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majorlysapphic · 3 months ago

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It's mind splurge time once again... :)

Dearest reader, today I am presenting a charminghearts soulmate AU with a (generous) sprinkle of violence. :))

(Taking inspiration from Sabrina Carpenter's new song/mv 'Taste'. @uhhhh-em-draws-stuff since you wanted to see something like this, please consider this AU as a gift/thank you for your wonderful art in the community :)) ).

TW: violence and murder.

Now, without further ado, onto the story idea!

Auradon is a land of fairy tales and idyllic love stories, so it's no shock that soulmates are a well-known and incredibly common aspect of life. So much so that it's considered taboo to not have a soulmate (especially among royal families).

Now, you may be asking: "how do people know if they have a soulmate or not?".

Well, first I'd like to establish that in this AU, some people don't have their destiny-appointed soulmate from birth. The experience of having a soulmate is varied, and sometimes fate takes a little time deciding who your other half is (especially since once your souls are 'linked', it's set in stone for the rest of time). How someone can discern whether they have a soulmate is through the notion of mark-sharing; whenever your soulmate is physically injured, your body bares the same marks left behind on their body (typically in a colour that best represents your other half). The stronger the bond between your souls, the more obvious and long-lasting these marks are.

Now, let's get onto Red and Chloe's lives prior to the start of the main story!

Throughout her entire life, Chloe has been raised on stories about her ancestors finding their 'true loves'. The Charming family bloodline are known for very strong bonds and picture-perfect soulmates, almost acting as the blueprint example throughout all of Auradon's history about how intense a soul-bond can get. So, it's logical to conclude that Chloe can't wait for the day she finally finds her soulmate.

Frustratingly, for the first ten years of her life. Chloe bares no soul marks, however on her eleventh birthday, she's ecstatic to find a bright red soul mark had appeared on her right knee. And whilst she feels bad that her soulmate must have tripped and scraped their own knee, Chloe is elated to know that her soulmate is out there in the world. She spends the rest of her birthday showing off her soul mark to everyone in the castle, and bells are rung out in Cinderellasburg in announcement and celebration that their young princess has reached this renowned milestone of life.

And when the soul mark fades, Chloe's sad to see it go of course. But she doesn't get to miss it long before more start blooming up, and after a month of knowing she has a soulmate, she's sure she's bonded to the clumsiest person in all the kingdoms. And you'd think this inkling of information would help her find her soulmate faster, but it doesn't. So once again, Chloe becomes a frustrated hopeless romantic, documenting every new mark and it's corresponding date and praying to her fairy godmothers she'll find her other half sooner than later.

And at seventeen, she does. At least that's what Chloe thinks.

I'd like to imagine that there are a lot of celebrations going on when the anniversary of the formation of Auradon arrives, so every year a different kingdom hosts other royal families for two weeks of celebrations/peace talks/gifting. So when Chloe was seventeen, it was Cinderellasburg's turn to host. There she meets Zellie, the crown princess of Corona, and Chloe falls hard. The pair get along right off the bat, and there's a spark of hope in Chloe's heart that this is it, especially given the other princesses clumsy nature. But it would be abrupt and extremely against royal decorum for Chloe to investigate whether Zellie is her soulmate or not, so she forces herself to remain patient and see where the future takes them.

Based off of those two weeks of celebration, they start writing letters and visiting each other, and soon enough, Chloe and Zellie are dating. One month into the relationship, Chloe thinks she's never been more happy, her love for Zellie isn't as "all consuming" as her parents described what it's like to be with a soulmate, but Chloe doesn't mind a quiet love. But, she doesn't want to freak the other girl out too early on, so she plans to broach the topic of being each others soulmates when they reach the four month mark of their relationship (though that doesn't stop her from dropping some not so subtle hints about her suspicion every now and then). Unfortunately for Chloe, she never does get to ask, because a week before their four month anniversary, Zellie breaks up with her.

Chloe's heart broken to put it lightly. She doesn't get where this came from, and soon enough she's wallowing in self pity once the communication between her and Zellie becomes more and more infrequent. But after all of this, it doesn't stop her resolve. So like the hopeless romantic she is (unwilling to give up on a girl who surely is her soulmate), she's planning on trying to win Zellie back on the anniversary celebration of Auradon's founding, now being hosted in the Kingdom of Corona.

It should be noted that Chloe will sort of meet Red at Corona's hosting celebration. But before I go into what I mean by 'sort of', it's time to give Red's life some context.

Wonderland citizens are just as likely to have soulmates as those who live in Auradon (who they aren't cut off from in this AU, but their borders are incredibly strict), but it's a topic that's kept behind closed doors given their reigning queens hatred of anything to do with the subject. Growing up, Red knew of the concept of soulmates, but she wasn't too fussed about the idea - so after ten years of her life with no soul marks, she concluded she didn't have a soulmate and moved on without a care. After all, she was much busier occupying her time by trying to prove herself as a worthy crown princess to her mother.

At first, this meant Red had remained studious and proper at all times, but eventually her exceeding academics and royal etiquette were no longer subject to adoration and instead expected as a bare minimum. Frustrated and still seeking her mothers approval as a young kid, Red takes up the habit of somewhat spying on whatever's going within her castles walls. This is where she'll start to realise how much violence and deceit is involved in ruling Wonderland (this is where she finds out that being sentenced to a beheading is the kindest her mother could ever be in judgement). But who is she to question things when all her life her mother has been presented as the ideal standard for what a queen should be?

From this moment on, something clicks into Red's head (perhaps even a bit too easily/quickly, but after growing up surrounded by violence, a girl tends to grow a bit desensitised to it all). She can be a picture perfect princess, but what her kingdom (and her mother) truly needs is someone willing to get their hands dirty for them. And a bit after she turns eleven, Red's able to prove it.

The first time she kills a man, she didn't exactly plan it.

All she knew that there was a young diplomat, perhaps only a few years older than her, who posed a threat to Wonderlands trades (ego, her mothers power). She remembers her mothers angry shouts from behind the doors of a meeting room when meeting with him. She remembers seeing him storm out of the room. She remembers seeing her mother whisper into a trusted guards ear before they rush off to the kitchens. She remembers realising that the diplomat would be dead by dinner time...

It's a slight morbid curiosity that gets Red moving. A growing want to see a soon to be dead man. To try recognise his faults and pinpoint why he deserved to be sentenced to death. So, she sneaks into the wing of the castle made up for visitors, locates his room and enters. There she sees him, looking out from the balcony, lost in his own stressed thoughts given his rigid stance.

Want to know a fun fact? Wonderland doesn't care much for safety standards, much preferring aesthetics.

So, when Red slowly creeps closer, listening in on this diplomats worried mutters, she feels a certain urge. A swift motion would be enough to prove herself. Just one powerful shove could change everything about how she's perceived. There'd be glory, praise, and responsibility. But of course, Red hesitates. This is a big decision, and the more she dwells on it the more troubled she becomes. But soon her decision time is up, and this diplomat is turning around, surprised to see the young princess standing behind him with a far away stare.

She's been caught lurking. Red panics, and the next thing she knows she's launched herself forward. Red's fall lands her on the edge of the balcony, scraping her knee pretty badly (it takes a few more seconds for Red to hear the diplomats fall end on the ground below).

The palace guards find her frozen there an hour later, replaying the events in her mind. Her mother is soon alerted and comes round, she looks to Red and then peeks over the balcony. She knows what's happened now and Red can never take this back. Though once she sees her mother looking down at her for the first time with a gleefully proud smile, Red's concerns seem to wash away.

From that moment on, Red was not only seen as the heir to the crown, but also as a powerful attribute towards Wonderland's power. Her mother was quick to place her in extra classes and training sessions (for more under the table political schemes), and whilst it may have been a harsh learning curve, Red's never felt so alive. Though it should be noted that because of her training sessions, Red tends to get a lot of injuries. It's a regular aspect of her life now, so she doesn't give the bruises and scars too much thought. But this also means that when her soulmarks start appearing in various shades of blue, they blend in well enough to be perceived as bruises.

For the next few years of her life, Red is given 'political tasks' within Wonderland. And the more justified havoc and death she spreads, the better Red becomes. Much to her mothers dismay, this means Red also starts getting restless on her missions, making her restless. And so after a simple recon task ends up with a manor in flames, the queen is left with a decision: take back the freedom she's given Red, or find a way to let the girl explore her true potential and carry on serving her.

The latter option is chosen, and on Red's sixteenth birthday she's presented with an enchanted, golden locket in the shape of a stopwatch. This object is the key to greater, more inconspicuous missions, as once Red places the golden chain around her neck she's disguised from anyone tracing back this version of herself to her true self (I'm imagining in reality, Red's appearance will just switch to Kylie Cantrall's real life look and the extra magic allows the anonymity enchantment to work).

From then on, Red is sent out to Auradon to do more of her mothers dirty work, and during her time there she burns down various historical sights and takes out a few important politicians. It isn't until she turns eighteen is when she's given her biggest and most risky mission yet: assassinating the crown princess of Corona, Zellie. She doesn't ask for the reason why, she just accepts.

This is a delicate mission, and Red figures the best way to get closer to her goal is to hide in plain sight. Slipping on her locket, Red enters the kingdom of Corona masquerading as a viscounts daughter from a faraway kingdom, simply travelling and making memories. Eventually, she meets Zellie at a boring ball and she get's to work charming the unsuspecting princess. It's back and forth flirting, and Red is getting closer and closer to her goal. Soon enough, Red's got the other girl completely enamoured especially after a moment of vulnerability where Zellie tearfully admits to not having a soulmate. Red doesn't see the big deal, but she plays the part of empathic 'friend', and when she tells Zellie that she doesn't have a soulmate either, she sees a flicker of hope in the other princesses eyes. Red pity's her for it, but she's not dwelling on what she feels when she's so so close to finishing her job. She just needs one moment without guards stationed out the door and a clear exit route.

That moment doesn't come immediately as she's called back to Wonderland on 'urgent news' regarding inner kingdom conflicts. But she's quick to assure her mother that she'll have the job done soon enough, since once Zellie found out Red had to leave, she personally invites her, with lovesick eyes, as her guest of honour to Corona's celebration of Auradon's formation.

Red accepts the invitation and returns to Corona two months later for the festivities, with a collection of hidden weapons and her trusty enchanted locket. And that's where she meets Chloe for the first time, after all, its hard not to notice the girl glaring daggers at her as she enters the first ball of the celebrations on Zellie's arm.

During nearly all the events going forward, Chloe is seething with jealousy. She's so sure that Zellie is her soulmate, how could she stay calm when there's another girl by her side? And whilst the two say they're only friends, it doesn't take a genius to work out there's something else there. But, so long as they're still considering each other as friends, Chloe's still able to try win Zellie back.

Though that doesn't sit well with Red. Soon enough, both girls are competing against each other.

They both are trying to dance with Zellie at a ball? They try spoil each others attempts and somehow end up getting partnered with each other for the rest of the dance (and despite the fact that Red can move with the agility of a cat, she all of a sudden can't stop 'accidently' roughly stepping on Chloe's feet during all the dances).

Both of them are trying to sit next to Zellie at an opera? Somehow both end up getting seated in a private booth and end up quietly arguing for the entire performance.

They carry on fighting and thwarting each other. It feels electrifying to be at each others throats like this. Chloe can't seem to get enough of her dynamic with Red, so much so that she starts getting excited to see the other girl. And soon enough, Chloe realises that when she's gripping a champagne glass and gritting her teeth as she watches Red and Zellie dance across the ballroom, her eyes are following Red instead of who she came to Corona for. Thus, leading to the realisation that what she had with Zellie may have been an overexcited puppy love, and despite the fact she doesn't actually know who her soulmate is, she doesn't care all that much when her focus is centred on Red.

During Chloe's new revelations, Red is slowly going insane as her assassination attempts keep getting prevented.

Her plan to waltz Zellie under a falling chandelier? Annoyingly intricate to set up and unsuccessful. Her plan to give Zellie a poisoned flute of champagne at the opera? Knocked over by Chloe in a rush to get to Zellie's side. Her plan to push Zellie off a balcony? Stopped when Chloe steps out with them.

(Red refuses to admit this is the most fun she's had in her whole life).

Red knows Chloe is doing this on purpose, and she starts panicking on whether Chloe's somehow seen past her lockets enchantments and knows the reason why she's here. So, the simple solution? Red has to kill Chloe.

At an ornate masquerade ball, Red finds a way to lure Chloe into an empty servants passage. She's intent on a little interrogation prior to anything, but Red soon forgets about the sharpened blade strapped to her thigh when her back meets the wall and Chloe's lips are on hers.

Okay. That didn't go according to plan. The worst part of it all? Red doesn't seem to mind Chloe's lips on hers. In fact, she rather likes it given the way her heart skips a beat and how she tangles her hands in Chloe's hair.

And by the end of their tryst, Chloe's feels as if she's walking on clouds (she got the girl after all) whilst Red is internally panicking, having never felt so fucked in her life.

The next few days go by in a blur, Red should be focusing on Zellie, but she always seems to gravitate towards Chloe. Soon enough, Red acknowledges that she's going to have to cut her plans short and get her job done by the end of tonight before Chloe messes up her judgement even more.

So in another mind numbing ball, she asks Zellie to meet her in her room once the main dances are finished. Zellie agrees (blissfully unaware and thinking this is the moment she'll get to confess to red and/or vice versa). Once Zellie slips out of the ballroom, Red follows thirty minutes later.

But of course, there's one person in the room Red can't escape the attention from. And who's to blame Chloe for following her? They've been flirting and more, but haven't talked about what exactly they are. She better take this opportunity to talk to the other girl.

Going through the castle's hallways, she searches for Red. And she finds her, though she wasn't expecting to find the other girl in such a state. Because Red's in her ornate ballgown with a dagger clutched in her grip, absolutely drenched in blood. The blood of Chloe's first love (and friend), who is collapsed on the floor and very much not alive anymore after one vicious swipe against her neck.

They're frozen, staring at each other. And then everything happens in a blur and they're fighting. Chloe lands a good few hits in attempt to restrain Red, but her swordsmanship classes don't amount to the same skill Red has gotten from experiencing real fights. Next thing the girls know, Chloe's pinned to the ground and Red's got a dagger digging into her throat.

Chloe's staring up at Red with a multitude of emotions. Sadness. Grief. Anger. Disbelief. It's a rollercoaster of emotions that's expected, though what's got Chloe in absolute heartache is seeing a clean, blue soul mark line appear on Red's throat, perfectly mirroring the cutting edge of the blade Red has on her.

They stare at each other. The wait is agonising, why on earth can't Red take the final blow? She doesn't know, and she's losing time for her escape. So as the clocks chime to signal midnight, Red uses the hilt of her blade to knock Chloe out.

She rushes to change out of her ballgown into a set of clothes that will make fleeing the scene and climbing walls much easier. But she's panicked on her miscalculation with her timing, so once Red all but flings herself out of the rooms window, she doesn't seem to notice that her locket's chain has snapped and fallen to the ground.

It's a small while later that Chloe wakes back up into her sickening reality, realising it wasn't all a sick dream after all. With an aching head, she stumbles into the hallway to go ring an emergency bell. Castle guards will be where she is soon enough, and despite the fact she should stand still and rest, she re-enters the room.

Shivering, she notices how Red didn't even attempt to hide Zellie's body. In fact, this entire crime scene is a chaotic mess, the murder weapon abandoned in the middle of the room. Going towards the only open window, Chloe notices a locket on the ground. The very same locket that she had noticed Red always wearing during the short time she knew her.

Fate is the most cruel thing Chloe's ever dealt with, she decides then. She didn't expect to relive her parents experience (albeit, hers is a lot darker), let alone be in her fathers role, but here she is with her soulmate fleeing the scene after midnight, leaving behind only a blood speckled locket as a reminder of her existence.

Hours later, when Chloe's being interviewed after being treated for her injuries. She doesn't mention the locket, even when the lie makes it feel as if the lockets burning a hole in her pocket. She knows she's being selfish, but this locket is hers to do with as she wishes. So with a determined heart, Chloe ignores the pitying looks of everyone around her as the months pass and the tale of the gruesome murder of Corona's heir is shared.

She's busy trying to find a way to track down Red with this small piece of jewellery. And when she finds her, she's not sure what she'll do. Whether she wants revenge or something else. All she knows is her old self with a head full of fairy tales is fading, and she's willing to do anything to get her hands on the other girl.

A year passes.

Red has long since been banned from going back to Auradon after her mother found out about her various mistakes (though she made sure not to mention Chloe). She can't say she's too mad about it, the situation rattled her more than she expected (especially when she returns home, to find a thin blue soulmark across her neck. She's not an idiot. She knows who it's linked to. She doesn't say anything to anyone about it).

So, she sinks back into her oldest routines as crown princess. But one day she comes into her mothers study to find out that Wonderland is entering some form of political alliance with Cinderellasburg.

Two weeks later she's sat by the dining table of the Charming's castle, refusing to make eye contact with anyone or even contribute to the discussion. During the same dinner, Chloe hasn't taken her eyes off of Red once, unable to shake the feeling that she knows her from somewhere.

Red can only hope that she can stay as far away from Chloe as possible during the alliance (given that once it's established, regular communication and travel between Wonderland and Cinderellasburg will begin).

Chloe's starting to think that she should try find a way to get to know the crown princess of Hearts. Perhaps she'll enlighten Chloe about Wonderland's magic (the very same magic Chloe has figured out is weaved into the locket she carries in her pocket everywhere).

#descendants: the rise of red #glassheart #charminghearts #chloe x red #red x chloe #chloe charming #redcharming #MajorlySapphic'sConcepts

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modofpitchpatch · 5 months ago

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Its not fair. Pinkie knows that. Its not fair that Rarity is stuck there, unable to move and walk. Back when it all happened, Rarity locked herself in her boutique, hoping the structure would keep her safe from the fusion. It didnt. She did everything right, and still, she is bound to the very place that was supposed to keep her safe.

Pinkie visits often, once every 2 days to comfort her, and collect the tears. Rarity never speaks her mouth meltet shut long ago, but Pinkie just knows her old friend is still in there, stuck and looking out through her enlarges, leaking eyes.

Its cruel really, but somehow fitting she is one of the few known sources of safe drinking water left in ponyvile.. Generous, even like this..

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Another picture for my little Infection AU ~ Still dont have a name for it, but i like the idea of calling it the Ponyscape, or just the 'fusion infection'

#mlp #mlp infection au #infection #my little pony infection au #pinkiepie #rarity #monsters #scary

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hah-studios · 1 year ago

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Wish Rewrite

Okay so I got this outta my system. I'm in no way saying this idea is better than the movie. But at least I'm getting my Star Boy fix!

Prologue read via old timey story book:

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was an island called Rosas. While beautiful, Rosas became terrorized by a monster. The brave, good people of the island tried to slay it, but they were beaten each time.

Then, out of nowhere, came a powerful sorcerer named Magnifico; with his abilities he slayed the beast and freed the people. Rosas was so grateful they named him and, his his beautiful wife, Amaya, king and queen.

The new king would go on to prove how generous and good he truly was: by using his magic to grant wishes…

We are introduced to Asha, who was reading the history of Rosas to her baby goat, Valentino. Several books are surrounding her at home, one of which Valentino is trying to eat. Through talking to the small goat the audience learns more about Asha, while intelligent and hard working, she is shy and a workaholic, always studying and offering tours to visitors. Today is the day she applies to be the apprentice to King Magnifico, like the rest of Rosas she idolizes him and believes following in his footsteps will give her a sense of self. She will look at a picture of her late grandfather who raised her, promising that she will help make wishes come true in honorof his that was never granted.

She goes to guide the newest tour (Welcome to Rosas, with an added on segment talking about the love the king and queen share) where we learn of how King Magnifico and Queen Amaya benevolently rule the island. When citizens turn 18 they offer their wishes to Magnifico who will protect the wish until it is time for it to be granted.

After the tour Asha goes to the royal kitchens were her best and only friend Dahlia is a royal baker. They talk about Asha’s application. Dahlia reassures Asha that she will get the job, and admits she hopes it’ll give her a boost of confidence to maybe make some new friends. Asha says she already has Dahlia and doesn’t need anyone else. It is then Queen Amaya (holding her skinny tabby Lulu) arrives to escort Asha to the king. This version of Amaya feels untouchable, her voice calm and collected as she tells Asha to not waste time, don’t ask to see the wishes, and yes they had received the several letters Asha sent asking for an interview.

Asha is then left in a study where she notices a peculiar door, but Magnifico arrives before she could examine it. He is a charming man, his presence seeming to fill the room as he carries a staff with an emerald tip. Asha is clearly intimidated but he’s polite as he introduces himself, even offer his condolences for her grandfather’s passing-knowing she’s an orphan. Trying not to trip over herself Asha praises the king for his hard work and shows off her knowledge of magic and Rosas. Magnifico is impressed. And after Asha passionately tells him how her ‘wish’ is to help protect Rosas, it’s people and wishes, Magnifico decides she’s worthy to be his apprentice and they’d have the announcement that night.

The people crowd before the castle that night, Asha hurries to tell Dahlia the good news. But Gabo overhears her announcement and makes a snide remark about her overworking and ‘sucking up’ to the king and queen. He is quickly shushed by Bazeema who looks almost afraid of Asha now that she has such a high status. But she returns to the stage to witness Amaya whisper in Magnifico’s ear. He then announces the person to have their wish granted that month; a woman who wants to be a professional dress maker. After using the staff to grant the wish he makes a joking comment that she can now make his wife hundreds of beautiful dresses. He then summons Asha forward to announce her as his new apprentice. Asha happily exclaims how excited she is to help the people, but she is given a frosty reception, murmuring about how they find her weird, are resentful for failing their own applications, and don’t know how this shy girl who never engages with the locals outside tour duty, could become someone as great as their king. Asha takes the doubt but once she can she leaves the stage, tripping in the process and embarrassing herself further. She runs off with Valentino into the forest (This Wish) and ends up noticing one of the brighter stars. She remembers hearing how once upon a time, wishes came from stars. Not seeing any harm to it she wishes to become a wonderful magic user and become as great, if not greater, than the King himself.

The star suddenly seems to glow brighter and get bigger, Asha realizes too late it’s because it’s getting closer. She is knocked into by a human sized ball of light, rolling across the grass before kicking it away from her. It’s to her great shock that the ball of light was…a boy. A handsome boy he glows faintly, his hair a pure golden color that flows like he is underwater, he dusts himself off as he hovers off the ground. They have an awkward but cute introduction, the Star not understanding personal boundaries and getting right up into Asha’s face, giving her a too enthusiastic hand shake when offered and floating around as if there’s no gravity. Asha quickly deduces he’s a star that came down when she summoned him. Her hypothesis is further proven when he tosses some dust on Valentino who then starts to speak. (He is not voiced by Alan Tudyk in this rewrite, instead he will have a voice that better fits his character design. He will be a mixture of Olaf and Jiminy Cricket in terms of personality/role in the story). Asha asks Star to give her the same dust so her wish will be granted, but Star shakes his head. He is mute and tries to explain using sign language, but that’s one book Asha hasn’t read yet. She decides to call him Star before leading him back to the city, he can stay at her house until she figures out what to do with him. On the way he fonds over the animals, hitting them with a few clouds of golden dust (ex. A brown squirrel turns red, a bird’s nest gets an upgrade).

The next morning Asha brings Dahlia over and shows her Star (both he and Valentino would be hiding out in the chicken coop). Dahalia is at first concerned her friend has a man hidden away, but after Asha explains they agree to take him to King Magnifico to see what he has to say. However they want Star to stay under the radar and not get noticed by the townspeople. This is when Star reveals he’s a shapeshifter, transforming into a copy of Valentino, the only different is his eyes are still gold.

The four arrive into town and while things go to plan at first, Star’s natural curiosity has him running off to explore the town, Asha and friends trying not to lose him. He comes across Simon who looks miserable and exhausted at an outside table. Empathetic, Star discreetly puts some star dust in his cup of tea. When he drinks it he’s suddenly energized and is flabbergasted. He turns around just as Asha appears and picks up Star, he asks her if she’s already learned magic from Magnifico, even stating he had just been wishing he could take something that would make him less tired. Asha is awkwardly silent, not wanting to take credit but also not wanting to reveal what Star is. But Simon pays no mind and drags her to his friends so he can show them he’s no longer tired. There is then a montage of the seven dwarves based characters showing off their problems and Star uses his abilities to grant these small unspoken wishes (he gets a jar of honey for Safi to help with his allergies, a chicken coop so Dario can have his own chickens, dancing shoes for Hal, a stress toy for Gabo, Bazeema’s secret introverted hide out, and even a bag of a very rare ingredient for Dahlia so she could make a special recipe she mentioned at the beginning of the film). Throughout this scene we see Asha opening up a bit more to the characters, starting to form friendships. While in Bazeema’s new hideout they talk of having a little party with dancing and treats and in his excitement Star accidentally drops his disguise and reveals his true form. The group is shocked and Asha is forced to explain who he is, though when Gabo tries to accuse Asha of tricking them Star immediately puts himself in front of her, defending her from the accusation. The other characters also come to Asha and Star’s defense and Gabo relents, though snarkily asks if they should tell the King there’s a wish granting, shapeshifting guy from space in Rosas. Asha will go alone to ask, leaving Star with the others.

She arrives at the castle, King Magnifico and Queen Amaya are surprised to see her so soon as he hadn’t summoned her but lets her in. Asha, feeling uncomfortable to just out and say what had happened, asks Magnifico what he knows about stars. The king looks momentarily surprised but quickly shrugs it off, he tells Asha that many years ago stars would grant peoples’ wishes, but only so they could have the human indebted to them. They were malicious creatures pretending benevolence so they could control the masses, one of the worst things was granting evil wishes and having people turn on the ones who wouldn’t make wishes. Amaya retells her how her parents were oppressed by stars after merely asking for food and a roof. Eventually it was decided that the newer generations would never wish on another star, and Magnifico dedicated himself to learning magic so he could help good people have their wishes granted without having to pay him back. And, unlike stars, he has a moral compass, so he would not grant any wishes that would harm people. He then looms over Asha and asks her if there’s something she needs to tell him. Asha looks visibly torn, her respect and admiration for Magnifico clashing with what he told her. Star is not at all like he had just told her, and Asha ends up reassuring him that no, she has nothing to tell him.

She returns to the hide out feeling like a traitor, wanting to talk to Star alone. But the group is already starting their party, dancing and making music. Star, spotting Asha, immediately pulls her onto the dance floor. The group cheers her on as they dance around, and Asha’s anxieties melt away as she’s swept up into the dancing. A spark is lit.

Asha, Star, and Valentino return to her house and this time the two go to her living room where he admires all her books and notices the picture of her grandfather. She tells him how much she loved the man, how he had taken care of her after her parents died, how much she missed how, how she wished his wish could’ve been granted. Star comforts her in her grief and she feels safe enough to tell him about what Magnifico said. Star reassures her the king is lying and Asha finds herself believing him, and yet the King is a great man who has done so much for Rosas-why would he lie to her?

It is Valentino who suggests they go do some snooping (not him though, he’s going to eat a cook book as soon as the two leave).

Star carries Asha into the sky, unable to resist showing off to her first. Asha let’s herself enjoy the feeling of being in the air, feeling like she could reach out and touch the star or hold the moon. They slip inside via the highest balcony, Star transforming into a mouse and riding on her shoulder as Asha sneaks through the castle. They are only spotted by Lulu who tries to eat Star before Asha reaches the study and slams the door, the cat slamming its face into it.

Said study is empty and at first Asha thinks to skim through the books for answers but Star notices the door. Transforming into a flea he slips under the door and opens it from the other side. It leads down a dark stair case with a golden light at the bottom. The two share a glance before starting to go down-only for green light to envelope them both and drag them back up the stairs into the study.

The King and Queen are standing there, Lulu on Amaya’s shoulder, clearly the one who had warned them of the intruders. Magnifico tells Asha she didn’t have to sneak in to deliver them a star, the young girl immediately puts herself between her friend and the king. She tries to tell them he’s not like they think, he’s a good kind person who helped people grant wishes without asking for anything in return. But with his staff Magnificio wraps the green energy around Star like chains and Amaya drags Asha away from him. They call Asha a fool if she thinks they’d let one little star ruin the years of work they’ve put into maintaining their kingdom. That they picked what wishes are to be granted. That the people worshiped them. Asha is forced to realize the kind rulers she wanted to be like-are a lie. Magnifico comments to his wife that Star’s power could be very useful to them. In an act of desperation Asha kicks out, knocking the staff out of the king’s hand. Amaya, not expecting Asha to lash out, looses her grip on her. Once the staff hits the ground the green chains evaporate and Star transforms into a giant golden bird, grabs Asha and flies out of one of the study’s high windows.

Magnifico is furious that they got away but Amaya calms him down, reminding him that the people of Rosas would not believe those two over their loving rulers. She remarks that maybe it’s time to grant Lulu’s wish. Magnifico agrees and his magic mutates the cat into a sabortoothed giant tabby that runs out of the room to go hunt down Asha and Star. The king and queen reprise the segment of Welcome to Rosas dedicated to them, now in a minor key with new context.

Asha and Star escape into the forest, where they first met(they are next to a lake). Asha is crying, heartbroken and scared over what will happen next. Her whole goal in life was built around a lie. How will they stop people as powerful as the royal couple?

Author’s note here; this is a part where I’m not sure how to go about it. My idea is Star comforts Asha and it will lead into a duet, because the demo version of At All Costs is heavily romantic-coded and is perfect to show how much the two have grown to care for each other. But my version of Star is mute so I haven’t figured out how to work around that besides the song being sung over them instead of being sung by them. So please hold that thought

The two share a romantic scene, flying in the sky, dancing among the clouds and coming this close to sharing a kiss.

They are interrupted by the arrival of Lulu who tries to attack them, Star transforms into a giant cat as well, putting himself between Lulu and Asha. But before the Queen’s cat can attack them, Dahlia and the others suddenly appear via carriage and accidentally knock the giant cat into the lake. Lulu splutters out of the water and runs back to Rosas.

The gang tells the two they saw Star flying away and then the king and queen made an announcement that Asha is a traitor and trying to usurp them and ruin Rosas. The news not sitting right with the group they decided to follow, worried for the two. Asha is grateful for their help and touched when they point out its what friends are for. But now they must go hide because the whole town will be looking for them.

On the way back Asha tells them what had happened. Like her they are shocked the king and queen could be villains, but they also don’t think Asha and Star are liars. So they have to make a plan to figure out what the two are hiding and, if necessary, defeat them. (What I Know Now, which adds in a segment for the king and queen ‘lamenting’ that their people don’t know what’s best for them). There is a short moment during this song where it’s revealed Valentino knows sign language, having learned to read from Asha reading to him-and making a point to read books before he eats them. Asha tells him there’s a saying she’d like to learn but the scene cuts before we learn what it is.

The plan is that Star will dash the group with some dust to make them glow and they’d run through the town and forest ‘pretending’ to be Star. This would serve to distract the king and queen long enough for Asha and Star to go back to the study and go through the door. Star also gives Asha a stick and blesses it with his magic for her use. The plan is going off without a hitch, Asha while trying to find information in the study comes across a small journal. She reads it aloud as they open the secret door and go down the stairs:

Years ago, Magnifico wished for magic. A star came down to grant his wish, admiring his ambitions. However Magnificio turned on the star and trapped her, now absorbing her power to grant peoples’ wishes. They reach the bottom of the stairs to see an older woman chained to the ground; the star from the journal. Asha and Star are horrified by this revelation, but before they could free her Magnifico appears having expected them to come back.

Asha accuses him of lying about the stars being malicious, and the king instead says the stars were too scared to risk coming down to grant a human’s wishes. “Except that one, it seems.” He glares at Star and tells him that he would be his new battery and help lead Rosas to even more triumphs. In fact, why stop at Rosas? He could grant wishes of people all over the world, they’d be so grateful they’d do whatever he asked.

Furious Asha lunges at him but Magnificio stops them with his staff and drags them back upstairs to where Amaya is waiting. He offers Asha to his queen, not needing her. Amaya then reminds the young girl of the history of Rosas, how there was a monster that terroized the people…Asha watches in horror as Amaya transforms into a large dragon-esque creature. She is able to escape the study and Amaya chases after her. Star, furious and terrified transforms into his own version of a golden dragon-esque creature and manages to escape Magnifico’s grasp.

Asha is chased outside, nearly killed by Amaya before Star arrives and knocks her away. While the two giants fight Asha hurries back inside to deal with Magnifico.

We cut to a scene of Dahlia and co being surrounded by the villagers, but the townsfolk are starting to waver having seen how much happier the group is thanks to Star granting their wishes. Lulu then appears, prepared to eat them. Valentino, leading an army of the animals Star befriended, chases the big cat off into the woods. Disillusioned the townsfolk follow Dahilia, Valentino, and co back into town to witness the rest of the battle.

Asha, still brandishing the wand Star gave her, witnesses Magnifico dragging the star out of her cell and absorbing so much of her magic that the woman loses the rest of her glow and falls to the ground. Asha tries to attack him but the king teleports the two of them to the roof, ready to throw Asha off and strike Star with his magic. Asha is able to use her wand to keep him from hurting her or Star, but eventually he is able to snatch the wand from her and break it. Desperate, Asha tries to physically wrestle the staff away from him.

Suddenly there’s a scream, Amaya having bit down on Star’s neck. Magnificio moves to fire at Star to finish him off, but Asha with her own hands still on the staff is able to redirect it and the blast hits Amaya instead. She is evaporated and Magnifico cries out in horror and rage. However the damage is done for Star, transforming back into human form he floats up to Asha slowly losing his golden glow. He holds her cheek for one moment before falling on the roof, completely gray and presumed dead. Asha cries and hugs him, unable to believe this is how the story ends. But then Magnifico grabs her with his magic and drags her away, Asha desperately trying to fight against it, only able to hold onto Star’s hand. The king summons storm clouds to completely cover the sky, vowing revenge against the entirety of Rosas, against the entirety of the world for killing Amaya.

All seems lost, yet Asha starts to softly sing (This Wish (Reprise)), and after a few moments her friends and the townspeople below start singing along, wishing for Star to be revived. We have a short scene of the star woman waking up and hearing the singing from outside. But everyone's sincerity in the wish allows Star to be revived, glowing brighter than ever. Asha, relieved and full of hope, gets up to face against Magnifico. He tries to shoot her with magic but Star’s glow serves as a wall of protection for her, and as she slowly walks toward the man he gets more frantic and desperate, unable to see because of Star’s bright light. He continues to step back until he reaches the edge, loses his balance and starts to fall, Asha grabs his staff as the man vanishes into the roiling ocean below. She then shatters the staff on the roof. The magic shoots out into the sky, wishes given to Magnifico returned to its owners and the star woman brought back to her full strength.

Star is flying around the sky, ecstatic. Asha calls his attention and we see her sign/say the words: “I love you.” (having learned them from Valentino). It is like a firework goes off as Star happily picks her up and twirls through the sky with her, Asha laughing gleefully before finally kissing him.

When the two return to the ground they receive a group hug from their friends. They find the broken stick Magnifico had tossed and Asha apologizes to Star for breaking it, but he simply puts it back together. Dahlia comments that her magic use was pretty impressive considering she had had no real experience. Valentino smugly saying she was greater than the former king. It’s then Asha realizes that Star had helped grant her wish-she just needed to meet him halfway. He winks at her when she makes this realization.

The star woman then appears, stepping out of the castle, looking poised and formidable. Asha tells the townspeople what Magnifico and Amaya had done to her and the people are filled with shame that she had suffered right under their noses. Asha gives her a formal apology and after a moment the star woman nods and smiles kindly, having been impressed by the goodness in these humans. She had thought they would all be vile like the king and queen.

She starts to float, planning on going back to the sky. She looks expectantly at Star, expecting him to come with. Asha is stricken at the thought but reassures him she wouldn’t be like Magnifico and force him to stay. In response Star holds Asha’s hand and gives the star woman a resolute look. She blinks, looking a bit surprised, but then nods and even gives them a small curtsy as if they were royalty. She then shoots upward to become the brightest star in the sky.

At the epilogue Asha and Star are learning all they can on how to lead Rosas, the town wanting them to be their new king and queen. She is getting better at her magic and signs fluidly. They have Dahlia and co be a sort of council for them. With Star’s encouragement people are doing their part to make their wishes come true. Valentino is in charge of Lulu who is going through a program to be nicer, it’s a work in progress.

The final shot is Asha and Star standing at the balcony, sharing a kiss as the scene pans up to show the night sky. The stars look brighter than ever.

Credits roll.

#disney wish #wish rewrite #star #asha #asha x star #fan writing

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dfortrafalgar · 7 months ago

Note

would you be interested in a more Platonic type fic? Like being good friends with Robin?

alternatively if it has to be romantic: Law being forced on a disaster of a date only to meet a super helpful (comic) bookshop employee and she starts seeming cute when he finds out she has similar interests? (Boy probably went into cardiac arrest at first when someone caught him not being broody)

hope this isn’t too much!

and you’re doing awesome!

thank you so much for your request, anon!!!! im actually going to use both of your ideas, but i started with the Law one because that hit seriously close to home. ive been on some absolute TRAVESTIES of dates in the past, and i needed to write law suffering through a similar fate or i'd die!!!!! I hope you enjoy, and pretty soon I'll post your platonic Robin request as well! I love writing platonic stories just as much as romantic ones <3

An Out.

Law x Fem Reader

Law made the mistake of letting his friends talk him into a first date… and now he desperately needs an out. Fast.

Warnings: an absolute disaster of a first date for our wonderful nerdy man. modern au, implied college setting, some mild slight suggestive language but nothing more than that

Trafalgar Law tried in vain to recount the series of events that led up to this very moment.

There was the dusty apartment floor discussion about how the med-student hadn’t gotten laid yet, which was followed by a raunchy comment about a girl in someone’s class, it was revealed that this girl was single (‘and ready to mingle’), and her number was forcibly input into Law’s phone.

For the week that followed, he was inundated with flirty texts from this girl he had never met in person. He was forced to send her a picture of himself, mostly to get her to stop blowing up his texts every hour, and that was the next mistake in the line-up of unfortunate events.

Turned out she had a thing for facial hair.

Then, instead of getting pestered with general flirty messages, it was general flirty messages that were ramped up to a nine. ‘I’d rip your clothes off if you give me the opportunity,’ kind of nine.

Law knew he was a virgin, but at least he wasn’t this desperate, nor did he have any inclination to be. If anything, the texts he received from this stranger were making him want sex even less.

And yet… he was still pushed into this.

A date around downtown with this girl. She clung to his arm, tried to loop her fingers into his, and yet had absolutely no interest in anything he had to say. At all.

First red flag: she mentioned her ex. Three times. In four minutes. Everything was about what he did wrong to upset her, no self-awareness to be found. Second red flag: the clinginess. Law hated public affection, but any attempts to urge her to give him space resulted in a childish pout and her arms caged around his, almost pulling him to the ground. Third red flag: she couldn’t give two shits about Law, in any sense of the word. She wouldn’t stop talking about herself. Her looks, her clothes, her favorite music, her favorite shows to binge watch, her distaste for the area of the city they were in, her distaste for the lunch Law had [regretfully] paid for, her distaste for the speckled jeans he decided to wear…

He could feel the premature wrinkles forming in between his eyebrows the longer the date went on. He was starting to wonder if he’d have to throw out the shirt he was wearing later. It already reeked of the too-strong, powdery-scented perfume she bathed herself in.

“Where do you wanna go?” she suddenly asked, still tugging on his arm.

“I kinda want to stop by the bookstore before we leave,” he suggested, his feet already carrying him, and by extension, her, along the sidewalk to a small bookshop that had just recently opened.

“The bookstore? What kinda guy brings a girl to a bookstore on a first date?!” she demanded, showing off yet another childish pout. It wasn’t a good look on her.

‘A guy who knows this girl’s not getting a second date,’ he wished he could say. Instead, all the snarky remarks stayed locked inside his weary brain, bouncing around like a caged lion desperate to escape.

The girl didn’t make any motions to ditch him to his nerdy reprieve, and instead followed on his heels as he pulled open the bookshop’s door, the familiar, calming scent of new books, fresh paper, and ink filling his nose.

“It smells gross in here,” the girl huffed.

Aaaand there went Law’s fleeting moment of peace. Out the window. Down fifteen stories and splattered on the pavement. He needed to violently restrain the eyeroll that begged to appear. His ocular nerves ached to be a dick in the pettiest way possible. He inwardly hoped that by dragging this girl to the most unassuming bookshop would encourage her to leave, call a friend or get a cab to take her back to her home, but alas, she stayed glued to Law’s side like a lost dog.

She followed behind him as he blindly perused shelves of new and pre-owned books, Law’s feet subconsciously guiding him to the back of the store where he knew the comic books would be located.

If anything would turn this girl off for good, it had to be his love for all things superhero. His comic book collection would dry her up like a dessert in a drought. Or at least, it fucking better.

His eyes lit up as he approached the expansive comic shelf, immediately spotting the latest print of Sora: Warrior of the Sea- Volume 10. It had finally been officially localized, and he had been saving some of his spending money for this very moment. He eagerly grabbed the book from the shelf, thumbing through the pages.

“How old even are you?” jeered the girl by his side. “Comic books are, like, little kid shit.”

“I’m five years old,” barked Law, refusing to look toward her as he continued to analyze the pages of his favorite series.

To the average onlooker, they both probably looked like complete jackasses towards one another. And while Law was at least brave enough to admit that his behavior was certainly petty, he felt like he was warranted a Get Out Of Jerk Free card for all the painful hours of suffering through this atomic catastrophe of a date had put him through.

“Whatever, I’m going to find a bathroom,” the girl finally groaned, releasing his arm and trudging through the aisles of books toward the checkout counter to ask an employee where the bathrooms were located.

Law watched her go out of his peripheral vision, refusing to exhale a sigh of profound relief until she was completely out of his line of sight. With shoulders that finally relaxed, free from the overbearing tension, he turned his focus back to the comic in his hands, continuing to thumb through the colorful pages of artwork. He flipped the book around to examine the price, smiling at how reasonable it was. He filled his arms with a few other comics from a series he had been meaning to pick up, and retreated toward the cash registers to buy his books. The sooner he got his treat for this ordeal, the sooner he could get out of here, call this girl a taxi home, and spend the rest of his life as a willingly single comic book mega-nerd.

But reality wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

Not when the girl sitting behind the register thumbing through another copy of Sora Volume 10 was an absolute bombshell.

When she looked up at Law, her eyes quickly went wide. She placed the book under the register counter and eagerly leaned forward, her hands supporting her over the counter. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Law cocked an eyebrow, confused. “Yeah, why?”

“That girl you’re with is making you miserable. You walked through the door looking like you wanted someone to grant you a mercy killing,” she huffed. Her eyes were clearly concerned. “Are you dating her?”

Law felt his guard dropping without even realizing it the longer he was in the presence of this cashier. “My friends set me up on a date with her, but I’m having the absolute worst time of my life.”

The new girl’s own eyebrows angled downward in concern. “Do you want an out?”

“A what?”

“An out,” she repeated. “An excuse to get her to leave you alone.” Time was running out. At any moment, she could leave the bathroom.

Law frantically looked back and forth between the cashier and the small, short hallway that led to the single restroom. With pleading, golden eyes, he silently mumbled, “Yes, please.”

The cashier kept her eyes on the bathroom door as she began unloading Law’s hands, spreading his books out on the counter to make it look like she was busy ringing out his purchase. Law watched with an analytical gaze as she fumbled with his items, clearly buying time until the bathroom door opened.

He didn’t have time to ask what she was plotting.

The second the door cracked open, the man’s shirt collar was violently clenched in the cashier’s hands as she pulled him over the counter, smushing her lips into his. Law’s fingers flexed in thin air as he froze, brain completely fried as he was frozen in this sudden kiss.

His first kiss.

“What the fuck?!” the girl screeched, exiting the bathroom in a frenzy as she booked it toward the heated exchange happening over the cash register.

The new girl pulled herself away from Law’s face, but only enough where she could display her best rendition of a weary, tired war-torn wife waiting on a cliffside for her husband to return. “Baby, please just take me back! My life isn’t complete without you!” Her voice was cracking as she fake-wailed, her grip on Law’s shirt never faltering, not even once. The few customers who also occupied the store turned to stare at the commotion, frazzled and befuddled. “Nothing in life is as good as it was with you! I’m in shambles! You were the best sex I’ve ever had!”

It took a few moments for Law to catch on to the ruse. As soon as he put the puzzle pieces together in his mind, however, he was grabbing the wrists of the cashier and bringing his lips back to hers, closing his eyes and trailing his arms up to grasp her face. Completely disregarding the fact that they were still separated by the heavy check-out counter between their torsos.

“You were dating someone?!” snapped the original girl. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Law pulled away from the cashier’s lips, his own skin immediately feeling fifteen degrees colder from the loss of her contact. “I wasn’t. Until now.”

The new girl put her arm around Law’s shoulders from across the check-out counter, her deft fingers caressing his skin through his shirt. “I’m sorry, but I’m taking him back, I can’t stand to be without him any longer! The sight of him with another woman…” she made a show of clenching her chest, “makes me sick!” She was damn good at this, in a way that almost made Law concerned. The fact that she was pulling all of this out of nowhere, and the fact that her first course of action was this drastic, made Law’s heart flutter in his chest.

“Ugh, whatever. This place sucks ass anyway. I’m going home.” She finally shouldered her bag and marched out of the shop, her feet stomping across the hardwood floor until the sound of the front door slamming closed finally made the cashier release her arm from Law’s shoulders.

And once again, the man was feeling oddly cold without the contact. He glanced at her as she started ringing up his items for real. “You’re… a good actor,” he blurted.

The girl hid her face in her arm with shame, an awkward laugh bubbling from her throat. “I’m so sorry, I was trying to think of what to do to help you but when the door opened I panicked.” Her eyes were focused on her work. “I’ve been on some absolutely awful dates myself, so I understand. Sometimes I’ve wished I could have Prince Charming swoop me out of the movie theater where a guy made fun of me for my interests the entire run-time.”

His jaw went slack. “Are you serious?”

“Deadass,” she replied, quick as a whip. “Insisted on holding my hand the entire time. I think he was convinced that I had taken him to see a horror movie because I wanted to act scared in front of him, but his hand was so clammy and sticky the whole time. And not in the endearing ‘Aww he’s shy!’ kind of way.”

Law wished at that moment that he had more charisma. He was sure one of his friends would be able to pull a witty, flirty quip from their asses like it was nothing, but Law’s personal dictionary of flattery was nonexistent as it was. He balked while he listened to the cashier who just took his breath away lamenting about her own poor experiences with dating, and he was sure that her example in this moment was only one of many. Instead of continuing the conversation, his mind blanked. He stated, more like whispered, “That was my first kiss.”

The girl’s hands stopped scanning his books halfway through. Her wide eyes darted up to Law’s, her jaw slack. “It… It was?”

“Yeah.”

Her hands flew to cover her mouth, eyes wide with shock. “Oh my god… oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She dropped her head onto the counter, covering her despair with both of her arms now. “First kisses are supposed to be special and I just took your’s away from you…”

Law shocked himself by smiling at the weary display in front of him. “If it makes you feel any better, that was far better than the date I was on. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

She picked her head up, a trembling hand grabbing one of his last books to scan. Her eyes nervously darted back and forth as she silently worked, once in a while sucking her bottom lip in with her teeth before releasing the flesh. She was clearly lost in an intense inner turmoil.

“It’s really alright,” Law muttered, now growing shy himself. He was just now realizing the gravity of what had happened… and how truly adorable this girl was.

She tapped a few buttons on her cash register before finally making eye contact with him again. “You are a pretty good kisser… you’re really sure you’ve never done that before?”

He affirmatively shook his head. “Never. I’ve never been… popular with the dating scene,” he muttered. “Hence this awful set-up date.”

The cashier’s eyes went wide again momentarily. “That’s kind of surprising to me… I would think someone like you would get any girl you wanted.”

Law backpedaled. “What does that mean?”

She pulled his total up on the small screen that faced him. She was turning away from him as if to hide her face, her entire expression teeming with a child-like embarrassment. “Well, you’re crazy hot, for starters. And you like Sora, clearly.”

Law felt a smirk emerge on his lips. “Is Sora one of your only qualifiers for a decent partner?” He began to rekindle some of the confidence he had lost throughout the day. The longer he spent in this girl’s presence, the more he felt the tension in his body leaving.

She grinned, the stress in her shoulders from her own actions finally releasing. “Only guys with fluffy black hair and golden eyes that read Sora, if you want my honest answer.”

Now this was flirting. Law had to admit, he was pretty pleased with this sudden turn of events. The atmosphere this girl radiated was immensely calming, allowing him to chip through his reinforced walls just enough to feel like a somewhat normal person. He started to wonder if she could break through his barriers even more.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, taking out his credit card and swiping it through the machine to finally cash out his order.

The girl excitedly revealed her name. “And your’s?”

“Trafalgar Law,” he replied. “I go to North Blue University for med school in the next town over.”

“No shit, so do I! I’m getting a worker's license there,” she added, her expression shifting from one of moderate happiness to one of excitement. “I doubt we’ve had any of the same classes, but we should hang out sometime! Get coffee, maybe talk about Sora…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes growing soft. “Unless you’ve been completely turned off to dating after what you’ve clearly just been through.”

Law took a few moments to ponder over her words, watching as the receipts for his purchase slowly emerged from the thermal printer. “I think I can make an exception this time.”

The smile that broke out on the girl’s face may as well have blinded him. She was truly dazzling, even in her ratty-looking employee apron and an oversized T-shirt accounting for her work attire.

Law placed his new assortment of books into his own bag, the girl snatching his receipts from the printer and stashing one of the copies in the drawer below the counter. When he looked back up, she was holding out his second receipt, folded in half. She gave him a fond smile when he took it.

“I hope you’re able to relax later today, and enjoy your books!” she called, waving to Law as he exited the store.

Once outside again, the air felt clearer now that he was alone. The day was still young, hardly a cloud in the sky and a pleasant breeze coasting through the city. He looped his bag over his shoulder and opened the receipt, peering at what was written on the backside.

Call me for Sora… and for just me ;) <3 1125-354-9854

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #law x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #law oneshot #request fics

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mer-acle · 15 days ago

Note

do you have any headcanons about the other gods?

Lol naturally hehe (that's also so much lmao)

I think I'll just try to add one for each Olympian besides Athena and add links if I already made bigger posts about them. (The non-EPIC gods might get a little shorter)

Zeus: Makes the biggest gestures, in debate, at dinner, just whenever he's talking. It's great for who's sitting next to him (usually Hera and Athena respectively) bc who doesn't love being almost hit in the face every two seconds?

Poseidon: Involves himself in arguments all. the. time. Nobody cared, nobody asked, he knows like half of the facts and has no idea what the problem is but SURE shout along.

Hades: A lot more measured and chill than his brothers, but lets himself be drawn into debates and he CAN get pretty heated if the arguments get too nonsensical.

Hera: Has a massive garden and tends to it herself. It has a peacock fountain and stuff, it's really beautiful.

Demeter: Will 100% cry if she gets a gift from one of the kids.

Hestia: The best. Gives people a bit too much space sometimes. Like, yes, all her nieces and nephews are stubborn but some of them really could need a venting session or a hug down the line, but she just leaves them be. (It is not her responsibility but she wouldn't mind them venting, she just assumes they'll come themselves)

Athena post here.

Hephaestus: Is actually a really good singer (we're not talking musical world rules where everyone can sing, normal world) Like mostly it's too loud in the forge but he sings to himself anyway and he has a good voice.

Aphrodite: Is an amazing swimmer. Basing this on her ocean-born creation myth even though I am more of a fan of her being Zeus' kid for my own version. For the same reason, I always picture her with pearls

Ares post here.

Artemis: In council, I believe she's the most confrontational actually. Yes, more than Athena. Athena lies to get what she wants. Artemis doesn't live on Olympus, she just comes for the council meetings so she might as well speak her mind even if it means the meeting is even more chaos than normal. In general, she never backs down from what she believes in.

Apollo post here.

Hermes: God of eavesdropping and gossip. Seriously. Do you really have to know every single thing that's going on? Also I think his funny persona is a coping mechanism but it's so deeply ingrained it would be literally impossible to shed.

Dionysus: Randomly says the most insightful shit you've ever heard. Like, Athena is speechless levels of deep stuff. Like... is it because of the drugs or is he on drugs because otherwise his being would transcend the universe, we will never know.

__________________________________

Okay that was fun hope you enjoyed :D

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mangoshorthand · 2 months ago

Text

Inspired by this post. When your daughter is eight years old, Five organises a family trip to County Clare, Ireland. His reasons why are completely transparent.

The Changeling | Five Hargreeves/Reader, Five Hargreeves & 8 y/o daughter Words: 7.7k

GIF by: @seance

It was Aoife’s first flight, and it was only through Five’s gentle persuading that you were convinced that it would be safe. At eight, he said, she was more than old enough to listen and control herself.

Still, just before you boarded, you knelt down in front of her and took her by the elbows.

“Aoife, listen to me, honey.”

She blinked at you with Five’s eyes. She looked the picture of innocence, and if you didn’t know better, you might have been taken in.

“You cannot blink on this flight. You can’t blink on this trip at all unless it’s just me and Daddy in the room, but you especially can’t blink on the plane, okay?”

“Okay Mommy,” she said, sulkily.

“Seriously,” you said, giving her a gentle shake, “If you misjudge it by just a tiny amount, you could end up outside the plane. You could fall and die.”

Aoife looked up at Five for backup but didn’t find it. He put a hand on her shoulder with a stern look that was uncharacteristic when aimed at her.

“Your mother’s right, cara. This is life and death. And even if you try it and don’t die, we’re going to go straight back home again as soon as we land. There will be no trip at all. You hear me?”

“I didn’t even do anything yet!” she said, indignantly.

“Yes, and I’m sure you won’t because you’re my good, sensible girl,” you said, hoping she’d live up to the label.

“I’m just making sure you understand what’s at stake here, kid.” Five said, “ Non sto scherzando . Now, repeat it back: tell me what’s gonna happen if you blink.”

“I’ll die,” she said, with petulant impatience.

“And if you blink but don’t die?”

“No trip,” she repeated.

“Correct,” Five said, “we won’t even leave the airport. We’ll turn right around and get on the next flight home.”

“I know you’ll be a good girl,” you said, kissing her on the nose, “you always are, aren’t you?”

You kissed once, twice and three times until her pout was replaced with a smile.

As it happened, once the initial excitement of being airborne had worn off, Aoife fell asleep almost immediately, the early morning catching up with her. She was leaning against you, chest rising and falling slowly, and would remain so for all but the last hour of the flight.

Five was also quiet, staring out of the window at clouds in the odd light of changing time zones.

Ever since suggesting the trip, he’d been a closed book. He was still himself - still loving, and still every inch the husband and father you knew - but he was more insular, more like he was before you got married; keeping the internal workings of his mind under wraps.

With Aoife against you, you couldn’t reach out to offer him any physical affection, so instead, you spoke to him over her head.

“You okay, sweet guy?”

He looked over at you and plastered on a smile that didn’t hide his impatience with the question.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You pulled a face at him, one that told him you weren’t an idiot. He didn’t exactly need to tell you for you to guess what this trip was really about.

Five couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed by your knowing look. It was galling to know he no longer held any mysteries for you. He leaned his head against the plane’s wall and closed his eyes.

It wasn’t that he was shutting you out, it was more from a strong sense that this was something he had to do alone.

It came up in therapy a couple of times. Maybe it was his age, or maybe it was being a father, but he found himself coming back to this idea of history. Aoife’s family tree on his side was more of a hedge: extremely wide but only one generation tall. He wanted to give her an anchoring in this world beyond a strange experiment by a billionaire that resulted in her mentally unstable father.

On his mentioning these feelings, Dr Daley asked him whether it was possible he was projecting, but Five dismissed this.

To him, being Irish by birth didn’t mean much. It might explain his liking for Guinness, but that was about it. And who didn’t like Guinness?

No. If he’d grown up in Ireland, he’d be a completely different person, as alien to him now as anyone else. For better or worse, Five was the sum total of his experiences. If Reginald was his father along with the harsh life he’d offered, then the apocalypse and all its horrors may as well be his mother.

The woman who’d birthed him sold him for a couple of grand. He couldn’t imagine it as he glimpsed Aoife out of the corner of his eye. The first time he held his newborn daughter was transformative. He’d felt his entire world crash down and reform around her. He knew she was his on an animal level that left reason entirely behind. His very skin cried out for her.

And yet…childbirth was a bloody, agonizing mess. He’d watched you go through it, and it wasn’t exactly trauma free, even after months of mental preparation.The idea of it happening, all in the space of a few minutes, to women who had no mental preparation was nothing short of horrifying. Now he thought about it, it was amazing that so many of the other October 1st children seemed to have been kept.

But still, when he looked at Aoife, he couldn’t help but wonder.

He looked up again, and caught your too-understanding eyes. This time, he smiled at you, irritation giving way to affection. Over ten years you’d grown to know him better than he knew himself. You’d been there for every step as he tried to rebuild his mental health, every tough therapy session, every new drug, and every addition to his laundry list of diagnoses.

You’d known what this was about as soon as he mentioned the trip.

“Can you get the week commencing the 12th October off work?” he’d said, over his cereal one morning, around six months ago.

“I think so,” you said, surprised, “why?”

“We’re going to Ireland.”

“What?” you said, and then, “What about school?”

“They’ll be fine. Call it an educational trip,” he said, “We’ll have Aoife do a project or something.”

“What brought this on?”

He shrugged, and the way he looked down at a newspaper on the table gave you the distinct impression he was trying to avoid your eye.

“I’ve booked seven nights in County Clare, staying in this huge castle. Dates back to the 17th Century. Aoife’s gonna lose her mind.”

You studied him for a few moments as he sipped his coffee, eyes stock-still on the newspaper, not really reading it.

“Weren’t you born in County Clare?” you asked, gently.

“Mmhm,” he replied, blandly, turning a page.

You waited, and when he didn’t elaborate, you just stuck out a hand and laid it on his forearm. *** When you arrived at Shannon airport, it was raining. It rained like a veil of mist, pin-pricking your faces in a moist cloud of chill wind. It was mid morning, though the foggy skies made it indistinguishable from any other time of day. It made Five glad of his coat, and he paused outside the terminal to zip it to his chin.

Aoife rubbed her eyes and looked around at the gray, concrete parking lot

“Where are we going?” she asked, in sleepy confusion.

“Not far,” you said, squeezing her hand as Five wheeled your luggage.

The rented Skoda estate was comfortable enough, although not what Five would prefer to be driving. Still, it did the job. As you helped Aoife strap into a booster seat, he had to concede that, on unfamiliar roads, it was more important that style give way to safety.

The thought made him smile to himself as he loaded the luggage into its roomy, sensible trunk. Sometimes it still seemed odd to find himself having such daddish thoughts. It was odd, but good too.

The environs of the airport faded into the misty rain behind you, and you very soon found yourselves in country that more naturally sprang to mind when you imagined Ireland.

The landscape was mostly flat and green, damp fields stretching out to the horizon on every side. Short but lush trees and hedges lined the dual carriageway, occasionally leading to taller trees and more advanced woodland, but it mostly served to insulate the surrounding farmland from the road.

“Do you think there are fairies in those woods?” you asked Five, conversationally, eyeing Aoife out of the corner of your eye.

“Hm,” Five said, playing along, “It’s possible.”

“Fairies?” Aoife said, her interest piqued as you intended.

“That’s right,” he said, “there are lots of stories of fairies in Ireland.”

“Will we see some?”

“Probably not,” you smiled, “but it’s fun to pretend.”

As you got deeper into the countryside, stone walls ran along the roadside. Every few miles or so, the fields gave way to the occasional, squat house; all rendered in white with gray slate roofs. They were small, asymmetrical; clearly built for function over form. Once or twice a chimney smoked, bringing with it the smell of peat smoke on the air.

As you traveled, the sun started to cut through the haze, although the rain didn’t let up, coming down in those same misty clouds. The trees began to thicken, until the land on one side of the road was completely obscured with woodland. At last, you came to a grand iron gate.

“We’re here.”

Aoife shuffled excitedly in the booster, trying to peek out from behind the passenger seat to see ahead.

You passed a gatehouse, and soon the thick trees gave way to a simple avenue, leading you up a drive surrounded by lush lawns, upon which small brown rabbits were dotted, those nearest the drive lolloping away from the skoda as it crunched along the gravel.

Aoife was predictably excited by these, and it took some stern words from you to stop her removing her seatbelt and blinking from the car to chase them.

But as you rounded a corner and Ballycarnane castle became visible across the small lake surrounding it on two sides, the rabbits were completely forgotten.

“Look!” she said, in high-pitched awe, “It’s a castle!”

“So it is,” Five said, as if only just noticing it.

It was huge, robust, and square in formation, built with solid gray stone with battlements topping sturdy towers on rising ground. Fountains, trimmed hedges and perfectly mower-lined lawns decorated its immediate environs. At the top of the tallest tower, an Irish flag flew.

“Is there a princess in there?” Aoife asked, breathlessly, kicking the back of your seat in her glee.

“Ci sarà presto, cara.” Five said, quietly, a smile playing about his face.

“Are we staying near here? Can we go visit? Please?”

You looked at Five. He was loving this, you knew, as much as he tried to hide his self-satisfied smile. He gave you the nod to deliver the final bombshell. He was always sweet that way: his daughter’s glee was all the reward he needed. He didn’t need to take the credit too.

“We’re staying right here.” you said.

“IN THE CASTLE?”

“That’s right,” you chuckled.

Aoife exploded, letting out a series of shrill shrieks that made both you and her father wince.

“Ouch,” you said, at the redoubled kicks to the back of your seat.

“ WE’RE STAYING IN A CASTLE!”

“Esatto, principessa,” Five replied, pulling into one of the parking spots, “and it’s a very fancy place, so best behavior, okay? You gotta act just like a real princess.”

“CAN I WEAR A PRINCESS DRESS?”

“We’ll see,” you said, “now calm down , sweetie.” *** The next couple of days passed in a blur of sight-seeing, fairy-hunting and princess games. You and Five made excellent ladies in waiting, or else the king and queen, knights, or whatever else Aoife decreed.

Always unable to resist giving his daughter anything she asked for, Five bought not one, but two princess dresses from the ridiculously overpriced boutique attached to the hotel. He also returned with a beautiful, pure silk dressing gown for you, although you suspected this was partly to buy you off after spoiling Aoife.

It was mid-afternoon on Wednesday, you and Five stood on the lawn watching as Aoife tripped over her grass-stained skirts as she climbed a tree stump just for the joy of jumping off.

“I think I’m going to walk into town,” he said, casually.

You looked at him.

“Into town?”

“Yes.”

He caught your eye, and his expression was unreadable enough to be perfectly legible to you.

He stood a little apart from you, hands in the pockets of his corduroy trousers. He looked unlike himself, standing there in sturdy walking boots and a thick, oversized cable knit sweater over a flannel shirt. His hair played around his face in the slight breeze, masking and then revealing his face.

He looked into your eyes, and you saw the grim determination there.

“Do you want us to come with you?” you asked.

“No,” he said, calmly, “you enjoy yourselves here. I’ll be back before sundown.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, approaching him and putting a hand on his upper arm.

“Yes darling,” he said, calmly.

You understood. Five’s tendency to try and face things alone was a habit born of the apocalypse. He was insular; self reliant to an unhealthy degree, but you suspected that this wasn’t like this.

This was no impending apocalypse, this was something intensely personal. Processing it himself was no bad thing. This was about him, and part of you knew that he was only standing here at all because he had the security of knowing you’d be there, whenever he was ready to let you in; be it tonight, tomorrow, or months from now.

“Okay,” you said with a reassuring smile. *** It was a four mile walk from the castle itself into Ballycarnane. He walked almost as the crow flew, across fields; down farm lanes and public footpaths; through wooden gates that creaked with age. The rain spat occasionally, and even the hood of his coat couldn’t keep it from blowing into his eyes.

As he walked, he couldn’t let his mind drift: it was caught in the features of the landscape, keeping him present in every step. He was struck by the wilderness of it all, even as its habitation was constantly declared by the presence of tarmac and the occasional lonely dwelling.

He tramped over damp gorse and heather, taking detours whenever the ground became too marshy to walk on. His walking boots were good quality and supportive, but that didn’t mean he needed to brave the outskirts of a bog when he could retreat to serpentine, single track roads.

He’d thought the land was relatively flat when he arrived yesterday, but no sooner had the marshy areas fallen behind him as he walked into rugged, rocky countryside, dotted with pine woods.

This might have been his home, he mused. He might have been familiar with this environment, these roads and the ever-present stone walls, as sturdy as they appeared ramshackle. How might he have spent his childhood? This rain on his face, these clouds above him. Green as far as the eye could see.

Gradually, more and more signs of habitation sprung up around him: the roads became fractionally wider, the houses more varied and frequent as he approached the outskirts of the town. Now he was on streets, the hedges neatly kept, and there were road markings too, single tracks leading onto dual carriageways.

At last, he passed a sign welcoming him to the town proper, and he began to pass others bustling around him, speed humps, housing estates, white vans and churches. A woman with a stroller thanked him quietly as he stood aside off the sidewalk to let her pass.

He passed a convenience store, an undertakers, a shop selling fancy cheese and wine, and then he saw it: across from a pub was a butcher’s shop.

Though many of the shops and houses on Ballycarnane’s main street were painted in bright colors, and many other buildings were of the dull concrete variety he’d grown used to back home, the default building style in this area seemed to be those single story, white rendered buildings with those gray roof tiles. His mother’s butcher’s shop was one of these, with a large window displaying wares.

Below the building’s blue gables, a mural on the outside of the building depicted a cow, sheep and pig. To Five’s mind, they looked inappropriately happy to be depicted, given the context. Above them, in hand-painted italics read: ‘ Jones Family Butchers’, beneath them, ‘ Est.1979’.

He knew her name was Efa Jones, but seeing the name was odd. He was here. *** “Okay, princess Aofie,” you called, as Five’s figure retreated down the gravel drive, “we’re going to get started on your school project.”

“But Mooommy,” she said, gesturing to the tree stump as if there were depths to its joys she had as yet not discovered.

“What if we did it about the fairies of Ballycarnane?”

Aoife still looked skeptical.

“You remember John from this morning?”

Aoife nodded. She had exchanged a hearty conversation about the rabbits and deer that roamed the grounds with the old man working as the hotel’s senior concierge.

“Well, he told me there’s a fairy fort nearby. You want to go?”

“Yeah!” she said, enthusiastically, jumping from the tree stump one final time, bounding towards you taking your hand.

“And,” you continued, setting off, “he said once we’d been to go and find him, and he'd tell us a story all about it. If you write his story down and draw some pictures, that can be your project to show Mx Leyton.”

*** Five finished his third Guinness.

He’d been nursing the beers for over two hours, looking out of grimy windows into the butcher’s shop across the way. He could see movement within, but no detail. Only two or three customers had been in and out in all the time he watched.

The pub was a spit and sawdust kind of place. The Weaver’s Inn had a cheap paneling on the walls, mismatched dark wood chairs and a carpet that looked like it hadn’t been changed since before the butcher’s shop was established.

On a Wednesday daytime in October, there had been only one other patron when he arrived, an old man who looked at him with slight suspicion as he entered, but now, as five o’clock drew nearer, people began to trickle in, and there were over five tables occupied.

He looked into the bottom of his glass. It was now or never.

He recognised her from the newspaper clipping he found as soon as he walked into the store. She must have been pushing seventy, only five or six years younger than himself.

Her back was bent into a painful curve over her butcher’s block, though she scrubbed at the salted wood with her metal-bristled brush with more than enough vigor. As his entrance caused a bell above the door to give a little trill, she looked up.

Her wrinkled face was dominated by a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, white hair scraped back beneath a hairnet. Her brown eyes were slightly misty with the beginnings of cataracts.

“It’s just the pre-cut now,” she said, nodding towards the block, “you’ve left it late.”

“No problem,” Five said, watching her lay down her brush with the air of one not keen to be interrupted.

He approached the counter slowly, forcing himself to look down through the glass at the meat on display.

“What’ll you have?”

She exuded a stern, no nonsense attitude. Customer service might be in her job, but not in her nature, it seemed.

“Uh,” Five said, uncharacteristically unsure, “steak,” he said, suddenly.

“What type and how much” she prompted, approaching the counter.

“Uh-” he said again.

“Tourist, are you?” she said, shrewdly.

All the Irish accents he’d heard until now were lilting, but hers lilted differently.

“Is it that obvious?” Five smiled, looking back down at the counter.

“American?” she asked, as if it were an accusation.

“Yup.”

“Staying at the castle, I’ll bet.”

“Correct.”

“Sure. You’ve got that silver-spoon look about you.”

Five let out something halfway between a chuckle and a scoff.

“Well, you might say I landed on my feet.”

“You telling me they let you cook steak in those fancy bedrooms?” she asked, skeptically.

Five shifted uncomfortably. She was inconveniently shrewd.

He guessed he knew where he got it from.

“We’re self-catering,” he lied, and then, as it came into his thoughts, “I’d say you’re not local yourself, Efa.”

“How d’you know my name?” she asked, suspiciously.

Shit.

“The bartender at the Weavers Inn,” he said, with a tight smile - she had him on his toes in the way few people could manage - “I told him I wanted a good steak and he said you were the lady to talk to.”

She rolled her eyes.

“That’s as nice as Liam Moore’s been about me in thirty years,” she muttered “So my beef’s good enough for out-of-towners but not good enough supply his dive of a pub?”

But then, in answer to his question:

“You’ve got a good ear. I was born in Caerphilly.”

“Wales?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise.

“Wales indeed,” she said briskly, “Now, I’ve got a nice rib-eye, fillet’s only thirty-five euro per kilogram today, and this sirloin’s nicely marbled. What will you have?”

Five didn’t process this, “You’re Welsh?”

“Half.” she said, slightly perturbed, “Mam was Irish, Dad was Welsh. We came here when I was ten.”

It all clicked into place.

“Efa’s a Welsh name,” he said, coming to the conclusion out loud, “That’s why you’re not Aoife.”

“That’s true,” she said, “I was named for my father’s mother.”

She watched him curiously as he cast his eyes back down to the counter.

“My daughter’s name is Aoife.” he said, in an attempt at off-handedness.

There was silence then, and Five lowered his eyes.

“And what’s your name?” she asked.

He swallowed. ***

You warmed yourself in an armchair by the fire, while Aoife’s cheeks were still pinched red from the cold outside.

John sat beside her on one of the couches in the hotel foyer, flanked by two suits of armor. He was smart in his gray waistcoat, a gold name badge catching the light at his lapel. His white shirtsleeves were immaculate, his thin, white hair combed over his bald head. His bright blue eyes seemed permanently crinkled into a smile.

“Before we begin, I wonder if I can arrange a hot drink for you both? Will you have a cup of tea, coffee? Hot chocolate for the little one?”

“Can I have marshmallows?” Aoife asked you eagerly.

“She has to have marshmallows, Mammy,” said John, twinkling at you.

“Of course,” you said, “And I’d love a coffee, thanks.”

“A baileys coffee?”

“I shouldn’t,” you said, though very willing to be persuaded.

“You’re on your holidays,” John said, waving aside your diffidence. He caught the eye of one of the junior concierges, motioned him over and made the order.

“Now,” he said, resettling himself, “this is rather a recent fairy story,” John said, “One my mother said happened when I was only a lad, going on for fifty years ago, I’d say.”

You looked at Aoife. Predictably, she looked astonished. To her, fifty years previously may as well be prehistory.

“This story’s not for the faint of heart,” John continued, “Can you handle a spooky story, little one?”

Aoife nodded, wide eyed, her pen poised ready to take notes over a freshly bought notebook. You looked quickly over at him with a small, doubtful grimace.

He smiled and nodded back at you, taking the hint.

“Just be assured that this is only a story, now,” he said to her, “It’s not real, it’s just something to tell one another for a bit of fun, alright? I was sixteen when my Mam told me this, and she acted like it had only just happened. It was just to scare me out of walking home late at night. You understand?”

“Yeah,” she said, eager for him to begin.

“The fairies you might have heard about before are not like these fairies. Our fairies are not gentle or very kind. They don’t grant wishes and they’re not to be tangled with.”

Slowly, Aoife wrote down a note in her large, uneven cursive.

“Fairy forts like the one you visited today are supposed to be where creatures from the fairy realm gather. Did you see any there today?”

Aoife shook her head.

“I thought not,” he said, “they’re supposed to gather at night. And that’s when the story starts. Mam said there was an old man walking home to Ballycarnane and he walked too close to that fairy fort.”

John paused as Aoife laboriously copied down what she’d heard, watching her write and offering the odd prompt to aid her memory. The drinks arrived in this interval, and you sipped your coffee gratefully as you watched them.

“Now this fella wasn’t local, you see,” John continued, “he lived nearby but he wasn’t born around here, so he didn’t know you needed to give them a wide berth. And then the poor fool was confronted by a banshee, wailing.”

“What’s a bant-shee?” Aoife asked.

“A banshee ,” he said, “a terrible fairy. Always a bad omen. They look like women with long hair, and they appear to people, screaming and crying. The story goes that if you see or hear a banshee, it means someone you love’s going to die.”

Aoife scribbled this down, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Remember it’s not real though,” he added, reassuringly, adding a little cold milk to cool her hot chocolate for her, “that’s just what they say.”

“What did the man do?” Aoife asked, too transfixed to take the drink from him when he offered.

“Well, he knew what a banshee was, alright, and he knew what it meant. So he tried to beg her not to take his wife or daughter, only it was too late. The banshee wailed, ‘oh no, you’ve disturbed us, so now you’ll pay the price: either you choose a death, or you’ll give the fairies a newborn child of your blood before the sun goes down tomorrow’. ”

He paused to allow Aoife to write down this last, and then pushed her drink towards her.

“Drink up, pet.”

Aoife took the hot chocolate from him and took a gulp, leaving foamy residue around her mouth, still watching John with wonder in her eyes. The cup wobbled in its saucer, and you leaned forward to help her put it back on the coffee table, lest her princess dress get covered in even more dirt.

“Then what happened?” she asked.

“Well, this old man and his wife were too old to have any more children, and their only daughter was grown, and she certainly wasn’t going to have a newborn baby so soon, so he thought he had a chance of beating that banshee.”

You could tell even from several feet away that Aoife’s writing was becoming more and more illegible in her haste to hear the rest of the story. You sensed that some translation and aiding of her memory might come in useful when she came to write up the project.

“So the old man agreed. He said, ‘you can have a newborn of my blood before the sun sets tomorrow,’ thinking he could cheat the fairies out of their due. And what do you think happened next?”

Aoife shook her head, unknowing.

“Well, that man fell into an enchanted sleep, and woke up by the fairy fort at mid-afternoon the next day. No sooner than he woke up did he hurry home to check on his wife and daughter.”

Aoife wasn’t even writing notes anymore, hanging on John’s every word.

“And he found a terrible scene.” John said, ruefully, “While he slept, his daughter had given birth to a changeling, though she certainly hadn’t been pregnant the day before.”

You sat up.

“What’s a changeling?” Aofie asked.

“A baby the fairies leave when they steal a human one. They’re supposed to be cursed children, sometimes they’re evil and naughty, and sometimes they have strange powers.”

You leaned forward and opened your mouth to speak, but John spoke before you could ask him anything.

“And then, the old man realized what he’d done: when there was no newborn to take, the fairies took away his daughter’s future firstborn instead, forcing her to birth the changeling in its place.”

“What happened?” you asked.

John looked over at you, surprised by the sudden seriousness in your tone.

“Well, the old man and his wife died without any grandchildren. Their daughter never married, and their line died out.”

“What happened to the changeling?” you asked.

“Nobody knows,” John said, returning his gaze to Aoife with a smile and mysterious tone. ***

“I’m Five.”

There was a long silence. He chewed his lips as he looked down at the meat, not willing or able to meet her eyes.

At last, just to say something that might break the tension, he motioned to a pile of beef.

“That brisket looks good.”

She didn’t answer immediately, but when she did, her no-nonsense voice was firmly back in place.

“It’s the best in the county,” she said briskly, “you can’t beat Irish beef and won’t find a nicer cut, especially when it’s slow cooked.”

“Sounds good,” he said, awkwardly.

“Will you have a piece of that instead of steak?”

“Sure,” Five said, relieved to have the decision made for him.

“To serve how many?”

“Just three,” he said, watching her hands as they reached into the display of meat.

They were just like his. The same long, bony fingers. The same bones and tendons standing out on the back of her hands as her fingers flexed.

“This piece will do you,” she said, decisively.

Five risked a look up at her, and her brown eyes met his green.

He must have got his eyes from one of his grandparents, he thought, and then Efa looked away from him quickly.

“I have a secret recipe for brisket” she said, as she took the beef to the scale and weighed it, “Falls apart in the mouth. It was my mother’s, and I only got it out of her on her deathbed, she prized it so much.”

Five couldn’t resist this opening. He had to know:

“Will you pass it down to your kids?”

She paused for a mere fraction of a second and then she turned to ready brown paper in which to wrap the meat.

“I don’t have children,” she said, firmly, her back still to him, “I was never the marrying or the mothering type.”

As she folded the first layer around the brisket, Five blinked rather rapidly. There was a tight fist somewhere in his abdomen.

When he mastered himself, he spoke again.

“I understand.”

She nodded, still facing away from him, wrapping the brisket carefully in brown paper, still facing away from him at a plastic table.

“Still,” she said, quietly, “it seems a crying shame that nobody should taste my Mam’s brisket after I’m gone.“

She stuck a label to the wrapped beef, holding the paper in place. Then, from behind her ear, she pulled a stubby pencil, knife-sharpened into a rough, angular shape.

She tore another small portion of brown paper and began to write with the sort of fevered energy Five himself used to write equations on the concrete walls of the Argyle public library.

“Now, this is to serve six or so, but you can scale as you like.”

Her pencil clicked smartly along the paper.

“You start with a rub. Dark brown sugar, onion powder, mustard powder, garlic powder, cayenne pepper and salt. Mam would usually leave it there, but I’ve had success with paprika too.”

She looked up at him, pausing in her writing, eyebrows raised imperiously.

“Only you make sure it’s smoked paprika, alright?”

“Of course,” he said, slightly taken aback at her forcefulness.

“Good,” she said, “And the key is to leave it coated in the rub for at least twelve hours in the fridge. Then, when you cook, a lot of recipes would have you use beef stock, but for my Mam’s recipe, it’s beer or nothing: a nice ale. None of that crap excuse for lager you lot try to pass off as beer.”

“Got it,” Five said, catching her flow, “No American beer. Would Guinness work?”

Efa pulled a face.

“You can try it, I suppose,”

She fell silent as she jotted down the final instructions.

Five watched her as she worked, jaw set, and eyes intense. She finished the recipe with a flourish, folded the paper and handed it to him smartly across the counter.

“Thank you,” he said.

“And that’ll be thirteen euro forty-five.”

He reached into his pants pocket and handed her the money as she placed the parcel of meat in a paper bag and handed it over. As she searched in the cash register for the change, he watched her lined face, the rim of her glasses obscuring her eyes.

When she put the coins in his hands, her cold fingers brushed his.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you,” he repeated.

He looked at her, trying to do…he knew not what. He only knew that if he was going to drink her in, now was his opportunity to do so.

“Goodbye,” he said and, with it, there was finality. He wouldn’t come back here. This was the first and last time he’d see her.

His mother.

“Goodbye Five,” she replied, and her lips twitched into the first smile she’d given him.

It was small, sad, and spoke no love, but it spoke good will just as clearly. *** Five arrived back at the hotel just before seven. You were sitting on the four poster bed in your new robe, reading a book. Aoife was already asleep in the suite’s adjoining room, the hangings of her own bed drawn around it.

“Hi,” you said, as he entered.

“Hey,” he replied, as he closed the door behind him.

His boots were muddy, his hair damp and windswept.

“I hope you don’t mind, I already got Aoife dinner. She’s tuckered out. Long day.”

“Me too,” he said, heavily.

He turned back to the door and the coat hook on its back. He made as if to take off his coat and hang it with the rest. But instead, he sagged and leaned against the door, his forehead against Aoife’s coat.

You sighed sadly, placed down your book and crossed the room towards him.

“Come here, sweet guy,” you murmured.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind and laid your head against his, occasionally planting kisses at his hairline. Five let out a sigh of his own at this, and you felt him relax into you slightly.

“How about I run you a bath? I’ll order us room service and a bottle of wine.”

“That sounds nice,” Five said, voice muffled against Aoife’s bright blue raincoat.

You helped him off with his own coat - oddly heavy, you noticed - and put down on the bed.

“I’ll go run the bath. You get those clothes off okay?”

“Thanks dearest.”

When you returned from the bathroom, where a piping hot bubble bath was already running into the claw-foot tub, Five had stripped to his underwear, sorting his laundry.

“Will you order the pinot noir?” he asked.

“Still don’t trust me to choose wine?” you asked, amused, returning to his coat, “not even after ten years?”

“Never,” he said, smiling.

“Why do you have almost two pounds of meat in your pocket?” you asked, having fished out the brown paper bag emblazoned with: Jones Family Butchers, Est.1979.

“Long fucking story,” he mumbled, “just put it in the trash. I don’t know why I bought it.”

“And what’s this?” you asked, finding the piece of folded paper.

“Nothing,” he said, simply, removing his underwear and putting them in with the dirty clothes, “can you just put it with our passports?.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, he disappeared into the bathroom.

Ignoring his request to put in the trash, you put the meat in the fridge that contained the extortionately-priced minibar, thinking you’d deal with it in the morning.

You opened the folded piece of paper as you went to hang his coat. At first, you thought the handwriting that recorded the recipe was his: there were the same bold lines, the same frenetic energy in the triple underlining of the word ‘smoked’ in ‘smoked paprika’, but the more you looked, the more differences you saw. This wasn’t his handwriting.

You refolded it, opened the room’s safe and filed it along with your passports and boarding passes. *** The helpful voice on the other end of the phone informed you that dinner itself would arrive in around forty minutes, while the wine would be sent straight up. Just enough time for you to place Five’s pajamas on a radiator to warm before a knock at the door announced its arrival.

Bottle and glasses in hand, you joined Five in the bathroom, settling on the low bench beside the shower, fogged up with the heat coming off the bathwater.

Five’s eyes were closed, lying with his head against the rim of the tub, breathing the steamy, fragranced air deeply.

“Wine,” you announced.

“Mm,” he said, contentedly.

He opened his eyes, his submerged left hand surfacing to receive the large glass you’d poured him.

“Thanks beautiful,” he said, looking up at you, eyes lingering for a moment at the cleavage visible where your robe met at the chest.

You raised an ironic brow. Clearly he wasn’t totally cut up over this.

As he took his first sip, he let out a small moan.

“Good?” you asked, amused.

“Heavenly,” he muttered, closing his eyes again.

He might not be so distraught that he couldn’t appreciate a nice view of boob, but he still needed this. You scooched your bench closer so that you could run your fingers through his hair.

He hummed appreciatively as you petted him, and you sat that way for several minutes, watching him unwind and fall into gentle repose.

Who could give him up? With that smooth skin, that dimple on his cheek, his parted lips, his keen eyes, framed by lashes as thick as his soft hair.

Not you.

At last, when he had worked his way sufficiently down his glass, you topped him up and asked:

“So, how was it?”

“I’m not sure,” he said thoughtfully, “it turns out I’m a quarter Welsh.” *** The sun came out for the last couple of days of the trip. On your final full day there, you were taking a few hours in the hotel spa. Five, however, was to be found being chased around one of the lawns by his daughter, he laughing, she screeching in delight.

“Come back!” she said, in mock outrage, “you need to have YOUR SHOTS!”

He barked, back bent and arms out in front of him like forepaws.

“Never!” he yelled, deploying a perfectly executed commando roll to evade her.

Unfortunately for him he commando-rolled straight into a large rhododendron bush.

“IF YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR SHOTS YOU WILL GET SICK AND DIE, YOU BAD DOG.” yelled Aoife, holding a small stick clasped in her fist like it was a knife she was about to go full-psycho with.

“But I don’t want to!” Five whined, trying to disentangle himself as Aoife advanced upon him, “you’re a big meanie vet! Woof!”

“I’M A BIG NICE VET, ACTUALLY.” she said, as he wriggled away from her once more, “YOU’RE JUST A BIG BABY.”

“I’m a big baby who’s getting away!” Five grinned, looking back over his shoulder and sticking his tongue out at her as he darted away.

And then he tripped over a tree root and fell with a thud onto the soft grass. He flipped over, laughing, as Aoife approached.

“A-ha!” she said, triumphantly, taking advantage of his compromised to jump on top of him, stick raised.

“Oof!” he said, winded as she straddled his waist. He tried to grab her wrist, but it was too late: she managed to poke the stick into his upper arm.

“There.” she said, “Now what was all that fuss about, little dog?”

“Owwww,” Five cried, pouting and whining like the dog he was supposed to be.

“Pull yourself together!” Aoife said, affecting a clipped, professional voice, “Or you won’t get a candy.”

“I'm a dog, I'm not allowed candy! I want a treat!” Five replied, indignantly.

“WELL YOU HAVE TEN MORE SHOTS FIRST.”

“Surely this is unethical?” Five expostulated, his childish affect replaced by a more adult one as she held his arm down and ‘injected’ him (stabbed him repeatedly through his sweater).

“I am NOT un-effable.”

“Unethical,” Five corrected, rarely able to stop himself from taking advantage of any teachable moment, “it means morally wrong.”

“What does morally mean?” she said, with a small roll of her eyes.

“Ouch. It means how you behave. If you’re morally wrong then it means you’re behaving wrongly.”

“Then you’re being unethable!” she said, triumphantly, “because if you don’t get your shots then you’ll make other doggies sick too.”

“But do the ends justify the means?” Five mused, grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing. Thank you for my shots. I’m feeling much better, even if my immune system has eleven different attenuated pathogens to deal with.”

Daddy, you always talk funny,” she said, sounding equally amused and irritated with him.

He put his arms around her and pulled her down onto his chest.

“E’ vero, cara.”

He kissed where her hair parted at the crown of her head, feeling the deep damp of the soil beginning to soak into his sweater, but not caring at all.

“Usi sempre parole così grosse,” she replied, and he could hear you in her tone, the loving mockery in it.

He held her to him tighter and kissed her again, harder this time.

“I love you,” he said, feelingly.

“I love you too,” she replied, smiling down at him, her chubby cheeks dimpling as she did.

He felt his chest heave as he looked at her, and when he spoke again, his voice wasn’t quite his own.

“Being your Dad is my favorite thing about myself. And it's my favourite thing to do.”

And it was. He’d saved the world for the love of his adopted family, but perhaps he’d fought so fiercely because some part of him longed for this. Being a father and husband felt intrinsically, cosmically right, and made more sense than any mathematical logic.

Perhaps his daughter was always written there, deep in his DNA. He didn’t believe in fate, but still, some part of him knew he was supposed to be here, his daughter in his arms and days upon days of rain soaking from the earth, through his sweater and onto his skin.

He rocked her slightly, there on the grass, one hand in her hair and the other at her back; his baby girl, no matter how much she grew.

This was what he needed. You and her. You were both his reward and privilege to love.

Aoife considered his words, slightly taken aback by his sudden affection and not really understanding his intensity. After a moment, she spoke thoughtfully:

“Mine is my hair.”

“What?” he asked.

“My favorite thing about myself. I like it because it's curly but not too curly.”

Five laughed, and she laughed too as she was jostled by the movement of his stomach. She shuffled up his body, causing him to flinch away from a potential knee to the balls but, thankfully, she avoided that.

Instead, she crawled so that her head was level with his, grabbed him by each ear, and kissed his face. *** At dinner that last night, Aoife coloured the pictures she’d drawn for her project, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she tried her best to color within the lines. The pencil crayons you chose for the job were tactical: unlikely to mark the pure white tablecloth.

The waiter brought your drinks. As he did so, he caught your eye and nodded conspiratorially towards the door, where Five couldn’t see him.

You looked over subtly. John stood in the doorway to the kitchen, motioning to you that the prepared surprise would be only two more minutes.

“Can we see the menu?” Five asked.

The waiter hesitated.

“I actually ordered for us all,” you said.

“Hm,” Five said, looking curiously up at you, “what are we having?”

“Thank you,” you said to the waiter, dismissing him for now.

You turned back to Five, and he was watching you with curious eyes. You caught his significantly, and spoke to him now with lines under your words.

“It seemed a shame to throw away that brisket you brought back the other day.”

He drew in a breath through his nose. You could tell he was unsure how to feel. You placed your hand over his.

“I copied the recipe too,” you said, softly, over the scratch scratch of Aoife’s pencil and the quiet chink of knives and forks on plates, “I thought you should try it before we go home.”

Five looked down at the tablecloth and put his other hand on top of yours. When he looked back up at you, his jaw gave a slight tremor.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, “truly.”

You smiled, relieved.

“Are you happy?” you said, checking nevertheless.

Five gave one slow outward breath, and in those green eyes that low light sometimes disguised as blue, you saw an intensity of feeling that was hard to witness without bringing tears to your own eyes.

“I couldn’t be happier,” he said, so earnestly that Aoife looked up in surprise.

He wasn’t just talking about the brisket, you knew.

You smiled, losing the battle and swiping away a tear as you and Five squeezed each other's hands.

“Good,” you said, sniffling, “because I tipped the kitchen way too much money to make this happen.”

Taglist: @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969, @chalametabingbong, @lolawassad, @icantpickanamefromonefandom, @kaybreezy3000

Megalist

Request info + rules

NOTE:

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

Disclaimer: As an English person, I was conscious of the potential for unintended xenophobia as I wrote this, especially given the fast and loose attitude I've given to folklore. Unfortunately I wasn't able to get any Irish sensitivity readers before posting this though. I have a lot of Irish family and have visited many times in my life, but I'm aware I have blind spots just by nature of being English. If any Irish folk want to discuss anything that made them uncomfortable, my DMs are open :)

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #five hargreaves x you #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number 5 imagine #i'm the daddy here #daddy!five #literally daddy!five #fluff #tua efa

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folder-stuff · 1 year ago

Text

I steamed with these drawings for a long time, but it was worth it.

When I drew the designs of the guardians, all sorts of ideas came to mind about what happened while Cornelia lived in Meridian. I really like what I came up with, and I'll try to explain why I drew it all at all.

In general, as you know, in this alternative, Cornelia went with Caleb to Meridian, leaving her family and friends, as well as the post of a guardian. This event has greatly shaken Will's confidence in herself as a leader who is obliged to unite girls. Especially after the arch with Nerissa, where she almost lost the Heart of Kandrakar. And don't forget about Taranee's doubts, because of which she even left the team in the canon. In general, Will had reasons to give the leader's place to a new member of the team - Orube. "Maybe someone else can handle it better?" she thought.

At first, it seemed to be a good idea to run away from responsibility. However, girls didn't think so. No one recognized Orube as a leader for many reasons, one of which was Will's authority as the previous head. And when the girls were looking for support in her, she couldn't provide it, because she's not as solid as Orube or Cornelia. Will is a sensitive nature, the heart of the team, not its foundation, and she isn't able to return everyone from heaven to earth because of her character.

Hence the main conflict was born: Will couldn't cope with the role of the guardian of the earth, since she wasn't able to take the position of Cornelia in the team. She felt out of place and understood that she used to be more effective. Against the background of the defeat that has already happened after Cornelia's departure and Taranee's doubts, this aggravated the feeling of failure, inferiority complex and hesitation. Confidence is the main quality of the guardian of the earth, and she lost it without even starting to develop in herself.

This is where the main dilemma began: she wanted the leader's place back. But not only because she realized her incompetence as a guardian of the earth. It's also about the Heart of Kandrakar. From the very moment of Orube's appearance and the transfer of the Heart, Will heard its call, at first barely perceptible, but growing stronger every day. With the understanding of where she really belonged, Will missed the feeling of unity with the Heart of Kandrakar, with its warmth and power. And it scared her. Because she began to see Nerissa in herself, to hear her phrases in her head and to dream that she's turning into a recently defeated enemy...

This is exactly what I wanted to convey in my first work: the binding vines that strangle Will and don't allow her to move; the imitation of the Heart of Kandrakar, which no longer belongs to her; fear from the desire to possess what she can no longer possess.

I hope I have enough strength to make a post about Orube, because I did the drawing for a long time and was a little tired =_=

In the second picture, I wanted to show Will's routine and her new powers. She conjures only plants, often flowers, as it's more difficult for her to cope with heavy stones and hard earth. This is due to fading self-confidence and lack of firmness in actions and decisions. She's effective in combat, but things don't always work out the way she intended, which makes her angry at the plants, as if they're a computer hanging at the wrong moment. She had to learn to cope with vines and flowers so that they were useful.

Also, these plants often get in the way and grow when and where it isn't necessary. For example, they can cling to the legs and grow while Will sleeps.

#w.i.t.c.h.#w.i.t.c.h. fanart #w.i.t.c.h comics #w.i.t.c.h. will #will vandom

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trillscienceofficer · 3 months ago

Text

from Star Trek: Voyager the official magazine, June 1997

ROXANN DAWSON - B'Elanna Torres

by Ian Spelling

“You never really get used to it,” Roxann Dawson says of the makeup that transforms her into B'Elanna Torres on STAR TREK: VOYAGER. “I've gotten used to having it applied, but I don't think you ever really get used to it. Part of me likes it though. It certainly helps me slip into character and, of course, I'm not recognized at all out of the makeup, sometimes not even on the set.

“I remember that in the first few months we were doing the show, even people on the set had no idea who I was. I would walk right onto the stage without makeup and our own director of photography wouldn't recognize me. Over time, people have seen me out of makeup a little bit more often. So at least the cast and crew are beginning to know who I am now.”

Dawson smiles, which is a big no-no. At this very moment, she's sitting in a chair as a makeup artist glues on prosthetics and paints over assorted Klingon facial ridges. Every time Dawson stretches her facial muscles too much—which occurs when she smiles or laughs—she risks ruining the makeup artists work, and that would only mean more time in the chair. “I usually like to look the person I'm talking to in the eye,” Dawson explains. "But I can't turn my head, either. Use the mirror. I know it's a little weird, but if you look at me in the mirror as we speak, we can make eye contact.”

Clearly, Dawson has held more than a few conversations from this chair, which sits in the middle of a make-up trailer just a short walk from the VOYAGER sound-stages on the Paramount Pictures lot.

Hard as it may be to believe, three years have passed since Dawson first arrived here to play B'Elanna in the “Caretaker” pilot. “It is hard to believe, and it has been a great experience. I've been able to do almost everything as an actress portraying this character,” she enthuses. The other day, they had me rappelling for a scene we were shooting. That was so cool. It's one of the neat things about being an actor. You don't have to know how to do something and you don't really have to practice it. They just had me do it. Of course, I was protected, and a stuntwoman would have done anything that would have been too dangerous for me to do.”

Dawson notes, “We're also learning so much about this character. In ‘Blood Fever,’ we really explored many aspects that were very particular to B'Elanna, but not necessarily particular to Klingons or chief engineers in general. We're discovering that she's not just strong in the masculine sense, but that she can be sexual and feminine and interested in learning more about herself. I talked with Jeri Taylor at the beginning of the season because I wanted to see more of B'Elanna's Klingon side come out. I didn't want her to become too complacent. I wanted her irreverence to always be there. I wanted that war going on inside of her to be present and always a conflict that influenced her choices. I think the writers are making sure that's all there this sea- son.

“I don't want B'Elanna to be a goody two-shoes,” Dawson emphasizes. “I don't mind seeing her darker, uglier sides. That's important. It's part of who she is. It's good to see her at her worst. It's good to see her learn from her mistakes. That's what makes a character interesting. I love that, and I hope it continues.

“You never really get what you want as an actress, but with B'Elanna, I've really gotten a lot of what I had wished for. The writers keep surprising me,” she continues. “They keep coming up with different aspects of her for me to explore. I think to myself, ‘How did you know that was in my hidden agenda?’ That's a wonderful feeling for an actress on any show to have.”

Dawson also believes that the writers are doing justice to B'Elanna's relationships with the other characters aboard Voyager. When the series began, she was primarily presented as an outsider, even among her Maquis co-conspirators. Over time, B'Elanna has emerged as a respected member of the crew. Captain Janeway now shows the utmost confidence in her, and her friendship with Tom Paris seems to be blossoming into romance. “One thing people have to understand is that this is an ensemble show. There are nine regular characters to service every week,” Dawson notes. “I just feel really fortunate that, in such a short time, they've developed B'Elanna's specific relationships with just about everyone on the ship. except maybe Kes. We haven't had much to do together and I would love to have an episode exploring that relationship a little bit more.

"With all of the other characters, though, I have a specific relationship and a definite attitude, and each relationship and attitude is changing and growing. I love thee fact that the Doctor can tick me off so much at one moment, but al other moments there is an element of respect, when he does something that impresses me. For example, when I thought we were losing him and his memory, I suddenly realize that I need him, that he has grown me. I love that every once in a while, we see little windows of B'Elanna's past with Chakotay. Paris and I got very close in ‘Blood Fever’, but I was under the influence of something, I was in Klingon heat.

“I want the writers to keep surprising me. Sometimes I love not knowing exactly what's going to happen, and not figuring it out until I'm handed a script. I really don't know where they're going to go with the relationship between B'Elanna and Paris. I do hope they'll take their time and make it happen slowly. I hope it's original, a little different than what we've seen before. I hope they put in a great deal of friction. I'm sure B'Elanna is different from anyone Paris has ever been involved with before, and would love to see him realizing and dealing with that. I see that all happening, and it really pleases me.”

According to Dawson, she and Robert Duncan McNeill have sat down and discussed the best ways to make the B'Elanna-Paris relationship work for them, how to best add layers to the groundwork being provided by the shows writing staff. By way of example, when they received the “Blood Fever” teleplay, the two discussed the arc of the script and how they saw it as the launching pad for an ongoing relationship. They incorporated their conversations into their performances when the scenes were played out before the camera. 'It really comes down to the actors interpreting what's on the page,” Dawson says. “Robbie and I wanted to make sure that certain elements were there and, also, we didn't want to overstep any boundaries. We wanted to be certain we were doing it right. We do discuss things on that level, but we always have to keep in mind that we must by what the script says.”

Sometimes, of course, Dawson also must go by what her directors say. And the actress has been directed not only by actor/directors Jonathan Frakes and LeVar Burton, but also by her VOYAGER costars McNeill and Robert Picardo. McNeill helmed “Sacred Ground”, while Picardo called the shots on “Alter Ego”. “I had about 30 seconds of screen time in ‘Sacred Ground,’ but I was impressed with what Robbie did. Actually, he's going to direct another episode,” she says. “Bob was great on his show. It amazes me, because you don't always know that an actor will be able to direct. Both of these men are obviously multi-talented, because they're not only fine actors but they managed to direct well, too."

Soon enough, Dawson will find out whether or not she can add herself to the list of multi-talented VOYAGER cast members, for she is enrolled in STAR TREK's director-in-training program, which has turned out such directors as Frakes, Burton, Patrick Stewart and STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE's Avery Brooks and Rene Auberjonois. She's watching other directors in action, sitting in on editing sessions and the like, all in preparation to direct an episode sometimes next season. “There's a great education to be had here and they treat me with such grace. I'm so grateful to have the opportunity to learn this craft,” Dawson enthuses with a smile that elicits a wince from her makeup man.

“I've always wanted to direct. I've directed for theater, but it's quite different from directing for film or TV. I honestly don't know if I'll like it or be good at it. I think the time for deciding whether I'll be a good director is right now, during the learning process. So far, I really do love it. Hopefully, I'll be good at it, too. Whatever episode they give me to do, I just want to be able to bring it to life. Each episode is so different. Sometimes you're handled something that's very action-oriented, and sometimes you'll get something that's very thought-provoking. I don't know which kind of show I would be better at, but part of me says I would be better off starting with a quieter episode. I don't know if I have a particular style that I would impose anything. That was always my goal as a stage director. I'll probably stick with that idea for my first episode."

While Roxann Dawson may go on to make her mark as a director of VOYAGER, she's well aware that, even though she'll likely enjoy a long, fruitful career beyond STAR TREK, the show, her role and the fans will always be a part of her life. "I've heard that. Am I comfortable with it? I guess I'm growing more comfortable with the idea," she acknowledges.

"If this was something that didn't deserve that kind of recognition, then I would feel uncomfortable. But I think VOYAGER does deserve that kind of recognition. I'm part of something special. So, yeah, I guess I am comfortable with the idea STAR TREK being a part of my life forever. Let me put it this way: I'm as comfortable as I could be.”

Focus: Star Trek: Voyager

It has been a long time since Roxann Dawson last looked back at the episodes of STAR TREK: VOYAGER which were either focused almost entirely on B'Elanna Torres or which featured scenes of importance as they related to the character. Thus, the conversation backtracks to October 1995, when “Persistence of Vision” first aired:

“Persistence of Vision” (The crew's deeply buried desires surface; Chakotay seduces B'Elanna): “All I remember from that one was not being able to stop laughing when we were doing the love scene between Chakotay and me. Robert Beltran and I just kept cracking each other up.”

“Resistance” (The crew encounters the Mokra; Tuvok and B'Elanna are captured): “I liked working with Tim Russ. That was the first show where I saw any potential for exploring the relationship between Tuvok and B'Elanna. I realized he could help her explore some of the imbalances in the way she views her Klingon and human sides.”

“Prototype” (B'Elanna reactivates a robot, only to have it kidnap her and try to destroy Voyager) and “Dreadnought” (B'Elanna beams inside a missile to deactivate it): “I worked with Jonathan Frakes and LeVar Burton [as directors] on those two shows. They're both great guys. It's funny, in ‘Faces’ I dealt with myself a lot. In ‘Prototype’ I dealt with a robot and in ‘Dreadnought’ I dealt with a computer that had my voice. So, I was acting with myself in three B'Elanna-heavy episodes. I begged the writers to make the next one something where I interacted with a human. “Jonathan did a great job directing ‘Prototype’. ‘Dreadnought’ surprised me because so much effort went into actually developing the computer voice. That came about through hours and hours of looping. The whole show was B'Elanna and her relationship with this computer counterpart. So, it was fascinating for me to create that relationship half in performance and half in a sound studio.”

“The Thaw” (A clown [Michael McKean] holds Harry Kim and B'Elanna hostage while Janeway tries to free them): “I didn't have a whole lot to do in that. but I thought it was a brilliant episode. It had a lot to say and certain moments were just chilling, especially the death of Fear. Michael McKean was just great.”

“The Swarm” (The Doctor's system overloads and B'Elanna tries to help him recover his programming): “That was a great opportunity to work with Bob Picardo and to explore B'Elanna's relationship with the Doctor. I liked the fact that, to B'Elanna, he had always been just a computer, and in this episode she got to see he had this... humanity.”

“Remember” (B'Elanna has bad dreams; Dawson plays two roles): “I loved having the opportunity to do that show. It was a brilliant script. I loved being able to play the two characters, and how Karenna's [sic] life influenced B'Elanna's. I felt the show had something to say. Bruce Davidson [who played Jareth, Karenna's father] was extraordinary. I've always wanted to work with him. I had known of him since I lived in New York City, and he was just brilliant.”

“Blood Fever” (B'Elanna experiences Klingon heat; she and Paris begin their relationship): “That was an extraordinary experience. It demanded a kind of courage I didn't know I had. I took risks there, and I'm glad I did. I hope people think those risks paid off.”

“Darkling” (The Doctor goes bad): That was our Jekyll and Hyde epsiode with the Doctor turning a little evil. Bob Picardo and I had some fun together when he was in his Mr. Hyde mode. He paralyzed me and he was threatening to kill me and Bob was speaking in a sleazy, very sexual way. It was so disgusting, but I think it came across very funny.”

Though Torres doesn't feature heavily in the next few episodes shot, efforts have been made to develop one aspect of her character. “What's happening is that they've been furthering the B'Elanna/Paris relationship in subsequent episodes. In ‘Displaced’ we have the B-storyline. We did a lot of head-butting in that one. And we did one show where, for the first time, I worked only one day. But the whole day was B'Elanna/Paris stuff.

#voy #trek magazines #star trek monthly #roxann dawson #b'elanna torres

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howlsofbloodhounds · 4 months ago

Note

Hellooo! Can you tell more about Color Sans? I always see stuff about him, but I know nothing??? Like, I know that he has some connection to Killer, but I never undertand it :(

Gladly! I am actually working on a Google Doc for Color and his AU, Othertale, at the moment. It is not complete, but here is a link to the Doc if you’d like to give it a look. Not everything is on there yet and it’s not very organized I don’t think, but there’s some links, pictures, and the creator’s socials.

If you’d like to look up the creator, you can give superyoumna and othertale-blog here on Tumblr a look, or superyoumna over on YouTube.

Now Color’s connection to Killer is that they’re friends, and Color is trying to help Killer leave Nightmare and potentially fix his soul—as Killer has asked him to.

The exact nature of their meeting is left up to interpretation according to Killer’s creator, rahafwabas, and the exact nature of their relationship—platonic, romantic, queer platonic, etc—is also left to interpretation, although Killer’s creator has stated they see it more like bromantic than romantic.

Both Killer and Color’s creators, who were and still seem to be good friends (killer’s creator even helped design backgrounds for Othertale), also were very supportive of shipping them.

Color, according to Killer, is someone who gives him hope. He brings light to Killer’s grey, lifeless world; and Killer feels safe with him. Color makes him feel seen, heard, respected. And Color just really wants to do right by Killer, and help him to the best of his abilities.

Now, on to Color’s AU—Othertale. It’s probably more accurate to say that Othertale was an alternate timeline that, due to a choice, became an AU.

After going through his own sets of Genocides and Resets, Sans made a hasty choice in a moment of desperation—absorb the six human souls. This gave him new, very strong abilities—as you can see in the links in the Google Doc—yet his body is very fragile. Overusing his abilities can and will kill him.

So Sans manages to finally permanently kill the human, but this causes a Reset. Sans is sent to the Void with Gaster where he is forgotten by everyone, Frisk and Chara are erased and forgotten as well. So the world attempts to adapt to the absence of the six human souls and its major players.

This results in Othertale, in which Undyne is actually the main character. In this AU, Undyne encounters a young Papyrus in the garbage dump—dealing with bullying, appearing to be alone and homeless without anyone to take care of him, and only coming to Undyne for help from bullies since they met after “the explosion”—and proceeds to take him under her wings as her baby brother. She finds a passion for playing the piano, and often uses her abilities to entertain the Underground.

Because she was too concerned with raising Papyrus, she never attempts to join the Royal Guard; and so Gerson remains its Captain. As a further result, Papyrus has no interest in fighting or joining the Royal Guard either; instead becoming a math teacher.

The promise to Toriel never happens because Sans was not there to give it, although Color remembers it.

The amalgamates do not exist in Othertale, and so Alphys is a lot more sure of herself and confident. There is no way to break the barrier, although admittedly monsters in Othertale seem a lot more content in the Underground, although they still maintain hope. Mettaton was given his body a lot earlier, and seems more like a weapon than an Underground star.

However, trouble arises when an error suddenly reveals itself—going by the name of corrupted chara, although it seems pretty obvious that it is the Player, here to keep playing by taking other vessels now that Frisk is gone. In an attempt to stop this, Color and Gaster elect Undyne’s help—despite how she has no idea what’s happening.

And that’s the general premise of the AU. I am unsure if it is discontinued or if there’s still plans to continue, but it’s just delayed.

As for Color’s character on its own, we unfortunately don’t get much on him canonically due to him not being the main character and the AU not being finished.

He still has a lot of characteristics that Classic Sans does, however the traits and influence/compulsions of the six human souls he absorbed—kindness, patience, perseverance, justice, bravery, integrity—have an immense effect on him and his life, even to the point potentially being dangerous for him.

He is said to not make jokes as much as anymore, although he still does, and he often is quicker to emotional outbursts or anger. He has an intense fear of being alone or forgotten again, to the point he’d get involved in things that are harmful for himself or stick around groups to avoid being lonely—although his creator said he’s often likely to take on a “voice of reason” role in any group he’s in.

If you look of the effects of prolonged solitary confinement and isolation, it is understandable why he has a harder time controlling his emotions and doesn’t wish to feel that sense of being alone again.

A common interpretation in parts of the fandom is that, not only due to his isolation, but due to a hc that he is Autistic, he is often prone to overwhelm and overstimulation—often needing his alone time anyway, even if he’s likely to deny himself what he needs.

A common HC is that he is a nomad, full of wanderlust, not wanting to feel trapped or stuck in the same place again—having developed perhaps some special interests in traveling and keeping track of the lores of AUs he encounters.

It is due to his nature and being Autistic, but also the fact of wanting to stay near Killer wherever he happens to currently be, that it’s headcanoned that Color takes seasonal or part time jobs.

Enough to stay afloat without having to be tied down to one spot or burn himself out trying to keep up with 9 to 5 jobs.

It is also headcanoned that, due to his fear of being forgotten, that Color develops a special interest in photography. Keeping a camera with him, filling up scrapbooks and walls, and journaling.

Maybe he even takes up baking and gardening sometimes. Color’s creator is also Egyptian I believe, so both he and Killer could likely speak Arabic, and it’s possible to implement parts of the culture and beliefs into his character. And also elements of his physical disability, given one of his eyes are gone and his skull is busted open.

Color is also said to be friends with Delta!Sans and Epic!Sans, forming a group known as the Epic Sanses, and I HC’d that when Color first accepted Core!Frisk’s offer to live in the Omega Timeline, that he and Delta were roommates.

Color also hates Nightmare. For how he treats AUs, innocent people, Color’s friends, and especially how he hurts Killer “the most.” Due to the fact that Nightmare canonically replaces Killer with other versions of himself, it is often accepted by Color!Sans lovers that Color’s PTSD worsens, he develops separation anxiety, survivor’s guilt, and compassion fatigue due to the many times he has tried and failed to save and protect all the Killers that Nightmare replaces.

Color struggles to give up on Killer, he can’t do it, and it very likely comes close to killing him more and more every time. Leaving Color to have to rely on the support of his friends Epic and Delta. Color’s opinion of Nightmare is formed by the absolute cruelty Color has consistently witnessed first hand from him, but also the cruelty he’s been on the receiving end of.

Color is often seen as that burnt out therapist friend, the one who everyone wants to go to in order to talk about their problems and ask for advice, and Color struggles to set boundaries in these areas—not only because he doesn’t want to run the risk of pushing people away and being alone again, but because kindness and justice often struggle to let him to.

Essentially, Color has been completely forgotten by the world he only ever tried to protect. For his attempts to save and protect the people he cares about more than anything, the world seems to just consistently punish him for even trying.

He’s forgotten, he’s alone, he’s pushed aside, he fails. He’s forced to watch everyone go on without him, and when Killer becomes his world, he’s forced to watch as he’s constantly destroyed over and over and despite everything Color somehow still survives.

Yet he refuses to give up. Doing so would go against everything he believes in, everything he is.

(. @qin-qin16 ).

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fandom-imagines-stories · 9 months ago

Text

Running in the Dark

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 4139

Summary: The reader’s work as a decoy for one of Matt’s clients puts her in some hot water with her boyfriend- as well as a jealous ex-husband who has connections more dangerous than anyone could have imagined.

Notes: This one honestly came about when I was walking around my campus at night. I literally pictured Matt watching over me from the top of the Humanities building. Yes, I am doing fine, how are you?

Warnings: Violence, general peril (I just love making the reader get herself into trouble, don’t I?)

More Matt Murdock: HERE

You knew he was there. Your eyes scanned the rooftops of the buildings enclosing you. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel him. Standing. Watching. Waiting. You could practically hear his frustrated pacing, his furious objections.

“This is a bad idea. There are other ways. Safer ways. You don’t need to do this.”

All things he had said before tonight.

But this was about more than just playing decoy so a woman could be free of her abusive ex-husband.

This was about what that piece of shit could do for them.

You may not have been able to hear him, but you knew he could hear you. So, as you pulled Nancy Bartman’s door closed and your hood further over your face- careful to let your hair show- you muttered up at the figure hiding in the shadows.

“Back. Off.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You ignored it.

Jogging at night in Hell’s Kitchen alone was a risk all on its own. Every alley you passed seemed to lurk with some unseen threat. Every shifting sound put you on edge.

God, you were turning into Matt.

You turned the corner to the street where Detective Morrow was waiting in a dark Sudan. If this didn’t work, everything could go back to square one. They had to catch this guy. You had to catch this guy. He knew something. Nancy wouldn’t say what, but you could tell she was holding something back. Bartman was the key. You could just feel it.

The Sudan crept forward, keeping far enough away to not look suspicious, but close enough to give you a crumb of comfort.

You could do this.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Says the one who misses date night to go after crime bosses.”

You couldn’t wait to see the look on Matt’s face when this was over. His mild annoyance of being wrong overshadowed by pride. Proud that his girlfriend had made a difference. That you had not only helped a woman in need but also got them one step closer to catching the bigger villain here. Fisk.

You could do this.

A hand pulled you into the alley.

“Did you think it would be this easy, Nance?” Corey Bartman hissed into your ear, pinning you against the brick. “Did you think you could just leave me like that?”

You lifted your head, letting your hood fall back. “You’re never going to hurt your wife again, Corey,” you spat.

The man’s eyes widened, then filled with rage. “Why you little bitch-”

You heard the flick of a switchblade.

“Corey Bartman, you’re under arrest!” Detective Morrow’s boomed.

Corey flipped you around, arm across your chest, and switchblade at your throat. Morrow raised her gun, as did the other cops.

No no no, you needed him alive.

“Drop the knife, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow ordered. “This is not how you want this to end.”

“Don’t be stupid, Corey,” you muttered, trying to swallow without cutting yourself. You lowered your voice to a whisper, your words meant for a different presence. You could feel him, looming from one of the above rooftops. If Corey went any further, he would reveal himself and that would be a whole other problem. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“What did you say to me?” Corey snapped, tugging you closer. The blade dug just enough into your neck to break skin. You winced.

Matt would smell the blood.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you said again, hoping he would listen.

“You can come back from this, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow said. She stepped closer, eyes meeting yours. “But not if you hurt her.”

You gave her a small nod, feeling the blood drip down your neck.

Bartman gripped you, his hot breath on your ear. “This isn’t over.”

He let you go.

You couldn’t help the sigh of relief, pushing yourself away from him as Morrow pushed him against the wall and cuffed him.

“You okay, Y/L/N?” She asked. “Theo, call a bus!”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. “Really. It’s just a scratch.”

She handed Morrow off to another officer to put him in the car. “Are you sure? That looks like it hurts.”

“Nothing a little whiskey won’t help,” you smirked.

“Yeah well, go get yourself a drink then.” She gave you a smile and put a hand on your shoulder. “You earned it.” She started to walk away, turning back. “I expect you bright and early at the station to give a statement though.”

You gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”

Morrow joined the rest of her team. You sagged back against the wall.

“I know you’re there,” you breathed out.

A gloved hand pulled you further into the alley, out of sight from the others. The hand lifted to your neck, just below your new wound.

“He hurt you,” Matt growled. His other hand held onto your arm, holding you to him. “Morrow shouldn’t have let it get that far. He could have…” Matt trailed off. What if Bartman had done worse? What if he didn’t have time to stop him?

“Hey,” you said softly, laying your own hand on his cheek, feeling the fabric of the mask under your fingers. “I’m okay.” You checked to make sure no one was coming, then brought his lips down to yours. When you pulled back again, you were smiling. “We got him.”

Matt couldn’t help but return your grin. “You got him.”

“I told you I would.” You poked his chest teasingly. “It was unwise to doubt me.”

“I never said I doubted you.”

“It was heavily implied,” you laughed, making yourself wince from the sting in your neck.

Matt’s expression softened under his mask. “Come on. We should get that cleaned.”

You didn’t argue this time, letting him lead you back home.

It had been a long night for both of you. By the time you got back to Matt’s apartment, exhaustion sagged in your shoulders and weighed in his steps. You breathed in the familiar air like you were drinking water in the desert. Matt’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you to the couch while he grabbed his first aid kit.

“Really, Matt, it’s just a scratch,” you insisted.

He didn’t listen, finding a cloth to dab at the now-drying blood on your neck. You winced a little, the alcohol stinging the open cut.

Neither of you said anything. The silence hurt more than the cut did.

“I know you’re upset,” you started softly. “But I told Nancy I would help to keep her safe. Now, she is.”

Matt stayed quiet, putting the kit away.

“Matt, please. I knew what I was doing.” You reached for him, fingers grazing his arm. “And I knew you were there, watching over me. I knew that I was safe.”

In one quick motion, Matt pulled you into his arms. It almost felt like he was shaking.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered into your hair. “Please.”

You sat, shocked for a second. Then, you wrapped your arms around him, running a soothing hand up his back.

“I’ll try my best,” you teased, pulling away to look into those perfect dark, unfocused eyes. “I’m okay, Matty.”

Matt’s hands cupped your face, gently bringing your lips to his as if to remind himself you were here. You weren’t hurt, not too badly anyway. He hadn’t lost you. You were here.

“I’m okay,” you said again against his lips.

Matt pulled you into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips.

“We should get some rest,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow thanks to you.”

You bit your lip to contain your giggling. “You’re welcome.”

Matt’s hand found the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair.

You leaned into his touch. “You’re right, though.” You pulled away from him, smirking. “We really should get some sleep.”

His head fell back against the couch, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. Matt listened as the zipper of your sweatshirt, the fabric brushing over your skin as you took it off, walking toward the bedroom.

“Are you coming or not?” You asked.

In a blink, Matt was on his feet and following.

Tangled limbs, sweat-stained sheets, and the memory of sighs filling the space enveloped you as you fell asleep. Matt kept his arms around you, as if afraid you’d run off and do something stupid. Not that sneaking out was ever an option with him. The problem with dating someone with enhanced senses. An overprotective someone who didn’t like it when you did your job because it occasionally put you in dangerous situations. Dangerous situations that you were perfectly capable of getting yourself out of.

These were the thoughts running through your head as you stared up at the ceiling, Matt’s head against your stomach, his arms draped around your waist.

Then, Bartman crept into your mind. And with him, came Fisk.

Fisk.

Bartman could have papers, maybe even whole files tying him to Fisk’s operation. But they would be at his apartment. The apartment that now lay empty with its inhabitant locked up. But Fisk would send someone… if he hadn’t already.

You sat up slowly, trying to keep from moving Matt’s arm too much.

If you could get to the apartment first, if you could find something, anything that could incriminate Fisk, you could wrap this up tonight. In and out under the cover of dark. Easy.

“Where are you going?”

You flinched. Maybe not so easy.

Matt sat up beside you, kissing your shoulder. “Hmm?”

“My apartment?” God, even if he didn’t hear your heartbeat, that was unconvincing. You started to stand, but Matt gently grabbed your arm.

“You want to go over there,” he said softly.

You sighed. “There’s a lot of information just ripe for the taking.”

“So breaking and entering, theft, and pissing off a guy who beats his tenants into leaving is your plan?”

“Well, I think we’re well past the pissing him off stage,” you said.

Matt frowned.

“All the more reason you need to stay here.” He moved closer to you, but you stood up. If he held you, you would let him. And you needed to work.

“I can’t just let this lie, Matt. He hurt people. Innocent families. And he did it all for Fisk.” You ran a hand through your hair, gathering and putting your clothes back on. “We have a chance to take them both down.”

Matt stood as well, putting his hands on your arms. “You’ve done enough. You helped them catch Bartman. Let the detective do the rest.”

You pushed him away. “You mean let you do the rest.” You crossed your arms, keeping just out of his reach. “You don’t get to lecture me about being safe when you go out there and do the exact same thing.”

“Because I know how to take care of myself, Y/N,” Matt fired back. “You go out there, unarmed and unprepared and you might as well be digging your own-”

“I am not helpless!” You screamed, cutting him off. “I don’t need protection, I don’t need to be coddled, and I don’t need you.”

As soon as you said the words, you felt them sink in, watching Matt’s face fall. He took a breath, squared back his shoulders, and his features hardened again.

“Fine,” he said, concerningly calm.

You were shaking from the raging mix of emotions inside you and it infuriated you to know that he could tell. He knew every tick, every clue to how you worked. And you knew so little about him.

“Fine,” you snapped. You turned, grabbing your keys.

“Y/N, wait-” Matt started, his voice tinged with worry.

But you were already gone.

The sun hadn’t yet risen and the streetlights gave the world a menacing, muted yellow glow. You walked with your arms crossed over your chest, hands tucked under your arms to ward off the cold, and your sweatshirt hood pulled up. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being followed and it made you shiver more than the early morning air.

“I swear to god, Matt,” you muttered to yourself, but, of course, there was no answer. You kept walking, head down and eyes searching. It wasn’t hard to find Bartman’s apartment again. You’d gone over it so many times with the detective that it felt like you’d been there a million times, even if you had never set foot inside.

You went down the list, pressing each buzzer until someone let you in. It surprised you a little. After everything Bartman had put his tenants through, you expected them to be a little more cautious of who they let in. Maybe they didn’t have the energy to care anymore. After all, if the evil comes from within, what outside could be worse?

Going up the stairs, that creeping sense that made your hair stand on edge never went away. It was like someone was following right behind you, breathing down your neck. This wasn’t Matt. That was for sure. When he followed you, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, you knew it was to keep you safe. It wasn’t overbearing or dark. As annoying as it was sometimes that he didn’t trust you could take care of yourself, you always felt warmth in his presence. Like nothing could happen to you.

This feeling wanted to hurt you. It wanted you scared. It wanted you to run.

You picked the lock to Bartman’s apartment quickly and slipped inside.

Everything was dark and the heater rattled and sputtered, doing little to warm up the frigid room. Many of the light fixtures lacked bulbs, probably to save on electricity. He was cheap with his building, so you weren’t entirely surprised to find he skimped on his own living situation. Besides, Fisk probably promised him a palace compared to this place.

You turned on the flashlight on your phone and swept over the various, disgusting surfaces. You didn’t want to know what most of the stains on the tables and counters and floors were. When Fisk found men to do his dirty work, they certainly were dirty.

Through the mess, you found what looked like it could have been a desk in another, cleaner life, and started going through the drawers. All you needed was something, anything that could connect Fisk’s companies and accounts to Bartman. Even if it was just a simple check, it could be enough for a warrant or at least an investigation into Fisk.

As you rummaged around, the door clicked open and shut behind you.

“I was hoping I’d get to see you again.”

Your shoulders tensed. Your hand slowly reached for the taser in your pocket.

“It was a clever trick, you know.” Bartman stepped toward you, flicking on one of the lamps that retained their bulb. “You look like her.” He took another step. “You’ve got that same bitchiness when you walk. Like you’re better than everyone. Better than me.” He ran a thumb across his bottom lip. “Still… you just happen to be my type, sweetheart.”

“Stay away from me, Mr. Bartman.”

“You pretended to be my wife, you can at least call me by my first name.” He held out his hand with a mocking grin. “Jerry Bartman. I would say it’s a pleasure, but it won’t be for you.”

You backed away, but your back hit the desk behind you.

There was nowhere to run.

Shit.

“Who made your bail, Mr. Bartman?” You asked pointedly.

He just chuckled, looming over you. “I’ve got friends in high places, little girl.” His eyes fell behind you to an envelope sticking out of the bottom drawer.

Bingo.

“Thank you,” you said, regaining a little of your confidence. “For being such an idiot.”

You jammed the taser into his side, listening to it crackle against his flesh. He yelped and stumbled backward, giving you enough time to grab the envelope and dart for the door.

His hand caught your ankle first, yanking you to the hard, uncarpeted floor. You landed on your right arm and felt something crack. Your scream was cut off by a kick to your stomach.

“You…. little… bitch…” Bartman gasped out, holding his side with one hand and pulling back for another hit with the other.

The door opened.

Bartman looked up.

The shot.

The blood.

The body landed on top of you with crushing force, knocking the scream out of your lungs.

As the tears cleared from your vision, you saw the man standing over you, dressed in black, with an indifferent expression painting his features. You scrambled to push Bartman’s lifeless form off of you.

“Shame,” he said. He sounded bored. Like your life was little more than a nuisance he had to deal with. “And you’ve been so helpful getting him out of our way.”

He raised his gun.

Not knowing what else to do, you ran towards him, ramming into his ribs with your shoulder and making your arm scream from the secondary impact. He grunted and the second gunshot echoed through the apartment, finding its mark in the lamp bulb, shattering the only light in the apartment.

You were plunged back into darkness, but so was your attacker.

Remember what Matt taught you. Feel the air move. Listen to the smallest sounds. And never, ever let your guard down.

A stumbling step signaled you to the man’s swing, allowing you to dive out of the way before his fist could collide with your already sore ribs.

“What the hell?” He hissed. He reloaded his gun.

You kept low and moved quickly, holding your throbbing arm against your torso. Judging by the thundering steps and the sound of him stumbling into things, Bartman’s killer was completely blinded by the dark.

You ducked into the hallway and found it almost as dark as the room before. Someone had shut off the lights to the whole building. The only light was the EXIT sign at the end of the hall, tinting everything in a deep, menacing red. You could hear Mr. Trigger Happy still coming after you, and debated between your two escapes; down the stairs to hide on one of the lower floors, or out onto the faster fire escape, but left you exposed.

You ran to the red sign.

A quiet scream escaped your throat, a hand grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the exit. Your mouth was covered by a hand before you could scream again. Your back hit something firm behind you and an arm locked across your chest, holding you tightly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay it’s me,” Matt whispered, his breath hot against the back of your neck, breathing heavily like he’d run here. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

You whipped around, his arms wrapping around you, caging you safely in his embrace.

“Matt,” you gasped, voice low so only he would hear. “They killed him. Fisk. He sent someone. He killed Bartman.” You shook in his hold, turning your head to try and look down the dark hallway. “There has to be more of them. We need to get out of here before they come.”

Matt gently pushed you back, one hand firmly on your shoulder, the other gentle, softly tracing down your cheek. He could feel your heart racing, your broken bone scraping against itself, your cracked ribs creaking with every scared breath. Every sound only amplified in his chest.

“Where is he?” He growled, feeling his anger bubbling over.

“He isn’t important,” you said, a small smile breaking through your panic. You held up the envelope. “I think I found something. Bartman didn’t want me to find this and, clearly, this creep didn’t either.”

Matt shook his head, the black fabric of his mask molding to his hard expression.

“Did Fisk’s man see you?”

You swallowed.

Your silence was enough.

Matt moved you behind the wall, concealing you in a dark corner, and started back toward Bartman’s apartment.

“Stay here,” he said.

“Like hell,” you snapped. Tucking the envelope into your back waistband, you hurried after him.

Matt turned, jaw tensed and tone dangerous. “Get out of here, Y/N. Go home.”

“What, so you can beat the shit out of some guy who shot at me?” You put your good hand on your hip. “I’m not going to hide. I want to finish this. Nancy Bartman deserves to stop being afraid. We all do.”

Matt pushed you behind him.

You grimaced, the spreading pain in your arm worsened by the sudden movement.

“Really?” The hitman scoffed. “If I had known you’d be joining the party, I would have been quicker with the lady.” He smirked at you. “Friends in low places, huh?”

“Fisk has you,” you glowered, stepping out from behind Matt, “I have him.”

“Two birds-” He aimed at Matt’s head. “One stone.”

Matt moved like a bullet, knocking the man back, twisting his arm to an unnatural angle, and kicking the gun across the floor all in one fluid series of actions.

You didn’t waste time, picking up the gun and turning it on its former owner. Matt kept him on the ground, knee between his shoulder blades. You pressed the barrel against his temple.

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked.

“You know, if you wanted to get me going, you didn’t have to bring your friend.”

Matt dug his knee down.

The man cried out.

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked again, already knowing the answer.

The assassin glared up at you, his eyes glowing in the red light. “Loose end. Just like you.”

“Why does Fisk want this building?”

“He made a deal.”

“So you do work for Fisk?” You pressed the metal harder against his skin, a small victorious rush coursing through you enough to ignore the screaming in your arm.

He jerked suddenly, lunging for you.

Matt slammed the man’s head against the carpet once… twice… The man stopped moving, though you could see his chest rise and fall faintly.

“Did you hear that?” You exclaimed. “Of course, you heard it.”

Matt didn’t say anything. He just grunted as he got the man up, pulling him back to the apartment and laying him beside Bartman’s dead body.

“Call the police. I’ll make sure they find him here.”

You did as he asked, saying that you were a neighbor and heard all the noise. He called Claire so she could be at the apartment to treat your arm. Then, you followed Matt up the roof where he could listen for the police to come. He didn’t say a word to you the entire time.

You could feel the anger tensed up in his shoulders and it wasn’t from the fight. This was a different anger, one that wasn’t violent or loud or could be worked out by hitting something. This was anger that came from one thing: fear.

“I didn’t think they would come after him tonight,” you said softly, “let alone pay his bail and send him home.”

Matt’s covered face stayed turned away from you.

You took off the mask. “Matt, please.” With a hand on his cheek, you made him face you, staring into his beautiful, unstarring eyes. There were tears in them.

“When I heard the second gunshot…” He whispered, voice cracking.

A shot of guilt splintered through your chest.

But you weren’t going to back down.

“I know you think you are the only one who can face all of this, but you aren’t,” you said gently, but firmly. “You aren’t alone, Matt. We have to be partners if this is ever going to work.”

Matt sighed. He listened to your heartbeat, reminding himself that it was still beating. You had made it through, even if he thought he’d been too late. You did that. He slowly brought your lips up to his, careful not to move your arm too much.

When you both eventually pulled back, a small smirk spread across his face.

“You know, when you were standing there, gun against that guy's head, even I was a little intimidated,” he chuckled.

“Right? I can be a badass when I want to be,” you snickered, laying your head on his shoulder. You turned so you could see his face, lightly kissing his jaw. “We make a pretty good team. Maybe you should let me go out with you…”

Matt laughed, the sound turning less amused. “Don’t push it.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you held your injured arm in your lap as he held you. The two of you sat and waited for the sirens and lights to break through the dark of the night.

Hey look, I remembered the tag list this time!

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascall; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216; @yellowbubblewrap

#matt murdock #charlie cox #matt murdock x reader #daredevil imagines #daredevil #marvel #daredevil born again #daredevil netflix

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theflashesoflove · 1 year ago

Text

obstacle I

Larissa Weems x f!reader (nsfw) – series

part I :: part ll :: ao3

summary: Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

a/n: i always dreaded writing series, but this woman inspires me so much that i'm finally up for the challenge. i hope i will be consistent with my writing enough to bring this story where i want it to be. filthy, angsty and gentle. i think there will be two or three more chapters and it is also crossposted on ao3. btw i have a vague idea of what architects do so if you notice some factual mistakes let's pretend that in my silly imaginary world things work this way. the names of the chapters are lyrics from interpol's 'turn on the bright lights' album (it's brilliant, a huge recommend if you like male manipulator music like i do haha). proofread, and i hope it doesn't sound as broken as i think it does. (bracing myself) let's set this little bird free into the wild.

general warnings/tags: unhealthy online relationship, dom!larissa x sub!reader dynamics, sexting, nudes, masturbation + angst and all that stuff to come

chapter word count: 4k

Part I: you are linked to my innocence

Sitting on the balcony, you admired the sun slowly crawling up from its slumber, painting the sky with faint yellow and pink shades, warming up the cool earth. The view before you made you smile. Perhaps having trouble sleeping had its benefits – you could admire such a beautiful sunrise and feel at peace for at least the next hour, before the world would wake up and start swirling around you, overwhelming and demanding.

Thinking of someone who was also so very demanding, you pulled out your phone and started recording the serene scenery. You tried to hold your phone still, though it was hard because of the chilly wind that made you shiver. Ending the video, you opened the messenger and sent it to a woman who made your heart sing just like the morning birds sang, greeting the sun.

You scrolled up your message history with her for a bit, smirking. What a sweet little relationship you had, one time you would send her a beautiful view out of your window, the next time – a picture of you touching yourself in the most sinful way.

Couldn’t sleep again? and What a lovely view, she replied an hour later. Not as lovely as you, though, she added after.

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Her name was Lydia and she had just the right way with her words. She would text you, Send me a picture, and you would rush out of your meeting to the bathroom to send her a selfie. She would text you, What a beautiful shirt you are wearing, unbutton it for me, and you would spend a bit more time in the bathroom sending her picture after picture.

You didn’t know what she looked like. She rarely sent you pictures in return, and you had only one 10 seconds long video of her touching herself. Her fingers were slender, her nails were painted a burgundy red colour, and she had those plush thighs that you wanted to squeeze with your hands. She was a woman of exquisite taste – taste in music, in foods, in lingerie.

You never asked her for more. It was entirely your choice to reveal your face on one of the first videos you sent her. She once told you, Don’t call me by my name on those videos, call me your mistress. You obliged. You always did. An impulse to ask the woman if she could reveal her face bubbled up inside your chest from time to time, but you pushed it away, never willing to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps there was something she didn’t like about herself, perhaps she wanted to be more mysterious and enticing, perhaps she just needed a bit more time – and it had been a year! Never being a selfish one, you suppressed your questions and played by her rules.

She knew a lot about your life. You didn’t realise that you barely knew about hers. You knew that her work was stressful enough to make her speak to you in an especially dirty way in the night, urging you to send new videos for her to let off steam. You could only imagine her, spread on her bed to your sinful sound and pleas. You would tell her, i wish i could see how pleased my mistress is right now, nudging her to send you a picture in return. The woman would just answer, Don’t doubt it, I am very pleased with my darling girl, thank you and end the conversation until the next morning. You knew that she played piano and was popular in high school, though a bit overshadowed by her best friend at the time. You knew that she liked long walks in nature, ice skating and that her favourite season was autumn. She never pressed you to share any details about your life, but you did it nonetheless.

It all started rather accidentally, and you told her millions of times how glad you were that she found you. There was an old record player that you wanted to sell online, and you even gave out a Fleetwood Mac vinyl in addition to it for free. The woman contacted you, anonymous at that time, though she contacted you too late, and the record player was already sold. It didn’t stop the two of you from continuing the conversation, talking about music and antique pieces of furniture she adored. After that, everything escalated quickly – topics changing topics and bringing you into dynamics you didn’t know you would enjoy this much. She teased you a lot, and at first you acted shy and hesitant, bending under her dominance and unravelling your own fantasies over time. She wrapped you around her finger, and on one particular evening you sent her your first video. The woman made it clear that she was hopeful to receive more of those in the future.

Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. If you told any of your friends about Lydia, they would tell you that you went nuts. They would tell you to stop texting her immediately and delete the chat to destroy the blackmail material that you’d shared with a stranger. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

Back in the day, you suggested moving the conversation from reselling website direct messages to a more convenient messenger, one that the woman hadn’t heard of before. It took her two days to create an account for contacting you there. Her profile picture was a bush of red flowers, her personal information included just a lyric of a song she liked, and all of it was only for your eyes to see. Not much, but her empty profile on an app which she signed in just for you never aroused any suspicions. Well, sometimes it did, but then she would ask you how your day went and the sweetness of the texts the two of you shared washed your worries away.

In fact, it wasn’t all about sexting. You could see that she was genuinely interested and caring, and you didn’t send her pictures and videos every day, after all. Maybe… three times a week? Five if she was desperate. She woke up earlier than you if you managed to fall asleep the night before and always brightened your day from its beginning with a sweet ‘Good morning, darling’ message. She always wished you a good night and checked in throughout the day, answering your texts and moving the conversation forward. Sometimes she would even send you flowers, and a delivery man would call you and ask for the address. The man would appear on your porch with a delicate bouquet later, a card attached to the wrapping would say, ‘To my favourite girl – L’. You could only giggle and smile to yourself for the rest of the day. No matter how hard you tried to get her number to send something in return, the woman would always brush you off. You can send me a picture in return, she would text you. That was exactly what you would do next.

You’d always start with pictures. On days when you felt especially good about yourself, you didn’t even wait for her to ask. Undressing, you would send her several pictures, losing yet another piece of closing on every photo. Sometimes it would take her too long to reply, and you would record a video for her in advance. There wasn’t any surface in your house that wasn’t caught on camera while you would thrust your fingers inside, making it all pretty and appealing to look at. The sounds you made were an absolute turn on for her, and you always ensured that you put on a good show. It wasn’t even necessary to try hard, you would just recall all the dirty messages she sent you over the course of your relationship, you would imagine how it would feel to be held by her, how those long fingers would pound into you, how her lips would tease your flushed skin. You had a good imagination, and it was enough. The tiniest bits of her that were available to you – all of it was enough, that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. A hopeless romantic you were, blindly expecting that one day she would surprise you and reveal herself, and tell you how much she wanted to meet you in person. Still, it never came. That day never came, and you tried not to overthink it. You were supposed to be grateful for what you already had, after all.

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I have a very important meeting today and I just know that it won’t go easy on me. Can you please bend over your desk for me this evening, dearest? Lydia texted you a few hours later after receiving the video.

of course, mistress, you answered playfully. your boss doesn’t give you a break, huh? ;)

Thank you, darling girl, I’ll be waiting, she replied, ignoring the message about her boss.

You made sure to text her during your lunch break, checking if she didn’t forget to eat in between her piles of work. She told you that she had a snack and it was very nice of you to bother. A couple of hours later she asked how were you feeling since you didn’t get any sleep last night. You told her that you were running on energy drinks and green tea and she jokingly scolded you for the energy drinks part. It made you bite your lower lip, how caring she was for you in return.

The desk in your office was never neat. Scattered papers, your laptop always on charge, heated up with architect software. You hunched over the plan with a pencil in your hand, making sure that the plumbing system of the building made sense at all. Working in a reconstruction and restoration company, you never really got a chance to do the part you studied for in the first place. Always checking other architects’ plans and fixing their mistakes for them, not having the opportunity to do something of your own. Your days were filled with somewhat ridiculous tasks yet even those managed to make you feel the struggle of workload.

The surface of your desk shuddered when your phone buzzed with a reminder about forthcoming meeting, and you straightened, feeling a familiar ache in your lower back. You threw on a jacket, took your phone and notebook and left your office, politely smiling at coworkers passing by.

The meeting went as smoothly as always – at least you enjoyed the working atmosphere of the company. Your boss talked about the updates in the company policy and proceeded to inform the staff about upcoming projects. He announced that the Principal of Nevermore school contacted them for the reconstruction work, and your coworkers didn’t even try to hide their opinions on outcasts and how infamous the school was, especially after the causality that happened a few months ago. Not paying attention to their grumbling, you thought it would be a great opportunity to finally show your skills, and your boss thought so too.

“Y/N, you will take over this project. I’m passing you the papers with details, I feel like the time to shine has come!” he said, approaching your seat with a folder in his hands. Some of your coworkers sighed in relief, glad that they wouldn’t be involved with Nevermore. It made you wince – you never thought badly of outcasts like the majority of others did, the idea of being hostile towards someone just because they were different made you nauseous like it would do to any decent person. “The Principal insists on cooperation, and I have to warn you – you will probably have to visit the site more times than would be necessary for a usual project. I hope it won’t be a problem,” he said with a light smirk.

You smiled and bit your cheek, anticipation tingling on your fingertips. “No, it won’t be a problem. Thank you,” you uttered, taking the folder. “When am I supposed to start?”

“Next week. We arranged a meeting with Principal Weems, she said it was very important for the school, and I quote, ‘to thoroughly negotiate the reconstruction process’.”

The school was enormous, but the work was connected to a relatively small part of it, a tower that was destroyed recently. You spent the rest of your evening studying the documents – an old plan of the school that included the tower. It was impressive how old this building was. Besides, you would be taking part in preserving and reconstructing the historic site, the whole prospect of reconstructing a part of Nevermore ensemble sounded like a dream coming true. The fact of such a project being granted to you to work on would be unbelievable if deep down you didn’t know the reason for it. It seemed that no one from your company wanted to work with Nevermore, but the school was about to pay generously, so they had to find someone to 'deal with the outcasts'. How foolish your coworkers were for declining such an opportunity, you thought, smiling to yourself.

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Back home, you didn’t bother to change into your indoor clothes, knowing full well that you would need to be completely naked soon anyway. Having had a quick meal and relaxed on the couch, closing your eyes for a little too long than you planned, you finally entered your bedroom and started setting a scene. Sometimes the lengths you went to make a perfect video for Lydia made you embarrassed, but how could you do it any other way? The woman’s attention was worth all of your efforts. You cleaned up your desk, returning previously forgotten mugs to the kitchen, shoving papers into the desk drawer and moving the pile of laundry laying on the floor out of frame. The curtains had to be closed for the last sun rays entering your bedroom not messing with the lighting on camera, the cosy shine of a garland and the dim light of a bedside lamp would be enough to illuminate your form in the most lovely way. You checked your reflection in the mirror and wiped away a few particles of mascara from under your eyes. For a second you tensed, your insecurity taking over. Would Lydia like you as much if she saw you in person? Wouldn’t she be disappointed that a flawless image you tried to create for her wasn’t as flawless in real life? Perhaps that was why she didn’t want to meet up in the first place? Did she already know that wasting the time of her busy schedule would completely disenchant her perception of you? You took a deep breath and shook your head, backing off from the mirror. It was alright. She liked you. Still you desperately wanted to be perfect for her.

The next thing you did was distract yourself with having fun and a bit of a struggle with setting up a phone stand out of books. After you were sure that your phone wouldn’t slide down halfway through the recording, you set a 10 seconds timer and started slowly unbuttoning your shirt to catch the process on camera. The photo turned out just the way you wanted from the first try, revealing the right amount of skin and a glimpse of your lingerie. It didn’t even matter in the end, but you were always attentive to details. Completely taking off your shirt, you grabbed your phone and took the second picture – a close up of your lacy bra, nipples visible through the fabric, collarbones calling to be showered with your mistress’ kisses. The sound of timer counting down rang across your bedroom once again, you unhooked your bra to send it down onto the floor and stepped back, already topless, unzipping your pants and craning your neck to the side with a soft smile on your lips. Oh, how much you loved spoiling Lydia even if sometimes it stressed you out to the point of worrying about your imperfections. Your pants made their way onto the floor as well, out of the frame, of course, and as the next timer started counting down, you rushed to your desk to bend over it prettily, exposing your cheeks for the last photo. Then, you returned to your phone and sent pictures to Lydia, smiling to yourself at the thought of her ending her tedious day of work and seeing your message.

It took you a fair amount of time to warm yourself up for the video by bringing yourself to the edge with a vibrator, uncomfortably sprawled in your chair and growing hotter with every second. You barely managed to stop yourself from climaxing, removing the vibrator from your clit and standing up on wobbly legs to continue your filming session. The phone was settled into its makeshift stand again, the sun finally settled, not peeking through the curtains anymore, which made the scene look especially intimate in the dimmed lights, and you were ready to absolutely ruin yourself for Lydia. After pressing the record button, you bent over your desk once again, and massaged your cheeks, squeezing and pulling to reveal your glistening sex. Having satisfied your need to tease the woman a little more, you spread your legs wider and took a toy that rested on the desk the whole time.

Teasing your wet entrance with the toy, you pleaded into the silence of your room, “Oh, please, fuck me… fuck me, mistress, please…”

By the time you finished, you were worn out – the position was rather uncomfortable, especially when you had to work with your hand from behind. You pressed the side of your face against the surface and sighed happily, “Thank you, mistress, you are so good to me.” There was a deep red mark of the edge of the desk on your knee, the wood was digging into your skin almost the whole time you were filming after you decided to move your leg higher for better access and view. The awkward scene of you grunting as you lifted yourself from the desk and padded over to your bed to stop the recording was cropped out later.

An hour passed by, and Lydia finally answered your messages, saying that she was done with the meeting and work for the day, ready to witness you coming undone for her.

You look absolutely ravishing, dear. Let me see how you used that toy on your pretty pussy?

are you already in bed? You asked, trying to withhold the sweet video a little longer.

No, darling. I’m taking a bath right now, she answered, arousing the urge in you to ask her if she could give you at least a glimpse of her body basking in the warm water. You didn’t ask her.

I need you, came a text seconds later, and you couldn’t resist her anymore.

The video went on for about 11 minutes, you didn’t know if you should have made it shorter or longer for her liking. You wondered how long it would take her, you wondered what she would use to pleasure herself and how it would feel to be with her in that moment, spreading shower gel all over her breasts and teasing her with your thigh pressed against her core. You wondered how it would feel to just settle in her lap, wrap your hands around her shoulders and hide your face in her neck, revelling in her presence.

The waiting after sending her those kinds of videos was the most tortuous one, you didn’t yet know if she liked the video or not, you didn’t know if it met her expectations, you didn’t know if it even made her wet and eager to pleasure herself. Sometimes you were afraid that she wouldn’t even bother to watch it or to reply to you ever again. Fifteen minutes later, you got a response – 1 attachment. Your heart somersaulted against your ribcage, and you hesitated for a moment before tapping on the notification, prolonging the excitement of not knowing what she sent you.

Those beautiful thighs. Oh, how much you thought about them wrapping around your head, how many times you rewatched the only video she sent you, remembering the patterns of stretch marks along her skin. She looked especially soft and rosy, her wet pubic hair neatly covered her sex, and the foam melted around her body, glistening on camera. The water was steamy and her hand rested on the rim of the bathtub – you could only assume that she was completely spent.

i would eat you out until those gorgeous legs are shaking, you texted after a while of staring, unable to think straight.

Not before I would be done edging you for hours, she cheekily answered. And before you could think of a suitable response in the same dirty fashion, she sent her next message, Thank you, dearest. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.

A smile spread across your features, so wide it almost started to hurt. You plumped down on the bed and nuzzled your nose into the pillow, vainly seeking her scent that was never there in the first place. Contented that the woman felt about you this way, you closed your eyes and tried to imagine her. Imagine, imagine, imagine – it was the only thing you could do. In that moment, you hopelessly wanted to press yourself into her, to cling to her body and dissolve in her warmth. How much you yearned for her to give you real proximity, to caress your sides as she would bury her face in your hair and fall asleep next to you, breathing peacefully. Or she would let you lie down on her chest and listen to her calming heartbeat, holding your hand and circling your skin with her thumb.

A couple of red heart emojis were sent Lydia’s way and you locked your phone, turned on your back and looked at the ceiling. Fulfilled and deprived at the same time.

by the way, i was given a new project today! You texted Lydia five minutes later, remembering that you forgot to share the exciting news. i’m so happy, they finally gave me the big girl stuff to do haha

That’s amazing, dear. I’m very proud of you, Lydia answered, making you blush.

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The next Monday you were on your way to Nevermore – it felt very exciting to leave the office for once to see the site of reconstruction. To your surprise, it wasn’t that long of a ride, you expected the school to be more distant from Jericho than it was. Driving along the road that was framed by thick forest made you want to pull over for a second to take a picture of towering trees, branches tranquilly swinging in the wind, the sun peaking through the leaves. However it would be a bad idea, unless you wanted to be late for the meeting more than you already were.

The building of Nevermore astonished you from the first glance. A dark fantasy, elaborate decorations and old-fashioned high ceilings. You arrived at the brink of evening – Principal Weems didn’t have time for the meeting until 5 p.m. – and the golden hour made the school look even more otherworldly. You didn’t need a tour since you had an insight on what the building was like inside, and the location of classrooms and halls didn’t really change over decades. Approaching the Principal’s office, you adjusted the collar of your shirt and fixed your hair – this was serious, you had to make a good impression on the client.

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a/n: oh, larissa... honey, you've got a big storm coming

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #gwendoline christie

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dysfunctionalupsidedown · 4 months ago

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An Analysis Of "STurn": My Turn

Hello, everyone! This is my first real post/analysis of anything Stranger Things related, so please keep that in mind while reading. I'm sure there are quite a few analyses about this playlist already (I'm definitely late to the party,) but I still wanted to add my two cents.

Feel free to let me know if any information I've provided is incorrect. My main source is Genius.com, which isn't at all the most reliable; even still, it'll help to give a clearer picture of each track's meaning and how the general public (which includes Finn) interprets them. I'm attempting to go by what I think Finn's intentions were.

Also, don't forget that this analysis was done under the assumption that the "STurn" playlist is a somewhat play-by-play outline of how specifically Mike Wheeler's S5 arcs might happen. The playlist could be entirely unrelated to ST5. It could be related to all the characters and arcs in ST5. It could be out of order, or based on vibes -- We really have no way of knowing until the full season comes out.

Finally, I tried my best to keep the analysis somewhat objective and reasonable, and I hope I've at least partly succeeded. This is all in good fun, in the end. Now that I've finished housekeeping, please enjoy my thoughts and feel free to chime in with your ideas in the comments! I'm always open to changing my perspective.

1. Ballad of the Texas King

Let's begin! This song starts with the lyrics, "No one saw / Nothing at all, no law was there to fight / All dressed down / Walkin' out in the California night". I believe this is a more surface-level vibe-setting song, considering where Mike ended in S4. It may also imply that the start of S5 begins where S4 left off. A lot of car imagery is also present throughout, which was a big part of Mike's S4 journey.

There are ideas of being separated as well, with lyrics like "My heart won't beat / 'Til we meet again together". This may allude to Mike's feelings towards the end of S4, having been separated from Hawkins/his family.

2. What You're Doing - Remastered 2009

Genius.com claims this song was written about Paul McCartney's then-rocky relationship at the time. The lyrics make this very clear, so there's really no alternate angle from which I can read. Let me know in the comments if you interpreted it differently.

In specific, the lyrics "You got me running / And there's no fun in it / Why should it be so much to ask of you / What you're doing to me?", "Please stop your lying / You got me crying, girl", and "I've been waiting here for you / Wondering what you're gonna do / And should you need a love that's true / It's me" really intrigue me. This could refer to Mike's relationship.

The song suggests that the partner may be withdrawing in multiple ways, with the singer grieving over it and attempting to prove their love. El may be starting to distance herself, and Mike could be struggling with it. At the end of S4, El was understandably focused on her failure, to the point where she hadn't really spoken to Mike in the days following it.

I don't think it would be surprising if everything was too much and she ends up pushing herself away from him. I wouldn't say it's implying a break-up, but maybe distancing issues.

3. After The Earthquake

Again, it's pretty surface-level in the beginning. There was a devastating earthquake in-universe, which supports the theory that "STurn" connects to ST5 in some way. The song tells a story, though, and I recommend looking up it's inspiration.

Despite the choice seeming surface-level at first, After The Earthquake may be implying more for Mike in ST5. Genius.com's contributors interpret the song's narrative as, "[Molly Rankin applying the] concept of post-catastrophe clarity to a couple that got into a major disagreement before one of them falls into a coma from a car crash... In a metaphorical sense, [the song] could describe a more mild situation in which Rankin must put their conflict on hold because something more important turns up." I don't think it's too far-fetched to say that Finn picked up on this. The idea of a disagreeing couple and coma is also prevalent in ST, but like I said in the beginning, I'm going to try to connect these songs to Mike Wheeler specifically.

Although this may be me reading too deeply into it, the metaphorical meaning of the track pairs pretty well with the implications of What You're Doing. It also fits in well narratively, considering that more important things are happening aside from the drama -- the earthquake being one of them. Mike could be putting all of his current issues (internal-conflict-related, relationship, or otherwise) on hold for the moment. He continues to struggle with suppressing his problems later on in the playlist, as well.

4. Promises I've Made

This song is about mourning a lost or ex-lover. The opening lyrics, "Ever since you have gone, the days don't seem so bright / And I wish I could forget you but I can't / Ever since you have gone, I haven't felt quite right / And I promised I'd forget all that you meant" address this quite directly.

At this point, it's possible that Mike has either been broken up with or the pair have gone their separate ways for some reason. It wouldn't be too crazy to say something like that will occur and he'll grieve it, keeping in mind that one of Mike's main fears is losing El. I just don't know why they'd continue to make it the subject of conflict in S5 (unless it hasn't been fully resolved yet.)

Physical distance between the two also makes sense when considering that Mike is, supposedly, teaming up with other characters next season. Personally, I'm leaning slightly more towards a break-up because of what the previous songs have set up, but, ultimately, it's up to interpretation. It's possible they've just been physically distanced while in a bad spot.

5. Angst In My Pants

This song is about a person attempting to be someone they're not, suppressing who they really are, and it ultimately leading to dissatisfaction. The lyrics, "You can dress nautical / Learn to tie knots / Take lots of Dramamine / Out on your yacht" describe a faux lifestyle one lives that only serves to hurt them in the end: The idea of putting on a self-harming persona. This could be what Mike is going through in S5, and his teased wardrobe change from S4 supports this.

The lyrics, "I hope it doesn't show / It'll go away / It's just a passing phase / It'll go away" and, "I hope it doesn't show / It'll go 'way / Give it a hundred years / It won't go 'way" are particularly fascinating and can have multiple interpretations.

For one, it could be Mike trying to hide his real personality following Eddie's death and the collective panic by acting out a more "normal" and "idealized" life -- painfully repressing his true self in the process. This is supported by the lyrics I first discussed. Hiding and embracing differences is a theme in Stranger Things, and I wouldn't be surprised if this is where they take Mike in S5.

Another interpretation involves the previous lyrics, as well as, "But when you think you made it disappear / It comes again, 'Hello, I'm here'". This sounds more like someone trying and failing to suppress a thought. Coupled with "It's just a passing phase", it appears to be a feeling or belief instead of someone's true personality, although I do believe that's a big part of it, too.

Whatever it may be, Mike is definitely struggling with something at this point. He's pushing it down, hiding it, and hoping "..it doesn't show" and that "It'll go away".

6. The Better Side - Audiotree Live Version

Half way through! This one gave me more of a challenge because there aren't any written lyrics to analyze. From what I can gather, the track is about a person yearning for someone who is a better fit(?) The lyrics that best support this interpretation are, "You're on the better side / You're always the better one for me" and "Don't make me do the falling when I'm drinking of you". Again, if you have any alternate interpretations, please let me know. I'd like to take all ideas into account.

The final lyrics are interesting, "And you're all that I need / I'm not gonna miss you anymore". This can be read as the narrator longing to accept a person into their life and bring them closer. I'm especially interested in the final line because it implies there was something to miss, as if an emotional rift or gap was there.

Mike has come to a realization about something, as shown in Angst In My Pants, and it might partly be about a new thought he's trying to push down, "It'll go away". It's possible the "thought" is about newly developing feelings he isn't ready to accept(?) I don't want to say for certain, though. Nonetheless, it seems like he recognizes this person's importance and "better fit" for him, despite trying to repress it. A fairly surface-level read, but it's the only conclusion I'm able to come to.

Alternatively, it might be about El. The distance apart could be what gets him to solidify how he feels about her. However, Angst In My Pants and multiple songs establishing a separation precede The Better Side. The track is about a better option, as well. Those facts alone make me think of this interpretation as unlikely, so it's not one I personally hold.

7. Don't Ask Me to Explain

Don't Ask Me to Explain is about two people who are afraid to confess their true feelings to one another, so instead they hide them; with one of the two seemingly more uncertain. It's also, from what I've researched, supposedly about two people of the same gender. There's a possibility that this is irrelevant to the track's purpose in the playlist, but I kept it in mind considering the other songs and my personal interpretation. It's also important to note that these "true feelings" could be about a multitude of things.

The lyrics, "How will I ever know you enough to love you / If you're hiding who you are?", "How am I supposed to let it show / When I don't even know?", and, "Besides, I don't want to be the one who's coming out first / I'd really like to but I'm just too shy" support this reading.

I interpreted the last line, "It's so easy to laugh to myself / And pretend that I could love you but I can't" in two different ways. Either it's the narrator doubting their feelings for someone else, or it's the narrator recognizing that they can't let themselves embrace their love for someone, for one reason or another.

As for Mike, his progression makes the most sense to me in the following interpretation. There are multiple and, again, please let me know your ideas in the comments. I narrowed it down to just the one so I don't start nit-picking.

Mike went from a realization, "It's just a passing phase / It'll go away" (Angst In My Pants) to a sort of acceptance, "You're always the better one for me" (The Better Side) to struggling to admit it out loud, "How am I supposed to let it show / When I don't even know?"

An LGBTQ+ or "new love interest" interpretation is what I'm able to gather from this. It could describe Mike falling for 'someone' and not knowing how to be open about it due to fear and doubt; with the other person feeling the same way. It may be a surface-level reading, and I'm sure there are several other ways to interpret the track, but that's what I've been able to conclude thus far.

8. What Do You Want Me To Do?

This one might be the most difficult for me to figure out, but I'm going to try.

The song and the lyrics, "You walked out, took your chance / You turned your back on our romance / You said you found somebody new / You said the change'd do you good" and "You never even gave me a thought / You figured that would be all right / I nevеr had a chance to persuade you / You nеver let me put up a fight" remind me a lot of What You're Doing.

One way to look at it is that it might have the same purpose as What You're Doing -- adding a sort of angsty frustration vibe. I don't know if it would be used to set up a "come crawling back" moment because I don't think that would make sense (especially in Stranger Things), but it's a random possibility I'm throwing out there.

Alternatively, the 'person' that Mike has feelings for could have rejected him for someone else(?) Again, I don't think this would make much narrative sense in Stranger Things, but we don't know what the next season's going to look like.

I'm personally reading it as the former because there are other songs in the playlist used to set the tone. Keeping What You're Doing and Promises I've Made in mind, an additional break-up song is on theme. There's still the possibility of another conflict, though. If anyone else has different thoughts on what the song could be implying, I'd appreciate the input.

9. Substitute - Live

This track is about an idealized version of someone being put in place of their true self. The narrator describes a scenario in which their partner sees a version of them, "I'm a substitute for another guy / I look pretty tall but my heels are high / The simple things you see are all complicated / I look bloody young, but I'm just back-dated, yeah", that is unrealistic and put on, as seen in the lyrics "Substitute your lies for fact / I see right through your plastic mac / I look all white, but my dad was black / My fine-looking suit is really made out of sack" The couple also seem to be having issues with this, or in general, that they're not addressing, "It's a genuine problem, you won't try / To work it out at all, just pass it by, pass it by"

The concept of a guise applies well to Mike, as referenced in Angst In My Pants. A recurring theme of hiding oneself really makes me think Mike is going to completely abandon his interests for a different lifestyle. I believe Finn has also mentioned that Mike wants to be as "normal" as possible, so I can't wait to see where they take that idea. It could also be him realizing how he's been acting, and admitting that this "romanticized" version isn't true to him. I have hope that Mike will eventually learn to embrace his differences and what he enjoys.

While this part is a bit nit-picky, I feel it's fun to mention that the song was inspired by a lyric in The Tracks of My Tears by Smokey Robinson; the lyric being, "Although she may be cute / She's just a substitute". The line following this (which is also referenced in Substitute's Genius.com entry) is, "Because you're the permanent one". Funnily enough, these lyrics also fit into the narrative the playlist is laying out. They remind me a lot of what The Better Side represents.

Out of context, the lines from The Tracks of My Tears may imply that someone is either using another person as a substitute for an ex, or that someone is realizing they've been using their previous partner as a substitute for someone better. Both routes have the potential to happen in ST5. Although, I don't know if the idea of a literal substitute fits with what The Who was going for. The Tracks of My Tears is also not on "STurn", so take this part as a fun fact with a grain of salt on the side.

At the end of the day, we don't know Finn's motivation for adding Substitute, so this is what we'll have to go off of for now. I feel as though the former interpretation, a less literal "substitute," holds the most merit considering the theme of personas.

10. The Rebel Kind

Like The Better Side, I couldn't find any lyrics, so I'm doing it by ear. Though, I'm happy to say that this song is about a desire to embrace differences and rebellion. "We'll be free to run with the rebel kind" and "It's not easy, but I don't mind / I just want to run with the rebel kind" establish that. The track appears to tie into Mike's insecurity struggles throughout the playlist.

The lyric "They call us the rebel kind" hints to the panic brewing at the end of S4. Mike might start to embrace and stand behind his true self at whatever point this is in the season. The line following, "But they don't understand / The things a man must do to prove that he's a man", can be taken in different ways depending on how the lyrics are read.

It could be the narrator's struggle to keep up with societal norms before finally giving in to their truth instead of trying to conform, read as "they call us rebels but don't get how hard it is to for us to keep up." On the other hand, it could be the narrator commenting on how society doesn't understand people like them, and, by embracing their true self, it proves more about who they are than conforming ever would; read as, "you think we're the rebellious ones, but you don't understand that we're more self-secure and strong than you'll ever be."

I can see both of these interpretations working for Mike and his connection to the Party. The progression of insecurity in Angst In My Pants and potential realization of this guise in Substitute is wrapped up by Mike's self-acceptance here. I really hope this is how it plays out in S5.

11. Block Rockin' Beats

There's not much to analyze because this track has one repeated line of lyrics, but it's definitely here to set a tone. The song may have a similar vibe-setting purpose as What Do You Want Me To Do? and Ballad of the Texas King. That's just my theory, though. (A ST5 theoryyy!)

Perhaps this is a climax of sorts where the cast fight the "big bad." The music's tone is intense and sort of aggressive. It's definitely a fun addition to the playlist, whatever the song's purpose in it may be.

12. Just What I Needed

Finally, we have Just What I Needed. I read this song in two different ways.

The first way I interpreted it was as a love song about the narrator not caring about who this person is, and realizing they need them in spite of it all. The lyrics, "It's not the perfume that you wear / It's not the ribbons in your hair / And I don't mind you comin' here / And wastin' all my time", "Cause when you're standin' oh so near / I kinda lose my mind, yeah", and "I needed someone to bleed / Yeah, yeah, so bleed me" support this.

The second possible reading is that the narrator realizes they were/are in a codependent relationship and they still love the person. The lyrics, "I guess you're just what I needed / I needed someone to feed / I guess you're just what I needed / I needed someone to bleed" and "I don't mind you hangin' out / And talkin' in your sleep / It doesn't matter where you've been / As long as it was deep, yeah", could be read as more of a "you're what I needed at the time, but I still love you and want you in my life." With this reading, it's unclear whether or not the love is romantic or platonic. Maybe I'm looking too far into it, but this is what some Genius.com contributors brought up, and it would feel wrong to not include this understanding of the song.

I'm just assuming, since The Rebel Kind seemed to tie up Mike's self-security problem, that this track is supposed to imply a resolution with his romantic issues. Under that impression, there are a few ways we can look at it.

It could be an acceptance for who he has feelings for. He went from mourning a loss in Promises I've Made, noticing something and hoping it goes away in Angst In My Pants, potentially coming to terms with the fact that this person is his "better" choice in The Better Side, wanting to admit a truth but feeling doubtful in Don't Ask Me to Explain, comprehending that he's able to embrace his authentic self in The Rebel Kind, to now admitting, possibly out loud, that this person was "just what [he] needed". That could be far-fetched, but it's just what I picked up on throughout the playlist.

However, it may also pertain to his self-identity struggle that's hinted at throughout (can you tell that I love this part of Mike?) while also tying into his romance issues. He went through a difficult separation with someone in What You're Doing and Promises I've Made, put on a persona and suppressed his true self in Angst In My Pants, realized he couldn't keep it going and needed to address it in Substitute, embraced himself in The Rebel Kind, and now recognizes that the relationship may have been codependent and holding him back from fully dropping the facade: "I guess you're just what I needed" -- in the moment. I don't know if that's too in-depth of a read, but it's a possibility.

While not relevant to the playlist in it's context, it's fun to bring up the fact that Just What I Needed was apparently also the final track listed on the 'official' "Will's Castle Byers Classics" playlist created by Spotify. It's not available anymore, so I can't really say it as a fact. Although, recreations of the playlist have been made long before "STurn" was a thing, and the song was added as the last track as far back as 2018. I suppose that's proof enough that it was at least on the playlist.

Finn listing it as the final track may be a reference to "Will's Castle Byers Classics", but it's also likely that there's no association. That's why I gave the song an equal amount of analysis instead of writing it off as a reference. As to how canon those playlists are, I don't think it particularly matters. It's true that Finn could've seen Just What I Needed in the Will playlist and put it on "STurn", thinking of it as a fun easter egg. There could or could not be implications for that and I'd be remiss to ignore it. I don't know if this rings true for any of the other songs on "STurn" as well -- if they're connected to any other character playlists. Feel free to let me know if they are!

TL;DR

This was really hefty post, and I apologize for that, so here's a summary/recap of what I think S5 may have in store for Mike Wheeler.

Summary:

The season likely starts off at the end of S4, with us seeing Mike react to everything that's happened in Hawkins and reuniting with his family. Tension or unresolved conflicts may be arising in his relationship(s) as well, but he puts it aside to focus on the more important tasks at hand. Either his relationship is put aside with this, or there's an eventual separation that occurs, and he mourns it. After, he tries to maintain normalcy and puts on a guise to appease others. During this time, he may start to have a realization about something that he attempts to repress. He eventually comes to terms with it, though, recognizing that there's someone (maybe something?) better for him. He wants to admit to these true feelings, but he'll struggle with hiding, doubting, and fearing them; thinking he can't allow himself to fully love this person or, at least, admit to whatever feelings or "truth" he possesses. Mike will most likely continue to struggle with mixed feelings and hiding his true personality after this, eventually admitting to not being fully authentic. He'll then accept his true self for what it is. This will lead into a climax, where the main conflict of the show will be resolved. Finally, he'll accept and admit his true feelings, realizing that all he needed to do in the end was be entirely honest with (and about) himself.

In Conclusion

I really want this to be where they take Mike in ST5. It would be such a satisfying thing to watch, especially with how he's acted the past two seasons. I think he deserves to have a self-love/acceptance arc because the show has made it clear he's insecure and inauthentic.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know your thoughts and interpretations in the comments, as well as if there's anything you think I should add/fix. I'd love to hear what others have to say about "STurn" and it's connections to ST :)!

#Mike Wheeler let me into your head challenge #stranger things #stranger things analysis #stranger things speculation #stranger things 5 #st5 #st5 spoilers #mike wheeler #el hopper #eleven stranger things #will byers #byler #<- target audience #byler analysis #STurn

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