#these strangers on my dash are my boop friends and I love them

[hyraeth]

I (accidentally) followed so many new blogs in The Great Boopage of 2024 that half of my dash is filled with gifsets of shows I've never watched, and you know what, feels like 2012 Tumblr again, nature is healing

[familyvideostevie]

hey.

okay. hello! i'm back. :)

maybe you noticed, maybe not, but i have been away for a while.

i wish i could say i've been out living my life, so caught up in happiness and joy and loving each day that i've just not had time for tumblr. but....that is not true. i have been having a tough time! being away has been good, as i've had time to do other things that i like and to put energy into my own well-being, but it hasn't been the best time, I'll tell you that.

i peeked on the dash every now and then to keep my queue full and reblogged soothing things to my main blog and tried my best not to feel guilty about it all (i was also booping on April 1 lol). i just...I really needed a break. i've really enjoyed being here the last six or so months as i've changed my blog and entered the pedro/tlou space but i've also felt so, so alone.

and i know that it doesn't really matter!! like, we should all take breaks and go outside and all that stuff. and I know plenty of people are not very active, but this blog has been such a vital part of my life and happiness since I started it almost two years ago, so any lapse in activity feels like a loss. I've met lifelong friends and flexed my writing muscles and learned a hell of a lot. the fact that I have started to feel isolated and alone on here is a sort of personal betrayal, and there is no one to blame but myself.

So, I’m pulling back.

it means a few things — i don’t know how much writing I’ll be doing from now on. For Joel, especially — it’s been wonderful to meet folks in that community but it has also been really detrimental to my passion for both the game and writing. I’d like to return to some other characters on my masterlist, but we’ll see. I’ve got endless personal projects away from tumblr that I want to pour love and time into (my non-reader fics, my newsletter, a romance novel, a sci-fi novel, poetry, etc). I need to fall in love with my own work again.

it's a me problem, I want to stress that. i'm working on it! irl stuff has been kicking my ass. I've had a really, really hard winter and my mental health has suffered probably more than ever before. i let things I love -- like this blog -- fester and become negative and no longer being me joy. writing became stressful and difficult and I was focused on notes and interaction and looking around me and seeing success and then looking at myself and only seeing lack.

but that's why I took a break! i am getting help and support irl, i am putting in the time and effort to feel better about being alive and to be a better friend and person all around. And I want to tell you all about it because I am so grateful for your time and attention and support, even if we’re just strangers on the internet. i know this probably seems silly -- who cares about a fanfic blog? well, i care! i care a lot! it matters to me and therefore it matters!

anyway. on to the important stuff. here I am! and here's what's going to happen on this blog:

I am working on replying to asks and reblogs and comments I missed. Thank you for being patient with me! I don't know if I'll get to them all but know I see them and I am honored every single time.

I made a totally separate ao3 account with this blog url. I'm working on uploading everything I've posted here onto there and hopefully will continue to crosspost. It is going to take a long, long time, so please be patient! (you can follow my other ao3 here for my non x-reader fanfic).

I posted this fic! Jackson!Joel pulled me back into his world. It’s the first thing I’ve written in ages, so let me know what you think. as of now it's the last planned fic for that series, but who knows!

I hit a milestone while i was away that I am absolutely blown away by. I'm planning a celebration around it sometime this spring (hopefully) and I’d love to see you participate :)

lastly, thank you so much to my friends for letting me complain, whine, winge, etc. I am so sorry for missing all of your work, your celebrations, your bright energies, and all the rest. i am so sorry if it seemed like i was ignoring you. you are my guiding lights, my silver linings, my touchstones. you make me want to be here. i will try to make it up to you!

I want to be online less but make sure I’m connecting more in the moments that i am here. I want to pressure myself to write less and not feel bad that I’m not engaged all the time. I want this blog to once again feel like a place that nourishes me and not sucks me dry. i want to stop feeling like shit about all of it!!!!

so. come hang out in my inbox, my dms, let me know what you've been up to. I am really sorry for missing so much. thank you for sticking around. <3

[jamneuromain]

Wild Child Chapter. 4

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

A/N: A big smooch to @rogerswifesblog for she has come up with some of the most hilarious conversation XD Please send her some love<333

You were young, carefree. Came back from school only five minutes ago. Happy, giddy.

You were showing your mother, who took your school bag from your shoulders, a face you make, learnt from your friend in school.

You pulled your lower eyelids, and stuck your tongue out, making your mother laugh at your shenanigans.

“Very funny, sweetie.” Your mother tapped your nose with her finger with a “Boop”, before kissing it gently, “Now go wash your hands, okay? Daddy’s going to be with us for dinner. So be an elegant little lady, and don’t disappoint daddy, okay?”

“Okay!” You dashed to the bathroom with a happy grin, having your mother raise her voice.

“Don’t run in the hallways, sweetie, you might fall!”

Your father barely came to visit you. He would occasionally stop by for an hour or two, leaving you and your mother in this house for months before visiting again. To you, he was a stranger, but your mother’s attitude proves more than that. She would tell you to obey your father and be a good girl, that he is busy and could not afford to visit you often, and that your father loves you.

You saw her taking out the beautiful lilac dress that she had kept in her wardrobe for years, putting on make-up, and finding a pretty white dress for you, which was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Calling the two servants in this house, your mother ordered them to place the best silverware you had at the table, and having the chef cook a five-course meal.

You and your mother always had dinner together, in the small house on the outskirts of Ancetol. She would supervise your homework before dinner, and take your little hand, and walk you to the dining room.

But she forgot about tutoring your homework that day, and you were simply glad that you didn’t have to practice your piano and violin, do your math questions, or recite the poem in French that she taught you the day before.

You watched the few people in this house swoop in and out of rooms in haste, curious as to why the simple presence of your father could make your mother (almost) completely forget about you.

In the end, this was the one problem you could not have figured out, no matter how hard you tried, using the brain of a 7-year-old.

The clattering of plates, furniture, and heels clicking on the floor slowly died down, and you hid in your room, reading the fantasy stories written by some brilliant female writer, whom you hoped to be one day.

One of the servants knocked on your door.

“Miss. Y/L/N, your father asked to see you.”

“Coming!”

If there is one thing that you have figured out, it is that making your father happy equals making your mother happy. And you’d want that, making her happy.

So by some sort of twisted logic inside your head, when your father asked you what have you learned in school, you pulled your lower eyelids, and stuck your tongue out, making a face.

You remembered every detail of how your father snapped, slapping you across the face and shouting at your mother, hitting her forehead with an ashtray that cut into her skin, before storming out of your house.

It was a memorable lesson as your mother locked herself in her bedroom and cried, while you sat by the dining table with a swollen cheek, looking at the meal gone cold, flinching at every sound, fearing that he would return.

When one of the servants came and informed you that your mother wouldn’t be joining you for dinner, by the time your stomach cramped in protest, for you were persistent in waiting for your mother to dine with you, you nodded in silence, grabbing the knife and fork, cutting the cold chicken into small pieces.

In the large, dim dining room, with romantic candles lit on either side of the long table, you sat on your chair, eating chicken and wiping your eyes, until your hands were soaked with tears that you could barely grasp the silverware anymore.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Guy, Guy Thomas approached you and sat down right across the table. He wore something more casual today, a blue T-shirt and a dark green jacket with a pair of sunglasses.

“Y/N.” His smooth brunette hair tousled as he removed his sunglasses, and a lop-sided grin lingered on his lips, “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Guy.” You rolled your eyes, signalling the waitress to take your order, “I called and asked you to come. There’s nothing surprising here.”

He folded his sunglasses, placing them on the table, right by the menu, “Since I am accompanied by this kingdom's future queen-”

“SHHHH!” You glared and kicked his shin under the table as the waitress clicked her pen and flipped a new page on her pad.

“May I take your order?” The waitress asked in a bored voice, not even bothering to lift her eyelids and look at you.

“Chamomile tea, please, and two croissants.” You handed the menu to the waitress.

“Ice Americano, please. Nothing else.” Ari scanned over the piece of paper briefly, handing it to the waitress as well.

Your focus drifted to the empty sidewalk and a few pedestrians. A young couple, having large mountain bags on their shoulders, taking a selfie with their daughter in a pink lacy dress.

All you remembered were the flashing camera lights at proms. Where you were forced to smile with pearl-white teeth. Or carefully orchestrated family pictures, which took hours to pose and select the best one.

Photos.

You and Ari both remained silent as your food and drink arrived,

Ari observed you.

You still didn’t look happy.

There was a cute little frown on your face, as you stared outside of the window in this small café.

However, his observation did not last long, for you turned to him and put a smile on your face. The smile had all the elements, the movements of the muscles on your cheek, the corner of your lips, even the little lines at the edge of your eyes.

It looked sincere. Yet a small voice at the bottom of Ari’s heart told him, it was not.

"I've got this all figured out." You chirped up, a total change from your brooding status, pulling out a little notepad and started reading, "We met at a business dinner party in London when we got acquainted because the host accidentally put us next to each other. We had a fun night and talked about literature. I'm thinking French or German but you can decide the details. We exchanged phone numbers and started texting. But we're also new into this relationship so I'm thinking six or seven dates before sex, which of course, happened in my place."

Ari choked on his iced coffee.

“Sex??” He wiped his lips with a napkin, “Hold on. Hold-on.” Ari raised his hand, gesturing you to stop reading from your notebook, “You are making up a background story for this fake relationship?”

“Well yeah,” you shrugged as if you were not the one who just made up a story detailed enough to publish, “they are going to ask these embarrassing questions anyway, and they'd probably separate us to see if our story stays the same."

“They?”

“My folks. Parents. My dad, especially.” You quickly changed the center of attention, “So … six dates before sex?” You quirked your eyebrows at him.

Ari made a mental note not to drink when you were speaking, “Sure, six.”

“Great!” You traced your finger on the notebook, finding the part where you had just left off, “Oh, right, new to relationship. I shall say three months? So we met in June, one months of texting and flirting and we settled the relationship on August 10th."

“Is it really necessary to have a date?” Ari huffed a laugh in amusement, you were way more fun than he had imagined, “You're making it sound like they will torture us for this information.”

A disapproving look was thrown in his direction. “I know my family. And trust me, talking to them is pure torture.”

Ari put both of his hands up in surrender, "Fine. You were saying?"

It didn’t take you long to find your notes this time. “Oh, the date. Because you are going to prepare a small gift. Small. To celebrate our 100th day together. Without saying, I'll obviously buy the gift and all you have to do is give it to me so that I can act surprised and talk about it in front of my family.”

Seeing Ari having nothing else to add, you continued: “About the time period of our relationship. You only need to remember one month of texting and flirting before we get together, but I'll act like slightly pissed at you in front of my parents. I'll say six weeks or five weeks and four days. Or forty days. Don't react to my answer. I'll probably sway your arm and pout and ask you to agree with me. And it doesn't matter if you do or still say one month; that would be real enough."

Ari nodded, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the laughter from bubbling out. He was now part of your plan, he had to follow it through.

“One month. 100th day, three months. Got it.”

You let out a sigh of relief, seeing there was still about 1/3 to go. “Right, sex. (Ari waited for a moment to swallow the coffee in his mouth) Two months should count for at least a dozen. But the first time should be in my bedroom. My parents are way too traditional to be told otherwise. And you took me to a fancy restaurant before that.”

“Anything else?” After listening to your fake relationship project, there was nothing that could shock him now.

“Anything else you need to know is on that piece of paper.” You snatched a piece of paper from your bag, with a list of likes, dislikes, and some fun facts about you. “Questions?”

Ari was reading through your likes of fantasy novels and dislikes of realism movies, “Only one.”

Not that there was only one question, but the only important one, that he wanted to ask, ever since he met you.

“Is your family always like this?”

His misty blue eyes focused on you. Yet the pitying and the condescending sympathy were too much for you to take in.

The need to share and the bottled wrath crashed into one another, prickling your eyes with tears. It had been so long since anyone comforted you – someone who wasn’t connected to you by blood. This was much less a comfort, and more of a confirmation that normal families, with emphasis on “normal”, should not need their daughter to join hands with a total stranger and lie to them to get out of a marriage proposal.

You shrug, pretending that it didn’t bother you, “You know, family expectations. And then the family I'm supposed to marry has another ton of expectations. And expectations crush you into something you're not. Showing them one side and trying to hide away another. But anyway, I bet the guy I'm going to marry is a lot worse. Machoman shit or stuff like that.”

Seeing him frown, you added, “Not you, Guy. The guy I was supposed to marry. The other guy. His name is not ‘Guy’, of course. But that guy…” Feeling like you had made the conversation a lot weirder, you gave up explaining, frustration taking over your tone, “… you know what I mean.”

Ari found that he was more prone to silence these days. True love was a vague concept for him ever since he knew that he would marry you one day. He thought about how you look like, how you speak or act in front of him. But it never occurred to him that the rules from both families are crushing you, molding you into a lifeless doll rather than a living human being. The twisted family you had, imprisoning you in your house, stripping you of connections to the outside world, and forcing you to marry someone that you did not even know about.

Was it the right choice to marry you? After seeing first-hand what the title and the royal burden meant to you?

Ari was sure before. Now? He was not so certain about it.

Changing the topic of your conversation almost jokingly, he swept away the heavy tension hovering above you: “You sure I’m the right guy-” Remembering your frustration on the “Guy” subject, he decided to ditch the word for the time being, “person to be your boyfriend?”

You dismissed his doubts with a simple reply, “Yeah yeah yeah, you have good genes. They’d love to see our kids.”

Ari was drinking the last few drops of coffee before choking on it again.

He would never drink anything while you were talking.

“That’s-” He coughed into his napkin, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Joking!” You pushed the napkin box in front of him, the smile on your face bright enough to dazzle the sun, “I’m joking. Seriously though, you don't need anything else. I think they'd be more welcome to someone twice my age…”

Twice your age?

Despite the fake documents and birth certificates that the royal secret services forged, the age put on the fake documents were similar to his own, for example, different birthday but the same year. On paper, Guy Thomas was the same age as Ari Levinson, both had turned 32 earlier this year.

He was six years older than you, not old enough to be your father!

The veins on his temple jumped with the beat of his heart.

He did not even look that old! Twice your age is what? 52 years old?

“…they are going to like you. One more thing, I need to know if you have any likes? Dislikes? Allergies?” You were so excited about your plan that you did not notice the muscles twitching down his neck.

“No allergies. Not that I know of.” Ari clenched his teeth. The rules bound to him ever since he was a child, telling him to be polite, were the only thing that prevented him from snarling after getting his ego (and his age) jabbed at.

You clapped your palms together, barely containing the giddiness from the bottom of your heart, somehow completely oblivious to Ari’s fuming, “Splendid! My parents think allergies are for the weak. They are going to love you.”

Later that night, Ari went drinking with an old friend of his, Sammy Navon.

Sammy recently returned from a trip with Doctors Without Borders, before that, he had served two years along with Ari in the Ballenian Royal Navy.

While Ari continued serving for two years each in the Air Force and the Army, Sammy did two more in the Navy before deciding that he preferred saving lives in countries struggling in poverty rather than on the battlefield, and spending last year in South Sudan.

Both Doctors Without Borders and the Ballenian Army did not leave much space for press, let alone personal communication, hence they had only been reunited for a few months.

The tall, lean man slumped on the chair, pouring himself a healthy dose of scotch.

“To what do I own the pleasure of the future king raiding my private collection?” Sammy drummed his long fingers on the bar counter, glancing over the empty tavern that the royal bodyguards had ordered to clear out.

“Can’t it be a men’s night out for old time's sake?” Ari half-complained and dumped two ice cubes in both of their glasses, “How’s South Sudan?”

“Diseases. Famine. Warlords. The likes.” Sammy grunted a “thank-you” for the ice, before asking back, “How’s the royal family? Did the plan work? To check out the girl you were going to marry?”

“Sort of.” Ari hissed due to the spiciness of the scotch, “Gah- This is some pretty strong stuff.”

Sammy smiled ever-so-faintly, “Sort of?” He mocked his friend’s voice, “What – she found out about it?”

“No. Not yet.” Ari chewed on some salty peanuts, “One thing though.” He cleared his throat, swallowing with another gulp of scotch, and asked, “Do I look 40?”

Sammy opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, which made Ari more miserable.

So he did look that old.

Sammy finished the liquor in his glass, and replied, grinning, “You mean with or without that bush on your face?”

Taglist (also tagging those who might be interested: @irishhappiness @patzammit @identity2212 @lokislady82 @petalj @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @magnificentsaladllama @xx-rennyxx @cringeycookies @autumnrose40 @hawkeyes-queen @vonalyn @theliheat @boo8008 @mrsevans90 @bradfordmyworld @delldenaro

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[kumkaniudaku]

The Love Tonight (2)

The Love Tonight (1)

From the moment dinner ended, prepping and planning for the big night during the week continued to evolve into a beast that Chadwick could not contain. His assigned job was to "show up and look good," instructions that were relayed to him on more than one occasion. This left him in the dark about anything that did not involve his wardrobe and Noah's babysitting plans. 

So, as he sat in the living room bouncing his son from knee to knee to pass the time, his mind swirled with all of the possibilities the night held. The first of his questions were answered when the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floors grabbed his attention. 

Instead of dresses, Tasha decided to take her stylist's advice and indulge in the blazer trend of the summer. Naturally, Micah followed suit, making the mother-daughter moment event more adorable. Teal and bronze tones were the motif of the night with both outfits fitting the scheme in their unique ways. Micah dazzled in a kid-friendly relaxed suit that perfectly fused her parents' tastes. While the teal blue suit was one that her father was no stranger to, the bronze heels and accessories were her mother's touch. 

CoCo took the cost-efficient chic route and used a very familiar piece to her advantage. After learning that the Versace blazer he husband donned at the NAACP awards earlier in the year was part of the women's line, she made sure it was available to repurpose and reuse. The beautiful animal print across the garment was perfect for the Lion King Carpet, and by choosing to forgo a shirt and show a little skin, it was also age-appropriate. The bold top paired well with a simple pair of trousers that matched the shade of blue accenting the print and bronze accessories. 

It was Micah's idea that she be allowed to wear her hair free and curly while Tasha made sure to make a trip to the barbershop to sharpen her growing tapered cut. 

"Well, would you look at what we have here? I feel like I need to change." Chadwick was careful to pass Noah along to Yvonne before making his way over to his favorite set of women. Stopping at his wife first, he took a moment to trace his finger down the necklace draped in her cleavage. "Who gave you permission to come out and slay like this?" 

"Slay? Is that how we talkin' now," she laughed. "Thank you, baby." 

"I vote thumbs down, Chad. Not a good look." 

As he fixed his mouth to reply to Yvonne with a snarky remark, the small but dramatic clearing of someone's throat caught Chadwick's attention. 

"Now...where did that mighty roar come from? I don't have any lions!" 

"It's me, daddy! Down here!" 

In true dad fashion, Chadwick kept the charade going to keep Micah laughing for as long as possible. Finally, he acknowledged her with a surprised look etched across his face. 

"Wha- Mikey, is that you? I thought you were a pretty lion with all that hair!" 

"Like Simba?" 

"Just like Simba. You look nice, Princess." 

"Pretty enough for pictures?" 

"Of course, Princess." 

Even on a strict schedule, time was made to capture the family as a unit for personal memories and individual social media accounts. For a child that had only been to one Hollywood event in her entire life, Micah handled the moment with the grace of someone ten times her age. She spent most of the ride alternating between taking cute filtered pictures with Tasha and singing songs from the movie's soundtrack with Chadwick. When the car for the night approached the venue, and all of Hollywood's elite came into view, both parents could sense their first born's excitement. 

"We get to go in there with all those people," she asked, her hands and face pressed against the heavily tinted window. "Do they know our names?"

"Maybe. Are you scared to get out, Princess? Do you want me to carry you?"

Tearing her eyes away from the scene, Micah whipped her head around to her father and scrunched her face, "I'm in first grade. I know how to walk." 

"I told him the same thing, Boop. Daddy's silly. Let's go."

Chadwick sat back against the cool leather of his seat with a hilariously incredulous look plastered on his face as Tasha helped Micah exit the vehicle. It took Micah's repeated urging for him to join her side and start on the path toward the red carpet. 

The flicker of cameras around them paled in comparison to the wonder shining through Micah's eyes. Every step of the way she marveled at the gowns that glittered under the setting sun, comparing the men and women she walked past to King's and Queens. 

"Mommy, she has hair like me!" 

"Don't point, baby. That's rude."

"But look! Her hair is like mine! Look!"

While Chadwick answered questions from a nearby reporter, Tasha followed her daughter's finger across the way to see the object of Micah's affection. 

"What's her name, Mommy?"

"That's Shahadi Wright-Joseph. She plays little Nala in the new movie." She half smiled as Micah watched Shahadi's every move, even mimicking some of her actions. Stooping down, she became eye level with the oldest Boseman child. "You wanna go say, hi?"

"Does she know my name?"

"We can go and tell her. You wanna?"

Her hair bounced rapidly with her nodding before Micah linked her hand in her mother's and tugged her along. Shahadi noticed the pair right away as they approached, paying particular attention to the little girl with a special twinkle in her eye. 

"Wow, look at your pretty hair," she exclaimed. "You are so pretty. What's your name?"

"Micah Noelle Boseman. I like your dress."

Both Tasha and Shahadi laughed at her emphasis on her entire name. 

"Thank you! I like your purse. What do you have in it?"

"Cheetos and popcorn for a snack!" 

"I think I need to sit by you. I might get hungry." 

Opening her purse, Micah pointed to its contents, "You can have some. I can share!"

"You're the cutest! Can I take a picture with you?" 

Micah happily accepted the request before proudly displaying the few teeth the tooth fairy had yet to claim. 

"It's like looking into the future," Chadwick commented as he approached CoCo's side. "Remember when she was a baby? Now we almost have a kid in double digits." 

"We should have one more for old time's sake." 

Chadwick's bewildered response became nothing more than an unintelligible whisper amid chaos. Instinct prompted Tasha to pull Micah close to her side as the people around them began a mad dash to clear the walkway for a presence that she could not see. 

"If you knock her down, your ass is next," she directed toward a hasty cameraman who quickly apologized. "What the hell is going on?" 

"I think somebody important is here." 

All eyes were fixated on the red carpet to get a glimpse of the guests of honor. In matching blazer ensembles, Beyonce and Blue Ivy strode past the crowd like royalty. Tasha hadn't considered the possibility that her best friend in her head would be present, let alone 20 feet away from her with screaming fans shouting at her from all directions. 

"Baby, do the thing," she urged her husband as she bumped her elbow into his arm. 

"What? What are you talking about?" 

"Be famous and get her attention. Tell her to come over here!" 

"T, she knows who you are. Just say, hi." 

"Hi, Ms. Beyonce!" 

Micah's high-pitched voice seemed to boom above the chatter around them, catching Blue's attention before Beyonce's. When she looked over to wave back, her eyes lit up at the sight of Tasha and Chadwick awkwardly standing behind their excited child. 

"Hey, y' all!" A quick sidestep and shield of protection from security brought the entertainer closer to the Boseman family. "Oh my God, y' all should've told me you were coming. We could've set something up." 

"We still have time," Tasha blurted, unable to keep her words tucked behind her lips. Chadwick gave her a cheeky side-eye and a half-smile. He'd never known her to be nervous when meeting new people, so the opportunity to see his wife flustered for even a moment was a sight to behold. 

"You sure, baby? What about the kids? 'Vonne has-" 

"She'll understand. We talked already." 

"When?" 

"You know, when…" Tasha's voice began to trail at the tail end of her sentence as she searched her brain for an adequate lie. "We talked. Don't worry about it." 

Beyonce looked between the couple with an amused glint in her eyes and smiled, "I'll take that as a yes from the Mrs." 

"And a yes from me!" 

"Is that right, pretty girl? Are you, Miss Micah? You know, I've heard a lot about you!" 

Micah latched on to the star's outstretched hand and smiled. "I know your songs. Me and my mommy saw you on TV really late at night. Daddy said to go to sleep, but we just got real quiet, so we could still dance." 

"Is that right," she laughed. "Did you like the songs?" 

Tasha and Chadwick braced themselves for Micah to blurt lyrics or begin her "special" Formation choreography but found her sporting a grin that stretched across her entire face and nodding her head. 

"All of them! I listen to them in the car before school." 

"What if I told you I made a song for you? Would you be happy?" Micah looked back to her parents for confirmation, finding confused looks from both of them before turning to Beyonce. "I can't wait until you hear it. It's all about your -." 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Carter, but we have to keep moving. They need you all seated soon." 

Acknowledging the comment, Beyonce made sure to bid the Boseman family a proper goodbye before disappearing down the remainder of the carpet. They received similar instructions soon after before being ushered into the Dolby Theatre for the main event. 

Micah buzzed in her seat before the lights could go down inside the theatre, eventually settling for her father's lap for a better view. From the opening song, she was utterly mesmerized by the sights and sounds of The Lion King's newest visuals. She sang along to every song uninhibited, often charming viewers around her into joining the fun. By the end of the film, through light tears and laughter, Micah was the first to lead the room's applause. She couldn't wait to break free from the shackles of forced silence inside the theater to voice her praise for the film. With her father's shoulders acting as her preferred mode of transportation, the little ball of energy began a full breakdown of what she'd just witnessed. 

"And-and the pig was so funny. He did the thing like you, Daddy. He was like 'WARTHOG'! Did you see it? Did you?" 

Laughing, Chadwick reached up to playfully tickle her sides, "I saw it, baby girl."

"Mommy, you're like Nala! Except you can't sing, 'cause that's Ms. Beyonce singing. Can we be Lion King for Halloween or is Daddy still in trouble for hitting the clown?" 

CoCo felt tears prick the corner of her eyes as she fought back the urge to cackle at her husband's expense. Clowngate had been a sensitive subject around the family that Chadwick had yet to escape. 

"Of course we can. Daddy can be Zazu so he doesn't hurt anybody with those claws." 

"I feel like we can let the past be the past now," Chadwick retorted, side-eyeing his wife and earning another stifled laugh. 

Micah continued to rattle off high points of the night as they entered the car and started their journey home. Naturally, she requested the movie's soundtrack as entertainment during the ride, demanding that all of the car's occupants join in for an off-key cover of Hakuna Matata. 

In the middle of the song, Micah quietly wrapped her arms around Chadwick's midsection and squeezed with all of her strength. 

"Thank you, Daddy. I love you soooo much!" 

Something about the way she hugged him with pure appreciation and sincerity made Chadwick tear up as he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. 

"I love you, too, little one. I love you, too." 

Tasha observed the moment with a smile, preferring to remain a spectator to allow time for necessary bonding. These were memories that both of them would cherish for the rest of their lives. That knowledge was enough to produce a permanent smile on her end. 

When Chadwick looked up and away to stop his tears from falling, he caught a glimpse of his wife, who grabbed his hand to run her thumb across his knuckles before adding a soft kiss. 

"You're the best dad ever. Don't ever forget it." 

He offered quiet thanks before kissing her cheek and resting his chin on top of CoCo's head. The opening flutes and vocals gave way to melodic vocals from Donald Glover and Beyonce's cover of Can You Feel the Love Tonight, gently lulling everyone into a comfortable silence. Chadwick took a look out of the car's sunroof to get a glimpse of the stars dotting the onyx sky above them. As he stared, he tried to commit each one to memory for a day when being a dad or a partner wasn't so easy. This was a moment Chadwick knew he would cherish long after the kids were grown and out of the house. 

The soft buzz of his phone drew attention to a text from the last number he ever expected to see. 

You two got out of there fast. Still coming out later? Would love to have you two. 

Secretly reading the message, CoCo nudged his arm and shook her head. 

"Not this time. We'll have other chances, right?" 

Chadwick silently agreed before quickly typing out his apology for declining the offer. After taking a final glimpse at the night sky and giving thanks to the Creator, he closed his eyes to listen to the song's final chorus. 

"Can you feel the love tonight? The peace the evening brings? The world, for once, in perfect harmony…"

------

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[waltrp]

THREATS ONLY WORK ON SOMEONE WHO HAS SOMETHING TO LOSE

BIDDI BOPPI BOOP A SPECIAL MESSAGE ADMIN ZULEMA: Kiara really said cat people rights, everyone. I know how much this character (and show) means to you so i’m very excited to see you take Katalina up. I know she’s in the best of hands. I’m very excited to see certain interactions unfold on the dash finally. 👀 Please refer to THIS PAGE for your next tasks. We can’t wait to roleplay with you. Welcome to our Ohana xx.

It’s a pleasure to meet you…

hey demons it’s me ya girl (kiara)

Are you positive you can be active?

i spend my free time here and thinking about the she-ra finale so. u know. i’m sure trying.

How did you stumble upon Walt?

i live here

Did you read the rules?

yup

Are you sure?

~. shipping meg and hercules is cancelled, now hercuttle is my otp.

Character you want?

katalina rao. yeah, i’m doing the ding dang thing

Please describe the character for us

god, where to start? Katalina is a mess of abandonment issues and self-destruction and cunning and sensitivity being held together by sheer determination. in truth, in order to get an idea of who Katalina is, you have to look at the people who’ve been most important to her.

first, there’s Shadow Weaver. Katalina learnt early just how cruel the world could be, and she has Shadow Weaver to thank for that. this is where her more callous side was born, as well as her blunt and disrespectful attitude towards authority. after all, what has that woman ever done to earn her respect? Shadow Weaver is also a key part of why Katalina has always found herself feeling second best. the woman hated her, putting Adora on a pedestal and treating Katalina as nothing more than a worthless screw-up. that kind of thing does a number on you. Katalina eventually gave up trying, choosing to adopt a persona of laziness rather than sacrifice her pride by continuing to try and fail, but she never stopped craving the validation she was deprived of.

and then there’s Adora. everything with Adora is so… much. Adora is Katalina’s best friend, her everything. or, she was. when Adora left, the foundations of Katalina’s very existence were ripped away from her. the betrayal was two-fold; first, Adora was willing to leave her - after everything they’ve been through, after promising that it didn’t matter what anyone else did as long as they were together - for people she’d just met. second, Adora only realising the awful nature of the Horde now, because of strangers, when Katalina had been suffering their whole childhood.

to her, Adora’s choice was deeply personal, because Katalina herself has always placed personal loyalty over morality. often, morality doesn’t even factor into her thought process. she isn’t wired that way, thanks to her upbringing. essentially, Adora was the only person who ever cared about Katalina. Katalina was fine suppressing her resentment because she was just happy to have Adora with her. when she left, it broke Katalina’s heart.

now, left in a hostile environment with her primary source of safety and support gone, she’s latching onto what coping mechanisms she can. she wants power and control, so no one can ever hurt her again. she wants people to fear her, rather than push her down. deep down, she’s only ever wanted respect and agency (and Adora). this way maybe, just maybe, she’ll get the admiration and validation she seeks.

Katalina is complicated. she’s passionate and playful and rebellious. she’s also emotional and callous and downright destructive. she has so much potential, but she has a substantial amount of trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms too.

also, she’s gay.

Second character choice

all or nothing BABY

It’s time to see that sample para.

Force Captain Katalina.

No, Force Captain Rao.

It sounded - it sounded powerful. It sounded like vindication - a laugh in the face of everyone who had ever looked down on her. Shadow Weaver, the other cadets, they couldn’t touch her now. Not if she played her cards right.

She brushed a thumb over the badge in her hands as she leant her forearms on a sink in the empty locker room. It seemed so small up close. It had been small when she’d first seen it, when it had been Adora’s and -

No.

She closed a fist around the badge, contemplative expression hardening. Adora wasn’t here. Adora didn’t want to be here. This wasn’t Adora’s achievement, not anymore. For once - for once - Katalina had been given a chance to prove herself, and Adora - Adora was gone. She left.

Katalina dug her nails into her palms, raising her gaze to meet her own eyes in the mirror. At some point, the face staring back at her had started clenching her teeth in anger. The eyes looking back at hers had started watering. She wiped at them frantically, before hot tears of anger and hurt could fall. She wouldn’t last long as Force Captain if she was fragile and emotional and crying, and -

(Adora’s not here to protect you anymore.)

She was on her own and that was fine. She was fine. She was certainly doing better than any of her fellow cadets, that was for sure. They were the ones who should be scared. So she reached into her heart and wrapped a hand around that bright burning anger and pulled it to the forefront until that all there was, until the pain of betrayal and fear for her own safety were indistinguishable from the fury that tore a ragged yell from her throat and sent a fist rocketing at the mirror until it was a shattered mess and she’d gouged scratches in the wall behind it and thrown several other things in the room for good measure.

The metal of the badge in her hand dug into her skin as she collapsed to her knees. Her knuckles were bloody, her hair even messier than normal. After a long moment, in which she did nothing but hope Shadow Weaver wouldn’t make one of her surprise visits for the sole purpose of being condescending, she pinned the badge to her shirt. She wiped at her eyes. She ran a hand through her hair. She got to her feet. She made a half-hearted attempt to neaten up some of the damage done to the room (though she couldn’t bring herself to care much and gave that up almost as soon as she’d started).

She left, and did her best to busy herself in not thinking about Adora until Shadow Weaver was ranting about bringing her back again.

Anything else, love?

~ babey!!

[hogwarts-houses-as]

First Mission

Hello! I love your blog and I love my house (Ravenclaw). So, I would like to submit this one shot I did. Hope you like it!

Word Count: 2811

Author: notyourregularfangirl

Requested by: @fioretz

Rating: K

Summary: Spider-Man goes on his first mission with the Avengers, but not everything goes as planned, bringing out an unusual facet of Iron Man

Warnings: Angst

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the the Marvel characters or plot lines. Neither do I own David Bowie’s song.

Amy’s notes: I put in a ‘read more’ so that this doesn’t take up too much space on people’s dashes, but idk if it’ll work. Anyway, this is some good writing! I’ll give you 25 points for it, tying Ravenclaw with Hufflepuff for first with 272 points.

At first, they thought it had only been some remnant of the Chitauri technology that had been left behind after the battle, yielded unknowingly by some unaware citizen. The Avengers were wrong. However, only partly. It was the artifacts they had feared, but no any citizen had used it. It was one of Vulture’s followers that, apparently, possessed an enemy in one of the apartments of the building and wished revenge, so he attacked the poor man inside his home.

The job of the vindictive young man had only started a small amount of time before Vulture was captured, as so, his knowledge on said technology was limited and he didn’t only miss his target, but he also destabilized the whole apartment complex. After his attempted escape, the building started falling. The Avengers arrived, just in time to save most of the inhabitants before the building collapsed completely and to give Vision enough time to chase down and catch the perpetrator.

“The rubble is too unstable now, moving one piece might crash the people left inside, and the crevices are too small for any of us to fit in.” Iron Man announced, using the thermal camera in his suit to analyze the location of the trapped. Two people. One child.  

Scarlet Witch and Black Widow had been sent abroad for a special mission, obviously, leaving only the males of the Avengers group. Thor, Captain America, Hulk and Hawkeye looked around. Up above, in one of the neighboring constructions, something caught Cap’s eye.

He turned to Tony, “I think there is someone that will definitely fit.”

At first, Iron Man thought Steve was looking at the Hulk, and was about to go along in the joke when he noticed the red spot.

“No way, Cap.”

Thor was as confused as when they told him there was a thing other than magic that could make two people swap faces in a phone. Hulk was faster to catch on.

“Stupid Iron Head will let kid do the job.” The green humanoid ordered.

“Language.” Iron Man said out of reflex. With his head down, he contemplated his options.

One of the rocks slid and there was a loud rumble. “Hardly the time for that, Stark.” Hawkeye signaled.

The panic was evident in Captain America’s voice, “You know he’s ready and we have to be quick.”

Iron Man sighed and shook his head. Yes, he had been personally training the Queens’ teen for a while now; and yes, protecting the little people had made him humbler and even stronger than he had once been, but, he was still too young for these sort of missions, especially after the whole Vulture fiasco. He had faith in the kid, but he wouldn’t be able to have something happen to him. Nevertheless, there were civilians in danger and their main duty was with them. “Fine.” with a sigh, he called Peter’s suit. “Come on down, kid, quick.” There was a sound that resembled a squeal of unmasked joy and the red and blue clad teen was right next to him in a matter of seconds.

“Spider-Man reporting for service,” Iron Man rolled his eyes and explained the situation quickly to the boy. After a firm nod of the head Peter tentatively examined the hollow spaces and chose the most suitable one to go into. The space was very small and he wasn’t a very big fan of the complete darkness that engulfed him suddenly. So, he used his new suit’s advanced and enhanced features to make it less dark and localize the people. There was a young girl first, about six years old.

“Hello?” Peter called out. There were two answers. One was the sobs of the little girl that were interrupted with a hiccupped, weak ‘help me’. The other one was a man, somewhere from 10 to 15 feet away farther than the child:

“Please, get her out of here. Save her, just save her.” The man’s rough voice begged.

He must be his daughter, the hero thought to himself.

The girl’s crying got louder. “No, no! Save my daddy, too!” She cried and mumbled uncomprehendingly until she gasped for air and spoke in a tone barely above a whisper, “I need him.”

Peter Parker’s heart plummeted to his stomach. He knew the feeling of needing a parent, of being helpless, and worst of all: of losing a parent. He was not going to let that little girl go through what he experienced.

“Don’t worry,” He said as calmly as he could, “I am going to get both of you out of here.”

There was another crackling on the debris above him and a few pebbles and dust sprinkled down. The sound made the girl cry louder.

“We’re going to die! I don’t want to die!”

Peter analyzed his surroundings. Some rocks were so close to falling that the girl’s weeping could topple the whole thing over. “No, no. You’re going to be fine. I promise.” That didn’t calm her down. “However, if I want to save you, we need to be calm and not cry so we don’t make the rocks angry.”

At this point, the girl continued crying, but more softly and quietly and her dad decided to step in, “We wouldn’t want to make the rocks angry, now, would we, Bowie?”

She sniffed. “No.”

“You like rocks, Bowie?”

“A lot, I have a huge collection back at home.” As soon as the words left her mouth Spiderman flinched. “I had a huge collection.” And the bawling continued, only louder.  

Peter was in trouble. “Uh-uh-Your name’s Bowie. Like David Bowie?”

Bowie nodded and once she realized the man couldn’t possibly see her, she said yes.

“I love his songs.” Peter smiled because he was saying the truth, and he got some flashbacks to when he and Ned started humming Under Pressure right before a Physics’ final and the whole class joined in to the point where even the teacher crooned the tone herself, after administering everyone detention, of course. “How about we sing one now?”

The girl sniffed, “The Man Who Sold the World is my favorite.”

“Well, that is just perfect because that is also my favorite song of his.” Peter smiled despite himself. “How about we sing the song together and I promise you that by the time we finish the song you and your father will be out of here, together.”

“You pinky promise?”

Peter Parker felt unease: The structure was getting weaker by the second, there were more people to take into account, and the song was almost four minutes long. Peter Parker was scared.

Spider-man, on the other hand, was so confident. Probably a lot more than he should have been. He was going to jam to this song as he saved people, just like in the movies. He was going to save the two people that were trapped. He was not going to be scared as the darkness enveloped him and when there were sharp edges of objects sticking out at him from every direction, and when the lives of five people, total strangers, were literally hanging on his hands. Spider-man knew no fear because…simply because he was Spider-man.

He finally made it to the small hollow where the girl was perched hugging her legs and rocking herself in the tiny amount of space there was to spare.

He took her in his arms and, with the sincerely least scared face he could muster, he asked her to start singing the song.

Bowie sang shakily at first, evidence of her still not completely tearless state,

“We passed upon the stair  we spoke of was and when  Although I wasn’t there He said I was his friend”

The girl sang just like Peter imagined angels would. Contrary to her petite, babyish body, her voice was huge, soft and sweet, but demanding and resounding. Even if he was buried in yards of dirt, an ethereal feeling confined him, along with the renewed need to save that little person, because, holy crap, did the world need to listen to her voice.

“Which came as some surprise  I spoke into his eyes I thought you died alone a long long time ago”, Spider-man sang back, “The next part together.”

“Oh no, not me” Just another left turn and he would be back outside.   “I never lost control  you’re face to face With the man who sold the world”

Bowie finally stopped sniffing and lightly whimpering, changing her expression to a more tranquil one. With her eyes closed and even breathing, she relaxed into her savior’s chest and prayed and prayed that very soon her father would hold her like this, like he always did.

“I laughed and shook his hand  and made my way back home I searched for form and land for years and years I roamed” Finally, Spider-man laid Bowie onto Captain America’s arms.

               Spider-man booped her nose, “Keep on singing, kiddo. Your dad is next,” She scrunched her nose and nodded.

“I gazed a gazeless stare at all the millions here I must have died alone A long, long time ago”

               He advanced faster now because of having memorized the way already. As he got to Bowie’s dad, he heard her starting the second-to-last chorus.

               “Is Bowie okay?” The man asked as soon as Spider-man came into his field of view.

               “She is safe and sound outside with my colleagues, sir.”

               “Thank you, thank you so much.”

               “You are very welcome. Now, if you would kindly jump on my arms since I promised your daughter I would get you back safely before the song ended, and I am not about to break a promise to someone with such an amazing taste in music despite her young age.”

               The father did as told, although tentatively due to his insecurity about having the lanky hero carry his quite bigger, heavier frame through such a tight tunnel. His worries were put to bed as he laid on his arms, since the teenager was way sturdier than he seemed.

               It wasn’t as easy carrying a man that was probably twice his age as it was to carry someone that was ten years younger than him, but he prevailed and advanced at an even pace. Almost synchronized with the tune.

               “Who knows? Not me We never lost control”

               “She does, doesn’t she? She got that from her mother. As well as her voice.” He sighed, probably reminiscing about old times.

               “So her mother got out of the building before it fell?”

               The man looked down at his hands, “Yes, long before. She died three years ago.”

               “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

               “Don’t worry, kid. You couldn’t have known.”

               “Well, then, I believe you’ve done a great job raising Bowie. She seems like a very sweet child.”

               He smiled sweetly, “That she is. Sometimes I believe she can be too sweet for her own good,” He shook his head even though he smiled. “This is a cruel word, even more for the kind, innocent people. But God knows I love her more than all that there is in this world. And I have to protect her from all that.”

               Peter said nothing and showed no sign of answering.

               “I’m sorry, I’m venting. You must know what it’s like, loving someone, having children.”

               Peter laughed. “Oh no, I don’t have children. I’m barely 16, but I do know what it’s like to love someone,” He sighed and felt an awful knot lodging itself in his throat. “And I’m also familiar with loss.”

“You’re face to face With the man who sold the world”

               “May I ask why?”

               “My parents died when I was younger than Bowie even.”

               “I’m very sorry.” The light at the end of the tunnel was already visible and Bowie’s voice could be heard again.

                              “Who knows? Not me”

               “No need to. My aunt and uncle took me in and they love me very dearly.” Peter winced as he remembered he couldn’t say that truthfully anymore. He only had his aunt now.

                              “We never lost control”

               Above them, there was a falling pebble. Of course, they didn’t notice that.

                              “You’re face to face”

               “I’m glad you had that support.” He cleaned his nose of some dirt that had dusted down. “You know, we’ve been through all this and I don’t even know your name.”

               Peter smiled, “I’m Spider-man, sir.” He started walking with his back to the exit.

               “Thank you very much, Spider-man.” He patted the boy’s shoulder and Spider-man had few times felt as proud as he did in that moment.

               They both saw the huge grin on Bowie’s face as they almost stepped out of the crevice.

The child finished singing, “With the man who sold the world”

               And then the whole thing came down.

               It must have been days since he started crying. It sure felt like it, even if it had only been a few hours. His lungs felt as if they had been filled with rocks. Rocks the size of fists with jagged ends for fingers. Just like the ones that were left sticking out of the passage. That wretched passage. His fingers trembled, probably exhausted from all the wiping of his nose and tears.

               The images kept repeating themselves in his mind’s eye.

               He hated himself for it. He had been the one closer to the exit. He shouldn’t have been. He should have put the man down on the ground safely before himself. He should have reacted quicker. He shouldn’t have let him go, even if it was an involuntary reaction.

               He would never be able to forget Bowie’s screams. They would hunt him forever.

               “You promised, you liar! You said you’d save both of us!”

               She was right. He was liar, but above all, a murderer.

               There was someone at the door knocking, but he didn’t look up. The memories were so much louder than any knock would ever be. The guilt even more as it screamed inside every part of him in little Bowie’s voice.

               “I brought you some hot chocolate.” It was Mr. Stark, but Peter wasn’t in the mood to please anyone. He wasn’t in the mood for anything. “I know it’s the middle of summer, but Cap said it was a comforting beverage and he insisted so much I just did it to shut him up.”

               The teen did not respond.

               “Can I sit?” It was stupid of him to ask. They were in the Avengers’ headquarters, in a room they set aside for him whenever he went to train and it was too late for him to go back, so he practically and literally owned the place.

               Nothing.  So the millionaire sat.

               “It was a good mission.”

               “How can you say that?” Peter shrieked at him. “He died! A man died because of me. I killed him!”

               “You did not kill him,” Tony set the mug on the floor.

               “Of course I did. I let him go, I was about to go out first.”

               “With him on your arms.” Iron Man interrupted.

               “It would have been better if I hadn’t carried him at all.” Peter looked down at his lap again.

               “He could have been injured when the structure collapsed, you did what was right.”

               “If I had done what was right my suit wouldn’t be stained with an innocent man’s blood and that girl would not be an orphan.”

               Tony arranged himself so he could be looking directly at Peter. “Hey, look at me.” Peter raised his head slowly. “You did what you thought would solve the problem. You used logic and you calmed both of them. Yes, you were about to get him out, but sometimes that’s just how things work. There was a reason bigger than all of us for that man dying and you and the girl being the ones that survived. Maybe because you’re young with a life ahead. We will never know. But this was your first mission, Parker. You assessed the situation and saved a life today.”

               The Spider-Man in him made him stop crying so he could listen to his mentor. “I didn’t fulfill the mission.”

               “The way I see it, you did save both of them. You fulfilled the mission. It’s just God, or destiny or whatever you want to call it that got in the way of a happy ending. It happens to the best of us, believe me.” Tony’s face contorted to a pained expression during his last sentence.

               “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” He grabbed the mug from the floor. “But I would like to be alone for another moment.”

               “Sure thing, kid.” The older man made his way back to the door. Peter took a sip of the hot beverage, along with a few tears that ran down his cheeks. “And remember, I’m proud of you. If that means anything.”

               It meant a lot.