#he looks somehow the same as when he was a teenager but simultaneously had a crazy glow up

[lkluvsu]

how is this real he’s so pretty hello

source

[hierophantmeme]

Group Hug

Corazón x Adoptive Parent!Reader

(ft. the younger versions of Law, Shachi, Penguin, & Bepo)

Masterlist

Summary: You and Rosi had pretty much adopted Law at this point. Taking care of one teenager was already a challenge, but could you take care of three more alongside your loving boyfriend?

Content Contains: 1 use of y/n, "M(x)" just means you can change it to Mr, Mrs, keep it as Mx, or whatever you want. SFW, fluff, gender neutral.

You still couldn’t believe the events that transpired only months ago and how lucky you were at this very moment. Somehow, you gained a loving boyfriend and several children in a short span of time. Granted, they weren’t your biological kids but you loved them as if they were. You were used to taking care of kids back when you, Rosi, and Law were part of Doffy’s crew, so it wasn’t as scary as it should’ve been. It was also a lot more enjoyable now that you didn’t have your partner’s evil brother breathing down your neck. 

On top of that, you no longer had to fear losing either of them. 

Law could’ve succumbed to his fatal disease if Rosinante hadn’t been successful in stealing the Op-Op fruit. Likewise, Doflamingo would’ve killed his own flesh and blood if you hadn’t been there to stop him. You never believed in miracles until now. It’s not a perfect situation by any means since the three of you had to go into hiding and now have the looming fear that Doffy or the Marines might find you three one day, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter if you all had to live in a cave or wear ridiculous outfits to conceal your identities. What mattered was that they were still alive and that they were by your side.

After you were fortunate enough to escape the snowy Minion Island, you and your boys made it to its adjacent (and just as snowy) Swallow Island where you found an abandoned, rickety old house to live in. One day, Law brought two slightly older kids and a young polar bear to the house. 

“Welcome back Law! You must be freezing and you’re just in time for dinner!” You look behind him to see three unfamiliar faces. “Oh, are those your new friends?” 

“Um, yeah I guess. These two said they’re hungry,” he points to the two kids, “and this one said he’s looking for his brother,” he points to the bear child. 

“Goodness, what happened to you poor things?” You inspect the boys and the furry little one to find them covered in scrapes and bruises.

“These two idiots were picking on him. His name is Bepo.” The young bear timidly waves at you. “They tried to do the same to me but I taught ‘em a lesson,” he says with a mischievous smirk. The older boys take a step back.

“As your parental figure, I know I should be telling you that violence is not the answer, but I suppose this is an exception.” You then turn to the two frightened kids. “What are your names?”

“I’m Penguin, and he’s Shachi.”

“Now, Penguin and Shachi, what were you doing beating up an innocent and cute little bear?” you scold them as you pet the top of Bepo’s head.

“Well, he’s a Mink and we’ve heard about how vicious they are,” explains Shachi.

“Yeah, we were scared,” agrees Penguin.

“Well, did he bear his claws and fangs at you?”

They shake their head.

“Or maybe he threatened to rip you to shreds?”

They shake their head yet again.

“Then what were you two knuckleheads so afraid of, huh?”

They look at each other and shrug. You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh.

“Listen, I know it’s easy to believe what other people say about those who look different than us. Especially if you believe they’re trying to keep you safe. Look, I’ll admit, I’ve never met a Mink before either, but I’m going to judge people by how they treat me, not by some baseless rumor some idiot made up. But let’s say that there really was even just one bad Mink out there in the world. That doesn’t mean that every single one is gonna be like that. Understood?”

“Yes, M(x).” They reply simultaneously.

“Good. Now, apologize to Bepo and I’ll fix ya up a plate.”

—------------

As you set up the table for dinner, Law tends to the others’ wounds. The four seem to be getting along now and you can’t help but feel happy that your boy has made some friends this soon. Back when you were a Donquixote Pirate, you knew Law talked to Buffalo and Baby 5 but that he never truly thought of them as friends. They were more like coworkers to him, plus he told you that he had the slightest feeling that they might rat him out to Doffy for stabbing Cora. Needless to say, everyone in that crew was always in survival mode and suspicious of each other, but here in your broken-down but cozy little home, there was no need to feel that way. 

Once each of the hungry boys had a meal in front of them, you stepped out the back door to call your boyfriend in for dinner. He was working on building an extra bedroom for Law. “Rosi! Take a break will ya? Dinner’s ready and there’s some guests I’d like you to meet.”

“I’ll be right there, love. Just gotta finish up one more th-” He took a tumble before he could even finish his sentence, as per usual, and managed to break right through one of the walls he was working on. Even though this was a common occurrence, you always freaked out and ran towards him to make sure he was all right. 

“Honey, are you okay?” You ask as you take out a rag from your apron. You fill it with snow, tie it up, and hand it to him to place on his head. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got the most gorgeous person in the world to call my sweetheart.” He flashes his signature goofy smile.

“Shut up, you know I’m talking about your head, silly.” You smile back. “Looks like you’re finishing earlier than you planned. C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

Once the two of you were inside your house, you took his feathery coat off and set it on the couch. Rosi turns to look at a table full of hungry children eating like there’s no tomorrow. “Oh, did you make some new friends, Law?” he says with a grin beginning to grow on his face.

“Um, well, they’re technically not my friends, but I found them when I was playing outside. They said they were hungry so I thought I would help them out and-” Law is interrupted by a pair of large hands squishing his cheeks.

“Oh, Law! I’m so happy for you! You’re so nice for helping them out. I’m so proud of you!” Rosi bursts with excitement. He walks towards Law and squishes his face.

“Shtop it Co-wa yow embawassing me,” the poor boy tries to let out.

“Sorry, kid,” he apologizes with a big blush across his face.

“You call your dad by his name?” asks Penguin.

“Actually, that’s his nickname. Also he’s not my dad,” replies Law.

“Wait so then-” Shachi begins to ask.

“No, (Y/N) isn’t my parent either. They��re both like my guardians I guess but even then that’s misleading cause I can take care of myself. They saved my life so I stick around cause I owe them one. And at this point I’m keeping an eye on them more than they need to on me,” explains Law as Rosi’s cigarette somehow lights his shirt on fire and you run to stop a boiling pot from spilling any more soup on the stove. “See? Case in point.”

As soon as you turn off the stove, you help Rosinante put out the fire on his shoulders. It’s a situation you know all too well so you’ve gotten super fast at clearing it up quickly to the point where there’s surprisingly no damage to his clothes, skin, or hair. You both turn to the young boys and apologize while smiling sheepishly. 

After you clean up the stove, you begin to serve your boyfriend his soup. He thanks you and reaches down to give you a quick peck on your lips before sitting down at the dinner table. As you’re serving yourself your own food, you can’t help but still feel bad for Law. 

Neither you nor Rosi ever pressured him to think of you two as his parents. The both of you knew that you could never replace them since if it wasn’t for the damned World Government, they would still be here. That’s also part of the reason Rosi didn’t return to the Marines. He couldn’t do so anyway because he technically committed treason but the bigger reason was because he found out about how they were ordered to massacre Law’s hometown of Flevance. The big, gentle goofball with the biggest heart in the world couldn’t bear to be associated with such monsters anymore. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but hope that one day, he would think of you and Rosi as second parents. You wanted Law to know that he would always have a home in the two of you. That he would never have to worry about being alone or worry about not having anyone to protect him if he needed to. You would wait as long as you needed to for that of course, and in the meantime, all you could do was give him the love that he deserved. 

—--------

“Well, that definitely beats the stale bread we dig out of the dumpster behind the bakery,” exclaims Penguin while patting his tummy.

“Hell, yeah! Man, I’m stuffed,” Shachi agrees.

Bepo catches your attention to give his thanks. “I had eaten the last of my food for my trip so I thought I was going to have to resort to stealing some food. I really appreciate it M(x)... uh…”

“Corazon. You can call me M(x). Corazon. It’s the nickname his stupid brother gave him but we can’t use his real last name or mine because it could attract unwanted attention. It’s a pretty long story,” you explain.

Rosi chimes in to attempt to change the subject. “So, I know Bepo is here on his own, but what about you boys? Do you have parents? Or a home?”

They look at each other and then lower their heads in shame. “No,” they say simultaneously.

You and Rosi make eye contact. “Would you give us a second? We’ll be right back.” He reaches for your hand and you get up. You follow him to your shared room. He uses his calm-calm fruit powers to put a silent barrier around you in case the boys decided to eavesdrop.

“You’re thinking about taking them in, too, right?” you ask.

Rosi nods, “Yeah, but only if you and Law are on board with it.”

“Why wouldn’t I be on board. I’d hate to just leave them on their own. Granted we need to ask them if they even want to stay with us and check if Law is comfortable with it. And knowing you, even if it doesn’t work out, I know you’ll do whatever it takes to find them a nice home.” You stand on the ginormous bed the two of you share to make up for the height difference. “That’s what I love about you so much. You’re always so kind and caring, mi corazón.” You wrap your arms around his neck and look up at him. “But I’m scared. If Law is okay with it and they allow us to take care of them, what if I mess up? Taking care of one teenager is enjoyable but hard enough, what if I can’t handle three more?” You press your face against his chest and he holds his arms around your waist. 

“It’ll be okay, darling. I’ll be right beside you every step of the way. You’re always there for my clumsy ass; you know I’ll always be there for you no matter what. Besides, you’re such a great “kind-of” parent to Law, and I know you’ll do great with these new kiddos. Just promise me that you won’t forget that you’re not alone because we’re in this together.” He gives you a gentle kiss on your lips. What did you do to deserve such an amazing boyfriend? At the same time, Rosinante wonders what he did to deserve you.

“Do you think that we should tell them first about who we were?” You look up at Rosi again. 

“I think it’s for the best. They can decide if they want to stay with us.”

Before you could return to the boys, your boyfriend took another fall, taking you with him. After making sure you were okay, Rosi places a kiss on your forehead and helps you up. You both giggle for a bit and step out of the room. 

You proceed to tell them about how you used to be part of the Donquixote pirates and what made you leave. You didn’t tell them about how Doflamingo and Rosi used to be celestial dragons because you didn’t want them to freak out. Eventually, you would tell them if they decided to stay.

“Damn, Trafalgar. We respected you the minute you gave us a well-deserved beating but now our respect for you is through the roof.” Shachi playfully smacks Law’s back (who was unsurprisingly not pleased about it).

“Yeah, and you’re parents are pretty cool too. I’d like to be part of a pirate crew one day, but not an evil one, of course” Penguin adds while giving Law another unwanted playful slap on the back.

“Glad you all are still here, otherwise I wouldn’t have found out these two were actually cool,” Bepo signals over to Penguin and Shachi, “and I would’ve never been able to rest in such a cozy home. Thanks again!”

“I’m glad we’re still here, too, and that we were able to help you guys. And don’t mention it.” Your nervousness goes away after hearing how cool they think you, Rosi, and Law are. Rosi looks at you and both of you silently agree for him to ask the next question.

“So, Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo… would you like to stay here with us?”

“Like permanently?!” the three boys exclaim in unison.

“Of course! Law, how would you feel about that?” he asks Law.

Reluctantly, Law agrees with a “yeah, whatever”. You knew that he wasn’t all too bothered though because Bepo went over to hug Law which caused him to have a little smile on his face.

It didn’t last long, however, because Shachi yelled “GROUP HUG!!!” and tackled them to the ground. Penguin grabs yours and Rosi’s hand, leading you to the pile of boys. With an angry Law in the middle, all six of you were now cuddled in the first group hug every single one of you ever had in your life; the first of many group hugs together as a family :)

I was going to have my "Masquerading Hearts" series lead to this but I just couldn't wait. Also, please let me know if you want more fanfics of this little family life, and thanks for reading!

[writingsofwesteros]

Daella Targaryen: Finding Her Place in the Shadow of a Legacy

For Daella Targaryen, the youngest child of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen, life has always been lived under the scrutiny of the public eye. From her early days as the quiet sibling sent away to boarding school, to her tumultuous return to King’s Landing, to now being a mother and actress, her journey has been fraught with challenges. However, as she prepares for her debut as Glinda in the Wicked adaptation, Daella is taking control of her narrative—and reclaiming her voice.

The Press Trial and Leaked Photos

This year, Daella Targaryen found herself at the heart of a legal firestorm, which the media has sensationally dubbed the "Press Trial." Five photographers from leading tabloids, including King’s Landing Gossip, face charges of assault and incitement after an incident that left Daella physically harmed. Simultaneously, a lawsuit spearheaded by her brother, Aemond Targaryen, targets the same outlet for hacking and leaking private photos.

“I don’t think people fully understand the level of invasion we’ve endured,” Daella says, her tone sharp but composed. “It’s not just about the headlines or the pictures. It’s about feeling like you can’t trust anyone or go anywhere without fear of being hunted.”

The physical attack, while terrifying, was only part of the ordeal. “Those pictures? Those were stolen moments—private memories meant only for me. I can’t describe the humiliation of having them taken and shared with the world.”

The trial has been a harrowing experience but has also brought her family closer. Aemond, her fiercest advocate, has been instrumental in the fight for justice. “Aemond’s always been protective, even when we were younger,” Daella says with a small smile. “I’m lucky to have him fighting for me now. It’s a reminder that, no matter how messy things get, family can be your strongest shield.”

Despite the immense challenges, Daella remains resolute. She continues to advocate for privacy and stronger protections within the entertainment industry, particularly for children. “No one should have to live in fear of their most vulnerable moments being exploited,” she asserts.

Boarding School and a Fractured Family

While her siblings bonded at home, Daella Targaryen spent much of her childhood at an all-girls boarding school in Oldtown, far from King’s Landing. The distance left her feeling isolated—not just from her family, but from the life they shared in her absence.

“Boarding school was… lonely,” Daella admits. “I made friends, sure, and caused plenty of trouble with my best friend, Alerie Redwyne, but at the end of the day, I was there because my parents didn’t know what to do with me. I didn’t feel wanted. And while my siblings were making memories together, I was staring at the ceiling at night, imagining what it would be like to have someone to hold—a little girl to love the way I wished I’d been loved.”

Her voice falters as she recounts a moment that encapsulated her estrangement. “One evening, we were all in the livingroom, looking through an old family album. The kids were on our laps, pointing at pictures and asking questions. Then one of them asked me, ‘Where are you, Aunt Daella?’ There weren’t many pictures of me. It was like I wasn’t part of their story.”

The experience reopened old wounds, particularly her distant relationship with her father. “My father and I… we didn’t have a relationship. I spent years wondering why. Was I not good enough? Did I disappoint him somehow? When he passed, I felt grief, but not in the way you’re supposed to. I wasn’t mourning what I lost. I was mourning what I never had.”

Her teenage years were especially turbulent. Sent away to the Septa’s academy in Oldtown, Daella honed her talent as a ballerina, but the school also became the backdrop for a period of self-destruction. “In high school, my life spiraled out of control,” she confesses. “I was an alcoholic. I was doing drugs, sneaking out, breaking things… I hurt people. I was in so much pain, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. My mental health was at its worst.”

It was ballet that ultimately became her salvation. “Dance became my lifeline,” Daella says. “I channeled all my anger, sadness, and guilt into my movements. It wasn’t easy, but it gave me purpose.”

Today, Daella is a celebrated prima ballerina and has opened her own academy to give young dancers opportunities she never had. “It’s about giving back,” she explains. “I want every child to know they have value, no matter where they come from.”

Motherhood and Moving Forward

Now a mother to two young boys, Aenar and Baelon, Daella Targaryen’s life has transformed in ways she never imagined.

“Being a mom has healed parts of me I didn’t even know were broken,” Daella reflects, her voice softening as she speaks of her sons. “Aenar and Baelon don’t care about my last name, my reputation, or the mistakes I’ve made. To them, I’m just ‘Mom.’ And that’s the most grounding thing in the world. They remind me every day of what truly matters.”

Aenar, the older of the two, has a sharp mind and an intense curiosity that mirrors Aemond’s. “He’s so much like Aemond it’s almost eerie,” Daella laughs. “He has this serious little face when he’s thinking or reading, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that brain of his. He asks questions about everything—why the sky is blue, why people are the way they are. He’s already so introspective, and I can see Aemond in the way he processes the world.”

Baelon, on the other hand, takes after Aegon in more ways than one. “Baelon’s a little firecracker,” Daella says with a fond smile. “He’s full of energy, always laughing and causing mischief. He’s got that same charm Aegon has, the kind that can get him out of trouble even when he absolutely shouldn’t be. But he’s also incredibly loving. He’ll run up to me out of nowhere just to give me a hug, and it melts my heart every time.”

The dynamic between the three parents is complex, but it works. Aegon’s playful and spontaneous nature balances Aemond’s measured, disciplined approach, creating a supportive and loving environment for the boys. “Aegon and Aemond are polar opposites, but they both love the boys fiercely,” Daella explains. “Aegon is the one who’ll sneak them sweets and stay up late telling them stories. Aemond, meanwhile, is the one teaching them about responsibility and discipline. They each bring something unique to the table, and I think it’s made Baelon and Aenar all the better for it.”

Still, Daella acknowledges that co-parenting with her brothers hasn’t always been easy. “We’ve had our share of disagreements,” she admits. “Aegon can be a bit too lenient at times, and Aemond can be… well, Aemond. But at the end of the day, we all want what’s best for the boys. We’ve learned to set our differences aside and focus on raising them together.”

As for her dreams of having a daughter, Daella smiles wistfully when the topic comes up. “I used to imagine this perfect little girl—a version of me who’d get to have everything I didn’t. Someone I could love the way I always wished I’d been loved. That hasn’t happened yet, but I still think about it. There’s time, though,” she says with a soft laugh. “For now, my focus is on my boys. Raising them to be kind, empathetic men in a world that doesn’t always value those qualities is my biggest priority.”

Her journey into motherhood has not only reshaped her life but also her understanding of family. “Family isn’t always perfect,” she says. “It’s messy and complicated, but at its core, it’s about love. Aenar and Baelon have shown me that love isn’t about grand gestures or perfect moments. It’s in the everyday things—the bedtime stories, the scraped knees, the laughter over breakfast. That’s where the magic is. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Despite her past struggles and the unique challenges of her situation, Daella finds peace in the life she’s built with her sons and their fathers. “We’re not a traditional family by any means,” she admits. “But we’re our family. And that’s enough for me.”

From Heiress to Glinda: Embracing a New Chapter

Daella Targaryen’s journey from the spotlight of her family's royal legacy to the stage of Broadway is nothing short of transformative. Her upcoming role as Glinda the Good Witch in Wicked marks a significant milestone in her career and her life, an opportunity for both personal and professional growth.

For Daella, playing Glinda is more than just a new role—it's a deeply personal experience. “Glinda is everything I needed to see as a kid—someone optimistic, resilient, and underestimated,” Daella reflects. “She reminds me that it’s okay to be soft, to hope, even when the world is hard. I’m excited to bring that to life.”

This role holds special significance as Daella is performing opposite her cousin, Baela Targaryen, who plays Elphaba. “Baela has been my rock in so many ways,” Daella says, her voice filled with emotion. “Sharing this journey with her is incredibly special. We’ve always had each other’s backs, but this—this feels like a dream come true.”

Daella’s rise to fame has been riddled with struggles and challenges, but playing Glinda represents a culmination of her personal journey. "I’ve spent so much of my life trying to find my place in a family that felt too big, too loud, and too perfect for me," Daella admits. "But now, I know that my worth isn’t tied to how others see me. It’s about how I see myself—and for the first time, I’m proud of who I’ve become.”

Daella's Targaryen legacy, with its history of power and drama, has shaped her, but she’s learned to navigate the complexities of her family’s expectations and her own desires. Her relationship with her mother, Alicent, was often strained due to the intense pressure to conform to royal standards, but over time, Daella has come to understand and appreciate her mother's own struggles. “Alicent did the best she could,” Daella says. “She was trying to balance everything—being a mother, a queen, a woman in a very complicated world. I didn’t always get it, but I think I understand her better now.”

Daella also reflects on her stepdad and uncle, Daemon, whose fiery temperament often clashed with her own personality. “Daemon was always intense, but there’s a strength in him that I’ve come to respect,” Daella says. “He taught me how to stand firm, even when the world is pushing against you.”

Her eldest sister, Rhaenyra, who was both a sister and stepmother, remains a significant figure in Daella’s life. “Rhaenyra was always determined, always fighting for her place in the world,” Daella recalls. “She’s shown me that even when the odds are stacked against you, you keep going. We’ve had our differences, but I admire her strength, even if we sometimes see the world in different ways.”

Her other sisters, Daenora and Helaena, also played pivotal roles in Daella's development, albeit from a distance. “Daenora always seemed so put together, so much more confident than I ever felt,” Daella says. “But in the quiet moments, I saw her vulnerability, and it reminded me that even the strongest of us have our moments of doubt. And Helaena... she was always the peacemaker, the calm in the storm. I’m grateful for her steady presence in my life.”

Despite the sometimes complicated dynamics within her family, Daella has learned to forge her own path. “Family is complicated, but it’s also where I learned to be who I am,” she reflects. “It’s where I found the strength to face the world and the love to keep going. I may not have always felt like I belonged, but I know now that I do.”

Her passion for storytelling extends beyond ballet and film, and she hopes her portrayal of Glinda will inspire audiences to embrace second chances and resilience. “This role is so much more than just a part,” Daella says. “It’s a reminder that no matter how far you’ve fallen, there’s always a way to rise again. That’s something I’ve had to learn in my own life.”

As Daella steps into the spotlight of Wicked, she carries with her the lessons of her past and the strength of her family—both the ones who loved her and the ones who challenged her. But now, in her own words, Daella Targaryen isn’t just surviving the spotlight. “I’m learning to shine in it.”

LOVE THIS !!!!!!!

But now, in her own words, Daella Targaryen isn’t just surviving the spotlight. “I’m learning to shine in it.”

This sums it all up perfectly!!

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Field: Lavender Forever (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: 18+ - explicit sexual content, drug use Word count: 2.4k

Part 1: Dandelions Part 3: In a Week Masterpost

Summary: Two years into your relationship, you and Benedict share pleasures on a summer day.

Author's Note: The second in a four-part series based on songs about fields/nature that I associate with Benedict. This part is based on the song Lavender Forever by Jake Wesley Rogers. Thank you to the talented @bridgertontess who made me oodles of photo edits for the header image! 💙

Two years later

You were on your back with Benedict’s head between your legs when the tea took hold. Sprawled on his bed with your dress bunched around your waist, you surrendered your body to the sensations he and his favorite elixir could stir within you. You had been wary the first time he offered you the mysterious purple powder his brother Colin had brought back from some remote corner of the world. But after learning to mask the taste in a cup of tea and having several exhilarating trips where every nerve hummed with heightened sensation, you now shared his fondness for it, particularly when paired with sex. 

You knew you were being irresponsible, rude even, to be getting high and getting off like a teenager visiting her boyfriend and sneaking around his parents’ house. But while he was your boyfriend and this was his family home, you were old enough to know better and Benedict was not the reason you were at Aubrey Hall. It was the company outing, now an annual tradition after its initial runaway success. It had grown from a dinner into an entire weekend and you had arrived early to help Anthony coordinate. Everything was in hand but you still would have made yourself available to your boss were it not for his brother who kept spiriting you away like some hedonistic pied piper. 

It was the day before the employees arrived and you and Benedict were making the most out of your time together by indulging in every pleasure. It was something you had been working on perfecting, timing your dosage of the powder with your climb to orgasm so that both of the highs he offered hit you simultaneously. It was damn close this time, the weightless calm of the tea flooding in just moments before you felt the first flutters of ascent. You gripped into Benedict’s hair and pulled him closer against your body. He responded with a moan and sped up the fingers that were rocking inside you.

Then someone called both your names. It was Anthony. He was looking for you. You knew the door was locked but in that moment you wouldn’t have cared if it wasn’t. Soaring on the tea and the rising wave of release, all you could focus on was reaching your pinnacle. Breathing hard, you tugged at Benedict’s dark locks and began to grind against his tongue, building friction as he sucked your clit hard and wantonly. 

Each of your names was shouted again, growing closer, more agitated. You were nearly there…

You panted to keep yourself from squealing and with a final swirl of his tongue, Benedict brought you over the edge. You rasped his name at the same moment Anthony barked it which caused him to laugh, releasing you from his mouth but keeping his hand in place as you writhed.

“Coming!” He called as you clenched around his fingers. You couldn’t even acknowledge his cheek. You were too numb, your entire body tingling as euphoria muted out the world. But then he was pulling you to stand, the two of you laughing as you straightened each other’s hair and somehow you wandered to the foyer below where Anthony was waiting. The powder had the strange effect of making time slow but also leaving you unable to remember one moment to the next. It rooted you firmly in the present with every sense notched to ten.

“Anthony?” You smiled and tried your best to sound sober. “What do you need?”

“Ah, there you are. What have you been up to?” He raised a curious eyebrow but when Benedict burst into a fit of giggles it lowered into a glare. “Actually…don’t answer that. I need to ask you, is the agenda finalized for the weekend?”

You could feel the stress pouring off of him though it was a foreign concept to you in your current state. “Yes, the coordinators have it.”

“Alright. And we’re good to announce the rollout of the new branding for the charity hospital?”

“Yes, it’s all taken care of.” Despite your current immature behavior, you really had completed all your tasks and were happy to report as much. As you watched the tension easing out of Anthony’s stance, you felt arms wrap around you from behind and the warm breath of someone nuzzling into your neck.

“Benedict, do you mind?!” Anthony growled. “Can we have one minute of peace to discuss some business?”

You bit your tongue to keep from bursting into laughter as Benedict pulled away, hands raised in defeat.

“Sorry, sorry.”  

You turned to see him saunter over to a flower arrangement and begin stroking the petals.

Anthony’s eyes rolled so hard you swore you could hear them. “And the uh…the hampers. For the picnic.”

You nodded. The weekend was going to kick off with a relaxed reception. Each guest being gifted a hamper of local treats to sprawl with on the grounds as they settled in. “Daphne and your mother are putting them together in the back garden. I can go and check on them now.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank you. You’ve taken care of everything.”

“I always do.”

He matched your grin and you basked in the warmth of his favor. Then Benedict suddenly appeared beside him and booped him on the nose with an orange daisy, sound effect and all. The two of you couldn’t contain your hysterics as the viscount clenched his jaw and stormed off to escape you.

You were slightly more apprehensive about hiding your condition from Benedict’s mother and sister but thanks to his antics you hardly needed to. You found them both in the kitchen garden, hampers arrayed before them as they inspected the contents. Benedict swooped in, gave each a kiss on the cheek, complimented how Daphne was tying bunches of Clyvedon lavender to the handles, slipped a hamper onto his arm ‘for a test run’ and pulled you away. It was not what you had intended by checking on their progress but you were so giddy you didn’t protest. As you scampered along the back of the house where staff were bustling with deliveries and laundry, he pilfered a quilt that had been hung to dry with other linens. 

Then you were out on the grounds and far from any onlookers, weaving your way around out buildings and trees, taking a familiar route that made your destination obvious. But the effects of the powder lent the well-worn path a new magic. Your journey seemed to take a day, you and Benedict both falling into a slow, wandering gait with your eyes casting about at the nature that surrounded you. He would sling an arm across your shoulders and marvel as he pointed out dragonflies and rabbits through the sun-dappled shadows. You felt like Alice, swirling in a strange and beautiful wonderland.

Then you reached the field, overgrown and verdant, the grass rippling with the warm breeze. There were no dandelions to be found, not only because the season had passed but because the Bridgertons had actually taken your suggestion and harvested the blooms to try their hand at wine making. Benedict had insisted on it that day when you shared your first kiss and the product of the first harvest was tucked into the hampers for everyone to sample.

You spread the quilt and began to rifle through your spoils like a couple of wily scavengers. Inside you found the bottle of wine bearing the label you designed, a jar of honey, a wedge of cheese, a small bit of bread and fruit from the orangery among other little delights. You loosened the bunch of lavender and breathed deep, feeling its calm sweetness waft over you. You began to twist at the stems, an old hobby from childhood, and within minutes had fashioned a fragrant crown.

You popped it onto Benedict’s head with a giggle. “I hereby proclaim you Lord of Summer.” He rolled his eyes but left it on, too distracted by the food. 

You began to sample everything on offer. The scents were mouthwatering, the colors overwhelming. Benedict promptly began eating the honey with his hands. When he caught you watching him he held a sticky finger to your lips and moaned as you sucked it clean, never breaking eye contact. It tasted like sunshine. 

There was a small knife in the hamper and you attempted to slice the cheese but with half your mind floating somewhere else altogether, you slipped and cut your finger instead. You hissed as you held it aloft, watching a crimson drop swell on your fingertip, captivated by the way it sparkled in the light. Benedict lightly took your wrist, equally mesmerized.

“This passed through your heart,” he murmured. “And you live in mine.” Then with the gentlest swipe of his tongue he lathed your wound and sealed it with a soft kiss. The act felt so profound, so intimate, that you could feel your heart tugging to get closer to him. Within seconds your tongues were entwined, as were your limbs, and you both shed your clothing until you could feel the heat of the sun on every inch of your skin. 

You rolled to straddle him, never failing to marvel at the planes of his toned body. You found him aggravatingly attractive when sober and now with the heady haze of the powder he seemed like the male ideal; Adam waiting for you in the Eden of the field, a perfected creature born and bred in flowers. Planting your hands on his chest you lowered onto him, both of you groaning in ecstasy, and then began to move. You were somehow drowning in the sensations of your body and floating high above them simultaneously. It was almost as if you could picture yourselves from a distance, the two of you entirely nude, clothed in nothing but sunlight and writhing rhythmically against one another. Surrounded by nature and the dusky perfume of lavender it felt primal, pagan, an ancestral ritual you were reviving. Benedict trailed his hands up to cup your breasts, watching you, enthralled as you rode him. 

As always with this elixir time seemed to bend, leaving you no measure for how long you chased pleasure together. All you knew was that you reached a crescendo when pixelated rainbows burst behind your eyelids. Your heart felt as rapid as a hummingbird’s and was joined by the throb of Benedict between your hips, pulsing something electric into your every nerve. You both panted and laughed, content to stay joined together.

“Marry me.” Benedict looked up at you with eager eyes, all smiles beneath his lavender crown. 

You paused. “Ben…you need to stop asking me that.” 

His request didn’t bowl you over because it was the third time you had heard it. The first was far too early in your relationship to take seriously. The second had been what he requested as a gift for his most recent birthday and you were convinced he was joking. But now it seemed he wouldn’t relent.

“You need to give me a straight answer.” He frowned.

“It’s not fair when we’re high and you’re inside me.” 

Benedict smirked, running his thumbs gently over your hipbones. “An altered man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. I want your honest answer.”

Your heart thudded double time. You knew your honest answer. You had known it from your first kiss. But there was always some anxiety that stopped you from speaking freely, some logical argument that your brain lobbed to overrule your heart. You had wanted to wait until a respectable amount of time had passed in your relationship. You had worried what it would look like if you married into your boss’s family. Mostly you couldn’t quite allow yourself to believe you could be so lucky. 

“I honestly think your timing is terrible.” You deflected.

“The timing is perfect.” He studied you, pupils wide. “I can see your soul shimmering around you. The blues… the greens… iridescent.” He ran his fingers feather-light up the sides of your body and down your arms, tracing your outline. “It changes color when you’re laughing. When we’re making love. I want to see what color it is when you say yes.”

Your breath caught, stunned and a bit jealous that you had not received the same superpower from the tea. You didn’t know if you could see his soul but he did look ethereal, glowing like a stray stream of light. Then again, he always looked like that to you. He was sun-kissed even in the darkest of hours, possessing some innate source of joy. 

“Bit presumptuous to think I’m going to say yes.” You teased.

“Then tell me why you would say no.”

“We’re already mucking up this weekend enough as it is. If we get engaged Anthony may kill us both.”

“That’s why you don’t want to announce an engagement, not why you don’t want to marry me.”

“Ben…” you breathed, knowing he had you cornered. 

He continued. “Because if the rest of my life could be like the last two years, I know it will be a good one. I love everything we do together. I love picking you up from work. I love reading next to you and feeding you and fucking you and buying you toothpaste and painting you and cherishing you.”

He laced his hands with yours and held them tight to his chest, speaking softly. “I was born to love you and I want to die that way. That’s why I want to marry you. Why don’t you want to marry me?”

Tears pricked at your eyes as love and excitement swelled within you. If this had all been a ploy to make you emotional and vulnerable to his advances, it had worked. But you couldn’t be mad at him. Perhaps he had understood exactly what you needed to overcome your defenses. You couldn’t think of any reasons to resist anymore but still knew you couldn’t topple the plans for the weekend.

“Ask me again on Monday.”

His pale eyes sparkled as a crooked grin overtook his features. “Is that a yes?”

You beamed, nodding, praying that you weren’t hallucinating. Benedict gasped, gazing up at you in awe.

“Purple,” he whispered. “It’s purple. Lavender.” Then he lifted the crown from his head and reverently placed it on yours.

The two of you stayed in the field for the rest of the day, lounging half-clothed in each other’s arms and watching the clouds float by until the sky grew ombre and the grass grew dewy. You polished off the picnic and opened the wine as you descended back to earth. It was sweet with a kiss of grassy bitterness. Exactly as you remembered from childhood. A resounding success. A memento of your first fateful meeting in the field returning to celebrate this one. 

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Hello salad 🫶 Can I please get some little Taub or Park headcanons please? My underrated kings 🙏

I'll do both!

Taub

Is a middle regressor with an age range of 12 to around 16.

In his ✨💀emo phase💀✨ almost all the time when he's regressed. If he has a say in what he's wearing than it's all black with band T-shirts, skull accessories, too many bracelets, and beanies. He might even get into dark eye makeup if he's feeling fancy that day.

His teenager brain really hates being bald. Almost never without a hat.

Actually becomes really good at using liquid eyeliner when he's regressed, and that skill doesn't transfer to when he's big somehow.

Very "stereotypical 80's movie teen". Kind of has an apathetic "ugh, whatever" attitude about most things and doesn't like being told what to do, lots of demand avoidance.

He is willing to help caregivers out with babysitting though. He pretends he doesn't care but he does and everyone knows it.

"Taub, turn the music on your iPod down, you'll hurt your ears!" - Wilson, yelling

"Yeah whatever, Mom!" - Taub, yelling back (he turns it down secretly)

Stops liking coffee and switches to sugary energy drinks for his caffeine intake instead. He also consumes much more caffeine while regressed if no one stops him.

Most of his emotional woes are being chronically unhappy with his life choices and having a simultaneous quarter and mid-life crisis at the same time.

Touchy about his appearance, as all self-conscious teens.

Likes playing Mario and Legend of Zelda games.

Doesn't have stuffed animals, but he does have a lot of game/band keychains.

Owns a few fidgets like a fidget cube and a Rubik's cube, and has a little collection of magnets to mess with.

Journals (He insists it is not a diary)

-

Park

Little age anywhere from 2-8. She's usually all the way on one end or the other, but occasionally goes in-between.

Didn't know what the heck was going on with her when she first regressed starting in med-school because of the stress, and of course, being a med-student, she jumped to the worst possible conclusion and thought she had a brain tumour or something.

She just nervously sat on that information until her psych class discussed age regression, and then just went "Oh."

Regresses almost entirely involuntarily and due to stress or fear (she also regressed that one time she was on acid, only House really picked up on it). It doesn't happen very often, usually when she's sleep deprived and otherwise upset.

Has a box of the bare-minimum in the way of little gear. A pacifier that's light blue, a colouring book with some crayons, a white bear with a pink bow around its neck, and a little whiteboard list of self-care things so she remembers to actually do them.

Refers to her caregivers very respectfully, using Mr. and Mrs. for everything, or in the case of her coworkers, Doctor [name]. She will not stop calling them that even though they've said she doesn't have to.

Asks people bluntly if they can shut up so she can read her picture books.

The kind of kid where if you sit them down at those restaurants with the paper on the tables for colouring she'll do her best to make a masterpiece and impress the workers.

Will ask you why you look so ugly. She's not being mean, she genuinely wants to know. Absolutely no filter.

Rambles about her current interests and will just keep going if you don't stop her.

Her favourite caregiver is Cuddy, she likes to give her the pictures she draws.

Watches nature documentaries about the ocean and unironically watches the Telletubbies. She loves how creepy they look.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

The Big Picture

Vio & Shadow-focused Four Swords Manga Adaptation | Rated G

Chapter 4: Quest Updated

“Can you hear me?” asks the voice of Ganon, projected from some kind of unreachable void. Shadow isn’t exactly sure how Ganon’s remote oversight works. All he knows is that Ganon created him, Ganon’s will is truth, and Ganon will appear to him only when the time is right.

Not that Shadow cares, or anything.

“We can hear you,” sighs Vaati.

“I can’t hear you.”

Read the chapter (and very informative author's note!!) on ao3 or under the cut:

Author's Note: Finally, I’m working on this project again! I encourage you to re-read the previous chapters, because I just did a pretty significant amount of revision. The most notable change is the decision to not use manga dialogue verbatim—I’m still heavily referencing the transcription, but changing some language and phrasing to blend with my own style. Also important to note is the change of Vio, Shadow, Green, Blue, Red, Zelda, and Link Prime’s age, which is now 16 instead of 19. Working so closely with the manga, I’ve concluded that it makes the most sense for them to be around that age—mature enough to resonate with adults and potentially develop complex feelings, but young enough where it’s still believable that they would speak/act in line with the manga. To me, the True Manga Canon Links are 14-16 in the same way that, like, Katara, Sokka, Princess Azula, and Prince Zuko are ages 14-16. They’re not living in a world like ours, attending high school or something equivalent; they have very adult responsibilities, while simultaneously coping with teenage angst and the challenge of developing their own identities. And while Vio and Shadow stand out as the characters least believable as any age younger than 14, I do think the others—while silly in an cartoonish way—are not as a whole believable as preteens either. Like, Mabel and Dipper Pines are written as unusually clever preteens, and even they still seem younger than Red. Side note: cartoons are not my only frame of reference for media interpretation, but I am writing this specific thing like it’s a cartoon. Ultimately, I think that while I personally prefer writing a more mature interpretation, these characters can only be teenagers in something meant to complement and supplement canon. That said, I still fully intend to expand on the queer subtext between Vio and Shadow. Their canon arc reminds me a lot of the confusing, codependent, and ultimately life-altering relationships queer teenagers often find themselves in. This adaptation will explore Vio and Shadow’s journeys of queer discovery, both literally and allegorically, because that’s how I personally interpret the manga. Even if you’re not big on shipping these specific characters, I sincerely hope you can respect my interpretation and still find something that resonates. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this very belated update :)

Pure light transports the heroes to a chamber beneath Hyrule Castle. Link has been here before—very recently, in fact—but to Vio it somehow feels new.

“Are you well, heroes?” asks a soft female voice. Vio looks towards the center of the chamber, where a young woman floats trapped inside a magically crystal. She clasps her hands in front of her chest as if to pray.

“The Blue Maiden!” Red exclaims, his eyes wide.

“Did you save us?” asks Green.

“Link,” says the maiden, “something awful has begun. A terrible ordeal. Darkness once again covers Hyrule, just as in times of legend.”

Tell me something I don’t know, Vio wants to mutter, but decides not to antagonize the minor deity who probably just saved his life. .

“The shadow that took us was a phantom hero,” the maiden continues, “created by an evil demon.”

Vio perks up at that. The more he learns about that freak, the easier it will be to defeat him.

“It is a ‘Shadow Link. A dark reflection of you, but more powerful than any mere shadow.”

Vio attempts to process this. How exactly had Shadow Link been created? It couldn’t have been a similar process to himself. Vio is a fractured piece of a person, while Shadow Link is a dark reflection of a whole. No wonder he’s more powerful than the four of them—although combined, maybe the heroes could still stand a chance.

The maiden sighs, recapturing Vio’s attention. “It took all my might to send even that small light through the barrier. His power is not yet at its peak. You must stop him before that happens.”

“We’re no match for him now,” says Red in a defeated slump. “How can we ever beat him?”

Blue draws his sword. “We’ve gotta smash that barrier first!”

“That isn’t possible right now,” says the Blue Maiden. “The Four Sword has been cursed by Vaati. You must re-energize it, fill it with Life Force and the curse will be lifted. Then you can defeat the darkness for good.”

The four exchange uneasy glances. Finally, Green speaks up.

“Blue Maiden,” he says, “where is Princess Zelda?”

“I don’t know,” admits the maiden. “Weak as I am, I can’t sense clearly. But I can faintly sense her spirit… far, far away.”

Green nods, determined. “She’s alive. That’s enough.” It brings Vio relief, too, that this could all still be undone.

“Hold on, Blue Maiden,” says Green. “We’ll be back to save you soon.”

“Be careful, my four heroes.” The maiden closes her eyes tight, as if channeling the little power she has left. “Travel towards the Eastern Sea. I sense another Maiden within the Eastern Temple.”

Vio finds himself nodding, too.

They exit the castle through the dungeons, careful to remain undetected by Shadow Link’s army of monsters. Eventually they reach a path, which according to the sign leads directly from Castle Town to the Eastern Sea. Vio assumes that it’s meant to be followed by traveling merchants, over the course of days.

Red sighs loudly.

“Losing confidence?” Vio asks, almost playfully,.

“Yeah,” says Red, “how’d you know?”

“Because I am you.”

Green stares into the distance, filled with determination. “If Dark Link is our shadow,” he says, “we need to be better to beat him. Be more like father.”

“Yeah,” Vio smirks. “Right now, I’d give us a 50/50 chance.”

“But if we restore the sword we’ll get stronger!” says Red. “And if we can learn some teamwork—”

Blue scoffs, cutting him off. “I don’t care what it takes, we’re doing it.”

Green’s eyes sparkle in the daylight as he addresses his teammates. Vio can’t help but feel a little inspired. “Then it’s decided,” their leader announces. “Let’s go!”

─────────────────

“You’re late,” Vaati tells Shadow as he shuts the door behind him. The one-eyed demon waits at the far end of the conference table, as usual, scrutinizing the shade as he plops down into his own seat.

Steadying his heart, Shadow rolls his eyes. Reclines slightly, enough to slam his boots onto the table. Shoots Vaati a self-satisfied grin. “Sorry, I was busy. Doing things, in my body.”

Vaati’s eye narrows. The Wind Mage may now be free in the world of light, but he still lacks a corporeal form.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Shadow adds. “For breaking the seal.”

“Don’t congratulate yourself just yet.”

The air in the dark room begins to crackle, an occurrence Shadow immediately recognizes. He removes his boots from the table and stiffens his posture.

“Can you hear me?” asks the voice of Ganon, projected from some kind of unreachable void. Shadow isn’t exactly sure how Ganon’s remote oversight works. All he knows is that Ganon created him, Ganon’s will is truth, and Ganon will appear to him only when the time is right.

Not that Shadow cares, or anything.

“We can hear you,” sighs Vaati.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Do you have us on mute?” Shadow asks, helpfully.

Vaati scoffs. “He just said he can’t hear you.” Shadow just shrugs.

“I think I have you on mute,” says Ganon. “Hold on, this is—ah. Yes, I see.”

Vaati and Shadow lock eyes, unsure who should speak first.

“I still can’t hear you,” Ganon repeats, frustrated.

“Lord Ganon,” Vaati finally says, “we are both here.”

“There you are. Excellent.”

Shadow preens under his approval. “My Lord, I have good news. The Wind Mage has been successfully freed, and the Four Sword drawn. Princess Zelda is in our clutches. Hyrule Castle has been overtaken by our forces.”

“Our clutches? Our forces?”

Shadow winces. “Yours, My Lord.”

Ganon pauses for a moment. Shadow grips the edge of the table. “It seems you are serving your purpose, Shadow Link.”

Shadow grins. “You should have seen it, Link’s father was so fooled. And the four heroes—”

“Are dead?” interrupts Ganon, and Shadow’s heart falls.

“Not… as such.”

“Explain yourself, Shadow Link.”

Shadow deliberates each word before it leaves his mouth. “They had assistance, my Lord. The Blue Maiden, while contained, used her remaining light magic to repel my presence and transport them to safety.”

“I see.”

Shadow braces himself for his creator’s disapproval.

“Because the heroes survive,” Ganon says, “they pose a great danger to you.”

Shadow hangs his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t control how I—”

“You are not the perfect being I sought to create, Shadow Link. You are inherently flawed, weak to the light.”

And now the heroes know it too, Shadow realizes, ashamed. Despite all of his prior gleeful theatrics, he hadn’t even considered acting unbothered by the light. Not when it scared him so much, not when it caught his so off-guard. Pathetic.

“However,” continues Ganon, “your failure is not in your weakness.”

Shadow’s breath hitches. “It isn’t?”

“Your failure is in your admittance of defeat. You have the power of darkness at your disposal—use it wisely.”

Shadow takes a deep breath and nods. “Yes, my Lord.”

“You will need to travel in darkness to defeat them,” Ganon instructs. “Do not attempt to approach the heroes during the daytime.”

“But then how am I supposed to—”

“Have patience. Observe. Prevent the four heroes from gaining power, but do not make yourself vulnerable again.”

Shadow’s palms itch. He’s not a delegator, and patience is not one of his virtues. There’s no place for theatricality in this mission. It doesn’t sound fun.

“I won’t disappoint you,” Shadow reassures his creator, already plotting ways to disrupt the heroes’ journey. He could still make this fun. He could succeed, despite his weakness. He isn’t a perfect creation, but he can still be the next best thing.

Or would he be the next worst thing, considering the evil of it all?

“Your supervision is appreciated,” Ganon tells Vaati. “And Shadow Link—”

“Yes?”

“I am… proud of what you have accomplished. I look forward to your future successes.”

Shadow breaks out into an almost childish smile. “Thank you, my Lord!”

Ganon doesn’t respond, but his presence still lingers. Vaati and Shadow exchange a tired glance.

“You have to end the call,” sighs the Wind Mage. “Sir.”

“Right,” says Ganon, admitting no fault of his own. “Meeting adjourned.”

[navree]

All this discours about Jason and Bruce toxic relationship and how Bruce would kill Jason if Jason kills Dick and how Bruce and Dick will never love or see Jason as family and Jason is destined to be alone and miserable. it's all making ME miserable. your interpretation is what I want, you're the only bitch in this house I trust Amelie

I mean, yeah Jason and Bruce toxic relationship, in the same way Bruce has a toxic relationship with legit everyone in his life at this point because the people writing him are physically incapable of letting him grow and change and heal and treat people in his life better, is there any one of his kids they haven't had him beat up at this point??? And you know what, I'm sure Bruce would kill Jason if he murdered Dick in cold blood, because Bruce has a tendency to go murderously apeshit when one of his kids dies. Do you know how I know that? Well I know that because of that time Bruce set out to murder the Joker for killing Jason and then didn't stop him from being blown up in a helicopter for killing Jason and didn't do anything except ask that his body be found because he killed Jason and then routinely nearly beat him to death for killing Jason. It's similar to that time Dick actually for real beat the Joker to death with his bare hands for killing Jason; 'bruce and dick will never love jason or see jason as family' my absolute ass!

This doesn't even touch on the fact that, like, of all the members of the Batfamily who'd logically view Jason as family no matter what, Bruce and Dick are the MOST likely, because they knew him first! They knew him longest! They were there when he was a little boy, they have the longest bond with him, they're the ones who remember who lived with him and loved him before his death and most crucially, they're the ones who had to learn to live without him. They, along with Alfred and to a lesser extent Barbara, are the ones who've only ever grieved Jason the person, the ones who had to navigate the trauma of what his death to them as people and to their dynamics and their sense of order in the world. Bruce turns into a crazy person; Dick is inconsolable when he finds out! Like, I'm sorry, but there are no two people less likely not to be obsessed with reintegrating Jason back into the fold. Like, yes, these people all have unhealthy and deeply toxic relationships to each other, but that's not something you can really look at from a Watsonian perspective; it's the fact that comics are so decentralized people are almost simultaneously doing their own thing, as well as DC's inability to really know what to do with their characters or understand what character development is, along with their constant reboot bullshit. Singling out Jason's relationships as being somehow uniquely toxic is just laziness at this point.

Also I refuse to buy into any ideas of Jason being alone and miserable, sorry but I'm not gonna look at a teenager with a history of abuse and victimization and hardship and tell him that it's all he'll ever know, especially not when giving up and giving in isn't in Jason's nature and we have alternate realities that show that he's always able to rise above.

[rose-of-oz]

𝐑𝐄-𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

❝ Felix was well-known in Hill Valley only because of his parents. Born to Rebecca and Tom Sturgess, Felix had been abandoned on the steps of the local police station by his parents when he was only three weeks old and eventually adopted by the Wilkinsons. He could've been known for so many other things - being an amazing photographer, being incredibly socially awkward and incredibly sarcastic when he did talk to people, or even (not that he wanted anyone to know this at all) being one of the only gay kids at Hill Valley High School. But no. All anyone at Felix’s school (and in his hometown, for that matter) really knew about him was that he was the kid whose parents had abandoned him, who hadn’t even cared enough about him to see him through his first year of life.

Though Felix genuinely loved and appreciated his adoptive parents, who were kind and supportive and loved him like he was their own, he had always wondered about his birth parents, the people who had created him only to leave him alone in the world, however briefly. He had tried, more than once, to find out any information about them, but it hadn’t been easy, seeing as Rebecca and Tom had skipped town hours after abandoning their son and no one in town seemed inclined to even acknowledge that they existed, at least when it wasn’t in relation to Felix being “the boy who’d been abandoned”. All he had ever been able to discover about them was their names, a general consensus that they were not good people, and two yellowed yearbook pictures he’d managed to procure from the local library. Not exactly enough to satisfy his curiosity.

Eventually, Felix had resigned himself to never learning anything about where he came from, choosing instead to love the parents who actually wanted him. By the time he was seventeen, he was focusing on nothing but earning good enough grades to be able to get into the art school of his choice once he graduated and earning enough money from his part-time job at the local mall’s movie theatre to pay the tuition for at least his first year. Slowly, life faded into a monotonous blur of the same events day after day, with the only thing Felix found joy in was taking pictures and secretly sneaking looks at Marty McFly during the classes they had together.

Until Felix wanders out into the mall parking lot one night to smoke after his graveyard shift, and sees Doc Brown, the crazy old inventor who nobody in town but his crush really tolerates, being shot to death by a group of men in a large van while standing near an odd-looking DeLorean. While rushing over to help the old man, Felix winds up yanked into the weird car by Marty McFly himself, who just appears out of nowhere, and somehow, the two boys find themselves thirty years in the past. Because, Marty explains to Felix, Doc Brown has converted his car into a motherfucking time machine.

Which is all well and good, and Felix doesn’t have an incredibly hard time believing it - he’s read a lot of sci-fi novels, so under other circumstances, this would be a dream come true. But they are also stuck in 1955 with a broken car and no way to get home, Marty has somehow managed to prevent his parents’ meet-cute by getting himself hit with his own grandfather’s car, and Felix is now forced to spend time with his own teenage parents, who are turning out to be just as self-entered and irresponsible as everyone in present-day Hill Valley has always told him.

Plus, Felix now has to help Marty play matchmaker for his parents while simultaneously hiding his feelings and watching Marty’s own mother flirt with him.

He’s starting to wish he could go back to being the invisible, bitter, abandoned kid. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginnystilinski-reblogs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag. (Also tagging @manyfandomocs.)

[toesucker416]

Saw a "Strawhats as Percy Jackson houses" post and it pissed me off so badly I'm making my own.

Luffy: legacy born to Dragon, the World's Worst criminal, son of Garp, the Hero of the Marines, who we will discuss later. That said, given how Luffy is, who Dragon is, and the Will of D in general, I think Eris, goddess of Strife is a good one.

Zoro: a dignified warrior with strong "fuck around and find out" energy. If he's not drinking, he's napping, and if he's not doing either of those, he's training. Textbook son of Ares (the post was actually right about this)

Sanji: his whole story falls apart without Judge and Sora, and yet, who's to say Sora has to be his bio mom? Son of Athena, who, fascinated with Judge's attempts to perfect life, saw fit to help. Sora gives birth to mundane (for a given value of mundane, they're still genetically enhanced) triplets. Athena is simultaneously proud and disappointed in him, because he's so smart, but then he's so stupid

Usopp: the original post said Hephaestus, and while I don't think that's inaccurate, we can do better. Usopp is the skill monkey of the crew. Before somebody comes along to specifically do something, he's the one doing it. He's the de facto shipwright and musician before those spots are filled, and even after, he's the de facto trickster. In Arlong Park, when Luffy describes Usopp's role, it's not that he can shoot from long distances, it's that he can lie. So I'm saying Hermes kid.

Nami: this one's hard to say. One of the simplest backstories, and yet, such a multifaceted character. Navigator. Cartographer. Thief. I almost wanna put her in Hermes with Usopp, but that feels like cheating. Still, I don't have a better idea at the moment, so I'll just stick with that.

Chopper: that is a reindeer.

Robin: not a demigod. She has enough problems being the sole survivor of a buster call, the only one who can read the Poneglyphs, and having the largest starting bounty in history. I entertained the idea of making her an Athena kid, but it felt wrong somehow.

Franky: the original post and I see eye to eye on this one. Franky is an orphan from nowhere who builds war machines as a teenager. He's so clearly a Hephaestus kid.

Brook: Son of Hades, a forbidden child. Old enough and spent enough years isolated that he doesn't get why this is such a big deal.

Jinbe: As much as I'd love to make the First Son of the Sea a son of Poseidon, I feel as if his story works best if he earned his strength and reputation.

Right, crew out of the way, let's get to some extras. Yonko first.

Whitebeard: Zeus. Zeus isn't just the God of thunder and the sky, he's also the king of the gods. That makes him a god of hospitality, as well. And what's more hospitable than adopting literally hundreds of children because growing up an orphan sucked so bad? Not to mention that, within Riordan's continuity at least, Zeus is the worst deadbeat of the lot, so making his son the pinnacle of fatherhood in Shonen anime just feels right.

Big Mom: Also Eris. Big Mom and Luffy are, fundamentally, the same. Two gluttons who want freedom and equality for all, with horrible abandonment issues. The difference being, Luffy had Shanks to set a good example for him, while Big Mom had a life of crime. If their roles were reversed, they would have each other's lives, and we'd be watching Big Mom Piece (ngl that'd go so hard)

Kaido: Kaido is something called an Oni, but what does that mean? It looks like he has horns and he's stupid big. I kinda want Kaido not to be a demigod, because he's a monster. The King of the Beasts, the World's Strongest Creature, a dragon waiting in a castle for someone to kill him.

Shanks: Manga spoilers in this one. You've been warned.

We recently learned that Shanks is Figarland Shanks, son of Figarland Garling, leader of God's Knights. He's a celestial dragon. I'm not sure if you've seen One Piece, but celestial dragons aren't good people. They steal, rape, and kill with impunity, and Garling is especially cold blooded among them. However, the celestial dragons are also an example of Oda doing Nature vs Nurture again, and Shanks is his example of that. Shanks is found in a box by the Roger Pirates at God Valley, and the King of the Pirates chooses to raise Shanks as his own. Anyways, Shanks is mortal, although all the CD's are probably legacies.

Blackbeard: I'm not saying anything on this one until we get more backstory. For a placeholder answer, I'll say Apate, goddess of deceit.

Buggy: Aphrodite, because have you seen that man's sex appeal? Plus, people believe him way too easily, he gotta be charmspeaking.

That's it for Yonko, let's get the original three Admirals, and then some important miscellaneous characters and we'll call it a day.

Akainu: who needs to be a demigod when you're HIM? Wallahi we're not ready.

Being serious, though, I'm a "Rocks Pirates killed Akainu's family" truther. His narrative role is best fit by him being just some guy.

Aokiji/Kuzan: Speaking of fan theories, he's 100% Brook's son.

Kizaru: Given how he usually drones when he talks, and he never seems to take things seriously, I'm saying Dionysus. I will double down on this if/when he betrays Saturn.

Garp: remember a thousand years ago, when I talked about Zoro and his "fuck around and find out" energy? Yeah, Garp regularly talks shit about world nobles *to their faces.* Ares for sure.

Roger: I'm feeling either just some guy, or Athena. Something about the search for the One Piece, a quest for lost knowledge and absolute freedom, feels very Athena to me.

Ace: See Roger. That's the only part of his story I'm touching, because his backstory is lowkey perfect.

Sabo: just some guy. He was always just some guy that Luffy and Ace liked, and it's one of his greatest qualities in a story littered with lineages of heroes and special races.

[badpostureart]

Bullying Ikuya for Sport

I wrote this piece back when I watched season three of Free! for the first time. The short of it is that I thought the first two-thirds of the episodes were shit and it was all Ikuya Kirishima’s fault. Though I’ve had the time to chill out since, I’m still a bitter bitch, and will be publicly airing out my grievances anyway.

______________________________________________________________

The Inciting Incident

Just when Haru is finally starting to feel happy and optimistic about the future going into university, Ikuya shows up with his bottom lip stuck out to guilt Haru into believing that it’s his fault that he’s so damn miserable.

From the jump, Ikuya acted horribly selfishly towards Haru. He commodifies his swimming in an attempt to garner attention from his brother, isolates himself and then blames Haru for abandoning him, goes out of his way to avoid reconciling with Haru even though he tries multiple times to apologize and explain himself, and commits perhaps the greatest sin of all by making Haru’s falling out with Rin all about him.

Ikuya never bothered to consider that Haru may have actually had a valid reason for wanting to quit swimming competitively, let alone the fact that he obviously didn’t do it with the intention of hurting him. Has Ikuya seriously never stopped to consider that Haru might have been feeling incredibly lonely himself? He saw firsthand the state Haru was in after he quit the swim club—clearly, something was seriously wrong with him! But from the way Ikuya talks about Haru, even in hindsight, he believes that the boy sat alone at his desk hiding his face in his arms is the picture of strength. I don’t understand how it’s lost on Ikuya that Haru’s friends are a major source of his strength, and their absence took a massive toll on him.

What’s more, Ikuya was able to continue swimming regardless of whatever Haru was doing. Both Rin and Haru are so fucked up over what happened that they completely stop for a while and need to find their way back to each other in order to transition into adulthood. Ikuya is able to move to America with his darling older brother and continues to swim competitively. Then he has another near-drowning accident and because Haru wasn’t the one to save him, he thought “Haru is really gone.” From there he (somehow) concludes that he needs to stop relying on other people even though his brother and his best friend are right there to support him. Hiyori was the one to dive in to save Ikuya from drowning! Then as teenagers, Ikuya has the gall to make Hiyori listen to him say that no one was around to save him? Fucking huh? I don’t even like Hiyori, but I’m offended on his behalf! Would Ikuya have been perfectly content with continuing to rely exclusively on Haru if the middle school team never broke up? How does he justify feeling bad for having responsibilized the people around him to look after him, while simultaneously refusing to acknowledge that people (especially Hiyori) have been and still are around to save him?

Despite realising back in middle school that swimming alone makes Ikuya feel terribly lonely, he’s fallen back into believing that’s what he should be doing in university. He’s re-adopted the exact same unhelpful attitude he had as a kid—he fronts like he’s unbothered by everything when he’s actually miserable. He also thinks relying on others makes him weak and he ought to be strong enough to go at it alone. So, instead of reaching out to his many friends (like Nao suggested he do), Ikuya’s found himself someone who actively isolates him further from everyone else. Even when Ikuya’s teammates at university approach him asking him to join a medley relay, Hiyori pops up to help him decline the offer because Ikuya’s convinced himself that he “can’t swim his best in team events.” Notice that instead of encouraging Ikuya to make new friends and to try swimming with them, Hiyori helps prop up the deluded narrative Ikuya’s come up with for himself that people who compete as part of a team are weak. And this is what Ikuya wants him to do! He thinks that if he ignores the past for long enough, he’ll just get over it and then come out on the other side stronger for it!

While everyone around him has put in the work to grow up, reconcile with the past, make amends, and find a dream to hold on to, Ikuya regresses into an angsty pre-teen who thinks everyone else is a jerk while being the most self-centred and uncooperative of all! He actually accuses Hiyori of misunderstanding him when he challenges the idea that Ikuya isn’t weak and can become the kind of person he wants to be. How can Ikuya honestly be mad at Hiyori for pointing out how fucking inconsistent he is? If he honestly believes that focusing solely on himself is the only way to be strong, then why in the name of god is he letting himself pine over Haru so often? Why doesn’t he try not doing that? And if it’s because he finds he can’t stop himself from doing so, then maybe he needs to re-evaluate his thinking instead of just sitting around feeling sorry for himself. Stop romanticizing the misery you make for yourself like you’re a character in a fucking storybook! It’s unproductive, it’s juvenile, and it’s not reflective of the reality you live in!

You do this to yourself, Ikuya! I don’t feel bad for you at all! And you’re damned lucky you have such caring friends because you’ve got some nerve acting this way towards them!

Why be mad at Ikuya (in S3) and not Rin (in S1 and S2)?

I apologize for talking in excess about this, but the “conflict” of this season of Free! is nowhere near as compelling as it was in the first two seasons. Perhaps my qualms lie primarily with the writers because Ikuya wasn’t introduced to the story until after season two. Thusly, during those two seasons, we never heard anything about Ikuya at all. And in fact, during that time we saw firsthand the extent to which Rin and Haru radically impacted each other! The resolution to Ikuya’s arc doesn’t feel nearly as satisfying as watching Haru finally reconcile with Rin again. And how could it? Ikuya’s arc ends two-thirds of the way through the season!

What did Ikuya do for Haru in season three? How did reconciling with Ikuya help develop Haru’s character? And that’s not to say that friendships need to be made up of a series of transactions to be meaningful. Not at all! But because Rin and Haru left such a lasting impression on how the other developed, Ikuya’s relationship with Haru is doomed to never feel as impactful in comparison. 

One may argue that Haru went out of his way to change for Ikuya by practising and participating in an IM event. However, as soon as Haru makes amends with Ikuya, he goes back to only swimming freestyle again. If Haru had been steadfast this entire time that he only (and I mean only) swims free, then it would make his choice to learn the other strokes quite significant. But you’ll notice that throughout the series, Haru adjusts and becomes more flexible in what he’s comfortable doing. At the start of season one, he was only swimming free individually. In season two, he continues to swim free individually, but he also does medley relays as the anchor. In season three, he tells Asahi that he only swims free (both individually and in medley relays) when he’s competing, but he does all the other strokes during practice too. Knowing that Haru was already familiar with the other strokes before deciding to join the IM makes it that much less moving—especially knowing that Haru didn’t have a genuine interest in swimming any of the other strokes again in the future. Moreover, the thing that made Rin’s reconciliation with Haru possible was Rin realising how shitty it was of him to ever demand that Haru should swim differently simply for him—in recognizing that Haru is a person (and a swimmer) in his own right, and isn’t a measure of Rin’s success, he can realize what an injustice he did Haru as both his friend and as his rival. 

It’s no loss to Haru if he doesn’t place in the IM. When Iwatobi subbed in Rin for Rei, the team was disqualified. But they all felt it was well worth it. It was more important to break tournament rules and to swim freely if it meant being a team again. In doing so, they were able to stay true to who they were as individuals and were reminded why they fell in love in the first place. With Ikuya, Haru was made to stray from his convictions temporarily just so that he could get through to the other boy. Why doesn’t Ikuya feel bad about that? He made it so the only way Haru could even fucking talk to him was if he orchestrated a meeting that Ikuya couldn’t walk away from, and Hiyori couldn’t interrupt!

I felt that after episode 8, things essentially go back to “normal.” No lasting changes in any of the characters come about except for Ikuya and Hiyori. Thusly, Ikuya’s reconciliation with Haru seemed to have only taken place so that Ikuya and Hiyori could mature—it otherwise had very little to do with Haru himself! And you can see that just by looking at him. Haru is obviously relieved that Ikuya’s found himself again, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the way surprise gives way to absolute peace on Haru’s face when he realizes Rin’s wrapped him up in an embrace and that they’re okay again.

One instance was a little more impactful than the other, even to the characters in the show! And that’s not because friendship is a competition, it’s that each relationship is unique and means different things to each person. However, as a showrunner, I think it’s a bad move to make the protagonist focus all this energy and attention on someone he previously didn’t think about at all over the course of two seasons just for the sake of creating an incredibly stupid conflict to resolve! It’s no wonder why Haru wasn’t thinking about Ikuya in high school when he was still thinking about Rin. Ikuya wasn’t terribly likeable when he and Haru met, and his character post-reconciliation is barely any different than before!

The reason this season is the worst by far is how fucking forced it all felt compared to the previous ones. Rin and Haru’s feelings for each other are equal in depth and intensity. As a result, it’s glaringly obvious in contrast that Haru does not feel as strongly about Ikuya as he does about him. Ikuya propped Haru up as a hero who he wanted to emulate. Because of that, Haru became a glorified, mystified figure instead of being established as Ikuya’s equal. What’s worse is that Ikuya’s entire identity has always been the result of mimicking someone else. Rin and Haru already had personalities of their own before they met. Ikuya’s problem throughout the entire fucking series is his stunning lack of confidence in his own personhood. As a kid, he shadowed his brother and then collapsed in on himself when he didn’t have Natsuya to mirror after anymore. Then, he endeavours to copy Haru, and when he’s faced with the reality that Ikuya will have to exist as Ikuya without Haru, he recedes into having no confidence and is unable to entertain the idea that he is in control of the person he is or wants to be.

And Haru knows all this about Ikuya. He knows the kind of person he is. The first time they met, Haru gathered that Ikuya had an attitude problem because he watched him spend the better part of their first day in middle school glaring at Asahi. Then Ikuya makes a fuss over nobody taking swimming as seriously as him and joins the swim club only to start copying Haru before he finally confides in his teammates that he feels incredibly lonely swimming by himself. Compare that to the impression left by Rin. In comes this kid, all enthusiasm and toothy grins, taking Haru by the hand and promising to show him magic. He was extremely endearing, so it’s no wonder he left such a deep impression on the people he met as a kid. 

Most importantly, the reason Rin fell apart when he was abroad wasn’t that he invented problems to blame Haru for, it was because he went too long without a proper support system. Unlike Ikuya, Rin didn’t go to Australia with family or friends. In fact, he struggled to create relationships because of the language barrier. He once tried to describe a cherry blossom tree to his classmates and was given a mop. If that wasn’t bad enough, the one thing that was supposed to provide Rin with a sense of belonging, swimming, he massively struggled in. It was the whole reason he went abroad, right? Sure, he’d have to be on his own for a while, but he thought he could bear it if it meant he could become a stronger swimmer. He was forced to contend with his own shortcomings every single day and couldn’t even talk to anyone about it because they literally didn’t understand him. At least if he went home to Iwatobi, raced his childhood rival, and won, then maybe all that struggling would’ve been worth it. But it wasn’t. He hated himself for how useless he felt. If Rin couldn’t even prove to his childhood rival that he was worthy of his father’s dream, then how could he believe it himself?  

What makes Rin and Haru’s relationship so tragic is that after nestling himself deep into Haru’s bones, Rin departs suddenly and returns to Iwatobi almost unrecognizable years later. What makes their reconciliation so sweet is that the person Haru fell in love with finally comes home. Rin absolutely turned Haru’s world upside-down and introduced him, to risk sounding cheesy, to sights he’s never seen before! He broadened Haru’s world to the point where he started wanting things that he never cared about before and didn’t think he ever would. Rin brings out things in Haru that nobody else can—a competitive spirit, and a desire to put himself out there and experience new things. When Haru finds out that Rin was going to give up on all the beautiful things he showed him when they were kids of course he wanted to be the one to show Rin those sights again! In reconnecting, they were able not only to accept the past but to walk together towards the future. They’ve been spurring each other forward since the day they met! Rin makes Haru want to move forward, want to grow, want to change! He meets Rin to share a dream with him. And that’s, like, the most romantic thing I’ve ever fucking heard! 

So, you’ll have to forgive me for being unsympathetic towards Ikuya. He’s so far out of his fucking league here and he has no idea! He is seriously so self-important that he thinks he can force his way into Haru’s orbit and position himself in a place as special as the space occupied by Rin. Get with the fucking program, Ikuya! 

______________________________________________________________

P.S.

I would like to extend my sincerest thanks to everyone who liked my first post and for leaving such thoughtful comments. These mini-essays (for lack of a better term) are part of a purely self-indulgent project where I pen down my thoughts about the Free! series. Collectively, the entire project is a whopping two-hundred pages and counting—though most of it is in the form of bullet points. And while I could just dump the entire thing here, I don’t think it would be fair to ask anyone to read that much—especially all at once. That said, it can’t hurt to share some bite-sized excerpts at a time!  

Although I didn’t start writing about this series to share my thoughts with (virtually) anyone, I figure since I’ve already written the damn thing I might as well post some of it. If no one ultimately reads anything I write, then nothing lost nothing gained. But knowing that there are people out there interested in hearing what I have to say (wordy as I am) means the world to me. So, thank you again.

[praetorsreyna]

eve & the serpent (no time to die) - chapter 2

AO3

Pairing: Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger

Sixteen-year old Tom Riddle is tall, lithe, and disarmingly handsome. His face is a study in angles and bone structure; his hair, perfectly coiffed black waves. She decides that she much prefers the red eyes and the gaunt, bone-white face. Will have the portrait of evil as an enemy any day over this… teenaged Lucifer.

It is September 1, 1942.

In 9 months Myrtle Warren will become Lord Voldemort’s first victim, and the boy standing before her will tear off a portion of his soul and trap it within the confines of parchment and leather.

[In which Good loses and Evil wins, and Hermione Granger sets out on a one woman mission to uproot evil from the bedrock -- with a nifty little plot device called Time Travel]

II. THE FRUIT

Much to her inconvenience, she finds that he is yet another one of them rare folk who find solace in the dusty corners of the Hogwarts library.

She is disappointed, but not really surprised.

Tom Riddle is the infuriatingly perfect model student, a poster boy of academia as concocted by its aesthetes. In another time and in another place, she might have been simultaneously thrilled and vexed at the prospect of competition. But his constant presence in the library (not to mention the spell he has over its current librarian – he is laying on that charm of his a tad too thickly, if she may say so herself…she has never seen him exercise his powers of charisma in quite so blistering a manner, and the feigned gracelessness is almost comical) is proving to be a nuisance to her own progress.

Having the subject and purpose of your research in the same room where you actively brainstorm a plan for his downfall is not exactly the most conducive environment for making any headway on the aforementioned plan. She had asked the Sorting Hat to put her in Slytherin so she could keep a close eye on him, but this is just excessive. The library is supposed to be her safe place, her shelter on the days when the weight of her obligations would press down on her shoulders harder than usual. He is unwittingly intruding on her repose, and the resulting vacillation between vigilance and anxiety is beginning to wear her down. Maybe it’s just the paranoia induced by having to constantly look over her shoulder but strangely enough, he appears to somehow be nearby whenever she’s most desperate for solitude.

The exhaustion of playing spy, guardian, and mastermind, coupled with the loneliness of doing so without a confidant, without any of her friends… it is starting to do her in and goddamit, she just needs space to breathe. A few moments to be selfish and to untether herself from this grief-fueled vengeance, if only to strengthen her resolve once her feet are back on the ground. Some deep-rooted instinct had told her to be careful in trusting the Dumbledore of this time, and the cost of heeding what is either foolishness or wisdom is a heavy and hollowing isolation.

She is weary and sleep-deprived when she enters the library that late October afternoon, intent on continuing her research. There are faint wisps of a plan gathering in her mind, but she needs a cornerstone before sketching out a structured design – a means of killing the basilisk before actually setting out to do it. Tom hasn’t found the chamber yet, but she doesn’t know the extent of timeline alterations brought about by her unnatural presence and would rather make haste to avoid any unwelcome surprises.  

She hands the librarian her permit from Slughorn then ducks into the dusky corners of the Restricted Section. Unaware of the hall’s other occupant, she drops her bag on the table by her favorite nook before making her way to the very back of the room. This section of the library had always exuded an imposing atmosphere – the filigreed grimoires in warded glass encasements floating ominously, inches above their plinths; the towering shelves crammed so closely beside each other, forming narrow straits ensconced in shadows; the books themselves, heavy and ancient, standing sentinels to a well of dark knowledge. It’s as effective as any warning sign can be, deterring even teenagers afflicted with thrill-seeking proclivities. Hermione, however, has always found it exhilarating. Perhaps there’s something fundamentally wrong with her, to derive a sense of succor in a space brimming with unhallowed wisdom. Not that she’s ever tempted to wield dark magic, but she is a scholar at heart, and the Restricted Section can be a gold mine of answers to those who know where to dig.

She slips into a narrow aisle between two hunkering bookcases, running a finger across the dusty spines of tightly packed tomes while her eyes scan for a particular title.

Ah. There it is.

She tugs at the book gingerly, careful not to disrupt the fine layer of motes blanketing its neighbors. She turns to head back to her table and barely manages to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle a shriek. The book tumbles to the floor with an echoing thud.

He is standing at the mouth of the aisle, the beam of the setting sun behind him obscuring his features in a film of gray. As he approaches her, he steps just out of the reach of the golden rays, and she is afforded a view of Tom’s pale countenance and slender stature.

She presses a hand against her chest, willing her terrorized heartbeat to slow down, and then scowls at him. “Must you really do that?”

“I apologize for startling you, Miss Granger, but I can hardly be faulted for visiting the library in broad daylight,” he deadpans.

She rolls her eyes. “Find some other cranny to slither into then, I don’t know why you always insist on cropping up like fungi wherever I go.”

“I’m flattered you hold my presence in such high regard, but do try to remember that we share the same House and the same classes.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “And what brings you to this secluded space on a Saturday afternoon? Shouldn’t you be out sipping tea with your little club of megalomaniacs?”

Something lethal glides into his irises before slinking back into the stygian depths. He chuckles, the low rumble twisting Hermione’s stomach into jittery knots. “Their heads are inflated enough to fill an entire pub, don’t you think? I didn’t want to give the barman further trouble by poking mine in.”

Hermione blinks in surprise, arms falling to her sides and a corner of her lip twitching up. “Ever the gentleman, I see.”

“Of course.” He tips his head, the movement a lupine appraisal despite the innocence and subtlety of the motion. “But lest I be accused of evading the lady’s demands, I’m here for the same reason as you are.”

His smile is as sharp as a razor.

He takes a small step towards her, predatory orbs gleaming coldly. “I must admit, I didn’t think you’d be the type to wander these recesses, Miss Granger.”

She holds her ground as he takes another step, leveling him with a solid and casual stare even as his form towered over her. “The path towards answers isn’t always gilded in gold as you well know. Most of the time you have to light your own lamp and traverse the untamed forests by yourself.”

Another step.

“And what kind of answers would you brave those forests for, Hermione?”

She stiffens, gritting her teeth at the roll of her name from his mouth. Before she can utter a barbed response, he lifts his hand as if to reach out for her face. She flinches, instinctively stepping back, only for her heel to meet nothing but wood. The curved spines of books dig slightly against her shoulder blades, a sobering reminder of her current predicament.

The kind that results in your demise.

His hand lands on a clothbound by her cheek, forearm barring her line of sight from the exit. Immured by his shadow, she struggles to still the panicked squirm of her insides, but her pulse continues to ricochet off her ribcage and pound a thunderous rhythm in her ears. Her fingers are itching to delve into her robes for her wand, but she restrains them for now, balling her hands into fists instead. He won’t be trying anything in here, not with the librarian outside and the two of them as the Restricted Section’s sole patrons.

His onyx gaze drops down to her lips and her heart cowers, the tumultuous beat going mute and placid for what seemed like minutes.

Just then, something catches the corner of his eye for he blinks and goes rigid, as if to shake himself off an inadvertent stupor.

Half hidden by shadows, the tome she had selected lay forgotten on the ground, embossed corners glinting in the pale orange light like some sort of rescue beacon. Tom pushes himself off the shelf and picks up the leatherbound from the floor, dusting off the cover as he reads the title: Vanquishing Vipers and Subduing Serpents: On the Wizarding World’s Most Lethal Wretches

Hermione suppresses a shudder, ridding herself of the residual halo of his proximity. He looks back at her, features set into their stolid default.

“Careful which forests you go trekking about, Granger,” he warns, holding out the book for her to take. “You never know which fanged creatures would come leaping out from the dark.”

She plucks it from his grasp calmly, lacing her responding grin with scorching acid. Goading him is a sure and stupid way to die; but as of this moment, she reminds herself, he is nothing more than a glorified thug with rich friends and a penchant for compulsion, overcompensating for his insecurities by playing god. Right now the power belongs to her, and the knowledge imbues her limbs with vindictive conviction. “Good thing I’m a dab hand with a machete then.”

She nods at him as she breezes away, and she hears a sudden but barely perceptible intake of breath. She shoots him a glance over her shoulder. “Happy weekend, Tom.”

~

“You’re scared of me,” he states softly, the common room door shutting behind him with a portent click. He stares down at her, the sleeves of his jumper rolled to his elbows, his hands shoved down the pockets of his trousers.

She is settled on the chaise lounge by the fireplace with her nose buried in a book when he enters. Trying not to give away the fact that he has startled her, she leans further against the backrest and fights the urge to tuck her legs to her chest, letting them remain stretched out on the chaise. She looks up from her tome and scoffs, “Don’t be silly, Riddle.”

Pointedly dropping her gaze back to the book, she forces herself to ignore the padded thuds of his oxfords on the carpeted dungeon floor. It isn’t an easy task. From her periphery, the gleam of the dimmed firelight bouncing against his wristwatch seems to be winking an ominous warning, one that comes to fruition when she feels the unoccupied space by her feet sink with his weight.

“Really, Tom,” she snaps, huffing in exasperation as she plops the book down on her lap. A frisson of foreboding slithers through her spine and she attempts to surreptitiously cross her legs at the ankle in some flimsy modicum of protection. Under anyone else’s scrutiny, it would have passed as mundane, a natural shift in a languid position. However, much to her misfortune and constant chagrin, he doesn’t miss anything, and she sees the hint of a satisfied smirk flit across his features before he wipes them again into cool blankness.

“You see, I don’t think you are who you say you are,” he says. He shifts his weight to face her, his pinky finger now dangerously close to her bare leg. His stare is as hard as steel. “New girl from Beauxbatons, allowed to finish her final year in Hogwarts… sorted into Slytherin although you and I both know that you don’t belong here.”

“Oh sod off,” she scowls at him, lifting one foot to jam it at his side, the nosy, good for nothing prick —

He catches her leg by the calf, elegant fingers digging ever so slightly into her flesh, and she freezes like a deer caught in headlights. His touch burns, and she is half-convinced that he has managed to somehow furtively place some sort of jinx on her.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, thumb tracing feather-light figure eights on the underside of her calf. “How well do they teach teenagers Occlumency in France, hmm? Or was it something you picked up on your ah… travels.”

This is not the first time he has tried to access her mind, but every attempt thus far had been cloaked, discreet invasions when he thought her preoccupied or distracted. There is none of that pretense now – he dives into her consciousness without preamble, swiping at her mental defenses with razor-sharp claws.

His grip on her calf tightens. She fights back a smirk but allows herself a haughty tilt of the chin because her walls are as unyielding as diamond and there is nary a hint of a scratch on their surface.

(But although she is a prodigious Occlumens, she is a rather shoddy actress – at least, around him. She cannot quite disguise the shiver of fear that runs through her when they bump elbows or brush fingers in the fume-addled clamor of Potions, nor the clumsy shuttering in her gaze when he fixes his on her a tad too intently, grasping at each thread of emotion she unwittingly reveals as if it will lead him to some grand vault of secrets. Neither can she hide a wince at the sound of his voice – the rich, velvety cadence of it being impossibly irreconcilable with the sibilant tones of Voldemort.

She is almost sure he’s doing it all on purpose.)

Suddenly, he yanks her leg forward in one smooth motion. The cushion is soft enough, but she still feels her breath whoosh out of her lungs as she is jerked flat onto her back.

Tom gets to his feet, adjusting the hem of his jumper and glancing down at her all too damn casually. In the dimmed space, the fire from the hearth casts flickering, elongated shadows over the sharp contours of his visage. He wears darkness like a perfectly tailored suit, and she inwardly curses at the injustice of it all.

Hermione stares back up at him, momentarily dazed at the abruptness, watching him loom over her without a word.

Merlin, he’s a fucking menace.

“I don’t like secrets, Hermione,” he warns.

“So naturally, you think ransacking everyone’s brains is the way to go. Not exactly a paragon of decorum, are you? ” she snaps.

There is a mocking edge to the way he subtly cocks his head to one side, and his voice is low, dripping with honeyed venom when he says, “Oh, I think we’re both way past such silly things as decorum. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Granger?”

His eyes don’t linger from her face but Hermione is suddenly coldly aware of her exposed knees. Her skirt had slid halfway up her thighs after he pulled her foot. There is nothing leering, nothing necessarily improper about how he is looking at her, but it is discomfiting all the same. She must be imagining the ghostly hand trailing goosebumps up her flesh. And surely, surely, the widening of his pupils must be nothing more than a trick of the waning firelight.

Right. Must be.

Gathering her bravado and pretending like she hasn’t heard his last question, she pushes herself up to her elbows, glares up at him, and scoffs: “My secrets are hardly any of your business, anyway.”

He turns to leave. “They are when they’re about me.”

~

Today the confined dungeon air in the Potions classroom is permeated with the smell of warm cotton and old books, fresh parchment and spilled ink.

Hermione figures that Slughorn must have brewed something new for today’s class.

She immediately recognizes the scent from the comforting cocoon of the Hogwarts library, but there’s something else braided into it, something warm, woodsy, and tinged with spice… sandalwood perhaps?

Hermione breathes in a deep inhale as she enters the Potions classroom, making her way over to the table she shares with Tom. Now that she thinks about it, she can detect the crisp notes of black tea as well, and a whiff of mint leaves.

It smelled like the Slytherin common room, like the cramped bookshelves in the Restricted Section. It smelled like —

She swivels to her right. He’s frowning at her like she’s a particularly frustrating assignment on Runic translation and his lack of comprehension is somehow her fault.

“What?" she demands, as she’s pulling out her textbook and brass scales.

He opens his mouth to reply but Slughorn chooses that exact moment to come waddling in from his back office. Tom turns back to the board, jaw tense in unusually obvious agitation.

Hermione shakes her head at his strange behavior and peers down at the cauldron on her desk. The surface is of a luminous pearly white sheen and the scent —

She stiffens, already knowing what it is before Slughorn could even pick up his chalk.

Amortentia.

[liccy]

How I see it, My theory is that the Downfall Timeline is the original timeline.

Let's think 4th Dimensionally, shall we? Blah blah blah Link meets Zelda, blah blah blah, finds the master sword and is sealed away for 7 years.

This is where the splitting starts: Child Link's soul is sent to a teenager Link's body, and it goes back and forth until Link eventually defeats Ganon! (Woo!)

Afterward, Zelda then sends Link's soul back. But, instead of sending him back to the moment he was first sealed away, and thus continuing the original flow of time uninterrupted (like a good time traveler should), Zelda had decided to send Link to an even Earlier moment in order to warn the Kingdom against Ganon. Link, is now sent back alone to a pre adventure time and warns the King, thus prevents everything from OoT from happening. (Losing Nintendo millions of $$.) Life continues on for the altered timeline that Link left, while as an adult, and taking the supposed "spirit of the Hero" with him only to never be heard of again. (This Adult timeline, which I call the "Deadbeat Dad" timeline is because Link left for milk and never returned.) Stuff happens and The timeline continues and later on a kid gets a Shitty birthday surprise with the events in Wind Waker.

Child Link, who was returned to a time pre-adventure, does a miss Cleo and pretends to be a psychic and warns the King about Ganon. The day is saved, the kingdom is clueless and life goes on.

This is the Child Timeline, and since Link's trying to prevent shit from happening at the start, I lovingly call this the "Condom timeline".

Two events then happen simultaneously: Link decides to spend the rest of his life in search of Navi since trauma makes it that hearing his own thoughts becomes more annoying than hearing Navi's. (Navi was left behind in the adult one since Zelda's powers are not as strong as Fi's so only Link is sent back to pre-adventure.) He heads toward the ranch and borrows Epona again (though Malon acted like he was stealing Epona), then falls down a hole and somehow lands in an alternate dimension named Termina. More trauma ensues. Link returns. Malon won't even look at him. He's sad. The world is a dark and lonely place. So many regrets! He just wants to go home and maybe he'll sneak back in to try to… and Whoops he's a Stalfos now. Damn. He needs a nap. Oh wait, what's that kid doing in the forest? Maybe a good spar will cheer him up? Maybe give him a few pointers while he's at it?

But then what happens to the "original" Link (whom we shall call Link1) who was told of his new quest by the dying Deku tree… only to find out "Oh, that's already been dealt with by some other kid, only he didn't have a fairy. Oh well, Go back home kid."

Well, he can't exactly go back home, and since there is no quest, Navi can't really serve her purpose and perhaps returns back into the Lost Woods. Well this sucks. Link1 tries to make do and tries to be a good Hylian. He joins the royal army for a while, but the princess keeps mistaking him for his look alike, and gets strong and earns a living. Link1 dates and nice farmgirl, although things were rough in the beginning when his look-alike had stolen Epona a few years back (Link1 still feels unexplicitly guilty about it) they eventually become happy together. Before long, laws of physics decides since two same people cannot exist in the same time and in the same place and Link1 is then whisked away, without a goodbye to Malon, to dimension hop in Soul Calibur, Smash Brothers and other video games. Never to be heard of again.

But..... There's still the timeline that started it all.

If the adult timeline can continue without Link, it makes sense that so can the original timeline as well. Link meets the princess, blah blah blah, the temple of time is opened and Link is sealed away… only never to be heard of again since Link's consciousness/soul did not return. Link is not able to perform, Ganon tops and gains control, only to then be sealed by the sages, blah blah blah. The timeline continues with some poor kid who starts getting weird dreams that had nothing to do with puberty. Welcome to the Downfall timeline.

"Great Scott!!" You interrupt. "Why then is there still the spirit of courage in the Downfall timeline?"

Well I never said my theory was perfect. My hypothesis is that Link's body is still sealed in the temple, but he's just never woken up again because of the splits in the timeline. If Link can age while sealed, then it is assumed he eventually dies of oldness and the spirit is freed again.

"Heavy," right?

Hey

Do you all think the Fallen hero died as a kid, or right after he became an adult?

[vividwritinglove]

my forever valentine

long time no see - life has been crazy lately. BUT I will continue the PG story for sure! Don’t worry!

For now let’s give our sweet Charlie Boy some love ♥️ since it’s Valentine’s Day! Enjoy 😉

__________________________________________

pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: none

word count: 2.9k

__________________________________________

You've known him for a long time. You would call yourself old friends, but the last time the two of you met in person was several years ago. You've always had a thing for him. In your childhood days you were inseparable and even as teenagers you were in the same clique of friends. He was your first big crush and even now you still find him extremely attractive.

The contact broke off as you moved away from Monaco with your parents. You only contacted each other on a few social media channels now and then. But when his racing career took off, there was radio silence between him and you. And that was fine, because you were also investing your time in education and aiming for a successful future as a gallerist after graduating with a degree in art history.

The last time you saw him in person was at his father's funeral, but you didn't say a word to each other. Which was somehow understandable. Still, you felt the need to be there for him. You are proud of him, how he dealt with it and continues to hold on to his dream to become world champion. You think back to those nights on the balcony of your childhood bedroom, looking down on the harbor of Monaco and talking about your dreams. For Charles, there was only this one and it's even more wonderful that he's closer to it than ever. You casually follow his career. However, you never made it to a Grand Prix in your hometown.

Maybe this year it would change. Because you've moved back. To his and your little hometown. You know he lives here, but you didn't expect to see him so soon after your arrival. You’ve been invited to a dinner with some old girlfriends. Afterwards you stay for some drinks and have a catch up. And between all theses people, the loud voices and the laughter, your gazes cross. He sits a few tables away and has his eyes fixed on you. He looks at you in disbelief and his eyes widen with each passing second. Almost simultaneously you rise, walking towards each other like magnets attracting each other. With each step, his smile widens until you are standing directly in front of him.

"Y/N," he says softly, his hand brushing your upper arm. His voice is like a melody in your ears. You've missed it some how. Your eyes are on his lips, watching them say your name. The next moment he hugs you, tightly. You feel the longing and warmth in this gesture. Your arms close around his middle and your hands move over his upper back. You feel his muscles, he has become much broader. Understandable, just the daily workouts he is completing. However, his scent is beguiling to you. With pleasure you close your eyes and pull him in. Your cheek touches his jaw and you snuggle up to him. Familiarity.

"You're back!" he says softly again as you pull away from each other. You nod tentatively, still smiling. His presence makes you feel embarrassed, and you feel like you're a teenager again. Only now do you realize Charles has always been so much more to you, than just a friend. Yet you never felt he would feel the same way about you. You have no idea, how much he actually did.

You could have looked at each other for hours. But quickly the hustle and bustle of the restaurant around you, brings you back from this daydream. "Shall we go to the bar?" you suggest, as a waiter pushes past you, barely able to understand your own words. Charles nods happily and escorts you to the counter. You order 2 espresso martinis and you're pushed to the bar, close together, by the crush of other restaurant patrons. Not that you mind.

You have some catching up to do and recount what has happened to you over the past few years. You feel comfortable around each other. It's been a long time since you've felt this secure with a man. Charles is not just any man, he is a confidant. As you talk and laugh with each other, you touch. Several times. More and more often. Until his hand lingers on your hip. You feel the warmth his body radiates. His scent is constantly in your nose.

"God, I missed talking to you." sighs Charles, after you empty another drink and he orders another round for both of you.

"How good that we'll get to do this more often, if you like..." you murmur as you put the martini glass to your lips and sip it. Charles smiles mischievously and takes a sip of his drink as well. You linger at the bar for a while until one of your friends approaches you to say goodbye. You've completely lost track of time, and yet you have to get up early tomorrow to prepare the gallery you've recently started working for, because of a new vernissage.

"Do you really have to go already?" Charles prods, pulling a slight pout.

"I have to! I don't want to get fired after my first week!" You laugh, resting your hand on his chest. He nods in understanding and his gaze moves to your hand. He likes this gesture. In general, he likes that you are so bluntly close to him. Your eyes meet and the colors of his bright eyes burn into your memory.

"When will I see you again?"

"I hope very soon..." you say with a smile and kiss him goodbye on the cheek. He looks after you. For a long time.

You had no idea how soon you would meet again. You are directing the workers from the gallery, who are about to hang one of the last large paintings for the upcoming opening, as a warm breath on your neck gives you goosebumps.

Startled, you turn around, "Charles?!".

You hug him gustily with joy, and somewhat irritated by your enthusiasm, he has to grin and hugs you tightly back.

"What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks, smiling a forbidden cheeky smile, "and by the way, this is the 6th gallery I've visited today to find you."

"Well, your search was successful." you smile at him and adjust the collar of his jacket, your fingers grazing the delicate skin on his neck and immediately giving him chills.

"Madame? Is the painting hanging good like that?"

You release yourself from Charles arms and turn to your colleagues, "Oh yes, perfect! Thank you so much!".

"Which artist is this?" asks Charles with interest, examining the painting.

"Come on, I'll give you a little private tour."

You stroll through the exhibition and you tell a short anecdote about each piece with full passion. Charles watches you with a smile on his lips. Your enthusiasm is contagious. You have this special eye for aesthetics and that's what Charles likes so much about you.

When you arrive in the room with the artist's photographs, he holds you back by your arm, "Do you still take photographs?"

"Occasionally."

"Remember when you used to accompany me on karting weekends? And always taking snapshots?"

"Oh God, with that little digital camera, in that awful garish pink color."

You both have to laugh and his hand travels down your arm, to your palm. His fingers slide in between yours and your bodies getting very close to each other, “Any plans for tonight?".

"Not until now!". You would love to close the distance to him, preferably with a kiss. However, that wouldn't make the best image for your new employer to catch you making out at your workplace with Monaco's golden boy.

"I'll pick you up tonight after work." suggests Charles and you nod tentatively, "Thank you for the tour. I'll return the favor."

Your work day couldn't have gone by any faster. You grab your small bag and wait for Charles in front of the old historic entrance to the gallery. He arrives a few minutes later in a beautiful black Ferrari. You are amazed, of course you knew he was driving a Ferrari, but the black car with the white and red stripe was quite something. Just the sound of this car attracted so much attention and made almost all the heads in your radius turn towards it.

The windows were down and Charles had sunglasses on. As you step closer to his car, you notice the sounds of Coldplay, his favorite band. Charles looks over at you. His grin grows wider with each step you take closer. The car is well-known in Monaco. Everyone knows who drives this car, so it's not uncommon for passersby to pull out their cell phones and take pictures. You open the door and drop into the black leather seat.

"Hey."

"Hey."

You smile at each other. Long. A comforting warm feeling spreads through you. It's nice to spend time with Charles.

"Are you hungry?" he asks you, after confidently steering the car back onto the road.

"I'm starving!"

"Say no more!"

After a few minutes, Charles stops in front of some small brasseries and quickly jumps out of the car. You know this place. You know it too well. In your childhood and youth you came here very often with friends and your families. You haven't been here for 10 years and nothing has changed. You know exactly what he would order and a short time later Charles comes back, jogging out of the brasserie with an order to go.

You accept the bag with thanks and immediately the familiar scent hits your nose. You can't wait any longer and open the plastic container. Steak with fries and the world famous sauce. You can't help but grin broadly. It was your absolute favorite dish as a kid. You take a french fry and bite into it with relish. You close your eyes and let your body sink further into the comfortable leather seat of the Ferrari.

"It tastes so incredibly good!" you h sigh and Charles continues to grin. Over and over he looks at you. You offer him a fry as well, and he's only too happy to eat out of your hand.

You arrive at a cliff ledge and have an insanely beautiful view over the old town and the harbor. The sun is just setting and now you're sharing the large steak and fries.

"Would you ever have thought?" you look to Charles and pick up another piece of meat with a fork, "The two of us with our favorite dish in a Ferrari."

"It's a shame we didn't do this earlier." Charles admits and you hand him the fork so he can eat some of the meat as well.

"Better late than never!" you remain optimistic, watching as the sun turns the sea in a beautiful orange.

"I've missed it here so much..." you sigh after the sun has set and below you the city and harbor is now aglow with their lights.

"Actually, hardly anything has changed. We've all stayed the same." grins Charles, eyeing you. You rest your head on your folded forearms, which you had placed on his dashboard earlier to take an even closer look at your hometown at night. You've always been a very special girl to him, so brash and fearless that it was almost intimidating. Even as a teenager he admired your strong confidence and carefree nature. You know what you want and how to get it. And that doesn't seem to have changed until today.

Outwardly you have changed. You have grown up and become very feminine. Beautiful and natural. One thing has remained that he has always loved about you: Your freckles.

"What shall we do next?" You ask him after a while and Charles feels caught staring at you for too long.

"Whatever you want."

"I want to see your apartment!"

This answer surprises him, but your smile makes him agree immediately.

The drive to his apartment building doesn't take long. With some effort, Charles parks his expensive sports car in the narrow and old underground garage.

"Next time, I'll park." you laugh as you climb out of the car, trying not to put a dent in the passenger door, "Ace on the track, but your parking skills leave a lot to be desired."

"You can't be good at everything." he grins cheekily and you join in with your laughter.

Once inside his apartment, it’s more noticeable that it's not a new building. In terms of furnishings, it's modern, but the cut of the apartment is very typical of buildings from the 90s. As you enter the living area, you immediately notice the piano.

"You play?" you call out to Charles, who just went to the kitchen to pour you both a glass of wine.

"A little."

"Since when?"

"More or less taught myself during lockdown." he says casually, handing you one of the wine glasses, as he comes back to you.

"You're kidding me!" you say, almost horrified,m and take the glass from him.

Charles sets his glass down on the piano, sits down on the small piano bench and opens the keyboard lid. He starts playing and you look over his shoulder enthusiastically. His long fingers wander gracefully over the black and white keys. You smile. After all these years, Charles can still surprise you.

He finishes the piano piece and turns to you a little with a soft smile on his lips. You put your glass down and clap your hands euphorically, "That was amazing!".

"Thank you." he says a little sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck nervously with the flat of his hand. Your eyes continue to wander from him through his apartment. Next to a large bookshelf, you notice trophies and helmets. You walk up to them and look at them more closely. Charles remains seated on the bench and watches you as you stroll through his apartment. He has to swallow hard and starts getting slightly nervous. He knows what questions you are about to ask. He knows you to well.

"Who made these paintings?" you ask as you finish inspecting the trophies.

Charles clears his throat, "My ex painted them."

You give him a brief, yet definite look and then turn back to the 3 paintings hanging above his sofa, "She has talent."

You continue your tour and now all the feminine decorations catch your eye.

"From the ex?" you point to an empty beige vase with gold appliqués sitting on a shelf.

Charles just nods and rises from the piano bench.

"Let me guess! From the ex too?" you ask, now pointing to the roses that form the word LOVE on his piano lid. Again he nods and buries his hands in his front pants pockets.

You draw in air sharply through your teeth, "I hate to say it, but this place is just screaming her .".

"I know..." he sighs and is afraid to kill the mood, “Come. I'll show you something."

You walk to the elevator and Charles puts a key in the keyhole below all the floor buttons. He turns it over and presses the button that says PH.

After a short ride, the elevator door opens and there is now a small hallway in front of you. Again he uses the keys and unlocks the gray apartment door. In front of you a large and empty room with a beautiful dark parquet floor and a wide window front, giving you the best view over the old town and the harbor.

"The renovations were just completed last week. I have first right of refusal until next friday, but I am not sure if I should buy the apartment though..." explains Charles as you step further into the large room.

"Are you kidding me? You're still considering?" you ask in shock, "This is the perfect place for your piano. It would show off perfectly here and when you play you would have this view."

You back up your statements with wild gestures and continue walking around the apartment.

"Here the dining area, right next to the open kitchen and in this corner a bar cart would look great. Maybe a neon sign on this wall..."

Charles trots after you, grinning at each of your decorating ideas.

"Charles if you don't buy this place, I will!" you say as you finish the tour through the whole apartment and stand back with him in the entryway, "Might have to borrow some money from you..."

"I'll sign the purchase agreement."

"A very good decision!" you smile at him and only now you realize how close you are standing towards each other. You are gone in his amazing eyes and Charles also fixes your gaze.

Slowly he comes steadily closer to you, soon you feel his warm breath on cupids bow and his hands on your hips. You have to swallow hard and open your mouth slightly. First the tips of your noses touch gently, shortly after you feel his soft lips on yours. Your hands travel up his upper arms to his neck and intertwine there.

As a teenager, you had dreamed of kissing him so many times. What would you have given for Charles to be your first kiss?

The stubble of his beard tickles your chin as you intensify the kiss. Shortly after, you feel his tongue in your mouth. Time stands still for you. You would never want to kiss anyone else again. Your crush on Charles has been rekindled and has never burned like it has before. Not in your wildest dreams, did you think Charles felt the same way you did. As corny and childish as it may sound, you had butterflies in your stomach and felt like you were 15 again.

[vivi-taylorsversion]

Imagine Being Diego Hargreeves Teenage Daughter & Finding Out About Your (Alleged) Brother, Stanley...

WC: 656

You were currently sitting at one of the many wooden table in the lobby of the Hotel Obsidian with your father, and uncles, Klaus, Luther and Five. Five was ranting about something to do with doppelgangers, at least you thought. To be honest, you didn't care as the matter didn't concern you all that much- as far as you knew. That's when your dad suddenly had a look of confusion and shock upon his features and, before anyone could question him or his odd behaviour, he fled from his seat and hurriedly dashed from the room.. Bewilderment evidently took over your features, what on earth has caused your dad to go from a state of calm and conteness to one of fluster and panic? Your uncles paid no mind to it, listening intently to Five and his ramblings.

Soon after everyone departed, going off to do whatever they wished, you took off in search of your father. You shuffled awkwardly out of your seat and followed the same way Diego had gone fifteen minutes ago, give or take. Finally the elevator doors slid open to reveal both a familiar and an unfamiliar face. One being your dad, pale and perplexed, the other being a child, seemingly around 12. The ping! of the elevator door alerted Diego and the boy of your presence and they turned to look at you. The boy's face contorted into a grimace, appearing to be disgusted by your presence, whilst your dad's remained the same.

"Uhm... Dad? Who's the.. uh.. kid?" you enquired.

" (Y/N), this is... your brother, Stanley." he hesitantly replied.

A look of horror flashed across your face, in your midst of shock you call out,

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!"

☻︎☺︎︎☻︎☺︎︎☻︎☺︎︎☻︎☺︎︎☻︎☺︎︎☻︎☺︎︎

"Christ... what a dump.." Stanley murmured grumpily while the two of you scooped the mediocre hotel food onto your porcelain plates, you gave him a quick glance of annoyance before moving on.

"That little delinquent is your son?!" Your uncle Klaus wheezes out, amusement laced into his voice.

"Allegedly, my son." your father chimed in, hastily correcting your giggling uncle.

"Oh, is that what you said about me as well?" you called out, overhearing their little exchange. You moved to sit beside the two whilst Stanley sat by himself, wasting no time in stuffing his face.

"No, you were different!" he huffed "I knew you were my daughter!" You raised your eyebrow quizzically, questioning how he knew this for definite. Catching on rather speedily he murmured,

"I did a DNA test when you were little, I don't know how on earth I'd get a test ,that determines whether or not that little shit is my son, right now."

Seemingly out of nowhere, your Uncle Five appeared. He had somehow known about your fathers (alleged) and had a rather significant query relating to the situation.

"Wait- who's.. who's the mother..?"

"Lila.'" your father deadpanned, you proceeding to a spit take.

"THE CRAZY BITCH WHO LITERALLY TRIED TO DECIMATE OUR WHOLE FAMILY BARELY TWENTY-FOUR AGO?" you were only met with an eye roll from your father and a mutter of agreement from Klaus.

"Lila's here?!" Five exclaimed, ignoring the scene you had just created.

"Was," your dad replied, once again having to correct one of his brothers "she dropped him off in my lap last night then bolted."

"Again, is that how you described me?"

Your father, once again, ignored you and you stood up, becoming bored with the conversation, joining the preteen boy at his table. He looked you up and down before returning to his food. You began a lousy, disengaging conversation with the boy.

☻︎☺︎︎☻︎☺︎︎☻︎☺︎︎☻︎☺︎︎☻︎☺︎︎☻︎☺︎︎

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" you cried out, exasperated.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, the heck is going on here?" your dad said, stepping between you and Stanley, grabbing both of your wrists. Big mistake. The two of you simultaneously began screeching over each other, having wildly different explanations for the current situation. Your voice eventually powered over Stanley's voice and your father was able to grasp a simple explanation of the outburst.

"He stole my favourite shirt!!"

Oh god, this was only the start of the sibling drama...

[smol-and-grumpy]

Instant Attraction - Chapter 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is thirty-eight and the stepdad of her best friend Ben. He’s caring, goofy, dorky, sexy and has a deep soothing voice. She wants him so bad, but he is more than a decade older than her. The thing is, she knows he wants her too but he’s holding himself back. How far can she take it until he caves? — Or the one where Dean tries to resist but fails miserably.

Chapter Warnings: None -- other than Dean’s already in so much trouble.

WC: 2,463

Series beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons​​​

This series is eight weeks ahead on Patreon

If you like what I’m writing, please consider leaving me a tip to keep me energized.

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

“Sure your dad won’t mind?” Y/N asks while simultaneously throwing her belongings into a large duffel that’s sitting on the bed right next to Ben. The other bag is already filled with her toiletries and books for school.

Ben, the boy in question, is sitting next to the half empty duffel, scrolling on his phone. That dude seriously needs to lay off the two T’s as she likes to call it. Twitter and Tinder because when he’s not studying for school or eating, he’s on his phone constantly. 

They had been best friends since she can remember, and Ben was probably one of her first memories. And right after that, there was Dean. 

Dean was Ben’s stepdad who had met Lisa when Ben was only eight years old. At that time, Lisa was twenty-four. She was a teen mom and had basically raised Ben on her own. Y/N has to give the woman credit as she didn’t do such a bad job with it. 

Dean and Lisa never married. However, Lisa had passed away a decade ago in a freak traffic accident, leaving Dean, who at the time was only twenty-eight, to become Ben’s legal guardian. Their relationship now was how a typical father/son relationship goes, Ben sending him occasional texts just to let him know that he’s still alive, and of course whenever he needs something. 

She’d been sharing an apartment with Ben since their freshman year, and now they’re done with school, and technically she does have a space to go to grad school, only that she’s not even sure she wants to do it.

But that’s a problem to worry about later because as of right now, they have to move out of the apartment for the next three months. There had been some problems with leaks in the flooring and ceiling, and the landlord needed to fix it if he didn’t want the whole building to spontaneously collapse on him. Secretly, Y/N’s looking forward to not having to avoid one of Ben’s tinder conquests in the kitchen after they had spent the night there. Maybe he’ll really manage to tone it down when they’re living under Dean’s roof. 

Moving to her own home wasn’t an option since her parents divorce. Both of them had moved away and it was hard enough to split up her holidays to somehow make it work so neither of her parents would feel neglected, so yeah, she couldn’t even imagine where she should go in the first place. Besides, she needed to stay around school because there’s still finals and then graduation. 

Ben had actually been the one to suggest they move in with Dean, since his house was only thirty minutes away from campus, and even though she doesn’t like the idea of living under the same roof as someone she has had a crush on since she was a teenager, she really has no other option which wouldn’t involve spending a whole lot of money. 

Crush might not even be the right word. It’s simply an understatement. The first time Y/N saw him was when she was fourteen, and she can not lie that it felt like the ground had been swept away from under her feet. The feeling of attraction overwhelmed her so much that she stayed away from Ben and his house for three weeks, simply because she didn’t really want to be attracted to someone who’s old enough to be her father. Gradually, she limited her time with Ben and only went to his house when she really had no other excuse, and if she did go over, she wouldn’t stay too long and slip out whenever Dean would come home. Yeah, she was a teen with a huge crush but she also knew that Dean didn’t feel the same, which is fair, so she just, like, tried to forget him. She also dated, but she never ever came close to the feeling she had when she saw Dean for the first time, so she just never really tried the dating thing again after some failed attempts. 

When Ben still doesn’t look up from his damn phone to answer her question, she nudges him in the arm. Hard. 

He’s momentarily taken aback and drops his phone onto the bed begrudgingly, knowing how much she hates it when he stares at his screen when she is talking to him.

“What are you talking about? He’ll be thrilled to have the house full again!” Ben chuckles as he plays with an old yoyo he found under her bed when he was bored with watching her pack. Y/N didn’t even know she had a yoyo. 

Her hand stops mid air while still holding a bunch of her panties in their grip. “Wait,” she eyes Ben suspiciously. Suddenly, he tears his eyes away from her and finds the yoyo way more interesting. “You haven’t told him that I’m coming with you, have you?”

Ben scoffs at the yoyo, as if it personally offended him.

“Ben?”

“Y/N?”

“Dude!”

“What?”

“Did you tell him that I’ll be there or not?”

Her friend sighs, “Not in those exact words, I didn’t.” 

“God,” she groans before approaching the bed to toss her handfuls of panties into the duffel, “He’ll tell me that I have to leave, I’m telling you!”

“That’s bullshit.” Ben stands up and stalks to the door, probably to do some of his own packings because he still hasn’t done anything today other than driving her up the fucking wall. Before he walks out of her room, though, Ben turns around, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. “Finish your packing, I told him I’ll be there tomorrow morning.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles.

“Y/N?”

“What?” She pouts as she looks at Ben again who has a warm smile spread on his face.

“He always liked you, you know? Also, he thinks that you’re my girlfriend, so it’s totally fine for you to live there while I’m there.”

Before she can open her mouth to speak, Ben’s already disappeared down the hall. 

Dean had just finished changing the sheets in Ben’s old room when he heard his stepson calling out for him, followed by a loud slamming of the door. 

“Dean! We’re here!”

We? Who’s we? Ben didn’t tell him he was bringing someone along. Oh, great, that’s just great. 

He lets his head hang a little at the thought of having to dust and change the sheets in the other spare room in a hurry. Not that he had anything else to do but cleaning bedrooms is really not something he fancies doing on a Sunday morning. Dean wonders when Ben knew about the apartment because he’s sure his stepson waited until the last minute to inform him. He got the text not even twenty-four hours prior.

Stalking downstairs, he meets Ben in the kitchen where the boy is already raiding the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of beer and Dean’s just about quick enough to grab it out from his grip. “Jesus, what’s wrong with you? It’s freaking 10 AM on a Sunday morning, you’re not allowed to drink until at least 2 PM in this house, got it?”

“Fine.” Ben rolls his eyes before sticking his head into the fridge again, taking out a can of coke instead, and pops it open.

For a short moment, Dean’s contemplating on opening the bottle he’s still holding in his hand. A beer sounds absolutely perfect right now, but he can’t be a hypocrite so he steps closer to his stepson and places the bottle back.

“So, who’s we?” He asks while Ben’s already distracted by the bag of chips sitting on the counter which Dean forgot to put away after returning from the store early that morning.

The boy pops a chip into his mouth, “Oh, Y/N.”

Dean risks a glance back into the living room because he can’t remember seeing her there when he came down. “Uh, you sure? Is she invisible now? Do they teach you superpowers at school?”

Ben frowns before rolling his eyes.

Yeah, well, he probably did deserve that frown. His jokes are lame, he knows.

“Just saying that I ain’t seeing anybody else but you,” Dean shrugs.

“She’s in the car.” 

“And why is she in the car?” 

Ben groans, as if it’s the dumbest question, but honestly, Dean’s more than confused right about now.

“She found out that I hadn’t told you that she’s coming along, and now she’s freaking out because she’s afraid she can’t stay with us. Guess you have to tell it to her face in order for her to believe it.” Popping another chip into his mouth, Ben starts to chew with a shrug.

“Jesus, Ben! And you couldn’t have started with that? You just left her waiting in the car? It’s fucking hot out.” I taught you better than that, he wanted to add but it seems redundant, since yeah, at least Ben did bring her here instead of letting her sleep on the streets, he guesses.

So, instead of being mad at Ben, he goes out to see what’s up with his stepson’s girlfriend. 

Dean spots her sitting in the still running car in his driveway, thumbing through her phone. She’s probably listening to headphones because she moves her lips as if she’s singing along to a song. Dean catches himself grinning because she looks absolutely cute. 

Wait, cute? When did he start to think she’s cute? Jesus, Dean, shut the fuck up and stop thinking that, he chides himself.

Even if he’s not allowed to think that, it doesn’t mean that it isn’t true. He hasn’t seen her for a while, the last time probably at their high school graduation, and since Dean’s not the best at celebrating holidays — mostly because he always has to work during those — Ben didn’t come back, and whenever his stepson did come home, he came alone. So, yeah, it has been a couple of years, and he always knew she was cute back then. Dean was even a little proud Ben managed to land such a cute girlfriend. 

He approaches the car and raps at the window, making her jump, her knees hitting the steering wheel while her phone flies through the car, landing in the footwell on the passenger side.

Dean flinches, feeling heat rushing to his cheek from the way he just scared the bejeezus out of her. 

Bejeezus? Do people still say that? God, he’s really lame. Ben’s not wrong about that.

Y/N stares at him, her eyes wide. For a flicker of a moment, her eyebrows knit together before her gaze hardens. One of her hands is on her chest, probably trying to calm her erratic beating heart. She’s only wearing a white tank top and he can see the strap of her baby blue bra underneath. 

He shouldn’t notice this. Definitely not. God, it has been too long since he found the time and energy to go out and get laid, and now, it apparently shows.

The window lowers itself making him come face to face with his stepson’s girlfriend who looks cuter and more beautiful than he remembered her being. Ben’s indeed a lucky son of a bitch. Pride, as well as guild, and not to mention shame, settles in his guts.

“Hey,” he says shortly in lieu of greeting as his mind can’t seem to be able to conjure something more profound than three stupid letters. But hey, he managed one more letter than ‘Hi’ would have required, which is already more than he could have hoped for. 

Dean’s trying, oh, he’s fucking trying not to stare at that bra strap, does his best not to think about the lace he sees through the fabric of her top. He tries not to spot if her nipples are darker through the fabric, and most of all, he definitely tries not to think about how she would look without that damn stupid tank top of hers.

“Yeah?” Y/N asks, her voice a little unsure and she looks at him while she nibbles at her bottom lip. She shouldn’t do that. It goes straight to his head. His lower head. The one he shouldn’t be using around his son’s girlfriend.

“Ben said you didn’t know if you’re welcome and I’m here to tell you that you are, Y/N.” Dean’s surprised by how steady his voice is. It’s so steady that she probably doesn’t notice the inner turmoil he is feeling while his head fights with his dick. 

“Are you sure?” There’s that cute crease on her forehead again, and god, she’s pouting.

Instant attraction. He never knew it existed, but apparently, it does because seeing her makes his heart skip several beats, while an overwhelming rush of familiarity, and crazy sexual scenarios involving her, flickers in the back of his eyes, or maybe it’s a coronary, he doesn’t know for sure. At least he doesn’t smell toast. 

Forcing his heartbeat to go slower, he swallows the lump in his throat before he speaks. “Pretty positive. Come on in, you’re getting a heatstroke out here.”

She giggles. 

Fuck. 

“Thanks, Mr. Winchester.”

“Please, call me Dean.” 

Or sir, or daddy. Whatever you prefer, I can be that. Wow, get a fucking grip, Dean!

“Okay, Dean,” she smiles. It’s weird. It’s the first time she calls him by his name but already he likes it. Would actually love to hear her moan it, preferably when she’s under him, or over him, he’s not particularly picky about that. Jesus, he could use a drink right now to clear his head.

He grabs at the handle to open the door for her. “Can I get your bags?” He suggests.

“Oh, yeah, they’re in the trunk.” 

Nodding, he makes his way to the back to retrieve them before walking up to her again with two large duffels in his hands. He jerks his head to the door. “Come on.”

Y/N ducks her head and starts to walk but turns around mid-step, “My phone!”

He watches her dash back to the car, watches her lean in, and stretches herself over the seat to reach for her phone.

Fuck.

Seriously, he can’t look away from the luscious thighs, and what he supposes, is a tight fucking ass. Dean’s sure those shorts are illegal in at least thirty-six states, or at least they should definitely be.

He’s going to die, he just knows. Living with Ben is one thing but he doesn’t think he’ll survive living with her. Get a grip, his mind berates him. And yeah, he agrees. He really does need to get a fucking grip.

Chapter 2

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

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[cagenewman]

Fatherhood had been simultaneously the most exciting and terrifying thing that Cage had ever tackled; he had loved watching his boy grow from the tiny baby into the running toddler into the kid and now teenager that he was that very day, but it hadn't all been sunshine and roses. It had been heartache and heartbreak and sleepless nights and crying in the shower and hoping against all hope that he didn't somehow take that kid that he loved with his entire being and fuck him up entirely. But he had been lucky. He had been blessed with a support system to help him get through his hardest times, to help him make sure that the boy that had his heart grew up strong and polite and kind and good. Above all else, good. And now there was Cordelia and her daughter and the thought of future sons and daughters that they would share, and of course it was a little overwhelming, of course it sometimes made his head spin, but there was also that part of him that knew that they would have always ended up there; that when the time came, if it was the path they would take, they would figure it out together. "You can bring one of the battery operated fans that you hold with your hand, anything else is cheating," he shrugged dramatically, and then couldn't help his laugh at her next suggestion, "possibly because I really like the idea of this whole minimal to no clothes thing, yeah," after all, the only person that was going to see that was him. Or the bear wandering outside, but he hoped that it wouldn't come down to that. Both because no one wanted a bear encounter when camping, but also because Cage simply didn't want Cordelia to never agree to go into the woods again. "I know," he nodded, keeping his tone light, thoughtful, because he knew that life didn't stop the moment that you had kids -- Cage had still traveled, worked, found time to get married (and then divorced, granted), but there was still something about the idea of having a dozen tiny kids at the point where normally Rosalyn would be in school and Colton in college and the house would be mostly quiet and they could just have each other that appealed to him, too. But maybe one crying kid wouldn't be that bad. One little one that a babysitter wouldn't need to tear their hair out over. "I don't think either of us could be boring if we tried, but you know what I mean. I just want to have some freedom to pack up the car and go for a long weekend without having to make a million arrangements, you know? Not all the time, but I do want to take you places. Show you cities I remember thinking you'd love." All those places that a younger Cage had earned to be with her in, those towns that he could see her lighting up over, sights that would make her eyes wide as saucers. His thoughts snapped back to reality when she talked about not losing her, going to the doctors, Cage making the medical decisions for her in the event that something should happen. He drew in a breath, holding it for a moment and letting it back out. "Terrifying as it would be to have to choose between you and one of our kids, I -- yeah, I'd… I'd want to make that call, if you'd let me." The same way that if it were up to him, Cordelia would make the decisions about Cage, his life. "And you're right, about the timing." He lifted his good hand, scrubbing it back through his hair and rubbing his scalp with his fingertips. The last thing that he wanted to do was rush any kind of decision, not when they had always agreed to take things one day at a time, to move at their own pace. "By the end of the year," he looked back up to meet her gaze. "I'm not saying let's have a baby by the end of this year. I'm saying… let's get you moved and settled into a new place, let you enjoy the life you deserve for a while, and then let's make these decisions. What do you think?"

As Cordelia leaned into him a little more, he felt the corner of his mouth tug into a small, almost sad smile, because he hated thinking about that lost time. The years that could have spent with her, the fact that back then, he could've given her the six kids and perfect picket fence. And while there would always be that part of him that had to hope that what he could give her as an adult, as the man he was in the present, versus the kid that she had fallen in love with, would be enough to still give her the happy life that she deserved. "I picked out a ring," he admitted on a quiet laugh. "Not -- I didn't buy it, or tell anyone about it, but I remember going to that little jewelry shop that closed a few years back with my dad, I think he was getting a piece of jewelry for Marlow or Emmy, and I remember seeing it and thinking, 'that's the ring.' Granted, I was broke and today I'd spend a lot more money than whatever that one cost, but still," he had thought about it. He had wanted it. But things happened for a reason, and he was grateful for that, for the reasons that she was listing, turning his head just enough so that he could rest his mouth against her hair when she talked about Colton and Rosalyn together, feeling a warmth blossom behind his rib cage, because she was right. They were good together, despite their age difference. It was good watching them, knowing that they, too, loved each other. "And you know Ros has brought both of us so much joy," he assured her, closing his eyes for a moment, before a laugh bubbled up from his chest as she talked abotu twins, his super sperm, giving his soliders a talking to. "Remind me to pull out from now on," he winced playfully, fully knowing that it would reward him with some sort of punishment, but it was worth it as he shook his head. "And yes, it's a thing, it's a thing that happens to poor, lonely men like me who are going to suffer for weeks because of their very mean girlfriends who can't even toss a pity--" he cut himself off, narrowing his eyes, "actually, for the sake of eventually wanting to have sex again, I'm going to keep that thought to myself, but don't worry, I will be careful," and he would. Lesson learned, without a doubt. And hopefully not one that he would be repeating any time soon. Tightening his good arm around her, he let out a low, husky laugh, bending his head to press a kiss to her lips when she promised not to go anywhere, with the promise that they not wreck her boy, nodding his head, "deal. But the practice will be fun."

While there had never been a doubt in her mind that Cordelia had wanted to be a mother, she wasn't sure if she had entered into motherhood so gracefully. Even if she didn't know how long it had taken Cage to get his own grove with being a parent, it was obvious they had both hit a stride somewhere. She had been doing decently enough for a single mother, but she had to admit having Cage their made things a lot easier. Cordelia wouldn't pretend that he hadn't helped keep her sane more times than she probably would like to admit. While she was sure that she could do it, she was much more about having a partner to help her, and Cage she had all the faith in the world would be there for the good, bad, ugly, and in between. Whatever that would come to be. "No frills getaway? Can I bring one of those little portable fans, you know I get grumpy if I get overly hot." she said, which was true. Cordelia hangry or overly warm -- wasn't a fun time, and he should have known that by now. Though she was sure she could manage, "Though if it's the two of us, I'm guessing that I could just go minimal to no clothes to cool off at night time in the tent." Grinning licking her lips as if to tease him, if he was saying no frills, she could go with the no clothes, that was after all no frills. "You realize we can have both. Yes, that is actually a possibility to have time for us, to see the world, to be crazy people in love, and raise children." Chuckling softly, "I don't expect to be a boring couple just because we decide to pop out a couple of kids, I'd be actually very disappointed in that if you went that way of going for a boring home life the second that we have a couple babies." she teased, because she knew Cage wasn't boring, but she also knew that he was someone who was settled on the things he wanted to experience and do to. Plus it wasn't like they were going to go throwing caution to the wind and getting pregnant tomorrow. There was a breath, because he was right, she'd risk it for their family but she knew he was set. The words firm and settled that he wouldn't risk her -- and while she would risk a lot for their family, she also wouldn't put him through the pain and fear that she knew was trauma for him. "You are not going to lose me, we can go to the doctors, see how everything is going, how my body is, what we would have to do to have a safe pregnancy." If that meant taking every step that it almost seemed overly cautious. "What if... what if I gave you some kind of medical rights? I could make you my medical beneficiary or whatever it's called that you can make decisions that heaven forbid... something goes wrong you can make the choice to save me." It was something she was willing to give him if it would make him feel better, even if she didn't think they'd have anything to worry about. "I mean, the longer we wait, the more risks there could be, we have to be aware of that." she couldn't lie to him either. So if this is something we want to do, whether it's one or two, we're going to have to make decisions in the semi-nearish future. Especially if we want me to go to the doctors for any kind of testing."

Clearing her throat she had to admit that she was surprised, that when he came back he had planned to find her after some time and marry her. "Well, it might not have panned out but I guess there's a peace in knowing that you wanted that with me even back then." she said leaning into him. "And I wouldn't have wished for Colton to not happen, it may have delayed us getting here but I love your son, and how good he is with my daughter, how much he helps her, teaches her... I'm grateful to have him in my life." Which was true so as much as she would have loved to have had life pan out the way she had hoped even if it had been a couple years later, a decade or so later counted too. "Well hey, if you want to get this done in one shot twins would be the answer, so saying you're out with twins -- if you knock me up and have super sperm... well... that's on you babe." she grinned. "So you know make up your mind then give your little soldiers a talking to." Still one to start, maybe two, that was something she could work with. That she could be okay with. "Sexile? Really? That's a thing." she laughed an almost adorable snort coming from her over how it sounded. "I mean well.. you kind of did put yourself into one, guess you will learn to be extra, extra careful from now on because next time my ass is coming down there and yelling at you and you know it sucks to be kicked when you are already down." Leaning into him making sure that she didn't lean into his bandaged arm she made herself comfortable. "I know you aren't going anywhere, and either am I. I'm here. For good. I'm in this for the long haul with you. Whether it's six little Newmans, or our two that's a blended family -- but heads up it's not going to be six little Newman's we are not wrecking my body that much but if you're good I might let you practice like we are."