want to take care of you because I am genuinely concerned and worried about you, I want to be there for you. But also, sleeping on the couch last night, hearing you tiptoe around the kitchen... it made me feel comforted." His voice sounded drowsy. "If you want... I can be your person in this scenario." You suggested. "You've already become.. person." He mumbled, sinking deeper into his half-awake state. -- You stretched your leg out one at the time, twisting your body gently and inhaling deeply into a stretch, gently batting your eyes open. You pushed a palm against the bed to get up into a seated position when something suddenly restrained you, heavy over your abdomen. Surprised, you raised the sheet to see the reminder of what you had forgotten last night. Over your waist, a lean arm with faint thin dark hairs and a few subtle veins travelling up the forearm from the large hand clung to the side of your waist... all attached to the source of warmth to your left, Taehyung. His dark locks a mess on the pillow, his bare upper body now fully on display in the daylight and his polka dot pajama pants haven travelled down a bit too far low for your sanity... Cursed be the eyes in your skull for travelling down the view. You would've noticed it sooner or later regardless, especially since your thigh was a hair between touching it. It, being the weird relief of knowing he got some deep relaxing sleep in... but with an awkward morning surprise... and his arm wouldn't grant you freedom without you accidentally or intentionally having to wake him up. You carefully shifted to at least have your thighs at a safer distance, but your bed wasn't intended for two people, so it was easier said than done. His grip suddenly tightened and a low groan escaped him as he shifted. Why did you feel fear as if you shouldn’t be present in your bed in which he entered himself. If anyone Taehyung should be the one fearing his life right now. His thumb caressed your side gently and it felt nice... soothing. Until his eyes suddenly opened wide with a soft gasp as you felt his morning hard on grace against your thigh. Eyes that pleaded and begged you didn't notice pierced into yours and you decided to play along. "Did you sleep well?" His hand quickly retreated to your disappointment. "Sorry i... I did it in my sleep it wasn't-" "It's ok, you said you sleep well holding something and being held didn't feel too bad..." "Well, in that case, I actually slept better than I have in a really long time." He said, voice raspy and deep still. He rolled onto his back, thankfully, and placed his hand behind his head. "Did you?" "Huh?" "Did you sleep well?" "In fact, I did." You said, answering truthfully and resisting the urge to put your head on his bare chest. If only the lord or whoever would stop testing me... "Hungry?" He asked. You nodded. "Great, I'll fix something ok, but close your eyes." "Why?" "I'm shirtless." ... right. You covered your eyes with your hands and the warmth left your side as he got up and escaped the room. You slowly got up, trying to win some time for him but a few brief seconds later heard the sound of the bathroom door down the hall closing and locking. Yikes. That went smoother than expected. You set up some tea, knowing Taehyung described coffee as the closest to unlethal poison you could find, you knew he'd prefer tea or hot chocolate and that there was no use to ask. You knew him too well. It was nice having him here. And waking up with a strong arm around your waist wasn't too bad either... if only you could've let yourself enjoy the moment instead of freaking out, what if he grew cautious now and you'd never experience it again? You sighed softly, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. After a while, the kettle clicked and you poured some water into each mug. It had been a while now... ... was he meditating in there? There was no sound of the shower, or anything, not that you were listening. Would it be weird if you asked if he was ok? Since the kettle was off the entire apartment became significantly more silent. You heard a faint mumble. "Fuck..." You swallowed. Ear please momentarily turn off, mind and imagination too please. You reached to put the kettle back on but since the water was already hot it clicked off again after 5 seconds. The bathroom door opened and you braced yourself to not look down. Luckily, he was now wearing his oversized sweater or else you would've failed immediately. He let out a soft chuckle. "I spaced out." His cheeks were flushed red and glowing. Right. "I made you some tea." -- Why were deep topics always easier to talk about at night? Were people like clams? You wake up and it opens a little and once we hit the night the clam is fully open and then closes during sleep to a new no-talk-me-I-not-have-tea-yet to ask-me-about-how-i-view-existentialism cycle? Or were nights just vulnerable with the darkness? In that case you should metaphorically speaking be an open clam all day during winter when the sun goes into its own hibernation. But here you were again, just like last night, except... 20 minutes into the sudden power outage that made your impromptu movie night come to a halt. And it was getting really cold. Bundled up under a cover together, staring at the flicker of the candle on the coffee table in silence. "I was going to offer to make you tea to warm you up but the kettle..." Taehyung said with a soft chuckle. "The power will probably come back any moment soon." He said optimistically. As you looked out of the window earlier, you noticed it wasn't just your place, but the entire block seemed to have an outage. Unusual. But the current roaring rain storm outside likely had something to do with it. The wind was aggressive, the windows shook, it whistled in a creepy way and the trees outside rustled loudly. "How about we play a game?" Taehyung suddenly suggested, breaking off the silence again. He was feeling awkward, you could tell. He always rested his hands in his lap, fidgeting or poking at the cuticles of his nails when he felt awkward. "Sure, what should we play?" His face lit up. "Questions and answers? I can start!" "Shoot!" You folded your legs and shifted to face him on the couch. "What's your ideal type." ... he... immediately went there. "Looks or personality?" Taehyung shrugged. "Both." "Well it depends on the vibe they give off of course... and mainly. I guess tall, but it's not that important, wide shoulders are always nice." You paused to think, how can I describe Taehyung without it sounding like I'm describing Taehyung. "Funny, caring, optimistic, outgoing..." "Like me!" He smiled widely. You leaned back, squinting while caressing your chin, examining him playfully. "Hmmmn" He placed his hands under his jaw, like he was displaying his face and batted his eyelashes. "Not bad, not bad." He looked disappointed. "Just not bad?" You playfully nudged his arm. "It's your turn to answer. "Fine." He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest but cracking a giggle. "I'll ask you the same question." "Very original, you." "It's called recycling, so tell me." "I did." "Huh?" "You." Your heart froze briefly before beginning to pound. "Me?" "Mn!" He said confidently. "You're not bad" he mocked. You swallowed. "I have a question about the rules." "Go on" "If I ask you anything, do you have to tell the truth?" "Yes! Nothing but. So you better tell me what you actually think rather than 'not bad'" "Is the friend you talked about actually you? And am I the person?" He tensed up, swallowing. "I guess it was obvious..." he mumbled, rubbing his arm and looking down at his lap. "I just..." he began, but reluctance interrupted him. "I understand." You said. He looked up, seemingly surprised yet still tensed "I make you feel less lonely." He nodded slowly. "Which makes sense. After all we're best friends." You continued. "... right." He looked away. "Best friends." Taehyung reached up to move his hair away from his eyes, still facing down as if he was considering something. "So... what do you think of me?" His voice sounded more serious. Where to start of course he was gorgeous! Wide shoulders, a build you'd die to slide your hands down, dark big eyes, a sweet smile with plump lips, sculpted perfectly and his honey skin. Person wise... he was someone you'd want to have as your person. "A nice person" He scoffed. "Seriously?" He seemed upset. He finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a sparkle in his eye. The warm light from the candle made his face glow even more. "I mean person as in the person you have, a your-person" "A nice your-person?" He tilted his head. "You told me yesterday in bed that you can feel like someone is your person because they bring you comfort and make all your problems go away and you feel better just by being in their presence! A nice that-type-of-person." "But I was talking about you!" He pleaded "And now I'm talking about you." "You are my person, what do you mean?" He asked, placing emphasis on "my" "That you're my person too. Am I being unclear?" "No, not at all. I just wanted to hear you say it." "So you tricked me?" You scoffed. "Not really." He leaned closer. "But maybe I set you up and you simply walked into my trap." "So now what? We're just going to sit here in denial over the fact that we both admitted to being each other's person?" You questioned, feeling slightly panicky and picking at your nails. Was this platonic or not? "We don't have to" he grinned. "But to be clear, I'm not talking about you being my person as in my other half, my best friend type person, even though you are that too bit this isn't it." "Are you trying to tell me that you're in love with me?" He tensed up again. Fuck it. "Then just say it, stop confusing me with your riddles and metaphors and I won't do the same. Just tell me-" His hand pressed against the back of your head as he leaned in almost all the way. He caressed the back of your head gently and your gaze dropped to his soft pink lips with the tiny freckle to the side. You leaned in close enough to brush a gentle touch before Taehyung pressed you closer for your lips to finally collide. It started off desperate yet a little shy. You pressed back, grabbing at his sides and the kiss deepened. Your heart was pounding. Never did you expect he'd just go for it and kiss you when you showed some bold courage towards him but you didn’t have a slightest regret because he tasted so good against your mouth. His plump pink lips so passionate, so needy but also so gentle and triggering an explosion in your chest. Taehyung leaned over you, making you lay down on the couch as he crawled on top and it turned into an even wilder heated make out. Your hand tangled into his hair, his hand rubbed against the side of your waist under your top. Fearing it'd be the first, last and only, you wanted every single piece of this moment you could have. Unintentional, his touch triggered a soft moan to escape your throat, which subsequently triggered a groan from Taehyung. Making a sound like that with his voice should be illegal. It did things to you, things you didn't want to confess. But the box of secret confessions was torn open within seconds as Taehyung, a heavy breathing mess suddenly pulled away from your lips and landed by your ear, exhaling deeply. "Fuck, I'm hard." He groaned and you knew the box was flying out the windows with your filthy confession floating aimlessly around for him to hear but all you managed to stutter out was a choked "huh?" "If you knew how long I've wanted you for." He whispered. "How scared I've been of being rejected because I knew it'd shatter me." The hopeless romantic you knew he was made his attendance known. "A friend?" You chuckled. "Maybe I set myself up with that one, I admit. But I was hoping you'd catch on." He chuckled, still breathless. He planted a kiss against your neck. Were you about to have sex? Would it lead to that? Did you mind? Certainly not... Taehyung pushed up slightly, looking down at you. "May I?" You nodded and he smiled widely, pressing a kiss to your lips. Shifting, he easily found his place between your thighs and grinded up against you slowly with pressure, causing both of you to exhale into a sweet needy moan. Your feelings felt scattered all over the place but this wasn't the time to pick them up. You wanted to let go, to surrender, just for this moment. Let go of everything clawing at your back, clouding the sunny skies and draining you. There is nothing more exhausting than smiling pretending everything is ok while whatever inflated issue in beast form is clawing its nails across your back and the scars sting like lemon juice was just rubbed all over you, feeling disgusting and sticky, let alone in pain and with a sore back from the held tension. He grinded again, sensually this time as the tip of his nose travelled up your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. "Mmm" he hummed softly. Your hand made its way to his nape as he settled by your neck. "I could fall asleep here." He chuckled. "Right here in your neck, it's so warm and smells so nice. It's more effective than lavender." "Are you enchanted by my odor?" He laughed his trademark bubble laugh. "I wish you knew how much fun you are." He squeezed you, rubbing up firmer to you with a desperate grunt. "Fuck I can't take it anymore." He stood on his knees, crossing his arms in front of him and grabbing the hem of his sweater, pulling it up and off, exposing his soft skin and toned chest as it fell to the floor. His hand reached for the button on his pants but before making it to the zipper his attention returned back to you with his hands sliding up under your top and pulling it up over your head. "I just want to make sure again... is it ok?" He asked, eyes big. "Yes, touch me, kiss me, do whatever you want just don’t leave the couch. At least not without me." He smirked at this, finally able to surrender to his greed. Taehyung reached for the waistline of your pants, unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling them down your hips with your underwear going off with them. His fingers softly rakes over your skin as he travelled down your legs, your hips lifted to assist him and then they were tossed onto the floor. He reached for his own zipper again but you sat up, quickly swatting his hand away and reaching for it yourself. He was on his knees between your thighs. You pulled them down, sliding your hands over his soft curved hips, revealing his tight fitted boxers with little to any space left for his hard on. You swallowed. He blushed. Relieved that Taehyung took over the lead again you lied back down as his hands gently pushed you back, slipping the bra straps off your shoulders and reaching behind you to unhook and free you from your final piece of clothing. But with this one he wasn't in a rush. He slowly tugged at the lacey fabric, revealing your chest to him as he bit his lip. "Wow." He mumbled and his patience was gone. One hand grabbed your left boob, feeling it and squeezing it softly as the other slipped into his boxer to touch himself. He whimpered, seemingly trembling as a result of his desperation and the discomfort he must be feeling in those tight pair of... he let go of your boob, quickly pulling his boxers down and himself out. You felt your core twist and ache and his boxers joined the pile of clothes on the floor. Taehyung fell forward onto all fours on top of you. Fully exposed, fully erect and a full sight to take in in the dim light in the dark. Distracted and eyes travelling all over him, his hand suddenly cupped your chin, tilting it up for you to face him. His nose graced over yours in a sweet eskimo kiss before his lips, just as gently pressed to yours. Taehyung's hand slid down your neck, your chest and down until he found himself. Your toes curled as you felt his touch where you wanted him the most in this moment, the tip of him slowly sliding up and down your slit, triggering your need even more. Taehyung let out a shaky exhale. His lips were parted and eyes staring right down at your exposed curves. He positioned himself, slowly sliding the tip in, just to feel... just to get some urgent relief... he leaned his head back and his hands landed a tight grip of your waist. He couldn't take it anymore. Slowly and carefully he began to push. Making sure by studying your every expression that he wasn't hurting you and that it felt good. A sweet whimper escaped you, causing him to grin in delight as he pushed in deeper. He was thick... the gentle stretch he caused felt amazing and you couldn't stop yourself from clenching around him, making him moan and managing to make you even wetter just by the sound. With a soft grunt he slipped in all the way. Giving you a moment to adjust to his size, he moved his hand up to caress your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch felt like magic. Like a gentle feather smoothing over your cheek, but slender and strong, with long dainty beautiful fingers. You leaned into his touch. "Does it feel ok?" He whispered. You gave a reassuring nod. He pulled his hips back and thrusted back in, not too soft and not too hard he picked up a slow but deep rhythm for his movements. Your hands felt their way up and across his back, studying every curve and where he naturally flexed as he moved. His hands were firmly holding you in place at the waist, every desperate exhale and every shaky inhale sending almost an ASMR like tingle down your spine via your ear until your name suddenly slipped his lips. Most people feel a fuzzy like feeling inside hearing their proper name be called but this... this was unlike no other time. His deep voice, following a whimper, exhaling your name like a magic spell and it fading into a shiver-causing moan. To put it simply it was the sexiest thing you've ever heard and it activated a whole new part within you that felt foreign but so so so good. Like your blood had suddenly turned into liquid gold, all happy hormones releasing in a firework spelling the world "nothing else matters" in an imaginary sky. You wrapped your arms tighter around him, moaning his name out felt liberating. And it clearly triggered an equal reaction. His cheeks were already flushed and his eyes went wide. He smirked, growing more desperate, fucking your harder and deeper, chasing release. "Please cum for me." He whispered, pleading. "Please." He didn't need to place a formal request, you were already loosing yourself. The only sound echoing in the darkness being the roaring wind and rain along with your breaths and groans and the sound of his hips and your thighs. Wet, heavenly sounds to you. His sweet moans, his broad back, his dick... everything about him made you feel euphoric. The ever building tension below, the sweat forming on his forehead... "I'm gonna cum" he whimpered. Thinking your body couldn't possibly react stronger to him than it already was, it did. The thrusts grew faster, grunts louder and you could feel yourself leak even more. Back arching, tension growing... it felt even tighter now... you could feel him so well, every movement until you suddenly came un-done with a loud whimper to his ear, setting him off into his own orgasm, cumming deep inside with a string of "oh"s and groans, gritting his teeth together and tensing his face in a greedy expression. He slowed down to a halt, remaining inside, breathless on top of you. The light on the sofa table had reached its end and the faint scent of smoke filled the air as the flame went out, making the room completely pitch black. Taehyung's face nuzzled softly against your neck, inhaling the scent of you deeply and being soothed. "Wow." He coughed, followed by a groan. "Wow." You repeated, happy that the light went out so he couldn’t see your flushed face. "You ok?" He whispered, vulnerability present in his voice. "I didn't go to hard right?" "It was amazing." He let out a breath of release and an awkward chuckle. "I'll pull out.." he said shyly, moving his hips back slowly and gently, slipping out. To your surprise, Taehyung climbed off of you, standing on his feet. The cold air made your nipples ache and your skin shiver. You wanted your human blanket and source of heat back. But you didn’t have to wait for long. A pair of strong arms slid in under you, lifting you up with ease. "The sofa is too tiny." He carried you into your bedroom, gently putting you back down on the bed and laying down on his side next to you, pulling you close to his chest where his heart was still pounding hard. He hugged you tight, caressing the back of your head. His lips pressed against the crown of your head gently. "My good girl." He whispered, sounding almost proud. Your cheeks burned and a weird sense to cry bubbled up but you quickly swallowed it and hugged him tighter, burying your face against his chest. Never had you thought being called a good girl, specifically "Taehyung's" good girl would be able to move you to tears. But maybe it's what you needed to hear, mixed with the hormonal serotonin cocktail your body just released upon you. "You'll always have me." He nuzzled his nose in your hair. With a click the power came back on, including your pink hue nightstand lamp next to the bed. Taehyung's cheeks were deeply flushed, amplified by the flattering pink light cast over him. You giggled. Had this really just happened? Because it felt so right. Or was it just the relief of sex? But masturbating had never made you feel this emotional before... You looked up at Taehyung's face again and he smiled softly, his hand caressing your bare back up and down. It was definitely him.

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the-phoenix-heart · 3 years ago

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10 Amazing Futurama Comics

There is a severe lack of Futurama content on this and other sites (seriously, the Night at the Museum movies have more fics than Futurama). And, nobody posts about the Futurama comics. So I’m posting 10 of my favorites.

10. Attack of the 50-Foot Amy (Issue #33)

It’s actually not as sexual as the cover makes it out to be. The basic premise is that Amy mistakes the can of growth spray (that Cubert and Dwight want to use for their science fair project) for hair spray and sprays waaaay too much before her anniversary date with Kif. Meanwhile, Bender teaches Fry the wonders of video piracy, but after he gets scared by a movie home alone style he eats his disc of pirated movies and starts uncontrollably acting them out. You can probably guess how these two plots connect.

While I do list this one as one of my favorites, it’s far from perfect. The artwork is good, but the scaling on Amy is very wonky so she looks more like a twenty-foot Amy (also Dwight’s eyes are drawn weird in this comic, he looks blazed out the entire time). But I cannot help but be charmed by this comic. It’s got some sweet Bender and Fry friendship moments and actually makes me believe Kif and Amy’s relationship for a little bit. They are very sweet in this comic, although Kif does go through some pain in this comic.

Best moments: They way they resolve the plot is actually pretty funny and clever, plus Bender hopped up on pirated movies is a joy. At one point Fry gets shoved by Steven Spielbot (don’t ask) and Bender goes all Rocky on his ass saying “No one talks to my gal, Adrian, like that!” It’s very sweet and...subtextual if you understand my meaning. This one also has anti comic book piracy message at the end which was ironic for me to read.

9. Doctor What (Issue #32)

The Professor creates a time traveling port-a-potty so that you can pee in whatever time and space you want, although it’s completely random. However, Zoidberg accidentally breaks the potty, so him, Leela, Fry, and Bender have to keep randomly flushing to get back home. On each of these new worlds Zoidberg keeps accidentally saving the citizens, getting medals, and ends up becoming addicted to the fame he keeps winning. Which leads to them getting stuck in a post apocalyptic New New York.

This is the infamous Leela-Bender-Fry fusion comic, Leelan von Fry-Bot. His backstory is actually a little sad, but I won’t spoil it here. This one is pretty good, because it has Zoidberg as the hero. Actually quite a few of these feature Zoidberg as a fourth member of the delivery crew which is weird, but not entirely unwelcome. It’s also fun to see these other worlds, and now that I think about it it’s actually a little similar to The Late Phillip J. Fry, what with the time travel to different interesting worlds.

Best Moments: I actually liked Leelan’s backstory, and his interactions with his “parents” (you’ll understand when you read it) are actually pretty funny and a little cute. Fry really wants to be a dad you can tell.

8. The Simpsons Futurama Crossover Crisis II

The professor creates a device that takes characters out of their stories into the real world. Trouble is, he tells the mayor that this invention is useful because you can get slave labor out of the characters because they technically have no constitutional rights. The Simpsons end up working with the Planet Express crew, but an accident leads to the release of ALL FICTIONAL CHARACTERS EVER.

This is a sequel comic to the Futurama Simpsons Infinitely Secret Crossover Crisis (fun fact: a reference to several famous comic book arcs). I chose this one above it though because I think it understood the assignment better. The original is funny, but I just don’t think that Springfield is a good setting for a Futurama crossover. Springfield for all its zaniness, is not the future. New New York, however, is great for this crossover. We get several scenes where we see the Simpsons going through space and fighting off monsters. We even get to see the other residents of Springfield in the future, Mr. Smithers becomes a space pirate and Mr. Burns falls in love with Mom, it’s great.

Best Moments: Some of them I already mentioned, but I cannot stress enough how hilarious the Burns-Mom romance is, it’s especially good when you can hear their voices in your head. I also like the friendship the Simpsons have with the Planet Express crew.

7. Six Characters in Search of a Story (Issue #14)

This is a very interesting comic. The Professor falls asleep, so to pass the time the crew decides to look through his old failed inventions, and well, that’s a very bad idea. The most interesting thing about this comic is it’s designed so that if you want you can only read certain panels to follow one person’s story. The Futurama comics do this a lot of the time and it’s always interesting.

The shenanigans that occur in this one are really funny, and there are some great looking pages in this. Also the Futurama crew clearly took ideas from the comics, and this is one of them. You can tell from the cover art that this does have elements of “Benderama” in it, what with Bender cloning himself ad infinitum. I also really like the climax, it’s a little schmultz-y for Futurama, but I don’t mind.

Best Moments: Fry gets stuck with a Spanish speaking Bender and I don’t know why but it’s really funny to me. The professor also gets some funny moments in this one. And Scruffy. Scruffy is always a delight.

6. Igner-ance is Bliss! (Issue #63)

Yeah this is the infamous robot Leela and Fry comic. Don’t worry, like the cover says, it’s not as dramatic as it looks. The crew has to go to a world that’s too dangerous for humans, so Fry, Leela, and Zoidberg all have their consciousnesses put into robot doubles so they can make the delivery. However, it turns out this planet is a sort of getaway spa for robots, and the crew decides to party it up there, at least until Bender discovers that this is a front for an evil plot by Mom. The subplot is mostly about how Igner is not respected by his brothers.

This one is fun, and I love a comic where Bender has to be the voice of reason. It is clearly killing him to be the responsible one, but I love it. Also, I have a soft spot for Igner, so it’s nice to see him get thrown a bone for once. This also has some really fun jokes with everyone, but Zoidberg in particular gets some bangers. I think my only problem is it ISN’T as cool as the cover makes it out, but like I’m happy with what it is.

Best Moments: Fry beats up Bender at one point and wins, I think he deserved it. Also, y’all know Admiral Ackbar from Star Wars? He makes some cameos in this one. Also all the robots (sans Bender) make a Japanese style mecha and it’s the coolest thing ever. Plus everything I’ve said about Igner I love in this one. Oh also Fry beats Calculon at poker and I really love that.

5. Who’s Dying to be a Gazillionaire? (Issue #5)

This one is sweet. The IRS is threatening to bankrupt Planet Express, and if they can’t think of a way to make a million dollars they will go out of business. No one really has any ideas and doesn’t even really care, except for Fry who is determined to save Planet Express. He gets the idea to go onto Who Wants to be a Gazillionaire to make the money, even though it’s a trivia show and if he loses he will die.

This one really warms my heart, it’s Fry at his best, just doing what he can for the people he loves. Even the professor is great in this one. I don’t want to spoil it, but trust me when I say it’s good (god I hope I’m not building this up too much).

Best moments: The end panel. But also the resolution of the story is great, and I really appreciate this comic for Fry as a character.

4. Rumble in the Jungle (Issue #38)

This is a fine comic. Leela is mad that she’s not being respected by Fry and Bender, and it’s bad enough that they don’t believe her when she says they’re going to crash into a planet. They end up parachuting down and getting separated. Leela ends up as queen of some workers in the “Amazon,” meanwhile Fry finds Bender’s corpse and goes off to avenge him.

This one is fun, and another fun one for Fry, because he’s determined to avenge Bender and works hard for it. This also includes the original Frender, not the ship but fusion. Leela and Fry even have a fight scene against each other and it’s honestly great.

Best Moments: Fry is great throughout the entire comic, and Leela spends most of her time beating up random animals. Bender also using a lead parachute he made out of toys he stole from children is funny, especially because I’m always a sucker for Bender doing dumb shit.

3. Don’t Go Taking My Heart! (Issue #69) (nice)

Mom only has a couple weeks to live, unless she can get a heart transplant. It’s revealed that Mom uses the cryogenics lab to get new body parts for herself, and that Fry was supposed to be her heart donor! Unfortunately, because he was unfrozen she now has to get him to work for Mom Corp to make sure his heart stays intact for the procedure.

If you can’t tell I love the Fry-centric comics, and I also like the comics where Mom is the villain. Of course this comic doesn’t go completely how you expect it to go, it’s actually REALLY sweet. I also love the fact that in this comic Fry actually makes a great intern. He basically has the job of a secretary and he’s GOOD at it. And I love seeing when Fry is good at things. The reason why I put this at only 3 is because it doesn’t really have a subplot. Bender gets a job at mom corp to but it’s only there for a couple pages, and Leela’s new crew gets two panels and that’s it.

Best Moments: The moments with Mom and Fry, but also guess who Mom’s doctor is? I’m actually not going to reveal it because it’s so random but also hilarious.

2. Boomsday! (Issue #58)

The Professor builds Bender his own parents, as a way to placate/discipline Bender. However, these parents decide that Fry is a bad influence on Bender, leading to them kicking him out. Meanwhile, the Professor’s doomsday devices are all stolen, and he has to go find them.

Both of these plots are funny and good. Bender’s plot is also really sweet what with his friendship with Fry, and his wish for parents. Meanwhile the Professor’s plot is just really funny and I do love seeing the Professor in his element. The ending is mostly heartwarming.

Best Moments: Everything with Fry and Bender, and Bender has a sweet relationship with his fake parents. Also, the Professor uses Issac Asimov candles on the robot mafia which I found a great joke. Oh, and the Professor’s first doomsday device was made when he was four years old and I love that. The end of the comic also has very nice message.

1. Rotten to the Core (Issue #27)

The world’s weather has gone kerflooey, and the Professor has figured out that his invention that can drill into the center of the Earth has been used. It conspires that Bender sold it at a yard sale to some aliens call the magmoids. The magmoids are trying to steal magma from the Earth’s core and the crew has to go and stop them.

This is my favorite because it’s a great character comic. All of the main three have great moments, and it’s also a great science comic. The Earth’s core is incredibly magnetic so of course Bender starts spouting out folk songs, and also SECRETS. I can’t believe no one has used the fact that canonically magnets make Bender incapable of telling lies. Anyway, it’s just really fun.

Best Moments: Way too many to count. Bender and Fry are told to cut out the “Brokeback Moanin,’“ Leela and Fry are bitter at the end, Fry tells story about his childhood, Bender has some great secrets to tell, the Professor gets a really fun ending, Bender has a rare moment of generosity, and the entirety of the climax is all kinds of fun and sweet.

#this is all part of my agenda to make more people watch futurama #or specifically read futurama because if you are antsy about watching a seven season show then at least you have 10 great comics you can rea #futurama #i try not to include frender in this but i'm easily susceptible to their friendship #turanga leela #phillip j fry #bender bending rodriguez #the professor #hubert j farnsworth #dr john zoidberg #john zoidberg #zoidberg #futurama comics

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lokiondisneyplus · 3 years ago

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A review of “Journey Into Mystery,” the penultimate Loki Season One episode on Disney+, coming up just as soon as I paper cut a giant cloud to death…

Journey Into Mystery was the title of the first Marvel comic to feature either Thor or Loki. It began as an anthology series featuring monsters and aliens, but Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, and Larry Lieber were so smitten with their adaptation of the characters of Norse myth that the Asgardians gradually took over the whole book, which was renamed after its hammer-wielding hero(*).

(*) The early Journey Into Mystery stories treated Thor’s alter ego, disabled Dr. Donald Blake, as the “real” character, while Thor was just someone Blake could magically transform into, while retaining his memories and personality. It wasn’t even clear whether Asgard itself was meant to exist at first, until Loki turned up on Earth in an early issue, caused trouble, and Blake/Thor somehow knew exactly how to get to Asgard to drop him off. Soon, the lines between Thor and Blake began to blur, and eventually Thor became the real guy, and Blake a fiction invented by Odin to humble his arrogant son. It’s a mark of just how instantly charismatic Loki was that the entire title quickly steered towards him and the other gods.

But once upon a time, anything was possible in Journey Into Mystery, which makes it an apt moniker for an absolutely wonderful episode of Loki where the same holds true. Our title characters are trapped in the Void, a place at the end of time where the TVA’s victims are banished to be devoured by a cloud monster named Alioth. And mostly they are surrounded by the wreckage of many dead timelines. Classic Loki insists that his group’s only goal is survival, and any kind of planning and scheming is doomed to kill the Loki who tries. But this ruined, hopeless world instead feels bursting with imagination and possibility.

There are the many Loki variants we see, with President Loki, among others, joining Classic, Kid, Boastful, and Alligator Loki. There are the metric ton of Easter Eggs just waiting to be screencapped by Marvel obsessives (I discuss a few of them down below), but which still suggest a much larger and weirder MCU even if you don’t immediately scream out “Is that… THROG?!?!?” at the appropriate moment. And all of that stuff is tons of fun, to be sure. But what makes this episode — and, increasingly, this series �� feel so special is the way that it explores the untapped potential of Loki himself, in his many, many variations.

This is an episode that owes more than a small stylistic and thematic debt to Lost. It’s not just that Alioth looks and sounds so much like the Smoke Monster(*), that it makes a shared Wizard of Oz reference to “the man behind the curtain” (also the title of one of the very best Lost episodes), or even that the core group of Lokis are hiding in a bunker accessible via a hatch and a ladder that’s filled with recreational equipment (in this case, bowling alley lanes). It’s also that Loki, Sylvie, their counterparts, and Mobius have all been transported to a strange place that has disturbing echoes from their own lives, that operates according to strange new rules they have to learn while fleeing danger, and their presence there allows them to reflect on the many mistakes of their past and consider whether they want to, or can, transcend them.

(*) Yes, Alioth technically predates Smokey by a decade (see the notes below for more), but his look has been tweaked a bit here to seem more like smoke than a cloud, and the sounds he makes when he roars sound a lot like Smokey’s telltale taxi cab meter clicks. Given the other Lost hat tips in the episode, I have to believe Alioth was chosen specifically to evoke Smokey.

Classic Loki is aptly named. He wears the Sixties Jack Kirby costume, and he is a far more powerful magician than either Sylvie or our Loki have allowed themselves to be. He calls our Loki’s knives worthless compared to his sorcery, which feels like the show acknowledging that the movies depowered Loki a fair amount to make him seem cooler. But if Classic Loki can conjure up illusions bigger and more potent than his younger peers, he is a fundamentally weak and defeated man, convinced, like the others, that the only way to win the game into which he was born is not to play. “We cannot change,” he insists. “We’re broken. Every version of ourselves. Forever.” It is not only his sentiment — Kid Loki adds that any Loki who tries to improve inevitably winds up in the Void for their troubles — but it seems to have weighed on him longer and harder than most.

But Classic Loki takes inspiration from Loki and Sylvie to stand and fight rather than turn and run, magicking up a vision of their homeland to distract Alioth at a crucial moment in Sylvie’s plan, and getting eaten for his trouble. He was wrong: Lokis can change. (Though Kid Loki might once again argue that Classic Loki’s death is more evidence that the universe has no interest in any of them doing so.) And both Loki and Sylvie have been changing throughout their time together. Like most Lokis, they seem cursed to a life of loneliness. Sylvie learned as a child that a higher power believed she should not exist, and has spent a lifetime hiding out in places where any friends she might make will soon die in an apocalypse. Our Loki’s past isn’t quite so stark, but the knowledge that his birth father abandoned him, while his adoptive father never much liked him, have left permanent scars that govern a lot of his behavior. The defining element of Classic Loki’s backstory is that he spent a long time alone on a planet, and only got busted by the TVA when he attempted to reconnect with his brother and anyone else he once knew. This is a hard existence, for all of them. And while it does not forgive them their many sins(*), it helps contextualize them, and give them the knowledge to try to be better versions of themselves.

(*) Loki at one point even acknowledges that, for him, it’s probably only been a few days since he led an alien invasion of New York that left many dead, though due to TVA shenanigans, far more time may have passed.

For that matter, Mobius is not the stainless hero he once thought of himself as. While he and Sylvie are tooling around the Void in a pizza delivery car (because of course they are), he admits that he committed a lot of sins by believing that the ends justified the means, and was wrong. He doesn’t know who he is before the TVA stole and factory rebooted him, but he knows that he wants something better for himself and the universe, and takes the stolen TemPad to open up a portal to his own workplace in hopes of tearing down the TVA once and for all. Before he goes, though, he and Loki share a hug that feels a lot more poignant than it should, given that these characters have only spent parts of four episodes of TV together. It’s a testament to Hiddleston, Wilson, Waldron, and company (Tom Kauffman wrote this week’s script) that their friendship felt so alive and important in such a short amount of time.

The same can be said for Loki and Sylvie’s relationship, however we’re choosing to define it. Though they briefly cuddle together under a blanket that Loki conjures, they move no closer to romance than they were already. If anything, Mobius’ accusations of narcissism in last week’s episode seem to have made both of them pull back a bit from where they seemed to be heading back on Lamentis. But the connection between them is real, whatever exactly it is. And their ability to take down Alioth — to tap into the magic that Classic Loki always had, and to fulfill Loki’s belief that “I think we’re stronger than we realize” — by working together is inspiring and joyful. Without all this nuanced and engaging character work, Loki would still be an entertaining ride, but it’s the marriage of wild ideas with the human element that’s made it so great.

Of course, now comes the hard part. Endings have rarely been an MCU strength, give or take something like the climax of Endgame, and the finales of the two previous Disney+ shows were easily their weakest episodes. The strange, glorious, beautiful machine that Waldron and Herron have built doesn’t seem like it’s heading for another generic hero/villain slugfest, but then, neither did WandaVision before we got exactly that. This one feels different so far, though. The command of the story, the characters, and the tone are incredibly strong right now. There is a mystery to be solved about who is in the big castle beyond the Void (another Loki makes the most narrative and thematic sense to me, but we’ll see), and a lot to be resolved about what happens to the TVA and our heroes. And maybe there’s some heavy lifting that has to be done in service to the upcoming Dr. Strange or Ant-Man films.

It’s complicated, but on a show that has handled complexity well. Though even if the finale winds up keeping things simpler, that might work. As Loki notes while discussing his initial plan to take down Alioth, “Just because it’s not complicated doesn’t mean it’s bad.” Though as Kid Loki retorts, “It also doesn’t mean it’s good.”

Please be good, Loki finale. Everything up to this point deserves that.

Some other thoughts:

* Most of this week’s most interesting material happens in the Void. But the scenes back at the TVA clarify a few things. First, Ravonna is not the mastermind of all this, and she was very much suckered in by the Time-Keeper robots. But unlike Mobius or Hunter B-15, she’s so conditioned to the mission that even knowing it’s a lie hasn’t really swayed her from her mission. She has Miss Minutes (who herself is much craftier this week) looking into files about the creation of the TVA, but for the most part comes across as someone very happy with a status quo where she gets to be special and pass judgment on the rest of the multiverse.

* Alioth first appeared in 1993’s Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective, a miniseries (written by Mobius inspiration Mark Gruenwald, and with some extremely kewl Nineties art full of shoulder pads, studded collars, and the like) involving Ravonna, Kang, and the off-brand versions of Captain America, Iron Man, and Thor (aka U.S. Agent, War Machine, and Thunderstrike, the latter of whom has yet to appear in the MCU). It’s a sequel to a Nineties crossover event called Citizen Kang. And no, I still don’t buy that Kang will be the one pulling the strings here, if only because it’s really bad storytelling for the big bad of the season to have never appeared or even been mentioned prior to the finale.

* Rather than try to identify every Easter egg visible in the Void’s terrain, I’ll instead highlight three of the most interesting. Right before the Lokis arrive at the hatch, we see a helicopter with Thanos’ name on it. This is a hat tip to an infamous — and often memed — out-of-continuity story where Thanos flies this chopper while trying to steal the Cosmic Cube (aka the Tesseract) from Hellcat. (A little kid gets his hands on it instead and, of course, uses the Cube to conjure up free ice cream.) James Gunn has been agitating for years for the Thanos Copter to be in the MCU. He finally got his wish.

* The other funny one: When the camera pans down the tunnel into Kid Loki’s headquarters, we see Mjolnir buried in the ground, and right below it is a jar containing a very annoyed frog in a Thor costume. This is either Thor himself — whom Loki cursed into amphibianhood in a memorable Walt Simonson storyline — or another character named Simon Walterston (note the backwards tribute to Walt) who later assumed the tiny mantle.

* Also, in one scene you can spot Yellowjacket’s helmet littering the landscape. This might support the theory that the TVA, the Void, etc., all exist in the Quantum Realm, since that’s where the MCU version of Yellowjacket probably went when his suit shorted out and he was crushed to subatomic size. Or it might be more trolling of the fanbase from the company that had WandaVision fans convinced that Mephisto, the X-Men, and/or Reed Richards would be appearing by the season finale.

* Honestly, I would have watched an entire episode that was just Loki, Mobius, and the others arguing about whether Alligator Loki was actually a Loki, or just a gator who ended up with the crown, presumably after eating a real Loki. The suggestion that the gator might be lying — and that this actually supports, rather than undermines, the case for him being a Loki — was just delightful. And hey, if Throg exists in the MCU now, why not Alligator Loki?

* Finally, the MCU films in general are not exactly known for their visual flair, though a few directors like Taika Waititi and Ryan Coogler have been able to craft distinctive images within the franchise’s usual template. Loki, though, is so often wonderful to look at, and particularly when our heroes are stuck in strange environments like Lamentis or the Void. Director Kate Herron and the VFX team work very well together to create dynamic and weird imagery like Sylvie running from Alioth, or the chaotic Loki battle in the bowling alley. Between this show and WandaVision, it appears the Disney+ corner of the MCU has a bit more room to expand its palette. (Falcon and the Winter Soldier, much less so.)

#Loki #spoilers #episode 5 #review #Rolling Stone #Alan Sepinwall

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

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Wanda Maximoff / Reader - WandaVision Canon Divergence

Gif is not mine.

Summary: You liked the simplicity of life in Westview, it was quiet and mundane, completely different from what you have lived all your life. So when a witch rewrites the reality around you, you are slightly annoyed.

Warnings: This is trash, lot of swearing, idk really know what i was trying to write here., a bit of fluff but mostly my attempt at humor; hopeful ending.

Words> 3895k ///// Read on AO3 too.

You were trying to remember how you got where you were. Your last memory was making breakfast, a little while after feeding your cat, and then everything went silent. You blinked again, and there were people in your house, whom you called husband and children, who were smiling and speaking words that you thought were funny.

And now sitting on your bed, while a stranger slept next to you, you could finally realize that something was not right.

Feeling a ringing in your ear, you tried to wake up. It felt like someone was inside your head, pushing your consciousness down. You took a deep breath, clenching your fists, using all your mental control to resist.

And then your memories hit you in an instant, and you lost your breath. All your life returned to you. Rising abruptly from your shock, you looked around.

Your house was completely different from before, and your first impulse was to look for Mr. Whiskers, but you couldn't find him anywhere.

Looking down you noticed that you were wearing an old dress, and you grumbled discontentedly. You hate dresses. You didn't have time to worry about it, though.

You tried to remember who was controlling you, but every time you thought the image was getting through, you heard a noise, and lost your concentration.

Turning to the man sleeping in your bed, you frowned at the image. He was the newspaper delivery man on Seventh Street. You had never had any contact with him at all. And now he looked troubled, as if he was having a bad dream.

You raised your fingers to the man's forehead and read his thoughts.

Choking on the intensity of the pure pain you felt, you stopped touching him then, stumbling backwards. What the fuck was that, you thought. But remembering the dream, you now knew who was doing it to him.

Putting on the first pair of shoes you found around the house, you walk out the front door, trying to feel the energy of the witch who was doing this, as you walked around the town.

A woman stopped you, smiling strangely. You had never seen her around here before.

- Are you all right, darling? - she asked. You noticed that everything looked antique, the clothes, the decorations.

- Actually I'm looking for someone. - You answered, and she kept that weird friendly smile. You didn't trust her, and honestly, all this nonsense was getting on your nerves.

- Oh, I can help you if you like. - She said cheerfully, and you took a step back. She didn't seem to mind, then spoke up: - And how is your family? I hear Thomas is giving you trouble at school.

You blinked in confusion, starting to get annoyed.

- Who the fuck is thomas? - You shouted. - You know what, stay away from me!

The woman stood there in shock for a moment, and you took advantage of this to turn her around and keep walking.

But then you felt something grab you by the neck, you fell breathlessly to your knees, raising your hands to remove the grip, and noticing that it was magic. Great, two witches, you thought.

- You won't spoil the narrative, dear. - said the woman, now sounding much more threatening. She loosened the spell just so that you could breathe, and then turned you to face her. - I didn't know we had another witch in town.

- I am not a witch. - You grumbled. - I'm a mutant.

- I beg your pardon?

- A fucking mutant. - You retorted angrily. - You don't have much of that here, do you.

- And why are you here?

- Can you please let me go? - You strike back, and the woman looks at you with irony. - I'm not going to attack you.

- Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. - She sneers. You let out an impatient sigh.

- Look, I was living very well here. And then somebody put a 1950s filter on my life, and just disappeared with my pet cat. And I really liked him. - you say, getting up. - So if you and your witch friend can take whatever all this shit is somewhere else, I'll be very grateful.

The woman considered for a moment, and then smiled, offering a hand for you to shake. You raised your eyebrows.

- Agatha Harkness, sweetheart. - She introduced herself, and you shook her hand, feeling the magical energy in her fingers. - I'll tell you everything.

She said as she released you from the magical chain, and dragged you by the arm along the street.

Agatha served you tea when you arrived at her house. You noticed that the place was also decorated like in the forties. Your head was hurting a little, you could feel the pressure of the magic trying to make you obey.

- It's painful, isn't it? - says Agatha, looking at you closely. - I have never seen a human resist with such intensity.

You shrug.

- It's just mind control, isn't it? Everyone can learn to resist it. - You say, making Agatha laugh slightly.

- Oh, no, dear. - She denies it. - This is magic. It is not so simple to avoid.

You take a sip of your tea, it tastes good after all.

- Weren't you going to tell me what's going on here? - you ask, changing the subject. You don't trust Agatha, and you have no intention of chatting with her.

She lets out a giggle at your impatience.

- We have a witch in town. - She explains. - The very powerful kind. I'm trying to find out what is going on here.

- Do you work for the government or something?

- Oh no, I am from a special organization. - She says mysteriously, you shrug. You don't really care, you just want things to go back to normal. If Agatha can help you with that, you will work with her.

- Fine then. - you say, finishing your tea. - And how do we end this spell?

- It doesn't end. - she says, and you blink in surprise. - The witch who conjured it needs to remove it.

- Fucking hell. - You complain, getting up.

- Where are you going?

- To talk to a witch! I'm sick of this shit.

You open the door, but Agatha uses her magic to close it at the same instant. You let out an irritated grunt.

- What's the problem? - You say to her, turning to face her. Agatha has a thoughtful expression.

- What exactly are your abilities?

- It doesn't matter. - You say. - I won't use them. Can I go now?

- I intended to play the girl's game to find out what's going on here.

You let out a short laugh.

- You're kidding me, right? There are thousands of people here who have had their lives completely changed, and you have the power to put an end to it, and you're more interested in studying the witch than stopping her. - you exclaimed angrily. And then you opened the door, Agatha didn't stop you this time, a mixed gleam of surprise and curiosity in her eyes. - I'm going to end this nonsense now. I don't have the time or patience for games.

You left the house, looking around, and were slightly startled to see Agatha standing right next to you, as if she had just teleported there. She gave you a mischievous smile before pointing to the next residence.

You stepped forward to the front door, and knocked on the wood. It didn't take long for you to answer the door.

- Hello, good evening. - Greeted a tall, blond man. You hesitated for a moment, the noise his mind echoed was low, almost non-existent.

- Vision, darling! - Said a voice beside you before you could respond. Agatha placed one hand on your shoulder as she greeted the man with the other. They smiled politely. - I wanted to introduce my niece to Wanda! She came from the south to visit me.

You frowned, blinking in disbelief. Vision smiled, making room for the two of you to enter the house. Agatha pushed you inside, whispering in your ear to play nice, and you rolled your eyes without patience.

And then a woman entered the room, and you could tell you were relatively surprised at how beautiful she was. But this was no time to think about things like that.

- Agatha, darling, good evening! - greeted the woman.

- Hi Wanda, how are you?

They greeted each other with a quick hug while you stood there, arms crossed, not believing the acting.

- This is my niece, she came to stay at my house for a few days. - Agatha said, giving you a gentle nudge with her elbow to introduce yourself. You let out a sigh, forcing a smile at the redhead as you held out your hand to her.

- I am Y/N. - You said, and almost choked when Wanda touched your hand, feeling an electric current go through your body. Wanda's eyes widened, probably feeling it too, but she didn't say anything, letting go of the squeeze.

- We just wanted to say hello, and see how you were doing. - Agatha said with a smile, and Wanda looked at her in the same way. And then the man named Vision came over, hugging the redhead on the side and matching smiles. You squeezed your eyes shut, not believing the scene.

- Is everybody here crazy? - you exclaimed with irritation. Wanda and Vision looked at you with confusion, and Agatha made an angry expression as if to tell you to shut up, but you just raised your hand at her and kept talking. - Look, I don't know what's going on here, and honestly I don't care. If you could just stop the whole show, I'd appreciate it.

All three were quiet for a moment, completely confused. And then the doorbell rang

As Wanda went to answer the door, Agatha pinched your arm, and you just grunted in pain, asking her if those people were mental.

- Pietro? - said the woman looking tearful. The man hugged her then, and then when he turned to you, you let out a surprised exclamation.

- What the fuck are you doing here? - you exclaimed, and everyone looked at you in confusion and surprise. But you felt a mixture of relief and happiness. - Peter, how are you here?

You asked, approaching the boy. But he had a confused expression, as if he didn't really know you. You shook your head in irritation.

- Okay, this is too weird. - You declared. - What the hell is going on? How did Peter get here? Who are you, and why don't I have any pants in my closet?

Agatha let out a nervous laugh, probably hoping that the couple would reconsider their little outburst. But then Wanda acquired a serious expression, her eyes glowing red as she stood in front of you.

- Who are you? - she asked.

- I'm the one who is asking. - You countered. - You are the one who invaded my town and changed the decoration of my house. And more importantly, where the fuck is my cat?

Wanda looked surprised for a moment, and then she held up one hand, a red glow coming from her fingers. You raised your eyebrows.

- I'll ask you again.

- Was that meant to intimidate me? - You reply with irony, nodding your head at the red glow.

- Wanda, dear, what's going on? - Vision asked, sounding really confused. You imagined he was being controlled too. Wanda looked slightly perturbed, and then she launched a large amount of energy at you, pushing you hard enough to break through the wall, and you rolled a few feet into the grass outside.

- Fucking great. - You grumbled as you stood up. Wanda was already coming toward you, her fists and eyes red.

- I want you out of my home.

You wiped the grass from your clothes, laughing wryly.

- You are the one who came to my town, Wanda. - You say in a calmer tone. - I just want things back to normal, and more importantly, I want the newspaper vendor out of my bed.

- I don't understand what you are talking about. - Wanda says with a mixture of confusion and anger in her voice. You frown. Did she really not know what she was doing?

You looked away from her to Agatha, who seemed to be enjoying the whole conflict. You let out a grumble of annoyance.

- That is great. Fucking great. - You muttered as you began to walk in circles, wondering what exactly to do. - Look, I don't know exactly what's going on here. But I do know that this is not my life. And well, it's nobody's life either. That guy over there is not even from this universe! - You explain and point at Peter, or Pietro, with your finger. He looks at you with raised eyebrows. - I just need you to undo whatever this is all about.

- I don't ... - Wanda murmured, looking perplexed. You sighed.

- Maybe I can help you remember. - You suggest. Wanda nods her head in agreement.

Agatha approaches quickly, a smile on her lips.

- I would like to participate, please. - she says. You roll your eyes.

- This will only take a second. - You say tenderly to the redhead. And you raise a finger to her forehead and one to Agatha's, and then you remember.

You see Agatha's memories first. All the hate, and the ambition. She and Wanda walk beside you through the memories. You look closely, wrapped up in the feelings. Agatha had a lot of anger and a lot of hurt, but she was extremely powerful.

She doesn't seem to mind sharing, and even the most painful memories no longer affect her.

When you see Wanda's memories, however, everything seems to hurt like a freshly opened wound. The death of her parents, the loss of Pietro, and the death of Vision. You feel her emptiness, her pulsating pain. It takes the air out of your lungs, and you just wish you could take that feeling away from her. No one should ever feel this way. As you wade through the memories, you don't understand why none of the people in her life helped her deal with her grief.

When you stop looking at the memories, you are back in front of the house, no time has really passed in reality, only in your heads. Thick tears stream down Wanda's face, and you resist the urge to dry them, thinking that you didn't really have this intimacy.

But before you can say anything, Agatha lets out a laugh that startles both you and Wanda.

- Have you gone mad too? - You remark, but a purple haze comes over her, and then she is wearing a different costume. You figure it's her "`witch's outfit,'" and let out a giggle.

- You have no idea how dangerous you are, Mrs. Maximoff. - She says, lifting herself into the air with her own magic. You should know better, witches are always so dramatic. - You're supposed to be a myth.

Wanda looks a mixture of nervousness and impatience. You just cross your arms, waiting for the speech to be over.

- A being capable of spontaneous creation, and here you are. Using to serve breakfast for dinner. - Agatha says with irony. You frown slightly, not catching the reference. - All this little life you have created here. This is chaos magic, Wanda. And that makes you a Scarlet Witch.

- Okay, that's enough, right? - You interrupt, putting yourself in front of Wanda, only to look at Agatha impatiently. - What exactly are you planning to do? Because if I'm not going to help the city, my interest is zero.

Agatha looks really shocked by your intrusion, and it takes a second, or rather a muffled laugh from Peter, or Pietro, laughing at the situation for her to acquire an angry expression and launch a big magic energy ball at you.

Letting out an impatient sigh, you watch the shocked and impressed expressions as you just absorb Agatha's power.

- Good, let's do the introductions then. - You say, and raise your hand, pulling Agatha to the floor. All that theater was wearing you out. - My name is Y/N. I am what you call a mutant, or homo superior. My abilities consist of absorbing, altering, and enhancing the powers of other mutants. The cute one over there - you signaled Pietro - is from my universe too, his name is Peter Maximoff. I came to this world after an accident, about seven years ago. I never made it back. A bald woman put me in this city, and told me to live a quiet life here. And everything was fine, until you arrived. - You say, pointing at Wanda. - Look, I've never met any Wanda Maximoff in my world, but I know we have scarlet witches there. Anyway, would you have any way to remove the spell from Westview? I'd like to get back to my normal life.

Wanda is in shock for a few seconds, and Agatha lets out a laugh. Maybe she has finally given in to insanity, you think.

- You can't stand in my way! You don't know how much I've had to sacrifice to get here.

- Agatha, stop the drama. - You respond, walking over to her and helping her to her feet. - I didn't do anything, I just absorbed the magic you threw at me. What did you expect to do anyway, huh? Absorb Wanda's power?

Agatha grimaces, nodding. You roll your eyes.

- That's ridiculous, you have more than enough power, - you say. - What's the problem with villains and boundaries - You grumble and walk toward Wanda, smiling tenderly at her. - Hey, Wanda. Can we liberate the city now? I'll wait for you to say goodbye to Vision.

Wanda frowns, and you give her a sad smile. It takes a moment, but she nods, turning toward Vision, who had been watching everything in silence until now. She walks back into the house, fixing the wall she had thrown you through as she enters, and you figure they will say goodbye with a little privacy.

While you wait, you turn to Agatha and Peter.

- So who will tell me how he got here? - you ask, with a mixture of seriousness and playfulness in your voice.

Agatha sighs impatiently.

- I made a deal with a demon. Simple stuff, really. - She says.

You raise your eyebrow.

- Oh yeah, right. - You agree with irony. - Is he at least the Peter Maximoff of my world, or just a spiritual copy?

- You'll have to ask Mephisto that. - She answers. You let out a sigh, running out of patience. And then you walk over to Peter, and read his mind. And you see nothing but Westview.

- Great, it's empty. - You grumble. Peter looks surprised. - You have a whole life here. His name is Ralph by the way. - You say. - I just don't understand where the super speed comes from.

- Well, he's still a copy. - Agatha suggests, and you shrug, turning to her.

- I imagine you'll try something very illegal and dangerous if I let you out of here, huh? - You joke, and she flashes you a wry smile.

- You could be a nice girl, and lend me some of your abilities. - She looks at you suggestively. You raise your eyebrows wryly.

- On my world they said that a mutant like me would be responsible for annihilation. I don't think it would be wise to use my abilities on people as powerful as you.

Agatha fakes a hurt look, but you surprise her by holding her hands.

- You will stay away from Wanda, okay? - You ask tenderly, making Agatha's eyes widen. - Or I will drain every last drop of magic out of you myself.

What could you say, having seen all of someone's memories created a bond. You can't help but care about Wanda. In fact, you even cared about Agatha too.

You watched as Hex began to diminish, finally realizing that you were in a kind of bubble until now.

Putting your hands in your pockets, you smiled at the other two beside you. - I hope it doesn't hurt.

Peter laughed, but Agatha seemed too shocked by your last words to react to anything.

Hex finally reached you, and you watched the house in front of you turn into a plot of land. Wanda stood in the center, her head bowed.

You waited for her to walk over to you.

- What happens now? - she asked in a broken voice. You smiled, trying to cheer her up.

- I'll take you out for some hot chocolate. - You say, offering your arm for her to hold. Wanda gives you a sad smile, but accepts. As you walk with her toward your house, you wave to Agatha and Peter.

You let out an exclamation of joy when Mr. Whiskers runs to your feet just as you open the door. You pick him up, petting his ears as he purrs. Wanda follows you across the room, appearing unfocused.

You place him on the floor, and motion for Wanda to sit down, as you head toward the kitchen to prepare the chocolate for you two.

- Here it is. - You say as you bring the drink to Wanda. She has a lost look in her eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing exactly what to say. - Do you want to talk about it?

Wanda shrugs, tasting the chocolate.

- I don't know what else to say. - She confesses, her voice breaking. - I'm tired.

- I'm so sorry for everything, Wanda. - You say sincerely, looking at her. You want to wipe the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. - But I'm going to stay with you now. You won't be alone anymore.

Wanda looks away, tears finally streaming down her face. She excuses herself, wiping them away quickly.

- Why are you doing this? - she asks. - Why are you helping me?

- Why wouldn't I? - You shoot back as if it were obvious.

- I just kidnapped an entire city. You don't even know me.

- Everyone makes mistakes. - You joke and shrug. - Your mistakes are only bigger because of your magic. Besides, I saw your head. You were in pain, and you lost control. You would be surprised how many times I have seen this happen. - You count, and Wanda shakes her head in disbelief at your reassurance. You give her a smile, and signal her to drink the chocolate before it gets cold.

You are silent for a moment before she speaks again.

- I can't stay here. - she says. - This city. Vision... he...

- Let's leave, then. - You interrupt her, seeing that she was about to cry again.

She looks at you in surprise, laughing slightly.

- What are you saying? You live here.

- And? - You shrug your shoulders. - I can sell the house. Buy a van, live on the road. Take you to all the places you don't know. - You joke, making her smile. - I told you, Maximoff. You won't be alone. I like you.

Wanda places the mug on the coffee table in the living room and presses her face against her palms for a moment, sighing. Then she looks at you.

- And when are we going? - she asks and you smile, feeling excited.

- Whenever you want.

- Now.

You laugh, placing your mug next to hers on the table.

- Your wish is my command, madam. - You joked before getting up.

You stroked Mr. Whiskers from inside the shipping box while you were in the front seat of Wanda's car. She looked at you tenderly before she started the car, and you drove out of Westview.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #marvel imagines #wanda vision #wandaxreader

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