#[ being tall is a pretty important part of his ?? identity i guess? ]

[despairforme]

What if Nnoitra was a hobbit?)))

❝ It's kinda hard imaginin' bein' short. Usually people tell me I'm more elf-like. Dunno why. ❞ Maybe Thranduil can confirm? @gildinbainas .

[boop-le-snoot]

main masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq

hot wheels | natasha romanoff x reader

explicit, 5,2k words, f/f. meet-ugly but still very much wholesome. we love a girlboss. natasha catches some random woman keying her brand new car but decides to be the better person for once and hear the woman out. turns out, being the better person can even get one laid! warnings: singular use of the d-slur, references to an abusive ex, lesbian sex.

[no y/n, no "you", nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

Natasha gave the tall, lanky boy an unimpressed look as she side-stepped the arguing couple to avoid colliding with the annoyed, teary-eyed woman the boy was groveling to. It was nearing rush hour and there was shopping to be done before the heavy NYC traffic could steer her already busy schedule down into an unmanageable chaos.

"But, Foxy, you know I didn't mean it! I love you, more than anything!"

The items on the spy's list were checked off methodically, item after item landing in the cart with a quiet thud as the redhead maneuvered through the isles with tactical precision. The usual afternoon crowd began to fill the store, taking up the so-needed breathing space; Natasha's shopping trip wasn't a moment of leisure and with her neverending to-do list full, she hurried to the self-check-out register, flying through the motions mindlessly.

Scan, place, beep, boop, pay, load up the bags, make way to the car, load up and pedal to the metal.

Scratch that. No, scratch - Natasha's eyes bulged as she neared her shiny, brand new Charger, seeing the obvious defects even from a mile away: the paint, previously cherry red and gleaming in the sun, ruined by a series of thin, gray lines, standing out unpleasantly on the otherwise pristine vehicle.

And the culprit, who's tuft of hair peeked over the hood of the car on the other side of the Charger, almost fully hidden between her car and the large Chevrolet in the next parking spot over.

Natasha's fingers clenched around the handle of the cart as she fought the urge to reach for her knife safely holstered under her leather jacket. "Excuse me?" Tone quiet and deadly, the spy prepared herself to fight or at least slightly shake up the hooligan.

The figure froze, vaguely familiar clothing and a puffy, tear-stained face slowly rising from behind Natasha's car. "In my defense, he deserves it," the girl - Foxy - the one that was arguing in front of the store earlier, declared through a stream of angry tears. "Call the cops if you want, I don't care." It was unclear if the girl recognised her, the Black Widow, as she made no move to run for the hills, just pathetically sniffled, pocketing the keys she used to scratch Natasha's car.

"That's my car," The spy responded flatly, a great deal of amusement crawling into her face as Foxy's eyes bulged, jaw fell slack, horror plain and evident overshadowing the waterworks. Natasha quickly pieced two and two together but patiently waited for the initial shock to subside before popping a question. "A word of advice, if I may?"

Foxy nodded, dumbfounded, frantically scrambling for the contents of her pockets, searching for something with the agility of a panicking cat, more than half of the contents spilling out onto the ground.

Natasha unlocked the car, popping the trunk and loading in her bags as she raised her voice to be heard over the noise of a busy parking lot. "Don't mess with the paint, the insurance will cover it. Slash three tires - not four - or take a swing at the front bumper and the headlights," the trunk slid shut with a quiet click as the spy inspected the damages close-up. Her Charger looked like it was attacked by a pack of aggressive, feral cats with nails of steel. "And always check the number plates before committing acts of vandalism to make sure you're enacting revenge on the right person." The last part was said with a smirk.

As the spy stepped closer to Foxy, she noted the excessive puffiness of her cheeks and the shaking fingers that held a checkbook and a pen. The woman looked torn between terrified and apologetic, worrying her lip between her teeth. "I'm so, so sorry. Todd just got his new car, it's identical to yours and I didn't get the chance to memorize the number plate yet," the offending man's name was said with a pitiful growl. "How much?" She weakly motioned to the ruined bodywork.

"What'd he do?" Natasha didn't resist her curiousity, leaning against the driver's side door and sizing up the other woman. She was pretty, well-dressed and reasonably wealthy on the first sight. "Yeah, he looked like a Todd," The quip slipped from the redhead's lips as she remembered the man from earlier. Foxy looked way too good to be wasting her time on someone who looked like an adolescent that hadn't outgrown his skater boy phase.

Foxy chuckled shyly at Natasha's remark, smoothing a hand over her face. "Lord, where do I even begin..." The sigh was loud and long. "He lived in my apartment rent-free, made me give up my cat by lying about his allergies, went through nine low-wage jobs in two years, did nothing but play video games in his free time and developed a pot addiction, thus spending all his money on it," she began steadily but her tone grew in pitch with every added offence as Natasha's eyebrows climbed higher and higher. "My last straw was when he took out a loan he couldn't pay off to buy his brand new cool car," the words were spat out with venom. "I threw him out last Saturday. He's been following me around all the time," Foxy continued, growing dark in the face. "And then I found out he had been cheating on me for I don't know how long. I just... I just lost it," she finished pathetically, all but crumbling into a pile of human misery.

Natasha's face had frozen into mute disbelief somewhere around the first half of the story, repulsion and astonishment mixing into a flurry of quiet rage on the random woman's behalf. Menfolk were bizarre animals, and as much as the spy felt herself annoyed by her roommates at the tower, she couldn't help but feel relieved that the men surrounding her were far from douchebags of the casual variety. This Todd, however, was no amateur, and had done Foxy really, really dirty.

The redhead made up her mind rather quickly. "That's a lot to unpack," she carefully studied the micro-expressions on the other woman's face. "I have a couple of nice bottles of wine at my place and nobody to share them with. Care for a glass?"

Foxy's eyes widened once more. "I don't- I don't want to take up your time, I mean, I'm sure you've got more important shit to do, like save the world and y'know..." The stammering was followed by a shy look to the side.

So, Foxy had recognised her. And she didn't go running the other way like most people that encountered her in disadvantageous situations did. "I actually don't, I was just getting my shopping done for a lack of better things to do," Natasha lied seamlessly, motioning to the other side of the car. "Hop in." Mission reports and Barton's pizza date could wait.

The woman made quick way around, buckling into the seat in seconds, right before Natasha peeled off from the parking lot towards the Avengers tower at breathtaking speeds. The car was a gift from Tony - one of the rare things he managed to get right - and an absolute pleasure to drive.

"What's your name?" The redhead asked, juggling the steering and her smartphone effortlessly.

The woman rattled of her first and last name on between attempts to fix her runny make-up and wipe the dried snot and tears off her face. "Foxy is a nickname my gramps gave me, said I used to excessively play with fox pelts in the attic when I was a kid," the woman added with a snort, totally oblivious to Natasha's eyebrow raise as the spy read the information on her in-between overtaking slower cars.

Good student, good family life, stable income and good career growth in a prospective sector. What did Foxy even find in a guy like Todd? The most important information, however, was also most pleasing. No ties to any kind of intelligence gathering organizations.

As Natasha parked and popped the trunk once more, the other woman offered a hand with her shopping bags. Friday acknowledged the newcomer, startling her, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and mention, loudly, that if Tony decided to pay them a surprise visit, he may end up castrated or shot on sight, much to Foxy's bashful snickering.

Once the shopping was put away and the wine opened, the spy let herself curl up on the couch opposite the woman who studied her Spartan style apartment with curios eyes. The lack of knick knacks must've been a surprise for her: Natasha's apartment looked bare compared to what she'd seen in other's people's homes but the desire to make the environment more cozy had never been strong enough to actually act upon it. She wasn't used to staying in a place for very long.

"Do you still want to get back at the bastard?" The redhead asked once the first bottle was coming to an end. The alcohol was sitting low, pleasantly warm in their bellies and the food that they'd ordered in the middle of a casual chit-chat lulled them into a state of comfortable stupor.

"I want to gouge his eyes out and wear them as a battle trophy," Foxy was slightly slurring her words, much more affected by the wine than the stoic, experienced agent. "But I guess I can settle for petty crime or arson."

"I'm sensing you didn't tell me the whole list of grievances," true to her words, the spy felt as it there was a possibility quite a few things were being left unsaid.

Foxy sighed once again, placing the empty glass on the table and using her palm to prop her flushed face against it, blankly staring off into the far end of the room. "I came out as bisexual last year and he was giving me so much shit for it. Todd kept pushing for a threesome and when I refused, started accusing me of cheating during our fights, called me a whore a couple of times," the more she spoke, the higher Natasha's anger levels rose.

Not only was a Todd a dick, he was an abusive one. Truly, the grand prize of Asshat Lottery. "I have an idea or three," the spy twirled the remaining red liquid in her glass before downing it. "But it'll have to stay between us two."

"I'm listening," Foxy turned to meet Natasha's face, eyes considerably more alert than seconds before.

A few days past their amicable wine-and-revenge get-together, Natasha's doorbell rang as if she wasn't already had been made aware by Friday that a visitor was coming up to see her. Boxes of hair bleach and dye laid stacked on the living room table, surrounded by jewelry and assorted accessories. A pitcher of fresh sangria topped the ensemble, two clean glasses placed neatly on the tray next to it.

"Hi, Nat," Foxy's smile was a mile wide - a far cry from the sniffling sad sack of a woman the spy had first met. The nickname flowed freely from the woman's lips, as calm as Natasha's own answering grin and greeting. "I gots the stuff," waving her purse about, the woman kicked off her shoes by the door, approaching Natasha with the same smile that seemed to be more effective at lightening up the room than Tony's expensive designer lamps.

As Natasha's plan achieved a solid state, the two women had quickly come to a realization that Natasha was far too recognizable with her signature red hair and over a flurry of text messages, the decision to switch to a warm caramel blonde was made unanimously. Foxy had rebuked any and all Natasha's attempts to affirm she'd be able to do it herself and the spy gave into the other's chiding, relenting to have her hair dyed by a person who at least had a possibility of seeing the back of her head without having to perform acrobatic tricks.

Foxy was an easygoing, non-problematic person. She was fun to have around, quiet but witty, with intelligent eyes and a realistic view on the world. It was something Natasha valued, alongside the lack of probing questions regarding her past or her job - her insides clenched uncomfortably at the thought of having to lie about those things, or even worse, having to admit to the wrongdoings in her past, however Foxy carefully steered away from topics that were sensitive and never gave Natasha as much as a side-eye if the spy appeared to lack some minor detail that normal women her age all seemed to be aware of.

The curiosity had her ready to burst. Nat's natural defense mechanisms were quite confused, not sure what to make of the woman who almost too friendly to be true, but the kindness in her eyes and the sometimes shy, awestruck looks she gave Natasha when she thought the redhead wasn't looking made up for it in spades.

"What do you think?" The noise of the hair dryer finally ceased, Foxy's voice echoing in Natasha's luxuriously large bathroom.

The newly-blonde spy studied her reflection with a tilt to her head. The ombre was a nice touch - her own hair was naturally darker than the caramel and honey blonde she had chosen, so the almost-brown shading at her roots took much away from the contrast between her lighter hair and darker brows. It was just another disguise for the spy, but somehow, this one felt more like home than any of the previous faces she had worn.

"I like it, you were right about the ombre," Natasha voiced her thoughts, eyes sliding over to the smiling woman behind her, feeling the corners of her mouth begin to creep upwards in involuntary response.

"You looked good with red hair, don't misunderstand me," Foxy briefly raised her hands. "But you have a light complexion and lighter colors do wonders for bringing out the youthfulness. Even if we don't have much joy these days, a good hair color is an opportunity to showcase the bit," she briefly touched her own hair in an exaggerated attempt at driving her point home.

The fun part was done, the time came to execute the revenge. It wasn't exactly anything special; rather, the plan was quite simple - let Todd make a fool out of himself in front of his friends and perhaps (a slightly, teensy possibility) get himself arrested. The two women took their time to get dolled up, not too much - but rather, adding just that little bit to themselves to easily attract moderate amounts of attention from men.

The bar was busy, noisy and full of people when the two women stepped through the door. Natasha's eyes scanned the room out of habit, easily spotting the tall, lanky Todd in the far end of the bar, laughing and boozing with equally pathetic-looking man-children. The urge to gag was almost irresistible.

The spy let herself to be led to the bar by Foxy who looked mildly uncomfortable. Natasha was sure that if she was to touch the other woman's face, it would be flaming under the circumstances. "Try to relax a little, I won't bite," with a quip to her companion, Nat ordered them a vodka cranberry each, sitting down with her back to the men. "Tell me when he notices us and starts moving this way."

Foxy nodded minutely, clutching her drink for dear life and taking generous sips to calm herself down and relax like the spy had requested. They talked about everything and nothing in between, Natasha's hand on Foxy's knee crawling closer to her hip as minutes passed by without interruption. Loud noises of men playing darts and drunkenly cheering reached the womens earshot every now and then, causing Foxy to throw increasingly infuriated glances towards her ex-boyfriend and the Black Widow's current victim of choice.

Sitting opposite the perfectly composed, smiling woman, it was clear as day she was, indeed, best of the best. Despite knowing Foxy for only a few days, Natasha managed to pull off a very convincing girlfriend: her body language was nothing short of absolutely besotted and the googly eyes the spy was making had Foxy constantly remind herself that it was only for show. There was no way this gorgeous, incredible human would be interested in someone as plain and ordinary as herself.

"Heads up," Foxy's smile suddenly grew a mile wide as she stared directly at Natasha, eyes alight with fury at the scene about to unfold. Natasha's reply was to briefly tighten the grasp on the other's leg in silent support.

"Hey, baby," Todd was drunk enough for the stench of his breath to reach both women. "Oh, I see you're with a friend," his attempt at flirting only made Natasha scrunch up her face like a cat that accidentally smelled a lemon.

"Leave me alone," Foxy stated firmly, knowing the phrase wouldn't do anything to deter her overzealous ex, but this time - she counted on it.

"It's okay, I can share," the slurred words had a couple of people nearby raise their eyebrows at the audacity.

"I'm not interested," Foxy snapped. "In fact, there is absolutely nothing your freeloading, cheating ass can bring to my table."

The woman radiated satisfaction as gasps sounded out around them; Todd was a regular at this bar and most people there knew him in one way or another. The moment of joy, however, was brief.

"Listen, bitch, you have no business talking to me like that," full of drunken bravado, the man spat angrily, taking unsteady steps closer to Foxy. "What you need is a decent man that can handle your outbursts, not some dyke..." before he could even utter another offensive syllable, Natasha had his wildly gesturing arm twisted painfully behind his back, easily forcing the inebriated man to his knees.

"Wanna try that again, champ?" Sarcasm flowed freely from the spy's lips as the patrons in the bar gasped. The civilian clothing and the new hair color might have been an effective short-term disguise but once the crowd had seen her neat little party trick and had taken a good look at her face, nobody was doubting her identity. "Call the cops, will you?" She addressed the shocked bartender who immediately scrambled to obey.

"I didn't do anything!" Todd cried out, eyes drunkenly darting between the Black Widow's quiet rage and Foxy's grim stone face.

"Huh, that's weird. Because I clearly heard and saw an attempted hate crime," Natasha's voice attained a sardonic tint. "And I have a bar full of witnesses," the spy shrugged, letting go of his arm but keeping a boot firmly planted on his back to prevent him from escaping. "I hope you have a lawyer."

Foxy snorted, reaching for her unfinished second drink. "Tough luck."

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Todd's friends inching closer to the exit door second by second, as if they could stand a chance against a professionally trained secret agent. Luckily for them, Natasha wasn't interested in the remainder of Todd's gang of losers and merely raised an eyebrow when the other men reached the door, a tiny smirk appearing when his pleading eyes didn't cause any reaction in his friends, the spineless worms, hopping out of the door without as much as a goodbye to the man laying face-down on the dirty floor.

As soon as the police arrived, awestruck by one of the NYC's most famous superheroes just casually standing in a bar, they eagerly collected the inebriated offender, briskly escorting Todd to the squad car. The bartender and several other patrons confirmed Natasha's words that an attempted hate crime had taken place. Cops were in and out in less than fifteen minutes and the otherwise-pleasant hole-in-the-wall bar returned to its usual evening bustle.

"Celebratory shots?" Natasha laughed as Foxy exhaled, deep and slow, once her racing heart calmed down.

"My treat," the other woman motioned for the bartender and soon, a line of colorful glasses appeared in front of the women. Each downed a glass easily, slamming it back on the table. "Man, this is everything I never knew I needed," Foxy confessed with a shy smile. "Thanks, Nat. You're the best."

The spy responded with a satisfied smile, picking up another glass and holding it out for a toast. "To revenge well-deserved," the glass clicked, alcohol slid easily down their throats. "So, what now?"

Foxy's eyes shone in the bright lights of the bar, relieved and tipsy. The small empty glass twirled easily between her fingers. "Dunno," the shrug came and went. "Maybe go on vacation. To Florida."

Natasha let out a belly laugh, downing her last shot without as much as a stutter in her movements, Foxy's eyes lingering on the stray drops of alcohol running from the spy's plump lips. "A vacation with the crackheads? Romantic," the quip was received with an eyeroll from the other woman.

"Spoilsport," Foxy, too, finished her booze and placed the money and a hefty tip on the bar, tapping twice to get the bartender's attention. "I meant more like - lay on the beach, sip mimosas, look at sexy people in swimsuits..."

"Florida is for old people," Natasha objected, pulling her leather jacket back on and leading them both outside. The evening air was crisp, bringing a clearer head and re-arranging the thoughts back into a more sensible state.

Foxy easily picked up her pace to match Natasha's precise strides leading them in the direction of the former's building. The warm buzz of vodka coupled with the fresh air and her desire for retribution well-fed, Foxy settled into a comfortable silence next to the spy. They reached the building quickly, their pace brisk and distractions lacking.

"Care for a nightcap?" She didn't know what prompted her to blurt out the words; as soon as the words registered in her brain, they were already out and Foxy's face heated, fingers fumbling for the keys in her pocket, Natasha's touch still warm and lingering on the side of her leg.

The spy seemed amused, studying Foxy's nervous habits with a crooked smirk. "Sure," she agreed amicably, following the woman into the apartment building, not missing both the rigidity of her back and the added spring to her step.

A moderately sized, well-decorated apartment revealed itself behind the open door, scarcely illuminated by the NYC lights coming in from a glass wall in the living room, reflecting the vast living space furnished with a large couch.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Natasha turned around, stepping into the other woman's personal space with the grace of a predator. Two shining eyes stared back at her in the darkness, framed by fluttering lashes. Foxy's bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth, skin gleaming with perspiration.

The recently-turned blonde spy wasted no time caging the other woman between her body and the door, chests almost touching. The air around them was charged, Foxy's heart thudding loudly in her chest as she gulped. Natasha studied her expression, "You want this?" she whispered against her lips, sharing the oxygen between them.

"Ye-yeah," a short nod and a gasp later, the women were devouring each other, grasping at their hands and shoulders like they were drowning. Hot and wet and sharp from the booze, the kisses were as graceless as their fingers haste in removing each other's top layers of clothing.

The sharp corner of the living room archway dug painfully into Foxy's back, bringing an additional sense of awareness: this was real. This was happening. Natasha's blonde locks flowed through Foxy's fingers, soft and silky, a contrast to the teeth pulling on her lip in impatient hunger. Foxy grunted in response, parting from the other woman to send her t-shirt flying somewhere in the direction of the kitchen.

"Bedroom," mere minutes in and she already sounded utterly and throughly ruined.

"Couch," Natasha was equally feverish to get to the good parts. Her belt was unbuckled and the nice button-up she'd worn hung open, a plain white bra iriscendent on her alabaster skin.

Letting herself be led to the couch, Foxy could barely take her eyes off the woman in front of her, making sure she wasn't ogling Natasha outright yet secretly hoping to be caught anyway. The blonde was like a porcelain doll, unreal, firm and soft at the same time.

The moment Foxy gracelessly landed on the couch, Natasha was all up in her space, straddling the other woman with the grace of a savage cat; lips once more attached to her flesh, Natasha left a trail of hot, wet marks starting at the jawline and ending at the cups of Foxy's bra.

Not knowing what to do with her hands, Foxy grasped Natasha's hips, unable to hold back a moan heavy with lust as the spy ground down with her hips. It was exhilarating to see the other woman affected by their heavy make-out session; nothing short of absolutely smitten to see Natasha pull back, panting and disheveled, to shed her shirt and her bra.

Unable to resist the urge, Foxy's hands reached out to cup the spy's round breasts, tugging her closer to pop a rosy nipple into her mouth. Natasha shivered, arching into the caress, holding onto the other woman's hair and tugging it in the direction only she knew.

Natasha wasn't loud, she wasn't wild; her moans were more like muted gasps but her body spoke for her louder than any words: the grinding was getting more impatient, Natasha's hold grew stronger. As Foxy fumbled for the button of Nat's pants, she felt the soft, delicate lace underneath. Natasha had come prepared.

"Hold on," the spy mumbled, hopping off Foxy's lap to quickly push her pants and panties down her legs with practiced ease. The other woman followed suit, leaving herself to be bare besides her underwear, the attempt to remove them intercepted by Natasha. "Let me," quiet words tickled the skin of her throat where Nat had immediately attached her mouth.

Foxy scrambled to intake the oxygen she needed, letting herself feel the hot glide fully, having lost herself in pleasure, missing the exact moment Nat's fingertips breached the waistband of her panties. Soft and nimble, so different to a man's roughened skin, the sensation was as strange as it was sweet. The urge to arch and rock her hips against the nearest surface intensified and Foxy could only keen, quiet and high, causing Natasha to chuckle to herself.

"Enjoying yourself, sweet girl?" The miniscule trace of coyness seeped into the blonde's voice. The engorged, puffy, moist flesh of Foxy's lower lips parted eagerly to Natasha's experimental dip.

"Yeah, yes," the woman slid down, spreading her legs in invitation. "Please, touch me," begging to be filled in all the empty spaces, Foxy threw her head to rest against the back of the couch, watching Nat through unfocused eyes.

"Oh, I will," the spy purred, sliding lower to put her face next to Foxy's dripping cunt. The spy's fingers glistened with arousal and she popped them into her mouth, licking them clean before doing the same to her lover's swollen folds. The response was instantaneous and loud, Foxy shook under Natasha's expert teasing. "Stay still," she ordered quietly, patting Foxy's belly.

Molten, honeyed waves of bliss overtook common sense and awareness, tiny sparks shooting up Foxy's cunt every time Natasha suckled at her clit. The spy read her body like an open book, following the movements of her hips with her mouth, always a step ahead and slightly south. Foxy's peak was imminent, approaching rapidly, as Natasha's sweet merciless assault wrung every single drop of the thick, precious liquid out of her cunt.

It only seemed to gush more, the woman pushing her cunt into Natasha's face as the latter doubled down on her efforts to bring her to ecstasy.

The waves began deep in the pit of Foxy's stomach, making her legs tremble, her toes curl and the flutters of her cunt increase in speed and intensity. Silky soft and typhoon wet, her orgasm crashed her mind into million pieces and Nat dutifully extracted everything until the last drop with the skillful touch of her tongue and fingers.

"Tash," Foxy moaned. Her legs quivered at the slightest touch to her oversensitive cunt.

"Mhm," was the blonde's reply, contented humming getting closer and closer until the womens lips met once more in a fierce, passionate kiss.

Foxy's hands immediately sought purchase on Natasha's hips, searching for the spots that would make the spy's body song in the same way she'd done to Foxy; seemingly much more reserved, quiet but happy sighs broke past Nat's lips in response to gentle hands stroking where she was most sensitive.

"I've got a vibe in my bedroom," clarity finally broke through the orgasm haze, Foxy's brain slowly coming back to reality.

"No, I want your fingers," Natasha's reply was assertive as she moved her hips in tandem with Foxy's hand, dripping the sweetness of her around all over.

The urge to pop the fingers into her mouth was strong, so Foxy did just that, moaning at the tangy taste, Natasha's breath quietly stuttering at the sight in front of her.

"I want to eat you out," the words barely had left Foxy's mouth as Natasha flipped them so she was the one laying on the couch, spread-eagled and open for the other woman's eager mouth to explore. Wet, sloppy and so, so tender, Foxy let herself taste the arousal of her lover.

"Yeah," so soft, one could easily miss it, the approval didn't get lost in the headrush nonetheless. With grace, Foxy sought the spots that would force Natasha to break her silence with slow, broad motions until the blonde had no choice but to arch her hips into the sensations, chasing her pleasure, losing the aura of restraint she'd so carefully cultivated.

No time for self-control. The temperatures were climbing steadily with every single movement, both lost in their imperfect shared rhythm, the soft of Foxy's tongue and fingers like finest silks on Natasha's eager cunt. Two fingers slipped in without resistance, immediately seeking out the soft, spongy spot that made the blonde's toes curl and mouth open in a silent scream.

Foxy's free hand groped around for Natasha's ass hastily, bringing her hips closer to her mouth, tongue never ceasing its assault on the blonde's clit as her body grew more rigid, fingertips going white with the force she was gripping the comforter.

"Gospodi bozhe," came the mumble, the only warning before Natasha's powerful thighs locked Foxy in place as the blonde rode out her orgasm, violently shivering, dousing the other woman's face in her sweet release. Dutifully, Foxy stroked the silk of Natasha's skin everywhere she could reach, her hot breath on the blonde's pussy easing her back to Earth through the aftershocks.

Natasha's eyes opened, feeling her lover's look of adoration, and she cracked a reluctant but genuine smile. There was something about Foxy that was just so-

Natasha taglist (open, see fic hat for info; crossed out nicknames are the ones I couldn't tag, please update your info):

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @sapphicnoodle69

[datawyrms]

“Did you apologize to Tucker yet?”

“About what? Wait, are we talking again? I thought we weren’t talking.” The ghost circled back, blindly fumbling with the thermos lid, eyes busy squinting at the hunter’s mask as if it would let him see through it better. “You’re not gonna say it’s fine then shoot me, are you?”

“Why do you always remind me why I don’t like talking to you like this.”

“What’d you mean like ‘this’? Like I should pretend that isn’t a totally valid question?” 

Valerie groaned, gesturing at the ghost. “Like that sort of thing is normal!”

Phantom smirked, letting the edges of his boots hit the hoverboard. “Welcome to my life.”

“And how you just keep that stupid confident face up.”

“Uh huh. I thought you were lecturing me about Tucker, not my personality.”

She deeply considered having the board jar the ghost off, but that’d probably just amuse him more. “You seriously don’t remember why you should be apologizing?”

“Well according to you, I should basically apologize for existing. So sometimes I lose track on the particulars.” There was an edge there that the blithe tone couldn’t quite cover up, even as the ghost sat down. “Y’gonna enlighten me or what? I’m bad at twenty questions.”

“You broke your promise to him, remember?”

The blank stare she earned in response was absolutely infuriating. “Uhhh. Which one?” He had the sense to look embarrassed, hand glued to the back of his neck.

That wasn’t going to help him though. Shooting him was actually sounding like a fair idea if it was the only thing that would get him to actually learn and pay attention. “To stop possessing people. The big one? The really easy one that NONE of his other friends need to worry about doing ‘accidentally’?”

“Wow Val, if you just wanted to say you think I’m weird you didn’t need to drag Tuck into it.” The embarrassment slid into a scowl easily enough, arms crossed as if that would defend him. “I haven’t done that for months.”

“He’s been telling you he hates it for years.” Before she even figured out Danny’s dead man walking secret. Tucker was too good a friend to be ignored for literal years because a ghost conveniently forgot how fucked up it was to invade someone’s body and use them as an unwilling meat puppet if it was ‘helpful’.

“I try, okay? I’m not doing it to upset him!”

“Somehow everyone else can manage without doing it.”

The ghost tilted his head. “Well duh, you guys can’t.”

“Even if we could, we wouldn’t.” She snapped, the confusion and completely casual excusing of his actions just a little too much to deal with. “Heroes don’t control people.”

“Well excuse me for needing to protect myself. If what I am gets out to the wrong people, I’m dead. More dead.” He groaned face in hand “You know what I mean. Worse than dead. Dani too.”

“Do you really think Tucker’s dad would have ratted your whispy ass out? That he wouldn’t help you explain? Or was it just an excuse to let yourself do what you want?”

“Well you seem to have decided that it was! Which it wasn’t!” His eyes flared green with the defence, and Valarie had to work to not react to the impulsive want to get away from an angry ghost. “I just- reacted, okay? I told him that!”

“Well Tucker and Sam keep forgetting how much of a ghost you are, so of course they won’t buy that excuse.”

“Excuse? It’s not an excuse!” He was up, the offended squawk reminding her so much of how he was before. When they were all fourteen, and every uncomfortable problem could be chalked up to being ‘a moody teenager’ and ignored for a while longer. “And you could stop saying ghost like that, while you’re at it?” The glow dimmed, but he kept the distance. “Sound like my dad.”

“What, you want me to say it like you do when they keep coming here to threaten people? Deal with it.”

“There are plenty of ghosts who don’t do that.”

“Yeah. They don’t come here, and they aren’t my problem,” she shrugged, considering. “I’ll say it nice to them.”

“Oh, real funny.”

“You deserve it.”

She expected a scoff, at least. Probably a laugh, considering how often he’d joke about being the town’s public enemy for a time. Instead he averted his eyes. “Maybe we can finish this talk on the ground?”

It was easier to be ticked off at him when he was joking, or steamed himself. Phantom didn’t ‘do’ uneasy. Maybe it was a good sign that he was actually listening, if he wanted to continue ‘off the clock’. “Space cadet wants to land? Sure, if you want.”

“I wouldn’t go with ‘want’, but yeah.”

It wasn’t much trouble, in the middle of the day. A quick glance while hidden in at least one direction was enough. People who lived in Amity Park knew they should get out of the area of a ghost sighting at this point. Even if she and Phantom were trusted enough to deal with it, stray shots happened. Things fell. Not too many eyes to avoid, even if her identity felt like an open secret most of the time.

Danny had it even easier. He just had to think. It felt like a sick joke, that he could stop being dead on a whim and blend in fairly well. The gangly man leaning against the tree looked human. Black hair, blue eyes, needed a tan, unremarkable. Average. Unless you knew what to look for, anyway. How a casual slouch didn’t match up with how he was always looking for something, a tense energy that seemed desperate to crack free of that spine. That he could walk in winter with the thinnest of jackets and not shake from the cold even once. “Hey.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, sitting on the bench. “Hey yourself.”

Danny grimaced, looking up and away. “How much of a ghost I am, huh?” It wasn’t an angry question, exactly. He was still slouching, hands in pockets. Guarded and uneasy. How much of that fear and caution the person she thought she knew, and how much of it was just another part of his act?

“You’ve said you’re at least half of one.”

“Yeah. You just make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

The whole crux of the issue, really. How no one really knew how to deal with Danny, his secret and how he’d changed. “It’s not a bad thing on it’s own.”

“So I’m the part you like to sneer at,” his brow furrowed, the creases and wrinkles more ominous as blue slid closer to green. “I thought we went over this. You know what actually happened. How I never really attacked people.”

She admired Tucker and Sam’s patience, she really did. “We have. It’s not about that stuff. That’s years ago, you know it. It’s the other stuff.”

The anger was gone in an instant. “What other stuff?”

He was a living migraine waiting to happen. “How you keep thinking things from seven years ago are more important than things happening right now?”

“Hey, you’re the one that held the grudge for two.”. 

“Months. Not years.”

He slouched more at the correction, apparently very interested in his own hands. “Oh. Right.”

“You haven’t been using the reminders like Jazz told you to, have you.”

“I can remember fine! I don’t need some box doing it for me. I’ve just been busy.”

Busy. That was his excuse this time? She crossed her arms and leaned back. “Okay, what year is it?”

“Uhm.” he paused to pick at a non existent loose thread “One starting in 2?”

“Danny.”

“What! Lots of people don’t care too much about the time.”

He didn’t even try to guess within ten years. There was living in the present, and there was this. “No, you know your ghost side makes you act in certain ways and keep denying it. So you still get the complete pain version of ghost. Get it?”

“I’m not that different.” He wouldn’t look at her, hand clenching. “I’m human too, you know.”

“Uhuh. The way your eyes flare up when you’re mad is super human.” She ignored his scowl, pushing forward. “I get it. You don’t like being reminded. Tuck and Sam try to ignore it for your sake.”

“Val, I’m not denying it okay? I know. It’s pretty obvious!”

“Then stop pretending you don’t know. They’re trying so hard to help you have a chance of getting a job that isn’t with your parents and you won’t even use the reminders to help you remember where in time you are!”

That got him to bristle, shaking off his slouch in a sudden reminder of how tall he really was. “Why does it matter? We’re all just kidding ourselves about me ever leaving here.”

“So you just won’t try? Just give up on finding anything else? For someone who keeps insisting he’s human, you sure seem eager to ditch that half of your life.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing.”

“Then what are you doing? Because all I’ve seen you do is get tetchy about ghosts and instinctively do ghost things. When you’re human.”

“I’m putting in the work.You know it’s hard to study or hold down a job.”

“So stop making it harder on yourself.They’ve found ways to help keep you grounded, so do it.” Sam should be saying this, of course. She’d heard it frustratedly repeated so many times, but she never dared to actually say it to the one who had to hear it. Because he was already prone to pulling away or vanishing when you pressed too hard, made things too uncomfortable. Ghosts didn’t do coping, and Danny was never great at facing personal issues head on before becoming a menace to her sanity either. “You think making things harder makes you more of a hero?”

“‘Course not.” He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking for an escape, an out. “I shouldn’t need that stuff, alright?”

Now it was her turn to be puzzled. “Why shouldn’t you?”

A lopsided grin answered her question. “Who likes admitting they’re a freak?” The tree no longer had a human standing by it, but his voice was easy enough to hear. “ But I guess some people care about a freak like me anyway.”

(did Valerie use a tracker to smack him and say ‘you’re not a freak’ right after this? yes)

[sfb123]

Stealing Moments

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Summary: The Royal family spends the afternoon taking part in some pre-Easter (or preaster, if you will) activities.

Rating: G - I’m not going to sugar coat it (sugar is the last thing this story needs), this is some majorly fluffy stuff here. Even for me, and I’ve produced some pretty fluffy work.

Word Count: 1,947

A/N: So this story is a triple threat:

I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt #88 “I meant every word.” Which will appear in bold.

I am also participating in the @choicesaprilchallenge2021, day 3 teal. That prompt will appear in italics.

I am also participating in @trraw, day 2 Liam. That prompt will appear in the form of a handsome and charming King.

A/N 2: This is an idea that I thought of while I was writing my upcoming Uncle Drake fic (you’ll see that one on Sunday), so I decided to write it up as a little prequel to that. Thank you to @jessiembruno for encouraging me to take my crazy throw away ideas and make them into something, and also by contributing this adorable moodboard. You are a Canva master. To think, not too long ago you hated it and cursed it out on the regs!

Tags: You know the drill, they’re down below. I hope you get it! If you want to be added or removed, let me know!

Liam sat in his study, wrapping up some paperwork before his next meeting when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Bastien entered the room and shut the door behind him. “Sir, Lord Neville is demanding an audience with you. Immediately.” 

“Of course he is. Tell him I am unavailable, and to make an appointment with my assistant before he leaves.” 

“I did. I explained to him that you have an important afternoon meeting that could not be rescheduled. He didn’t appear to care.” Bastien chuckled to himself. This wasn’t the first time Neville had tried to weasel his way into an urgent meeting with the King.

Liam let out a deep breath as he stood, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Of course he didn’t. That’s fine, I need to get to my meeting anyway. I will tell him myself.” 

Almost immediately upon exiting his study, Neville was in his face. “Your Majesty, I have an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention-”

Liam held up a hand, silencing him. “I’m sure you do, Lord Neville. Unfortunately, I am on my way to a very important meeting, so I am unable to sit with you right now. Please see my assistant on your way out, and she will be happy to book you for my next available appointment.” 

“With all due respect Your Majesty, that simply won’t do. It won’t take long, perhaps I could walk with you to your next meeting?”

Liam internally rolled his eyes at the suggestion. He knew just how to stroke his ego to get him to back down. “Lord Neville, as one of our most valued members of court, I couldn’t possibly do you the disservice of giving you anything but my full attention on what I’m sure is a crucial matter. That is all I would be doing if I allowed you to continue at this time. I will make sure that my staff adjust the schedule to provide us enough time to examine the issue thoroughly. Please send me any documentation as soon as possible so that I may review it before our meeting. That way, we can hit the ground running when we do meet.”

Neville stood tall, a smug expression quickly spreading across his face. “Very well, Your Majesty. I appreciate your assistance in the matter. I will leave the documentation with your assistant.” He bowed, and Liam nodded in response before exiting the area and moving on to his next meeting. 

“If I may say sir, the way you handled that situation was truly masterful.” Bastien commented as they walked through the palace. 

Liam chuckled and patted his security guard on the back. “All in a day's work, my friend. Everything is in place for this afternoon, I trust? I will have no disruptions for the remainder of the day?”

“Yes Your Majesty, the staff has been fully alerted that you will be unavailable. I will be at the door to ensure that you are not bothered.” Bastien replied. 

Once they arrived at their destination, Liam crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. He was the last to arrive, so the sound of the door caught the attention of those that had already gathered. 

“Daddy!” Eleanor jumped out of her chair and ran straight for Liam, leaping into his arms. 

“Hello Princess.” He chuckled as he held her close, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Are you ready to decorate some Easter eggs?” He carried her through the livingroom area of the royal quarters, returning her to her seat at the kitchen table.

“Yep! I helped mommy mix all the colors together. It was so fun!” She gestured to the cups of coloring spread out across the table. 

Liam couldn't help but laugh at his daughter’s enthusiasm as he approached his wife, who was standing at the table making the final preparations for their afternoon project. “Hello, beautiful.” He leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on Riley’s lips. 

“Hey handsome. You made it right on time. I’m impressed.” She teased. 

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world. No matter how hard Neville tried.” 

“Neville, yuck!” Eleanor chimed in, causing both of her parents to burst out laughing. 

Riley turned her attention back to her husband. “Alright, you go get changed. I don’t want you ruining your fancy king clothes with egg dye.”

Liam kissed his wife and daughter before going into the bedroom to put on some more casual clothes. He returned unnoticed as Riley explained the egg dying process to Eleanor. He stood for a moment and watched them, his girls, his world. He couldn’t help the smile that quickly spread across his face at the sight. 

“Daddy, come on, we can’t start without you!” Eleanor called out to him from the other side of the room, breaking him from his thoughts. 

He returned to the table and stood between his girls. “Alright, I’m here. Where do we begin?” 

Not only was this Eleanor’s first time decorating Easter eggs, but Liam’s too. He was told that as a Prince, there were more productive ways for him to spend his time. It was just one of the many childhood experiences being royalty simply didn’t allow for. He was so happy, not just to have this experience for himself, but to share it with his daughter. Another way to give her the childhood he never had, but always wanted.

Once Riley explained the process, they got to work; since she was the seasoned professional, she let Eleanor and Liam take the lead and do most of the work. She marveled in the similarities in their gestures, the concentration on their faces as they placed their white eggs in the dye, and the excitement when it would come out dyed a bright color. At one point, Riley couldn’t help but laugh when they pulled out their eggs at the same time, and looked up at her with identical expressions of joy, showing off their creations. 

They had gotten down to the last egg, Liam turned to Eleanor, “Ok Princess, we’ve got one left. You get to pick the color.”

A thoughtful expression overtook Eleanor’s face as she surveyed the colors that surrounded her before turning to her parents and confidently announcing her decision. “Teal.”

Riley and Liam locked eyes and shared a confused expression. There was no teal, they had only prepared basic colors, blue, green, yellow, pink, and purple. “Baby girl, we don’t have teal. These are the only colors we have.” Riley explained. 

Eleanor’s lip started to quiver as her arms went across her chest. “I want teal. Please.” Her parents had been teaching her the importance of manners, so she figured if she said please, they had to give her what she wanted. 

They both knew what that lip quiver meant, they were going to need to move quickly to avoid a total meltdown. Liam approached the princess and started rubbing her back to keep her calm. “It’s alright Eleanor. Why don’t you tell me why you want a teal egg so badly?”

“It’s my favorite color.” She looked up at her father, a pleading expression etched in her face. Her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

There was no question that Eleanor had the King wrapped around her finger, and when she looked at him like that, there was absolutely no way he could deny her. “Alright, let me go talk to mommy and see what we can do for you.” He kissed her on her cheek and returned to his wife. “Riley, there must be something we can do. I can send someone to get teal coloring. We have unlimited resources at our disposal, there must be some way we can make this happen for her.” 

Riley shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Man, you really are a sucker when it comes to her. Aren’t you.” 

“For both of my girls, actually.” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them gently across her knuckles, while giving her a hopeful expression. 

She sighed deeply, as much as she tried to fight it, she was also a sucker for her family. “Alright, I guess I can try to mix the blue and green together. Maybe I can get the right ratio to make a teal dye.” 

Liam turned to Eleanor and gave her a thumbs up, she clapped her hands and cheered in response. Riley got to work carefully mixing the two dyes into a third cup, occasionally dipping a piece of paper in to test the color. She smiled to herself when the fourth test paper emerged from the cup. Mission accomplished. “Did somebody want to make a teal egg?”

“Me me me!” Eleanor raised her hand and jumped up and down in her seat. 

Riley placed the cup in front of Eleanor and handed her the egg. The pair worked together to color the final egg to the princess’s exact specifications. 

Liam watched as the two of them completed their family project. His heart was so full at that moment that he felt weak in the knees. He reached behind him and laid his palms against the kitchen island to steady himself. He stood there as his wife, the love of his life, sat with his daughter creating memories in their home. In that moment, he wasn’t a King, he was the luckiest man in the world. 

With the help of her mother, Eleanor pulled the egg from the dye, her smile growing exponentially as she proudly looked up at her father to show off her work. “Daddy, we did it! It’s teal!”

Liam chuckled at the sight in front of him. “I think it’s the most beautiful egg I have ever seen, Princess.”

Riley looked up and noticed Liam’s expression before leaning down to Eleanor. “Hey sweets, why don’t you go wash up for dinner while I put all of this away.” Her daughter looked up and nodded before rushing down the hall. Riley approached Liam and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Love, I can honestly tell you I have never been better.” He placed a hand on her cheek. “Do you remember our first date? During the social season?” She nodded. “You asked me what my dream was, and I told you I wanted a real family, one that was close and listened to each other.” He paused, staring deeply into her eyes. “I have that, because of you Riley. You’ve made my dream, my heart’s desire, come true. Going into my social season, I had all but given up on falling in love, and assumed I would simply marry for duty. Then you uprooted your whole life to give me a chance at happiness. I will never be able to tell you how truly grateful I am for all that you have given me.” He placed a lingering kiss on her lips.

“Liam, I did it for me too. That night in New York, I had never felt like that before. I was not that girl, the one that drops everything to fly around the world for a boy I just met, but I knew there was something there that was worth exploring.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Really?”

Riley laughed gently. “I meant every word.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he pulled her close. 

They pulled apart just as Eleanor bounded back into the room. She ran straight for her parents and jumped into Liam’s arms. He held her against one side, and pulled Riley into the other. He was sure that life couldn’t get better than that very moment. 

Tags:

Permatag- @anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

One Shots- @darley1101

Liam x Riley- @jared2612

@choicesficwriterscreations @wackydrabbles @choicesaprilchallenge2021​ @trraw​

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

uh, ml bnha au

Yep. Here we go folks. Uh I don’t know much I’ll expand on this but it’s here. The quirks that is. Uhm- here we go I guess? Thank you @ghostatjoes and @symphonic-scream and all y’all for the ideas and inspiration.

Adrien’s will be the only on the nose most obvious one. I wanna try and keep these powers from being just the miraculous powers. So this will be a mix of just original ideas and akuma stuff.

Adrien: “Cataclysm” pretty much it’s Shigaraki’s Decay but a little different. It’s this au’s version of One For All. The Destruction Hero, Plagg, passed this quirk down to him when Adrien proved that he had a good heart to be a hero cause Plagg needs a replacement due to an injury causing Cataclysm to slowly start to kill him. Adrien is aiming to save as many people as possible as a rescue hero. (His outfit has a cat motif in honor of Plagg who has a cat head due to an unrelated mutation like how Tokoyami has a bird head)

Marinette: “Growth” Marinette can amplify the life in a living object. Whether this means taking a small flower and turning it a building tall beanstalk or amplifying the healing of someone’s body. However she can only use this in short bursts or else she risks over growing her body causing chronic pains and possible plants growing from her arms. 

Nino: “Bubbles” Okay yeah so obviously Bubbler, but it’s a little cooler? Nino can entrap anything into these bubbles. Sounds, healing packs, explosions, balls of fire, light itself, all condensed into these bubbles ready to be yeeted across the battle field like bombs, med packs, or flash bombs. However they can be a little fragile so he’s working to make them more tough. The bubble solution he uses to make these bubbles are made of his unique sweat. Bakugo style. Don’t ask what it’s made of he isn’t sure either. At least it makes him smell nice.

Alya: “Signal” Not the most offensive quirk, but she can send a signal to every single person in a certain radius that she’s training to grow. Whether this is a message, an image she’s seeing(this can extend to just what she’s seeing in general), etc. She’s also training for this to extent to different signals in the air like WiFi signals so she can send them electrically as well. However she risks heavy migraines with overuse. To make up for her very situational quirk she’s working on upping her physical strength.

Chloe: “Venom/Honeycomb” With Venom she can temporarily paralyze a specific part of an opponent. It’s not as strong as her mother’s Venom or her Aunt/Mentor Pollen’s Venom as it’s a quirk she’s gotten from her family, but she’s working on making sure she’s the most exceptional in the entire class, and making sure no one hears of her other quirk. Honeycomb, which is actually her main quirk and not secondary, gives her the ability to produce a honey like substance that can harden into resin following her will. Chloe refuses to use it for it is unexceptional. She must be like her mother or else..

Sabrina: “Emotional Pulse” Sabrina draws energy from the emotions around her to give her a physical boost. It can go from a strengthened punch to something looking like Detroit Smash. However a draw back can be that the emotions around her can start literally affecting her and somewhat tilting how she may feel. So in an angry environment she herself might start to become angry as well. Hyper empathy basically. And it makes her a little anxious about her identity as an individual.

Nathaniel: “Ink” Nathaniel basically water bends ink into creations he can control, quite literally drawing his creations to life. His limit is how much ink he has. Like that one fuckin Mickey Mouse game.

Alix: “Clockwise” For, at most, thirty seconds, Alix’s speed is super enhanced to an incredible degree, practically breaking time itself. This also enhances her strength and mind, pretty much giving her the spiritual equivalent of that one scene with QuickSilver or that one scene from Over the Hedge. However she can’t go over thirty seconds right now or else her body, mind, and definitely internal organs will begin to face serious damage. To make sure she can track herself, she has a pocket watch that she always has handy to remind her how much time has actually passed.

Kim: “Icarus” Kim can create wings out of a waxy substance from his back that allows him the power of flight. One of the most straightforward power here honestly. Like Icarus however, these wings can melt and can be destroyed. Kim, however, has a small control over the wax which means he could potentially be able to use it for something else, however this requires patience and control, something he lacks. 

Max: “Locker” Pretty much, Max is able to set a “marker” on any enclosed space (of a arm reachable size, spanning from a literal locker or a luggage bag) and from anywhere in a 4 mile radius (that he can train to grow) Max is able to “reach into inside” and grab anything that’s inside there. However this space must exist, it’s not a pocket dimension, and so are the objects inside as well. This quirk is useful for holding emergency equipment or grabbing a quick weapon. However it has to be something he can actually hold and something he has already put in there, so he must calculate what would be useful so he can prioritize space and what he should bring with him. 

Ivan: “Minotaur” Gives him attributes akin to The Minotaur. Though his appearance is mostly human, it does become more and more beastly as his anger or need to use his power rises. 

Mylene: “Fear” Mylene gets a boost of power from the fear around her, which she has the ability to enhance to terrifying levels, leaving her victims in states of trauma and distress if she doesn’t control its degree. This quirk mutates her slightly to be akin in some way to the form of the person she’s using her quirk on’s fear. However she herself is easy to be scared so this backfires most of the time.

Juleka: “Vampire Bat” She can do anything a bat can do! Plus a bloody bonus. She has the power of echolocation which, if trained, can possibly knock down a small target. She doesn’t have wings but is working to incorporate some kind of glider into her hero design. As for that vampiric bonus, she has minor control over blood, able to bend it at will, however at this moment, the best she can do is make someone dizzy through a few edits with their blood stream.

Rose: “Perfume” Rose is able to admit a powerful perfume like gas which, upon inhaling, can reduce the victims into a drowsy state of mind. However she’s the only one immune to it so she must be extremely careful with how she uses it and who's around to possibly inhale it. A strange side effect from this quirk is that there’s a slight green tint to her blush.

Extras-

Luka: “Synesthesia” like the actual condition of synesthesia, he is able to visualize and conceptualize sound on different levels of understanding. With this, his hearing is incredibly sensitive and simply pressing an ear against the wall could help him develop an map of the entire building. He claims to hear the souls of others as well, which is supported by his ability to tell from illusion or reality just by his sense of hearing.

Kagami: “Storm” She has the entire essence of a storm wrapped up inside her. Though it may be confused with Class 1b’s Aurore Beaureal’s quirk “Weather” if you were to mistake those two, you would certainly get a lightning bolt to the stomach. Kagami’s quirk has been part of her family for generations, and as the up coming member of her hero family’s legacy, she is planning for no one to be in her way.

Marc: “Origami” Has complete control over paper and can manipulate them to become any creation they can think of, getting said creation’s attributes. So if Marc made a origami dog it might start barking and it’s teeth might become sharp enough to actually pierce skin, same if Marc made a paper sword. However the limitation is how much paper Marc actually has.

Lila: “Whistle” Lila can manipulate a person’s perception through the power of her whistle, causing possible hallucinations or problems in their sight. However it’s controlled by her whistle and it’s power so breathing exercises are important for her to do. To make things easier, she has taken up using the flute to better enhance her quirk. 

Maybe in a different post I’ll talk about the different pro heroes, vigilantes, and villains.

[lovelivingmydreams]

Paper Flowers: The Prince’s Enemy

You liked it so I made more of it!

Part 1 over here. Enjoy!

You sit in your room relaxing before dinner. Homework’s done and social media isn’t going to check in on itself. You are replying to a post one of your friends placed on their wall when a notification pops up. ‘Thomas Sanders just posted a new video’.

You smile as you finish your message and click the notification. Thomas is one of your favorite creators. And it’s insane what he can do in six seconds.

The first thing you notice is that it is a return of the prince character. It makes you smile.

Who doesn’t love a real life Disney prince?

“Stop you fiend!” the prince declares, standing in what looks like an old concrete building, which probably was meant to create the illusion of an old fortress.

Then the angle shifts and… Wait that’s not one of Thomas’ friends playing a villain. That’s Thomas wearing a black hoodie with the hood up to mimic a cloak and black eye shadow to make him look more threatening. Which is a tall order for the human cinnamon bun.

“Prince Dude! My arch nemesis!” villain Thomas growls.

Then the prince comes back into view. He looks shocked.

“Wait…” he dramatically brings a hand to his chest. “I’m your arch nemesis?” he asks... Why does he sound so emotional?

Villain Thomas comes back into view and looks… Flustered? What?

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to assume…”

Wait. This is… This is like someone calling their SO boyfriend or girlfriend for the first time. OMG this is the cutest!

“No!” Prince rushes as he comes back into view. “I just didn’t…” he sighs and shakes his head. “Shall we?” He asks as he raises his sword ready to continue their battle.

Villain Thomas comes back into view and smirks as he raises his own weapon and nods.

“Prepare to die!” He declares letting out a battle cry. The camera shows Prince again who lets out a war cry of his own, charging in.

And that’s the end. You smile to yourself as you leave a like. You’re curious what other fanders think of this new character. Will he ever come back? You hope so.

“Roman it’s so nice of you to include Anxiety in the fun!” Patton cheered when he found out about the new villain character.

Virgil rolled his eyes. Of course Princey was getting praised. Not that it would occur to Patton how hard it’d been for Virgil to agree to let Thomas use his aesthetic, his identity, to create a new character. Or that his heart was racing at the thought of how much the fans would probably hate it.

“Think nothing of it Patton. I merely had the idea for a nemesis, and figured that if Thomas played the character himself it would minimize speculation of the fans on any hidden meaning behind the skits. They are almost more eager to see Thomas find a partner than I am, and none of our friends need that kind of attention on them. So when it came to picking out a look, Anxiety’s… Style, seemed fitting. That’s all,” Roman explained, surprising Virgil.

Roman was passing up on the chance to bask in the praise? Praise he deserved, maybe… A little. Virgil knew that this whole thing was an olive branch from the Prince to him.

And honestly it was kind of a fun skit. Thomas had a lot of fun making it… But here Roman was, downplaying his good intentions and how thoughtful he’d been about it. He’d asked Virgil’s permission to do this. He never asked Logan or Patton to use their looks for the dad or the teacher character.

“Speaking off the raisin cookie… Anxiety!” Roman called. Virgil looked up from where he was sulking against the kitchen counter.

“What?” he scowled.

“I have a few more skit ideas you’ll probably want to criticize. Let’s get that over with shall we?” Roman suggested casually as he headed to his room.

Virgil made a point to sigh and roll his eyes in annoyance, grumbling under his breath as he usually would. Patton might not pay enough attention to him to notice anything amiss, but Virgil was pretty sure Logan would ask questions if the two of them started to act too different.

He entered the fanciful side’s room and took a look around. It was a nice place honestly. Both similar and opposite to his room somehow.

“Soooo… How did you like the skit?” Roman asked eagerly.

Virgil shrugged. “It was alright. Thomas really enjoyed it,” he allowed.

Roman grinned, happy he got some sort of positive feedback from the usually more sullen side.

“And um… It was really cool of you… What you said to Patton. You didn’t have to. You deserved some sort of, like, praise I guess, even if he didn’t know the real reason why you did,” Virgil muttered then.

Roman’s eyes widened. Did Anxiety just… Praise him? He hadn’t expected that. He’d corrected Patton because he didn’t want Anxiety to think that he was using their truce to earn extra brownie points with the fatherly side.

“Thank you Anxiety,” Roman bowed.

“Don’t mention it,” Virgil shrugged awkwardly.

There was a silence. Neither knew for sure how to continue from this point. Their interactions usually ended with one of them storming out of the room.

“Um… Want to watch some tv until Thomas checks up on the comments?” Roman suggested.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Virgil nodded.

Roman gestured to the couch and they sat down as far away from each other as possible.

Virgil chuckled as he realized Roman had put on Avatar.

“Is there a problem? Mr. moodbender?” Roman asked tensely. Clearly ready to call of the truce if Virgil criticized the show.

The anxious man shook his head. “No. Just surprised you’re not putting on Disney,”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I can love things that aren’t Disney, scorned king,” he huffed.

Virgil nodded, Princey had a point.

They both mouthed along to the opening narration and smirked at each other while the intro music played.

“So… What other things do you like Princey?” Virgil started casually.

Roman blinked in surprise, happy surprise that is. Anxiety was clearly making an effort, showing interest in making this truce evolve to a friendship. It was nice, to know that he was not the only one invested in this.

“Well it should come as no surprise to you that I adore all things musical.”

Virgil looked around to all the playbills and smirked. “I would’ve never guessed,” he teased getting a pillow to the face, though it was clearly in good humor.

“Sush!” Roman chuckled.

“Anyway. As I was saying…” Roman proceeded to talk about his favorite artists, some of which Virgil admitted to liking as well and Virgil, in return talked about his favorites as well.

“Oh wait…” Virgil suddenly interrupted as his attention was caught by the screen. Momo had entered the story.

“This is the part where I got respect for this show,” Virgil divulged.

“Why’s that?” Roman wondered.

“Well, on the one hand you have the first time you realize that Zuko isn’t bad. Cause he spares the commanders life. And on the other, the show literally looked at their demographic and said: you kids can handle some genocide. Here is an actual body, confirmed to belong to a character our protagonist cared about,” Virgil explained. “They don’t look down on the kids that watch the show. And they made that clear, very fast. I respect that.”

Roman thought about that, and he could see Anxiety’s point.

“Yes, I suppose they didn’t hide their vision for the show at all,” he nodded.

They continued watching the episode in comfortable silence, both silently noting that they’d moved closer together during their conversation, now only leaving enough distance for both of them to still keep their personal bubble intact.

“I guess it’s been an hour now…” Virgil muttered as the end credits played. Roman nodded as he paused the tv. Thomas would soon give in and see if anyone had reacted to his recent post.

“It’ll be alright. Worst case scenario, they don’t like it and we don’t bring the character back,” Roman assured the younger aspect. “I’d be a little disappointed, because I have tons of ideas for your character. But we’ll think of something else,” he assured Virgil, not willing to give up on his plan to make Anxiety feel more wanted in some way because of one hypothetical set back.

“What if people stop following Thomas because…”

“Anxiety, we’ve posted videos of much lower quality than this one and they didn’t make people run for the hills,” Roman countered.

Virgil nodded but curled in on himself anyway. Roman sighed.

“Things are as they are, we can’t change them now so we might as well face the music. Alright?”

Virgil took in a deep breath and nodded. That made sense.

“Okay. Let's do this,” he sighed.

Roman smiled and nodded as they watched Tomas ‘casually’ check notifications.

Oh no, Virgil thought as he could feel the way Thomas' heart skipped a beat when he saw all the likes and shares popping up.

“Comments!!!” Roman cheered.

And indeed. The Fanders had left several comments already. Some keyboardsmashes, some big eyed or hearteyed emoji's. Some one word exclamations like ‘Adorable’, ‘wholesome’ and even ‘perfection’.

Virgil couldn't help smiling as Thomas' excitement grew. He was about to be outed, he knew it.

But he didn't care that much right now.

Because someone demanded Thomas make more vines with his villain character. And another joked that they should call Disney because they found the new big hit Disney Channel show.

He couldn't stop himself from letting out a soft sound of excitement as he played with the sleeves of his hoodie to release some energy. He wanted to jump up and down and scream, Thomas was so happy.

“By Hermes' Sandals! Anxiety! Your eyeshadow!” Roman exclaimed. He'd heard his fellow side’s uncontainable  excitement and had looked up, unable to pass up the chance to see the closed off side smile. He had not been ready for this. The layer of white foundation seemed to be less thick revealing it was hiding freckles underneath. That was not the most important part though. The usually black, smudged eyeshadow was brilliant and sparkly and a royal purple.

Anxiety blushed upon being caught but didn’t really stop smiling.

“Yeah, that happens when Thomas gets really excited. Don't make it a big deal,” he shrugged. Roman nodded, understanding that Anxiety meant to ask him not to mention it to the others.

He felt a sense of accomplishment well up inside him. Surely Anxiety had known there was a good chance Thomas would get excited upon seeing the responses to the skit. If he wanted it to be a secret he could've excused himself and hid in his room until the effect wore off. But he hadn't. He'd stayed and taken the risk of being seen. Roman wondered what he’d said or done to make the hooded man want to open up like that. Maybe he’ll ask, some other time.

“Anyway, good job Roman. Seems you’re stuck with me,” Virgil winked as he got up, pulling his hood over his face so he could hide his state until he got to his room.

“Princey , is stuck with the hooded fiend,” Roman corrected. “but I don’t think he minds. And neither do I,” he added while he basked in the glow of the complement.

Virgil felt his smile widen just a bit as he saw how happy Roman was with all this.

Once you gave him a chance he wasn't that annoying.

Virgil had found himself going from wanting someone to not hate him, to wanting Roman to like him over the course of their conversation. Their truce had been tense and awkward up until now. But even so, it had been going surprisingly well. Virgil could tell Roman was looking out for him. By distracting the others when Virgil felt cornered by example. And Virgil had tried to help Princey out as well. Making him go to bed, trying to push Thomas towards creating more content and trying his hardest not to be too, well, mean about actually posting it. And when he sensed Roman was getting overwhelmed by the spotlight he took the attention away from him too.

And now he had shown Roman that he was right. There was more to him than just anxiety. Sometimes he was bright, bouncy and sparkling excitement.

“It suits you by the way,” Roman added, janking Virgil back to the present.

Virgil froze for a second finding he had his hand on the door handle. “Um… thanks, see ya later,” he muttered before rushing out.

He was about to enter his room when he heard someone else call out to him.

“Anxiety kiddo, are you and Roman finished?” The question was friendly enough in and of itself, but as always Patton sounded tense when talking to him which set Virgil on edge. He wasn't that scary right? What did he do to make Patton so scared to be around him?

Sure he was trying to make them keep some distance. But he was going for cautious, not this.

He didn't know what he'd done and he wasn't willing to risk repeating it, so he kept was careful about keeping enough distance between himself and the resident dad as a rule. Now he had an extra reason though.

Virgil nodded, not looking up. Patton's precense might make him nervous in a less fun way, but a comment that called his character adorable flashed through his mind and set loose another swarm of butterflies. Easily overpowering the unease in the hallway. He was definitely still sparkly.

And if Patton saw, he'd ask about it. And Virgil would have to explain, trapping both of them in this conversation far longer than either wanted. Worse what if seeing evidence of a less broody side of him made Patton feel like he had to make an effort? He'd already managed to make Princey feel like he had to be kind to him. And sure that might be turning into something genuine, but that didn't mean things would work out so well for the others.

Another door opened. “Padre! There you are! I was just about to come looking for you. I had the most marvelous idea!” Virgil chanced a glance at the hallway and saw Roman drag a surprised Patton into his room. The prince locked eyes with him for a second and gave him a reassuring smile and a wink.

Virgil nodded, sending Roman a grateful half-smile, before entering his room.

Virgil had spent mostly all of Thomas' happiest moments in his room. Partly to hide his secret, first from J and Rem who'd probably tease him about it, and now from  Thomas' golden three who would never take him serious again if they knew. Or well, two of them, Roman knew now…

Anyway, there was another reason. His room was very nice to be in when excitement dominated Virgil's functions.

It was the same, but lighter. The curtains were open, the clock was no longer a maddening reminder of the never ceasing passage of time, and the spider webs sparkled with dewdrops. Virgil took in a deep breath, even the air was more breathable.

What was it he wanted to scream about again?

Right.

He let himself belly flop onto his bed and screamed.

The fanders liked it! And more importantly, Roman might actually be his fried now. He could relate to the villain character right now. Were they friends? They had each other’s back, had bonded over common interests, shared a secret…

Would Roman consider them friends?

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself due to the butterflies. But it was definitely going that way.

Virgil turned around in his bed and looked up at the ceiling with a smile.

This was different than with Janus and Remus. They’d grown up together, they had to tolerate each other. But this was… Some sort of proof that he was likable. Roman didn’t have to hang out with him. He’d seen something in him and chosen to give him a chance.

He didn’t have to complement him, but he did and he didn’t turn it on himself right away as he tended to do.

Remus and Janus were… They just tended to trigger him more often than not. Not on purpose, he knew that, but he’d started having his meals upstairs for a reason.

He shook of that thought. It wasn’t important, he’d catch up with them later today or something. He was sure they’d have some things to say about the video. Maybe some of them would even be genuinely nice.

He smiled to himself. Look at him being optimistic.

Chapter 3: Green eyed jealousy

He was curious though, what he’d find around the river bend.

@selenechris

[ohscorbus]

I went to the Slytherin Celebration at the WB Studio Tour because I’ve always wanted to see the Slytherin common room and it’s finally on display for the first time! I’m posting these here for reference. I picture and write the boys hanging out in the common room a lot so it’s great to have more visuals.

But for the record, I’m not saying any of this is ‘canon’. I’m a Cursed Child fan so naturally I hate that debate! I’m just saying this is what I base my headcanons off when I talk about their common room. I grew up with the books and the films so this is how I’ll always visualise Hogwarts. Whether that’s right or wrong, I don’t care. I just thought someone might find this interesting or parts of it would be useful if we share similar ideas. I stood in front of this set and was inspired. It’s such a cool set. I simply wanted to share that : )

Observations/more photos/Scorbus thoughts under the cut:

Obviously this set is from 1992, twenty five years before Albus and Scorpius get there so this is irrelevant to them, but can we talk about walnuts being the choice of communal snack? Or does someone just have a serious obsession because that’s a huge bowl full. Either way, I’m slightly concerned for those Slytherins with allergies as the empty shells were scattered on all the surfaces surrounding the sofas. But back to Albus and Scorpius, what if this is a Slytherin thing that has continued? I wonder what they make of it. Do they like them? Or do they just get annoyed when people leave rubbish all over the place? Like the empty chocolate frog packet on the footstool and the used cups everywhere. Albus might be used to sharing space but Scorpius isn’t.

I know it’s suppose to look like it feels cold and damp but I was shocked that all the stone walls had very visible water marks running down them. I mean, there’s feeling cold and then there’s serious health hazards but hey, it’s Hogwarts! I guess that would explain the need for the huge fireplace. It’s definitely bigger than the Gryffindor one. First years would literally be able to walk right into it without ducking. Again, slightly concerning... And who is responsible for keeping the fire going? Do the students do it since the logs are right there? I’m picturing a miserable Albus repeatedly getting splinters but putting up with it because he needs to stay warm.

The cushions! I don’t know why I was surprised by the amount or how clearly used they all were. They made the room look comfy and lived in. I could imagine the boys snagging a couple of cushions (or even having favourite ones) before settling down to do homework.

The skull above the fireplace doesn’t have a plaque so I wonder if their identity is verbally passed down to new Slytherins or whether its origins have just been lost over time. If so, I can see Albus making up a name for them. I bet it’s purposely ridiculous to antagonise Scorpius who then scours the library for weeks looking for their real name because they can’t possibly be called that. When he comes up with nothing, I hope he writes to his parents and they both give him two different names. His reaction as he reads the letter over breakfast is priceless. It’s one of Albus’s favourite memories from first year.

Here’s a scaled model of the common room. It makes you realise just how tall this space is. I wasn’t expecting that since it’s not in a tower. Although it is described as ‘cavernous’ and ‘as if it was carved out of solid rock’ so I don’t know why I was surprised it was so impressive.

I was really geeking out over this model. It’s incredible that they made that and from it, made this....

Like I said before, I think I’ll always visualise Hogwarts pretty much as it is in the films. Although I have to admit, whenever I picture the boys in the common room I imagine it much warmer and softer than it’s made out to be. (I don’t think I like the idea of them somewhere cold so I subconsciously fix it?) Although maybe to those who live there for seven years, it is? Maybe to them it is cosy and exactly what they need after a full day of classes. The darker, underwater tones aren’t warm but they are very peaceful. Combine that with the cushions, rugs, tapestries, throws... I think this place is only as gloomy as you let it be. Which probably doesn’t help Albus in those first few years as it looks like it could calm you just as easily as it could reflect your negative mood and prolong it. Or worsen it. Can anyone else picture Albus sat alone against the cold stone as he mentally spirals into a bad place? (Fear not, Scorpius will be along shortly with some chocolate.)

Anyway. I think I’ll end this with my favourite piece of concept art from the films. I never see this one around online but it’s beautiful. I love how the light from the lake streams into the room. It makes it look less like a castle and more like a cathedral. I bet it even blew Albus away the first time he walked in. But I guess that’s what they were going for when they deliberately chose a different style of architecture from the rest of the castle. It really must be like escaping the school for a little bit. Hopefully Albus does feel that too.

Although talking of the windows, I always write about the boys sitting by them and looking out into the lake. I love the idea of them doing that! And yet the windows are all up so high. But I guess it isn’t surprising that appearance was more important to its founder than his student’s entertainment. Still, I like to think there’s at least one window that’s lower down for them to look through. If not, I absolutely believe the windows in the dormitory rooms are. You’ll never convince me that Scorpius doesn’t fall asleep looking out the window next to his bed, still believing this school is everything he dreamed it would be. Despite all the bullies. They can damage his property and call him names but they’ll never take this away from him.

[hannie-dul-set]

when jaehyun said he was picking you up to go somewhere, you didn't exactly expect to be found in the middle of nowhere. trees were lining the field from a faraway distance and the tall grasses sunk from underneath you. the two of you were leaning against the side of his car on top of a hill on god knows where with no one else but the stars, the moon, and the both of you.

"drinking wine straight out of the bottle— aren't you a classy man?"

a laugh reverberated from jaehyun's throat and he looked at you under the solace of the inky night sky. "let me have my moments, miss y/n."

you sat beside him on the grassy clearing, lightly playing with one of his hands and you looked up to him, only to see downcast drenching his pretty features. letting go of his hand, you sighed and sat up straight, stirring confusion from the male.

"alright, mr. jung," you narrowed your eyes at him. "what's going on in your head? why are you being all sad?" 

he let out a huff of air, lips upturned into a semi-forced smile as he gently took your hand back into his, lacing his fingers into yours. "is it that obvious?"

"you're transparent, jaehyun."

sighing, he adjusted his position and took another swig at the hard drink. "you know how overboard some girls may get around me, right?"

"i've witnessed first hand during your party," you laugh, remembering how panicked he looked during that time. "it was a pitiful sight."

"it wasn't pitiful."

the words left like a soft whine from his lips and you continued to tease him, saying that he looked like a small mouse (ironic, considering his stature) being fought over by a group of wild cats, much to his displeasure.

"anyways," he coughed out, a light wash of pink dousing his cheeks, both from your previous joking and the slight chill of the night's wind. "there's this one girl named seonha— i've never told you about her— and, uh, i wouldn't say she's obsessed with me, but—"

"she's obsessed with you?"

you finished, quirking your brow at him and he hesitantly nodded. "yes, you can say that."

"hm," you hummed. "why, what'd she do?"

"a lot of things," he sighed. "her family is closely knitted with mine so i'd met here during one of their charity auctions. since then, she wouldn't stop following me around— in my office building, when i'm out with mark and johnny. hell, even when i'm out of the country."

jaehyun's exasperation ran through his voice as he continued to tell you about the girl.

"she'd even stir up dating rumors about us two which is messed up all on its own. you could argue that at least there's only one of them bothering me, but it's like selling off a few floods for one gigantic storm," the now empty wine bottle was long forgotten on the ground. jaehyun went on with his rant, raking his free hand into his hair. "johnny and mark had told me to file a restraining order, but that wouldn't do anything considering their family's influence, so i have no choice but to deal with her."

the light chirping of crickets amplified the depth of the evening. you guessed it was already around ten, maybe even later than that. it crossed your mind for a short moment that you had work tomorrow, but that thought quickly diminished into thin air.

"has she still been bothering you lately? i don't think i noticed her around you before," you asked, moving your head away to look at him. his hair was in a slight mess and he was slightly tinged pink. yet underneath the glow of the moonlight, he was still as tantalizing as the nighttime sky.

"she's been on a trip to italy these past few months," he softly replied, gazing down at you like your very own moon. "but she's also been texting me nonstop so that's something."

"well, at least she's not here right now."

"about that," jaehyun enunciated. "she's coming back here in a week."

you went silent and jaehyun could feel his heartbeat slowly but surely rising. were you upset that he'd just told you now? did knowing about seonha bother you? it's not easy for jaehyun to read people's emotions— he'd always been lacking with that category. the longer your silence, the tighter his chest got.

"will you be okay?"

like a sudden breath of warmth, your voice pierced through him and suddenly he can breathe again.

"do i have to protect you like last time?"

the teasing tone in your voice relieved him but at the same time it caused him to glare at you, feigning fake offense and you laughed at him. at least he knew you're not upset.

"i'll be fine, you don't have to worry," he said, giving you a smile of assurance. you detached your hand from his and decided to scoot closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder and he naturally found his arm around your waist. "but, enough about that— how was your day, miss y/n?"

"you don't wanna hear about my day. it's as boring as it could get," you reasoned, letting out a small yawn afterwards.

"i do want to hear," he pressed. "i don't mind if it's boring or not. i like listening to you speak."

he caught you off guard with that, to say the least, and you quickly snapped your head to face him. your mind concluded that it was a fatal mistake to do that since now your faces are mere centimeters apart, noses nearly touching. the cold air that was once biting at your skin was suddenly deemed nonexistent due to the sudden rising of the heat.

"a—alright," you stammered, diverting your attention to the sky instead. "if you fall asleep listening, then don't say i didn't warn you, jaehyun."

and so you went on about your day. starting from how you almost got late to your first job because jungwoo and donghyuck thought it was a good idea to barge into your house at four in the morning for a sudden non-sleepover sleepover. then you told him about the adorably gigantic dog you spotted while you were headed for lunch. and now you were talking about one annoying customer you had earlier in the bakery.

"there were five other people in line after her, but apparently getting her blueberry muffin to exactly a hundred-ninety degrees fahrenheit was much more important," you groaned, dropping your head back against the steel of the car. "and of course, i went and reheated one damned muffin just so she would stop complaining."

jaehyun swore he was listening to you. he was attentive— very attentive, and paid the utmost attention to any changes on your features— the way brows bunched up whenever you stop to think for a moment, the way your cheeks were slightly flushed and how you tried to hide it with your hair, the way your lips enunciated each vowel and each consonant and—

fucking hell, your lips.

halfway through your muffin story, his ears were suddenly muffled, his surroundings were a blur, and all he could think about was how your lips would feel against his.

"hyuck always tells me that i'm a bit of a pushover sometimes, and i'm starting to think he's right."

he could hear his heart ringing against his ears. you paused for a moment, sinking your teeth over the plush of your lip in the midst of thought and jaehyun felt like he was being driven into a dangerous corner. 

"do you think i'm a pushover, jae?" your head jolted to face jaehyun and his breath was suddenly caught inside his throat along with the sudden thoughts of you overlapping with more thoughts of you, bringing his mind to a combustible state of disarray. "jaehyun? you alright there?"

"oh— um, sorry," he coughed out. "i got a bit distracted, uh, what— what were you saying?"

his fluster was not only demonstrated by the cracks in his voice, but also by the way his cheeks were flaring scarlet and how he refused to look at you.

"distracted by what exactly?" you questioned.

jaehyun was a smart man. having graduated earlier than his peers and landing such a respectable spot in the company at a young age, you'd think he'd be articulate in every situation thrown at him, but somehow he found himself tripping over his own words."will— will i sound stupid if i say i got distracted by you?" 

oh my god.

"no no," you laughed, your heart suddenly caged inside an untamed whirlwind. you gently moved your left hand over his face, making him look into you. giddiness tugged at your cheeks, releasing an uncontrollable smile. "it's not stupid at all."

a simultaneous burst of dizzying bliss ruptured between the both of you— coming in the form of the identical beams on both of your faces, staring into each others' eyes as if the moon wasn't the brightest thing in the night.

and somehow, under the spectacle of a million stars,

you kissed.

it hadn't dawned on you that you'd waited for this moment to happen until it actually did. soft lips brushing against yours, rousing an unspeakable rush of heat. it was gentle at first— like the light tremors on the sea until the waves suddenly crashed onto you. his parted lips incessant against yours, leaving you in a buzz and on the brink of gasping for air.

until you felt him stop, abruptly pulling away from you with guilt ridden eyes.

"jae? is everything alright?"

"y/n, i— i'm sorry."

in the midst of your shared kiss, jaehyun realized something. and he couldn't bear the thought of it.

he had realized that he was in love with you.

so, so in love with you.

"i can't— i can't do this to you, y/n."

you felt a lump in your throat and you stared at him, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. was there something wrong— did you do something wrong? everything felt normal until now, everything felt right. but as you looked at him with tears threatening to spill, you'd thought that maybe none of this was right in the first place.

and maybe jaehyun had realized that, too.

"oh," you sucked in a breath, avoiding eye contact with him, and stumbled to get up from the ground. "right, of course. it— it would be damaging to your reputation if you're with me."

the icy breath of the air hit your face once you managed to stand up, the cold flooding your senses once more. "we both know that this wouldn't work out," you gazed down at him, only to see the glass stained heaviness in his eyes and you nearly broke down. turning your back at him, you swallowed, closing your eyes for a brief moment before choking out,

"i— i should go—"

"y/n, i love you."

you froze. everything froze. 

"my reputation, my image— god, all of those disappear when i'm with you," jaehyun's trembling voice seeped into every corner of your mind, restricting the air from coming into your lungs. "i'm… i'm not an expert when it comes to this but there is no denying that i am in love with you, y/n."

slowly, you went back to face him. jaehyun stood there, bearing his heart to you. the wind brushing against his hair as he looked at you with mist in glazing over his eyes. it was hard to not just run into his arms, telling him that you were also stupidly in love with him, but you held your words back, waiting for him to finish.

"but... with my job and everything," he stutters out. "i—i won't be able to dedicate all of my time to you, i won't be able to take care of you like i should, i—

i can't make you happy, y/n"

"but you already do."

there was a strong gust, breathing against your skin. you felt your heart drop to your knees, a constricting grasp replacing it in your chest as you felt the tears well up even more like a dam itching to break.

"do you think i don't know that? yes, i know you're busy— i know you have a shit ton of responsibilities to the point where you'd probably suffocate from them, and—and i know that sometimes finding time to have a single fucking conversation with you is sometimes impossible," your breath hitched, nearly choking over your own words but you went on. "but that has never stopped you from making me feel happy, jae. because even a single second spent with you can make make me happier than the rest of my life combined, so don't ever say that you can't make me happy because for fuck's sake— jung jaehyun, 

i'm at my happiest when i'm with you."

silence flooded. your breathing was scattered after all the things that you said, chest rising and falling in a repeated rhythm. jaehyun says nothing, only looking at you with an unidentifiable glimmer of heaviness in his face as he slowly walked towards you, closing in the space between you until it was practically insignificant. you could hear his heart beating.

he brings your face into his hands, not even realizing that you were crying until he gently wipes away the tears streaming down your cheeks. you look into him, his eyes pooling with oceans and oceans of emotions.

"i'm at my happiest when i'm with you, too."

a second kiss was shared that night— with a million stars watching over you.

gold painted canvas

the classic rich boy and poor girl love story but with less prejudice and more happiness

28 // make you happy

a/n: woah it took nearly 30 parts but at least it happened ;)) this took three days of utter procrastination but i hope you liked it jhhxjsjsjs

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[infinitejestislit]

James Orin Incandenza and Abed Nadir: some Highly Interesting Similarities

First off, and most obviously, they're both strange and misunderstood filmmakers who use filmmaking (both in a variety of different genres/styles, btw) as an attempt to communicate with those around them but fail badly in their endeavors for the most part.

Like Abed, JOI is socially awkward, but more in a way that seems like he's on another plane altogether rather than there being something easy to pinpoint (such as someone being just, say, humorless, or romantically awkward, or bad at making friends, or unintentionally obnoxious). 

I guess what I mean is that it's something that seems more fundamental to his general mental processes than mere awkwardness - IIRC Abed was confirmed to be on the autism spectrum and personally, I view James as autistic as well (I'm definitely going to make a separate post about this at some point). In both cases, these social difficulties cause significant family conflict, specifically a father being disappointed in and unable to relate to or understand his son.  

Despite their social difficulties, they both have a certain pride/confidence in their work as filmmakers (often to the point of arrogance or self-indulgence) balanced only by their own self-criticism and insecurities about their art, and are both narcissistically obsessed with perfecting it, sometimes at the cost of other, much more important things like their health and relationships.

Lastly, both JOI and Abed have a single particularly close friend (Lyle and Troy, respectively) who understands/accepts them fully (partly due to being on a similar but by no means identical wavelength). In both cases, this friend is simultaneously less intellectual and more relaxed/chill than them, but is still rather odd and often misunderstood by others. Both relationships are insular to the point of bemusing "outsiders" and can be read into as something other-than-platonic, but remain textually ambiguous.

On top of all that, they're even somewhat visually similar - Abed looks rather like what I imagine a young James Orin Incandenza to look like (well, aside from Abed not being 7 feet tall, but no one is perfect).

I don't know what all of this means, or if there was any influence from Infinite Jest on Abed's character, but I find it pretty interesting - I think that reflecting on one of these characters can actually lead to insights about the other in a way that, in this case, applies in both directions. 

[hoaqins-funk-house]

White

Yandere

Slight AU

Part 1

This floor was lively.

Even so, you had heard all kinds of things about it, most negative. 

Frankly, you didn’t care.

All it was was a stepping stone on your path up the tower.

Compared to the civilians you were walking past, you stuck out like a sore thumb, the large weapon strapped to your back making them shuffle past faster, heads down. 

Again, you didn’t care. 

You had gathered up the information needed to get past this floor before even getting here, learning (albeit briefly; the man telling you it all seemed scared) that it was ruled by an enigmatic man with red facial markings and long, white hair, and that in order to pass the floor, you needed to find seven of something. What that thing was, you didn’t know. Your informant clammed up after that, and you were disappointed to find such a valuable asset as him dead the next morning.

This white-haired man is thorough, that's for sure.

Still… that description. One of your old masters, from when you were still training with various weapons, had the most striking white hair. He didn’t have any red marks, though.

Shaded eyes trace the signs that lined the busy streets, your hat tilted down and your bandana pulled up fully. Your darkly colored, ragged clothes draw attention in the well-lit, colorful street, full of geometric, clean-cut buildings. It didn’t help that you were taller than the general populace, most of them reaching from your chest to your chin. You were only six feet tall.

Looking around, you wonder if you should ask for directions to a hotel. You need to rest after going through the last test, and then you could begin the hunt for the seven items. You also need to figure out what those seven items are.

You spot a small shop on your side of the road, entering and startling the woman at the counter, who seemed to be the owner. 

“Excuse me.” You begin, her giving a wobbly smile as she stares up at you. “Do you know where I can find a hotel?”

She nods, bringing out a map and shakily laying it out in front of you. She points out the various hotels, and after your question about recommendations, she points to one close to the center of the city. 

“It has relatively low prices, and the rooms are comfortable and pretty spacious.” She tells, swallowing her nervousness. 

“I guess I’ll go there, then. Thank you.” You tilt your hat, soon exiting through the hanging bead curtains. 

She stares at your back, her eyes on the weapon before raising to your head, which was topped with a strange three-point hat, a feather slicked back.

The moment a Regular enters this floor, a piece of their soul is taken. They shrink, and grow weaker; it had happened to her a hundred or so years ago, and she knew there was no escape for her.

But, for some reason, you’re fully sized.

Her eyes move to the phone on her counter, soon pressing various buttons and bringing it up to her ear.

“Is this the Vicente unit?” She asks, getting confirmation from the hidden voice. “There’s a regular, one who just arrived. They’re fully sized.”

There was a long pause on the other end, the garbled voice coming back right after. “Describe them; do you know where they’re headed?”

“Yes.”

-

What White was not expecting as he leant on the railing, looking up at the fake, starry sky, was to get an urgent message from the leader of the Vicente unit.

That word- urgent. 

Never had it been used since he created his branches and took over this city, nearing 300 years ago. 

Humming, he enters the building, taking the time to listen to his subordinate’s explanation. His eyes widen.

Fully sized? The only person who is fully sized is him, though if this report is true, not anymore.

“They’re at Shotstar Hotel, huh? Keep them under surveillance; I need to know their motives. Inform everyone in Vicente and Anna unit about them, and make sure they don’t escape your sight. Get Albeda unit to assign their object as the skull.” 

“Of course, sir. I’ll inform them right away.”

“The first representative will be from Anna unit.”

White hangs up right after, looking back out the window at the city that seemed to glow, streets bustling with life- and an anomaly. He would’ve noticed when he consumed a piece of a new soul, but that hadn’t occurred. 

This mystery person… how strange. 

To escape his soul-scraping, without even noticing it was happening?

They must be extraordinary. 

-

Lying in the bed, on top of the sheets, the only thing you had removed was your shoes, your satchels, and the intricate-looking weapon that now leant against the nightstand to your side. You sigh, arms supporting your head as you tilt your hat down, covering your eyes.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to remove the items of clothing protecting your identity; your privacy was important to you and the camera hidden in the room's light was easily spotted. You couldn’t take it down, or else you would risk being more in the spotlight than you already were, what with your standoffish appearance and large size in comparison to the people on this floor.

You grab the hilt of the sword as a sudden knock breaks through your thoughts, soon calming as you realize what it is. 

Standing up, you walk over to the door, opening it and revealing a pink-haired man, holding a bag. “Sorry to interrupt, but you are a Regular, yes?” You nod in response to his question, watching passively as he holds out the bag. It was somewhat large, looking to be around the size of a cantaloupe. 

You take it, him bowing. “That bag has the instructions for this floor’s test. Please read them carefully. There isn’t a time limit on this test, but it’s one of the most challenging in the tower, even for those with exceptional strength.”

“Okay. Thanks.” 

He begins to walk away, red eyes gleaming as you close the door, walking back to the bag and opening it. Your eyebrows raise. 

A human skull sat inside, missing its jaw with a paper sticking out of its eye.

Humming, you pick it up out of the bag, unfolding the paper to read over it. 

‘Your assigned object is the [skull].’ The note reads, a picture of the skull next to it. The last word had clearly been stamped on.

 ‘This test is similar to a scavenger hunt, where you look for the other six of your assigned item. Each item has its own distinct rules. The entire city is this test’s grounds.’

 The next part was handwritten, not just the copy-paste text that filled the intro. ‘The skull is the most difficult of the items to get. Your targets will be wearing a pure white jacket with a red embroidered skull, and in order to receive the other six skulls, you must kill them. The fight will not count unless you or your target calls it. Good luck.’

The note was signed with the name Albeda, also stamped on.

You sigh, placing the skull and note in one of your satchels before turning off the lights and laying down once more. You’d start tomorrow.

-

Walking the streets, your eyes scrape the blue sky, puffy clouds lazily floating past. 

Even with your bandana, you can smell something tasty. You hadn’t eaten anything in a while, so you glance around the street, seeing the small stall that was emitting the attractive scent. Dodging around perturbed civilians, you enter the stall, pushing aside the flaps before they could hit your face. Bells ring, the tassels holding them attached to the corners of the flaps.

“Welcome-oh, hello.” The man working the stall stammers as he sees you, soon calming down as you sit down silently, looking over the menu. 

“I’ll have an order of this, and this.” You say, gesturing to the words. The man smiles fakely, nodding. 

“Of course, coming right up.”

The few minutes after you had paid were filled with you thinking of a plan. The man hands you your food, you quietly thanking him before pulling down your bandana and beginning to eat. 

You glance back as the bells ring, finishing your meal and quickly pulling up your bandana.

The person sits down, leaving a seat empty between you. 

Your eyes widen as you look at him, the stall owner greeting him before letting him look at the menu.

You stand, placing a hand on his shoulder, covered in a white jacket. 

“Excuse me. I believe you to be my target?” 

He turns his head, revealing half-lidded eyes of a striking blue. His black hair was slicked back, and his navy suit was beneath the embroidered jacket.

“Of course. Let me eat first, though. Supportin’ businesses is a major factor in my unit’s work.” He smiles at the stall owner, who seems to realize that he isn’t just a normal patron.

He orders, and you sit back down, placing your head against the booth. 

Who would’ve guessed that your first (technically second) item would show up without you even looking?

After a few more minutes of you mulling over whether or not it was a good or bad thing this guy showed up out of nowhere, you lift your head at his satisfied sigh, him smiling at you before placing sunglasses on his crooked nose, clearly having been broken a few times.

“Let’s go to a less populated area; we wouldn't want to hurt the peoples, now would we?”

You hum, following after him as he ducked into alleys and traversed the maze-like paths with ease and confidence. 

“Say, that weapon of yours… it’s mighty strange for a fisherman to use something as large and clunky lookin’ as that.” 

“It’s a specialty of my family.” 

“Do they make or wield ‘em? That ain’t like any weapon I’ve seen before.”

“Both.”

“Such strange weapons ‘ould be the talk of the tower… what’s your family’s name?”

“I won’t tell.”

“Damn, it’s like I’m talkin’ to a wall… have some life, wouldja?” He complains, you shrugging.

“I don’t doubt we’re being listened to. Why would I reveal something like that? I just want to finish this test and continue up the tower.”

He laughs at that as you enter a flat area of concrete, looking like a basketball court without the baskets. 

“Y’see, there’s a reason people talk so badly about this floor.” He grins, pointing to the other side of the slab, where you walk to. “No one has left after they entered. They can’t go back to the previous floors because they’re incomplete, and they can’t beat the test because of their weakness.”

“Incomplete?” You ask, him laughing again. 

“Well, of course you wouldn’t know. You’re still whole!” His cackles echo a bit, you deciding not to question things further. If you were the only whole one, it meant that you were the only one who could complete the test. Everyone else was trapped, and honestly…

You didn’t care.

“Still, let’s begin, yeah?”

You nod, him grinning wider. “I am Cerro, representative of the Anna unit, also known as the Business unit! You must kill me to claim my skull, and continue your hunt.”

You hum lowly, drawing your blade from its folded, wooden sheath. One foot was in front of the other, toes pointing at Cerro. You watch with cold eyes as he claps his hands. “Let’s begin!”

He bolts forward, faster than you were expecting.

He must be a scout.

He turns on his heel as he whips his arm around, aiming for your face with a short needle. “You’re so damn mysterious!” He shouts, you blocking his attack and waiting to see his next action. As he struggles to slash your face, you drop, sweeping his leg and watching as he flips backwards, landing smoothly.

“Won’t you attack? Come after me!” He prods, throwing the needle with deadly accuracy. You block it, watching as he whips it back by the cord that went from his arm to the bottom of the needle. 

He can use short and long range attacks, and is quite fast.

You block a surprise kick to your side with a grunt, continuing to observe the man as he runs around, never letting you see his exact location. The kicks and slashes keep coming, you blocking them all and not moving from your spot until he appears behind you, you turning in time to block the heavy kick, but not without sliding back a meter or so. 

“Come on! Attack me!” He shouts, irritated. 

You hum, looking up at him with gleaming eyes. 

You had spent the time analyzing his pattern, how often he kicks, how often he slashes, how long it takes for him to recover after each failed attack hit your blade and sent shockwaves through his arms and legs. 

“Now, I know your pattern.” Pointing the sword at the shocked man, he shakes his head.

“Pattern?! I attack at random, there is no pattern!”

“There is, I can assure you that.”

He growls, running around again, speeding up as he grows more and more irritated. 

After a few moments, he leaps into the air, needle aimed at the back of your neck. His wicked grin falls as he watches you slam the hilt of your sword into the folded wooden sheath, spinning around as the sheath unfurls into a full, at least six foot long, grip, fully changing your sword into a scythe. Now facing the man as he rapidly approached you, you slash the scythe, hooking him. 

For a brief moment, he thought that he had won, seeing as he was still falling at you, and your blade was behind him.

Soon, his reality hit him.

You twist to the side, bringing the blade along with you.

He was ripped in half with ease, mouth agape as blood poured out of both halves, more of the crimson escaping his jaws. It splatters everywhere, covering the ground and you, much to your annoyance.

He watches as you whip the sheath closed, placing it on your back once more and sheathing your sword.

“How… so easily…”

You shrug. “I spent over 400 years training with different styles. It’s not that you’re weak.”

His sunglasses had fallen off as he watched you wait, looking around. 

As you said, it’s not that he was weak, no, he hadn’t lost in the 200 years he had been Anna unit’s representative, but rather that you…

You are strong. Much too strong.

There’s no way someone like you didn’t get chosen earlier on.

His eyes close soon after, feeling his last breath escape him.

You turn to him as he finally slips away, watching as a mark appears on his forehead, the diamond shape soon burning away his skin and muscle, stopping at the neck as his skull rolls to the side. You pick up the skull, leaving the jaw behind and placing it in your satchel, next to the other one.

You stretch.

Five more to go.

-

White stares at his screen, a desire to fight coursing through him as he watches you walk off. 

There were cameras everywhere, and with the Vicente unit’s help, there was no problem in finding you. 

He leans back, humming, a wide grin on his face.

Watching you kill one of his stronger men… 

It excited him. 

He, of course, already knows you will be the source of discourse. First, the soul-scraping doesn't work, and now, how easily one of his higher-ranked men fell. His men were already speaking of you, but now that you’ve killed Cerro?

You would be known across the city.

He grins, watching as your silhouette disappears into the alley.  “Ah, mysterious stranger… what an alluring sense of power.”

And, strangely enough, a familiar one. 

His eyes trace unrecognizable shapes into the ceiling as he leans back, thinking. 

Had he ever been around someone like this new arrival? 

He hums, narrowing down his scope. 

It would’ve had to be before he was chosen to climb, before he became a regular. 

When he was training.

Wait…

When he was training!

He grabs his phone, quickly calling the head of the Vicente unit. “I need you to find out everything you can about this regular. Identify them. The next representative will be from David unit, send her in six hours.”

“Of course.”

He hangs up quickly, standing and walking over to his window, where he exits onto the balcony, an uncontrollable grin on his face as he stares over the lively city, shaking hands gripping the railing as he holds in an excited laugh.

His trainer had many disciples, but the only one who stood out to him was the one he assumed to be you. You were the only one there not of Arie blood, the only one wielding such an unruly-looking weapon. It was different from this scythe however, being a cane that extended and split into sections, used like a bladed whip. 

You had been there solely to train, but his interest in you never dwindled. You never looked his way, nor had you ever even acknowledged his (or anyone else’s) presence. You were always so interesting, so aloof, so silent, and so strong.

Now, you were even stronger, even if you had begun to speak more, you were pretty much still the same.

He had always wanted to fight you, and with how the last fight went, he could assume he would be able to, soon enough.

He looks over this city, his city, a sense of both danger and ease clashing through his mind.  

There were no rules saying the final boss couldn’t show himself before the battle, and no rules saying he had to disclose his status as a target.

Nothing held him back from finally getting you to see him.

[not-from-the-absence-of-violence]

I exist as I am

it is yet again @jonnitweek time :D 

Day 4 - identity / fluff

Jonnit and their relationship with gender.

Jonnit sat at a table, breakfast among the crew these days was somewhat tense with their new status and the captain's death looming over their shoulders.

Dref didn’t like eating around other people so he had gone and locked himself in his own office to eat, Travis was sitting in front of him, he looked generally annoyed at the world while he ate his breakfast.

Gable arrived a few moments later, having gotten no food for themself as they usually stole from Travis, who always grabbed way too much.

“Hello Jonnit,” they said cheerfully, Jonnit smiled back, then they said “Travis.” who gave them a bleary glare.

They sat down next to him and in practiced familiarity went to grab Travis' mug.

He swatted at their hand like an annoyed cat. “That’s heartroot,” he said pointedly. “Which if you want you are going to have to blend yourself I’m afraid.”

They don’t seem at all surprised by this, just seem annoyed that they will have to get their own drinks later.

Jonnit stares at him, he has heard of heartroot before of course, it’s one of those things that he is aware of but has never actually thought about.

“You drink heartroot?” Jonnit asks in genuine curiosity.

Travis smirks. “Sometimes,” he says, “staying the same for so long would just be dreadfully boring don’t you think?”

Gable shakes their head a little. “I feel like you aren’t explaining this right.”

“Well how would you put it then?”

They seem to pause for a second. “You humans and your gender,” they say, then stare at Jonnit, “I’ve certainly never gotten it.”

And Jonnit thought he did, right up until that point where he wasn’t sure actually. He hadn’t grown up particularly sheltered, there are however things that you just don’t question, corsairs were generally a lot more free, and glamorous, in their expression.

-

“Dref, how does heartroot work?” Jonnit said as he was sitting on a desk in his office as Dref worked methodically to clean some equipment.

“I-It’s not s-something I’m an ex- xpert in b-but,” they say, turning to look at Jonnit, there is a bright slightly nervous energy about the way he kicks his legs, “It’s d-definitely m- magic.”

Jonnit rolled his eyes without malice. “I get that.”

Dref can’t help but smile at him. “I h-have p-ersonally n-never t-taken it.”

“I think i get how it works, i meant more in a,” he said and vaguely waved his arms around, “how do you know you want it, I guess?”

Jonnit seems lost in his thoughts for a moment and Dref wishes he knew better how to verbalize his own feelings, he hasn’t taken heartroot no, this doesn’t mean they don’t understand the anxious curiosity practically radiating from Jonnit.

“N-not everyone who f-feels d-different t-takes heartroot,” they tried. “B-but some p-people feel their b-body doesn’t align w-with who they are.”

Jonnit hummed impatiently. “But how do you know.”

“Experimentation? Often t-there is m-more to ex-xploring g-gender.”

Jonnit seems content with that answer, a small smile on his face as he stares at the wall. “Sure okay.” he flashes a smile at Dref, “Thanks, man.”

“Any t-time.” Dref says and they lapse back into comfortable silence as Jonnit ponders and Dref works.

-

Celebrations are always big on the Uhuru, the sound of music and laughter filling the ship with an almost magical energy.

Jonnit likes parties, the general buzz of fun and movement letting the gentle worry of the life of a corsair fade into the background.

It’s night and Travis is lamenting about it, a coyote on Gable’s lap. Dref comes into the room, they are wearing a floor length skirt and a coat other than his doctor's coat for once.

Gable smiles at him. “Look who pulled out all the stops tonight.”

He blushes and stammers a bit, “T-thank you.”

Jonnit can’t help but stare at it, the fabric looking soft and glittery all the same. “I didn’t know you owned skirts.” he remarks.

“T-they are i-inconvenient for m-most of m-my work,” he says, a bit solemn.

Jonnit nods, a pirate's life was not made for pretty and frilly outfits. Travis grumbles something about being able to wear skirts when she’s human and Gable laughs at him, genly petting her head.

He can’t help but keep staring at Dref’s skirt as they run their fingers through the fabric.

“I p-probably have one f-for y-you,” Dref says suddenly, “if you w-would l-like?”

Jonnit’s eyes go wide and he smiles excitedly, “For real?” he says.

Dref nods.

“Cool! Thank you.” he says, getting up quickly and practically dragging Dref to the door.

Gable and Travis watch them leave as Jonnit bables excitedly, Dref looks at him with a soft smile.

“They grow up so fast.” Travis says mocking at Gable’s incredibly fond look.

“Oh sush,” they say, “you are one to talk.”

-

Jonnit stares at himself in the tall mirror of the captain's quarters, the skirt Dref has given him is a deep blue, with what looks like stars embroidered at the bottom of it. He likes the sensation of it when he spins, the fabric swishing and all the constellations moving with him.

He isn’t sure why he has never worn a skirt before, mostly because it has never been practical maybe, but now he feels warm and happy as he looks in the mirror.

“It s-suits you,” Dref says,

“Yeah!” Jonnit says with glee. “Now let’s go dance.”

He pulls Dref by his arm, who then almost stumbles but quickly follows behind Jonnit, into the mass of dancing skyjacks.

Everyone seems excited to see them, of course they are the heroes of the hour having not so long ago taken down The Civility.

Everyone on the crew is fond of Jonnit, he mingels easily in the crowd and people seem glad to teach him all types of dances he eagerly attempts.

Gable pops in and out, occasionally to Jonnit's delight swinging him around like he weighs nothing. Dref mostly stays at the outskirts, nodding at the pats on the back he gets from the rest of the crew, smiling at Jonnit’s exited demeanor.

"I should wear this more often." He says later, twirling to make the skirt turn with him.

"Y-you can k-keep it," Dref says firmly.

Jonnit looks at him like he has stars in his eyes. "Thank you," he says, and leans in for a hug slowly, so Dref can back out.

Dref melts into the quick hug, holding Jonnit for a second, hoping he gets everything they didn’t get to have.

-

After Buzra Nyth Jonnit still owns the skirt. Dref was right of course, it isn’t very convenient in most situations but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t wear it.

It surprisingly doesn’t feel terrible to wear it, it brings with it only soft memories of Dref, and a nice glow like feeling that Jonnit can’t help but smile at. It’s the comfort Dref would give him, were he still here.

-

There is something about being called “boy” that just doesn’t sit right with Jonnit. He’d imagined it was because of how childish it made him feel, but there is something weirdly specific about the twinge of discomfort that comes with it.

Gable and Travis are listening to him ramble about in, trying to pay attention at this late hour. It is, Jonnit imagines, a bit like a sleepover you would have were they a normal friend group.

Except Travis, who is a snake at the moment, is curled around Gable’s neck, and Gable is nodding along while they idly play with a gun.

“Is girl any better?” Gable tries.

Jonnit grimaces a bit. “It’s not...worse?”

“Let’s just call you child then.” Travis says.

Gable vaguely pushes part of him off their shoulder. “This is important.” they say annoyed. Jonnit can’t help but laugh at them both.

“What about young man?” Gable keeps trying.

“It isn’t bad, doesn’t feel...me?” he says, gesturing vaguely. It was all confusing and not easy to explain.

“Well people don’t need to use gendered anything.” Gable says matter of factly.

“Or everything.” Travis says, and she smiles Jonnit a snakey grin.

As the night goes on Jonnit has a small list written down; he finds he doesn’t mind “son”, but he does prefer “sibling”, he decidedly dislikes “boy” and “man” feels distant, “sir” and “madam” both have a certain status they are excited about achieving someday. It’s almost fun really, repeating small sentences in their brain, imagining scenarios, Travis and Gable both occasionally sleepily adding commentary.

He ends the list with a twice underlined bold. “Captain Kessler.” which leaves him smiling stupidly at the paper.

This is my friend, they are a corsair and their name is Jonnit. He writes down carefully.

“Hey would you guys mind using they pronouns for me occasionally,” they say at the end of the night, feeling a small and unreasonable anxiety in his chest.

Gable smiles excitedly. “Of course!”

Travis lifts her head from where it was buried in Gable's hair. “Welcome to the club, kid.”

Jonnit smiles. “Yeah,” they say, “yeah I guess so.”

-

Jonnit smiles at the scene before him, Margaret had forced them all into what she regarded as a well needed rest after Nordia. So here they were now, cooped up into Dref’s former office, laying on the floor as Margaret did their nails one by one.

It was an activity that required patience, and forced you to sit down and enjoy eachothers company. Occasionally Margaret and Travis took sips from their mugs of heartroot, Travis’ balanced precariously on the edge of a book shelf, Margaret’s safely at her side as she chided Gable for moving too much.

Jonnit clinked their bright freshly polished nails against his own mug, they were a deep blue to match with their skirt and made a soft lovely sound against the ceramic.

Jonnit had, almost shyly, approached Margaret about blending heartroot a while ago, and had been blown away by her level of enthusiasm and knowledge.

So there he was, shakingly holding the tea, which was ever so carefully picked to stop facial hair growth and to make their voice just a little higher. Margaret had gently reminded him that the mix could always be adjusted, people and feelings change after all. It still felt like a big step as he took a small sip, it was sweet and almost floral and warm.

He couldn’t quite contain his giggles, a happy haze falling over them. His three companions turn to him with equal fond looks.

-

Many things happened when Jonnit went back to Akaron, the feelings and slight unresolved tension from when they had left home still hanging around the air and certainly explanations were needed from his sister, who had apparently also left home.

Both Zana and his dad were delighted to see him, embracing them in a group hug so tight Jonnit almost felt he couldn’t breathe.

His nervousness falling away as they entered their childhood home and sat down to have the longest conversation he had had with anything in a while.

There was a lot to digest of course, with both Zana and him retelling their adventures, their destinies, their fears. Jonnit’s gender journey in the end was only one of the many many items in the long list of explanations that night.

Whatever edge of nervousness there was it was worth it for the gentle peace of understanding that washed over all of them having talked.

It was worth the giddiness he got when he overheard Zana talking to a friend of hers.

“Yeah me and my sibling are home for a bit,” she says, “Jonnit? You remember them right?”

It was worth for the hug his father gave them when they left, full of unspeakable emotion.

“I’ll always be here you know,” his father said, blinking back tears, “whatever you do, you always have home to come back to.”

Jonnit was tearing up too “Thanks dad.” he said and added, “You’ll always be welcome on my ship too.”

His dad gave him a wide smile, tears now falling from his eyes as he nudged them towards the Uhuru where Travis and Gable were waiting. “Now go get them, captain Kessler.”

-

“Captain?” his quartermaster said as they slowly entered their quarters, Jonnit nodded at them to speak “Ma’am the crew is awaiting orders. Shall I tell them to get to their battle stations?”

Captain Jonnit Kessler moved away from the window where he was looking at their next target, a red feather ship gilded in gold, one of the last ones in the sky. He couldn’t help but smile, they should be used to this by now but some things never quite stop being a small novelty.

“Yes,” they said, “and tell Gable to come up to my quarters, I would like to see them before the battle.”

The quartermaster nodded, the excitement of upcoming battle clearly in the air. “Yes ma’am.” they said, exaggerating the salute a little.

Jonnit smiled and shook his head. “Well get to it then.” they said, not quite being able to shake the amusement in his voice

“Yes sir!” they say, with a final grin as they leave the room.

And with that Capitain Kessler prepares themself for one of many battles to come, one of the crucial ones that one day make them the best pirate to ever live, the ones that help him one day rule the skies.

[arsonistslut]

Chapter 9: Reminders of Tragedy

"Hey, Jane!"

"Hey, Ingrid! How is my favorite person in the world?"

Jane's girlfriend of a good 9 years now happily walked over and kissed her on the cheek, beaming as she always seemed to do whenever she looked at her lover.

"Amazing now that you're here. Hey, you wanna go to that party Randy's having at his house tomorrow?"

"He's having a party? I didn't figure him the partying type."

"Despite the whole business parents thing, he is a real party animal. Hey, you know what's weird about the party?"

"What is?"

"He invited that Jeff guy there..y'know, that creep with the Conduct Disorder?"

She gestured to the tall, dark clothed young adult that sat alone at a lunch table nearby, playing with a switchblade.

"Hey, I remember him being pretty nice.."

"Remember him? You two date at some point?"

"We did, actually, wayyyy back."

Jane smirked when she saw the look of surprise and pride on Ingrid's face when she realized she guessed right.

"What was he like?"

"He was a sweetheart. Cheesy, but a sweetheart. Hell, even cheesier than me."

"Jane, you've carved our names into multiple trees. There's no out-cheesing that."

"Oh, you wouldn't believe how we met, either. My dad was out mowing the lawn, and he accidentally ran over a rock and it hit Jeff in the head."

"Oof, that sounds bad.."

"I visited him in the hospital with my parents one time, and I will never forget what he said to me as a pick-up line."

"What did he say?"

Jane cleared her throat, before trying her darndest to do an impression of a young Jeff.

"Did you come from heaven? Because you look like an angel!"

Ingrid couldn't help but let out a giggle as she quickly pulled Jane into her arms.

"Aww, that sounds so cute!"

"It was!"

Jeff himself was hearing this conversation from afar, the little tricks he played with his knife not an adequate distraction from the constant reminder of what could've been.

"I don't think he handled our breakup too well..nobody really wanted to treat him as anything other than a freak after his diagnosis went public. One time, I heard him ranting to his brother about how it was hypocritical of the school to do a health topic on depression when they wouldn't stop judging him for his CD."

"Sheesh, it sounds like he's been through a lot..poor kid could use a friend."

"It doesn't really look like he wants any. Liu isn't sitting with him..that's weird, Liu always sits with him."

"Prolly had an argument or something, you know siblings."

"Yeah.."

The day continued without incident, Jeffrey getting home at the same time as usual..yet his mind was not thinking about the party, or school, he was thinking about Jane and Ingrid. Why was Jane so special that she had everything she wanted in life and not him? What crime did he commit that landed him with absent parents, demonization from his peers, and a fucking smile cut into his face? That love, that relationship they had..Jeff came to the conclusion that it was something to be destroyed.

Liu, meanwhile, was..struggling with something. Something he never expected would be a problem in his life. Lately, he began having these thoughts..these violent, awful, intrusive thoughts, thoughts that seemed to be begging to be spoken aloud, the actions they describe seeming to grow more and more appealing as time passed.

Kill Randy.

Maim Keith.

Skin Troy like the cattle he is.

Maybe if he gave the thoughts an identity, they'd be easier to handle, he thought as he thought of a name for these urges..one stood out from the others. Not at all goofy, but not as laughably edgy as the other options.

Chapter 10: Enter Sully

Liu ended up speaking to Sully for the entire night..and even into the morning. When Jeff woke up the next morning, he could already hear Liu downstairs talking with..someone.

"It's sad, really..so concerned about themselves..no time spared for you."

"I-I guess..but they've got more important things to worry about.."

"Child, they do not have a thought in them about you. They're all self centered egomaniacs that would rather get pushed around by a genetic failure of a human rather than do anything about their situation!"

"That's not true, Sully! You're lying!"

A horrible growl soon came from the room.

"We are friends, child! Friends do not lie to each other, do they?"

"I..I guess not..goodbye for now, Sully."

"Where are you going?"

"I..I need some time to think."

Liu got back up, jumping from fear when he saw his brother staring at him.

"Holy shit, Jeff! You scared me!"

"I bet."

Awkward silence soon filled the dining room where they stood.

"Hey, Jeff...?"

"What?"

"I'm..sorry about punching you, and saying all that shit about you. I shouldn't have done that."

"No shit, Sherlock."

The elder brother turned around and began walking back up to his room, but not before his brother called out to him.

"Hey..is there any way I could make things up between us?"

"You could make things up by not betraying my trust again. You're all I've got, Liu..don't pull a Jane and fuck it up for me."

Liu always did question that grudge Jeff held for his ex, after all, he chatted with her in the past, and it always seemed like she genuinely enjoyed what her and Jeff had, and she always felt bad for leaving him like that. Hell, it sounded like it was as painful for her to leave him as it was for him to find out that his girlfriend left him. He was tempted to point that out, but he feared ruining things with his brother again.

"Alright.."

Chapter 11: A Hell of A Party

When Jane and Ingrid rounded the corner home, they found..a disturbing sight. A dead raccoon laying in the middle of the street, it's guts ripped out of it's body and thrown aside, Jeff gleefully pawing through the freshly murdered animal, childishly gawking and giggling over the corpse.

"Hey, Jeffrey! What happened here, what the fuck did you do?!"

Ingrid cried out to the blood-soaked kid, who looked up at her, confusion riddling his bloodied face.

"I killed a raccoon. It's not like anyone's gonna miss it."

"Why, you little-"

Ingrid slapped Jeffrey right across the face, knocking him to the ground as Jane held her girlfriend back and tried to keep the situation from escalating any further.

"What the hell was that for?!"

"You killed a helpless animal, you freak!!"

"I oughta kill you next, you piece of-"

Woods choked on his own spittle as he made his threat, never having been particularly..elegant with his words.

"Oh, really?! I'll kick your teeth down your fucking throat!"

"I swear to God, I'll strangle you with your own fucking intestines!!"

When Jeff reached for his switchblade, Jane panicked and grabbed her lover's hand, running off with her as Woods continued to scream at them.

"Your last words better be some Mark Twain shit, because it's going on your tombstone!! You hear me?!"

That experience was all on Jane's mind as she watched Jeff steadily get more and more wasted by the bonfire outside as time went on, at least, what glimpses she could catch of him when she wasn't busy dancing with the other students. Randy was also outside, reluctantly playing Truth Or Dare with the others as well as his increasingly hot and bothered enemy.

"Ok, Jeff!"

"Whaddup, baby?~"

"Truth or dare?"

"Dare, hit me with the worst ya got!"

"Slow dance with Randy."

"What the-no! I'm straight as a arrow, dude!"

"So is spaghetti until it gets wet~"

"Jeff, never say that again."

"C'mooooon, do the dare, ya pussy~ I don't bite!~"

Woods took his time getting up, but still had enough cognitive function to put on Grover Washington Jr's "Just The Two Of Us", to try and improve the mood, but Randy still wasn't having any of it. In a last ditch effort to try and seduce Randy, Jeffrey just..up and took his shirt off. That'll get things going, right? No, it didn't. Despite some swooning from some of his classmates, Randy himself didn't want any part of this. He was a few drinks deep as well, so in a drunken haze, he grabbed one of the bottles of booze they had, took a running start, and smashed it right over Jeff's head. The problem with that is that they were only a couple feet away from a bonfire, so when Jeff stumbled backward, he fell right into it, the alcohol on his exposed flesh quickly igniting. He quickly burst into flames, screaming and running off as the fire quickly seared his body, every remaining nerve ending he had that wasn't burnt away shocking his body with waves of pain. He could feel his scalp burning up once his hair was scorched away, finally finding solace in a nearby puddle that put out the flames. Jeff could see his life flashing before his eyes..his family, his brother..that was all he could see. As Randy and the other students' screams of horror faded away, Woods silently cursed himself for not doing anything more with his life..a single bloody tear rolled down his face as he shut his eyes for what he believed would be the last time.

Chapter 12: The End Of The Beginning

Suddenly..he was in some sort of void. The ground beneath him was black as pitch, and footsteps began to grow ever closer to him. When Jeff looked to see who was approaching, he found no earthly being waiting for his attention. When he laid his eyes on whatever approached, the previously totally dark void began to turn a sickly red. What stood before him was a monster unlike any other, an otherwordly monster many believed to be a mere tall tale.

HE COMES.

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 13

The Morning After

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, while waiting in Barley for the high-level adventuring party to slay a dragon for them, the party found themselves in the middle of a small apocalypse wherein they had to fight an army of barley-monsters animated by echoes of ambient blood-feud hatred. They handled that just fine, though! Saelhen only almost died.

This time... well, with everything dealt with more or less smoothly, it's time to get back out on the road. This is a pretty short one (because my second vaccine kicked in halfway through and I had to break.)

They'd like to get on the road immediately, if they can- they've got cover of darkness and plenty of distracted and tired villagers under which to, uh, kidnap a child. Only problem is... Vayen has just slipped into drunken unconsciousness, and part of their kidnapping plan was to have him turn Kensa invisible.

But it's fine! Looseleaf has a plan! She's a spirit mage- she can magically heal people's wounds, right? Surely she can handle a little bit of alcohol poisoning! It'll just take a little arcane improvization...

Saelhen du Fishercrown: WELP Looseleaf: i'm drunk too now Benedict I. (GM): Okay, so, what does a critical failure on trying to undrunk Vayen look like...

So Looseleaf's like, okay, just identify the foreign contaminant in his bloodstream and tell it that it wants to get out, right? Ain't nothing can go wrong with that!

What goes wrong with that is that Vayen vomits all over the bar- and what comes out is not vomit. Or alcohol, for that matter. It's some sort of... pitch-black, sticky substance. And he's still not waking up.

Benedict I. (GM): So I think now you quite conclusively have the problem of "Vayen is out cold". You have technically never had a better opportunity to just ditch the guy, I guess! Looseleaf: Yeeeeah, let's, uh, get him upstairs. I think ditchin' him is out of the question right now. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Oh he's way too narratively interesting for that now Boy is stuck in the roller coaster called player curiosity

As they take him up to bed, they- well, of course they go through his pockets. They have to, to find his room key! And if they just happen to find notes written in indecipherable rectangles of opalescent black ink, and a diagram of the circle on Saelhen's bracer- well, that's just unavoidable.

In the morning... well, first I ask them a bunch of suspiciously-detailed questions about exactly how they disposed of the black goo Vayen vomited up, which ratchets up their paranoia a few levels. Turns out they just wiped it up with some old rags and threw them in the trash.

So when he wakes up, and Looseleaf asks him about the black stuff he threw up... well, first, he pulls some of his notes out of his pocket, stares at them in confusion, then panics and demands to know what happened to the goo. On being told, he rushes down to the kitchen, stares horrified at the contents of the trashcan, and then steels himself to begin sucking furiously on the nasty goo rags. He's barely able to suppress his disgust, but apparently this is really important.

So, Vayen's got problems. What else is new?

Well, Kevin's back, and gives them the lowdown on what happened with the dragon:

They set up camp inside the bedroom, using a lead-lined duck hide sort of situation, and waited for the dragon to show up for the scheduled corpse drop with Arnie. When the dragon arrived, they sealed the whole tower in a forcecage, and got to town with "patented methods". The dragon managed to use some sort of magic item, though- a weird straw doll looking thing that they weren't sure about the effect of. They tried burning it, but it didn't seem to help that there was an army of weird plant golems charging the tower and trying to break down the forcecage. Lady Greatholder's maids were just barely able to fend off the attack- one half of the invading forces was strangely more meager, and they were able to concentrate their attacks on the ones attacking from the east. He mentions that if they'd had to deal with just a few more of them, the barrier might've broken and the dragon could've escaped.

So, Doon's been sent off to track down the dragon's lair (and thereby hoard), but the rest are headed back today. As for Arnie...

Benedict I. (GM): The contact, he says, has decided to come quietly. And he says it funny, like he's implying something else. Saelhen du Fishercrown: 3 - INSIGHT (1) Benedict I. (GM): Not sure what, though. Saelhen du Fishercrown: can't read into it! Benedict I. (GM): Yeah, he might've been assuming you knew what he meant- oh well.

Since the Deathseekers are to be their ride back, and sneaking a child onto a "horse" without the high-level adventurers noticing seems... difficult at best, Looseleaf opts for honesty- explaining that "there's a child in this village who has expressed the desire to flee an abusive household", and that Saelhen wants to bring her. Kevin doesn't pry too much into this, and agrees- he probably assumed they'd done their due diligence on that.

The party comes up with a pretty simple plan for getting Kensa out: the town is surrounded by fields of tall barley, which means getting out of town without being seen is just a matter of making it to the fields and going the long way around. Delivering Kensa's letters is similarly pretty easy after some thought- they leave the pile in the care of the general store, to be discovered after they've fled town.

So, they meet up with the Deathseekers, who're all chuffed about their successful dragonslaying. The maids are kind of bandaged up from their scrap with the Justice Echoes, and Arnie is... tied up on Lady Greatholder's back like a backpack, seemingly pleased as punch about his circumstances. What... exactly... do they have planned for him?

Orluthe and Looseleaf offer some magical healing to the maids- who seem relieved and thankful for it, since apparently they've turned down magical healing from John Human. That guy does healing, apparently! There's something intensely unpleasant about it, apparently! Which is unfair, John claims, because "wasps never hurt anyone", apparently.

Also there's a colony of parasitic wasps under the eaves of the tower that wasn't there before, apparently!

Those things being utterly unimportant, the party gets back on the road. And immediately runs into... the forest. Remember the forest? The one with lots of weird identical trees that Looseleaf's spirit-senses determined weren't, like, exactly alive?

After poking the trees and determining that they're not coming to life and attacking anyone, they decide- eh, this can be a problem for later, or perhaps for someone else. The high-level adventurers know about it now, so it'll be fine!

That thing being utterly unimportant, the party gets back on the road. The trip to Cauterdale is pretty uneventful, and on arrival... well. First, Arnie is thrown in jail.

Looseleaf gets some demonsbane seeds from Kevin's garden, and next time... it's time to catch a boat!

[faustrinus]

Non Magical AU, Poet!Remus and Musician!Sirius

Part two! :D

· Sirius spent five hours trying to write the perfect letter. His hand was getting tired, two pens had already stopped working, and tons of not achieved attempts were laying on the floor, making a mess. James had left Sirius alone after the first two hours, not before shouting, “You’re not marrying him yet, calm down!” which made Sirius blush madly at the simple thought of marriage. Definitely too much.

· When he finally had in his hands what he considered the perfect letter he sighed contentedly, admiring his hard work. He did everything he could to make it look good, but like I just happen to be able to write perfectly and express my thoughts without any problem good. He wanted Werewolf to know he cared enough to write a good and thoughtful letter, but he didn’t spend half a lifetime doing it. He couldn’t look that desperate, could he?

· Luckily, after having one of the fanciest educations you could have thanks to his mother (not that she cared, she didn’t, she just wanted Sirius to be good at everything, that was a bare minimum stablished in the house) Sirius was one of these people that had an extremely clear and pretty way of writing. At one time in his life he even wondered in he could charge people to write their letters for them (but decided it wasn’t a good idea after learning that some people exchange some… not so family-friendly letters between each other, specially lovers).

· Well, he found a pretty envelope (that smelled old, and he guessed the poet kind of enjoyed that vibe) and grabbed his keys to go and deliver the letter.

· The whole time he was nervous, and when he came home that night, he couldn’t stop touching his newest tattoo. The guy who wrote what he had in his skin was sending letters to know, he knew. And he liked The Marauders music. He couldn’t stop thinking about, and it took both James and Peter to get him out of his fantasies.

· Okay, Remus. If he was being honest- he was totally overwhelmed by the whole situation. Not only THE Sirius Black had a tattoo of one of his poems, but he also took time from his own performance to talk how much he liked what Remus did in general. And now Remus was waiting for a letter from a hot Rockstar, nothing to be scared of, right?

· He told himself he wouldn’t panic, but when the letter arrived the next day he was pacing around and twisting the envelope carefully, he didn’t want to ruin it. It smelled so nice, like the old books that were collecting dust under his bed.

· When he started reading the letter, his legs threatened to give up, but he took a deep breath and keep reading. Could someone blame him if he was obsessed with Sirius’s calligraphy? It was so beautiful and elegant, so different from Remus’s, that was always messy and with weird shapes. He couldn’t help it- his hands trembled a lot and his pulse wasn’t the best to keep things organized. But it was understandable, and he was okay with it.

· Returning to the letter, right. Remus touched the paper so many times to make sure it was real, searching for any sign hiding behind a dot that Sirius didn’t want to keep messaging him. There wasn’t one, in fact, Sirius ended the letter with a cordial, “I do find myself looking forward to maybe, in one near possibility, keep sending you these letters. I admire you a lot, and getting to know you would be one of the greatest to receive in this life time.” For a Rockstar, he wrote like he was the protagonist of book that ended up with him and his lover being together after defeating all odds. Quite… romantic. And dramatic, Sirius was dramatic.

· Remus ignored his thoughts and read again just to be certain of what he knew now. Sirius wanted to keep in touch, he absolutely loved Remus poems, he didn’t regret at all his tattoo (and he also begged Remus to forgive him in case he found it uncomfortable) and in general he was happy Remus attended the performance. Remus was happy too.

· The following days more letters were exchanged, every single one of them becoming more and more intimate. At first, they didn’t know what to write about- Remus would send poems and thoughts about them, explaining to Sirius his creating process (that he thought it was really boring even though Sirius told him he liked it) and some topics he liked to write about. Sirius sent back some lyrics he had wrote and particularly enjoyed, sometimes mentioning the anecdotes they had behind them. Remus would laugh every time he did this, because, God, Sirius did some stupid and amazing things. There was this one lyric that said (and Remus loved) “And I hope whoever is above forgives me for loving an angel that fell down” and Sirius explained that even when that lyric was quite “deep” he wrote it after seeing a cheap angel statue in a store nearby and then laughing at James who fell down at the entry of the store. Remus loved the lyric even more after the explanation.

· Finally, after three whole weeks of sending letters to each other every day, Remus took all the courage he could and ended his most recent letter with “You can call me Remus, Sirius. That’s my name, and I think is more comfortable than having to refer to me as Werewolf. Still wonder why I chose that nickname.”

· When Sirius read that he literally fell down the couch, eyes wide opened. “James, he told me his name! his real name! he practically revealed his identity to me!” “You two are quite close now, aren’t you? Why don’t you ask him to meet up with someday? You could suggest it. C’mon, I want to know if the guy you are in love with is as handsome as I am- “ “I’m not in love with him- “ “Okay. But you’ll be if he keeps sending you letters that make you smile as big as you’re doing right now. Stop, is scary.” “Shut up.”

· Sirius thought a lot about what James said (when he said a lot, he meant he meditated for like ten minutes and decided it wasn’t that crazy) and wrote down in the next letter, it was shorter than the others he had sent. He was writing the usual, grasping for air just to put in the end, “Remus, I know you feel more comfortable hiding your identity, and I’m happy you decided to tell me your real name. But I was thinking… is just a suggestion, but maybe one day we can get some coffee together? We don’t need to go out in public, but there are some pretty nice and calm places to hang out around here. No one would disturb us if you interested. Think about it.”

· Remus screamed. He was too new to this interest that the vocalist of The Marauders had in him, but he didn’t despise it, he… okay, maybe he was dying to get a date with Sirius, and maybe he had a possibility, but his reflection in the mirror told him otherwise. He was used to look half-dead (he was sure he had broken all the bones in his body at least once, and he got sick quite often), but it was still discouraging to see his lanky figure and think that maybe that wasn’t was Sirius was waiting for.

· Yet, he couldn’t reject the offer by saying “No, I’m sorry, I’m ugly,” (even though he was the only one that thought that), so he nodded to himself and wrote a new letter. A positive answer to what Sirius was asking, he was still unsure on how he could improve the way he looked in some days (or hours, if he had magic or something), but with some effort maybe Sirius would ignore his image.

· Days passed by and Friday came, the day when Sirius and Remus would finally meet in person, or well, Sirius would meet Remus in person. Sirius tried to dress casually, enough to look good but also in a way people wouldn’t think, yeah, that is a Rockstar. He didn’t want anything disturbing the day. He even sent James and Peter to a friend’s house (poor Mary) so in case everything went wrong he could come back to an empty house and he could cry about it and then eat the chocolate cake James brought the other day.

· Remus decided to totally ignore his mirror after fixing his hair a little bit. The more he looked at himself the more self-conscious he would get, and he wasn’t ready to get his day ruined by snarky comments coming out of his own brain. He looked good, he was ready and the day would be awesome.

· Sirius arrived first. He sat down and started tapping the table with his fingers, nervousness taking over him. He had sent the exact address and even the number of the table they would at (and that was important because Sirius chose one that was hiding behind some curtains, and it offered privacy), but he was worried Remus wouldn’t find him.

· A few minutes passed and when he was ready to order a glass of water to entertain himself, someone coughed softly to gain his attention. When he looked up, he was certain that he had forgotten how to talk, because who is this tall and handsome man and why is he sitting right in front of me. That was Remus? He was certainly a lot taller than Sirius expected him to be, and he had scar going across his face. Sirius noticed he also had tons of little ones in his hands, and maybe what he was thinking wasn’t the purest thing on earth, but Remus scars were hot. He was hot. You don’t arrive at a cafe to find that the Poet you have been reading non stop for some time was extremely attractive every day.

· Remus coughed again and Sirius tried to act normal, smiling at him. They were both sitting in front of each other, Remus cracking his knuckles and Sirius still staring at him. Remus was trying not to stare back because this was the first time, he was so close to the vocalist, and he knew he would blush if he did.

· But his mental plan failed when Sirius commented, without any trace of shame, “I like your eyes. They’re pretty,” and Remus melted right there. He laughed out of nervousness and Sirius followed with him, both giggling. “Thanks, I… I’m sorry. Is just that I wasn’t expecting that.” “Is fine. I blurted it out, sorry. I should have asked if you were Remus first, but now that think of it, that would have been stupid since you came directly to this table. And only you knew I was sitting here.”

· After a few more giggles, they ordered what was tempting at the moment (Sirius recommending the best pastries) and started talking a little more comfortably. Remus spoke the most (surprising to even him) and Sirius listened, nodding from time to time. After mumbling a lot of things at the beginning, Sirius showed he was as nervous as Remus was, maybe even more.

· They spoke about everything they could, laughing between stories and taking breaks to change the subject and then come back. They even had to remind themselves to eat because talking was so fun, they forgot the food was waiting for them. Maybe the coffee wasn’t hot, but it was fine. More than fine, the coffee was excellent when the company was making it better.

· Hours passed and they didn’t notice. By the end of the conversation about school and friends, a waitress came to tell them they were going to close. Sirius was startled, how much time had passed? They divided the bill in equal parts (even though Sirius insisted he wanted to pay) and got out of the cafe. Outside was cold and cloudy, and Sirius blushed when he noticed the first thing he thought about was Remus looks cute with his face all red thanks to the cold.

· They both stood outside for some minutes, until Remus spoke, his face hiding behind the scarf he was wearing, “Would you… like to do this again? Because I certainly would.”

· Sirius nodded so fast that Remus laughed loudly, his smile making his freckles shine a little bit and Sirius felt his heart beat a little faster. He didn’t have a type before? Well now he certainly did. And it was Remus.

· “Maybe… Are you free on Wednesday? You could come over to my house. Well, the one I share with James and Peter. You could help me write some lyrics. I’m… a little bit blocked. If you could say it like that, and having you writing lyrics for the group would be amazing.” “I would like that, yes. Would you send me the address?” “Sure! It will be in the next letter.” “Great.”

· They shared a weird but not uncomfortable silence until Remus whispered “Fuck it” and kissed Sirius on the cheek, quickly turning around and walking to his home, “Good night, Sirius.”

· Sirius face went red as it could go, and he only mumbled “Good night, Remus,” when Remus was already a few steps ahead. If the boy had enough courage, he did too, so he wiped his sweaty hands in his jeans and shouted, “Can the next one be on the lips?”

· Remus blushed and laughed loud enough for Siris to hear. He nodded to himself, and he swore he heard Sirius go “Yes! I won, fuckers!” behind him.

None of them could wait until Wednesday.

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Professors and Shortbread

First, Previous (Chap. 18), Ao3

Word count: 2186

Warnings: smoking, swearing, bones (talked about)

Roman woke up to someone violently shaking him.

"Wake up," Remus hissed. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, asshole!"

"What is it?" Roman grumbled, trying to shake Remus' hand off. "Fuck, Remus, it's like three am! We have school tomorrow, you fucking dick."

"Roman, I just realized something! Stop hitting me, this is important!"

Roman groaned and finally sat up.

"What is so important that you have to wake me up at three am on a school night?"

"It's more like four am, but that's beside the point," Remus waved off. "I just realized that Professor Logic is really fucking stupid."

Roman blinked at him exasperatedly.

"Okay," he said after a moment. "Mind if I go back to sleep now?"

"No, this is important! When I called him Mr Logic he complained, saying that he didn't go to school for years to get called Mister. If that's true that would mean that he's actually a Professor!" Remus whisper yelled.

Roman glanced from one side to the other than back to Remus.

"Yeah?"

"There can't be that many Professors in this city right? Especially not that many young, male, tall ones!"

Finally, it dawned on Roman what Remus was saying.

"So... we can try to find out his civilian identity," he mumbled and a wide grin spread over Remus' face.

"Exactly!"

---

Usually, Roman stuck around after rehearsal for a little while, chatted with the other members of the drama club or helped out with something while Remus goofed around with his friends in the club but on this Wednesday he and Remus grabbed their bags as soon as the bell rung and were the first ones out of the door.

They all but ran out all the way back home, almost getting hit by a taxi and earning a few looks and glares on the way.

The elevator ride was way too long in Roman's opinion.

They dropped their bags in their rooms,  Remus got the list he had created of all Professors whose addresses he could find in the phone book or on the internet and Roman put on his 'good kid' mask to ask Ma for a little money, pretending that it was just for him. She gave him a fifty-dollar bill. The money was for the subway and a quick lunch on the go and Roman was pretty sure that it was way more than they would need but better safe than sorry. He wasn't sure how much fast food would cost.

And just a few minutes after they had come home they were already on their way out again.

Most Professors lived downtown or at least near downtown so they first took a train downtown and went to a small Chinese place for lunch (which was a lot cheaper than Roman had expected).

Remus pulled out a map and they began marking down the addresses to see which route would be the best. Roman doubted they could check out all of them in one day but they would do their best  either way.

33 Professors was a lot for one city but Remus guessed it made sense since apparently here in downtown housing was cheap and the university was very close.

The first name on their list was Professor Jacobs.

They sauntered through the streets, using their map as a guide.

The house they ended up in front of was a trashy apartment building with at least five notes at the doorbell signs saying that the bells didn't work.

Roman pressed the Professors bell and turned to Remus.

"I'll do the talking, okay? Cause if we do find Logic I don't want you blurting out the actual we're here."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Sorry, I'm honest."

He didn't really mean it, well aware of how many times he had gotten on trouble for blurting out the truth without thinking.

The door buzzed and the pushed it open.

"Who's there?" an old-sounding voice called and as he looked up through the stairs Remus spotted a man that looked like one of those fivehundred-year-old turtles trying to look down.

"We have the pizza you ordered," Roman called back.

"I didn't order any pizza!"

"Are you sure- Oh, my mistake, sir! I misread the name! I'm terribly sorry, have a nice day!" Roman did his typical Prince Charming smile even though the man couldn't see - It was simply part of the performance - and pushed Remus back out of the door. As soon as it fell shut the smile fell again.

"If that was Logic I'm eating Ma's hats," Remus said.

Roman snorted and Remus' grin widened at the real smile on his brother's face. They were too rare.

"Okay, who's next on the list?" Roman said and Remus crossed Professor Jacobs off.

The next door they rang at was opened by a young woman named Professor Jain who looked like the living embodiment of the muddle-headed professor cliche. Roman asked which apartment someone they had seen on the bell sign an L. Williams lived in, claiming they had found their purse and awkwardly thanked her when she didn't know. Remus glanced at the door across from Prof Jain's that clearly said Williams and tried not to laugh out loud.

They visited Professor Davis and Professor Brown, Professor Price and Morgan and Professor Underweather.

Too old, too fat, too much boob, too brown, too short.

It was around seven pm now and they had had seven flukes which somehow was both too much (because why couldn't they just fucking find that asshole? Remus lit a cigarette in frustration) and too little (because how could they only have stopped by seven people so far? It was already getting too late, goddammit).

"Let's do one more and then go home," Roman yawned.

"So whose last for today?" Remus asked glancing at the list Roman was currently holding.

"Some Professor Youngblood. About as weird a name as Underweather. Good news: it's just a block away."

They walked down the street and Remus watched the smoke from his cig curl and fade into the evening sky. A few times he tried to make rings but he still couldn't figure out how to. Maybe that was just a cartoon thing though he could have sworn to have seen it in live-action movies too. Were there YouTube tutorials on this kind of stuff?

"Here it is," Roman said and Remus blinked back to reality.

They stood in front of a simple townhouse. The most notable thing was the flower bouquet visible in one of the windows that looked like something Patton would make.

"Let's give it a shot," Remus said dropped his cig and extinguished it with his shoe.

They walked up the three steps to the front door and Roman rung the doorbell. It was only one with two names. Youngblood and Youngblood-Smith.

Probably a marriage, Remus thought with distaste and prepared himself for some old dick to open up.

The door swung open and to Remus' surprise, it was a teenager probably even younger than them who leaned against the doorframe and glared at them. His eyeliner was sharper and neater than Remus would be able to make it in a thousand years and his lips were painted in a nice shade of dark purple. Maybe Remus should ask him what brand it was. It looked awesome.

"What do you want?" the boy asked with a scowl.

Remus waited for Roman to answer with some kind of excuse or something.

Roman remained silent.

The boy's glare became darker with every passing moment.

At this rate, he probably wouldn't tell Remus what lipstick he was using.

Annoyed Remus glanced over at Roman to see what the fuck was keeping him from saying anything.

The look on Roman's face almost made him gag.

Roman stared at the boy in front of them like he was the most incredible thing in the world. Like he had put the stars in the sky or was made from pure moonlight or some stupid shit like that. He stared at him as he stared into the air when he had some stupid crush or played some lovestruck idiot. He stared like he was going to start waxing poetry at any second now.

Remus doubted he had even heard the boy speak at all.

So he would have to take the situation into his own hands.

"You don't happen to be Professor Youngblood, do you?" Remus asked.

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Do I look like I'm a fucking Professor? I'm his son, dumbass."

"Is he home?"

"No, not at the moment. What do you want from him?"

The he/him pronouns were a good sign so far and Remus couldn't imagine this guy's dad to be a Doderer. The British accent, on the other hand, wasn't a good sign but Logic could probably cover his accent or something if he really wanted to.

Roman also seemed to finally be back on earth and not on cloud nine.

"We're students of his and we have a question about this homework he gave us," he lied before Remus could say anything.

"You are?" the boy raised his other eyebrow.

"Yes, we are. Do you happen to know if he'll be back soon?"

"Not sure," the boy shrugged. "If it's that important you can come in and wait though. I could also offer you some black tea."

"Really? Yeah, er that would be awe- I mean, that would be nice!" Roman agreed.

"What are your names?" the boy asked as he led them inside. He walked past a door that probably went down to a basement and a staircase up into a small living room.

"I'm Roman," Roman said with a small bow - Jesus fucking Christ was he going fucking insane over this guy?

"And I'm Remus. I'm the good-looking twin, obviously."

The Professor's son chuckled, hiding his mouth behind his hand. "Obviously."

"And what's your name?" Roman sounded like he was asking for a precious gift rather than a fucking name.

"It's Virgil. Do you take milk and sugar in your tea?"

"Milk in tea?" Roman asked confused.

"Yeah, sure!" Remus agreed. Maybe the milk would flake as it did in juice.

Virgil came back with two cups and poured them, giving Roman a little bit of milk anyway, saying that it would be way too strong otherwise and he couldn't allow Roman to drink it pure but somehow Roman didn't complain when Virgil stood over him to pour it in. God, he was being fucking gross and sappy.

Virgil picked up his own cup again and offered them some weird cookies he called shortbread even though they didn't taste like bread at all.

Remus dumped two in his tea - which sadly hadn't flaked - and mushed them around with his spoon.

For a few minutes, it was quiet until Remus got bored with the steady clicking of the clock hanging on the wall behind him.

"So, do you like bones?" he blurted out the first question that came to mind.

Roman looked at him with barely concealed horror but Virgil's dark expression lightened up slightly to both of the twins' surprise.

"I do. It's fun to find them and clean them. I have a few in a cupboard in my room I've found in subways and other places over the years."

"Really?" Remus lit up excitedly. "I collect them too! My favourite is a   near-complete snake skeleton with a rat skull stuck inside!"

"Wow! That sounds so cool!" Virgil didn't quite smile but he wasn't scowling anymore either. "I once found a dog jaw in a quite good conditiion. And I have this really nice possum skull."

"Ooh! Can I see them?" Remus asked bouncing slightly in his seat.

"Sure. Wait here, I'll go get them," Virgil stood up and left the room. Remus could hear him walk upstairs.

"He seems nice," he commented.

"He's beautiful," Roman sighed dreamily.

"Yuck."

"You get to rant about sexy people to me, I get to talk about crushes, that's the deal," Roman reminded him.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, sure. But don't be too gross about it."

They heard Virgil come back downstairs.

He showed Remus the bones and gave him some tips when Remus asked how he had gotten them so clean.

"Oh, jeez it's almost eight. We should probably get going," Roman said after a while. "Maybe we'll get to talk to the Professor some other time."

Virgil seemed to study his face for a few moments.

"Yeah, maybe," he finally said and accompanied them to the door.

"Can I have your number?" Remus asked  holding out his phone. "Then I can send you some pics of my bones and stuff!"

"Sure," Virgil took it and typed something in. "Maybe we'll get the chance to talk again sometime."

The door closed behind them and Roman swirled around to face Remus.

"You got his number?!"

"Yeah, duh."

"That's not fair! Why did he give you his number and not me!"

"Well, I didn't drool over him," Remus shrugged.

Roman pouted the entire way to the train station.

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake

[flightofaqrow]

Meta: Road to Recovery

OKAY SO

Yesterday, @ littleblackqrow made this excellent post about Qrow hitting rock bottom in vol 6, [< that’s a link to it, my blog isn’t always great with identifying that] which breaks down:

Him being forced to literally face the consequences of his actions in regards to drinking.

Him not dealing with frustration or lack of direction well.

The rising tensions of his interpersonal relationships, people starting to lose patience with and call him on his bs, especially as he gets worse.

How important his relationship with Ruby is and not wanting to put that at risk.

Beautiful. The good stuff. Go read it if you haven’t.

But I also present to you another nuance that affected his descent and ultimate decisions: a complete blowout identity crisis. 

This got long so I’m going to try and separate it into phases.

I. Loss of Identity

"I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world. I thought I was finally doing some good." 

When Ozpin’s secret is revealed, Qrow’s reaction is to believe his entire purpose for the last 20+ years was working towards something that was never really a complete plan and probably doomed from the start. None of it mattered: The work STRQ put in. His choosing the opposite side of his own sister. Losing Summer. All the spying, fighting. The whole idea of having huntsman to begin with and all the effort he put in to be one of the best. All of the things he didn’t do instead.

In one fell swoop he loses his whole identity. 

On top of finding out one of his most trusted people not only kept secrets, but lied to him - someone he’s likely stood up for and defended with bared teeth and is now finding out those other people were right.  On top of what is still coming that has to be faced and all the lives in danger.

Ruby is right to be worried he won't take it well. Who would?

II. Rock Bottom

It's why even the apathy scene where he knows he fucked up isn't enough. The whole situation still feels hopeless. He still feels empty. Oh, and let's add on finding out his own hero and inspiration was one of the ones who gave up and ran away. 

[Aside: When they were riding in the cart and Maria said “especially when some of you are clearly stronger already” I’m pretty sure that included Qrow. Look at him through her eyes! A huntsman 40+ who’s dedicated his whole life to the occupation, and even though it’s clearly taken a toll and he struggles, he’s still out there fighting the good fight to the bitter end like you’re supposed to!! She can’t be only talking about the young ones being skilled.]

So rock bottom hits.

But.

But.

"If you think you can keep up with us kids, we’d be happy to have you."

Eventually we have the scene where Ruby stands up to him and offers him a new place at her side.  She’s too smart for her own good. Even if it’s subconscious and intuitively, she knows what he needs. Maria’s still there, too. Still means something to him, and she reinforces this idea, coaxing him to make better choices: 

"Guess you didn't give her enough credit either."

The seed’s been planted, but he's still too stuck in his own head and guilt to see it yet. 

III. Breaking Down and Building Back Up

This finally culminates in his breakdown when the airship abduction plan starts falling apart: 

“Every choice I've ever made has led me here, and I've dragged you along with me. Oz, myself, the others... We're responsible for the mess the world's in now. I shouldn't have come, shouldn't have let any of you come... What was I thinking?!” 

Hopefully, this hits a little bit different now. It’s not just semblance-based guilt or even recognizing his recent failings. It’s everything crashing down around him. Literally every choice he’s made.

But then Ruby absolves him. [wow look at what can happen when you actually talk about stuff.] She steps up as her own person and a full on leader for the group, and finally, finally frees him from everything up until now; even this self-imposed intermediate job of being the responsible adult. And then once more reminds him of who he is and that there is still a fresh start to be his own person. She uses his full name for a reason.

“We could still use Qrow Branwen on our side.”

So he chooses to join the fight. Because of course he does. 

He’s Qrow Branwen. 

The huntsman who does what’s right.

IV. Staying Sober

So when all is said and done, and they’re winding down from the battle, and he goes for a drink, it isn't just not wanting to worry Ruby that stops him. He can’t even see her face. [Although, saying "just don't go giving me heart attacks like that again" aloud does, I think, finally cause the immediate flash of insight / irony that Ruby probably feels the same way about him, and is definitely a factor]. It's not even him confronting or atoning for his actions.

No, this moment is him making the transition from being Oz's spy (when it was all fun and games and he could get away with stuff because he was that good and worked alone), to realizing that if he's going to take on this new role as a committed support for RWBY + ORNJ (in a deadly war with uncertain and changing tactics, against an unkillable being), then, I need to be sharper. I need to be more present. I need to be a better me.

This is him looking right down the mouth of his flask and deciding for himself to leave it in the past with Ozpin and his own former identity, and to instead move forward and grow alongside everyone else.

Yesterday’s post made the beautiful observations of Ruby’s expressions during this scene, but let’s look at Qrow.

[I’m busy having a personal crisis, don’t touch me.]

[Well, I guess it’s okay.]

V. Bonus Round

And let me point out that once more, at the end of the battle, Maria reinforces him, this time by validating his performance in this new standby and support function. [Which is also probably closer to what he was used to being in STRQ, and more comfortable for him.]

“You weren't half bad yourself today, Qrow.”

This is self indulgent but I’M ADDING IT ON BECAUSE THIS SCENE BLOWS MY MIND, OK!! ALL WITHIN 40 SECONDS WE SEE:

Qrow being validated. 

Qrow talking about his feelings.

Qrow accepting a compliment with poise. 

Qrow genuinely relaxing and smiling.

BECAUSE OF MARIA!!!!

VI. Some extra asides

1. I think this all is part of why we see such a spike of bird form in vol 6 as well. Besides just making more sense than other battles maybe, since it’s something at a cliffside and tall forest, it's all he has left at that point. Ozpin and prior orders lost his respect. He lost the group's respect. He's already given the kids all the information he has. He's barely feeling useful as a huntsman. But here [man, the hope and pride in his voice when he says "you're not the only one who can get a bird's eye view" !!], here is this one thing that's special that he can still do and offer that no one else in the group can!! So he relies on it a little more than he normally would just to feel worthwhile.

2. SEE SECTION V - CLOVER YOU ABSOLUTE DOLT. Qrow’s already demonstrated all the things you’re trying to say he needs to work on. HE’S ONLY DEFLECTING AND FLUSTERED BECAUSE IT’S YOU SAYING THE THINGS!!! I don’t understand how the ship isn’t approached more from this direction instead of wanting Clover to be that development for him, but I always tend to handle ships differently I guess.

3. Expanding on that, Clover helped him have a fresh start with a new person to start feeling out this new self, and maybe work through some baggage. But I really think Qrow and this decision is stronger than to relapse much, if any, over the loss of him. I don't think he blames himself as much as some seem to believe either (yet another separate post), but even if he ends up with a bunch of guilt in vol 8, going sober was never about any resolution of his semblance or friend troubles. BUT at the same time stress is still stress so we'll see.

I feel like Nora running out of breath, bless you if you stuck with this the whole way.