#he just has emotions and they're vibrant and there and i love him for not being stone cold like shu-ling

[hoshinasblade]

May I request a short drabble (maybe?) on how hoshina would react if he were given flowers :3

this is so cute, thanks anon!

hey guys, im not sure if my blog is back to being ok now because support hasn't replied to me. hopefully you guys see this lol.

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: fluff, established relationship trigger warnings: none, both you and hoshina are very silly individuals who are dating so now the silliness is doubled.

send me more asks here! i have set up a masterlist here!

hoshina soshiro, the best boyfriend in all of japan - his words, not yours - has his notifications on for all your instagram activities.

it all started when you were in the very early stages of dating, and he got upset because in his book, he is supposed to always be the first one to see, heart, and reply to your instagram stories. "that's bare minimum," he proclaimed.

you would be a bit weirded out if he wasn't so adorable.

you would post the dog you saw in your morning run and not more than a few seconds later he would respond with a keyboard smash, telling you that maybe the two of you should also get a dog. you would add a note in your profile and he would reply, making conversation.

"huh", soshiro hummed, his smartphone in his hand. the briefing in the operations room is still going on, yet his attention is on your latest instagram story. there are a few perks to being one of the best defense force officers, and one of them is no one could tell you off for not focusing on the matter at hand.

it's a picture of the front display of the flower shop somewhere in town. he's familiar with the place; he's gotten you something from there a year or two ago for your anniversary. has it been that long? he thought. soshiro knows he can be busy considering his line of work requires him to spend sometimes an entire day on the base. despite that, he makes sure to compensate for lost time and spend most weekends with you. your posting flowers can only mean one thing in his mind, and it is that you want him to get you a bouquet.

which he did.

it was a beautiful bouquet of pink carnations and even pinker gerberas wrapped in blush-colored paper. he annoyed the florist to no end, asking them for a flower arrangement that would signify eternal love.

the weird thing is you already have a bouquet of flowers nestling in your arms when he gets home. confusion overtook him.

"w-what's goin' on?" he asked when you gave him the bouquet. they're sunflowers, fresh and vivid in his eyes.

you were visibly puzzled too when he handed you the very pink collection of flowers he bought.

"i got them for you, what else?" you said in a matter-of-factly tone. "i mean, you'd been working hard these days, i wanted to show my appreciation," you said, fumbling with your thumbs. it didn't matter that you had known the guy biblically, it still flusters you when you do something romantic for him.

soshiro's face was no better. his lips parted, eyes wide, he suddenly turned around, his palms covering his cheeks. "d-don't look at me," he chuckled, suddenly shy.

you gave him a hug from the back, your arms not quite able to embrace him fully. "i got sunflowers because they remind me of you", you said.

soshiro froze, his heart swelling with emotion as he processed your words. sunflowers - the vibrant, sunny blooms that chase toward the light, mirroring his own feelings for you. he smiled, a gentle quirk from the corner of his lips. “have i told you that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?” he asked, bumping his forehead to yours until your noses touched then leaning in for a kiss.

“the best boyfriend to have ever lived just said so," you replied.

[coff33andb00ks]

20 Oscar

20: pressing the other’s hand against their cheek

warnings: author doesn't understand the meaning of the word "short" and (badly written) descriptions of a wreck during a race (no injuries)

driver + number = drabble/short fic <3

Piastri just doesn't give a fuck.

Oscar is just too chill.

Does he ever show emotion except when he's laughing at Lando?

You try to stay out of comments. Hell, you try to stay off social media, it's nothing but a cesspool of people with too much time on their hands and not enough brain cells to comprehend more than the surface level of what they're shown. But sometimes you like it, because there are creative people who put out beautifully edited videos of your boyfriend. Sometimes you show them to him, enjoying his giggling while he watches and shakes his head over someone finding him attractive enough to warrant a thirty second video set to a Rihanna song.

But the comments about his emotionless black cat behavior hurt. He's so much more than how he portrays himself. He's vibrant and so full of life, and you will forever appreciate the people who see beyond his social anxiety and notice his amazing sense of humor, his passion for racing and life. They'll never know the real him and will probably never understand why you fell in love with him.

Him. The sweet and shy guy who'd come to your defense when a rude customer had been berating you over a wrong order. His voice had cut over her yelling, calm and measured, and after your manager had kicked out the irrationally angry woman it had been Oscar that had approached you to check on you, frowning when he saw your tears. His gentle tone had calmed you, his respectful stance had won your admiration, and his calling the woman a fucking cunt had made you smile.

You wish you could defend him as he continues to defend you. When a video questioning how a nobody like you had bagged a formula one rookie had gone somewhat viral he'd taken to twitter and unleashed such a beautifully worded rant that people were still quoting it more than a year later.

It's come to my attention that some so-called fans are referring to my girlfriend as a nobody. Allow me to introduce her to you. She's funny, she's brilliant, she's beautiful. She's every word you can think of to describe the perfect person and she's so much more. She shines light in the darkest corners of my soul. Her eyes are a map of my universe. When you look at us together, know that I am constantly trying to be worthy of the love she gives me, and know that if you speak ill of her you will never have my respect but you will have my disgust.

You would never ever doubt his love for you. Not that you ever had but that had cemented it. You could never come to his defense in such a way. If you even tried you'd be sneered at for being a try hard.

And really, you didn't need to. Because the one thing Oscar did not give a fuck about was anyone's opinion. Only a handful of people mattered enough to him for him to care what they thought. You were blessed to be included on that list.

You love him so much that for a while it scared you, having never fallen into the this one person is my moon and stars mindset. But now you understand. He didn't just hang them, he is your moon and stars. Your one and only and if for some reason this doesn't end in forever you'll be ruined for any other man.

It was still a shock, though, when you felt your heart stop beating as you watched his car careen towards the barrier. The front wing clipped Max's rear tire and you can't breathe, watching in slow motion as the brightly colored car tips and lifts into the air. There is nothing but absolute silence around you in the McLaren garage and you're frozen, staring at the monitor while his car flips and rolls, carbon fiber flying in every direction when it lands upside down, his helmet just visible as it slides to a stop at the safety fence.

Silence. Then pandemonium. Your world has just flipped and spun and you can't breathe, ears straining to hear him but you can only hear the crackle of the radio when Zak and Tom try to get him to respond.

Then, finally, his voice. Shaken and scared. "Are they okay? Please tell me they're okay."

Of course he'd ask after the others involved. You can finally breathe but it hurts, not knowing that he's okay. And you can't do anything but wait, heart barely beating until he's finally out, he's moving, he's giving the fans a thumbs up as he's put on the stretcher. You still can't do a thing and you've never felt more useless than you do while you're waiting just inside the medical center with Zak and Lando, who'd come to wait during the red flag.

Then the most beautiful words you've ever heard.

"He's okay."

There's more after that, about him being transported to the local hospital for a complete check, the possibility of a concussion but he's okay. And you're allowed to go see him while the ambulance is readied.

He's sitting up, looking a little pale but he's not hurt, he's in one piece, and when he sees you he gasps. You try to be gentle when you embrace him, but he steals your breath, holding you so tightly it hurts, his face pressed into your neck.

"They won't tell me - are Max and George okay?" His voice is strained and you feel his tears.

"They're fine, my love," you promise.

"I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't know what I did. I was going good and then I was upside down." His voice shakes and cracks and he's trembling, one hand fisting in your shirt. You reach for the other.

"Shh shh... It's okay my love," you whisper, your tears finally spilling when he guides your hand up, holding it to his cheek as he lets out a shaky breath. "Everyone's okay, you're okay."

His eyes meet yours and your world rights itself.

[trexdrabbles]

So I know it was for Apex way back when, but would you be willing to do the "who would be more protective" prompt and the others for Gambit and reader?

First of all damn thank you for snooping through my blog enough to hit that lol, and of course!!

Who's the one to initiate the relationship?

You. 100% you. Shy or not doesn't matter, it would have to be you. Not that Remy wouldn't be thinking about it all constantly, but he'd definitely be the type to tell himself that's it better to keep what you've got going on casual. After the whole deal with Bella Donna and everything between him and Rogue, he's not so much scared of commitment itself, but more like speaking an actual relationship into existence himself would be inviting tragedy in. You tell him it's what you really want two or three times though and he'll definitely cave and be relieved about it all in the end.

What are their love-languages?

Remy definitely does gift giving (60% are stolen, he's still a thief at heart and finds it fun to watch you guess if he paid for or nicked whatever he's brought home) and quality time. He's definitely the type to enjoy body doubling too, just the both of you doing your own things in the same space. That being said, the man can only go so long in close proximity before needing some amount of touch or affection before he's sated enough to let you be for a bit again.

How open about it are they?

Not even a question, pretty much everyone under the sun is gonna know that you're Remy's partner. So long as he's given the ten seconds to find a way to yap about it, they're gonna know.

Who's the better chef?

I'd say it's pretty even actually. Remy definitely knows his way around the kitchen, but I can definitely see him being the type to have like, 20 or so specific things he can cook flawlessly, and anything outside of that is a bit of a gamble depending on his mood and how well he can actually pay attention to a recipe. He would definitely be eager for your cooking too though and even if he's not the one making food enjoys hanging out in the kitchen to keep you company while you do.

Who likes to be little spoon?

Both again! You more often, definitely (the man is 6'2 after all, perfect big spoon material) but every so often he'd want to switch things up. Mostly after long days, emotion or physical. Feeling your arm around his waist and nose pressed against his shoulder and legs all tangled over his definitely has some kind of healing power for him.

Who flirts more?

Also not really a question or contest. You can compliment and tease and flirt all you like, but Remy will always have you outplayed in that category. He's got a well-practiced and absolutely filthy silver-tongue that he knows how to use to a fault. Hell, his new favorite hobby is finding out just how vibrant a shade of red you're physically capable of turning.

Who's more protective?

Guess what, it's Remy yet again. He might be happy to tell any single with the misfortune of being close enough about you two, but he's not oblivious about the danger your being connected to him and to the X-Men in general could bring. He's knows loss a little too intimately and is ready to do whatever he needs to make damn sure it doesn't happen again.

[wolf-tail]

Since I'm far more comfortable being weird on 40k tumblr than I used to be, I'm gonna say some unhinged things.

Now that you've all been thoroughly warned, I'm thinking about which Primarchs would be the best or worst to deal with if they got pregnant:

Lion-You do not know he is pregnant. He would preffer it that way. He seems crankier, meaner, more reclusive, amd just a bit rounder, but you don't know about it until he winces and slinks off during a meeting, then returns a few hours later with babby in tow. No one is allowed to touch or even look at babby for at least a week.

Guilliman-He's doing pretty ok, but very anxious. Lots of body aches, but you have a hell of a time trying to convince him to ease off the work and rest. You often find him fast asleep on top of his desk. Constantly craving olives. Overall not too bad.

Horus-VERY proud papa-to-be. Constantly showing off his big ol belly and bragging about how knocked up he is. He has a canonical breeding kink, he's wearing every embarrassing maternity t-shirt he can find. Mortifying ordeal, but could be way worse.

Konrad-OH GOD, whoever impregnated this man, answer for your fucking crimes. Anyone who so much as breathes too loud in his vicinity is a skinless splatter on the pavement. Mercifully, he doesn't seem to want to leave his room. Just avoid him as much as possible and you might survive.

Sanguinius-Glowing, positively GLOWING! He's vibrant, elegant, happy, the type of thing people tell you being pregnant is like to try and convince you to have kids. Happy to let anyone rub his tummy. (Would he even give live birth or just lay an egg?) He's eepy, so very sleeby eepy. He just wants to nap. That just serves to make it cuter. The only issue is that in the later weeks he starts going broody. That will not be a fun time.

Fulgrim- Also an idealistic glowing beauty, but probably is a struggling a lot more than he lets on. You just know he's nauseous as hell and his feet hurt like a bitch. Give him a foot rub , he deserves it. Has a bunch of super long baby names picked out, Definitely rearranged the nursery seventeen times at least because it's "not good enough". And the second fact that thing comes out the womb it's dripped tf out. Little fuck is leaving the hospital in a Dior onesie. Fulgrim insists on doing his makeup before leaving the maternity ward, because he refuses to look as worn out as he is. Let this poor man REST.

Ferrus-Oof. I don't know much about him, but he strikes me as the type to have body image issues. Baby has a normal ass name like "John" or smth. When it's born he's scared to hold it with his metal hands, but bub doesn't care, falls right asleep in them.

Perturabo-ABORTION. He has no time for kids. But in the chance he does keep it, he's even more cranky and insufferable than ever. Yells at his own belly bc MiniPerty is kicking him while he's trying to work. Sending u prayers🙏

Dorn-Hmmm, idkkkk. I have not read enough about him. Dorn fans answer this one for me. But from what I do know he'd have a hard time describing as his complicated emotions about it. Would swaddle the Dornling in his grandpa's blanket.

Angron-OH FUCCKKKKKKK. You thought Konrad was bad!? The sad part is, all of the parts of him that want and love the baby are being punished for it by the nails. But can you fucking imagine a pregnant hormonal Angron!? The galaxy shakes in fear. The second sperm met egg, Khorne shifted uncomforably upon the Skull Throne.

Magnus-He's having a great time! Studying every parenting book he can find (TAKE NOTES EMPS!), getting cool belly tattoos, doing mysterious pregnancy rituals, psychically communicating with MiniMagnus once they're developed enough. Has a BIG belly, sometimes hard to maneuver. Probably twins. Sons always happy to give it a lil rub when he walks last. Often found lounging in his tower, lazily talking to bubby while reading, go ahead and give him a back massage.

Mortarion- As much as I think he'd look cute with a baby, I don't think he was ever at any point in his life healthy enough to carry one to term. Isha, fix his uterus, he needs to be a daddy immediately. If he was miraculously to get preggers, he'd definitely be cranky, but not overwhelmingly so. He'd love the kid, but occasionally pat his tummy and gently admonish it for being such a little nuisance.

Corax- Drawing a total blank here. Raven guardies tell me plz. But he might go broody too, goes with the bird theming.

The Khan- Continues riding his bike until he's physically too big to do so. You can't even try to stop him. Little Jag is travelling at Mach Fuck You every day. Labor is 5 seconds long, and as soon as the kid's delivered he's strapping it to his chest and getting right back in the saddle.

Vulkan-Biggest cuddlebug EVER!!! Joyous and glowing, always up for a belly rub. You just know his ass is 8 months pregnant and still in the forge, working on little practice weapons for his lil Salamander. His water will probaby break and he'll beg you to let him quench a sword in his own amniotic fluid (don't, that's gross) Prone to hot flashes, get him a nice cold drink plz.

Lorgar-A baby is joyous blessing! He's insanely happy about it, going on about how his body was "chosen to bring forth a wondrous being". Touching the tum is a religious experience. Gets a new tattoo to celebrate, if he can find the room.

Alpharius/Omegon: You either have no idea which one's pregnant, or they all somehow get pregnant at once. Twins are a guarantee either way.

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants James Hook x Reader: The Pirate And The Mermaid

Request: Hi, I love your imagines so much that I was wondering if you could do an imagine where Uliana finds out that Hook is dating Ariel's sister and makes him choose the VK group or her by making the reader walk the plank and if hook saves her (which he does) and convinces Uliana that she's nothing like Ariel and is perfect for him. (The other 3 vks already know that they're dating except for Uliana and always help Hook sneak around to see her without Uliana knowing until one day she finds out)

Reader: Female

Word count: 3786

Average reading time: 13 min 45 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: None

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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James Hook walked around the grounds of Merlin Academy, his dark brown hair messy yet perfectly styled, a confident smirk playing on his lips. But beneath that confident facade, his thoughts were elsewhere, focused on one person in particular.

You, Y/n, the youngest daughter of King Triton, were waiting for him in the secluded corner of the academy gardens. It was a secret place, known only to a few, where the wildflowers bloomed in brilliant colors and the trees provided a perfect cover from prying eyes. This hidden haven had become one of the many places you would meet, a place where the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bliss of stolen moments and whispered promises.

James spotted you before you saw him, your vibrant hair catching the sunlight as you idly plucked petals from a daisy. He paused for a moment, just to admire you, the way the sunlight danced across your features, the serene expression on your face as if you had no care in the world. It made his heart swell with a warmth he had never thought possible for someone like him. You were his light, the beacon that guided him through the dark seas of his life.

With a silent grace, he approached, his footsteps nearly soundless on the soft grass, until he was right behind you.

“Princess.” he whispered in your ear, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine.

You jumped slightly, your hand going to your heart as you turned to face him, a smile spreading across your lips. “James, you scared me.” you said, playfully swatting at his arm.

He chuckled, his arms already slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Can’t help it, love. You’re just too easy to sneak up on.”

Your laughter was like music to his ears as you rested your head on his chest, reveling in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “If only everyone could see this side of you. They’d never believe the fearsome Hook has a soft spot.”

He tilted your chin up, his eyes capturing yours, the mischief that usually danced in them now replaced by something much deeper, much more sincere. “That’s because this side of me is only for you, darling.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest that made you feel like you were floating. You leaned up, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both sweet and intense, a reflection of the emotions that swirled between you. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer as if he could never get enough of you, and for a moment, the world ceased to exist, no prying eyes, no judgment, just the two of you, entwined in your own little world.

But as much as you cherished these moments, you both knew they couldn’t last forever. Merlin Academy was full of eyes and ears, and there were those who would do anything to tear you apart. After all a royal and a villain simply couldn’t be together, that is nkt gow it's supposed to be. The thrill of secrecy was always tinged with the fear of discovery, and yet, it only made your time together all the more precious.

As if sensing the shift in your thoughts, James pulled back slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he gazed down at you with a mix of love and concern. “What’s troubling you, love? You’re too quiet.”

Before you could respond, a soft rustling in the bushes caught your attention. Out of the shadows stepped Morgie, his eyes scanning the area before he spotted the two of you. He was a loyal friend, always looking out for you, even if it meant risking his own neck. With his tousled hair and mischievous grin, Morgie was the perfect accomplice to your secret meetings.

“You two better wrap it up.” Morgie said, his voice low but urgent. “Uliana’s searching for you.”

James groaned, reluctantly releasing you but keeping one arm around your waist as if he couldn’t bear to let you go completely. “Can’t she take a break from being such a buzzkill?”

Morgie shrugged, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting Uliana to appear at any moment. “Not when she’s determined to keep you close, Hook. You know how she is.”

Your smile faded as worry crept into your heart. Uliana had always been a thorn in your side, ever since you first arrived at the academy. She was ruthless, cunning, and had a grudge against your family. It didn’t help that James was her first mate, a role that made your relationship all the more dangerous.

“I can handle Uliana.” James said, sensing your unease. He tried to reassure you, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hand clenched at his side. “She’s all bark and no bite.”

But you weren’t so sure. “Just… be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

James softened at your concern, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that belied his fierce reputation. “Don’t worry about me, princess. I’d walk the plank a thousand times if it meant keeping you safe.”

Your smile was small, but genuine, though the unease in your chest remained. You trusted James, but you knew how dangerous Uliana could be. And you had a feeling she wasn’t going to give up easily.

Just then, the shadows seemed to grow darker, and a chill breeze swept through the garden. From the corner of your eye, you saw the air shimmer as Hades appeared with a dramatic flair. His blue flame-like hair flickered as he greeted the two of you with an amused smirk.

“Well if it isn’t mt favorite lovebirds.” Hades drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. “You two do know how to pick the worst places for a secret date, don’t you?”

“Relax, Hades.” James replied, though there was a note of irritation in his voice. “We were just leaving.”

Hades chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. “Good thing I found you first. Maleficent’s already weaving a little distraction for Uliana, but it won’t last long. You’d better make yourselves scarce before she catches wind of your little affair.”

You glanced at James, who nodded slightly. It was time to go, but the thought of parting from him so soon after you’d just found each other again left a hollow ache in your chest. As if reading your thoughts, James leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Meet me tonight.” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm and comforting. “At the docks. We’ll steal a few hours together, just you and me.”

You nodded, unable to find your voice as you were overwhelmed by the tenderness in his words, the promise of more time together keeping your spirits afloat.

With Morgie, Hades, and Maleficent covering your tracks, you and James managed to slip away from the garden unnoticed. But as you disappeared into the shadows, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this fragile happiness was standing on the edge of something dangerous. Uliana was relentless, and you knew it was only a matter of time before she made her move.

-----

That night, as the moon cast a silver glow over the academy grounds, you quietly slipped away from your dormitory. The corridors were silent, the shadows long and dark, but you moved with a purpose, your heart racing in anticipation. Every step you took towards the docks felt like a step closer to a dream, one where it was just you and James, away from the prying eyes of the academy.

The docks were deserted, the water gently lapping against the wooden planks. The air was cool, carrying with it the scent of the sea, a reminder of home. You pulled your cloak tighter around yourself as you scanned the area, your breath catching when you saw him.

James stood at the edge of the dock, his back to you, gazing out at the horizon where the sea met the sky. His tall, lean figure was silhouetted against the moonlight, and for a moment, you simply admired him. He seemed to belong here, in this quiet place, where the only sound was the rhythm of the waves and the beating of your heart.

“James.” you called softly, and he turned, his face breaking into a smile as he saw you.

Without a word, he closed the distance between you, wrapping you in his arms the moment you were close enough. You melted into his embrace, the world falling away as you buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of salt and leather.

“I missed you.” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the gentle sounds of the sea.

“And I missed you, princess.” he replied, his voice warm and soothing as he held you close. “Every moment we’re apart feels like a lifetime.”

You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his. “Then let’s make the most of the time we have.”

His expression softened, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a tender kiss. It was slow and sweet, a promise of the love that bound you together despite the dangers that lurked in the shadows. James’ hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as if memorizing every detail, every curve, as if this moment was all that mattered.

When he finally pulled away, he didn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “I wish we didn’t have to sneak around like this. I want to be with you all the time, without having to look over my shoulder.”

You sighed, understanding his frustration. “I know, James. But as long as Uliana’s watching us, we have to be careful. I don’t want her to hurt you… or us.”

His jaw clenched at the mention of her name, a flicker of anger crossing his features. “She won’t win, Y/n. I won’t let her come between us.”

“I believe you.” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I just wish there was a way to keep her from interfering.”

James was quiet for a moment, then a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “There might be a way.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, curious.

He grinned, the roguish smile that always made your heart skip a beat. “I’ve been thinking… if we can keep her distracted, give her something else to focus on, we could buy ourselves more time. Hades and Morgie have already agreed to help.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and excitement. “You really think it could work?”

“With a little help from Maleficent’s magic, we can keep Uliana running in circles.” he said, his tone filled with confidence. “She’ll be so busy dealing with false leads and wild goose chases that she won’t have time to spy on us.”

A thrill of hope surged through you. The thought of being able to spend more time with James, without constantly looking over your shoulder, was too tempting to resist. “That sounds… perfect.”

James leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “And in the meantime, we’ll keep meeting in secret, just like this. No one will know where or when, only us.”

The idea of these secret meetings, of stolen kisses under the watchfull eye of the night, sent a shiver of excitement through you. You nodded, unable to contain your smile. “I love it. I love you.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “And I love you, darling. More than anything.”

The night passed in a blur of whispered conversations and stolen kisses, the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms as you sat on the edge of the dock, your feet dangling above the water. The moon watched over you, a silent guardian of your secrets, as you shared your hopes, your fears, and your dreams of a future together, one where you could love each other openly, without fear.

Over the following weeks, the plan was set in motion. Morgie and Hades, along with Maleficent’s and her magic, created a series of distractions that kept Uliana busy. They spread rumors, created illusions, and sent her on wild chases that led nowhere. Each time she thought she was closing in on you and James, she found herself frustrated by some new trick or misdirection.

Meanwhile, you and James continued to meet in secret. Sometimes it was the docks, other times the hidden grotto of the academy, or even the deserted beach beyond the forest. Each meeting was a new adventure, filled with the thrill of secrecy and the joy of being together. You cherished these moments, the way his hand fit perfectly in yours, the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world.

One evening, after narrowly escaping detection by Uliana, you found yourselves in the old library, tucked away in a forgotten corner surrounded by dusty books and ancient scrolls. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment, and the flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the room.

“I think we’re getting better at this.” you teased, leaning against a shelf as James approached, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

He chuckled, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. “Maybe, but I’d still rather we didn’t have to sneak around at all.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “One day, we won’t have to. But for now, I’m just happy to be with you.”

He smiled, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. “Me too, love.”

And then he kissed you, slow and deep, the world outside forgotten as you lost yourself in him. Time seemed to stand still in that moment, the only sound the soft rustle of pages as a nearby book caught the breeze from the open window.

You pulled away, breathless and smiling, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things were finally looking up. You had each other, and with the help of your friends, you were outsmarting Uliana at every turn.

The days turned into weeks, and your secret meetings continued, each one more precious than the last. You cherished every stolen moment, every whispered word, knowing that as long as you had James by your side, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead. And as you stood together, hand in hand, looking out at the moonlit sea, you knew that your love was something worth fighting for, something that could weather any storm.

Throughout these weeks, the tension between James and Uliana only grew, casting a shadow over the secret moments you shared with him. The hidden grotto beneath the academy was your favoriteplace to go with him, a place where you could escape the pressures of the outside world and simply be together. The water there always glistened with an ethereal glow, the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the rocks soothing your troubled hearts.

-----

One evening, after most of the students had retired to their dorms, you and James retreated to the grotto. The air was cool, and the moonlight filtering through the cracks in the stone ceiling bathed the cavern in a soft, silvery light. Your tail, shimmering with iridescent scales, dipped into the water as you leaned against James, his arm wrapped securely around you.

But the peace of the moment was shattered by the sound of footsteps echoing through the grotto. You tensed immediately, recognizing the rhythm and weight of those steps. James’s eyes met yours, a mix of fear and resolve in his gaze as you both realized who it was.

Uliana emerged from the shadows, her lips curled into a malicious smile. The moonlight highlighted the sharp angles of her face, giving her an almost otherworldly appearance. “Well, well, what do we have here?” she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. “James Hook and his little mermaid.”

James instinctively moved in front of you, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword. “Uliana, this doesn’t concern you. Leave.” he commanded, his voice steady but filled with underlying tension.

But Uliana wasn’t interested in leaving. Her eyes were locked on you, a predatory gleam in them that sent a chill down your spine. “You’re just like your sister, aren’t you?” she hissed. “Always getting in the way, always thinking you can have everything.”

You straightened, refusing to let her intimidate you. “I’m nothing like Ariel.” you replied, your voice firm. “And James isn’t yours to control.”

Uliana’s smile widened, her eyes narrowing with cruel delight. “Is that so? Let’s put that to the test, shall we?” She turned to James, her expression hardening. “You have a choice, Hook. Stay on my crew as my first mate, or keep playing house with the little princess. But you can’t have both.”

The ultimatum hung in the air like a blade, sharp and dangerous. James’s loyalty to his crew had always been a defining part of who he was, but the bond between you had grown stronger with each passing day. The thought of losing him, by being forced apart by Uliana’s twisted games, was unbearable.

“James…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached out to him.

He turned to you, his eyes filled with anguish. “I…”

Uliana’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “If you won’t choose, then I will. Either she walks the plank, or you do.” Uliana made a wooden plank appear with her magic, at the edge of the grotto right above the stone cliff and dark restless sea.

A cold dread settled over you as you realized the gravity of what she was asking. James was a pirate, bound by the code of the sea, and to defy it would be to betray everything he had ever known. But to agree to her terms would mean leaving you to a fate you weren’t sure you could survive.

“Do it, Hook.” Uliana taunted, her voice laced with malice. “Show me where your true loyalty lies.”

James’s eyes were filled with desperation as he looked at you. “Princess, I’m so sorry.” he whispered, his voice thick with regret.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you took a deep breath. You knew what you had to do. “James, I trust you.” you said, your voice steady despite the fear gripping your heart. “But if I’m going to walk that plank, I need to do it on my own terms.”

With that, you closed your eyes and concentrated. A tingling sensation spread through your body as you focused on changing your form. Your tail, shimmering with iridescent scales, began to shift. The transformation was always a strange, almost disorienting sensation, but you had done it enough times to control it with precision. Your tail split and morphed, the scales dissapearing and smooth skin taking their place until you were standing on two legs, your mermaid form replaced by your human one.

James’s eyes widened in surprise and admiration as he took in your transformation, but there was no time to dwell on it. You stepped forward, your legs unsteady on the rough stone, but your determination unwavering.

Uliana’s eyes glittered with a twisted pleasure as she watched you approach the plank. “So brave, little princess. Let’s see how brave you are when you’re staring down into the depths.”

James grabbed your hand as you stepped onto the plank, his grip strong but trembling. “I love you, Y/N.” he whispered, his voice filled with pain. “Please, forgive me.”

You squeezed his hand, a silent reassurance that you understood, that you didn’t blame him for the impossible situation he was in. “I love you too, James.” you whispered back, your heart pounding in your chest.

The cold wind whipped through the grotto as you stood on the edge of the plank, the dark water below swirling threathingly. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what was to come, when suddenly, James’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into his arms.

“No!” Uliana shouted, her eyes wide with rage. “What are you doing?!”

James held you tightly, his grip strong as he faced Uliana. “I’m choosing her, Uliana. I’m choosing love over loyalty.”

Uliana’s face twisted with fury. “You fool! She’s just like her sister, just like Ariel! She’ll ruin you, just like her family ruined mine!”

But James shook his head, his voice calm but firm. “She’s nothing like Ariel. She’s brave, kind, and loyal. And I’d rather face the consequences than lose her.”

For a moment, Uliana looked like she might strike out in anger, but then she seemed to reconsider. She glared at you both before finally turning on her heel and storming out of the grotto, her footsteps echoing in the distance.

The moment she was gone, you collapsed against James, your legs shaking with relief. He held you close, his hand stroking your hair as he whispered soothing words in your ear.

“I’m sorry, darling.” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I never wanted to put you through that.”

You looked up at him, your eyes still wet with tears but filled with love. “It’s okay, James. I know you did what you had to. And I love you all the more for it.”

He smiled, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders as he kissed you deeply, the taste of saltwater and tears mingling with the sweetness of your love.

Meanwhile in the shadows, Morgie, Hades, and Maleficent watched, their expressions a mix of satisfaction and amusement. They had followed Uliana just incase things would get out of hand. However you and James managed yourself just fine. Morgie’s eyes gleamed with a dark, almost predatory interest as he observed the raw emotions playing out before him. Maleficent, ever the queen of darkness, merely watched with a knowing smile, her eyes glinting with a mixture of approval and intrigue. Hades leaned against a wall, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he pulled Maleficent into him.

The three of them had always known that love could be a powerful weapon, and tonight, it had proven to be the most powerful of all. As they faded back into the shadows, leaving you and James alone in the grotto, you knew that this was far from over. The battle had only just begun, but as long as you had each other, you were ready to face whatever came next.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

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Requested by: @Superrocker01

[zestydistress]

MARBLE HORNETS TIM WRIGHT HEADCANONS

-Had to learn how to do basic things from his friends ever since he got to college. i.e. tying his shoes(the mental hospital definitely took away his shoelaces and he eventually forgot how to do it), swimming(makes entry #65 worse mentally and physically), doing laundry(bro got admitted when he was like 7 and was confined into his room for almost the entire time, he was not learning how to do laundry), sewing(no sharp objects in the ward), cooking(can't be in the kitchen as the nurses worried about the children hurting themselve), etc.

-Has a deep-rooted fear of drowning.(I like to think that ever since he was a kid he was experiencing those time warp torture sessions from the operator where he'd end up submerged underwater for unknown amounts of time)

-Fantastic at navigating. He can navigate the entirety of Rosswood forest. He can navigate any forest. I like to think that he led the guys to places in rosswood during the student film days since he was the only one to navigate the forest to get to film sites(and to get back to the parking lot)

-Has big issues with food textures, cannot stand mushy food.

-Is so sensitive when it comes to spices, bro cannot even handle a bell pepper./hj

-Cannot drink alcohol when on his medicine, was the designated driver every time he went out with friends.

-has a hard time falling asleep and staying asleep, but no one really noticed as he just lays completely still on his back with his arms pressed against his side and eyes closed until he drifts off. When he's asleep he'll move around a lot. He's a flailer. He will scream in his sleep too. Also talks in his sleep a lot and sleep walks.

-Disassociates frequently and often.

-When off his meds he cries when watching Disney movies

-Used to absolutely despise his meds because they made him feel so numb. He knew he was supposed to feel more than that and it made him even more reactive when off of them. Eventually he just grew to forget what it felt like to be off of them, he can't remember what it felt like when he could fully process emotions other than the comfortably numbed ones. He'd still get aggressive, happy, sad, etc. but he could only feel them strongly when they were in the extremes. Any other time it was just dulled from what he usually felt.

-Ever since Marble Hornets ended he's been taking care of his mom.

-Loses stuff so easily it's insane. Mostly loses his keys though.

-Has a terrible fashion sense since he was never able to choose his own clothes. Usually goes for vibrant clothes at first since he never had the option to wear anything that colorful before(this is my reasoning behind that horrendous monkey shirt he wore LOL)

-Has a kinda weak immune system. He was sick so much when he was a kid. His immune system isn't as bad as it could have been. Considering he regularly ran away and disappeared into the forest or further. His immune system got stronger when in college though.

-Picked up smoking like a month after he got out of the hospital, one of his only friends in there was an old man with a smoking problem and would always ask the staff for a smoke which they denied. He also kept calling Tim by the name of his deceased son.

-Basing him off of Night Mind's interpretation of marble hornets. So Masky isn't another personality or anything, it's just Tim trying to get to the bottom of this like Jay is. Except he's using much more... Violent methods. And he loses his memory of when he chooses to become Masky, so ToTheArk and Hoodie help him remember what their goal is(stopping Alex).

(also group headcanons:

I don't like the names masky and hoodie but I do realize they're the most recognized names for them. I love the name Techy for ToTheArk to match the theme, but I prefer calling them:

Tim = The Source

Brian = The Advocate

Jay = The Messenger

Alex = The Instigator

ToTheArk = The Projectionist

I have yet to come up with good ones for Jessica, Amy and Sarah. I have also yet to read the comics)

[starleska]

Omg your Wally headcanons are ✨!!!

Could you maybe write how Wally would react to a neighbor that is prone to fainting?

d'aww thank you very much sweet anon, that means a lot!! 🥰 oh yes, i'd love to - what a sweet idea!! i hope you don't mind that i've taken some liberties with describing the fainting condition - my apologies if they don't match up to your experience if you're prone to fainting yourself 💖

Wally Darling x a Reader Prone to Fainting headcanons

⭐ you're always a little embarrassed to admit you're prone to fainting. although you know it's a legitimate medical condition that can leave you seriously hurt (and it has!), you can't help but feel burdensome to those around you - especially if you're asking them to remove a fainting trigger. no one is ever nasty about it - but sometimes, you feel their pity hits just as hard as a bad word. because of this, when you first move to Wally's neighbourhood and meet your colourful new friends, it takes you a while to open up about your fainting. they're all such vibrant, kind people, you have to brace yourself for what you're sure will be a sickeningly sympathetic reaction 😷 ⭐ but when you tell Wally about your condition, he reacts in an unexpected way. a wide smile stretches across his face, and he laughs, not unkindly. "ha ha ha! that's interesting." baffled, you ask him if he's making fun of you. he shakes his head, and says simply, "your brain gets too excited by the world, so it has to go to sleep. i think that's wonderful." Wally's words stick with you for the rest of the day, and you can't help grinning to yourself when you think about your strange new friend's worldview. he always manages to find a way to turn the most difficult situation into an opportunity for learning 😊 ⭐ the first time you faint in front of him, Wally saves your life. your fainting triggers are wide and varied: standing up too quickly, certain smells, strong emotions. however, your most common trigger is low blood sugar - if you don't eat enough or at the right times, you're sure to go down like a sack of bricks. the day was roasting, and yourself, Wally and the rest of the neighbourhood were having a blast with water balloons, super soakers, and all manner of gizmos to try and beat the heat. in all the fun, you'd totally forgotten to eat, but you stubbornly ignored the warning signs (nausea, seeing lights, etc.). when Barnaby and Julie tried to pull you back into their game of water tag, you told them you're just going to take a moment and sit in the paddling pool. you take your seat in the water, hoping that the coolness will help calm your nervous system...but then you feel your consciousness slip 👀 ⭐ the next thing you know, Wally pulls you, coughing and spluttering, from the water. you're shocked - Wally is normally so relaxed and talks with a slow, steady kind of ease, but now he's babbling, desperately trying to get you to focus on him and tell him your name. thankfully, you'd only been passed out for a moment; Wally saw you go under and rushed into action immediately. by the time everyone returns from their game, Wally already has you wrapped up snugly in a towel, and insists to the others that they continue having fun while he gets you home safely. from that moment on, Wally always keeps a close eye on you and looks out for your triggers. he makes sure to remind you to eat - and keeps a few spare snacks around, just in case 💖 this was an interesting prompt indeed!! i hope it's to your liking, anon 🥰💖

[muiitoloko]

Hi! I've been devouring your alan fics so much! They're so so so good! Do you do requests? If so I'm kinda craving for some platonic love 🫶. Is it alright to have an Eli x daughter reader? I don't have a specific plot in mind. I just want some fluff but to make it better add some angst.

But if you don't do requests, it's fine. Just ignore this lol. Just really love how you write!!

Title: Become a great artist.

Summary: He wanted you to become a great artist, so you did. But Eli realizes that you have always been a great artist.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Daughter! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Angst, Angst, Angst! Neglectful father, criticism, mention of rape, kidnapping, suicide, death.

Author's Notes: Thank you for reaching out and enjoying my stories. I have to admit, I got a bit carried away with this one. What started as an attempt to create something cute took an unexpected turn into anguish, and I found myself writing through tears. If this isn't what you were hoping for and you prefer something cute, just let me know, and I promise I'll whip up something adorable for you.

First, Second, Third and Fourth part here.

As the birthday celebration for your father, Eli, continued, you couldn't wait to unveil the gift you had painstakingly crafted for him. The table was already adorned with a collection of thoughtful presents, but yours was the final touch to the evening.

With a hopeful smile, you presented the oil painting you had spent countless hours creating. The canvas depicted a striking likeness of your father, Eli, capturing his essence in vibrant colors and intricate details.

But as Eli glanced at the painting, his expression remained unchanged, his lack of enthusiasm palpable. You felt a pang of disappointment as you looked at him expectantly, hoping for a more heartfelt reaction.

However, your mother, Sarah, sitting beside Eli, immediately took the painting into her hands, her eyes lighting up with admiration. "Oh, darling, this is absolutely beautiful!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "You're so talented!"

Your brother, Barkley, chimed in with his own praise, echoing your mother's sentiments. But despite their encouraging words, you couldn't shake the feeling of deflation at Eli's lackluster response.

As the dinner progressed, Eli seemed content to focus on his meal and his glass of wine, his attention drifting away from the festivities. You tried to console yourself with the thought that your father was simply not one to show emotions openly, but it still stung to see him so disinterested in your gift.

As Sarah noticed your hopeful expression towards Eli, she intervened with a comment meant to uplift your spirits. "You know, darling," she said, her voice warm and encouraging, "you have such a talent for art. You could be a great artist, like Van Gogh."

But Eli's response was not what you had expected. He scoffed dismissively, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Van Gogh? Please. The man cut off his own ear and ended up killing himself," he remarked, his words laced with derision. "Unless you're planning on following in his footsteps, I highly doubt you'll ever become a great artist. You know, the painter has to die for his works to become famous; that's how I see it, at least."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his cutting remark, your heart sinking at the realization that your father saw little value in your passion and talents. Hanging your head in disappointment, you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Sarah shot Eli a reproachful glance, her eyes flashing with indignation at his insensitive remark. "Eli, that's enough," she scolded, her voice firm and resolute. "There's no need to be so cruel."

But Eli remained indifferent to his wife's reproach, his attention already drifting back to his meal. Ignoring Sarah's scolding, he continued to sip his wine, his disinterest in your feelings painfully evident.

Forced to put on a brave face, you mustered a weak smile and nodded in response to your mom's apology. "It's okay, Mom," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."

But inside, your heart ached with the weight of Eli's disappointment and disapproval. Despite your best efforts to please him, it seemed that nothing you did would ever be enough to earn his approval.

As the dinner continued, you tried to push aside your hurt feelings and focus on enjoying the rest of the evening. But deep down, you couldn't shake the sense of inadequacy that your father's words had stirred within you, a painful reminder of your status as the perpetual disappointment in his eyes. But you forced a smile onto your face, and you were happy. After all, it was a night to celebrate. It was your father's birthday, and everyone should be happy. You turned to your brother and started an animated conversation with him, talking about everything and nothing.

And so, the night passed until you and your brother said goodbye and prepared to leave. However, as you made your way to your car, you realized that you couldn't find your keys in your pocket. It suddenly dawned on you that you had forgotten them at your parents' house. As you approached your parents' house to retrieve the forgotten car key, you hesitated for a moment outside the door, the voices of your parents drifting through the air. Initially, you thought they were just chatting or perhaps discussing plans for the next day, but as you listened more closely, the tone of their conversation sent shivers down your spine.

"...at least pretend to be happy about her gift," Sarah's voice, tinged with frustration, reached your ears first.

Eli's response was immediate, his tone dismissive and biting. "Why should I pretend, Sarah? It's just another one of her silly paintings. If she wants to waste her time on that nonsense, fine. But don't expect me to pretend it's anything more than that."

You felt a pang of hurt at your dad's words, his lack of appreciation for your efforts cutting deeper than you cared to admit. As Sarah attempted to defend your gift, Eli's retort struck you like a physical blow.

"And what was that comment about having to kill herself to be a great artist? Honestly, Eli, can't you see how hurtful that is?" Sarah's voice, filled with exasperation and sadness, echoed your own feelings of disappointment.

Eli rolled his eyes, his impatience evident in his voice. "Oh, please. I was just being realistic. She's not going to make it as an artist, no matter how much you coddle her. And besides, if she's dumb enough to think her paintings will make her a great artist, then maybe she deserves a reality check."

You felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the weight of your dad's words settled heavily on your shoulders. Despite your best efforts to please him, it seemed that nothing you did would ever be enough to earn his approval.

As the argument between your parents reached its peak, you forced yourself to open the door and step inside, your head hung low as you made your way to the counter where you had left your car key. Your parents fell silent as they watched you, their expressions filled with surprise and concern.

Picking up the key with trembling hands, you turned to face them, your voice barely above a whisper as you addressed them. "I forgot my key. I'll just...I'll see you later," you mumbled, your heart heavy with disappointment as you turned and made your way back outside.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't shake the feeling of despair that settled over you like a dark cloud. Despite your best efforts to please your father, it seemed that you would forever be a disappointment in his eyes. And as you drove away from your parents' house, tears streaming down your cheeks, you couldn't help but wonder if you would ever be able to escape the shadow of your dad's disapproval.

As you drove home, your vision blurred by tears, you couldn't shake the weight of your father's harsh words. Each syllable echoed in your mind like a cruel refrain, cutting deeper than any knife ever could. The familiar scent of paint greeted you as you entered your apartment, your sanctuary, your studio. But instead of finding solace in the comforting aroma, it only served to remind you of your own inadequacy in your father's eyes.

With trembling hands, you made your way through the cluttered space, your eyes falling on the canvases scattered around the room. Each painting, a testament to your passion and talent, now felt like a mockery of your futile efforts to win your father's approval.

In a moment of overwhelming despair, you lashed out, sweeping your arm across the nearest table, sending brushes, paints, and canvases crashing to the floor in a cacophony of destruction. The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood echoed through the room, matching the turmoil raging within your own heart.

As you stood amidst the wreckage, tears streaming down your cheeks, you felt a sense of catharsis wash over you. With each shattered piece of paintbrush and torn canvas, you released a fragment of the pain and frustration that had been building inside you for so long.

But even as you succumbed to the chaos of your emotions, a flicker of determination stirred within you. You knew that there was only one thing that could ease the ache in your heart, only one outlet for the storm of emotions raging within you: painting.

With renewed purpose, you retrieved a fresh canvas and a palette of vibrant colors, your hands moving with a sense of urgency born from desperation. With each brushstroke, you poured your heart and soul onto the canvas, channeling your pain and anguish into a whirlwind of color and emotion.

Hours passed in a blur as you painted through the night, your movements fluid and instinctual, driven by a need to escape the suffocating weight of your father's disapproval. Each stroke of the brush was a release, a cathartic expression of the turmoil raging within you.

You painted sadness, despair, and chaos, each image a reflection of the tumultuous storm that raged within your own soul. But amidst the darkness, there was also beauty, a glimmer of hope shining through the layers of pain and uncertainty.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, you stepped back to admire your work, the exhaustion of the night weighing heavily on your shoulders. But despite the weariness that threatened to consume you, there was also a sense of peace, a quiet acceptance of the emotions that had driven you to create.

With a heavy heart and aching limbs, you collapsed onto the floor beside your paintings, the tears finally drying on your cheeks as you surrendered to the embrace of sleep. And as you drifted off into the realm of dreams, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had your art, you would always find a way to weather the storm.

Days later, despite the emotional turmoil you had experienced, you found yourself slipping back into the familiar pattern of seeking your father's approval. It was a habit ingrained deeply within you, a longing to win even a sliver of recognition from a man who seemed perpetually out of reach.

But then, news came in a surprising package: your father, Eli, had won the Nobel Prize. The announcement came through your mother, Sarah, who couldn't contain her excitement as she relayed the incredible news to you and your brother, Barkley.

Filled with a mix of disbelief and pride, you made a point to visit your parents' house to congratulate your father in person. As you entered the room, Eli's face lit up with a rare smile at the sight of you, a genuine warmth in his eyes that you hadn't seen in a long time.

"Congratulations, Dad!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement as you rushed forward to embrace him. Your dad returned the hug, his arms wrapping around you with surprising tenderness, a gesture that felt unfamiliar yet oddly comforting.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Eli said, his voice tinged with pride as he pulled away to look at you. "I couldn't have done it without the support of my family."

You beamed at his words, a surge of happiness flooding through you at the rare display of affection from your father. In that moment, you felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of the bond that had been strained for so long.

As the evening unfolded, you found yourself sharing a moment of camaraderie with your father, a sense of connection that had eluded you for years. You laughed together, reminisced about old memories, and even shared a toast to celebrate your father's incredible achievement.

And amidst the laughter and joy, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the opportunity to share this moment with your father. Despite the years of disappointment and frustration, you cherished this fleeting glimpse of the man behind the facade of arrogance and indifference.

As the night came to an end, and the celebrations had taken their toll, you found yourself in a state of inebriation that made driving impossible. Eli, being the responsible parent, decided to take you home. However, getting you into the car turned out to be a bit of a challenge.

You were feeling particularly stubborn and silly, bouncing around the living room with an air of joviality. "I'm the Nobel Prize winner's daughter!" you exclaimed, a mischievous grin playing on your lips as you twirled around the room. "And my father is a geniuuus" you sang, your voice filled with laughter.

Eli couldn't help but suppress a smile at your antics, his eyes rolling with amusement as he watched you dance around the room. But when Sarah voiced her concerns and urged you to be careful, Eli knew it was time to intervene.

With a gentle sigh, he made his way over to you, his arms outstretched in a gesture of patience and understanding. "Come on, sweetheart," he said, his voice laced with affection as he reached out to scoop you up in his arms. "It's time to go home."

You giggled uncontrollably as Eli lifted you off the ground, your arms wrapping around his neck in a playful embrace. "But Daaaad!" you protested, your words slurring slightly with intoxication. "Can't we stop by McDonald's?"

Eli chuckled softly at your request, shaking his head in amusement as he made his way towards the door. "Maybe next time, sweetheart," he replied, his tone gentle yet firm as he carried you towards the waiting car.

As you waved goodbye to your mother over your father's shoulder, a sense of warmth and contentment washed over you, despite the haze of alcohol clouding your senses. And as your dad carefully buckled you into the car, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the rare moment of connection shared between father and daughter, even in the midst of your drunken antics.

As Eli drove to your apartment, he couldn't help but suppress a chuckle at your off-key singing, the melody of your voice filling the car with a sense of lightheartedness amidst the chaos of the night. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, his daughter, swaying in the passenger seat with a carefree grin on your face.

Ignoring your playful antics, Eli focused on the road ahead, navigating the familiar streets with practiced ease. But despite his outward composure, there was a sense of relief in his heart as he guided the car towards your apartment, knowing that he had managed to get you home safely despite the challenges of the evening.

As the two of you arrived at your apartment building, Eli turned to you with a concerned expression, his brow furrowed with worry. "Do you think you'll be able to make it up to your apartment on your own?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

You nodded in response, a lazy smile playing on your lips as you reassured him. "Don't worry, Dad, I'll be fine," you slurred slightly, the effects of the alcohol still lingering in your system. "Thank you for getting me home."

Eli softened at your words, a flicker of warmth in his eyes as he reached out to gently pat your hand. "I'm always worried about your safety, sweetheart," he admitted, his voice quiet and sincere. "Just promise me you'll take a shower and get some rest, okay?"

You nodded in agreement, your head bobbing slightly as you struggled to maintain your balance. "I promise, Dad," you replied, your words muffled by a yawn as exhaustion began to weigh heavily on your eyelids.

With a gentle smile, Eli helped you out of the car and escorted you to the entrance of the building, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive as he made sure you would enter safely. "Take care, sweetheart," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of fatherly affection. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You waved goodbye to your father, a playful grin spreading across your face as you stumbled towards the entrance of the building. "I'll paint a picture of you with your Nobel Prize!" you called out, your words slurred but filled with determination.

Eli rolled his eyes at your drunken proclamation, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. "Don't waste your time on that," he replied, his tone teasing yet affectionate. "Just focus on getting some rest."

As you stumbled through the doorway and disappeared from sight, Eli stayed parked outside the building, his gaze lingering on the entrance with a sense of lingering concern. Despite his dismissive words, there was a part of him that couldn't help but worry about you, his daughter, stumbling through the darkness alone.

He knew he was tough on you sometimes, but he just wanted you to be better, to have the best, and he knew his silly paintings wouldn't give him that.

With a heavy sigh, he finally pulled away from the curb and began the journey back home, the events of the evening swirling through his mind as he navigated the empty streets. And as he drove through the quiet night, a sense of gratitude washed over him, knowing that despite the challenges and complexities of their relationship, he would always be there to watch over you, his beloved daughter.

Meanwhile, you went up to your apartment, fumbling a little with your keys before getting in, falling straight onto the couch tiredly. Despite the alcohol-induced haze clouding your mind, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment and warmth lingering within you. The evening spent with your father, Eli, had been unexpectedly pleasant, filled with laughter and genuine moments of connection that you hadn't experienced in a long time.

As you settled onto the couch, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion, you couldn't help but replay the events of the night in your mind, savoring each precious memory like a cherished treasure. Despite Eli's usual indifference and tendency to dismiss your passions, you had managed to share a moment of genuine camaraderie with him, a glimmer of the father-daughter bond that had been strained for so long.

In that moment, you felt a surge of love and gratitude towards Eli, a flicker of hope that perhaps, despite his flaws and shortcomings, he did care about you in his own way. You drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face, the warmth of the evening wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

But days later, your sense of security and reassurance would be shattered in an instant, replaced by a chilling realization that would rock you to your core. Bound and gagged, staring into the face of your kidnapper, you felt a sense of disbelief and terror wash over you as they dialed your parents' number, putting the call on speaker for you to hear.

As the voice of your father, Eli, echoed through the room, you held your breath, desperately hoping for a glimmer of compassion or concern in his words. But what you heard instead sent a shockwave of pain ripping through your chest, leaving you reeling in disbelief and agony.

"I'm not giving you two million dollars for her," Eli's voice, cold and dismissive, cut through the silence like a knife. "She's not worth that much."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, crushing any lingering hope or illusion you had held onto about your father's love and affection. In that moment, you realized with devastating clarity that Eli's indifference towards you ran deeper than you had ever imagined, his actions speaking volumes about the true extent of his disregard for your well-being.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled against the bonds that held you captive, the weight of Eli's betrayal bearing down on you like a heavy burden. How could he abandon you like this, in your darkest hour of need? How could he place a price tag on your life, as if you were nothing more than a disposable commodity?

As the reality of your situation sank in, you felt a sense of despair and hopelessness wash over you, threatening to consume you whole. And in that moment of darkness, the flicker of love and gratitude you had felt towards Eli was extinguished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of betrayal and abandonment.

"I'm not joking," the kidnapper insisted, his tone cold and merciless. "I want two million dollars, and I want it now. If you don't pay up, she'll suffer the consequences."

How could your father refuse to pay for your freedom? The realization that he considered you unworthy of such a sum was like a dagger to your chest, leaving you gasping for air as you struggled to comprehend his callous indifference.

Meanwhile, in his hotel room in Stockholm, Eli ended the call with a dismissive flick of his wrist, his mind already moving on to other matters. When Sarah questioned him about the call, he brushed it off with a casual shrug, dismissing it as unimportant.

"No one important," he replied, his voice tinged with annoyance. "Just some prank caller trying to get a rise out of me."

But little did Eli know, as he lounged in his luxurious surroundings, that his daughter's life hung in the balance, her fate at the mercy of a ruthless kidnapper who saw her as nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game.

Back in the dimly lit room where you were held captive, the kidnapper crouched in front of you, his eyes filled with uncertainty as he pondered his next move. The prospect of not receiving the ransom he had demanded left him feeling conflicted, unsure of what to do with you now that his plans had been thwarted.

"What am I supposed to do with you now?" the kidnapper muttered, taking the gag off of you, his voice tinged with frustration and uncertainty. "If your daddy won't pay, then what's the point of keeping you around?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened to his words, fear and panic gripping you in their icy embrace. The thought of what he might do to you now, with no hope of rescue in sight, sent shivers down your spine, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to keep your composure.

But your terror only intensified as you saw the hungry look in the kidnapper's eyes, a predatory gleam that sent a chill down your spine. You knew what he was thinking, could see the lust and desire written plainly on his face, and the realization filled you with a sense of helpless dread.

"No, please," you begged, your voice trembling with fear as you pleaded with him. "Don't do this. Please, just let me go."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as the kidnapper's gaze lingered hungrily on you, his lips curling into a sinister smile that sent a shiver of revulsion down your spine. In that moment, you knew with chilling certainty that your fate was sealed, that there would be no rescue, no salvation from the horrors that awaited you.

Desperate and terrified, you called out for your father, Eli, your voice cracking with anguish as you begged him to intervene, to save you from the nightmare unfolding before your eyes. But deep down, you knew that he would never come to your rescue, just as he had never come to your aid on that fateful day when you first learned to ride a bike, falling and crying out for him, only to be met with silence and indifference.

And as you lay in the hospital bed, staring at the blank white ceiling above you, memories of your father flood your mind like a torrential downpour. You can't help but think back to that day when you were just a child, learning to ride a bike for the first time. You remember the excitement in your heart as you pedaled furiously down the street, the wind rushing through your hair as you gained speed.

But then, disaster struck, and you lost your balance, tumbling to the ground in a heap of scraped knees and tears. Through the blur of pain and disappointment, you cried out for your father, hoping for his comforting embrace to soothe your wounded pride. But he was nowhere to be found, lost in his own world of ambitions and achievements, too preoccupied to spare a moment for his injured child.

That day was just one of many in a long list of your father's neglectful moments, a pattern of behavior that had shaped your relationship with him for as long as you could remember. From missed recitals to forgotten birthdays, Eli's indifference had left an indelible mark on your psyche, a wound that festered with each passing disappointment.

And today was just one more addition to that list, a stark reminder of your father's priorities and his lack of concern for anything or anyone outside of his own ambitions. As you lay in the hospital bed, grappling with the aftermath of your ordeal, you couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation wash over you, a bitter acceptance of the fact that your father would never change.

Meanwhile, outside the hospital room, your brother Barkley paces back and forth, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor as he anxiously dials your parents' number. After several rings, his father Eli finally answers, his voice tinged with annoyance as he questions Barkley's reason for calling.

"What is it, Barkley?" Eli snaps, his tone curt and dismissive as he brushes off his son's attempt to interrupt his celebration. "I'm in the middle of something important. This better be worth disturbing me."

Barkley takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation that he knows is about to unfold. "Dad, it's about [Your Name]," he says, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. "She's in the hospital."

Eli's response was immediate, his tone shifting from annoyance to genuine concern as he pressed Barkley for more information. "What do you mean she's in the hospital?" he demanded, his voice tinged with panic. "Is she okay? Explain this properly."

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Barkley relayed the details of the situation as best as he could. "She was found abandoned in a dirty alley," he explained, his voice trembling with emotion. "Some people called 911, and she was taken to the hospital. They tried to call you and Mom, but you didn't answer, so they called me."

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line as Eli processed the gravity of the situation. Despite his usual self-centered demeanor, a flicker of concern and fear crept into his voice as he responded. "Is she okay? What happened to her?"

Barkley hesitates for a moment before delivering the next piece of devastating information. "The doctor said she was raped and assaulted," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They found evidence of trauma...down there."

Eli's breath caught in his throat as he struggled to process the horrifying news. "Oh my god," he whispered, his voice filled with shock and disbelief. "Is she...is she conscious? Can she talk?"

Barkley's heart aches as he shakes his head, the weight of the situation bearing down on him like a leaden weight. "No, she's not talking to anyone," he replies, his voice choked with tears. "She's just...staring into space."

Eli's mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions as he struggled to comprehend the extent of his daughter's suffering. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear. "What did the doctor say?"

"The doctor said she's in shock," Barkley explains, his words coming out in a rush. "They're doing everything they can for her, but...but we need to be there, Dad. She needs us."

Tears welled up in Eli's eyes as he listened to his son's words, the weight of his daughter's suffering bearing down on him like a crushing weight. "I'm coming," he said, his voice filled with determination. "Tell her...tell her I'm coming to her. I'll be there soon."

As Barkley looked out the window, his heart sank at the sight of you lying motionless in the hospital bed. He felt a surge of helplessness wash over him as he listened to your father's voice crackle over the phone, his words filled with a mixture of concern and desperation.

"Dad, I don't know what to do," Barkley confessed, his voice trembling with emotion. "She's not responding, she's just...staring into space."

But before he could say anything else, Eli's voice cut through the air, his tone strained with worry. "She'll be fine, Barkley. She has to be," he insisted, but Barkley could hear the uncertainty in his father's voice, the underlying fear that threatened to consume him.

Barkley nodded weakly, his own doubts and fears swirling inside him as he struggled to find the strength to comfort his sister. "I know, Dad. I just...I wish there was more I could do," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eli fell silent for a moment, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in the air between them. "Just be there for her, Barkley. That's all we can do," he said finally, his voice tinged with resignation. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

As the call ended and the limo sped towards the nearest airport, Sarah clung to Eli's side, her own worry etched across her face. "Is she going to be okay?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.

Eli wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close in a comforting embrace. "She'll be fine, Sarah. She has to be," he repeated, but his words sounded hollow even to his own ears, the guilt weighing heavily on his conscience.

Meanwhile, in the hospital room in California, Barkley walked in and approached your bedside, his heart heavy with worry. He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently as he tried to find the right words to say.

"I talked to Mom and Dad," he began softly, his voice laced with uncertainty. "Dad's coming, you know. He'll be here soon."

But you remained silent, your gaze fixed on nothing as you lay there unmoving. Barkley felt a pang of sadness in his chest at your lack of response, the weight of your suffering bearing down on him like a heavy burden.

"I know how much you love Dad," Barkley continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "Maybe when he gets here, you'll snap out of this. Maybe you'll come back to us."

But as he spoke, Barkley couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his gut, the fear that you might never be the same again. And as he sat there holding your hand, surrounded by the sterile scent of the hospital room, he prayed silently for a miracle to bring you back to them.

But you remained silent, your usually vibrant personality seemingly extinguished by the traumatic events you had endured. Barkley had never seen you so quiet; you were always the talker, the light of the family, bringing laughter and joy wherever you went. But now, the silence that surrounded you felt suffocating, like a heavy blanket weighing down on their already burdened hearts.

Days passed, and Barkley's fears began to materialize. Despite being released from the hospital, you remained distant and cold, your eyes hollow and devoid of the spark that once lit up your face. The only time you opened your mouth was to recount the harrowing details of your kidnapping and assault to the police at the hospital. After that, you retreated into yourself, shutting out the world and refusing to engage with anyone, not even your father, who had always seemed to be the center of your world.

"Barkley, I don't know what to do," Sarah confided in him one evening, her voice trembling with worry. "She won't talk to me, she won't talk to Eli...I'm afraid she's slipping away from us."

Barkley's heart ached at the pain in his mother's voice, his own sense of helplessness mirrored in her eyes. "I know, Mom. I'm worried too," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

Together, they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they grappled with the enormity of the situation. Barkley couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt gnawing at his conscience; if only he had been able to protect you, to prevent this tragedy from befalling you. But deep down, he knew that no amount of regret could change what had happened.

As days turned into weeks, Barkley watched you from a distance, his heart heavy with worry and guilt. You had retreated into yourself, isolating yourself in your apartment and shutting out the world. Barkley couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness as he watched you paint, your once vibrant and colorful creations now replaced by somber and melancholic images.

He tried to talk to you, to break through the wall of silence that surrounded you, but you ignored his every attempt. It pained him to see you like this, lost in your own despair, but he didn't know what else to do.

One evening, as Barkley once again attempted to reach out to you, you brushed him off without a word, your silence speaking volumes. Defeated, Barkley turned and walked away, his heart heavy with disappointment.

But Barkley had a plan, a desperate bid to escape the suffocating weight of his guilt and the toxic environment that surrounded him. With your mother's help, he concocted a scheme to steal money from your father, Eli, and leave town for good.

Together, they managed to steal two million dollars from Eli’s accounts—enough to start a new life, far from the pain and suffering that consumed his family. They assured you that you would be fine, asking if you wanted to go with them, but your silence was answer enough.

And so, one fateful night, Barkley and your mother disappeared into the night, leaving you behind in your empty apartment, alone with your thoughts and your paintings.

Meanwhile, in his luxurious home, Eli wasted away, drowning his sorrows in alcohol as he wallowed in self-pity and regret. He had lost everything – his money, his wife, and now his son. But he still had you, his daughter, his beautiful daughter whom he had failed to protect.

Eli's cell phone rang on the coffee table in the dimly lit living room, breaking the silence that had enveloped the house for weeks. He glanced at the caller ID but didn't recognize the number, yet he answered it eagerly, hoping for some sign of life amidst the desolation.

"Hello?" Eli's voice trembled with anticipation as he held the phone to his ear.

"Dad?" Your voice, soft and distant, echoed through the line, sending a surge of relief and concern coursing through Eli's veins. He hadn't heard your voice in weeks, and the sound of it now filled him with a mixture of joy and apprehension.

"Is that you, sweetheart?" Eli's heart raced as he waited for your response, his mind racing with a thousand questions.

But before he could say anything else, you interrupted him, your voice carrying a weight that chilled him to the bone. "You were right, Dad," you said, your words hanging heavy in the air. "The painter has to die for his works to become famous."

Eli froze, the blood draining from his face as he struggled to comprehend the meaning behind your words. His mind raced back to your paintings, the somber and melancholic images that had replaced the vibrant and colorful creations you had once produced. Was this what you had meant?

"What do you mean, sweetheart? Where are you?" he questioned, his voice laced with concern and dread.

You continued speaking, your voice hollow and distant. "Because people like it, right? People like tragic things, sad things," you said, your words echoing with a disturbing clarity.

Eli's heart sank as he realized the gravity of the situation. "No, no, my dear, please don't do anything rash," he pleaded, his voice tinged with panic. "Tell me where you are. I'll come to you right away."

But you remained resolute, your mind seemingly made up. "I'm on a bridge," you replied calmly. "I'm going to jump, father. I'm going to become a great artist like Van Gogh."

Eli's hands shook as he held the phone tightly to his ear, the weight of your words crushing him with a suffocating sense of helplessness. "No, please, don't do this," he begged, his voice choked with tears. "I'll do anything, just please come back to me."

Eli's heart sank as he listened to your unsettling silence, his sense of guilt and regret weighing him down. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know I haven't been there for you like I should have," he said, his voice filled with sorrow. "But please, don't do this. I'm coming to you right now. Just stay still, okay? Don't move."

But you interrupted him, your voice cutting through the air with a bitter edge. "You never came to my aid when I needed you, Dad. You never did," you said, your words laced with disappointment and resentment.

Eli's chest tightened at your accusation, the weight of his failures as a father bearing down on him like a crushing weight. "I know, and I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I've been a shitty father, and I regret it every day."

But you remained steadfast, your resolve unyielding as you spoke once more. "The key to my apartment is under the rug," you said calmly, your voice cutting through the chaos of the moment. "My paintings...put them up for auction. Maybe then you can recover the money Barkley and Mom stole."

Eli tried to protest, to argue that the money didn't matter in comparison to the value of your life, but you silenced him with a swift motion, sliding your cell phone and tossing it off the bridge, watching it disappear into the depths below.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, your mind set on your decision. "Become a great artist," you whispered to yourself before taking the leap, the rush of wind drowning out the sounds of the world around you.

As you plummeted towards the water below, a crowd of onlookers gathered on the bridge, their smartphones held high as they captured the moment for posterity. But you paid them no mind, your focus solely on the journey ahead, whatever it may bring.

A month had passed since the tragic day you took your leap from the bridge, and Eli found himself enveloped in a fog of despair. Despite his best efforts, there was still no sign of your body, no closure to the nightmare that had consumed their lives. The newspapers relentlessly replayed the cell phone footage of your final moments, each viewing tearing at Eli's heart anew.

With a heavy heart, Eli finally gathered the courage to fulfill your final wish. He put your paintings up for auction, just as you had requested, each stroke of the brush a painful reminder of the vibrant soul you once were.

Sitting at the back of the auction hall, Eli struggled to maintain his composure as each painting was presented to the eager bidders. Memories flooded his mind with each piece, from the happiest to the darkest, each one a testament to the complexity of your spirit.

He remembered the little girl he once carried in his arms, her bright eyes gazing up at him with an innocence that melted his heart. Back then, he had felt a twinge of disappointment at having a girl instead of the son he had hoped for, but that feeling quickly dissipated as he held you close, your warmth and love filling the void in his heart.

He recalled the annoyance he felt when you were a child, following him everywhere and refusing to leave him alone for a second. He had often found himself exasperated by your constant presence, yearning for moments of solitude that seemed perpetually out of reach.

Then there were the times you had forced him to have tea with you and your dolls, a memory that now brought a bittersweet smile to his lips. He remembered the humiliation he had felt, sitting awkwardly amongst your toys, pretending to sip from a tiny porcelain cup as you chattered away happily.

But perhaps the most vivid memory of all was the day you had drawn on the important papers he carried with him everywhere. He had scolded you harshly for it, unable to understand why you would deface something so precious to him. But you had looked up at him with tears in your eyes and explained that you just wanted him to carry a little piece of you with him wherever he went. In that moment, Eli had felt a surge of tenderness towards you, his anger melting away as he realized the depth of your love for him.

As another painting of you went up for auction, Eli forced himself to become stoic, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He watched with a mixture of pride and sadness as the bids climbed higher and higher, each one a testament to the impact you had made on the world with your art.

Finally, a man stood out amongst the crowd, offering two million dollars for one of your paintings. The auctioneer turned to the man and asked for his name, and Eli's heart skipped a beat when he heard the answer.

"Lionel Shabandar," the man introduced himself, his voice carrying a note of authority as he met Eli's gaze with a steely determination.

But Eli looked away, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions as he remembered who Lionel Shabandar was. One of the richest men in London, Shabandar's presence in California seemed out of place. Why would he be here, at this auction, to buy a painting of his daughter's?

The auction continued, and Eli watched in surprise as Shabandar purchased nearly all of the paintings, one after another, with unwavering determination. Eli couldn't comprehend why Shabandar, a man of such wealth and influence, would be interested in his daughter's art. But the sight of him acquiring every piece only deepened the mystery.

As the auction drew to a close and Shabandar rose to leave, Eli felt a sudden urge to confront him. He hurriedly followed Shabandar, calling out for him to wait. Surprisingly, Shabandar halted in his tracks and turned to face Eli, greeting him with a nod as if they were old acquaintances.

"Doctor Eli Michaelson, isn't it?" Shabandar's voice was smooth and cultured, with a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Eli nodded, a sense of unease creeping over him. "Yes, that's me. But forgive me if I'm mistaken, but do we know each other?"

Shabandar smiled knowingly. "No, not personally. But I've heard about you, Doctor Michaelson. Congratulations on your Nobel Prize," he said, his tone respectful.

Eli brushed off the compliment, his mind focused on the matter at hand. "Thank you, but that's not why I'm here. I need to know why you bought all those paintings."

Shabandar raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Isn't it obvious? Your daughter was a remarkable artist."

Eli's eyes narrowed skeptically. "Remarkable, yes, but why would you, of all people, be interested in her work?"

Shabandar chuckled softly, gesturing towards the paintings on display. "Because I recognize talent when I see it, Doctor Michaelson. Your daughter's art spoke to me in a way that few others have. Each brushstroke, each detail, conveyed a depth of emotion that is truly rare."

Eli remained unconvinced, his suspicions lingering like a shadow. "And what do you plan to do with her paintings now that you've bought them all?"

Shabandar shrugged nonchalantly. "Display them, perhaps. Or perhaps donate them to a museum. It's too soon to say."

Eli studied Shabandar carefully, searching for any sign of deceit or ulterior motive. But Shabandar's demeanor remained calm and composed, his intentions shrouded in mystery.

Before Eli could press further, Shabandar glanced at his watch and made to leave. "I must be going, but congratulations, Doctor Michaelson, your daughter has become a great artist," he said, offering a polite nod before disappearing into the crowd.

Eli was left alone, standing still amidst the bustling auction hall, his thoughts consumed by a flood of memories. As he turned to look at the paintings that had once adorned the walls of your apartment, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride welling up inside him.

You didn't become a great artist, no, you already were for a long time. Since you were a child and scribbled on the walls, on Eli's important papers, until Eli got fed up and gave you a painting kit. He remembered the day vividly, the frustration in his voice as he handed you the brushes and the canvas, hoping to pacify you with a creative outlet.

He could almost see you there, looking at the blank canvas and the paints in your tiny hands, asking your father what you should paint. And he, in his typical dismissive manner, had simply replied, "Paint something that will make me proud."

And you had smiled at him, a radiant beam of innocence that melted his heart, before setting to work with a determination that belied your tender age. You painted and painted, your tiny fingers creating masterpieces that Eli had never thought possible.

But despite your talent, Eli had never been proud of your paintings, always dismissing them as mere child's play. He had been blind to the beauty and depth of your art, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to see the world through your eyes.

As he stood there now, surrounded by the remnants of your creativity, Eli felt a pang of regret gnawing at his conscience. He wished he could go back, to cherish those moments with you, to celebrate your talent and nurture it with the love and support you deserved.

But it was too late for regrets now. All he could do was honor your memory, to ensure that the world knew of the remarkable artist you had been. And as he looked around the auction hall, at the eager bidders clamoring for a piece of your legacy, Eli couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Lionel Shabandar, the enigmatic stranger who had recognized your talent when he had failed to do so.

With a heavy heart, Eli made his way home, the weight of his emotions threatening to crush him with each step. But amidst the grief and the guilt, there was a glimmer of hope, a flicker of pride in knowing that you had left behind a legacy that would endure long after you were gone.

And as he gazed at the painting kit he had given you all those years ago, now gathering dust on a forgotten shelf, Eli made a silent vow to cherish the memory of his daughter, the talented artist whose brilliance had shone brighter than he could have ever imagined.

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Friday everyone! What a couple of weeks huh? We're so back etc. I've still not recovered from the blooper and bts blessings. But I'm back again with another round of the fic I've been reading so far this month! You can find previous rec lists here.

9 August 2024

i'm here with the door wide open by @eddiebabygirldiaz oh my god the YEARNING in this fic. I actually wailed when I got to the end. Eddie POV, he's struggling with the silence with Chris gone, and the absence of the life and noise that he's so used to in his home. Through it all, Buck is there, sweet, supportive, vibrant and loud in his presence. Eddie tentatively comes to listen to what's not being said out loud. I absolutely adored the delicate hand held out to all the relationships here, and the beautiful imagery in the writing. But mostly the intimacy which struck me so deeply. Love is indeed stored in the kitchen. Just gorgeous.

in love with every song you've ever heard by @timeshareindestin I'm so glad I saw the beautiful art of hard of hearing Buck and his firetruck red hearing aids, because it led me to read this wonderful fic, in which he grapples with the disability he suppressed as a child, and realises that the family he craves has been there for him all along. This is an emotional read, and I particularly loved the flashbacks to his childhood and Maddie's support, as well as the realisation that he can be brave and vouch for himself with people fighting his corner.

Operation: Keep Eddie Diaz Busy and Annoyed by @gigi-gigi 'the one where Buck forces Eddie to keep busy while Chris is gone, but ends up catching a bad case of The Feelings in the middle of Eddie learning to love pickling things to irritate Chim and charming old ladies through square dancing.' THE FLIRTING. Dear god the flirting. Just delightful.

where the tumbleweeds blow by @tallahasseemp3 a buddie road trip fic! In which Eddie goes home to Texas. Buck follows. Along the way, they find each other. The perfect thing to read after the deleted Christopher and Eddie scene, with them learning to find their feet with each other whilst Eddie also learns to trust himself with Buck, and establish boundaries and a new understanding with his own parents. Such great family dynamic examination.

free mustache rides by @standback ALL HAIL MOUSTACHEDDIE SMUT!! 'Eddie comes back after two weeks in Texas with a) Christopher, b) a tan, and c) a mustache.' In which Eddie is flirtatious and a bit smug about the effect he's having, whilst Buck is entirely mesmerised, and needs to sit on his face about it. Funny and hot.

Safe for Work by @911-alsaurus continuing with the funny and hot theme, Al's specialty, in which touch starved Buck looks for some way to alleviate his cravings, and 'Eddie offers to be Buck's official head scratcher, shoulder massager, and general tactile needs provider. It's a really normal thing for friends to do. Surely.' Featuring an excellent Chim cameo.

Paint Me in Neon and Make Me Glow by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels HELLO exhibitionist streak Buck 5+1 hot as hell buck tommy fic. Truly Lincoln writes their dynamic in such a fun way, I love how tongue in cheek teasing Tommy is and how playful and intrigued Buck is here, whilst being extremely turned on. Kink exploration that ups the ante with each new tentative discovery. There's no room to be shy!

Every Day You’ll Still Show Up by @bluflamingo was a really nicely characterised buck tommy fic, an emotional oneshot in which they're early days boyfriends set close to S7 canon, learning to comfort each other when Buck returns after a bad call. There was a gentleness to this that I could genuinely see slotting into the show, and I really liked that it was a regular call out that went wrong rather than a massive catastrophe.

PS - once again sending out the signal to ask if you have any henren authors/fic recs I should check out PLEASE let me know! Have you SEEN S8 Hen's arms in those tank tops? Dear lord. Help a lesbian out?

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Don’t you dare

Carlos Oliveira x gn! reader

summary: Carlos shows Jill his s/o. Jill teases Carlos and says that she has a crush on you now.

warning: none just jealous Carlos

gif not mine!

Carlos paced back and forth in the dimly lit room, his heart racing with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. He clutched a small photo in his hand, a picture of you, taken during a moment of pure joy and shared laughter. The image captured the essence of your vibrant spirit, and Carlos couldn't help but be captivated by your radiant smile.

Jill strolled into the room, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she caught sight of Carlos' restless demeanor. "Hey, Carlos, what's got you all worked up?" she teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

Carlos blushed, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson. He fumbled with the photo, his voice catching in his throat. "Jill, I... I wanted to show you something. Someone, actually." Intrigued, Jill leaned in closer, her eyes fixated on the photo in Carlos' trembling hands. As she gazed upon your image, her playful expression softened into one of genuine warmth. "Carlos, they look amazing. You really care about them, don't you?"

Carlos nodded, his heart swelling with affection. "Yeah, Jill, I do. I love them with all my heart. They bring light to my darkest days and make me feel like I can conquer anything."

Jill couldn't help but chuckle, a mischievous glimmer returning to her eyes. "Well, Carlos, it seems like you've got it bad. I think I might even have a little crush myself. Maybe I should get their number, eh?"

Carlos' brows furrowed, a sudden pang of jealousy piercing his heart. He tried to hide his emotions, but his moody demeanor gave him away. "Don’t you dare“ he starts in a harsh voice. Then he gets a bit calm after realizes that it might have been just a joke. "Come on. Don't joke like that. They're special to me, and I don't want to share."

Realizing the impact her teasing had on Carlos, Jill's playful demeanor quickly transformed into one of remorse. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Carlos. I didn't mean to upset you. It's clear to me now how much they mean to you. You two look good together, and I hope you guys are happy together."

Carlos let out a heavy sigh, his jealousy dissipating as he absorbed Jill's sincere apology. He appreciated her understanding and knew deep down that she only wanted the best for him.

"Thanks, Jill. I'm sorry for being so moody. It's just... they're important to me, you know?" Jill nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. "I understand, Carlos. Love can make us feel vulnerable and protective. I'm here for you, always."

With their friendship strengthened through this candid exchange, Carlos and Jill shared a genuine moment of understanding. They both knew that love was a powerful force, capable of bringing joy and vulnerability in equal measure.

As they bid each other goodnight, Carlos clutched the photo of you tightly in his hand, a renewed sense of determination swelling within him. He was ready to embark on a journey of love, and with Jill's support, he knew he would navigate the complexities of his emotions with grace.

In the end, Carlos was filled with hope, knowing that the path ahead was illuminated by the love he shared with you. And as he fell asleep, thoughts of your laughter and the warmth of your presence enveloped his dreams, leaving him with a sense of content ment and a smile on his face. He knew that, no matter the challenges that lay ahead, he would face them with courage and devotion.

[forthetwins]

Hello😺 i hope you're having a good day. Could you please write comfort with fred or george x (muggle!) artist who who has impostor syndrome (... is a psychological occurrence in which people doubt their skills, talents, or accomplishments and have a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as frauds. Despite external evidence of their competence, those experiencing this phenomenon do not believe they deserve their success or luck.(from Wikipedia)) and does not believe when their paintings are praised? I hope it isn't too much..

george weasley — brush strokes and belief.

you stood in the corner of the room, watching as george carefully examined each of your paintings. despite the praise they received from others, you couldn't shake the feeling of doubt that gnawed at your mind.

"these are bloody brilliant, you know," george said, gesturing to the vibrant canvases that adorned the walls. "the way you capture light and emotion...it's almost as good as my pranks."

you bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze. "it's easy to make them look good from afar," you admitted quietly. "but up close, you can see all the imperfections."

george chuckled softly, stepping closer to you. "well, that just means they're real," he replied teasingly. "and besides, imperfections give them character."

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "it's just...sometimes i feel like i'm fooling everyone. like i don't deserve the praise."

george gently took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "listen, love," he said seriously, his tone softening. "you've got talent pouring out of you. and as much as i like to tease, i wouldn't joke about something this important."

you glanced up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his eyes. "but what if i'm not as good as people think?"

"then why do they keep coming back for more?" george countered with a grin. "you bring joy to people with your art, and that's bloody brilliant."

you swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat, "hmn,"

"just 'hmn'?"

you chuckle, reaching out and placing a delicate kiss on his cheek, "thank you,"

"anytime," george replied, squeezing your hand gently. "and if you ever need a reminder, just say the word. i've got a whole arsenal of compliments waiting."

as you looked at him, you realized that george's belief in you was unwavering, even if he expressed it in his own unique way. maybe, it was time to start believing in yourself too.

[koratcafe]

TMAGP 23 spoilers

Thoughts and theories on the latest episode (writing as I listen):

More with the response department paperwork, I've been wondering about the purpose of that. I mean Office of Incident Assessment and "Response" could be related to it? Maybe it isn't actually shut down, just ignored or perhaps intentionally abandoned. Or is Sam just grasping for straws and trying to find meaning in the meaningless instead of what is right in front of him

Yippee Chester case! More themes of identity, feel like that'll be very important in the future and also the present.

I love how they go about the cases in TMAGP, I've always been obsessed with ARGs and weird reddit posts and they really remind me of those

Oh the aquarium thing they're talking about is so real. I genuinely lose myself just staring at those sometimes

"The water was crystal blue and at the bottom there it was. Vibrant, electric almost, and… so very much alive." This bit almost reminds me of the descriptions of Michael Crew in MAG 46??

Chester saying "smiley face" I love that

How-To forum?? Reminds me of those shifting methods things that were going around a little while ago. So very specific. Theres been a lot (like with both Madam E and Ink5oul) about reliance on the internet for happiness/any emotion, possibly more of that?

"She has my eyes." This line is just terrifying for whatever reason

More loss of identity/generally the concept of identity/reaching for a perfect "self".. this is recurring now :(

Okay the post-case dialogue I have already seen everywhere but these could 100% be different Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood. Sam only said they were similar ages and unrelated to the Magnus Institute so it can't be them can it? Celia may have thought of them from memory instead of "old documents" and since Sam got an email from Jon at least I can rule out the fact that he's completely gone. (I am VERY in denial)

BASIRA AND HELEN MENTIONED?!?!? We are slowly collecting more tma characters and I am very happy

DYHARD INTERACTION YIPPEEEE

[normal-internet-user]

As promised, pumpkin pie! (/p) Here's my two cents for our favorite kiddo reader. The heir of Apocalypse!Peepaw Leo. The edgelord (and rightfully so!) turned dork nugget and their kooky adventures because I say so >:3

– ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ Adopted Reader Fluff!!! My serve!! (probs a smidgen of angst bc this one specific scenario has been rotating in my head & i definitely meant to include it in the headcanons last night but, as previously mentioned, my eyes felt like they were gonna fall out 🥴) ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

p.s , I am also listening to the Goofy Movie soundtrack, specifically Stand Out + I 2 I which are my faves!!! Tevin Campbell did not have to go that hard. Highly recommend.

💌🧚‍♀️💗🌨🥡🍥

Even More Reader Post-Movie Headcanons!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Okay so

I really wanna start out with the scenario that I am positively aching to show you bc I really wanna know what you think, ANDDD I think it weaves in so well with the repairing (or rather, building) of Reader and Leo’s relationship in this timeline!

But, we’ll get there. 😉

After the events of the movie, everything is still raw. Not only are we recovering from a literal war, but all the issues that come with coping with a timeline that we aren’t used to – a timeline we’ve only heard nostalgic regalings of from Papa, lullabies and tall tales and stories meant to keep up some sort of hope and light in the midst of the darkness they lived in day by day, as well as in the mystic projections of Uncle Michelangelo 

. . . but now?

Seeing it in all its prime and modern-day glory?

It’s so, so beautiful.

Reader can’t and would never deny that. 

It’s vibrant. It’s colorful. It’s free. It’s such a far cry from the blood-red skies and dilapidated wastelands they grew up with. The ruins were their "sunny skies and rolling fields" so to speak.

Now that they are here. In the flesh? 

It’s. A lot to handle. 

Reader is wrecked, for sure. 

Casey is too! He’s just better at handling– hiding? Coping.

He’s more open and excited and gentle and polite and cheerful and.

We learn a lot from him as time goes on.

#caseythenationaltreasure

I like to imagine that Casey is a really big help in Reader’s journey to peace; not only within and with themself, but with the people around them too.

Eventually, 

Sure, it’s still a bit awkward with everyone; you guys are kids from the future stuck in a different timeline - with the people who raised you and they're the same age as y'all! What more could you DO to them? (/lh)

Ah. But they’ve got their family. and it’s no joke that they’re a big help!!

Mikey is in his Prime as Doctor Feelings and scheduled regular sessions with Reader bc his EQ is very sharp, as we all know, and he notices just how bad Reader wants to come to terms with everything, and he wants to help. He does help. A lot.

Donnie is ever the 'tism with the emotional constipation (/aff) but he helps and provides in his own little special Donnie ways!

Even if he may not outright say it all the time, he cares and loves his family so so much and he'd do anything for them.

He sets Reader up with some fun and unique techno-cool gifts that help them with things they don't speak up about;

– – like upgrading their mask to have a panoramic-projection so they can put a whole visual to the audio recordings and playbacks stashed in the device memory (only if they want tho! he won't touch it otherwise :'3)

He pretends like he's not hanging on to Reader's every little word when they do engage in casual conversation [which becomes more and more frequent as time goes by!] under the guise of typing on his phone or smth,

and takes those tidbits to create something so heartwarmingly thoughtful and faceted that we may as well just take a big ole stamp that says "You're Not Fooling Anyone With That Bad Boy Persona" and bash it on that forehead of his. JSJSJ (lovingly ofc :*)

Speaking of panorama-projectors, I can see him making it to interchangeable sceneries!

I'm talking about galaxies and solar systems (feeds into Reader's crow tendencies *sniff sniff* soooo many shiny thingssss)

Deep-sea oceans like Ariel's cove-esque or Pandora's sea settings from Avatar

Or even peaceful golden hills and orchards, just them and the big blue sky, the sound of the breeze dancing and larks singing in their ears.

... whatever they want, Don makes it happen.

He definitely takes Mikey's artsy avenues and teams up with him so they can surprise the Future Kids together!

– – 🩵🩶 Casey and Reader fall asleep curled up together in a pillow fort with the projector playing, and it's the best sleep they've gotten since the sleepovers with their Papa.

made myself cry thinkin' that up *sobs*

And isn't Uncle / Big Bro Raphie such a sweetheart during it all? He's the rock of the family, but he's learning to let the family in a lot more. He's learning to not be so "overbearing", especially with his Protective Instincts flying off the handle since the battle. Sure he can be heavy-handed, but he just wants to keep his family safe. And he always has! He always will. He heals to a comfortable place with time, and while he'll always be everyone's rock, you all are there for him too.

Family is stronger together, and-

You all reassure him of that.

In quiet moments, rare moments when it's just him and Reader – they tell him just that. Their hand is comically small on his forearm, but their eyes are earnest; they stare up at him with a sparkle of admiration. They'd only heard stories regaled fondly by their surviving family members, often accompanied them when they visited his shell on the wall lit by candles.

– meeting their uncle, so young but endlessly strong, is a fickle kind of honor. But still an honor.

(and Raphie may or may not have cried whenever Reader gets him right in the feels hurk-)

Reader and Casey get spoiled rotten (i.e: given the basic necessities to which they did not have access to in their timeline sjjsshahahd) by their family nonetheless!!

UGhhghghh imagine it with me, Normie!

Bubble baths! Warm, cozy clothes! Books that weren't rotting, charred, or furled at the edges! Taking them to comic book stores! Convenience stores! The park! The WATERPARK! The mall!! Introducing them to music and headphones/earbuds to match! Conventions and cons! Amusement parks! Ice cream parlors! Casual strolls throughout New York and doing all these things!

Oh and don't get me started on the adventures they get into in The Hidden City!! :DDD

....

seriously, don't–

foreshadowing -thickens-

*ahem*

In all honesty, the whole clan becomes clingy with each other post-Invasion. That goes w/o saying.

Even Case and Reader, despite the initial tension, have little to no qualms with being pulled into Turtle Piles, nor all the casual affection that comes with healing and growing together!!

It's odd but sweet :')

—Casey and Reader eventually grow out of always seeing the guys as uncles/aunties/parental figures (save for Splints + Draxy + etc.), it becomes more sibling-like in a way!

But they'll always be just as close.

They were just that in their timeline.

But that timeline is lost.

And scary as it may be, they're building themselves a new life. A better life. It's what Papa would have wanted.

So. Why not do just that? :')

>> fam that gets traumatized together STAYS together (/gen)😤

Tragedy brings them closer in ways they didn't think it would.

the awkwardness between reader & leo melts into something more mellow, and we owe a big part of that to Casey!

He's their bridge. Seeing as he's closer to Leo at the given time, he hangs out with his sibbie and Leo at the same time so that they can hang together too. >:3c

Such a genius boy ueueu.

— and before they know it, Reader and Lee-Lee are actually bonding really well. It takes time, and there are withdrawals and setbacks along the way, but it is those obstacles that pave the way for something strong. Something true, honorable, pure, and real.

The reader knows — you know, glory do you know ... that this may not be your Papa.

But maybe...

Maybe that's okay.

You had him. You had Casey. You had your family, the ones once lost to fates beyond your control, and now here you were.

You had all won.

And if that in of itself wasn't something to celebrate with every breath you took,

—you would have given up on that war all that time ago.

Reader and Leo come to a mutual ground with one another.

Let's come to a place where they're more than civil with each other; Leo adores casual affection, and Reader does too— they just weren't willing to give way for such in the beginning.

But it's not unusual to see Leo and them curled up next to each other. Most of the time, Casey's with them too! But in the rare times he isn't, Reader and Leo are comfortable and just doing their own thing.

Like they'll be reading a book, or playing on a handheld device (game, Switch, phone, etc. they're amazed by present-day technology) and Lee's got a comic book,

or he's resting his head close to theirs while he guides them through what they may be doing on their fun little screen.

Leo finds a comfort in you, and you find a comfort in him— once you both let each other in.

All the time it took was worth it :')

I can see them being the most annoyingly caustic yet affectionate besties SNSNJJSJSJ biiig "only I get to make fun of them >:(" energy

or a complete opposite:

once we get past all the vitriol, they're so soft for each other hhhh-

Like Reader becomes fairly protective over him; handles him gently with small smiles and murmured words, helps him out and gives the best muscle massages or is quick to redress and assist when he's smarting from his wounds, knows him well enough to comfort him through panic attacks, indulges in his stupid jokes and puns bc he raised them, hello.

They bounce off each other for hours—

the rest of the guys have resorted to begging, multiple times jsjsj.

and Leo, by this time he knows how much Reader meant- means to him, but he doesn't try to take their Papa's place; he's not scared of them, he does learn to love them /p, and tries to translate that in the most respectful yet straightforward way possible,

and that helped their growing relationship a lot!

He rough-houses (gently) and spars with them, teases them just enough to see their flustered expression, annoys them affectionately — but is the first to come to their defense when someone else gets too cozy.

A lot like a best friend or a sibling.

... He also cuddles and slings his arm around their shoulders and gives the best bear hugs (when they want/need). He reads to them- either one of his comics or one of their acquired books- when they can't sleep or just needs something to hear other than the overbearing voices in their head. He always eats with them, introducing them to new foods he thinks they'd like and giving them the bigger portion (when they get used to stomaching it ofc). Holds their hand. Protects them from the small things and encourages them with the big things, because he knows they can handle it and they just need that little nudge. And to know that someone is right behind them the whole time.

All that good stuff.

(and Casey is so jazzed two of his favorite people are getting along so well aaaa!!)

—hey or maybe it's a healthy mix of both!! ♡₊˚ yeahhhhh.

big BIG ride-or-die energy. I like to imagine that (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)

At the end of the day, they'd die for each other all over again. It gets to THAT point.

Both figuratively and literally.

One milestone in their bond took place and in a way nobody really saw coming—

They were in the Hidden City, stopping by Señor Hueso's for some good grub,

but Leo's leg was pinching a bit more today, and Reader felt a migraine coming on; they wanted to get back home for Mikey's Miracle Migraine Tea, maybe a scalp massage if they pulled the puppy eyes the aforementioned taught them in the future (they don't need to. he'd do it at the drop of a hat. they just like to be eggstra 💅🏼),

so they're both kinda rushing this little outing. Reader's a touch grouchy and their notorious RBF makes a whole comeback, but Leo knows them well enough to know it's not directed at him. He feels for ya, and he sticks close as you both wait for your pickup order to come through.

Then, out of nowhere, some gigantuan yokai comes skulking over.

Reader notices immediately, having folded to lay their head on the cool countertop at the pickup counter; Leo was rubbing up and down their back in comforting circles, smiling down at them with warm, sympathetic eyes as he tries to distract them from their discomfort. He was too focused on them to notice.

and when they spot the glint in the yokai's eyes, they can practically smell the sinister intention as they stride over to them. They're looking for something they had no business to.

Reader tenses, hackles raised and fingers twitching where they gripped the forearms of their hoodie, and their eyes gleam as they peek out from under their hood.

Leo, who thinks they're about to be sick, frets and gently maneuvers them to sit on a nearby stool; he doesn't see the yokai until he's being clapped on the shoulder - the one that's sore, conveniently so - and nearly jumps out of his skin when he whirls on them.

This yokai - stocky, menacing, and a sadistic air about them, simply chuckles and cocks their head at the duo. They're wearing a server's uniform. Reader and Leo both realize it at once-- Reader with dread and Leo with (miscalculated) relief: they're an employee.

Anyways, Leo is put-off by this sudden intrusion of personal space and onslaught of bad vibes, but he's the Face Man and naturally a people person, so he greets them casually and asks if he can help them.

Alongside the incessant ringing in their ears that's their warning before disaster, alarm bells started going off in their head.

They can't really discern what Leo and this bum are saying at this point - everything was fuzzy and garbled like they were underwater; even from their vulnerability sprawled out over the countertop, Reader can tell from their body language that the convo is going in a very wrong direction,

especially when Leo is suddenly shoved back- too hard- and lands in a graceless heap on the floor behind them.

Your mind goes blank. A mindset that was wired into your being from birth – one you haven't had to enter for a while – burns your mind and chest and the alarm bells are deafening, even more so than the sudden uproar of commotion happening vaguely around you.

You're not focused on them. You become laser-focused on the yokai behind you, and between one breath and the next, you're out of your seat and tackling the yokai with a snarl, and you're beating the ever-loving spirits out of them.

You don't stop. You grab at fur and a muzzle, probably a tusk, but you don't care. You don't care, you don't care, you don't care–

– – you're relentless.

All that was in your head was blaring red letters: Protect. Family. Leo. Hurt. Still recovering. Threat. Protect.

Strike.

White-hot rage is pumping through your veins and powering your every strike.

You have them by the nape and slam the yokai's face into the ground muzzle/snout-first; you throw punch after elbow after backhand after punch, even as you feel bone and tendon cracking rather explicitly beneath your knuckles,

and when you're kicked off, rather weakly all things considered–

it doesn't deter you at all.

You use the airborne energy to bounce right back off the countertop (it would ache and bruise like heck later),

rip the stool that you were occupying just moments earlier, clean off its hinges,

and start wailing in on the no-good lowlife bully that thought it beneficial to try your brother.

–– it doesn't stop until the very seat of the stool cracks to shrapnel, the center rolling away like a hubcap, and you're gripping the bar in your hands, heaving like you just ran a marathon.

When the yokai unfolds their arms from shielding their head to peek at you, scrambling to stand, shaking and wide-eyed, your gaze is ferocious.

The skeleton of the once-seat in your hand gets thrown right at their face with a ridiculous strength, and if their muzzle/snout wasn't broken before, it was shattered now.

The yokai shrieks in pain and goes right back down as red iron seeps from their nose, mouth, through their fingers, writhing on the floor-

and you stomp forwards, plant your foot steady in the center of their chest, and press in close until you can see their pupils trembling; that's when you finally speak your first words of the evening:

"Don't you ever come near my brother again. If I see your sorry shank even breathe in his general direction? That stool? The end will find itself shoved right up your pathetic excuse of a voice box. You'd like that, yeah?"

Terrified head shakes and an even more terrified wheeze in response,

"You listen and you listen real good, geezer. I will find you, and a simple warning like this will be the least of your troubles. A warning in which I'm letting you off with, seeing as you're clearly mistaken in your endeavors. Even think of touching Leo, and you deal with this except a thousand times over. It won't be just me. Okay?"

your poorly concealed sadism makes a minor appearance in the sudden change of pitch in your voice and the smarmy grin that stretches your dry lips as you quirk your head and eyebrows in question; when the yokai does nothing but give an immediate jerky nod, you gently pat the side of their face, satisfied.

–which was a lull into a false sense of security, because you shifted your entire body weight and last bit of strength to shove their face back down as you stood up, ignoring their yowl of agony as you did so.

meanwhile everyone in the restaurant be like:🧍

when you came to, everything crashed into you at once: nausea rolled in violent waves in your stomach, the migraine came thrumming full-force, and your ribs creaked as you stumbled over to a shellshocked Leo.

You pulled him up on shaky legs, but much like every patron in the joint, his eyes were trained on the yokai you just obliterated, still writhing on the ground.

Eventually, Senor comes rushing out and, taking in the damage of the scene, demands an explanation. Reader is all-too glad to give it to him, eyes glazed over and voice a lot more calmer than the actual predator they previously were

But once they do, his eyes look over both of them and soften, especially when he takes in how Leo is visibly shaking and Readie looks like they're milliseconds away from passing out.

They get out of there, food in tow, Leo still extremely shell-shocked and Reader worse for wear at what just transpired.

Blue barely manages a portal home- but they do, and when they're safe in the familiarity of the Lair, they both metaphorically collapse.

The night ends with the perturbed fretting of the Clan, but it all boils down to one thing for sure.

Leo has Reader's hand in his, Reader is gripping with the same intensity, and they refuse to be separated for the next few days thereafter.

Anata wa hitori janai.

That is the Hamato way.

oh and that employee never showed up to the restaurant again :D sorry not sorry for using them as collateral for my bebes

more tidbits that came to mind when typing that storm up:

reader's a bad mofo . didn't ya know they were the scourge of the apocalypse? they were clandestinely feared by the kraang. leo kept them under wraps bc he knew how powerful they were. (/j) reader: they protecc, they attacc, but most of all, they gone need ice for they bacc SNRRRTTT

☁️🖇️🥛

HOOOWEEEEE, THAT'LL DO IT– ˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ I hope you do read all this, sugarcube!! I got kind of carried away, ahaha ^^;; I'm sowwwyyyy!~ But i AM excited to hear your thoughts, whenever that may be! <333

I'm mostly glad I finally got the well-awaited scenario in there!! Basically, Leo has a no-no moment with some lowkey bully and Reader completely overcompensates, even thought they're BOTH still tender from war, yet they go batty-bonkers over his oppression! >:( Don't touch their family!!! The scenario was inspired by a ficlet I read a while ago with Leo in the same situation, but Reader was in Donnie's place :''))) I'll have to find it for ya if you haven't read it yet-

aaa after this, i think i can chill without so much heaviness!! i need to indulge in some crack! some fluff! somethin' now that we've explored the reader and leo's dynamic!! they're the sillies ever and we need more!!

muwah! Hasta la vista, baeby! I'll be back!~ /p

Aaaa goodnight now XD! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ Love ya loads, toots!! Enjoy the nomz, haha!🍓❣🍰💌🧸

Ok. First of all, and most importantly, I FREAKIN LOVE THE GOOFY MOVIE IT'S LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVS EVER- AFTER TODAY IS MY FUCKING JAM-

ALSO ON THE OPEN ROAD??? HEHEH

Ahem.

Now that that's out of my system, let the headcanons begin...

READER'S HEALING PROCESS POST-MOVIE

....................................

Post-movie, after everything calms down, and everyone's just trying to heal,

You definitly open up a bit more.

You'll apologize to everyone for how you acted before,

For being so hostile towards them.

Casey will 100% nudge Leo and you into hanging out together.

It was hard to do since you avoided Leo like the plauge, and he kinda thought you hated him or something.

Casey manages to kill the awkwardness, and now you and Leo go EVERYWHERE together.

Besties for realzies.

Donnie will try to be subtle with his gifting,

Spoiler: he isn't.

Most of the time he'll just leave whatever it is on Reader's bed for them to find with a small note.

He's dissmissive when you thank him too,

"Don't worry about." "It's no big deal."

The projector is now your most prized possesion aside from your mask.

I feel like you always had trouble sleeping in the dark,

In the future it would have been hard to have any kind of nightlight.

Limited resources and all.

So Uncle Michelangelo would fill your and Casey's room with little glowing lights.

Think Gaurdians of The Galaxy when Groot saves everyone, the little balls of light?

So thats what you usually project into the room.

And obviously you and Casey will have the occasional stargazing night.

Meeting Raph for you was pretty much the equivilent of Casey fan-girling over Leonardo.

The stories Papa told you about him made Raph sound like some kind of super hero.

So when you met him, you had to physically try to keep your rbf on, and not freak out.

You think he's so freakin' cool-

Omg if you show even the slightest signs of discomfort or sadness Mikey is on that crap.

Here comes Dr. Feelings, tell him what's wrong.

No family of his is going to be sad for long.

He'll 100% do his best to make you and Casey feel more at home in your new timeline.

Sometimes you'll turn the tables and now you're Dr. Feelings.

He doesn't like it, but he knows mental health is important, so he deals and ya'll have therapy sessions with eachother.

You not so subtly try to spend lots of time with Splinter as well.

You didn't have very much time with your Grandpa before the end of the world took him as well,

But now he's here, and you can tell that he did not change one bit with time.

His younger counter-part is exactly the same as the one you knew in the future.

You do the same thing with Draxxum as well and omfg he is so weirded out.

Like, why does this teenager want to willingly spend time with me? Did Mikey put you up to this? WHAT IS GOING ON-

But nope.

You just missed your weird alchemist Gramps.

April takes you for walks around the city, kinda showing you and Casey what it looks like when it isn't in complete ruins.

She shows you all the cool things it has to offer, and you even come back to the Lair with some shiny things you find on the ground!

You lost your old collection when you left your old timeline, so now you have to start your hoard all over :(

It's ok though, people drop tons of shiny things down water ways and sewer drains.

You and Leo will wander around the tunnels and look for your shinies.

It's a bonding experience, and he teases you about it.

Great gallileo the back and forths between you are so horrible.

They last almost all day, and when ever one of you starts one evryone groans out loud.

The only two people who can get you two to drop it and leave eachother alone are Casey and Raph, but Casey rarely does anything to stop it-

Once you and Leo get close he is such a little terd-

Teasing, and picking and poking.

Big brother energy for realzies.

He'll wake you up by playing California Girls really loud in your ear, and then giggle about it all day, while you try not to strangle him.

If he ever overexerts himself, god help him escape the scolding-

EVERYONE is on his shell about it.

But ESPECIALLY you.

It's even worse when you get upset at him, because after everyome else is done scolding him, they'll move on.

But you? You are so petty about it.

You scold him for hours,

Then you'll just kinda... sit there, silently glaring off into space.

It makes him feel so bad for worrying Reader, that he doesn't overwork himself more than like- five times before guilt makes him just chill tf out and heal.

That scenario you wrote, where Reader absolutely rocks that yokai's shit for messing with Leo?

(Wonderfully written by the way, truely a masterpiece)

First of all total fuck around 'n find out energy.

Second of all, I'm in LOVE with the idea of Reader going absolutely feral on the battle field.

In the future, EVERY fight was life or death, and I think Reader may need to learn that here, in this timeline, not every fight requires you to freakin' wreck the opponent.

Raph kinda has that talk with them after Senor told him how they messed that employee up.

Not every fight requires your 100%.

Then he'll totally congradulate you for destroying that jerk that hurt Leo.

Reader gets a reward cookie.

....................................

Apologies this took so long to answer my dear (/p).

But here it is!! That scenario at Runof The Mill- *chefs kiss*

Beautiful. Amazingly written. I LIVE for feral reader.

[trolagygirl2022]

Ricky ideal type

So Ricky really likes someone that is on the more talkative side! Kind of like a cute nerd! He can be quite introverted but he likes to have a partner that's quite chatty so he can listen to them and all whatnot. I see him liking someone that is flexible and can keep up with things, I see Ricky as a bit unpredictable at times, maybe with his emotions? Anyways, he likes someone that can keep up with that and also have some quirks of their own!

He likes someone that cares about work and their job, especially if they're passionate about what they do. Someone that is responsible in how they go about their emotions (i.e. not exploding at every minute). Someone that's well informed on stuff is really attractive, like I'm seeing him just looking at his partner with a lot of love in his eyes while they're talking (even though he probably doesn't really know what they're talking about).

He really likes someone that can carry a conversation and has very vibrant energy. People like that makes him go "oh you're kinda cute!". Again, he enjoys having someone talkative rather than a very shy person. I see him having eyes for someone that has a silly side to them.

I see him being a bit detached in romantic connections (not all the time, maybe around the beginning) so he doesn't want them to be all over him. I also see him liking if his partner talks about him, it boosts his ego and makes him feel good. Someone that can have a strong personality but can switch it up too. They have their own ways on going about things (i.e. communicating, they have their own little slang).

Some things I'm picking up on

glasses

round (round face, chubby cheeks, etc).

shorter than him

bunny/bambi like features (strongly on the bambi one)

soft lips

cute teeth (i.e. bunny teeth)

smell good

thin but not overly thin

mischievous face/look

heart shaped lips

[bunk-bed-blorbos]

1, 2, 6, 9, and 17 (Also don't worry about forgetting to turn on asks, I've had moments like that too ;) )

(lol thank you)

Fluff: 1. What are things they both find funny?

Hilariously wrong tabloids. Even better now that they're public figures, so sometimes they'll get a wildly incorrect article written about Them, and it's always a riot Zuke: So, Who am I cheating on you with this week? Mayday: Apparently, you were caught last night sneaking out of... Oh My God, Club Planetarium! Zuke, scandalized: No... Mayday: Zuke, how could you? Zuke: I'm sorry Mayday, you know how attracted I am to humility! Zuke & Mayday: ....Pffft, HAHAHAHA- They will also laugh at harmless, petty celebrity drama, dumb internet memes, and terrible, terrible puns

2. If they could each describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?

"Whenever Mayday needs to make a decision between what her brain and her heart are telling her, she will pick her heart every time, and she's usually right." "A lot of people think Zuke is dumb 'cause he's quiet, but he just spends a lot of time in his head, thinkin' about stuff like music, art... the people he cares about..."

6. What is/are their love language(s)?

Mayday is a very Physically Touchy person. If Zuke is in one place for too long she will lay across him. It doesn't matter if he's sitting down at his drums to practice, it's canoodling time. She reacts very strongly to Words of Affirmation (See the 1010 fight), and will frequently give Gifts to Zuke of anything that reminds her of him, and squeals like a schoolgirl whenever she receives a gift in turn Zuke not only picked up on Mayday's Words of Affirmation response, but he also has that love language, and puts a lot of thought into what he says (He may not be the talkative one of the duo, but he makes his words count). He values Quality Time, and wants to spend all of it with May. But most of all, his love comes through in Acts of Service.

Angst: 9. Have they made each other cry?

Ah yes, Mayday, known the city over for taking rejection well. I buy into the common headcanon that May has some form of ADHD, and I also sprinkle in that she experiences Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Because of this, she can feel a disproportionate amount of emotional pain if she feels like she's getting the cold shoulder from Zuke, which sucks because she knows that she's probably overreacting, which just makes her feel worse... As for Zuke, he's only ever cried because of May once... after the argument where she broke his sticks. Both of them agree that incident was the worst argument of their relationship, and both of them feel awful about it. May especially. She regretted it as soon as the structural integrity of the sticks failed. It was the first night since before they bunked their beds where they slept in separate rooms...

Depth: 17. What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

Zuke thinks of Mayday every time he sees a warm sunrise, vibrant flowers as pink as her eyes. He thinks of her whenever he smells or tastes sweet, tangy fruit and fresh cinnamon. He feels her in campfire and candle flames, in thick leather and the groove of old vinyls Mayday thinks of Zuke every time she sees the ocean, or a crystal clear stream. She smells him in delicate mints and earthy teas, and feels him running her hands through tall weeds or cool, running water. And of course, they hear each other. Whenever Zuke hears the hum of electricity, the crackle of a campfire, or the roar of a great predator, he hears her. Whenever Mayday hears the rain pelting against the city street, the thunder rolling through the sky, or the rumble of the City's districts moving, she hears him And finally, when the guitar reaches its climax.... when the drums kick in and make the song its own.... whenever they discover a new rock album, or listen back on what they've created.... They envision their partner, wielding their instrument with pride and passion, and themselves up on stage with them.

[spyridonya]

Monster

Summary: Sometimes the count and the commander need reassurance.

Word Count: 596

Trigger Warnings: Body issues, body positivity, post sex cuddles.

"Why do you find me attractive?"

In the softness of his halo’s light in the aftermath of chasing the chill from each other’s bodies from the trip back to Drezen, the question caught Count Arendae off guard, his fingers still from running through the Knight Commander's sweat soaked curls. Neither honeyed nor foul words settled on his tongue as he turned upon the emotion hidden in her small voice in his mind.

The vulnerability that Kadira shared with him could be overwhelming at times, a fawn offering her throat to the wolf's jaws with sincerity despite the undercurrent of fear. Daeran didn't deserve such things, though he was quick to seek and find such things, ripping them out from the sinews, taking delight in the taste of hurt while he watched his victim's eyes grow wide and their mouth draw too tight.

"How could I not?" Daeran murmured, his attempt to look down at the tiefling was spoiled by her burying her face into the crook of his shoulder.

"Many people don't," She countered, her lovely lullaby voice muffled against his skin. A fair point to a response that didn't mean to hurt, but didn't reassure.

"And many people are fools." Daeran felt her shift in his arms, the warm weight becoming stiff when it was supple just an instance ago. Another fair reaction. "What brought up this poisonous little thought?"

The commander didn’t look up, "I... I overheard all your conversations with Wenduag on the way back from Winter. I plan to speak to her about her abuse, she shouldn't be talking to you that way, but-" Daeran felt her breath tickle against his breast bone and felt her head tilt up and he peered down in response. Her eyes were so vibrant in his halo light, like a bright winter sky. "I heard how you saw beauty in the monstrous. I kept thinking I was... I know I'm not a monster, but I'm a tiefling, I'm fat, I'm awkward, I'm inhuman from the legs down. We don't-"

He pulled her close in the warmth of the covers and his arms tightened about her. "And many of my countrymen would see just that, if you weren't so remarkably empowered, and they might still see that simply ignore this in their magnanimity. They're fools, Kadira. They don't see how voluptuous you are, how it’s so very easy to lose yourself in your body. They don't see how lashes frame your eyes or how your lips curve into a perfect smile. They’re too stupid to see how beautiful you are. You’re not a monster at all."

He felt her pressing harder against his body and her arms tightening around his frame. "You're not ashamed of me?"

"Never," He laughed, the laugh he has when he forgets himself, the one he's managed to hide successfully for a decade until Kadira came into his life. This terrible creature with too big of heart that she hides behind pragmatism until she’s in her arms. He doesn't deserve any of this, none of this trust or softness. Daeran doesn't speak of this, even if she deserves to hear it, he's not ready. He's not ready to admit to something he might lose, "A wiser person would say you should be ashamed to share a bed with me."

Daeran suddenly found himself hesitant on hearing her answer to this. If her sincerity slips with a pretty lie or she maintains it with a dignified silence.

Rather, she presses a kiss to his neck, exactly where his pulse gallops despite his bated breath "Never."