#* Editor's note: It thinks all colors are beautiful. That said it is a pretty nice green

[theconceptofkidney]

did yyou know that if you mix yellow and black you get a beautiful* light green?

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone. 

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden. 

Genocide, basically. 

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.  

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara. 

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD 

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart. 

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs! 

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable. 

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story. 

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.) 

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play. 

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR. 

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops. 

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+. 

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots. 

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.) 

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

[fuckyeahjoyoflife]

Since I had a wild time translating this very cute cast Q&A (mostly because of Zhang Ruoyun and Liu Duanduan), you all get notes.  *I’m still a student of Mandarin, so if you notice anything weird/wrong, let me know so I can improve pls :)

00:00:12

Highly favored by all = Beishou enchong (备受恩宠)= to fully experience favor from the emperor/ruler.  Irony given the plot of JoL? Probably so.

00:00:12

Heartthrob = Wanrenmi (万人迷)

Breaking it into parts, gave me:

wanren = a match for ten thousand enemies

mi = crazy about, fan, enthusiast

00:00:19

with a little sister like this, who needs a bike? = 有这样的妹妹还有啥自行车?

I... don’t understand this.  My guess is that they’re just saying that Ruoruo is all Fan Xian needs to succeed, but I could be wrong.

00:00:21

Got hurt just laying here = Tangzhe ye shoushang

Breaking this into parts gives an idiom and another phrase:

Tangzhe ye (躺着也), as in tangzhe ye zhong qiang (躺着也中枪), meaning to get attacked just for being present

Shoushang (受伤) = injured, harmed

00:00:23

plastic brothers = Suliao xiongdi (塑料兄弟)

I think this is in reference to suliao jiemei (塑料姐妹), meaning sisters who diss each other

00:00:44

Yellow = Huangse (黄色)

I have two thoughts about why Zhang Ruoyun changed his answer.

1. Some things I’ve read say that in Mandarin, yellow has the connotation of ‘sexual thoughts’.  I haven’t seen any sources I’d call reputable about this, but then again, why in the states, do some people refer to ‘naughty’ things as being blue?  Regardless, the first option tracks with the little caption the video editors put in there about ZRY being similar to Fan Xian.

2. This isn’t mutually exclusive, but I wonder if he also changed his answer because he was giving away the endgame of season 1.  Yellow is the color emperors wear, after all.  I lean toward both reasons because they didn’t tease Xin Zhilei when she said Duoduo’s character color was yellow, but ymmv.

00:01:35

free of the stress of the world = kanpobushuopo (看破不说破)

Breaking it down gave me another half of an idiom and another phrase:

kanpo = to see reject the world for a monastic life

shuopo = to lay bare secrets, to reveal

00:01:54

Dog’s tail grass = gouweibacao (狗尾巴草)

I initially thought this one was pretty straightforward.  Dog’s tail is a real type of grass.  It can/has been used to make braided hats like the ones used in historical cdramas, so the reference to it seemed to track.  However, then I wondered why he specifically said Dog’s Tail Grass.  The man is an actor not a botanist (presumably? who knows what ZRY does in his spare time), and Xin Zhilei just said grass.  She didn’t bother to get specific.  Then I realized he might have been messing with an idiom:

huliweiba (狐狸尾巴) = the fox’s tail, or the evidence that reveals one’s evil nature. 

And this makes sense later.

00:02:01

a tree that sheds money = yaoqianshu (摇钱树)

Yaoqianshu is an idiom referring to a legendary tree that sheds money when shaken.

00:02:02

A beast that thinks grass looks good, but still eats people = shiren cao zhangde haokan danshi neng chiren (食人草长得好看但是能吃人)

I loved Liu Duanduan before. I love him more now that I know he talks like a person who’s consumed a dictionary.

shiren = a man-eating beast, to oppress the people

cao = grass

zhangde = to look the same, to look pretty

haokan = nice, beautiful, interesting

danshi = but, however

neng = capable of, ability, can

**chiren** is possibly part of the phrase lijiaochiren (礼教吃人) meaning ‘sufferings brought about by Confucian ethics” or it could just be chiren by itself, meaning “exploitative/oppressive

But essentially, what I think LDD is saying is that the second prince identifies with a man-eating beast, to whom grass looks beautiful, but still is capable of would rather exploit and oppress the people.

I sure as hell couldn’t fit all that into a video. 

00:02:40

con artist, pretty boy, poisonous = jinguang (金光) naiyou (奶油), duyao (毒药)

I love ZRY but he is trying to have things both ways in this whole interview lol.

Jinguang could be part of either of two phrases:

jinguanshanshuo (金光闪烁) or jinguangdang （金光党）

The first one means spangle. Yeah. Spangle.  It doesn’t make sense, unless he’s tying the idea of a “bright and shiny spangle” to the next part where he refers to Fan Xian as being a pretty boy. 

Or! He could be calling Fan Xian a con artist, which makes a lot of sense to me because he follows this whole thing up by referring to Fan Xian as poisonous. 

And about the pretty boy part:

ZRY only says naiyou.  So it was either that he was referring to himself as cream... which is kind of weird or he was referring to yet another four character phrase.  In this case, handsome and effeminate man/pretty boy = naiyouxiaosheng (奶油小生).

And! The caption backs up my thought earlier regarding “the fox’s tail” idiom because it says:

kindhearted but two-faced = shanliangyoufuhei (善良又腹黑)

shanliang = kindhearted, good

fuhei = outwardly kind and inwardly evil, two-faced

00:03:21

smart, handsome, elegant = shuai (帅)

Y’all, it’s all the same word. I love Liu Meitong, and I love her joke that also requires knowledge of the dictionary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you read through my ramblings, congrats.  Now you too probably understand why I spent the majority of my time (1) actually just on ZRY and LDD’s parts and (2) why I spent the majority of that time just yelling at the screen lol.

[lesbianlovelanguage]

YOUTUBER AU I’m such a fucking sucker for those. It can be anything you want really. Maybe they are friends doing a challenge or something and they end up kissing (or more ;)) or they could meet each other at like a creator even and take a pic together and everyone starts to ship them... :)

HI! Anon I am so sorry, life has been *general handwaving* a MESS. But, I’ve finally gotten most of my shit together and look! A fic! Finally!!! I hope you enjoy two ridiculous boys being ridiculous.

---

“You guys asked for it, and here it is. The explanation to Bendy and the Ink Machine! Now, I’ve watched a ton of playthroughs of this, especially The RatKing’s, as well as played through it myself, and I think I’ve got it.” 

Such a simple statement, it made it through both of the editors as well as Steve and Dustin themselves without raising any red flags. But as with everything, once it had been released on the internet it became fuel for fans to break apart and over analyze. 

The comments started pouring in, the standard mix of support and people trying to break apart his theory. But one comment in particular would stand out and begin something so much bigger than itself. 

Twenty minutes after Steve had pressed upload, someone with the username Random Hoe posted a comment saying Awe! A collab between you and Billy would be totes amazing!! While an innocent comment in itself, it began to pick up steam as people ranted and demanded for the two popular youtubers to interact more. It turned from video ideas to outright shipping within two hours, and only five hours after the video had been up, people began tagging Steve on Twitter with everything from edited screen grabs to fanart and video edits, all about Steve and Billy’s secret yet undying love for each other. 

Steve had almost quit Youtube as the fanbase for what had been dubbed “Stilly” steadily grew and became all the more ravenous. There were less and less comments and reactions to his theories, whether movie, video game, or even book related, and more and more comments about how he needed to do a collab with Billy ASAP, and how he’s queerbaiting, and how it’s okay to come out, it was 20Gayteen after all. He had tried to do damage control, but it only made things worse. 

And then someone showed Billy, and Steve not only wanted to quit Youtube, but also crawl under a rock. 

Billy’s only reaction to someone sending him a picture of Steve and Billy during a live stream was “Nice art, like the hair,” but Steve could have sworn his mouth twitched down in a grimace before Billy recovered his composure. 

But Dustin had convinced Steve to keep going, and with two months of no recognition or new content, the frenzy of Stilly shipping died down. It never disappeared, but no one sent anymore art to Billy and stopped tagging Steve in all of their posts. That had been in February. 

Vidcon was in June, and Stilly was the least of Steve’s worries. He’d been asked to host a panel on the new game show he and Dustin had begun hosting on Youtube TV about pop culture trivia, and then host a live episode with various Youtube guests as competitors. It promised to be relatively simple, a simple explanation of the origin and behind-the-scenes and a simple Q&A session followed by what he spent every Thursday doing for the past two months. And it was, him and Dustin breezing through the panel bouncing off of each other and the first round of Did You Know? You Don’t Say? flying by as the famed beauty guru aced almost every question. But once the second guest stepped on stage, Steve knew it was all going to go to shit. 

Because Billy Hargrove, The Rat King himself, swaggered out on the stage in flip flops and an Everlast crop top and flopped into the contestant’s chair with a smirk. Steve froze, mouth suddenly drier than a desert. 

Luckily, Dustin didn’t even stutter. “Ah! The next victim. Should we go easy on him?” He waggled his eyebrows as he asked the audience. The audience shouting brought Steve out of his daze, and with a shake of his head, he turned and spread his arms out wide. 

“Well then, let’s begin. So, Billy, Do you know what the rarest MnM color is?” 

The cocky smirk melted off of Billy’s face, replaced by one of thoughtful determination. He’s silent for only a moment before he looks up and says, “Brown, like your eyes, Pretty Boy.” Steve feels his pale skin flush with heat, but he coughs and tries to play it off.

“Quite the charmer there, Rat King. Luckily, your lines are actually true. One point! Let’s see it!” He calls out and then looks behind him to the television screen currently displaying the scoreboard. A large blocky 1 appears and the audience cheers. 

“Alrighty then,” Dustin says after the crowd dies down. “Next question. Billy, Do you know the original name of Istanbul?” Billy chuckles, and shakes his head.

“Easy. Constantinople.”

Dustin fake pouts and looks over to Billy. “None of that Rat King charm for me?” The audience laughs, and Billy chuckles before throwing a wink at Dustin.

“Not quite old enough to ride this ride, bud.” 

Dustin scoffs and shakes his head, making the curls bounce around wildly. “Whatever you say, old man. You did get it right by the way. Let me see another point!” Dustin mimics Steve and gestures towards the scoreboard which now shows a big, white 2. 

“Your turn, Pretty Boy. Give me something hard.”

“Alright. Let’s see.” Steve pretends to look over his notes before seeing the perfect question. “So, Billy, Do you know which two American states don’t observe daylight savings time?” Billy stares blankly at Steve. This was the final question in their lineup, but he had asked for a hard question. 

Luckily, Billy recovers quickly and clears his throat before giving another chuckle. “Damn, I know I said give me a hard one, but I wasn’t expecting that. I’m gonna go with Hawaii and Alaska?” Steve shakes his head and gives a small sigh. 

Dustin gives a little cheer, and then runs over to a table off to the side of the stage where they have a cue card that the contestant has to read off of if they lose. It was Dustin’s idea, the You don’t say? part of the title. It’s his favorite part of the show, because they get to see their contestants say some ridiculous things.

“Well, unfortunately, that was incorrect,” Steve announces over the booing audience. “And, following the rules, you now have to read whatever is on this card.” Dustin hands Billy the cue card with a wicked grin. 

Billy sighs and flips over the card. There’s a moment of silence as he reads over what the card says, and then he looks up at Steve and clears his throat.

“Would a Pretty Boy want to go out with me?” He says in a clear voice, gaze never leaving Steve’s. 

Suddenly too many things for Steve to process happen at once. He feels the heat return to his cheeks and his mouth dry out again, the audience goes wild, and a buzzer sounds, signaling that they were out of time for Did You Know? You Don’t Say? Dustin comes through and pushes a frozen Steve off-stage, where Billy is waiting in the wings. With the audience’s weighty gaze gone, the feeling returns to Steve all at once.

“What the hell man? What was that out there?” He hissed at Billy. The man simply shrugs and gives another one of his trademark smirks.

“Just giving the people what they want, Princess. Try to keep up.” And then he turns around, and walks away. Simple as that. Nothing to it. 

Steve wants to scream. Fortunately, he and Dustin have been friends for years, and he knows all of Steve’s tics by now. The stagehands shoo them from the wings, and he pulls Steve through one of the backdoors to outside the convention center. Somehow, he also procures a water bottle in the hustle, and hands it to Steve once they’re both sitting on the steps outside. Steve takes the water bottle gratefully and chugs half of it in one long gulp. He pulls it away and wipes at his face before sighing. He seems to deflate, like a balloon losing all of its helium at once, and Dustin puts an arm around him. It’s awkward because he’s shorter than Steve, but it’s still comforting nonetheless. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dustin asks quietly.

“I- I’m so stupid. For just a second I thought it was real, but why would it be? What would someone like him see in someone like me?” Dustin lets out a huff before pulling away and turning towards Steve.

“Steve, buddy, pal o’ mine. You’re an idiot. If anything, he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a pompous ass for pulling a stunt like that. It’s bullshit.” 

“He could have anyone. Between his paycheck and his pecs, he’s one of Youtube’s hottest content creators.”

“Yeah, sure. But for the sake of alliteration, he also lacks personality. The guy’s a huge dick! And he proved it today. He knew that you wouldn’t shut him down and bitch him out on stage, so he thought it would be funny to pull that shit.”

“Yeah, he is kind of just a publicity-seeking asshole, you’re right,” Steve admits, feeling a little better, and a lot angrier. “You know what, Dusty-Poo? I’m gonna find him, and give him a piece of my mind.” He stands up, itching for a fight and knowing who to go find for one.

“Tha-that’s not exactly what I meant but sure! Go knock him down a peg.” Dustin stands up as well and follows Steve back onto the main showfloor. 

It takes about twenty minutes to find Billy amongst the crowd but Steve sees him, and locks in like a tiger stalking his prey. Or something cool like that. Thankfully, Steve doesn’t have to make a huge scene as he walks up to Billy and gets in his face. 

“You. Me. Conference Room 3. Now,” Steve says, poking a finger in the middle of Billy’s chest to emphasize his point. Billy chuckles, but still follows along as they walk into the empty conference room. Once they clear the doors and Steve hears them swing shut behind them, he turns to Billy.

“Explain. What the fuck was the point of that little,” he wavs his hand around, “stunt you pulled during the game show?” 

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Told you Pretty Boy. I gave the people what they wanted. 

“So that’s it? It was a publicity stunt?” 

“You tell me. You’re the one who started the whole thing,” Billy shoots back, still holding on to an air of nonchalance, but Steve can his patience waning.

“You- you mean the stuff from February? When I happened to mention you in one video? You think I meant for that shitstorm to start, for fun and publicity?” 

Billy only shrugs again.

“Okay. Nope. Again, I mentioned your channel one time, as a source. Gave credit where credit was due. I do it for all the channels I watch! I’ve mentioned Nancy’s channel like 8 times, and Jonathan’s too. Never had this shit started with them.”

“They’re married, Steve. Like super married. Of course it wouldn’t. We’re both single, queer youtubers. Of course shit’s gonna stop. Didn’t your agent or whoever look over your video?”

Steve huffs. “Oh yeah, let me just go hire an agent, cause I have such a need for someone to monitor my every move,” Steve snarked. Billy just looked at him like he had failed to add 2 and 3.

“You’re telling me you, part of one of the biggest channels on Youtube, don’t have an agent?” 

“We’re not one of the biggest channels, and we’ve never needed one! We’ve got our team of editors and assistants, no need for some agent.”

“Steve,” Billy says patiently, like he was explaining something to a child, “You have over 4 million subscribers. That’s a big channel.” 

“We’re still not one of the biggest channels, dipshit.”

“Oh, I'm the dipshit? I didn’t start a fucking fandom frenzy apparently by accident. Because I was smart and got a fucking agent.”

“You’re such an asshole.” 

“Whatever you say Princess.”

“Stop fucking calling me a princess!” Steve screams, voice booming in the silent conference room. “Why do you do that? Pretty Boy, Princess, Stevie? Just- just stop with the fucking nicknames. It’s not fair.” The second part of his outburst comes out as a whisper, sounding almost desperate. 

Billy was at a loss for words, but then again, he had always been more of a man of action. 

So he says nothing, only gives a seconds’ thought of what he was going to do, before lunging forward and doing it. 

Steve’s next words are muffled as Billy crashes their lips together with absolutely no finesse, teeth clacking. It probably constituted as the worst kiss Billy has ever had, but as he moves back, Steve grabs a fist full of blond locks and pulls him forward. Their 

second kiss is far better. By no means is it soft, but that was just par for the course with them wasn’t it? 

The kiss comes to a natural ending as they both pull back to breath, before Steve starts to giggle. 

“You really need to work on your pick-up lines, Rat King.”

A soft gasp from the doorway cuts off Billy’s retort, and they both turn to see a girl decked out in Youtube merch, including a jacket with the Upside Down Theories logo on it. She had dropped her backpack, and was open-mouthed gaping at the two. Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates as she frantically gathers up her backpack and shoots out of the conference room. 

“Chances that this blows up online by tomorrow?” Steve asks, turning to the blond next to him. 

“I’m betting in the next two hours, Pretty Boy,” Billy replies.

A wicked smirk creeps onto Steve’s lips as he shrugs and says, “Oops. What was that about getting an agent to help with this stuff?” 

---

Aside from this taking FOREVER, I hope you guys enjoy this! It was tons of fun to write.

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @catharrington @trashycatarcade @myboyfriendsteve @thesummerof84 @lightsupinthenorth @smashmouth-hargrove (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

[benichi]

I played Chou no Doku (so you don’t have to) - True Route

This is the BIG SPOILER route which reveals all the secrets. I decided to post this before anything else though because Majima’s route splits from this one and is easier to understand after knowing everything. Also I actually quite like this route so this post is more on the serious side, but with that out of the way we can have a good time with all the other ones later lol.

The route splits off after Yuriko’s mothers death. If you’d like to read what has happened before check out these posts: (Prologue 1) (Prologue 2) (Mizuhito’s Route 1) (Mizuhito’s Route 2)

Yuriko finally gets the hint that the Chinese Bellflowers are connected to everything that’s been happening. She decides to visit Lady Kyoko, since she’s an old friend of her mother and might know more about the situation than she lets on.

She asks if Kyoko knows anything about Chinese Bellflowers and if they have any connection to her deceased mother. The Lady states that she may know the answer, but in order to be completely sure of her suspicion she asks that Yuriko find her Mother’s diary. Kyoko concludes that the diary must still be around since it held great importance, but is likely hidden somewhere in the Manor.

At home Yuriko immediately starts searching the storehouse...

... and ends up finding some pr0n.

As she’s about to give up and just settle for the pr0n she’s found Yuriko spots a small hamper which, hidden among Kimonos, also holds her Mothers diary.

The diary is from 25 years back. Shigeko writes that she’s in pain, but not unhappy since due to her condition her Brother visits her a lot. Though she also wonders what he thinks of her inevitable marriage. A little later she writes that she misses her Brother and that he will be married soon as well.

There’s more talk of Shigeko being courted by Yuriko’s father and her hate towards the woman her Brother will marry. Eventually she says that she will have to leave her home to visit a “Villa”.

Sweet Home Alabama

Yuriko notes that some of the pages have been ripped out, specifically those about Shigeko’s time at said Villa...

Speaking of Brothers! Mizuhito shows up and asks why his sister decided to pay Lady Kyoko a visit. Yuriko tries to dodge the question, which leads Mizuhito to reveal that the Lady is bisexual and especially interested beautiful people - Yuriko to be precise. He warns that Kyoko isn’t as nice and innocent as she appears. Yuriko ends up getting mad since she clearly needs Kyokos help, so she storms out of the room saying that she’ll definitely be visiting her again the next day.

Mizuhito’s turn to get dragged.

On said next day Lady Kyoko starts to read through the diary, stating that she finds it hard to believe Shigeko would rip out pages herself. The women conclude that whoever is responsible for the missing pages did so in anger, and that they never wanted for anyone to find out about what happened at the Villa. Kyoko exclaims that she’s figured out the connection between the Chinese Bellflowers and what’s been happening - but also suggests that Yuriko find out the truth herself by visiting the Villa.

Once Yuriko arrives at the Villa she asks if there is someone that has been working at the place 25 years ago. It appears that the last person, called Kikuya, who fits that description left the Villa recently but lives nearby. Once at her house Kikuya immediately recognizes that Yuriko is Shigeko’s daughter since she looks just like her.

Kikuya was actually tasked with looking after Shigeko’s brother Kazukiyo and states that the sibling were very... “close”. Yuriko proceeds to ask about what happened 25 years ago which shocks Kikuya. The old women says that Yuriko’s father asked her the exact same question. He came 15 years ago with fire in his eyes, scared of what he might do to her Kikuya told the truth - something she was never supposed to tell anyone. The women can’t bring herself to say it again, which leads to Yuriko stating her thoughts - that her Mother gave birth in that Villa.

Kikuya confirms her suspicion and exclaims that Yuriko’s dad looked like a demon after hearing the truth. Terrified she told him the whereabouts of the child - which had been raised by a Maid like he was her own. The name of that Maid was Kikyo (Chinese Bellflower). Kikuya also confirms that the child called Kiyoshi was indeed born from an incestuous relation between Shigeko and her Brother. She goes on to explain about hearing a rumor that the entire family of said Maid disappeard...

After returning Yuriko decides to finally confront the killer of her parents. She heads to the Servant’s room (alone, of course) to speak with...

Immediately starting off strong. But I mean we know by now that Yuriko has a thing for calling guys she’s into “Brother”. Majima initially tries to laugh it off but stops once he realizes she won’t let things go.

I’m not sure if he means Mizuhito or Kazukiyo but either way he be dragging.

Yuriko tries to exclaim that all the time they’ve spent together couldn’t have been a lie - but Majima states that it was exactly that. He says that Yuriko must have come for a reason, which leads to her saying that she wants him to atone for his crimes by surrendering himself to the police. Majima remarks that he himself has not killed anyone but only pulled the strings. He goes on, wanting to know exactly how Yuriko figured out he was the child born in that Villa 25 years ago.

Please don’t go there.

Majima states that he smells like rotten fruit and that the scent becomes even thicker when he sweats (what am I writing....).

SWEET IS NOT THE SAME AS ROTTEN

Yuriko remarks that it must come from their Mother’s lineage and that they probably couldn’t smell each other since they have the same odor. Finally the conversation shifts away from the scent talk and to what motivated Majima to commit these crimes. He refuses to reveal exacly what Yuriko’s father did however, stating that his revenge is done.

Charming.

Majima says that he would have killed Yuriko if she had stayed ignorant and innocent. But he can’t bring himself to kill her who’s come alone to his room to face him head on. He states that Yuriko might get in trouble if she doesn’t get rid of him, which she rebukes by saying that killing him won’t bring her happiness. This leads to Majima saying that happiness doesn’t exist for him since he’s dirty. He says that he won’t be a threat to Yuriko anymore and that he’s going to leave the Manor. The two of them embrace and... I’ll spare you Round 2 of their scent talk.

Asgsjskdkl. Anyways after getting a whiff of Majima Yuriko once again has to point out that he really is her older brother.

SWEET HOME ALABAMA

Afterwards Majima says his farewell and Yuriko cries as she silently whispers that she likes him, knowing they will never meet again.

A few years later. We learn that Yuriko is working as a editor at a publishing company now but also solving cases that Kyoko introduces to her as a Detective (which is pretty cool tbh).

... and that Shiba is still trying to woo her. Ugh.

In fact she’s a very popular and well respected Detective. Content with her current life Yuriko states that she does not intent to marry anyone soon - or even for the rest of her life. On her way home she spots some Chinese Bellflowers on the side of the road. Flooded by memories she can’t help but wonder about what happened to “him”. The color of those flowers - Yuriko finds to be both beautiful and sad, just like the tears he shed that day.

-

& that’s the “true” route I guess? Honestly this is my favorite ending and I’m glad I got to experience it before the app was shut down. Detective Yuriko was a pleasant surprise. It’s a shame this game had such a bad localization because, even if the truth becomes pretty obvious eventually, the story is still quite intriguing. We can only hope that maybe someday Chou no Doku will get it’s redemption arc like Taisho x Alice did!

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

As someone who works in tv do you have any tips or tricks you could share? Just about like being on tv and such?

Well, I can give some tips, but I work on crew, I actively avoid being turned into Cast (yet somehow I’ve been on air more than the crew members who WANT to be on tv). Here’s what I can give, but it’s probably not what you were looking for:

If you’re being interviewed in any situation, try to answer questions in complete sentences. For example if you’re asked about your favorite color say “My favorite color is _________”, not just the color itself.

This gives them the option of cutting out the interviewer in edits, and just overall makes it easier on the producer and editor to use the footage as they need. Generally speaking like 85% of what you say will be cut anyways.

Unless it’s a live interview, don’t hesitate to stop yourself and re-state something in a different way. Editors will want you to sound good, so they’ll help you a lot.

I once spent a solid month editing audio for an interview with a Buddhist monk because he kept sucking his teeth and it made a weird sound. The length of the piece kept changing (2 min, 5 min, 4 min, 7 min, 9 min, 4 min) so I had to just edit the audio on the raw interview so I could make each individual edit faster.

Makeup isn’t as complicated as people think. The blunt truth is that TV lights makes E V E R Y O N E ‘ S skin look greasy and oily, no exceptions. Still, you can buy a $3 compact of what looks like white powder (Probably called HD or Photo-Ready). Don’t spend a lot of money on it, don’t let Revlon convince you you need their $12 version. It’s all just talcum powder.

The powder breaks up the light so your skin looks like skin on TV and not a swamp monster thing.

Any makeup beyond that is what we call “beauty makeup”. That’s like if you contour, put on lipstick, eyeliner, etc. Do all that as you wish, then put the HD/Photo-ready powder on top. 

Especially focus on forehead (double-especially at hairline), beneath your eyes, nose (double-especially the tip), upper lip, and chin. Cheeks as needed, but that area tends to see less direct light and so it doesn’t look as oily.

In general, unless you’re reading off a teleprompter directly into a camera, just pretend it isn’t there.

This goes for news interviews, general interviews, etc. 

As we say at the station “Keep calm and don’t look at the camera- look anywhere but the camera.”

If you DO NOT want to be on camera (if a crew is grabbing general shots on the street or something)—

Just go up to the camera man, patiently wait while he finished his shot, and then say ‘Excuse me, I’m going to be over there, can you please try to avoid getting me in the shot?”

99% of the time they’ll just say “Oh, yeah, sure, that’s fine” and even if they do get you in the shot, it’ll be super wide so there are a ton of people and you aren’t featured. Or if they’re also editing the piece (like news cameramen), they’ll cut around footage of you.

OR if confrontation makes you uneasy, just stare dead-eyed directly into the camera (bonus points for not blinking). If you make them uncomfortable, they won’t use the footage.

OR go up and tell them you DEFINITELY want to be on camera (or behave in a way that suggests it). If someone is too eager for attention they’ll specifically cut you out of the shot.

You can also just hold up a branded item (like a Starbucks cup or shopping bag) and prominently feature it along with your person. Unless that company is one of the sponsors of what they’re shooting, the camera guys will avoid it.

If a microphone is being put on you (properly), the crew is going to be all up in your space.

My general policy (since I’m the one who mics everyone) is that I will talk someone through exactly what I’m doing as I’m doing it so they don’t feel uncomfortable.

I ask them to please put the microphone up under their shirt and out through the neck, then say “Alright, now I’m just going to clip this right here and then pull the cord a little bit to get some of the slack out… And we’re done!”

If the lady has a dress on I warn her I’m going to be clipping the mic to her neckline, then pushing the cord down into her collar and around to her back, where I will use a little bit of (gaffers) tape to pin it in place.

I’ve trained the guys I work with to also speak like that rather than just grabbing people’s shirts and moving stuff around, if the person putting a mic on you just reaches for you ask them to please let you know what they’re doing at each step.

Just a note– don’t wear clunky necklaces that sit at the neckline, you’re an audio person’s worst nightmare.

If the mic is put on WELL, it will go under a layer of clothing to hide the cord. If the program is more lax or the audio person is lazy, the cord will just be left hanging out (which looks sloppy).

If you are putting a mic on a dress that has multiple layers/textures, clip the mic to the most fabric-esque of those layers.

I had to mic Natalie Cole (daughter of Nat King Cole) for an interview and while I went for the fabric of her dress, the other camera crew clipped onto a plastic petal she had. Their mic fell off 4 times because of the slippery material and the final time she snapped at them and then (nicely) asked me to fix the mic since mine hadn’t fallen off.

Natalie Cole was such a nice lady.

Celebrities aren’t as scary as they’re made out to be, UNLESS–

Generally it’s their manager who is a dick (so they don’t have to be because Image).

As long as you are professional, most celebs are normal people. Don’t ask for autographs or photos if you’re there to work (why I don’t have pics with most people I’ve worked with ), don’t shirk duties to stare at them. 

Job first. Ogling second. All celebs respect that.

They tend to have pretty packed schedules, so if you’re delaying them you are directly screwing up their day.

That being said, most still understand accidents on set happen with audio or video and won’t bite your face off if there’s a slip-up.

The meaner a celebrity is, the lower-level they are.

I’ve worked with sports stars, television stars, even an ex-President of the United States (Jimmy Carter, who I DID get a selfie with because he offered), yet the absolute WORST ‘celebs’ I’ve ever worked with are the ones you’ve never heard of with niche or tiny fan-bases.

Generally speaking, Celebrities didn’t get their status by being dicks (I mean legit celebs, not reality tv people). As long as you’re professional and treat them with basic respect, they’ll be cool. If they were impossible to work with they wouldn’t make it so far.

They also tend to be very well behaved when cameras are around.

That was probably both way too much info and not at all what you wanted to know, but I’m a camera woman, audio director, field director/producer, and now graphics operator. I’ve been on TV often but never intentionally~~~

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 4 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Thank you so much to anyone who’s liked or commented. You guys are awesome! We are attempting to post a chapter a week, so hopefully we can keep that up for awhile! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet’s living situation was about to improve, and she got to spend some quality time with Pearl.

This Chapter: Fame begins to doubt the new collection, and Violet finally gets into her new apartment--with some surprising new neighbors.

***

Fame groaned as she finally managed to open the front door to the Galactica floor after fumbling with her keycard for what felt like forever.

The floor was dark, but as Fame walked past the reception desk, the automatic light turned on.

There was no one there, all of the employees at home since it was barely past 7 am. Fame didn’t usually show up until after 9, having her mornings with Patrick and walking her dog herself an important part of starting her day right, but sometimes Fame preferred the quiet.

There was a certain peace in an empty office, and she desperately needed the peace.

She walked down the corridor, passing by the ever-expanding clothing racks that seemed to grow like cockroaches on the hallways, someone always working on something in one of the offices.

Fame was normally not one for contemplation, her heart always telling her where to go, but what she had seen of their own collection yesterday had left a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She had been so happy when they had conceptualized it, had been so excited to see it go into production, but now that she had it, now that Trixie could present piece after piece of physical clothing, Fame had a nagging feeling that it was not good enough, not good enough at all.

She turned the corner and stopped when she saw that the light was on in her office and the front office where Violet resided.

As she walked closer, she saw Violet sitting at her desk, steam coming from a takeaway cup and Fame recognized the vanilla scent of her morning order. She had actually wondered how Violet always had a hot cup ready, and it seemed like the clever girl simply ordered multiples every single day.

Violet nibbled on an apple, her feet tucked underneath her as she tapped away on her keyboard, the printer spitting out a chunk of paper every once in a while.  

Before Fame knew it, she had spent several minutes just standing there, observing Violet go about her workday before anyone else had even come in.

Just then, Violet looked up, almost dropping her apple when she saw Fame standing in the door. She jumped up from her chair, and Fame had to hide a smile when she saw that Violet was wearing sneakers with her Prada dress.

“Miss!” Violet maneuvered around her desk. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you would be here this early.” Fame handed Violet her jacket, the other woman quickly hanging it up.

“Is there any news about my new assistant?” Fame took the coffee from the table. It wasn’t scalding hot like she preferred it, but she wasn’t inclined to wait while her assistant got her another one.

“Yes.” Violet nodded, grabbing a stack of papers from the printer, and Fame realized she had probably been printing resumes. “We should be ready to bring in some candidates by next Tuesday.”

“Good-” Fame held her hand out, taking the stack. “I expect you to pre-interview each and every one of them before I see them.” She wanted a competent assistant, and had no intention of suffering through the first round of the blubbering fools HR always seemed to think would be appropriate for her. “Remember, only perfection is acceptable.”

***

Violet’s eyes were resting on Raja and Fame in the rearview mirror. They were in a town car, Violet instantly climbing into the front with the driver. Violet never spoke unless she was spoken to, her presence in the car only required in case she would be needed.

It was fascinating to watch Raja and Fame interact. They had worked together for so long that it seemed like they knew each other inside and out. It was as if they shared a creative mind, and had an intimate understanding of exactly what the other one was talking about.

Normally, Violet would be listening in, imagining what her own professional life could maybe be one day, but today, however, Violet was thoroughly distracted.

She was so happy, so relieved, to be moving, that she could almost dance in her seat. Yesterday, when she had been sent the pictures of the vacant apartment, she’d nearly cried with joy. It was beautiful - a small but perfect one-bedroom with a sweet little kitchen, central air, sparkling new bathroom fixtures, and even a French balcony. It was so far beyond anything she’d imagined she might have for years and years.

The fact that she was going to be packing all night in order to be ready for the movers tomorrow at noon didn’t bother her in the slightest.

Burning bridges was something Violet was used to, and she couldn’t wait to set this one on fire

“Violet-” Fame’s voice broke through Violet’s daydream of the strongly-worded email she’d send to her landlord. “Violet, have you gone deaf?”

“No Miss. Sorry.”

“I need a pen.”

Violet reached into her bag, Fame acknowledging her only to take it, and then it was back to being invisible as Fame turned her attention to Raja.

This time, however, Violet couldn’t help but listen.

“I realize that you don’t agree-” Fame put the pen to the sketches she and Raja were looking at, “but don’t you think that the lines are too jarring?” Fame did a small correction, the emeralds on her fingers shining in the light. “And this color story, the more I look at it, the more I-”

Violet knew she wasn’t supposed to listen, but she reached into her bag, grabbing her phone, sending a quick left hand text to Trixie.

Fame worried abt collection dislikes colors v v weird vibe

It felt like going behind her boss’s back, but Violet knew Fame well enough to pick up on the note in her voice, in the furrow between her brows.

“Fame, darling,” Raja put a hand on Fame’s knee, her gold bangles clicking together, her tan skin standing out against the creamy white of Fame’s skirt. “You do this to yourself every time,” Raja soothed, her voice surprisingly soft. “It’s all beautiful. We’ll go back to the office, we’ll have a cup of tea, and you’ll see-”

“Don’t patronize me,” Fame snapped, pulling her knee away from Raja’s grasp.

“Don’t act crazy.” Raja rolled her eyes. “I hate to see you stress over something that will be magnificent.”

It seemed like Raja had completely forgotten that Violet was in the car, her ability to make herself invisible once again biting her in the ass since she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to see this display of affection.

“Bianca would agree that something isn’t right,” Fame huffed slightly, crossing her arms, and Violet stifled a tiny laugh.

Bianca Del Rio was editor-in-chief of Marie Claire, one of Fame and Raja’s dearest friends, and possibly the scariest person Violet had ever met. Anyone who thought Fame was too tough would probably just wither and die within 30 seconds of being around Bianca. What amused Violet was that her boss treated the infamous hard-ass like she was the sweetest, most adorable person in the universe.

“Well, Bianca doesn’t work here,” Raja countered, adding, “Thank god.” She leaned her head on her hand, a teasing glint in her eyes.

Fame pursed her lips, turning to look out the window, and Raja seemed to change tactics.

She slung an arm around Fame’s shoulder, her voice sugary sweet. “Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?” Raja tugged on one of Fame’s golden earrings, the emeralds on it matching her ring. “Raven promised she wouldn’t cook.”

“Thanks,” Fame chuckled, “but no thanks. I promised Patrick I would pay him attention for the first time all week.”

“Fair enough,” Raja sat back up. “Have a nice night with your husband. Have a few drinks and forget that I exist over the weekend.” Raja smirked. “I have plans of my own anyway.”

***

Bianca rolled over as her phone buzzed on the nightstand, reaching over Derrick’s sleeping form to answer it. The fact that she was still awake, obsessing over the new printing contracts, didn’t change the fact that it was far too late (or too early) for any rational person to be calling.

There were only two people it might be, and she prayed that it wasn’t Adore, because she was not in the mood for whatever shenanigans her baby sister might have gotten herself into this time. Glancing at the screen, she let out a sigh of half relief, half irritation when she saw that it was Fame. And worse, she was FaceTiming.

“Hey Blondie. What’s wrong?” Bianca answered, voice hoarse.

“Why would something be wrong?” asked Fame, blue-gray eyes widening innocently.

“Well, it’s 3 am. So if nothing’s wrong, I’m gonna hang up and we can resume when the sun comes up…”

“Wait!” Fame said, then furrowed her brow, asking, “Who’s that?”

Bianca glanced at the tousled blonde head beside her.  

“That’s Derrick.”

“Uh huh, and why haven’t I met her?”

“We’re not at that point yet,” Bianca told her, tilting the phone down and lifting the covers. “But if you really want, you can meet her ass.”

Bianca moved the phone closer, flash lighting up Derrick’s ass in a pair of boy-cut red panties.

“Bianca!” Derrick shrieked, slapping her hand away. “What the fuck?!”

“Nevermind, her ass isn’t in the mood.”

“Really, Bianca,” Fame clucked. “That poor girl.”

“Ugh!” Derrick moved over, unamused, putting a pillow over her head to block out the noise.

“So, blondie...you gonna tell me what this is about? Cause if not, I should really get to sleep. Rest my weary tongue.” Bianca grinned lasciviously at her, dimples deep in her cheeks.

After a moment, when she saw that Fame was neither laughing nor giving her a disapproving pout, she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Seriously, Fame. Are you okay?” she asked, voice a bit softer.

“Yeah...I’m…” Fame sighed slightly, leaning her head on the arm of the sofa. “I just feel a bit...unsettled.”

“Unsettled about what?” Bianca asked. “Would this by any chance have to do with Fashion Week coming up?”

“Of course,” Fame said with a slight chuckle. “I should be feeling great. I mean, we’re ahead of schedule, for once, and everyone seems to love the direction, but I just...it feels a bit off.”

“What does Raja think?”

“Raja loves it the most, she thinks I’m crazy.”

“Well. You are. But you also have spot-on creative instincts, so maybe this is a time to trust yourself?” Bianca said.

“Mmmh.”

“Okay how’s this...tomorrow morning, once I get rid of Derrick here, I’ll pick up a couple bottles of Veuve and some fresh-squeezed orange juice, head over to your place, and we can spend the whole morning drinking mimosas and ripping the collection to shreds. What do you say?”

“Do I really have to wait until the morning?”

“Fraid so, blondie. Liquor stores are closed right now,” Bianca laughed.

“Well then, I say, great plan.”

“Perfect. So now can I fuckin’ sleep?” Bianca asked, an affectionate smile on her face.

Fame smiled back, nodding.

“Thank you, B.”

“Anytime.”  

***

As Violet closed the door behind her, she couldn’t help but leave out a giant sigh of relief.

The movers had finished in record time, everything going smoother than she had dared to imagine, though she knew a big part of the seamless move was due to her barely owning any furniture.

Violet had never bothered to buy a bedframe for her last apartment, not that there would have been any space for it in the room she had rented anyway, so all she owned was a twin mattress, a sewing table that sometimes served as a desk and a single chair.

What did take up Violet’s space was all of her sewing equipment. The overlocker and sewing machine, who had been her trusted college companions, were sitting on top of her table while her embroidery frame and her mannequins were lying in a pile besides the big garbage bags she used to store her leftover fabric.

The apartment had a miniature walk-in closet, and Violet couldn’t wait to hang up her clothes, two racks holding all of her pieces.  

Violet fished her work phone out of her bag. She unlocked it, the empty screen causing her to bite her lip. Violet would never prefer to be interrupted during the weekend, but there wasn’t a single text, voice memo or email from Fame. It was strange however, when taken into consideration how anxious she’d seemed the day before, and while Violet had no hard facts to lean against, she was still bracing for a storm.

Violet was pulled out of her thoughts by three hard, quick knocks on her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she opened it curiously to find a grinning Katya and mischievous looking  Max, holding a basket full of tea, candles and a pastry Violet couldn’t place, the small cakes glistening with honey.

“Welcome to the building!” Katya exclaimed, flashing those blindingly white teeth.

“We’re so happy to have you join us,” Max added kindly, holding out the large basket.

“Umh…” Violet took the basket, too unsure to decide what leg she should stand on. “Hello?”

“Can we come in?” Katya smiled, holding up a flask. “I brought tea!”

“Oh, sure, but I don’t-” Violet wanted to say that she didn’t have a seat for them, but Katya was already making her way inside, Max following right behind her.

“Trixie would have come too, but he’s a bit in the weeds at the moment.” Katya put her thermos down on Violet’s kitchen counter, apparently not fazed at all by the lack of furniture as she pulled paper cups out of her bag, “tearing his hair out coming up with new ideas in case you’re right about Fame’s freak-out.”

“Shit-” Violet froze. She had only meant for the text to be helpful, to sooth her own anxiety over the look she had seen on Fame’s face. “I hope I didn’t-”

“No no, don’t worry.” Katya smiled, taking the basket back and putting that on the table too. “He’d much rather freak out now than when Fashion Week is closer.” Katya put one of the cakes on a little napkin she had pulled up from somewhere. “Medovik? Max?”

“Yes please.” Max smiled, taking the napkin Katya offered.

“Violet?”

“Thank you.” Violet took it, knowing for sure that she wasn’t going to eat all of it, her stomach too tight with worry about Trixie. She bit into it, the taste of honey exploding in her mouth. They all ate together, Katya chatting away while Max walked over to the rack beside her sewing table.

“What’s that?” Max pointed with a finger at a half-open garment bag.

“That?” Violet felt a warm glow spread in her body. “It’s my graduation project.” Violet put down her napkin, a giant smile on her face as she walked over. “Do you want to see it?” Violet touched the bag, the grey plastic crinkling between her fingers.

“Yes please!” Katya smiled brightly, Max nodding excitedly.

Violet pulled the dress out, a whoosh of excitement rushing through her. The dress was a floor length see-through gown, dripping in violet jewels, the glittering pieces covering the breasts and pouring out in an elegant waterfall down the skirt.

“Oh god, it’s gorgeous!” Katya clapped, and Violet nodded.

“I went for a bit of a neo-Victorian take.” Violet touched the shoulders and hips that were jutting out, both supported by beige boning. “I realised it might seem derivative to use violet, but it’s one of my favorite colors-”

“With good reason.” Max had stood up, the man now at Violet’s side as he reached out, gently touching the skirt.

“I can’t believe you made this.” Katya had joined them as well, the two of them standing side by side.

“I wanted to use real amethysts,” Violet supported the fabric, catching the setting sun in the stones, “but I didn’t have the budget. It was a pain in the ass to stitch all that plastic on.”

“Wait, you did this yourself?” Katya looked shocked. “It’s not prejeweled?”

Violet wanted to snort, or at least huff, the idea that she’d ever use prejeweled fabric actually kind of insulting.

“That must have taken weeks.”

“Believe me, it did.

“Wow.” Katya smiled. “That’s really dedicated. Fame sure is lucky to have you!”

***

“Shit-” Violet muttered under her breath as she tried to grab her keys. She could feel plastic dig into her elbow, her grocery bag heavy with all the things she had purchased.

She had only meant to get some rolled oats and a few emergency boxes of instant mashed potatoes, but when she had actually entered the store, Violet had made the realization that for the first time in her adult life, she had a kitchen that was entirely her own.

“I got it!” Violet heard the beep of the door opening as someone behind her swiped their key fob. She glanced over her shoulder to say thank you, only to bump into the last person she had ever expected to see on an early Sunday morning.

Pearl Liaison was standing right behind her, a surprised expression on her face that probably mirrored Violet’s own.

Pearl was wearing what was clearly last night’s outfit, her blonde hair collected in a braid down her back, the snow white globes of her small breasts boosted by a black corset.

Violet was frozen in place, shocked, as Pearl moved closer to her, an arm snaking over her shoulder.

“Hey Vivi.”

Was this real life? Was Pearl about to kiss her? Violet swore she could feel Pearl’s breasts against her own, their bodies touching.

But instead of a kiss, the blonde grabbed the door handle and pushed, tossing Violet an airy smile and gesturing for her to enter.

“Ladies first,” she said.

Still stunned, Violet let out an embarrassed scoff, saying, “You’re a lady, too.”

“Debatable,” Pearl replied with a grin, following her into the lobby. “So…I wondered if you’d be joining us here. When did you move in?”

“Yesterday.” Violet bit her lip.

“Ah. Awesome.” Pearl smirked. Violet swore she could feel Pearl’s eyes on her body, the woman smelling of tequila and cigarettes, the scent of sex lingering just underneath.

She lowered her eyes as Pearl brushed by her to climb the stairs, needing a moment to catch her breath. She tried to keep it together as last night’s skirt clung to Pearl’s ass. Before she disappeared around the corner, Pearl turned back to give Violet another cheeky grin.

“See you around, pumpkin.”

[vintagemichelle91]

Brunch (Rafael Barba x Miss Fashionista)

Author’s note: *peeks over from lap top* Hiiii, I know its been a while. I missed writing so much as well as the fandom and seeing all this new theatre Raúl stuff has made me miss writing Rafael Barba. This little drabble had been sitting in my documents for ages and I finally decided to edit and post it. I hope you all enjoy it and I hope you don’t mind I gave Miss Fashionista a face.

Please let me know what you think and I’ll try and get back on here as much as I can!

It was a light early spring afternoon as Olivia Benson wrapped her light jacket around her tightly and walked down the park path gently as she kept an eye out for you. The both of you had agreed to meet in the park around noon. She smiled as she spotted you, hurriedly walking down the path from the other side of the park with the lunch tote in hand.

“Sorry, I’m late! A photo shoot ran late and then the deli was swarming with so many people! You’d think that on a Saturday afternoon they would opt for a restaurant for lunch,” you sighed and placed your crème colored Bottega Venetta clutch down beside you on the park bench.

“Don’t worry, I just got here myself.” Olivia confessed as she watched you begin to empty out the tote with all the goodies you had acquired. It was such a warm comfort for you to have gained her friendship over the time you and Rafael had been dating. Over time, Olivia become someone you admired. She was the epitome of what a strong and fearless woman looked like. You had also hoped that she would let you feature her in the magazine for the women’s empowerment issue that was going to be published in the spring.  “How are the preparations for Fashion week going?”

You looked at Olivia and shook your head. “I may or may not be on the verge of a breakdown. This time is always busy, but I also love it…so there is that.” You took a swig of your iced coffee as if it were liquor. This was your second one of the day, at this rate you were starting to understand why Rafael needed the caffeine fuel all the time and it was a habit you were picking up.

“You certainly are good at it, you and Rafael seem to flawlessly juggle career and love life perfectly.” Olivia said with a smile and proceeded to open her sandwich.

You waved your hand dismissively. “It sure isn’t easy, but it helps to have a fiancé who is ambitious in his career.” Something was gnawing away at you, some milestone that you and Rafael hadn’t hit just yet. “Olivia, I wanted to speak to you about something,” She looked at you with concern as she noticed the strain in your voice. Now that she noticed your demeanor more, Olivia could tell that you seemed a little worried. When you had asked to meet with her you had seemed completely fine, but now you looked like a nervous wreck.

“Is everything all right? Did you and Barba fight or something?” Olivia set her food down and waited for you to reply.

You laughed nervously and fiddled with your cashmere scarf. How could you find the words about your nerves over something so standard and bound to happen. You knew the day would come, even sooner once you had accepted Rafael’s marriage proposal.

“No, no everything is great between us. Its just tomorrow will be my first time meeting his mother and I am really nervous about it. I am almost terrified, but I haven’t told him yet. I know how important it is to meet his mother,” you finally let it all out because you were in pure distress. You had not realized how much you had been holding in. The idea of possibly disappointing Rafael’s mother scared you. “And I just-” You gulped as a sudden breeze passed between the two of you and it made your eyes water.

“Woah, slow down…take a deep breath.” Olivia rubbed your shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about, I am sure she will love you.” You felt your breath steady a little as you heard Olivia’s words. “Has he mentioned how she is to at least give you some sort of clue as to what to expect?”

You nodded, “I have a pretty good idea which is why I am a little intimidated. She seems to be very accomplished and her son is accomplished…what do you think she will think of me when I tell her I work for a fashion magazine, nothing as highly achieved as her only son.”

Olivia smiled in understanding. However, she thought you needed to realize that your insecurities about being accomplished had gotten the best of you. “Your career is incredibly impressive; you are accomplished…a young woman as an editor in a prestigious fashion magazine speaks volumes! Mrs. Barba will see that you are someone with a good head on your shoulders and very ambitious like Barba. Honestly, it is a perfect match. You both compliment each other so well. Don’t stress too much about this because then it will make things awkward.”

You sighed and figured that Olivia was right. The best you can do is push through this brunch tomorrow and be the best you can be for Rafael’s sake. The last thing you wanted was to disappoint him as well. “You’re right, I have to just relax.”

“You do, even Rafael had mentioned this morning how off you had been lately.” Olivia mentioned as she recalled him making such a comment on the steps of the courthouse earlier that morning. He had just gotten off the phone with you and he had frowned when he had hung up. “Honestly, everything is going to fine.”

“Thank you Olivia, I really needed to hear that. I just didn’t want to worry Rafael over this.” You confessed as you recalled this morning when you had spoken to him on the phone. He seemed to be relaxed over the past few days. Youdidn’t want to ruin that for him.

You spent the rest of the mid-afternoon talking and watching as others walked along the park path.  After Olivia got a call from Carisi and You got a call from your assistant, you parted ways and Olivia reassured you once more that everything was going to be fine.

_______________________________________________________________________

Calle Ocho Restaurant - 45 W 81st St, New York, NY

The Cuban restaurant wasn’t too crowded for Sunday brunch and you were pretty content about that. You clutched on to the bouquet of colorful flowers that you had brought for Mrs. Lucia Barba. With a small smile, Rafael guided the small of your back toward the table where his mother was waiting. After your talk with Olivia yesterday, you had relaxed a little and you weren’t as nervous as you thought you would be.

“Mami, como estas?” Rafael’s hand slipped away from the small of your back and he embraced his mother.

“Rafi! I am good and you?” Lucia held onto her son tightly as they had not seen each other for what seemed like ages. She was busy with the charter school and he was busy with his cases that when he had called earlier in the week to set up brunch, she was surprised.

“Estoy muy bien…mami, I want you to meet (y/n) …my fiancé,” Rafael stepped aside and presented you to his mother. “Cariño, this is my mother Lucia Barba.”

You stepped forward and offered your hand to her, “Mucho gusto en conocerla, Señora Barba.” You said perfectly in Spanish and Lucia was taken aback. “These are for you; I hope you like them because they are my favorite.” You presented the bouquet to the older woman. Rafael watched the exchange between the two most important women in his life.

Lucia was impressed. She gladly took the flowers from you and rose her brow at how perfect your Spanish was. Rafael had not mentioned that you spoke a bit of spanish. “Thank you they are beautiful and it is very nice to meet you, finally! Please call me Lucia, Señora Barba makes me feel old and after all you are to be my daughter-in-law soon! Let take a look at that ring!” She said excitedly as she noticed the rock on your hand. “It is beautiful, my Rafi always had great taste!”

“Gracias, mami.” Rafael said with a smile as all of you sat down at the table by the window.

“He humors me a lot.” Lucia winked at you who laughed softly in reply. “So, (y/n), how do you know Spanish so well?” Lucia was incredibly curious about the young woman her son had failed to mention for the past four months. He had mentioned you about three weeks ago when she had attempted setting him up on a blind date with one of the teacher’s she knew. When she had started tell him about the teacher, he stopped her abruptly and confessed that he was already seeing someone. He hadn’t mentioned the engagement because he had been in the process of purchasing the ring. He did not want to jinx it. Truth be told, she was happy to hear that he had finally someone special in his life. He had said so many great things about you. Lucia was very excited to meet the young woman who had stolen his heart.

“I spent a semester abroad in Spain and I picked it up rather quickly. I know it is not the same, but I do love the language.” You proudly continued to tell her about your time in Spain as you waited for the server to come by.

The rest of the brunch went by smoothly and you talked about all sorts of things. Lucia asked you about your family, your fashion career, and your hobbies. Rafael was hardly able to get a word in as you two happily talked. You even asked how Rafael was as a child and that earned her a glare when Lucia mention the time in grade school when he had worn one shoe that was different from the other. All in all, everything had gone better than what you had expected.

Just as you were finishing your coffee, your phone rang. She furrowed her brow to see who it was and hoped she could just shut it off. When she saw it was Audrey, your assistant editor calling, you figured you needed to pick it up. “Excuse me, its my work colleague and it might be a photo shoot emergency.” Both Rafael and Lucia nodded in understanding. You prayed silently that it wasn’t a fashion catastrophe as you answered the phone and went out into the terrace to answer it.

“So, what do you think of her?” Rafael asked curiously.

“Honestly?” Lucia answered him back with a question.

He gave her a knowing look. “Yeah, honestly.”

Lucia sighed and glanced out the window to see you talking on the phone. You complimented her son so well and she could genuinely see how much you cared for him. Lucia had noticed the sweet glances you and Rafael would share toward one another. The gleam in Rafael’s eyes were that of a man in love. “She is everything I wanted for you Rafi.”

Rafael lets out a breath of relief he didn’t realize he had been holding in. “She is definitely everything I wanted…” He agreed with his mother’s statement.

“She is definitely a keeper, “Lucia remarked as took a sip from her own coffee.

“I did, which is why I couldn’t wait to ask her and I took the opportunity on the trip to Switzerland…” Rafael said. “I’m sorry for not mentioning it sooner, but time ran out and I just wanted to make the trip more special.”

Lucia nodded in understanding. Her son was always one to take the chance when the time was right.  “You two are ready for the next step. Oh, this means I will get grandchildren sooner rather than later.” She said happily.

Rafael shook his head at his mother’s remark. She had been so adamant about grandchildren for the past two years. “Mami, one step at a time.”

“Oh, you know I am teasing you.” She laughed.

Rafael noticed that you were walking back in with a smile on your face and he smirked back at the sight of you. Lucia smiled at both of you from across the table giving the both of you her blessing.  

[deluxedolans]

from the drabble list: 128 and/or 105 :) i prefer e but ur a gray girl so it's up to you!!! i love all your writing!!!!!

hiii baby patient anon! thank you for waiting for this fic :))) tbt to when I was a grayson girl…ahh memories to when I felt safe!! but now I’m v much in ethan’s lane and it’s quite fun down here, anywho.

thank you so much for sending in this drabble which is actually not really a drabble and it kind of evolved into a longer fic? anyway, i love you so much, babe, and hope you’re having a great night/day wherever you are💙💙💙 it literally still blows my mind that people wanna see my take on certain ideas/prompts.

I am currently not accepting any drabble requests at this time.

@freewill-is-an-illusion

Prompt: 128, “Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.” & 105, “You can’t make up for it by giving me a tic-tac.”

Word Count: 3.7k 

A/N: So this is a part two to this blurb that I posted a few weeks ago! Both of these blurbs will be integrated into a full length fic that I’m currently writing (and which is taking an extremely long time to write so bare with me). I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think; love you all & I hope you’re having a good rest of your weekend :)))

ALSO, this blurb takes place in the same night as the last blurb. Additionally, the beginning of this blurb (the part written in italics) is the ending of the first blurb for a refresher/context. Sorry this author’s note is wicked long ahh.

“Guys, c’mon, let’s go! We’re gonna be tardy for the party–whoa.” Ethan’s mouth hung open at your appearance, he was truly stunned.

“That’s pretty much what I just said, bro! Doesn’t she look different?” Grayson said excitedly, his hands gesturing to you.

“Um, yeah she definitely looks different–so, you’re going out dressed like that?” Ethan asked flatly.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes narrowed at Ethan’s words, “you’re a real fucking asshole, you know that?” You pushed past Ethan and walked out the door, accidently slapping him in the chest with your purse as you walked by. You could feel your eyes well up in disapointment but you pushed the tears back, you did not spend all this time on your makeup just to have it ruined because Ethan was being a jerk.

Ethan stood there rooted to the ground, he did not mean to say that out loud.

“Way to go, genius. If you’re gonna act like a jealous douchebag, you at least need to let her know you like her first before you go off saying shit like that,” Grayson said shaking his head as he started walking out of the bathroom. “You’re gonna have to spend the rest of the night trying to make it up to her, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I fucked up,” Ethan mumbled as he followed his twin brother out of the bathroom, and walked towards the car.

You could feel your nerves kick into overdrive as you stood by the punch bowl of the house party with Grayson. Your senses were heightened; the combination of the mixed drink you were nursing, the rainbow strobe lights and the gaze of the cute boy across the room making you hyper-aware of your surroundings, your heart racing at all of the stimuli. 

 You and an incredibly attractive man, dressed as a boxer, had been eyeing each other from across the room for about a half an hour now, and you couldn’t tell if the butterflies in your stomach were ones of excitement or fear. Sure, you still had your crush on Ethan, and his words earlier definitely made you think twice, but he probably was A.) shocked that you were dressing like an actual girl for once, and B.) teasing you to get a rise out of you. You knew Ethan would never like you, you just weren’t his type; hell, you felt like you weren’t anyone’s type, but the way people were looking at you at this party most definitely had you feeling way more confident in your appearance …. or maybe that was just the vodka.

“Y/N, are you gonna talk to that guy over there or what?” Grayson asked. “You two have been staring at each other since we got here.” Your cheeks immediately burned with embarrassment.

“I have not been staring! I was … taking in the scenery,” you covered lamely, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Grayson rolled his eyes; you were the worst with communicating with boys you liked, exhibit A being Ethan and exhibit B being right now.

“Mhm, sure whatever you say. I bet if I leave he’ll come over here.” Grayson’s eyebrows shot up mischievously, a wide grin decorating his mouth. Your stomach dropped; Grayson couldn’t leave, then you’d be alone.

“Wait, what? Stop, Gray, what if he actually comes over here!” You immediately turned away from the guy who had broken his gaze with you for probably the twentieth time that night, turning your back to face away from the crowd.

“Well, that’s kind of the point; he’d be a dumbass not to! C’mon, Y/N, you’re so pretty and funny; let yourself have some fun with a guy for once, alright? I’ll be right over there if it goes south and he needs a roundhouse kick to the throat,” Grayson said, putting a hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

You put a hand on his shoulder, mirroring his position, “You can’t leave me. I’m not mature enough for this … Or drunk enough, if I’m being honest.”

Suddenly Grayson stuck his arm out, pointing a finger into the sky, “Holy shit, Y/N, look at that!” Naturally, your body turned in alarm to see what Grayson was talking about. But sadly, by the time you turned around, Grayson had fled to the couch across the room. He flashed a thumbs up as you glared daggers at him for pulling such an idiotic trick. 

When you turned around, you were met with two crystal blue eyes and messy, sandy blonde hair; the boy from across the room finally worked up the nerve to greet you after almost an hour of stolen glances.

“Hey, nice robe,” Mystery Man commented, his head nodding towards the black silky fabric that adorned your body. You could feel yourself blush as you looked down at your outfit and then stole a peek at his own; his robe matching yours almost exactly.

“Wow, thanks, seems like that is a trend tonight, huh?” You internally cringed; you definitely sounded like you were trying too hard to be cute and flirty.

But, in spite of your self doubt, the boy smiled in response to your answer, “I guess so. I’m Evan,” the boy stuck his larger hand out,  engulfing your tiny one in a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Evan, I’m Y/N,” you replied, a small smile gracing your face as you felt yourself relax a little more. You turned around for a brief moment to scoop some more punch out of the bowl and into your cup, praying that a little liquid courage would help you survive and (possibly thrive) within this conversation.

As Ethan jogged down the stairs, the colorful lights blinded him for a brief moment, blurring his vision. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was feeling good tonight; he had just won a game of pong upstairs and in spite of the many inquiries on his costume, once he had explained it most people got a kick out of it, claiming it was original when it was mainly laziness that created his get-up.

Before Ethan reached the bottom of the stairs, he did a quick scan for both you and Grayson. After a few moments he spotted Grayson sitting on the couch, his firefighter hat in his grip as he chatted casually to James.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Ethan greeted, plopping down on the couch besides James whose eyes practically bugged out of his head in surprise.

“Jesus, Ethan, you scared me.”

“No shit; it’s spooky season, sister,” Ethan replied, wiggling his fingers for dramatic effect. James rolled his eyes, “The only thing spooky here is your costume, what are you supposed to be again?”

“A douchebag!” Ethan’s hands indicated to his outfit proudly; his shirtless body was complimented by the fake gold chains that draped over his chest. In addition to the chains Ethan’s outfit was accessorized with a backwards black snapback and matching sunglasses and his legs clad with black joggers to complete the look.

James busted out laughing, “Only you would dress up as a douchebag for Halloween.”

Ethan smirked, “I know, it’s original huh?”

“Original? More like sister stupid. Aren’t you supposed to dress up as something other than yourself for Halloween?” James said through a laugh, slapping his knee at his own joke. As Ethan’s eyes narrowed, Grayson’s boisterous laugh rang out; he loved when James roasted Ethan.

“I fucking hate you guys.” James and Grayson’s laughs continued, eventually settling down as James got up.

“As fun as this has been, I see Luke Wilde looking very nice over there and he slid into my DMs a few weeks ago, so.” Ethan and Grayson nodded, watching James bound towards the tall, dark and handsome man in the corner.

Ethan sighed happily, leaning back into the couch, both of his arms splaying behind him. “So, man, you having a good time?”

“Yeah, I just got done dancing a bit ago and I’m taking a break, I finally got Ali’s number, though,” Grayson remarked, smirking. Ethan put his fist out to which Grayson bumped; Grayson had been trying to hang out with one of James’s editors, Ali, for months now, but just hadn’t developed the courage to ask.

“Nice, man! It’s about damn time.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, bro, we all know how much of a pussy you are about talking to girls,” Grayson shot back. Ethan crossed his arms, “I am not! Hey, I almost forgot, where’s Y/N?”

Grayson raised his eyebrows at his brother, his teeth coming together in slight fear. Ethan was about to be salty at the sight before him.

Grayson pointed across the room and Ethan’s gaze followed, his heart falling into his stomach at scene in front of him. You were leaning against the wall, holding a solo cup, smiling a huge, beautiful smile as you looked up at the guy in front of you. The guy you were talking with had a hand against the wall as he leaned over you, a solo cup in his own hand, and a smirk smeared across his lips in contrast to your innocent grin. Ethan was livid.

“What the fuck?” Ethan muttered, his eyes bulging out of his hand, and his hand crushing his cup. Ethan barely felt the cool liquid seep into the fabric of his joggers as he took off his sunglasses, stuffing them into his pockets in an attempt to make sure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

“Who the hell is that guy?” Ethan didn’t even look at Grayson as he asked the question, too afraid that if he turned away that you would either disappear from view, or worse, start kissing the dude.

Grayson shrugged, “I don’t know, to be honest. When we got here Y/N and I were talking over there together and that dude kept eyeing her, so I left and they’ve been talking ever since.”

Ethan’s head turned towards Grayson so fast he almost got whiplash, “You what? ” He hissed.

“I left them to talk together! Christ, Ethan, if you like her you have to tell her, you can’t just stare at her and pray to God she’s a mind-reader.”

“You can’t just leave her alone with that stranger! He could be a serial killer for all we know, Grayson.”

Grayson rolled his eyes so hard you could only see the whites of his eyes for a moment. “He is not a serial killer, stop being so dramatic.”

“Well, how would you know? Did you interview him before you left her with him?” Ethan’ cocked an eyebrow, his lips pursed together.

“I am not gonna interview every fuckin’ guy she talks to, Ethan, she’s a big girl she can handle herself.”

“Yeah, well, he’s looking at her like a piece of meat, Gray, just look at the guy!” Ethan’s hand flew out, gesturing wildly to the two of you. The boxer’s eyes were hooded as he talked to you, the alcohol most likely flowing through his veins, while you now stood with your hands clasped neatly in front of you as you told a story animatedly, your expression bright as you recounted your tale.

“Ethan, at least the dude is talking to her, if anything you’re the one looking at her like a piece of meat,” Grayson sassed, the reality of the situation still not reaching his brother.

“E, if you like her so much, just tell her already, bro. It’s so painfully obvious you have feelings, and I bet she feels the–.”

“I’m going over there, he’s definitely a serial killer,” Ethan interrupted, popping up from the couch and storming across the room, leaving his younger brother in the dust.

“Same way.” Grayson finished, sighing as he watched Ethan walk across the room towards you, anger pumping through Ethan’s body.

“Yeah! So I’m sprinting through campus holding all these books, I lost a shoe somewhere along the way and then–.”

Suddenly, Evan was pushed to the side as a strong body knocked into him; Evan’s drink falling to the floor, the thankfully basically empty cup clattering to the hardwood in all its plastic glory.

“Yo, what the hell man?” Evan whipped around, prepared to square up to the man who knocked into him, when he was met with someone a few inches taller than him and a few inches wider, causing him to shrink back.

“Sorry, bro, didn’t see you there. You okay, Y/N?” Ethan’s jaw was clenched tight as he gave you a tight smile. He was clearly irritated.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” You huffed, your arms crossing in annoyance. At your movement, Evan’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to your chest, as your arms perked up your breasts through the top of your robe. Ethan gave Evan side eye, his eyes narrowing as he noticed where Evan’s eyes had traveled. Ethan immediately punched Evan in the shoulder, Evan’s eyes widening in surprise and then narrowing in anger.

“Keep your eyes on her face, asshole,” Ethan commanded, his fists clenching in rage. Evan’s eyes lit up in anger, who the fuck did this guy think he was?

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me, man,” Evan snarled, pushing Ethan away from him aggressively. “You know this clown?” Evan pointed at Ethan. Your eyebrows shot up quickly, your voice suddenly caught at your throat; you hated confrontation.

“Uh–yeah, um, Evan, this is Ethan, Ethan this is–.”

“An asshole,” Ethan deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest. Your mouth flew open; you couldn’t believe how downright rude he was being. “Ethan!” You exclaimed.

“I’m the asshole? You’re kidding me, right? Let’s get out of here, baby, what do you say? Seems like this jerk doesn’t know how to control himself in front of a pretty girl.” Ethan could feel his skin heating up at Evan’s words; deep down Ethan knew he didn’t have a right to be acting this way, but he couldn’t help it, his heart always winning out over his head.

“I’m good, actually, I came with Ethan and his brother–.” Evan then grabbed your hand at your words, interrupting your rejection.

Your face dropped at Evan’s sudden act of possession; everything had been fine up until this point, why couldn’t things ever go normally for you? You looked down at his hand gripping your own, your fingers limp in his grasp.

“Let’s go, Y/N,” Evan said, trying to tug you away from Ethan. You stayed put, your eyes wide with fear; fear of the man holding you, and fearful of what Ethan was about to do.

Ethan couldn’t contain himself any longer; he ripped Evan’s hand off of you and pushed the blonde away, his back hitting the wall harshly as he gripped the collar of his robe tight in his fist.

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch her, do you understand me?” Ethan’s fist shook he was holding onto Evan so tight. He slammed Evan into the wall again for good measure, his back hitting into it so hard Evan had the wind knocked out of him. Grayson started to run over as he saw the situation escalate in front of him, pushing past people just as Evan was bent over coughing.

“Ethan, what the fuck?” Grayson stood behind his brother, prepared to back him up, but also frustrated that his brother couldn’t just express his emotions rationally.

Ethan turned around, ignoring Grayson completely, as he looked you up and down in worry.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

“You’re such a dick, you know that?” You snapped, glaring at Ethan as you pushed past him, your eyes tearing up in anger. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, you chanted to yourself as you made your way out of the party.

Ethan’s mouth fell open in shock, your reaction confusing him. He thought you would’ve been happy that he stepped in, saving you from that massive douchebag.

“What’s her problem?!” Ethan put his hands on his hips in bewilderment.

“What’s her problem? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. You practically insulted her outfit before we even got here, and now you randomly come in and intervene when she’s talking to a guy? She’s not the one with a problem, it’s you, bro.”

“He was grabbing her, did you see–.”

“Yeah, I saw, but before that. You were acting like such an asshole before that even happened. You can’t act all protective if you don’t tell her how you feel.”

Ethan rolled his eyes in irritation, knowing that his brother was partially right, however, it still didn’t make him like what Grayson had to say. Ethan stalked off after you before Grayson could say anything else, leaving the younger twin standing alone under the smokey haze and rainbow lights.

“Y/N, wait,” Ethan called as he grabbed your wrist, his voice ringing out loudly in the silent and cold October air.

“Don’t touch me. We’re fighting,” You snapped, ripping your wrist out of Ethan’s hand quickly. Ethan’s face fell at your actions and his heart hurt; he really hoped you wouldn’t be that upset.

“But why are we fighting? That guy was a total stranger, Y/N! He was grabbing you and looking down your robe and–.”

“And you were a stranger too at one point, E! And honestly, at least someone was appreciating my costume and not bitching at me saying shit like ‘you’re wearing that?’” Your voice dropped several octaves as you mimicked Ethan’s voice from earlier in the evening, your hands waving around wildly to emphasize your rage.

“Well excuse me for being a little concerned for how much skin you were showing! I mean, hell, the dude was practically having a conversation with your tits rather than your face.”

“How much skin I’m showing? You’re the one shirtless!” You admonished, your finger pushing against his chest.

Damn, she got me there, he thought to himself.

“And what are you supposed to be anyway?” Her head cocked to the side as she awaited his answer.

“A douchebag,” Ethan practically whispered, embarrassment consuming his voice.

“A what?” You asked again, not quite hearing his words.

“A douchebag,” Ethan said louder, his eyes looking at his sneakers in shame, now realizing that his costume fit his actions.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you cackled at the irony; Ethan dressing like a douchebag in an attempt to mock it, and then ending up being one throughout the night.

You pointed at him, “Aren’t you supposed to dress up as something different than yourself on Halloween?” Tears were streaming down your face at this point, the humor of this situation literally making you die of laughter.

“Okay, fuck off, James already said that,” Ethan chuckled.

After you calmed down a few seconds later, you and Ethan stood smiling at each other in a mutual understanding; at least he realized that he was being a dick.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I just didn’t know that guy and it pissed me off that Grayson left you alone with a total stranger. And then he was treating you like you were a–a– like a thing, and–.” You put your hand up, indicating that he stop. Your heart thumped at the possibility that Ethan could be jealous, but you knew that he was merely protecting you, only seeing you as a little sister.

“I get it, E. But you can’t just get all older brother on me whenever you feel like it … you’re not the boss of me.” Your heart stabbed with pain as you said those words, praying inside that Ethan would dispel them and say that you were more than a sister to him, that it hurt him seeing you with another guy.  

But Ethan didn’t.

Ethan’s heart sank at what you said; he fucking knew you’d never see him beyond the goofy brother role that he couldn’t seem to step out of no matter how hard he tried. “Um, yeah, well when some fucker grabs you forgive me for going a little psycho,” Ethan said flatly, taking his snapback off and readjusting it, needing to fiddle with something.

“Yeah, but before that, you were acting so–so upset. Why were you so upset that I was talking to that guy?”

“I told you he was a stranger,” Ethan looked off to the side, digging his shoe into the dirt.

“Yeah, but still–.” You started before a voice interrupted you.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out soon, is that cool?” Grayson yelled out from the porch, the music behind him thumping.

“I think I’m gonna stay a bit longer,” Ethan called back. “You wanna stay, or do you wanna go with Gray?” Ethan asked, his tone laced with hope that you’d wanna stay with him.

Grayson stood there patiently, waiting for your answer.

“I’m gonna stay with E and then we’ll uber back.” A wide grin spread across his face in victory; victory that he had a few hours of privacy with you without his brother’s judgemental eyes.

Grayson responded with a thumbs up as he slammed the door shut to the party, leaving you two alone yet again.

“So, wanna go dance? I might forgive you if you come dance with me!” Your eyebrows wiggled suggestively as you tugged your robe tightly around you as a breeze made its way through the air.

Ethan groaned, “Can’t we do something else in there? Here’s a tic-tac, will that make up for what a dick I was?” Ethan reached in his pocket, holding out the case of minty candy.

“Ethan Dolan, you can’t make up for it by giving me a tic-tac.” You giggled, pushing his shoulder as you walked back towards the house. Ethan smirked and pushed you back lightly, putting his hand on the small of your back as you walked up the stairs.

As you two walked back into the party together, you and Ethan both couldn’t help but internally sigh; yet another night where both of your feelings were brought to the surface and pushed down yet again by each of your own cowardice.

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Shattered, Chapter 5

Notes:As always, big thanks to my amazing editors Drucilla and BlueShifted!

Originally "Mother" was going to be Mortimer, but I decided that would be too creepy. Also, certain lines should give away who she is, eh?

Summary: As Minnie begins her journey, she discovers beautiful treasures, but may fall prey to the dangers beneath.

Minnie was cold, endlessly cold, and she couldn't move. She lay with her back on the ice, the cold eating up her toes, then her feet, her ankles, her legs... every nerve in her body screamed in agony before going completely numb. She searched for her voice to cry for help, but now she felt the cold in her lungs, pricking her insides, clawing its way up her throat, and then she felt a pair of hands on her neck , the Snow Queen -

“But you... just... wouldn't... learn... your... PLACE!”

She woke up with a shriek, startling Ratface so much he jumped into the air, flapping his wings erratically. “Oh, me, oh my!” He then alighted on the side of the boat, looking around for whatever enemy had suddenly approached. Once he realized it was nothing and no one, he sighed hard, rubbing his feathers on his chest. “Sheesh... you nearly gave me a heart attack, pretty girl! You intend to scare me to death?”

Minnie didn't say anything, breathing hard, trying to remember where she was and why she was here. Slowly she touched her neck, relieved that it had been a nightmare – and hoping it wasn't a prediction of things to come. “I-I'm sorry...” she murmured, taking a long look at her surroundings. “I have bad dreams every now and then.” The boat had stopped, nudged between several large rocks on a grassy shore. The water still kept churning, but the boat would go no further. “I think this is far as we can go.”

“'Every now and then',” Ratface repeated with a grumble as Minnie collected her satchel. “If you do this every time you sleep, I'll fly away right now, I swear it. Nightmares aren't supposed to last that long. You're supposed to be an adult. You ought to do something about it.”

Minnie hoisted her satchel over her shoulder before sparing him a look. “Like what?”

Ratface huffed. “Must I think of everything?”

Minnie quickly decided Ratface liked to complain for the sake of complaining. He'd never fit in if he lived in the village. She climbed out of the boat, and walked through the chilly water before making it to solid ground. It was a little painful, since she had no shoes. She almost called Ratface lucky for not having nightmares, but remembered his rage for that word, and tried to form the thought in a different way. “Do you have trouble sleeping, Ratface?”

“I don't like to sleep.” Ratface watched her until she was on dry land, and then flew to her shoulder, perching perfectly. He was a bit heavy, but Minnie didn't mind. “I find it to be terribly lazy. I bore easily.”

“But everyone needs to sleep. How do you get your rest if you don't sleep?”

“How do you mind your own business if you keep yapping on?”

Goodness gracious – talking with Ratface was like going two steps forward and one step back. No wonder the bird had been all by himself when Minnie came upon him. She wondered if anyone else could stand him if he kept going back and forth with his answers. She didn't want to think this way – she should be grateful for any help she had – but he could stand to be a little nicer. The old standard from the village kept her from saying so - What was the point? If she was grateful, then why make things bothersome? But the thought lingered on her mind, and bounced on her tongue without ever leaving her mouth.

They walked on the greenest grass Minnie had ever seen, and her eyes kept going down, marveling at its beauty. “Do you think anyone would mind if I took some of this grass with me? It's so nice to look at.”

“Maybe we'll need it in case a cow needs a gift,” Ratface said with a snicker.

Minnie bent down to snatch a handful. “That would be nice. It could give us some milk in exchange.”

Ratface stopped snickering. “You don't know what sarcasm is, do you?” When Minnie merely blinked at him, he ran his feathers down his face. “No wonder I can't get a rise out of you. How do you expect to survive in this world if you can't stand up for yourself? I bet I could smack your face and you'd apologize for it.”

Minnie placed the grass inside her satchel and continued walking. “I don't think you'd hurt me... at least, not unless you had a good reason for it.” She wished they never came upon such a reason, but one could never be entirely sure.

“And that's another thing. You trust far too easily. How do you know I'm not leading you into a trap?”

“I don't think you are. Are you?”

The raven made a frustrated “harrrumph” deep in his throat, which Minnie thought was kind of cute. It reminded her of when she first started feeding Figaro – he'd inch closer, then retreat if Minnie moved, trying to pretend he wasn't interested. Perhaps like the kitten, Ratface just needed to be won over with simple kindness. She moved to gently brush the top of his head with her finger.

“I am not a pet,” he growled, but he didn't stop her.

They walked on for what felt like many a mile, Minnie's feet aching terribly. Just as her legs would shake and she would wonder if she was fit to collapse, Ratface would suddenly complain that she was moving too fast and she needed to stop before he emptied his stomach. He demanded she sit so he could clean his feathers which she “ruffled up with her pigeon fingers”, which took some time. Funny how when she was able to walk again, her body felt better. This happened quite a few times.

At midday, with Minnie's stomach beginning to growl, she was about to stop to eat the vegetables she brought along, when the sight of something miraculous destroyed her hunger. “Oh!” she gasped, “Ratface, look at that!”

“Must I?” Ratface jumped off of her shoulder just as Minnie began to sprint forward, still amazed at what she was seeing.

There, in this endless green, lay a garden of hundreds of different colored flowers, the likes of which Minnie had never seen before. These were even beyond the boundaries of Mickey's books, with petals of varying shapes and mixed colors that blew her imagination way. They circled around a quaint house with a rusty red rooftop, and the windows were hidden by velvet red curtains. Minnie paid no mind to the house, going from flower to flower to marvel at their appearance. “I've never seen anything like these!” Minnie declared, running her fingers along soft purple buds. “Mickey would love these... Maybe I can take some of them with me.”

“We shouldn't be here, pretty girl,” Ratface said, now perched on the edge of the roof. “We must get going.”

Minnie knew he was right, but everywhere she turned there was a new flower to adore, and she found it difficult to tear herself away. “But they're all so beautiful! Are these kinds of flowers that we'll see as we go to the Snow Queen?”

“You won't know if you don't get moving,” Ratface replied, but his usual barbed demeanor had sharpened, and he paced along the edge, trying to urge Minnie along, his feathers tightly slicked. “Flowers are flowers, they're just plants, now stop planting yourself in one place and go!”

Was he being rude again for the sake of being rude? Minnie was getting tired of that attitude – and that's when the door began to loudly creak open. Minnie stopped where she was, as did Ratface, as a pale hand emerged from the darkness within.

“Is someone there?” the owner of the hand whispered.

Ratface jerked his head to the side urgently, trying to signal that Minnie should get out of there – but that would be so disrespectful! Minnie placed her hands together, hoping she hadn't disturbed the owner of the household. “I'm sorry, miss. We were just passing through.”

“Oh, my, my, my.” The door then opened all the way, and out stepped a lovely older woman, smiling serenely at Minnie. Her dark hair curled up around her shoulders, swaying with her as she walked out into the sunshine. Her dress was as red as the rose tucked behind Minnie's ear, with yellow trimmings along the sleeves and bottom. “It's been ages since I've had company. What's a little thing like you doing here all by your lonesome?”

“I'm not by my lonesome,” Minnie explained, pointing to the bird who slapped his wing to his face. “Ratface, come say hello.”

The woman's kind face instantly hardened, and when she glared at Ratface, Minnie nearly thought the raven would molt. “I despise birds,” she hissed, clutching her arms. “They're filthy creatures, rats with wings... what an appropriate name.” Ratface blew a raspberry, but didn't speak. The woman then instantly became all smiles again as she approached Minnie. “But enough about him. Who are you, who trespassed into my garden, dear one?”

Minnie felt a sting of guilt. “Oh, I... I'm Minnie, miss. I really didn't mean to trespass. I should get going...”

“Nonsense!” The woman placed her hand on Minnie's shoulder. “You just got here, why leave so soon?  Look at you, you have no shoes! Which I guess I should be grateful about, since you would have destroyed my garden otherwise with all your stomping around.” She laughed a bit, pushing Minnie. “It's a joke, dear.”

Was it? What was the punchline? “I... I guess it couldn't hurt to rest my feet a bit.”

“Exactly. Come inside, I'll make you some tea, we'll chat, you'll relax, and if you want to go, you'll feel much better about everything.” She didn't seem to be giving Minnie much choice about it, given how forcefully she was shoving Minnie into the house.

Minnie cast one more look at Ratface, whose emerald eyes seemed to be... sad? “What about my friend?”

“Friend? That's no friend,” the woman scoffed, shutting the door behind them. “What kind of friend treats you like that? I couldn't help but overhear you earlier. He's always insulting you, isn't he? I bet he was just using you, playing with his prey. What an awful animal.” The inside of the house was much larger than the outside should have been, and Minnie looked back and forth between the interior and the door, confused. There were many rooms, and the thin, red carpet led to each one like an arrow. Shelves lined every wall, and on each shelf was a porcelain doll. Each doll had a unique dress, and a unique style of hair, but they all wore the same dull, lifeless expression that stared into nothing.

“Let me get that for you,” the woman said as she slid Minnie's satchel off her back.

Minnie whipped around, surprised at how easily it came off. “B-But that's my-”

“Relax, dear! Do you think I'm a thief, after I've let you into my house out of the goodness of my heart?”

The younger girl felt herself shrinking. “N-No, of course not, miss, but... there are some very important things in there.”

“So we shall take very important care of them.” Which apparently meant hanging it on an empty coat rack. “And enough of this 'miss' stuff. You can call me Mother.”

“Mother?” Minnie repeated, perplexed by such a title. But it would be rude to say no, wouldn't it? “Thank you... Mother.”

Mother's smile grew, and she slid out a small trinket from her sleeve – a glass comb. “Much better. Now, stay still – if you're going to stay here, you can't look like too much of a mess.” She bent over and ran the comb through Minnie's hair. “There, now you don't look half as strange! Another joke, dear, do lighten up.”

Again, Minnie failed to see what was so funny, but... didn't seem to mind as much, this time. Perhaps Mother earned her name, because that was a very motherly touch. “Thank you, Mother.”

Mother tucked the comb back into her sleeve, and the two went into a modest dining room, where Minnie was encouraged to sit on a plush sofa where piping hot tea and strawberry scones were already waiting. To Minnie's weary stomach, it was like being at a fabulous banquet, and she sighed blissfully as the warm tea nestled in her body. “You have such a lovely house, Mother. None of the houses in my village look like this, not even the Mayor's.”

Mother went around the room, propping up any of the dolls that seemed to slide askew. “You must come from an incredibly ugly village. I can't stand to have ugly things in my house. If I were you, I'd never go back to such a disgusting place. I can't believe your mother would let you leave.”

Minnie looked down at her reflection in the tea. “I... I didn't tell her. I ran away from home.” Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Ratface at the window, but quickly looked away, not wanting to reveal his location to Mother. Her stomach tightened – it felt wrong to hide Ratface, but at the same time, she didn't want to upset this woman who opened her door to her. It was an odd series of conflicting thoughts. Why had been Ratface been so stubborn? Was he jealous?

“Oh, you poor thing.” Mother sat beside Minnie, taking out the comb again. “She must have been a terrible mother for you to leave without a single word.”

“She's...” Minnie's grip on the tea cup tightened. “She's not... I just didn't want to burden her. I don't think she'd understand what I'm trying to do.” Was it wrong to leave without saying anything? Would Mama and Papa have fought tooth and nail to keep her in the village? Or would they have let her go without any effort? She had been so sure about her choice when first making it, but now...?

Mother began to comb Minnie's hair again, over and over. “But for her not to even notice you were leaving? That's not a good mother. I'd never let my daughters leave.”

The comb felt so soothing in Minnie's hair, and Minnie was thankful to have someone attend to her so tenderly. Mother's daughters must have cared for her very much, so Minnie thought. Mother began to hum a light lullaby, and Minnie closed her eyes, not as hungry anymore. Yes, Mother was very good to her. When was the last time Mama did anything like this? When was the last time Mama reached out for her?

… Didn't... Mama reach out to her... once?

Marcus, open the door!

… Who was Marcus?

The tea cup felt heavy in Minnie's hands, and it spilled on her dress, waking her up. “Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry!” Thankfully it hadn't gotten on the couch or floor, but when Minnie tried to stand up, her legs felt rigid – she wobbled before finding balance, as if her knees were refusing to bend.

“Quite all right, dear.” Mother stood up. “Some people think clumsiness is cute. I'm not some people, but let's assume it was said.” She took the cup from Minnie's hand, placing it aside. “We'll get rid of your rags and dress you up in something nicer.”

Minnie looked up, taken aback by such generosity, and smiled. “You're too kind, Mother.”

“I am, aren't I? Don't worry about it. It's like I said – I hate having ugly things in my house, and this just works out, doesn't it?” Again, she held Minnie by the shoulder and pushed her into another room -  a walk-in closet full of shimmering dresses, of all the colors of the rainbow – just like the garden, Minnie mused, wondering if there was any connection. Her legs still felt funny, but maybe she'd just been sitting down for too long. There didn't seem to be any reason to worry about it.

“Let me see...” Mother went through the hanging dresses, trying to pick the right one. “Which one would be best for you?”

“I like red,” Minnie offered.

“Dear, it is so adorable when you offer an opinion no one asked for!” Mother laughed, lightly patting Minnie on the head as if she were a child. “You remind me of so many of my other daughters.  All of them so eager to please, always happy to do whatever I asked of them.” She resumed the dress hunt, going with green pastel with fluffy sleeves. “That's the great thing about being a mother. You give and you give without asking anything in return. Now, put this on.”

Minnie held out her hands to take it – but stopped. The dress, while nice, wasn't made for traveling. The long skirt would drag down in the dirt, and the giant sleeves would make sleeping difficult. Traveling – she couldn't afford to stay here that long, could she? “I... It's very lovely, Mother, but is it okay if I keep the clothes I have?”

Mother raised an eyebrow, still holding the dress up. “If you hate it that much, why don't you spit it on it?”

“No! No, no, no!” Minnie flailed, though her arms were starting to feel odd too. “I don't hate it! It's... I have to travel a long way, and I don't think it will help. You should save something that nice for your daughters.”

“Oh, I would, but they're so... terribly ungrateful.” Mother sighed as she hung it back up. “I give, and they take, I give, and they take... do I ask for so much? A little company, is that so selfish of me to want? It gets so lonely in this house of mine, so anyone who stops by is like a savior at my darkest hour.” Another sigh, longer and louder this time, an arm to her forehead. “Don't look at me that way. Now I'm the bad guy.”

“No, no, you're not, you're not the bad guy...” Minnie's stomach hurt. She didn't want the dress, but she didn't want to hurt Mother either. “What if I clean up my clothes myself? I'll do all the work.” She walked out the closet – and stumbled, because, surely, they just left the living room, but now they were in a room that contained nothing but dolls, floor to ceiling. Three square windows allowed sunshine to highlight their blank faces, and a single wooden step-stool sat in the middle. “Wasn't...?”

“I get it now.” Mother lightly pat Minnie's head. “You're so exhausted, you can't think straight! What am I doing, trying to dress you up when you can't even stand up? Have a seat, we'll make things right.”

Minnie sat down on the stool, feeling as if all the eyes in the room were on her. Her knees still wouldn't bend, and she felt awkward in this position, until she felt the comb in her hair again. “There, there,” said Mother. “Don't you feel better now?”

She did, really. Much better. “I'm sorry for making such a fuss, Mother.”

“At least you acknowledged it. So many of my daughters refused to apologize. I don't know where I went wrong.” Her hand stayed on Minnie's shoulder, the comb sliding through, over and over. “But we can always start over. A good mother never lets her daughter go.”

A good mother... Was Minnie's mother a good mother? … Didn't she call her mother something else..?

“And a good daughter never leaves her mother.”

… A good daughter... left... a place... where...?

“We'll just get rid of everything ugly, so the only thing that remains is beautiful.”

Minnie's eyelids felt heavy, and so did the rest of her body. Soon all she could feel was the tender comb, Mother's embrace, and the rigidness in her legs climbed up. She thought she heard banging on the window, which was impossible, because there wasn't... anyone else here... It was just... Minnie and Mother...

“For starters, we'll get rid of this vile weed.” Mother's bony fingers took the rose from Minnie's hair, and lightly tossed it to the floor -

“Will you be my bride?”

Like water bursting from a dam, everything flooded back into Minnie's brain at once, and she shrieked, “No!” diving into the floor to catch the flower with her hands, knocking the step-stool over. How could she have forgotten that important question? She tried to get up – and couldn't. “I can't... I can't feel my legs!”

The middle window burst open, glass falling to the floor, as Ratface had used his entire body as a battering ram. Ignoring the glass shards in his feathers, he flew at Mother, pecking at her face, “I won't let you do it, not again!”

Mother grabbed Ratface by the throat, and threw him to the floor as if he were nothing more than a rag-doll. “Stay out of my way, traitor! You made your peace! She's going to make a lovely addition to my collection.”

Minnie pushed herself onto her back, and was able to see that her legs had become – porcelain! Shiny and solid, and as her eyes flew to each doll, she saw what could be her fate. Here she thought the Snow Queen was the only frightening thing in this world – but no, the world had plenty of other horrors in store. How long had this gone on? How many girls had been in Minnie's place, their legs nearly gone as fear overcame their senses? “You... all of these girls! How could you?” How could Minnie? She nearly let it happen! What had she done?

“I'm assuming you mean morally, and not physically.” Mother scoffed, kicking her foot into Ratface's belly. “Don't try to fight it. My comb contains a shard from the Snow Queen... a little of my own magic, and it becomes the perfect tool to help me keep all my daughters. All of them tried to run away... but now they don't remember where they were running to. And why should they? The outside world is a dangerous place, and they're perfectly safe here. After all, Mother knows best.”

“It's not too late! You won't have her!” Ratface tried to get up, but Mother kicked him in the stomach, sending him rolling, laughing even harder at his attempt.

Hundreds of questions were flooding Minnie's mind, but she went deaf to them, compared to the fate of the injured bird in the corner. “Stop it!” But what could she do? Her legs were useless, and if that comb touched her again, she knew she'd lose the rest of her body – and even then, the next poor girl to stumble upon this place would be lost to the same fate. What could someone as weak and helpless as her do? Mother wasn't even looking at her, no doubt expecting her to give up.

… Would that... be such a bad thing? Minnie's eyes rested on the comb in Mother's fingers. Maybe...

Just as Mother was about to kick Ratface again, Minnie cried out once more, “I won't fight anymore! If you leave him alone, I'll do whatever you want!”

Now this got Mother's attention, just as she pulled back her foot again. She raised an eyebrow, and then smiled that same sweet, venomous smile as if all was right in the world. “There now, see? Everything is as it should be. Was there ever really a need for all this fuss?” She calmly walked to Minnie's side, and Ratface raised his head, his green eyes wide with horror, then closing them in despair. As if this was all too familiar.

Mother slowly helped Minnie sit up, running her fingers through Minnie's hair. “What a good girl you are. You'll be the shining jewel of my collection... until someone prettier comes along. And, let's face it, it's not exactly a reach, dear. Oh, I'm joking! None of you ever learn how to take a joke.” She tsked, and then held out the comb. “A few more strokes ought to do it... just relax...” Minnie felt the comb in her hair -

And with the remaining strength left in her body, she turned sharply, and snatched the comb with her teeth!

Mother shrieked - “What are you doing?!” - and smacked Minnie across the face, but even as Minnie fell, she would not let go of the comb. Ratface quickly lifted his head, shocked, and Minnie bit down on the comb, hard, hard, hard – her mouth ached, her teeth hurt, and Mother kept smacking her, screaming at her to stop – Minnie felt cracks forming in the comb, and saw cracks forming along Mother's lovely skin -

“STOP IT, YOU WRETCHED GIRL!” Mother's hands came around Minnie's neck, trying to strangle her, but her grip was weakening with every crack of the comb. “STOP IT NOW! YOU UGLY CHILD, YOU HORRIBLE DAUGHTER, NO ONE ELSE WILL TAKE YOU IN!” Yet for all the pain, Minnie wouldn't stop, - this was not her mother, this was not anyone's mother, this thing had to be stopped - until she heard and felt a terrible snap.

The comb split in two, and Minnie felt something sharp fall down her throat, spitting out the two broken halves. Mother gagged, and then clawed at the air, cracks covering her entire body until she shattered – crumbling into dust that settled silently on the floor, leaving nothing behind. Minnie fell to the floor, her legs flesh again, but as she breathed, there was a chill in her chest.

“Minnie!” Ratface scrambled to her side, trying to help her up, his eyes checking her all over. “Pretty girl, are you all right?”

“I...” Minnie touched her chest, the chill refusing to leave. Her eyes felt strange – she looked at Ratface, and his worry increased tenfold.

“Your eyes... they're blue,” he said softly, touching her cheek with his feathers. “You... you must have swallowed the shard that was in the comb.”

One shard to freeze your mind. That was what the Snow Queen had said. Minnie lifted her arm, but didn't see any blue veins on her skin, as when it had happened to Mickey. Was it because she had taken the shard a different way? “What... what will happen to me now?”

“I'm... not sure.” Ratface swallowed, backing up once. “My only guess is... it might consume you from the inside. We have to get to the Snow Queen, her power controls the shards. We have to get there as soon as possible, before we find out what else it does.”

Minnie certainly didn't want to stay, but as she climbed to her feet, she couldn't help but gaze at the trapped dolls. “What about them? I thought... if I broke the comb...”

“They were still affected by the shard...” Ratface shook his head sadly. “Like I said... she controls the shards. We might be able to free them, if we can make it to the Snow Queen.”

It hurt to look at all the lost girls, to know that she could do nothing more for them. Minnie wiped her face, and then turned around, trying to address “everyone” at once. “I'll... I'll do my best for you. I promise. I'm going to get Mickey back... and I'll get all of you back too.” If she was going to do one impossible thing, why not add another impossible thing to the list? Why couldn't they do both? “Please... just be patient a little while longer.” With one final bow to the dolls, Minnie picked up Ratface, and held him to her chest. “Are you hurt?”

Ratface lowered his head shamefully. “... No one's... ever come this far. I've... I've tried so many times to warn them, but they all... they give up, because the water won't flow, or the weather's too cold, or they end up like this... they all give up, one way or another.” What made Minnie so different? Or would there be an obstacle in her way that would make her give up too? Why did he keep trying?

Minnie held Ratface even closer, but the chill in her chest remained. She had a dreadful feeling it wouldn't leave for some time... then they had better get moving. “Let's see how far we get. Come along, Ratface.” There was still more she wanted to ask, to know, but she didn't want to push Ratface away by asking it too soon. If it was important, she'd find out. There was still quite a way to go.

She returned to the front of the house, picked up her satchel, and left. Ratface climbed onto her shoulder – strange, Minnie noted, how brutally Mother had hurt him, but within minutes he was perfectly all right -  and they both cast one more look at the house before walking on.

Minnie thought of Mama and Papa, and how they had done what they thought was best to protect her. Yet there were things they couldn't protect her from. If they had known this, would Papa had shoved her out into the frost that night so long ago? She thought of Mama's hysterical crying when she woke up, and the years of silence that followed.

“Ratface?”

“Mmm? What now?”

“I'm sorry for not listening to you.”

“Hmph.” He didn't look at her. “I suppose... if I do say things, I could stand to say them clearer, next time.”

“I would like that very much.”

“I said if. Don't get your hopes up, pretty girl.”

Hope... Minnie walked on through the bright green grass. She knew of the word, hoping for good weather, hoping for good grades, hoping to see Mickey's smile.

But those kinds of hopes felt much, much smaller compared to the warmth in Minnie's heart -  the warmth that, for now, kept the chill at bay.

[endless-vall]

I’m... Home? - Naomi x MC fanfic

Summary: Ivy’s back in New York, but she struggles to adjust to her life back home. Then, she’s faced with an important decision that’ll have a permanent impact on her life.

Author’s note: In VOS final, I had Ivy stay with Naomi, but in my personal HC, she did go back to New York, at least at first.

Hope you’ll like it~ 😄

Tagging: @writtenbycandy​ @liam-rhys​ @asprankle​ @meeraaverywalker​ @dandeservestheworld​ @secretnerdharmony.  Comment on this post to let me know if you wanna be tagged as well.

Ivy woke up for another day in her apartment in New York.

It had been six months since she had returned from Birchport.

She was promoted to senior editor, and sold one of the most spectacular stories of the year, the story of the Sterlings and Birchport.

She had a promising future, as her boss said.

Ivy smiled to herself, a melancholic smile, as she got ready for work.

She threw a quick glance to her phone, her face lightening up when she saw Naomi’s name on her notification screen, then going bleak again when she realized how far away she was.

How she couldn’t embrace her every night and how their ‘plan’, wasn’t working.

Ivy had never felt more lonely in her life.

‘Good Morning love, don’t forget to kick ass’ - Naomi.

She read the message, feeling as if she was punched in her stomach.

If there was anything Ivy learned since she came back to New York about her relationship with Naomi, is that seeing her only once in a few months and text her, wasn’t enough.

It will never be enough.

It was ridiculous, but it was also true.

And Ivy didn’t have much time to dwell on it, unless she wanted to miss her morning briefing and be late for work.

So she threw on her most sharp-looking jacket, and headed off to work.

And she didn’t think about it, until her lunch break.

She blew off some coworkers for lunch, and instead ate by herself.

She was munching on Sundesh, which was an Indian dessert Naomi had taught her how to make on one of their first dates.

It was special to Ivy’s heart, and even though Naomi’s Sandesh always turned out better, Ivy was getting the hang of it.

She smiled to herself, as she let her mind trail off.

New York was her home.

It had been since she finished college.

And she was... Happy. In her home.

Well, at least she was until Kate was supposed to get married.

Since then, Ivy’s life took an unexpected turn.

And for the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to do.

She knew she could never ask Naomi to give up her life in Birchport. Especially not since she was officially named Chief of police. It was Naomi’s dream coming true. Actually making a change. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t ask her for that,

than had been established months ago.

But being a senior editor in one of New York’s most important news papers, was Ivy’s dream.

Wasn’t it?

Or... Could it be... It wasn’t what she wanted anymore?

“Ivy!” Something, or rather someone, cut off Ivy’s line of thought. “There you are!”

Ivy looked up. Standing in front of her, was Omara, her boss.

“Oh, hey!” Ivy shook herself out of her daydreaming session and blinked at her. “How’s it going, boss?” She playfully tried to avoid the fact she was a couple minutes late coming back from her break.

But it was only a couple of minutes, right?

“Would you like to join me in my office?” Omara asked, plastering a smile over her face.

Oh-oh... Was Ivy in trouble?

After dealing with Walsh, the Sterlings, and Duffy, her boss Omara didn’t seem much of a threat.

But just to be safe, Ivy grabbed one last pastry from her lunch bag to bribe Omara with.

Once they were in Omara’s office, the latter started blabbering out.

“So, you won’t believe who I just got a call from!” Omara enthused.

Ivy’s eyes widened, surprised in the sudden charge of energy in the room.

Omara wasn’t always the... most joyful person.

“Who was it?” Ivy played along.

“Dan Beckett!”

Oh, Ivy knew who that was... She knew that very well.

“And he wants you! on his team! Oh my god, can you believe it? I can’t believe you’ll be leaving us... But, then again, It’s your dream’s coming true, isn’t it?”

It was one of the rare moments where Omara truly opened up, and she seemed genuinely happy for Ivy.

Dan Beckett was the executive editor of the New York Times. The one news paper every journalist had always dreamt of getting into.

And he was offering a job for Ivy.

“Aren’t you just ecstatic?!”

Ivy leaving her company in order to work in the New York Times would mean their company would lose one of their best employees, but it would also be good publicity and good connections in the right places.

And it was her dream coming true.

She should be ecstatic!

So why... Wasn’t she?

Why wasn’t she happy, at all?

“Thank you so much, Omara, for everything.” She smiled, for the first time genuinely in that conversation.

Because she knew what she had to do.

“But I can’t take it.”

“What?? That’s insane--”

“Maybe it is, but I decline. And I’m also... officially resigning. I’ll hand over everything to you by Monday.

And, uhh-- I truly mean it. Thank you.” Ivy didn’t even stutter.

She knew exactly what she wanted.

Everything was clear now.

She didn’t want to be a big-shot journalist, not anymore.

She went out of Omara’s office with a smile.

She went back home, packed a bag, and ordered a cab.

She’d have enough time to mull it over in her ride, she was sure, but her decision wasn’t a rush, in the heat-of-the-moment kind of act, even though it surely seemed that way.

No... Ivy knew where she belonged.

And it was most definitely, not in New York.

She figured, being a Journalist, wasn’t what she wanted anymore.

It was her past, sure, and she didn’t regret it... But maybe she could do more good.

Agent Kim did offer her a job on the force, but...

Maybe it was too early to think of that.

She had her whole life in front of her.

She could try joining the police force, though. Yes, that seemed like a nice start.

By the time she made it to her destination, it was sunrise.

The sky was just starting to get color, painting everything around Ivy in faded, orange tones. 

The ranch around her reminded her of an old renaissance painting, and Ivy took a moment to appreciate the beauty around her, and how she had missed it, before striding forward and knocking on the door.

It took a couple of knocks, it was, after all, five in the morning and maybe the rational decision should’ve been to wait for an appropriate time, but Ivy couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Uhh, Flynn, it’s five in the morning. I don’t care which major discovery or progress you’ve made on the serial-magazine-thief it could wait until I come to the station--” Naomi’s words were cut short when she raised her gaze up and met Ivy.

A gasp escaped her lips, and they parted as her eyes hung at her.

“Oh, Ivy!” It took Naomi a few long seconds to catch up before she collected Ivy into her embrace, her hands wrapping tightly around the latter, and her burying her face in the woman’s neck.

“I’ve missed you like crazy.” Naomi confessed, when they finally broke apart.

They both leaned in, sharing a brief kiss before Naomi moved away, letting Ivy into her house with a motion of her hand.

“Not as much as I missed you,” Ivy assured, just the tiniest bit of nervousness slipping into her voice.

Naomi flashed a huge, heartwarming grin at her, her eyes practically glowing.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?” Naomi asked, looking into her kitchen.

“Oh, coffee sounds great! Amazing, actually. Please do.” Ivy giggled nervously, and Naomi seemed to catch up on the way her voice pitched a note higher, but didn’t question it.

She gave Ivy a reassuring look and headed into the kitchen. “Yeah, I think the both of us could use a good cup of coffee-” Naomi started responding, while Ivy followed her into the kitchen, helping her with the brewing.

But Ivy interrupted Naomi’s words, making her stop in her tracks.

“- I LOVE YOU.” 

Ivy spitted out, out of no where.

Well, not exactly no-where. She’s been contemplating these words for the last couple of months, but...

She really didn’t think the timing through, did she?

“I’m sorry?” Was, apparently all Naomi could say.

And it was okay!

Ivy knew she screwed up, and... Frankly, expected even worse reaction. Like... Naomi kicking her out, maybe?

Or the ground swallowing her whole?

Actually, the latter sounded pretty good right about now.

Ivy took a deep breathe, pushing through.

“Okay, I’m so sorry I interrupted you. I’m sorry I fell out of nowhere in five in the morning and blabbered it out, I’m sorry I haven’t really been present in the last six months but most of all, I’m sorry I wasn’t completely honest with you, because... Naomi Silverhawk, I’m in love with you and I have been, for the last six-seven months of my life and, I, maybe... Just maybe, have quit my job in New York and will be moving to Birchport.

That, if you’ll have me, of course-”

Now Ivy was a blabbering mess, great.

But at least she was laying her heart out.

For the first, real time in her life.

It felt good.

“Of course I’ll have you!” Naomi tackled her before Ivy could finish.

She was pushing her against the kitchen’s counter and kissing her hard.

Passionately, but also tenderly. 

Lovely.

And the moment they broke apart, Naomi was already breathing out, beaming at Ivy. “-I love you too.” 

“You don’t have to say it just because I-”

“Just because you just poured your heart out, making only about 10% sense, and quit your job to come live in little old Birchport, where we can be together?”

When Naomi put it like that...

“Don’t worry though-” Naomi play punched Ivy in her shoulder. “I’m not saying it just because you said it first. I... Love you too. Really. I have for... Also quite some time.” Ivy could swear Naomi was blushing,

but she was way too ecstatic to tease her about it right now.

And that’s when she realized, why nothing felt right in New York anymore.

Why her dream wasn’t her dream anymore.

“But wait,” Naomi took a step back. She was still clinging to Ivy, the hint of a smile never leaving her lips.

“What about everything you’ve left behind? Your dreams? Your work?” She asked, blinking at Ivy.

“I’ve come to realize... I could be a journalist, or an officer, or whatever I want to be, anywhere in the world. But what I can’t have anywhere in the world... Is you by my side.

I’m so used to trusting my gut when it comes to my cases, my investigations and the stories I tell...

And I’ve been wondering why I couldn’t trust it in personal affairs as well.

So I decided ti just do it. I chose love. I chose you.”

“But what if you come to regret that decision? I don’t wanna be that person that ruined your life-” Naomi’s voice turned out a little distressed, but was cut off before she finished, by Ivy caressing her face.

“It won’t happen. You can never ruin it. And I’m not just coming back for you, though you are my soulmate.”

“Soulmate?” Naomi beams at her, before regaining her cool and letting Ivy continue.

“Of course!” She assures her, before going on.

“But also because I’ve never felt anywhere nearly at home like here, in Birchport. Because my best friends are living here. Because I’m happy just being here, crazy as it was, more than I was ever in New York.

And... well, It won’t be the same without you. So... What do you say?” Ivy raises one intertwined hand between her and Naomi.

Her eyebrows are arched upwards in a begging manner, and she has a hopeful yet cautious smile on her lips.

But Naomi doesn’t keep her waiting for long.

She smiled at her, widely, before pulling her into another fervent kiss.

“I say... Let’s do it, soulmate.” Naomi kisses her again, before caressing her face with her both hands. “Welcome back home.” She whispers against her skin.

Ivy takes one look around herself, unable to suppress her happiness inside of her.

It feels so good to just finally be able to hear it, to say it...

“I’m... Home.” She breathes out.

And she’s never been happier.

[fuckyeshermajesty]

Moments after declaring herself fired, Ginnifer Goodwin shouts across a massive war-room table to her longtime Once Upon a Time costar: “Lana, this is your last week!” Her charming real-life husband, Josh Dallas, chimes in: “Yeah, you’re fired after this week.”

Lana Parrilla, one of the few remaining series regulars left from the show’s seven-season run, smiles back at her costars, able to appreciate their use of comedy to mask the sadness — two days later, the Vancouver-based show would wrap production on the series finale. Though able to share a laugh with her cast mates now, Parrilla says she was basically inconsolable when she found out that Once was coming to an end.

“It’s taken me a good, solid month and a half to get to this place,” she tells EW on set during the final week of production. “I was pretty angry at first, when the show was canceled, and very depressed and sad about it.”

But the show’s actual ending, she says, is beautiful, and brings the ABC fairy-tale drama full circle to the pilot, both emotionally and physically. (Although it’s not without challenges for Regina, who has a few last sins to pay for before series’ end.) Two days after EW was on set, Parrilla later notes, the actress would deliver the final line she spoke as Regina — though not necessarily her final line of the series. “Until we meet again.” It’s not goodbye, she says, but left open-ended, much like the show is left in the series finale. Below, Parrilla reflects on her OUAT journey:

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: As you’re in your final days of production, how do you feel about saying goodbye to this character? LANA PARRILLA: Oh, gosh. I’m really proud of what we’ve created over the last seven years. I have loved Regina’s arc over the years and how far she’s come as a character and as a person, how much she’s grown. I feel very complete with her, I feel like she’s reached her happy ending in this episode. I am ready. It took a minute to get to this place, it took some time to get to where I am right now, which is content with the decision. I accepted it, and it’s time to move on.

How does it feel to have the story come full circle? It was so beautiful. Yeah, it does. And it’s in the same location. I’m happy for her. I know everyone’s been waiting for Regina’s happy ending and no one really could define what that is, and no one really knew what it was going to look like, and nor did I. I think once Robin died, it was really hard to foresee another love in her life. There was just so much time invested in that relationship, even though it was somewhat short-lived for a relationship, because you would hope it’s forever. But I’m happy with where her happy ending is at.

Can you talk about what it means to have a strong female character like Regina, who is flawed, in our current era? I think Regina is a very hopeful character because she’s so flawed and complex. And human beings are, life is hard. It comes with lots of challenges and lots of decisions and choices that need to be made by oneself. Following Regina’s journey over the years, we’ve seen that she’s made some mistakes, but she picks herself back up, she has support from loved ones and friends, family, and she doesn’t really walk through life alone. I think she’s an inspiration to many, including myself. I’ve learned so much from her.

I think she’s reached levels, at times, I am still trying to aspire to get to, and in some areas I’ve surpassed her, so I think she’s such a positive character. I’m fortunate to have been able to portray her for seven years. I know for sure that our audience has learned a tremendous amount from her. Some who have followed in her footsteps, some who are still trying to reach her level and have found her to be a huge inspiration. I feel honored to have played her all these years. I will definitely miss her, even though I am ready to hang my hat, I will still miss her and she’ll always be a part of me.

What do you think it was about Once that made it last this long? I think our stories, our characters’ journeys, our love for one another, their fervent fight to be better humans and to love and protect one another. This show is about hope, but it’s also about family and friendships and love. That is something that’s very positive. This show is very positive, and that makes me sad, that something so positive that’s on television is being taken off the air when we need it most. So it does break my heart in that regard, but like I said, it’s taken me a good, solid month and a half to get to this place. I was pretty angry at first, when the show was canceled, and very depressed and sad about it. But we keep saying here, “God, it feels like the end of senior year in high school.” It’s actually longer than that, because we’ve been here for seven years, and we’ve spent a lot more time together than anyone in high school ever spent together.

What do you think Once’s legacy will be? I think it was a show about hope, and dreams, and inspirations, and that growth is possible, and to never give up.

What’s the most poignant fan interaction you’ve had? A fan once said, “The reason why I love Regina is because she showed me that good can come from broken,” and that always stood out. I met her at a movie theater, this girl, who is working there, and that’s what she said to me, and that always really stuck with me. I think the show really resonates with my fans as well, especially Regina’s fans.

Can you talk about the importance of sending a message that everyone can get a happy ending? Yeah, I think the importance about that is just really striving for something bigger and greater, never giving up, and just reaching as high as you possibly can go, which is a good goal to have, just to have dreams and aspirations, and to kind of set a standard, or a bar for yourself. I think it’s very motivating, it keeps people moving in an upward direction, which I think is very positive. And out of that, my gosh, so many things can actually come out of that — so many positive things can come out of that.

Do you have a new affinity for fairy-tale characters after living in this world for so long? Oh yeah, for sure. I was never a crazy fairy-tale fan growing up. I liked my fairy tales, I liked mermaids, sirens, but I liked the ocean life, I love ghouls and goblins, and I love supernatural things, but fairy tales, I liked reading them as a kid. But I see the positive message and the mottoes and the lessons that can come out of them. And so I think I would definitely carry those fairy tales forward in my life.

What’s been your favorite Regina moment? Probably the moment when she finally accepts her dark self, the Evil Queen, as part of her.

Anything you wish you would’ve done differently on the show? No, actually, not at all. I’m really proud of what I’ve created with her. I feel like she was such a colorful character. I worked so hard to bring so many layers and complexities to her, and a lightheartedness, and a cuteness at times, a mother who was strong but vulnerable, and a woman who falls in love and gets her heart broken. I feel like I’ve done so much with her that if we continued, I’d be like, “What now do I do?” If it were to ever continue, I’m sure we would figure that part out, but I’m really proud of what I brought to this character.

How would you describe the finale and how it compares to the past six finales that we have seen? Well, it wraps up a lot of storylines, and it feels like there’s a closure on a lot of things — everyone’s journey and where they’re trying to aspire and get to in their lives, i.e. Gold/ Weaver/Rumple [Robert Carlyle], where he’s headed, there’s some closure there. It’s actually quite beautiful to see what happens with this character, it’s quite moving. And the same with Regina. I think the last seven years has been: What is her happy ending going to be? And she gets there. And with Zelena’s character as well, in my episode that I directed, in episode 17, there’s a bit of a happy ending for her. So it feels like all these characters are wrapping up. With Colin [O’Donoghue], Hook’s character, we get to see two versions of Hook. And we already know one is happily married with Emma and baby. Now with Wish Hook, he and Alice have been, over the season, really trying to come together and be father and daughter, so it’s just really nice to see how all these storylines are wrapping up. It’s just different because it’s the last episode. So it’s different not only creatively with these characters, but it’s different for all of us actors who were working on it. For the crew, every day it’s scarier and harder, and it’s harder to say goodbye, and not really knowing what happens next. And are we going to see each other again? I hope so.

What can you tease of the show’s final battle against Wish Realm Rumple? I mean, Wish Rumple is as evil as he could ever be. He is the darkest version of Rumple we’ve ever encountered. He wants to take away everyone’s possibility of a happy ending. That’s disheartening, and so hard to go up against because he’s extremely powerful. Collectively, we’re all trying to figure out how to take him down.

What’s next for you after OUAT? We’ll see. It would be nice to take some time off for a minute. Obviously we’re keeping our eyes open for the next project. I think what I want to do is just go home. I miss home, I miss my family, my friends. It’s been a long time being away from home. I’ve been homesick for seven years. I’m really looking forward to seeing some of my best friends and getting to know all of their babies, their 2-year-olds, their 3-year-olds, their 4-year-olds, their 7-year-olds. I’ve missed a lot over the years. I’m excited to spend some quality time with all the people that I’ve loved my whole life.

[Editor’s note: The following was asked when EW spoke with Parrilla again Tuesday night, ahead of a screening of Friday’s penultimate hour.]

When we talked on set, you said you were angry when you found out the show was ending, but now that you’re done filming, do you feel a sense of closure? Yeah, I was super-upset. But now I’ve had some time with it, and I have to accept what it is — can’t really change our fate. But yes, I’ve come to terms with it, and now I have to look at the positive of it and what we’ve created over the last seven years. When I meet the fans and see how much this show has changed their lives for the better, I’m just so happy. Seven years is better than two, it’s better than five, so I’m really proud of us. Yes, at first I was gutted and angry, but now I celebrate all the hard work that we’ve done to make this show what it is today. I love it, and it will always be a part of my heart.

[stephanericherthanyou]

Ch221-250

i see i no longer have a choice about using the new post editor, but it also gives me 2 choices of heading size, so...win win i guess

i was thinking in general this morning about isane's "cell phone for tall people" idea from one of the omakes i read yday....that's actually pretty handy, as a tall person who used to drop their phone a lot, heh

Ch221: Let Eat the World's End

haha "thrust down on his blade"

ooo ken-chan in his mind.....nice. i do love the parallels between them :thinking:

"battles are different from quarrels. and if both sides end up living afterwards, it definitely ain't over." i love him...."we're always gonna keep on searching [for power]!! ichigo!!"

(and again they are on a first name basis....even tho this is just a mental image. it's interesting that that's what his mind would choose to show him...like yeah the first time this kind of thing happened was in the kenpachi fight so it sorta makes sense...)

(so is the new one 10 images per post or is it 10 images per image set)

also interesting to note that realgetsu stabbed ichigo right where grimmjow's hollow hole is

and the same in return.....wrow

Ch222: No Shaking Throne

i do like the king/horse extended metaphor...and that realgetsu calls ichigo 'king' in general

KUBO!!!!!

tatsuki :(

oh yes speaking of aizen's objective....why did he go through all the trouble of what he did when he knew he could have just taken the hogyoku from rukia's body? even if he thought she wouldn't survive he could make that the red herring...tho it did serve him to throw the SS into internal turmoil and try to get them to off each other, slaughter c46....and well it's aizen he likes things complicated

Ch223: The Scarlet Creation

yes the royal key...the royal guard...the soul king....launcher of 1000 fan theories

'we have time...it's 4 months :)' yamapls

i do love the way the manga is anchored to the seasons/time passing tho

well it's obviously gonna be momo who's talking to him right?

Ch224: Imitated Gaiety

yep it's momo...man aizen really did a number on her. the way she still talks about him, even tho he straight up said 'that person was a lie' (tho perhaps not to her or mb she totally blacked it out)

idk i think aizen's villainy is, well. it's a battle shonen so ofc it's gonna be somewhat ott but it's a mix of 'totally evil let's destroy the world' + complete narcissism + on a personal level, it's...idw say realistic, but he makes people want to believe the best of him even when he shows his true colors and idk. it's easy to see that quality transferred to irl stuff

teehee i'm just a shopkeeper! ily urahara <3

nnnn love & rose as the peanut gallery

Ch225: Slip Into My Barrier

oh dear is she gonna upset it

nah...but damn ichigo you're so cool, saying "it'll be alright; i'll be the one to stop aizen"...baby

Ch226: Right of My Heart

ASDLFKJ all of u pls....

ryuuken wow he's totally unscathed...

why is the moon always a crescent? it was just like that the other night; it should have waned.

anyway, uryuu and ryuuken continue to be incredibly similar. we love a generation xerox.

Ch227: The Swordless Soldier

wait is the moon reversed....oh that's hueco mundo

so did urahara say that to orihime sos that she would get captured or what. does he know about what happened with hachi and the barrier.

Ch228: Don't Look Back

is this like a rukihime ver of that john & yoko album

oh that is very rukihime well well

SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!

"the 'how to' is not important. it is the 'how do you want to do it' that is" HACHIIIII

Ch229: Howling Tempest

speaking of pretty, i talk up rukia & urahara a lot but...

ulquiorra is lovely

wait it's been a month? has he been skipping school this entire time? is kon in his body? what about his grades? what about his family? sure isshin knows and karin has a guess but he doesn't know isshin knows and what about yuzu?

peas in a pod i see

Ch230: Dead White Invasion

oh! shuuhei!

"friends are a good thing even if they tread a different path" ukitake T_T

man shuuhei does all the work of captain and vice captain and doesn't even get a promotion for it in the end....how sadly relatable

OH grimmjow's scar is to cover the tattoo....yeah ok i get it (how many times can i repeat that haha)

Ch231: The Mascaron Drive

(why does the title page say 221....a misprint?)

nnnn

lovely kubo panels....especially the last one with urahara......

Ch232: The Mascaron Drive 2

wrow so bloody grimmjow....again, i see i see

redacted

10 images per post...? >:( i guess i'll have to go back to 20 chaps after this. pretend i put the kubo panel in anyway, it's there, it's beautiful, the screenshot's on my hard drive

Ch233: El Violador

falling together like that huh

candyshop.mp3

O SHIT ITS HIM

Ch234: Not Negotiation

We, / in the first, / shall never blend together. / In the second, / shall never hold the same form. / The third, / as he who has no eyes. / The fourth, / with no direction. / And the fifth, / lies in the heart.

"what you hold i your hand is the rope to the guillotine above your friends' necks. Nothing more." godDAMN does he know how to get her already

"if your weapon is 8 arms, mine is all the water in the atmosphere" DAMN HITSUGAYA!!!

Ch235: The Frozen Clutch

RUKIAAAAAAAAAAA

Ch236: The Sun Already Gone Down

idk how to say but i do like how so many of the fights just end interrupted, only to resume after everyone has a chance to level up or think about things more (or both)

but lol @ ulquiorra just grabbing grimmjow and peacing him out of his fight with shinji

Ch237: Goodbye, Halcyon Days

well i guess if it's been a month it's fine for the moon to be crescent again

"If only I had 5 lives! Then I could be from 5 different towns and stuff myself full on 5 different types of food and have 5 different jobs...and I could...fall in love with the same person 5 times"

i do think about this quote a lot. idk i feel all kinds of ways about it....

Ch238: Eagle Without Wings

oh long time no see! byakuya & ken-chan!

Ch239: Winged Eagles

TATSUKIIIII :'((((((((

i just. yeah. it would be easy to drop the high school stuff and vanish it from the plot but i just. ouch.

"Believe in us, Ichigo; don't carry the burden by yourself. That's what friends are for!" CHAD :'((((((

Ch240: Regeneration

garganta....just like the black hole in interstellar! (or maybe that was gargantua)

nnnn grimmjow impaling luppi with his hand....i would screenshot but i wonder if it is sfw enough for this website (also i am, still, out of images) it is also a brilliant kubo panel

nnnn ulquiorra's done face at grimmjow

Ch241: Silverflame

alskdjf uryuu rules lawyering PLS PLS PLS (and technically, ichigo is other things as well....helping out a fellow quincy, that's fine :D)

"that's some messed up logic." "just admit that i've found a paradox in the promise." uryuu PLS

"i'm your enemy!" ICHIGO PLS

RYUUKEN CALLING ISSHIN "KUROSAKI" & ISSHIN BEING SURPRISED BY THAT :O

dr ishida you shouldn't smoke! you're a doctor! well i guess he stresses himself out huh

"what a shitty dad" "just trying to one-up you" THEY REALLY GO LOW!!!!!!

Ch242: Two Men Are Burning

"We'll take care of this" :'))) chad & uryu so dependable!

(nnn flashback ryuuken is doing the glasses thing just like uryuu)

"shall we counterattack?" i love him

Ch243: The Knuckle and the Arrow

"My king, / we gaze upon you in the same way / that we gaze upon a peacock / and that is framed by hope, / adoration, and a bottomless something / that resembles fear"

i wonder what exactly this is referencing...aizen as king? is the peacock thing yumichika? or is it ichigo and realgetsu? or everything at once?

oooh it's a longbow....be glad you aren't in fire emblem, uryuu

and in the cover page uryuu is dressed like ryuuken too

FLYING LEGS OF PURITY URYUU PLS

(alsdlfkj the shady translator's note...'bad spanish for')

Ch244: Born From the Fear

cool_guys_dont_look_at_explosions.mp4

"Tell him the quincy are here, and that, in reality, it os not the shinigami he should fear but rather the quincy!"

WELL. TECHNICALLY. ICHIGO AND BACH /shot

path like a moonbeam eh....would it happen to be.....a moonbeam on the water..........kyoka suigetsu........

i've come to like the reverse moon

interesting that grimmjow did not have orihime heal the scar from ichigo! also....SZAYEL IS THAT YOU

ah yes teatime with aizen-sama

Ch245: The Way Without Enemies

oooh what a fancy pourover setup aizen-sama! and in what, 2007? 08? sighs the wiki won't tell me >:( my kingdom for a better bleach wiki....maybe wikipedia would have it but i'm not gonna trawl rn no time

asking the blind guy for a visual seems kinda insensitive but

grimmjow's '!!!!' well well

ooh man i can just hear the scolding tone in aizen's voice....if i were him i'd curl up in shame like those plastic fortune fish

another good reaction face from ichigo

Ch246: The Great Desert Bros

enter_sandman.mp3

yes yes...sand weak to water....just like pokemon and one piece...

Ch247: United on the Desert

is it a lil hammered down straight through the plaster that ichigo needs to rely on his friends more (and in general that reliance on others isn't weakness)? maybe. do i like it? yeah.

byakuya runs on the same logic as uryuu lmao "i brought you back but no orders after that :)" also....the filthy-looking boy line!!!! *

a lively bunch

oh this is a bit of a mirror of rukia in prison and hearing from renji about everyone coming in...."for them there is no other reason than that" :')

orihime you are loved! (and, thinking about this in a metaphorical sense, the symbolism of being captured in a prison of low self-worth and your friends lifting you out....nnn) but then going back to tasuki....do they ever tell her, and i wonder how that makes her feel bc obv she doesn't love orihime any less even tho she can't understand her or physically rescue her ah (cries in tatsuhime)

Ch248: To Live and Return to this Place again

i wonder who was faked out by all this, like thinking she really switched sides....i prob woulda been

"you know how it goes, rudolph with his nose so bright" ICHIGO PLS

Ch249: Back to the Innocence

so uryuu meets szayel....rukia meets aaroneiro..../squints who else does what. or is that later.

damn ulquiorra....it's logical and manipulative but. still flawed.

im very sure aizen know what orihime is planning....that or it's totally irrelevant given later events

Ch250: Five Ways to Three Figures

well ichigo is in a place where he's protecting someone so that's how he fights best....when does nel get her magical ageup tho

asldkfjslkd the reaction faces....gold

right, dordoni and the privaron

lsdfkj gin and tosen....give me all of them

"splitting up lowers their chance of winning, don't these kids know their limits?" "no"

[boymeetsweevil]

blue, not blanc - nsfw

Grouping: Reader x Jimin, SMUT wow

Word Count: ~4.5k 

Warnings: straight up sex, fingering, panty fetish perhaps? breathplay if you squint?? DEFINITELY NSFW

Based off the following prompt :) 

1.5 months before

Jimin was cooking dinner, like the good fiancé he was. You slid into a seat at the breakfast bar and sighed, hoping he would turn around to see what you needed. When he merely hummed in greeting you were forced to cut to the chase.

“I have a favor to ask you,” your sheepish tone finally made him to look up from the red sauce he had been painstakingly simmering, “I need you to be my date for the black and white investment dinner. I’m letting you know now so you can’t say you already made plans.”


“How do you know I don’t already have plans?”


“Jimin, please. Its a month and a half from now and we know you don’t plan that far ahead.”


“Maybe I should start.” He stuck his tongue out at you before turning back to his precious marinara.


“You can start by making sure you have a suit. And it has to be white.”

“Why does it have to be white? Isn’t that too...Las Vegas or something?”


“Its white because the firm chooses the color scheme. This year the investors wear black and the firm employees wear white. It’s an annual thing. Please.”


Jimin sighed, but didn’t argue further. You came as his date to all the horrible holiday parties they hosted every year at the newspaper. You even bought an ugly sweater the year he had been trying to suck up to his boss for a promotion. To this day he’s convinced that heinous wool article is what got him his current position of junior editor.

“What color should the tie be?” He walked over to your spot at the kitchen table, one hand cupped beneath the wooden spoon he held in the other. You leaned in to try it before flashing a thumbs up when it didn’t seem to be lacking any specific ingredient.


“The tie doesn’t have to be a specific color as long as it goes with your suit and my dress,” you froze mid sentence, “Shit. I need a dress.” You were quiet for a few beats as you watched him hunt around for the chili pepper flakes before calling his name sweetly. Too sweetly.


“What is it now?”


“I have such a bad migraine that if I so much as look at another screen tonight, I’ll cry. Do you think maybe you could possibly buy the dress for me after dinner? From that French store where you bought that scarf you got me?”


“Sure.”


“Great. I’ll send you the links. Oh, I need their no-show underwear too. It’s better than going commando, I swear,” you said cheerfully as you pulled out your phone.


“I thought your head was going to explode if you looked at another screen.”


“How else am I going to send you the links, Minnie?”


He raised an incredulous eyebrow and put a steaming plate in front of you.

“So, do I have to buy them tonight or can it wait a little. I’m waiting on a call from Taehyung about the parts for that vintage coffee maker I’ve been working on.”


“Well,” you chewed your noodles thoughtfully, “I guess as long as you don’t wait longer than 2 weeks. Everything always sells out of that shop really fast so you have to be quick about it, especially the underwear. I would buy it myself but my boss has been working me to the bone with reviewing these new manuscripts.”


“Leave it to me.”


24 days following

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he muttered to himself.

Jimin felt anxious sweat begin to prick at his hairline as he read your messages over and over again. He checked his calendar and grimaced when he saw that there were less than 3 weeks until the dinner and he still hadn’t ordered your clothes like you’d asked him to.

Once his order was called, he took his drink and sprinted out of the coffee shop he had been working in to drive back to his apartment where he’d left his laptop.

Your warning about items selling out and customs holding packages for an extra long time haunted him as he scoured his texts for the links you’d sent a little less than a month ago.

Jackpot.

He opened your laptop and carefully typed in the name of the dress you had bookmarked and sent to him. It was a nice dress, he noted, as he clicked on the drop-down menu and scrolled through the color available color options. When his cursor landed on the color IV (for ivory, as detailed in your text) he said a small thank you to the forces of the universe above. He added the dress to the cart and went to the search bar again to find the underwear. He blew out another breath of relief when he saw that the famous no-show panties weren’t all sold out. 

He searched for ivory again but he couldn’t find it. Is it sold out? How could it be sold out? All that’s left is BL. What’s BL. BL...for blanc because its french for white and ivory is white. I’m a genius. he pat himself on the back as he put the underwear in his cart and entered his card number. He had to grit his teeth when he saw the large chunk of change it would cost him to expedite shipping, but he supposed it was a meager price to pay for almost missing out on buying your dress after you’d asked so far in advance. 10 days later, Jimin received the package and called you to let you know that as soon as you finished your last manuscript you should hurry over and try on the dress to see if it needed any alterations. You swung by one morning later in the week to try on the dress in his en suite on your way to work. 

“Does it fit,” he asked in a half yawn as he leaned against the bathroom door. He nearly fell on his face when you swung the door open and handed him the haphazardly folded dress because you were running late.


“Yep. See you back here Friday! Make sure your suit is ready,” you shouted before swinging his door closed.


The day

Friday rolled around too quickly for comfort. You had barely gotten 2 days to rest from non-stop reading and editing before you had to commute to Jimin’s immediately after work. 

“Who the fuck schedules a gala at 7:30 on a Friday”, you had fumed to yourself earlier during rush hour.

Currently, Jimin was brushing his teeth in the bathroom frantically, dress shirt still half open, only briefs, and tube socks adorning his lower half. He was thinking about whether he would need to waste time styling his hair, seeing as the humidity from his shower was causing it to wave gently, when he heard a shout from the bedroom.

“Wha happeth? Ah you hut?” He panted around his toothbrush.


Nothing seemed to be wrong. Half your hair was in curlers and you still had your towel on as you stared down into the box where the dress and underwear were stashed away.

“I told you to order white underwear. Look at this,” you pulled the panties from their wrapping to reveal that they were in fact slightly lighter than Tiffany blue. “Minnie, didn’t you check the color before you selected it?”


“I dih--” he ran to rinse out his mouth and replace his toothbrush before coming back. “I did. It said it was white, it had a little BL and everything. For blanc. Because its French,” he trailed off. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“The site settings were in English, Jimin. I can’t read French. BL is blue,” you said quietly.


You picked up the receipt and handed the slip to the confused man.

“It says BL for---for blue.”


“Yeah,” you said lowly as you began to pull on the delicate underwear.


“I-I’m sorry. I really thought I picked the right color.”


“It’s alright, Minnie. It was a simple mistake, I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up in the first place. You were only helping me.”


“At least it’ll be covered up by your dress, right?” 


“At least there’s that,” you gave him a shaky smile, “Are you done with the bathroom? I’ll just go finish up in there and meet you by the door.”


“Alright.” He ran a head through his hair nervously, mussing up his bangs slightly. 

As he spun his car keys around, Jimin wondered whether the clothing would put a damper on the rest of the night when the sound of your shoes approaching shook him out of his musings.

The ivory of the dress looked against your skin was amazing and the way it molded itself to your figure took his breath away. But he could tell by the way your lips were drawn that you were still upset.

“What’s the matter?”


“The dress its...see-through. You can see the blue. I’m going to be the laughing stock of the whole company.” Jimin’s eyes dipped down and he saw that the blue stood out through the sheer, satiny material of the dress. 


“How about you call in sick and skip it. There’s no use in being uncomfortable all night for no reason.”


“I can’t. I volunteered to handle the jewelry auction. And my promotion is practically contingent on my being there. I have to go.” Frustrated tears welled up in your eyes.


“Well, you look beautiful. I almost don’t regret picking the wrong color,” he said while shrugging off his white suit jacket, “You can use this as a cover. It was making me feel too Vegas anyway.”

The joke fell flat when you simply spread your hands over the skirt one final time and took the jacket. You mumbled a quiet “Thank you.”

Much to his chagrin, the dress did put a damper on the whole evening. More specifically, on your evening. Jimin had a relatively good time. He had 3 free Shirley Temples and a shameful amount of gluten-free mini quiches. But even on the car ride home, your disappointment towards having to wear a jacket over such a beautiful dress all evening was palpable. When you arrived home, both of you seemed to release breaths you didn’t realize you were holding.

Immediately you began to strip out of your attire, exhausted from the gala. Jimin couldn’t help but watch you peel off the dress in your haste to get ready for bed. Because you were wearing a towel earlier, he hadn’t gotten a look at the delicate garments you had on underneath.

“Those are pretty on you,” he ventured quietly, ”The color is good.”


“Thanks. I can’t wait to go straight to sleep.”

 You removed your bra, threw on a sleep shirt, and hiked some sweatpants over the blue underwear.


He nodded and got ready for bed as well, all the while the image of you in blue burned bright on the backs of his eyelids while he waited for you to finish cleaning your teeth and washing your face. 

When Jimin felt the mattress dip with your weight, he waited a bit to gauge your mood. With your back to him and the way you lay close to the far edge of your side, it seemed you were still upset. But you weren’t the type to hold grudges and if you did linger on anything, you tended to internalize it, even if it was someone else’s fault. He reached a tentative hand out pat the curve of your hip.

“Not tonight, Jimin. I’m not in the mood right now.” You shifted to shrug his hand off.


“I really wasn’t trying anything. How do you know I’m not in the mood either?”


You turned to look at him over your shoulder and give a small laugh despite yourself. “You’re always in the mood, Minnie.”

“Hey, now,” he shuffled closer, sensing a lightening of the atmosphere, “I’m not always in the mood. You just looked especially good tonight.”


“How could I have looked good with your stupid jacket on. No one even got to see my dress.” 

Your voice was small, but it didn’t quite sound sad and he took a leap of faith by sliding the hand that was resting near your hip to snake underneath your sleep shirt and press to your stomach, pulling you in flush to him.


“That’s everyone else’s loss. But it doesn’t mean you didn’t look good”. He nuzzled his nose against the curve of your neck and let his hand knead lightly at the skin of your side. “Plus, I feel like we have a little secret since I was the only one who got to see you in that dress.”


“Well, I didn’t do that on purpose. Better you be the one to see those horrible underwear ruin the dress than my boss.” You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Jimin’s fingers gliding underneath the waistband of your sweats soothe you before you realized what he was doing. “Jimin!”

“What? I’m just touching you. Is that no longer allowed? Am I on probation?” He pulled the sagging collar of your shirt down and peppered soft, wet kisses across the parts of your neck the he could reach. It tickled and you barely held in a laugh.


“Yes, that’s exactly what this is. You’re on probation.”


“Okay, so let me probe a little bit,” he said with a mischievous lilt in his voice before yanking your sweatpants down unceremoniously. 


“Park Jimin,” you shouted when the colder air of the bedroom hit your skin, “That’s not even what probation means, you’re so--what is it?”


You peered at his face only to follow his fixed gaze down to the vibrant blue cloth covering your pelvis.

“Nothing, it’s just pretty,” he said almost to himself, his tone distracted and light. He smoothed a hand over the material, marveling at how smooth the fabric was. “You know my favorite color is blue.”


“Are you saying you did this on purpose?” You tried to scoot away experimentally but his hold remained firm. 


“I already told you it was an accident. But I’m realizing now it was a happy one.” 

“Yeah?” Your own voice sounded dreamy and far away as you basked in all the attention. He only hummed in response before making his move.

Now that you were somewhat pliant, Jimin wedged his other arm under you so he could further envelope you. One hand remained where it was, caressing the silken fabric without doing anything too risky. The other hand, however, quickly made its way over to your breasts. He massaged them gently, at first, until your nipples began to brush more firmly against his palms. He began to tweak them and pull, knowing it was the fastest way to get you squirming.


You arched your back in response and ended up pushing your hips back against his, accidentally grinding on him. You could feel his hardness through the double layer of the barely-there material of your panties and his boxers. Coupling this with the feeling of his hand traveling under your shirt to continue its ministrations on your nipples and the creeping sensation of his other hand as he fingered the intricate laser-cut designs above your mound. It was almost too much and you felt like you were being bombarded. You tried to sneakily tug the waistband of your sweats up as you distracted him as best you could by rubbing up against his front, but he caught onto your plan. His hand left the confines of your shirt quickly to grip at your throat and force you to lengthen your neck obediently.

“Just let me see, baby. I just wanna see.” His voice was lower than his normal speaking tone, and noticeably rougher. He turned his mouth to suck at the spot on your neck where your skin felt the softest and placed a warm hand over yours. 

He guided the hand you had holding the sweatpants down teasingly slow. There was something erotic about the movement that made you whimper quietly. He must have heard the sound because soon he was shushing you softly and finished pulling down the sweatpants as far as he could. You kicked them off the rest of the way before realizing your hands felt awfully empty. You tried to turn to face him, but he wrapped a tight arm around and simply plucked at your nipples a little rougher, nipped at the skin of your shoulder a little more harshly. 

“Jimin.” You felt too warm with the heat he was radiating at your back and even with the sleep shirt you had on bunched up at your underarms.

“I know what you need,” he said in a voice that pretended to be thoughtful and selfless. 

His free hand finally passed your mound to press between the apex of your thighs. The angle was a bit awkward with his arm winding around your torso, but with coordination he was able to circle his fingertips around your clit. At this point, you still had too much lucidity and were worried that he would ruin the expensive underwear and stain it irrevocably with your arousal.


You started to protest but he seemed to read your mind and give your throat a warning squeeze with his free hand. With the other, he shifted to swipe a few fingers near your clothed entrance. He made a pleased sound when he brought his hand back up and the tips of his fingers caught the low lamp light and glistened.

“Open.” He held his fingers up before your lips, his grip on your neck loosening so you could move to suck them into your mouth. 

You made sure to graze his fingertips with kitten licks before popping them out your mouth when you knew they were clean. Jimin nudged at your cheek with a slightly damp hand until you turned enough for him to kiss you, wanting to chase whatever was left of your taste. He groaned at the feeling of you licking into his mouth and you felt him throb where his groin was pressed against your ass. You kissed slowly for a long moment, all the while his other hand continued to rub figure eights around your clit before circling back down to the now sopping material covering your entrance. 


The onslaught of sensation was enough to have you gasping and breaking the kiss. You let out a long, broken moan as he hooked his fingers underneath the material to feel the wetness without a barrier, although it left little to the imagination at this point.

“I wanna be inside you badly right now,” he mumbled shakily. The tremors in his voice sent another wave of excitement through you. You loved when he got overwhelmed.


“Please, oh my god. I need it.” 

You breathed heavily out your nose to keep quiet while he shoved his boxers off. He pressed against you with renewed vigor and you both groaned at the feeling of his overheated skin pressing against yours. You moved to pull your panties off but he stopped you.


“Keep them on. I want you to slide them to the side and hold them like that while I fuck you.”


“How do you want it,” you asked as you stretched your hand out to reach for the condoms that lived in a bowl under the bed. You nearly threw the condom in his face when you finally grasped at a foil packet. He rolled it on and inspected it briefly before grabbing at the meat of your thigh to lift your leg and bring it to rest over one of his own.

“Like this. On your side, from the back. I want to be able to see you in these panties.”

Pressing a hand over your lower belly, he pulled you flush against him once more to line up his swollen head with your entrance. He bumped against you a few times to coat himself with your slickness. At the feel of the initial stretch you grit your teeth.

“You feel so good,” you sputtered when he finally bottomed out. His girth was one of the things you gave thanks for most. You felt perfectly full and the slick smoothness of his entry had your head spinning. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder and began to rock into you, shallowly at first.


“So do you. God,” he let out a whine when you clenched around him as he went deeper, “You’re so fucking wet.”


He shifted to plant a foot on the bed for leverage and so he could maneuver his hand back in between your now more open thighs. His fingertips bumped yours where they pulled the crotch of the panties up and to the side. You felt him grab your hand and move it slightly higher and more inward. It became clear what his motives were when the fabric caught on your clit with the force of every thrust. You grip on the fabric tightened as your back bowed, pressing yourself more firmly against him. Jimin moaned at the fresh wave of arousal you coated him with.

“Jimin,” your voice was tight with need and nearly drowned out but the slick sounds his thrusts made. 


“Harder?”


“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling your orgasm start to build. 

He cursed when you tightened up on him once more and rewarded you with a sharp smack to the globe of your ass. He began to fuck you in earnest.

“Arch your back, baby” he grunted. 

But before you could blink through the fog of your impending orgasm to comply, he brought his free hand up to cup your throat and pull you back how he wanted you. He squeezed a little for good measure and you felt an almost electric shock in your groin. You let go of the underwear in favor of tending to your clit with your own fingers at the same moment that he began to truly plow into you. Your toes started to curl and you marveled through your hazy consciousness at how your orgasms started the same way.


It started tonight, like it always did--with a pin-prick of pleasure that had you squirming. Then it turned into white hot waves building from the soles of your feet upwards. As the feeling reached your belly, the pleasure became molten and pulled every muscle in your body taut. You could feel your limbs shaking but you were too far gone to signal to Jimin that you were about to come, your breath leaving your mouth in increasingly small choked gasps. The pressure that had been building steadily in your abdomen snapped and you fell off your precipice screaming.

Watching you fall apart was always one of Jimin’s favorite pass-times. As you trembled before him, he tried his best to keep his eyes open so he could see you. But the way your walls gripped him tore his attention away. He squeezed his eyes shut and rutted up into you to chase his own high. It rippled through him faster than he was expecting, forcing him to tighten his grip on you to ground himself.

You calmed down first and listened to the sounds of his labored breaths in your ear. Luckily, you were on your side, so you didn’t have to worry about him collapsing on top of you or having to balance from on top of him to your side of the bed. Your back felt too sweaty though and you frowned at the thought of getting up again to take another shower before being able to sleep. When he eventually got out of bed to dispose of the condom and start the shower you grimaced at the feeling of cooling perspiration and tugged off your sleep shirt in hopes of dabbing at the moisture. 

“You coming,” Jimin asked when he came to lean on the doorframe of the bathroom.


You nodded and got up carefully, not wanting to overestimate the leftover strength in your knees and fall. You discarded your panties and he watched you hobble past him to the toilet with a smug expression. 

“I bet you’re not still upset about the underwear now,” he smirked at you while sliding open the door to the shower and stepping in.


“I bet you were never really sorry about buying my underwear late,” you countered over the sound of the water. You flushed the toilet and smiled softly to yourself while your washed your hands and he screamed at the momentary change in water temperature. 

He stuck his head out of the door as he waited for the warm water to return. “How did you know I bought it late?”


“You bought them on my account. I got the order confirmation and the email, it just got buried because I was swamped with work. But I saw while I was checking my phone in line for the women’s room at the gala.”


He had enough sense to give you smile that was 40% apology and 60% cheekiness.

“These are nicer than ivory,” he said with an exaggerated snobby accent.


“How? Because you got to play the white knight and lend me your suit jacket?”


“No,” Jimin trailed off. He stuck a hand out to pull you into the shower with him. “They’re nicer because they’re the underwear I fucked you in.”


“How charming. You know, the ivory could have been that pair too.”


“I don’t know. Nothing gets me in the mood faster than a nice blue. Why do you think its my favorite color?”


“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Maybe so,” he stepped aside to let you have a turn with the water.

“Wash my hair? Its the least you can do.”


When you both finished showering, you could tell that it was way past your bedtime but you had to wait until Jimin changed the sheets. You were so tired you would have gladly slept on them, but he had a thing about post-sex sheets.

You blotted the ends of your hair with an old t-shirt and watched him make the bed with a neatness you’d only seen in hospitals. A spot of blue caught your attention and you realized you left your panties on the floor. You pinched them by the corner daintily and moved to put the garment in his laundry basket.

“Wait,” he said and plucked the panties out of your hands before shoving them in the back pocket of his sweats.


“What are you gonna do with those?”


“I don’t know. Save them for a rainy day, probably.” He gave you a wink before returning to fluff the pillows one last time.

[siocynder]

Main Characters

People will tell you different things based on what works for them. Some writers plan the plot first, some plan the setting, and some plan the characters first. It’s whatever is comfortable for you. I know a lot of people say plan the plot and match your characters to it. But I’m the opposite. I find that if I do that then my characters just end up following along, instead of being immersed and part of the plot. A good majority of the time, the characters and a general outline come to me at the same time.

You do you. No one will tell you otherwise. Do what feels comfortable. If you get stuck, maybe just go back and rework some things. As a writer, you’ll have to get used to changing things. Changing names, changing personalities or characters, changing settings—heck!—changing your entire plot. I had to do this on my own rewrite after my editor got through it. That took forever to fix, but it was worth it in the end.

How do you make a Main Character?

You want to work on your main character, but you don’t want them to be some cookie-cutter, generic protagonist, i.e. not a Mary Sue or Gary Stu.

All right, first off: What’s a Mary Sue/Gary Stu?

Well, that’s when your main character is so annoyingly perfect in every way. They are loved by all, can never do any wrong, have all the powers they need, are incredibly talented and can do everything, but oh! They also don’t think they’re all that.

Did I describe any characters to you? Probably. Most likely because these characters are everywhere.

Bella Swan from Twilight? You guessed it. She’s a Mary Sue.

But she’s clumsy and she’s not perfect, Sio!

I know, but those don’t de-sueify her. Sorry folks! The thing is, many main female characters are Mary Sues. The author is trying to hide that fact by giving them a few flaws. Bella is beautiful and thinks she isn’t—cue generic beauty-insecurity trait. However, she somehow manages to get the attention of a lot of people in her new school, including a hot vampire boy, regardless! She causes jealous reactions from her female friends. She also—and I don’t know how—accomplishes to defy all odds against her, surviving several attacks and self-harming activities, and gets the boy in the end.

Now, these aren’t bad things, don’t get me wrong. Some people love these characters and you’re allowed to. Sometimes it’s nice to read something this simple. The issue is that these types of characters are becoming a norm and we aren’t learning to expand.

Clarke from The 100 has—what my friend and I would like to call—“classic protagonist syndrome”. I love this show, but even I know that Clarke is an annoying main character. Incredibly smart, incredibly pretty, gets the guys (and girls), and she somehow manages to make stupid mistakes, and no one ever blames her for them. That being said, the show seemed to realize what they were doing, and Clarke ended up being told off by all of her friends about her terrible choices and had to go through a redemption arc to prove herself.

Your main character can make stupid decisions, but please, oh please, do not allow them to just walk away with a “you did something dumb, but it’s okay because it all worked out in the end!”. NO! They did something dumb and now they should be reprimanded just like any other character that does the same thing!

Male characters can have the same issues. They’re perfect, they know sixteen languages, they get the girl, and they somehow are never questioned; all because they’re the main character and allowed to do these things that no one else is allowed to do.

People…your main characters are still human! They should have flaws. Self-deprecating flaws are fine, but there are plenty of other options that can be much more interesting to a reader. For example, have them be terrible with their powers. Have them struggle in school and mess up and be called out for it. Have them have anger issues or emotional issues in general. Real people aren’t going to make the right choices every time. Real people are going to be selfish sometimes and lie. Oh my god, make them fail. Make them fail so hard.

But, please, don’t make their plan fail because it was sabotaged. Just have the plan be a bad plan. Not everyone can make a good plan, people.

You know what’s even better? When you plan the plot issues around your character’s flaws. They need to go through a test that determines their honesty, but your character is a compulsive liar? Do it! It makes everything just that much more compelling.

Another thing, what’s with the overly-impulsive characters? I mean, impulsiveness is okay once or twice, but when they do it every bloody time? If you have a side character tell your main character not to do something multiple times because it’ll be terrible for everyone, please, don’t have your main character do it! There are other ways to get this terrible thing to happen. Maybe it’s an accident, maybe they’re compelled to. I don’t know, but if I read one more main character that just thinks, “I can do this because I’m the MC!” I’m going to burn the book. This is used too much and it’s simply because the writer couldn’t come up with a better way to do it.

Your main characters are not invincible.

In my own series, my main characters each have flaws that define who they are. Pride? Prejudice? Lack of emotions? Issues communicating? I’ve got all of those because those are human problems. My main character, Thalia, has trouble expressing her emotions. That causes a lot of issues for her and the group she’s with. They need to be able to bond, and they can’t do that if she doesn’t trust or like them. Do you see what I mean with making the flaws tied to the plot?

If you don’t have anything that makes your character somewhat undesirable, like dishonesty, jealousy, impulsiveness, etc, then your character might be a Mary Sue/Gary Stu.

Your female characters: You know…they’re allowed to think they’re pretty. They’re allowed to be pretty. They’re also allowed to be plain. Your character doesn’t need to think they’re plain but are actually pretty. This is a major Mary Sue thing to do.

Or the male characters: Slender, but they can still kick-butt because, look, they have muscle and can fight! It’s okay to have a clumsy male hero, who’s a stick.

You can also have a main character that’s not male or female at all! Make them agender or nonbinary. These shouldn’t be their overall defining trait, of course, but seeing as we want to get away from the average, always-seen main characters, this would be such a nice change.

Look, I’m not saying that a Mary Sue is a terrible thing. I’m not saying never do it, it’ll ruin your writing career. Sometimes a little Mary Sue-ness isn’t an issue. But that’s only if it’s in small dosages. Mary Sues/Gary Stus don’t tend to evolve in a story. Generally, they remain the same until the end. You want your main character to evolve.

They start the story not being able to communicate their emotions? Well, by the end of the series they should have a grasp on getting out some emotion. I’m not asking you to have them yell their declarations from the rooftop, but there should be a breaking point throughout the series that has them realizing they can trust people and what they’re feeling.

If you’re asking, “What is a cool character?” before “What is a plausible character?” then you need to start rethinking things. Your main character should be someone that you can meet on the street. It doesn’t matter what they look like. It’s the way they act.

Side note: Give them a voice.

You’ve built up this unique character with super interesting personality traits, and then they talk and think like they’re a computer.

Look, I get it. Writing a character can be really hard and writing in general can be incredibly difficult. It’s not an easy task. It takes trial and error to get what you really want. Planning a character as well as you can and digging in deep into their minds, will help you get into that character. You want to become your character in order to really make their voices unique.

Do they tend to think in circles? If they do, make this interesting. Otherwise, the readers are going to get frustrated with it.

Are they sarcastic? Well, why not make them think sarcastically too?

Are they an artist? Have them notice all the colors and details of things. Talk to artists to see what they notice in life.

You want this character to jump off the page with realism, not get dulled down by details and mediocre thoughts. If you reread your novel fifteen times or more (and you will have to do this, so make sure you really like your novel) and you’re starting to get bored of your own character talking, you might want to switch things up.

I always know I’ve gotten into character when the characters start talking and doing things on their own. I know where they need to go, but they’re the ones that are going to get me there. Not every writer will experience this, but it’s a possibility for you.

Now that we have that out of the way: How many main characters should you have?

My thoughts differ on this because it really depends on the story. Odd numbers are always the way to go. One, three, five. I have a book series in process with seven main characters. And this series I’m working on right now, with my co-author, has twelve. Whoa, I know, that’s a lot. But bear with me for a second.

You see, main characters are usually the ones that the story follows. Meaning, they’re the point of view, or the best friends that are always there with your number one main. Harry is the main character of Harry Potter, but Hermione and Ron are mains as well. They make up the trio. The more people you put into a novel, especially main characters, the more things get unclear (I’ve learned this the hard way).

I have twelve main characters in my series. That’s twelve people that the reader follows, and it’s really only the twelve of them—plus a few side mentions here and there, but they don’t matter all that much, and, of course, the villain. Now, if I had twelve main characters, plus the names of all their classmates, and their families, and their neighbors, and—well, you get the idea—that’s just too much for someone to take in. My series is told in third person, which means I get to sort of jump around from character to character. It allows the reader to get to know them better. They also aren’t going to stay together the whole time, so I need a way to show you what they’re all doing at different times. If this was just one person’s POV and I had twelve main characters…well, I’m sure that would be confusing. That one person would need to be in every scene and get to know each of them and that’s more headache than it’s worth.

Do you need seven characters as the mains? I did because the project is about the seven deadly sins, but if I were writing something set in a school where I really only needed one point of view, seven is just a little too much. I could maybe make it three.

So, in the end, it really depends on how you write your character, what you want them to stand for and be like. It’s your choice how many mains you have and how you create them. Nevertheless, you also need to think about your reader. Are they going to like this character? Are they going to be confused? Because, believe it or not, the reader is the one that makes your career. If they don’t like your characters and connect to them, your book will struggle. Do you need to follow all these rules? Of course not! But it’s best to keep it all in mind just in case.

Sio.

[tohearandbeheard]

Glass House, Brick House

Why couldn’t he read her mind?

Paroxysms of neon light cut through the dark The bass bumped and thumped--a crush of people shook like the skin of a drum in time with the music. They thought along with the lyrics, all in unison:

  Go ahead you've, taken me down now

Give me, give me, give me, give me what you don't know

Go ahead, take me all out now

Get this, get this into your game

  Though Soren didn’t think along with the crowd. His thoughts were fixated on a young woman with raven hair. He bombarded her with questions, propositions, accusations--but she didn’t react. Or wouldn’t answer. They all yelled along, but she just danced.

  You got me in a heading drop

I never wanna come off

You got me with your beat of love

I never wanna come out

She could be ignoring him . . . Though he was practically shouting at her mind. The more immediate puzzle was why he couldn’t see anything inside her head—nothing on the surface, nothing deep. She was opaque, a sealed envelope. Frustrated, he hurled a probe into the mind of the next girl over, a passing waitress. He saw her indignant thoughts swirl around in response like an agitated hive.

 “Hey, get out. I didn’t invite you,” scoffed the waitress. “If you want to place an order, ask nicely.”

He retreated, leaving her mind with a dismissal. She flung after him the image of her middle finger. It was uncouth to read a stranger that deep uninvited--but manners weren’t on his mind. He had to test that it all still worked--that he hadn’t suddenly lost his voice or something. He thought back to the raven-haired woman. More gently this time.

  Think of me

I'll never break your heart

Think of me

You're always in the dark

I am your light, your light, your light

Think of me

You're never in the dark

 Still nothing. He would confront her, then. He would have to talk to her--out loud. But here was no good. Too loud, in both senses of the word. She danced for an unbearably long time. He listened in, and she never once thought along with the music like everyone else, or acknowledged him in any way. Eventually, she’d had her fill and left the club, and so Soren followed.

Only the faintest heartbeat bassline followed them outside. Into the chill night air that swaddled the city street like a wet blanket. The unreadable woman crossed the street as a car turned towards Soren. The headlights crowned her with a flaring halo for the longest second. Beautiful. But her face was blank, expressionless, aloof.

             Soren hurried after her. His thoughts followed her like smoke would a smoker. Other thoughts tangled with his--fired from a homeless man hunched against the translucent panel of a bus stop. 

             “Need help. Spare change. Hard times,” the ragged man was broadcasting.

Soren put up a polite but distracted deflection, “Sorry. No time. Good luck.”

Soren then redoubled his efforts: “Hey, you. With the raven hair. Stop.”

She marched on oblivious and turned down a side street. 

“Hey! Wait up!” he finally called audibly. His voice was so weak, he thought. He didn’t sound like he did in thoughts--confident and full--and that passing car nearly drowned him out. But she’d heard, right--

“Are you… talking to me?” The raven-haired woman had turned around.

Soren almost forgot that talking out loud required a breath--which breath he had lost jogging the last few yards to catch up. 

“Y-yeah. I… Why can’t I read your mind?”

----------

Three days earlier, Soren sat on his front steps reading a book. The cover was a nauseating pastel, with a sweeping title: Be an Empath: Learning to Connect in a Telepathic Age. Beneath the title, a carefree seagull tried his best to mime what empathy must look like to a seagull.

Soren hated reading. So inefficient. It was like talking out loud--it took so much time to form words. Pencil, pen, keyboard, tongue, teeth and lips. They had their place, sure--leave a nice little note for someone, sing a song--but a book was just an information dump. The more transparent it was, the better. And he sure wasn’t seeing through these pages. If only he had money to spare, he’d just go to a conference by the author and tune in to a thought-lecture. Faster, more thorough. He did his best to imagine the smarmy psychologist pictured on the back and what his thoughts would sound like. Nothing like the words, for sure.

“The mind is like a house,” the doctor explained. “You can decorate your exterior. Put things out on your porch. Wave at neighbors down the street. You can clean and organize the interior, and look through photo albums. But anyone can come in. It’s like a glass house, and that means no secrets. Try to be a good neighbor.”

Soren frowned, wishing the words on the pages were thoughts, that the book was a mind that he could ask questions and exchange with. He glanced up briefly, distracted by the sonorous tweets of a passing bird and it’s singular thoughts.

“Information is not connection, nor is communication connection. Just because you hear the words your partner is thinking, you don’t know what those words mean to them emotionally or experientially.” 

“Amen, brother,” Soren nodded, but didn’t actually move his head. 

“Just because they show you an image, doesn’t mean you understand what they mean with that message. Since the turn of the century, humans have been able to read minds, but some of us still struggle with reading hearts. With understanding meaning.”

Soren frowned, and not just at the namby-pamby writing. He still remembered that image, that volcanic culmination. Trisha, his girlfriend, hair and eyes wild. Her nails at his neck, throttling him, shaking him like a ragdoll. She hadn’t done that, of course, but she’d thought it. It didn’t take an empath to know that she was furious. Silly how it had all started. Trisha was his girlfriend, and she lived with him. Good person. Pretty mind. Well-kept. Curated. They got along. Fit like cogs on gears. Most of the time.

She’d wanted a skylight. In the living room, right above the couch.

It had all happened so fast, the meltdown. He had come home, and she had tried to hide the fact that she’d called a contractor. $950 was the quote. Installation, 22 inch by 45 inch. Double-pane glass. That had made him most upset, actually. That she had tried to hide it. Obviously, she couldn’t--and sending her a question called it all up, like a web search query. From there, it was just mismatched priorities, attack and defense. Reaction, thoughts catalyzed by anger.

They hadn’t communicated much at since then--kept their hands and minds to themselves. She still lived in his apartment, but her little brain-house had a big “Stay Out” sign on the front porch. Soren shook his head and closed the book, skeptical there was anything in there that could fix his relationship, or his life. Or anything. 

----------

“Oh that’s just how I am. Strange, huh?” the woman smiled, as if she was laughing at Soren. 

“I don’t…” His mouth pulled apart at the first syllable, air escaping, suddenly truncated twice with his tongue on the roof of his mouth, once for d and once for t. All in the space of a second. Soren had a million questions. He groaned internally when he realized he would have to vocalize them all. 

“And who are you? You aren’t the guy that was staring at me all night, in the club, were you?” 

If he had to guess, her tone was coy? Sarcastic? He felt an anxiety boil up inside him. Was she making fun of him? Did she think he was stalking her? He pried at her mind again, but saw and heard only blank. Her house was shuttered up. 

Soren smiled at last, his mind and heart neck-and-neck in a frantic race to keep it together. 

“I was just, uh, curious. I thought everyone was born a telepath?” “Ask her name. Get off the street?” he thought.

“I guess not,” she shrugged. “Hey, listen. It’s cold, and I’m going for a kip at that cafe right over there.” She paused. “Come with?”

“Come with?” his mind reeled a little. Was that a romantic advance, a test? “She’s so strange--closed mind-- but she’s beautiful-- he still had game, yet-- surprising that she’d be so forward-- what WAS she thinking?” 

“Sure,” said Soren, nonchalant. 

Her name was Penny. She lived on the other side of town. Her parents lived an hour away. They were both telepaths, but somehow she wasn’t. She didn’t know why. 

It was grievously slow going--questions and answers, and they had to stop talking to do things like sip a coffee and nibble at bread.  But it was a tantalizing game. Soren had no idea what Penny was thinking, and he soon trusted that she couldn’t see anything in his mind, either. Soren was terribly anxious to know what she was thinking, but it was strangely freeing to have mental privacy. Penny couldn’t know anything Soren didn’t volunteer, out loud. Notably, Penny didn’t know about Trisha.

Penny was quick. She surprised him several times with a turn of phrase or a joke. She was an editor. Liked to “help people find their voice”. Maybe be a publisher someday. Soren said he loved books. Penny said she was sad people didn’t read anymore, but she had lots at her apartment. Nice wooden shelves, leather bindings. Her apartment was a quick cab away. Did he want to see her books? Yeah. Yeah he did.

Four steps up to her front door, which was a deep blue with a diamond window. Her apartment was cozy and well-decorated. Clean. Smelled warm, like a holiday. Her books were impressive. They were organized by the colors of their covers. It was pretty. Her eyes were pretty, too. 

Her couch was soft. So was the skin along her jaw. Soren kissed her. He had no idea what she was thinking, or what he was thinking for that matter. She pushed him back on the couch.

Soren looked up. There was a great big black rectangle in the ceiling. Penny had a skylight, looking up into the inscrutable night sky.