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longing-for-rain · 10 months ago

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Katara and Mutuality in Relationships

There are lots of conflicting opinions about which characters Katara felt attraction towards, which characters she didn’t, and how long she felt that attraction. I see in most cases, people point to quick clips of her faintly blushing or kissing another character on the cheek as evidence, but I think these kind of takes miss the nuance of the purpose attraction serves in a story.

Most importantly, I see these characters treated as if they are actually people capable of making their own decisions. It’s important to remember that these are fictional characters. They don’t make their own choices; the writers make their choices for them for the purpose of telling a story. From that standpoint, it’s more valuable to examine how a character’s story and narrative themes tie into their relationships with other characters. Animators can shove in a kiss or a blush wherever they want, but it’s harder to demonstrate through storytelling how and why two characters might feel attraction towards one another, and how a relationship between them would develop both characters and contribute to the overarching themes of the story.

In other words, when discussing which characters Katara is “attracted” to, I’m discussing which relationships and actions within the narrative build on her established story and arc. Romance is always integrated into a story for a reason, and considering that reason is important.

Unfortunately, ATLA is very much a product of its time in this way. It’s easy to see what romance adds to the arcs of the male characters—but not so much with the female characters. All three canon relationships (kataang, sukka, and maiko) follow this trend to some degree. The primary purpose of the woman in this narrative is to act as a prize for the man for performing some good deed. Once they’re together, she ceases having her own motivations and becomes an extension of the male character she’s dating. This is pretty blatant with Suki—she barely had a personality in that later seasons; she is there to be Sokka’s girlfriend. Similarly, Katara becomes a completely different character—she’s even animated differently—when the narrative pushes her into romantic scenes with Aang. Her character is flattened.

So what is Katara’s arc, and how do the romantic interactions she has throughout the series contribute to this?

Well, that could be a whole other essay itself, but to put it simply, Katara’s arc is one of a young girl devastated by grief at a young age clinging to hope that she has the power to fight and change the world for the better. Which she does as she gains power and confidence throughout the series—culminating in her defeating Azula in the finale.

But the part I want to focus on here is how Katara connects with other characters. She connects with them over shared experiences of grief and loss.

Take Haru, for instance.

Haru: After the attack, they rounded up my father and every other earthbender, and took them away. We haven't seen them since.

Katara: So that's why you hide your earthbending.

Haru: Yeah. Problem is…the only way I can feel close to my father now is when I practice my bending. He taught me everything I know.

Katara: See this necklace? My mother gave it to me.

Haru: It’s beautiful.

Katara: I lost my mother in a Fire Nation raid. This necklace is all I have left of her.

Haru: It’s not enough, is it?

Katara: No.

This isn’t just a throwaway moment; it’s an important character moment that leads up to growth and the progression of Katara’s overall story, both in this individual episode and in the whole series.

Katara finds her power in the connections she’s able to make with other characters. It’s a powerful driving force for her that makes her a strong character even before her bending abilities develop. Imprisoned was such an important episode to establish who Katara is and what her power is, and adds so much to her arc.

But there is one line in particular from the above exchange that also stands out: Haru says “it’s not enough, is it?” and Katara agrees. Even this early in the series, we’re establishing the fact that despite her drive and hopeful outlook, Katara feels deeply hurt, she feels a deep sense of loss that she opens up about to other characters in moments like these. But unlike Haru…Katara can’t go rescue her mother. Her mother is dead, and we see her grapple with that grief throughout the series.

Another character she reaches out to like this is Jet.

Jet: Longshot over there? His town got burned down by the Fire Nation. And we found The Duke trying to steal our food. I don't think he ever really had a home.

Katara: What about you?

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever.

Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.

Jet: I’m so sorry, Katara.

Another important note about Jet is that there are explicit romantic feelings from Katara in this episode. Again, Katara empathizes with another character through a shared sense of loss. Sadly, in this case, Jet manipulated her feelings and tricked her into helping in his plot to flood the village…but those feelings were undeniably there.

That was the tragedy in this episode, but it also gives the audience so much information about Katara as a character: what motivates her, and what she wants. Katara is established as a character who wants someone who will connect with her and empathize with her over her loss—her greatest sense of trauma. She wants to help others but also receive support in return. The reason why she was smitten with Jet, beyond just initial attraction, is because he gave her a sense of that before Katara realized his true motivations.

A lot of people make the claim that Aang is good for Katara because he also feels a sense of great loss and trauma. And while on paper that’s true…does he really demonstrate that? I just gave two examples of characters Katara connected with this way, and both responded with deep empathy to what she said. Very early on in the show—the third episode—Katara attempts to connect with Aang the same way. How does he respond?

Katara: Aang, before we get to the temple, I want to talk to you about the airbenders.

Aang: What about 'em?

Katara: Well, I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people.

Aang: Just because no one has seen an airbender, doesn't mean the Fire Nation killed them all. They probably escaped!

Just compare this exchange to Haru and Jet. No effort to empathize, not even a “sorry for your loss” or anything. It’s a stark contrast, and the reason for that is because this narrative entirely centers Aang. Katara’s narrative always seems to be secondary to his when they’re together—which is exactly my point when I say this relationship has a fundamental lack of mutuality. It’s built that way from the beginning of the series. It does not add to Katara’s arc nor establish what about this dynamic would attract her.

And, look, before someone jumps down my throat about this…I’m not saying Aang is a horrible person for this response. I think it’s a sign that he’s immature and has a fundamentally different approach to problems than Katara. Katara is a character who has been forced to take on responsibilities beyond her years due to being a child of a war-torn world. Aang’s approach to problems is avoidance while Katara never had that luxury. It doesn’t mesh well.

This is all in Book 1. I honestly could have gotten on board with Kataang if the series meaningfully addressed these issues…but it didn’t. In fact, they actually got worse in some ways.

Back to Katara’s mother. We’ve established that this is a core part of Katara’s character and like in the scene with Haru, she indicates that this is an unresolved issue that pains her. But then, in Book 3, Katara actually does get a chance to confront this pain.

This would have been a powerful moment. Surely the character who is meant to be her partner, her equal, would have been there for her. Surely he would have understood and supported her, fulfilling her narrative and adding to her story.

But Aang didn’t do that. I won’t go into details because there are a million analyses out there on The Southern Raiders, but Aang’s response to Katara was the opposite of understanding. He got angry with her, insinuated that she was a monster for wanting revenge, and tried to dictate her behavior according to his own moral values. And importantly, from a narrative standpoint, he did not go with Katara. One of the most important events in her arc, and Aang didn’t support her—he actually tried stopping her. He didn’t contribute to her growth and development.

Also noteworthy:

Katara: But I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him.

Even at the end of the episode, Aang clearly doesn’t understand at all what Katara is feeling. This line demonstrates it perfectly. He thinks she forgave him when that wasn’t the case at all…but of course, he didn’t even accompany her, so he didn’t see what actually took place. His worldview is fundamentally different from hers, and he’s consistently too rigid in his morality and immature to center Katara’s feelings.

Throughout Katara’s whole arc, her most significant character moments, Aang’s character just doesn’t come through the way Katara’s constantly does for him. Their narrative lacks mutuality. When Katara and Aang are together, she becomes an accessory to him. The ending scene is a perfect demonstration of this.

Now, to address the elephant in the room.

Which character does actually add to Katara’s narrative and support her growth as a character?

Correct! I just talked about how important The Southern Raiders is to Katara’s character and story, how it’s a chance for her to finally address the grief she’s been carrying since Book 1. And who stood by her side throughout this pivotal moment? Right—Zuko did.

You can talk all you want about how he’s a “colonizer” while Aang’s people suffered genocide, but you’re forgetting that “show, don’t tell” is one of the most basic aspects of storytelling. The fact is, despite how it looks on paper, Zuko was the one there for Katara at her critical moments. Zuko empathized with Katara more than Aang ever did—as demonstrated in this episode. Zuko never once brought up his own cultural values. Zuko never once told Katara what to do. Zuko’s position was that Katara should be the one to decide, and that he would support any choice she made. He supported her decision to spare Yon Rha, but he would have also supported her if she decided to kill him. I actually found this episode to be a satisfying reversal to what is typically seen in TV—for once, the female character is centered while her male counterpart takes the backseat and becomes a supporting role to her narrative.

Even before this, Zuko is shown to empathize with Katara.

Zuko: I’m sorry. That’s something we have in common.

I think what gets me about this scene is the fact that he’s still Katara’s enemy, and she was just yelling about how she hates him and his people. But despite that, Zuko still empathizes with Katara. She is fundamentally human to him, and he expresses that to her in a way that allows them to connect. Zuko stands to gain nothing from this. It’s true that Azula entered the picture and twisted things around—but in this moment, Zuko’s compassion is genuine. His instinct was to respond to her grief with empathy, just like she consistently does for other characters.

And finally, how else does Zuko add to Katara’s arc?

I don’t think there is any more perfect of an example than the finale itself—the culmination of the arcs and development of all characters.

Zuko and Katara fight together. In a heartbeat, Zuko asks Katara to fight by his side against Azula, because he trusts her strength. She’s his equal—both in his mind, and in a narrative sense.

Then, this:

Both of their roles are so critical in this fight. They both save each other. The scene has such raw emotion to it. These characters were together at the conclusion of their respective arcs for a reason.

This is the perfect conclusion to Katara’s arc. She just played a critical role in ending the war that has caused her trauma her whole life. She just demonstrated her mastery of waterbending (another thing she’s dreamed of throughout the series) by defeating the world’s most powerful firebender during Sozin’s Comet. Even though she had help as all characters do, these are victories that belong to her and demonstrate the growth and power of her character. And to top it all off? She was able to save Zuko’s life. She didn’t have to endure the pain of feeling helpless to do anything while someone else died for her; this time, she had an active role, she changed her fate, and she prevailed. Zuko plays an important role in Katara’s story without dominating it. They perfectly represent mutuality. They add to each other’s stories. Their narratives become stronger when they’re together, without one diminishing or sidelining the other.

So, from that standpoint, that’s why I always see the attraction between Zuko and Katara and why I see it lacking between Aang and Katara. Zuko and Katara’s story doesn’t need some cheap little throwaway moments to shine. It’s integral to both characters’ stories. We are shown not told of the way these characters feel about each other. Given everything we know about Katara, her goals, her values, her past loves…absolutely everything points to Zuko being the true subject of her feelings.

Because let’s be honest. The ending I just described is so much more powerful and so much more Katara than seeing her being relegated back to a doe-eyed love interest for Aang to kiss. It hardly even made sense—Katara played no role at all at the culmination of Aang’s arc. She was relegated back to a love interest, rather than the powerful figure we saw fight alongside Zuko.

#zutara #katara #zuko #atla #anti kataang #canon critical #jet #haru #katara deserved better #aang critical #meta #analysis

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wilwheaton · 5 months ago

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I hadn't seen that Lego image before. The "crying Wesley" annoys me. Big, goofy, Boimler-esque grinning Wesley would have been great, as I always remembered the character being excited and enthusiastic.

I was of the age that Wesley was my audience identification character. I preferred when he was more complex and interestingly flawed in later seasons, but I always wanted to be more like him.

I'm sorry that you endured all of that crap over the years. It's REALLY not fair to you, and I can imagine how tedious it must be. But I'm glad that you were part of TNG, I was always thrilled when you made guest appearances after leaving as a regular, and I love much of your work after your work in later years (Chaos 4EVER!).

So yes, there are many of us that loved Wesley. Especially us fellow Gordies. Thanks for doing what you do and have done, even (and especially) when it's been really hard.

You are so right! Thank you. I would love to see him with that level of enthusiasm.

I have this fan fiction idea where Wesley goes to the Cerritos, and all he wants is for Mariner to think he's cool, because they went to academy together.

Meanwhile, Boimler is just BESIDE himself that Wesley, who knows and works with a lot of Boimler's heroes, is on the ship. So he keeps interrupting Wesley, and somehow Wesley really steps in it.

Boimler feels badly about it, so he just nerds out REAL HARD at Wesley about something, and it speaks so loudly to Wesley's inner nerd, they end up on a major science project together that OF COURSE saves the Cerritos.

And at the end of it, when Wesley is about to leave, and he thinks he's impressed Mariner, she just ROASTS him in the most hilarious way possible. I haven't figured out what it is, yet.

ROLL CREDITS.

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wordsarelife · 7 months ago

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—you’re not sorry

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: you and mattheo run into each other years after your relationship has ended

warnings: angst, reader is pregnant

word count: 1.4k

you mindlessly stirred the cup of coffee in front of you, just using a gentle move of your fingers to control the spoon magically. it was a day like any other in late november.

you had finished work earlier than expected, leaving time to drink a coffee in your favorite café, before you were heading home.

"y/n?" you recognized the voice right as you heard it, you heart beating faster suddenly.

"mattheo" you said, raising your eyes from the cup to look at the man in front of you.

"hey" mattheo cooed. a feeling of guilt entered your chest as your eyes collided with his. the same eyes that looked so grown now had been so sad the last time you had seen them.

he raised his eyebrows, pointing at the chair in front of you and you nodded, before he sank down on the cushion.

he looked the exact same, just a bit older. the black suit he wore looked awfully like the ones draco had always plastered himself in. but it looked different on mattheo than it had done on draco. it suited him and made him look all the more flattering, the fabric of his suit engulfing his muscular build. it had been a few years since hogwarts.

"how have you been?" mattheo smiled, and you couldn't help but remember a time when he had smiled at you every day.

you had met mattheo on the first day in hogwarts, both of you unknowing eleven year olds, trying to fit into a world that was just beginning to be yours.

you were in the same year, the same house and had most of the same friends. still, you never really spoke until your third year, when mattheo asked you for a quill, because he forgot his.

ever since then you had become friends, your friends and his forming into a group in the following years, considering that your best friend and his started dating in fourth year, so you saw mattheo a lot more often.

what started as a simple friendship turned into more during fifth year when mattheo consoled you after a particularly bad date. he asked you to hogsmead a week later and the rest was history.

he was a good boyfriend. you relationship consisted of sharing secret rendezvous in the room of requirement, mattheo had stumbled upon after a detention with flitwick, late-night walks around the castle, and whispered conversations in the slytherin common room.

what felt like heaven to you, as you got to know him and everything that was inside of him, was hard for mattheo. there were just parts of him he didn't want you to see, scared it would change the image you had of him.

so while you thought everything was perfect, mattheo started to slowly pull away. you didn't notice it at first, excusing his behavior as a result of having to study much more because of tests and exams. but you grew suspicious when exam season ended and he was still keeping you at an arms length.

you decided that confronting him was the only way to know what was going on.

"is it because of a girl?" you asked as he came back to the common room late one evening. the rest of the house had already gone to bed, but you had spent your time reading, waiting for your boyfriend.

"y/n!" mattheo almost shrieked "what are you still doing up?"

"i could ask you the same thing" you said, standing up and crossing your arms. "where have you been? i haven't seen you since this afternoon"

"nowhere" mattheo shook his head, ready to walk around you and go to bed.

"that's not a good answer" you raised your brows "why are you behaving like this?" you asked, the hurt you were feeling swinging in your voice now.

"what? i'm not doing anything"

"yes" you protested "you act like you don't want me anymore, you're pushing me away, mattheo"

he sighed, but kept quiet.

"it's, alright" you assured "you can tell me everything"

"i don't want to, y/n" mattheo admitted. "there are parts of me you wouldn't be able to deal with"

"don't be ridiculous" you argued, shaking your head at his stubbornness. "i'm not in a relationship with you, because i only want to see your good parts"

"you don't understand this"

"what i do understand is that you're hiding from me" you stepped in his way as he tried to walk around you "and you don't have to hide these parts of you. i can deal with it, i promise"

you noticed the sudden anger on his face too late. "i don't want you to" he screamed, pushing you away as he walked across the room and up the steps. you watched after him in shock. mattheo had never screamed at you. not in the two years you had been dating, even when you would fight.

you spent the following days ignoring the other, until days turned into weeks and both of you decided that it was better to end your relationship. school ended not much after that and both of you parted ways.

you started your career in the ministry and only occasionally heard what mattheo was doing from common friends. you did not try to reach out to him and he didn't try to reach you either.

it hadn't always been easy. mattheo had been your first love and your relationship had ended so suddenly, so heartbreakingly, that you always asked yourself what you could've done different.

"how have you been?" mattheo asked and now that you looked at him once again, he had a lot less in common with your matty. he was a grown man and you didn't feel the same anymore when his eyes fell on your face. that he would see you had once been everything that mattered to you. now he was a stranger and his eyes felt foreign, even if they resembled someone you had once loved.

"good" you smiled. "i haven't seen you in a long time, how have you been?"

he nodded. "great" he smiled "i got married last week"

"wow!" you gushed, only noticing the ring on his finger now. "congratulations!"

"thank you" he mused, before he pointed to your hand "you're married too?"

you nodded, as you softly traced your ring with a finger. "yes" you laughed "and we're expecting our first child" your hand fell to your belly.

mattheo looked around the table, only noticing your pregnant belly now. "i'm happy for you" he said with a sudden sincerity in his voice.

"i'm happy for you too"

"maybe, in another universe" he left the sentence unfished, but you knew what he was talking about.

"maybe" you smiled. as you watched him closely. you weren't sure if it was sorrow or regret that was plaguing his features.

"it was good" he said, as if to reassure himself.

"yes, but we don't have to feel sorry about what happened anymore"

"not sorry" mattheo shook his head "just nostalgic"

you smiled brightly at that, knowing that both of you would always treasure your time together, even if the end of it had broken both of your hearts.

mattheo outstretched his hand, to squeeze yours, before he stood up. "take care, y/n" he nodded as he stepped away from the table.

"you too" you muttered, a hint of sadness in your features as you watched him leave like you did all those years ago..

curly hair, tear stained cheeks and an undone tie lazily thrown across his shoulders, as he looked at you in sadness. his eyes reflecting yours.

"i love you" you muttered, your cheeks just as tearstained as his "but i think i have to let you go"

"i love you too," mattheo said, his voice heavy with regret. "i wish things were different, but I know this is what's best for both of us"

"it is" you nodded. mattheo outstretched his hand, taking yours, before he squeezed it. both of you shared the same sadness, even consoling each other, for a short moment, before he looked at you for the last time and walked away.

you were happy for him. happy that he had learned to love the right way, without having to hide parts of who he really was. and you were happy for you too, knowing that your life had turned out the way you had hoped it to.

and for the first time when you looked back on your relationship, you knew what he was feeling about it, and you knew that the feeling was a deep-rooted form of nostalgia. and after all, you're not sorry.

#lizzys1kfollowercelebration #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo fluff #slytherin group #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin #lizzysthousandfollowerspecial #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

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rainforestakiie · 26 days ago

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mph funny and cute idea!

one day, lucifer suddenly finds that he can hear adam's thoughts, even though adam is in heaven. at first, lucifer is disgusted and annoyed, expecting adam's thoughts to be repulsive. but to his surprise, every thought that crosses adam's mind is innocent, sweet, and random. adam is like a cinnamon bun in hiding, and lucifer ends up genuinely enjoying hearing them. he finds himself smiling in amusement whenever adam's thoughts pop into his mind. most of the time, when he's in a particularly bad mood, just one of adam's innocent thoughts is enough to cheer him up.

One day, deep in the fiery heart of Hell, Lucifer was pacing restlessly, his wings twitching with irritation. He had been having a particularly trying time with his underlings, and the pit’s infernal noise wasn’t helping his sour mood. He loathed the never-ending cacophony. The silence he yearned for felt like a distant memory.

But then, something strange happened.

A thought whispered through his mind—a soft, almost innocent ripple that didn’t belong to him. It wasn’t like the usual voices in his head; it was different—quiet, unfamiliar, and far too... pure.

"I wonder if the clouds today are like cotton candy... I haven't seen one in ages."

Lucifer froze, his wings stilled mid-flap. That wasn’t his thought. He scowled. Who is this? His mind twisted in irritation. Heaven. The thought was so mundane, so detached from the endless suffering he was surrounded by. His first instinct was to crush it, to banish whatever foolishness had dared invade his domain. But then the thought continued, unbothered.

"I hope the flowers in the garden bloom well this season. I think they'd look nice by the river."

Lucifer’s brow furrowed. It was—sweet. Far too sweet. His lip curled in disgust. Heaven’s purity was repulsive enough, but this? This was beyond irritating. He had no use for innocence.

But no matter how much he tried to focus on his anger or hatred, the thoughts came back.

"I think I'd like a nap later. I’m so tired, but maybe I’ll read first."

Lucifer’s irritation deepened. Was this some kind of celestial trick? Was someone mocking him?

But then, something unexpected happened.

"Maybe I’ll find a new place to explore. There's so much in Heaven I haven't seen yet."

For reasons he didn’t understand, a strange warmth spread through him. He gritted his teeth. This can’t be real.

But it was. The thoughts kept coming, like the soft flutter of wings on a breeze. Sweet, random musings that seemed as harmless as they were odd. And in some twisted way, Lucifer found himself... enjoying them.

"I should probably tidy up my room today. A little organization goes a long way."

A small laugh bubbled up in his chest before he could suppress it. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t the bitter, fiery vengeance he was used to. But as the day passed, more of Adam's thoughts drifted through his mind. Simple things. Little joys. It was like hearing a melody from a far-off place—soft, unpretentious, and oddly soothing.

"Do you think the birds in Heaven like singing? I hope they do."

Lucifer smiled before he even realized it. He couldn’t help himself. The thoughts made his heart ache, not with sorrow but with something strange, something he hadn’t felt in eons. It was peace.

By the time the day had ended, Lucifer was in a better mood than he’d been in for ages. Despite himself, he found himself looking forward to the next random thought that would float into his consciousness.

"Maybe I’ll find a nice quiet spot to think today. Just for a while."

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Adam…you’re so weird," he muttered under his breath, remembering the way Adam’s thoughts felt like a hidden sweetness in a world of bitterness. Lucifer wasn’t sure what was happening, but he didn’t mind.

For once, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

The next day, Lucifer found himself wandering the desolate depths of Hell with an odd anticipation, as if something was waiting for him. And it was.

"I wonder why rabbits have such long ears. Maybe they can hear better than we can."

Lucifer stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing. That voice—so soft, so curious—was back. Adam’s thought was simple, yet it carried with it a kind of innocence that made Lucifer’s scowl falter. Why would he even think of that?

"And why are turtles so slow? Maybe they're just wise and take their time with everything."

Lucifer blinked, momentarily distracted. The thought was bizarre in its simplicity, yet oddly comforting. The ridiculousness of it almost made him want to laugh. Of course, Adam would wonder about turtles, of all things.

He shook his head. No, he was not going to get soft. This was beneath him. But then, as if the universe was conspiring against his resolve, another thought drifted in, unbidden.

"Do whales have their own language? I bet they do. They probably have conversations we can’t even imagine."

Lucifer felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips before he could stop it. Language? The sheer wonder in Adam’s voice was so pure, it made Lucifer’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t explain. Whales. Conversations. It was like hearing a child ask about the stars, and Lucifer... liked it. Far too much.

"I wonder if the stars in the sky are actually like little eyes, watching us."

Lucifer paused, a slow chuckle escaping him. Stars are watching us? It was such an innocent, bizarre thought that it almost felt like Adam was reaching through Heaven to try and touch Lucifer’s soul. It was an odd, comforting sensation, like the warmth of sunlight on a cold day.

The thoughts were never anything grand or profound. They weren’t about power or war, not about the universe's deep secrets. They were simple, fleeting musings on the world around him. Yet, Lucifer found himself listening to them more eagerly, and his heart was lighter than it had been in centuries.

"Why do cats always seem to sit in the sun? Is it because it feels nice? I bet it does."

Lucifer's brow furrowed, an unexpected chuckle escaping him. Yes, Adam. It feels nice.

What was this? Was he—enjoying this? The simplicity of it? The purity? The odd randomness of it all?

"I wonder what it would be like to fly freely. Just spread my wings and feel the wind."

Lucifer blinked. This time, the thought lingered longer in his mind. Flying. For a brief moment, he remembered the feeling, the freedom of wings soaring through endless skies, the wind rushing past him. A feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to recall in centuries. The thought of Adam wanting something so simple, so human, stirred something in him

"Do birds ever get tired of flying? Or do they just like it forever?"

Lucifer shook his head, feeling something like a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. What was Adam doing to him? His thoughts were like soft tendrils, wrapping around the edges of his dark heart and softening it. He wanted to hear more. And more. He found himself longing for Adam’s next stray thought, even as he loathed how it made him feel.

"I think it would be nice to find a big, fluffy cloud and just lie on it."

Lucifer closed his eyes, the image of Adam lying on a cloud—peaceful, content, drifting without a care—filling his mind. How absurd. How sweet. He let the thought linger, letting it fill him in a way he couldn’t describe. For just a moment, he was almost at peace.

Then, as if he’d been shaken from a dream, he snapped back to reality, glaring at the fiery landscape of Hell surrounding him.

"Do fish ever get lonely, I wonder? Or are they always happy swimming around with their friends?"

Lucifer’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought made something inside him stir—an unexpected, almost painful ache. Lonely, Adam had thought. Lonely.

Lucifer didn’t want to admit it, but he felt that word more deeply than he ever thought he would.

"I hope all the animals in Heaven are happy. I think they are."

With that final thought, a quiet peace settled over Lucifer. It wasn’t something he could fight. It was as though Adam’s innocent curiosity had become a balm to his weary soul, soothing the wounds he’d carried for eons. A cinnamon bun, Lucifer thought absently, his lips twitching upward again at the absurdity of it all.

The grand hall of Heaven was filled with the usual celestial chatter. The soft glow of ethereal light shimmered off the marble pillars, and the air was thick with the sound of archangels and lesser beings debating matters of judgment, order, and the fate of the souls. But Lucifer was no longer paying attention to the flow of the conversation. His gaze was fixed not on the grand assembly but on Adam, who sat at the far end of the room, his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted as he listened to someone—likely Sera—speak.

Lucifer hadn’t expected to feel so drawn to Adam’s presence. After all, Adam had always been the naive, loud-mouthed child of Heaven, clumsy in his optimism and reckless in his attempts to bring peace. The angels often mocked him for it, his innocence treated as weakness, but now… now Lucifer found himself listening intently, not to what Adam said, but to what he was thinking.

Adam’s thoughts, as always, were strangely random. They buzzed through Lucifer’s mind like little bursts of light, soft and unbothered by the chaos of the world around him. It was the little things that Adam wondered about, the trivialities that Lucifer never even considered.

"I wonder what crystals the table is made out of… it looks shiny. Maybe it’s marble, but it’s too shiny for that."

Lucifer blinked, his eyes narrowing in quiet amusement. The thought was so… innocent. He couldn’t help but smile a little. He was supposed to be the prince of darkness, the ruler of Hell, and yet Adam’s curious musings had a way of making him feel lighter, as if all the weight of his kingdom, all the weight of the war, could be forgotten for just a moment.

"Why is Sera’s chair always the biggest? I guess it’s because she’s always so serious. But it doesn’t look very comfortable. I bet she’d rather have one with more cushions.”

Lucifer felt a chuckle escape him before he could stop it. More cushions? Adam's endless questions, simple as they were, were like a breath of fresh air in the oppressive atmosphere of the council hall. It was amusing, almost absurd, how much he cared about things no one else even thought twice about.

He turned his gaze to Sera, who was speaking now, her words as cold and sharp as ever. Adam’s thoughts, however, remained as soft as ever, floating through Lucifer’s mind like little clouds.

"I think Charlie only ever wears red because it’s her favorite color. She should wear more blue though. It’d look nice on her."

Lucifer’s lips quirked into a smile. Blue? Even in Heaven, in this grand meeting of celestial beings, Adam was thinking about clothes. He could almost picture Adam’s wide-eyed wonder as he glanced around, observing everything with the kind of innocent curiosity that was impossible to suppress. He was still, as ever, a cinnamon bun in hiding. How charming, Lucifer thought.

He let the thought drift away, but then, Adam’s next thoughts tugged at something deeper.

"I hope Charlie succeeds. She’s been working so hard. I want her to do well, for the sake of the sinners, and for the baby human souls too. They need someone like her. I hope she knows that."

Lucifer stilled. Charlie? His gaze flicked toward his precious daughter, who was locked in an increasingly heated argument with Sera. The two were debating—loudly, as usual—about the fate of the sinners, but in the midst of their quarrel, Adam’s thoughts cut through the noise with surprising clarity.

"She’ll figure it out," Adam thought, "She always does. She’s strong, and she cares so much. She takes after Lucifer a lot. I like that."

Lucifer blinked. That was… unexpected. Adam’s thoughts were never this focused, this dedicated. The thought of Adam, the same naïve Adam who couldn’t seem to think beyond the next cloud, holding such admiration for Charlie, was a revelation. But hearing him like this, hearing him offer such simple encouragement to Charlie—his genuine desire for her to succeed—it was… unexpectedly moving.

"I hope the sinners get a second chance," Adam thought, his mind filled with a quiet, unshakeable hope. "They deserve a chance to be better. I’d really like to see them have one. I think they can do it."

Lucifer’s heart twisted, and for the briefest of moments, his vision blurred. A second chance? The words hung in his mind like a song he couldn’t escape. The thought of redemption, of forgiveness, it cut through him with a bittersweet sting.

Adam, Lucifer thought. He had always underestimated Adam, seen him only as a naive fool. But these thoughts—this raw, untainted hope for the world—told him more than any words ever could.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. There was something in Adam’s thoughts—something so pure, so unlike the cynicism that had hardened Lucifer's heart—that for the first time in a long while, he felt a strange, undeniable pang. A hope that was not his own.

As the debate between Sera and Charlie grew louder, Adam’s thoughts remained soft but insistent, a quiet undercurrent of love and encouragement. Lucifer stayed silent, sitting in the midst of it all, listening to Adam's musings, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn’t feel the urge to crush it, to silence it.

Instead, he let it wash over him, like a cool breeze through the inferno.

Lucifer hoped he would never lose this new connection with Adam.

Adam’s thoughts drifted again, and this time, they were softer, quieter, as if he were trying to keep them to himself. Lucifer leaned in, as always, drawn to the subtle hum of Adam’s mind. He could sense the shift in tone, the wistful yearning that always preceded the more personal, fragile thoughts. The noise of Heaven—the clatter of voices, the squabbles, the endless debates about the fate of souls—was growing louder around them. But it didn’t drown out Adam’s quiet reflection.

"I miss Eden."

The words rang through Lucifer’s mind, simple and poignant. There was no grandiosity in Adam’s voice, no deep philosophical pondering, just a raw, almost childlike longing for something that had been lost.

Lucifer closed his eyes, his chest tight, feeling a familiar ache gnaw at him. Eden. That garden. The days when everything had been… simpler. When it had been just the two of them.

Adam, sitting by the crystal-clear waters, asking endless questions about the animals, his eyes bright with wonder as he wandered through the lush gardens. Lucifer would watch him, always amused by Adam’s childlike curiosity. The world had been full of peace then, before everything changed.

Adam’s thoughts continued, drifting through the silence like soft winds rustling the trees of Eden. His thoughts were scattered but persistent, as if he couldn’t help but return to it over and over again.

"It’s just too noisy here now. Everything’s a mess. I can’t hear myself think. I miss the quiet of Eden."

Lucifer’s jaw tightened, the words striking a chord deep within him. He didn’t realize how much he longed for those days until he heard Adam’s thoughts. How much he missed the stillness, the gentle cadence of life before the war, before everything had been broken.

Everything had been right in Eden. They’d walked through the gardens together, side by side. Lucifer had been his guide, his protector, and in those moments, there had been nothing but peace. No wars. No rebellion. Just the two of them, with the world unfolding in harmony around them.

"It was just so… peaceful," Adam’s thought lingered in Lucifer’s mind. "Why is everything so hard now?"

Lucifer’s heart clenched at that. He knew that feeling all too well. Why was everything so hard? It was a question he’d asked himself a thousand times. Life had never felt like this before. Confusion. Noise. Struggle.

He thought about the long conversations they used to have—those quiet, deep talks beneath the shade of Eden’s trees. About everything and nothing at all. They had been so close back then. So… uncomplicated. But now?

Now, Lucifer could barely remember the last time he had shared a moment like that with Adam. It was hard to remember what peace even felt like, let alone trust it again.

Without realizing it, Lucifer muttered aloud, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them.

“I miss Eden too.”

For a moment, the words hung in the air, and it took Lucifer several seconds to process what he had just said. His eyes widened in sudden realization, as if a barrier had cracked open in his chest, letting something long buried spill out into the open. His heart skipped a beat. He had spoken without meaning to. He had shared something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for so long.

Adam stared at him.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #fanfic #guitarduck #au #fanficiton

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accio-victuuri · 1 month ago

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xiao zhan - kai xiao zao’s director (Xi Lou) Weibo update : letter to xz to celebrate 6 years of cooperation

"Six Years" To the late-maturing of "Us”

One year, two years, three years, four years, five cold and hot seasons, six springs and autumns; how beautiful is Chinese, there are so many interesting quantifiers to describe 365 days, time is like sand between fingers, no matter how tightly you hold it, it still slips silently from the gaps, piling up into the tall or low sand dunes full of stories on the long river of life, and the wind blows, and the past is flying.

2024 is a year of precipitation. "WM", which has been prepared for a long time, finally meets everyone. We met "WM", and the old friend showed his versatility as a singer. I still remember the first day the album was launched, a friend of mine on QQ com said to me: I haven't seen such a lineup for a long time. Looking at his appearance that had never seen the "world", I calmly said: "Nothing else, just use your heart", turned around and left, hiding my merits and fame. Thinking of the Excel spreadsheet five years ago, we were also new to the world. Actually, I want to say that I know what "WM" has experienced. Its success is not accidental, but the result of the gentleness of spring breeze and rain, and it is inevitable that it has accumulated over the years.

The birthday in 2024 was spent in the crew, which is not unusual. After all, most of the year, greetings were basically in the crew every time, but no matter how busy you are, you have to have a sense of ceremony. Xiao Zao specially customized a birthday cake and sent it to the crew. Then a friend in the studio sent me a picture of many cakes and picked Xiao Zao. Sure enough, the one who understands XZ's heart the most is XZ. After receiving the picture, I praised Xiao Zao because I know that it is easy to work hard for one year on the same thing, but it is difficult to work hard for six years.

I just got back from a business trip. It is now 22:42 on January 4th. I am sitting in my study table. As I write this, the phonograph album happened to play "Confessions of a Night Person". There is a sentence in Mo Yan's "Late Bloomers": "People with good natures mature late, and are forced to mature by bad people. Although they become wise later, they are still kind and sincere." I sometimes wonder why we can walk hand in hand for six years. Are we all a group of late bloomers? "When others are smart, we are stupid and dull; when others weigh the pros and cons, we are sincere; when others have exhausted their scheming and gradually fallen into a state of decline, we just happen to be wise." We are all a group of simple people, which may be the ultimate reason why fate can continue. If there is a chance, I will sing "Confessions of a Night Person" for everyone. This is my favorite.

Some friends told me in private that the 2024 Xiao Zao is a bit dull. In fact, I want to say that compared with the short-term and vigorous forgetfulness, I prefer the long-term mutual support. Companionship is the longest confession. This affection beyond commercial endorsement is worth cherishing forever.

Do you still remember the "Legend of the Condor Heroes" mentioned in "Five Years"? This one-year agreement will finally be fulfilled in 23 days. Xiao Zao invites everyone to watch the movie together in 9 major cities across the country, feel the swordsmanship, and regain childhood dreams together. Oh, by the way, the hero Guo Jing should also be a late bloomer.

We still need to give the "old couple" some sense of ceremony. Today, let's roll up our sleeves, tie up our hair, open our hearts, learn from the hero, and cook with him as wine.

As usual, toast a bowl:

Cheers to simplicity

Cheers to peace and safety

Cheers to health

Cheers to eating well

May the flowers be the same year after year, and the people be the same year after year!

Sixth year, please give me more advice.

#xiao zhan #awwww this is so nice he always does this #kxz partnership with xz is so special!#if you know you know #accio victuuri translation

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illicitlimerence-writes · 2 years ago

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baby bear | c. leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 1.7k words request: nope. warnings: fluff, a baby, this is really badly written bc i haven’t written an actual story in monthsssss. this was based on this tiktok i saw a few weeks ago, plsss watch it before reading if you want the context, otherwise it won't make much sense. tell me this isn't the most charles energy you've ever seen. a/n: look who remembered her tumblr password. i haven't been on here for so long... what's new? what are the new trends? how are we liking the new f1 season? how are you? perhaps posting once every three months will be my personality from now on.

my masterlist

“look what i bought.”

those words were not unusual to hear, especially coming from charles, especially since you found out you were pregnant. you looked up from the book you were reading, raising your eyebrows at the sight of charles’ bright eyes and him trying to bite back a grin.

“so… i was wondering around, and stumbled upon the baby store,” he started, you nodded, knowing he obviously went there on purpose, “and found the cutest, most perfect little suit for the baby,”

“okay…” you started, placing a bookmark and closing the book as you sat up, extending your arm, asking him to get closer. “is it cute?”

“the cutest.” he said, placing the bag on the bed and taking out the suit.

“aw, charles,” your heart immediately melted at the sight of a brown bear suit, with a small hoodie and bear ears. “it looks cozy, and big…” you noticed.

“yeah, she’s gonna look perfect in it.” he said, leaning forward to kiss your lips. after that, he walked to the crib you’d set up in your room, to be able to reach the baby faster in the first few months of her life. in there, you’d set up the bag you would bring to the hospital when she was ready to join the world.

“what are you doing?” you said, getting up and walking to him, you wrapped an arm around him, placing your head on his shoulder.

“i want her to wear this when she comes home,” he explained, and you could tell just by the way he blurted that out a little too fast, that he meant it, and that he’d probably already imagined the sight of your beautiful new baby in his arms. you wanted to tell him that this maybe was a bit too big for her, but you didn’t want to break his bubble.

“okay, but we have to wash this first, alright?” you smiled, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek while he nodded, knowing you were right.

“my little bella bear.” he sighed as he caressed the soft suit.

five months later, your little baby girl, isabella, had already outgrown her original suit, your heart broke a little, knowing how much charles loved seeing her in it.

he was currently out of the country, but already on his way back home after a few days on the other side of the world. you were rocking your little girl to sleep when you heard your phone ring. you grabbed it and smiled as you saw charles’ face fill your screen.

“hey,” you whispered, tilting your phone down so he could see the baby.

“hi, my baby,” he said, making you smile. “why isn’t she wearing the suit?” he asked.

“charles, she wore it yesterday,” you chuckled, remembering the way he almost screamed in delight as he saw her in it the day before.

“yeah, and?”

“she can’t wear it every day,” you laughed softly, not wanting to disturb her. “i’ll wash it tonight.”

“okay, i can’t wait to be back home. i want to hold you both,”

“what time do you get here?” you smiled, having missed him after being away for almost a week. luckily, the next three races were close to home.

“i’m not sure. i’ll check and let you know. but don’t worry, lorenzo will pick me up. can i ask you a favor, though?”

“of course.”

“can you dress her in the bear suit?” he almost pleaded, pouting.

“fine,” you laughed, “you’ll see your little bear tomorrow.”

charles would not, in fact, be seeing his little bear. because one cruel thing about having a baby is how quick they grow. it was bizarre, since just two days ago it still fit her perfectly, but now her legs were a little too long to fit comfortably, her head a little too big to place the hood on it.

you swore under your breath, knowing how heartbroken charles would be once he found out the news. you dressed bella in a different outfit, some white overalls that had little bears embroidered on it with a brown shirt underneath. it was the best you could do.

but then you received a text from charles.

‘can't wait to see you and bella bear.’ followed by a white heart and a bear emoji.

“oh, my god,” you mumbled, grabbing bella, your handbag and car keys.

you drove to the store you knew charles had bought the original bear suit from, with bella on your arm, since you didn’t have time to grab her stroller or anything, you were thinking out loud, talking to bella as you walked through the store and looked for the suit.

“the things we do for daddy, he just loves seeing you in that suit,” you said, kissing her temple as you walked through the store. “there it is.” you walked there, looking for the right size. “you know what? let’s get a few more.” you said, grabbing enough suits to hopefully fit her until at least her first birthday. bella giggled, curling her fists on the fabric of the suit. “you love the bear suit, too, don’t you?” you asked her, kissing her cheek. “my bella bear,” you often found yourself repeating the nickname charles gave her from that very first day a few weeks before she was born.

you quickly drove home and changed her into the suit, and waited for charles to arrive.

“i’m home!” he said, about twenty minutes after you got home.

“hey,” you walked to him, feeling his hands on your waist as he lifted you up, “i missed you.” you said as you buried your face in his neck.

“i missed you too, my love. i’m so happy i don’t have to travel too far away now.”

“i know. and maybe bella and i can join you?” you asked, having contemplated that idea while charles was gone.

“you think she’s ready? are you?” you shrugged.

“we won’t know unless we try.”

“okay, then… we’ll try.” he placed a kiss to your lips, one that took your breath away like it was the very first one. “where is she?”

“napping,” you answered, slipping your fingers between his and leading him to bella’s room. she’d already upgraded from the crib in your shared room to her own.

“my little bella bear, i missed you so much,” he said, kneeling in front of the crib and running his knuckle softly against her chubby cheek. “you look so pretty in your bear suit.”

and as months passed, charles was still unaware of the change of suits. every two or three months you’d change into the next size, taking advantage of the weather changing -telling charles that it was too warm for bella to wear it as often-, and the times he had to leave home. you would rummage through the drawers in bella’s room, where you kept all the suits she had grown out of.

it sometimes came with little slip-ups, like the time you forgot about one small rip in the original suit that you’d sewn together. as a force of habit, charles’ hand reached for that spot, just to make sure it was still there, that it wasn’t growing any bigger. but it wasn’t there.

“huh,” he hummed out loud, catching your attention.

“what?” you asked, looking up from the puzzle you were piecing together.

“nothing, it’s just… the rip, it feels weird.” he said, running his finger up and down the place where the rip was supposed to be.

“oh, maybe it got messed up in the wash,” you said the first thing that came to your mind.

“maybe,”

“hey, can you help me find this piece?” you asked, changing the subject quickly to get it out of his head.

in the blink of an eye, her first birthday was approaching, and so did the choice to pick a theme for her birthday party.

“she’s been really into flowers lately,” you told charles one morning, as you both helped bella stand up and encouraged her to walk from parent to parent.

“hmm… flowers and rainbows?” he said, holding bella up as she steadied herself. “you like that bella bear?” he asked her. you reached to your side holding a flower plushie you’d bought her a few days ago.

“flowers, bella?” you held it in front of you, but bella turned around, playing with charles instead. “that’s a no, i guess,” you chuckled.

“i know…” charles said, setting bella down and walking to her bed. he grabbed her teddy bear, “bears?”

“bear!” you both turned your heads at the same time, staring at bella.

“oh my god, did she-”

“i think she did, come here,” you said, grabbing the teddy from him, “bear?”

“bear!” she repeated, and you held her in your arms as charles sat next to you.

“your first word, baby…” he murmured, and you looked up at him, heart melting at the sight of his eyes shining bright at your daughter.

“what about a bear party?” you suggested.

“i was thinking the same thing. i’ll go to the store tomorrow to buy her a new suit, now we can add this one to the collection,” he said, putting on the little hoodie.

“what?” you asked, completely taken aback by his comment.

“yeah, the drawer filled with the suits,” he pointed at it.

“you knew?”

“what? that you’d been secretly switching the suits, ripping and sewing it back together so that i wouldn’t notice? yeah,” he said.

“then why- how-”

“that first suit… you really thought i wouldn’t find it weird how the rip was there, then it wasn’t, and then it magically appeared again?”

“you just loved that suit so much, and i didn’t want to break your heart once she started to grow them out, so i got a bunch and kept them there.”

“i know. i’ve seen them,”

“oh my god,” you groaned, leaning against him as he laughed.

“i love you. it was so hard to keep this to myself.”

“how do you think i felt?” you laughed, looking down at bella. “why didn’t you tell me anything, missy?” you tickled her belly, smiling at her loud giggles.

“come on, bella bear, we have to go find a new suit for your birthday party.”

BYE this is really bad, i'm sorry.

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prolestari · 1 year ago

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smoking.

Sanji x Reader Rated E

The best part of an argument is always the make up.

You wake up to the sound of clattering, the noise too loud and the sun too bright. "What the hell?" you mutter, lifting your head from the pillow as you squint and look around.

The bed next to you is messed but empty, and you press your forehead to your palm for a moment as you catch your bearings. You remember playing cards with Nami and Zoro, and when it was clear you were not going to win you had started to drink. The others had eventually joined and when Sanji pulled out some vintage something-or-other he found in gods-know-where, it was pretty much over for you.

But not for the night, it seems, considering you are in Sanji's room and are wearing one of his undershirts with nothing else. You sigh and roll to your side. Every time you swear it's the last, it never seems to be.

You get a nice view of his bare back as he bends over to rustle through a trunk, his pants loose around his hips. "Where the damn devil is it?" he huffs.

"What are you looking for?" you ask, pushing yourself up.

"My lighter. The one with the silver case." He straightens and kicks the side of the trunk, making the lid slam. You wince at the sound as he moves on to a set of drawers. "I had it just the other day."

"Do you have to make such a racket?" You sigh as you flop over to your back to stretch. "What time is it?"

"It's seven o'clock and I can't get breakfast started until I've had a smoke," he says.

"I have matches in my coat pocket," you yawn.

Sanji shoots you a sour look. "Matches are unrefined," he says. "I need my lighter." He continues banging through the room as you rub your forehead, cursing under his breath. A minute later he comes around the bed and nudges it with his knee. "Get up for a minute?"

"Why?" you whine.

"I want to check under the mattress."

"Why would your lighter be under the mattress?"

"I don't know? It's not on the little dish where I keep it so it could be anywhere."

You heave a sigh and roll over to the other side, sliding to the edge so he can lift the mattress and peek under. "Just use the matches."

"I rolled these ones myself. I'm not wasting them on matches."

"Fire is fire."

He drops the bed and huffs at you, putting his hands on his hips. He would look deliciously handsome if you weren't so annoyed. You yawn and run your hands through your hair as he looks at you. "You haven't seen it?"

"Why would I have seen it?" You gesture around. "If you kept a better track of your things, then it wouldn't be a problem."

Sanji frowns as he looks around. His room is what you would call organized chaos: it has a clear system, although what that system is or how it works, only Sanji seems to know. His collection of bottles and cookbooks overflow the shelves, his own papers where he keeps his recipe notes sitting in tilting piles. "I keep track of everything," he argues.

"Except your lighter." You stand and start to get dressed, looking around for your clothes that are now scattered as Sanji conducts his search. You move around awkwardly in the cramped space, bumping into one another as Sanji climbs around you. At one point he steps on your pants and you swat him on the backside, earning a swat in return.

"Watch it," he mutters.

"Keep your hands to yourself," you snap back. You shoot him a scowl as you tug on your pants.

"You weren't saying that last night," he smirks.

You roll your eyes as you pull the belt closed. "You are a pain in my ass. Did you find your lighter?"

"No. I need a cigarette."

"At this point, so do I." You sigh and fold your arms. "Don't you have like a dozen lighters?"

"They are all for different seasons. Right now I use the one that is silver plated. It works best in the cold weather, and won't rust in this particular type of salt air. If I use one of the others, then—"

"Forget it." You hold up a hand before snatching up your coat. "Best of luck to you."

"You mean you aren't going to help?" he cries.

"Help?" You look around. "You're a grown man who lost a lighter. You have several others and about three different ways to make fire on this boat. No, I'm not helping you."

"You probably moved it." He points a finger at you as he steps closer. "Did you hide it?"

You know he's joking, but it irritates you anyway. "If you don't get your finger out of my face I'll break it off."

"Oh yeah?" He stands so you are nearly touching now, you scowling upwards as Sanji smirks down. "You loved my fingers yesterday."

"Do you have only the one joke?"

"Do you have my lighter?"

Annoyed now, you reach into your coat pocket and pull out the matches. You flick them at Sanji, smiling in satisfaction when they smack him in between the eyes. "My compliment for the chef," you joke, stepping around him.

Another slap lands on your backside, and you spin. You grab Sanji's wrist and all at once you are tussling, half cursing and half laughing as you each try to land another smack on each other. Now out of breath, you yank his hair, earning a yelp as he lets go of your waist.

"Serves you right," you snap.

Sanji gives you a pinch before you can jump away. "You're always manhandling me," he complains.

"Me?" you gape. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

You gesture to the bed. "How drunk was I last night? And you took advantage of me."

Sanji scoffs, his mouth open wide as he huffs several breaths. His hands go back to his waist as he shifts from foot to foot, looking like he wants to both laugh and throttle you. "Take advantage of you?" he yelps. "For your information, you were all over me last night. I just tried to get you to bed—"

"So you admit you took me to bed drunk—"

"To sleep, love, and you were all... handsy." He gives a fake shudder, but you narrow your eyes. "There was no stopping you."

You fold your arms. "You have like sixty pounds on me, at least. I think you could have fended me off if you didn't want it."

"Ha! So you admit it was all you." Sanji grins as he snaps his fingers. "See? You came to my room, wanting to take advantage of me—"

"You're so full of shit!"

"My body is a temple of male power," he continues, ignoring you. "It is a finely tuned machine that you defile with your horniness. It's all I can do to keep your hands off of me half the day."

You blink at him, completely confused by how ridiculous he sounds. "You have to be one of the dumbest men I've ever met."

Sanji frowns, folding his arms over his chest. "What men? Who are these men?"

"Go blow it out of your ass," you mutter. "And I hope you never find your lighter!"

You bend over to grab the matches from the floor but Sanji is quicker. "Hey!" you yelp as he strides to the door, flinging it open and storming down the hallway. You pull off his tank top and yank on your shirt before running after him, finding him stomping into the kitchen as you hurries to catch up.

By the time you get there he has the oven open, turning the gas on before opening the book of matches. He uses the entire set—at least eight or nine, nearly half the pack—and lights them before holding the ignited ends to the burner. A moment later a blue flame forms a circle, and as you curse he fans the matches out before pulling a cigarette from his pocket. Sanji leans over and tries to light his cigarette, a difficult task as his hair keeps falling in the way. He slams his hand on the counter before trying again, and a moment later the sweet tang of tobacco fills the room as he lets go a long puff of smoke, standing and leaning back against the counter.

"Are you insane?" you say. "You're gonna light the entire ship on fire like that!"

He flips you the bird as he takes another long drag of the cigarette. "So my matches aren't good enough for your precious cigarettes but they are good enough to light the stove?” you continue. “And you'll use that to light your smoke? You are unbelievable. What the hell was all that about back there?"

The cigarette is already halfway gone. He takes another long drag, dropping his head back when he exhales. The plume of smoke glides upwards towards the ceiling, and you watch it for a moment as he moves to the sink and sprays water to put out the lighted end. He tosses it towards the rubbish bin before striding towards you, and a moment later you find yourself pushed against the counter, his mouth pressed to yours in a possessive kiss. You curse against his lips, pressing your hands on his arms, but his strength keeps you pinned against him as his mouth moves aggressively on yours. There is none of his usual teasing or finesse, the kiss all teeth and tongue, his hands roaming your back before one yanks your thigh to the side so he can slot his body between your legs.

"What are you doing, you oaf?" you manage to get out as his kiss moves downwards to your jaw.

He bites your lip and gives a tug until you pull back. "I love it when you call me a dumbass," he teases. He pulls the back of your shirt up and slides his hands along your spine; they are cool against your warm skin, making you shiver. "Gets me hot."

"What happened to being a temple?" you mutter as his mouth leaves a sloppy trail down your neck. His teeth sink into you gently and you arch against him.

"You know I can't resist you, love."

You laugh at that, dropping your head back as his mouth works its magic against your skin. Visions of that same mouth between your legs has your eyelids closing, giving in to his roaming hands and the possessive way he kisses you. He's certainly left a mark or two by the time his lips return to yours, and you grab the back of his head to hold him there so you can kiss him back, your free hand sliding down his bare chest and through the soft covering of hair.

"Love," he groans, his hands moving to your belt.

"What?" you tease when he yanks it open.

His answer is clear when he pulls you off the counter, turning you around to bend you over with his body. The belt opens and he tugs your pants down, leaving them hanging mid-thigh and just your midsection bare. Sanji bites your shoulder through your shirt and you reach back for him, and when his hands return to your hips you feel his erection, hot and leaking and hard as it rubs against your backside.

"Here?" you gasp.

"I can't wait." He presses his palms to your backside and slides downwards, opening your thighs. The pants keep you from spreading your legs too wide, but as you grip the counter you feel him enter you, his hips pushing against your rear when he fills you as much as he can. "Damn," he groans, pulling out before sliding back in. "You're so tight like this."

"Sanji—"

He starts to pump, hard and fast, as you try to keep your grip against the counter. It does feel tighter, and you can feel every inch of him as he drags in and out between your legs. The head of his cock never leaves your body as the thick shaft delves again and again. His thrusts are steady, the dull sound of your bodies slapping barely audible over both of you panting. He grabs your shoulder at one point, holding you firmly as he surges deeper, and all you can do is press back, trying to give him all the access he needs to push himself as deeply as you crave. It's not quite as filling as when you are on top, or he is, pushing your legs wide open to sink to his hilt. But it is feverish and passionate and doing it here, in the kitchen, after your argument has your skin flushed with fire.

Arousal slips easily from your body, making his movements almost silky as he buries himself as much as possible. You whimper, leaning forward a bit, desperate for more. But then he presses his palms against your hips and pushes, lifting you nearly up off of your feet. At this angle the head of his cock presses directly against your front wall, finding a spot that has you crying out, already shaking in his grip. "Don't stop," you beg, "don't stop, right there, don't stop—"

Your orgasm breaks without any warning, toes curling against the tile. You drop your head as your mouth opens in a silent moan, your body seizing as your muscles tighten unbearably around him. Still Sanji pushes in that dizzying rhythm, making the contractions come in rapid, steady pulses that leave you trembling with pleasure. It rocks with each stroke, and then you feel him stiffen, the grip on your hips tightening with a last plunge inside. Sanji makes a noise low in his throat that sends another shiver along your spine, and then he pulls from your body, pressing his cock against your backside as the last of his come shoots in drops on your skin.

You are both panting heavily when he eases back a moment later. "There," he says, using one of his large hands to rub the seed into your skin before giving your bare behind a gentle tap. "Now we're even."

"Even?" You yank up your pants and turn, still trapped against the counter as he smirks down at you.

"Yeah. Even." He leans down and gives you a smacking kiss on the lips. "Hungry?"

You push him away with a sigh. "You better get breakfast started before the others are up."

"We're up!" Nami's voice yells from the direction of your room. "We can hear everything!"

"You better sanitize that kitchen before you cook," Zoro's voice shouts next.

You snort as Sanji rolls his eyes. "I'm never appreciated." You give him a tap on the chest and he finally eases back enough to let you by. You move towards the kitchen door to go back to your own room and change as Luffy yells, "Is breakfast ready yet?"

"Ten minutes!" Sanji calls, the familiar clatter of pans sounding behind you as you head down the hallway.

#sanji x reader #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece #opla #one piece x reader #sanji x you #gender neutral reader #one piece sanji

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fabricated-misslieness · 7 months ago

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x rancher male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: tyler's back in an old town he recognizes, and he recognizes someone else too.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.32k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: suggestive, but nothing explicit (like 1 kiss), very suggestive flirting

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler shoulda known that riding 'round here, stopping in this specific town, would've earned him a run in with you.

In fact, maybe he did. Maybe, some part of that subconscious of his remembered that this was your town, and your old haunt, and it made him stop and get the whole group motel rooms for the night here.

He recognized this town, recognized the bar he led his friends to, recognized the stage in the corner. Maybe he didn't recognize the new teen band performing there today, but they're familiar anyway: a chill drummer and a bassist and guitarist that always bump heads.

And finally, of course he recognized you.

You raise your glass toward him as he enters, beckoning him to sit down next to you at the bar. The rest of the group settles for a booth near the dance floor, leaving Ben to stand nervously at the door. The journalist eventually follows the group, though his eyes don't leave outlier.

"Hey sweetheart." He greets with a lazy smirk, ordering his choice of poison without looking at the bartender so he can look you in the eye.

"Hey stranger." You greet in turn, tipping your hat. "What brings you to town?"

"Well, the season drives me everywhere in Tornado Alley, you know." The liquid courage that makes its way into his hands and later down his throat feeds his smile, which grows wider.

"Should I be worried?" You joke.

"No, sweetie." The name makes you roll your eyes, like you always do when his endearing nicknames get used like that. "You know the brunt of it doesn't get here."

As the two of you mostly catch up, with the nicknames and flirting taking a backseat, Ben looks on. For once, he's not thinking about getting it on a paper, he's just curious. Tyler seems to know at least one person at each town they go on, but he's never seen him so...touchy? No, there's something about it Ben can't put his finger on.

"Eavesdropping, huh?" Lilly chimes in, leaning around Ben the same way the man leans over the corner of the booth seat.

Ben yelps audibly, but thankfully for him, not too loud. "No. No, I can't hear them from here." He shakes his head. In an attempt to hide his embarrasment, he replaces it with a question that'll distract her. "Who's he?"

"(Y/N), our food supplier. He sells for cheap for the tornado recovery meals and stuff." Lilly explains.

Dani, who was previously looking at Boone making a fool of himself on the dancefloor, chimes in. "Because ranches don't run on hopes and rainbows."

Lilly nods her head along.

"That's it?" His eyebrows furrow, and he leans over the corner again to sneak a glance. The two of you are so engrossed in your conversation that you're definitely not going to turn towards the booth, even if Tyler mentions the group.

"Well, rumor has it he's an old link." Lilly suggests with a laugh.

Ben doesn't know what the word means. "A boyfriend?"

"No," She smiles, clearly amused, "but let's just say that. You're probably wondering why you haven't heard anything about him."

Boone practically collapses onto the booth table before Lilly can continue. He steals a tall glass of water from someone and practically gulps down half of it in one go. None of the group seems to mind so much. As he catches his breath, he follows the groups' gaze to the pair at the bar. "Oh, (Y/N)? I didn't even realize he was here."

Dani laughs and pats his shoulder. "Yep. You gonna say hi, steal him for the dance floor?"

"Nah." He waves his hand dissmissively. "I bet the lovebirds are gonna bone. I'll see him at the hotel tomorrow morning."

Ben doesn't know that word either. Dexter whispers the meaning in his ear and his eyebrows raise. "So he is a boyfriend?"

"No." Boone straightens up and stretches. "At least, not anymore. They might've been high school sweethearts or something, but not anymore. While Tyler became a bull rider after high school, (Y/N) inherited his grandparents' farm and got straight to work."

Ben nodded along with the story. So that's how they got you as their supplier. "So they broke up–"

"Allegedly."

"–allegedly because they went down different paths?" Ben huffed. "If it was me, I would've tried."

Dexter chuckled at how the journalist accidentally insulted Tyler. He shook his head. "They might not have broken up. We just know they had a falling out when Tyler officially settled into the storm chaser profession."

"When we first got to 10k subs!" Boone chimes in.

"The food supplying was handled over text, and storm chasing is busy business, you know?" Ben nodded, so Dexter continued. "So then their relationship turned mostly transactional, and their affectionate bonds kind of disappeared, because Tyler didn't have time to reply."

"Wow, that sucks." Ben's empathy showed physically as he frowned. "What about off-season?"

"Disaster recovery is an extensive process." Dani reminded him. "We use (Y/N)'s goods after we get the folks to temporary homes as a kind of food stamp."

"And–?"

"They moved on." Lilly patted Ben on the shoulder reassuringly. "Storm chasing ain't for the weak-willed, Ben. It's all or nothing. You live for it, or you leave it, and someone has to manage the ranch, right?"

"So, basically, Tyler is dating storm chasing," Boone says with a toothy grin, "and has no time to date anyone else."

That's never stopped you from having your fun everytime he shows up around town.

"Storm Par still on your ass?" You ask, swirling your glass absentmindedly.

"As always." He laughs, drumming his own fingers against the wood of the bar countertop. "But we have a new genius in the crew!"

"Do you?" You raise a brow. He gestures in the direction of the booth with the tip of his hat, making you look. Everyone waves at you enthusiastically, even Boone, who you'd caught mid-sip, except for the new guy who shrinks back into the cushions. "The one with the glasses?"

"Yep, that's Ben." Tyler speaking brings your eyes back to him, as it always tends to do. "Journalist, has a way with words. He's going to write about our Tornado Wrangling crew, and storm chasing."

"Hmm," You hum low, kind of with displeasure. "you're not going to make him write about Storm Par too, are you?"

You had him pegged down to a T. He sighed, "Well..."

"That'll get him in trouble and you know it." You shoot him a disappointed look. He's been getting those more and more these days; or he has, since you got that ranch of yours.

To hide himself from the simmering shame it gives him and to get more courage, he downs the rest of his drink. "Yeah, but, um...let's just talk about us, yeah?"

You exchange a look. He smiles, you frown, it's a battle. Eventually, he wins, because how can you say no to him?

You roll your eyes, "You're lucky I miss you, Ty."

"Do you?" His eyes light up and he takes your free hand in his. He can't hide his joy, despite the fact you always say that every time you see each other.

"Yes I do, poppet." You huff out a laugh, "You're a twister of your own, you know? Leaving damage that reverberates for years."

He feigns offense, a hand over his heart. "I leave damage, huh?"

"Yep. You know what? I'm not the only one who misses you. The chickens miss you, the goats miss you, the cows miss you, the ranch dogs miss you." The entire list makes him laugh, but you're not done yet. "So do my horses, and hell, the ranch cats too. You know how hard it is for a ranch cat to get attached?"

"And Brisket?" Brisket, the little indoor dog. He was a puppy when they last met, Tyler wonders how big he's gotten now.

"Of course Brisket misses you." You groan, like it's really a big problem. "You met him as a puppy, he's wondering where his second dad went."

His eyebrows raised. Second dad? Whew, the subtle flirting is making him swoon. "Buy him a couple treats for me." He playfully reaches into his pocket for his wallet to further the joke.

"What is this, child support?" You glare at him with a fake snarl.

That makes Tyler laugh out loud. He reaches for both your hands, hoping the creases on your scary look will smooth out. "I promise I'll be a present father someday."

You roll your eyes again, except this time when they return to him, they soften. "When will that be?"

"How's tomorrow sound?" The smile returns too, and he loves it. "Oh, and you don't mind having five more little helpers, do you?"

"Sounds perfect." You squeeze his hands. "For how long?"

"Ehm..." He bites his lip, and your smile falters. "A day, maybe?"

"Darling..." You sigh, "That's not exactly a present father."

"I know, I know." He shakes his head, letting his gaze fall to your connected hands. "I'm a terrible father, a terrible man as well, to boot. Useless for this family as a hill of beans."

"Well," You shrug your shoulders, disconnecting one of your hands to cup his cheek and pull his gaze back up to you. "season's just starting, so I understand. Make me a promise, though."

"Oh?" This is new, not that Tyler cares for the substance of the promise. "Anything for you, baby."

"God, hear me out first, will you?" You shake your head. "It's two promises, actually. For tonight," With the hand on his cheek, you boop his nose. "we'll dance on that dance floor back there, and–"

"Ugh, seriously?" He groans preemptively. "I don't want that picture on Ben's article."

Tyler is a good dancer, he really is, but he's almost entirely sure that the predominant style of dancing in this here town is silly to those Brits out there and he's going to get mocked 'till high hell. Oh, whatever. All publicity is good publicty, aye? The Brits ought to know how a real man dances, anyway.

"–and, then we'll share your room."

"Woh-hoah."

Tyler's sure that, even if it were anyone else you were flirting with, they'd have caught onto your drift, because you are one hot man and that wink you consequentially send him is sexier than anything he's ever seen. Out of the sheets, of course.

"Cat got your tongue, darl'?" You chuckle, patting his cheek before pulling away confidently.

"No, no, it's just," His mind's still boggled by how handsome you are, so he blinks repeatedly to register all of it. "I'm swoonin' alright? Give me a moment."

He loves that little proud look you give him, and realy wants to return the flirting, even if he's already messed up the flow. Luckily it looks like you'll allow him to.

"Okay," He clears his throat, "why share a room, rancher? You live right on the outskirts o' town. I'm sure that bed of yours with grandma's handmade quilt is a lot nicer than my little hotel room."

Tyler knows damn well what you're going to do in that room, but he's playing along.

"Sometimes the company beats comfort, love." The way you call him love makes his knees weak. "Not that I'm in search for comfort tonight."

He laughs, a little too prolonged as he comes up with something in return. "And why do you reckon I'm good company?"

"You might just be any Alfalfa Desperado's dream: a big, strong man who's technically unemployed and knows how to ride a horse." It's as much an excuse as it is a distraction to shock him more with what comes next. "Plus, a twister like yourself is sure to tumble the sheets well."

"Rougher than an earthquake, I can guarantee that." He grins, sending a smooth wink of his own.

"Don't guarantee it." You huff out a laugh, "I'd have to pay you a little extra."

"I want that little extra." He makes a show of licking his lips. "Anything you can offer, I'll make sure to match, sweetheart."

The both of you are leaning closer everytime you send a comment or compliment. He's missed this, missed you, so much: the easy intimacy and smiles, winks and eventual kisses.

As your lips near, he realizes that all this flirting's making him forget that second promise you spoke of. "What was that second promise, anyway? Do I gotta agree to both to get tonight's?"

"Well, no," The way your inconspicuous eyes snap to the high corner of the room earns his intrigue. "but it'd certainly earn you a little bit o' brownie points."

"Hit me." He grins wide.

"Make a little time for me off-season," The heated atmosphere leaves as you begin, because your flirty facade melting into something less confident, more nervous. "a week, two, or maybe a month...like I said, Brisket misses you... If you can, that is! If not, like, no hard feelings–"

He doesn't like the way you said all that in a rush. He doesn't like that you say it as if it were silly and something he'd never agree to.

He cuts off your doubts with a quick kiss. "I swear."

Because he means it. He will, he swears it.

The way your eyes are on his when they flutter back open makes his heart swell. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me." He knocks his nose softly against yours. "I should've done that along time ago."

"Yes indeed, you should've!" You're back to being sassy, and the easy atmosphere comes back. He laughs, but he can't deny you.

He should've made time for you long ago. It's not something he can say whatever to, but he can say it's in the past now, and when the season ends, he'll make up for it.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: no bc how is this 2k words long

#tyler owens x male reader #tyler owens x reader #twisters fanfiction #twisters x male reader #twisters x reader #🌸 // success!#💞 // darlings #🎟 // twisters #🎫 // tyler owens #🎫 // tyler #👑 // nearly there!

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yeeterthek33per · 8 months ago

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Sparklers (Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader)

A/n Requested. Honestly this one isn't my best work but I just wanted it to be done, so it's not as substantial but I promise I did my best to save it from the clutches of undone WIPs.

Content/Warning(s): Fluff, Kyra being a pest.

-----------------------

When Kyra had first left for Sweden, she'd been adamant that she couldn't leave you behind.

But after many tears, hugs, kisses and persuasion in the form of future travel plans, she left for Hammarby IF, while you stayed with the Melbourne Victory.

Thus, nearly two years later, just a month before the World Cup and one week before the start of camp, a very tired and whiny girlfriend of yours sits on facetime with you, begging you to let her come over to Australia early to spend time with you.

"Babe, c'mon, I'd only be missing one match anyway."

And thus, you subsequently scolding the twenty-one year old.

"Kyra, no. No way. Seriously, play your last match, if I remember rightly, Hammarby haven't offered you a new contract right?"

She huffs, silently fidgeting with her fingers and not making eye contact with you through the camera.

"You need to play the last match, Ky. Be professional about it, please, if not for the club, for me? I want you to be able to get opportunities over there. Take it seriously and you can come see me the moment your last match is over."

She groans, letting her head hit the bed from where she'd been laying stomach down with her phone in front of her.

"Promise me, Ky. Play out the rest of the season. Even if you don't get the league, you've still got a trophy under your belt there, baby."

"Alright."

The look in her eyes as she turns her head away from the camera makes you sigh softly.

"Kyra, promise me you'll stay. I miss you more than anything, but your career comes first. Promise me."

She mumbles back, finally.

"I promise, baby, I promise I'll stay."

You nod in satisfaction, giving the girl a small smile and pressing a kiss to the tips of your fingers before holding them up to your phone as she does the same.

"Goodnight, baby."

"G'night, Ky."

-----------------------

So she does stay.

She plays her heart out in her last match, taking the draw with Piteå before finally getting on her flight to Australia.

She's exhausted from the match, and nearly forgoes showering and changing to switch tickets to an earlier flight.

Instead, she heeds your warnings of not kissing her should she decide to show up at the training centre without at least taking care of herself first.

She's already got her bags packed and ready in her rental to fly to Australia, and just about drags them to the match with her but forgoes it.

The poor aussie just needs to see her girlfriend. To collapse into a warm, fluffy pile of cuddles and-

"Flight 157 to Sydney, Australia, Now boarding."

She sighs and hopes the flight boards quickly, eager to see you.

-----------------------

Everyone was told similar times to be at the centre by, giving them a roughly six hour window to arrive in, given any delays in flights, although that doesn't seem enough knowing international boarding mid year can be dicey.

So you've taken the initiative to be in Brisbane early to avoid the traffic of the day.

It's ripe time at six-thirty in the morning, meaning you're far earlier than all of your teammates, even the one's closer to Brisbane than you are, and thus you have plenty of time to kill and nap in the lobby waiting for your teammates to start arriving at around ten.

Of course, you're startled awake by a slap to the stomach.

Taking a precursory glance at the clock on the wall above the receptionists desk, it's about three and a half hours later.

It's Steph and Caitlin, both of them sporting tired smirks at you.

"Well hello miss."

You just about jump into the arms of your vice-captain, having missed seeing the woman at the last camp due to injury, thus you haven't seen the woman since the games in April against Scotland and England.

"Steph!"

She chuckles, giving you a tight squeeze.

She had taken you under her wing the moment you'd stepped into your first national team camp just four years ago, not long after the World Cup but right before the Covid Pandemic.

She'd been the one to stick with you over facetime while you navigated the league in Australia, and of course, once a sense of normalcy returned and after the Olympic games in Tokyo.

You were often found in her room with her even though you'd all been given the privileges of single rooms.

Now, you tended to spend more time with Kyra, but, if your teammates needed you, it was always one of the two of them that you'd be found with.

"What, and I'm chopped liver, am I?"

You poke your tongue out at the striker, burying yourself back into Steph's arms.

"No, I'm just the favourite."

"Please, you and I both know you're no longer the favourite."

"Shhhh, let me have this, she isn't here yet."

Giggling, you nudge the defender and separate from her.

"I'm in love with the girl, but you're more tolerable, some days."

"Ayy, that's my girl."

She ruffles your sleep mussed hair.

"Hey! Hands off the goods, Catley."

You swat at the older woman, who dodges the tired attempt.

"Yeah, stop bullying my girlfriend, Catley."

Your head shoots up from it's laid back position on the back of the couch to look at the newly appeared brunette, standing across the lobby from you.

"Ky, get that cute butt over here, right now."

At your demand, she drops her stuff and runs over in two seconds flat, nearly tackling you back onto the seating, arms wrapped tightly around your form, nose buried in your neck.

Staying for a moment to just breathe each other in, your hands rub circles into the woman's back, your face buried in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, wincing at the smell of airplane on her.

She pouts when you pull away with a terribly hidden grimace.

"Baby, I love you, but you need a shower."

A soft whine from the midfielder makes you raise a brow at her.

"I just got in, can you blame me?"

There's a teasing smile on your lips as you wrap your arms around her waist.

"Obviously, you were supposed to shower before coming here."

Kyra huffs at that, crossing her arms.

"Love you."

She grumbles in response.

You nudge her, pouting.

"Love you."

Still no response.

You grab her face, turning her head back towards you with a small frown.

"I love you."

When she doesn't respond again, you start peppering her face with kisses and she gives in, grinning at you.

"Alright! Alright! Love you, too."

Satisfied, you give her a small peck, to which she chases you up for a second, a third and then someone clearing their throat beside you interrupts her from a fourth.

"Alright, you two, stop being gross."

It's a grunt from the striker on your left, which earns her a slap to the shoulder.

"Leave them be, Caitlin."

-----------------------

It's your final day off before the full commitment to the World Cup preparations takes precedence over your time in Australia, thus you want to do as much as you can with your girlfriend before your time together, alone, gets limited.

You'd had a few days off to explore the city, but nothing really concrete as you and Kyra had just wandered around the area where the hotel is.

This time, you wanted to plan something for the midfielder, something to last you both the couple weeks of the World Cup, hoping it would tide you both over, knowing it'd be torture not spending time together.

At least when she was in Sweden, you had space to yourselves over facetime.

World Cups are chaotic, and allow little to no time to yourselves, as you've so discovered and been told by the older girls on the team.

So, here you are, calling various different restaurants for reservations tonight, with, unfortunately, no luck.

Instead, managing to sneak away from the girl for an hour or so, you run down to the grocery store, pick up several of her favourite snacks, drinks, and a small surprise that you think she'll love and then rush back to the hotel, getting ready for a night out in one of the cities parks.

She looks at you suspicious when you drag her down, scraggily dressed in hoodies and sweats, to a taxi rather insistently, dragging a completely full duffle bag behind you.

Not that you blame her.

You would be sussed out, too, if she decided to randomly drag you out to a taxi at six on a Saturday night, carrying a nearly ripping at the seams, black duffle bag.

"Sooooo... Where are we goin', babe?"

"You'll see."

You let out a little laugh at the small pout she has on her face, pecking her sweetly on the lips in exchange for the small smile she relents at the sound of your giggle.

When you finally pull up at the park, you're all but dragging the woman across the green grass and to the edge of the waterline where you drop the blanket you'd been carrying down onto the somewhat flat grassed area.

It's lit well enough that when the sun starts to set, it's not ridiculously dark, so you take a little comfort knowing it's not entirely dangerous out, plus the added comfort of the occasional family or couple wandering by on the path just to the left of you by ten feet or so.

You nudge her to sit down next to you, hand settling in hers.

"I wanted us to have a nice little sit down together to just relax and talk and eat and just be stress free for a little while. Just to breathe for the night. Together. It's about to be even more hectic and I've missed you."

You pout softly, leaning into her a little.

She leans over, kissing you fully, hand on your face tugging you in closer.

You're both a little breathless when she let's your face go again.

"I love you, so fucking much."

Giggling, you kiss her once more.

"I love you, too."

Finally, you open up the bag and dump out the contents onto her lap, knowing you're about to have a very excited sugar hyped puppy on your hands after this.

Her eyes sparkle up at you, the grin on her face causing her eyes to crease at the corners.

"Just wait 'til you see what else is in there."

Eyes darting around the small pile, she digs through it to find a pair of packets of sparklers and a small lighter.

She feels giddy, and looks the part, too, her immediate giggle and hug crushing you making your heart just about melt through your body entirely.

It's adorable.

It's cute.

It's oh so Kyra and you feel your heart bursting at the thought that you get to call her yours.

You're dragged out of your train of thought by said woman dragging you to your feet, lighting a sparkler and handing it to you, running around you, both of your giggles and the small handheld fireworks lighting up the night sky and the river before you.

No matter where you are, how far apart they keep you, Kyra will always be your one, you realise.

It's a small, heartbeat skipping thought, but it makes you smile harder and enjoy the moment all the more while you can.

The sparkler she's holding blasts out tiny stars of combusting magnesium, being spread out harmlessly in the air and onto the grass as she runs circles around you.

It goes out within a minute or so, and she's looking over at you with puppy dog eyes.

"Babe, can you get another one out, pretty please? I wanna attack those cheezels soon."

You chuckle, obliging with her demands, a small kiss to your lips as thanks.

She may be a child at heart still, but she's yours.

-----------------------

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #kyra cooney-cross #kyra cooney-cross x reader #kyra cooney-cross imagines #kyra cooney-cross imagine #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross imagine #kyra cooney cross imagines

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discountdemonwarehouse · 1 month ago

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Remember Papa told us to take care of each other

I know that we Ghost fans love our Ministry building's IRL location, and have likely heard it survived the fires in California - maybe with some damage, but it survived. I have seen mentions of finding ways to donate to the repairs.

But I'd like to remind you that as a business, they're probably going to be okay. If they open donations later on after assessing the damage and insurance coverage etc., and you want to donate, great, do that.

Please consider donating to more immediate relief for those who are not and will not be as well off as they are or any other celebrities will be.

Multiple insurance companies canceled fire coverage in homeowner policies or stopped offering it to new clients. By multiple they mean 7 out of 12 providers. Why? To avoid paying out for repairs because they can't up the insurance premiums high enough due to state regulations (which probably protect the consumer over the corporation - but I could be wrong, I'm not in California.) The areas affected don't usually see these kinds of fires, and it's not the usual fire season for California either.

So where to donate? Find GoFundMe options if you want to give directly to someone, or here are a few options for agencies. GoFundMe has created a central hub for donating to fire relief in general, and has a list of vetted/confirmed fundraising efforts for people and small organizations.

ABC 7 News has compiled a list with descriptions of what each is doing, so I won't bother to copy and paste that here, just know it has everything from Red Cross to Humane Society, so you can donate to whatever tickles your fancy.

California Fire Foundation is supporting efforts.

If you have been impacted by the fires, a resource from ABC 7 News about how to get help, specifically food and care. Federal care is rolling out, so make sure you try to stay on top of that and how to get it. Be careful of sources telling you that you won't be eligible or that it's not coming etc.

If you are in the impacted areas, I hope you're safe and well, and can stay that way. If you have loved ones in the area, I hope they're safe and well, and stay that way. If you or loved ones haven't been able to stay safe and well, I'm so, so sorry.

#palisades fire #wildfire #the band ghost #california fires #los angeles fires #eaton fire

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queen-simia · 2 months ago

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now that ep 4 is live to the public, I can finally post what I've been sitting (and spinning) on for like a week, wheeee!

Major Monkey Wrench spoilers abound, so putting below a cut if you haven't yet seen the latest episode. And if you haven't seen it (or the rest of the series), you can do so here:

now ON TO THE INFODUMP

Shrike's status

so, since the beginning, I've been putting all my money on Shrike being an artificial being. Not in the sense of robotics/cyborgs and the like, but in the sense of a one-of-a-kind bioengineered creature. Since he was confirmed as an endling (as opposed to just hinted at in past episodes), I'm choosing to take that as a bit of reinforcement; his species is still marked as "unknown" by LAW, and if no one knows what you are and you're the only one they've ever seen, it's safe to assume they assume you're the last of whatever you are.

now, in a leap on my part, I'm further going to postulate that Shrike is actually an engineered squid. As in an honest-to-god Earth cephalopod, albeit in the same sense you can call a human a monkey. I think that maybe our boy Shrike is the end result of years-long genetic modification and breeding programs to create something closer to human shape and intelligence, but with whatever attributes his human creators wanted from squid...

...maybe attributes like producing ink.

"that's stupid, what makes you think that?" Glad you asked, Strawman! Here's what I'm drawing from:

Scratch's nicknames for Shrike

As much as these can be considered throwaways, Zeurel and Ash have been very good about sneaking in foreshadowing in dialogue. I don't fully think Scratch is calling Shrike "squidhead" just to be antagonistic (though in-universe, he certainly is; I doubt the character himself in canon has that kind of insight); I'm choosing to believe it may be a bit of a Chekhov's gun.

Shrike's design inspiration

In Tumblr ask replies, Zeurel's confirmed Shrike's design is based heavily on Humboldt squid, and he finds cephalopods and deep-sea life in general interesting. It's going into meta rather than narrative precedent, but I think for these reasons, having Shrike actually be an ascended squid wouldn't be that far out of the blue.

Shrike's terran connections

It's been established that Earth no longer exists, and what humans remain are persona non grata in LAW space. They're the reason behind the Cataclysm/the creation of Secondary Green, and what artifacts remain are traded on the black market (as implied by Scratch and Jaw Bone dealing in them, neither of whom are exactly upstanding citizens).

Yet somehow, Shrike speaks primarily in a canonically dead Earth language—Latin Spanish—and thinks highly of terrans/terran culture. He apparently is the only being in LAW space who does both. One could argue he picked up Spanish through exposure to contraband as a LAW officer, but even his translated speech is Spanish-accented. That to me is a clue it's his native language, as opposed to one picked up later in life. Maybe he doesn't speak it all that well, but it's what he learned as he grew up.

I believe that Shrike's interest in terran artifacts isn't so much fannish as it is nostalgic, though he doesn't realize it (yet). Remember, we don't know his true age—he's only estimated to be in his mid- to late 20s. He could very well be several decades or even 800+ years old, and for reasons yet unknown he isn't aware of it. Hell, he knows what VHS tapes are and how to watch them, something present-day kids are unfamiliar with right now. Even if he was treated as only a scientific specimen in his youth, something about Earth/its people may have been warm and familiar enough to endear terran mementos to him. But it's now too far gone in the past for him to remember why exactly he loves them so much.

Shrike got no dick

(originally posted to Twitter before the Shittening)

Canonically, the boy is Ken-doll smooth both front and back. Even though he has a gender (Questionably Masc™), he has no sex. Maybe his species could reproduce asexually, but it's pretty unusual for complex bipedal critters to do that. Plus, there's the fact that no peehole and no butthole also mean no bodily waste excretion, which is pretty much a death sentence for most life forms that run on metabolic processes. Therefore, I'm taking all these as artifacts of Shrike's artificial creation (and not just so it's more difficult to make show-accurate porn of him).

The Primaries, LAW, and Secondary Green

So there are three godlike beings that ostensibly also serve as the basis for government, referred to as the Primaries. Only one has been directly referenced as active in LAW government—Primary Red—but given the colors of the three LAW divisions, one can safely assume there must be a Primary Yellow and Primary Blue (whether they also govern, are off doing something else, or are AWOL is a mystery for now). It also just so happens that interstellar travel takes place in subspace pathways in the same colors as the Primaries (with varying speed depending on color), and spacecraft is fueled by "ink" in those corresponding primary colors.

It's also revealed in a news chyron in ep 4 that an intergalactic-capable drive had been in development (and had been stalled by bureaucracy) for at least 20 years, and is now ready to deploy. It's referred to as a Trinity drive, and required Primary Red's approval before it could officially launch. I think it's pretty safe to assume it's a form of propulsion that combines all 3 colors, however the in-universe physics work in that case. At the moment, it's been shown that using the wrong type of ink in a color drive will cause an explosion and a tear in space at best (at worst, we don't know yet), so whatever science went into developing a drive that combines colors must have been fairly dangerous (or potentially threatens to weaken whatever power the Primaries hold over LAW citizens).

Secondary Green

Background details are vital lore sources in Monkey Wrench. If you paid close attention near the beginning of ep 1 (and can easily read backwards text), you already know what's in the box the boys pick up in ep 2: something called "Secondary Green." It was evidently once in Chester's possession, but by the time Kara caught up to him, he'd already sent it on its way to LAW.

The second and third episodes refer to the Cataclysm being caused by terrans. The third episode explains the green corruption's effect on life forms, and LAW subsequently quarantining it to prevent its spread. It also shows Secondary Green corrupting the bit of Them that gets too close into the horrific black-green monster that overtakes the Bucket. The fourth ep has Jaw Bone directly refer to the terrans' "false idol" in reference to the Cataclysm.

While I was typing later paragraphs, I hit upon a possibility I hadn't even considered for what Secondary Green could be. So now, I've got 2 potential reads:

1. Secondary Green was the humans' attempt at recreating the Primaries' power for themselves. Whether this was to undermine LAW or to try to join the galactic stage at the Primaries' level has yet to be seen, but either way, it ended up biting humanity in the ass. Secondary Green and/or a byproduct of it/its creation ended up destroying Earth and a good chunk of its neighboring Milky Way space, and landed whatever humans remain squarely on LAW's shit list.

Now, those of you who remember me from pre-2018 Tumblr also know I'm pretty heavily into Mass Effect. That universe's version of the Milky Way also was governed by an alien-run coalition: the Citadel, which tightly controlled the means to interstellar travel (although the Citadel species did not create these means, they just found and activated them first). Thus, the similarities to the idea of a three-pronged alien government holding the keys to interstellar travel and commerce and forcing you to play nice if you want in have been resonating in the back of my mind whenever I watch Monkey Wrench.

The similarities end in that MW's answer to the Protheans are still very much alive and active, and are directly overseeing galactic travel, commerce, and government. There aren't established mass relays, but every ship contains its own "relay" in the form of ink drives. These can open portals into respective colors of subspace to get from one side of the galaxy to another faster than conventional propulsion (so far, red is the fastest, and blue seems to be the median speed everyday schmoes like our boys can access). And, most importantly, the means of this travel are less an external technological development and more appear to be tied to the nature of the Primaries themselves; these beings are not just obeyed, but worshiped (see Scratch's oaths in ep 3 and the red officer greeting Shrike and Armstrong exchange in ep 4).

However, there are still two very important similarities between these two settings that I think should be kept in mind:

i. Trouble started when humans started sticking their fingers into the galactic government's pie. In Mass Effect, it was shoehorning Shepard into the Spectre program and wriggling humanity's way into the Citadel Council. In Monkey Wrench, it was messing with fundamental forces it didn't yet understand and (maybe) creating human-made Great Value primaries, which resulted in at least one: Secondary Green.

ii. Control over interstellar travel—specifically, access to subspace—is a cornerstone of power. In Mass Effect, you need a specific form of reactor in order to engage the mass relays and "cheat" your way to FTL travel. These relays are heavily guarded and regulated by the Citadel; humanity famously learned this when it activated Relay 314 near Pluto and got a knock-knock from the police in the form of a turian armada. In Monkey Wrench, you need to equip specific color drives and fuel up at ink stations, which presumably are subject to LAW regulation and pricing.

In both settings, Earth appears to have taken a look at the galaxy already being run by someone else and immediately thought, "but how do I get around this?"

Engineering Secondary Green was MW Earth's answer to this question. Unfortunately, it backfired and drove humanity to (functional) extinction and criminal status.

2. Secondary Green is an unintended fusion of Primaries Yellow and Blue. This would explain their current-day absence (provided they don't directly appear in later episodes), and the subsequent fall of LAW enforcement into disorder that Armstrong alludes to in ep 4. Humanity was up to something that attracted the Primaries' attention—perhaps tapping into pocket dimensions, like the one embedded in Shrike's head?—and maybe things went awry. One way or another, Primaries Yellow and Blue's intervention ended in them fusing into a new anti-entity, Secondary Green. Instead of fostering life, their combined and imbalanced power corrupted it.

Left to their own devices (and likely hawkish methods, given Red oversees enforcement), Primary Red sealed off Earth's part of the galaxy and declared humanity LAW's enemy. The quarantine for justifiable safety/life preservation reasons, the outlawing likely to create the narrative that humanity was entirely to blame and not at all any fault of Primary interference (and maybe some vengeance for losing their comrades).

Or maybe, Red is covering their tracks.

LAW and Order

So the League of Aligned Worlds (LAW—yes, it's an acronym) is the current empire ruling civilized space in the Milky Way galaxy, under direct command of the Primaries (or at least Primary Red). There are three established branches: enforcement/military (red, which Shrike was once and has since defected from), science (yellow, which Dr. Agness impersonated), and commerce (blue, as represented by Killix and Sixty-Two, who appear to be led by an as-yet unseen Commander Tezzoree).

Being a centralized civilization, LAW has certain cultural and legal standards it expects its citizens to observe. Commerce and community are enabled by way of implanted universal translators á là Star Trek, but with one specific caveat: swearing is not allowed. It's so not allowed that it's physically punishable through painful translator auditory feedback—interestingly, people in earshot get punished this way as well just for hearing it.

Maybe it's a form of socialization, in that LAW hopes you're nice enough not to want to hurt your fellow citizens by swearing? Or that your fellow citizens, having had pain inflicted on them, will browbeat you into compliance? Either way, it's a window into current LAW space being severely authoritarian in both the moral and legal senses.

This extreme authoritarian approach doesn't prevent corruption, however. Corporate lobbyists exist, as demonstrated by Chester in ep 1, and LAW officials patronizing vice industries like sex work (see the end of ep 3) is not unusual. And current LAW is disorganized to the point of each division being largely ignorant of what's going on in the others: Neither Killix nor Sixty-Two were aware Shrike is a defector, nor do they bat an eye at him admitting as such. Armstrong is able to impersonate a red officer with either stolen or purchased equipment, and even he's astonished that LAW keeps such loose tabs on itself that they still have Shrike registered as an active officer. Dr. Agness is able to get away with impersonating a LAW scientist, and the LAW representatives who collect her don't appear especially ruffled by it.

It's possible that this rigid adherence to authority and subsequent breakdown in the ability to enforce it is due to Primary Red being the only Primary left. The harder you clench your fist, the more sand slips through your fingers, and all that. However it happened, Red is at the moment the only one at the wheel, and they don't seem to be able to keep it together on their own.

aight, so where's this leave us

so for now, I think these are where we may be headed:

a: Shrike was genetically engineered to be in the running as a peer to/defense against the Primaries, but aligned with Earth. He has a means to access a pocket dimension/subspace, could possibly be a source of ink (either as secretion or in the form of his blood), is an exceptional marksman, and possesses anthropomorphic form and (allegedly) intellect. The problem is, he turned out anti-authoritarian, impulsive, and kinda stupid. He was disposed of at some point and now wanders space as the only one of his kind.

b: The same program that produced Shrike also created Secondary Green. Unfortunately, something happened—whether through accident or external manipulation—that turned it into a rampaging force of destruction. We have yet to see whether humans really did just monumentally fuck up, or if LAW is rewriting history.

c: LAW is on its way to collapse through Primary Red's mismanagement. Whether said mismanagement is through the other Primaries going missing on their own, or through a power grab on Red's part is the main mystery.

hooray done for now oh god

#long post #monkey wrench #monkey wrench spoilers #really fuckin' long post

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miss-may-i · 4 months ago

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Miss May I: Season 5 Part 39

Isabella: Wow, so this is what university looks like!

Isabella: I can't believe it, my first college party!

Scotty: Hey there, you. I haven't seen you around. Are you a freshman?

Isabella: Oh no, I don't go here. I'm Isabella. I'm sure you've heard a lot about me.

Scotty: Isabella? Nope, doesn't ring a bell. My name's Scotty. You should remember it for when you're screaming it later tonight.

Isabella: Why would I be screaming your name?

Isabella: Um ... I'm Richie's girlfriend. This is his dorm, right?

Scotty: Richie? Yeah, he's here. We talk all the time, but he's never mentioned an Isabella or even a girlfriend. He's really popular with the other girls here.

Isabella: He ... he is?

Scotty: Why don't I get you a beer?

Isabella: Oh, yeah. I like beer!

*Knock* *Knock*

Richie: Go away, I'm studying.

Zachery: Hey Richie Rich, there's a girl downstairs looking for you.

Richie: Nice try, but I'm not falling for it.

Zachery: Scotty's already getting his hands on her if you don't come quick.

Richie: I don't care. I can't focus with all these distractions. I'm going to fail my midterms.

Zachery: You really don't care? 'Cause this girl says her name is Isabella and that she's your girlfriend.

Richie: What?!?

Isabella: Oh Richie! You have no idea how much I've missed you! I love you so much!

Richie: Bella, what are you doing here?

Isabella: Aren't you happy to see me?

Richie: Of course I'm happy to see you. It's just unexpected, is all.

Isabella: I have to keep you excited so that you never get sick of me.

Richie: I could never get sick of you.

Richie: Let's go upstairs to my room and away from all this loud music. So we can ... talk.

Isabella: Talk? Yes! I love to talk.

______________________________________________________________

Previous | Beginning | Next

Season 1 | Season 2 | Season 3 | Season 4

Family Tree

#sims 3 #ts3 #simblr #ts3 simblr #sims story #ts3 story #story simblr #miss may i #miss may i season 5 #miss may i season 5 part 39 #isabella malone #richie carver

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bi-bard · 2 months ago

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Arguments & Paradoxes - Tenth Doctor Imagine [Doctor Who]

Title: Arguments & Paradoxes

Pairing: Tenth Doctor X Reader

Word Count: 5,531 words

Warning(s): arguments, discussion of character death

Summary: [Based on Season 3, Episode 10 (Blink)] What starts as a normal day leads to the Doctor, Marth, and (Y/n) finding themselves stuck in 1969. Now that they're stuck waiting, there are many conversations waiting to be had.

Author's Note: This story is pretty directly connected to another story from this OC: A Normal Life

If you have any particular episodes/seasons/doctors etc. that you want to see in this series, then let me know.

MORE STORIES OF THIS OC (AND OTHERS) HERE!

---------------------

There are times when the easiest days become the most complicated.

It could take one moment for everything to turn completely on its head. One sentence, one word. one movement. One small look.

At least, that was how my life ended up going. Maybe that was simply a side effect of traveling with the Doctor. Maybe it was all just because of me.

Martha, the Doctor, and I were heading toward the sight of an incident. Some lizard creature was planning to have her eggs hatch. The swarm would have wiped out the nearest city and then some.

We had gotten a taxi that took us to this small shop. It looked like it was mostly books and movies and things. It was something that I would never have paid any mind to... except for the woman who came running out.

"Doctor!"

He stopped. I stopped with him, turning to look at the girl.

"Hello," he said. "Sorry, bit of a rush. There's a... There's a sort of thing happening. Very important that we stop it."

"Oh my god, it's you. It really is you," the woman replied. I furrowed my eyebrows, looking at the Doctor as if he would take the time to explain who this was. "Oh, you don't remember me, do you?"

"Doctor, we haven't got time for this," Martha spoke up. "Migration's started."

"Look," the Doctor explained to the woman. "I've got a bit of a complex life. Things don't always happen to me in quite the right order. Gets a bit confusing at times, especially at weddings."

"Oh, you're rubbish at weddings," I added.

"I really am... especially my own."

"Oh my God, of course," the woman said. "You're a time traveler. It hasn't happened to you yet! None of it! It's still in your future."

"What hasn't happened?"

"You guys, please," Martha spoke up again. "20 minutes to hatching."

"It was me," the woman explained. "It was me all along. You got it all from me."

"Got what?" the Doctor asked.

"Okay. Listen. One day, you're gonna get stuck in 1969. Make sure you've got this with you. You're gonna need it."

I looked back and saw Martha's worried face before I muttered to the Doctor, "We really need to go."

"Yeah, we do," he nodded. "Sorry, things happening. Well, four things. Well, four things and a lizard."

"Okay, no worries," the woman replied. "On you go. See you around some day."

The Doctor and I took off before he turned around again. "What was your name?"

"Sally Sparrow," she grinned at us both.

"Good to meet you, Sally Sparrow."

There was a man who walked up to her. She looked at him as he gave us a stunned look. She grabbed his hand, said goodbye, and walked back into the store.

I chuckled. "That will make more sense later, I hope."

"Me too," the Doctor replied.

We both turned again to head towards Martha. I felt the Doctor reach for my hand, but I pulled back. I hoped that it could be seen as unintentional. As if I just didn't notice it.

"I like that name," I commented, trying to change the subject. "Sally Sparrow. Good alliteration."

"Yeah," he muttered. "Come on."

Everything else went off without any major incidents. It was a normal day. I thought that it was all over. Until we landed in the next place, of course.

We had just made it back to the TARDIS. The doors had just closed behind us and we were just getting ready to leave. And then, the TARDIS jolted to the side.

"What the hell was that," Matha asked.

I grabbed the screen nearby. "What the... Paradox energy."

"Paradox?" the Doctor moved to look at the screen over my shoulder. "Well, that's not good."

"A paradox?" Martha walked over. "Like in Back to the Future or something?"

"What," I asked.

"I'll show it to you sometime," the Doctor muttered to me before going to move around the console.

"Time isn't always perfect and linear, but it does have rules," I explained. "If one of those rules gets broken, it creates a paradox. Paradoxes can be small or large, deadly at times."

"What caused this one?"

"Not sure yet," I shrugged.

"We'll have to go check," the Doctor added, flipping a switch.

"Hold on," Martha said. "You just said that one of the rules of time got broken. That one of these paradoxes can be deadly."

"Yup," the Doctor confirmed.

"So, you're going to just land in the middle of it?"

"We're not fools, Martha," I promised. "We're going to land on the edge of it."

"Oh, for the love of-"

The TARDIS suddenly lurching caused Martha to cut off the end of her sentence. She grabbed onto the console.

We landed just outside of a gate. There was a path that clearly led from the gate to a large, abandoned house. On the fence was a warning to keep out. None of us paid it any mind.

The house itself had seen many better days. The outside was in mostly okay condition, but there were some parts where the roof and the wall were falling apart.

It was almost a cliche.

"Are we still at the same time?" Martha said as we walked down the path.

"No," I answered. "We're about a year earlier. There was a... spike."

She nodded.

The inside was no better than the outside had been. The wallpaper was falling off. Plants were beginning to grow within the house. Every piece of the floor was creaking. If the lighting fixtures weren't on the floor, they were hanging dangerously low.

"So, any remarkable ideas about this paradox," Martha asked.

"Not yet, but I can feel it... like it's buzzing in my fingertips," I said, stopping in the middle of the room and turning toward her. "Where's the Doctor?"

"Wandered off," she replied with a shrug. "How are you two?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Fine."

"That's it?" she chuckled.

"What else were you expecting me to say?"

"Something a bit more... I don't know... romantic," she suggested. "I thought you two would be deep in the honeymoon phase by now."

I raised an eyebrow at her this time. I knew what she was talking about. It was just easier for me to pretend that I didn't.

To be honest, things had been... strained since the two of us kissed. I couldn't tell how much of it was my lack of knowledge in that area and how much of it was simply my ever-suffocating guilt. I had meant to sit and think about that, but I simply never had the time. There was always something more important to think about.

Martha sighed and held up her hands. "Fine. I'm gonna go check upstairs for some sign of anything... paradox-like."

"Be careful!" I called after her.

"I always am!"

I turned back to the room, trying to find some sign of what could be going on. The first detail that I saw was some sign of spray paint under the wallpaper.

I stepped forward, going to pull the wallpaper off. I only stopped because I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. My hand stopped. I took a step back before slowly turning my head toward the window.

Standing there was a weeping angel.

I let out a shaking breath. I slowly closed my eyes before quickly opening them. It had moved forward.

"Doctor!" I shouted, taking slow steps backward. "Martha!"

I heard the floor behind me creaking. I quickly turned around, finding another weeping angel behind me. I turned back around, finding the other angel now inside. Those panicked motions were enough for the second angel to reach out and grab me.

I found myself standing in some kind of alleyway.

"No," I muttered. "No, no, no, no, no!"

I looked around before starting to walk. At some point, I would have to find something or someone.

It had only been a few minutes before I heard someone behind me.

"(Y/n)!"

I turned around to see Martha and the Doctor walking toward me. I let out a relieved sigh before running in their direction. I hugged Martha first. After I stepped back, I hugged the Doctor.

"Weeping angels," the Doctor said.

"Yes, I know," I replied. "I tried to tell you both but no one responded. You guys must have already been sent back."

"Anyone wanna actually explain this all to me," Martha asked.

"Weeping angels are creatures that basically feed off paradox energy," I explained. "They touch you, zap you back in time, and eat the paradox energy that's left from all the moments that don't happen."

"They can't move when you can see them," the Doctor added. "They freeze in place until you look away or blink"

"Okay... so how do we get home?" Martha looked between us.

"Well..." the Doctor dragged the word out.

"You don't know."

"Not yet," he muttered.

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking around us before speaking up, "What year are we in?"

"Um," the Doctor looked around, muttering to himself as he tried to figure it out.

Martha ran over to a nearby bench where a newspaper had been left on it, "1969."

I slapped the Doctor's arm, ignoring him when he complained. "That was the year that the girl at the shop told us about. The one with the really good name... Sally Sparrow."

"Alliteration girl!" the Doctor exclaimed before digging into his pocket. "1969. She gave us instructions."

I grabbed the folder from him, going to sit on the bench where Martha had found the newspaper. I flipped through it. It was a collection of photos and a letter. I held those out for someone to take.

"The letter is addressed to Sally," I said. "She knew someone who got sent back."

"What's this list," Martha asked, sitting next to me. The Doctor took the letter.

"Not sure," I replied, handing it over to her. "Nothing that I recognize."

My eyes landed on a typed-out conversation.

"Look at this." I held it out to him. "It's a conversation. Half of one, anyway. Sally's part."

"She's at the center of this, then," he muttered, taking the folder so he could read it over. "'I'm clever and I'm listening.' I like her."

"Would be nice to meet her when we aren't stuck without our TARDIS," I replied. "Who is she talking to? You?"

"Maybe. She recognized me at the shop."

"And you do talk a lot."

"Thanks." his response was sarcastic.

"I got it," Martha said excitedly. "They're movies. All of them!"

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"And that," she snatched the folder out of the Doctor's hands, "is a script!"

"Half a script," I corrected.

"Well, yeah, but we can figure the other half out," she insisted. "We just need to get the other side of this conversation onto these movies."

"How do we do that?"

"I... I don't know," she replied. "You two are the alien geniuses. I figured out the hard part."

"I never really looked into how humans make their entertainment." I looked at the Doctor. "Have you?"

"It's basic technology," he shrugged. "Getting the film made isn't the problem. The problem is getting the film onto everything on that list."

"We need an inside man," Martha suggested.

"Can't be the Doctor because he has to be in it, so people would get suspicious," I explained.

"You could do it," she said.

"I really couldn't."

"Yes, you could," she replied. "You're a quick learner. You'd know what you're doing."

"But this would take years. We don't have that long."

"What do we do then? Talk to someone in the industry and hope that they believe us when we say we were attacked by monsters that can't move when you can see them?"

"Or we could find someone who would be more inclined to believe us."

Martha's eyebrows furrowed at my suggestion.

"Wait for someone else to be sent back to us," the Doctor said, seemingly agreeing with me.

"That could take ages," Martha replied.

"Sally knew someone who got sent back," I argued. "Maybe that wasn't the only one. Might not take as long as you think."

"What about in the meantime?"

"Well, we'll need to find a place to stay. Shouldn't be too hard."

"Whose paying for that?"

The Doctor and I both stared at her before briefly glancing at each other.

"Oh, you two so owe me for this."

We ended up staying in a small flat near a shop that hired Martha.

She would go work through the day while the Doctor and I busied ourselves with a new device that was meant to help track down other people who came through.

It was a few days into this new pattern that the Doctor decided to turn the conversation away from our current predicament.

"Can I ask you something?"

I had been hunched over some small part of this new device. The Doctor had taken a moment to lean back in his seat a bit.

"Sure," I replied, not turning my head away from the machine.

"Did I do something... wrong?"

It felt as if both of my hearts stopped at the same time. I had to fight the urge to tense as I responded, "No, why do you ask?"

"I just... I thought that things would change."

I couldn't find a string of words that felt like they were enough to explain how I felt. None of them could provide him any comfort. I found myself stuck with nothing more than an uneasy silence.

"I thought that we were..."

"Were what?" I tried to remain disconnected from the whole thing. At the very least, I felt like it would push this conversation away for a little while.

"We kissed," he continued. "I thought that it meant something, but you're acting like nothing happened."

"It happened." I nodded. "It happened and... that's it."

"'That's it'?" he repeated. "(Y/n)... this wasn't something insignificant to me. I have no interest in that being it."

"Well, that's all it's going to be." I shrugged.

The Doctor didn't respond after that. He stared at me for a few moments before going back to studying the machine on the table.

I went to do the same, pretending to be completely unaware of the new and terrible tension in the room.

"I've got it," the Doctor muttered, pushing my hands away.

I sat back, staring at him for a few minutes before standing up. "I'm going to go out for a walk. You know how to reach me if something comes up."

He just hummed to acknowledge that he heard me.

I nodded before heading to the door.

I knew that I had handled the whole situation incorrectly. It was all just too new and sudden for me to have any other way to handle it. There was nothing I could say or do that would be good enough for that conversation.

Everything would be easier if things had just stayed exactly as they were.

My mindless wandering led me to the front steps of a library. I stared at the door. I don't know what compelled me to go inside. Maybe it just felt like I should've been there. Like there were answers to some questions that I had. The whole place was comforting during this time.

I was filled with this sense of comfort that I had never imagined before. I could imagine spending day after day after day there.

And I did.

I never truly thought about just how slow life would feel when the Doctor and I stopped moving. I didn't realize that I hadn't really stopped running since I met him.

Yes, there was my brief time as Jo, but that wasn't me. That was a different version of me. One that was much more equipped to handle a slow, dragging life. One that was going through significantly less emotional turmoil.

I busied myself with books. That library I had found had a very kind woman working there who offered suggestions to pass the time. Stories and art that I had never bothered myself with before. I read what I had been told were classics.

It was strange to fall into such a pattern. I could've gotten used to it, maybe. Under different circumstances. But this whole thing just felt odd.

The Doctor would sit impatiently at his machine. I would sit in some corner of the room, reading my stories and quietly hoping that the machine would finally make some kind of sound to fill the awkward silence. The two of us weren't talking much after our argument. Too stubborn on both fronts, I suppose.

Martha would walk in around the evening and ask what I was reading. She'd ask for any good news from the Doctor.

Over and over. Day after day. It was the same cycle.

Until there was a delightfully noisy interruption. The machine went off, telling us that someone had been sent back.

We all ran outside, Sally's folder in hand. It didn't take long to recognize that we were being led back to the alleyway that we had found ourselves in.

"How are we going to do this," Martha asked. "'Hi, are you from the future? Because we are and we have a job for you.'"

"Something like that," the Doctor said.

"Start with Sally Sparrow," I explained in more detail. "See if they know her. She might be the center of this whole thing."

"I wasn't being serious," he chimed in.

"I wasn't saying that you were. I'm just trying to make sure Martha is as prepared as we are. We should all be on the same page."

"Didn't think you cared much about that."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

I scoffed. "Sorry that I'm prioritizing the thing that is getting people killed. Didn't realize that was an issue."

He didn't respond, instead choosing to walk a little faster so he was ahead of us. I went to speed up so he couldn't get too far away.

"What's going on with you two," Martha asked, grabbing my arm so I'd slow down.

"What are talking about?" I said.

"Don't act stupid," she replied. "You two kissed. You told me. But now you two are acting like you can't be near each other. What's going on?"

"It's nothing," I shook my head, going to catch up with the Doctor.

"No, it's not," she insisted, grabbing my arm again. "You can talk to me, I promise. I can keep my mouth shut. Kept your feelings a secret, didn't I?"

"Martha," I sighed. "It's nothing. I'm fine. We're fine. Let's just... Let's focus on this. Please."

Her lips tightened. As if she had to actively hold back whatever comment was about to push through. She stiffly nodded and let me pull my arm away.

"(Y/n), Martha!"

The two of us looked down the way at the Doctor, whose back was still turned to us. I gestured toward him with my head. Martha nodded again and followed me down the alley.

We rounded the corner to find a man sitting with his back against the wall. He looked panicked and confused. The machine was going slightly mad when we found him.

"Welcome!" the Doctor greeted.

"Where am I," the man asked.

"1969," the Doctor replied. "Not bad, as it goes. You've got the moon landing to look forward to."

"The moon landing's brilliant," Martha added. "We went four times."

"When we had transport," I muttered.

"How did I get here?" the man interrupted us.

"Touch of an angel," the Doctor explained. "Probably the same one that sent us back since you ended up in the same year."

The man went to stand up only to be stopped by the Doctor before he could.

"Don't get up," he said as he plopped down next to the man. "Time travel without a capsule, nasty. Catch your breath, don't go swimming for half an hour."

"I don't... I don't understand."

I leaned on the railing in front of them both. "You got touched by a weeping angel. You probably noticed some big stone angel statues. Pretty fascinating really. They don't kill you directly. Instead, they send you back in time to whatever year they want and feed on the paradox energy that forms when you're gone. The potential energy of the moments that were supposed to happen but never did. They let you live a whole life, just not when you were supposed to."

"The only psychopaths in the universe to kill you nicely," the Doctor added.

"What in God's name are you two on about?"

"They do this a lot," Martha said. "Just nod when they pause for a breath."

"Tracked you down with this," the Doctor continued. "My timey-wimey detector. Goes ding when there's stuff."

"I still don't understand." the man ran his hands over his face. "Where am I?"

"1969, like he said." Martha leaned on the railing next to me.

"We'd offer you a lift home, but our time machine got stolen by the angels." I shrugged. "We have a message that we need you to get to a woman named Sally Sparrow."

"Sally Sparrow? I know her! I just met her."

"Good, that'll make this easier for all of us."

"However," the Doctor spoke up again. "I'm sorry. I'm very, very sorry. It's gonna take you a long time."

It felt like there hadn't been a moment to breathe after that. Getting the man a job to work on films was no trouble really. The psychic paper was enough for that.

Getting us on set was a new challenge but still ended up working out alright.

We snuck in during the middle of the night. Everyone in the studio had gone home by then. Billy, the man that we had found in that alleyway, had been very helpful. I think at some point, he knew that there was no good denying what had happened. He seemingly wanted to do some good while he was here.

And so, there we were. The Doctor sitting in front of a plain orange wall with the script and a camera in front of him. Martha and I stayed off to the side, watching as he read off his half of the conversation.

"How are you gonna know how long to wait?" Martha tilted her head. "Like between lines. How do you know you'll give Sally enough time to get her sentence out?"

"Didn't think about that," the Doctor muttered. "Guess I'll just hope for the best... gonna sound a little silly no matter what I do, isn't it?"

We both nodded.

"Good luck," I said, almost before I had a chance to stop myself.

The Doctor grinned at me. I let out a small sigh.

"Ready," Billy asked. The Doctor nodded.

It was as silly as it seemed. Small bits of a conversation that just sounded meaningless when there was no context to it. Had I not known the whole situation, I would've started laughing.

"I'm a time traveler. Or I was. I'm stuck in 1969-"

"We're stuck," Martha chimed in, leaning into frame. "I was promised all of space and time and now I'm working in a shop to support these two-"

"Martha," I pulled on her arm to get her to move back, trying to keep myself from chuckling at the whole thing.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

The Doctor fixed his suit before continuing on with the script.

"People don't understand time," he explained. "It's not what you think it is."

I thought about the lines that Sally had written down for herself. I grinned. She really was very clever.

"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause and effect, but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey... stuff."

I scoffed, hiding my face behind my hand. I barely caught sight of the Doctor's small glare focused on me.

"What matters is we can communicate," the Doctor continued. "We have got big problems now. They have taken the blue box, haven't they? The angels have the phone box?

"Creatures from another world... The Lonely Assassins, they used to be called. No one quite knows where they came from, but they're as old as the universe, or very nearly, and they have survived this long because they have the most perfect defense system ever evolved. They're quantum-locked. They don't exist while they're being observed. The moment they're seen by any other living creature, they freeze into rock. No choice, it's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing, they literally turn to stone. And you can't kill a stone.

"Of course, a stone can't kill you either, but then you turn your head away. Then you blink. And oh, yes, it can.

"That's why they cover their eyes. They can't risk looking at each other. Their greatest asset is their great curse. They can never be seen. Loneliest creatures in the universe."

I could make an argument against that statement but now wasn't the time.

"And I'm sorry. I am very, very sorry. It's up to you now. The blue box. It's my time machine. There's a world of time energy in there they could feast on forever, but the damage they could do could switch off the sun. You have got to send it back to me.

"And... that's it, I'm afraid. There's no more from you on the transcript, that's the last I've got.

"I don't know what stopped you talking, but I can guess. They're coming. The angels are coming for you, but listen because your life could depend on this. Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink. Good luck."

And with that, the camera stopped. We bid our goodbyes and our best wishes to Billy and left the studio.

"So... what now," Martha asked.

"We see if it worked," the Doctor replied. "If the message got to Sally as it was supposed to, then the TARDIS should be on its way to us."

"At the old house," she concluded.

"At the old house." he nodded.

"Well, come on then," she pushed us both away from the studio. "Let's get out of here."

The house was still being built when we got there. It was mostly put together, but it was waiting on furniture and decorations and wallpaper.

"One last thing to do," the Doctor pulled out two small cans of paint and some paintbrushes as he spoke. I was always a bit jealous of his jacket.

"The message." I nodded. I grabbed the picture of it from the folder that Sally had given us. "Should go on this wall here."

"Won't someone just paint over it," Martha asked.

"Chances are that whoever comes to put the wallpaper up after we're gone will just see this as kids messing around," the Doctor said. "They're putting up wallpaper, no need to paint something so small."

She nodded.

I placed the picture down, leaning it against the wall.

"I'll start the top part. You start the bottom part," I explained, handing the Doctor a brush. "You have to sign your name on it anyway."

"Alright," he muttered.

Martha stood there for a moment, glancing around.

"I'm gonna check around the house," she said, turning to walk out of the room.

"Be careful!" I called after her. "Yell if you see anything!"

She didn't respond, probably because what I had said had seemed incredibly obvious to her.

I turned back to the wall. My eyes jumped between it and the picture of what Sally was supposed to find in the future.

I reached up, beginning to paint "Beware the weeping angels" as clearly as I could.

We worked in silence for a while. It was strange. I had grown used to there being some kind of rambling. The silence made my stomach twist.

I stepped away from the wall after finishing the first line, going to compare it to the photo.

"We need to talk," the Doctor said, still seemingly as focused on his part of the wall as mine.

"Is now the time for this?" I muttered. I couldn't avoid this conversation now. We were going to be here for too long.

"Yup," he replied bluntly, turning to look at me. "I don't like how we left things earlier. We haven't fought like that in ages."

"I know."

When that was all that I said, the Doctor continued, "Ages. We haven't argued like that since you hated me."

"Doctor, I know," I repeated as I looked at him.

"Then, you should also know why I feel like it's appropriate for us to have some kind of conversation about it."

I put the paint down on the floor. "Fine."

I paused when I saw the look in his eyes properly. There wasn't any anger or judgment. He just looked worried. Almost scared. It made me feel guilty for all of the anger that I had held toward him through the last few days.

"It's... It's Rose," I said.

The Doctor's eyebrows furrowed at me.

I sighed. "She was the first person that I could consider a friend. Before we got along, she was all I had. She helped me choose my name. She made me better. And I know how she felt about you and how you felt about her. I... I can't help but feel like I took something from her. It just... It felt selfish."

The silence after that was suffocating. It made me feel sick to my stomach.

"I'm sorry," I muttered after a moment.

"You don't need to apologize," the Doctor took a few steps closer to me. I took a deep breath as he did. "I care about you. And I am willing to wait. As long as you need."

I took a deep breath. "I don't remember patience being a gift of yours."

"Well," he grinned. "Not always. But now... for you... it's worth it."

I stepped forward and hugged him. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me."

"Shut up and accept it." I stepped back. "We should finish the painting."

We were just finishing the last few letters when Martha ran in. "I found the TARDIS! It's in the basement."

"Yes!" I ran after her as she ran back downstairs.

A few moments later, I heard the Doctor running behind us. It was clear that he had waited for a few moments to finish up the message.

I cheered again as I laid eyes on the TARDIS. "Oh, I have missed you!"

"Oh, look at that beauty," the Doctor said. "Thought you'd never come back to us."

"Who wants to do the honors," I asked, looking at the two of them.

"Dibs!" Martha called quickly. "My turn to look cool."

I shook my head as I chuckled at her.

I looked back at the Doctor as Martha unlocked the door. He was already smiling at me. I smiled back, feeling a sudden calm settle over us both. It was nice to not feel so scared now.

The familiar creak of the TARDIS door made me look back at Martha, who was smiling proudly in the doorway.

"Let's go. I am happy to be out of... this year for a while," she said.

We followed her inside, letting out a collective sigh as the door closed behind us.

"What now," I asked.

"Well, we have the TARDIS back," the Doctor walked around the console. "And I'd suggest just flying off into the vast expanse of space, but... we have to make a small pitstop first."

"Of course we do," I muttered. "Cardiff?"

"Yup."

"What's in Cardiff?" Martha looked between the two of us.

"There's this little crack in the fabric of the universe."

"Originally, there were these gaseous beings using it as a door before a very clever woman sacrificed herself to close it," I added.

"But it didn't close all the way," the Doctor continued. "There's still a small crack. Like a scar."

"Park the TARDIS on it and the TARDIS can absorb the energy coming from it and use it to repair damage... like damage from the Weeping Angels trying to use it as an infinite food supply."

"Won't take long," the Doctor promised.

"Don't say that," I interjected. "Last time we did this, we almost dropped Cardiff into the rift."

"I'm sorry... what," Martha asked.

"That... was not our fault. No Slitheen this time." the Doctor said.

"Comforting," she muttered, sarcasm as clear as day.

I wrapped an arm around her, giving her a small side hug for her troubles. She grinned over at me as the Doctor ran around the console.

There was a new wave of calm through the TARDIS. Not the same kind of calm that happened after we made it out of some dire situation. This one was smaller, but still significant.

I could only hope that it would last long enough for us to truly enjoy it.

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