#last time i am doing full realism

[tcelujhita]

eight

[flowerandblood]

White Marriage (2)

[ Kingdom of Heaven • King Baldwin x female ]

[ warnings: fingering, virginity loss, sex content, poetic smut, angst, a detailed description of the deadly disease and the unpleasant symptoms associated with it ]

[ description: After their nuptials, the court becomes even more divided. The King, however, wishes to spend the last years of his life experiencing the joys he finds in the closeness of his wife. His bride was never to lose her maidenhood, however, is what the King has proclaimed to his subjects what he really craves? ]

Author’s Note: After the warm reception of the first part, which I didn't expect at all, here is the second part of their story! I have to admit that I had a great time writing it and I love them. I tried to leave some realism and not forget about his illness and the fact that it is contagious.

Part Two of Paradise Fruit. Can be read as a standalone story.

Word count: 4.600

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Their nuptials were humble – apart from the Archbishop, who gave them his blessing, uniting them for eternity, they were accompanied only by Sibylla and her husband, enraged, thinking that the King was just fulfilling his sneaky plan.

He truly believed that he would have exposed her to such danger, condemning her to the cruel disease that tormented his members to try to beget an heir.

She was grateful to her Princess for lending her one of her beautiful, gold-embellished robes that day – Sibylla knew what purpose this marriage was intended to serve and that it would not change the order of succession.

She was to be his comfort, a moment of relief and solace, nothing more.

Nevertheless, she smiled, feeling happiness filling her heart, her king's gaze tender and full of affection, from which she felt warmth in her chest.

She thought that she had fallen in love with him.

Their marriage was announced to all and sundry, and she became a king's wife, but not a queen.

She was not bothered by this.

She was assigned a chamber right next to his – she could now visit him whenever she wished and did not have to worry about the King's honour.

As she walked into his quarters, clad only in a thin night robe, a smile of happiness adorned her face. Baldwin, though tired, also seemed pleased and rose at the sight of her.

"Wife." He said, entwining his hands behind his back.

His figure was all clad in white as usual, though the material of his wardrobe seemed thicker to her, a silver mask on his face.

To her surprise she noticed that his gloves were black, apparently made of leather.

She bowed to him, recognising that she was not intending to think about it now.

"My King. My husband. You are the man of your word." She whispered warmly, looking up at him from above her long lashes, feeling a pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen meeting his gaze, hot and dark.

"I am." He replied. "I couldn't deny myself this pleasure. It was an act of my selfishness, not my greatness."

She blinked, cocking her head, feeling for some reason amused by his words.

"Does it matter now?" She asked lightly – something flashed across his gaze, she thought he smiled.

"No. Not in the slightest."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his orders – he had announced that because of his disease he would not take her maidenhood and their marriage would be white, however, after what had gone on between them earlier, she did not think her husband would want to remain an ascetic in every aspect.

"Let me see you." He said finally, his voice like a sigh.

She knew what he meant, she knew what he wanted – she could see it in his gaze. Her hands rose to the small knot above her breasts, untying it, slipping the thin material of her nightgown off her shoulders in a light, gentle motion, remaining bare before him.

She shuddered, feeling the chill of the chamber surround her body despite the flames burning in the fireplace beside her, her lips parted as she noticed her king's gaze shift, misty and filled with a familiar, hot desire.

For a moment he looked at her with his head tilted, as if he was simply admiring her, nothing more.

"My physicians have said that the leather material, as opposed to linen, will ensure that you are protected from the touch of my bare skin and what it may cause." He said, tentatively extending his hand to her, and she felt her heart thump harder in her chest with joy.

She could touch him.

They both drew in a loud breath as she placed her fingers on his palm, letting him pull her a little closer, the spot between her thighs all swollen with desire, slowly growing moist with her wetness.

Her lips parted with her gasp of surprise as his other hand touched her cheek – she snuggled her face into it, placing affectionate kisses of her lips on it.

"I would give all the treasures of this chamber, my possessions and my gold coins to feel the taste of your lips on mine." He gasped, looking at her as if she were a precious jewel, a spring water that quenches thirst, an olive tree that feeds whole nations.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the sizzling fire and their hitched breaths as his thumb ran over her full, lower lip. She parted it before him and let him slide it deeper, between her teeth. Her lips clamped slowly around his finger, looking up at him with desire as she began to suck.

A low groan escaped his throat at the sight, clearly imagining that he was forcing something completely different down her throat.

He placed his other hand on her back, at the same time pulling her closer and holding her at arm's length, apparently afraid that even his breath was dangerous to her, possibly dooming her to his fate.

She moaned when he gave in, when his mask pressed against her forehead, his eyelids all red around his bright pupils.

"– forgive me –"

She didn't know why his words, filled with so much sadness and desire, made her throw her hands on his shoulders, her lips clinging greedily to the unpleasantly cold, silver structure of his mask.

She closed her eyes, hearing his gasp of surprise, placing lingering, hot kisses full of her saliva and tongue on the surface of it, imagining he was able to feel it, his hands sinking into her hair.

"– touch me, husband – I crave you –" She mewled helplessly, running her hands over the material beneath which was his head, his hair, his jaw and neck.

She squealed when he lifted her suddenly by her buttocks, the quiet hiss that escaped his lips made her understand that this sudden movement must have caused him pain.

She stroked the back of his head as he moved towards his bed with his face nestled between her breasts, not wanting to show him any sympathy now that he wanted to be a strong man in her eyes.

He let out a breath as he laid her down on the soft sheets, his gaze full of tenderness as he looked at her face.

"– lie on your stomach and spread your thighs –" He said calmly and gently, however, something in his words and their undertone made her feel a heat in her lower abdomen and a wonderful tickling sensation.

She obeyed his command immediately, feeling her legs become stiff as he caught her around the waist and lifted her hips, forcing her to buck her buttocks in front of him in a shameless manner.

She heard his heavy breath as he positioned himself behind her on his knees, running his leather-gloved hands over the soft skin of her buttocks, herself panting hard, knowing where he was looking now.

"– the reason why Paris abducted Helen of Troy – the cause of the downfall and delight of all mankind locked deep between my wife's thighs –" He whispered in such a sensual way that she moaned pathetically, clenching her eyelids as his thumb ran over her leaking, throbbing womanhood.

Apparently he liked the sound she made, because one of his hands slid into her hair, holding her in place, reassuring him that she wouldn't take advantage of his weakness and try to expose him in an act of pleasure, endangering him and herself.

"– lie still – shhhh, my love –" He whispered, hearing her innocent cry of desperation as his fingers began to trail around her oversensitive, swollen bud, waves of tingling and tickling sensations spreading through her body dulling her mind, causing her to emit uncontrollable sounds.

She could hear him panting as she watched what he was doing to her, his fingers digging into her delicate folds with a loud click of her wetness, barely teasing her – her hips began to roll back and forth, responding to his treatments, trying to find a better source of rubbing.

"– have mercy on me –" She mumbled with difficulty, her lips parted wide in a girlish moan when, at her request, the tip of his middle finger burst into her fleshy, hot interior.

The experience was at once full of discomfort and delight – at first the material of his glove was cold, but in time her body temperature enveloped him with its heat.

"– God – so warm –" He whispered in a voice trembling with emotion, in some involuntary, primitive reflex forcing her to take his finger deeper inside her, meeting resistance.

"– yes or no –" He breathed out, making her gasp.

Yes or no.

She froze, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, knowing that he had lied: he had only declared their marriage as white so that after his death his sister's husband would not attempt to kill her out of fear that she might be carrying his heir.

The future King.

"– yes –"

Her fingers clenched on the fabric of the sheet beneath her as he pierced something inside her in one aggressive motion, along with her squeal taking her maidenhood.

She began to wriggle under him with sweet whimpers of delight as his first finger was joined by a second, opening her wide for him only to fuck her before his eyes.

Tears of pleasure and shock ran down her cheeks as she moaned like a mere whore, spreading her thighs wider, his fingers thicker and longer than hers, stretching her so wonderfully.

"– please –" She whimpered, responding with her hips to each thrust of his hand, the tips of his fingers hitting the sweet spot deep inside her with startling precision again and again, while his thumb teased her little pearl between her folds with reluctance.

She bucked up more, panting loudly along with him, feeling the drops of her own wetness begin to run down her thighs one by one, soaking his hand, the fingers of his free palm clenched in her hair.

"– go on – please your King –" He commanded in a low voice from which her weeping cunt clenched around his fingers in convulsions of ecstasy, the sweet, stupefying pleasure making her cry out loudly, her legs bent at the knees quivering all over from the exertion.

"– a-ah –" She mumbled out, her face red with emotion as her body shook with a fulfilment so strong that her leaking, hot walls began to simply suck him inside. He felt it and moaned in a boyish manner, stopping moving, keeping his two fingers slipped deep into her body, just wanting to feel how it pulsed around them.

"– yes – just like that – easy now – easy –" He praised her, slowly sliding them out of her, and she swallowed hard, letting her body fall back onto the bed, panting loudly.

She sighed as he turned her onto her back and spread her thighs, looking at her with eyes black with desire, his hand slipped under the material of his robe.

Only then did she notice that his garment had a slit in the area underneath where his manhood was.

Although he had not allowed her to look at it then, now that he had grasped it in his hand and directed it at her throbbing womanhood, she saw the fat, pink head of it, dripping with his desire.

His hand clamped down on her soft breast, careful, however, not to cause her pain as he began to squeeze his swollen erection in his palm, with sharp, aggressive strokes from the very base to the tip chasing his fulfilment.

She moaned innocently, surprised, tilting her head back as his thumb ran over her hard, sensitive nipple, playing with it, something like satisfaction flashed through his gaze when he saw that this kind of touch was giving her pleasure.

"– my wife is so eager – so devoted to her poor husband – hm? –" He gasped, his breathing heavy as he accelerated, already squeezing only the base of his manhood, rocking his hips back and forth, struggling to restrain himself from opening her up, from sinking into her, from feeling her.

She rolled her hips forward encouragingly, rubbing her moist cunt against the thick head of his erection, drawing a low, almost animalistic groan from his throat, his silhouette moving slightly away.

"– no –" He growled with pain and anger, involuntarily returning again and again to her warmth, letting the tip of it push against her swollen, thirsty slit.

"– please, my King – put inside me –" She begged, but he shook his head and simply came with a loud moan of pleasure, his pearly, sticky spend spewing onto her womanhood.

He stared at this shameless sight, his head bowed low, his breath heavy as if he had just accomplished some heroic feat.

"– you need to bathe in hot water – immediately – dress yourself, I'll call the servants –" He exclaimed, rising abruptly from the bed, covering his manhood back with his robe, wiping his hand sticky with her wetness into its material.

She stood up quickly, horrified that he was surely angry with her for not listening to him, hastily dressing her nightgown over her shoulders, bursting into sobs.

"– forgive me, my King – forgive me, do not send me away –" She begged, but he did not listen to her, ordering his servant to immediately bring the tub into his chamber and fill it with hot water.

Although it slightly burned her skin when she stepped inside, her husband-king explained that the heat killed whatever was spreading his disease, and the oils and herbs that were thrown in were to prevent any other infections.

She looked at him with big eyes as he sat beside her, dipping his leather-gloved hand into the water along with a piece of cloth, sinking it then between her thighs, making sure not a single drop of his seed remained on it.

"– will you forgive me, my beloved? –" She muttered pleadingly, watching his face. He looked at her with a chastising look and sighed heavily.

"– it is I who should beg your forgiveness – I have allowed myself to be carried away by my desires, which have suppressed my reason – do not fear, it will not happen again – after your bath you will return to your chamber and will no longer visit me in the evenings –" He said calmly, looking away.

Her heart stopped in her throat, her brow arching in pain and disbelief at his words.

"Are you sending me away?" She muttered with difficulty. He looked at her, surprised apparently by her question and reaction, his hand froze in mid-motion.

"You can't sleep here because I am here. My breath, my proximity are deadly. I am exposing you even now. Before sleep, my physicians pull off most of the fabric that covers my body. I will never let you see this." He said and swallowed hard, seeing as tears one by one began to run down her cheeks.

"You break my heart. At least let my bed be placed next to yours. Drape it with curtains so that I may not see you or your body at night, but that I may at least hear your voice, hear your presence in the same chamber." She said pleadingly, touching his beautiful silver mask with her hand, his gaze tired and sad, filled with pain.

He hesitated.

"The chamber is not locked. Place my bed by the windows, by the fresh air. Do not condemn me to solitude, show me mercy, my King." She whispered, once again placing a kiss on his mask, on his cold, silver lips, his sigh testifying that he pressed his lips on the other side, reciprocating her caress.

"You are my doom."

At his command, her bed was moved to his chamber, raising voices full of resentment from some of the monks and priests, commenting on the fact that her maidenhood might be called into question.

"White marriage, to my knowledge, does not mean that husband and wife live separately. On the contrary, we should indulge in prayers together and be each other's comfort by day and night."

Honour Knights and Lords were concerned about what kind of comfort his little wife was to him.

Each day, the physicians sent by King Saladin checked the condition of her body and whether there were any signs of infection – her husband watched it from the sidelines in horror, relief in his gaze each time he heard from their lips that his wife was in good health.

However, taking advantage of the fact that the King had left the chamber after her examination, returning to his duties, one of his medics approached her, pale.

"My Lady. Spending so much time in the King's company, you will certainly contract his disease. Often its first symptoms do not appear until years after infection. It is possible that it is already too late." He muttered, bowing before her.

She swallowed loudly, looking at him calmly, feeling discomfort in her stomach.

"Would my husband live to see the time when the first symptoms could be apparent? If it turned out I was infected." She mumbled, and he shook his head.

"No, my Lady."

She smiled at his words and nodded.

"Thank you. Assure my King that I am well and can abide with him as before."

The man looked at her, in his eyes disbelief but at the same time a kind of admiration, compassion and warmth from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

"My Lady."

The days in Jerusalem were often sunny and hot, and as her husband rejoiced at the sight of her bare body, she walked around his chambers naked, feeling like a Greek goddess, Aphrodite or Artemis.

She would read old volumes, play the lute or embroider while spreading out comfortably on large cushions so that he could see her, and he would admire her from afar like a nymph.

"– my wife is like a fruit of paradise – like a goddess born of the sea foam –" He murmured, looking at her contentedly, bent over the dozens of parchments spread out on his table.

The servants knew that they could not enter his quarters without permission, for although he was gentle and affectionate in his manner, he did not wish to share this shameless sight with anyone.

However, what most of their days consisted of were conversations.

Her husband was a great speaker – they were discussing the Bible, faith, philosophy, poetry, art, war and history for long hours.

At nights, when he couldn't sleep from his pain, hearing his sighs and quiet moans that he tried to suppress for her sake, she would ask him questions.

She couldn't touch his hands or embrace him – his body needed rest, to breathe to keep from rotting and for at least a few hours a day it was supposed to be uncovered.

"Christ says to the adulteress: go and sin no more. However, he knows, as God incarnate, that this is not his command, but a recommendation. Sin is the fatal disease of every human being and we all sin in thought, in speech, in deed, in neglect. This is no reason to be sad. Christ is merely saying: live in such a way as not to cause yourself or others suffering, try to live with dignity, in harmony with yourself and your Father in Heaven."

"Is it known what happened to her afterwards?" She asked quietly, looking at his silhouette, seeing only its outline on the other side of his bed.

"Some identify her with Mary Magdalene or Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. But it could also have been a person not mentioned by name in the Gospel. She certainly followed Christ and became one of his disciples." He said, his voice clearer without his mask, calm and soft.

"Do you think God considers me an adulteress?" She asked in a trembling voice and heard him shift restlessly in his bed.

"Why should such an unjust and harsh judgment fall on my wife? Because she is devoted to me with her soul, heart and body? Haven't you done everything I asked of you and even more? You are as pure as the sheet I lie on, as the delicate fabrics I wear on my skin. Your beauty makes me even more aware of my ugliness." He whispered with pain that made her swallow hard, shocked by his words.

"To me, you are the most beautiful of men. Before I met you, I swore to God that I would never marry, that I would not share Sibylla's fate. He showed me mercy, filling my heart with a burning feeling for you, my beloved."

He was silent, but she heard him exhale loudly, his trembling sigh full of suffering.

He cried.

"If only you could look at my face, see what a disgusting caricature of a human I am, you would understand what a great mistake you made." He howled, choking on his own tears, clearly letting out what had been weighing on his heart for weeks.

The fear that if she accidentally saw his face, she would scream in terror and run away.

"Is your faith in me so weak? I hoped you think of me with respect." She mumbled, heartbroken, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

She heard him swallow hard at her words, clearly terrified that he had offended her.

"I do, my love. Forgive me."

"I fell in love with a human, not an earthly shell." She said, but he didn't answer her.

She watched the silhouette of her husband and his physicians each evening through the curtains, seeing them only as through a fog in the candlelight, their shadows dancing around her.

She could hear his hisses and cries of pain as they treated his wounds, see the outline of his head, always with his back turned to her.

When they were finally left alone and he lay down on his bed, she heard his sigh of relief, his face, though she couldn't see it, turned towards her.

"My sweetest?" He whispered, and she smiled warmly, feeling a wonderful delight in her heart every time he called her that.

"I'm here, my love." She murmured, twisting comfortably in her bed.

"I desire you."

She swallowed hard, feeling her warm womanhood throb around nothing.

"I desire you too, my beloved."

They were both silent for a long moment, the tension around them palpable in the air.

"– one of my physicians –" He began in a trembling voice. "– at my request, he created something that I can – put on my length so as not to touch you directly – from what I understand, he made it from the intestine of some animal and disinfected it – he assured me that it would be safe for both of us, but –"

"– yes –" She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound like crazy at the thought that he wanted to do this to her.

"– you know it's a risk –" He said, his voice quivering with longing, the shadow of his silhouette turned towards her.

"– I knew it from the very beginning – I don't care what happens to my body – I just want to feel my beloved husband inside me –" She whispered with embarrassment and that seemed to be enough for him.

She heard him stand up, quickly putting the cloth and mask over his head as he appeared on the other side, beside her bed, looking as he usually did – the same black leather gloves on his hands, his fingers clenched on a small wooden box.

"– undress –" He commanded, and she did so, literally ripping off herself her nightgown, laying down on her stomach.

His silhouette was instantly next her, kneeling behind her buttocks, his breath hitched and quickened when she heard the rustling of something and another strange, sticky sound.

After a moment, his fingers tentatively and gently ran over her swollen, pink folds, collecting her wetness, which had already managed to trickle down her thigh.

"– no other treatments are needed – my sweet wife is leaking like a forest stream –" He hummed with delight and admiration, she felt her cheeks blush with embarrassment.

They both sighed as she felt something thick and hard begin to push against her puffy slit, opening her wide – despite her lack of preparation her cunt pulsed in delight, moist with desire.

The feeling of him deep inside her, so intense and definitive, of how hard his long, thick erection stretched her fleshy walls was shockingly pleasurable and terrifying at the same time, as if her body no longer belonged to her.

"– yes, yes, yes –" She mewled as she felt his hands clamp down on her buttocks, spreading them apart as if he were tearing a piece of fruit, another determined thrust of his hips sinking him completely into her hot core with their moans of pleasure.

"– fuck –"

She wasn't sure if he had ever cursed before, but then, as his hips immediately began to pound into her with loud slaps, nothing more than their panting, grunts and words insulting to God left his mouth.

"– we'll do it frequently – so that you can remember this feeling well – your husband deep inside your warmth –" He exhaled in a way from which her little cunt began to squeeze him greedily, sucking his erection inside, her lips parted wide in a loud, helpless whines of pleasure so strong that she had to close her eyes, her hands clenched on the bedding.

His gloved fingers dug into the delicate structure of her hips, imposing a more aggressive pace on her, his fat manhood bursting deep between her fleshy walls without slipping out of her, hitting again and again her sweet little spot.

"– yes – yes, I love you, I love you, I love you, please –" She cried out, feeling the tension in her silky womanhood reach its zenith, the pleasant tingling in her belly testifying to the fact that she was about to reach her peak with him and dreamed of nothing else.

He moaned low, slamming into her like mad, feeling her weeping core clench around his twitching length more and more, his manhood hard as a rock with desire.

"– G-God – oh, fuck, yes, yes, my sweetest, let me, ah –" He gasped in delight, coming deep inside her, filling the thin material overlying his manhood with his release.

Her eyes closed and her mouth parted wide as her peak came down on her like a thunderbolt, shaking her body with convulsions of delicious delight.

They both moaned and panted, rocking their hips for a moment more with the loud click of her slick cunt, his hands soothingly kneading the skin of her buttocks.

"– I will order more of this to be prepared – so that I can fulfil my marital duty every night –" He sighed with satisfaction.

She involuntarily smiled under her breath, looking up at him over her shoulder, the moonlight shining outside the window reflected in his mask.

"– what kind of white marriage is this? –" She asked teasingly, rolling her hips, feeling his half-soft manhood pulsate inside her again.

"– our kind – do not fret – I will explain it to God once I am before him – I will tell him that I loved my wife too much –"

_____

Author's note: Between their wedding day and this next act, weeks actually pass during which he doesn't touch her (she mentions the days spent in his company and how she is examined every day, how he watches her naked, but apart from that nothing happens between them). He is afraid that if he tries to touch her again, he won't hold back (he had already had difficulty not taking her on their wedding night), so he tried to think of something so as not to touch her directly with his manhood. Their intimacy is an act of their desperation, the pain of knowing that their marriage will last a year or two at most. The desire to touch her and feel her is as strong in him as the desire to protect her and push her away. Their love is tragic and complete to me, and she knows what she is risking (she knew from the very beginning).

[utopiastri]

hiiii!

soooo i read and reread all your f1 fics.

since they are all so effing amazing, well written, funny when needed, you must have a great taste in fics. sooo do you maybe, perhaps have any landoscar fic recommendations??

have a mega day!

-💫

hi 💫 anon!!! this was. the absolute loveliest ask to wake up to this morning so thank you SO much for sending it 💕💕💕💕💕

you are so kind and please know all of these compliments have absolutely made my day!!!!!

and GOD i would LOVE to give some landoscar fic recommendations, there is nothing i love more than talking about authors i adore

i very much started rambling about these fics so i'm putting my recs below the cut!

ok immediately we're off to a rogue start because i'm going to recommend a fic that isn't posted yet but @1425fivefive's upcoming fic Learned Behavior is just honestly going to be one of the best things you will ever read - i have been honoured to receive SO many wonderful snippets from it and every single one is just as amazing as the others and i am SO excited to see the full thing

i am legally and contractually obligated to put three-sixteenths by @ipleadbritney on here because i am actually three-sixteenths' biggest fan and as part of that it is in fact my job to make sure everyone has read one of the most DELIGHTFUL magical realism fics of all time, one that fills me with such joy every time i think about it, let alone read it

by love remembered by @lellabellas is just. i LOVE fairytales so much and the way this is such a gorgeous homage to fairytales whilst also being one of the most wonderful fanfics you will ever read is honestly just. a sign of talent of truly the highest degree!!!!

brevity is the soul of wit by a_new_anon because i absolutely have to recommend one of the absolute CUTEST texting fics i have ever read. i grinned my entire way through reading it and i cannot recommend highly enough oh my GOD

the devil in me by @its-all-papaya because who am i as a person if i'm not constantly Obsessed with the idea of jealous oscar piastri. GOD this fic has everything - including one of my favourite final lines of any fic like. ever

AND on top of all of these, because i am a firm believer in showing love and affection to tumblr drabbles as well, please have a few of my favourites of those as well:

I'll Wait (I'm Sorry) by @wanderingblindly because liquid reblogged this again recently and this version of landoscar has NOT LEFT MY BRAIN SINCE!!! i reread it and had to sit down lest i faint. concept of all time i fear!!!!!!!

fireworks - prompt by @foggieststars because every so often i think about what landoscar will be like when they're no longer teammates and then i remember it doesn't matter because i can just think about one of the Sweetest drabbles i have ever read about lando and oscar dealing with oscar leaving and i am calm again

immortal - osctober prompt by @nyoomfruits because sad immortal vampire oscar has actually been haunting me for the last month and i am still SO SAD ABOUT IT (but like. in a good way obviously)

ok i will cut myself off there but !!!!! anon thank you so much for allowing me to ramble on about all this writing i love so much!!!! and thank you again for the kind words 💕💕💕

also if anyone would like to not be tagged, please let me know!!!

[lawbreaker13]

There’s something about Elemental that I love but I can’t quite seem to articulate.

[Spoilers by the way]

At the end of the movie, Ember and Wade leave together so Ember can take her internship at the glass company. This is supposedly a full time thing for her, which means she’s moving. Like yeah, she underestimates herself like “oh it probably won’t go anywhere and I’ll be back home soon,” but that’s a very “ooh this is a big step and I don’t feel ready to move out” mentality (literally told my parents I’d be back at the end of my first year’s lease, it’s just a mental safety net, but boy was that a relatable line for me). Regardless of her lack of confidence in herself and this potential new job, she is moving out. And Wade is going with her.

She had said “I want to travel the world with you.” That’s great, and I hope they do, but that’s not what’s happening here. It’s said that this is several months, maybe even a year after the main events of the movie. The majority of the movie itself spans a couple weeks or so (edit: I counted, it’s about 8-12 days). So by the time they leave for Ember’s internship, Ember and Wade have been dating for a while. Anywhere between three months and a year. Wade is leaving with her, and it’s difficult for me to believe they’re going anywhere but the same place. Which means they’re moving in together.

Now I know that it sounds like I’m just freaking out and being incoherent about a ship, but the truth of the matter is, that’s really mature of Pixar.

Family friendly and kid-centric animation tends not to push anything but the “fall in love, kiss, get married, move in, have babies” pipeline. But what I loved about Elemental was that it portrayed a REALISTIC, HEALTHY, and MATURE relationship. One where the couple has arguments about real things that matter and after space, they talk it out. One where “I don’t understand” isn’t an invitation to shut down (even if Ember meant it that way in the heat of the moment), but an invitation to try and learn. One where anger and “I’m leaving” can be met with “I’m coming with you,” and one where the couple doesn’t just love each other right off the bat, they have to DATE MANY TIMES AND GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER, SEE EACH OTHER IN THE WORST OF TIMES, and THEN, realize they’re in love. AND they said it out loud, which doesn’t happen often either (edit: I am well aware that a week or two is a very short amount of time to fall in love, but I’m gonna cut them A LITTLE slack because it’s not like. 3 days, and also they seemingly saw each other every single day for those couple weeks and had the months after that. It’s rare, but sometimes, when you know, you know).

But beyond that. Beyond dating, getting to know each other, communicating and helping each other out, and deciding “yes, we can and should be together,” Elemental showed these two doing an adult thing together—leaving home and moving out. Because they are ADULTS. And the fact that I felt like this movie was targeted towards me and my peers the same way a PG-13 or R rated movie might be, strictly because of the realism in the character’s interactions and dynamic, that is something that I absolutely adore. Like, Zootopia was a kid’s movie with mature themes. Miraculous is a kid’s show with mature themes. Even Avatar: The Last Airbender was clearly targeted towards children, even though we all know it has something for everyone.

But Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. The Spider-Verse movies. And honestly, Elemental. These feel like our movies. Movies I’m glad the kids can enjoy, but they’re made for us. The 20- and 30-year-olds.

I’m just so happy to see animation studios treating adult characters like real people. Maybe soon people will start to recognize animation as a legitimate form of storytelling, too.

I loved Elemental. I really did.

[jadedbirch]

Girls don't want boys; girls want to battle ancient gods to the death!

My friends, the time has finally come for me to review the entire Burning Kingdom's trilogy by Tasha Suri. I've mentioned it before in my rec list of queer historical novels, but that was before I completed The Lotus Empire, the last book in the series. And now I can say with conviction: Tasha Suri is the only writer out there who truly understands love and romance and WHAT SAPPHICS WANT. 🙌🏻

To back up, the Burning Kingdom's story takes place in the imaginary kingdom of Parijatvipa (a reimagining of South East Asia/India with a lot of magical realism flowing through its veins). One of our heroines, Malini, is a princess who has been told all her life by the clergy and her younger brother the Emperor that her destiny is sacrificial immolation. Our second heroine, Priya, is a priestess in the ancient and mystical temple of the Hirana, where for centuries Temple Elders and Temple Children have worshipped the Yaksa (ancient nature divinity spirits that were supposedly destroyed at the end of the Age of Flowers). Their love story begins when Malini is sent by her brother to repent at the Hirana for her unwillingness to be burned alive and Priya is assigned to be her servant/guard.

The trilogy follows the two women as they clash against each other like waves, or like two powerful tornadoes that destroy everything in their path. Their love might be easier if one of them was softer, but what makes Priya and Malini such a power couple, is that they're both incredible badasses with spines of steel and nerves of fire. The stakes cannot be higher and only keep rising. It starts out as one Princess vs The Patriarchy, and ends with Gods vs Nature, Humans vs. Gods, and Sapphic Love Conquering All. I feel it is very important to let everyone know that the trilogy has a very satisfying ending, despite the many devastating and heart-breaking twists and turns along the way.

While this trilogy is incredibly Girl Power and is full of countless badass lady characters, I must say that one of the reasons I enjoy Tara Suri as a writer is because she also understands how to write good male characters from the female gaze perspective. Sure, some of the men in this book are horrid villains, but then she gives us truly complex and good boys like Rao (I would die for Rao), Aditiya, Jeevan, Ganam, and Rukh along the way.

This series is really riveting and never stops delivering. We get really wonderful gay/lesbian solidarity. We get so much great ladies supporting ladies content (Bechdel test? LOL Tasha Suri straight blows right past it into a different dimension of female solidarity.) We get hot girl on girl under the waterfall action. We get gorgeous rumination on the nature of faith and sacrifice. But most importantly, we get two very deeply flawed women who love each other so powerfully and so beautifully that their love literally reshapes the world.

I am begging everyone to drop whatever they're doing and read this series. It's really up there for me as some of the Best Gay Shit Ever.

[voidheartkisses]

Okay hello hi hello,

First off you're amazing and a gift to the world, I wish I had even half your talent. Your last piece blew my mind and I just HAD to ask,

How long have you been drawing/painting for? I imagine forever but I'm always curious how long it takes before artists reach these sorts of levels where it evolves into full-scale projects as opposed to smaller hobbyist crafts. There are so many beautiful art pieces on this platform as a whole and I'm constantly baffled by it all

Sorry if my excitement is off-putting that piece is heavenly and my mind is blown. Hope you're doing well!

Hi and thank you! That's a good question

So I've been drawing since I was born, but I've been drawing digitally for 8 years. I think in the very beginning most artists should just focus on having fun, you'll basically improve by default

after a while you will want to improve. It will be slow, but this is the stage where you'll recognize what you need work on

I'd say the turning point is when you've finally gotten far enough into your art journey without any sort of formal training (ie, a lot of artists dont learn the basics/fundamentals first, which is fine since most of us start as hobbyists) But I think learning them really did help me a lot. You start to think more about how light and shadow lays, depth, 3D objects, and more.

I highly recommend watching this video about levels of art, it's been really helpful and motivating to me throughout the years

This part is going to be long so you don't have to read it but I just wanna give my personal journey and how I got to now if anyone thinks it'll be helpful:

(2017) With digital art, I started off on ms paint and occasionally ibis paint x. Mostly using anime deviantart bases (EMBARRASSING), but after a while I developed my own style based on the people I was inspired by at the time, I was just happy to draw and didn't care much about improving at this time

(2019) The people you look up to artistically will naturally change over time (and thats okay), after a while I decided to switch to firealpaca, where I guess I got more invested on how light and shadows work, as well as making my characters look a bit more natural and develop my own style, your preference in aesthetic may also change over time which is noticeable here

(2021) Eventually, I began to lean more into semirealism (which isn't everyones preference and thats okay! realism shouldn't be the ultimate end goal of art) but I really enjoyed making stylized characters look 3D and in natural looking environments, since I felt it spoke to my own experiences, a lot of artists draw from real life experiences. I focused more on anatomy at this time as well as textures and environments, composition also became a big deal for me at this time, as well as wanting to use different colors

(2024) The change from LINEART to DIGITAL PAINTING in 2022 was the hardest for me once I switched to clip studio paint, it was basically like starting all over and I was so lost. I had a lot to figure out on my own but I knew it was a transition I had to make to draw the kind of art I wanted. But I began to study and take more things into consideration, I didn't like my art so I simply kept going "I can do better", learning from my previous mistakes and slowly making something I would be more satisfied with. At this point art felt more like "projects" then anything, because I wanted to make pieces that were of quality and had time and care put into each of them, sure it meant there was no longer much quantity. but hey that's what my smaller Cult of the Lamb lineart drawings are for!! 💙

I'm still growing and I definitely have a long way to go, but I am very proud of my progress this year, and I'll continue to grow until I'm satisfied (haha im stubborn) I also want to develop my secondary lineart style that I do when I'm not painting, since I feel that is important too

in short; time, practice, dedication, and passion are the most important, draw what you love above all else because it will be your drive to keep going, staying motivated was the most important for me

Sorry for the long post 😭

[xaeyrnofnbe]

as far as buffy comics go, so far i have read:

buffy season 8 (a wild ride from start to finish, everyone was out of character, i still have no clue how anyone came up with ANY of that. i've kind come to terms with it though. funny as hell in hindsight.) (bonus points for the spangel crumbs littered here and there. points withdrawn for buffy's reaction to them.) (season 8 is bonkers bananas all the way through, you have GOT to read it if you haven't. hell of an experience.)

buffy season 9 (a lil rough around the edges but the plot was much more casually engaging, buffy and spike had some very cute moments in the first half and overall i just like what the comics do with spike's character, even if it's a little inconsistent. oh and the plot twists were very silly and fun) (spoilers: the resolution was a little weird but i found it much funnier than i probably should have when illyria sacrificed herself. guy trying to destroy the world bc his girlfriend died and illyria was just like. hey i knew a guy who's girlfriend died one time. how'd he live with it? no yeah he didn't. he died. sorry.)

angel & faith season 9 (loved the callbacks to prior stories, though the stuff with whistler was kinda lost on me. pearl and nash were ok. i liked seeing drusilla again! though i'd prefer to see more of who she is now. the plot involving angel's nipple piercing struck me dead on the spot, weirdest part of the whole thing.)

spike: a dark place (extremely silly, spike leading spaceship full of giant cockroaches was not something i knew i needed but they were so so entertaining. generally just so amusing. i'm totally incorporating an appreciation for space into his character when i write him now.)

spike: into the light (PEAK comic!spike. thank you james marsters. easily the lowest-stakes, most grounded of anything i've read so far, which was extremely refreshing. this guy gets dragged through the dirt the whole time and still manages to be hilarious and endearing throughout. loved him narrowly hiding his vampirism at every turn from dylan. my favorite detail was the constant flapping of the bottom of his shoe.)

buffy season 10 (currently a little ways through, EXTREMELY promising so far. total vibe shift from seasons 8 and 9, way more in line with the feel of the show. every scene with buffy and spike has me kicking my legs and twirling my hair. love those two. dunno how to feel about giles yet. i am ECSTATIC at the notion of xander finally getting some character development, but i'll hold back on celebrating until i get firm confirmation.)

angel & faith season 10 (reading at the same time as buffy s10, the different art styles are a bit jarring to bounce between. genuinely the art in this one is making it way harder to connect with. i LOVED the style in s9, so the shift to realism has been disappointing to say the least. genuinely i just Do Not Know how to feel about this season yet.) (also separating your 2 main leads when their dynamic was the central focus of the last season is certainly A Writing Choice.)

[eddiediazismyhusband]

(Please don't apologize. You may call it pessimism but I see it as realism and I truly appreciate it. I've seen people SO excited to see the cast back this week and all the excitement about the new season, optimism for canon buddie, what hair/tattoos/wardrobe might look like. And I feel bad because I don't want to rain on anyone's parade. But I cannot be bothered about whether Oliver will keep his fluffy hair or have any new tattoos or Ryan's mustache because I don't want another season of boring, repetitious storylines that don't do anything to the characters, especially those of color (thinking of the cartel and Mara right now)

I'm hopeful that because season 8 will be a full 18 episodes things won't have to be as rushed or thrown together at the last minute as season 7. But yeah, please don't apologize for your opinions because you're not the only one thinking similar thoughts <3)

im moreso apologetic because i dont WANT to be a debbie downer but its like…. ive been burned by shows (this one included) far too many times to be super optimistic and excited over things that could very potentially not be good for us… like i’ve said, most of the people i know with that mustache are awful human beings and when you add in the fact that gerrard also has a mustache like that AND that tim has been showing so little care for eddie as a character/care for poc characters as a whole it doesn’t seem far fetched to me that tim could very easily commit one of the most egregious acts of character death by veering eddie so far off the natural path simply to create cheap drama

like im so glad we seem to be getting fluffy hair buck… unfortunately fluffy hair buck doesn’t negate the fact that he’s currently in a relationship with a racist and that they’re ignoring 6 years of subtext built between he and eddie to try and further reiterate their “totally platonic dude bro” relationship, on top of giving eddie a look that exudes macho straight republican man…

(and don’t get me started on the fucking cartel plot or the mara plot bc what the actual fuck is wrong with tim minear 💀💀)

i just want them to stop dragging their feet on buddie while seemingly writing everything else as this whirlwind of convoluted messy nonsense drama plots and actually decided if they’re gonna commit to just ship/queerbaiting or to the subtext and plot theyve infused into the story since eddie’s literal first episode.

like personal feelings aside for the mustache, i think we’re giving the writers too much faith in portrayal of queer characters to actually say that it’s eddie “embracing queer culture” simply bc it looks like eddie mercury… we’re talking about the same writers who gave the main wlw couple a cheating plotline, have boiled down buck’s sexuality to just sex, and have relied on playing into stereotypes of mlm/wlw side characters rather thsn actually putting time and thought into it… like it’d be one thing to say “it’s a nod to freddie mercury” if the show has actually shown any kind of care beyond using sexuality plotlines for cheap drama (henren) but the reality is that they haven’t shown us that we can trust them in that way yet.

and who knows maybe it IS a nod to freddie mercury, but we don’t know for sure and im not going to set myself uo to be disappointed yet again when its just as likely to be s nod to them making eddie an antagonistic character with gerrard… yeah, that plot wouldn’t make sense for eddie as a character but neither did the vertigo plot so who’s to say tim wouldn’t go for it?

at the end of the day, i am just not looking forward to s8. nothing yet has given me any inclination to actually watch it until we are shown that they are making strides to actually tell a meaningful story that doesn’t rely on minorities for tokenism plots or putting them through needless pain again. yes this show is a drama, but there are other ways you can create drama (hell it’s a show about first responders) than putting poc characters through the fucking wringer time and time again, profiting off their pain, while simultaneously telling lowkey racist stories that involve the fucking cartel coming out of nowhere to burn down a LA fire captain’s house???

so yeah, i’m just not feeling great about it. i also don’t wanna rain on anyone’s parade but i don’t wanna get my own hopes up when i would just be setting myself up to be let down yet again by these writers

[clonerightsagenda]

Station 11 wrapup!

You all know I'm a stickler when it comes to adaptations. I just reread a whole bunch of books so I could nitpick their adaptations better. But Station 11 said fuck that. This is an adaptation. We're going to adapt.

Station 11 the book is about the power of art. Survival is insufficient! Art brings back joy in the apocalypse. The Prophet is there, yes, mostly as a generic post-apocalyptic predatory cult to move the plot along, and he's defeated after a moment of artistic connection. But the TV show says, hold up. Yes art can save us. It can allow us to speak to each other when we can't find the words. But it's not enough on its own. You can't keep telling the same story for 400 years and always have it land. You have to leave the wheel. You have to adapt. You have to ask yourself, what if it ends differently this time? If you don't - if you resist all change, if you can't handle going off course - you're going to wither and die. Frank unable to leave his house. The father dead on the sofa. Kirsten letting poison spread through her veins. Hamlet, who for four hundred years has been dead from the beginning. The finale music doesn't play at the end of the final episode of Station 11. It plays during the play, because that's the turning point, when this show's Hamlet holds a knife to Claudius's throat and doesn't stick it in. The play finally gets another ending.

It's not subtle about any of this. The metaphors, the narrative parallels, the masterfully done scene cuts, and the select quotes about Station 11 are all very blatant, but it clicks together well enough that it works and I don't care. When we get to the final episode and Miranda drops a tragic backstory that happens to connect to the problem at hand, I accept it because I'm not bought into this story as realism, I'm bought into it as a piece of well-constructed, very deliberate art.

Your art is your message. It's your last phone call. And maybe sometimes that last call saves an airport full of people. Maybe it condemns a plane full of passengers to die. Usually you don't know. Everyone's going to take it a different way. It might save someone. It might damn them. It might not do anything. Miranda starts Station 11 as her life collapses, burns it all down, and starts again, and then the world ends and two very different people find it and adapt it in two very different, disastrous ways. But you have to make it anyway. You have to talk to people even when they're not there. I don't want to live the wrong life and then die.

I love what the show did with Jeevan, turning a relatively minor character into an awkward millennial fumbling his way through the end of the world but genuinely wanting to do good. I loved the extra content we got from Miranda and the ways she touched people's lives even beyond her graphic novel. Clark's dark turn was unexpected but worked for the story. I'm still not sold on why everyone loved Arthur Leander, but I am constitutionally immune to movie stars. I liked that the show took the brief connection between Kirsten and the Prophet and turned it into two very lost people who remember damage and can't escape the stories they're telling themselves until someone else crashes into them and tells it a different way. Forget the generic Christofascist child bride cult. We've heard that before. Let's hear something else.

My one complaint is the child army thing got defused a bit mysteriously, but mostly it was tidy in the way a graphic novel is tidy. Every image is deliberate, every line counts. This is one of the rare instances where I think I actually like the adaptation better than the book, although it's very clear that they're doing different things. I probably should have saved this for last because now all the other TV shows are going to suffer for not being Station 11, but them's the breaks sometimes.

Highly recommend! Only if you can handle pandemic trauma though.

[sangoqueenkoko]

I don't want realism; I want magic

angst

MAIN MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

.

Previous, Part 1 | Part 2 | Next, Part 3

Synopsis: Being with Dottore for some time is enough to drive some insane. But what about living with him? Thick and thin. Sweet and sour. Love and hatred. Lust and chastity. It all burns passionately. Wrapped around each other's fingers.

Warnings? This is an experimental series. Also contains the mention of inner body parts, blood and gore.

He finally exploded. Combusted.

Shattered.

Finally.

All the built-up anger that led to this moment could finally escape. In an unfortunate way.

And unfortunately, this isn’t an illusion. It’s actually happening. Whatever toxic gas that could be concocted in the Hell that is his Lab hadn’t affected you to the point of changing your reality to the magic most wanted. No.

His breath was heavy—seething, in fact. He looked over his shoulder at you. At this point, he had removed his mask so you could see the anger in his eyes in all its glory. They pierced your soul.

He would turn to you before walking over. It was like he suddenly appeared in front of you, and the fast rhythm of your panicked heart may as well have been the speed at which he was walking. The closer he got, the more of his body heat you could feel and the more anger you could sense.

"Of all pathetic homo-sapiens to be this disruptive and disrespecting to my research, I never would have never expected it to be you", Dottore growled with his hands behind his back, coat nowhere to be seen again. His eyes were full of fire, no reconciliation to be seen nearby; they were alluring to some, deadly to most. Like the so-called innocence of a rosebud, to the prickly points on its stem, dealing harm even if it didn’t want to, no matter how careful. His hair is a little unkempt due to the amount of time he's spent working with no self-care. Which you always cared for even if he didn't. But he didn't seem to care about what you thought at the moment. He didn’t care what anyone thought at this point. But his mask was always perfectly in place. As if he's always trying to conceal something away from everyone he comes across.

But he isn't concealing his anger now. He's let it out.

"I-I'm sorry, Zan-" you would try to muster up an excuse he would take, but you don't know why because he can see through anyone's lies like glass. No one else’s anger made your usually composed and undeviating composure waver unless it was from Dottore.

"Do NOT call me that!" he spat, lunging forward towards you, but he caught himself at the last second and tried to hold himself back. The sudden movement from him made you move back, too; you hated being in the path of his destructive anger; he could do literally anything. But he hated that name. Zandik. It reminded him of his Akademiya days. "Never, EVER speak of that name again! I have heard that name FAR too many times over the years, and I am sick of it! Especially hearing it from you! I loathe it! You make it oh so much worse. And I. AM. FINISHED!"

What happened after that—an argument or conversation, if you even call it that—was awkward but surreal. You had never seen him so angry, especially towards yourself, especially over the measliest of things. Now you know what other people felt when The Doctor was beyond seething.

Poor you.

Pity.

Though you were used to it, it still hit close.

When he was in various moods, you knew it was better to leave him alone and let him cool off, to do whatever cacophonous activities he pleased.

In the meantime, you knew to do your own thing, be it reading, talking, walking to let your thoughts simmer and fester, or practising sparring. No one could ever separate you from your blade.

"Heh," Childe mused with his usual shit-eating grin as he put his bow away, it disappearing beside his waist in a small cloud of golden sparkles before they hurridly faded away, "remember, we've been over this, girlie. Many times. Disputes happen. Adohiro and I have them, even over the pettiest things. And it's no different for you and The Doctor either. Even if... he tends to be a loose canon sometimes," he admitted openly, because you obviously knew that already. But you wouldn't call it 'petty.'

Despite your loose friendship, as in you and Childe, you were both good at fighting. He was always looking for a fight with those who would... 'ask for it,' and you were always up to the opportunity to refine your skills and execute them perfectly. So, if someone came upon you two sparring, they would think it looks like a dance. The way both of your manoeuvres melt together creates something that flows smoother than water: perfect pars, swift flourishing, and endless energy. Flashy.

It was comfortable for both of you. Your sword, slender, dark in colour, like obsidian, yet shiny, with no stains despite your work, would collide with Childe's slick, ocean-blue Riptide blades. From time to time, it would be some friendly jabs and remarks at each other before it would work up the energy and get a little more aggressive, as it would be if you were to actually fight against a foe. More flamboyant.

You could easily tell he was enjoying it, almost like he was showing off. But the word 'petty' stuck in your mind like an adhesive; he may not have meant it to be necessary, but you didn't see it like he did. That drove you to fight for your life, so to speak. And whatever he said next would fall upon your deaf ears.

Let’s just say that no words were spoken for a while.

Nothing but the sounds of quick swoops and clangs as weapons collided. The occasional friendly jabs turned into witty quips shared between the two of you, only before more swoops and clangs would sound out more rapidly with more force. With wits at their ends, it would be a surprise if someone got hurt, right? Right?

No matter. Because how could either of you get hurt? You’re both skilled bladesman. Meaning that no matter the circumstances you shouldn’t get hurt, you should only deal damage to those that don’t matter.

That was also told to you in your line of work. Constantly. This drove you. And it drove you insane. The idea of hurting the seemingly innocent until proven til they perish. They’ve worked alongside the criminally insane without knowing? Kill them. Their family? Kill them; there can’t be any more ‘bad blood’ spared. Knowing that you were once as innocent as the genuinely innocent you have killed haunted you; it was this burden that sat and will forever sit, on your shoulders until your own death. Constantly whispering to you, reminding you every day. Without fail. Like the angels and demons on either side of you. Only that it was only the demon. The angel was still there. But it was long dead. Dead by the hands of your own being. Signifying you are no longer innocent. And haven't been for a long time

You had a quick breather between quick rounds. During this break, you protested because you wanted to keep going, but Childe persisted.

"You've gotten much better than last time, Konchina" He took a deep breath as he put his arm in front of him, stretching it as his other arm held it close to his chest before lightly shaking it, relieving the tension pent up from the sudden blade swings.

"Of course, I've gotten better, Tartaglia", you retorted, mocking his enthusiasm in the way he said your 'name' "I can only get better from here."

He shrugged after a brief silence as he let the air settle between you both. "Okay, whatever you say. Just don't push yourself. I have to keep telling you this; the more you do this, the more you push yourself to your limit, and the more likely you will get hurt and put out of commission, depending on the severity, of course. And you know that Her Majesty can't have any of her followers, especially one of her close subordinates, out of action when work needs to be done. And you know what The Do-"

He would begin to carry on but was immediately cut off by you groaning at the name, throwing your sword down as it bedded itself into the dirt, standing at an angle, "Do not bring him up now. I can't tolerate him now, and I don't think he will be able to tolerate me now after... what happened." You would rather not think about that again.

And, of course, you know what The Doctor will say; it wouldn't be the first time. He keeps you close to his lab until you get better, not until he patches you up while giving you a long lecture. Ugh. You can't stand his lectures. As knowledgeable as he is in the medical field, it doesn't help that when you want peace, he can't keep his mouth shut.

Like last time, the last time you hurt yourself was during another spar session, this time with the Captain himself, Capitano. You got too into it, pent-up emotions up to the brim as you swung your weapon a little too hard and fast and accidentally dislocated your shoulder. As uncomfortable as it was, Capitano advised you to get it fixed, against your wishes, as you still wanted to fight. Thus sending you to the lab that is Dottore's. When you walked in, and he saw the damage, even at a glance, he knew; he sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he didn't have his mask on due to what he was working on; he snapped his fingers, echoing across the room, before pointing at the chair beside his main lab desk.

He pushed your arm back into place with a resounding POP, immediately followed by you sounding in agony despite restraining yourself.

"Tut. You know full well not to throw your body weight in a fight unless it is detrimental. You should know that by now." He would say things like that, only more patronizing; at least, that's what it felt like.

"You know to leave him alone and do whatever he wants," Childe mentioned. I've heard that before, you thought. Many times. "Now. Where were we?" he smirked as he picked his weapon up again.

Reaping up your weapon out of the ground began round two.

Those memories came back and took control. What you've been told many times came back and took control. And it wanted to do some damage. Yet, it would only backfire.

CLANG. CLANG. CRASH. PING.

Was the sounds of your blades. Only the PING was when Childe managed to disarm you and accidentally pierced your right upper quadrant. He dropped his weapons once he noticed.

"(Y/N)! Oh my- I genuinely didn't mean to do that-"

"Childe! I'm fine," you said with a shaky voice, speaking through the adrenaline rush that was now coming to a close, the pain slowly yet quickly overtaking your side.

"Let's get you to the lab- and yes, we are going!" he said quickly before you could even think about protesting, "and I don't care what The Doctor thinks; he has to help."

He will.

He must.

taglist: @jqnehr • @rain-soaked-sun • @mmeatt • @leoisgayforwriting (for Childe) •

please fill out the Google form on the series masterlist if you want to be added! :3

[anxiouspepper28]

Random thoughts I had about Young royals season 3:

Best description of Wilmon this season would be young, dumb and full of cum.

I have read this is some fanfic already, did Lisa go through all of ao3?

Ok maybe time to finish series as it is getting harder to hide beards

On topic of beards. Edvin and Omar must have gotten mean beard rashes at some point with an amount of making out they had to do.

3x03 I mean I definitely have not watched particular part multiple times, no definitely not

Also, kudos to our brave solder Edvin Ryding for soldering trough those sounds.

The amount of times I said awwwww in the first two episodes

I need Wilmon to have a happy ending. I am sucker for angst and sad endings, but I need those to be left for fanfics and not cannon. I don't care for realism and ect, give me fucking fairy tale ending, any kind of happy ending.

I keep falling in and out of love with season 3 this whole week and I guess the last episode might be what determines if I loved it or not.

I have not been so obsessed with any media as I am with yr since twilight and that obsession was justified by me being 15/16. I am turning 30 this year, I have no such excuse now other than yr brings me joy.

[extant-exhaustion]

Can I ask, what are your top 7 favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series/etc) and your top 7 favorite ships (can be canon or non canon) from any media? Why do you love them all? Sorry if you've answered this questions before......

Hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to ask! I'm sorry for the delay in my reply. I'm so excited to be here to answer though. I didn't rank these in order, but here they are (and oh my gosh was it tough to choose! I especially agonized trying to narrow down the last spot in my ships list, and honestly, it could have gone so many ways...):

My Top 7 Favorite Media

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood: If we’re basing purely off of what I think is the best media maybe ever written, FMAB is close to the top. It is the full package of stunning worldbuilding, characterization, emotional depth, intricate yet clear plot lines, and incredibly important themes. I could write an essay on each of those points. It’s the sort of show (and manga) that is a masterclass in how to tell a story beautifully.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Yusuke and Team Urameshi mean so much to me. YYH is a classic ’90s anime in some ways, but it has so much heart. Yusuke’s character growth is amazing. And the humor in the English dub never fails to make me laugh. Yet this show also deeply affects me and has such beautiful messages about love and friendship. What a dichotomy.

Assassination Classroom: This show is criminally underrated. Or, rather, not enough people have seen it. It is one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen. It’s so sweet. It’s so fucking funny. And it’s so heartwarming. I love these kids so much. I adore Korosensei. Every episode teaches us something—like a real learning opportunity!—and I genuinely cannot say enough good things about it. It makes me smile forever.

Kuroko's Basketball: I am a huge fan of sports anime and this one has so many elements I’m obsessed with. (Plus, Kagami Taiga is in my top ten favorite characters of all time.) There’s Kagami and Kuroko—a red/blue duo who are in love. There are emotionally high-stakes sports games. There are compelling “enemies.” There’s an incredible soundtrack. But most of all, there are basketball superpowers—things no ordinary basketball player could ever do (100% accuracy!?) that just make it so much fun.

Haikyuu!!: My other favorite sports anime is on the other side of the spectrum for realism. It has no superpowers, just hard work and friendship and lots and lots of great characters. I love this show so much because it constantly makes me root for Karasuno, but then I’ll still cry when the other team loses because the characters have all been shown to just be high school kids with dreams who love the sport and are having fun. It’s really sweet.

Demon Slayer: As a total package, Demon Slayer is incredible. It has stunningly beautiful animation; a wonderful protagonist in Tanjirou (and deuteragonist in Nezuko); a lovely sibling story that drives the narrative; a compelling and mysterious central conflict with the series’ big-bad Muzan; an absolutely kickass soundtrack; lovable side characters; high stakes; questions of morality and duty and tradition; and honestly, more that I’m struggling to even name. It’s just an incredibly good anime (and manga).

Tortall books by Tamora Pierce (includes 3 quartets, a trilogy, a duology, and a few standalones; my absolute favorites are the Protector of the Small quartet): Tamora Pierce shaped who I am as a person. I grew up reading her fantasy series and still reread them often. Essentially, they’re books about heroines who conquer various odds, save the day, etc. And because there are so many books that take place in the same universe over many years, you get to see various characters in different lights through different characters’ eyes. My favorite series is about Keladry of Mindelan, the first girl to pursue her knighthood since the king made it legal for girls to do so. Kel is an absolute badass, and she never turns away from injustice, and I genuinely want to be the type of person she is.

My Top 7 Favorite Ships

Kagami/Kuroko (Kuroko’s Basketball): These two will forever and always be one of my top ships. I genuinely don’t know how people can hear some of the things they say to each other and come to a not-in-love conclusion. They complete each other in the way only a true light/shadow metaphor can, but they’re also best friends who laugh together and support each other and have an insanely strong bond. By five episodes in, Kagami is already so protective over Kuroko that he's ready to throw down with street basketball punks over his not-boyfriend. And by the end of the series the trust they have in one another is so beyond a basketball anime that it’s almost ridiculous.

Yusuke/Kuwabara (Yu Yu Hakusho): The number of times these two were willing to die for each other (or gave up their life energy to save the other from death; or found hitherto untapped power as a result of having seen the other hurt) makes me want to scream. Kuwabara crashed Yusuke’s wake to scream at his corpse that he couldn’t die (“You’re supposed to be here…for me!”). Kuwabara shared his life energy to save an injured Yusuke after their very first mission. Yusuke fought multiple insanely powerful demons spurred on at least twice specifically by the fact that they’d wounded Kuwabara. Kuwabara faked his own death thinking it would help Yusuke in battle (which it did, but it also devastated him). Yusuke chased a car down on a bicycle when Kuwabara was kidnapped. Kuwabara cut through the fabric of reality for Yusuke. You get my point. I fucking love them.

Yusuke/Keiko (Yu Yu Hakusho): Yet, I also love Yusuke’s canonical love interest with him. Keiko is his reason for fighting, the light at the end of the tunnel. In one of the very first episodes, while he’s still trying to earn his resurrection, he says that he sees no point in coming back to life if Keiko won’t be there when he does. She’s the only person who stuck by him until he met Team Urameshi. She’s always believed in him, but she doesn’t take crap from him either. They have such a strong relationship that he even once saves the world by essentially trusting in his love for her. (When asked by terrorists to press one of three colored buttons to save the planet, he chose the blue one because blue is Keiko's favorite color.)

Zuko/Mai (Avatar: The Last Airbender): I will probably never shut the fuck go about how important Mai is to Zuko’s journey or how cool she is as a character and how ridiculously underrated she is. She’s so much more than people give her credit for and she understands Zuko on a deeper level than so many other characters. She counters his angst (as only Iroh can do) and she tries to cheer him up (and she inspires some of his only true smiles in the series!). And most importantly, she stands by him even when he abandons her. For me, “I love Zuko more than I fear you” will always be the standard by which other Avatar couples will be measured.

Tamaki/Haruhi (Ouran High School Host Club): I love these two so much. They’re both so queer. Haruhi is my gender-nonconforming fave and the most wonderful character who’s ever responded *shrug emoji* to the question of their gender or sexuality. She’s sassy and hilarious and the reason I say “these damn rich people” with relative frequency. And the fact that she fell for Tamaki, the flamboyant dumb-dumb with a heart of absolute pure gold…ugh. I adore it. He is too good for this world. And they bring out the best in each other. I love them so much.

Ed/Winry (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood): The balance that Edward and Winry strike together is beautiful. They’re both insanely strong people emotionally, and they’re both wildly intelligent and talented. But their compassion and care is what truly helps them shine. They’ve seen each other at their lowest and supported each other through those times, and they know the weakest and most vulnerable parts of each other. The strength of their bond covers distance and time, and Winry is the home that Edward can always return to. She holds him (and, by extension, Al) together and offers the unwavering support he so desperately needs throughout his journey.

Simon/Baz (Carry On series by Rainbow Rowell): This series hit me like a punch to the gut when I first read it. I love chosen ones who don't really match their prophesies and star-crossed lovers who find workarounds because they care more about each other than whatever is standing in their way. And these two are wonderful together. They're so messy and hopeless and sad sometimes, but they have each other and it's really lovely. Simon Snow is a disaster who loses just about everything except his friends and has to claw his way back from the brink throughout the series; and Baz Pitch never thought he deserved much happiness anyway but finds out that he does, but he's going to have to fight for it.

[molter-writes]

MOLTER!!!!!!!! your fics have me going absolutely feral

I started off reading love is complicated and then I consumed all your other fics because they've all been so good, and so different from each other, they all seem so fresh and full of life

grey ridge- it has to be my favorite out of all of them, I'm kind of a sucker for ceo rhaenyra, but can we talk about alicent in this fic???? she is so good??! I disliked Otto in this (as one does) but the flashbacks that happened made me understand him a lot more and, although I don't think they redeemed him for me, it really shows how three-dimensional you made him. the happiness that R+A have in this is really what makes it for me - and I really like Harwin and Erryk as supporting characters, they stood out to me as faves

song of the exposition- there's that argument that alicent has with rhaenyra in grey ridge at the cocktail party in ch 5 where she expects Rhaenyra "to answer rejection with rejection, like she used to, when they were younger" and it's kinda cool to see a glimpse of their younger-selves before they finished growing up

ride the dragon (do it quickly)- I really like this one! especially how it is the closest to canon, it's nice to have "what could have been" type thing when one inevitably thinks about how the show/book ends with these two. the second chapter from daeron's perspective was really great, I imagine it must have been fun to write! I like how not everything isn't perfectly resolved at the end of ch. 1, the messiness of it, if you will, adds a sense of realism I enjoy with it

leaf and blade- this is the one I read last out of all of them bc I wasn't sure what to think of a teacher au, but it's sooo good, it's one of my faves (which is hard to say when all 6 are my faves!) syrax being a lizard is so great and funny and ur so right that this really is a summer fic with the way that it reads. I really love the kindness in this fic and it's hard to read about Rhaenyra and her struggles with her inheritance+future but it's also so good to read at the same time? I don't know how you do that but it's so incredible to read

love is complicated- the first fic of yours that I read!!!! it is such an Immense, richly-packed fic that I honestly struggle with what to say about it because there are so many little details that I'd like to comment on. I love Alicent's big sad wet brown eyes and this fic defo provides that, but Rhaenyra is so sweet in this to Alicent and I just love them both in this, I also really like the little boardgame group they have going on and I sure as hell like Laena a lot more in this than in bodhrán beat, but all of the friends (and brothers) in this are really good!!

bodhrán beat- umm modern royals? it goes so hard! I can't find it in myself to hate Rhaenyra in this for cheating on Alicent bc you're sooo good at characterization that I can really understand the difficulties that both of them are going through in this. I really liked the part with teenage Rhaenyra spending time at Rheanys' house. I am putting my heart in your hands, trusting that it will all turn out in the end

Thank you so much for writing dude, I've really, really love your works and super appreciate all the time and work you put into them

insanely generous insanely caring simply insane i wish i could thank you by name and the way you deserve

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Impossible Man ✨ 3. The Storybook Lady ✨

Modern-Day Detective! Din Djarin x Witchy! Reader (Soulmates! AU)

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Din (or is it Mando?), Grogu, and Starshine spend a day together.

Chapter Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Magical Realism, Mentions of (Attempted) Suicide, Mention of (minor) character death, Jealousy between coworkers, not beta-ed

A/N: Hello, I am SO SORRY for the delay of this chapter! I really have no excuse except that I was burnt out, so I took a few weeks to catch up on several fics I've been writing and developing and decided to split the intended last chapter into two parts. I am not sure when the next chapter will be coming out, but it is in the works! Thank you for being patient with me!

Word Count: 3.7K

Dividers by @saradika

Ten years ago.

"So, anyone special in your life, Djarin?" Ben flips through paperwork, feet on the desk, files everywhere.

"No," Din replies calmly.

Ben scoffs, "Oh come on, there's gotta be someone," he pointedly looks at him above the files he's holding, his eyes full of doubt.

Din shrugs. "Not really."

His partner frowns. "Spill it. What's Detective Din Djarin's type?" He air-quotes "type" for emphasis, a teasing look on his partner's face.

"Not talking about it, Solo. It's none of your business."

"Thought we were bonding. You're too serious, Djarin. Wake up, Gym, Work, Eat, Jerk off, Sleep, Repeat. Where's the fun in that?"

"If I had time for someone," Din grumbles, "She wouldn't talk much. She would be someone patient, someone kind. I don't dwell on it much. Our line of work makes relationships tricky, you know that."

"I think that's the most generic answer you can ever give someone," Ben chides, rolling his eyes. "What a fucking cop-out, Djarin. I expected better from you since you got that whole..." he motions his hands in front of him frantically, "... dark and mysterious schtick going on."

Din snorts, shaking his head incredulously. "Please, Solo. Spare me. What do you want me to say? That I want someone who has the brightest eyes, a smile that can knock me off my ass, someone that can charm the living shit out of me with just one look? Someone who can take my breath away? Come on! How is that shit even real? How about this? Maybe I want someone who loves Cinnamon Chai, with a hint of nutmeg. Is that sufficient enough for you?"  

Ben flips him off. "Now that's the fucking spirit, Djarin."

Desperate to change the topic, Din asks, "So when do I get to meet this lucky lady?"

"Who? Starshine?"

"Yes! Your wife, Starshine? The woman you can't stop talking about?! I swear you talk about her so much I know more about her than I do you, and that's fucking saying something, Solo."

"Not sure if I'm up for that," his partner says, pausing with a hint of uncertainty. Ben takes a moment as if thinking carefully. When he looks at Din, there's a quick intense gaze—a curious glare that catches Din's attention. Then, it turns into a friendly smile, as if Ben just noticed they're still facing each other. Din feels a change in the atmosphere, a mysterious vibe in their talk. Weird, Din thinks to himself.

"Why not? She's your wife. Nothing's going to happen. What are you so afraid of?!" He teases, a slight smirk on his face. "What? do you think Starshine would fall for my whole 'dark and mysterious schtick?"

After a moment of awkward silence, Ben snaps back to reality, shaking his head. "That woman you just described? She's my wife, Djarin. Exactly your type. That's what I'm afraid of." Ben frustratedly drops his files, surprising Din as he watches his partner quickly exits the bullpen. Din is left there, bewildered.

What just happened?!

Present Day.

A strange man is staring at you.  

A devastatingly handsome man, but, still. Strange.  

"Oh, Mando!" Vi hands you a cup of cinnamon chai as she greets this intriguing, yet mysterious... person. "...thought I heard Grogu come in! The usual today?"

He looks hesitant. "Uh, sure," he nods, the baritone of his voice sending shivers down your spine. Deep, like Ben, but also distinct. Ben's deep was soft and slow and a bit drawled out, whereas the stranger's voice was deep in a... smooth, bedroom voice kind of way. Did you just say he had a nice, bedroom voice? you think to yourself as you try to play it cool under the scrutiny of his gaze.

Because he's still looking at you, this strange, perplexing, devastatingly handsome man.  Dark and mysterious, just how you like it.

His eyes are intense. Dark - deep brown eyes, pillowy-soft lips, tan skin. His hair is wavy and tousled perfectly, in an 'I woke up like this' kind of way. Tall - not tall in the way that Ben was tall - all 6'-3" of him - but tall in a sense of being just right - just right for me, your traitorous mind thinks. Broad - So very, very broad.  Fuck. You bite your lip, not wanting to be too obvious in your sudden interest. You must look like some desperate, unhinged woman, you muse.

You glance at him again.

It's unnerving, the staring.

But why can't I look away?

"Here we go! A Starshine, just the way you like it," Vi says with a wink as she hands the peculiar stranger a cinnamon chai, the same one that you are drinking, smelling the subtle hint of nutmeg - the way you exactly take it - when the weight of your sister's words finally hit you. The stranger - Mando? - smiles wide, an amused quirk at the corner of his lips as you finally realize it.

You choke on your coffee. "What?!"

"Speaking of," Vi motions to you as if she were giving a sales pitch on QVC. "Mando, meet Starshine, only 10 years late."

You quirk your eyebrows at the stranger as you extend out your hand. "Ten years late? What does that even mean? Did we have an outstanding appointment that I managed to stand you up for ten years ago?" you chide as you observe him, a tell-tell hint of a blush slowly forming on his neck. You frown. "Honestly though - you seem familiar. Have we met before?" you quirk your head in question. "Did I really stand you up for something? Shit," you exclaim to yourself silently, looking up to him somewhat pleadingly - "I'm sorry if I did, just know, it wasn't you."

He looks at you nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing. "No, I don't think so," he replies, slightly shaking his head. "I came in 10 years ago on a friend's recommendation. It's truly a charming place. Vi has spoken a lot about you throughout the years," he glances at Vi, who nods in agreement. 

"All good things, I hope?"

"Well, maybe I keep coming back every Saturday hoping that I'll finally make your acquaintance," he retorts smoothly, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. "So, you've been in New York all this time? Vi mentioned it to me the first time I visited. You're a writer? I didn't realize it. I tried looking for your stuff, but Vi was sworn by secrecy to not tell anyone your pen name," he replies, an earnest look on his face. It's endearing, you think to yourself.

"... Something like that," you reply, a sad faraway look on your face. "My husband passed away, and I went to Montauk to settle his affairs. One thing led to another, and I ended up staying in the city to write. Only my family and maybe the CIA know my pen name. Are you the CIA?" you tease.

"No. I am... I'm sorry about that," He says, taking a sip of his chai. "I heard about your husband's passing through Vi. It must have been really hard for you, being all alone up there. Ten years is a long time, surely there isn't..."

"There isn't anyone in the picture," you quickly reply. "...not since Ben." You wave your hands in front of you as you try to explain yourself. "I didn't get out much, and didn't feel the need to... meet other people, you know?"

He nods, as if in agreement. "I know exactly what you mean. There's not much room for commitment in my line of work, you know?"

"Oh? What do you do for work? if you're not in the CIA, you must be in the... FBI? Bounty Hunter?"

"I'm a... consultant," he says carefully, "I work with the state," he follows up quickly, clearing his throat.  

"So, Grogu..." you motion to his son, desperately wanting to change the subject, feeling uncomfortable. "It's just the two of you?" you ask nonchalantly, trying to hide the tiny bit of curiosity about whether or not this handsome stranger was single or not.

Mando smiles at that. "Grogu is my adopted son." he replies, "He was in a bad situation, and I decided to adopt him a few years ago. He would have been placed into the system if I hadn't intervened, and it's harder for someone on the spectrum," he gives Grogu a look, sighing, "... to get placed."

"That's pretty amazing, Mando," you say as you place your hand on his shoulder, grasping it slightly, his muscle tensing from your sudden touch. You give him a reassuring smile. "Seriously. Not just anyone would be that selfless."

Suddenly feeling a strong urge to keep his attention, at least for a little bit longer, an idea formulates in your mind. "Since Grogu is so fond of the storybook lady, would you like to help me out with the story today?"

"Help you out? how?" he asks, scratching the back of his neck. "I... don't know about that," he replies, obviously uncomfortable with the prospect of reading in front of a bunch of children. "I don't do well with kids, besides my own, that is."

"Oh come on, it'll be fun," you say. "I'll make it worth your while, I promise."

"How about a deal? I help out today, and in return, you spend the day with Grogu and me," he suggests, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "You can rediscover the city and share some quality time with your biggest little fan," he adds, nodding toward Grogu, who's eagerly waving amidst a group of kids waiting for the Storybook Lady.

"And, well, since you kept me waiting for a good ten years," he playfully admits, lowering his head toward yours. His warm breath grazes your neck as he takes a deliberate breath. "I think it's only fair you grant your most loyal supporter a day to feel appreciated," he whispers in your ear, a sweet mix of sincerity and charm.

You shoot him a satisfied grin and nod in agreement. His eyes casually trace the journey from your eyes to your lips, and you playfully bite your lower lip under the easy yet intense gaze he's giving you.

You slip your hand into his, fingers weaving together effortlessly. "Okay, Prince Charming, time for a grand adventure!" you tease, a playful grin lighting up your face in sync with his. Guiding him to the Storybook Lady's seat, Grogu catches on, his face lighting up with a mix of amusement and anticipation, realizing there's a cute plot twist in the works.

"Daddy's helping the Storybook lady today! That's my daddy!" Grogu excitedly motions towards him, and Mando, clearly embarrassed, grabs the first thing he can find to sit on, not realizing what it was until...

"Daddy's riding the horsey backward!" Grogu suddenly exclaims amid the sea of children. All eyes turn to his father, whose towering figure looms over the pint-sized toy pony. Vi, in the distance, gasps dramatically, shooting you a knowing look and winking, clearly amused by the comical sight. The vision of Mando perched on a toy pony in reverse tugs at your heartstrings a bit. In that moment, the memories of childhood dreams of an unattainable, deep love suddenly feel within reach, as if it has been right in front of you all along.

"So, what's the plan for this afternoon?" you ask Mando, watching as he eases into the driver's seat of his Ford Bronco, Grogu comfortably strapped in the back.

"I'm thinking we grab a bite and head down to Gasworks," he suggests. "It's a gorgeous day, right?" He shoots you a smile as he merges onto the street.

"I wanna see the troll, Daddy!" Grogu pipes up enthusiastically. "Troll first, then food!"

"Troll? Is he talking about the Fremont Troll?" you chuckle, glancing back to see Grogu nodding in agreement. "Troll! Troll first, Daddy!" he exclaims, his arms flailing with excitement.

Mando rolls his eyes. "That's the one. He loves the troll so much that we visit it at least once a month," he mentions, stealing a glance at you as he drives toward Fremont.

"Ad'ika," Mando addresses his son through the rear-view window. "How about this? We'll each pick out one place we want to go today. Sound fun?"

"Yes! Fun! But can we go see the Troll first? Please?"

"... What does ad'ika mean?" you ask.

Mando smiles broadly as if you've uncovered a secret. "Have you ever watched 'Star Wars'?" He nods approvingly when you confirm that you have. "Remember Boba Fett and the Mandalorians? It's kind of nerdy, but it's Mandalorian for 'little one.' I wanted to call him something unique."

"That's... incredibly niche," you laugh. "You might be the least predictable person I've ever met."

"... thank you?"

He finds a good parking spot a few blocks away from the Fremont Troll, Grogu bouncing with excitement as his father unbuckles his car seat. "Starshine," Grogu asks, clinging to his father like a baby koala, "Do you like the troll? I used to think it was scary, but Daddy told me that I'm a big boy now and that nothing should scare me. The troll is my friend now. He can be your friend too!"

"Well, my mommy and daddy used to take Aunt Vi and me to the troll all the time when we were little! We had scavenger hunts and pretended we were princesses running away from the dragon," you share, smiling earnestly. "It was one of my favorite memories growing up."

"Really? If I play the dragon, and you play princess, can Daddy be the prince who saves you?" Grogu asks as you look at Mando from behind, trying to hide a blush. "Grogu..." he stutters, clearly embarrassed.

"Only if the Prince kisses the Princess once he saves her," you reply boldly, winking at him. Mando beams at that, shakily running a hand through his hair. He clears his throat. "I think that can be arranged," winking at you as he suddenly charges towards the both of you, Grogu shrieks in excitement as Mando grabs him from behind, perching his tiny form on his shoulders. "Are you ready, Dragon?" he asks his son, grinning brightly at you, "let's go save us a princess!"

After an hour of playing Princess and the Dragon with the Djarin boys, you spend another 30 minutes trying to convince Grogu to move on to the next item on your agenda for the day. 

"Wait, Daddy!" He whines as his father slings him over his shoulder. "You forgot to kiss the princess after you saved her!"

Mando turns towards you, his eyes darkening as his son wiggles in his grasp. He slowly approaches you, a smirk forming on the corner of his lips. He licks them, causing you to clench your thighs, gasping in surprise at his sudden boldness. His lips hover over yours. "Silly me," he whispers, smiling as he notices your mouth opening slightly in anticipation. "Shame on Daddy, right?" he smiles, his eyes locking you in place.  

"Right," you murmur, trembling. 

"Is this okay?" he asks, suddenly shy.

"More than okay," you beam.  

Without hesitation, his lips gently meet yours. His touch is tender, and you feel yourself becoming enveloped in the warmth of the moment – the softness of his lips, the sincerity of his kiss. In that instance, it's as if the stars themselves have aligned, and the entire universe conspired to bring you both together. If fate or destiny were ever tangible, it would be in this shared space, affirming that you were destined to be right here, in this perfect moment.

"Hey, can you put me down, Daddy? my head's getting all tingly!"

"I don't want this day to end," you say with a hint of sadness, "I haven't felt this alive in the last ten years," grabbing ahold of Mando's hands. He smiles, gently pushing a stray hair behind your ear. "Thank you for this, Mando. I've never felt this happy in such a long time; I didn't think it would ever be possible for me to feel like this again."

"Then let's not end it. Come home with us," he replies. "Let Grogu and me cook you dinner, and we can watch a movie. 'Netflix and Chill'? Is that what they're saying nowadays?"

"I'm pretty sure that's a euphemism for sex?"

A smirk forms on his face. "Is it now?" he replies. "Maybe that's what I meant," he winks, pressing a kiss on your temple.

"Hey Grogu, want to see a magic trick?" you ask him as he helps you set the dining table.

"A magic trick? Yes!" he nods eagerly, handing you a plate. Mando turns his head towards both of you as he continues cooking dinner. He had gently pushed you out of the kitchen earlier after you offered to help him, asking you to keep an eye on Grogu, reminding you that you're his guest and that he will be cooking for you, Mesh'la - Beautiful, you've come to realize - in Mando'a. 

You lean towards the candle set in the middle of the table, gently blowing on it, the flame igniting on the wick. You wink at him as he gasps and claps in excitement. "Wow!" he exclaims. "How did you learn how to do that?"

"My mommy taught me when I was about your age," you reply sweetly, ruffling his wavy hair.

"Can you teach me?" he asks you with a shy smile. "I love magic tricks."

"It's been a long time for me," you whisper, sitting on the sofa, 'Practical Magic' playing on the TV in the background as Mando hands you a glass of wine, Grogu already fast asleep in his room. "I haven't... entertained the possibility of being with someone after Ben died." 

"You must have loved him very much."

You nod. "Honestly, I never meant to get married, let alone fall in love," you sigh as you sip on your wine, smiling to yourself. "My mother... she died because of a broken heart when Vi and I were kids, she couldn't... imagine a life without my father, the loss changed something in her. It broke her. I made a promise to myself all those years ago to not go down that road and..." you gasp, stifling a sob. Mando grabs your hand, his thumb drawing circles on your skin, soothing you. "The night I found out, I ran to the edge of the aunt's property, along Puget Sound. I screamed for the waves to swallow me whole. I was ready, I couldn't... imagine my life without Ben."

"What made you stop yourself from doing... that?" he wipes your tears, grabbing your glass and setting it on the coffee table, grabbing ahold of both of your hands, giving you his undivided attention.

"I heard his voice in my head."

"His voice?"

"I know how crazy this might sound," you chuckle, shaking your head. "I've just met you, and here I am, pouring my heart out to the first person I've allowed myself to open up to in the last ten years."

"Don't worry, I feel it too," he says, looking at you earnestly. "It's like... I've always put up a wall between my desires and what I thought was the right thing to do, you know? I lost my parents at a young age, too. They were... killed," he confesses, a lone tear running down his face. "... and I became so consumed with seeking justice, you know? I worked my ass off to put their killer behind bars. I denied myself the chance to be loved because I didn't want to be the cause of someone else's pain, no matter how damn lonely it got. I get it, you know? I understand where you're coming from." Now, he's crying, the tears he tried so hard to hold back now flowing like rivers down his face. "I used to let myself believe, there is someone out there who knows, who understands the kind of pain that I've been through. I would wish..."

"What did you wish for?"

"I wished for someone like you," he softly confesses, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek. "I wished for you; I swear I dreamed you up. No one has ever made me feel the way I do when I'm with you. I know this sounds crazy, and it doesn't make any sense, but from the moment I laid eyes on you, Starshine, it was like everything aligned for me. Grogu, who also lost his family, and you—after everything, I told myself that if fate ever threw me a bone, I would take it. I have with my son, who adores you, but with you, it feels like you were meant for me and me alone. Everything that has happened, it all leads me to you."

"Mando, you don't mean that. You barely even know me."

"But it feels like I do know you, baby. I know... I know that you feel this, too."

It's as if a bucket of cold water has been poured over you, the enchantment of the day shattering with the sudden weight of reality. It all feels overwhelming, you realize in an instant. Your thoughts rush to Ben, the curse, and the consequences of letting go, which resulted in losing your husband and suddenly becoming a widow. For the past decade, you've carried the weight of guilt, hesitant to let someone else bear the burden of your twisted destiny. I can't let history repeat itself, not with Mando, no matter how much my heart longs for him.

"I... I feel it too," you admit quietly, "but I can't, not again."

"Why, why can't you see what's in front of you? Wouldn't you think that Ben would want you to be happy? To find love again? What's stopping you?" he pleads, taking you into his arms, resting his head on your shoulder as he holds you tight, as if he thinks you're ready to run away.  

"Mando..." you quietly sob, "It's me, I'm the reason why Ben is dead."

Series Taglist: @strawberri-blonde @survivingandenduring

[maverickcalf]

I have some thoughts on Twisters, i will honestly remake these posts without the spoiler tag once the movie has been out for a while but fot now. Spoilers under the cut. Warning major spoilers and i ramble a lot.

So it's not too shocking that Kate's friends and boyfriend are killed off in the beginning. But i was surprised how while it is cleqr one visibly haunts her more than the others, when it comes to talking about who she lost it's always "friends". Even if she lost her significant other, there isn't like any line from Tyler about him. Honestly it's just nice that he treats her pain as legitimate.

The only time i feel it is implied "you lost your boyfriend" is when Javi says that he lost friends and that could be seen as him downplaying her lose because he lost multiple friends and she lost a boyfriend but i also think that would be a stretch and the trouble is they haven't talked about their trauma.

Javi feels guilty he left them all to die; Kate feels guilty because of the experiment.

I honestly love how friendship is portrayed as important. Tyler's team is his team but it's pretty clear they are all close. I like the friendship Kate and Javi have, especially after the time skip, it's very awkward and forced at time but that makes total sense.

Honestly i like Tyler in general, he comes off as a show off and that's what makes it so interesting! Because we have the wrong point of view and i like when the movie sets up stuff like that.

Also Tyler is very smart but also sort of silly and people are calling him a himbo and... no thats just what streamers are like. He does seem like a nice person and i like how he is also allowed to fail in saving someone.

I totally love the parallels. The failing to save someone while the tornado is on them. The hitting the machine to get to work. The injured leg! And how both her and Katie are allowed to succeed where they failed before. Katie saves everyone because her experiment works and Tyler saves Lilly, where he had failed to save the man earlier.

I really like Ben and how he does drop the camera and help people rather than document people's panic. And he is just like funny bystander.

Scott Javi's partner.... should've been gay and honestly until the end where he became full Saturday morning cartoon villain, the vibes were Bill Hader's character in Tropic Thunder but... ya know less interesting. Les and Rob actually seem to like each other though and Javi.... yeah picking up straight vibes. So a bit disappointing.

Last of all Katie. Oh boy, this girl has the weight of global warming on her shoulders. Like holy shit, i just wanna give her a hug. I love how the truama doesn't stop her from being smart and i also love the realism of being a bit rusty. But also she is just fun and funny. I loved when she and Tyler were trying to trick each other. Wouldn't be if they both turned into looney toons characters and feld the scene.

But also i like how she is a well rounded character. I didn't know going in we were following her story but i am honestly so glad, she is such a good protagonist.

Yeah okay i think i have rambled enough, if someone has thoughts they want to share please do.

[madaboutmunson]

sad-rockstar-Steve x tour-photographer-Eddie

Little idea I had and decided to write it

"I do NOT want this assignment, Marney!" Eddie pushes the flimsy file back over to his agent. He already knows what's inside. It shows up at least once a year, which was a relief comparing it to how frequent the request used to be.

"Eddie, baby, hear me out. It’s not an assignment. It is a project. It could get you back on the radar. It's not even a tour, really, it's a residency, and his team have already provided you with a list of shots he wants for the book. It's pose, point and shoot, Ed. Easy money." She slides it back over to him, keeping her fingers on top of it firmly, drumming her bright red talons on the card as she looks him right in the eyes, "and it's not like the gigs have been rolling in for you, now have they, sweetheart? Other than the family portrait business that I know you absolutely adore!" She smirks and holds his gaze. Using his favourite pet name against him makes his blood boil, but he isn't angry with her. It was Him.

"Gigs drying up for us is not my fault! The last client wanted all candid behind-the-scenes shots. I provided that. I edited them, barely, because they wanted the realism of life on the road, and they ok'd them. It's not my fault the internet is a cruel, unforgiving place!” Eddie exclaims in annoyance, “Especially when it’s full of Harronites, or whatever those lunatics call themselves." Eddie mumbles under his breath.

She raises her eyebrow at him, "He asked for you specifically." She says, and flicks open the folder revealing an old photo Eddie had taken of Rock Phenom Steve Harrington at one of his shows. He didn’t know what was so special about the picture. He’d taken this shot hundreds of times for artists. It's on a list of shots they can ask for. The artist climbs the barrier, and the hands of the fans reach up to them like worshipers praising their false idol. Eddie waves his hand, and the artist looks straight down the lens. It's supposed to be a duality of intimacy. The solid eye contact with the camera whilst in the arms of strangers, eager to reach out and touch their obsession which none of them would ever possess. Lest of all, that guy. 

What a piece of work. Ruined Eddie’s career and, damn, near ruined his life! 

"He says," she balances her reading glasses on the tip of her button nose and pulls the sticky note from the photo, "no one captures his truth like Eddie Munson." She flips over the message so Eddie can see, “Signed it too. Could be worth something?”

"I've never even spoken to the guy. Why's he so obsessed with me?" Eddie whines, and his agent shrugs.

"Does it matter, Ed? There are a lot more zeros here than we'd see normally."

"Something seems off about this. I don't like it."

"You like his stuff, don't you?"

"Did! I did like his stuff until I published that stupid photo. He's been on my case ever since."

"Not flattered, Eddie?" She laughs

"At first, sure. Until his demands started rolling in, and his fans started giving me grief for declining them. They called me washed up! I hadn't even begun! I thought that picture was gonna be my big break! It went viral! Remember you told me that! But it was actually my demise, Marn!" Eddie seethes, “Imagine calling up your horde of rabid fans because you couldn’t get your way!” He closes the file and folds his arms. “No fuckin’ way! I can’t post a picture of a fucking sunset without his fans all over it like a rash.”

“Then just say yes, Eddie. It can’t be any worse than it is right now.” Marney says with a kind smile of compassion. She did want what was best for him, and though it killed him to admit it, he did need that money. He was in debt up to his eyeballs, barely breaking even at the studio, and the numbers on the cheque he saw, could clear that and then some.

Eddie sighs and sinks back into his chair, “I’m gonna regret this. I know I am.” he says tensely, running his hand through his hair.

He looks up at her, and she is already back in her chair, phone in hand, finger poised over the green call button. 

At his lowest, Eddie admits defeat and nods.