#thank you for the advice of framing this one olivia

[youshouldseemeinadeerstalker]

Original Comic by Mr. Fish

[multifandommilfs]

That Luscious Blonde

Pairing: Sonya Paxton x reader

Wc: 1474

Summary: you defend Sonya after Stabler brings up her past. Your relationship furthers with each subsequent meeting

A/n:this is based on season 11 episode 9 "Gray"

masterlist

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You were new to the precinct. But that didn't hinder you from recognizing a hurt ego when you saw one. You couldn't really blame her when she was the only one making an attempt to get over her alcoholic past.

 

So the way Stabler treated her wasn't right when he was in the wrong for hiding how he got Chuck the rapist's disciplinary record from his daughter, which would botch the case. You push past him. "What's her name?" You whispered harshly, harboring some annoyance towards him and urgent to apologize to the woman on his behalf.

 

But she was already halfway across the bullpen, and in another few strides, would've made it out the door. You couldn't wait for his reply.

 

"Hey, you with the luscious blonde hair!" Tingles were jumping beneath your feet when the room quietened to the last staccato of her heel. You wondered if you had picked her last nerve and the thought had you holding back a cringe.

 

When she turned, it was slow and hesitating. Her heels were almost tripping over each other at the unaccustomed pace. Her reluctance was furthered with her back turned to you because luscious blonde hair? you must be hollering at someone else and not her, she has never been the target of flirtation like that.

 

She thought she had gotten herself embarrassed for the second time in those 10 minutes when she turned around fully until she caught your frame in the place where a pissed-off Stabler once stood. Instead, this time she was met with all teeth and stretched lips.

 

"Were you referring to me? Because if it's someone else I'll spare myself the embarrassment and take Stabler's advice." The words "go have a drink" were a fresh burn in her chest and mind. She saw how Stabler shifted in regret and was satisfied with spiting him back.

 

"No! Of course not, I was referring to you. I just didn't know your name- "You cursed yourself internally for revealing that impolite fact, rushing over to her with haste and ease provided by your on-field ground-level shoes. Yet when you lingered by her side, you were still her height despite the fact that her heels had altitude.

 

And missing her previous hesitance, you pushed a side of her hair back, the pads of your finger grazing the shell of her ear as you leant in. The natural warmth that wholly encompassed her in that instance almost made her stumble back. And once her senses had only accepted the change in temperature, you whispered. "I'm sorry about Stabler." The heat that ghosted her jaw cast a bearable shiver in her knees that surprised herself.

 

Then you pulled back with a smile that should've been enough to forgive if you hadn't just had an effect on her. Because now the air seemed to lose its warmth, leaving a tangible chill that ran down her spine.

 

You saw how her jaw clenched in the miniscule, the muscles in her neck flexing and relaxing like she was trying to restrain herself from putting up a fight but missed the way her knees tensed in order to regain her footing—how she was actually trying to suppress a shiver from that damned chill.

 

So it was polite to back away, your smile falling just by the corners of your lips when you fretted you'd gone a step too far. "See you in court."

 

"Thank you, and you will, Flatterer." She said it utmost casually, her eyes lingering on you before she whirled out the precinct.

 

A scoff came behind you. You turned just to see Stabler and Olivia giving you both of their respective incredulous expressions. "What was that little.." Stabler swung his forefinger around.

 

"Saving your ass?" You shrugged and went straight back to your desk, your heart a little giddy from the woman you couldn't even name.

________

Whatever you had said to her was the only reason that Sonya accepted his later apology. Stabler told you the next day.

 

Sure, you said, her name fluttering and causing delightful chaos in your mind as you checked your watch. We're late for your arraignment date.

 

It turns out you weren't exactly late for the arraignment because the judge is now being reassigned as a result of the possible prejudice accusation or some court drama you weren't quite sure of.

 

What you were sure of was the woman returning to her seat on the other side of the bar that separated the courtroom and the public gallery. "Sonya." Stabler greeted her beside you. She turned and there was that same glare yesterday before all hell broke loose.

 

"Didn't I tell you to make it to arraignment?" She snarked.

 

"Aren't we here?" His tone raised audibly and people were turning heads and it filled you with a maternal mortification like a mother watching her kids in a physical altercation.

 

"The whole arraignment Stabler, not just the second half of it!" Her voice toned down but carried the same sharpness.

 

"Stabler, um-" you put a hand on the crease of her arm to address her because her name was weak on your tongue. "It's just not the time." You cocked your head to the judge's bench and it was immediate and relieving how she understood you and retracted, her arm sliding off your grasp, so that you felt the length of soft skin from the underside of her elbow trailing all the way down to her wrist before she turned to face the stand, leaving you with red rushing up your face as you gripped the edge of the seats.

 

"All sit." The court ordered before Stabler elbowed you.

 

"Seriously, what is going on between you two? Why do I get the tiger side of her and you get this side of her. Not that I'd trade it, but share some of the kindness, geez." You widened your eyes at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

 

He was about to say something else with that smug smirk on his face when the gavel slammed down. "Silence!"

__________

The new judge should be the one accused of prejudice, was your verdict. He had absolutely no right to bring up her personal matter in front of strangers and the defendant.

 

But what was pressing now was that no show witness which Stabler has 30 minutes to bring in. It wasn't enough time but with the judge's personal bias, you hoped it was enough. Stabler notified Olivia while you cajoled Sonya to stay behind, take a breather, work the case.

 

So now the both of you took a spot just outside the courtroom, files clipped shut in her lap. "Actually I think my case is already pretty solid." She smiled at you and you realized that it was the first time she did. The way your chest swelled at the simple lift of her lips was glorious and swayed your hold on being professional. You shifted, chuckling and running your hand through your hair to quell the race beneath your ribs.

 

"So why stay? You like your mysteries solved." You peeked a glance at her and saw that she was already looking at you. Through panic, you held her gaze, and a spark flared within her irises. She adored a challenge.

 

"Because you," she squinted her eyes lightly, daring you to avert your gaze. "Are a mystery to me." When you didn't, her fingertips that were priorly poised on her lap dropped onto yours, eliciting your blushed attention to it and breaking the daze, for the heat from her palm that seeped through the fabric made you perspire a slight.

 

The heightened temperature you felt didn't quite help your rationalizing when you slid your hand over hers. The back of her hand was soft yet firm, textured with the green veins that weaved under her skin.

 

Without a word between the both of you, she flipped her hand beneath yours so that it faced up, the heat on your thigh curling away. Your hand atop hers felt warmer than usual. It was a silent choice to accept or deny. Your lips parted in a grin as you glanced at her, seeing how hers held a smile.

 

You drew your fingers between hers, in turn accepting her unuttured question before your hands could start to get clammy.

 

"So I hope I'll get your name after we've nailed this case, Flatterer." She said, glancing up at the approaching Stabler and Benson.

 

"I'll take your word for it then." The two of you released your intertwined hands, standing up from the bench.

 

"What? No nickname this time?" Her laugh sent you grinning, heart thumping, but you held that little bit of your composure and gave her a faux eyeroll that did nothing but showcase your fondness for her.

 

"Just keep your promise, luscious blonde."

[thewritersafterglow]

how to actually meet your writing goals: the guide we all need

Intro

hey everyone! today's post is inspired by all the super fun struggles i've been having during nanowrimo. i still don't know if i'll win or not... i guess we'll see. anyway, hopefully these tips can help you actually meet your goals for progressing in your writing <3

Be realistic

this might be a bit hypocritical for me to say, considering that i am attempting to write a f*cking novel during exam season, but it is very important thing to keep in mind.

when you're sitting down to plan your goals, think realistically about the week/month/year ahead of you. what are your commitments? what other things will you have to put time into? are there any other activities that you will have to prioritize?

based on all of these things, you need to choose a word count goal that makes sense and is something you can actually achieve in that time frame. there's a difference between challenging yourself a healthy amount and setting goals that you'll never be able to achieve.

Plan, plan, plan

yeah yeah, i'm aware that this is my advice for everything writing related but, what can i say? it's the key to staying on top of writing. you have to figure out how you're going to divide up the word count so that you hit the goal, while still staying realistic and not pushing yourself too hard.

there are loads of websites you can use for this, such as nanowrimo.com and pacemaker.press - or, you can just do the math yourself if you really want.

this step also involves deciding which days you're going to write more and less - for example, i always set more words to be written on Fridays and Saturdays, since i can stay up late those nights without worrying about school.

Staying motivated

i know, i know. "we all want to stay motivated, Rayne, but it's not that easy." i'm aware of that, don't worry lmao.

i have a whole post on how to stay motivated, but here's the general gist. the main way to keep yourself motivated is to have an internal motivating factor. this means something that is not at all influenced by external factors. for example, an internal desire to become a published author.

however, it's useful to have external factors that can help amp up your willpower to write on days where you might be a bit more tired. for example, watching writing videos/content of authors, pinterest boards, playlists, aesthetics and more!

How to handle an "off day"

this is what can really throw you off from writing. you have one day where you feel like you can't write anything... and then another... and then another. suddenly, you're twenty thousand words behind where you should be and-

but that doesn't have to be the case! having off days is okay, and honestly? it's kind of necessary. but the main point is not to let that off day throw off your stride.

if you have a day where you can't write (not enough time, too tired, burnt out, etc), try planning out your schedule for the rest of the month/whatever time frame so that you still hit your goal. ex, maybe you're going to write 1.2k every day instead of just 1k, for the rest of the month. replanning your schedule can make having an off day feel much less overwhelming.

Outro

thanks for reading through this post! if you don't know me, i'm Rayne H. Olivia, the admin of this account and the founder of the writer's afterglow.

here on instagram/tumblr, i post daily writing content/advice, and i also have a podcast called "the writer's afterglow" (available on spotify, google podcasts, and my website in my bio!)

if you want to see more of my content + stay in touch, please consider following my account! if not, i understand, and hope you have a nice day :)

keep writing,

Rayne <3

[ptergwen]

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

-

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

[harrysgoldenline]

When In Italy Part 4

here is part 4! Um this chapter has bad words and some adult themes so warning for that! The next part will be the last, so let me know what you think! Are they end game or no? Also! If you want a personalized imagine, check out my pinned post! If you want to support me ---> please click here! every little bit helps bc im a broke ass college student so thank u to anyone who wants to support me :)

All comments and feedback are welcome and encouraged!! :)

WORD COUNT: 2.2K

You stood frozen as he stepped out of the elevator, his eyes soft as he met yours, waking towards you.

“Get away from me.” you whisper, attempting to push past him and get into the elevator, pressing the door closed button before even pressing a floor, not wanting him to get any closer.

“Y/N, wait!” he rushed, sticking his hand between the doors and stopping it, his tall frame standing before you that you quickly push past, going back to lock yourself in your apartment, and lock him out, “Please, let me explai-“

“No!” you stopped, voice firm as you turned to face him, “you can’t keep doing this! you can’t keep showing up like this! So just leave me alone.”

You kept walking, ignoring his pleas as he came after you, successfully unlocking your apartment door rapidly, but you catch a glimpse of rings as he hand stops the door.

“Please.” He whispered, not pushing the door open and you saw a flicker of his eyes and you could almost see the sincerity in them, “I know I don’t deserve it, I really don’t, but I would just love to talk to you for real this time, anything you want to know.”

“and you’re not gonna be an asshole this time?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, peaking at him, “because if you are, I swear to god Styles I will give you 5 seconds to get the fuck out.”

“Promise.” He nodded and your heart believed him, so you opened the door.

You watched as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, slowly entering your apartment and you didn’t miss how his eyes scanned you quickly, before bouncing around the apartment, looking around the space he used to be so familiar with.

You watched how he headed to the couch about to sit but stutter stepped a bit, scratching the back of his neck and looking at you, almost asking you if it’s okay if he sits down.

You gave him a soft smile and nod, tucking a loose hair behind your ear and sitting on one side of the couch, thankful he sat on the other, giving you each plenty of space as your eyes met. The tension was slowly rising, looking at each other as you sat, wondering who was going to break the silence.

“I never meant for anything to happen.” he whispered, his head falling as a shameful look covered his face, avoiding your eyes, “After the breakup… I- I was just lost. I was messing up at work and I just was doing shit. Then, it was like only like a month ago, I was getting drunk all the time and she just came into my trailer and we were talking and then she kissed me.”

You just nodded, biting your bottom lip and picking at your nails, peaking up and looking at him, your glossy eyes meeting his bloodshot ones, not really having anything to say in response.

“And I just…” he started, “I wanted to feel better, feel anything. So, we just started hanging out more and I just really wanted to feel something, feel a connection. So we took a trip to Italy because… It’s always been a place that made me feel better and then…”

“Yeah.” you chuckled, “and then… Why did you bring her to our house? I know we haven’t talked about that kind of stuff, but it’s mine too Harry and… just seeing you two there? I never felt more replaceable than I did when I saw you two.”

“Oh love, no.” He whispered, scooting closer to you, a hand coming up to cup your face to help your eyes meet, but he retracted it back before he made contact with your skin, “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry and I will never be able to prove to you, but that was never my intention to ever hurt you. The breakup was a mistake.”

“I… How am I supposed to believe that?” you squeaked, voice cracking as the barrier breaks, tears falling on your cheeks as you looked up at him, “We we’re together for years and you just- I mean fuck Harry! I haven’t even thought about even starting to flirt with someone and you’re…”

“We’ve never had sex,” He quietly added cheeks turning a bit red, “or done anything like that. At all, I just… couldn’t.”

Your eyes widen a bit at the confession, watching as he looked at his hands, a slight twinge of embarrassment on his features.

“Oh.” you whispered, “I know I shouldn’t be mad, we… we aren’t together and you have have the right to do whatever you want but it’s just… hard. Especially when I wasn’t expecting it. I went to Italy to try and get away, everything in the city makes me think of you, I don’t know why I thought staying at the house would be any better but, I just wanted to get away.”

“Sorry I ruined your trip.”

“Sorry I ruined your hookups.”

He let out a laugh, the smile staying a bit longer when he noticed you had subconsciously scooted a bit closer to him.

“It’s not like I ever really wanted to… Even little Harry only wants you.” he flirted and an instant, loud laugh leaves your lips, leaning forward and your brace yourself on his shoulder, a simple thing you had done over the years countless times, but still made his heart skip a beat.

“Oh my god,” you said between breathless laughs, your bodies now less then a foot apart as you smiled up at him, “please do not call it little Harry!”

“What do you prefer?” He smirked, “rather I call it bi-“

“What the fuck?” a voice spoke suddenly, both of your red eyes going to your front door and seeing your best friend standing their, her eyes wide in a mix of confusion and anger. Your hand retracted from his body quickly, your best friend looking at you with soft eyes, her eyes darting over to Harry’s and you see the fiery anger behind them, “Y/N, please tell me he was getting whatever shit he left behind and is leaving.”

“We were just talking.” You started, glancing over at Harry, seeing a bit of fear behind his eyes and your lips quirked up in a smile that quickly faded seeing the anger in y/bff/n eyes.

“What do you want to talk to him about? How he broke your heart again?” She asked, confusion and concern laced in her voice, “I’m sorry, y/n, I just… I can’t watch you go through all of it all over again and again.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he quickly stood up beside you giving you a quick nod as he glanced over at y/bff/n the back at you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just showed up. It was so good to see you, y/n, I’ll get out of your way.”

“Harry, wait!” you stood up, hating the softening in your voice, “I want to talk more… are you staying or do you have to go back to L.A?”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me. And if you want me gone, I’ll book my flight. Okay? It’s up to you, whatever you want.”

“Okay… Can I call you later?”

“You can call me anytime, I’ll pick up.”

***

Y/bff/n definitely wasn’t thrilled with you.

“I just feel like this is a bad idea, y/n!” She had exclaimed once Harry had left your apartment, “He’s gonna hurt you again! What could he possibly want?”

“I dont know, I just… I dont know.” You sighed, sitting across from her on your couch just like you did with him, “I love him and I don’t know what’s going to happen but I don’t want to end up hating him.”

She nodded, looking at you as your eyes glazed over again, “Hey, okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you upset. Do you still wanna go try this new place or just hang out here? Let’s get your mind off of everything, you need a break, yeah? Especially if you’re going to talk to him later.”

“Do you think I should?"

“If that’s what you think, I think you should. You know him.” She nods, “but I swear to god if he makes you cry again he’ll have to deal with me.”

So now, here you were, waiting on him to come back to finish your talk from earlier. It was helpful hanging out with y/bff/n, listening to her advice as she gave you a bit of the reality check that you needed, making sure he won’t sweep you off your feet with his familiar charm.

Your heart rate never fully calmed down as you waited for him to come back to your apartment after y/bff/n dropped you back off after your afternoon together and you were glad for the few hours of a distraction, but now your mind was fully occupied with him once again as you sat on your couch.

The knock on your door caused you to jump, hoping up and checking your appearance in your hall mirror before swinging open the door, seeing Harry standing their with a bouquet of flowers, a small smile on his face.

“Got these for you,” he began, “shoulda showed up with them when I kinda crashed into you earlier… but I was so nervous I didn’t think about it, honestly.”

“Thank you.” You softly replied, eyeing up at him and taking them from his grip, letting out a shaky breath as you welcome him in and turn on your heel, going to your kitchen to place them into a vase quickly before going back to him, seeing him in the same spot you two were sitting in earlier.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry again… and thank you for letting me come back and talk to you at all, really don’t deserve your time, but I’m thankful for it.” He began, eyes glued onto yours as he scooted closer to you when you sat down, his fingers tentatively trailing on your arm before laying his hand on your own, “I… I want you back, y/n. I want to be with you, I never stopped wanting just you.”

“Harry, I… I don’t know what to say.” You started, “I just… there’s so much still up in the air and it’s all happening so fast. Are you still with Olivia?”

“No, of course not.” He instantly answered, “we were never anything real, I left Italy when I went to the house and you were gone. I came back here and I just… I would sit outside your building in my car and just try and get the nerve to walk in to talk to you, but I was so scared of you telling me to leave again.” Harry started deep into your eyes as he continued, his own welling up with tears, “I love you so much and I was such an idiot and fuck baby… I’ll do anything to prove it you.”

Now, you two were just inches apart, his hand cupping your cheek as you leaned into it, eyes glued onto his eyes as both of your gazes were glassy, sets of eyes wandering down to one another’s lips. Your eyes fluttered up and looked at him, his nose nudging into yours, seeming to test the boundary and you simply nodded, causing him to connect your lips in an instant.

Your lips met softly, gaining speed as the passion overflowed you both as the familiar move came back easier than either of you could have imagined. You both moaned into one another’s mouths, his tongue quickly sliding past your lips as your crawled onto his lap, fingers gripping the soft material of his shirt.

Things escalated quickly as he carried you into your bedroom, body hovering over yours as his body pressed against yours, the articles of clothing disappearing piece by piece, lips never separating a second longer than they had to you as you refamilarized yourselves with one another.

His fingers dug their way into your waist as he kissed you harder, singular pieces of thin material being the only things separating you and as Harrys fingers slipped down, pulling back and looking up at you for permission, your breath caught in your throat, reality hitting you like a wave.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered, fingers removing themselves from his hair as you covered your face, voice wavering as tears welled up in your eyes once again, “I-it’s all too much, too fast- I-I, I don’t think I can do this, Harry- I can’t.”

“Fuck, it’s okay.” He whispered, crawling off from on top of you, scrambling to pick his t shirt off the floor and handing to you, quickly covering your body with it, “Fuck, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

You nodded quickly, knees tucking into your chest as you let out soft cries, flinching as his arm came around you, going to comfort you with the soft stroke of his arm and retracted it quickly after seeing your reaction.

“I-I… I just keep seeing you and her in my head.” You whispered, “…I don’t know if I can do this.”

[sumsebien]

by design pt.1//Prince Friedrich

prologue // series masterlist

summary: the journey from london to sanssouci is long. what will y/n and friedrich do with all this free time?

word count: 3.4k

warnings: none

a/n: hello i am sorry for being so late with this one. the next ones will also be a little further apart than you’ve come to expect from my last series but i think this quality-wise will be improved (hopefully)

The carriage was spacious enough so that Friedrich could sit without bumping his knees against whoever sat in front of him. Right now, that was you. Heinrich was next to Friedrich, briefing him about the itinerary for the day. And Friedrich tried to pay attention. He really did but his eyes kept landing on you every couple of seconds. 

You sat quietly. Your face turned away from them as you gazed out of the windows. But then, he heard the faintest of sniffles. He turned to Heinrich. His valet stopped talking. 

And then, he heard it again. This time, Heinrich heard it as well, laying the map down in his lap. Their eyes directed towards you. 

You were crying. 

The two men gave each other a look. 

Friedrich hadn’t a clue what to do. He could not recall the last time he had had to comfort someone in distress. He figured it was because a Prince was not the most ideal person for people to confide in. 

Heinrich, on the other hand, had three little sisters. Therefore, he was way more knowledgeable. He nudged the Prince’s shoulder, tipping his head towards your figure and mouthed ‘Do something!’

Friedrich shrugged. ‘What?’

‘Just do something!’ 

The silent conversation and stern looks Heinrich threw him forced a few words out of his mouth. All of them formed without any forethought. “My lady, would you like a handkerchief?”

His voice startled you. You quickly wiped the back of your hand under your eyes and shook your head. “I’m alright. Just something in my eyes,” you said, a weak smile on your face. 

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, a little bit too quickly for someone who was actually telling the truth. “It’s just been a long day. That’s all.” 

You thought they didn’t notice or perhaps at the least would ignore it if they did. You obviously thought wrong. How you wish you could swing the window open and flap away. 

It was a completely normal thing that all girls must go through at one point. You should be thinking of yourself as lucky even. The ladies of the ton would happily die to be you right now, moving to Prussia with your husband, the Prince. That was what you kept telling yourself.

Tears began to prick at your eyes again as you thought about a life that was foreign in every sense of the word. 

Maybe life in London was not all that bad. Sure there was a certain face you had to keep up at all times but at least there was your best friend Olivia. You never thought you could ever miss the horrible balls and tea parties, the cruel gossip and the contemptuous looks. But as London disappeared behind you, the thought of never returning frightened you. 

You inhaled a shallow breath, afraid of alarming the Prince and his valet. They probably thought you weak and pitiful now. 

“Shall I get you a blanket? We still have quite the journey,” said the Prince. 

You shook your head, not even dreaming of requesting anything from him. “I will just admire the countryside for now. Don’t worry about me.”

You promised yourself that you would stay awake. One of the things your mother managed to say to you in the carriage ride to the abbey was to not fall asleep as “it might put your husband off” in her exact words. She always made it a point to tell you just how ungraceful you looked when you were sleeping. And perhaps you should take her advice. The last thing you would want is for your husband to find you ungraceful just after your wedding ceremony. 

Of course, not long after that, you fell asleep. 

When you woke up, everything was pitch black. The last thing you remembered was trying to keep your eyes open. But the repetitive sights and the quiet droning of the Prince’s valet made it too difficult to resist giving in to the heaviness weighing on your eyelids. 

As you blinked and regained your vision, you noticed that you were alone in the carriage. The blinds had been drawn on all windows. You felt yourself panic. Was something wrong? Where was everyone? 

As you began to think up millions of ways the trip could have gone wrong, the possibility of a raid came up.

You drew a shaky breath and moved. That was when you realized that you had someone’s coat covering you this whole time. You held it up to the little sliver of light peaking through the curtains and recognized the navy blue color. It was the Prince’s. 

Just as you were holding the coat, the door was opened. You nearly froze when you saw Heinrich on the other side. 

“Your Highness,” he bowed, “you’re awake.”

The title threw you in a bit of a loop in your drowsy state. It took you a moment longer to realize that he was referring to you. It was going to take a while to adjust. 

You masked the initial shock by clearing your throat. “Yes. What time is it?”

“It’s 9 pm, ma’am. Would you like to board the ship now?”

You nodded, picking up your skirt and making your way down the steps. He took the coat for you and held your hand to help you. 

“You should wear this, your Highness. It’s a little bit cold.” 

The night breeze sent goosebumps up your arms and you carefully draped his coat back on, now noticing the citrusy scent clinging onto it. You held onto the lapels of the coat and followed Heinrich. 

The sailing ship was anchored just by the dock, a couple of steps away from where the carriages stopped. It was an absolute beast with towering sails for wings, a strong body made of wood and a long pointy bow spirit as a fearsome horn. The sails flapped in the wind, wanting to stretch free of its frames and fly off into the night sky.

As you and Heinrich made your way up the stairs to the main deck, you could hear the commotion happening before you could see it. Thumping footsteps, shouts and grunts as the crew got ready to set sail. 

They did not care that you were here and you liked that. Being invisible was nice. Heinrich, however, did not enjoy it as much. He seemed a bit anxious to have you witness all of this and quickly led you away from all the noises down one flight of stairs. You could still hear heavy footsteps but they were muffled, less prominent than before now that you were one floor below. 

The air heavy with moisture and salt filled your lungs as you made your way down a lengthy and narrow hallway. Not too far away stood two ladies. Heinrich confirmed that it was in fact your room. 

“These are your lady’s maids-Lea and Ilse. Should you need anything, they shall help you.”The girls curtsied at the sight of you and each nodded at the mention of their names. 

You studied their faces, trying to cling to certain features so that you would not forget their names. Both of them had perfectly combed blonde hair, although instead of just a simple bun, Ilse’s hairdo was a little more intricate with the way she wrapped her hair. Lea was a little taller and seemed a little tougher than Ilse with her strong eyebrows and tall gait. Ilse, on the other hand, was bright-eyed and more youthful, reminding you of Olivia. 

“Thank you, Heinrich.”

He nodded and bowed his head. But before he could walk away, you called him, prompting him to spin around again. 

“May I ask where the Prince is?”

“His Royal Highness is speaking to the captain of the ship, ma’am. Should you like me to call for him?”

You shook your head firmly. “No, thank you.”

When he was out of sight, you suddenly remembered you were still wearing the Prince’s coat. But he had gone too far for you to call him back again now. 

You sighed quietly, turning to face the door. Reaching out your hand, you were just about grab the doorknob but found that Lea was already there too. 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” you held your hands up to your chest, allowing her to open the door. 

“It’s alright, your Highness,” she said with a smile. 

You took a moment to admire the room before you. Almost everything was made from walnut wood-the walls, the floors, the furniture, covering the whole room in a rich chocolate brown color. The candles washed the room in a soft orange glow, accentuating the warm earthy tones and setting a completely different mood from the shivering wet deck. 

You wandered inside, running your hand along the wall panels, delighting in the little crevices on the surface. 

“I hope you don’t mind. We’ve drawn you a bath, your Highness,” Ilse said. 

You shook your head. “No, of course not. Thank you.”

“Would you like us to assist you with your dress, ma’am?”

You shook your head. “I shall be quite fine. You can take your break now, ladies.” 

You expected the two of them to leave right away. After all, it had been a very lengthy day and even though you intended on getting to know the both of them, now was simply not the time for sharing childhood tales. But they lingered on by the door, prompting a “Yes?” from you. 

“Would you like supper brought to you, ma’am?” Lea asked. 

“I can do that?”

Both of them nodded, probably finding you the oddest lady they had ever served. 

“Well, if it is not too much trouble, I’d love it.” 

The girls curtsied and left the room. 

Now completely alone, you let out a long, tired sigh. It was a terrible habit of yours and you were well aware. You always thought too much whenever amd wherever you could, especially when you were left on your own. Your mind instantly ran over every little detail, picking out anything that might have left a bad impression on your new husband and staff members. 

There were simply too many. 

With a sigh, you shrugged the coat off of your shoulders, carefully placing it on the bed. If you must admit, you missed the comforting weight of it on your shoulders and the faint smell of orange and cinnamon. You then thought of him. The Prince. 

For reasons unknown, you felt intimidated by him. So far he had been nothing but kind and he had done nothing that could warrant such a feeling. 

Something inside you just wished you would not disappoint him like you did your parents. It was difficult because you had no idea what his expectations were of you. All you knew was that Miss Bridgerton was who he really wanted. And if that was the goal, you found yourself far from ever reaching it. You might have been born into a higher born family but you lacked the charm that she had. She was always the older ladies’ favorite when they were small. Even now, she had the favor of everyone she met. 

You prepared different conversational topics for when he would come into the room eventually. There was nothing less attractive than a tone-deaf lady and you made sure political icebreakers were left far far away for the night. Maybe you could talk about the weather or music. They seemed to be perfectly proper matters of discussion for a lady. Far better than overly formal issues currently happening.

The bath you took wasn’t as relaxing as you had hoped for. Not even the slight sear of the water and the faint lavender scent could rid your mind of thoughts. You decided not to sit for long, your legs growing a bit restless in the water. Just as you finished tying your dress robes, you heard a knock and a voice from behind the door. 

“Your Highness! We’ve brought you supper!” 

“Yes. Come in!” you called. 

At the sound of approval, your maids brought in a tray with silver dish covers on top. They opened the covers for you, revealing a piece of steaming roasted salmon and pudding. You then realized that you were starving. The piece of bread you managed to shove into your mouth earlier today was definitely long gone. 

“Would you like some wine, your Highness?” Lea asked. 

You shook your head. All you wanted was to sit down and eat everything. And as helpful as they had been, their questions at this moment was not. “No thank you. This shall be perfect.”

“Should we bring you more food?” Ilse added. 

“No. I am happy with this. Thank you.” 

They finally left. But you had barely sit down when there came another knock on the door. You groaned to yourself. Again? 

“What?” you poked your head out, expecting your maids and more questions. But the last time you saw them they didn’t wear blue and there were certainly two of them. 

Oh crap. 

 It was the Prince of Prussia. 

Blush crept onto your cheeks as you became aware of your curtness. “Your Highness!” 

He had his brows raised at the curious sight of you poking only your head out, leaning against the door rather inelegantly. He stepped away almost immediately. “Oh, am I interrupting you? I apologize-“ 

“No! I apologize, your Highness. Would-would you like to come in?” You stood up straight, opening the door a little wider. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, wishing to break free from your ribcage.

He shook his head. “I am just here to ask you if everything was alright.” 

He didn’t want to come in?

“I am alright. Thank you for asking, your Highness.”

He cleared his voice. “Good. Well, it’s been a long day for you. You should get some rest. There will be a lot more traveling for tomorrow.” 

“Oh thank you. So should you. Oh-and before I forget.”

You disappeared into the room. In the meantime, Friedrich managed to catch a quick glimpse of your room. He had assigned the largest one to you, his was half the size. But it did not matter where he was. After all, he wanted the best for his bride, no matter who she was. 

You appeared again moments later, thanking him for lending the coat to you. He held his coat in the crook of his elbow. “Good night.”

You leaned against the door, your back landing on the surface with a dull thump. You were relieved that he didn’t come in because you were not ready at all. Yet, you could not help but feel the clouds of dread forming over you. Was he being thoughtful or did he want nothing to do with you? 

...

The next morning when Lea and Ilse came into the room, you could practically hear their thoughts. 

Lea was a bit better at hiding her surprise while Ilse had to look away, turning to the curtains for an escape. As they got you ready, they distracted you with their millions of questions about what you would like for your hair, your dress and your food. But what all three of you were thinking about was the reason why you were alone on your wedding night. 

“Do you know where the Prince is?” you asked, finally tired of dancing around the topic. 

Ilse gasped, no longer brushing your hair. “Your Highness, was he not here?” 

“Ilse, I mean no offense but you are a terrible liar.” 

Your comment made Lea choke back a laugh. Meanwhile, Ilse’s face grew bright red as she began to comb your hair again, laughing quietly. “I apologize, your Highness. I just cannot see why he wasn’t here with you. You’re beautiful!” 

“Well, I don’t think he likes me very much.”  

“I don’t think that is the case, your Highness. Maybe you just don’t know each other,” Lea added, putting on a diamond necklace for you. “You still have plenty of time for that until you arrive at the palace.” 

Perhaps she was right. But whether right or wrong, you felt some weight lifted off your shoulders. You felt that way with Olivia too, back in London. It gave us great comfort to know that at the very least you and your lady’s maids would get along perfectly fine.

“Will you two be with me then?” 

“Of course!” Ilse assured you, placing the comb down, happy with how your hair looked. “Right, Lea?”

“Yes and there will be another lady too. Your chief of staff.” 

You had finished getting ready but your appearance was the last thing on your mind right now. You turned in your chair, curious as to how the Prussian court worked. “Oh?” 

Ilse was more than glad to pass around the gossip. “Rumors have it that the King had someone in mind for you. But we left before he made the decision. I bet Heinrich knows.” 

...

It was definitely not a good time to ask questions. 

When you and your maids got off of the ship onto French soil by noon, there were new carriages that awaited you. Just as you were marveling at the beautiful paintings on the side of the carriages and the gold ornate trims on the wheels, your attention was quickly drawn to the people standing next to the largest carriage at the front. 

It was the Prince and Heinrich.

They were in quite a heated discussion when they noticed you looking and promptly paused their conversation. 

“Your Highness,” Heinrich bowed. 

You looked between the two of them, sensing the tension but did not dare ask for the reason. The Prince offered his hand and helped you into the carriage wordlessly. 

Outside of the window, Heinrich got on horse, charging away before your carriage even began to move. It was awfully curious. 

“Did you sleep well?”

You tore your eyes away from the window, deciding to focus on him instead. Inside of the carriage, the Prince was a completely different person than he was a mere second ago. He was sighing, his brows knitted, his hands waving about as he spoke to his valet about very important matters surely. But now, he had a friendly grin on his lips, his gaze soft as he engaged in small talk with you. 

“Yes. Thank you for asking, your Highness.”

That made him laugh. You did not know just what it was that he should be laughing about though. “You know, you do not have to call me that.”

“I-I don’t?”

He shook his head. “Call me Friedrich. We are husband and wife, after all.”

You nodded. “Well, then, please call me Y/N.”

“We have a deal.” 

Silence fell on the two of you after that. 

Friedrich looked out of the window, observing the French countryside in the distance, the sound of waves crashing ashore was mere memories now.

You had always been a little impatient in these awkward pauses, never quite sure what to do. You had been rehearsing for this moment in the bathroom yesterday. But perhaps going by a first-name basis gave you the boost of confidence you needed to be the one to break the silence, without the help of scripted conversations.

“Is Heinrich not joining us?” 

Friedrich shook his head. “He will meet us at the train station. There was just a little something that needed to be checked.” 

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. 

“Is there anything wrong?” 

“Just a mix-up with the train schedules. No need to worry though. We will just have to switch the rooms around a bit.”

That was a lie. And you’d find out the truth eventually when you got to the train station. Heinrich seemed pale as a ghost when he saw you and Friedrich emerge from the carriages, rushing towards the both of you. He did not seem to mind that you were there to listen, frantically speaking. “Your Highness, the state train is not coming.” 

“When did this happen?”

“I just checked. Apparently, they cancelled it from Potsdam.”

You had no idea what was happening but from the sigh leaving Friedrich’s lips you knew it was not good news at all. 

“So we’ll take the standard then?”

“I am afraid so, sir.”

It was exactly what he had feared. 

His father was mad and now that they were about to enter Prussia, there was no escaping his wrath. Friedrich did not mind, in particular. He was quite used to his father’s tantrums by now.  

Whenever his father lost, he would make sure no one could win. 

When Friedrich made the decision to marry you in England, he had prepared himself to face the King once they arrived at the Berlin Palace. He just felt bad for you having to get the wrong end of the stick because of him. 

“I apologize,” he said, “I am afraid there is no other way.” 

You waved your hand. “It is fine. I don’t think it is a big deal at all. I shall be good with anything.”

“Heinrich, see to it that you book her highness the room. I’ll sit where ever.”

You held up your hand. “Wait, excuse me?”

“There is only one room on the standard train, ma’am.” 

“I-I will sit with my maids. I can’t-”

Heinrich looked to the Prince who was looking at you, his lips parted. 

He shook his head furiously. “You are the Princess of Prussia. I will not allow you to sit in the back.” 

There was only one solution. 

Simple and straightforward to all of your current troubles. Friedrich did not want to suggest, he knew you were forced into this mess as much as he was. He was not going to make you do anything. And he was quite ready to sit with his staff, giving you your privacy when out of the blue...

“Then-then we’ll share the room.” 

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[amanda-glassen]

Jerena prompt 13 “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”? Pretty Please?

Thanks for the request!!! If you have any other Jerena or baby Cabenson requests, let me know and I'll gladly write it for you.

Staying at the Benson house during spring break and the week before their wedding gave Jamie a glimpse into what it was like for her wife when she was growing up. Her wife’s brother Kyle as the youngest and the only son had little expectations on him other than to carry on the family name. Her younger sister Lexie had always been popular and outgoing. As a blonde hair and blue eyed California girl, their mom considered Lexie the pretty one, and expected that someday she’d get a rich husband and live the life of a Beverly Hills housewife like herself. But Serena－Serena was their gifted child and she was told so since she learned how to read at age two and a half. “Gifted children grow into adults who have constant feelings of inadequacy and self-destructive coping mechanisms,” Serena would tell her. She hated the fact that she was considered a gifted child, but when Jamie saw her wife talking to one of her students the week that they returned to New York, she felt as if that gifted child had grown into a sweet, compassionate, and gifted adult.

When Serena’s student－a boy who appeared to be about 18 or 19－left the room, Jamie took it upon herself to enter her office with a caffeinated treat in hand.

“Hey, beautiful, you come here often?” she asked in an attempt at getting her wife to look up from her laptop.

“Well, I work here, so I’d have to say ‘yes.’” Serena shut her laptop and took off her black-framed glasses. “Plus it says Professor Serena Benson on the door so that’s a dead giveaway.”

“I bring you coffee and you sass me,” Jamie clutched her hand to her heart. “I’m hurt. I really am. This drink is nasty, by the way.”

“Good. That means you won’t drink it.” Serena got up from her desk so she could get the drink from her wife. “I love you and not just because you caffeinate me,” she said before giving Jamie a chaste kiss.

The drink she brought was from a coffee shop on campus typically occupied by professors and stressed out grad students. Serena was a regular there and frequented the coffee shop to the point that the barista asked “Is this for Professor Benson?” as soon as Jamie finished ordering it. It was a medium iced coffee with four shots of espresso, nonfat milk, extra chocolate syrup, and extra hazelnut syrup.

“Damn, Serena, that stuff is like liquid cocaine. How do you drink it and live to tell the tale?”

“I think I’m immune to anything less. Do you want to sit outside?”

The November air was chilly compared to the weather they had just experienced while in California, but Jamie didn’t mind because cold weather meant seeing her wife in cardigans and scarves. Jamie had met some of Serena’s colleagues at the holiday party, but the age difference between Serena and most of her colleagues wasn’t evident until that November day when they were sitting outside on a bench. Unlike her other colleagues who were in business attire, Serena opted for a more casual alternative. She was in a jacquard fit and flare floral dress, an oversized olive green cardigan, and brown ankle boots with her hair in a bun.

“Anyone ever tell you you look like a cross between a hipster and a sexy librarian?”

“Not those who value their lives,” Serena took a sip of her drink. “Thank you for visiting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jamie responded. She wasn’t sure if putting her arm around her wife would be a welcomed gesture on campus where her students could potentially see her so she opted to hold her hand instead. “So, what’s the chisme? I heard you were on some people’s shit list.”

“Yeah, that,” Serena smirked. “I decided to add trigger warnings for assigned readings and if there’s something that’s triggering to them then my students have the option of doing an alternative assignment. The old guard thinks I’m some kind of special snowflake, but it’s worth it. My students are all over 18. They’re adults. They know the difference between something that makes them mildly uncomfortable and something that triggers them. When I came back for my senior year, rape scenes were traumatic for me to read. Some of my students are survivors of sexual assault, some are child abuse survivors, some have self-harmed. I don’t know what’s going to be triggering for them, but I don’t want them to be forced to relive trauma because of an assignment.”

Regardless of who was around, Jamie decided to kiss her wife’s temple. “You’re a good woman, Serena.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Jamie insisted. “You care so deeply and you’re always looking out for others, like the time we were in line at Target behind a woman whose debit card got declined and you paid for her entire purchase.”

Serena took a sip of her drink. “It was just the decent thing to do. She was all alone with a baby and I remember what it was like to be a new mom and raising a baby on my own. Because of my parents, I never needed money, but I can’t even begin to tell you the countless times other, more experienced moms helped me by giving me advice.”

“How about helping another new mom?” Jamie smiled. “Me, in particular.”

“Kyle just filled me in,” Serena chuckled. “He said Ollie’s fine. She’s playing video games.”

“So she doesn’t have food poisoning?”

“Did you see her throw up or did she just tell you?”

“She just told me.”

“Ahh, that’s where you went wrong,” Serena pointed out. “Unless I see that our daughter has thrown up, she’s not staying home. I’ll ask her to show me and she just says, ‘You’re gross, Mom, and this demeans us both’ and then she gets her little preteen self ready for school. You’re new to this, babe, and until we got married you were her buddy. Now you’re her mom and, as her mom, there’s a few words of advice I have. Don’t let our daughter punk you.”

“Our daughter was not trying to punk me. Olivia is a sweet kid.”

“I know she’s our baby but she’s almost a teenager,” Serena reminded her. “She’s going to spend the next few years trying to punk us, but we have a motto in the Benson family. Punk not lest ye get punked.”

“What is wrong with your family?” Jamie laughed. “What happened to trust?”

“You should know by now that we sacrifice everything for petty revenge,” Serena smirked. “On my way home, I’ll pick up a pizza with extra cheese and extra pepperoni. I’ll get some candy and soda and everything else she can’t resist. If she eats any of it, she’s admitting to lying about being sick to get out of her math test.”

“So you’re going to eat all of our daughter’s favorite foods in front of her while she eats chicken soup and crackers?”

“Pretty much.”

“I take it back, Serena. You are pure evil and it’s an honor to co-parent with you.”

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 7

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

May 2015

“Dominick, where’s the box with my shoes?” Victoria called, stepping over the piles in the apartment they’d consolidated into over the last month and a half. Both their leases were ending, so they decided to go ahead and overlap their leases with a new place for a month. They needed to start fresh, and neither of them wanted to do that in the solitary spaces they’d inhabited without the other. She was nervous now, however, because Olivia had extended Carisi’s invitation to celebrate Noah’s adoption to her as well. It struck her that she was the only SVU spouse, so it might just be the group that spent every day and lots of long nights together and her, someone suddenly thrust into their world. That meant she was exceptionally nervous as she got ready; meeting them on their turf felt more serious than being at Bella’s wedding. Everyone had dispersed within hours there.

“Kitchen counter. Got mixed up for the pots and pans in our room somehow,” he called, and she could tell he was brushing his teeth. She stepped over the not yet assembled shelves she’d gotten, digging each chunky heel from the cardboard box. The wedding heels had been hard on her because the brides wanted stilettos. These she could walk in all day, and she liked reaching Sonny’s shoulder. She went to the bathroom, leaning on the door frame as she watched him style his hair, the tip of his tongue between his front teeth. He caught her eye on the mirror, and his mouth shifted to a grin as he shot her a wink.

“Lookin’ hot, Mrs. Carisi.”

“Why thank you,” she grinned, striking a playful pose. “You look pretty hot yourself.”

“You just like these shirts on me.”

“And your ass in those khakis.” 

She felt triumphant as his cheeks turned pink, grabbing her purse and fixing her lipstick. Soon enough, they were knocking on Olivia’s door, and Sonny pressed a kiss by her ear. 

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, straightening up as Olivia opened the door.

“Carisi, Victoria, come on in,” she smiled, and Victoria couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the little boy on her hip, putting the gift bag on the counter. 

“It’s so great to see you again. We brought a present for you two. Wine for mama and a toy for Noah.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s a celebration,” she smiled, and Sonny watched fondly as Victoria made faces at Noah, who squealed with delight. 

“Carisi,” Barba nodded, scotch in hand as the detective opened a beer. “Things seem to be good?”

“Yeah. We’re unpacking the new place.”

“I’m sure it’s a delight.”

“Tor’s back home. Of course it is.”

“Can I give you one piece of advice, if you still want to be an attorney?”

“If you’re going to say ‘don’t’ again-”

“I’m feeling sentimental on this, the celebration of Noah’s adoption.”

“Go on then.”

“You’ve expressed an interest in the DA’s office. Prosecution. It’s all the pain from SVU, plus you have to be the bad guy and demand proof. You’ve hated my guts more than a few times, no?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fuck up again. You’ll need that anchor. I have had two opportunities. One ended up with the friend. The other I drove away trying to keep secrets and seem tough.”

“Liv rat me out?”

“On accident at the wedding. But only because she knew I’d understand. Being able to talk to her will be what keeps you sane during some of those trials.”

“You know, cousin Tony is a real good listener and seemed real into you.”

“He is quite the listener and is quite into me. Now, shut up before you ruin my good mood.”

“There’s the Barba I’m used to.” A roll of the attorney’s eyes told him whatever sentimentality he was going to be at the receiving end of was over, and Sonny felt confident that when he asked to shadow him later, Barba wouldn’t be as put out as he pretended. When he looked back to Olivia, Victoria was chatting happily with a glass of wine in hand. He was excited he still got to make an introduction between Fin and Victoria. It was nice to be able to say This is my wife, Victoria without having to eventually explain they didn’t live together. When he heard a knock, he moved to her side, anticipating his entrance. Once he’d greeted Olivia and Noah, Sonny was pleased with the look on his face. As the detective who’d been there the longest, Sonny found himself caring what Fin thought, and Fin seemed to be forming his opinion.

“Fin! I want ya t’meet my wife, Victoria,” he said happily, arm slung over her shoulder. She extended a hand, which Fin shook gladly.

“It’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much!”

“Nice to meet you too. Your husband ain’t shut up about you in weeks. Once he started-”

“He’s pretty sappy?”

“So you been putting up with him a decade?”

“I mean technically my whole life. We grew up next door to each other.”

“I hear I gotta come to a bakery in Brooklyn now.”

“Oh yeah. You got any favorites? Tell me, and I’ll send a preview with Dom next week.”

“I’m pretty traditional.”

“You want brownies, cookies, or cake?”

“Cookies.”

“Deal. Sonny’ll have you a batch Monday.”

“I like her, Carisi,” Fin said, clapping a hand on the younger detective’s shoulder before going to get his drink and greet Barba.

“It’s not fair. You can make cookies and everyone instantly likes you.”

“You seen your goofy grin? You don’t even have to talk to be likable.”

She was rewarded with a kiss to the temple and the aforementioned grin. Soon enough, Amaro and Rollins were there, and Barba poured the pricey champagne he’d brought to toast. Everyone finally got comfortable after that, Sonny settled on the arm of the couch beside Victoria, and Noah was teetering around the coffee table. Victoria was happy to babble to him, and he could see she felt proud when Noah decided to climb onto her lap. God, she was going to be a good mom if they ever stabilized. Couples therapy would start soon. They’d always said when he finished school, and that would actually be happening the next year. Maybe if they were doing well they could have their own baby. All of his sisters were pregnant or already had kids, and fatherhood had been Sonny’s dream.

 As Noah leaned into Victoria, he looked up at Sonny, who was happy to wave down at him. It seemed Lucy liked getting a break to talk to the adults, and he could see the look on Olivia’s face watching Noah. She liked seeing the boy bond with the family she’d made through work. He probably owed a lot of the growth that got him Victoria back to her. The squad was a family with Olivia as their matriarch, and he’d felt safe enough to verbalize his feelings in the first days with her team, when he still had the moustache Victoria had recently informed him really was awful when he tried to defend it. 

“I can take him if you need me to, Victoria. He’s out,” she said from her spot beside Barba. 

“It’s fine. He’s so cuddly.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Long as Sonny doesn’t mind getting me a glass of wine.”

“On it, doll,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Victoria had always loved when their nieces fell asleep on her like this when they were babies. Mia had been the first one, and they took to each other quickly, even if Victoria had been the neighbor kid at the time. They hadn’t broached kids again, and frankly she was afraid of the prospect, but she’d wanted to have kids with Sonny since they got married. Logically, she knew they had to wait until the time was right. Originally, that was just when he finished school, but now they had to play it by ear again. Either way, she was going to savor the smell of baby as Noah slept with his cheek pressed against her shoulder. She wasn’t as good at the play as Sonny was; every child he encountered bonded with him easily, something that had to be helpful in his job. Victoria was good at cuddling and nurturing though. When the first members of the team trickled out, she settled Noah in his mother’s arms and gave her the best hug she could. 

“Thanks for including me. I’m so happy for you, Olivia.”

“Thanks for coming. Noah loves you. Mind being added to the babysitter list?”

“I am honored.” Sonny led her out, hand on the small of her back and a crooked smile plastered across his face. Everyone loved her, like he knew they would. How could someone not? It was near dinner, so without checking, he led the way to a sushi bar near Olivia’s. As he guided her in, she looked up at him with her brow furrowed.

“Dinner date?” He was proud to see her cheeks turn pink.

“I’d like that. You been spoiling me lately.”

“I just been acting like I should. You been pretty damn good to me too.”

“Wanna get saki?”

“Are trying to get me drunk?”

“You only have to go in tomorrow if there’s an emergency.”

“Saki it is.” 

“I was thinking I might plan us a trip in November.”

“Yeah? Could be fun.”

“Any place you wanna go? You’ll be who we’re celebrating.”

“Oh?” he asked, brow lifted as he smiled at her. 

“Dirty thirty.” 

“Dirty thirty? Really Tor?”

“It’ll be fun.”

“I was thinking about New Orleans next year. Could be fun near the holidays instead. Do something bigger for our anniversary.”

“I like the way you think. Plus, July is hot as hell. I’ll tell you the dates when I know.”

“I can’t wait. I’m glad we’ll be together over the holidays.”

“I’m glad we’ll be together on our anniversary. We missed two.”

“One,” he said, puzzled before he winced. “Wait no, you’re right. I was being a bad husband.”

“Nah, you weren’t doing well,” she assured him, hand on his thigh. 

“Ninth, we’re staying here. Tenth, we’re going big.”

“Deal. I love you, Tor.”

“And I love you.”

“You were real good with Noah.”

“He’s such a cuddly boy.”

“I told Lieu I gotta hang out with him sometimes. The girl gene runs real strong with the Carisis. Four nieces, no nephews? And then non Carisi niece on her way from Rollins.”

“Only two have been born. Mom thought I was going to be a boy.”

“True. Fingers crossed. Or maybe we’ll have a boy.”

“Dom-”

“I ain’t saying tomorrow. I’m just saying therapy is going good, we’re doing good, couples therapy is soon, and I bet we have a kid in before I’m forty.” She laughed, kissing him softly. “I think it’ll be sooner than that. Maybe in like three?”

“Even better. I can’t wait to feel our baby kick one day. Know they’re there. It’ll happen when we’re ready. Not a minute sooner. God’s got a plan.” 

“We just gotta be careful, okay? I want to try to not get pregnant for a while.”

“I know, Tor.”

“Don’t get testy. I wanna make sure we’re ready.”

“I know. Just- seeing you with Noah and Jessie? Set off the ‘I want kids’ bell stronger than last time.”

“Me too. Every time I see you hold the kids.”

“We gotta baby sit more to tide me over.”

“I got a feeling I’ll be getting calls from Liv. You make that clear to Amanda. Then soon enough? Gina’s almost due. Then Bella.”

“True,” he smiled softly. “If we wait they get to be the only Carisi baby that year. Even more attention.”

“You’ll spoil them rotten.”

“That’s my job.”

“We get the day tomorrow, unless somethin’ happens.”

“We do. I gotta go to the bakery for a couple hours at least to help train the newest hire. Margy picked good, but they’re taking weekends for me.”

“I’m really excited about that. I think it’ll be good now that it’s an option.”

“Me too. We both get to be in case of emergency for the most part.”

“Yeah. Liv will rotate all of us taking a Saturday.”

“I guess I’ll just have to find somebody’s baby to play with,” she teased, poking his side and he grinned. 

“Y’know, I think we ought to start practicin’ when we go home, doll.”

“Read my mind, Sonny.”

Tag List: @cycat4077​ @fear-less-write-more​

[365days365movies]

May 1: The Prestige (2006) (Recap: Part Two)

Now, where were we? Oh, right!

Wolverine’s trying to take down Batman for killing his wife and ruining his life, but can’t do it, even with the help of Black Widow and Alfred Pennyworth. So, he goes to the United States to meet Gollum, who’s working for Nicola Tesla. 

That sound about right, Nick Jonas of the Jonas Brothers: Living the Dream?

Awesome! Thanks, man; thought you were underrated as Marius in Les Mis. Anyway, let’s get back to it! 

Part One is right here!

Recap (2/2)

We flash forward AGAIN to Borden in prison, who’s agreed to sell almost all of his tricks to the representative from before. However, he will only sell the last trick (the Transported Man), if Caldolw comes there himself, with his daughter (whom he agreed to keep out of the workhouses). Meanwhile, he plays a magic trick on a guard, in a fashion that’s genuinely funny and well-done.

The builder of the machine, who is once again friggin’ Nicola Tesla, appears to speak with Angier. Oh, and by the way, Nicola Tesla is FUCKING DAVID BOWIE OH MY GOD!! After showing him a lightbulb powered by bioelectricity, the two sit down for a meal. Tesla speaks on how his visionary status is less-than-appreciated at this point. Still, he offers to make the machine for Angier, but also asks if he’s considered the cost. And not just the monetary one.

While Tesla recommends against Angier’s passions, recognizing it as an obsession, he does agree to build it, recognizing that he will not stop these obsessions. From there, we flashback AGAIN and see Angier backstage, shortly after his failure (and Borden’s sabotage). Still angered at Borden’s new life and success, he goes to his show to observe a new trick he’s debuting, called “The Transported Man.” 

Consorting with Olivia, he gets a better disguise to look in on Borden’s act. And when he does...he sees the greatest trick he’s ever seen. Borden goes in through one door, then comes out of another. When he tells Cutter about the trick, Cutter insists that it’s a double. But both Olivia and Angier agree that it wasn’t a double, given that both had the missing fingers from Angier’s shooting attempt. Still, they don’t know HOW Borden does it. So, with Cutter’s advice, they find a double to sit in for Angier for their own version of the trick. This double is drunk and unemployed actor Gerald Root (Hugh Jackman), who is...kind of a dick. Still, the two do look alike (obviously).

With more pizzazz and showmanship than Borden displayed, Angier’s version of the Transported Man is a big success, and Angier is a success as a result. However, there’s a drawback; because he’s switching places with Root, he’s underneath the stage, rather than on top of it. Because of this, he can’t actually appreciate the applause of the audience first hand. Which means quite a lot to him for some reason. And so, he STILL needs to figure out how Borden’s act work. To do so, he asks Olivia (with whom he’s in a new relationship) to spy on Borden by pretending to defect to his side. Which angers Olivia, but she agrees.

Flash forward to Colorado, and to the first experiment of the machine that Tesla’s built. He believes that the machine should be able to transport a person or object from one place to another. They use Angier’s top hat for the demonstration, watching electricity arc around it, and...nothing happens. The hat’s still there. The experiment is a failure, but Tesla will keep at it (for Angier’s money, of course).

Back to the past, where it’s revealed that Olivia is...really fucking pissed at Angier, it turns out. See, she actually did LOVE him, and he cast her away like little more than hired help in order to succeed in his rivalry with Borden, basically telling her that she means little to him, as compared to the feud. So, she betrays Angier by telling Borden about Root. Borden tells Root that he holds power over Angier, convincing him to blackmail him. A drunken Root agrees, but this is also part of Borden’s plan.

See, Borden shows up at the show, and takes away a pad under the trap door through which Angier falls for the trick, causing him to hit the floor badly, and permanently hobbling him. Now under the stage, the asshole Borden takes Root’s place, and Angier’s spotlight, humiliating his rival to LITERALLY add insult to injury. Fuck Borden, he’s a dick.

An understandably enraged Angier goes to Olivia to find out, y’know...what the FUCK? But, after she angrily confronts her, she gives him Borden’s journal, which she’s pinched. However, the journal is written with a cipher in order to prevent any looky-loos from figuring out his secrets. To get the cipher’s key, Angier crosses YET ANOTHER line, and kidnaps Fallon, Borden’s stage engineer. Reluctantly, Borden gives Angier the key to the cipher: TESLA. That leads him to Tesla, and back to America, where Angier is from. But Cutter’s done; he’s not coming along this time. Angier’s obsession with Borden is just that: Angier’s obsession, not his. So, Angier’s on his own.

That night, with Olivia, Fallon, and his wife Sarah, Borden celebrates at dinner! However, Sarah’s not happy, AT ALL, it turns out. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but Borden’s relationship with Sarah is tumultuous as hell. As she describes it, some days he’s all into their marriage and their relationship, and he truly seems to love her. But some days...he isn’t. Some days, he’s into magic whole-heartedly, and into his secrets, which she HATES. This comes up at dinner, where it’s also fairly apparent that Borden is cheating on her with Olivia. YIKES.

As the marriage is falling apart, we go back to Colorado Springs, where Angier is once more reading Borden’s diary. He’s had it the whole time he’s been in Colorado, by the way, but we only now found out where he got it. As he reads it, he’s shocked to see that the diary is now...directly addressing him. Oh...fuck.

Turns out Olivia was REALLY FUCKING PISSED at Angier, and has COMPLETELY betrayed him for Borden, with whom she’s fallen in love. Yeah, fuck. Borden told her to give Angier the diary, knowing that it would send him back to his home country of America on a wild goose chase, as he actually NEVER went to Tesla for the key to his trick. Which means that Angier is there for absolutely no reason.

So, uh...Angier’s gonna punch a genius right now, because he’s now ALSO FUCKING PISSED (which pleases Borden greatly as he reads this in the diary). Convinced that Tesla was stealing his money for a fraudulent cause, he storms there immediately. The lab’s been burned out by Edison’s men, but Tesla and Alley are still there, and they actually don’t know why the experiment didn’t work. They give it one more shot, with Alley’s cat this time. And...

Nothin’. Just an electrified cat. Alive, but probably all static-y now. Anyway, Tesla apologizes, and a frustrated Angier leaves the facility, followed by the understandably freaked out cat. And the other cat is also freaked out. And...oh. OH.

Turns out - TURNS FUCKING OUT - that the machine isn’t a teleporter; it’s a cloning machine! YEAH! And as soon as the cloning is revealed...I figure the whole movie out. I mean it. I figured out the twist! Here, lemme try it on for size. First of all, Angier isn’t dead. His double from the experiment died, in order to frame Borden for his murder and ruin him. Secondly, the person who’s aiming to buy Borden’s trick? It’s him. He’s the “mysterious collector.” 100%, I goddamn guarantee it. Oh, and while we’re at it, I know who Fallon is! Fallon is Borden’s double, because Borden’s only performed the experiment successfully ONCE! When he did, he made a double of himself, and that double is the silent and mysterious Fallon, who seems to care for Borden’s daughter greatly. That’s it! I figured out the goddamn movie! BET. FUCKING BET

Well, I’ll find out soon, I’m sure. Tesla’s forced out of town the next day, but he’s left Angier the box, containing the cloning machine that would be his end. He tests it...but we don’t see whether or not it works. Hmm. Borden’s as interested as I am in this...and then reads on as the diary starts addressing HIM. FUCK. Angier did in fact frame Borden for his death. And with that knowledge...Borden’s done. Both because he’s been fooled, and because...well, that’s not all that’s happened to him recently.

Back in time again, and Sarah and Borden’s marriage is FALLING APART ENTIRELY. Sarah is done with Borden’s flip-flopping mentalities, realizing even now that he’s not currently in love with her. She’s not OK. And unfortunately...she hangs herself shortly afterwards. Yeah. It’s terrible, and Borden drove her FUCKING CRAZY. I DO NOT LIKE THIS ASSHOLE. Poor, poor Sarah. Sucks.

That’s led, of course, to their child being without a mother, which is why Borden agrees to allow the mysterious Lord Caldlow to look after her. And once he arrives at the prison to collect Borden’s final trick as agreed...yup.

Alive, well, and now ABSOLUTELY AN ASSHOLE TOO, Angier has taken on his ACTUAL identity: Robert Caldlow, British nobleman! Holy shit. HOLY SHIT I WAS RIGHT. Now realizing how...FUCKING CRAZY this whole thing is, Borden’s fucked. At the same time, Cutter is to deliver the Box to the estate. Although Caldlow tries to avoid the interaction, the interaction happens, and Cutter is also ABSOLUTELY FUCKING ENRAGED!!! A lot of anger in this movie.

Anyway, yeah! Angier was fucking dead! And now, Borden’s life is absolutely ruined for something that, to be fair, he didn’t actually do! But there’s a question...how the fuck is this possible? I mean, we know a lot of the details. but not everything. It is at this point, though, that we flashback to the night in question.

First things first, Olivia is tried of this bullshit. She’s leaving before it’s too late, because their obsessions with each other is too fucking much. With Angier about to debut a new trick, a new version of the “Transported Man”, Borden goes to the show night-after-night, despite the fact that his wife is dead, kinda because of him. But whatever, amirite? MAGIC RULES ALL

Borden attends the show multiple times, and night after night, Angier enters the machine, and his double appears above the audience seconds later, which astounds and amazes. Finally, Borden’s fed up, and he makes his way backstage to figure out what the FUCK is happening. And that’s when we get back to the beginning. The clone of Angier dies in the water tank, and Borden’s framed for the crime. And it worked.

Realizing now that he’s fucked, Borden in the modern day says his tearful goodbyes to the always silent Fallon, admitting his faults, and apologizing to him for what happened with Sarah? Huh. But a part of me wonders whether or not Borden can escape. I mean, he’s an escape artist and a magician, right?

No. Borden is brought to the gallows to be done. And when they ask if he has anything more to say...he does.

...Holy shit.

After this, we go back to Caldlow/Angier. He brings the machine to the theatre with the help of Cutter. There, he prepares to burn the theatre and the box, and a water tank also in the cellar. And then, he’s shot. Wait, wait, he’s fucking SHOT? By...oh. OHHHHHH.

Fallon. FALLON shoots Caldlow/Angier. But it’s not Fallon really. No, no. This is THE OTHER Alfred Borden, who’s been disguised as Fallon the whole time. But wait! There’s FUCKING MORE! As Angier/Caldlow dies (YES DIES), we learn the truth from both sides. Let’s start with Borden.

See, this entire time, through all the BULLSHIT that Angier went through to make this goddamn stupid fucking trick work...Cutter was right. THE ENTIRE TIME. But how did Borden to the Transported Man? Easy: he has a twin brother. HE HAS A FUCKING TWIN BROTHER!!! I was wrong! The real trick is that the brothers sacrificed their individuality in order to play the same person! This whole goddamn time! HOLY SHIT! That’s also why Sarah noted that Borden seemed like two people at once sometimes! In fact, one brother loved Sarah, and the other loved Olivia! Holy fucking SHIT! But what about the hands, you ask? Easy! To commit to the bit, the other brother CUT HIS FUCKING FINGERS OFF!!! WHAT IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK?!?

Now THAT is a fucking twist! And Angier’s equally as impressed. But OK...how did Angier do his trick? Simple; by killing his clones EVERY SINGLE FUCKING NIGHT WITH THE WATER TANK! Which is just SUPER FUCKED when you think about it! He’s killing himself every night, because when he steps in to the machine, he never knows if he’s the man in the water or on the stage! He’s literally drowning himself every night, in the same way that his wife died! And you know the REALLY FUCKED UP THING? 

HE ALREADY TRIED TO DO THE EXACT SAME THING EARLIER

Yeah! That’s from before, shortly after his wife died! And he did that every night, WAITING for the right moment to get his revenge on Borden to frame him for murder! ISN’T THAT ABSOLUTELY FUCKED?!? I LOVE IT!

So, yeah, that’s all well and good, but for the love of God, WHY? Angier got his revenge already with the better showmanship from his first revision of Borden’s trick, so why do it like this now? Well, Angier’s reply is that he did it to see the magic on people’s faces when they realized the trick in front of them. I mean...you’re fuckin’ CRAZY dude, but I respect your devotion to the craft?

Angier dies, and the lantern falls on the ground, causing everything to start burning. And as Borden walks away from this mess, we hear Caine’s narration come in again, and go back to that first scene with him and the little girl, whom we now know is Borden’s daughter. And luckily for her, her ACTUAL FATHER, the right Borden, is the one who’s still alive. He comes for her, with Cutter’s blessings, and his narration continues. And as it does, Borden in the fast, in the theatre, looks back at the scene around him. And he realizes what he’s looking at.

Every magic trick consists of 3 parts, or "acts." The first part is called "the Pledge." The magician shows you something ordinary. The second act is called "the Turn." The magician takes the ordinary something, and makes it into something extraordinary. But, you wouldn't clap yet, because making something disappear isn't enough... you have to bring it BACK. Now, you're looking for the secret. But you won't find it, because, of course, you're not really looking. You don't really want to work it out. You want to be... FOOLED.

That’s The Prestige, and uh...holy fucking SHIT. See you in the Review.

[mxvladdy]

Single Dads- Overwatch Prt.1 Headcannons

Jesse McCree

His two little girls have him wrapped around their fingers. Jesse can be seen on base entertaining his twins with games, tea parties, and piggyback rides. They both inherited their father's love of western flair and aesthetic much to his delight. Yes, they all have matching boots for special occasions. Their favorite thing to play with when Jesse is away is their play-dough sets and easy bake oven (with supervision from grandpa Rein). When they are old enough to cook with him though he has so many ideas of what to teach them. Grandma’s recipes won’t die out with him.

When Jesse gets back from a long mission all he wants is to cuddle up, it warms his heart when they snuggle up during their favorite Disney movie and nod off. Over the years he has let his hair grow longer than he normally liked just so his girls could play with it (Instead of touching their own. He had a heart attack when the girls had found his electric razor. Aunty Olivia had a field day fixing that mess)

He likes to take them to the gun range when he has time to practice, making sure they have proper safety gear. Don’t need to turn out like their daddy, deaf in one ear, and ringing in the other. He hopes that they will never have to raise a weapon of their own but knows with his line of work and who he is it’s a possibility. If they want to learn how to hold a gun he is probably going to beg Ana to teach them. He doesn’t want them in close combat, that’s an absolute nope.

Hanzo Shimada

Whenever he sees his son his face splits into the most brilliant smile. His infant son squirms in Ana’s arms, trying to get to his dad as he steps off the dropship. Chubby baby arms wave excitedly, impatient to be back in his father's embrace. As he grows he turns into a very giggly and chatty baby who babbles to anyone in a mix of English, Japanese, and Tibetan (thanks to Genji and Zenyatta babysitting). Hanzo adores his son and strives to be a better father than his ever was to him. He’s strict, but never overbearing.

He loves to read to his son whatever he can find, though his favorite is Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see? Which he reads in English and Japanese till his little one is asleep. When his son can’t sleep he will read it over and over again while his dragons rocking him to sleep.

He encourages his son’s interests whatever they may be at the time. He has saved up a lot of money from mercenary work and what he could take before he fled his home. So he can spend all the money he needs to help fuel his son’s interest.

He regrets that he hadn’t taken more family heirlooms to pass down to his son. Genji often jokes about a bonding trip when his son is older and trained to the old estate. A right of passage taking back what was rightfully theirs. It is a tempting idea… But even without the family trinkets, he will pass down Storm bow, whether his son uses it or not he doesn’t care. The biggest inheritance will be his dragon when the time comes.

Genji Shimada   His eldest child is a spitfire, very much like he was in his youth. Thankfully, he tempers it much better than his parents ever did, finding an equal balance between friend and father. He respects her boundaries and she respects his wishes. Whenever she is feeling down she always finds little origami figures all over her room just like when she was little. Really into textiles and engineering. While never admitting it to her father but she one day wants to design him a better, slicker, and lighter body. One as close to flesh as possible. Till then she flourishes with Gabe learning how to sew and make patterns. The holidays are always filled with new custom clothes for the Overwatch members. She is found in the frequent company of Zenyatta. She wants to travel with him one day, to gather inspiration for her fashion and to see what her father saw to make him into the man he is today.  

His younger son though is very much like Hanzo when they were little. Reserved and resourceful he spends most of his time with Winston learning what he could from the scientist before dinner. Genji isn’t dull by any sense of the word but the stuff his boy was interested in was just over his head. Has a service dog named Totoro that is always there for him when things get too overwhelming. When things get too much or he is tired Genji loves that his son comes to him for help and advice. To him this is the ultimate show of trust, he wished he could have done this with his father. Normally they just meditate and talk. Other times they go find Satya, who his son loves to talk to.    

Christmas and birthdays were always a fun challenge to find things that would keep him stimulated. Last year the highlight had been his very own personal telescope. Courtesy of the science department of Overwatch.

Gabriel Reyes (Pre-fall and After)

His princesa is his world. His crew likes to tease him about his phone usage. 99% of the time he is in the barracks he is glued to it, face-timing his daughter. During the original Overwatch years, his mother and grandmother raised her while he was on tour. It kills him looking back on how he had watched his daughter grow from the scene of his phone. But at the time he believed it was for the best. Now- now he would give anything to be the one to teach her how to walk, her first words, prom, and graduation. 

The few times he could visit were glorious. Lots of home cooked meals made together and gifts from the places he had been around the world. Jack and Ana would drop by sometimes as well bringing with them stories and her father’s escapades and foolishness. As his daughter grew she picked up a passion for music and would send sound clips of her music lessons and compositions to him. No one was safe from him showing it off. After the fall and his resurrection, he stayed clear of her, keeping the pictures and recordings saved close to him at all times. Though the holidays are a hard time for him to stay away. Every year her family Christmas tree has a few more presents under it then she bought.  

She knows he’s still around and is determined to find a way to bring her father back.

Jack Morrison

Twins are a handful. One he thought he was ready for. I mean, he was able to keep Lena and McCree inline (mostly -but not really). He is a nervous dad at first. Overly prepared, he read every book and online forum. But, self-doubt is a hell of a drug. He gets better over time and the motto of “fake it till ya make it” 100% applies to him.  

As Strike-Commander he is in his office a lot. When the twins were newborns, he moved his work to his condo. As they got older he returned to his office and set up an area for the kids. When he is in conference calls it’s always funny to see the toddlers get into frame, or try to get his attention. His office is littered with scribbles and paintings the two did in daycare or while playing with Ana and Reinhardt.    

The two have their dad whipped. He won’t admit it but he is wrapped around their fingers. It’s not that he showers them in gifts or lets them make trouble all the time. But he does turn a blind eye to the little things. Missing cookies, a little stain on his chair after he told them no food in his office. Ok, maybe one more scoop of ice cream, but promise me you’ll eat dinner alright? Most nights he can’t read them to sleep. It hurts, but they adjust. He does tuck them in and turns on some read-alongs for them before heading back into the office. The twins are out within minutes blessedly.

Jean-Baptiste Augustin

Twin girls, and he is on top of it. Ultimate chill dad. He gets it. Life is rough, and he is so proud that his girls feel safe coming to him for help. He teaches them how to handle their problems with words not violence. Papa and uncle Mako will take care of it. 

Neither girls are interested in medicine, which hurts a little but it’s not his life and he’s proud regardless. He is great with letting them explore their dreams. The eldest follows Bridgette wanting to learn about armor and the youngest (much to his fear) really likes Fawkes and his innate skill with explosives. Praise the gods Athena kept a close eye one them when he had something to show her.

Both are close with Genji’s kids in age. It’s nice for them to have friends that aren’t a bunch of old soldiers. They all like to hang-out on the roof of the base to destress after a day of school or side projects. When the four are together there is a 90% chance the evening will end with a few more grey hairs on the father’s heads.

Cooking is a big part of their family ritual. Baptiste grew up rough and underfeed so there is no way he will ever let his girls feel the same way. He teaches them what few Haitian recipes he knows from heart. Then sometimes they will watch videos and read recipes online of other peoples to try and add to their own books. His paranoia gets the best of him sometimes and he teaches them basic survival skills. They appreciate it and understand his fears. He is open with them about his past and is unashamed to admit his faults.  

[twiceblackvelvet]

Dreams

pt. i. pt.ii. pt.iii. pt.iv.

April 15th, 2022. 13:42 AM. Los Angeles.

California sunshine, there’s nothing like it. Sure, it all beams down from the same star no matter where you are in the world. But there’s something different about the atmosphere. People don’t care here if you’re parading around in a cropped shirt that shows off more skin than you’d usually be comfortable with. They are too wrapped up in their own socially driven lives to bother you in passing unless they recognize you. Then it’s time to whip out the phone to selfie mode in hopes it gains them a few extra likes than usual. Wendy doesn’t mind, it’s only happened twice, but she’s accepted it as part of the package.

When people say Los Angeles is the city of dreams, they mean it. That’s mainly why she finds herself strolling down the busy street with boutique clothing stores galore and people riding around on skateboards, enjoying their lives however they wish to do so. The freedom to explore your dreams in the place that either makes you or breaks you being all too tempting. But, Wendy is determined to be one of the few souls that soar and reach the goal they set out to achieve when they arrived here, rather than let the city suck her dry and toss her aside as it has done to many others.

It’s been eight months since she packed up her things and moved here. Many of her friends back in Korea told her she’d regret it or that she’d be better off staying and never trying to break into the music scene in the US, but Wendy has always been a free spirit, unable to follow what could be the safe path and instead aiming for what she truly wants. That’s how she ended up in Red Velvet. She could have stayed in Canada all of those years ago, become a doctor or a lawyer, but she knew it wouldn’t have fulfilled her. 

Singing just comes naturally. Without music, she’d be a shell of a person and definitely not in the position she finds herself in today. 

After working non-stop for what feels like forever, sleeping in the studio rather than her fancy apartment she paid more for than she’d like to admit, and refusing to acknowledge the outside world, today is the day. Today, the world has been invited to listen to her first full album. Some last-minute changes to cater to Yeri suddenly backing out of appearing as a song-writer and producer were a little stressful to deal with,  but luckily her team eventually agreed to remove the song. Though, if you ask them, being subjected to the torture of a grumpy Wendy who they’d grown used to being bright and fun is something no one should have to deal with, ever.

Before every release with Red Velvet, all the girls would have their own individual ways of preparing for it and calming their nerves. However, being alone now means Wendy can no longer practice hers, which was to focus on everyone else to distract herself from her own thoughts. Thus, the impromptu walk through the blistering streets and people watching is the only thing that feels appropriate. It also stops her from worrying about no one buying it and her hard work going to waste. 

She misses four faces specifically whilst wandering. 

“Oh my god, Wendy?” A shrill voice yells from behind her but before she’s even turned a full 180 degrees, arms are around her neck and wrapping her up into a crushing hug. “It is you, it’s been so long!” 

Had it been anyone else or had she been unable to recognize the voice, it’s very possible that the random strangers passing by would have been instructed to call the police immediately. Thankfully, it’s not someone trying to attack her, well, unless you count affection as an attack, Wendy doesn’t. 

“Tiffany, hey! It’s been forever.” She chokes out, arms still around her throat, making it difficult to speak. 

No one bats an eyelid at the two girls admiring each other mere inches away from each other, though it feels like someone should be there to capture the moment, at least for fans to gush about. Wendy takes a moment to look at Tiffany. Her skin appears to be glowing more than the last time she’d caught up with her. She looks healthy… happy. It’s a breath of fresh air to see someone from her world here alongside her and not seemingly a broken shell of a person. 

“You look amazing, wow! What are you doing here?” Tiffany asks, her voice still far too loud for a conversation in the middle of a busy street, not that Wendy minds.

“I live here now.” She replies bluntly, though, her conscious reminds her for a split second that even though neither of them is in Korea anymore, Tiffany is still a senior to her. Her tone softens naturally before continuing. “I came here after… well, you know.” 

Tiffany nods in understanding, though her eyes show sadness for a split second. There’s no need for either of them to discuss the split of her group, Tiffany herself understands what it’s like to be apart from the very people you spent a huge portion of your life alongside.

“So, what are you up to?” The lack of words between them both makes Wendy blurt out, also, so Tiffany can stop looking at her so pitifully. “I’m on my way to grab a coffee if you want to join me? Catch-up?”

Though it was presented as a question and is a heat of the moment change of plans from what she was doing which was nothing, in particular, Wendy is grateful for this distraction that Tiffany has given her without knowing she has. 

In the blink of an eye, Tiffany has linked their arms together and is dragging her halfway down the street to what she assures her is by far the best place for something way better than coffee.

When they arrive outside of an organic pop-up store that only serves vegan food and uses all non-dairy products, Wendy isn’t surprised. She’s read reviews about this kind of place lately, though she’s never ventured to any of them, deciding that the hype about buckwheat tea and the likes can’t be real. However, she’s been roped into this now and has no choice but to try something once they reach the counter.

“I’ve never been here before, what do you recommend?” She aims toward Tiffany, however, it gains the attention of the young woman stood near the till waiting patiently to take their order.

“The watermelon lemonade is popular, miss.” The girl whose nametag reads Olivia responds. 

Her face is trying its best to put on a smile, though, Wendy summarizes quickly that Olivia does not have an accent that sounds like she’s from California originally, likely moved here to be an actress and just never received an opportunity to do so. Thus, she’s stuck putting on a different act, pretending to be enthusiastic about serving drinks to people that will “cleanse” them.  To put politely.

“I guess I’ll go for that then.” Both Wendy and Tiffany offer her a smile before she darts off to prepare their drinks.

Tiffany tries to pay. Wendy won’t let her. They both try their best to be stubborn about it, however, Wendy somehow wins this round and thanks the heavens that Olivia is a lot better at her job than she expected as no sooner does she leave to make their order, she returns with two recyclable cups in tow. They sit outside and drink what Wendy reluctantly admits is a delicious watermelon lemonade whilst getting re-acquainted with one another. 

Small talk is all that they engage in at first. Politely asking about each other’s families, if they’ve been up to anything special lately. Wendy doesn’t mention the album release, she’s not sure why. Tiffany tells her about how she will be on tour soon and how Wendy should come to one of her shows so they can sing together. Wendy agrees. The mood turns rather solemn when they reminisce on how young they both were when they first began their careers and everything they’ve been through in the music industry.

“Do you like it here?” Tiffany’s voice is soft and her face serious, something that Wendy is unsure she’s ever seen from her before.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s nothing like what I’m used to but that’s a good thing,” Wendy answers, surprised by her own honesty. “It’s nice to not feel judged and that it’s okay if I make a mistake. If I mess up something here, people don’t seem to mind so long as I’m willing to learn from it. It’s not like that… there.” Wendy wants to say home, but she’s not sure if she can call it home for either of them anymore.

“I know what you mean. There’s a lot more freedom out here.” 

A comfortable silence falls between them, both pondering all the times they’d gotten on the bad side of people for whatever reason, big or small. Both being grateful that they still made it here, whilst some others are less fortunate.

Tiffany pulls out her phone to check the time, standing to place her cup in the recycling bin before turning back to Wendy, a lopsided smile on her face.

“Give me your number, I have somewhere I need to be but we should hang out again soon.” 

Wendy obliges, it’d be nice to have a friend here. Someone who understands her. She finishes typing in her number and hands the device back to Tiffany who has pulled sunglasses with a huge frame out of thin air seemingly to place on her face.

“Hey, I know that things may seem a lot better here, and… they can be. But just keep your guard up. The music business is shady everywhere, it doesn’t matter where you are.” Tiffany gently rubs a hand down Wendy’s arm as she speaks. It's not as comforting as she probably believes it is. Whilst she doesn’t say whether she’s speaking from personal experience, Wendy assumes so and appreciates the advice.

"I will, thank you. Let's meet up soon!"

Tiffany turns on her heels to strut back down the street they walked down to get the juice that Wendy realizes now has made her nausea even worse. She watches her for a few steps before she turns back in place to holler in her booming voice that is way more fitting than the serious one just seconds ago.

“Congratulations on the album too.” 

Wendy is stuck in place, jaw agape with confusion. Though she's happy that they didn't end up talking about it, she's slightly worried about how Tiffany knows about it without her mentioning it at all during their catch-up.

“How did y-” Wendy tries to ask but is cut off by an already leaving Tiffany who throws her a response over her shoulder.

“Check the charts, Seungwan.”

to be continued; here

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update

haha time is a void and the passage of days is meaningless! and I’ve been wanting to make a new reading updates post literally every day since the last one, just to have something to do. 

I still haven’t managed to wait quite a whole month, but now that I’ve ripped through a 400ish page epic fantasy in a little under a week I feel justified in posting updates!

I also need to thank my dear friends who have been very generously keeping me supplied in books, and almost all of these were borrowed. 

so - what have I been reading?

The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home (Joseph Fink, Jeffrey Cranor) - some really delightful weird fiction with plenty of swashbuckle, revenge, and mystery that spans generations. as I said in my last reading update, I think it’s my favorite of the Welcome to Night Vale novels specifically because of how well it stands on its own, independent of the podcast, and for taking the reader on such a satisfying adventure. 

Wow, No Thank You (Samantha Irby) - maybe there will be a day when I DON’T come running for a new Sam Irby book, but that day certainly hasn’t come yet. she’s always funny but this collection is extra cathartic, since it provided such a nice reminder of how irritating a lot hallmarks of the Pre-Quarantine Times actually were. you’re right, Sam Irby; going out actually DID suck and staying at home is rad. there’s no way she could have predicted how hard everything would fall to shit at the exact time Wow, No Thank You was released, but it worked out well.

Rat Queens vol. 1-4 (Kurtis J. Wiebe) - I borrowed these on loan from a friend, even though I know I’m bad at committing to new comics, because they looked like fun. and holy shit, are they ever fun. Rat Queens is far from perfect, and the story often feels a little slapdash or rushed, but it’s a brash joyride that feels a lot like what would happen if Birds of Prey (2020) crashed into D&D.  great, great popcorn reading. 

The Bone Witch (Rin Chupeco) - this book was... fine? it was fine. I like sinking into an invented fantasy world as much as the next gay, and I was intrigued by the framing device, which makes clear from the first page that our protagonist, Tea, is going to fall from grace and embrace all the trappings of an evil necromancer. but the story never completely sank it’s fangs into me, and I don’t think I’ll be seeking out the rest of the trilogy any time soon.

Upright Women Wanted (Sarah Gailey) - this is the third of Sarah Gailey’s books that I’ve read in the last six months, and my conclusion is that they unfailingly write books that I can comfortably describe as romps. do I get a little lost in some of the action? yes. do I have some serious questions about how the world works? yes. but are there also queer people having a wildly entertaining, action movie-ish time? god yeah. and isn’t that really all that matters?

The Killing Moon (N.K. Jemisin) - okay, I don’t want to overstate this or anything, but: I’ve been a fan of N.J. Jemisin for several years now, and this is definitely my absolute favorite of all her books. it’s also my favorite fantasy novel that I’ve read in a long-ass time. I could hardly put it down and I’m very, very lucky that the copy I’m reading is actually a (very thicc!) omnibus with both books in the Dreamblood Duology, meaning I don’t have to wait at all to start the sequel.

having said that, just because I don’t have to wait doesn’t mean I shouldn’t, as I really don’t want to get burned out on the characters or the setting. so I’ll be taking a quick break between Dreamblood books!

so - what am I reading now?

Dr. Tatiana’s Sex Advice to All Creation (Olivia Judson) - I started this quite literally five minutes ago and I don’t really know what to make of it yet! I know nothing about it and it was one of about half a dozen books I borrowed from my friend Paige, who has good taste - I also borrowed Rat Queens and the Dreamblood books from her - and she specifically recommended it, so I’m optimistic. if now it’s the time to try some new stuff you wouldn’t usually read, I don’t know when is.

[aion-rsa]

Warrior Season 2 Episode 10 Review: Man on the Wall

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Warrior review contains spoilers.

Warrior Season 2 Episode 10

After the brutal depiction of San Francisco’s Riot of 1877 in the previous episode, the Warrior Season 2 finale feels more like an epilogue. There’s lots of ruminating over drinks, a few cliffhangers to tease Season 3, and one long awaited fight. Since Cinemax abandoned its original programming, this may be the final episode of Warrior unless some other network picks it up. Hopefully, Warrior finds new life somewhere else because Season 2 leaves us hanging and wanting more. 

This episode begins with the morning after the Riot. As Chinatown residents recover bodies and tend to their wounded, Mai Ling (Dianne Doan) surveys the damage and discovers that a two-story mural of Ah Sahm (Andrew Koji) has appeared. Clad in a wife-beater shirt with a nunchuck tucked in his armpit, it’s a nod to Bruce Lee’s look in The Way of the Dragon.

It’s a key plot point teasing Ah Sahm’s rise in power, but it’s totally absurd. How the heck did anyone paint that huge mural before the bodies were even picked up? Nonetheless, the mural positions Ah Sahm’s rise for next season. When he crosses paths with Ah Toy (Olivia Cheng) in front of the mural, she tells him “You’re a symbol to your people.”

Again, it’s a nod to Bruce Lee and what he means as a global icon and the first international Asian superstar. “We need a hero,” continues Ah Toy, “someone to remind us who we are, and who we could be.” 

As the SFPD copes with their injured, Lee (Tom Weston-Jones) turns in his badge and gun. O’Hara (Kieran Bew) tries to talk him into staying with the force, but it’s to no avail. After that, there’s a dueling bar scene for the former police partners. At the Banshee, O’Hara drops in to find Leary (Dean Jagger) beating up the bar piano. They have a drink. Meanwhile, Lee returns to the bar that drugged him for another drink from the bartender, Abigail (Gaosi Raditholo). The bar scenes interlace but the results are completely opposite: Leary calls out O’Hara for collecting for the Chinese and threatens an inevitable reckoning while Lee and Abigail have sex. Later, Lucy (Emily Child) shows up at O’Hara’s home to check on him after the riot but says she isn’t coming back. O’Hara confesses his shortcomings to her and asks forgiveness.

Back in Chinatown, Father Jun (Perry Yung) and Young Jun (Jason Tobin) survey the riot damage too. Father offers his son some wisdom and Young Jun apologizes for how the transition of power went down. It’s a solid scene – Yung and Tobin deliver a poignant father and son scene, offering some insight to the intricacies of their crime family dysfunction. “It’s your show now,” says Father Jun.

Buckley (Langley Kirkwood) talks about expelling Chinese to some businessmen at a gentlemen’s club. Penny (Joanna Vanderham) barges in to confront Buckley about Jacob’s (Kenneth Fok) lynching but Buckley blows her off. Penny is furious and leaves. Later, she goes to the newspaper reporter Raice (Martin Munro) with the story of Buckley covering up how Jacob defended her against her husband’s attack in hopes of besmirching Buckley. But after that, Raice goes to Buckley’s office and shows him the story. Buckley pays him off to kill it. Apparently, manipulating the press is something Buckley has been doing all along. After that, Penny confronts Buckley once more in his office about killing the story. Buckley stabs himself to frame Penny. In a later scene, Buckley shows up in the mayoral mansion and tells Sophie (Celine Buckens) that Penny stabbed him. Penny wakes up restrained and screaming in an insane asylum, which is where she is left at the end of Season 2.

Ah Sahm and Young Jun reflect on the riot at Ah Toy’s bordello. Then Ah Sahm goes to Ah Toy’s boudoir to tend to her wounds. Nellie (Miranda Raison) arrives and takes over, surprising Ah Sahm when sees the intimacy of their relationship. Later, Father Jun packs his bags and leaves Chinatown. He sees Chao (Hoon Lee) as he’s leaving and tells him to tell Young Jun. They bow a respectful goodbye.

Young Jun takes an audience with Mai Ling and Li Yong (Joe Taslim). Mai Ling reveals that Ah Sahm is her brother, which infuriates Young Jun. Angry at being deceived for two seasons, Jun punches Ah Sahm in the face. Hong (Chen Tang) tries to placate things between his two Hop Wei brothers, but Young Jun remains uneasy. Later, Young Jun continues to question Ah Sahm’s loyalty but realizes they’ve been through too much together already. Jun says, “The battles you choose not to fight are every bit as important as the ones you do.” Nevertheless, their trust is broken. He asks for advice from Hong. He tells him that there might not have been a right path. 

Ah Sahm ponders his Bruce Lee mural some more then goes to visits Leary in the Banshee. The scene cuts Ah Sahm sitting at a table surrounded by some Irishmen that he knocked out off camera. Leary joins him and they drink together. Then it’s Leary versus Ah Sahm in the Banshee back alley in an old-fashioned fight. There are a few kicks but lots more haymakers to the face until Ah Sahm drops Leary with a Fist of Fury like punch. Ah Sahm tells the Irish that he’ll come back with an army if they mess with Chinatown again, and then walks back to Chinatown all bloody in the San Francisco rain. 

Mai Ling finds Buckley while he’s trolling the streets for prostitutes. She shows him the photo she acquired of him posing with fellow soldiers in front of a confederate flag. She threatens to use it as blackmail, demanding his support, and tells him, ‘I want blood in the streets.’ Later at a governmental meeting, Buckley proposes shutting down Chinatown reviewing laundromats, maximum occupancy of homes and regulation of brothels, all of which were genuine historical acts deployed to oppress the Chinese. For Buckley, it’s about battling the Hop Wei. Leary shows up and says, “I’m Dylan Leary and I’m here on behalf of the Workingmen’s Party of California.”

This is a major tell. The Workingmen’s Party of California was a real organization that was pivotal in the oppression of American Chinese. The founder was a racist demagogue, an Irishman named Denis Kearney who is the inspiration for Leary’s character.  

Young Jun sees the Ah Sahm mural. Their relationship has been key to the entire show so placing that in jeopardy is a harsh season finale cliffhanger. In the final scene, Zing (Dustin Nguyen) is in prison, starting to loosen the bars.

Whether that cliffhanger will ever be resolved or not is another matter. Warrior Season 3 seems unlikely to happen at the moment, but perhaps one day we’ll get closure for this story. To the cast and crew of Warrior, thank you for reminding us who we are, and who we could be. Thank you for keeping Bruce Lee alive. Bruce Lee Forever!

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The post Warrior Season 2 Episode 10 Review: Man on the Wall appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[greensconnor]

“Can I kiss you?” for Kiara/Penelope because they deserved to be gay.

can i kiss U paris thank u for the request!!!

send me drabble prompts!

The halls of palaces had always felt so empty to Kiara. So grandiose, so pristine, yet so, so empty. She didn’t often like spending time at castles when the social season started, but it was only polite, and so she muddled through it, one tight smile at a time. Things were marginally easier when she had her friend, Penelope with her, but more often than not a cruel twist of fate had them in opposite wings from one another.

Of all the words in the world to describe Lady Riley Lee, ‘cruel’ was not one that Kiara would have chosen.

Riley had returned from her honeymoon with Hana about a week ago, at which point Liam had called for the first official meeting of the royal council. This time, due to Lady Riley’s planning, Kiara and Penelope had rooms directly across the hall from one another. It was one of the many small blessings she’d been afforded by Riley over the past year, likely due to Liam’s preoccupation with other matters. Kiara had observed that he stood much closer than he needed to when Drake was at his shoulder, found that he pretended to look puzzled, so that Drake would lean across him to point something out, and touch his shoulder as a silent praise when Liam ‘figured it out’.

Kiara said nothing; not to Lady Olivia who loved to tease, not to Lady Hana who was sweet and well-meaning, not to Lord Maxwell who laughed like sunshine and grinned like summertime rain. Kiara said nothing not because she wished to preserve the dignity of Drake or Liam, but because she had no room to judge.

After all, she’d been pulling the same tricks on Penelope for the better part of six years.

She and Penelope had been friends for a long time. Kiara wasn’t exactly sure when the crush had started, but it was definitely after the summer camp when they were thirteen where she and Penelope had first kissed. It was an accidental kiss, but Kiara still felt it burn at her lips whenever Penelope laughed so hard she snorted, or whenever Merlin or Morgana did something adorable and her face lit up brighter than the infamous Beaumont chandelier, or when their hands touched at dinnertime and she pulled back quickly, flush rising in her cheeks.

A cabin had flooded at their campground, due to unprecedented rain. The girls had come to stay in Kiara’s cabin, half on the ground. Kiara had let Penelope into her bed, the pair of them giggling secrets under the covers as if it were the best sleepover they’d ever been to. Neither of them had expected to knock noses, for their lips to brush just the slightest bit. They’d both rolled over, and never spoken of it again.

The only thing worse than the entire court knowing about Kiara’s crush would be Penelope knowing. By this point, Kiara had accepted that if Penelope had been interested in her, they would have had their chance. Instead, the court saw them as ‘just good friends’. The mocking way Riley pronounced ‘gal pals’ in her disdainfully nasal tone came to mind, and she wished she could howl with laughter like Riley did, instead of feeling sick to the very tips of her toes.

“Will you come back to me any time soon?” Kiara blinked, smiling down at Penelope’s head, where she had leant it back against her shin.

“Sorry,” Kiara said with a lilting laugh, drawing Penelope’s hairbrush in another stroke through her hair. Penelope closed her eyes, with a content sigh, and Kiara’s heart leapt into her throat.

“I always wonder what you’re thinking about,” Penelope said, turning a ring her mother had gifted her over and over around her finger, “whenever you go away like that. I’ve never been able to, it always leaves me to think of what could be so wonderful that people can leave this world behind to be wholly devoted to it.”

You. Kiara ached to say it. Ached to thread her fingers through Penelope’s hair, tilt her head back and brush reverent kisses to her forehead, her nose, her lips. Instead, she just smiled, and shrugged lamely.

“I was thinking about Lady Riley,” she said, because it was at least half true, “I’ve not managed to wrangle a single detail of her honeymoon from her, and on top of being busy with all that, she still found the time to plan room arrangements for Liam. I’m afraid that the woman never sleeps.”

“She and Hana gave me such a fright just the other night, Kiara, you won’t believe,” Penelope’s fingers delicately brushed her knee, and Kiara felt her pace jump a few beats, “Merlin’s been a little anxious with all the travel lately and he was having a hard time sleeping lately, so I went to the kitchen to fix him a soothing brew that Ezekiel recommended me-” Kiara’s heart twisted.

Another knife straight to the chest: the unfortunate reminder that out of everyone in the world Penelope could have fallen in love with, it had to have been her very own big brother.

“- and I get to the kitchen, mind you this is two or three in the morning, and I hear a rattling and it gave me a scare! I must have jumped a mile, but it was just Lady Hana and Lady Riley, making hot chocolate!” Penelope laughed, her airy and tinkling laugh, and whatever sadness Kiara had felt melted away into familiar warmth as her expression creased into a smile.

“Perhaps I should talk to Lady Olivia about an intervention,” she mused, “now I’m really concerned for Lady Riley’s sleep schedule.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Penelope waved a hand, sitting up on the floor, and then pushing to her feet, “she has survived worse- we all have.” She fidgeted with the hem of her silken nightgown, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Kiara, but how have you been sleeping?”

Kiara’s pulse jack-hammered. Between ongoing nightmares from the Cordonian assassination attempt, and unhappy dreams of Penelope eloping with her brother that left her feeling drained and miserable, the definitive answer was ‘not well’. Nonetheless she smiled, easily.

“I’m fine, Penelope,” she said, reaching for her friend’s wrist, “come, sit, we still have so many episodes of that show Riley recommended us to finish!”

“I guess so,” Penelope eyed her warily, before she shook her head as if to clear some fog from her mind, and settled onto the bed beside Kiara, dragging her laptop closer. Kiara stretched her legs out, picking idly at the in-seam of her pyjama pants.

Really, she should have been happy. Her best friend and her brother had found happiness. Her father had offered her the family’s Duchy, when he chose to step down. She had a seat on a council handling foreign affairs, which took her training to the highest level. She would be challenged every day, and she would love every second of it.

“Kiara,” Penelope’s voice was quiet, “please look at me.” Kiara turned her eyes away, pushing her tongue to the inside of her cheek. Kiara didn’t like to portray her emotions outwardly, it was dangerous with the company she kept, but Penelope had always been able to see right through her, like she was made of glass.

“It upsets me when you lie to me, because I’m your friend and I care about you, and I want you to be okay. We don’t have to talk about what is upsetting you if you don’t want to, I just... hope you know you can trust me with your emotions.”

“I do,” Kiara looked up then, meeting Penelope’s gaze, lips curling in a shy but genuine smile, “I know. Thank you, for being my friend. And I’m sorry- sorry that I lied to you just then. You’ve always been good to me.”

She laid her hand on Penelope’s, and the stiffness of her fingers made Kiara realize with a start that she was staring. Penelope’s blue eyes were watching her, mouth pulled in a taut line, brows knitting as if she were deep in thought. Kiara’s brows furrowed in worry. Perhaps she had said too much, pushed her luck too far. She began to pull her hand away.

“Pen-”

“Can I kiss you?” Kiara froze.

“Wh-”

“Can I kiss you,” Penelope asked again, gaze steady. Penelope had never had the strongest of wills, but Kiara had loved her regardless of it. And now here she was, looking her dead in the eye and asking her a question Kiara had known the answer to for a very long time, and yet she was speechless. She drew her tongue over her lower lip, and sucked in a breath as her face crumbled into an expression that betrayed the years of longing, and everything left unsaid.

“Yes.”

Penelope leaned forward without hesitation, and pressed her lips to Kiara’s. They were soft, and when she tilted her head they slid perfectly against her own. Kiara’s eyes fluttered closed, and she lifted her hand to cup Penelope’s face, fingers pushing her loose hair back from her face. Penelope leaned into her, hand curling against Kiara’s thighs. She pulled back abruptly.

“Wait, but my brother-”

“Ezekiel?” Penelope’s eyes widened, lips kiss-swollen and cheeks rosy with blush, “no! No, Kiara, God no! Oh, we’re friends, very good friends- but we mostly got close because I... was asking him for advice about you.” Kiara stared, eyes wide and unblinking. She let out an abrupt bark of laughter, falling back into the bed. Penelope crawled after her, long hair framing her face like a curtain, concern swirling behind her eyes.

“I’m a fool,” she said, threading her hand through Penelope’s hair and pulling her in again. Penelope laughed, bright and airy, gently pressing their lips together again.

“I cannot defend you from this accusation,” Penelope whispered against her mouth, “I thought that surely you would pick up on my hints. It only took you fifteen years.” Kiara drew back, frowning.

“You never gave me any hints?” Penelope blinked at her.

“Kiara,” she said, with the same patient tone Kiara took when trying to explain languages to children, “there are only so many times I can ask you to pretty-please put sunscreen on my back when it will be completely covered by a kaftan anyway.” Kiara’s eyes widened in realization.

“Oh.” She laughed, covering her face with both hands as Penelope beamed down at her, blue eyes twinkling like the ocean under summer sun. “Oh, I- all this time? Since that camp? You really meant to kiss me, then?”

“Yes,” Penelope brushed aside Kiara’s hair from her face, leaning down to kiss her again. “I was so afraid that you hated me for it,” she said, forehead resting on Kiara’s. Kiara brought her hands up to cradle Penelope’s face, thumbs tracing the shape of her cheekbones, pulling her in for another kiss.

It was gentle and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Everything else melted away, only Penelope’s lips against hers seemed to matter. Penelope sighed, parted her lips, let Kiara slot their lips together better, more intimately. When she pulled back, it felt like an eternity had passed, just the two of them entwined in their own private little paradise.

“I could never hate you, Penelope,” she whispered, words just for her. Penelope’s eyes crinkled in the corner as she smiled, settling down into the covers next to Kiara.

“I think I answered my own question,” she said, eyes still firmly locked on Kiara’s face, “from earlier? When I asked you what could be so wonderful that people slip away from the real world?”

“What is it?” Kiara asked, smile so wide her cheeks ached. Penelope’s smile was fond, was years of love poured into one singular word as she lifted her hand and tangled their fingers together.

“You.”

[everrealmdweller]

“Movin’ On Up” Episode Review

So I’m still laughing my face off. How did this episode manage to be so funny yet also deal with very serious issues and big life changes for the main characters? I don’t know. All I know is I’m left with a mixture of bittersweet feelings that can only be cured by watching Esteban throw a potted plant out the window.

Add this scene to one of my very favorites! The episode opens with Elena using her scepter’s vanish power to mess with Mateo, and she is having WAY too much fun with it lol. Poor Mateo can’t figure out what’s going on; his child-like innocence is so endearing. But my favorite part has got to be when Esteban come over and tells Elena she’s being very immature then proceeds to encourage her antics even further. This scene overall is just way to freaking funny, and I love the goofy, trouble-maker cousin dynamic going on. 

After revealing herself as the culprit to a very confused Mateo, Elena comments that he’s working in the palace late at night, again. Apparently this is becoming a regular thing. So she shows him the royal wizard quarters in the palace and asks him if he wants to stay there.

Mateo’s reaction is freaking adorable. He can’t even contain his excitement, just like a little kid XD. He soon realizes, however, that that would mean leaving his mom, and she couldn’t handle that. Elena, always having the best and most sound advice, asks him if this is what he wants and assures him that his mom loves him and will understand his decision. 

So that night Mateo talks to his mom, and she seems to be excited for him to move into the wizard quarters. Mateo can’t believe how easy that was until...

Surprise! Rafa thinks she’s moving in too XD, though it’s not very funny for Mateo or any of the castle staff. 

I’m not sure if Rafa was always this overbearing at home with Mateo (chore chart, posture/grammar corrections, constant snacks) or if she’s overcompensating because he now lives in an environment she doesn’t control (though the second option seems likely to me). She begins to quickly drive everyone mad by changing everything around and treating poor Mateo like a five-year-old. Elena keeps telling Mateo (she really is good at giving advice) that he needs to be honest and tell his mom how he feels, but he just can’t seem to do it, or even get a word in edgewise around Rafa.

Olivia’s back!! Yay! Her training seems to be going really well, and she can even manage a tamborita now!

Anyways, eventually Rafa takes it a step too far, coming to bother Mateo in the workshop. She keeps giving Olivia and Mateo snacks, which is a no-no in the wizard workshop. Elena to the rescue as she drags Rafa off on a tour of the palace to give Mateo a break (That “I’ve got this”  wink though XD).

Mateo: ”My mom is driving me--” 

Rafa: “Nuts?”

Comedic timing at it’s finest XD. 

But, Rafa! I am very allergic to those! So please don’t shove them in my face like that XD.

By now Rafa has driven the whole castle completely insane, and Mateo finally does it. He goes to his mom and tells her he’s ready to live on his own. He was so brave; he was so kind and caring yet stood his ground. I’m so proud of him, but...

She says NO???!! I was honestly not expecting that. She straight up tells him she’s never going to let him live his own life. Mateo and I were both shocked.

Confession time: Rafa’s behavior in this episode really bothered me. Like a lot. What a scary concept, that you would never be allowed to grow up, to make your own decisions, and build a life for yourself. Some of the things Rafa said even low-key remind me of Mother Gothel. For example, telling Mateo the world was too dangerous for him, saying he couldn’t survive without her, even the title of the song “Never Get Away” is ominous. In a way, Mateo is being trapped and held back from the world and his future in the same way Rapunzel was.

To be fair, unlike Gothel, Rafa actually loves her son, but can’t she see her behavior is damaging to him?

Rafa inadvertently ends up releasing the Kupi-Kupi, a troublesome magical creature, by placing a picture frame SPECIFICALLY WHERE MATEO TOLD HER NOT TO. Ugh, this is so frustrating. In trying to fix it, Rafa only makes it worse by using Mateo’s tamborita. Poor Esteban, Armando, and Elena end up running backwards around the palace thanks to the Kupi-Kupi’s powers. Eventually, thanks to Mateo’s fabulous wizard tricks, the Kupi-Kupi is trapped back in the book it came from.

After seeing Mateo’s heroics and realizing that she was at fault for releasing the Kupi-Kupi, Rafa finally sees that she needs to let Mateo go. In a beautiful mother-son moment, Mateo thanks Rafa for being such a great loving mom and Rafa recognizes him as an incredible grown individual ready to face the world.

“Everything I am is because of you.”

“No, you did this all on your own.”

It’s an amazing moment of character growth for Rafa and shows the strength of the bond she and Mateo share, even though their relationship is changing. And I hope in time she realizes that just because she doesn’t live with Mateo anymore, doesn’t mean they aren’t connected and there for each other.

The episode ends with Mateo enjoying his new home and independence. He and Elena watch contently out the window as a new chapter of Mateo’s life begins.

I wanted to note that in some ways this episode reminds me of “Captain Turner Returns” and “Olaball,” which focused on Naomi’s and Gabe’s relationships with their parents respectively. In all of these Elena plays a role of pushing her friend to tell his/her parent(s) the truth about how he/she feels. Also, Mateo, Naomi, and Gabe all had trouble talking to their parent(s) because they kept talking over them and not really paying attention to what they wanted. All of these character’s parents are very different but have the same struggle with listening to what their child wants and respecting it.

Lastly, I wanted to mention that I LOVE the subplot of this episode with Esteban trying desperately to get rid of Rafa’s hideous houseplant. In the end she forgets it at the palace, and in the last shot we see him chuck it out the window. Oh, Esteban, I love your dramatic side so much. XD

[thebarsondaily]

Nochebuena

for @barsonaddict

Title: Nochebuena Author: canis_m (unicornmagic) Rating: T Summary: The Bensons and the Barbas get ready for Christmas Eve. A/N: Please forgive the partial gift, barsonaddict! This will be part 1 of 2, I think. The rest will be along as soon as I can manage! Happy holidays to you and yours.

Snow starts to fall when they’re on I-87: big, fat flakes that melt on the asphalt and the windshield of the rented Expedition. The wipers sweep over the glass as Olivia flicks them on.

“Here it comes,” says Lucía, finger wagging. “Three to five inches, that’s what the weather said.”

Olivia can practically hear Noah squirming in the back seat. “Is that enough for sledding?”

“Plenty.” She’d wanted to leave sooner, but her “half day” at the precinct had turned into two-thirds of a day, and it was mid-afternoon by the time Noah, Rafael, and Rafael’s mother—and all their luggage, Christmas presents and grocery sacks included—were loaded into the car.

“How much farther?” Noah asks. It’s not a whine, quite. Just an inquiry.

“At least another hour,” says Rafael.

“How come they’re called the Catskills?” Noah sounds both leery and intrigued. “Did people kill cats there?”

“Good question. Let’s investigate, shall we?” In the rearview mirror she sees Rafael frowning over his phone. “Aha. The area is not named for cat murder. In Dutch, ‘catskill’ means ‘cat creek.’”

“Why’d they name it in Dutch?”

Rafael launches into a more exacting (if condensed) history of the state’s early invasive Europeans than Noah had probably banked on. Olivia smiles and keeps her eyes on the road. She’d loaded the iPad with movies, but so far Rafael has kept Noah occupied without resorting to screen time. The back seat contingent’s doing fine.

In the front seat Lucía clutches her purse. “I hope to God I didn’t forget anything.”

“With all those bags?” says Rafael, who’d helped load them. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

“It’s not like there’s a Latino grocery in—what is it, Claryville?”

“If we’re missing something, we’ll improvise,” Olivia says. They won’t go thirsty, if nothing else; at least one whole tote’s devoted to wine (reds and sparkling), scotch, rum, and a bottle of some homemade concoction courtesy of Lucía. “If we get there before the roads turn bad, I’ll drink to that.”

*

They stop at a tree farm just outside Claryville. Pickings are slim on the 23rd, and Noah has to be talked down to a tree that’ll fit in an SUV already crammed to the gills. They settle on a three-foot Douglas fir—a little lopsided, maybe, but still handsome. With effort Olivia gets it wedged between Rafael and Noah in the back seat. The scent of evergreen permeates the interior of the car.

“Just a few more miles,” Rafael tells Noah, and sure enough, as twilight falls they pull onto the narrow dirt drive, one that curves uphill through beckoning trees to the cabin at its end.

A white dust of snow covers the ground. The cabin looks the way it had in online pictures, like a tired city-dweller’s dream of a woodland retreat. Dark logs brace the roof of the porch, where Adirondack chairs and a small table sit. A wreath of freshly cut cedar, ribboned in red, hangs on the door.

The instant Olivia shuts off the car, Noah launches himself toward the porch. “It looks like a gingerbread house!”

The rest of them follow more slowly, shouldering their various burders. Noah dashes onto the porch and peers through the window, his breath fogging the glass.

“I think it’s bigger than the other one.”

“What other one?” asks Lucía, sack of groceries cradled like an infant in her arms.

“The one I went to with Grandma Sheila.”

Olivia tenses, almost fumbling the key in her hand—she can feel Rafael’s gaze on her from behind, feel its weight of concern—but she gets the door open, and reminds Noah to take off his boots before he tracks snow all over the floor. In stocking feet he zooms through the cabin, exclaiming at the size of the stone fireplace in the living room. A cathedral ceiling stretches up to peak over the loft. When Olivia turns on the lights, its warm wooden beams seem to kindle and glow.

Noah skids back into view. “Can we build a fire?”

A supply of firewood waits, neatly stacked, by the stone hearth. There’s more on the porch outside. “We will,” Olivia promises. “After we unload the car.”

*

With some trial and error—and more advice from both Barbas than is strictly necessary—she gets a fire going. Its cheerful crackle brightens the room. They find a spot for the little tree on an end table, and give it a strand of colored lights and a garland of ribbon before piling the unloaded presents underneath. Noah bounces on the plaid sofa, mourning that it’s too dark to go outside.

“Just think,” Olivia says, “when you wake up tomorrow, everything’ll be covered in white, and you can go sledding. We can have a snowball fight. You and me versus Rafa and Tia Lucía.”

“Oh no,” says Lucía. “No snowballs for me. I’m on kitchen duty.”

Olivia raises her eyebrows at Noah, then at Rafael. “I guess Rafa’s a one-man team.”

“Objection,” says Rafael. “Unfair advantage.” He pauses in the doorway to the kitchen, hand on the frame. “Anyone else hungry?”

Noah flails. “Me!”

Dinner is an indoor picnic of sorts: deli sandwiches and soup reheated on the stove, so no one has to worry about cooking tonight. Noah eyes the cranberry relish on his turkey sandwich with suspicion, but after tasting it, he eats without complaint.

Lucía points a finger at him from around her glass of Beaujolais Nouveau. “You better save some appetite for tomorrow, kiddo, ‘cause Tia Lucía’s not messing around.”

“What are you making?”

“Well, it’s a kind of pork roast. If you’ve ever had a pulled pork sandwich—”

“Lechón asado,” says Rafael, with deep relish, as if the word itself is delectable to pronounce. “Steeped in mojo. Slow roasted for hours, until the meat falls off the bone.” He pinches his hand and opens it, a chef’s kiss minus the kiss. “Remember what we had for dinner last year?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Jamon. Y boniatos y judías verdes.”

“Oh yeah!”

The memory startles Olivia. Not the fact that Rafael remembers what they ate, down to the last green bean, but the strangeness of remembering that they’d been together then, last Christmas Eve, without yet being together. His mother had gone to Miami, a case had kept him in New York, and Olivia had offered, hesitant: if you want to have dinner with us….

He’d still been Uncle Rafa to Noah then. Now he’s just Rafa, and his mother is Tía, because it rhymes with Lucía (which pleases Noah), and because Olivia’s wary of attaching the title Grandma to anyone. Maybe Lucía herself isn’t ready to be abuelita to a boy who’s no relation of hers, yet. In the eyes of the law.

Rafael plants both elbows on the table. “Lechón asado will take that ham to the cleaners. It’ll knock that ham out of the park.”

By now Lucía’s laughing. “Heyyy, easy on the hype. It’s been a few years since—”

She trails off. Her laughter wanes, and she presses her lips into one another, the way Rafael sometimes does when he’s withholding some emotion, or trying to, even as it invariably shows in his eyes. Rafael puts a hand on her arm, then turns again to Noah.

“A grand jury would indict that ham for not being lechón asado.”

Noah giggles. Olivia levels a look of mild reproof. “I thought the ham we had was pretty good.”

“No one’s saying it wasn’t. But there’s ham, and then there’s….” He dangles the pause in front of Noah like bait.

“Lechón asado!” Noah yelps, without having tasted it once.

Rafael’s eye catches Olivia’s across the table. She tamps down a smile and gives him the nod he’s looking for, one that says smooth, very smooth. Rafael’s chin moves in a tiny pleased-with-himself waggle, and he sits back with satisfaction in his chair.

Lucía balls up her sandwich wrapper. “Well, I’d hate to disappoint, so I better get started.”

Olivia blinks. “What, tonight?”

“Oh, yes. The meat has to marinate.”

“Can I help?”

“No, no, no. You worked all day and got us here in one piece. Go sit, go put your feet up.”

After clearing the table, Rafael draws Olivia aside. “Best not to argue.”

“I’m not arguing.”

“I know. And I know you’re used to taking the wheel.”

“Believe me, I am more than happy to put my feet up.” By way of proof Olivia refills her wine glass and flops into the easy chair in the living room, slippered feet propped on the ottoman, toes pointing toward the roof. The easy chair’s enormous, big enough for two if you’re feeling cozy, upholstered in plaid to match the generous sofa. Noah clambers into the space beside her, nestling into the crook of her arm.

“What’s Grandma Sheila doing for Christmas?” he asks, as if it’s just now occurred to him to wonder.

Olivia’s last swallow of wine threatens to come back up. “Staying in, I would think,” she says, sounding less perturbed than she feels. “But I’m sure they have…activities…at the place where she’s staying.”

“Do you think she got the card I made?”

“I’m sure she did.”

She’s about ready to reach for the remote, turn on the TV, put on Home Alone or Frosty the Snowman or any other distraction she can find, when Rafael discovers the game cabinet, and calls Noah to come and look. Noah immediately lobbies for a round of Uno.

“Uno,” echoes Rafael. “You sure about that? Sure you didn’t mean to say ‘Scrabble’?”

“Scrabble’s boring. And you always win.”

“All the more reason to practice,” says Rafael. “So you can finally, triumphantly defeat me after years of—”

“Uno!” declares Noah. He snatches the box of cards and shuts the cabinet door.

Olivia makes her way back to the table, glass in hand. On the way she drapes her arm around Rafael’s waist, hugging him to her in silent thanks.

*

In the middle of night she starts awake. There’s no bedside clock, only her phone face-down next to Rafael’s on the bedside table, and she doesn’t look at either of them, only lies there bracing herself against her thudding heart.

Rafael is quiet beside her, a good sleeper when he’s not haunted by future or present or past. Increasingly so, over the months since he’s become a fixture in her bed. His presence goes some way to calm her, but only some. Olivia slides out from the warmth of the covers, wraps a cardigan around her and creeps out of the room.

She makes a round of the main floor of the cabin, reassuring herself with the sight of Noah’s boots, still by the door; his coat, still in the front closet; the Expedition, now shrouded in white, parked and silent in the drive outside. The snow’s stopped, for now, and a muted moon glows faintly through cloud cover. She stops at the foot of the stairs to the loft, one hand on the hewn wood banister. For a long while she stands there, listening, as if even from this distance her straining ears might catch the sound of Noah’s breathing from above.

It’s the chill that finally drives her back to bed. When she crawls under the comforter, Rafael rolls toward her. His whisper is drowsy, and no less concerned for that.

“You okay?”

She wishes she’d at least pretended to use the bathroom. Flushed her paranoia down the toilet. “All good.”

In the thin moonlight from the window she can almost see the soft lines of his face, the wry and gentle skepticism in them.

“Just…having an irrational moment,” she amends.

He sees straight through to her fear. “They wouldn’t get far. My mother hasn’t driven a car in years.”

Chagrined, Olivia rolls to stare at the ceiling. “I know your mom’s not really gonna run off with my kid.”

He reaches for her. She resists for a split second, then lets herself be drawn. His hand strokes her side, up and down, down to the curve of her hip and over it.

“How much snow’d we get?”

“Three inches?”

“Noah’ll be happy.”

“He will.”

“Hey,” he says, very softly, “It’s okay.”

And it is, then, or nearly so. Rafael presses his mouth to her shoulder, as if to kiss her skin through the cotton of her shirt. His hand lingers on her hip.

“You want some help getting back to dreamland?”

The offer’s not even salacious, just playful, conspiratorial, laced with daring awareness of the sleepers upstairs. Olivia thinks about it, about letting his long fingers work their magic, but right now she wants to hold on more than she wants get off. Wants to clutch some dear thing close.

Uncertainly she lifts her arm. “Maybe just…”

He offers himself to that need, too, scooting in and tucking his head to her breast, rubbing his cheek against her like a cat. After settling he starts to whisper to her, almost singsong, with scarcely any voice.

“A la nanita nana nanita ea, nanita ea. Tu niño tiene sueño, bendito sea, bendito sea.”

Olivia knows the lullabye, has heard him murmur it to Noah, the way his mother and grandmother must’ve murmured it to him. She hears the nightingale in the forest, the clear running of the spring. She wraps her arm around his head and holds him, stroking, pressing her face to his hair, until the last of the restless tension in her eases, and her heart quiets under her ribs.

*

The next time she wakes, there’s a faint, delicious smell in the air, and a conspicuous space beside her. After a minute’s disorientation, she remembers where she is, and why she doesn’t need to lurch out of bed. She stretches her legs legs languorously under the covers. Cracking open one eye, she blinks at the brightness of the light streaming through the little window, and sees Rafael at the foot of the bed.

He’s already dressed, sort of, in sweatpants and sweatshirt, pulling a second pair of thicker socks over the ones on his feet. He hasn’t bothered with his hair beyond running a comb through it, which means it’s destined to go under a hat in short order. When he sees her awake, he crawls up the bed and hunkers into the narrow space beside her. He kisses her good morning, morning breath and all.

“My mom’s in the kitchen.  There’s eggs and toast. Noah’s eager to get started on the snow fort. I promised to help.”

She peers at the time display on her phone. “How’d I sleep so late?”

“Means you needed it.”

“I guess I did.” She stretches her arms, then lets them flop atop the comforter, hands down. “You go ahead. I’ll be out in a bit.”

A portion of eggs is waiting for her, covered on the stove, when she finally makes it to the kitchen. The toast is cinnamon raisin. After eating Olivia puts her plate in the dishwasher, then hovers. Lucía’s at the sink, rinsing a bowlful of black beans.

“Going out with the boys?”

“I am,” Olivia says, “if you’re sure there’s nothing for me to do.”

“All under control. Salad and wine, that’s what you’re in charge of.” Lucía’s crooked smile as she turns is uncannily familiar. “It looks like more of a production than it is. I cheated on dessert. There’s this bakery in Woodside, their rum cake is better than anything I could ever make. I was never a baker, you know? Cooking, sure. Baking, forget about it. My mother, she could do it.”

“If Noah and I bake, it’s cookie dough out of a tube,” Olivia admits.

“Who has time for anything else? When you’re retired, maybe.” Lucía turns back to the beans. “Go on, go make sure they don’t wind up in the creek.”

*

Under Noah’s direction, the snow fort shifts mid-construction into a snow ramp for sled-launching purposes. Rafael survives three madcap downhill plunges in a saucer sled without hitting any trees, and three treks back up the interminable hill without his heart or lungs giving out, though on the uphill slogs he gets winded. Between ski pants and hat and thermal underwear, he hasn’t even frozen any bits off, though his nose is sniveling, and probably florid red.

Noah’s having a blast, that’s the important point—the point of being in the woods instead of the city—and Rafael thinks he’s acquitted himself without shame. Everything’s sugarplums, right up until Olivia sneaks up behind him and stuffs snow down the collar of his coat.

Rafael shrieks. There’s no other word for it. Icy wetness slides down his spine, searing his skin. He scrabbles at his neck with gloved hands.

“You fiend,” he rasps. “Diabolical—”

She scuffles away, grinning like some sort of radiant snow imp, and ducks behind the trunk of a tree.

“Gotcha,” she calls.

“Oh, this won’t stand,” says Rafael. With a swoop of his arm he scoops up snow in a handful, mashing it into a projectile ball. “Noah, are you with me?”

“Yeah!”

Olivia swaggers out from behind the tree. “Sure, I’ll take you both on.” Her parka’s the puffy kind, stuffed with down. The ball on top of her stocking cap flounces pertly. “I’ll take you both out.”

Her aim’s better than his and Noah’s combined. Aim, speed, merciless accuracy—hasn’t she done time on the NYPD softball team? More like hardball, thinks Rafael. She knows how to use cover to her advantage, too. Noah shows no compunction about flinging volley after volley against the only mother he’s ever known, but few of his throws even graze the target. After taking a second snowball to the chin, Rafael raises an arm to wheeze for time out.

“Bathroom break,” he calls weakly, and trudges back toward the cabin.

As he closes the porch door, warmth envelops him, and with it the smell of roast pork and spices: garlic and cumin and oregano. For an instant he’s transported, back to childhood in his grandmother’s cramped apartment, alight with tinsel and bodies swaying, deseando a todos mil felicidades ringing from the record player behind the tree.

The same album’s playing now from his phone, left on the table with a portable speaker so his mother can have music while she cooks. Rafael sheds coat and boots and ski pants with relief—the pants are a relic of ski trips past, too snug now around the middle—and ducks into the bathroom. He emerges to find his mother in the kitchen, ground peanuts and milk and sugar arrayed around her on the counter, a saucepan ready on the stove.

He catches her in his arms and sets his chin on her shoulder. “Turrón,” he croons happily. “You shouldn’t have.”

“'Course I should, it’s your favorite.” His mother pauses. “Noah’s not allergic, is he?”

“To peanuts? No, no. No food allergies that we know of. Other than the allergy to unfamiliar cuisine.” Unhanding her, he steals a stray peanut that survived the grind. “Was I that picky at his age?”

She swats his hand away. “You ate anything anybody put in front of you. He’s a little indulged, that boy.” She waves at the living room. “There’s a whole can of mixed nuts on the table. Quit stealing my ingredients.”

“I’m just here for more coffee,” he says. But Celia Cruz is belting que noche buena para bailar from the other room, so he spins his mother in his arms and dances her around the kitchen, humming tunelessly along, until she bends with laughter and fends him off.

“I saw you getting pummeled out there,” she says knowingly, returning to the turrón-in-progress. “Battle of the sexes.”

He reaches for the coffee pot and his abandoned mug. She must’ve made a fresh pot; the coffee’s still steaming. “Noah and I are doomed.”

“You’re good with him,” she says. “Really good.” She pours the milk into the saucepan, then sets down the measuring cup. “You know, I never expected. You were on your own for so long, and now—”

Her gesture encompasses everything: the two of them in the kitchen, the two outside, the picture-perfect cabin, the freshly fallen snow. All of them together on Nochebuena.

He stirs milk and sugar into his cup. “Too good to be true?”

“I hope not. After Mom died—”

Her eyes shine wetly. He tries to soothe her. “Mami.”

“No, just lemme get this out. After Mom died I swore I was gonna tell you, if there was someone, someone special you weren’t bringing home, because you thought we wouldn’t approve of what they looked like—you should bring them. You know? Life’s too short not to spend it with the people we love.”

For a second Rafael’s mouth hangs slack. He’d thought he didn’t need to hear it, that it didn’t matter anymore, moot since the moment he’d understood to whom his heart was given. Doubly so since the moment he’d understood his love to be returned. But maybe it does matter, after all—that if Olivia had been an Oliver, his mother would’ve opened her arms in welcome still—because the corners of his eyes are blurring, too.

She isn’t done. “Olivia is a remarkable woman. She has a beautiful son. I see the allure, I get it, I just want you to happy.” She puts her hands on his shoulders. “Happy means being honest with yourself.”

He blinks hard, then shakes his head hurriedly. “It isn’t like that that.” He speaks in a rush. “I’m not giving anything up to be with Liv.”

“No?”

His gaze finds no purchase anywhere. He needs her to believe, to understand that he isn’t living a lie, that he wouldn’t do that, not to Olivia—not to himself, either. He grapples with the words of admission, even knowing his mother’s waiting for them, for some form of them, anyway. His hands grip the edge of the counter, not white-knuckled, but red.

“It was never just one or the other,” he manages. “For me.”

“Well.” She eyes him, then covers his nearer hand with hers. “Lucky you.”

He feels dizzied, as if a stifling weight’s been lifted, one he’d almost forgotten was there. “Lucky me.”

“I mean, I thought it must be real, all that time you spent mooning.”

“I did not moon, I never mooned.”

“Sure you didn’t. Big puppy dog eyes.” His mother smiles. “Remember how you used to complain about her? Then all of a sudden you stopped complaining.”

Rafael draws himself up with dignity. He gropes for his coffee and downs it in a final swig. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m needed in snowball court.”

“Hold on, c'mere. Give your progressive mother a hug.”

He obeys her, clinging hard, and pinches his eyes shut before they can blur again. His voice comes out hoarse and small. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, baby.” She pats the back of his head. “You found a good one. Took you long enough.”

“The best things come,” says Rafael.

*