#this one was inspired by the hug after they were 'rescued' but the scene was awful to gif

[elenas]

I hope we meet again. Kate Austen and Sayid Jarrah in LOST (2004-2010)

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Boo

Prompt: You end up taking Jack and your daughter trick or treating while Aaron is stuck at work.

Note: I know this Halloween inspired prompt is a little belated but the amount of fluff is worth it. 🥰

“I want that one!” your daughter yelled, grabbing the bigger candy bucket from Jack’s hands. A frown appeared on his face but he seemingly held himself back from acting out. The little 8 year old had way more patience than you did at his age, clearly taking after Aaron’s constant calm and controlled demeanor.

“Hey,” you spoke, crouching down to her level. “Jackers is your brother and you need to be nice to him. We don’t yell and take things away from each other.” She looked back and forth from him to you, an expression of disapproval evident. “Why don’t you try asking him nicely if you can have the bigger bucket, ok?”

You and Jack waited as she stayed silent, clearly struggling with the idea to be polite. Finally, she turned to Jack and spoke. “Can I have Jack?”

He looked over at you and then to the smaller identical bucket by her feet. “Yeah, ok.”

You sighed in relief and gave them both a big smile. For a second, you thought there was gonna be a tantrum happening before you even got a chance to trick or treat but luckily Jack came to your rescue, being the bigger man.

“See, wasn’t that nicer than yelling at Jack?” She just nodded, avoiding eye contact, probably embarrassed that she was in the wrong. “Ok, now let’s go get some candy!”

Like a switch, they were both back to being happy and excited as they ran to the door. You grabbed both of their jackets that you knew they were gonna want later on as well as your little tumbler of wine. That was your treat for the night.

Before leaving the house, you came over to Jack and plopped a king sized Snickers bar in his bucket, giving him a wink and smile once he noticed. He pretended to zip his lips shut and throw away the key, making you laugh.

The first couple of house went smoothly, your daughter clutching onto Jack most of the time, not convinced with the suspicious looking decorations outside of some of the houses. You sent a picture of the two of them to Aaron, knowing he’d want to see how they were doing even if he couldn’t be there.

Aaron: They look adorable. How far have you gotten?

You: Still on our street, but making great headway. Jack is excited to get to Wicker street where he knows they give out the bigger candy.

Aaron: Smart boy. I see he let his sister have the bigger bucket.

You: Yeah, he handled it very well. Reminded me a lot of his father. (;

Aaron: Love to hear that. Gotta go but I love you.

You: Love you too.

You put your phone away just as you heard your daughter scream and watch as she made a beeline for you, leaving Jack in the dust. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?" you asked bending down. She looked absolutely terrified as tears began streaming down her face and the little tiara on her head struggled to stay attached. Instead of answering, she just pointed over to the porch that she had just ran from. You knew then what she was referring to when you saw the dog dressed as a big spider. It took everything in you not to laugh out loud.

"Oh honey, it's a just a doggy. He's dressed up for Halloween just like you." You brushed the hair out of her eyes while she continued crying, completely unconvinced that the dog was not a gigantic spider there to eat her and waited as Jack came back over. He inspected the scene before him, obviously aware of what happened and proceeded to pull a pack of gummy worms out from his bucket of goodies.

"Here. I got you worms," he offered, forcing the candy into her hand. Just like that, the crying stopped immediately as she played with the package, trying to figure out how to open it.

"That was so nice of your brother. Can you say thank you sweetie?"

"Thank you," she repeated. You gave Jack a ruffle on his head and pulled him in for a hug. He was literally the sweetest boy you knew.

"Alright, Jack. You want to lead the way to the next street?" He shook his head in excitement and wasted no time in showing you the way.

After walking up to the first house and receiving two big chocolate bars, he was practically racing to the next house for more.

"Not so fast Jack, stay close." you told him, scanning your surroundings, knowing anything could happen. Your daughter followed in step with you, busy gnawing on some gummy candy that you were sure was gonna end up keeping her up all night. Just before you all reached the next house, someone caught your eye. The tall figure was a bit far away but became increasingly clearer, the closer you got. Jack was the first to identify him.

"Daddy!"

You watched him run ahead and into the arms of your husband, who was still dressed in his work attire. In that moment, you were entirely grateful to the Bureau for their strict dress code. The dress pants, FBI windbreaker, and holstered weapon had you thinking all kinds of dirty scenarios in your head you'd like to play out with him but for the sake of your toddler children, you decided to indulge your fantasies later.

You and your daughter walked over, a gentle smile on your lips as he set Jack down to give her a hug. "Well this is a pleasant surprise." you greeted, giving him a kiss once he came back up.

“Case wrapped up sooner than expected. Figured the team could use an early night considering the occasion."

You pulled him in for another kiss, this time, a slightly longer and deeper, earning a curious hum from him. "What was that for?"

Absentmindedly, you played with his tie and looked up at his boyish expression. "I just really like your Halloween costume."

Being the ever observant special agent he was, it didn't take long for him to understand what you meant as a knowing smirk played on his lips. "I see."

"Daddy, up," your daughter demanded while pulling on his pant leg, interrupting the moment.

“Of course sweetheart.” He propped her up on his hip and gave you one last look before turning his attention to them. “Lead the way Batman,” Aaron spoke to Jack in his costume.

All of you followed after the young boy, it not taking long for both of their candy buckets to fill up and their sugar high to come crashing down. Your daughter had fallen asleep in Aaron’s arms on the walk back and Jack walked hand in hand with you, his pace a lot slower than earlier.

Once in the house, you helped Jack separate his candy while Aaron put your daughter down for bed. "The Twix are my favorite. Dad can have the pretzels and you can have the lollipops," he offered, pushing the less interesting candy towards you.

“Alright. I’ll keep all of your candy in a very secure safe place,” you reassured him, putting his little pile into a ziplock bag. “Why don’t you go get changed into your pj’s and brush your teeth.”

He listened without a fuss, a tired yawn making its way out of his mouth as he shuffled down the hall, passing by his dad who gave him a high five.

You watched him make his way over to you, a playful glint in his eye, his arms snaking their way around your waist before he placed a gentle kiss against your neck. "I thought I could run us a bath. Maybe give you a massage afterwards." His murmured words sent a shiver through you, your body reacting immediately. You turned to face him, your hands slowly pulling down on his jacket zipper, your eyes locked with his.

Leaning in, his lips met yours with a burning passion you loved. Like that was the last kiss he'd ever have. His hand cradled your head, fingers entwining in your hair and as he stepped closer, the faint smell of cologne from that morning still lingered on his clothes, overstimulating your senses. Your hands rested themselves on his torso, grabbing at the fabric, wanting nothing more than to rip it right off his body as his breath hitched, telling you he felt the same way.

"Daddy!" Jack called from down the hall, bringing the both of you back down to earth. He was probably waiting for his nightly bedtime story you made sure to give him, all cuddled up in his bed, surrounded by his numerous stuffies and dressed in his Batman pajamas.

You pulled away from Aaron, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

"Wait for me," he spoke lowly, stepping back from you before heading towards Jack's room, ready to give the shortest bedtime story ever.

[maryannecrimsworth]

Your friendly neighborhood

Pairing: Spiderman! Vi x Journalist! Reader

Summary: Your boss is driving everyone insane because of his suspicion about the Red Spider that's out there fighting crime. Because of that, you decide to discover the hero's identity and prove to your boss she's just a friendly neighborhood

Warnings: mentions of violence, fights, discussion, it's overall fluffy though

Mentions: i was inspired by @champagne-problems-ate 's moodboard so thank u

The friendly neighborhood was making your life a living hell. Your boss — J. Jonah Jameson — was infuriated by the spider-hero roaming New York City’s streets. With every new headline, the Red-Spider showed up with more derogatory names and conspiracy theories. In your opinion, your boss simply couldn’t stomach the idea that a woman with superpowers was doing more for the city than he ever could. Either way, it was your photos and articles being used in the news, so your work was finally gaining some recognition.

The problem was that you couldn’t stand sneaking around the city’s buildings anymore just to get a frame of the Spider-Girl. After months and a few twisted ankles, you were tired of chasing after some weird hero. Your photos always contradicted your boss’s opinions: you captured the Red-Spider helping children, punching criminals, rescuing cats. It was so virtuous it became exhausting — almost like a constant provocation to the Daily Bugle. In the middle of one of your boss’s heated speeches, you impulsively stood up and shouted to the entire office that you’d uncover the Red-Spider’s identity once and for all. That way, Jameson would finally shut up, and you could move on to other stories.

Still, you were done hearing about the Red Spider.

“I swear to God, Vi, I’m gonna punch someone if I hear one more word about her.”

Violet, your little brother’s boxing coach, laughed at your grumpy greeting. Your conversations never began with a "hello" or ended with a "goodbye." They always started with some sudden comment from you.

“You came to the right place!” She pointed to the rings around you. “Just don’t punch your brother; he’ll wipe the floor with you.”

“I doubt it; he’s half my size.” Your words were met with a mocking look from her.

“What? You gonna play tough now?”

“Well, you’re the one looking to pick a fight.” She raised her hands, feigning innocence. “I just make them happen.”

“Perfect job for you, huh? Fighting for money.” There was a teasing tone in your voice, a mix of provocation and irritation. “It’s a shame it messes up your face.”

“There are plenty of people who’d disagree with you.” A smug smile spread across her face. It was a fact — nothing could make Violet unattractive, no matter how many punches she took.

“Vi! Vi!” Your brother’s voice rang out from a ring at the back of the gym. “I beat Vander! I beat him!”

The scene made your eyes widen: your brother, drenched in sweat, raised his arms in victory while Vander struggled to stand. Vander’s legs wobbled, his hands groping for balance on the floor. He was completely dazed.

“Holy shit!” Violet shouted, and the two of you rushed to the ring. “Did you do that?”

Your brother nodded proudly, sweat dripping down his grinning face.

“It’s only the third round, kid. Don’t celebrate too soon.” You relaxed as soon as you heard Vander’s voice. He was okay — even good-humored. “Come on.” The man got up, but a gust of wind seemed to hit him, sending his body swaying to the side.

Violet leapt into the ring, catching Vander with surprising agility.

“Okay, okay.” She used her body to support the large, groggy man. “The fight’s over, old man. Age catches up to us all.”

“Is he alright?” your brother whispered to you, his voice filled with uncertainty. “I thought he was just joking.”

“I think you hit him pretty hard, buddy.”

Your brother’s eyes widened with guilt. Motivated by it, he ran over to Vander and hugged him tightly.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me!” he practically shouted. “Don’t kick me out of your gym — I really like you guys!”

“Are you kidding?” Vander replied calmly, pushing the boy back by the shoulders to look him in the eye. “You’re gonna be our poster boy! I’ve never seen a fighter like you!”

“I have a great coach!” your brother admitted, his wide, toothy smile drawing laughter from the boxers in front of him.

“Damn right.” Vi ruffled the boy’s sweaty hair with feigned roughness. “Now go practice on the punching bags. No more old men passing out today.”

Your brother, excited, and Vander, offended, obeyed and left the ring. Violet, on the other hand, walked toward you, leaning over the ropes and lowering her face to yours.

“Not gonna get in?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to punch someone.”

“Not you.”

“I can change that real quick.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’d rather you buy me a drink. When can we go out again?”

Violet’s tough facade softened.

“Sorry, I’ve got to work late tonight.” Her excuse was the same every week.

“I’m gonna have to have a serious talk with Vander sooner or later. There’s gotta be some labor law being violated here.”

She laughed, hopped out of the ring, and changed the subject as soon as she landed next to you.

“We’re having a barbecue this Sunday. I can’t promise Powder and Ekko will leave the garage, but I’ll definitely be there.”

“Please tell me Mylo isn’t manning the grill. I don’t want to eat charcoal again.”

“No, no. Claggor’s got it covered!”

Violet seemed genuinely excited about the idea of having her family together for the weekend. Her presence had been a constant at these gatherings for years — ever since the two of you beat up a jerk who had been bothering Powder after school. You hadn’t known either of the sisters, but you refused to let the boy get away unpunished after being such an idiot. From that day on, Violet had been by your side in many fights, victories, and losses. She was there when your parents died, when you learned to drive, and when you got drunk for the first time. She was always by your side — until a few months ago. Years, really.

It was as if a switch had flipped without warning, and a huge distance had grown between you. Suddenly, you only saw her when you took your brother to boxing class, and even then, something felt different. Sometimes her smiles seemed more forced, her eyes more distant.

Something had changed, and you had no idea how to fix it.

“Hey.” Violet’s deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere, sorry.” You hid your face in your hand, rubbing your eyes as if trying to wake up. In truth, you were just wiping away the tears that had quickly welled up. “What were you saying?”

“I said Silco promised to bring us more expensive cigars.”

The news from her lips should’ve brought you some joy, but you only shook your head.

“Sounds amazing.” You turned to leave without looking at her. “I’ll let you work. See you later.”

Violet’s fingers — calloused, rough, and warm — wrapped around your wrist with uncommon gentleness. It was detestable, this touch, because it was always followed by that melodic tone:

“Hey.” She whispered, stepping closer to you. Her voice carried worry. “You don’t have to go just yet. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’ve got work to do.” You quickly pulled away, spreading your arms in a dramatic gesture. “I’ve got a spider to unmask!”

Your exaggerated shout drew attention from some nearby students. Usually, that was enough to make Violet laugh. However, there was a worried expression on her face.

Maybe your words had sounded a bit too strange this time.

You left the gym with a frown and a mission: to find the Red Spider.

You took a nasty fall that night. Maybe it was your crowded mind, maybe it was a risky jump, or maybe the roof was just too weak to hold your weight. Either way, you slipped while chasing the Red Spider, tumbling off a balcony, rolling across part of a roof, and landing on a closed dumpster. Luckily, your camera came out unscathed, but half of your body was scraped by bricks, nails, and iron bars. A few cats scattered at the string of curses you shouted after crashing onto the dumpster.

"Are you okay?"

The sudden voice startled you, adding another fall to your miserable night. Filthy and sprawled on the ground, you searched for the source of the voice and spotted a silhouette in the shadows. It was her, the Red Spider.

"My savior!" you greeted her bitterly. "A little late, but I appreciate the concern."

"Why are you following me?"

The voice from the shadows carried a hint of pain. For a moment, you had the feeling you recognized that tone—vulnerable and wounded—but the blurry image before you didn’t allow any certainty. Struggling, you got to your feet and limped toward the local heroine.

"I'm actually doing you a favor." There was confidence and falsehood in your voice. "My boss will leave you alone once he finds out you’re just a well-meaning girl."

"And all my enemies will make my life a living hell. Did you think about that?" Her question was almost an accusation.

"I’m sure you’ll manage to save everyone. That’s what you always do, right?" With pain and anger coursing through your body, the bitterness in your tone was unmistakable. A resentful irony revealed that you didn’t have much faith in the Red Spider's abilities. "Just work on your timing a little. If you’d chosen to play the hero two days earlier, my parents might still be alive." In a subtle motion, you adjusted the camera in front of you and aimed it at the spider in the shadows. "Or if you’d shown up two minutes sooner, maybe my dignity would’ve survived."

As the last syllable left your lips, the camera flashed, lighting up the dark alley. There she was—the Red Spider—hiding, staring at you, frozen in place. What was going through her mind, you couldn’t possibly guess. But the sudden burst of light was enough to spur her into action. The heroine shot a web and vanished from the dark alley.

You were alone, injured, and with a weight on your chest that threatened to crush you. That was the last push you needed: you would uncover her identity. You would find out why she saved everyone except the people you loved most—your family.

Countless questions and worried looks were thrown your way during the barbecue. Claggor and Ekko teamed up to try to redo your bandages, Mylo and Powder made so many jokes that your ears were buzzing with them, and Silco and Vander had been watching you all morning.

"I'm fine!" You raised your voice so everyone could hear. "No serious injuries, but your stares are killing my pride. Can we move on?"

"Like you moved on and fell flat on your face?" Mylo had already made comments like this a dozen times. No one laughed.

"We’re making progress at college. The deans want to showcase our project at the next tech conference," Ekko changed the subject. How you loved that kid! You didn’t understand a thing about how his innovative gadgets worked, but you wanted to know everything about them now. "They think Stark Industries might be interested."

"I refuse to sell our idea to a playboy in a steel suit!" Powder protested. "If we do, our machines will never be accessible to the people in Queens."

"Think big, my prodigy. It takes a lot of funding and work before a product reaches those in need," Silco explained in his calm voice. "But the college should be covering those expenses. Where are my investments being used?"

Expressing everyone’s reaction, Isha grunted at Silco’s words and stopped him before he could start one of his speeches. Bored, the girl moved away from Sevika and grabbed Powder’s hands. She and your brother wanted to play, and apparently, the strong woman was no longer entertaining them. Sevika swapped the toys for a beer while your brother, Isha, Powder, and Ekko went off to play with bats and toy pistols.

"She hasn’t reached out to you?" Vander approached you stealthily, taking the beer bottle you had just finished out of your hand. It was your fifth that morning. "I’m sorry about that."

"It’s okay. I kind of saw it coming," you smiled and stepped back. "I’ll go for a walk. Keep an eye on my brother for me?"

"Sure." Vander’s reply wasn’t going to end there, but you cut him off quickly.

"Thanks!" You said and walked off before he could say anything more.

Wandering the neighborhood was the only thing left for you to do. Staying at the barbecue or going back home to work — either would leave you furious. Vi had ignored you again, the Spider-Girl had escaped once more. Everywhere you looked, there was frustration. It felt like a part of your life was slipping away.

Or maybe, you were just a little drunk and melancholic on a Sunday morning.

The streets of the neighborhood had grown peaceful since the first appearance of the Red Spider. Now, kids played and elderly couples strolled without fear, untouched by the gangs and dealers that had been driven out. It was still a simple life — there were few cars on the street, and no house was big enough for families as large as these — but it was a simple and good life. A safe one.

It had been your parents' dream for you and your brother. It was also Violet's parents' dream. Too bad they passed away before seeing this dream realized by a masked heroine.

The situation was somewhat comical and beautiful. To think that a super-powered figure clad entirely in red had brought peace to one of New York's most dangerous neighborhoods. It could have been a great joke if she hadn’t sent so many thugs to prison.

You smiled as you thought about it: she was good. The Red Spider brought hope and joy to thousands of families. You loved what she represented, you loved what she did — only part of you wondered why she had only appeared after your parents passed away. After your parents were murdered by some lowlife thugs. She would have ended them in two seconds if she had been there. But she wasn’t.

You had to learn to live with that and move on with your life. Still, it was hard when every aspect of your work screamed about the heroine in red. You wished you could forget her if you could.

"Son of a bitch, they’re getting creative!" The cursing, so familiar to your ears, came suddenly from inside your house. The house that should have been empty. "Damn it, this is going to take a while to heal!"

In a swift motion, you opened the door and came face-to-face with the intruder in your home: Violet was sprawled on the floor, visibly injured.

She struggled as much as she could to sit up and look at you, but she only managed to move her head.

"Hi," a shaky groan escaped her lips. "Sorry, I didn’t think—"

"What happened?" You dropped to your knees beside her, analyzing the cuts and stains covering her worn-out hoodie. Violet didn’t just look like she had been in a fight — she looked violently beaten. "Are those cuts? Violet, what did you get yourself into?"

The boxer tried to avoid your worried hands, but she didn’t have the strength to keep you away. Determined and suddenly sober, you tore off her jacket to get a better look at her injuries. What you saw, however, was something entirely different: the spider suit, red and shiny, covered Violet’s strong body.

You instinctively recoiled.

"This can’t be true," you mumbled, your wide eyes scanning every detail, curve, and bruise on the heroine’s body. It was her. It was her: you had taken pictures of that same person hundreds of times. Never without the mask, never with her face revealed as it was now.

Violet couldn’t meet your gaze.

"I can explain—" her weak voice was quickly cut off by your shout.

"Shit!" Your teeth clenched so hard that the Red Spider flinched at the sound. "Damn it, Violet! What the hell!" Despite all your anger, there was something more important to focus on. Vi was pale, trembling, and sweaty. A greenish hue occasionally overtook her face, and she was taking forever to move. "What did they do to you?"

"Spider pesticide," she grumbled, her cheeks turning extremely green for a few moments. "Smells like hell."

"Yeah, I noticed." The heroine really did stink. The smell, however, didn’t seem to affect you as much as it affected her. "Can you get up? You need to take a shower."

"I’m too dizzy. Just let me lie here for a bit." Without waiting for your permission, Vi laid back down on the floor.

"Fine, but take your clothes off first."

"What?" Her cheeks flushed.

"Is your plan to keep inhaling the pesticide until you feel better? No, you need to get rid of the smell. Come on, take off your clothes."

The idea didn’t seem to please the woman. However, she was too tired to argue and struggled to take off the suit. If it weren’t for your help, she would have stayed in that stinky hoodie and tight uniform until she regained her strength. How long that usually took, you had no idea.

You covered her with a blanket and placed a pillow under her head. Despite being injured and exhausted, she didn’t need to lie on your living room floor like a homeless person. Nothing was said in the meantime: her eyes followed you, curious and vulnerable, while you paid attention to every detail. You needed to make sure she was okay before anything else.

Once she finally seemed to relax, you laid down beside her on the floor.

"Do you come back like this every time?" Your question was expressed in a faint whisper.

"Not always. Today was a little worse." A silence fell between the two of you. The small gap of inches between your shoulders felt like miles.

"You can yell at me if you want. I deserve it."

"It’s no use, not with you like this. I’m too worried to be angry at you right now." Your eyes were fixed on a spot on the ceiling. "I just wish you had told me."

Silence again.

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

"I felt guilty," she admitted with a shaky groan. You turned your face to her and saw tears filling her blue eyes. "And scared... scared of losing you."

"Why would you lose me, Vi?"

She turned her face away as soon as you moved closer.

"Because you won’t forgive me. You can’t. Not after I let your parents die." There was so much pain in her voice and on her face: speaking about it seemed more agonizing than any bruise on her body.

With a broken heart and a lump in your throat, you moved closer to her. You reached for her clenched fist and opened it, intertwining your fingers with hers.

"It wasn’t your fault. I needed someone to blame, but I would never put that on you, Vi. I can’t believe you actually thought that."

In a reaction filled with fear, the woman pulled her hand away from yours and turned her back to you.

"I already had the powers," she admitted after curling up into herself. "When your parents died, I could have done something. But Vander told me to be careful, he said great responsibilities would come if I used my powers. I hesitated, and if I hadn’t hesitated, your parents—"

"Vi, stop." You sat up, leaning over her curled-up body. Your hands reached for her shoulder, gently pulling her closer to you. "When did you get your powers?"

"A few days before they—"

"Then there wasn’t time. No one becomes a hero overnight." Your voice was firm. No bitterness, no irony, just determination.

"But you said—"

"I know what I said." You squeezed Vi’s shoulder, desperate for her to meet your gaze. "I know, but it was just words. I wanted to take my pain out on someone, and who better than a distant figure plastered across the papers?"

"Well, I told you that you could take it out on me if you wanted," she tried to lighten the mood with a carefree laugh.

A smile crossed your lips, but your voice remained serious.

"I could never do that, Vi. I admire you too much to even consider something like that."

Your words wiped away the small smile lingering on her lips. Vulnerable again, Vi finally turned her face toward you.

"Whether as a boxer or as the Spider-Girl, I have nothing but gratitude for you."

Her eyes gleamed as they locked onto yours. Like a magnet, your entire body was drawn to that gaze, your heart desperate to leap from your chest and meet hers, no matter how irrational that might be.

"But I wish you had told me. It would have saved a lot of carpets," you joked, bringing a dazzling smile to Violet's face. "I thought it was some filthy raccoon, but it turns out it was just you."

"That would make quite the headline. The Red Spider Destroys Neighborhood Living Rooms."

"Are you kidding? So I’m not the only one whose carpets you’ve ruined?" You feigned an offended expression. "How scandalous of you, barging into strangers’ living rooms. I thought I was special!"

"You are." There wasn’t a trace of humor in her low, steady voice.

The smile on Violet’s face pierced through any joke or comment you might have made. Her gaze disarmed you, just as it so often had in the past. After nearly a year, she was back—by your side. As Violet, and as the Red Spider, she had fully returned to your life.

Nothing could describe the relief, the peace, and the joy you felt knowing that.

"Good to know." Your confident smile joined hers. On impulse, you leaned in and stole a kiss from your heroine. The thought made you smile again.

"My heroine."

[colleybri]

One of the greatest hugs in any film

Interview question: “Do you think Cassian and Jyn would have managed to connect even more due to their shared life experiences if they had even more time?”

Diego Luna: “Obviously! What a good question. I think that hug represents everything that could have been but was not and everything that was too, because that hug meant they were part of something together and I believe that union lasts forever”.

One of the single best story decisions that was made in Rogue One was this incredible hug between Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor, as they await death from the blast of the Death Star.

It’s sad enough just in the context of the film. After Season 1 of Andor, it’s even more moving. I think some of us will be emotional wrecks after Season 2. 

One thing I’m starting to realise only now is how Jyn’s story, as revealed in the film (and the novelisation), reflects Cassian’s so much. She was also a child of war, displaced and effectively orphaned, adopted before being forced to embark on a new life. She had it even worse than him, in many ways. But just like him she had an early zeal to fight, which she similarly went on to lose because of the bitter pain that commitment caused. She becomes disillusioned and cynical about the Rebellion. It takes a combination of hard knocks and a resulting realisation of the desperate NEED to fight the Empire - in order to preserve all that they hold dear - to radicalise both of them to the extent that they are willing to sacrifice their lives for the cause.

Cassian is already in that place - he reached it five years before. But in Season 2 I expect we will see further challenges, see the desperately awful things he might have to do and what else he will need to sacrifice ahead of his actual life. Sacrifices that weasr down his soul, bit by bit. Luthen’s monologue hangs over everything. “ I burn my life for a sunrise I know I’ll never see.” It’s a bitter irony that Cassian is frequently placed in sun-rising imagery, culminating in the ‘sun’ of the explosion.

Jyn, in Rogue One, seems to be the spiritual shot in the arm that Cassian needs. In the same way that being inspired by his love for Clem, Maarva and Bix helps to spur him on in the Season 1 finale (when the chances of successfully rescuing Bix must seem non-existent)  Jyn seems to me to be the crucial reminder for Cassian of why he is doing all this in the first place. Her love for her father stops him from obeying the order to kill him. He just can’t do it. He can’t put someone he is growing to care about through the same agony he went through himself.

In the end, neither can live with themselves if they don’t fight. But both of them are fighting for the right reason: love.

The hug is platonic and therefore perfect because it’s universal, in a way: we can imagine - in their final seconds - that they can both see and feel the warmth and the arms of every single person in their lives who they ever loved in any form: parents, siblings, lovers, friends. And of course they also die feeling the arms of each other - bound together by their fight and sacrifice but also an embrace with someone they might have gone on to know, and to love, if the universe had been a kinder place. 

It’s one of the most perfect and beautiful death scenes in any film I’ve seen. 

But it’s also heart-crushingly sad. 

‘What could have been’. 

…..

Edit:

I think the earlier elevator scene is where they acknowledge the loss of what they could have had together. Cassian stares at Jyn with unblinking focus but he looks like he’s dying already from his injuries, and Jyn - not yet knowing for sure that she’s about to die too - looks completely devastated. By the time they reach the beach and see the blast approaching both of them look accepting of their fate… and I imagine that they can use their final moments to internally say their spiritual goodbyes to everyone they ever loved in their lives - and to each other. They are content to die together. They are at peace as they “become one with the Force”.

….

The sand is coarse on his fingers as he tightens the embrace and closes his eyes. Her face had been that of the last being he will see, and he is at peace with that. After all, she had already started to mend his broken soul and remind him of why he was doing all this in the first place. 

Love.

She is warm against him, her grip intensifying his physical pain, and intensifying whatever is going on now in his soul. They hug as if in the hope of keeping each other whole, the hope of somehow stopping the inevitable coming-apart. Almost as if to stop time and be forever in this state of in-between.

But there is no time at all. 

So he thinks he will imagine that the light is coming from her, her bright spirit - her hot molten core - soldering and melting them into one being. 

‘I don’t know where you end or where it is that I begin.’

Extract above from  ‘Dawn Chorus’ chapter 5:

Diego Luna interview:

’ I don’t know where you end or where it is that I begin’ - from the song ‘Vision’ by Peter Hammill.

[firehousefreak911]

Buried

This gave me like 100000000000 ideas!!!

So the beginning was easy and the kitchen scene came easy. The inbetween got me though.

hey! i know you said youve had trouble drawing inspiration and i was wondering if maybe you could do an eddie diaz x reader with inspiration from the earthquake episode or eddie begins when he gets buried? just some good ol hurt to comfort with the best firefighter 🫶

You were sitting on the couch folding laundry when you looked up and saw the news was showing a live report from a search and rescue of a little boy. You then spotted the familiar 118 truck.

You turned it up just in time to hear them say, “ it seems they have lost contact with the firefighter that went in after the boy.”

You zoned after that. You suddenly felt sick. You searched the screen for a glimpse of your husband, Eddie.

You went on auto pilot, you reached your phone and called the one person you knew could help.

“Hey baby girl, what can I do for you?” You heard Athena ask.

“Is-is-is it Eddie?” You ask shakily.

“Y/n listen you know nothing is going to prevent that man from coming home to you and that sweet boy of his, they will get him out” Athena said searching for her words.

“I know but I saw the news report and I just couldn’t help but be afraid” you said

“I get it, it’s natural but you have to remember who he is with, the best firefighters in the world. They will bring him home” she says

“I know, Thank you Athena”

“Anytime baby” she says hanging up.

Christopher comes into the room and plops on the couch next to you. You quickly change the channel.

“Whats wrongs, mom?” He ask.

“Nothing just a sad movie” you lie. You wipe your tears and scoot next to him wrapping him in a hug. He giggles.

“You are weird” he says. You kiss his head and stand up.

“How about some pizza?” You ask, trying to get everything off your mind.

-

You were cleaned up dinner and put Christopher to bed, well put him in his room he refused to be tucked in until his dad got home. It had been about 4 hours since you found out.

You peaked in a saw Christopher was asleep. You heard your phone ringing so you ran and answered it.

“We’ve got him” Bobby said as you answered the phone.

“Let me talk to her” you heard Eddie say weakly.

“Eddie?” You asked when you heard him take the phone.

“Hey beautiful” he said.

“Eddie baby are you ok?” You asked finally relieved.

“I will be. They are forcing me to go to the hospital to get checked out” you heard him say.

“Your welcome” you heard Chimney say in the background

“Well Thats probably for the best honey” you said.

“I need to see you and Christopher” he said, wincing in pain, “you two are what kept me fighting to get out”

“Well I’m so happy you did, I was so worried, I saw the news and freaked out a little, just listen to Hen and Chimney and let them help you”

“You heard the woman” Hen said

“Yes, ma’am” he said trying to laugh.

-

They released Eddie the next day around noon. The 3 of you spent the day relaxing as a family and preparing Christopher presentation for show and tell at school, which Eddie will be apart of.

You all had went to bed fairly early. You were woke up by the sound of screaming. You flipped on your lamp and saw Eddie sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Eddie, whats wrong?” You asked worried. He was panting and sweating.

“It was just a nightmare, I’m ok,” he said, looking over his shoulder “I’m sorry I woke you, go back to sleep”

You crawl over to him. You run your hand over his back. You feel his breathing ease up a little. You get on your knees and start massaging his shoulders.

“I’m here if you need to talk” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him. He leans back and relaxes in your arms. Yall get back adjusted in bed and fall asleep with you holding him.

-

It was midnight when you noticed Eddie wasn’t in bed with you. You got up and went to look for him. You saw the glow of the light above the sink.

Eddie was sitting at the kitchen table staring into space, holding a cup of coffee. You touch his shoulder and he jumps a little.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” you said giving him a worried look, sitting down next to him.

“I know that look, Y/n, I’m fine just a lot on my mind” he says. You can see how tired he is. You reach over and grab his hand.

“You know you can talk to me right? I’m your wife, you don’t have to hide anything from me” you said.

I’m okay, I promise, if something is wrong, you’ll be the first to know” he stands up and puts his coffee cups in the sink. He places his hands on the edge and leans against the counter, “can we just drop it?”

“Damn it, Eddie, I am the one who wake up next to you screaming in your sleep,” You say, “you can hide it from Bobby and Buck and the rest of the 118 but not from me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you” you defend yourself, clearly getting upset.

He runs his hand through his dark hair, a look of guilt and frustration on his face. He sits back down in the kitchen chair.

“I know, look I’m sorry, but there is nothing to worry about” he said taking your hand into his and brushing hair out of your face with the other. You kiss his hand as his runs down your face

“I love you” you whisper

“I love you too, you and Christopher is what saved me in that well”he said, grabbing your hands“ I fought to come home to you, I will always fight to come home to the two of you”

The two of you sat holding hands in silence for a while. It would take a while but the two if you would heal together.

[forestfairyunicorn]

Huge thanks to @maireadralph for organizing yet another Zine event, and for this art piece, it was made to tribute my first ever Entrapdak fic, made just after season 4 aired.

Since the fic in the link is user-restricted, here is also the c/p for enjoyment

Rebooting: LUVD

forestfairyunicorn

Summary:

Post Season 4 ending. Spoilers in effect! Entrapta rescued "Hordak", but is it him? Inspired by my favourite Wall-E ending scene

“Hor-DAK!!!”

Entrapta’s voice cracked on the last syllable as she stared at the clone’s blank eyes, hands on his arms.

Physically, it was him. She recovered him from Prime’s other clones, she and the others got him back to her lab. She single-handedly, --she alone!-- got his armor running smoothly, the crystal back in his armor, deep purple amid dark grey.

He’s awake.

But not the same person.

He didn’t even recognize Imp. The little one was on Emily, silently crying and staring at Entrapta.

The clone repeated again, “I am Horde Alpha 24601. I live and serve Horde Prime. Who are you.”

The scientist just laughed. Watery, fighting tears. “A scientist and a failure, that’s what I am. And I don’t give up. I shouldn’t give up.”

She looked at him, tears shining. “You were cast out for being less than perfect. You were my lab partner.”

Entrapta leaned her head on his chest, directly below the crystal. “You were my friend. I believed that. I believed that imperfections are beautiful. I still do.” She whispered the last part as she moved away. Her hands moved down his arms, slowly leaving them, then stopped.

She felt something grip them. The clone’s hands held her fingers, gently, and increasing pressure. He whispered something. Entrapta glanced at his face, her eyes alight.

“You…are not…a f-failure.” The clone blinked twice, breathed twice, ears flicking up and down. He blinked again. Saw Entrapta.

Saw. Her.

He gasped, ears down, eyes widened, a tinge of red seeping in. “Entrapta?” he whispered softly.

“Hordak.” Entrapta grinned, tears flowing. Normally she’d have her mask down, but she can’t look away at this miracle.

Science has yet to explain miracles, but for now, she’ll believe in it.

His legs buckled, and he started to kneel. Entrapta guided him down, with her hair as support.

Both of them on their knees, hands grasping each other, until finally they came together at a hug. Soft laughter, incredulous, tears flowing freely.

“I,” Hordak spoke hoarsely. “I don’t remember much before.”

“That’s okay,” Entrapta nuzzled, “The crystal acts as a backup and a power source. Ingenious First Ones tech. Only flaw is that it has to be connected to you for memory logging and such.”

“Thank you,” Hordak moved to look into her eyes, oh her eyes, how he missed them. Her. “Please, tell me everything.”

She held his hand to her face, leaning into his touch. “It will take a long time, lab partner. And I’ll make a better one.”

He shook his head, a claw touching the crystal. “Imperfections are beautiful. We have time. I want to spend time, with you. If you’ll have me.”

Entrapta nodded, leaning forward. “Yes. We’re lab partners.”

Imp and Emily came closer, and Hordak smiled at Imp. That gesture unleashed Imp as he bounded at Hordak, screeching and chittering and rubbing his head against him. Emily wobbled closer, beeping joyously.

None of them registered the group when they came into the area. Overlapping voices. Shouts of “Yay! WOAH! What the heck? HEY! Go! Go go go go go!”

“Wait, are they kissing?” That was Scorpia. “GUYS LET’S LEAVE THEM ALONE, THEY’RE KISSING.”

At the corner of his eye, Hordak saw one of them double back to watch them, only for a large red claw to yank the figure back.

He doesn’t care one bit. He’s too busy staring into Entrapta’s eyes, and sighing at the wonders of this feeling, of love.

He is loved. So much.

[neonscandal]

Hello, can I ask from this ask game :

https://www.tumblr.com/threecheersforinking/677824836625694720/anime-ask-game?source=share

For anime/manga : Banana Fish, SK8 The Infinity, Attack on Titans and Wotakoi...

P.s

I want to ask JJK and BNHA, but I'm afraid if the ask will be too long....

Hello, hello, anon! 💜 thank you for reaching out. Just know that we do not fear length here. Those who will read, will read. Besides, this is a question posed by and meant for you.

I appreciate that you knew I'd struggle to be succinct tho haha I think I nailed it okay (literally, what do I know?).

BANANA FISH

Favorite Character: Ash Lynx

Favorite Arc/Episode/Scene: The moment of recognition that focused Ash’s eyes when, with his vision compromised, he realized Eiji had come to rescue him from Dino. 🥹 Eiji hugging Ash after they rescue him from Fox. MAX BURNING ASH’S PICTURES.

Character I Think is Underrated: Max Lobo. I don’t know where he rates but it‘ll never be high enough in my book (see above).

Character I Think is Overrated:

Favorite Ship/Pairing: AshEiji

Something I Love About the Show/Movie: I honestly don’t know if I loved it. I mean. I’ve recommended it on multiple lists but it was triggering, I bawled my eyes out, I had to stop watching part way for over a month because it devastated me and, after everything, it ended so unfairly. Watching Banana Fish is an experience that festers within me that I am occasionally compelled to relive. So maybe there’s something to be said for a story that can inspire that in a way that lasts (I’ve literally only watched it once and won’t again). Maybe I just love the idea of a broken person who can still be loved and regarded gently without condition.

SK8 THE INFINITY

Favorite Character: Kaoru “Cherry” Sakurayashiki, he’s so gender.

Favorite Arc/Episode/Scene: this is one series that justifiably has a beach episode if only to set up Miya cockblocking Joe. Joe will never beat the Down-Bad-For-Kaoru allegations, either.

Character I Think is Underrated: Miya. I feel like there’s more unexplored lore RE: Adam, his relationship with food and, of course, his relationship with his parents and peers. Oka is another sleeper but I think I was just intrigued by the fanon idea of Oka from fan art

Character I Think is Overrated:

Favorite Ship/Pairing: MatchaBlossom, also, knowing Kaoru and Adam had some fling or something pre-MB is precisely what I mean when I say your favorite characters wouldn’t just settle down. Let them be messy like people, it’s better for the lore.

Something I Love About the Show/Movie: I love a show I can share with my niece and nephew but, more than that, the music was a VIBE.

ATTACK ON TITAN

Favorite Character: Levi Ackerman

Favorite Arc/Episode/Scene: Erwin’s galvanizing speech in Shinganshina. 🔪💔 Or the big reveal at the castle tower when the main cast were just recruits under scrutiny. Their outlandish victory there.

Character I Think is Underrated: Poor Moblit had to put up with so much hahaha respected Hange's pronouns, supported their eccentricity (with caution) and was an absolute ride or die.

Character I Think is Overrated: Eren Jaeger.

Favorite Ship/Pairing: Eruri

Something I Love About the Show/Movie: the exposition. Not by the spoonful but, instead, by the shock of a snapping jaw. With the subject matter being as heavy as it is, the world building unfurled in such a way that you, as the viewer, are an ignorant person behind the wall. You learned things as the characters, namely the main trio, came to understand them. They grew up with your expanding world view, their innocence falling away as the harsh reality of the world they lived in shifted into focus and it was done so elegantly that you never see the next big twist coming. Even with all the easter eggs you come to realize after the fact!

WOTAKOI: LOVE IS HARD FOR OTAKU

Favorite Character: Hanako Koyanagi and Hirotaka Nifuji are like neck and neck

Favorite Arc/Episode/Scene: Not only finding out that Hanako cosplays but that she is like renowned for her handsome characters.

Character I Think is Underrated: Naoya Nifuji - I kinda feel like there's not a thought behind those eyes but so, so nice. Also, well meaning chaos when he almost blows Hirotaka's cover. But, see what I mean?

Character I Think is Overrated:

Favorite Ship/Pairing: Both of the main two couples have some issues but.. isn't that real life? So.. Hanako and Taro even though they argue, the love runs deep

Something I Love About the Show/Movie: It's so relatable ✨ (see above)

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Favorite Character: So many, honestly. Gojo, Nanami and Nobara are just top tier, in my opinion for many reasons.

Favorite Arc/Episode/Scene: Toss up between Nobara and Yuji becoming accomplices because the trio were really stepping up while trying to undo that curse or the Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arc in setting the stage for everything.

Character I Think is Underrated: Nanami Kento. I talk a lot about Geto Suguru being doomed by the narrative but maybe it's just any earnest man in jujutsu society. It's why Gojo tests to make sure his students are crazy before accepting them.

Character I Think is Overrated: Toji Zenin. Don't get me wrong, character wise, he's zesty and he's so grossly mischaracterized that it makes me question people's reading comprehension. He's an interesting wildcard whose omitted background, I think, will boomerang back into the story. But some of the fan obsession is a bit out of my realm of understanding.

Favorite Ship/Pairing: *gestures vaguely to the rest of my blog* SatoSugu, but it's pretty casual.

Something I Love About the Show/Movie: Surprisingly, the prevalence of alternative representation and bad ass female cast that subverts typical shonen fodder. But also, the fact that the chaos that is seemingly bringing on the end of the world in the current timeline is literally thanks to two teenagers who would willingly fight a god but couldn't be honest about how they felt 10 years ago. There are so many "if only's" in this series, it's maddening, actually.

MY HERO ACADEMIA

Favorite Character: Katsuki Bakugo

Favorite Arc/Episode/Scene: All Might vs. AFO as Bakugo and Deku watch from a distance.

Character I Think is Underrated: Tokoyami. Having placed third in the sports festival, Tokoyami appreciation is still not loud enough for me. Locks down an internship with the Number 2 hero. Bears the burden of a heteromorph quirk while locked in an eternal effort to subjugate Dark Shadow. Has presumably stellar taste in music and poetry. Kid is legitimately fearsome and, yet, people don’t put enough respect on him even though he’s lowkey also OP.

Character I Think is Overrated: I’m going to get some hate for this but.. All Might. His arrested development may not be his fault but misguiding Midoriya out of some misplaced sense of ego or obligation was so frustrating when he's the adult in the situation. I just think he deserves more slander.

Favorite Ship/Pairing: BakuDeku and/or EraserMic (fanon EraserMic content is always just 😘👌🏾) but there are a lot of great ones to choose from, I have plenty of faves.

Something I Love About the Show/Movie: The idea that anyone can be a hero and, inversely, that anyone can be a villain. The latter stemming from the fact that you don’t know who you are in other people’s story, nor how close you are to ruin with one lapse in judgement. There’s a persisting idea of redemption while a lot of the heavy hitters in this conflict are entrenched in generations' worth of unrest. Think about Compress, Geten's family (not calling out a spoiler here but IYKYK), Redestro, All For One, One for All... the list goes on and on. I have a draft somewhere about this but got too busy to put all my thoughts down for a lot of theories I had for MHA. So maybe I also love that it's a story that has always kept me guessing in a really constructive way. Lastly, with such a huge, nuanced ensemble cast, I think a lot of people are able to see themselves in the context of these characters which is really unique.

[gendervapor14]

DoflaminBROS Week 2023 - Day 5: hurt/comfort

here is the next tragic tale for the DoflaminBROS Week 2023 event! this one is the longest. didn't like it at first, but it grew on me. hurt/comfort is one of my favorite genres, it was just a matter of figuring out what exactly to do with it. extra thanks go out to @fakescorpion for giving me some inspiration!! <3

characters: rosinante, doflamingo, donquixote pirates additional tags & content warnings: canon-compliant, PTSD, hurt/comfort (i hope), implied alcoholism

special thanks for @gali-la for beta reading!! this one needed some extra love hehe i appreciate it so much (hugs hugs)

It was too overcast for any starlight to illuminate the edges of the sea, but the bonfire on shore provided plenty of light for the impromptu party. Gladius sat near the edge with Baby 5 and Buffalo, tossing salts into the fire to turn the flames brilliant, unnatural hues. Corazón kept his distance, although it was rather entertaining. Any moment free of destruction was the closest he’d get to heaven, as far as he was concerned.

Machvise “thrifted” a rusty grill a week ago, which became a Family restoration project. Giolla insisted it needed to be repainted. Gladius wanted a good look at the gas canister. Buffalo offered to test it out on his pet lizard, who mysteriously went missing that night. Corazón had no trouble keeping his lips sealed. Trebol got some coal. Señor Pink offered his lighter. Lao G practically bought out the local butcher. Family barbeque, to commemorate the day Machvise joined the crew.

Corazón played along agreeably, but maybe that was because he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Even then, Diamante decided to whip together his infamous “Hell’s Omelet”, which included every type of pepper on the face of the planet. Corazón didn’t eat many of Diamante’s meals. Wasn’t a huge fan of barbeque, exactly, but he was probably in his teens last he had any, when that vendor was kind enough to offer some of his meals after Rosinante’s squad rescued his daughter from a group of bandits. 

This slice of heaven was nice, though. The kids were being kids. Executives were minding their own fucking business, talking about old times. Doflamingo was laughing boyishly. Corazón considered this a chance to shut down. Sat there on a log on the outskirts of the darkness, a good place to disappear. Let his eyes rest with a heavy, silent sigh. The scent of smoky charcoal slipped into the scene, mingling with the bonfire, the warm breeze from the quiet town beyond. 

“...Doffy?”

Rosinante raised his head at the sound of Trebol’s voice. It was clear as day. The kids stopped laughing. The executives stopped chattering. Wind, fire, waves, and his brother. His brother, standing there, staggering away from the executives, hand around his throat. Choking? What was he choking on? The meat hadn’t even been cooked yet. Machvise practically just threw it on the grill.

The officers cried out the Young Master’s moniker in a choir of concern. He brushed past all of them, glaring vehemently at that grill. At the acrid plumes of smoke merging with dense clouds. “Put it out!” Doflamingo’s wheezy voice cracked around the edges as he gestured his arms wildly. “Put it out now, put the fire out, put everything out!”

“The grill?” Giolla questioned innocently, holding the whimpering Dellinger close to her chest.

Rosinante hadn’t even realized he stood until he was walking. Until Doflamingo dismissed himself abruptly, lumbering towards the gangplank, towards their empty vessel.

Diamante’s arm caught the heart seat’s before he could trail his brother. “Corazón, what the hell’s going on?”

Corazón yanked a page from the inside of his coat. “Stay here.”

By the time Diamante skimmed over it, Corazón had already made his way to the ship.

Earlier in the evening, Giolla set out four bottles of wine on the kitchen table for the intended afterparty. Rosinante noticed two of them were missing on his way to the captain’s quarters. He tore the fridge open. Skimmed the contents. Little silly to assume there’d be leftover lobster lying around, and even if there was, it probably wouldn’t taste any good cold. He didn’t have a lot of time though, or at least, that’s what he convinced himself. He grabbed a sandwich, god knows whose it was, but he’d take the fall for that later. There was a bottle of seltzer there too, half empty, but it would do. 

Doflamingo’s room was dark. The door was open, though. Corazón was unable to clear his throat to notify his presence. Couldn’t knock either, not with his hands full. He opted to take a risk and balance himself on one leg for a sweet second, tapping the heel of his shoe against the doorframe. His eyes were still adjusting to the dim lighting, but he could make out the shifting blond fuzz of  his brother’s head. 

“What is it.”

Corazón couldn’t answer. Not like Doflamingo would be able to read his notes anyway, unless he turned a lamp on, which was as pointless as asking him to wave a white flag. Rosinante shuffled into the room blindly, praying to any betraying power that he wouldn’t trip now of all times, and hit his brother in the face with a cold sandwich.

The gods apparently smiled down on him. He navigated his way safely in front of the future warlord, who was seated on the edge of his bed. He offered the plate and the bottle. Noticed then that Doflamingo’s hands were occupied, draped between his knees, restlessly stirring the contents of a wine bottle.

“What is this?” Doflamingo grumbled, setting the bottle aside to snatch the plate out of his grasp. “Buffalo’s lunch?”

Rosinante’s free hand closed in on the bottle of seltzer. Offered that over, too.

“Why are you giving this to me?” His brother's voice was lined with something thin and coarse.

There were no chairs nearby, so Rosinante snagged half of the sandwich for himself and sat there on the floor before him. Doflamingo remained still when Rosinante took a bite. Motioned his meal towards the plate, encouraging him to do the same.

“You…I thought you didn’t like bread.”

Rosinante just shrugged and took another bite.

It must’ve dawned on him. Doflamingo’s head turned down to the dish. He stared at that stolen gift a little too long. 

“You’re a good brother, you know. I wish we could’ve been there for you sooner.”

thanks for hosting this @opdoffyzine & @corazine !!

previous entry here!

[toongrrl-blog]

My Own Style Analysis: Ben’s Dream

This was originally posted on Reddit.

*Warning: The following picture may be NSFW, you have been warned*

“I am Fire and Air” Cleopatra, as imagined by Willy Shakespeare

Ever since I saw this scene, I have been thinking about any possible references that were made here. This is by no mean's an organized think piece and I feel pretty okay about this, I was shocked to see the overt sexuality in this scene (and hoped no one was coerced into performing) but I always felt that Maitreyi had the talent and looks to play a 21st Century twist on the classic Film Noir Femme Fatale and felt vindicated here. In fact my mind went to different places which shall be covered here.

Lighting: First thing we notice is the purple lighting used in the scene, both to set the tone for Ben's lust and love for Devi and to enhance both Maitreyi's and Jaren's physical appeal. In fact, aside from being a color that stands for status and heroism, purple is one of Dr. David Rosenau's color-coded pyramid of intimacy (which also incorporates colors which were so darn persistent in the show and used in the final scene of the series); purple symbolizes touch and passion, the former that Ben was yearning from Devi at that moment and the passion that they mutually held for each other in a way that matches the damned wildfires in our Golden State and in their academic competition. It is also noted that the both of them hated it when Ben wasn't talking to Devi, in a scene where they were both in outfits picking up on each other's greens (bonding intimacy) after he rescued her from getting groped by a Fabio reject and when she showed up high at her house and ruined an apple shaped cake. The dark purplish lighting also helps to accentuate Maitreyi's dark skin and the metallics on her lingerie and makeup which add to another part of her fantasy mystique.

Madame X: In the late 19th Century, John Singer Sargent painted a very scandalous portrait of a red-haired socialite named Virginie Gautreau, an American ex-pat and wife of a respectable French banker. This was a woman with a sense of confidence who knew she was beautiful and owned her sexuality, both no-no's in the 20th Century Western World (actually given how society loves to humble a woman with high self-esteem or bravado, have things changed?) and in a time when women were expected to cover themselves up with layers of fabric and decor, she was wearing a simple curve-hugging dress in black that contrast with her very fair skin with metallic straps and instead of looking demure, she looked proud, this scandalized Parisian society and practically ruined Sargent's career and Gautreau's reputation, it wasn't until later that this flop became iconic, inspiring Rita Hayworth's dress in Gilda, the gold-chain Chanel dress, the allure that later LBDs now possess, and dresses worn by Christina Hendricks in Mad Men Season 4 episode "Waldorf Stories" and Post heiress/Mr. Sheffield's cold ass mom Dina Merrill and even Maitreyi herself in real life.

Makeup: Complementing the metallics of the lingerie are Devi's makeup, which is inspired by the very contemporary Euphoria and I argue, the intro to the 1980s James Bond film A View to a Kill with the models in bathed in a dark light to better accentuate the neon colored makeup, nail polish, hair, and weapons that would glow in the dark. Another thing to note is that while Devi's lip gloss enhances the natural pink in them, her eye makeup and manicure are bolder and match her nose ring; this is likely a call back to how the 2020 COVID-19 Pandemic impacted makeup trends in sales, with lipstick taking a dip along with economics (a reversal of a trend that was first noted in the Great Depression) while eye makeup sales soared as people found ways to experiment with different colors and designs while keeping safe with masks. Her look is likely even a shout out to Alexa Demie's Euphoria character Maddy Perez, who like Devi and Maitreyi, is a young WOC and Hollywood newcomer flawlessly portraying a complex, flawed, and charismatic young woman who isn't afraid to go ham. The big thing is that Ben is (thankfully) not Nate Jacobs: both being privileged white boys who've internalized the Patriarchy, but while Ben is obnoxious and hiding his vulnerability and abandonment issues with bravado and only achieved some semblance of popularity through is background and connection to others in the Hot Pocket, Nate however has his toxic traits enabled or even encouraged by his parents and is positively horrifying in his treatment of Jules and Maddy and is the BMOC. But rest assured no one is getting almost strangled after tossing a pot of chili after being slut-shamed.

Flame: Sex has always been symbolized by elements (old films used beaches and other forms of water to imply acts of sex and passion) and fire was used as a metaphor for sexual desire in songs like "Hot Blooded" and "Somethings Burning"; flame is also used to illustrate a fiery temperament, Ben is well aware Devi is a hothead like her father's hero John McEnroe (the fact that the elder white Boomer male and a teenage South Asian girl are validated for their short fuse is amazing) and contrasts with his doting yet cool parents and she also often dresses in warm colors that highlight her looks and her personality. In fact many iconic female characters have been depicted with fiery tempers or strong personalities (think Joan Holloway, any character played by Joan Crawford and Bette Davis and Maureen O'Hara, Trudy Proud, Betty and Veronica). This not only played to male audiences but also to female ones in more misogynistic times....

Femme Fatales: As an interviewee in Jackie Stacey's Star Gazing noted "I liked seeing strong, capable, and independent types of female characters, mostly because I wish to be like them" and she, along with many female spectators of films in the 40s and 50s, are in awe of femme fatale's and the career women of the era's films own confidence, intelligence, beauty, and wardrobe. In fact the Femme Fatale comes from a long tradition of men using women as scapegoats for shit hitting the fan and society fearing what would happen if women started to own their intelligence and sexuality (yeah why wouldn't a group that's been long subjugated, abused, and exploited burn down the village?); Devi is no stranger to the feminine being pathologized (blamed for Paxton's accident in Season 2, her grief and temporary disability was mocked, been gaslit by Des...yeah no wonder I channel Lucille Bluth when Devi "damages" something), but wait Toongrrl1990 what about her Unfuckable Nerds moniker? One of the forms of gaslighting patriarchal society has done to women is to liken their worth to their appearance and even when they are pretty, is to gaslight them into thinking they aren't enough: think of how much money the diet industry has made post World War One to now, think of male authors finding ways to insist a woman is "pretty but not beautiful" or say "a model she was far from" or even look at what P.J. O'Rourke says about Bimbos. I grew up in the era where Bridget Jones was considered fat at a size 6 and where people said Bill Clinton (who looked like a basic Boomer Dad to me as a kiddo) could have had "hotter" women (even the one that was a pageant winner wasn't enough or even the freakishly gorgeous and Dorian Gray-esque Monica Lewinsky wasn't enough), in fact go read about Golden Era Hollywood stars and you can see many of the iconic beauties were labeled some form of "unfuckable" (Sophia Loren, Bette Davis, Maureen O'Hara, Grace Kelly, Judy Garland, Meryl Streep). Bosley Croeger, a critic, even critiques Rita Hayworth in Gilda as five and a dime in playing her worldly and street-wise characters.

Devi even lives up to the iconic image of the Femme Fatale's aesthetic: having long wavy hair that bounces and matches her lively nature, her shapely legs that get plenty of focus in Devi's costumes, her quotable "snatched waist, slim thicc queen" figure, quick wit and intellect, and inclination to take risks. As with Madame X, Devi deviates in a major way from the image of the FF, as she is South Asian while the other two female archetypes have been traditionally depicted by white and white-passing women. Devi's image in the scene is a double-edged sword: is it empowering to South Asian girls and WOC and AFABs or is it exploitative as Maitreyi is a young adult and WOC have been historically sexualized? Can girl just express her sexuality because she is feeling herself?

The Femme Fatale is also depicted as being manipulative and intelligent, enough to lead some poor shlubs to their ruin; this is called back to Devi saying "I am so much better at school than you" in the dream and managing to take Ben's shirt off without him noticing her doing so. But as discussed in u/Professionalish00 brilliant post, Devi is a Hot Mess and this new archetype is somewhat of a victory and evolution from the Femme Fatale, who sighs with relief that complex and sexual women aren't pathologized like she was. Now we can see her own vulnerabilities and see she's just a woman, trying to survive.

Elizabeth Taylor: To quote Tom and Lorenzo, the late cinematic icon and AIDs activist Liz Taylor was a strong woman who had a rich yet messy life, "but she was never the victim that Marilyn [Monroe] was. She took charge of her life and owned her mistakes, but never stopped pursuing the perfect love, demonstrating a sexual aggression that few women of the period would have been comfortable showing". Also as noted by M.E. Lord in The Accidental Feminist, Elizabeth Taylor was a funny gal with a great appetite for living and like Devi, was something of a man eater (Debbie Reynolds noted that Liz stayed friends with many of her exes) and the opposite of a doormat (except in the film Ash Wednesday and Season 2 after Paxton's accident, which was the point). Like Liz's character Martha in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Devi possesses an aggression that is still looked down on in women but otherwise tolerated in men (see my notes on McEnroe), encourages Paxton and Kamala to buck the system a la Leslie Benedict in Giant, dealt with having her physical and mental health used as a cudgel against her  like Cathy in Suddenly, Last Summer (minus the threat of a big ass ice pick), I would even argue that Liz playing Gloria in Butterfield 8 struck a blow for young women expressing their sexuality (I also love the image in my head of Gloria teaching Devi how to better utilize her hot headedness, especially with lipstick and stilettos) and Devi deep down encourages the best for her loved ones, a passion I saw with Liz Taylor's activism.

Put the blame on Devi...oops Mame: Alas the night ended with Ben showing up high as a kite at Devi's house, driven by his love and lust for Devi, only to ruin her grandmother's cake and implode Devi and Margot (another complex and charismatic woman) efforts to get their parents together. A misogynist would blame Devi for it, in case you think I am off my rocker, watch Shiny, Happy People on Prime or Fundie Fridays on the Duggars and IBLP, remember what Helen of Troy was blamed for or listen to several episodes of You're Wrong About. I would have liked to see Ben really apologize for the UN and all the other shit, but perhaps getting locked listening to Paris Paloma's "Labour" would help (ooof my cramps right now, dang medical science for not finding a way to diagnose menstrual pain without surgery).

So please read this and give me your thoughts, or I'll cry lol.

[gacmediadaily]

Say aloha to a few feline stars in this year's second annual Great American Rescue Bowl: Meowi Wowi, Hana Lulu, and Surfin Sammy.

In an exclusive clip from the special — which hails from Great American Family Channel and North Shore Animal League America, the world's largest no-kill rescue and adoption organization — Meowi Wowi and Hana Lulu can be seen partying it up in one of the exclusive Sky Boxes while rooting for Surfin Sammy down on the field.

All three kittens are from Hawaii, which experienced devastating wildfires last year. As the narrator tells us in the clip above: "Because of the Hawaii fires, shelters in the islands have been overwhelmed, and these little kitties traveled over 5,000 miles to make room for fire victims in their home state."

Just like the inaugural special, this year's show seeks to raise awareness of the importance of animal adoption, by featuring adorable playmaking on the field between dogs and cats of all ages. "This year, we have two teams — the Adorables and the Cuddlers — and each have a kitten squad and puppy squad," explains returning host, author, and animal rights advocate Beth Stern. "We have more on-the-field action, and we captured ridiculously cute footage of the animals watching their friends playing from the luxury Sky Boxes, prepping in the locker rooms, and holding watch parties."

Speaking of, animals in the Sky Boxes like Meowi Wowi and Hana Lulu will be seen wearing Silpada charms on their collars. Part of the Pet Charms for a Cause Collection, the sterling silver charms and necklaces available help save more animals — 40% of proceeds from each charm or necklace purchase are donated by Silpada to North Shore Animal League America through the end of February. (20% of proceeds will continue to be donated after February.)

Elsewhere in the special, Stern promises, "We also have some really inspiring, heartwarming updates on animals who North Shore Animal League America has helped find loving homes. This whole show is a big, warm, fuzzy hug."

It's an admittedly great gig, but Stern admits it's not without its challenges. "There’s only so much story we can tell. Two hours just isn’t enough! Trying to squeeze in so much cuteness, fun, and animal rescue and adoption information into a once-a-year special is a tall order," she says, giving a shoutout to all the unsung heroes working off camera. "There are so many great people working behind-the-scenes to rescue these animals, care for them, and find them responsible, loving homes."

Stern continues, "And so many animals — I like to call them perfectly imperfect — need a little more TLC and a lot more spotlight directed onto them, so they find the perfect adopters, too. I always want to make sure the message I’m sharing with viewers is the best voice I can give to these animals."

Stern, who says she doesn't pick favorites but particularly loved crowd-pleasing pup Ima Goodboy and sweet kitten Rob Groncatski from this year's lineup, also wants to stress to viewers that the dogs, cats, puppies, and kittens of the Rescue Bowl are representative of the wide array of animals available for adoption at North Shore Animal League America, and at shelters and rescue organizations across the country. Says Stern, "You can bring this unconditional love and cuteness into your home just by visiting your local rescue."

The Great American Rescue Bowl airs on Great American Family Channel on Super Bowl Sunday, Feb. 11, from noon-2 p.m. ET.

[my-weird-news]

Shocking Secrets Behind The Blind Side Drama!

The Blind Side Shake-Up: When "Big Mike" Pops the Hollywood Balloon 🎈 Oh, sweet nostalgia! Remember that tearjerker "The Blind Side" from way back in 2009? 🎬 It was like a cinematic comfort meal with a side of warm fuzzies and a sprinkle of Sandra Bullock's award-winning pizzazz. The plot followed a white family on a mission to rescue "Big Mike," a homeless teen with a heart as big as his nickname, from the mean streets of Memphis. I mean, who doesn't want to hug the screen and adopt the entire universe after that? But hold your horses, because life isn't always a Hollywood daydream. In fact, it can be messier than a squirrel's stash of acorns. 🍿 Cue the dramatic background music! So, "The Blind Side" wasn't just a movie; it was supposedly inspired by real events. A heartwarming, feel-good true story. But guess what? Reality decided to take a detour through the wacky tunnel of creative liberties. Michael Oher, the flesh-and-blood "Big Mike," has barged onto the scene like a linebacker on a mission. 🏈 He's throwing shade at the whole "rescued by a loving white family" narrative. Turns out, that's about as real as a unicorn parade in tutus. Oher's unleashed a 14-page manifesto that's juicier than a telenovela plot. Word on the street? He wasn't adopted at all. Nope, instead, he was lured into the mysterious realm of a conservatorship. Ever heard of that? Neither had he, until it landed on him like a surprise cake in a pitch-black room. "But what's a conservatorship?" you ask. Well, it's like a legal carnival where someone else gets to steer your life and wallet. Typically, it's reserved for folks who've had a few too many knocks to the noggin or are as lost as a sock in the Bermuda Triangle. Oher, though? He seemed pretty capable of adulting, yet there he was, trapped in the conservatorship maze. Apparently, Oher's autograph was in demand like hotcakes at a pancake festival. He claims he didn't even realize he was signing off his life story. Imagine waking up one morning to find out you've been starring in a movie about yourself without even getting a popcorn share. 🤯 But wait, the drama train's got more cars. The Tuohy family, those supposed movie heroes, are smack in the middle of this tornado. They're defending their innocence quicker than you can say "twist of fate." Their argument? They were just extending a helping hand to poor Oher, and that conservatorship? Oh, that was like a giant financial bear hug. 💰 Here's the kicker: Oher wants his slice of the movie's cash pie, like a kid demanding a refund for mystery meat in the cafeteria. And don't forget the alleged blackmail whispers – Oher's been accused of planning to smear the Tuohys' reputation like an unruly ketchup stain on a white shirt. Hold onto your hats, folks! A Hollywood lawyer, the same guy who's tangoed with Lizzo and Bill Cosby, has joined the spectacle. Marty Singer's probably got a special ringtone for llama drama moments. 🦙📞 While the legal showdown is heating up, the true casualty here seems to be the very essence of "The Blind Side" tale. What was once an underdog triumph now feels like a topsy-turvy sitcom episode with mix-ups, secret contracts, and enough drama to fuel a reality TV marathon. 🍿📺 So, next time you're snuggled up, shedding tears over a touching flick, remember: behind every heart-tugger could be a real-life plot twist worth its own sequel. Just grab some popcorn, relax, and savor the show, because reality's script doesn't come with edits or a guarantee of a happily-ever-after. 🍿🎥🎭 #BlindSideBursts# The Blind Side Shake-Up: When "Big Mike" Pops the Hollywood Balloon 🎈 Oh, sweet nostalgia! Remember that tearjerker "The Blind Side" from way back in 2009? 🎬 It was like a cinematic comfort meal with a side of warm fuzzies and a sprinkle of Sandra Bullock's award-winning pizzazz. The plot followed a white family on a mission to rescue "Big Mike," a homeless teen with a heart as big as his nickname, from the mean streets of Memphis. I mean, who doesn't want to hug the screen and adopt the entire universe after that? But hold your horses, because life isn't always a Hollywood daydream. In fact, it can be messier than a squirrel's stash of acorns. 🍿 Cue the dramatic background music! So, "The Blind Side" wasn't just a movie; it was supposedly inspired by real events. A heartwarming, feel-good true story. But guess what? Reality decided to take a detour through the wacky tunnel of creative liberties. Michael Oher, the flesh-and-blood "Big Mike," has barged onto the scene like a linebacker on a mission. 🏈 He's throwing shade at the whole "rescued by a loving white family" narrative. Turns out, that's about as real as a unicorn parade in tutus. Oher's unleashed a 14-page manifesto that's juicier than a telenovela plot. Word on the street? He wasn't adopted at all. Nope, instead, he was lured into the mysterious realm of a conservatorship. Ever heard of that? Neither had he, until it landed on him like a surprise cake in a pitch-black room. "But what's a conservatorship?" you ask. Well, it's like a legal carnival where someone else gets to steer your life and wallet. Typically, it's reserved for folks who've had a few too many knocks to the noggin or are as lost as a sock in the Bermuda Triangle. Oher, though? He seemed pretty capable of adulting, yet there he was, trapped in the conservatorship maze. Apparently, Oher's autograph was in demand like hotcakes at a pancake festival. He claims he didn't even realize he was signing off his life story. Imagine waking up one morning to find out you've been starring in a movie about yourself without even getting a popcorn share. 🤯 But wait, the drama train's got more cars. The Tuohy family, those supposed movie heroes, are smack in the middle of this tornado. They're defending their innocence quicker than you can say "twist of fate." Their argument? They were just extending a helping hand to poor Oher, and that conservatorship? Oh, that was like a giant financial bear hug. 💰 Here's the kicker: Oher wants his slice of the movie's cash pie, like a kid demanding a refund for mystery meat in the cafeteria. And don't forget the alleged blackmail whispers – Oher's been accused of planning to smear the Tuohys' reputation like an unruly ketchup stain on a white shirt. Hold onto your hats, folks! A Hollywood lawyer, the same guy who's tangoed with Lizzo and Bill Cosby, has joined the spectacle. Marty Singer's probably got a special ringtone for llama drama moments. 🦙📞 While the legal showdown is heating up, the true casualty here seems to be the very essence of "The Blind Side" tale. What was once an underdog triumph now feels like a topsy-turvy sitcom episode with mix-ups, secret contracts, and enough drama to fuel a reality TV marathon. 🍿📺 So, next time you're snuggled up, shedding tears over a touching flick, remember: behind every heart-tugger could be a real-life plot twist worth its own sequel. Just grab some popcorn, relax, and savor the show, because reality's script doesn't come with edits or a guarantee of a happily-ever-after. 🍿🎥🎭 #BlindSideBursts Read the full article

[itsprashimusic]

You Make Me Strong (part 2)

Summary - After coming back home from a really long mission and breaking down in your arms, all Steve wants to do is fall asleep in your arms. But after being woke up by a nightmare, a realisation dawns on him.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x desi!wife!reader

Word Count - 985

Warnings - rescue mission gone wrong, explosives/explosions, hindi words with english translations in brackets, 1 or 2 swear words, steve speaking hindi, small dancing scene

A/N - this was inspired by One Direction's ‘Strong’ and in my opinion one of the BEST romantic bollywood songs “Mast Magan”

also the summary is shit, the 'realisation' bit is actually pretty short.

Part 1

masterlist is pinned

Steve had come back home from a very long mission. He was covered in dirt but neither of you cared when all you wanted was to feel each other’s embrace. It was late at night when he returned. After all the initial hugs, kisses and tears, he went to freshen up while you put the things from his back away.

You warmed up his favourite aloo parathas. “इश्क़ की धुनि…” (the flame of love) you sang under your breath, a bollywood song stuck in your head. Swaying back and forth you got more into the lyrics, the yellow light setting the right atmosphere, it somehow raining outside at the perfect time. Just as you closed your eyes and twirled around, your husband caught you, spinning you once more before slow dancing with you. 

“मांगे है तेरी मंजूरी..” (have sought your permission) he sang where you stopped. It always warms your heart whenever Steve would learn the songs you love just to sing them to you. Especially the hindi songs, since those took effort to both learn and pronounce correctly. The beeping microwave made you break apart, but not before he kissed the back of your hand, then letting you go. Always the gentleman. 

Telling him to sit down at the table, you bring out the food and let him eat. Assuming by how quickly he finished his meal, he was hungry. “Now that beat the shitty sandwichs they gave us to eat,” he said while finishing up. Before he could get up you take his plate to the sink and wash it. Steve doesn’t say anything. Instead he just watches you with only love in his eyes. 

Later you both were getting ready for bed. He had already brushed his teeth while you were in the bathroom doing the very thing. He could hear your paayals making a little noise as you went shuffling around the bathroom. 

He noticed his favourite hoodie sitting on the sofa-chair in the room, as if laid out to be worn. It got Steve thinking. She knew that he was coming home today, did she leave it out for him to wear? Or was it being aired out since she probably wore it during his absence? Either way, it made him smile for no visible reason. 

You made your way to the bed while switching the hallway light off outside the room. Once you pulled back the covers and got yourself situated in the bed Steve immediately held your waist and smoothly pulled you closer to him. 

“How are you feeling राजा?” you asked him, softly. He replied in the same low, breathy tone, “a couple of things, but mostly tired right now.” You could see the red in his eyes and how he was fighting sleep just as much as you. “How ‘bout we go to sleep and tomorrow we can stay in bed all day, that sound good?” he asked, freckling kisses all over your face. He got a soft hum in response from you. 

He turns to switch the bedroom light off and pulls you closer to him while slowly drifting off to sleep. 

“You both head in from the east, we both will enter from the west. Team Alpha will free the hostages and get them to the aircraft. Team Beta is on takeout duty. You see any figure from the opposing party, take them out instantly. And finally Team Charlie will sweep the place once all the hostages are on the aircraft and will set the explosives. Is the plan understood?” 

(FLASH)

“Are all the hostages out?” “Apparently yes Captain, but they are searching the premises once more just to be sure.” “Good, once they’re out the explosives will be set off.”

(FLASH)

“THERE ARE STILL HOSTAGES IN THERE?!” “Cap, they already sweeped the place thrice and no more hostages were found. And the dynamite timer is already set, there is nothing we can do” 

(FLASH)

‘Images of the building exploding and screaming coming from the rescued people. Most of the commotion being the people saying how there were more hostages that just got killed’

(FLASH)

Steve woke up with a jump. He had a nightmare about the innocent people he accidentally killed. He had ordered the explovies timer be set when the team leader had confirmed there were no more hostages in the structure. But yet there were. They had not searched hard enough to find them and now the hostages were just mere ash and burned bodies lying underneath bricks and rubble. 

Even though Steve woke up, you were still fast asleep, no longer in his arms but still on his side of the bed. He was breathing heavily, his face, neck and hands sweating profusely. He turned the bedside lamp on. But when he turned to face you, slowly his breathing evened out. 

The serene and peaceful look of your face smushed in the pillow was all he needed to see. To see that you were safe, you were unharmed and most importantly right next to him, alive. He looked at you and softly said, “I’m sorry if I say I need you, but I don’t care.” “There is so much I wish I would’ve done differently. But I didn’t and I made mistakes. Mistakes that have cost the lives of innocent people… Is it wrong for me to say that I need you to be strong for me? There is only so much I can do, so much I can hide. Especially in a situation like this when you’re not nearby, cause when I’m not with you I’m weaker.” Steve uses the back of his hand to swipe away the stray tear. 

He turns the lamp off and lies back down in bed, cuddling close to you. Little did he know that you woke up with all that movement just in time to hear him say this, “You make me strong.”

@madscape @joelsflannel @moonstruckbirdie @nana1000night

[ygreczed-3]

The Walking Dead/Detroit Become Human AU

(so basically I was tempted to make a post to apologize about the mess my blog has become lately - feels like I’m posting AUs, artworks, sketches and comic updates in such a chaotic way… I’m really sorry about it ahaha 😅 Hopefully it will get better soon)

So this post is me drawing for hours and forgetting to eat on my break day (I finally did !!! Don’t worry ahaha) because I became obsessed with an idea again. Also I like to make concept arts and storyboards as if I was working on a professional project for a TV show/animation. I find it fascinating ! This time I don’t really have any plot or finished story, I just wanted to draw these scenes badly so… I just did.

I’d like to draw your attention to Connor’s curly hair and Hank’s design (strongly inspired by Kristoff from Frozen). I just LOVE these details.

⚠️Remember this is NOT a new series. Just me having fun with characters and a universe I like (aka The Walking Dead) ! 

Anyway, more ideas below 👀

*POW*

Hank open his eye again. The walker was shot in the head. Hank pushes the walker away, it falls dead on the concrete.

Looking up, he sees Connor with a gun.

Hank : Jesus… Thank you.  I thought I was…

Connor : I wouldn’t have wasted a bullet for you if it wasn’t for your kid back there. Your car, does it work? Hank : … Yeah… I just… I was looking for some gas when… well… Can I drive you somewhere? Connor : Not really, I’m looking for someone.

___________________________

Hank and Cole are walking in a gas station with jerricans and pour what’s left of gas from the pump.

Cole : Dad, that mister from earlier, do you think he’s gonna be okay ? Hank : I think, pumpkin. He was the one helping us. Cole : Being alone sounds dangerous… He should have come with us. Hank : …

___________________________

It’s nighttime, Cole is sleeping in the backseats with a blanket, Hank is sleeping in the driver seat. He wakes up brutally as he hears something tapping softly against the car window : the young man from earlier. He rolls the window down.

Hank : You ? Connor : I’ve looked around the whole city. Now it’s too dark… I need a safe place to have some sleep, I was thinking you could let me in. You owe me after all. Hank : … Yeah sure. Get in.

Connor gets in the car. He takes his bag off and keeps it by his side, out of Hank’s reach. He takes his coat off but keeps a gun near him. Hank stares at him with narrowed eyes.

Hank : … You’re safe here, really. You can trust me. Connor : Sorry, but I only trust myself.

___________________________

It’s dark outside, Hank can’t really sleep with the stranger next to him. His guts dictate him to stay alert. He watches carefully as Connor turns his head to him, half-opening his eyes.

Connor: Can’t sleep ? Hank : … Well you were right… I don’t know you. What about you ? Did you sleep a little ? Connor : … No. I’m too… cautious. My brain won’t let me sleep with a stranger next to me. Hank : … My name’s Hank. You ? Connor : What the hell are you doing ? Hank : We agreed we couldn’t sleep next to strangers. I’m introducing myself. Connor : It won’t make it any better… *after a silence* I’m Connor. Hank : Nice to meet you. Connor: … Where were you before ? You… you act like a newborn in this hell… Hank : … I had a neighbor with one of those bunkers… with tons of food, water, enough to live for months. We… We were hiding there with her until… until a few weeks. Connor : What happened ? Hank : She thought she had heard a chopper. Thought someone was out there to rescue us… she opened the hatch and she was… attacked by those things… Connor: … the kid… he’s yours? Hank : Yeah… Cole. Connor: … Where’s her mom ? Hank : He’s never known her. Connor: Sorry.  Hank : Don’t be.

*silence*

Hank : I think… I’m starting to relax… we should try to sleep huh ?

Connor is already sleeping.

___________________________

Connor takes his backpack as Hank and Cole take a breakfast with some fire.

Hank : You sure you don’t want to eat anything ? Connor : No thanks, I have my own stock. You should save your food for your kid. Hank : … Hey, if you ever need to find us… after you’ve found what  you’re looking for, I have a police radio. Frequency 58,7 kHz. Connor: I won’t need it but- thanks. Good luck.

Connor leaves.

___________________________

Cole : What should we do now? Hank : … We need to find more food… and weapons. I’ll go downtown today. You… You’ll stay here alright? Cole : No I… I want to stay with you… Hank : I know you’re scared Cole… But it’s too dangerous. You’ll be safe hidden in the car. Cole : You’ll be quick? Hank : Back before sunset, pinky swear.

___________________________

Hank finds an axe on a bar counter.

Suddenly : *BONG BONG BONG BONG*

Hank : What the-

He runs outside and hides against a wall as walkers pass nearby, heading to the source of the ringing.

He looks up and sees Connor climbing on a ladder but a Walker is trying to grab his leg.

Hank comes and kills the monster. Connor : You..! Follow me !

On the rooftop, they see the church. It’s an automatic bell, the walkers are massively getting around the building. There is something painted on the wall that says “Find Jericho” with black paint and scribbled under it “Find 9s”

Connor : Nines… Hank : What is Jericho ? Connor : … A safe place for survivors. It’s hidden… to keep the thieves and killers away. Hank : … The church. Connor : What ? Hank : Jericho, it has to do with the bible. The message is written on a church’s wall. It’s not a coincidence, there might be… a hint in there. Connor : … But we can’t get inside with those creeps around… Hank : … Maybe they leave when the church stops ringing the bells. Connor : Or maybe we should try to lead them away with… Hank : With what ? Connor : … Your car.

___________________________

Connor : So, let me get it straight. You drive around the town honking. It will attract the creeps away from the church. I get inside the church and look for any kind of hint. When the bells start ringing I get out before the creeps come back. And what do we do with Cole ?

Hank : He’s going with you. I don’t want to have him in the car with hundreds of undeads trying to get me. Connor : … I don’t- Hank : Don’t worry. He’s a smart kid. He will do as you say. Right Cole? Cole : …Hmm. Connor: … Fine. Let’s do it.

___________________________

Connor and Cole sneak into the church. Connor kills two of the Walkers still inside the church as Cole follows him cautiously. 

Cole : … Look. *he points out a book on the altar* Connor : … It’s a bible… The chapter about the Battle of Jericho… it can’t be a coincidence. *They look up and see something written with old blood on the wall behind the altar. It says “Rahab the harlot defied the King of Jericho. Here lies the key to the fortress.”* Cole : What’s a harlot? Connor : … You should… ask your father. Now… I have to read… and think. Cole : … We only have one hour left before the bells ring again… Connor : I know.

___________________________

Connor : … I don’t get it ! There must be something I’m missing ! Cole : … Connor, I found a map ! Connor : Not now Cole, I’m trying to focus… Cole : Connor, look ! Connor : Cole please I really need-…

Cole shows him the map… there is a “9s” written on it.

Connor : Nines ! Cole : Does it help ? Connor : … I don’t know-…

The bells ring suddenly.

Connor : Crap… we have to get out of here. Give me your hand, buddy.

___________________________

Hank is waiting for them : he has lit a fire and when Cole sees him, he lets go of Connor’s hand and runs to hug his dad.

Hank : I gotcha, pumpkin. *looking up at Connor* Did you find something ? Connor : I think…  Hank : You think ? Connor : I have this map my brother left for me inside the church… there was some kind of riddle on the wall, and it must have something to do with this but… there is nothing noted on it. Hank : What’s the riddle ? Connor : “Rahab the harlot defied the King of Jericho, here lies the key to the fortress.” Rahab was a prostitute, she helped Joshua by hiding spies he sent inside the city… and Joshua spared her when he took the fortress. But I… I don’t see the connection. Hank : … Let me see the map.

Connor gives it. Cole sits next to his father, near the fire, and soon falls asleep. After some time thinking and overthinking it, Hank finally points to a town on the map. A city called Defiance.

Hank : Look. Connor : Defiance… Of course. The key lies in Rahab’s defiance… Defiance is a town… Fuck- You’re a genius…! Hank : Man, I was feeling like a Detective again… felt nice for a moment. Connor: You were a Detective? Hank : A police Lieutenant, to be specific. But yeah. Detective works too. Connor : … I don’t think the treasure hunt is done yet. You’re gonna need your supercop sense again ! Hank : … It’s good to see you all excited. Feels like meeting the real Connor under the survivor’s shell. Connor: It’s nice… that Cole and you don’t have that shell yet… humanity is a rare thing to find down there. Hank : … So, who is “Nines” ? Connor : My little brother. We lived together, in the same group of survivors. Our camp was attacked… we got separated. Hank : Looks like he’s smart. He solved the riddle all by himself. It took the two of us to understand the hint. Connor : He’s always been a nerd. Hank : Pffft… Well we should try to get some sleep. We should be able to reach Stoneton, then we’ll have to find more gas.

Hank gets up and carries Cole to the car seats.

Connor: … Hank…? Hank : Yup ? Connor : Can I… Can I come with you two ? I could go to Defiance by myself but… if you’re heading there too, maybe we could… Hank : What the heck ? Of course you’re coming with us. With our two half-brains we’re gonna need each other’s help to find Jericho and your brother, don’t you think ? Connor *chuckles* : Right.

[mercy-burning]

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

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[ducktoonsfanart]

Darkwing Duck (Drake Mallard) and his daughter (Gosalyn Mallard)

Although it's not Father's Day at the moment, it certainly drew on one of the best parents, ie the fathers in Duckverse, and it's Darkwing Duck, the best Duck superhero after Donald and Daffy Duck. I forgot which episode it was that inspired me to draw a redraw of that scene, but what I liked about the Darkwing Duck series is the relationship between Drake Mallard and his adopted daughter named Gosalyn. While I wish Drake had adopted Gosalyn since her birth, I am certainly glad that Gosalyn, after the tragic events with her family, still found another refuge and her new family. The dynamic between father Drake and daughter Gosalyn is really comical and fun, but also emotional. There were certainly rescues that Drake Mallard had saved Gosalyn several times, and there were moments when Gosalyn rescued her father. What Donald Duck is the best parent for his nephews Huey, Dewey and Louie, so Darkwing Duck (actually Drake Mallard) is the best parent for Gosalyn Mallard. I wish it was the same in the Darkwing Duck reboot. Yes, the first time I drew preteen Gosalyn, when she was an 8-year-old girl. Yes, Drake hugs his daughter, just as his daughter hugs him. Yes, I drew this in my own style. I hope you like this drawing and that you like this dynamic relationship between father and daughter.

[narutogwriting]

What about an angst and/or fluff scenario where kiba opens up to his s/o about his father? Like he acts like it doesn’t affect him but one day his gf asks him about it and he lets his true emotions out? I love your writing and thanks if you decide to do it!!

I’m so sorry this has taken so long to get to this! I am absolutely in LOVE with this idea! I have started and restarted this prompt a million times because I really wanted to do this prompt justice. I hope you like it<3

Why Doesn’t He Want Me?

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x Reader

CW: none

Length: 2.6k+

Summary: Kiba was raised by two strong women. He’s never felt like he was lacking anything not growing up with a dad. That’s what he tells everyone, anyways.

Inspired by a scene from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air you know the one

Kiba was a lot of things. Arrogant, confident, loud, sure of himself.  He was hot, and he knew it, and he loved to flirt. It was easy to take him at face value, accept him for the playboy he pretended to be. But that wasn’t really Kiba, you knew.

Kiba had been raised by the definition of strong women. Between his mom, Tsume, and his sister, Hana, there was no room in his life for disrespect towards women. Despite the way he liked to pretend he was a player, Kiba held a deep reverence for all the girls in his life. Any sort of misogyny he’d picked up in the early academy days had been thoroughly scared from his body the second his mom had gotten wind of it.

Fight like a girl? Run like a girl? Act like a girl? None of those things were insults to Kiba. He saw the way his mother and sister fought, the way they ran, and how strong they were. Kiba’s whole life had been shaped by having a mother and sister that raised him.

And Kiba loved the way he grew up. Sure, his mom could be a little scary at times. But she was tough and strong willed and independent. Hana was a little softer, though Kiba wasn’t sure how she’d managed to end up that way considering how hard their mother was. They were a perfect contrast to each other to help Kiba become a relatively well rounded guy.

Kiba knew that he had known his dad when he was young. He had been too little to remember him, but he had one picture of his dad holding him when he was a baby that was tucked away back somewhere in his closet. The few times his mom--in all her fury--mentioned his father, she’d vent over the way he’d left her alone with a two year old and an eight year old child.

She didn’t talk about him much ever. It was a sore spot for his mother, he knew. She didn’t have many weaknesses, but being left by Kiba’s dad had really done some damage to her.

It was out of love for his mom and respect for her hurt that Kiba made it a point to never even think about his dad. When people would ask about him, Kiba would sometimes make jokes that he’d been too weak willed to handle a woman like his mother, but that was the extent of him talking about his dad.

And he thought it must’ve been true, though. His mother was amazing. His sister was amazing. What other reason could there be for his dad not sticking around?

~

Kiba’s a young child again, so young that he hasn’t even met Akamaru yet. He’s at the playground, reaching for the monkey bars. He can see his dad on the other side, waiting for him. Kiba’s happy, confident. He’s just two years old; he’s never been let down before, never had a bruise that hadn’t been kissed or a scratch that hadn’t gotten a bandaid on it. He’s never reached for someone and been left on the floor.

So Kiba grabs for the first monkey bars, his eyes securely fixed on the rings above his head. He doesn’t think to look to make sure his dad was there, because hadn’t he always been?

He reaches for one ring, and then the other, and he’s going quickly, surely. He’s half way across when his eyes flicker from the bars above him to the ground below him, looking a million miles away. The distance scares him, he falters, and when he reaches for the next ring, he misses.

Little Kiba goes barrelling to the ground, hitting the wood chips. They soften his fall just a little, but it still hurts. His eyes water as his lips begin to tremble, and reaches out, blinking blurrily through the tears. 

He’s reaching out, and he’s waiting, and he’s expecting his father to be there, to pick him up and rescue him and comfort him. 

But he doesn’t.

When Kiba can finally see past his tears, all he sees is his dad’s back as he’s walking away, leaving him on the floor, crying and hurt and alone.

He yells out for him, begging for his dad to come back even as he’s disappeared into the distance.

~

Kiba wakes with a cry, sitting up startled. He blinks, looking around the dark room. He’s in his bedroom, and it was all just a dream, he realizes.

More of a nightmare, really.

Kiba’s breathing hard, and he realizes he’s shaking. He tries to relax, take deep breaths as his hand reaches for his cheeks and sees that they’re wet.

He’s crying. He can’t believe that he’s fucking crying. “What the hell…” He mutters to himself, shoving his fists to his eyes to try to stop the tears. It was just a stupid dream.

You sit up slowly at Kiba’s side, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Kiba? You okay?” You murmur through your yawn. Glancing at the clock, you see that it’s about three am. Kiba usually sleeps through the night.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He mutters, but you know Kiba better than that. He’s shaken by something, and you slide one arm around him, resting your head on his shoulder as your free hand strokes through his hair.

“Kiba…” You say softly. He’s silent, but you don’t mind. You let the quiet drag on, letting him collect himself. You know Kiba doesn’t always have the words to describe what he’s feeling, and sometimes he just needs time to get his thoughts together. You wait patiently, hugging him reassuringly and letting your fingers massage his scalp softly.

After a while, Kiba sighs. “It was just a bad dream is all,” he tries to assure you, but you’re not so easily deterred.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” You ask him gently.

Kiba finally turns to you, seeing how you’re looking at him with those wide, concerned eyes. Since you’d been together, you’ve pushed him in the best ways. You had such a gentle, unassuming way about you that he’d never realized he needed. You were soft when he was hard, vulnerable when he was closed off, and you saw him when all he wanted was to hide away.

He never could keep anything from you.

He wipes at his eyes again, quickly, like if he does it fast enough, you won’t see it, but of course you do. You never miss anything  when it comes to Kiba. 

“I had a dream about my dad is all.” He says quietly, and you nod in understanding, but don’t say anything; just wait for him to continue.

Shifting uncomfortably, he tells you, “I was little, like two or something. I was on the monkey bars, and he was watching me, waiting for me on the other side, but when I fell, he left, and I was crying and shit. It’s stupid.”

“Kiba,” Your voice is low and soft, but stern, making him turn to look at you again. You’re gazing into his eyes so intensely it almost makes him flinch, but he stays locked in on you.

“It’s not stupid.”

And he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. This is another thing about you that is so great for Kiba. Sometimes he thinks he needs some kind of permission to feel, like he doesn’t deserve it or it's not important enough. 

And of course he doesn’t need permission, but you give it to him anyways, let him know that it’s alright to feel hurt and sad.

Kiba looks lost and broken and so sad it makes your heart clench. You love Kiba, love him so much. You can’t stand to see him like this.

“You don’t talk about him much,” You finally say, deciding to help Kiba by directing the conversation. He just shrugs, staring at his hands. “Do you remember much about him?”

Kiba shakes his head. “Nothing, really. I was pretty young. I know one or two things that my mom’s told me, but she doesn’t like to talk about him. I’ve never asked Hana… I’m sure she has more memories than me, but I don’t really want to know them.”

That makes sense to you. It’s too painful; in a way, it’s a sort of bliss to Kiba to not be able to remember anything on his own. To ask Hana, to hear stories about his dad, would only open up wounds that Kiba wasn’t prepared to deal with.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” Kiba continued. “Ya know, it was just a dream. It’s not like it means anything…”  

He lays back down, tucking himself under the covers like he’s done with the conversation. But he should know better. You’re not going to let him off that easily. 

“Actually,” you touch his cheek with your hand, slowly turning his head to face you. “I think that that dream has given me more insight into your feelings than you ever have.”

Kiba stares at you blankly because while the dream upset him, he really didn’t think there was more to it. You lay down next to him, tucking yourself into his side as you stare up at him with affectionate eyes. You love this man more than anything.

“The monkey bars are the childish side of you, showing that these feelings are coming from a stunted place because you were too young to process it all.” You explain to him, and he’s looking at you like you're crazy, but you don’t mind. “Your dad was waiting for you on the other side, because you feel like you had to go to him, like it was your responsibility to be the one to initiate and carry the relationship. You have a great mom, Kiba. You should know a good parent is always there for their kids, not vice versa. “

You kiss his cheek softly as your heart aches for Kiba and his sadness, the kind that had been buried so deep, even you hadn’t seen it there.

“The reason that your dad walked away when you didn’t make it across the monkey bars is because you feel like you weren’t good enough, like you did something wrong, and that’s the reason he left....”

Your voice cracks as you speak the words because it’s so tragic, and it’s just not true.

Kiba was the most amazing person you knew. He was so great, so full of love, and everything you never knew you needed in your life. And to realize that for so long he’d been holding this feeling like he wasn’t good enough… It broke your heart.

The silence seems to drag on forever, and it almost makes you nervous. You can’t read Kiba in the darkness, and it’s so quiet. But he’s slowly beginning to shake, and when you touch his cheek again, you realize that tears are flowing freely down his face.

“Kiba,” You say, but he’s getting out of bed. You don’t know whether or not to go after him, but he’s just going to his closet. He’s reaching to the back, throwing things aside to get to whatever he’s trying to find.

When he finally does, he comes back and sits on the bed. You push yourself up to look at what’s in his hands and see that it’s a picture. It's crumbled and creased and has a small stain on it, showing you how old it is. A closer inspection shows a toddler Kiba being held by a man that looks almost nothing like him. You see that Kiba got his nose from his father, and despite having the same canines as his mom, the softer smile from him too.

Kiba’s gripping the picture tightly in his hands, and you’re almost afraid he’s going to rip it.

“You know,” he rasps out, his teary eyes locked on the picture in his hands. “It’s been years since I looked at this thing. When I was little, I used to look at it every day. I kept it under my pillow and would study it, to make sure that if my dad ever came back, I would recognize him.”

He sniffles, rubs his nose. “I would look at it every night and then every day, I’d look around everywhere I went, hoping I’d catch even a glimpse of him.” Kiba laughs through the tears, a dry, humorless laugh that makes you wince in pain for him. He crumbles the picture into a ball and chucks it at the wall.

“I don’t need him, you know?” Kiba’s trying to keep his voice calm and steady, but the words wobble as they leave his mouth. “What would I even want him for, anyways, huh? He’s never done anything for me! I got into the academy without him, I became a chunin without him! I’m becoming a great ninja! I got a beautiful girl. Everything I know, I’ve either learned from my mom or taught myself!” 

He’s getting louder and louder with each word. His hands are balled into a fist, but you take them in your own, pressing your lips to them gently until they uncurl. You won’t let his pain harden him.

“I’m eighteen years old now! I can’t even remember my father! I always tell people he left because he couldn’t handle my mom, because she was too good for him, and it’s true!” The last word is broken by a sob, and he’s trembling as he collapses against you. You hold him with all of your strength and love, pressing kisses over his head as tears start to fall from your own eyes.

“She was too good for him, and so is Hana. But, you’re too good for me! You’re way too good for me, and I would never leave you! So he must’ve… He must’ve been unhappy with me.” He cries out. You can feel his tears soaking through your night shirt.

“I must’ve not been good enough for him… Why wasn’t I good enough? Why doesn’t he want me?” And it’s the presentense that really sends you over the edge. Not wondering why his dad hadn’t wanted him when he was younger, but needing to know why still, even now all these years later, his dad wasn’t around.

So you hold him as he cries, and you cry along with him. You place kisses over every crevice of his body, whisper “i love you’s” into the crook of his neck. You reassure him, over and over in every way you can think of that he is worthy, that he is enough. That he is not defined by somebody so broken that they couldn’t love anybody but themself.

You tell him as much as you can, until it’s ingrained into his brain, that if and when Kiba decides to become a dad, he’s going to be the type of man that his own dad could only dream of becoming. That, despite the pain, despite the abandonment, Kiba has come out on the other side, strong and loving and kind and a good man. The type of man that you are proud to have in your life, and proud to love and be loved by.

It’s emotional, and it’s heavy, and you both are worn and exhausted by the time the sun is breaking a light blue through the darkness. Kiba falls asleep in your arms, holding you like you’re his only anchor. 

And you know it’s not fixed. Some things that are broken will always stay cracked. But it’s a start. For the first time, Kiba is healing. He is Kintsugi, the art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold. Though there are cracks in him, for the first time, with your love, he is seeing that he can fill those cracks in. He can paint them golden, become more beautiful, more whole than he was before. He will use that pain and that hurt that he’s felt for so long. 

He is worthy. He is loved. He will be a better man.