#like i have a fic idea planned for her where she is treated way better than what the show does for her

[sukibenders]

Marina Thompson (or Crane however yall want to refer to her) you will be avenged! Baby girl did not deserve all that, nor the slander that some fans give towards her. That being said, I feel like the show fumbled the ball with her and her future, if that, storyline all the way in the left field. Bare with me- here you have a biracial black woman entering this white family/household who already is against her, or more so Lady Featherington and that maid or whomever she gossips with. Like, LF wasn't kind from the beginning at all (we see how she treats her own daughters) but as soon as she noticed Marina taking attention away from her daughters (literally just by existing), she becomes even more spiteful and mean as she sees her as a threat. Even willing to sell her off to an older man, who could have harmed her, even after discovering that she was pregnant, just to get her out of her hair. Can you see the obvious undertones that carries?

To add on to that, the only friend that Marina can gain, can find solace in, Penelope ends up betraying her because she notices that Colin has been courting her and wants to marry her. Like, to me no matter how you spin it, what Penelope did was wrong because she not only spread all of Marina's intimate privacy to a judgmental society and put her in a very dangerous situation, but also her daughter. Do you honestly think that even with Marina being "fortunate" enough to become a Lady and cared for, her daughter Amanda will be welcomed into the Ton with open arms or at least with little difficulty?

Moving on from that, the fans aren't any better because the rhetoric they use is very disgusting and borderline racist. Painting her as this conniving woman who was only trying to trap this poor white man for her own gain (completely disregarding that Colin is, not only, an adult and can make his own decisions, would have likely raised the twins as his own, but also the whole point of the show is to obtain a match who could also provide for you aka all of which Marina was doing), ignoring how her choices were very limited and she was in an abusive household but are quick to paint her as an antagonist towards Pen (ignoring how she was the only one, outside of Eloise and Colin, who befriended her and helped give her confidence). I could go on!

And, lastly, while I haven't read the books I do know/am remotely aware that Marina does die in the books (possibly in a very traumatic way, correct me if I'm wrong) and Philip moves on with Eloise. Now, maybe the show didn't intend for it to be read this way, but it does give the vibe of the disposable black woman trope (it already did with the treatment of her and Polin, but this even more so because she literally dies). While Philip and Marina are very obviously shown to not have any romantic attraction, the show hardly does a good job at even making them seem as if they are remotely comfortable or at least friendly with one another. It's even painted as the last option available, which wouldn't be bad if we actually got to see the pair connect. Instead, Marina just seems lonely and an afterthought. We don't get anything else about her life nor see if she has any connections with the rest of the world (I don't think she does), so her dying would be even more saddening especially since she would be leaving behind her kids. And while I'm glad Philip and Eloise fans could potentially get their ship, it isn't lost on me that that would have to be at the cost of a black woman, who didn't even have a happy life to begin with. Like, again, maybe the writers didn't intend for this narrative to be there, but it is, and even worse is that Netflix or whoever has done very little to assist Ruby from the online hate and bullying she has received from fans, especially shippers (though, I don't think they do that for any of their cast, especially those who are poc e.g. what happened with Simone, Charithra, Regé, etc), and how she had to be hospitalized twice because her mental health was bad.

Marina deserves/deserved so much better (she will always be loved by me as the fandom could never make me hate her, even though there is little reason too).

[divinesolas]

Plagued by you

r.q: requesting this please, alicent's daughter x jacaerys… and an angry confession.. "I burn for you." type ❤️😭 like he wants to her to come with him and be team black.

c.w: Otto doesn't go to Dragonstone you do; alicents daughter!reader, minor angst, dialogue heavy, reader “hates” jacaerys, hints of rhaelicent, not proofread

w.c: 1.6k (finally a shorter jace fic…)

a.n: anthony bridgerton ass confession lmaoo, hope you all enjoy :3

part two part three

You were currently pacing back and forth in the room rhaenyra allowed you to stay in on Dragonstone. You had come to see her, to ask her to declare for Aegon. She had obviously argued back and forth with you, up until nightfall where she said she would retreat for the night and the two of you could finish this tomorrow in the morning before you flew back in the morning. You argued that you would leave right then but only to find out that it had begun to storm so heavily. Realizing you would not be able to travel anywhere in this weather you reluctantly agreed and here you were.

In truth you did not want to come here. You had begged your mother to send someone else to anyone else but she was instant it be you. 

“Mother, why not send grandsire? He will be a much better negotiator than me.” she fiddles with your cloak, a far away look on her face before she moves to cup your face.

“Rhaenyra certainly likes you more than she likes him. She will treat you kindly.”

“She will say no mother you know this.” 

She lets out a trembled sigh and grips your face tightly in her hands and presses her forehead against yours “If not for his sake you must try, for me. For my sake I do not wish for this to go to. To see her harmed.” 

You've always known your mother has a very complicated relationship with rhaenyra if you can even call it that. She hated her, or at least that's what it seemed to be. 

She turns and grabs your bag before giving you a knowing look. 

“And I know you also have some unresolved things, do not deny it. I can recognize that look on your face. You must let these things go. Lest you end up like me.” 

You feel sick at the idea of Him. You hate jacaerys velaryon. Him and his stupid pride, his stupid face. His stupid everything. You have never hated anyone the way you hate him. You never understood how much a person could hate someone seemingly as much as your mother seemed to hate rhaenyra. The way she seemed to be all she could talk and even think about, going on endless rants to the point you felt you knew more about rhaenyra than your own mother. Until you met him. Now though you understood her completely, when you were no more than six jacaerys became the target of your anger.

Due to his torment of your twin brother aemond you quickly began to hate him. You would spend all your free time thinking of him and how to get back at him. The two of you always bickered and argued, when you would look over at him he was always already glaring at you. 

You were more than relieved he and his family were leaving after the incident at driftmark, but there was a part of you that when your days dragged on you began to miss him. Tormenting him of course there was no way you actually wished to spend time with him, there was no way…. Definitely not.

You haven't seen him during your time here. You would think he would be in the room where you were negotiating but he was nowhere to be seen. You did not want to ask about him, though the question has been on the tip of your tongue.

Suddenly there was some aggressive knocking on your door and you froze, turning towards it holding your breath. “Who is it?” there's no answer but you know exactly who it is and hesitant for a moment contemplating if you should even let him in. You end up swiftly making your way towards the door and opening it just a bit, planning on telling him to just go away but before you can say anything he's pushing his way into the room storming past you with an angry look on his way. You lean against the door to support yourself as you feel lightheaded just looking at him. 

“You are an absolutely ridiculous woman.” you do not speak, unable to, only able to watch as he runs his hand through his curls and paces in the room just as you had been. “Do you only wish to torment me?”

“I am here for my brother-” “You should not have come.” there's a venom in his voice and he does not even look at you. You find yourself growing more annoyed at him. “I do not care what you think. I would be gone by now if your mother had not been so stubborn-” he turns to look at you and makes his way to stand right in front of you, barely any space between the two of you. “Jacaerys…” “you do not want your brother to sit the throne.” it was true, as much as you tolerated your brother, the thought of him sitting on the throne disgusted you. He would not be a good king, “you know not of what i believe.” “I know this is true, you shouldn't lie to me.” 

“You act as if you know me.”

He scoffs, turning his head away from you for a moment before looking you dead in the eyes, so close you can feel his breath on your face. “I don't know you? I know that you hate the summer because you get too hot in your long dresses, i know you love whenever the chefs make cake and you would sneak into the kitchen to grab a slice, i know you despise your mothers perfume because it hurts your nose but you could never tell her such a thing because it brings her comfort,” he pauses for a moment moving somehow even closer to you, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, “i know when you are lying you scrunch up your nose,” he moves his head to your neck and takes a deep breath of your scent before lifting his head back up and his forehead is against yours once more. “And worst of all I know you desire me as I do you.” 

You shake your head as you suppress a whimper from your neck, “no,,,” “you will not deny it. You will not deny something I know to be true with every bone in my body with every drop of blood in my body.”  

With a long silence between you, neither of you saying a word he pushes away from you and goes back to standing where he was, that angry look back on his face. “You must go.” you look outside and notice that the storm has since stopped, your brain is currently running a mile a minute barely able to think. “I shall head back to the keep-” “that is not far enough!” 

He grips his head in frustration as he begins to pace once more, “you could travel to dorne, to essos to bravos and it would not be far enough to free me from this torment you have put me through, For the thoughts of you that plague my mind to cease to exist. Even after I pass I am sure when I am faded to nothing but bones and ashes the picture of you will be laced where my heart should be.” 

He quickly moves back over to you and cups your face once more bringing himself so explicitly close to you he should be kissing you. The way you two are pressed against each other is more intimate than a kiss, more romantic than any confession. You lose yourself in the heat of the moment, unable to control yourself for a while. You want to kiss him, you want him to kiss you. Before you regain the small sense of control you have to push him away from you shaking your head. “I must go home, my mother-” “Stay here. Stay with me.” He stares into you a way nobody else ever has, like he's truly trying to see you and not the facade you put on for everyone else. “My mind, body and soul yearns and burns for you uncontrollably and now that you stand in front of me I cannot take it.” He takes your hand and presses it against his heart where you can feel it being erratically as yours was as well. “Tell me you do not want me and I shall turn my back and allow you to leave. But do not beg me to watch you as I fear my heart cannot take it.” 

He takes another step closer to you and does not break eye contact with you. “Tell me you do not desire me and tell me at once my love, my heart please you must.” 

You shake your head as tears begin to form in your eyes, “I cannot.” “then stay.” you angle your head and kiss him, praying that through your actions he can too understand that you indeed burn for him the way he burns for you. You decide in the moment to say fuck it. Fuck your mother, fuck your brother, fuck the crown and screw everyone and everything else that is not him because you hate him so much that he has fully consumed every part of you like a parasite. Yet you have done the same to him. 

[raven-dor]

I saw your recent Edmund fic and I’m obsessed!

Could you do one where Edmund gets super jealous/overprotective with reader? I love possessive Edmund!

mine all mine

the four times in which edmund discovers that he is overprotective of his wife, and the one time she proves to him she can take care of herself

PAIRING: edmund pevensie x wife!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, overprotective nature, sword fighting, typical Narnia violence, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

AN: This is set during the Golden Age, so all of them are adults!! also your title is fair, as in an adjective for just, not at all a description of what the reader looks like!!

part two (mine, all mine, all mine)

one.

He hadn’t meant to listen in to his wife’s meeting, really. But when he noticed Lord Eluna raising his voice, he couldn’t help but linger outside of the door, his hand on his sword's hilt. Y/N’s constantly calm voice interrupted the seething lord. “While I understand the importance of this situation, it does not warrant you to act poorly towards your queen, Lord Eluna.” 

The man scoffed. “By marriage. A marriage which could be easily annulled, seeing as you have not produced his grace any heirs.” 

Y/N laughed, seemingly not phased by his comment. “We are not in desperate need of any heirs, my lord. If you haven’t noticed, we have a plethora of rulers. Unless you are planning something that would warrant the need of heirs.” She paused, and Edmund could only assume the look on her face, the one she typically made when she was proving him wrong. "Are you?"  

“How dare you insinuate-” 

Edmund forced down a laugh, barging into the room. “My lords.” 

The table of twelve men stood, bowing to their superior. Half hearted ‘Your Grace’s’ were thrown Edmund’s way, but he could not care less. He looked at the man who was still glaring daggers at his wife. “Lord Eluna.” 

“Your Grace.” He tore his eyes from the young queen. “We were just-”

“Yes.” Edmund raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I heard. And while I appreciate your obviously kind and thoughtful concern, my wife and I do not need your advice on that particular matter.” 

Y/N turned bright red, widening her eyes when all the lord's jaws dropped. “Edmund-” 

“I’m sure whatever you were meeting about can be postponed.” Edmund looked around the table, waiting for an answer. “Well?” The lords clambered, nodding quickly in agreement. He smirked and walked over to his wife, holding out his arm for her to hold. “My love.” 

She rolled her eyes but still hooked her arm through his. “You are quite dramatic.” 

He laughed, ignoring the prying eyes around them. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” The couple walked out the doors, giggling when they knew the lords could no longer hear them. Edmund frowned, rubbing her arm comfortingly. “Do they always treat you so horribly?” 

“You cannot keep doing this, Ed.” She sighed.

“What am I do-” 

She glared at him. “You know what you’re doing. They will never learn to respect me if you keep coming to my defense.” 

“It’s been two years. They should have respected you the minute I married you. Actually-” He scoffed. “They should respect you because it’s the right thing to do.” 

They walked into their chambers, collapsing onto the bed. Edmund wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in as she traced shapes into his chest. “You're a gallant and honorable man, Edmund, much more than your lords. But you know as well as I that those old malcontents will never respect me until I give them a reason to.” 

“I wish it wasn’t so.” He leaned down, kissing her temple. “You are a much better leader than me.” 

She scoffed, leaning into his touch. “Not true.”

“Yes.” He nodded, staring at the ceiling. “You are.” 

“If I am..." She appeased him. "It is only because I’ve watched you and your siblings rule with kindness and justice for so long. Please do not put yourself down for my sake.” She stretched up, kissing him gently. “Never put yourself down; you are too perfect for that.” 

“If you insist.” He smiled, feeling lovesick. How could he not? The most beautiful woman in all of Narnia, or, more accurately, the universe, lay beside him.

Of course, he felt lovesick.

two.

“Happy Birthday, my love.” Y/N smiled mischievously at her husband. “How old are you now? Eighty?” 

He glared, kissing her cheek softly. “What a charmer you are.” 

She nodded and took a deep breath, straightening her dress as they prepared to enter the ballroom. “Well, you didn’t marry me for my baking skills.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Your baking skills are perfectly adequate.” 

She scoffed, looking up at him once more. “Don’t lie to me, Edmund Pevensie.” She fought the smile that threatened to break her act. “You flatter me too much, I think.”

He felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her senselessly. He had that urge constantly, but it was especially difficult at that moment. “You are a true beauty. Have I told you?”

She blushed, turning her face back towards the grand doors. “Behave.” 

He nodded, still looking at her in awe, enjoying the way her flushed cheeks complemented her dress. He had always loved her in the color blue. “Yes, ma’am.” 

The ushers opened the doors, and they stepped forward. “King Edmund the Just, and Queen Y/N the Fair.” 

The room exploded into applause for the Just King, and the pair descended the stairs, focusing on not falling in front of all their subjects. Peter, Susan, and Lucy sat on their thrones at the bottom, smiling brightly. Lucy gestured toward the Maestro, and Edmund led his wife to the middle of the ballroom. “I do wonder what they'll play.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

Y/N's smile grew as their wedding waltz’s familiar intro echoed through the hall. “This isn’t fair.” 

He laughed at the irony. “Why not, my love?” 

“It is your birthday, not our anniversary.” 

He spun her around the room, whispering. “I happen to like this song.” 

“Edmund…” She blushed again. “You should have chosen a song that you love.” 

“I did.” The waltz ended, and he bowed. “It reminds me of you; why wouldn’t I love it?” 

Her eyes were watering, and he suddenly felt horrible, his stomach twisting. “I’m sorry, did I-” 

She leaped up, kissing him soundly. The crowd gasped, but Edmund didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She leaned back, their foreheads touching. “I don’t deserve you.” 

His heart felt full. “Quite the opposite, really.” He kissed her once more, nuzzling his nose with hers. “I love you.” 

Lucy clapped her hands, pulling the crowd's attention away from the happy couple. “Thank you all so much for attending my brother’s 24th birthday ball!” The room erupted into cheers. Lucy smiled. “Help yourselves to the buffet, or take to the dance floor. Happy Birthday, dear brother.”

The crowd dispersed, and the pair walked up to the thrones, sitting beside each other, still holding hands. Peter muttered, smirking. “Couldn’t have waited until later?” 

Edmund rolled his eyes. “Just because you don’t have a love li-” 

Y/N scolded her husband. “Ed.” 

Peter glared playfully at his brother. “My love life is none of your business, thank you very much.” 

Susan laughed. “How is she?” 

Peter blushed. “She has a name.” He straightened his posture, looking out into the crowd for who Y/N could only assume they were talking about. “As perfect as ever.” 

Lucy giggled. “Have you tried talking to her?” 

Peter closed his eyes, leaning his head back against his throne. “I am getting attacked from all sides, it seems.” 

Y/N smiled. “I think it’s sweet. You seem very in love.” He smiled back, looking longingly at the buffet table, where a gorgeous maid stood handing out desserts. Y/N nudged him lightly. “You could ask her to dance.” 

He laughed, and when he realized his sister in law was not laughing, stopped. “I fear she would not like the fuss.” 

“Ah.” Y/N looked over at the girl again. “I will be right back.” 

Edmund whined. “Where are you off to?” 

“None of your business, Edmund.” She kissed his cheek quickly. “Do have fun at your own birthday party.” 

He sighed as she walked away. “How can I when you’re leaving?” 

The fair queen glided across the floor with the intention of making conversation with the girl the High King was infatuated with. She had almost reached Peter's love when a hand wrapped around her waist. She gasped, pulling herself out of the stranger’s hold. The visibly drunk lord bowed teasingly. “My Lady, would you care-” A hiccup interrupted his question. “Would you care to dance?” 

She smiled politely. “I’m afraid my card is full for the night. But thank you for the offer.” 

The man tried to speak again, but she turned around, walking back towards the maid. 

Edmund had seen the entire interaction, gripping the handles of his throne tight enough to break the solid stone. Peter whispered. “Edmund, don’t do anything rash-” 

“He just-” 

Peter gave him the stare, that older brother stare that he tried to reserve for hard moments. “He will be dealt with, trust me, but you need to be subtle-” 

Edmund stood up, stalking over to the drunken lord. Peter sighed once more. "He will be the first to give me gray hairs.” 

Susan rolled her eyes. “You are twenty-seven, Peter. You’re not graying anytime soon.” 

Edmund grabbed the lord’s arm, dragging him out to the balcony. “A nice night, isn’t it?” 

The lord was in shock, nodding. “Yes, Your Grace.” He grinned. “It is truly an honor to have been invited to your-” 

“It was a nice night.” The young king smiled condescendingly. “Until you harassed my wife.” 

“I-” The old man stuttered. “I meant no disrespect.” 

“Don’t lie to your king.” Edmund seethed. “If you ever do that again, I will rue the day, believe me.” He took a deep breath. “You will apologize to my wife, and after that, you will leave immediately. You are fortunate that I don’t ensure you are barred from the castle grounds.” 

The lord looked upset. Good, Edmund thought, serves him right. “But Your Grace-” 

“Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes.” The old man nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.” He stumbled back into the ballroom, making a beeline for Y/N. Edmund watched from afar, smiling as she smiled, actually genuinely smiled. Then he frowned when she let him kiss her hand. Oh, how he wanted to have him banished. 

Y/N made her way to the balcony, shaking her head at her proud husband. “What have you done?” 

“Nothing. Why do you assume-” 

“Edmund.” She crossed her arms. “You must stop.” 

“What?” He laughed. “Stop protecting you?” 

“Yes!” She yelled, exasperated from his constant watching eye. “I had it handled.” 

“He harassed you.” 

“Thank you Edmund.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, something Edmund did not appreciate at the moment. “I wasn’t aware.” 

“My love.” He stepped forward, taking her hands in his. “As long as there is air in my lungs, I will protect you. It pains me to see you go through these things.” 

She smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. “You are a good man, Edmund.” 

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.” 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t. But if we make a fuss about every lord who gets handsy while they’re drunk, the ballroom will be empty.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Good. Get rid of the whole lot of them. I would rather it just be you and I anyhow.” 

Y/N gasped, smacking his chest lightly. “Edmund!” 

“No one should have to deal with that.” 

“Well, I agree. But you can’t-” 

“Good.” He nodded, ignoring the fact that he just interrupted her. “Who were you talking to after that incident?” 

“Peter’s love.” She smiled. “That girl is quite kind. Spirited, too.” 

Edmund laughed, pulling Y/N in. “Perfect for Peter then.” 

She hummed, leaning her head on his chest as they looked back into the ballroom. “Perfect for Peter.” 

three.

It had been Edmund’s idea to go on an afternoon ride. Y/N had reminded him of the recent attacks that they were investigating, but he’d ignored her. Their horses galloped through the fall woods, leaves falling as they flew through. Phillip muttered. “Her horse is much younger than me, no wonder she keeps beating me.” 

Y/N’s horse, Vilja, laughed. “Perhaps you are simply slow, Phillip.” 

Y/N fought against the laugh that threatened to spill out. “Now Vilja, play nice. Remember, Phillip has to hold Edmund and his ego.” 

Edmund scoffed, shoving his wife playfully as they slowed. “What happened to playing nice?” 

They tied the horses beside each other, walking through the woods leisurely. “It is perfect outside, is it not?” 

Y/N nodded, leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. “It is.” She smiled as the lantern came into view. “It’s been too long.” 

Edmund hummed. “We’re happy here.” He looked down, his heart beating fast. “You would tell me if you weren't happy, I hope.” 

“Of course, Edmund.” She smiled. “I'm very happy here. I only meant we’ve been here for a long time. After all, it has been thirteen years.” She looked back at the lantern, pulling Edmund along with her. “I wonder how long it’s been there.” 

He laughed, kissing her temple gently. “Who cares?” 

“Edmund…” She leaned into his touch. Feeling mischievous, she pulled out of his hold, sprinting further into the woods. 

Edmund groaned, chasing after her. “This was funnier the first time.” 

The nymphs giggled as they watched the couple run through the woods. Edmund spun in the clearing, squinting as he tried to find his wife. “Y/N, you know I’ll find-” A piercing scream broke the joyful nature of their fun, and his heart sank. “Y/N?” He waited for her response, another scream echoing through the forest. He ran towards her, unsheathing his sword. “Y/N!” He broke through the woods, finding his wife backed against a tree, a wolf growling in front of her. Edmund stood in between them, pointing the sword at the wolf’s head. “We don’t want to harm you.” 

The wolf simply growled. Odd. Edmund whispered. “Stay still, my love.” He stepped forward, addressing the wolf once more. “You have one more chance to leave us. We won’t harm you if you do so, you have my word.”

The wolf leaned back, lunging at Edmund, and he slashed his sword, killing the animal in a single blow. Y/N stood silent behind him, staring at the ground. “I thought all animals spoke in Narnia.” 

“So did I.” Edmund knelt beside it, checking for any witchcraft of any sort. 

Y/N smiled sympathetically, kneeling beside him. “She’s gone.” 

“He was wild. There had to have been-” Edmund was silenced by a gentle kiss. He blushed. “What was that-” She kissed him once more, smiling. 

“Edmund, she is gone. For good. And you saved me.” She mumbled. “Even though I could have reached for my sword-” 

He rolled his eyes, standing up and extending his hand. “Let me guess? You had it handled?” 

four.

She was radiant in that blue dress, Edmund observed from afar. After he had expressed his love of her in the color, she had ensured that almost all her dresses were that light blue. The rest of her dresses were her favorite color, which Edmund loved on her almost as much. 

Unfortunately, others enjoyed looking at his wife as well. Lately, in Edmund’s opinion, her sworn guard had been looking at her for much too long. He was a conventionally attractive man, Edmund could admit, but he didn’t like that the young knight was looking at his wife the way Edmund himself looked at her. 

He hadn’t brought it up to Y/N, not wanting to be called overprotective for the hundredth time. So he watched from afar, making sure that the knight didn’t make any untoward actions towards her. 

They were currently in the garden, and Y/N was smelling the flowers, laughing and making polite conversation with Ser Ellington. The young man laughed back, reaching out to stable her when she stumbled over a root. Edmund clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain calm. 

It was his job after all, to make sure his queen was safe.

But when he reached out and grabbed a flower, extending it to the kind woman, Edmund snapped. That was not his job. He practically stalked forward, interrupting whatever conversation the two had been having. “My love.” He called out. “You look radiant.” 

She blushed. “Edmund, I thought you had your meeting.” 

He nodded. “I did, but we finished early, I thought I would accompany you for the rest of the day.” 

“Of course.” She looked over Edmund’s shoulder at Ser Ellington. “You are excused for the day. Thank you, Ser.” 

The knight bowed. “My Queen. Your Grace.” 

Edmund watched suspiciously as the young knight walked away, only turning back to his wife when he turned the corner. Y/N smirked, tilting her head just so. “You have no need to be jealous, my love.” She turned back to the flowers, smelling them. 

Edmund smiled guiltily, following after her like a puppy. “Can you blame me? Ser Ellington is not exactly unappealing.” 

She nodded, still not looking back at him. “He is. But I am not married to him, nor do I sleep in the same bed as him every night.” Edmund turned bright red. “Am I wrong?” 

“You are not, but you have to understand. You’re a beautiful woman, I can’t help but worry that someone will steal you away.” 

She rolled her eyes, turning around. “Do you really think I would hurt you so?” 

“No-” 

“What have I done to make you assume so? I love you; I made a vow to you.” She crossed her arms. “Am I just a prize to you that you desperately need to cling to?” 

“Of course not.” He grabbed her hands in his. “I’m madly in love with you, and the thought of you leaving me, the simple thought…” He pulled her closer, whispering. “Drives me mad.” 

“Edmund.” She glared, pulling out of his hold. “You are exaggerating.” 

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her gently back to him. “Do you really think I do not love you?” 

“I never said that.” 

He laughed. “You act as if we were not a love match. Like we didn’t discover Narnia together. I love you; I think I have since we were young.” He kissed the back of her hand delicately. “I know that I am too overprotective, and I am sorry for that…” 

She smirked with satisfaction. “Good.” 

“But can you blame me? You are a treasure, surely any other man would act that same way.” 

Y/N nodded. “Perhaps. But you are not any other man. You are Edmund Pevensie, and I know you know deep down that I can handle myself. I do not need you to watch over me like a mother hen.” She raised an eyebrow. “I also fought the White Witch, I also helped you form peace treaties, I also-”

Y/N stopped, becoming more irritable by the second when she realized Edmund wasn’t listening. He stared at her so lovingly it made her sick, and she scoffed. “I am going to the library.” 

He nodded, following after. “I shall accompany you.” 

She shook her head. “I would like to go alone.” 

He frowned. “Are you-” 

“Edmund, please.” She sighed. “I love you, but I need to be alone with my thoughts.” Without a second glance, she walked out of the garden, leaving Edmund helplessly staring at her. 

the time she proved him wrong

They had been gone for too long, Y/N thought as she stared at the woods. They had been gone for hours longer than they said they would. She should have gone with them; who knows where they were, where Edmund was. 

She tried to calm herself down and reminded herself that neither Edmund nor his siblings would leave her in Narnia alone, but it was difficult when all of the hunt’s participants were speaking to her at once. 

“Where are they?” Lord Eluna’s voice sounded over the rest. She tried not to glare at him; she could tell the man was enjoying the sight of her under pressure. 

“I understand everyone’s worries; I have them myself, but we all know that the Kings and Queens would never leave their subjects so suddenly. Have no doubt that they will return. I am certain High King Peter and King Edmund dragged their sisters along a trail of the deer’s tracks.” Light laughter echoed through the crowd, relieving her stress slightly. Her stomach fluttered, and she pressed a hand to it, rubbing it slightly. “Does anyone else have any immediate causes for concern?” 

The crowd erupted into chaos once more, and she took a deep breath, clearing her throat. “I will take meetings with all of you individually in the main tent.” 

meanwhile...

Edmund sighed, staring at his older brother as he tried to convince himself the deer was nearby. “Peter, we’ve been gone for hours. If we haven’t found the deer by now, who’s to say we’ll find it later?” He practically pleaded. “We should return to camp.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just because you want to get back to your wife-” 

“Peter, Edmund’s right.” Susan interrupted. “This deer isn’t important, and Y/N is there alone with the entirety of the court.” She frowned. “If it were me, I would be rather overwhelmed.” 

Edmund fell into his thoughts, staring at the ground. Lucy whispered, nudging her brother lightly. “Edmund, don’t-” 

Edmund tightened the reigns on Phillip, racing back towards the camp. Peter sighed, riding not far behind him. The dark-haired king didn’t look back; his only thought was that he had left Y/N alone with the egotistical lords of the realm. Phillip slowed, and Edmund jumped off, running towards camp. 

Everything was fine, almost too fine. It was quiet, with a slight buzz of chatter but no worried voices. He stalked toward the main tent, whipping it open. 

There sat his radiant wife, talking calmly with Lord Dolitmov. The older man saw Edmund and immediately stood, bowing. “Your Grace.” He looked back to Y/N, kissing the back of the queen’s hand gently. “Your Grace.” 

Y/N smiled, waving as he walked out of the tent. Edmund tilted his head, smiling. “What happened?” 

She laughed. "The better question would be, what happened with you?” She hugged herself, rubbing her stomach once more. Edmund made a mental note to address that later. “You were gone for so long I assumed you had returned home.” 

He shook his head, frowning as he realized how stressed she had been. “I’m sorry for the worry we caused you; I fear Peter was too fixated on finding the white steed.” 

She nodded. “I wondered.” 

He took her hand in his, rubbing the back with his thumb. “I’m sorry that I worried you. But I must say, it is rather calm here.” 

She smirked. “I told you I can handle myself.” 

He laughed. “I believe you. Truly I do.” he brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back gently. “I love you.” 

“And I you.” She walked into his arms, burying her head in his chest. “I would have died from heartbreak if you had left me.” 

“I would never.” He kissed her temple. “You know that.” 

She nodded. “I know you would never leave us.” 

He nodded back. “Correct. I would never leave-” He paused, tilting his head. “Us?” 

Y/N looked up sheepishly. “I-” Her eyes started to water. “I’m pregnant, Edmund.” 

“What?” Edmund grinned, staring at his wife in disbelief. “Really?” 

She nodded, and Edmund grabbed her waist, spinning her around the room. Y/N cackled, smacking his shoulder. “Put me down; you’re going to hurt the babe.” 

“I’m sorry.” He smiled. “I can’t help it.” 

She laughed, kissing his lips softly. “I love you.” 

Edmund leaned down, kissing her soundly. “And I you.” 

taglist: @beebeechaos

[ravenromanova]

Bad girl

Parings: Wandanat x Female Avenger

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Mommy kink, Daddy kink, Fingering, Edging, Bonadge, Orgasm denial, Oral, Nipple play, Mean Wanda, Overstimulation. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Summary: Wanda and Natasha need to give their neglected baby some attention

This fic came from this request!

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!

~

You could feel the two sets of emerald eyes throwing daggers at you as you talked to their younger siblings. Your plan was working a little better than you had intended and you were just hoping they’d break soon. The plan was simple, flirt with pietro and yelena, get Wanda and Nat to give you attention like you’ve been wanting all week.

Your girlfriends had promptly been ignoring you for over a week now and it was killing you. Honestly you had no idea why they were being so cold towards you. So you did what you did best…scheme. And by the looks that both redheads were giving you it was definitely working.

The three of you were downing shots at the bar in between sharing your most embarrassing mission stories.

“No i swear i almost died that mission” You laugh at your own stupidity from your last mission as you down another shot. Pietro went on about how Clint “accidentally” shot him with an arrow during training and you lost it. You slyly put your hand on the blondes shoulder making his twin fume.

“I think you’ve had enough malysh” A thick sokovian accent flooded your ears as her hands came around your waist. Her hands squeezed your hips making you squeak a little as you turned to look at her.

“But im having fun” You try to protest earning a disappointed sigh from the redhead.

“I said you’ve had enough” She repeated herself lowly in your ear causing you to shiver. “Natty is already in the room waiting for us” Wanda took your hand and pulled you away from Yelena and Pietro despite your protests. Her cool rings her digging into the flesh of your arm causing you to struggle in her grasp.

“Heyyyyy!” You pout as she takes you away from your friends.

“Bad girls dont get to have fun” She pushed you into the room where Natasha was waiting on the bed. You opened your mouth to say something but she pushed you onto the bed before you could.

“Anything to say for yourself?” The russian asked kneeling behind you. Your senses were all kinds of fucked as you were surrounded by the two women.

The air in the room was thick with tension as you felt Natashas hands come underneath your shirt rubbing small circles on your stomach. Both of the women raised an eyebrow waiting for your response but you couldn’t find one that wouldn’t make them mad.

“I-I just wanted your attention” The words fly out of your mouth before you could stop them. “You two have been so distant and cold towards me lately” Both women look at each other as you speak and they truly felt bad for abandoning their princess.

“So instead of coming to us about it you decided to flirt with our siblings?” Wanda seethed feeling her guilt melt away and her anger take over.

You simply nod your head at her question feeling all kinds of stupid at your antics. You knew your girlfriends loved you and were probably just having a difficult time lately but you still missed them.

“You could’ve just asked detka” The russian husked in your ear kissing it softly. “But since you wanted to be a slut we now have to treat you like one” Her hands found their way to the hem on your panties making you shiver.

“I-I’m sorry daddy” You groan feeling her hand pull away from your core. “I’ll be a good girl” Natasha chuckled in your ear moving from behind you to lay you flat on the bed.

“Oh we know you will detka” She said softly giving you a sweet kiss before they ruin you. Wanda flicks her wrist and youre left naked on the bed. Both women kneel on either side of you slowly rubbing your soft skin making you burn with desire.

“Here’s how this is gonna go” Wandas voice broke you out of your thoughts. “We are going to play with you and you only get to cum when we say so and if you cum before we allow you to then you will be punished more than you already are okay?” She says gripping your chin.

“Yes mommy i understand” Wanda smiles at your submission and then uses her magic to tie your hands to the bed frame. The red tendrils buzzed against your skin and made you smile.

Wanda made her way down to your wet pussy and stopped right before she got to your clit. Your hips bucked against her hand when you felt her cool hands come into contact with your heated skin. She slowly licked a stripe against your pussy making you moan but ultimately she left you wanting more. She flicked her wrist again and started drawing circles against your clit.

“Oh fuck mommy” You mewl feeling the buzzing on your most sensitive area. Wanda smiled softly and you and gave Natasha a look that sealed your fate for the night. You felt the older woman move behind you and rest your body against her chest. Her slim fingers made their way down to your nipples and started tugging on them.

“Yes yes yes” You chanted relishing in the touch of your lovers. You felt the coil in your stomach about to burst at their touch. But it was soon cut off when Natasha stopped touching you and Wandas magic ceased on your clit.

“Did you really think we’d let you cum that easily? Bad girls dont get to have fun” Wanda repeated her words from earlier coming back up so your faces are inches apart.

“B-But mommy” You whine trying to pull her closer and she responded by smacking your mouth.

“Do not talk back” She reprimanded with a harsh tone making you sink back into Natashas hold.

“Oh come on dont be so mean to her Wands. Our little baby just wanted our attention” Natasha cooed rubbing your cheek softly to soothe the sting.

“Stop being so soft of the little slut Natalia” Wanda sneered giving the russian her signature death glare.

“No, she’s just our dumb little baby who didn’t know any better” The russian played with your hair making Wanda roll her yes.

“She’s still getting punished for being a slut” The younger of the two women flicked her wrist again and the your clit started buzzing again.

“Oh fuck” You throw your head back onto Natasha in pleasure. One of Natashas hand found home around your throat applying just the right amount of pleasure.

The coil in your stomach was about to snap again feeling Wandas magic on your clit. Wanda stopped the magic once more making you whine in protest.

“Please mommy please let me cum” You begged the witch making her shake her head.

“Now what’s the fun in that when you get so worked up by me not?” She asked and Natasha just shook her head at the younger woman. You felt a shifting behind you and then Natasha was the one between your legs.

Wanda shot the spy a look that read ‘what are you doing?’. Natasha simply shook her head and parted your thighs.

“Well if you aren’t going to fuck her then i will” She simply said shrugging her shoulders and started eating your pussy. Wanda groaned at her girlfriend and slightly outed that her fun was over. She always knew the spy had a soft spot for you and Wanda did too expect for when you fuck up.

“Always so soft on her” Her words sent a chill down your spine making you look up on her.

“That doesn’t mean you have to be” Your words made her tilt her head and raise an eyebrow at you. “I-I like it when youre rough with me mommy” You say trying to pull on the magical restraints but failing.

Wanda just smiled and wrapped her hand around your throat and her mouth came into contact with your nipple. “Yes mommy-fuck-“ You moan when you feel Wanda biting and tugging on your nipple.

“So sweet detka” Natasha praised sticking two fingers in you hitting your g-spot. You threw your head back feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re enduring.

“Hurry up and make her cum” Wanda hurried Natasha as she stared at the spy making her speed up her actions.

“R-Right there-oh fuck- yes daddy yes!” The moan ripped itself from your throat and the coil in your stomach snapped as Natasha hit your g-spot just right.

“Good girl” She praised bringing you into a heated kiss. The two of you moaned as you tasted yourself on her lips. Wanda was quick to pull you two apart and settled herself in between your thighs again.

The witch wasted no time in shoving three fingers in you making you scream at the burn. She kept her eyes on you the whole time as Natasha started leaving marks on your chest and neck.

“Oh fuck mommy please can i cum?” You asked feeling your second orgasm build up. Wanda smirks and then rips her fingers out of you causing you so cry out.

“P-Please mommy” You beg pulling on your restraints. Wanda clutches your face in her hand again forcing you to look at her.

“Who do you belong to?” She asked giving you another smack on the cheek.

“You and Daddy i-i belong to you and Daddy” You responded to her question quickly which made her smile.

“You better start acting like it” She said and you nodded obediently as she made her way back down to your pussy. Natasha was still leaving marks on your neck when Wanda shoved her fingers back into you.

“Cum you little slut” Wanda urged fucking into you at a hard and rough pace. The coil in your stomach was building up at every stroke of your g-spot.

“R-Right there mommy fuck!” You screamed feeling your orgasm rip through you. Wanda continued to finger you not caring that you were pleading her to stop. Her fingers worked relentlessly against your core. It all became too much Natashas mouth of your nipple while Wanda fucked you hard had you reeling.

“Too much Mommy s-stop please!” Your attempt at pushing Wanda out with just your thighs failed you when she used her magic again to tie your thighs together.

“Fight me again and you wont get to cum for weeks” She muttered against your clit while her fingers were still in you.

At a certain point you lost how many orgasms your girlfriends had pulled out of you alternating between who fucked you. But after what felt like hours they finally stopped.

“I’m sorry for being a bad girl” You said in the midst of a fucked out haze. Both women laid next to you and Wanda tilted your chin to look at her.

“We’re sorry for ignoring you malysh. We’ll do better.. Just dont pull that again little one” She gave you a sweet kiss and then rubbed your cheek softly.

“We love you detka” Natasha whispered in your ear as her arms snaked around your waist.

“I love you guys too” You said with a dopey smile on your face. The three of you fell into a comfortable silence just enjoying the soft kisses and touches they gave you. That night they promised you no matter what that they’d never neglect their baby ever again.

~The end~

A/n: Sorry i kinda rushed this one i wanted to make sure i posted this one tonight since i have a few more kinktober fics coming out and i dont wanna keep not posting for days at a time!

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other cites

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 17

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

“You’re leaving me?” Your mom whines. 

“Sorry, Holly, they need to keep you overnight for observation,” Steve crosses his arms. 

“But... you could stay?” 

“What about her?” He asks, nodding over his shoulder as you sit on the bench against the wall, head down as you grip the boxes of pills. You haven’t said much since she woke up, you just stayed out of her way. She only wanted to talk to him anyhow. 

“She can drive,” she pouts. 

“I drove her here and I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I have stuff to do. We’ve been here all day and I didn’t exactly plan for it,” he shrugs, “you got my number, okay?” 

“Wha-- I’m sick, how can you just abandon me?” 

“Now, Holly,” he firms his voice and drops his arms, hands on her bed rail, “don’t be dramatic. No one’s abandoning you. There’s nowhere for either of us to sleep and you need rest if you’re going to come home. Look at it like this, I’m taking care of your daughter while you’re here. Making sure everything’s ready for you.” 

“Hmph,” she grunts, “I... I’m sorry. I’m scared, Steve,” she sniffs though even from where you sit, you can tell her eyes are dry, “I’m going to miss you,” she touches his hand and rubs it, “these last few days have been... the best I’ve had in a long time.” 

“I know,” he lowers his voice, “but you gotta get better and... take better care of yourself. You want this to last, right?” 

“I.. I guess,” she concedes grimly, “can I... I get a kiss before you go?” 

He nods and leans in. He kisses her cheek, ignoring her pucker, then stands. He gives a yawn as your mom blinks up at him. She obviously expected more and you can’t tell if he even realises her disappointment. 

“Alright, sweetie, give your mom a hug, I can see you dwindling over there,” he beckons you over. 

You stand without a word and approach the bed. Your eyes meet your mom’s glare. You don’t hug. Ever. You can’t even remember the last time you did. Maybe when you were ten? You look down ashamed and spread your arms, embracing her quickly and daintily as she just lays there. 

“Bye mom, love you.” 

She pauses and swallows loudly, “love you too.” 

You spin back to Steve and slant your mouth. You know she’s only saying that because he’s right there. You cross the room as he bids his own farewell and you mom huffs and puffs mopily. 

As you come out in the hall, Steve walks beside you. You’re startled as he touches your lower back. Again. It must be a habit. 

“So, when we get home, are you going to try some of those pills?” He asks. 

“What?” You look down at the handful. “Oh, uh, maybe...” 

“The nurse said you should try. Even just for tonight. At least get some sleep while you can, you know?” 

“Yeah, er, I don’t know.” 

“Nothing wrong with accepting a little help. Especially when you need it.” 

“Mm, I guess,” you shrug, “I’ll think about it.” 

You carry on, following the halls and riding the elevator in silence. You chalk it up to fatigue on both ends. As you come out under the sky, the sun is setting. You follow Steve to his car and get in, resting the boxes in your lap as you rub your eyes. 

He turns the engine and backs out. He grips the wheel and sighs. The air is thick even as the AC blows. 

“Does your mom always talk to you like that?” He asks. 

You’re struck by the question. You know you can’t tell the truth. Even if you didn’t know your mom would lose it, it’s too embarrassing. Besides, you deserve it. You ruined her life. 

“She’s just out of it, I think,” you murmur. “Me too. I was worried.” 

“You’re a really good daughter,” he says, “a good person too. You know, you can tell me anything and I'll believe you. I’ll listen, sweetie.” 

You nod and chew your inner lip. He might believe you but he wouldn’t be able to change it. No one ever tried. Even when your aunt saw how your mother was, she only ran away. 

“Seems like you could use someone,” he steers smoothly behind another car, “what... I hope it’s okay for me to ask but where’s you dad?” 

Your heart drops. You shift and the boxes fall onto the floor. You bend forward to pick them up and suddenly, the car jerks and Steve’s pushing you back against the seat. You flatten yourself to it as your pulse pumps wildly. He’s at a complete stop as the car in front of him is only an inch away. 

“God-- guy didn’t even tap his breaks,” he snarls as he keeps his arms out, his hand on your chest, cupping you. 

“Uh,” you gulp and look down. 

He glances over and retracts his hand. He puts it back on the wheel and clears his throat, moving in his seat as he slowly leans on the gas. You won’t say anything. It was an accident and awkward enough. 

“I didn’t want you to hit your head,” he says. 

“It’s fine, thanks,” you carefully bend again and reach down to retrieve the pills. “Didn’t mean to drop these.” 

“No harm, no foul right,” he chuckles and pulls his hand from the wheel to rub his neck. “You can crash at my place if you want. Might be weird all alone in that house. Unsafe.” 

He bends his elbow against the armrest as he drives with one hand. You lean into the door and stare out the window. You really just want to go home and be alone. 

“It’s okay. I’m... an adult.” 

“Oh, I know, sweetie, I didn’t mean to treat you like a child. I know you’re not. Trust me, that’s clear,” he assures you. “I just thought... pretty girl like you home alone. Maybe I worry too much.” 

You didn’t think of it until he said something. You clutch the boxes tight and cross your feet together. You turn your head straight and watch the traffic ahead. 

“I don’t think... guy don’t...” you don’t know how to say it aloud. You’ve never had to admit what a loser you are, it’s just been obvious. Somehow, he seems to miss that. “It’s a safe neighbourhood.” 

“Sure, I guess you’re right,” he clicks his tongue. “Be weird being alone though, won’t it? You and your mom, you’re always together. Someone like me... I’ve been alone a while. Guess I’m used to it.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you agree flatly. 

“Sorry, that was... sadder than I meant,” he laughs at himself hollowly, “you know, I just never married. Always wanted to but did the military thing then the art thing and then I woke up and I was fifty. Then fifty-one and one and one...” he shakes his head as he slows down with the residential traffic, “if I can pass on any wisdom, sweetie, don’t let life run away from you. Don’t run away from it.” 

“Erm, thanks,” your tongue makes a gross noise as you swallow.  

“Just the wisdom of an old man,” he scoffs, “young girl like you, you got a lot waiting for ya.” 

You turn your head and hide your frown. You feel even worse with his empty promises. There’s nothing for you. You’re too stupid for college, you’re too useless for a job, and you’re just a shell of a person. There’s nothing in you worth a damn. 

“Sweetie, you okay?” He asks as he turns onto your street. 

“Tired,” you answer; it’s the truth, just not the whole truth. 

“Yeah, me too,” he yawns, “before you ditch me, how about you come have some dinner? You’re gonna need something in your stomach before you take those meds.” 

He pulls into his driveway and you peek over at him. Your stomach growls before you can say you’re not hungry. You flick your thumb on the elastic band around the boxes. You can’t be rude, what if he tells mom? 

“Alright,” you accept, “thank you.” 

“You’ve been through a lot, sweetie,” he reaches over to squeeze your shoulder, “you don’t have to keep being strong.” 

[astermath]

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother��“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

tag list <3

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[destinationtrekk]

I understand that most people think Excella would be our biggest insecurity if we were in a relationship with Wesker.

But oh people, I had a dream where Excella was my best friend and now I can't imagine her any other way. When you first meet Excella of course you were insecure, the girl is gorgeous, pure Italian beauty, you easily mistake her for a model the first time you see her, but your insecurities are driven away as you realise they have a lot in common, they now spend hours gossiping and criticising everyone they come across.

Wesker definitely didn't think you'd spend more time with Excella than with him.

ugh i love this. i was definitely an excella hater at first (father forgive me) but i saw a post where it explained that excella was manipulated and literally used and toyed with by wesker and then died :( i even wrote some jealous!reader in my 5+1 fic

but NOW yes i think excella and reader would be besties! wesker is at the height of his drama and crazy schemes here and sometimes reader needs to vent. excella is a very good listener and wesker does listen to her better than you sometimes - not in a bad way! but he views excella as his business partner and you as his emotional partner, so he listens to excella explain YOUR ideas and he's like hmm yes this is now my idea. i came up with this. i am best scientist ever

i wanna throw jill in here too. both you and excella feel bad about the P30 device and think wesker is being cruel about it, but jill isn't being abused. wesker is treating her like any other employee, and it's just occasionally that jill is sent out to do something crazy, and then she comes back and you all rant and gossip and complain about wesker spreading his man ego everywhere

on a day to day basis, there isn't a lot excella does for wesker except paperwork and reports and meetings that he doesn't want to bother with, so you two actually have a lot of time to get to know you other. despite your initial insecurities, excella has been kind to you since she met you. she had initially planned to seduce wesker, but she realized quickly you meant much much more to him than meets the eye, and she respects you for earning the trust of such a dark and powerful man.

when she dies you're heartbroken and you don't talk to wesker for a long while. he does everything to earn your trust back, but he hasn't quite learned the consequences of being brutal and cruel yet. it takes a lot for you to trust him again, but you'll never forgive him for taking your friend away like that

[solitaireships]

Love Letters

I've had this fic on the back burner for a little bit, but I got it finished now! It spawned out of the idea of Curly leaving little notes for Lyra that he loves her, so I thought I'd turn that into something a little more

Rating: Gen

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1202 words

Divider by saradika

Content warning: mentions of medical stuff

As soon as Lyra leaves the kitchen, she gets hit with a rolled up paper ball. It startles her out of her thoughts, falling to the floor before she manages to get her mind to process she should pick it up. 

Life has been different in the months since Curly was able to come home. If nothing else, she’s glad that he’s out of the hospital. It took time for him to get the help he needed, but he was able to get artificial skin grafts, and they were able to do enough to make sure he’s not constantly in pain. Still there have been growing pains though as they’ve had to figure out how to make navigating the house easier for him in a wheelchair and how to plan their days around some of the extra help he needs at home. 

At least Curly’s getting used to his new prosthetics. He’s still wobbly when he walks, but using a cane has helped to steady him. He always complains about how it takes up his hand, something far easier for him to do now that he’s been getting better with those prosthetics as well. Neither of them are sure if he’ll talk again, so they’ve started taking sign language lessons together. He’s still working on having the finer control of his prosthetics needed for that though, instead usually writing what he wants to say. His handwriting is different than it used to be, sloppy and unsteady, but Lyra’s glad either way that they’ve found a new way to talk to each other. 

In a way it’s nice. Lyra’s always liked reading and writing— her whole job is based around it. It’s nice that something she loves can now be helpful for someone she loves. 

Another good thing about Curly’s prosthetics is it’s clear from his throwing arm that physical therapy is helping him. He has good aim when he throws messages at Lyra to get her attention. 

She picks up his most recent message, uncrumpling the paper as she makes her way over to where he’s set up in the living room. He took off his prosthetic legs, presumably in an attempt to get comfortable, and rested them against the side of the couch. His eye follows Lyra as she makes her way over to sit next to him, half looking as if he’s trying to read the note along with her. 

“‘We should get dinner’?” she repeats. “Okay, what are you feeling up to tonight?”

Lyra knows meat’s not an option. Curly doesn’t want to talk about why, but he’s quit eating meat since getting back to solid foods. He’s told her a lot about what happened on the ship— of the ways he failed his crew, of the ways he wishes that he could have changed things, of how horrible every moment was for him after the crash. But he never wants to talk about the final moments he had before being put in the cryo pod, and that’s something Lyra decided she’ll never push him on. He’s been through enough as is, there’s no point in trying to make him relive something he clearly doesn’t want to think about. All that matters is he’s able to actually eat again, she knows he hated the feeding tube he had to use for a while. 

We should go out, Curly writes. He flips the page, then writes on the next, Your choice where. 

“We don’t need to. We’ve got plenty of stuff here, I could make that pasta with the mozzarella you like. Or if you want to order from somewhere, we can just get it delivered,” Lyra says.

She’s surprised that he would suggest going out in the first place. Curly hasn’t liked going out much lately. It’s hard to miss the looks people give him in passing, the mix of pity and disgust at how he looks. Lyra hates seeing how people treat him now that he’s disabled, and she knows that he hates being treated differently for it. She hopes he’s not just suggesting going out because he knows she misses when they used to go out on dates more often. She’s content enough staying home as long as it means that he’s comfortable. 

Curly shakes his head. Then he writes another note. We’ll go out. You pick where. 

“Okay, I—” Lyra pauses. She’s not really sure what she wants, and if this is what Curly would want too. “Are you in the mood for something?”

He shakes his head again. 

You pick. It’s my treat.

“Alright then. Did, uh, did anything bring this idea on?”

Before the crash I told you I would- Curly pauses, letting Lyra read before flipping the page- take you out to dinner when I got back. 

Thinking about the day Curly left feels like decades ago. There’s a bittersweet feeling to it, with hindsight making it one of their last moments together before their lives changed. But Lyra remembers what Curly’s talking about— he had told her he would take her out to a nice dinner when he got back, and that he would make up for half a year’s worth of kisses. Both those gestures had fallen by the wayside in the months since he’s gotten back. There have been other priorities, and they wouldn’t have even been able to do either of those until recently. 

Maybe him bringing this up is a sign that they’re starting to get back to a sense of normalcy. Lyra knows that healing isn’t linear, but maybe this means that things are getting better. It’s not the same as it used to be, but they’ve been getting into a new routine. Things are becoming regular again, and she hopes that they’ll stay that way.

“Okay. How about that Chinese place over on Kingston? I’m in the mood for dumplings,” Lyra suggests. That and she knows they have plenty of vegetarian options that should work well for Curly. 

Sounds good. And remember I’m paying, he writes. 

“Thank you.”

I love you, Curly writes. He tears out the page from the notebook, offering it to Lyra. It’s practically a routine at this point— he gives her every note he writes saying he loves her, telling her it’s because he wants to make sure she always knows it. There’s a stack of love letters slowly building up on her work desk, and she keeps one in the pocket of her jacket, in her purses, in her nightstand. Everywhere she goes, she always carries a bit of Curly’s love with her. 

“I love you too,” Lyra says. She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Let me get my keys. Do you want to walk or use your chair?”

Chair. Get my blue beanie?

“Sure thing,” she replies as she stands up. She folds up the note Curly gave her, tucking it into the pocket of her pants. “I’ll be right back.”

It’s nice to think that the two of them are getting to go out to dinner together. Lyra can’t remember the last time they did. Hopefully this will be the first of many nights out together, and hopefully his love notes to her will never stop. 

[flightfoot]

So I have no idea how asks work, I hope o am doing the right thing.

Sooooo any miraculous fan fiction suggestion? Maybe something chloe focused? Because I am basically running out of fic about that on ao3,butaybe maybe maybe you can help me? Thank you!!!!!!!!!!(oh and thank you even if you don't aswer oh and sorry if I am disturbing you!!!!!)

Have a nice day :)

I'm happy to help! I read a crapton of Miraculous fics so I can help. I'm glad you specified Chloe fics because well, I need something to go off of.

Oh yeah, it probably goes without saying if you know me at all, but none of these fics will demonize Alya, Adrien, the class, any of that sort. I don't tolerate those fics.

So first of all, @generalluxun really likes to write Chloe fics, so looking through his AO3 page is probably a good idea. I Won't Let You, which is a one-shot of Felix and Chloe talking at the Hawkmoth defeat party, empathizing with each other's circumstances, is a particular favorite of mine, if you want a taste.

Now onto the rest of the fic recs!

well somewhere along the way our words I must've gotten lost by @noirshitsuji

Beelya where Queen Bee visits the Césaire house after Alya writes an article about her fighting Mr. Pigeon alone. Normally Chloé would like the publicity but Alya had titled it ‘The Birds and the Bees’. After that she ends up coming back to complain about her mother. And her father. And about the fact that her oldest friend seems uncomfortable around her. Her visits becomes weekly, then almost nightly. (Don’t forget to include Chloé redemption (and some “Bee Movie” jokes).) * Alya isn’t quite sure how she ended up here, in a place where she isn’t even surprised Chloé would seek her out to talk about her dad, where she wouldn’t even mind her doing so, where she would expect it, where she would– (–thud. She might be in trouble.)

I loved seeing Alya's and Chloe's relationship grow and change through the years here, becoming closer and trusting each other more!

---

Can't Sleep Either, Huh? by EmeraldButterfly

Chloe gets up late at night. Turns out she’s not the only one who’s worried about Pollen. (AU where former Miraculous holders have an empathetic link with their kwamis)

This one's really short, but I love Zoe and Chloe comforting each other, since they can both feel what Pollen's going through at Monarch's hands over the link.

---

at our wedding by @anna-scribbles

“Chloé,” Adrien said slowly, “At our wedding, are we gonna have to…” “No!” Chloé shook her head firmly. “We don’t have to kiss. We can do whatever we want. It’s our wedding.” “Oh, good,” Adrien sighed. “You have to kiss at a wedding,” Félix argued. “I don’t have to do anything and you’re not the boss of me!” Chloé shouted. “Yeah!” Adrien grinned. He grabbed Chloé’s hand again. “Yeah, it’s our wedding.” // Adrien and Chloé, wedding planning through the years.

This one's great for seeing how Adrien's and Chloe's relationship in particular has changed over the years, though Felix is involved a lot as well.

---

Restorative Justice by @kasienda

Chloé has never been a fan of Ms. Bustier’s community building activities. In fact, she detests them. She doesn’t want to learn about the drab boring lives of her peers. And she absolutely can’t stand it when their confessions make her feel things. Feelings that she doesn’t even have names for. But when Adrien unknowingly shares his struggles with his double life, Chloé vows she will do anything to get Ladybug to set things right. Even if it means pissing off the heroine. Chloé was already mad at her anyway.

I love this, everyone sits down in a circle and talks about their feelings and problems and work on making things BETTER, on healing and fixing things.

---

This last one is a special treat, it's one of the best Miraculous fics I've ever read (and that is saying a LOT).

Hold Me By Both Hands by @angelofthequeers

“I know he said never to take you back,” Plagg mutters. “But he’d change his tune if he knew.” He looks Adrien straight in the eye and, more serious than Adrien’s ever seen him before, says, “There’s someone you gotta meet. He’s been looking for that book for ages.” How differently might the events of season 2 have gone if Adrien had also known of Master Fu from the start?

This is a rewrite of seasons 2 and 3, with Lila being active and sneakier, Adrien not being left in the dark, and everyone talking things out a lot more. I ADORE the interweaving plot threads of this fic, it's fairly episodic in nature and it packs a lot into its word count.

The single best plotline it has, and the one that shoots it up to the top of my list of best ML fics, is its Chloe Redemption plotline.

Basically, Adrien says he won't be friends with Chloe unless she starts treating people decently, and so, taking this to heart, she goes looking for help in learning how to do that because well, she doesn't want to lose Adrien. So naturally, she goes to Marinette.

Marinette helps, but there are no shortcuts here. If you've seen The Good Place, Chloe's character arc here is a lot like Eleanor's was there, with her not only needing to learn how to be nicer to people, but t find reasons to WANT to be a better person, outside of simply wanting to avoid a bad outcome. I literally wrote an essay about Chloe's character development in this fic, THAT'S how much I loved it.

Anyway, seriously, check this fic out!

[yamayuandadu]

Do you think Zanmu and Hisami could ever indulge in a proper romantic relationship, as supposed to the one sided crush poor Hisami is trapped in right now? Additionally, do you think Hisami is actually connected to Izanami, or just another member of the youkai species her servants are?

I think this is the first time in ages that I got a shipping ask. I’m pretty happy about this. I actually like talking about shipping a lot even if my blog is dominated by posts like “check out this obscure religious pamphlet, really illuminating on the connection between Matarajin and Iizuna Gongen”. Zanhisa is probably going to end up in my top 3 of Touhou pairings. Might even dethrone Mokoukeine as the #2 (side note - Keine needs more than 1 pairing with some canon backing). So, thanks for asking about it. Due to length the response to your two questions has been placed under the cut.

Realistically? It’s probably not happening in canon because even if ZUN’s intent really is to present Hisami as romantically interested in Zanmu, as we are hoping, this is a heavily status quo dependent series. I’m afraid Hisami is as likely to change her relationship status as Okina is to actually find replacements for Mai and Satono. On top of that, recent “loyal henchman” characters are often struggling with reappearances. I’m pessimistic if Hisami will fare any better in that regard than Mai, Satono or Mayumi, especially with no new print works in sight. Subjectively?  I think what I already said makes the answer obvious - of course I think it can work. It’s the classic henchman ship, the lifeblood of f/f pairings since 1800 BCE (or earlier). The whole game is a boon to people who like that sort of setup when you think of it (unless you like Shou/Nazrin - not much on that front tragically). They clearly have interests  and lifestyle choices in common, too, and that’s basically a solid chunk of what makes a relationship work. I think whether a relationship between Zanmu and Hisami can work is something that depends more on Zanmu than Hisami, though. The fact that we have direct confirmation that Zanmu doesn’t know why Hisami acts the way she does is a plus, since it’s not hard to imagine that Suika’s accusations, which do not seem baseless, have a lot to do with her being seemingly able to figure others out. So, someone who doesn’t really fall in this category already has the benefit of being on more equal terms with her than anyone else. The fact that Hisami’s bio mentions she generally gets involved in Zanmu’s schemes and it’s not a one off thing imo does indicate Zanmu cares about her on some level. I’d imagine she would’ve replaced her with someone else otherwise, given that she presumably messes up on purpose often enough for Zanmu to be aware that’s going to happen. Once again, in the light of Suika’s comments about treating others instrumentally it feels sensible to me to assume that there’s some genuine sympathy at play. A lot depends on how you interpret Hisami’s ending, also - if we’ll learn at some point that Zanmu invites her to parties regularly, it’s probably not very meaningful and just professional courtesy. If it’s a first, which is the impression I got, I would say from a shipping perspective it’s basically like a date. That’s how I plan to use it in a fic (coming soon), fwiw. It’s true Zanmu doesn’t take her to the other party, but perhaps that boils down to it being a political event. Given what sort of blog this is, I think I should point out that a relationship, or at least experiencing some other form of intimacy, would actually fit Zanmu’s whole corrupt slash eccentric monk gimmick. Not following the prescribed rules on celibacy was actually one of the more standard criticisms in the texts where the idea of corrupt monks turning into demons originates in. And on top of that it seems Zanmu’s historical counterpart according to a legend was a student of Ikkyu, a notably anti-celibacy eccentric monk who is famous for, among other things, his relationship with a certain Mori, a biwa hoshi (wandering blind musician) who is mentioned in many of his poems. What I’m saying is, thematically being in a relationship feels as appropriate for Zanmu as not being fond of tengu is for Okina. She should indulge in it.

She even already has the skeleton thing going on, like Ikkyu does in art. She just needs to get a girlfriend and she will truly live up to the Zen eccentric standards. As for the second question: while we do not know how this works in Touhou, there are no “generic” yomotsu-shikome in real myths. They only ever appear in the myth of Izanagi’s escape from Yomi. No source actually explains where they came from, but alongside the yomotsu-ikusa (similarly of unspecified origin) and the thunder gods born from Izanami last minute they chase him on Izanami’s behalf both in Kojiki and Nihon Shoki. The latter clarifies there are only 8 of them, and to my best knowledge there are no additional more obscure sources which would contradict any of this. I personally think it’s fair game to assume Izanami does exist in Touhou, unless ZUN explicitly confirms Keiki and Eika have genealogy incompatible with their origin myths (Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu can in theory exist without Izanami). So, by extension I do not think there’s any reason to assume the yomotsu-shikome have nothing to do with her, at least if you’re the sort of fan who likes digging for backstory material in genuine mythology and folklore. Note that both Tsukasa and Biten directly reference the Izanagi and Izanami myth involving yomotsu-shikome, too. This being said, I do not think there’s much of a reason to have yomi as a separate location in Touhou in the present day, or to have Hisami be disconnected from the Ministry. We do not really know much about the position of yomotsu-shikome in the setting so far - I honestly doubt we ever will - but in AFiEU Hecatia mentions that there were various entities in hell who were there before yamas and oni started organizing it, and that some of them support the yama and oni way of doing things. It seems like a natural spot for Hisami, seeing as “hell” in Touhou seems to encompass multiple types of afterlife, not just the Buddhist-style hell. Specifically when it comes to shipping, this would give Hisami a point of connection with Zanmu, who’s also in hell by choice.

[floosies]

Where the Boys Are

Fic warnings: violence, mentions of weapons, mentions of substance/verbal abuse, smut, cursing, angst, strangers to lovers (18+)

pairing: mob!steve harrington x oc!fem

a/n: i don't really like how i wrote this chapter but i really wanted to update it for you guys, i missed writing for steve even if im currently into a different character, steve is my sweet baby still

series masterlist here

Part 6: Love Me

"treat me like a fool, treat me mean and cruel, but love me. Wring my faithful heart tear it all apart, but love me."

Here he stood a dead man between a wall and the fist of his boss ready to ram itself into his head, what more could he do but plead his case. Steve always considered himself level headed enough to resolve things, but this was someone he never wanted to piss off, "boss I swear it's not what you think really-" he knew his time was running out "than what the fuck is it Harrington and you better give me a good fuckin ans-" the words spilled out, what he dreaded saying outloud "I love her sir! My hand to God I love her!." He could hear his father groan, "fucksake son, are you serious right now?" The sound of a lighter flickering on filled the now quiet room.

Mr. Romano slightly loosed his grip on Steve's collar, "fuck do you mean you love her?" Steve had no choice but to use this moment as a therapy session, "sir she's as good as they come, after that party mess I got to know her well enough. I just wanted to talk to her last night, but she got the wrong impression. I swear I never put my hands on her, I was going to tell her I wanted to things the right way but she never gave me the chance." His life on the line and his heart still crushed, Steve was expressing all the fear that consumed his subconcious.

His father watched him intently as he took drags of his cigarette. Here was his legacy, his only child and firstborn son, in love like he'd been all those years ago. For once in a long while he was going to agree with him, "my boy is just as crazy about Mia as I was about his mother. Hell he's even willing to get his skull beat in by ya, if he says he didn't touch her, I believe him." For the first time in his life Steve was caught off guard by his father's response. His boss must have been just as surprised as he let go of him.

Steve explained well enough that he was planning on doing things the right way, but Mia had asked him to go out that night because all her friends were on dates. He swore he had no idea that she never told her mother or him about her going out, he thought they knew. However, that conversation was long forgotten with what Steve had burst out just after he got caught.

As much as the old breed was dying out, both the men he worked for still believed in tradition, courting and proving themselves worthy of becoming part of the family like Steve's father had done way back then. They decided on a family sit down, where both families could clear the air and see if Mia would agree to courting Steve.

-

Mia unbeknownst about any of this was spending her Saturday at Jenny's place where she found herself talking about everything that had transpired the night before. Both Jenny and Suzie listening intently as she explained that she couldn't go through with the idea of making Steve of all people, the guy she would rebound with.

Suzie looked at her best friend with confusion, "he got you an expensive watch, defended you from your drunk ex, and-" She cut her off, "and he works for my dad! C'mon that's just trouble waiting to happen. Plus he's older than us and has a big reputation-" Jenny scoffed, "as if that should matter. Mia he likes you, just have some fun with it! You're an adult now, and like Suzie was saying he's been nothing but sweet to you." Mia huffed, her eyes rolling at her friends' words, "I thought you'd be on my side."

Both girls leapt to hug their friend, Jenny spoke again, "we are dummy, but we also wanna see you happy. You're saying he made you laugh and you felt safe with him." Suzie nodded along, "Dustin always says that Steve is by himself for the most part, I don't think he's who he was in high school-" The conversation was cut off by Jenny's mom coming into the room and asking for Mia.

Her mom had called the house and as soon as she spoke "hello" into the line, the anger in her mother's tone was felt immediately. There were lots of vague threats and mentions of where she was at last night. That she was beyond disappointed and wanted her home immediately. Thankfully, she had drove to Jenny's, she knew she'd been caught and she made sure to let her friends know that if she wasn't at school on Monday they'd either killed her or grounded her for life.

As Mia drove home she wondered what kind of punishment would be waiting for her once she got through that front door. Once she parked her car, all she could think about was the fact that she'd been out with him and they knew now. Even if her mom hadn't mentioned it directly, she knew it couldn't have been about anything else.

Oddly enough, her mother wasn't sat waiting for her, instead running around the dining room fixing the dinner table when she noticed Mia. Only then she stopped turning to look at her daughter, a gaze of disappointment and frustration, "go change into something nice we're going to have company for dinner and then you come down here and help me with dinner." Mia was so dazed by the idea of company that she stood frozen, afraid to move as she didn't know if anything else was waiting for her, but her mother screamed, "I said go! Now please!" That broke her out of it and her running to her room.

Choosing what to wear, she wondered who was going to come to dinner tonight. Did her dad want to handle this some other time? She would be grateful for it, but if anything would that mean she would get sent off somewhere? Because surely her punishment would be severe if he was still going to have clients come to the house.

Still she didn't have time to keep pondering on these things. Downstairs she started setting up placemats and dinner plates. The doorbell soon enough rang, her mom left her to finish up in the kitchen while she greeted their guests. Mia was trying to figure out the voices, when she heard the familiar voice of Mrs. Harrington who was complimenting her mother's garden.

-

This dinner was a set up, it had to be. She was sat in-between her parents with Steve sat between his on the other side of the table. No one mentioned it through out the dinner though, instead it was all small talk and jokes as they ate. However from the glances her dad was sending her way there was something he was waiting to say.

Eventually everyone was done with their dinner, however her mom didn't get up to start collecting the dishes. Instead her dad let out a gruff cough, getting everyone's attention, "let's not beat around the bush. These two" he points to her and Steve, "were out and about yesterday night." She was preparing for the worst, her gaze only for a second landing on Steve's, his face wasn't showing anything though.

Her father continued, "now I was going to handle this in a different manner, but Steve here had mentioned something interesting so I find it only fair he says his part and we'll go from there?" Now there was an expression on Steve's face but she couldn't make it out, just the way he nodded slowly, "yes sir. Thank you."

Steve never really had to explain himself, especially with girls. It was always a silent contract that they agreed to. This was different than all that, this was both their parents and his personal life coming into a stir with his business life. Still, he was a man, and he needed to act like one. He began with the apology to his parents and hers, to her for not admitting his feelings sooner and avoiding this mess he'd put them into.

All the while she looked beyond bewildered, since when did he have feelings for her? Mia couldn't really believe what she was hearing. He had been someone that to her knowledge, was never going to settle down or at least not with her, but what if her friends were right and he was really into her. Or what if this was a way to get what couldn't have last night?

Regardless of what she had made her mind up on believing, their parents were now looking at her for a choice to be made. Her father looked at her as she looked back at him, "don't look at me or your mother, this is up to you sweetheart." Fuck, she knew she had to say yes so she did. She apologized too and then accepted that she would like to give Steve a chance to redeem himself, but she also knew in the back of her mind it was not going to happen the way he would want it to.

After the dinner she went outside while the adults went to the main living room to go drink and talk. Her dad figured she probably wanted to be alone, but he saw how Steve's eyes lingered for the back door she had left through and told him to go talk to her, but just talk. Steve didn't hesitate, the minute his eyes landed on her he began, "look I'm sorry I know this isn't how- I shouldn't have handled things this way. I wanted you to find out in a nicer way-" He hadn't noticed she was drinking until she turned around to look at him, her eyes glassy with tears.

Mia wanted to be strong like she had been with her ex but she couldn't especially when she was drinking, "what are you playing at Steve? Is this because I wouldn't sleep with you?" His eyes widened and his heart hurt at what she implied, "bambi are you out of your fucking mind?!" She scoffed, "don't call me that." Then took a heavy swig of the beer in her hand, which was then just as quickly removed by Steve's grasp and discarded onto the grass with a dull thud.

His mind was quicker than this mouth, "you think I'd do something like this for what? A one time thing? Mia you wouldn't let me fuckin talk last night." She rolled her eyes, "I know we don't know each other but I want to, that kid you were with didn't deserve you. I stepped in where he didn't and you know that. Our parents got involved because I admitted to your dad what you didn't let me admit to you. I'm falling head over heels for you and I don't know what to do but hope you let me be in your life."

His words made her heart ache just as much as his did, but she couldn't shake the fear after what'd she just been through. "What about me Steve? You're gonna grow tired of me, I remember hearing the stories in school. Can you actually say that you won't leave-" He cut off her overthinking with a kiss that caught her off guard so much so she held onto him for dear life.

She'd always wondered what kind of kisser he was but even now kissing him, she didn't feel it real. When he pulled away his gaze remained heavy on her, his voice stern but quiet, soft almost as if sharing a secret, "I won't tell you bambi. I'm gonna show you that you're all I want and all I need even if it kills me." His grip on her waist never faltering as he pulled her into another kiss deeper than the first.

[inastarlesssky]

Okay, folks. Another essay. (Not a character analysis, folks.)

How I feel about Ron. Under the cut bc it might not be very Ron-friendly (but no Ron-bashing here (okay maybe a little) , just my honest thoughts)

Just gonna start off by saying what follows is my opinion. I haven't read the books, and I don't really plan to. Anything I write, my fics, my meta, you name it, is taken from the movies. That being said, it's just that. Sure, it might not be completely informed bc I haven't read the books. And I'd also like to clarify (my fault for not mentioning this before) this is not a character analysis of Ron Weasley, this is my opinion concerning him from what I've seen in the movies. My opinion is most certainly not law and it's definitely not fully informed bc I haven't read the books, but it's just me putting my thoughts out there.

Alright, so maybe I misunderstand things sometimes. Maybe it's been a few years since I've seen the movies. But the thing is, I don't quite like Ron as a character. Why?

In the first few movies, it's endearing how scared silly he can be, and it's sweet to see he's such good friends with Harry and Hermione. But what really got me was in Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire. Yes, there was the tension between Ron and Harry, but what called my attention was Ron's behaviour towards Hermione. Specifically "You're a girl. Come to the ball with me?" As if she was his last option--she who over the span of a few movies was a good friend and you'd think he might care a little bit more. But then again, they're teenagers, he's probably not thinking as well as he should. It just seemed very un-gentlemanly like to me the way that he asked her about it. If I were here, I wouldn't have appreciated that.

Then, at the actual Ball itself, he was jealous. That's understandable, happens to the best of us. But she was happy and practically beaming that evening. When he accused her of 'fraternizing with the enemy', that was kind of a last straw it seemed to me. Like 1) as she points out, the other schools aren't to be thought of as enemies. It's a competition, but the idea of the Ball was to have everyone together 2) I really don't think he's in a position to speak down to her when he asked her in a less-than-noble way to be his date for the ball.

Thus far my thoughts on Ron. Now bringing up Draco. Now being a Dramione shipper, myself, I will say that of course, I prefer her with Draco rather than with Ron. Why is that? Well, I can't speak for others--but for my part, the Draco that I like and that I ship with Hermione, is one that sees the error of his ways, that apologizes to her and determines (and actually makes efforts to) to be a better man. Basically this is solely in fanfics bc of course, in canon, the closest thing to redemption that we see for Draco is 1) the Manor scene when he refuses to identify Harry and 2) the deleted scene where he throws Harry his wand.

It's true that Draco also was an asshole when he called her mudblood and spoke down to her. He also mistreated her to a certain degree. But the difference I'm making is that in the fanfics I've read, I've seen a progression from 12-year old arrogant Slytherin to a man who will set fire to the world around him but never let them touch Hermione, a man who would move heaven and earth for her. A man who knows he's flawed and knows that he's hurt the woman he loves but he makes every effort to amend that and be better.

If there are Ron/Hermione fics that show him turning around from that moment at the Ball and being a better man, please feel free to hit me up with those, and I'd love to take a look. But it just seems funny to me that that's kind of swept under the rug. Like yes, Hermione forgives. But--if both Draco and Ron insulted Hermione in one way or another--why should there be more work for Draco to redeem himself in Hermione's eyes than Ron? You'd think (so I think) it would have hurt her more to be so treated by Ron, her friend, bc of their history.

To clarify, I am not trying to make a point here that one ship is better than the other. No. Ship and let ship, that's my theme. I just wanted to get my thoughts out bc I was considering and thought I might share it.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[needlesandnilbogs]

⭐ for the ask game! Gimme some director's commentary on your favorite of your fics!

You get mini-rant about superhero au because it's on my mind again and I'm taking a metaphorical axe to the long term plans for it right now (and lowkey wishing I'd thought about it more before I posted it last year) (read more bc I'm ramble-y tonight lol)

I should have cut the entire first bit of this and rewritten the second bit. third arc in that story is great and the prologue is great but the first and second arcs need to be better

For once, I'm not thinking about this in terms of lore changes --- I've had. Uh. A lot of the thoughts pretty clearly in mind since near the beginning (the backstory of hero mensah and her villain partners, the secret identity of actually-evil-villain Corporate, all the other backstories, exact power ideas and limitations) and don't need to edit that much for consistency --- but about the actual execution, especially the way they all handle balancing superheroics and secret identities.

I like the prologue, except for I think that Mensah probably would have had slightly more charitable words for Tano from the start (if not for Amena). Prologue can stay.

However. If I hadn't published it already (and I'm honestly just going to leave it rn bc I don't mind it, but I can still feel annoyed about it not being what I actually want), I would cut the first proper arc entirely, not because I'm not proud of it, but because it kind of duplicates the second arc, and not in a good way; it's a disconnected bunch of them interacting as secret identities and being Weird about it, and it leads into the next arc pretty much exactly. If I were rewriting this I'd probably keep it as the aftermath of a Corporate attack, but cut most of it down to a short description of the heroes working together, then the after-battle bits (adding a moment with the heroes deciding they're at the point they really need to get Corporate's identity for an arrest warrant, maybe making it actually clear that Gurathin is Pin-Lee's cousin and not some random person hanging around, and for sure clarifying something about what's going on with ratthi and Bharadwaj), then put the parts where they're investigating each other as part of the next arc.

The second arc also needs a bunch of things changed, but it's actually half-decent as a single storyline, if you actually start halfway through the previous arc. However:

I like thinking about how Mensah's council staff would respond to her being kidnapped approximately every other week and I should have said more about that (she plans about two days a month with nothing serious scheduled, so she can reschedule meetings she misses onto those days if needed; the council staff has a standing script for if someone needs her while she's busy being kidnapped; there's an actual emergency line that one of the most trusted staffers has that can get to her comm so she can respond if she's busy being kidnapped but they seriously need her)

I should have made it clearer that Mensah was absolutely complicit in the kidnapping bit and that she wasn't actually mad at Tano or Farai, just annoyed not to be told in advance (consensual kidnapping), but Ratthi was not consensually kidnapped, he was treated well but he was, also, actually literally kidnapped by supervillains and would probably have been freaking out more.

Also, a thing I'd do over would be to start with Mensah and her partners idly chatting about this plan over dinner a few days earlier, as part of the bit where everyone's investigating everyone else, so Mensah knows what's going on and why, just not when, exactly, her partners plan on pulling this one off.

Also also, Mensah probably needs to actually have a talk with her partners on screen about identities after everything, but other than that I don't actually mind the part where they reveal themselves to each other, and honestly I think it's okay that she doesn't tell anyone about her partners until later (might put it such that that reveal happens directly after that arc, but I like the moment where mensah tells pin-lee later and I'd move that to fit, and I don't mind mensah telling overse bc Overse notices the distress and wants to offer comfort). I think they'd need to talk and she'd need their permission to tell anyone (outside the team psychic lol) but they all should find out sooner than they actually do (in what I've actually written they will know by the next fic in the series for sure tho)

Anyways the third arc in there is great and I like it a lot. actual mystery with actual clues in there and arada doing mad science. 10/10 no notes.

[groovebunker]

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Hope you're starting to feel better 😊

I think (atm) it's either the bonus chapter of wwyd where cc takes fran shopping OR the holiday party chapter of the agony aunt au where cc brings a date who looks a little familiar, niles loses his mind and fran loses her temper (in a hot way). i'm also planning to write the birthday party referenced in the chanukah fic bc i can't stop thinking about it 😭

an (unedited) snippet from the bonus chapter under the read more!

Fran knew CC was wealthy. It’s not even just about her things, the expensive clothes and the frankly ridiculous Upper West Side apartment, it’s in the way she holds herself and talks, the way she commands a room the second she walks in. CC is rich beyond her wildest dreams. Which is why she shouldn't be surprised when CC guides her to the personal shopping counter at Bergdorf’s and addresses the woman there by her first name.

“Anna, I called earlier to book an appointment for Fran Fine.”

“Yes Miss Babcock, I have your dress here and I’ve already pulled some gowns in the colours you suggested. I’ll take you through.”

She leads them through to the largest dressing room Fran’s ever seen, a rail of dresses in shades of pink and red standing in one corner. She feels like she can barely afford to stand there, let alone buy anything. CC comes to stand next to her, her hand resting on Fran’s lower back.

“Is this ok, darling?”

She realises she's not really sure. It’s just the opposite of what she'd been expecting when CC had suggested taking her shopping. She’s used to a shopping trip meaning several hours browsing Loehmann’s with Val or her mother, debating how much she can afford to put on her credit card this month. She loves it, loves finding the perfect thing tucked away at the back of the store and giggling with Val as they show Sylvia a succession of hideous outfits. Once a year, around the holidays, she comes down to 5th Avenue and lets herself dream about affording this kind of thing one day. When she's not a nanny on six bucks an hour. And it's not like she was expecting CC to shop off label. But she’s treating this like it's any other Monday, as if there's not a rack of dresses in the corner which each cost more than Fran makes in a year, as if half the staff hadn't looked down their noses at Fran the second they pushed through the doors, as if Fran could ever fit in in a place like this. This is CC’s normal and Fran’s so far out of her depth that she feels a little lightheaded.

“Honey, is this really necessary? I was just gonna go to Loehmann's.”

CC leans in a little closer, gesturing for Anna to leave them alone.

“It’s not really necessary, no. But I like seeing you dressed up in beautiful things. So…indulge me?” It’s not fair, Fran thinks, the way her voice drops or the way her mouth forms the word ‘indulge’. How is she supposed to say no to that? “If there's nothing you like, we’ll go anywhere you want.”

“It’s just…so expensive.”

“Maxwell was kind enough to give me his credit card. He was just so grateful that I was taking you shopping,” she grins, “He thinks I'm going to have a terrible time.”

Fran smirks. Mr Sheffield's paid for enough of her fancy outfits. What's one more?

“Oh, does he now?”

CC unbuttons Fran’s shirt and pushes it off her shoulders, letting it fall crumpled to the floor.

“Mmm, he was so apologetic,” she undoes Fran's jeans and pushes them down over her hips, helping her step out of them and her shoes, “So sorry that I had to take time out of my day to do this. Kept saying I was doing him a huge favour.”

He clearly has no idea. Or he's a much better actor than they’ve given him credit for. Fran’s not bothered either way, because CC’s pulling her over to the rail of dresses and looking at her as if she’s sizing her up. She pulls a maroon gown down and holds it up, scrutinizing it against Fran’s skin.

“This one first, I think.”

Fran thought she loved shopping because of the search, because of the choice and the possibilities. When they got here, she couldn't understand why CC would want someone else to pick out what she should try on, what she should wear. Not that it’s not working for her, clearly, but she thinks it must suck all the fun out of getting dressed in the morning. Fran’s clothes are so much a part of who she is, she can’t fathom having anyone else choose them for her. But now CC’s helping her into another dress, this one a deep cherry red with the neckline cut across her shoulders, and it fits like a glove and CC can't stop looking at her. This is probably the 7th dress she’s put on, and she’s been watching CC get more and more flushed, less and less able to string a sentence together as she helps Fran change and then bosses her around a bit, tells her how to stand and to turn slowly so she can see her from every angle. And Fran’s starting to get it. She doesn't want a stranger picking out her clothes, although Anna has done a very good job, but CC choosing them? CC looking at her in her underwear with that slightly hard gaze, flicking through clothes and deciding what she wants to see Fran in? And then lounging back against the mirror as Fran models them for her? It’s liable to ruin both her and the ridiculously expensive dresses.

“What do you think, darling?”

[brain-rot-central]

So I set up my current fic to have Spawn!A return home to Cazador's.

My plan is that he guts the place in his grief (well, not him. He wouldn't want to break a nail with manual labor, let's be honest) and only a couple of Cazador's prior thralls stay within the palace, accepting Astarion as their new master despite him only being a spawn.

They're essentially staying of their own accord at this point because as far as I know, spawn can't charm people the way full vampires can. Maybe briefly, but there's no compulsion. So they're just chilling because it's home and where else are they gonna go tbh. Astarion also treats them way better.

There's one woman in particular who Astarion has known for most of her life. She came to become Cazador's thrall when she was a young and has essentially devoted her life to the Szarr family and vampires in general. And she acts as like, Astarion's maid/mother figure lmao

Just imagine a sweet, loving grandmother type figure and that's what I have in mind for this character.

This is my first like, non-canon idea I've had but the practicality works? I mean I know what actually happens at the end of the game but I feel like this also should have been an option? Especially with Astarion.

I never felt like if you were to break up with him, he'd just throw his arms up and go down into the Underdark willingly. I feel like that would be a decision he grapples with for a long time. To go down into the Underdark means accepting that he once again belongs to the night, and after having the sun for the first time in over 200 years, I don't think he'd be so quick to give it up.

I absolutely see him going back to Cazador's for a few days, weeks, months, etc., and essentially licking his wounds.

"But Cazador's palace is traumatic for him! He would never go back!"

I beg to differ. Cazador has a line if you speak to him without Astarion present where he says that Astarion will inevitably return home once Tav/Durge fails, because that is all Astarion knows.

He only knows chaos and torment; he wears it like an old shirt. And it's true when it comes to actual trauma survivors. Chaos is sometimes where they're most comfortable, and brings them a feeling of home. It's fucked up and mentally it makes no sense, but it's true. Sometimes trauma survivors don't feel stable without a tiny bit of chaotic energy in their life, helping to spur them on.

Anyhow, that's my idea for the direction I'm going in and I hope y'all buckle in and enjoy the ride.

[butterflydm]

fic updates & WoT time skips

Next week, I'm going to be posting my post-canon story where Mat pulls his Seanchan long con (so, when I say 'post-canon', I mean... a ways into the future).

My current plans re: Voice is to probably start posting the next fic about a month after S2 has finished airing but that's pretty flexible. If S2 gives me a bunch of fic ideas, I might want to strike while the iron is hot.

But right now, I'm currently working out the detailed outline for the next fic in Voice series, and one of the things that I really had to pay attention to in the next section is the Seanchan because this fic runs through... it looks like A Crown of Swords, but the history of this AU changes the timing on the Seanchan quite a bit. And another thing I needed to think about was forkroot tea.

Spoilers through Crossroads of Twilight below

So. Forkroot tea. In the books, it was the discovery of a single person in the middle of a small village in Amadicia (Ronde Macura). Theoretically, Nynaeve & co might have run across her town on their way to Salidar, but they had no reason to stop into the shop to check in on the Yellow's eyes and ears, because they already know where they're going (due to Perrin's TAR communications with Egwene). It was Elayne and Nynaeve's encounter with Ronde that led to her sending the information about forkroot to the White Tower. Elaida then treats her horribly and she ends up despising the Aes Sedai and hooking up with the Seanchan, giving that secret away to them as well. None of those events have happened in Voice and Ronde is just... you know, chilling in her village.

Should I try to come up with a different narrative justification for knowledge of forkroot tea spreading or just let it remain one woman's secret, off in a tiny village in Amadicia? Hmm.

The other outstanding question that I am working on answering is how far the Seanchan will have progressed in their invasion by the end of the next fic. Obviously pretty important for future fics in the series!

In my AU, Rhuidean and Falme happened at the same time, which has essentially meant that the Seanchan are running two books behind where they are in canon, at least in relation to Rand's story (or, I guess more accurately, Rand is running two books ahead). But while I was looking into how I would need to take that into account in the next story in my series, I noticed an... interesting narrative pattern.

Jordan sometimes just basically puts some of our main characters in a holding pattern so that other world events can happen, but as I was breaking down the plotting, I really noticed how often that happens to give the Seanchan a better foothold into whatever their new territory is or to make the timing better for the Seanchan specifically.

Three examples:

In The Great Hunt, Rand & co flicker-flicker-flicker and lose several months, giving the Seanchan plenty of time to invade Falme and really settle into their new digs there, making them a much bigger threat for Rand to deal with.

In A Crown of Swords, Elayne and Nynaeve do their best to avoid Mat for an entire month, which means that by the time they're ready to actually find the Bowl of the Winds, it's just about time for the Seanchan to invade Ebou Dar.

Rand literally just hangs out in a manor in Tear for a month in Crossroads of Twilight, waiting for the Seanchan to reply to his message and doing absolutely none of the other plot-related things that he could have been doing during that time. This gives Tuon and Mat a chance to have their 'courtship' plot.

Now the first example isn't a choice on Rand's part -- the magic is wonky. But the other two examples feel like instances where Jordan was prioritizing his timeline events over his characterization. He wants the group to still be in Ebou Dar when the Seanchan invade, but he also knows how long it will take the army to get there, logistically, so he throws Elayne and Nynaeve's logic and common sense under the bus so that they'll be stubborn enough to uselessly do the same thing over and over for a month before finally being willing to let Mat help.

(This specific problem mostly happens, imo, because of Traveling -- Egwene takes them instantly to a place near Ebou Dar but then the story isn't ready for them, so they have to do nothing for a month waiting for the timelines to match up again to the Seanchan invasion -- if they'd needed to ride there, then they could have gotten to work right away once they arrived.)

The Crossroads of Twilight example is even worse, because everyone else gets put on hold in order for Jordan to try to make it semi-believable that Mat is doing all the bizarre things he does in CoT & then in KoD (all of which is related to Jordan once again bending over backwards to help out the Seanchan). I know this has been talked about before but it's honestly ridiculous how little actually happens in CoT. Nynaeve shows up in one scene to ogle Lan while he's training and that's it. That's all she does in the whole book! No one does anything, all so that Mat can have weeks to brood over how much he hates the 'fate' that he is actively forcing himself to chase after (just like Min does in books TSR-ACoS but at least it makes sense that Min does that, even if it makes me dislike her as a character, because Min has conditioned herself to 'help along' her viewings even while claiming to believe that they're inevitable).

Ugh, I don't think I'll ever stop being annoyed by CoT & KoD. Okay, pushing past that for now.

...

Actually, while I'm here, I think I might go over every timeskip in the Jordan books just to track this issue and see if it's as related to the Seanchan as it feels like it is (using the massive timeline here for reference: stevenac[dot]net/wot/tl0998.htm). I am including the stretches of time here where main characters just sit around and do nothing; not travel-related time. This is only covering the Jordan books, though there are a couple in the last three books as well.

TGH: First we have everyone hanging out at Fal Dara for a month. This is Moiraine's choice and is primarily about waiting for Siuan to arrive. It does give Rand time to do sword-training with Lan.

TGH: Then we have Rand's accident with the Portal Stones. This gives the Seanchan time to dig their claws into Falme but, on the plus side, it also gives Egwene, Nynaeve, and Elayne the longest uninterrupted time training in the White Tower that they ever get: almost three months pass before Liandrin's betrayal of the girls, and then Egwene spends almost two months in captivity with the Seanchan.

TDR: After the Battle of Falme, Rand chills in the rough area of Falme for the winter, roughly four months. This gives the girls (and Mat) time to make the journey back to the White Tower and lets the Seanchan begin to regroup. In-book, this is justified by Rand spending four months arguing with Moiraine.

side note: it takes girls (and Mat) over five months to travel from Falme back to Tar Valon. They leave in "November" of 998 and arrive in "April" of 999. I'm guessing this travel time is a large part of why Jordan has Rand just hang out for a winter instead of acting sooner.

TFoH: Roughly a month passes between TSR and TFoH, which gives Rand some time to train with Asmodean but he's actively doing Something there and not just hanging out.

ACoS: A month into their stay in Ebou Dar, Elayne and Nynaeve finally get around to mentioning the Bowl of the Winds to Mat. There is a lot of plot stuff that happens to the other characters here, so it's not just about letting the Seanchan further progress their invasion, but it really is a nonsense plot beat for Elayne and Nynaeve's storyline that Jordan gets away with by having it happen off the page between books.

ACoS-WH: A wall falls on Mat, injuring him badly enough that he will be stuck in Ebou Dar until the second wave of the invasion arrives. Other characters do progress their own storylines while this is happening, which kinda makes it feel like taking Mat out of the action here directly results in everyone else getting put on hold later so that Mat can catch back up to them.

If Tuon had been in the first wave and Mat had been not so badly injured, then Mat's storyline could have happened at the same time as everyone else's (during TPoD), and Rand wouldn't have needed to hang out and do nothing for a whole month in CoT. It also would have fixed the awful Winter's Heart plot hole of everyone's vow of silence about telling Rand that his best friend was left to rot behind enemy lines (because Mat would have escaped by the time that Nynaeve and Rand saw each other, so she could have been honest with him but the color swirls would have reassured him that Mat was already out of Ebou Dar).

CoT: Speaking of! Post-cleansing, Rand spends an entire month doing fuck-all, and so does pretty much everyone else, all so that Mat can get stuck in his second abusive relationship, this time with marriage vows included (maybe his third, if you count Melindhra).

So, yeah, three separate timeskips happen in the books ACoS-CoT that seem primarily about trapping Mat into the Seanchan.