#felice is more than ready!

[altruistic-meme]

hands - a young royals study 2/?

[ season 1, episode 1 ]

part 1 / part 2

[causetheturtle]

Obsessed with the Young Royals finale.

Obsessed with Simon, Sara, Wilhelm and Felice driving away from a shutdown Hillerska, free from a system which was never going to accept them, happy and together.

Obsessed with how there’s still a chance Hillerska could reopen because that system is next to impossible to take down and the upper-class rarely face real consequences for their actions.

Obsessed with August’s face when he saw Wilhelm walking away, realising that he was trapped. Wilhelm said August was the heir they needed but he couldn’t have been more wrong - that man has bucket loads of trauma, an eating disorder he isn’t even close to ready to confront and no support system around him, he’s not gonna do much better with the role of Crown Prince than Wilhelm did.

Obsessed with Nils coming out to his friends and them easily accepting him, because their issue with Simon really was the fact that he was poor and a socialist, and Nils both still believes in the system he’s in and his queerness doesn’t destabilise the system the same way Wilhelm’s does.

Obsessed with Stella ending up with Fredrika, because although Rosh might have been fun to hang out with for a night Stella also still believes in and upholds the system she belongs to and Rosh was never going to fit in that system or uphold the traditional feminine values needed to survive in it.

Obsessed with how the monarchy is portrayed as unchangeable and impossible to modernise because it’s built on such outdated ideals.

Obsessed with the mix of both happy and open-ended endings.

I just adore it so much

[dailyrothko]

No, the Popularity of Abstract Art is Not the Result of a CIA PsyOp

If you are unlucky enough to move around the internet these days and talk about art, you’ll find that many “First commenters” will hit you with what they see as some hard truth about your taste in art. Comments usually start with how modern art is “money laundering” always comically misunderstanding what that means. What they are saying is that, of course, rich people use investments as tax shelters and things like expensive antiques and art appraised at high prices to increase their net worth. Oh my god, I’ve been red-pilled. The rich getting richer? I have never heard of such a thing.

What is conveniently left out of this type of comment is that the same valuation and financial shenanigans occur with baseball cards, wine, vacation homes, guitars, and dozens of other things. It does indeed happen with art, but even the kind that the most conservative internet curator can appreciate. After all, Rembrandts are worth money too, you just don’t see many because he’s not making any more of them. The only appropriate response to these people who are, almost inevitably themselves, the worst artists you have ever seen, is silence. It would cruel to ask about their own art because there’s a danger they might actually enjoy such a truly novel experience.

When you are done shaking your head that you just subjected yourself to an argument about the venality of poor artists plotting to make their work valuable after they died, you can certainly then enjoy the accompanying felicity of the revelation they have saved to knock you off your feet: “Abstract art is a CIA PsyOp”

Here one must get ready either to type a lot or to simply say “Except factually” and go along your merry, abstract-art-loving way. But what are the facts? Unsurprisingly with things involving US government covert operations, the facts are not so clear.

Like everything on the internet, you are unlikely to find factual roots to the arguments about government conspiracies and modern art. The mere idea of it is enough to bring blossom for the “I’m not a sheep” crowd, some of whom believe that a gold toilet owning former president is a morally good, honest hard-working man of the people.

The roots of this contention come from a 1973 article in Artforum magazine, where art critic Max Kozloff wrote about post-war American painting in the context of the Cold War, centering around Irving Sandler’s book, The Triumph of American Painting (1970). Kozloff takes on more than just abstract expressionism in his article but condemns the “Self-congratulatory mood”of Sandler’s book and goes on to suggest the rise of abstract expressionism was a “Benevolent form of propaganda”. Kozoloff treads a difficult line here, asserting that abstraction was genuinely important to American art but that its luminaries, “have acquired their present blue-chip status partly through elements in their work that affirm our most recognizable norms and mores.”

While there were rumblings of agreements around Kozloff’s article of broad concerns, it did not give birth to an actual conspiracy theory at the time. The real public apprehension of this idea seems to mostly come from articles written by historian Frances Stonor Saunders in support of her book, “The Cultural Cold War: The CIA and the World of Arts and Letters” (New York, New Press, 2000). (I have not read this 525 page book, only excerpts).

The gist of Ms. Saunders argument is a tantalizing, but mostly unsupported, labyrinthine maze of back door funding and novelistic cloak and dagger deals. According to Saunders, the Congress for Cultural Freedom (CCF), an anti-communist cultural organization founded in 1950, was behind the promotion of Abstract art as part of their effort to be opinion makers in the war against communism. In 1966 it was revealed that the CCF was funded by the CIA. Saunders says that the CCF financed a litany of art exhibitions including “The New American Painting” which toured Europe in the late 1950s. Some of this is true, but it’s difficult, if not impossible, to know the specifics.

Noted expert in abstract-expressionism, David Anfam said CIA presence was real. It was “a well-documented fact” that the CIA co-opted Abstract Expressionism in their propaganda war against Russia. “Even The New American Painting [exhibition] had some CIA funding behind it,” he says. But the reasons for this are not quite what the abstract art detractors might be looking for. After all, the CCF also funded the travel expenses for the Boston Symphony Orchestra and promoted Fodor’s travel guides. More than trying to pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, it was meant to showcase the freedom artists in the US. enjoyed. Or as Anfam goes on to say, “It’s a very shrewd and cynical strategy, because it showed that you could do whatever you liked in America.”

For what it’s worth, Saunders’s book was eviscerated in the Summer 2000 issue of Art Forum at the time of its publication. Robert Simon wrote:

“Saunders draws extensively on primary and secondary sources, focusing on the convoluted money trail as it twists through dummy corporations, front men, anonymous donors, and phony fund-raising events aimed at filling the CCF’s coffers. She makes lengthy forays into such topics as McCarthyism, the formation and operation of the CIA, the propaganda work of the Hollywood film industry, and New York cultural politics—from Partisan Review to MoMA to Abstract Expressionism. Yet what seems strangely absent from Saunders’s panoramic history, as if it were a minor detail or something too obvious to require discussion, is the cultural object itself: The complex specifics of the texts, exhibitions, intellectual gatherings, paintings, and performances of the culture war are largely left out of the story.”

Another problem with the book seems to be that Saunders is an historian but not an art historian. For me, I sensed an overtone of superiority in the tale she’s spinning and most assuredly from those that repeat its conclusion. The thinly veiled message of some is that if it were “Real art” it would not have had be part of this government subterfuge. The reality is very different. For one thing, most of us know it is simply not true that you can make people devoted to a type of art for 100 years that they would sensibly hate otherwise. Another issue is that it’s quite obvious none of the artists actually knew about any government interference if there was any. Pollock, Rothko, Gottlieb and Newmann were all either communists or anarchists. Hardly the group one would recruit the help the US government free the world of communism. Additionally, this narrow cold war timeline ignores a huge amount of abstract art that Jackson Pollock haters also revile and consider part of the same hijacking of high (Frankly, Greek, Roman, or Renaissance) culture. If you look at the highly abstract signature work of Piet Mondrian and observe the dates they were painted, you’ll see 1908, 1914, 1916. This is some of the art denigrated as a CIA PsyOP, 35 years before the CIA even thought about it. Modern art didn’t come from nowhere as many would have you believe to discredit its rise. There was Surrealism, Dada, Bauhaus, Russian futurism and a host of other movements that fueled it.

Generally, people like to argue. On the internet, “I don’t like this” is a weak statement that always must be replaced by “This is garbage” or my favorite, “This is fake.”

It’s hardly surprising that the more conservative factions of our society look for any government involvement in our lives to explain why things are not exactly as they wish them to be, given the (highly ironic) conservative government-blaming that blew up after Reagan. In addition, modern fascists have always had a love affair with the classical fantasy of Greece and Rome. Both Mussolini and Hitler used Greece and Rome as “Distant models” to address their uncertain national identity. The Nazis confiscated more than 5,000 works in German museums, presenting 650 of them in the Entartete Kunst (Degenerate Art, 1937) show to demonstrate the perverted nature of modern art. It featured artists including Marc Chagall, Max Ernst, Wassily Kandinsky, and Paul Klee, among others. The fear of art was real. It was the fear of ideas.

To a lot of people on the internet just the mentioning a “CIA program” is enough to get the cogs turning, but as with many things, the reality of CIA programs and government plots is often less than evidence of well planned coup.

The CIA reportedly spent 20 millions dollars on Operation Acoustic Kitty which intended to use cats to spy on the Kremlin and Soviet embassies. Microphones were planted on cats and plans were set in motion to get the cats to surreptitiously record important conversations. However, the CIA soon discovered that they were cats and not agreeable to any kind of regulation of their behavior.

As part of Operation Mongoose the CIA planned to undermine Castro's public image by putting thallium salts in his shoes, which would cause his beard to fall out, while he was on a trip outside Cuba. He was expected to leave his shoes outside his hotel room to be polished, at which point the salts would be administered. The plan was abandoned because Castro canceled the trip.

Regardless of your feelings on this subject or how much you believe abstract art benefited from government dollars, Saunders herself quotes in her book a CIA officer apparently involved in these “Long leash” influence operations. He says, “We wanted to unite all the people who were writers, who were musicians, who were artists, to demonstrate that the West and the United States was devoted to freedom of expression and to intellectual achievement, without any rigid barriers as to what you must write, and what you must say, and what you must do.” Hardly the Illuminati plot we were promised.

In 2016, Irving Sandler, author of the book that started Kozloff tirading in 1973, told Alastair Sooke of The Daily Telegraph, “There was absolutely no involvement of any government agency. I haven’t seen a single fact that indicates there was this kind of collusion. Surely, by now, something – anything – would have emerged. And isn’t it interesting that the federal government at the time considered Abstract Expressionism a Communist plot to undermine American society?”

This blog post contains information and quotes sourced from The Piper Played to Us All: Orchestrating the Cultural Cold War in the USA, Europe, and Latin America, Russell H. Bartley International Journal of Politics, Culture, and Society, Vol. 14, No. 3 (Spring, 2001), pp. 571-619 (49 pages) https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20161004-was-modern-art-a-weapon-of-the-cia https://brill.com/view/journals/fasc/8/2/article-p127_127.xml?language=en https://www.guggenheim-bilbao.eus/en/learn/schools/teachers-guides/the-dark-side-of-classicism https://www.artforum.com/features/american-painting-during-the-cold-war-212902/ https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/modern-art-was-cia-weapon-1578808.html https://www.artforum.com/columns/frances-stonor-saunders-162391/ https://www.artforum.com/features/abstract-expressionism-weapon-of-the-cold-war-214234/ Mark Rothko and the Development of American Modernism 1938-1948 Jonathan Harris, Oxford Art Journal, Vol. 11, No. 1 (1988), pp. 40-50 (11 pages)

[yurmomsawh0r]

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 - 𝐄. 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

.*•.*• 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 - 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱- 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨.

𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫! 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦. 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 (𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝), 𝐔𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝

.*•.*• 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥!😭

“Are you all dressed and ready my love?” You called out to your two year old daughter as you grabbed all your things. “Yes mama! I ready.” She giggled as she slipped into her crocs but with each shoe on the wrong foot.

You smiled at her goofiness and bent down to help her with her shoes. “You put them on the wrong feet baby, but I’ll help you.” You smiled up at her. Obsessed with her cute little face. She was the perfect mixture of you and Eren. Her greens eyes resembling his all the way.

You were running late, but it was your fault. You had forgotten to pack her bag last night, resulting in you running around the house trying to get everything together.

Grabbing her hand, you raced out the house but not before locking it behind you.

“I can’t wait to see Vivi today! She said we would make cookies the last time!” Aaliyha spouted happily in her car seat. Making you smile at her. You were happy with how comfortable your daughter was with your friend Felicity. Luckily enough she also had a daughter that was a year older than yours. Her name was Vivica but Aaliyha called her Vivi. “Can you try to save mommy some cookies baby?”

“Otay mama.”

-

After you dropped her off you raced down to your job. It was a new club that had just opened up about a year ago and it was already pretty popular. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬 was the name and you worked their as a bartender/server, but recently you’ve been thinking about switching to an aerialist dancer since they a little made more money.

Keeping up with your bills was starting to get a little hard, especially since your daughter was getting older and her expenses were getting more costly by the year.

I wish Eren was here to help me. I probably wouldn’t have to work so hard. Shit, I probably wouldn’t have to do anything if he was here.

But that was just something you’d have to deal with. After all Eren had no idea he even had a daughter to begin with.

Two years ago, when you had found out you were pregnant, you decided to make the biggest decision in your life. Taking a few stacks of his cash you knew he had hidden and disappeared.

Of course you didn’t want to hurt him, but Eren was starting to change into someone you couldn’t recognize and bringing a baby in the mix of who he was becoming scared you.

You see, Eren used to be a sweet boy. Although he was the plug for weed he always had his head on right. That was until he started to deal with heavier drugs. He slowly started to become colder, more detached and distant. . .

I knew he had gone two far when he started to come home late at night when he thought you would be sleeping. Blood being splattered all over him.

Although Eren always kept you away from the dangerous lifestyle he was getting into, you saw what it was turning him into and it was becoming to much for you.

It scared you.

So you left, and haven’t looked back for two whole years.

You did miss him though. He was the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. He was always one to spoil you and tell you how beautiful you are. Always catering to your needs. Listening to your opinions and ambitions.

You loved the way he made you feel. So safe and secure.

You missed being in his arms. The way he kissed your neck on all your sweet spots.

The way his fingers scissored your pussy, leaving you drippin’ wet. You missed the way his dick bruised your walls and rubbed your insides with all his curved 8 inch glory.

No matter how many guys you had fucked after you left him, none of them could get you off like Eren did.

Yes you missed him.

Even now. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the moment. Your body burning up just from the memories.

“Hey boo, you good?” Jordan, your coworker asked you. Snapping you out of your lustful thoughts.

“Yea girl I’m fine.” You tried to reassure her, but she wasn’t fooled. “You sure? You seem like you got a fever,” she placed a hand on your forehead. “And you feel hot.”

You smacked your lips, and brushed her hand off. “J come on, let’s get this money bitch.”

“Mm, let me guess you was thinking about yo ex again.” Jordan teased you. Placing a hand on her hip as she eyed you. You couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Yea I was thinking’ bout that nigga.” You couldn’t help from telling the truth. For some reason the past couple of months he’s been on your mind far more often than not.

Putting your small waistline apron on, you got to work.

-

Eren couldn’t believe his eyes. He sat frozen with his hand tightly gripping his glass filled with whisky. He tried to keep his composure as best as he could as to not alert his newest business partner. Eren could feel his heart beating faster and faster in his chest.

He just couldn’t believe it. There you were just across the floor, serving customers. His customers. Who would have thought that after two years, fate would lead you back to him.

“Eren?” Jean called out to him. He glanced in his direction. Jeans eyes subtly moving from the client back to him.

“𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐖𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.” Eren told the two men in grey suits. Soon, Eren would have his own casino on a remote island. There he would host a black market auction that sold only the rarest of treasures.

The two men in grey suits stood up and offered their hands to shake.

Once Eren saw they were out of the club, his attention immediately went back to where you stood. You looked different, but he knew it was you. He’d never mistake that pretty face for someone else’s.

Your hair was no longer the long length it had been. It was not cut short and styled in finger waves. Your face sported two new nose piercings along with a few new tattoos from what he could see.

He also noticed that you were no longer the skinny bodied female he knew two years ago. Your breast had gotten heavier. No longer the small B cups. Even your hips had spread. The way your mini skirt clung to you let him see just how big your ass had gotten.

Finally - he thought. I’ve fucking found you.

-

That night, Eren had followed you home. You didn’t live that far from the club and that gave him the satisfaction of knowing just how close you were.

The next day, he had a close friend of his bring up a file on you. To say he was shocked to find out that you had a child was an understatement. He was furious.

It was like he was staring right into he own eyes. She looked just like a mixture of the both of you. Already, Eren could tell that she was his.

He couldn’t help but be upset with you. First you leave unannounced and then you have his daughter and didn’t think to tell him anything. He would have taken care of you guys. He would have given you both the world.

So why. Why did you do it? Why did you leave him?

All these questions that would soon be answered when he had you back. And this time he didn’t plan on letting you go.

-

You had just dropped Aaliyha off at day care for a few hours so that you could get some time to yourself today.

It had been a pretty busy week for you and you needed a small break to recuperate and gather your thoughts. Maybe even do a little self care.

You decide you deserved a nice looong hot steamy shower. So you made your way upstairs and stripped out of your leggings and sports bra. Turning the water to hot, and letting it warm up, you went and grabbed your speaker.

Cleo Sol played in the background as you stepped into your shower, washing all your worries away. The hot water loosening all the stiffness in your back.

30 minutes had passed and you finally decided to wash your body. Grabbing your pomegranate scented soap, you scrubbed the dirt and grime from off of you.

You stepped out of the shower and wrapped your fluffy towel around yourself and wiped your feet of any extra water feeling ten times better than you did before. After doing your face routine, you applied pomegranate scented lotion to your body before leaving your bathroom.

You weren’t really paying attention as you made your way to your dresser. Dropping the towel without a care in the world.

“𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚, 𝐈’𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈’𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.”

You halted in your spot. That voice. It couldn’t be. . .

A gasp escaped you as you glanced over your shoulder.

Erens’ piercing green eyes stared right at you. They were menacing. He sat on your bed shirtless, pants unbuttoned with a blunt in his hand already sparked.

“𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭? 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞? 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.“ He said as he took a hit. You gulped.

You didn’t really know what to say or how to react. Apart of you were happy that he was here. You missed him, but . . . The other part of you was scared. How had he even found you. How had he even got into your apartment!?

Quickly, you fumbled to pick up your towel and wrap it around yourself once you realized you were completely naked in front of him.

This only made him laugh. A smirk playing on his face. This snapped you back into reality. If it was one thing, you hated being laughed at.

“The fuck is so funny Yeager!?” You raised your voice at him. Your face filled with an attitude he missed. Just seeing it made his dick jump.

“𝐎𝐡 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.” He said as he put the blunt out on your pink comforter before standing. It was like he had grown taller. His body was more muscular than it was the last time you seen him. His hair was tied back in a low bun. Something you always thought was sexy on him.

His knuckles sported new tattoos and even a few lingered on his body as well. He pretty much looked the same but something definitely changed about him.

It was like he was a whole different person, and this person is someone you wouldn’t want to cross.

He took a step towards you. “𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬.“

“𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬.“ He spoke lowly as he took a few more steps.

“𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.“ As he said this, you couldn’t help but feel heartbroken for him.

You knew he was angry, you knew he had every right to be, and you were sorry, but you couldn’t fix the past. You weren’t sure that even if you could, you would want too.

You had to remember, you thought you were doing what was best for her. You stared at Eren from underneath your lashes. A pout sitting in your face as he towered over you.

“𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫.“

Now this made tears well up and fall from you. “I-I’m s-sorry. I d-d, I-I wasn’t trying t-to-“

He only shushed you. Tilting your tear stricken face upward towards him. “𝐖𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.” Not a second later, he pressed his lip’s against yours with a sizzling need. He gripped the towel you were holding onto, yanking it away from your body.

The sudden change in your body temperature caused you to flinch at how cold it was suddenly. “Mm!” You cried out when he gripped your short tuffs of hair, pulling your head back so he could stick his tongue deeper down your throat.

His hands wandered down and gripped your ass in his large hands. Another thing you missed about him. “𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚.“ Eren spoke in between kissing you. He lifted you into his arms and walked you both to your bed, you sucking on his tongue, devouring his mouth with your own.

It had been so long since you’ve felt like this and you were to far gone to have any rational thoughts to stop. He laid you down on the bed before lifting up just to cup your breast.

“𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.“ He gripped your nipples, twisting slightly, making your body arch up. “𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬?“ You nodded, but squealed when he flicked your nipple.

“𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.“

“Yes Eren, I missed you.” You couldn’t help but whine. This made him grin. His finger rubbing slow circles around your clit.

“Oh yesss!”

“𝐇𝐦𝐩𝐡, 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲. 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞..” He spoke — slipping two fingers inside you, making a ‘come here’ motion.

Your legs opened wider for him. Your body writhing in pleasure as he took you to a place you haven’t been in a long time.

“Oh fuck! Pleeaassee keep doing that!”

Eren continued his assault on you. Kissing his way down your body until his mouth hovered over your pussy.

“𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚?“

“Yes daddy! Please, I missed this.” Your body was shaking as the orgasm pulsed through you. Erens fingers were now coated in your wet creamy cum.

Erens lips latched on to your clit suckling just the way you liked. Your moans grew louder and louder as he did. His tongue lapping up your juices, making the most embarrassing wet noises ever, but you didn’t care.

All you cared about was how good this man was making you feel.

“Uh, boss? Do you want us to clear everything out, or take only the important stuff?” A big hulking figure asked from the door way causing you to scream.

Eren lifted his head from between your legs slowly. He looked behind him with a menacing look that made the big guy take a step back.

“Sorry boss, I’ll uh- figure it out.” He said before tuning and leaving, only for two more guys to come in and start grabbing things from out of your closet. They paid you both no mind. Just simply grabbing what needed to be grabbed and walking out without a glance your way.

“EREN WHAT THE FUCK!” You yelled. You weren’t so comfortable with men coming in and out of your room while you were naked and being eatin’ out. Eren ignored you though, and lowered his head in between your thighs, licking away like a starved animal.

You tried to hold in your moans as best as you could but another orgasm ripped from you.

“𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲.“ He taunted.

Once he removed himself from your thighs, he took his own pants off with his boxers following. His cock stood at attention. Dripping pre-nut and sporting thick veins. He was ready for you.

You couldn’t help close your legs slightly. It had been a while since you had sex, and you knew this was going to be a little uncomfortable. I doubt Eren was not going to take it easy on you.

“𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐧𝐨𝐰.”

And you did. Slowly but surely you did. “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.“ He gripped the back of your knees. Grinding his dick against you a couple of times before he pushed himself inside.

Your hands flew to his abdomen trying to slow down his intrusion but it did little to stop him. He was now fully seethed inside of you. The feeling of being full was so foreign to you but it felt so good.

It felt good to be filled by him again.

“𝐍𝐨𝐰, 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞?“

He thrusted into you at a fast pace. You gripped his arms tightly as he assaulted your womb. His ball clapped against your ass in a steady repetitive motion that only added to your lust filled heat.

“𝐇𝐮𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚?! 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮?“ He asked you again. This time going faster. “Ah! Yess, yess daddy! I m-mmissed youuuu!”

Your third - or fourth orgasm tore through your body once again. Your slick making it easier for him to go deeper.

“Yesss ‘REN! Just like that daddy!” You could feel him brush against your cervix with every thrust. He groans getting mixed in with our own.

You could tell he was close to nutting. His once hard thrust becoming sloppy but still working your pussy.

“𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.“ Eren grunted, his nut filling you up with one last thrust. The both of you panting and out of breath.

When he slid from the warmth of your walls, he quickly threw your towel back over you and slipped back into his boxers and jeans, lighting the same blunt he had put out earlier. His men still walking in and out of the room with your things as if nothing ever happened.

“𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

[lushrue]

frozen hearts pt 8

simon gets his time in the spotlight! just a heads up, updates may slow down a little bit more since my semester starts next week, but i'm gonna try my best to stay consistent! feel free to send asks in between chapters if you want more of these boys!

cw: angst (if you squint), simon's got issues

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, keep pushing, 4, 3, almost there, 1.

simon groaned as he re-racked the barbell, wiping some sweat from his forehead and sitting up on the bench. these morning workouts were sacred to him. they were a chance for him to clear his head, think about nothing for a little while. with the heavy metal blasting in his ears, there was nothing else to worry about. except today, it wasn’t working quite as well as usual.

“struggled a bit at the end there.” price’s voice came from behind him. john was his dedicated spotter, always hovering right behind him. simon hadn’t been able to convince him he didn’t need one, not after he got lost in his head once and nearly crushed himself under the weight of his worries and the metal bar. he grunted in reply, grabbing his water from where it sat beside the bench. “jus’ havin’ an off mornin’,” he muttered, taking a swig from the bottle. as open and honest with john as he was, he didn’t want to admit just what had thrown him off.

it was you. beautiful, irresistible you that he got to have all to himself tonight. his thoughts hadn’t stopped since he sent you that text, all but demanding you go on a date with him. he’d never considered himself as having a felicity of expression, but that had felt more brutish than his usual offhand comment to you. he’d agonized over that text for hours, writing and rewriting and asking kyle for advice and then rewriting again. it still hadn’t quite come out how he’d wanted it. you’d responded favorably enough in your usual cheery manner, but he couldn’t help but worry about what your true thoughts were. did you hate him? did you think he was an ass for being so direct? or did you like the more direct approach? do you want to be with everyone else and not him?

the truth was, he wasn’t sure if he deserved you. he’d had to overcome that roadblock with all three of his men, placing trust in them that made his skin crawl to think about. his bloody, beating heart laid in all of their hands. he was just lending it to them for a while. it had taken him so long to give them that privilege and they’d always treated it with the reverence and care it deserved. simon wasn’t ready to hand himself over to you like that just yet and tonight would be the most vulnerable he’d ever been with you. it had kept him tossing and turning all night, eyes red-rimmed and bleary when johnny rose to kiss him good morning. price had tried to convince him to take his workout easy today, the exhaustion hanging heavy on his bones like a winter coat that was two sizes too big. pushing himself felt good, though. if he pushed himself, he could focus on the ache in his muscles rather than the tightness in his chest.

john walked around the bench, kneeling in front of simon and placing a gentle hand on his knee. price knew him best, knew what he’d been through better than anyone. they were the original two, together longer than johnny and kyle had even known them. while simon revealed pieces of himself to his partners in his own time, john had the full puzzle, a mismatched mosaic of loss and pain and suffering. simon flinched at the touch, his eyes darting from a speck of protein bar on the floor to his lover. he cleared his throat, running a hand over his face. “‘m fine,” he murmured, setting his water bottle back down. his fingers were stiff from how tight he’d been holding it.

john shook his head, raising a hand to hold simon’s chin. “y’r not,” he replied, his tone even and matter-of-fact. he’d learned early on that simon wouldn’t suffer anyone’s pity. “our li’l skater gotcha all out of sorts, hmm?” he huffed, almost frustrated that john could read him so easily. that was all the answer price needed, nudging simon’s thigh to get him to make room on the bench. he sat down beside him, keeping a grounding hand on simon’s arm. touch from a trusted person helped, he’d found. “they already like you, simon. they wouldn’t have agreed to any of this if they didn’t.” 

there was that pesky trust again. john couldn’t truly know what you were thinking, so simon just had to trust his assessment of the situation. sometimes he wished he was a mind reader. it would take so much of the guesswork out of it. no chance to fail, no chance to get it wrong. “yeah,” simon muttered, resting his arms on his thighs and clenching his hands together. “‘m tryin’ to believe tha’.” a long moment of silence passed. john sat patiently, his eyes trained on the sweaty man beside him. simon would speak in his own time, once he gathered his thoughts and translated from his own internal language to something others would understand. 

“i wan’ to be with ‘em,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “haven’ liked anyone this much since kyle. they’re…” he hesitated, his voice trailing off as his mind started working again. “they’re lovely and beautiful and so fuckin’ kind. don’ wanna fuck it up.” john reached down and grabbed his phone, turning off the music and letting silence fall over the gym. iron maiden didn’t feel like the appropriate backdrop for this conversation. “you did jus’ fine when we were courtin’ kyle,” john said, squeezing simon’s bicep. simon scoffed in response, his knuckles turning white under the force of his grip. he remembered the same sleepless nights and paralyzing worry, the fear that he’d have to watch his partners love a man that didn’t love him in return. wouldn’t call that “jus’ fine”, he thought.

“you did,” john insisted, tilting his head so that he could look simon in the eye. “you migh’ not believe it,” he started, “but y’r a pretty handsome bastard.” simon blushed at that, running a hand through his damp blond curls. “y’r funny when you wanna be. made me laugh within a minute of meetin’ ya. and y’r gentle. off the ice, anyway.” john let out a laugh, taking simon’s hands in his and stroking over his knuckles. “you don’ have to tell ‘em everything, si.” simon raised his head, looking at john. he hadn’t intended to tell you anything yet, didn’t want to scare you off, but it felt better to hear someone say it. it felt like permission. “jus’ give ‘em a little bit, yeah? show ‘em there’s a heart under all tha’ muscle.”

at that, simon chuckled, the tightness in his throat easing until swallowing felt like less of a chore. “yeah. think i can do tha’.”

you put your car into park and cut the engine, slinging your skating bag over your shoulder. you’d almost been surprised when simon asked to meet you at the rink. everyone else so far had taken you somewhere that had nothing to do with your sport. something besides the ice. that’s what johnny had said that night at the bar, and they’d seemed to take it seriously. this was simon’s element, though. this was where he felt most comfortable, where he seemed the most himself. you wondered what it was exactly about skating that loosened him up. when he was on the ice, he didn’t seem to care about how much space he took up or how other people perceived him. he had a role to play, and he played it well.

you stepped into the building, the cold air hitting you and making you shiver. the temperature change always sent a shock through your system no matter how much you tried to brace yourself. you wrapped your sweatshirt a little tighter around yourself, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you walked through the doors to the rink. the benches were empty, devoid of the crowds that usually flocked for free skate in the evenings. the only sound was simon’s skates scraping against the ice as he skated up and down the length of the rink. as you took a seat on one of the benches, pulling off your boots and changing your socks, you could see the glint of a rough-hewn figure eight on the surface of the ice. it looked like it’d been passed over many times, simon’s version of pacing on skates. you waved to catch his eye, and he gave you a nod as he passed you.

he finished his rotation before skating to the edge, leaning against the wall in front of where you sat. “get here alrigh’?” he asked, resting his arms on the ledge. you nod, pulling your skates on and starting to lace them up. “yeah, it’s always a pleasant drive.” the small talk felt stale with simon, completely different from johnny and kyle. it didn’t come naturally to him, which made you draw into yourself a bit. interacting with simon alone had always been a bit difficult for you because of how closed off he was. he didn’t share as freely as the others did; you knew nothing about his family or childhood, only that he grew up in manchester. you weren’t even sure you knew his favorite color. simon seemed to notice your hesitance and stiffened up, shifting on his feet and staring down at the ice.

as you pulled the guards off of your skates and moved to step onto the ice, simon held up a hand to stop you. “grab us a couple of sticks first,” he said, motioning to the tub of equipment that sat beside the hockey benches. you looked at the sticks, then at him, slowly putting the pieces together. “you’re gonna make me play hockey, aren’t you?” you asked, a small smile on your face. he shrugged, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “nah, thought we’d toss the sticks ‘cross the ice ‘n see how far we can get ‘em to slide.” you snort, shaking your head in amusement as you step over and grab two sticks. with your back turned, you missed the way simon smiled at your laughter.

you grab the one that was wrapped in his tape color, a dark purple that suited his personality perfectly. you pull out one without tape for yourself, stepping onto the ice and passing him his stick. “i’ll warn you, i’m much better suited to figure skating,” you said, brushing the stick across the ice to get a feel for it. simon hummed thoughtfully, turning his stick in his hand and leaning against it. he could only imagine what you’d look like swallowed up by all the pads and gear. a more possessive part of him envisioned you wearing his jersey, cheering all of them on from the stands. he swallowed down the thought, turning his focus back to the matter at hand. “‘m sure you’ll be great,” he said, skating closer to you.

you smile up at him, mischief in your eyes. he knew that look well, had seen it on johnny so many times when his partner was going to ask him to do something outside his comfort zone. he froze, cocking an eyebrow at you. “i’ll do this on one condition,” you say, flipping the stick over in your hands. simon scoffed, shaking his head. “you been this pushy on all y’r dates, lovie?” he asked in amusement. you laugh, the sound echoing in the empty rink. “no, i saved this all for you,” you joke, the interactions feeling easier the longer you stood there. “if you’re gonna teach me hockey stuff, i get to teach you some figure skating stuff too.”

simon hesitated, his eyes widening a little bit. he wasn’t graceful like you. he was all hard muscle, built for speed and physicality. he’d trained his body to be a wall, an immovable object that he could throw in between his teammate and an opponent. walls couldn’t figure skate. still, john had urged him to give into you. show a bit of vulnerability, give as much as he was comfortable giving. while the idea wasn’t entirely appealing, the smile on your face was too convincing. “fine,” he grunted, which made you smile wider. “but i go first, yeah? i’m runnin’ this show, after all.” you nod your head, bowing in acquiescence. “whatever you wish.”

he couldn’t help the soft smile that curled the corners of his lips. you were so easy, just like johnny. he could get used to you. he skated behind you, tucking his stick under his arm. “first things first, you gotta know how to hold the stick,” he said, grabbing your elbows and tilting your arms to position the stick against the ice. his hands slid down your arms to your hands, making you shiver. goosebumps followed his touch, both from the temperature of his fingers and the proximity of him. none of them had gotten this close to you on your dates. “ya righ’-handed or left-handed?” he asked, and you hold up your right hand. he shifted it towards the top of the stick, putting your left hand lower down.

“this one’s y’r control hand,” he said, covering his right hand with yours. you hadn’t realized until now how much bigger he was than you. “it’s the one that’s gonna keep the stick steady ‘n guide it where you wan’ it to go.” he repositioned your left hand, loosening your grip. “you wanna keep this hand loose. needs to be flexible so you can move the puck around better.” he skated back, giving you some space. you moved the stick across the ice again, feeling the difference in how easily you could maneuver. simon smiled, a hint of pride flickering across his face. he’d never considered himself a particularly good teacher, but you were certainly proving to be a receptive student.

as you got a feel for the new grip on the stick, he grabbed a puck from the wall, tossing it down on the ice. he nudged it over to you, adjusting his own grip and leaning forward a little. “hit it to me,” he said, his eyes shifting between you and the puck. you turn towards him, flexing your fingers and tapping the puck with your stick. it glided over to simon, who hit it back to you. you smiled as the two of you passed the slab of rubber back and forth. it reminded you of the games you’d play with your friends as a kid, hitting a balloon back and forth to see how long you could keep it in the air.

“y’r a natural,” he said, so softly you almost missed it. when you passed the puck back to him, he kept it, controlling it with surprising ease as he skated towards the blue line. you followed, watching as he positioned the puck for you. “wanna try ‘n shoot?” he asked, flashing you an amused smirk. you nod and he beckons you over, holding your hips to position you. despite the cold, heat flares up under his fingertips. your body feels warm, cheeks heating up as you take in his proximity. standing there in that moment, you realize that you quite like his touch. he’d barely so much as brushed fingers with you up until now.

it took a moment for you to realize that he’d been speaking to you, coaching you on how to execute a slapshot. you blink as you look back at him, a slightly dazed look on your face. he stopped speaking, taking in your expression before scoffing. “weren’t listenin’, were ya?” sheepishly, you shake your head. even though you know you have nothing to fear from him, he’s still intimidating at the end of the day. he’s big, broad, tall. you’re sure he could bench your weight on the worst day. instead of the scolding you expected, he just smiles in that non-commital way he does. “alright, i’ll say it again. but pay attention this time, yeah?” you nod, letting him coach you through it.

it took you many, many unsuccessful attempts. your shots were too wide, or too slow, or your grip wasn’t right. watching the puck soar over the net, you were almost beginning to think you’d never get it right. but then it happened. your momentum was just right, your swing had just enough power, and the puck hit the back of the net with a satisfying thwack. you squeal in delight, beaming with pride and excitement as you look up at simon. to your surprise, he’s looking right at you. has been the whole time, really. he could watch a puck soar through the air any night he wanted. it wasn’t every day that it was you hitting it. “perfect shot,” he praised, a brightness in his eyes that you were unfamiliar with. “if there was a goalie there, ya woulda blown a hole right through ‘em.”

you weren’t sure you entirely believed him, but it felt good to hear nonetheless. there’s a moment of awkwardness between you. if you were closer with him, the slot would’ve been filled by a hug or some kind of tender affection. simon shifted on his skates as if considering his next move. you tried not to be startled when he held his fist out to you. you’d seen price do the same to the boys when they scored a goal. it made your chest warm, made you feel like you were part of their world. you smile wide as you bump your fist against his.

the two of you take a few more shots at the net before you insist on switching gears. you were far too eager to show simon some of your tricks and feel the pride of successful teaching. simon grumbled a little as he put away the gear, but inside, he was bristling with excitement. this was intimacy and closeness that didn’t require vulnerability. sure, there was always the fear of falling on his ass, but it was just you. no one was watching, no one was judging. it was part of the reason he’d bought out the rink for the night. all that hockey money had to go somewhere.

you anxiously pick at the ice with the toe of your skate, practically vibrating as he skated back over to you. “this is gonna be so fun,” you say, almost like a promise. simon raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was unconvinced, and you smack him playfully. “i went along with your hockey stuff, so now, you have to go along with my stuff. deal?” begrudgingly, he nods and you clap your hands, unable to contain the energy. you grab his hand and pull him back towards the blue line, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. “i won’t make you do anything crazy. just some simple stuff, okay?” he nods again and you take up your place on the line beside him. “okay…um, crossovers. i don’t think you do those a lot in hockey,” you say, almost as if you’re talking to yourself.

“just step and cross your feet along the line first so you know how it feels. use the inside edge of one skate and the outside edge of another.” you demonstrate first, eyes trained on your feet. you’re reminded of being a little girl, taking lessons from your coach and learning your basic skills. it’d been a long time since you’d broken them down like this. simon’s first steps are unsteady, unused to using his skates like this. it didn’t help that hockey skates weren’t exactly built for the same delicacy that figure skates were, but you were both making do. eventually, though, he’s moving at your pace, watching his feet more often instead of yours.

“good, that’s great,” you praise. he seems to blossom, opening up to reveal a soft center the more he spends time with you. the small glimpses you’ve gotten up till now have been beautiful; what would it look like when his walls were completely torn down? before you can think any longer on it, you take his hand again and skate with him to the center face-off circle. “now we’ll try it moving. think you got it?” simon laughs, letting himself drift slowly around the circle. “i didn’t learn to skate yesterday, lovie. think i c’n handle myself, yeah?” he stares down at his feet and starts to skate around the circle. 

you stand in the center and watch, a hand on your mouth stifling your laughter. he’s crossing his feet over, but barely. he’s skating like a hockey player. you suppose you can’t be too surprised; it’s in his nature, it’s what he knows. but it lacks the grace, the gentleness of what figure skating is supposed to be. he catches you out of the corner of his eye and stops, shrugging his shoulders. “wha’? though’ i was doin’ a fine job.” you laugh at that, skating closer to him. “you were, simon. it’s just that…it wasn’t very delicate.” he scoffs, crossing his arms defensively. “y’seen me? not exactly delicate, am I?”

you have to concede, he’s not the most dainty thing on the surface. “figure skaters don’t have to be,” you counter, skating around the circle to demonstrate. you lift your leg as you push off and switch your weight, every move a delicate balance between your upward force and gravity’s downward one. you’re pushing just enough to propel yourself forward, to lift your leg from the surface of the ice, but letting gravity do enough work that your leg rises slowly. it looks effortless when you do it, simon thinks. it’s like you were built for it, hand-sculpted by God for the purpose of creating beauty for people to enjoy.

you stop yourself, using the leftover momentum to skate back around to him. “you just have to move like you are. pretend you’re floating on air. imagine how weightless you’d feel.” simon wasn’t sure it made sense to him. a person couldn’t be weightless. but for you, he’d humor the thought. he started to skate around the circle again, this time with you following him. he closed his eyes, drifting off and pretending to be a cloud. it was hard to see himself as some white, fluffy, soft thing. he was anything but, all hard corners and jagged edges. still, you watched breathlessly as he began to glide across the ice, like his skates were barely touching the surface. you skated around with him like that for a while, watching the weight seem to lift off his shoulders. you’d never realized until now how world-weary he looked.

when he opened his eyes, he was met with your smiling face and your hand in his. and to his surprise, he smiled back.

simon walked you out to your car with a bit of a limp. you’d tried to teach him how to spin, which had resulted in many spills on the ice. you were sure his hip would be black and blue in the morning, but not once had he complained. there was laughter, levity, lightness that you hadn’t felt from him before. he always seemed to hang over the rest of the group like a distant stormcloud, not unsettled enough to rain thunder and lightning down but plenty darker than the rest of the group. you’d managed to bring out some new side of him, something that he’d never let you see before. it felt like the keys to the kingdom.

you place your hand on your door, turning to simon with a smile on your face. you’d both exhausted yourselves, but somehow you felt you could go for hours more. “it was really nice skating with you,” you said, clutching your coat a bit closer to your body. the winter air was brisk, and part of you was glad the season was coming to an end. “i had a lot of fun.” simon nodded to you, keeping a respectful distance just like the others had. “yeah, thanks f’r teachin’ me how to figure skate,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “think i still prefer watchin’ you.” you laugh at that, a bit of humility bubbling in your chest.

the two of you seem to hesitate again, caught in another awkward moment. you’re waiting for him to move, and he’s uncertain of you. he’d heard johnny and kyle talk about kissing you. your lips were soft, you tasted sweet, your body melted so deliciously against theirs. his hands balled up in his pockets, flicking his gaze down from your eyes to your mouth. he could imagine the feeling. you swore he was leaning in, and you leaned in too, but he pulled back. you tried not to be hurt by it, but the way he looked at you proved that your face wasn’t as good at hiding it. he cleared his throat, turning toward his car across the parking lot. “text me when you make it home, lovie,” he said, giving you an almost apologetic wave.

you murmur a goodbye and wave back, climbing into your car and the blessed warmth of your heater. he hadn’t kissed you. the others had all kissed you, but simon hadn’t. it made you worry. perhaps he didn’t like you. perhaps he was just doing this because the others were. you tried not to think too deeply about it as you shifted your car into reverse and pulled out of the lot. simon watched you go, his phone held to his ear as it rang. his chest felt heavy, regret seeping in. “simon?” john’s voice crackled through the phone speaker. “couldn’t do it, john,” simon said, his voice soft and melancholy. price let out a sigh. simon could almost hear the way his eyes crinkled at the edges, a sad grimace on his features that only came out for his longtime partner. “come ‘ome, si. we got takeout.”

simon pulled out of the parking lot, watching your tail lights disappear down the road before turning towards home.

taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew @kaoyamamegami @lolly145 @linaangel @bestbookfriends @callsignang3l @livingoutsidethetardis @msecho19 @aylitgirl @vvs-dlxodyd @bollzinurmouth

[caramelpenguin]

Felice mouths a 'thank you' at Sara over the choir teacher's shoulder as she closes the door. This should hopefully give them atleast ten minutes, and if Sara can stall her for longer, maybe twenty.

She turns back to face the choir, her hands firmly planted on her hips. Felice isn't even close friends with most of these students, but right now, that doesn’t matter. If they’re going to pull this off, she needs as many as she can on board. Clearing her throat, she eyes them all slowly, "Do you all remember the song Simon wrote? That we performed once and never sang again?"

The room erupts in murmurs and whispers.

"You mean the one based on the school anthem?"

"Yes! That one."

Someone snorts from the back. "The one that's not even subtly about Wilhelm?"

"Exactly." Felice squares her shoulders. "What do we think about singing that version on the last day instead of the original? As a way of surprising Simon?"

There’s a pause, followed by a sharp voice from the front row. A girl with neatly braided hair and a skeptical expression raises her brow. "And why would we do that? There’s no real reason."

Oh, Felice is ready for this. She counts off on her fingers, her words measured but pointed. "First, this might be our last performance as a choir. Wouldn’t we rather do something meaningful for ourselves than just the boring school version? Second, we've all seen the horrible crap Simon’s had to deal with recently- it's awful. It’s the least we can do to show him we’re on his side." She pauses, letting her words sink in before delivering the kicker. "And finally—his version is way better than the original. You all know it."

The murmurs in the room shift, tinged with curiosity and a few nods of agreement.

Then, from the back, a new voice cuts through. "Yes," Felix says, his cheeks lightly flushed. Felice has noticed him glancing at Simon during rehearsals, expression soft in a way he probably doesn’t think anyone else sees. "I think that's a great idea."

His endorsement cracks the ice. Someone in the second row murmurs, "I mean, it is better than the original."

Another chimes in, "And Simon would definitely love it."

"He's a good guy. Amazing voice, too."

Felice thinks of the way Wilhelm talks about Simon - this boy who treats him with gentle touches and loves him in a way that he deserves, like he’s something precious. She thinks of Simon as a brother to Sara, unwavering and loyal and someone who's stuck by ,who's dealt with the harsh blows. She thinks of Simon with his loud opinions at the start of the year, unafraid to challenge what he felt was wrong.

That’s why this matters. This isn’t just about the song. It’s about Simon. About reminding him that he’s seen and valued and that what he’s brought to this group has meant something.

Felice looks around the room at the hesitant faces, at the whispers still swirling among the group, and lets her determination harden.

“Listen,” she says, her voice firm, “this isn’t about whether or not we get in trouble. It’s about doing something that actually means something. For Simon. For us. If you don’t want to do it for him, fine. Do it because this choir deserves to go out on a high note. And because we’re capable of more than just doing what’s expected of us.”

No-one speaks up to argue. Slowly, the students begin to shuffle into position, the energy in the room shifting. Someone hums the first note, and the familiar melody builds—hesitant at first, then stronger, richer.

[randonwilmonfan]

I'd love to talk more about the locker room scene in S2 E2 of Young Royals, where Wilhelm tries to convince Simon to get back together with him, in the process (sadly) demonstrating that he believes his mother's feeble offer to "talk" about him possibly coming out when he's 18. This takes place after his almost-removal from Hillerska.

Plenty of people have already pointed out how Henry snitched on Wille and Felice’s kiss, but apparently didn’t choose to tell anyone (as far as we’re aware) about Wilhelm almost pleading with Simon to get back together with him during that post-almost-dragged-out-of-Hillerska conversation. And that's definitely an interesting thing to chew on. But there's more...

Here are a few other things that stand out to me too:

First -

I think it’s worth pointing out the obvious — Wilhelm clearly sees Simon in his future long-term (possibly for the rest of his life). The way he casually says to Simon “So, we’d only have to keep it a secret for 2 years” implies three things very clearly.

a) He immediately and easily sees himself together with Simon in 2 years and beyond. Actually, specifically, definitely beyond. Because his eye is on the prize: coming out and living openly with Simon *after* he turns 18 — implying his focus is entirely on the intended afterwards period. He doesn’t even blink at that idea; it’s obvious to him.

b) He also really doesn’t seem to think 2 years is a big deal. For a teenager who’s only lived 16 years on this planet (only approximately ~11-ish of them in a state where they’re forming conscious memories) to think 2 years is just a drop in the bucket is kind of wild. Even 6 months feels like forever to a kid. So Wilhelm — a child — viewing time from this perspective suggests he’s likely balancing 2 years out against a much longer expanse of time; hence why those 24 months would look so minuscule and shrug-worthy by comparison. In other words: he sees himself with Simon in the LONG long term. Two years is nothing if you’re imagining growing old with someone and spending the rest of your many decades on this Earth with them. (All of this is pretty much confirmed later on in S2, when Wilhelm offers to abdicate the throne for Simon.)

c) He also doesn’t seem to think Simon should be appalled by the idea of waiting for 2 years. Yes, sure, we can chalk part of that up to selfishness and lack of mentalization / empathy for Simon’s point of view. But I’m going to suggest it’s more than that. My takeaway is that he assumes Simon also sees them as endgame, and so naturally wouldn’t be bothered by waiting a bit longer in order to spend forever together. (Sadly the conversation does not play out that way for him; ouch. Though no shade to Simon: what he said in response was realistic and fair.)

Second -

I think we have to rewatch his interactions with Simon as Henry slams a door and slowly walks past them with a raised eyebrow. Because, in S1, that Wilhelm would have immediately jumped away from Simon to create distance and try to pretend there’s plausible deniability about what their relationship has been and could be again. That’s (one) part of the whole point of S1: Wilhelm is not ready to be brave enough to face a homophobic aristocratic world and take a bold stance to stand by Simon.

Instead, in S2 E2, he sits still. He stays right next to Simon. In fact, he *leaves his hand resting directly on Simon’s thigh.* And he knows someone is coming their way! He heard the door slam inside the locker room. Obviously he knows someone else is here. But he doesn’t jump. He actually doesn’t really stir much at all.

He sits there like it’s of no importance, and he doesn’t care who sees. Or, even, who overheard this very intimate, vulnerable, and pleading conversation. A conversation in which the future King of their country is almost on the verge of begging his ex to please be his again… not just for now, but for multiple years’ time. I mean we’re like 2 steps away from Wille practically offering Simon a “promise ring” (not sure if that concept holds up in Europe, but it’s basically a very pre-engagement type thing in the US; it’s not common though). (Their convo also makes it very clear Simon was the one who dumped him and that he’s having trouble accepting that and moving on.)

Yet he doesn’t seem perturbed or disturbed by Henry’s presence and overhearing and seeing them. He doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. He’s not ashamed of his love for Simon. Even more specifically, he’s not afraid of people (Henry) seeing him put his heart out on the line, and of them knowing that he wants Simon back - not for just a hook-up, but for a very long-term, serious, committed relationship. And he doesn’t make any moves to emotionally or physically distance himself from Simon, despite Henry’s clear witnessing of this private moment.

This is a subtle way to show that, even though Wille hasn't yet gone through his full S2 journey of self-awareness and self-growth, he has still already begun changing and growing after the end of S1. So he’s at least started to learn some of his lessons about what he needs to do differently.

Anyhoo, the whole point I’m trying to make is… gosh there were so many fascinating things happening in that scene. And they rush right past us in the blink of an eye! But there is so much meaning built into every small interaction and non-interaction there, and into every nonchalant assumption the characters casually voice.

I’m sure there’s more meaning and are more details I missed, too! What did you think? I’d love to learn more from others’ perspectives, too. :)

[applebuttercringe]

Episode 5 immediate thoughts

Spoilers ahead!

-Oh hey it's the big guy who used to be on Caitlyns strike team.

-Get em Vi

-Jinx is betting on Vi's fights

-Average lesbian breakup experience

-Did she dye her hair black? Or did she just cry enough eyeliner onto herself that it turned it black?

-THE SISTER REUNION

-Vi is reminded by the shimmer tear that Jinx isn't fully in control of herself.

-Proud of Jinx though for being able to be in Vi presence without a breakdown

-Last time they saw each other Vi was fully ready to kill Jinx. Most brutal fight in the series. Now they can work together? Thats kinda rushed.

-Caitlyn using her detective skills again!

-"Peacekeeping operations" Yeah right Caitlyn.

-Caitlyn is full on racist

-Full on fascist

-The Caitlyn stans are gonna be fighting for their LIVES trying to defend her.

-This is the first time we've seen Mel not collected, or at least put together and considerate.

-ELORA!!!

-Mels brother?

-Mels brother!

-Well Vi got over basically all the Jinx stuff pretty quick.

-I mean this is basically what both of them really wanted, to be a family again, and it was achieved with very little ceremony.

-Did Jinx find out the mushroom aren't toxic by eating them? Does she eat every new thing she finds just to check?

-If Vi thinks this is Jinx lying why would she follow her?

-"BITCHMITTENS"

-Typical sibling behavior

-Vi is a child hitter confirmed. Considering Jinx's lingering trauma from Vi's reaction to the explosion in S1 Ep3, I'de think she would have a worse reaction to Vi hitting Isha.

-Whaarwhick is more savage than any beast in Noxus? Knowing Noxus from league I find that hard to believe.

-Wait, did Silco kill Vi and Jinx's parents? Is that why they split? I need to rewatch this frame by frame.

-Singed holding his daughter

-Singed real name is Dr. Reveck

-If Mel and Kino are surprised Ambessa has a love child, were they her hatechilds?

-Mel herself is a magical maguffin for the cult running a foreign nation. I thought she was just a super cool girlboss.

-Jinx is a jacket sniffer.

-Was Vander in love with their mom? I thought he was their adopted dad, has he been their bio dad the whole time?

-Vi defending Jinx 🥺

-Is that Singed daughter on the record Felicity is playing.

-Oh no young Silco is hot

-Felicity sounds like Jinx when she says "working up the nerve"

-That one tweet was right, Arcane music is horrifically literal.

-I don't care if it's rushed. This scene is straight out of a feel good fix it fic and I love it. Happiness and family for the Zaun sisters!

-Is this Salo after being healed by Viktor?

-Knew it

-Jayce, where ya been buddy?

-Viktor broke Jayce out so he could come see him. I mean it is probably not Viktor, it's the hexcore taking people over, but still.

-And once again the dynamic is reversed

-Just leaving Ekko and Heimerdinger in their huh?

-JAYCE STRAIGHT UP MURDERED HIM! HOLY SHIT! WHAT!?

-I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST GONNA BONK HIM TO KNOCK HIM OUT!

-WTF HAPPENED TO HIM!

Overall: Ok, so this felt rushed. The last 4 acts have been tearing these sisters apart, entirely centering on the traumas and outside forces that keep them from being a family. Then Jinx shows up and it takes one sentence to get Vi back, granted Vander being alive is big news, but Vi thinks Jinx is lying to her. Why wouldn't she be mad at Jinx?

Jayce straight up murderred a guy, I wish we got to see more of how he got to this point.

Caitlyn is still as much of a dictator as she has been all, but she does get consistently worse.

Mel is in a totally different story now.

Things are only looking up for Jinx and Vi.

Even with it being rushed I do like Jinx and Vis story here, I want happiness for them , sue me. But I don't see how they could possibly meaningfully redeem all the other characters in the 4 episodes left. Which means I think Arcane season 2 might not be peak anymore, entertaining? Yes. Interesting? Yes. Exciting? Yes. Peak? Maybe not. I still love it, but the cracks are showing.

[terrortwinunicorn]

Family Portrait

Damian's POV

Y/N and I are in the twins nursery getting them ready while Demi and Matt were in the living room with Schuyler. We were getting ready to go to have our family portrait taken.

I am trying to diaper Damian but he was squirming and laughing.

"Dame. Let dada put your diaper on," I laughed lightly.

"Take Mia," said y/n as she had gotten Amelia dressed in a cute little purple and black dress "Let mami get her little gentleman ready."

I took Amelia and she immediately began playing with my braids.

"Amelia Grace do dada's braids fascinate you?" I chuckled as she was picking them up dropping them before taking two and pulling on them.

"Ga!!!" she squeaks as she tugged again this time making my head tilt to left.

"Oof. ¿Estás bien mi amor?" asked y/n.

"Yeah. Her mami tugs on my hair harder in bed," I said with a smirk.

"And yet dada doesn't complain when mami does it," coos y/n at Damian who giggles as y/n was using her syrupy voice.

"Because he hears mami's happy noises when she does it," I said looking down at y/n as she blushes lightly as she looked up at me.

"Tal vez papá pueda hacer que mami haga sus ruidos felices esta noche cuando te quedes a dormir en casa de la tía Demi y el tío Matt," she murmured as she blew raspberries onto Damian's bare stomach making him screech with giggles. (Maybe Dad can get Mommy to make her happy noises tonight when you sleep over at Aunt Demi and Uncle Matt's house)

"Request will be granted later mami," I said pressing a kiss to the side of y/n's head.

She winks at me as she put a polo onesie onto Damian "Mami can't wait," she said with a smile as Damian's chocolate brown eyes just look at y/n with nothing but love and admiration. She turns her attention to Damian and smiles at him. She was an amazing mom to our kids. She was attentive and loved all three of them with as much intensity maybe even more than she loves me. She always said that once we had Schuyler her heart was now living outside her body.

"Dada can't wait either," I said lower myself to her ear "Or should I say Papi?" I whispered my lips brushing against the shell if her ear. Y/N bit her lip a soft moan leaving her lips.

"Sí, y yo soy la putita de Papi," she said. (Yes, and I'm Daddy's little slut)

My hand slowly slipped down her back before I snake my arm around her waist pulling her close as I placed my lips on the curve of her neck. I chuckled as the little mouse squeak escaped y/n's lips.

"Tal vez Papi discipline a su pequeña zorra. ¿Esposas? No. ¿Azotaina? De nuevo, no. ¿Ambos? Mmm. Sí. Papi definitivamente usará ambos," I said standing to my full height. (Maybe Daddy disciplines his little slut. Handcuffed? No. Whipping? Again, no. Both? Mmm. Yes. Daddy will definitely use both)

"Papi tiene que tener mucho cuidado. Está mojando mami muy, muy, muy mojada en este momento. Y tenemos que estar en el fotógrafo a las dos," she said. (Daddy has to be very careful. Mommy is getting very, very, very wet right now. And we have to be at the photographer at two o'clock)

"¿Y si Papi no quiere tener cuidado en este momento? ¿Y quiere hacer que mami esté muy, muy, muy mojada? ¿Como una cascada mojada?" I said bending down to her, my breath ghosted over her cheek. (What if Daddy doesn't want to be careful right now? And he wants to make Mommy really, really, really wet? Like a wet waterfall?)

She moans lightly "Luis Berrios Martínez Junior. Now," she swallowed thickly as she picks up Damian "Now isn't the time."

I chuckled as she turned to me. Her lips dangerously close to mine. My lips curve into a wicked smile. I grip her hip "But mami. Now is the perfect time. We have had quickies before."

Her eyes flick to mine and she smirks "But Papi what I have in mind. It won't be so quick," she reached up and caresses my cheek. She nuzzled my nose with hers before she brushes my lips with hers "It's going to take all night long."

I coughed and swallowed lightly. I stood up and I tower over her 5'6 ½" frame "I am destroying you tonight," I said as Amelia and Damian gurgle at one another.

"Maybe we can make Dame a baby brother," she said.

I raised an eyebrow "You're willing to have another pregnancy? Babe we aren't getting any younger. We aren't exactly spring chickens."

Y/N laughed lightly "I know we are forty four but I don't know it feels right. Four kids. Adrienne Barbeau was fifty two when she had twins. What do you think?" she asked.

I raised an eyebrow. Schuyler turned twenty six months on November first and the twins just turned nine months on November third. I look at my beautiful wife. I mean we have a very active sex life. Hell we have had three kids in two years.

"How about we talk about it after the pictures are taken. If you haven't noticed you and I are still in sweats and t-shirts," I said.

Her eyes turned down "Oh. I get it. I mean. It's okay. We don't have to have four kids. It-it was just a thought."

I hooked her chin and raised it. Her eyes meeting mine "We can talk about it. Or more importantly start trying after we get out new family portraits. Remember Demi and Matt take the kids so we can spend our fourth anniversary together."

I smile at her making her blush. It was the fourth anniversary of our first date. And I had planned an incredible evening complete with a chef coming to make y/n's favorite italian dishes. Fettuccine Alfredo with grilled chicken and fresh broccoli, flat bread pizza with red sauce, mozzarella and cup pepperoni, garlic bread, a giant chef salad and I had made my oreo cheesecake when y/n had gone with my mom, sister, Demi and the kids to the zoo yesterday.

"Oh I remember," she murmured as I leaned down pressing a kiss to her lips. She cupped my cheek as she deepens the kiss. When Demi clears her throat behind us.

We broke apart as I lifted my head and looked at Demi "Can I help you?" I asked as Schuyler stood at her side.

"Want me to take the twins so you two can get ready to go to the photographer?" she asked.

"Actually that's a good idea. Dame go to Tía Dem," y/n said pressing a kiss to his cheek as she hands Damian to Demi. I kissed Amelia's cheek before handing her to Demi.

"Thanks Demi," said y/n.

"Mami. ¿Hacia arriba?" (Mommy. Up?) asked Schuyler.

Y/N picks her up.

"Mami and I have to go get changed. Okay?" I asked.

"¿Venirse?" asked Schuyler as she was also speaking Spanish. (Come?)

"No princesa. You go with Tía Demi. We will be there shortly," I said kissing her cheek.

"Dada is right. We go get our picture taken. Then we have lunch with Tía Demi y Tío Matt," said y/n.

"¡Yo voy!" pouts Schuyler. (I'm coming)

"Not this time princesa," I said as y/n put Schuyler on her feet when Schuyler made a play to follow y/n, Matt grabbed her.

"No niña," chuckled Matt. (No girl)

"Tío Matt. ¡Yo voy! ¡¡Abajo!!" said Schuyler pushing away from him. But he held her tightly. (Uncle Matt. I'm going! Down!)

I usher y/n towards our bedroom as Schuyler burst into tears.

"MAMI. ¡¡REGRESA!!” Schuyler wails (MOMMY. COME BACK!!)

"Skye. Mami is just changing," said Demi soothing Schuyler.

"Skye. Tío Matt will get you a lolly later. Just calm down," said Matt and Schuyler immediately stopped crying.

"¿Chupeta? ¿Me? ¡¿Ahora?!" said Schuyler (Lollipop? Me? Now?!)

"Only if you're a good girl," said y/n.

"Me be goo!" said Schuyler.

🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷

At the photographer......

Y/N has Damian who matches me in a purple polo and black pants. I had Amelia who was in the black and purple dress just like Schuyler and y/n. Schuyler was perched on a table in front of us.

"Okay. Big smile!!" said the photographer. Demi made faces at his side making the twins and Schuyler laugh. I smirk and y/n laughs lightly as the photographer snaps pictures as Demi continues to make faces helping the photographer get some great candids of us. Before the photographer set up so we could get pictures of the three kids. Then Demi and Matt took the kids so we could get just y/n and myself.

"Umm we would like a few of our children with their God parents," said y/n and Demi and Matt look at her.

"Really? Is that why you asked us to dress business casual?" asked Demi not being able to contain her huge smile.

"Yes. You're family. It's time to update the one with you two and Schuyler anyway," I said.

They were excited and the photographer set up the next round of pictures. As y/n and I stood far enough back to whisper. I wrapped my arms around her before pressing my lips next to her ear.

"¿Así que más tarde empezamos a tratar de hacer un hermanito para Damian?" I whispered into her ear. (So later we start trying to make a little brother for Damian?)

"Sí Papi," she said tick tocking her hips moving her ass across my groin. I held her closer.

"Mami. Será mejor que te detengas antes de que monte una tienda de campaña en mis pantalones," I warn. (Mommy, you better stop before I pitch a tent in my pants.)

She giggles as she stops "Lo siento, Papi," she said as I kissed her cheek.

After the pictures were done. Y/N and I changed the kids out of their dress clothes as we didn't want them messing them up.

🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷

A while later...

Y/N and I returned home after getting the kids settled at Demi and Matt's place.

“Should we exchange presents now?!” asked y/n slipping off her pea coat and hanging it up.

“How about after dinner because,” I said quickly shrugging off my leather jacket and wrapping an arm around her waist stopping her from heading further into the house.

“PAPI!” she gasped.

“I have a surprise for you and well it's not wrapped,” I said pulling her flush to my body. My arm wrapped lightly around her while I took my other raising it and covering her eyes with my hand “Don't worry. I got you. Just walk.”

She giggles lightly as she rests her hands on the forearm wrapped around her waist as we walked.

"Babe,” she said sniffing the air “Do I smell grilled chicken?!”

I chuckled “You might,” I smirk.

I walked her to the kitchen and stopped her by the table. I removed my hand as I stepped beside her. She blinks a bit and then she saw the table set for two. Candles illuminated the room. The light danced across her face.

She looks up at me a smile danced across her face.

"What is this?” she asked as the chef came into the kitchen.

“Well. Have a seat, ” I said holding a chair for her and she sat.  “and enjoy Chef Rocco's flatbread pizza,” I said as Chef Rocco brought in the appetizer of flatbread pepperoni pizza.

“Luis. Isn't that the chef from Chez Bacco? Our favorite Italian restaurant?!” asked y/n as I sat across from her. Her eyes looking into mine.

"It is,” I said with a smile as her eyes grew wide.

“This had to be absolutely expensive. You,” she said.

I held up a hand and smiled as I took her hand in mine “I did. Besides I want to spoil you rotten. I love you so much mi amor. You have given me your heart and I have had had it for four years,” I said "And besides Chez Bacco was our first date but since it's closed for new floors. I asked Chef Rocco if I could have him come cook for us.”

Y/N smiles before she pushed her chair back and stood. She walked to me and cupped my face and pressed a kiss to my lips.

“Gracias hombre de mi corazón,” (Thank you man of my heart) she said as she stood. I stood and walked over to her chair. I held it as she sat. One of Chef Rocco's helpers went to pour wine and y/n stopped him “No. Water is just fine.”

I arch an eyebrow as I sat across from her "Babe. The doctor said it was fine if you had wine. The twins aren't solely on breast milk. A glass of wine isn't going to hurt.”

"Well,” said y/n as she stood and walked away and disappeared into the hallway. I heard a door open and close before she returned with a box “Happy Anniversary Amor,” she smiled handing me the box.

“Oh so we are giving presents now?” I asked she nods. I stood and turned going into a China cabinet behind the table. I pulled out a box and hand it to y/n “Happy Anniversary Amor,” She smiles “Open it,” she gasped when she saw the diamond heart necklace.

“Oh Luis this is beautiful,” she said leaning in and kisses my lips “Gracias mi amor. Now open mine and it might explain why I am not drinking wine,” she explained as she sat. I raised an eyebrow as she took a piece of flatbread pizza and watched me. “Come on! Open it!”

I chuckled “Okay,” I said as I opened the box and my eyes fell to what was in the box. My mouth fell open as my eyes lifted to hers “Babe?!” she smiled “Babe?!” I pulled out the Clear Blue test that clearly says Pregnant and a onesie that said Surprise Dada “Are you?!”

Her eyes filled with tears as she slid a ultrasound towards me “Yeah,” she said as the tears fell. I took the ultrasound and looked at it then at y/n before jumping from my seat and was at her side before pulling her up from the chair. I cupped her face and kissed her.

“How?!” I asked.

She giggles "I think you know how,” she said.

“Ugh. Fine. I mean when?” I asked.

“Remember when we had our joint birthday party? Just before both our birthdays? Remember how we got tipsy? Remember how we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves and we took the opportunity to make up for lost time since the kids were with Abuela y Abuelo?!”

“Yeah. We never did make it to bed that night. We christened basically every surface of the house,” I laughed.

“Well one of those times we made baby number four,” she said as her tears still fell.

I smiled wide “Is this safe? How are you feeling? Is the baby okay? How far along? When do we meet him or her? When do we find out if the baby is a boy or girl?! When can we tell everyone?! ” I asked

“Take it easy amor,” y/n laughed lightly “It's safe. I'm okay just nauseated a lot but it was the same with Skye and the twins. I'm fourteen weeks and six days. We conceived on August twenty second obviously since that was our joint forty fourth birthday party. The baby is due May 15, 2027. We can find out the sex in a couple weeks or I can take a blood test to see if it's a boy or girl. Soon. I wanna keep this our secret but I do have an idea how to tell everyone,” she said as I placed a hand on her stomach before taking a knee and pressed a kiss to her stomach.

"Hi Baby. This is Dada. He is so happy to know you're coming. I can't wait to meet you. I can't wait you to meet your mami and your siblings. You know you have an amazing mami,” I smile looking up at y/n who looks down at me with a soft smile and nothing but love in her eyes. Sure we started a family late in life but I have three amazing kids and another on the way with the love of my life.

“Pequeño, you have a pretty amazing dada also,” she said. Pequeño meaning little one is the nickname we gave each of the kids before we knew the sexes. She cups my cheek as I looked up at her before I stood to my full height “And I am so thankful we have him in our lives pequeño.”

I placed my hands on her hips as she lazily drapes her arms around my neck as she tilted her head to look at me. I reached up tucking her hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek as I lean in and press a kiss to her lips.

“Te amo mi amor, mi vida, mi mundo, mi corazón y mi alma. ¡Gracias por darme tu corazón,” I said as I rest my forehead against hers. My hand still cupping her cheek. (I love you my love, my life, my world, my heart and my soul. Thank you for giving me your heart)

She placed a hand on my cheek. A smile on her face “Te amo mi amor, mi alma, mi corazón, mi vida y mi mundo,” (I love you my love, my soul, my heart, my life and my world) she murmured as she brushes her lips against mine as she nuzzles my nose with hers “¡Gracias por darme tu corazón,” (Thank you for giving me your heart) I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her but she pulled back “I'm starving can we eat?!”

I chuckled “Of course amor,” I said as I removed my arms from around her and held the chair for her as she sat I rounded the table and sat across from her. Taking her hand in mine “So amor. This plan you have to tell everyone about baby number four.”

She smiles softly “Well......”

I rest my chin in my hand and hung on every word. As she told me her plans for the baby reveal. Did I expect to be a father to four about five years ago? No. Would I change it? No. I was thrilled to be having another baby with the woman who sat across from me. She was, is and forever will be the love of my life. Only thing I would change is having met her earlier in life so we could have spent more time loving each other. And I guess the family portraits will need to be updated again...

Tag List: @eringobragh420 @magicalbuttertarts @madhatterbri @keekee-23 @loki69zowens @caramara3 @bloodlinesbabe93 @miss-kuki-nz @surdelcielo

[literaryvein-reblogs]

October Letters: Franz Kafka

Excerpts from Franz Kafka's letters to Felice Bauer:

13 October 1912

And do letters really get lost except in the mind of one waiting for them and unable to find another explanation?

But why haven’t you written to me?

I write this letter not so much in the hope of a reply as to discharge a duty toward myself.

23 October 1912

At least I now know that, even if letters get lost, I am allowed to write to you.

I am restless and cannot pull myself together; I am in the mood for continual and, as it were, circular complaining, although today is no longer yesterday; but the accumulation will overflow and liberate itself into better days.

24 October 1912

Of course it is impossible to tell me everything, but then everything is impossible.

On the contrary, I was relatively content to feel I was being left alone.

So many years went by without a word from you, and now it looks as though another month of oblivion is to be thrown in quite unnecessarily.

27 October 1912

I can be more cheerful, but not today; the rain has deprived me of my Sunday walk; spent—which only seems to contradict my first sentence—half the day in bed, the best place for sadness and reflection.

Shall I get up and stop writing? But perhaps you can see through it all that I am indeed very happy, in which case I can stay here and go on writing.

Out in the street I lapsed at once into one of my not altogether unusual states of semitrance, when I see nothing clearly, except my own worthlessness.

29 October 1912

I wish you would let me know about all this in five lines, so that rather than having to write and think about it any more, we could look at and listen to each other calmly, without self-reproach, you in your goodness and understanding, I in the way I must.

Thinking that I may have deprived you of a walk, that again is intolerable.

31 October 1912

I read the letter once, put it aside, and read it again.

With warmest greetings, and I kiss your hand, if that is permitted.

29 October 1913

At a certain depth, though not at the deepest, there is nothing I want more than to be swept toward you.

At a certain depth, though not at the deepest, there is nothing I want more than to be swept toward you.

But this is not all that’s going on inside me. My longing for you is such that it presses on my breast like tears that cannot be wept.

For weeks past I have been making plans for Christmas, in an effort to scrape together the sum total of happiness at the last moment.

In the seminar yesterday I stared at a girl for an hour because she bore a faint resemblance to you.

Late October 1914

Needless to say, I am ready at your first call, and would have replied without fail and by return to your earlier letter if I had received it.

In me there have always been, and still are, two selves wrestling with each other....

This is how it is, Felice. And yet they are locked in combat, and yet they could both be yours; the trouble is that they cannot be changed unless both were to be destroyed.

01 October 1916

Rotten, rotten night, partly your doing—dream doing.

28 October 1916

At one point I had to stop reading, sit down on the sofa, and weep.

It’s years since I wept.

16 October 1917

When I said: “So you are here? I was looking for you everywhere,” you answered: “But I heard your voice indoors only a moment ago.” Except for a few insignificant words we hardly spoke to each other again, although we continued to stand on the steps for quite a while, gazing out over the Ringplatz.

You were unhappy about the pointlessness of your journey, about my incomprehensible behavior, about everything.

I was not unhappy. “Happy,” on the other hand, would have been a very false description of my condition. I was tormented, but not unhappy; I did not feel the whole tragedy as much as I saw it, recognized it, and diagnosed it in its immensity which surpasses all my strength (my strength as a living man at least); and in this knowledge I remained relatively calm, my lips shut tight, very tight.

Excerpts from Franz Kafka's letters to Grete Bloch:

29 October 1913

And as I am sure you realize, there is confusion enough within me.

15 October 1914

You do say that I hate you; but this isn’t true. If everyone were to hate you, I wouldn’t hate you.

In fact I was sitting in your place, which to this day I have not left.

Excerpts from Franz Kafka's letters to Milena Jesenská:

22 October 1920

I'm also sure I'll stay in Vienna and that we will see one another.

Now it's almost certain I will leave.

27 October 1920

After that we were one, there was no more talk of knowing one another, and then once again we were split.

For the first time in years I was in bed as early as 9:45.

I was almost sad when I didn't see it Monday.

[thekatebridgerton]

But can you imagine an au where Penelope uses lady Whistledown to troll the ton's couples with the worst romantic writing ever. Just for fun.

Dear Reader

I'll have you know that last night at the Danbury ball Miss Kate Sharma was seen heaving a tragic sigh with her bubbling bossom, as Mr Dorset told her that her beauty and beautiful songbird voice had driven him to forsake his vows to his beloved Joanna who currently laid dying of consumption in an insane asylum and here he was confessing his love to her. But Miss Kate knew it could never be, because Mr Dorset was secretly her long lost third cousin twice removed and she could never truly love him back. Meanwhile Miss Edwina and Viscount Bridgerton continued their torrid race to ruin as Viscount Bridgerton jiggled his manly hips and hipnotized Edwina into accepting his advances but that very same night Miss Kate Sharma and the Viscount ended up doing something that would shatter their lives and...... to read more of this story subscribe to Lady Whistledown column every Tuesday and Friday for 5 guineas a piece "

Cue Penelope writing the most torrid real person fanfiction about Kanthony and the rest of the Bridgertons because she figured that badly written romance serials sold well among nobility and that's where the money is at.

And of course Kate and Anthony want to find the writer who is exaggerating their lives and turning it into a telenovela. So Anthony assigns Colin to catch LW. All while Penelope is happily writing the worst romantic sickeningly sweet maiden fanfiction and enjoying herself as she describes him as possessing 'manly thighs that flexed with the strength of a elephant' and enjoying herself inmensly. Cue Colin being absolutely ready to kill Lady Whistledown and making it his mission to take her down

Bonus if Penelope's serials become very popular with young debutantes like Edwina, Felicity and Hyacinth who will absolutely defend their favorite novelist! Because they really need to know what happens next in 'the saga of the giggling pectorals' so Colin ends up finding out that there's nothing scarier than teenage girls obsessed with a work of fiction.

Of course, he stumbles upon Penelope's secret entirely by accident, because he thinks she's being led astray by LW meeting with a Fabio eske lover

[jbuffyangel]

Hot and Cold: Arrow 1x22 Review (Darkness of the Edge of Town)

There is no episode that exemplifies the disjointed nature of Season 1 more than “Darkness on the Edge of Town.”  We have Exhibit A: an OTA field op and the smoaking hot chemistry of Stephen Amell and Emily Bett Rickards igniting in an elevator shaft of all places.

And Exhibit B: the other show. A frigid black hole I feared we’d never escape from.

Let’s dig in…

Olicity and OTA

Let’s start with the positive since there is soooooo much freaking positive! It can take time for a television series to find its footing in the first season.�� Unfortunately, nowadays if the audience isn’t binging the entire season in 24 hours, the show gets canceled. But blessedly, this was 2013. Network TV was still the supreme ruler, and Arrow was pulling big enough numbers for the CW to allow for some leeway.

Twenty two episodes of leeway. Arrow finally found its groove and latched on to the mystical “it factor” that keeps an audience watching - Oliver, Felicity and Diggle. The chemistry and dynamic between these characters and the actors who play them is undeniable and it creates an action packed, laughing out loud, and sizzling hot episode. The writers are having FUN in “Darkness on the Edge of Town" and it shows, which means we get to have fun too.

Oliver decides to question his mother regarding the Undertaking, but she refuses to confess. So, Oliver and Diggle take a more brutal approach. The Hood kidnaps them both and beats the crap out of Oliver until she coughs up the information. It’s always hilarious when this show acts like David Ramsey can fit in Stephen Amell’s suit.

The burgeoning relationship between Oliver and Felicity is very much in its infancy. Oliver is fully in denial about feeling any type of way toward his IT girl. Never is that more apparent then when Oliver and Diggle return from the confrontation with Moira. Diggle gets a few solid whacks in, which I’m sure felt amazing given the absolute jackass Oliver was being the past few episodes.

Felicity has a much harder time concealing her feelings towards Oliver and it’s clear she worries about him. She is always the first to ask if he’s okay, offer a supportive ear to listen or shoulder to cry on. However, Oliver seems to draw a line in this episode when Felicity reaches to touch the bruise on his face. That small step was too much. He physically keeps her at arm’s length because the intimacy of Felicity’s concerned touch is not something Oliver is ready for. There is still a very big wall hiding all that pain, regret and unworthiness.

Source: @lyricalarrow

Admitting he remembers the exact day they met, however, is absolutely no problem. We shall come to discover just how much Oliver remembers about that day in later seasons. I have a lot of male friends and I guarantee you I don’t remember the day we met. However, the day I met my husband is burned into my memory.

The team determines the only way to stop Merlyn from leveling the Glades with a man-made earthquake machine is to find the location of the device. Unfortunately, Felicity is unable to hack Merlyn’s system so she needs direct access to his mainframe inside Merlyn Global Headquarters. LET'S DO CRIMES!

Oliver makes an appointment with Tommy (more on that later) while Felicity continues to up her adorability factor by dressing up as Big Belly Burger employee delivering lunch to a security guard otherwise known as John Diggle.

The burger is laced with benzodiazepine, so it knocks out the other security guard and gives John free reign to control the elevator & cameras. Do we know how Diggle is able to pose as a security guard? No. Do we care? Nope. Let the hijinks commence!

Oliver and Felicity make their way to the elevator, but not until Oliver unloads an unwelcomed dudebro hitting on Felicity.

Jealousy looks so good on him. The way Stephen Amell plays this scene, with his nails-on-a-chalkboard look at the word “sweetie” to robotically knocking the papers out of the elevator, is physical comedy at its best. Something Amell rarely gets to do, but he’s great at it.  

The mainframe is on the twenty fifth floor, but the elevator only goes up to the nineteenth, so Oliver and Felicity have some climbing to do. It seems Felicity is thinking of a certain kind of climbing as well and really who can blame her?

Source: @lyricalarrow

Oliver lifts her WITH ONE ARM out of the elevator, which is so freaking hot I cannot.

Then, very gently, bends down to wrap his arm around Felicity’s waist and loop her arm around his neck. Oliver is moving with the precision of a jungle cat, but it also feels like an incredibly elaborate way to grab hold of someone. It has a very superhero sweep-her-into-my-arms sensuality to it. The mission is giving Oliver plenty of reasons to touch Felicity and he doesn’t seem unhappy about it, particularly when he softly tells her, "Hold onto me tight."

Is it warm in here? Holy Moses, Oliver Queen. Get control. This man is a god to women, so he clearly understands the connotations of, “Hold onto me tight.” There’s a thousand different ways to say that platonically, but nope! Oliver charges headlong into the blinking neon lights of SEXUAL INNNUENDO.

Felicity’s Freudian slip didn’t feel so Freudian either. She knew exactly what she was saying and leveled her full meaning in a single look. I thought the elevator was going to combust from all the heat. If you are looking for the text book definition of undressing someone with your eyes than look no further than these two. They way they hold the gaze. WOW. Can we have all the nakedness now?!!! It’s a sin against science for Oliver and Felicity not to bang regularly BECAUSE THE CHEMISTRY.

THIS IS NOT THE BEHAVIOR OF A MAN MADLY IN LOVE WITH LAUREL LANCE.

This scene has the classic Superman and Lois Lane feel to it.

Source: @olicitygifs

Oliver is doing his vigilante thing, but his partner in crime isn’t the leading lady of Arrow. It’s a supporting character who’s feeling less and less supporting with each episode.

Unfortunately, Felicity is about to be discovered while Oliver is held up by Malcolm Merlyn, Thea and Roy Harper. This is a very popular day to visit Merlyn Global. Oliver’s frustration under his cool and calm exterior builds the tension nicely and we do wonder how Felicity is getting out of this jam. Never fear! It’s John Diggle to the rescue. Top notch comedy from both Rickards and Ramsey.

Source: @olicitygifs

Their first official team mission outside of the bunker is a wild success. Felicity still has to search through all of Merlyn’s data to determine the location of the device. Despite all the heat, hilarity and hijinks on this side of the show, Oliver makes an abrupt decision regarding the other side of the show that makes absolutely no sense.

Lauriver and Merlance

Still feeling warm friends? Well don’t worry. I have a nice bucket of ice cold water to dump on you.

As predicted, Oliver’s love confession messes with Laurel’s mind and obliterates any clear path back to Tommy. He drops this bomb on her and they have not spoken for a WEEK. Of course, this is all Laurel has thought about and she makes a rather elaborate speech admitting she has feelings for Oliver too.

Yeah, none of this is a surprise. Tommy knew Laurel had feelings for Oliver. We knew Laurel had feelings for Oliver. Hell, even Oliver knew. The only one who wasn’t admitting it was Laurel, so at least she’s finally being honest about things. You don’t get a love triangle if the central figure in the love triangle doesn’t have feelings for two people. The issue is who does Laurel love MORE.

Laurel: Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe he and I weren’t meant to be.

She had a clear answer last week. It was Tommy. She absolutely wanted to get back together with him, but Oliver decided honesty was the best policy on this one subject only. This line enrages me because Oliver has distracted Laurel from the man she is truly meant to be with. I will die on this hill, friends. DIE. ON. THIS. MERLANCE. HILL.

Laurel: Tommy’s a good guy. Are you?

Oliver: I didn’t have an agenda. I didn’t mean to make it more difficult to fix things with Tommy.

Oh for fucks sake. Yes, you did Oliver. That’s exactly why you said it. This is just a straight up lie. Oliver absolutely wanted to confuse Laurel. He just doesn’t want to look like the bad guy for doing it. This is some A+ Ollie behavior.

After Laurel makes a wonderfully impassioned and heartfelt speech about her feelings for Oliver, after probably obsessing about it for seven days straight, Oliver dumps her. AGAIN.

Oliver: Nothing’s changed. My life hasn’t changed. I haven’t changed.

I am infuriated on Laurel’s behalf with this flip flopping back and forth. The time to make this speech was last week in the hospital hallway. That was the moment to let her go and put Laurel on the plane with the man she belongs with, but Oliver couldn’t do it because it was too damn hard. It was just cruel and horribly unfair to both Tommy and Laurel because Oliver has absolutely no intention of being with her. But now it’s too late. The information is out there. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube, my dude.

Laurel pays her father a visit to basically get his permission to date Oliver again. Yeah, let’s make the man who lost his daughter to Oliver’s selfishness sign off on banging his other daughter again. This show.

Quentin’s speech is equally as empty as any speech Laurel’s made about seeing the change in Oliver because we, the audience, have not been privy to those moments. We’re just supposed to take their word for it even though the last time Quentin saw Oliver Queen he was trying to arrest him for drug trafficking. But sure, Quentin thinks he’s “changed.”

In order to make this storyline work, you have to give proper attention to the Lance family interacting with Oliver and the writers do not seem interested in doing that. All the important emotional growth takes place off screen and we’re supposed to accept it as fact because the characters tell us.

Meanwhile, they are organically growing the relationship Oliver has with Diggle, Felicity, hell even Roy! So we know the writers are capable of SHOWING these moments of character evolution. They just choose not to when it comes to the Lance family. It’s why the show feels so completely disjointed.

Oliver pays Tommy a visit and wants to have a chat.

Source: @queensarrow

So it's safe to say Tommy is still pissed.

Oliver encourages him to work things out with Laurel – kind of?

Oliver: Lord knows, I am guilty of a lot of things between us, but not you are her.

What’s infuriating about this conversation is that Oliver still refuses to accept any kind of responsibility in their break up. Oliver pretends to be a friend to the all feminists and touts Laurel’s independence and free will. She makes her own choices and she chose Tommy.

Tommy’s point is clear, even if it is self pitying; Laurel is not dealing with all the information. If she did have all the information then she would choose Oliver. From Oliver’s standpoint, it doesn’t matter because he can’t be with her.

That’s not reassuring to Tommy nor is it supposed to be. If the elements keeping Oliver and Laurel apart were removed (the Hood) then Oliver wouldn’t think twice about making a move on Laurel. And Tommy knows this. These are not the actions of a best friend, which is why he’s so pissed.

Now, Tommy’s big mistake was throwing in the towel too early. He should have NEVER given Oliver an opening with Laurel, but he did and it set them on this path. No we have to watch it play out.

Oliver: I promised myself that when I crossed all of these names off the list, I’d be done, but taking down these people, it doesn’t honor him. I was just treating the symptoms while the disease festered. I stop the Undertaking… I wipe out the disease.

Diggle: What are you saying Oliver? You would hang up the Hood?

Oliver: Merlyn’s plan is what I returned from the island to stop.

Does anyone else have whiplash? Oliver does a complete about face and determines he can be with Laurel since he only needs to cross one name off the list instead of dozens. He’s just missing one step, gee what could it be? Oh! I know. OLIVER STILL HAS TO CROSS MERLYN’S NAME OFF THE LIST AND STOP THE UNDERTAKING. Talk about counting your chickens before their hatched.

A hero’s journey is a very specific type of story. Joseph Campbell outline seventeen stages in 1949 and Christopher Vogler created an updated version in 2007 for screenwriting. I’m not going through all seventeen steps, but we can skip to the very last one regarding this storyline.

Freedom to Live/Return with the Elixir – meaning the hero has faced their internal and external struggles, has conquered the demons around them and earned the right to live as they choose. From a spiritual sense, the hero lives without fear of death.

It’s similar with Vogler’s elixir stage. From a community perspective, the hero has found the magical way to heal their wounded land. They are bringing hope, life and freedom back to their loved ones. In doing so, it gives the hero a personal victory. They’ve earned the right to experience peace and joy, which can be represented in a wide variety of narratives.

Oliver is hero. Arrow has made his endgame very clear - save Starling City. Has he saved the city? Has he stopped Malcolm Merlyn? NO. So why is his leather clad ass running all the way back to Laurel Lance to enjoy the fruits an elixir he has yet to procure? If Laurel is endgame, this makes absolutely no sense. This is too fast. It’s too abrupt. It doesn’t feel earned because it hasn’t been earned.

Clearly, the initial plan was to put Oliver (Green Arrow) and Laurel (Black Canary) on parallel, if not intersecting, paths. I’m not saying Oliver cannot be with Laurel as they evolve into superheroes together. But this is the first freaking season you guys! He hasn’t done a damn thing yet! Neither has she. And yet, here Oliver is, knocking on Laurel’s door, looking for some fruit.

Oliver: Ever since I’ve been back, we’ve been doing this dance. We come together and then I pull away.  Something pulls me away, but I think finally that something might be over.

Laurel: What are you are trying saying?

Oliver: That you know me better than anyone. And that you are more important to me than anyone. I just hope I didn’t wait too long to say it.

If Laurel has no clue Oliver is the Hood then can he really claim she knows him best? It sounds good to say, and probably what Laurel is dying to hear, but it rings hollow because there’s no evidence of this anywhere on the show. Laurel was wrong about who Oliver is all season. We are just supposed to accept some verbal acknowledgment of change, that she knows him better than anyone, but without any television scenes to back it up. That’s not how storytelling works, Arrow writers.

Sorry to beat a dead horse, but I warned you I wasn’t done with this topic - Oliver is still lying to Laurel. There should be more talking. What are those things pulling you away, Oliver? Why are they over? Are you a hooded, crime fighting, serial killer who has been mysteriously stalking me all year? Those are just some ideas off the top of my head. There is no person on this planet that Oliver needs an honest conversation with more than Laurel Lance, but nope. They jump straight to sex.  

Let’s talk about the sex. This has been built up all season. These two characters belong together. They are bulldozing over Tommy Merlyn to be together because they are this passionate romance that time cannot quell. It should be like the fourth of July in Laurel’s apartment right now.

Source: laurelscanary

Instead, of heat we get frigid. Fish have hotter sex.

I’m willing to acknowledge "Radioactive" was the hit song of 2013 and every show on the CW was using it. It has a very sexy beat and big crescendo. It sounds like a good song to use during a sex scene.

Except for the fact that it’s called RADIOACTIVE with lyrics like, “This is it, the apocalypse.” This is not the romance your Plan A couple usually requires in a scene like this. They had Blake Neely for a composer. Where’s Oliver and Laurel’s love theme? We'll probably get it in the season finale but anything would be better than "Radioactive."

Source: laurelscanary

Next issue. Black socks and jean shorts?  Wardrobe – what were you thinking? Nobody felt the need to tell Katie to take off the sox? Details matter!!

Source: laurelscanary

Stephen Amell and Katie Cassidy kissing are like watching two pieces of flat cardboard trying to hump each other. Can they choose a direction? Are we biting or no biting? Are we using tongue or no tongue? Can Oliver unbutton his shirt or does Laurel need to help? Is Oliver going to drop Laurel while trying to get her sweatshirt off? It was just so awkward from start to finish. ZERO SPARKS.

Source: habibialkaysani

And for the coup de grace, they leave the curtains pulled wide open, so Tommy can see them screwing from the street. The look of utter devastation on his face is heartbreaking and that’s the final image they leave us with as their love scene fades to black. Oliver and Laurel reuniting are not framed as a good thing. It’s framed as a betrayal, because that’s exactly what it is.

Source: @queensarrow

Even worse, Felicity finds the device while Oliver and Laurel are asleep and HE LEAVES. No note. No, honey I have to run out and save the city real quick, but I’ll be back for round two later. Nothing. But please, tell me again how much Ollie has changed.

When I watched this episode live I was horribly disappointed the big reunion with Laurel and Oliver fell flat. This was really my last gasp trying to be a Lauriver shipper. And I use the term “trying” loosely. I was more or less looking for any redeeming qualities in this love story, but after this hypothermic love scene I was officially out. I could not ship these two. I could never forgive them for betraying Tommy. But I feared Arrow would never move on from Oliver and Laurel.  

Of course, their real intention becomes all too clear later. Arrow was trying to blow them up to make way for something infinitely better.

 Theroy

Speaking of flipping back and forth, these two break up every other week. Roy is clearly committed to finding the Vigilante, which leads them to Merlyn Global and a run in with Oliver, the disapproving older brother. Again, Stephen Amell’s acting is superb.

I loved the way he said “What” to Thea and the firm alpha male handshake he gives Roy, warning him to stay away.

Obviously, Roy accomplished his goal. He found the Vigilante. Roy just doesn’t know it. He thinks Oliver Queen is too much of a wimp to ever consider him as the man in the hood. Thea was good and ticked off with that “wimp” remark. Enough to dump Roy. She will not tolerate any slander of her brother. #QUEENSIBILINGSFOREVER

But this is like the fifth time these two broke up, so it’s losing the impact. This isn’t all about the Hood’s identity and thanking him for saving Roy’s life. He wants to BE the Hood, so Roy can protect the people he loves and never lose anyone again. The question is – who did Roy lose? Unfortunately, Thea storms out before we get an answer, but hopefully one is coming in the season finale. (No I do not remember who).

Long story short, yes I like these two, but the faster the Arrow writers move the characters into the Hood storyline the better. Otherwise they are just marooned on their own show like Laurel Lance Island.

Stray Thoughts

Yao Fei died! It’s so sad and traumatic. I forgot he’s shot in the head. Really didn’t need to see that twice.

Fyers is shooting down a commercial airliner to destabilize the Chinese economy. It’s always about money for these assholes.

Walter wants a divorce and I would say their differences are irreconcilable. Moira is getting what she deserves. You can’t kidnap your husband for six months and then offer him tea and crumpets when he comes home.

"Who the hell is Felicity Smoak?" Uh oh. Quentin has Felicity’s name. That ain’t good.

“Is the other archer working for Merlyn?” Please don’t make Diggle look this dumb again.

Merlyn versus Oliver battle was EPIC! The fight scenes this season are so stellar.

“Psychopaths are color coding themselves. That’s helpful.” HA!

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 1x22!!!

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Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me!

[jeanvanjer]

Hi, I hope you don't mind the question, but do you have a list of (historical) romance novels you recommend somewhere? I'm pretty new to the genre and would like some recs to start off with.

Thank you!

Of course I dont mind! I dont have a list here (but if you check the book recs tag or reading romance im sure youd find books ive read or books friends have recommeded) so I'll just post a few here.

Fair warning! I am horrible of keeping track of the books I've read so my recs will be a just a bunch of random books I like. @mermaidsirennikita and @triviareads are far more organized in their book recs than I am so you can always check their pages.

Please let me know if you'd like specific tropes!! Or more importantly if you have any TWs!

The Chief (the entire Highland Guard series actually) by Monica McCarthy. Tor MacLeod is a highland laird very much focused on helping Robert the Bruce with his secret plan to free Scotland from English Rule but his sudden marriage to sweet Tina is distracting him. They're forced to marry after she's found in his bed (her dad blackmailed her into getting herself ruined instead of her sister). The entire series is honestly a banger. It marries actual history with romance in a very clever way. The Chief is 1 of 12 so you have a lot of different tropes and stories to choose from if this one isnt for you!

Convergence of Desire by Felicity Niven - A TRULY WONDERFUL book with great disability rep. Harry (Harriet) is probably the biggest STEM heroine Ive read in HR (I know you love those based on your writing) and is on the spectrum. On paper Thomas is a rake that cannot fathom committing to only one woman but he needs to marry for money fast and she just wants to solve Fermat's Last Theorem. They enter a marriage of convenience and this book is just plain lovely. The very few books that have made me cry. Its emotional and the relationship that builds between these two is just🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽

The Winter King and The Sea King by CL Wilson. CL Wilson is an amazing writing imo. I haven't read romantasy since high school and these books were the first ive read and enjoyed after such a long time. The first book is a marriage of convenience/ forced marriage situation. Her brother killed his brother and fiance?? I dont remember the specifics. But he wants a bride as payment and Thasin (our herione) father is an ass and decided TW there is dubcon. The first sex scene is the wedding night and there are aphrodiacs involved. Second one Dilys is a merman. Thats always fun. Super feminist too. Dont remember the exact details but did have a great time reading this one too.

The Duke Gets Even by Johanna Shupe. Shupe is a great writer and from the very few books I've read of her, The Duke Gets Even is probably my favorite.

Anything by Lorraine Heath but the most recent book I remember reading is The Duchess Hunt where the hero appoints his secretary (who secretly loves him) to find his a wife. Preferably one who is as organized, wonderful, and knows him as much as she does LOL. Lorraine one of the best writers in the genre and they always hit emotionally. You won’t go wrong with anything by her.

Again the Magic by Lisa Kleypas. An all time favorite book of mine. Think Persuasion but with a revenge plot. Aline drives McKenna away when they were younger to save him and he comes back a rich ass bitch ready for revenge. The chemistry between Aline and McKenna is insane. One of the few times I truly believed the “soulmates” thing. These two are definitely soulmates. And there’s a wonderful secondary romance as well.

What I Did For a Duke by Julie Anne Long. An Age Gap romance where Alexander plans to seduce Genevieve as revenge against her brother (who slept with his mistress) but she susses him out quickly from there they become sort of friends? he helps her win over her crush, he tells her she has stars in her hair, and along the way they fall in love. Alex is one of my all time favorite heroes.

Lord Of Scoundrels by Loretta Chase. As much as I love the hero of this book, Dan I recommend this book a lot solely for the heroine. Jessica Trent has my heart. She is that bitch.

Heartless Duke by Scarlett Scott. An intense romance between Leo, an agent for England and Bridgit, a fenian rebel. Lots of angst and sexual tension. So good.

Lost in Your Arms and That Scandalous Evening by Christina Dodd. These books were one of the first books I read when I started my own reading journey so these hold a special place in my heart. LIYA is about Enid who’s living her life as a widowed caretaker but then someone comes to tell her husband is alive and on the brink of death so she’s forced to nurse him back to health. The love confession that happens is honestly one of my favorite confessions of all time. TSE is about Jane who is back from self imposed exile after a scandal that ruined her ten years back. Ransom, the cause of her scandal and her last crush, suspects of being a spy and tries to stop her. With his heart (and dick).

[thedeviltohisangel]

For A Fortnight There We Were: If It's Forever, It's Even Better

a/n: this a fast forward into the life of callum and evelyn because i think about the pure happiness of domesticity that the both of them would have. i hope you all enjoy this glimpse into the future and send me all you thoughts on it. love youuuu

tw: smut

Evelyn smiled gracefully as the sounds of photographers being taken echoed around her. She was posing in front of the Eiffel Tower in the latest collection from Loewe, serving as one of their newest brand ambassadors for Fashion Week. 

It was her first big event after the recent birth of her daughter, Melanie, and the embroidered fabric was not entirely forgiving but she was a professional. Ready and willing to maintain her commitments and do so with a smile on her face when all she really wanted to do was hide in her hotel room with Callum and their babies.

 The thought of leaving Melanie at home while she flew to Paris had sparked a level of anxiety in Evelyn that she hadn’t experienced with their first daughter, Felicity. There had been so many other distractions surrounding her birth that she hadn’t had time to do anything other than react. Felicity had been a complete surprise, conceived on a private beach in Greece after Callum got word of his most recent Emmy nomination, and they had mostly succeeded at keeping Evelyn’s pregnancy a secret from the public until they were ready to share it with the world. Then Logan had struck. Sued Evelyn and asked for a paternity test to prove she hadn’t used any of his sperm they’d frozen when they were together. Prove that Felicity was not his biological daughter. 

The entire ordeal tainted her first months of being a mother as she had to watch the toll it took on Callum to have his identity as a father questioned. To have the man they had thought they were rid of rear his ugly head and try to wrangle his poison into something as precious as their child. Evelyn had truly not known if her and Callum would be able to weather such a storm. 

“My older daughter just turned two so we had a really big, princess themed party to celebrate and my newest little one is just about six months so I’m super busy and leaning into mom life but the whirlwind is super worth it,” Evelyn answered as she doing an interview with Vogue for their social media spread of her and the few other ambassadors posing in the new collection. 

“You and your partner, the ever handsome Mr. Turner, have really nailed the street style while you’ve been here in Paris. Talk me through how you guys plan together and work together so seamlessly.” 

“Thank you for saying that because it took a lot of work for me to remind him he has more than one pair of pants and one pair of sneakers,” Evelyn laughed as she thought of the white Nikes he had brought around the world with them for the first couple years of their relationship, “at this point in our lives together, with two kids, we have just really become a team. We’ve gotten our own little language down and have figured out how to hit that level of synchronization that makes our day and our daughters day go smoothly so I think that when you see us looking cute at a cafe or something it’s because we are both sharing the same exhausted little brain cell and that is guiding our clothing choices right now.” She smiled, trying to hide the truth of the exhaustion behind her words, but couldn’t help how happy she was. The rhythm they had found as partners and parents was something they had each only ever dreamed of. 

Their lack of engagement or marriage was less of a fight than it had been before Felicity, the commitment of having a child together meaning more to either of them than a ring and a piece of paper ever could. That didn’t stop Callum from checking in on her feelings towards marriage on occasion. Evelyn knew it would always be something he wanted. And a part of her had been thinking about how she was going to tell him that it was now something she wanted too. Wanted to be his wife and have him be her husband and show their daughters that marriage was not something to be afraid of. Show them that their mother was healing from her past and their father was an integral part of them. Give them the opportunity to have an example to follow in their parents of what a relationship should be. 

“What’s on your schedule this week in Paris?”

“My daughters are here with me so we’ve got to check off some of the tourist attractions. Maybe a quick stop over to Disneyland but really it’s the City of Love so I’m just happy to be here with the three people that are teaching me what that word really means and share in everything Paris has to offer with them.” Evelyn paused. “I’m sorry for the sappy answer. I can do that over if you want something more fashion based.” She could see Tracy, her publicist, inching closer from the sidelines. The interviewer shook her head.

“No, ma’am. This was perfect. The you that is shining through is exactly what we are looking for.”

“Thanks, Ava, we’ll be in touch once you have the first draft ready for approval,” Tracy said with a smile as Evelyn waved. “How you feeling? I think we’ve got enough time for you to head to the hotel and change looks before the show unless you want to do it now and change in the car.” Her security collapsed around them as they began to walk towards the waiting SUV, fans waving and snapping grainy photos for update Twitter accounts as Evelyn passed them.

“Hotel. My boobs hurt and I’m on the verge of leaking.” She grimaced as the nipple covers did nothing to protect her from the fabric of her dress. “Am I talking too much about being a mother in these interviews?” 

“No. It’s an important part of who you are now. I’m comfortable with you sharing as much as feels right to you,” Tracy responded as the door closed behind them and she was busily typing on her phone. “I’m just glad they’ve stopped asking when you’re getting married.” Evelyn merely hummed in agreement. 

“About that…how much warning would you want before a wedding?” Tracy paused her typing.

“Is there something I should know about?”

“No, not yet. I’ve just been thinking about it lately. Might have come around to the idea,” Evelyn shrugged as if it was nothing. 

“I’m happy for you, Ev. Both of you. I can’t think of two people more deserving of the life you’ve built.” Evelyn smiled and looked at the wallpaper on her phone. A photo from behind of her two daughters and Callum watching the fireworks at Disney World a couple weeks ago. She’d give anything to ensure a lifetime of moments just like that for all of them. It made her giddy to think about the life they had ahead of them. 

Evelyn was finally starting to think that she deserved it too.

----

She opened the hotel room door carefully as it was nap time, hoping to be met by the silence of two sleeping little girls. 

“What’s wrong my little princess?” she cooed as her eyes zeroed in on Melanie, her cheeks red and streaked with tears as her father was bouncing her around the sitting area in the hope she would settle. “Come here.” Callum transferred her and her crying stopped. 

“You get to come in and save the day,” he muttered as he puckered his lips for a kiss. 

“My boob game is stronger, baby, I’m sorry.” She kissed him, nuzzling his nose for a little extra love, before turning around. “Can you unzip me? It’s probably a good time for her to eat.” The dress pooled around her feet, Evelyn tossing the uncomfortable nipple covers into the trash before sitting comfortably in an armchair. 

“You just wanted your mum,” Callum kissed his daughter’s forehead as she latched onto her mother with ease and pulled milk into her mouth. 

“That feels so good,” Evelyn groaned, “I was about to burst while I was working this morning.” He pressed a kiss into the top of her head before sitting in the chair to her right, his forearms resting on the top of his thighs as he watched the two of them intently. 

“How did it go this morning?”

“Felt good to get dolled up and work again but I missed the girls.” She had missed Felicity endlessly after she’d had her and had thought she would miss Melanie in the same way. It had been something more intense as if the emotions were compounded into each other. The same way her heart had grown to accommodate her love for them, so had her capacity for despair in missing them.  “What did you troublemakers get up to?” she asked, her finger gently stroking over baby-soft cheeks.

“Liss and I snuggled for a bit before breakfast then we went for a little walk,” he left out the part where he’d let Felicity drink hot chocolate before nap time, “we had a small little dance party when we got back before coloring time and now here we are.” Melanie popped away from her meal with a gurgle, smiling up at her mother with a milk-drunk haze to her eyes. 

“Someone thoroughly enjoyed herself, didn’t she, my little love?” Evelyn hummed as Callum reached for the baby and rested her against the burp cloth on his shoulder. She retrieved one of his t-shirts from the dresser, the hem hitting her mid-thigh, and kissed his shoulder as she walked passed towards the bathroom. “A few years ago we would’ve been in disguise trying to walk around the city or spending the day just rotating between sex in bed and sex in the shower.” Evelyn smiled in the mirror as she checked how much work her makeup artist would have to do before the Loewe show in a couple hours. 

“Sometimes I miss it then I look at our two princesses and feel like we had no idea it was going to get even better.” Melanie let out a burp, a little bit of milk dribbling onto the cloth as she looked over at her father like she had surprised even herself. 

“Such a big burp for a little love!” Evelyn smoothed her hand over the tufts of hair on her daughter's head and kissed her gently. 

There was a gentle knock on the door and she knew it was her glam team and stylist ready to get her prepared for the show. The little bubble of domesticity burst. A quick check behind the door to the bedroom showed her burgeoning toddler still sleeping, the baby monitor on the nightstand not proof enough, and she clicked the door back closed softly. 

“We’ll get out of your way,” Callum whispered as Melanie’s eyes were closing slowly and opening again even slower. He moved towards the room, content to take a nap with both his daughters while Evelyn primped herself for the evening, but was stopped by her hand on his elbow. 

“Baby? Thank you. For being the best partner ever through all of this.” When his career surged, she was there every step of the way. When she had doubts about her ability to work and devote herself fully to motherhood, he had stood strong by her side and never let the shadows consume her. He met her weaknesses with strength. Didn’t shy away from taking an active role with their daughters while she worked. They let each other shine and live in the spotlight they earned. 

“I love you, Ev.” He kissed her soundly. “Being with you and the girls, I’ll never need anything else.” She smiled as another knock sounded on the door, this one a little bit more impatient. 

“Dream of me,” she teased as she headed towards the door. 

“What were you saying about the bed and the shower?” His voice trailed off as he disappeared into the bedroom, Evelyn’s giggling floating after him. 

She opened the door with her trademark, movie star smile. The reprieve was always nice. But now, as they wheeled in two racks of clothing and carried in duffle bags of hair and makeup supplies, it was back to work.

----

Evelyn did her best to sneak out of the show as quickly as she could without being rude. She had sat in the front row next to Anna Wintour, an absolute honor, and made sure to pose for plenty of photos with JW Anderson, the creative director of Loewe, before making her great escape. Past versions of her would have partied all night and stumbled under the withering gaze of paparazzi and been eager to do it all over again for the rest of the week of festivities. 

This version of her was fighting sleep in the backseat of a SUV and aching to remove her makeup and crawl into bed with her partner with anticipation for one, if not both, of her daughters to wake her up with the sun the next morning. She smiled to herself as her forehead rested on the window. Never in her life could she have imagined being this happy. Never in her life did she think she would be able to get over the devastation of Logan and land on the other side. 

“Hey. You didn’t have to wait up for me.” Evelyn tiptoed quietly across the room and kissed Callum soundly where he was lying in bed with a book, the one his next project was based on. She looked down at the baby monitor and smiled at the sight of her two little angels sleeping peacefully. 

“Felt like I didn’t get to see you at all today.” The arrival of Melanie had meant a period of blissful time where both of them were home and no work was popping up to distract them. It had been pure serenity even though the chaos of adding a second child to the mix could not be understated. Callum had never been more in love with her than he had been since the birth of Felicity, the addition of Melanie amplifying his devotion to a level he was still trying to comprehend. 

“You want to take a shower with me?” she hummed with a twinkle to her eyes. He leaned in for another kiss as he nodded, throwing the blankets to the side with a sense of urgency. They held hands as he followed her into the bathroom, her dress riding up the back of her thighs to expose the lace of her panties as she bent over the tub. 

“Already got me half hard,” he mumbled as his finger reached to push the hem up the last little bit to expose the back of her panties to him fully. She stood with a laugh and turned back towards him with her arms up. He lifted the dress up and over her head with a groan at the sight of her breasts, still plump and full from the recent birth of their daughter. Callum hadn’t been able to properly enjoy them with how sensitive they had been lately. His hands were incredibly cautious as they traced around her nipple. 

“Fuck. That feels heavenly.” The sensation was going right between her legs and causing her clit to throb with need. “Let me at least wash my face before we get too carried away,” she asked. He removed his hand and stepped out of his plaid pants, watching her tie back her hair and wipe away her makeup with a wipe before they stepped under the hot spray of the shower. She groaned with delight as it hit her face and began to soothe the aches in her body from a long day back at work. 

Large hands drifted around her waist and traced down the front of her stomach. His thumbs rubbed the stretch marks on her skin purposefully, always referring to them as her tiger stripes, before teasing between her thighs. 

“Just relax, baby,” he murmured in her ear. With a sound of content, her head dropped back onto his shoulder as his hand slipped under her knee and guided her foot to rest on the shelf in the corner of the shower. 

“You spent all day taking care of our daughters and now you want to spend all night taking care of me?” she teased, a little out of breath with the way his fingertip was ghosting her bundle of nerves. 

“Nothing makes me happier than taking care of all of you.” It was true. It was fulfilling beyond his wildest dreams to be a father. To go on this journey with the love of his life. He had thought he’d be nervous to be alone with the two of them but it had all disappeared the minute Felicity had curled into his side and asked if she could hold her sister. 

“We’re lucky to have you.” A sigh of pleasure slipped from her lips as he increased the pressure of his ministrations. “You might be lucky too if you stop teasing me.” He chuckled and nipped at her ear but obliged her request and circled her clit with more intention. 

“You get very demanding when you’re tired,” he mused. Evelyn merely moaned in response and slowly began to buck her hips in a desperate search for more friction. Two fingers buried themselves inside her as his other hand skimmed up her side to wrap around her throat. The ever so slight pressure combined with the way the heel of his palm was rubbing her clit with each thrust of his fingers had her coming with a silent moan and quivers in her muscles.She hummed and turned in his arms to kiss him, her back hitting the shower wall and her foot going back to the tiny ledge. “Oh? Think you’ve earned me fucking you?” One hand dropped to the side of her head to cage her in while the other wrapped around his own length and pumped up and down. 

“Yes, please,” she answered. The picture of innocence. Her brows furrowed as he pushed into her slowly and her mouth dropped open in a silent moan at the sensation of him filling her to the hilt. 

“That fake little innocent voice of yours is how we got the two babies already,” he pointed out as he rocked into her and began to find a rhythm. 

“Fake? I-,” her retort cut off by his pursuit of that delicious angle only his cock knew how to reach. 

“Shit, Ev, you feel so fucking good.” His kiss was sloppy as he picked up the pace of his hips, chasing the feeling that was beginning to brew at the bottom of his stomach. 

“Cal, quicker, oh fuck,” she squeaked as her toes curled and her muscles tensed then snapped into her second orgasm, Callum answering with his eyes to the back of his head and a moan that sounded like heaven to her ears.

“I love you,” he said into her shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

“Marry me.” His head snapped up.

“What?”

“Marry me,” she repeated as she looked directly into his eyes. “I want to be your wife.” His breath slowly evened out as the sounds of the shower surrounded them. Evelyn all of a sudden felt nervous. Why was he taking so long to respond? Had he decided he preferred the way they were currently doing things? Did he not want to risk the balance they had found?

“Why are you saying that? Why now?” He knows it was something he had been ready to do six months after they’d met. Had never tried to hide that desire from her. For years she had struggled and agonized over marriage. Not with him, with anyone. The connotations of the union ruined from her first husband. 

“I’ve been thinking about the example I want to set for our daughters. And not that you have to be married to someone to love them or be with them forever. Just…If something scares you, running from it is not always the right answer. There are different ways to heal and letting people in who love you and want to help you is the best place to start.” He showed no sign of interrupting her. “Felicity and Melanie are all I will ever need to be healed. To know I made the right decision to leave that marriage. Marrying you…Being your wife…Fear can’t have control over those words for me anymore.” 

“I’ll marry you,” he whispered. “Are you going to let me propose to you properly or are we eloping by the river tomorrow?” 

“I would like a proper proposal, Mr. Turner,” she grinned. 

“Okay.” He nodded once, not giving an inch as to when or where he was planning to do it, before pressing his lips to hers. “While I have you nice and relaxed, I should mention I may or may not have gotten our daughter addicted to hot chocolate.”

----

“Can daddy have a sip of hot chocolate?” 

“No, Daddy!” Evelyn smirked as she watched Felicity furrow her brow and wave Callum’s hand away from her tiny cup. They were sitting on the balcony of the Angelina Cafe at the Louvre, Evelyn wanting to watch the chaos of Felicity drinking pure, melted chocolate while enjoying the moderate and sunny weather. 

“You have your own, Daddy,” she teased, careful not to jostle the baby sleeping against her chest. He shot her back a look that he said he could only deal with one of them having an attitude at a time. 

“Mommy?” Felicity extended her little hand with a half eaten croissant in it towards her mother, offering her a bite of her breakfast. 

“Oh, why thank you!” Evelyn leaned down and took a small bite and hummed like it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten in the world. Felicity giggled and took her own bite before mimicking the sounds of her mother. “Does it taste good, my love?” The toddler nodded enthusiastically before taking another bite. 

“Make sure you chew all the way,” Callum cautioned as he brought a napkin to her cheeks. There had been a particularly harrowing evening when Felicity hadn’t chewed her dinner before trying to swallow. He wasn’t keen on ever repeating that.

“Should we go look at paintings once we are done with breakfast?” Evelyn asked. She was also supposed to be taking candids with the more well known art for an upcoming Dior Beauty campaign. 

“No.”

“No? But they’re very pretty.” Felicity shook her head and reached for her cup, Callum resting his hands on top of hers to assist. 

“Mickey Mouse,” she requested as chocolate coated her lips and the tip of her nose. 

“You’ve created a monster,” he murmured around his orange juice. 

“I’m not the one who bought her a stuffed Duffy that’s bigger than her.”

“Actually, Lissy,” Callum began, “Mummy and Daddy were thinking of going to a farm. Do you think you might like that?” Evelyn looked at him with a quizzical brow. When had that ever come up as part of their day?

“Yes!” The little girl cheered, her arms almost knocking over her plate of carbs and jam.

“Okay, let’s finish our breakfast so Mummy can take her pictures then we can go.” Callum dabbed at the apricot jam at the corner of her mouth and helped her take another sip of her hot chocolate.

“What are you scheming?” Evelyn whispered around her own drink, Melanie drooling onto her shoulder.

“It’s a surprise. Don’t worry about it.”

----

Felicity was thrilled to be running through a field of flowers a few hours later. It hadn’t been a farm in the way Evelyn was thinking. There was no petting zoo or tractors rolling around. It was lush green grass and flowers and a little river with lily pads winding its way through the center. 

She had been too focused on feeding Melanie in the backseat of the car to pay any attention to where they had gone after her miniature photoshoot with the more iconic artwork of the Louvre. Both the museum and the fashion house were very pleased with the relaxed nature of the content, excited to use it as a muse for the next campaign. She had even been able to coax her two daughters into posing for a few photos with her and snuck in some full family photos before Felicity had even been able to think about throwing a tantrum.

The little girl had fallen asleep on Callum’s lap while they drove to their destination but had awoken promptly upon their arrival when she’d seen all the free space to run and chase after butterflies. She was well-behaved and knew not to go too far and looked back at her parents on occasion to make sure they were still close behind. It was when they reached the river and Evelyn saw a very distinct bridge crossing over it that she began to feel an inkling of what might be happening.

“Callum…” She froze and reached for his hand, pausing the carriage Melanie was currently resting in. “Are we…”

“At Monet’s garden? Yes.”

“And why is no one else here?” He squeezed her hand and kept pulling her forward. 

“Because I made sure we could have some privacy for the day.” She couldn’t help that her heart felt like it was thundering in her chest. She had a sense of what she thought was going on but she didn’t want to burst the bubble by mentioning it. 

“Well you’ve certainly made Felicity very happy.” Even in her few years of life, Felicity knew something wasn’t normal about it. Her friends at preschool didn’t fly all by themselves or see their mom on a billboard. She thought everyone’s dad was on TV.

Evelyn and Callum agonized over trying to keep her childhood as close to their own as possible. But these moments, where something as simple as watching their daughter run around without paparazzi struck them, they were reminded just how hard that goal could be.

“I live to make the three of you happy. Besides,” he shrugged as they neared that bridge, “If she is this happy just having some grass to run through, I can make that happen every day.” As if sensing her parents were talking about her, the little girl came running and crashed into her father’s leg with a smile. 

“Hi Daddy,” she said gleefully. He crouched down to her level and cupped his hand over his mouth before leaning to whisper in her ear. 

“I don’t trust you two when you’re whispering,” Evelyn muttered as she peeked to make sure Melanie was still asleep. 

“Rose!” Evelyn turned as Felicity ran towards their nanny who was approaching with a smile across her face. 

“Callum…” Her voice faded as he reached for her hand again and pulled her up onto the walking bridge, the two girls now under the watchful eye of Rose. 

“Baby, I’m barely hanging on by a thread,” he laughed as they reached the center of the bridge and he turned to face her and to grab both of her hands. “You told me a long time ago that your dream proposal was right here. In the middle of your favorite painting.” 

“You remembered?” Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she thought back to the moment she had told him that. A drunken night in London when she felt so safe and happy and warm that the future wasn’t scary at all. She had even allowed herself to think there was a time that she would welcome it. 

“Evvie, I remember every detail about you that you’ve trusted me with.” That future that she hoped to one day welcome. It was exactly this. Here, with the man she loved who loved her right back. Here, with her two beautiful daughters a beacon of love and happiness watching their parents with little smiles. “And you told me I didn’t have to so soon…” He dropped to one knee in front of her and she closed her eyes and shook her head to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. 

“I should have known better than to think you could wait,” she giggled. 

“Evelyn Shaw, from the moment I looked at you, I knew we were meant to be in each other’s life. I didn’t know how or why or the moments we would share but being with you always felt so right. And it still does, every day. You gave me the honor of my life by making me a father. Being Felicity and Melanie’s father is the most important thing I will ever be and I’m hoping you’ll allow me to be your husband, a close second.” He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a perfect diamond ring. An oval diamond on a simple gold band. The ring Logan had used to propose to her had been gaudy and ostentatious. This one was perfect. A representation of the pure and unassuming love her and Callum had nurtured for years and bloomed into this beautiful, wonderful thing. Their daughters a physical embodiment of that. “Will you marry me?”

Evelyn dropped to her knees with a laugh that rang out into the air like a melody and threw her arms around his neck. “Yes, my love, yes!” She gripped his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips, as hard as she could possibly muster, tears of joy streaking down her face. 

“I love you so fucking much. You and our girls are my wildest dreams come true.” 

“You make me so happy,” she whispered as the sounds of Felicity cheering grew closer and closer. He kissed her once before sliding the ring onto her finger, kissing over the stone as a tiny toddler came crashing into her body. “Hi baby! Are you happy?” The little one nodded and giggled, her arms tight around her mother’s neck. 

“Love you,” she whispered, puckering her lips expectantly for a kiss from each of her parents. 

“I love you, too, pumpkin.” She squeaked with glee as Callum gripped under her arms and lifted her high into the sky. Felicity spread her arms like they were wings and laughed as her father flew her through the air. Evelyn stood and chased after them with her own laugh, no inhibitions anywhere on the horizon. 

The thing she once feared, she welcomed. The things she once thought would be her end, were now her beginning. And the pieces of her heart she had kept so guarded were now nestled in the palms of her fiance and her daughters to keep warm and protected. And she trusted them to do it. In a way she never would have thought possible. In a way that was freeing.

Evelyn spread her own arms like wings to match her daughter. And she smiled as she flew under the sun.

[maevelin]

Hindsight is 20/20

Nostalgia hit me and I have been rewatching Arrow and one of the things that had bothered me about Olicity (while being an Olicity fan - still am lol) is the way Felicity broke up with Oliver after him not telling her about William in S4.

It felt rushed and it didn't put Felicity in a good light but now that I have watched Arrow in its entirety I can finally see where this is coming from and it even gives me another perspective on Olicity.

Putting aside Felicity's fear for abandonment and the way she immediately kept jumping the gun whenever there was a secret concerning Oliver (proof how she immediately told him about Thea's parentage secret) I think that Felicity was also kind of ...right in the end?

Yes she was projecting her fears and in a hypocritical way some times as she had confessed too but deep down she knew who Oliver Queen was better than anyone.

I mean it in the way that Felicity had understood Oliver's thought process and his tendency for sacrifice better than literally anyone (even Diggle) and she knew once he set him mind on something he would go secretly about it and take charge. She knew him better than anyone and she was in panic trying to protect herself from losing him because deep down she knew there would be only stolen moments of happiness and then he would be gone and she would not be part of the decision because Oliver was the kind of hero that would do the unthinkable for the greater good. And that would mean her emotional devastation.

If you think about it when it comes to their foundation of trust it all starts falling apart in S3. The secrets and the actions chosen when Oliver decided to join the league of assassins in S3 and kept it a secret had consequences. He was ready to die on that plane and kept it a secret. Felicity barely processed that and forgave him at once when they left together to live their happy ending but that doesn't mean that she didn't get a clear and very terrifying insight on how Oliver operated and how his mindset was set in stone when it came to being a hero and what he would do for his mission.

I think what hurt Felicity the most (and was the catalyst for their breakup) was Oliver's decision to record the video for future William and it was a decision that didn't include her at all even though he had asked her to marry him so his decision (whatever that would be) would affect their future family. Plus it surely triggered Felicity's father issues and abandonment issues.

If you come down to it her biggest fear was losing Oliver and she would rather break up with him to save herself from future pain by ironically breaking up and losing him. But it was unfathomable to Felicity that she could have the perfect relationship with him and it would be snatched away and that Oliver would be a ticking bomb of secrets that could blow up at any moment.

Did they give all that in the most soap opera way once the spinal implant worked and she walked away. Yes.

But let us see how the future worked after that.

In order for Oliver to catch Diaz he gave himself up and went into prison which was a decision he made on his own in secret without including Felicity and that would affect and define their future lives. He kept that a secret and by the time it was revealed he had ensured that Felicity would not have the ability to change this because if there was one person that could stop Oliver from making those decisions was Felicity (as we saw when Oliver considered to join Hive and Darkh but Felicity put some sense to him).

And this was a pattern. A disturbing one till the end.

For his heroic sacrifice in the Crisis Oliver made one more a SECRET deal where he literally exchanged his life without telling Felicity even after he made it until the Monitor came to retrieve him. Which of course ended in what Felicity feared the most and she lost him. Living the life of a single mother as hers had.

This was his default setting and I think Felicity saw that from the start and eventually she had to accept it and come to peace with it in order to be with him but that does not change that in the end she had been right. Oliver kept secrets and made altering life decisions without including her.

His intentions were noble but that was the root of all of Felicity fears and problems with their relationship which in the end came full circle.

I feel they could have handled all that way better (storytelling wise) but once you see the full picture it works.

And yeah in the end Olicity got their HEA in the afterlife but that does not mean that they had an easy life. It was happiness from stolen moments while they were alive and then it was grief and separation and the price they had to pay for the life they were leading and the greater good.

[bluedalahorse]

Fandom-leaning writing residency updates! I have been watching my classmates do their lectures (I give mine on Friday) and it’s giving me some thoughts about the Characters, as always:

One of my classmates lectured on how she tried to find the line between devoted in a way that makes you go “aww” and obsessed in a way that makes you go “yikes!” in YA love interests. Of course, she pointed out that this is more a continuum than a strict binary, and that it’s worth approaching these issues with curiosity rather than condemnation. Anyway, it gave me some more language for articulating why, for me personally, Wilhelm and August exist in roughly similar parts of the devoted-aww to obsessed-yikes continuum. I can accept wilmon endgame but I have to jump through some mental hoops to get there, and to be honest? It’s about as many mental hoops as I would have jumped through for saraugust, if saraugust was canon endgame alongside it. I think that explains why I came away from s3 ready to envision second chance futures and canon divergences where saraugust would work, and haven’t really wavered from that. I don’t think I will be posting about this (Wille and August’s places on the aww to yikes continuum) on main more but maybe I’ll talk about it with you one-on-one.

Another of my classmates talked about teen boys and friendships in the YA genre, and how those are usually portrayed as very simplistic and/or nonexistent-but-don’t-worry-about-it. He had some ideas about how to approach teen boy friendships from a craft perspective that were pretty insightful. I feel like Simon and Ayub lined up with some of what he researched, and even August and Nils and Vincent in season 3 were trending a lot more toward what my classmate talked about. I think that reaffirmed why all of those scenes were precious to me. It also once again reaffirmed for me what is and isn’t working in Wille’s platonic friendship—I use the singular because it’s really just Felice that he’s platonically close with, right? And we know that relationship needs to be more of a two-way street, and that he gave her on-and-off mixed romantic signals for about half the show. Does Wille know how to get genuinely close to people outside of a romantic context? Like does he cultivate the kinds of platonic friendships that are as important for emotional support as his romantic relationship with Simon, but different qualitatively? I feel like he struggles with it. I feel like August struggles with it too obviously, but the show wants us to know that, and wants us to find catharsis in him holding on to his friends and seeking out family at the end of the show. Whereas I think Wille’s arc would have benefitted from him learning to be a better friend and the narrative actually holding him more accountable for that. Maybe I’ll feel differently on a rewatch though.

Is this a Wille-critical post? Possibly. Honestly, he’s kind of a butt sometimes.

I like that he’s such a flawed character, though. Sometimes I wanna talk about it more, instead of explaining the flaws away.