#500 years later than literally everyone else but whatever

[the-hwaelweg]

OH MY GOD AMAZON IS FINALLY TAKING FIXED-FORMAT EPUBS INSTEAD OF THEIR STUPID PROPRIETARY FORMAT!!!

[sketching-shark]

I am once again thinking about JTTW retelling potentials people have brought up in terms of Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing knowing Sun Wukong when they were all up in heaven, but specifically through the lens of a Monkey King characterization where he was a canny and ruthless warlord.

Like. Imagine you're a high ranking general in heaven, and one day this 4-foot-something monkey yaoguai starts scampering all over the place being friendly with everyone he runs across. And okay, you're at first kind of concerned by the fact that there's a literal yaoguai in heaven, especially when you hear about some of his exploits on Earth and against some of your fellow immortals. But the Jade Emperor gave the monkey his position, and he's not technically doing anything bad, just completely ignoring protocol and referring to everyone as his friends and brothers. Maybe you find it kind of annoying. Maybe it's kind of charming. But whatever he did before he's a silly monkey now that you don't even see that much.

And then one day all of heaven is in an uproar because it turns out this monkey not only stole tons of immortality granting peaches, but also golden elixir specifically intended for the Jade Emperor. So that's a bridge too far, and obviously means that he needs to surrender to heaven for punishment immediately or else his entire clan will be executed. But he and all his yao allies fight back. More and more and more deities have to be called in to try and subdue this one monkey. And when he is finally captured, it turns out nothing heaven strikes him with can kill him. So then he's there tied up and helpless, but still jeering at all the assembled deities because they have nothing stronger than him.

And then Laozi proposes that he be melted down. The monkey is struggling and crying for this to not happen, but maybe you see what you think is some discomfiting gleam in his eyes, something that indicates he wanted this to happen. But you're not sure, so you say nothing...

And it turns out the monkey's time in the furnace did nothing but refine him into an even stronger immortal than before. And as soon as he's freed he starts smashing a bloody swath through heaven with no one able to halt him until he's practically tearing at the Jade Emperor's throne. Even with twenty-five thunder deities and a host of other immortals trying their best, no one's able to knock him down, and he's laughing and screaming about how no one can stop him, that he won't stop until he's toppled the Jade Emperor and taken heaven's throne for himself, and oh, it seems like there's a chance he might be able to force his way into that position...

So some 500 years later you're living in disgrace and traveling with this same monkey. He's subdued and snarky, and clearly much weaker than he had been before. But still, he's able to get you and your companions out of one jam after another. There's a lot of tension in the group, but it's softening over time. And you start seeing the monkey in a new light. You know how much he loves his "little ones" and wants to go back to his Earthly home. You've seen how capable he is of being gentle with children. And yet...

You've also been witness to the casualness with which the monkey takes human and yaoguai life. The plans he's formed to inflict massive amount of pain on his opponents to make them obey. They way he spies on those who present obstacles to your shared journey so that he knows exactly how they might best be dealt with swiftly and often brutally.

And at some point, you realize that he didn't havoc through heaven, he never does anything in a blind rage.

That even back then he had had plenty of time to consider what exactly he was going to do when he got out of that furnace. He chose not to flee Heaven as soon as he was out, but to kill as many as he could on the way to challenge the Jade Emperor himself.

And now you're on a journey together, which very well could end with this monkey becoming a buddha.

[concrete-the-cat]

Short one because I don't have time today!! Might do another superhero one later :) @technologyvoid @secondhand-sonder

edit: NOT SHORT I DO NOT HAVE MUC HT TIME LEFT NOT!!! SHORT!!! DAMN IT!!

"But... but why?"

Allison... had not lived a particularly interesting life, by any chance. She wanted to, but the best she'd gotten was Broadway, which wasn't as popular as it once was and she wasn't really a lead at all. She barely remembered exactly how she died; but by looking at herself, she didn't see wrinkly skin. So, either she died still fairly young or the afterlife reverted her. She hoped for the latter, considering that forgetting how she died meant the afterlife at least helped with the pain somehow, but... she felt like she would have had more memories if it had been something related to old age.

In her heart, she knew it was an accident. She hadn't made many connections, so she hoped to- well. Kind of felt ironic to hope to God right now. Regardless. She hoped it wasn't anything violent, like a mugger - she knew that violent crime mostly happened by those the victim knew, and by the fact she didn't know almost anyone... ah. Did it matter now?

The angel fidgeted a bit in response to her question.

"I don't know why you people always ask that... can you just pick...?"

She grinned a bit, a teasing smirk growing on her face. This was something making this holy being - a holy being!! - embarrassed.

"No, I want to know why you can choose. I was devout and this is wrong that just anyone can go anywhere," she said, with a fake frown - playing the part of an ultrareligious person. She was not, of course, she could remember that at least. Actually she could remember every time she'd sinned in great detail. Guess the afterlife mind-editing device did that too. Greaaaaaat.

"You were not devout," said the angel, frowning in response. "You drank, like, after every show you did. Everyone is disappointed in you."

That last line sounded learned and repeated rather than an actual insult.

"Okay, fine, but tell meeeee," she replied.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

For the record; all of those ellipses represented both of them, locked in a staredown until the angel finally relented-

Repented, corrected Allison in her own head with a snicker.

"Okay, look! You guys- you guys strayed way too far!!! We left, for, like, 500 years, which is like a blink of an eye up here, and we go back down and- you know how weird you are? Some of you are just downright freaks! And the wars and genocides! In the name of Him, too!! He got up and handed things off to Uriel and started a whole-ass other universe because you all messed up that much," the angel rambled. "We offer the option to go to Hell because some people like it down there! Who likes being burnt, in pain, and beat for eternity??!! I remember a time Lucifer came up here with a lot, before you could ask, and just said 'take these ones, I literally cannot anymore'!"

"Wait, wait, wait. You're- you're saying- we killed God?"

"No, not really, but-"

She turned to the rest of the stairs and the lines of people on them and jumped in excitedness, shouting -

"WE KILLED GOD, EVERYBODY!!! WOOHOOOOOO!!!!"

"Please stop," said the angel, now somehow red with even more embarrassment than before. "Are you done asking me questions I don't want to answer...?"

She put a hand to her chin in an overdramatized thinking pose.

"Hmmmm... hrmmm. hrmmmm. Hmmmmrmrmrmrmrmrrmmm."

The angel looked - very unamused by this.

"... Can I go back?"

"Oh, you little- of course you're one of those too! No! I can send you to the reincarnation guy, I guess, it's become a mashup of religions and afterlifes up here, but you can't be the same person. Got it?"

"Suuuuuuuuuuuure," she said, trying to put as much genuinity into her voice as possible.

"You're lying. You- we can tell you're lying. Whatever, you're holding up the line, lady. Up the stairs, to the right, medieval village, last stall. Go bother someone else."

Allison skipped away and barely looked at the pearly gates, the buildings, and simply followed instructions. Another set of gates and the world changed; it looked... peaceful. And old. Houses lined a cobblestone street within a small forest village, and what looked like a poor mimicry of the night sky glimmered above - a glimpse of home again. In the short distance, stalls replaced houses, as if a medieval market; each one with a different colored tarp covering it but not good. The last one, at the end of the road - oh, so that's the point she was supposed to get, the end of the road, clever to be honest - was yellow and seemed to have what looked like an oddly colored orb as if one used by those psychics inside.

Though... this actually looked like it had power instead of being a parlor trick. It looked pretty, with stars and what seemed like galaxies floating inside it.

As she approached and put her arms on the stall, looking for a bell to ring annoyingly, an ethereal voice floated around her. Or maybe whatever this entity was was just invisible.

"You again," it said with the voice of an older, wise man. "... the last time you were here; you asked to be a star. Of course I cannot grant such things, you know. I can set you on a path, open up the opportunities, but you must make the dream happen yourself."

"The... last time I was here?" she said, confused.

"Oh, yes... not once has your soul even taken a moment in Heaven or Hell. You've only ever skipped along to me and asked for an experience..."

"Wait, so, what do you... do here? The angel said reincarnation, not... an experience."

"Life, life is the experience, young one... You tell me who you want to be, what your personality will be, what your dreams will be - as I said, I will open up the paths to greatness but you must seize them - and depending on how many times you've attempted the same thing and how great and famous you wish to become, I will ask you to pick from a certain amount of challenges, as well..."

"... I still feel like myself. I mean, like Allison. If I've chosen my personality every time; why am I still... me?"

"Normally you begin to feel more like a soul over time... begin to remember other lives... however, this 'Allison Fenwick'... was fairly close to who you really are. That is why you are not drastically different. I must warn you, you have tried to be a star many times, and so the challenges mounted... your mother died early on, you would be hit by a car and immobilized for a year, at least two of your relationships would go wrong... amongst other small ones..."

"... I chose those things...? It doesn't matter! The more choices I made the more interesting I was, the more stories I had to tell. I'm the most- Allison... Allison was the best one so far, even so."

"I'm happy you had a good time... now... who do you want to be?"

"... Her. I'm not done. I'm not. Send me back," she demanded.

"You do this every time. And every time I want to, truly. But time moves fast, young one. You are likely in a casket at your funeral by now. Do you realize how frightening that would be?"

"I don't care. Be a funny story when I actually die of old age. I liked- I liked the life I was in. I'm not done," 'Allison' insisted.

"And... and you were shot," said the voice. "I'm sorry... if I sent you back you'd be in excruciating pain... you'd likely die again in hours if not minutes if not given to a medical professional immediately after..."

"Wha- shot? But- but-"

"..."

"You know what? It doesn't matter! It doesn't! Send me back! I'll suffer through it! If I die again, I'll just come back!" she yelled, agitated

"... You have asked this over centuries of time... ah... I suppose... I can try..."

"Good, I- o-oh.. agh, I'm starting to feel dizzy, what... what are you... blagh... y-you b-b-b..."

The smell of wood surrounded her, and dull voices. Dust filled her lungs as she took a deep breath.

"... celebrating the lives of Allison Fenwick and Bethany Keys, two great souls unfortunately taken from us by a home robber just as they began to get the recognition they so dearly deserved. May we pray to God that their killer will be brought to justice, and furthermore that their ancestors and Heaven treats them like the angels on earth they were..."

What the hell?

She reached up, tapping the wood she was apparently encased in, and remembered the words of that voice.

'You're likely in a coffin by now'.

And after that realization-

Hey, didn't they say there'd be-

And like a cramp one would get from stretching in the morning, but 200x times worse, in her stomach...

A bloodcurdling scream, to all the others in the funeral home, was released from the coffin.

"OH GOD, OH GOD IT HURTS- HELP- HELP ME! I'M AWAKE! I'M ALIVE IN HERE! HELP- HELP ME!"

As she breathed in fresh air only a few moments after, and viewed the faces of her bewildered families, her voice suddenly darkened despite the pain, picked out on man in the audience.

"You. I remember you. What did you do to me?"

“Welcome to the afterlife. Do you want to go to Heaven or Hell?” “Wait, you’re asking me where I want to go? You don’t decide it based on how I lived my life or anything?” “Nope, it’s entirely your choice.”

[shinkei-shinto]

I just, I need somewhere to fucking bitch for a second and I don't want anyone to read it.

I hate gifts I hate gifts I hate gifts I hate gift giving I hate receiving gifts I hate this season I hate it I hate it I hate it, every fucking year I open myself up to the idea a little bit more and I find out I hate it a little bit fucking more and it hurts a little bit fucking more, I finally finally finally know maybe what I want for the first time in my life I have actual items -- I used to fucking --

I used to spend MONTHS carefully creating and curating these long lists of Cool Items, from $5 to $500, as both "I want this exact thing" and "I want something Like This that is similar to this object which is an example of what I want" with specific, careful labels, with indicators, I spent WEEKS updating it and carefully curating it and making sure it made sense and was up to date and not weird and had a lot of stuff even cheap little things that would make me happy

and

everyone

IGNORED IT.

took my fucking list and then showed up months later with some fucking thing that wasn't related to me or my list or what I wanted at all, paid NO attention to my aesthetic choices or desires or wants or ANYTHING I said on that list at all, just went off doing whatever the fuck they wanted, I LITERALLY ended up having to buy the shit I wanted the most - wHICH WAS IN THE FIVE TO FIFTEEN DOLLAR RANGE - FOR MYSELF. I bought my own fucking gifts! the things i ACTUALLY wanted.

and now again again AGAIN even WITHOUT A LIST even when all I fucking say is "I would like some collars" I would want fucking, I AM EVEN SAYING OUT LOUD WHAT I WOULD LIKE THIS YEAR TO PEOPLES FACES AND WATCHING THEM GO OFF SOMEWHERE ELSE. no I did not fucking say I wanted [redacted] which is HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS and takes up a TON of space that I don't have to give, I want fucking neat collars to wear 24/7 I want colors and patterns and shit I don't have right now so I can match to clothing! I have been SO FUCKING SPECIFIC about this because of the previous list issue AND

AND

because my entire fucking adult life the only fucking thing I have wanted is "art". I want art. I don't care of who - I have literally over 100 characters to pick from now - I have three fursonas and 5 altsonas if you want to get something ""personal"" - I have a LIST OF ARTISTS I WILL PROVIDE with openings and timing and PROMPTS EVEN, but not one person not ONE person not ANY person I have EVER told that to is willing to go to the effort of GETTING ME ART FOR ME. NOBODY. I get art from art trades with CLIENTS more than I have gotten as gifts from friends or partners. I don't fucking KNOW what is so HARD about this but it's so fucking impossible I simply just don't even fucking ask anymore and just BUY MYSELF ART FOR MYSELF FOR THE HOLIDAYS. and FURTHER I fucking HOST a STREAM for a DAY wher eALL I DO IS MAKE ART FOR ME. BECAUSE THIS IS SO HARD.

what the FUCK is WRONG with EVERYONE why the FUCK can't people see a list and PICK FROM THE LIST why the FUCK can't people hear the words FROM MY MOUTH and UNDERSTAND THAT I AM SAYING WHAT I WANT RIGHT NOW. I AM TELLING YOU. FACE TO FACE. WITH MY MOUTH. WHAT I WANT.

JUST FUCKING LISTEN TO ME.

[clownqueenofprom]

Pantheon AU things, Part II

You know what I noticed about the og show?

THAT THE VILLAINS WERE SUPER OVERHYPED AND UNDERUSED.

I’m talking specifically about Lady Bone Demon and Macaque. My babies were some of the most badass characters in their first run, but then you’re- you’re just gonna have them get WIPED LIKE A DIRTY TABLE

“The Samadhi Fire is the only way to defeat the Lady Bone Demon!” BABE WHAT

YOU JUST WENT STRAIGHT IN, NO PLAN, NO WEAPON, JUST WAS ABOUT TO STRAIGHT MURK HER

And don’t even get me started on macaque, like bro was such a good villain in his first two episodes, with all the needless theatrics only meant to screw with MK and all. But then in season 3 they’re like “oh no he’s actually not such a bad guy let’s make him way weaker than he was in his debut episode”

My guy has omnipotent control over shadows. He can sink into them with no problem. He can fly, and even if he couldn’t, he can turn into a bird.

Pray tell, HOW did he get knocked off into a freakin PITCH DARK HOLE, WHEN LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE ON BOARD, WHO, MIND YOU WERE JUST ABOUT READY TO KNEEL OVER, WERE ABLE TO KEEP CATCH ONTO SOMETHING AND KEEP THEIR HOLD???

So yeah in the Pantheon AU (and the “AU where everything is exactly the same but the lady bone demon destroys everyone with facts and logic”) I would like to avoid ruining them like that.

SO YES, I will be using both LBD and Macaque to their full potential, they deserve it, Macaque was goated in season 1 and 2, season 3 macaque…. 😐

He’s nah

Azure Lion Demon, Lady Bone Demon and Macaque? About to be the ILLEST power trio. Watch out, Monkey King 😎

Also LBD, even without me crediting her in full is more powerful in this au bc she doesn’t have to worry about destroying her host’s body because she’s not using one, just her own body.

500 years later, after a lot of plotting and stealing power, Lady Bone Demon says that they can finally enact… the plan 😼

To draw the Monkey King out of hiding, Lady Bone Demon uses her brilliant gaslight gatekeep girlboss skills to manipulate the Demon Bull Family.

She uses her mystical levitation whiz or whatever that is to lift the staff bc I saw her do it like it wasn’t nothing once

And BOOM DBK is free and has an spooky advisor who is definitely plotting something, also becoming best friends with Princess Iron Fan because YES

AWE AND HER BEING A SASSY AUNT TO RED SON, OH NO I LOVE THEM

Ok change of plans because I’m a wimp Demon Bull Family joins the pantheon. Azure lion would like that anyway bc DBK used to be in gang.

except for red son who doesn’t want the world to blow up

Of course Azure Lion, Lady Bone Demon and Macaque are still the main trio 🥰

OOH FAMILY DRAMA I AM ON A ROLL

[juneisafantasyaddict]

If LB wanted The Darkling to be pure evil, there are literally a lot of things she could have done. But giving him a sympathetic backstory that is actually a legitimate reason for him to turn out the way he did was definitely not the way to do it. If she wanted pure evil, she could’ve given him a backstory that’s just a ridiculous sob story, not “for hundreds of years my people have been hunted and killed because of prejudice and no one did anything about it until I had enough power to.” Do you even realize how easy it is to get people to be on your side when what you want more than anything is for your people to be safe from harm?? That’s literally why we don’t get mad at heroes for killing people, it’s because we know they are protecting vulnerable people.

I’ve seen people say The Darkling is like Magneto (re: his fight against what was happening to mutants), and while that comes close, I think The Darkling is even more sympathetic because at least the XMen had the good sense to have Charles Xavier there to provide a more humane/viable alternative to Magneto’s solutions, and we got to see the difference between their methods. But, in the Grishaverse, we have a monarchy in Ravka that only sees the Grisha as useful for war but also doesn’t let them own property, we have a heroine who doesn’t seem to care about anything except meadows and her childhood crush, we have the entire country of Ravka that seems to only like dead Grisha because “new saint to build a cult over,” then we have the only person who seems to prioritize the protection of these people who have no one and we’re supposed to care that he’s ruthless with anyone he perceives as a threat to his people? When you haven’t given us a viable alternative to his methods? To make matters even worse, he’s not even imagining these threats, he is literally reacting to their aggression, e.g Fjerdans come for Alina, he uses the cut, Zlatan sends an assassin to infiltrate his secure building and kill Alina, but ends up killing another Grisha under his care, he kills the assassin and does Novikribirsk, etc.

This is not a justification of his ruthless methods of punishment for those who are threats to him and his people, this is a “you cannot expect me to focus entirely on his methods when he’s literally the only reason why his people have any semblance of protection” rant. The heroine who we think is going to save the day is basically dragged through her character development and all her progress is destroyed very quickly because of this ridiculous need to pretend that the underdog is always right (Mal, power is evil, blah blah blah).

Somehow, we’re supposed to just be ok with the fact that a group of people who haven’t exactly showed that they care about Grisha suffering are going to save them from prosecution? I mean, let’s not forget that this group includes: Mal who we already know is prejudiced against Grisha, Alina who *sigh* so much potential wasted there, Nikolai who I have decided exists for comic relief because I will not be convinced that a “maybe prince who is also a Jack sparrow type pirate should be king of a country with very complex social and political situations.” Like, I’m looking at this group of supposed saviors and honestly, I would rather take my chances with the 500 year old extremely powerful Grisha who scares everyone. Let’s not even forget that we’re somehow supposed to consider Baghra one of the good guys for “warning Alina,” even though 2 episodes later, we basically see that Baghra doesn’t exactly care about the survival of the Grisha.

Give people a truly evil villain and we will act accordingly. Don’t give us a Magneto type villain with legitimate points and then expect us to treat him like Voldermot or something. You can even decide to not understand Magneto because hello, we are given real alternatives to his problem solving skills right away. But with The Darkling it’s just “he’s pure evil because I said so, but like also this is how he got here, but also he’s super evil, but like do you understand where he’s coming from? but also he’s super evil even though he has points.” That’s not a villain dear, that’s a good person doing bad things and needs to be shown a better way.

You can’t give me an antagonist with a compelling, truly tragic backstory and then be like “now that you understand why and how this character ended up in this dark place and you can see that all this was probably avoidable if so and so did/didn’t happen, let’s totally blow up their life because so what if they’ve deeply suffered?” Especially when there’s a path to redemption right there in the protagonist who you have made sure to establish has a deep bond/connection with this person.

You want to write pure evil? Give me a character that has no remorse, no capacity to care for anyone or anything else, no reason for his cruelty, etc. Don’t give me guy who uses his power to keep his people safe and then falls in love with his soulmate so deeply he can’t stop looking at her and holding her hand in front of the whole country.

Also, can we like actually address the issue that got Nina kidnapped, made the Darkling who he is, and forces all Grisha to basically only have one life plan?

It would be so much easier to believe that The Darkling is a villain if there was an actual alternative to him, but there isn’t.

And btw, in this age of social justice, the fact that LB didn’t think people will see the value in a person from a marginalized community doing whatever is necessary to free his people from oppression is just LOL.

Ok, incoherent rant over.

[emiko-matsui]

hello this is my official list of what i think every member of the bau would work with if they wouldn't work at the bau like if that wasn't a reality you get me

——

Jason Gideon: look i know this is technically canon but i truly do think he would be an author and would guest lecture a bit in his later years and like sure he could still write true crime books but also just regular crime novels i think this old man would just like to write

Jennifer "JJ" Jareau: i think she would work inside of the media, not in front of the camera necessarily but as a communicator or similarly inside of the media and the news. however i think there's a possibility of a divergence of path for her, i think its possible she could end up in a hostage situation due to her job in a similar situation like in neon terror and would start working out as a coping mechanism and like genuinely would pick up a (extra?) job as a personal trainer at her gym

Derek Morgan: firefighter. that's it i don't know what to say other than that, derek would 500% be a firefighter. there's nothing else. now that i think about it derek should've been a firefighter from the beginning fuck the bau this is his true calling don't even @ me

Elle Greenaway: similarly to JJ i think elle would work inside of the media but as an investigative journalist. well i think she would start out as a regular journalist but become an investigative journalist after a while because her drive would be too big you get me. also niche but i think that when she was a teen she was like briefly a singer like you know robin from how i met your mother but she would've made angry girl music

Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner: genuinely don't think this punk could stay away from the government so i think he would still work a fancy government job just not inside of the bau, maybe not even the fbi but i so think he'd still be in government. now what i have no idea because i know nothing about the government especially the american government seeing as im not even remotely american

David "Dave" Rossi: now i don't even know if this fucking counts but you know those really fancy shops that are like made of dark smelling wood and is called something extravagant with a cursive gold font and they sell like cigar or wine or herbal products or like mustache wax or whatever the fuck you know the places im talking about. i think rossi would work there and be that old man at the counter who will come up and talk to you and you have no idea if he just works there and is really invested in this stuff or if he owns the place or just a really weird costumer but then he's the one you pay too so you assume it's his but the moment you step out of the store you've forgotten his face and you never want to go back there but you always think about it once a month or something. if you don't know what kinda place im talking about consider yourself lucky

Penelope Garcia: if the bau wasn't even a prospect here there's no question that penelope would still be a hacker illegally and make most of her money from there but i also think that she would work in a small second hand shop with lots of old trinkets and clothes and stuff just because she genuinely thinks it's fun to work there and also the old woman who owns the shop lets her be on the computer when there's no costumers in the store. i just think she would sit there in her cupcake dress next to a ceramic old cat from the 1930s talking to bernice about her grandson while hacking jeff bezos on her computer

Spencer Reid: now it's time for spencer all over the place reid who i think would work at like one of those really prestige but still public libraries where like everyone is welcome but they have like locked rooms with super valuable books and stuff and he kinda does whatever there bc sometimes he gives tours talking about thr history of the building and stuff and sometimes you find him at the counter ready to guide you to the specific book you're looking for plus twenty other recommendations you should read if you like this book and sometimes you find him in a window reading and his coworkers politely ignore he's had his "break" for three hours now bc he guided 17 tours yesterday (only ten were scheduled) and they suspect he mightve slept here. plus in his spare time i think he would do some independent work to keep him stimulated with stuff but that's not a fully developed idea yet

Stephen Walker: this might be controversial but i think stephen would be a guidance counsellor at like a school and i don't know why but he has the vibe and i think he would be quite good at it. maybe he just gives me more official jawbone vibes from dimension 20

Emily Prentiss: i firmly believe this woman cannot hold down a job for her life. i think the bau and interpol were flukes in her reality because im quite certain emily would physically not be able to keep one job for longer than a year. if you mention a job she's probably done it. she's done everything from high positions in government to bagging groceries to leading seminars to breeding puppies. listen emily prentiss is a lesbian ex goth trust fund kid (like canonically yall). i think right now she's working with the lights for a theatre production and she's liking it and seems to have a knack for it

Tara Lewis: this one's out there but i think she would work as a principal at a university (do universities have principals?). but like the one who's in charge of a school but like advanced studies with like adults study after they've already studied if you know what i mean. idk i just think that's what she would be

Luke Alvez: hate to do this to luke but he would simply just be a cop. or like a detective (that's like a promotion for a cop in america right? bro my knowledge extends to brooklyn 99 and brooklyn 99 only). i hope this is because i feel like luke is the serious crime version of jake peralta and jake is the sitcom version of luke. anyway, cop

Matt Simmons: this is my magnum opus but bro i think he would be a podcaster. i think he would do a podcast with kristy. for everyone who follows my blog think justin and sydnee mcelroy but matt is sydnee. i think they would have a little podcast together. after his unit at the fbi (?) got got by linda barnes i think he would retire home and start doing podcasting full time with kristy. this is my hot take

Kate Callahan: because such a central part of kate's personality/backstory is that her sister died in 9/11 i think that kate would've been a nurse. specifically a nurse not a doctor and i don't think it's because a lack of competence or anything like that fuck u no i genuinely think kate wanted to be a nurse and chose to study to become that. her hours would still be crazy but maybe meg isn't as worried about her now

Ashley Seaver: i don't have a lot for seaver but i think she would work in local government more centralised like those guys from parks and rec and yes i realise ive made way too many references that some people might not understand but here we are. i think seaver would do whatever leslie does in parks and rec or something like that

Alex Blake: this is just a formality to have her on here because she's literally a linguistics professor in the show

[fawnandshadows]

After The Ceremony - Chapter 5

Happy Saturday!

I was going to wait until Tuesday to post the last chapter of After The Ceremony, but I just couldn't wait! I am so close to finishing the first chapter of my new fic called You Painted Me Golden which I will be posting later this week maybe even Tuesday. I wanted to thank everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, and commented on this story! I never would have finished without all of your encouragement, and I am so appreciative! This story can also be found on AO3

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,903

Warnings: Not super explicit, but nsfw just to be safe

Azriel was a wreck of nerves as he stared at the solid wooden door in front of him. Elain was on the other side — his soulmate, his literal soulmate, his other half was only a knock away, and Azriel, who had been in countless battles and performed unspeakably brutal acts without so much as flinching, was scared. He was scared to show her the knowledge the book in his hand held because even though he knew that Elain had feelings for him, what if she didn’t want this?

He took a steadying breath and raised his fist to knock when the door opened. His hazel eyes looked down to find a flustered Elain looking up at him, her brown eyes warm with relief and crackling with desire. The little sigh that escaped nearly broke him.

“Hi,” Az said lamely, but that was all it took for Elain to launch herself at him. Her arms twining around his neck and her legs wrapping around his hips, her sweet smell of jasmine went straight to his head, and he had to prop his hand against the door jam because his knees wobbled and threatened to give out. “Elain.” He groaned and took a deep breath, trying to inhale as much of her scent as he could.

“I missed you,” Elain whispered and pulled back to plant kisses across his face. She stopped long enough to give him a heated yet shy smile, “Thanks for coming back.”

“I’ll always come back, Elain,” Azriel said and pressed his lips to her forehead. She was so small it was adorable how easily she fit in his arms, even when he was holding her she wasn’t quite eye-level. “Always.”

She beamed at him, and her smile looked like sunlight streaming through a rain cloud, and suddenly every worry, every hesitation, and every apprehension disappeared. He walked through the door, set her on the closest surface —which happened to be the counter in her kitchenette that was also splattered with flour and filled with baking equipment— at his questioning glance she said, “I was stress baking.”

Azriel released a small chuckle and fully took in her appearance. Flour was sprinkled in her messy hair and her cheeks were flush, she had an almost drunken look on her face as she gazed at him with heavy eyes. She looked absolutely adorable. He loved seeing her rumpled and flustered. And suddenly an image burst into his mind of Elain with a rounded belly breaking bread, and two children — an older male with dark hair, and a younger female honeyed hair— running through the kitchen, and his heart started to ache.

The small smile on her face tugged at his heart.

“Have you seen that? In one of your visions,” Azriel asked and at her confused look he explained. “Us, or you, with children.” The loving, knowing smile on her face was his answer.

Wordlessly, Azriel opened the book from the library and handed it to her. She looked surprised, as if she had forgotten everything that had happened that morning, and took the book from him. A frown creased her brow as she concentrated on the words in front of her, and Azriel soaked in every small movement her face made. He was so used to watching her from afar that he relished the opportunity to gaze at her freely. Her face was so naturally expressive it warmed his heart that she didn’t feel the need to guard herself and hide what she was feeling around him, he had noted that she did it with the rest of their family, but not with him.

Slowly Elain lifted her head and her wide eyes connected with Azriel’s. He spent the last 500 years training himself to have an unreadable face at all times, and all that hard word came crumbling down as Elain let out a breathy “oh.” He let her see everything he was feeling: his fear, his anxiety, his limitless and unyielding love. He put it all on his face for her to see.

Elain, more collected than she had the right to be, placed the book beside her and cupped his face in her hands. Azriel stepped between her legs, and his hands gently landed on her hips. He felt the breath leave his lungs as Elain pressed the sweetest kiss on his lips. She pulled back just enough and said, “I love you, Azriel.”

Her heart was threatening to crack her ribs in two. Elain couldn’t bring herself to say anything else once she saw the openness on his face, her heart almost broke at the tender emotions laid bare on Azriel’s beautiful face. Elain watched, and the shadowsinger was surprisingly easy to read without his walls up — she saw the disbelief, the twinge of uncertainty, and wanted nothing more than to wipe away all of his fears and self doubt. She supposed she had the rest of her life to do that.

“I love you, Azriel,” Elain repeated herself and brought his face closer to hers. She brushed her lips against his, which were slightly more puckered than usual due to her hands holding his cheeks, and she had to hold her own tears back as she felt his warm tears stream down his face. “And I need you to know that. This soul bond between us, whatever it is, I would love you just as much without it. I love every scar on your body, and I won’t stop loving everything about you until my heart stops beating because it only beats for you.”

She kissed him again. Her fingers cupped his strong jaw, and his grip on her hips was so tight she knew there would be bruises, but she didn’t mind — she loved how strong he was, and she didn’t want him to hold back, ever. Their lips moved together, slow and unrushed yet Elain could feel his emotion with every brush of his tongue. She pulled back and brushed away his tears with her lips. Her hand slid down his neck to rest over his chest, and Elain could feel his heart pounding just as hard as her own.

“Soul mates, huh?” Elain asked with a silly grin. “How would you feel if I said I already guessed that?”

Azriel let out a harsh laugh.

“Did you?”

Elain gave him a playful nod and said, “Yes. Ever since we all sat down to dinner the first night, I just couldn’t get you out of my head, and when you came for me. I was screaming so loudly, so loudly down whatever bond I could find, and you came for me. When I saw you I knew that my prayers had been answered — in more ways than one. That was when I knew you were the only male for me. The only male that I would ever want. The only male I would ever love.”

Azriel’s hand came up and pressed against hers, pushing her hand closer to his chest to feel the beating of his heart. He licked his lips before saying in a broken voice, “This is yours. I tried to ignore it for so long, I hope it wasn’t — I hoped my heart couldn’t belong to someone else because that’s fucking terrifying. And I thought that it made sense in a perfectly twisted way, that I finally found someone I could love and somebody who could love me back, but the only catch was that she had a mate— the cauldron had given hers to someone else,” A small smile formed at his lips. “I should have known you wouldn’t give a damn about what the cauldron said. I’m not very good with my words, but I will show you everyday that I love you. When I bring you coffee in the morning. When I kiss you awake and kiss you to sleep. When I have to beat up Cassian for the stupid things he says,” Elain couldn’t stop the laugh that forced it’s way out. “Just know that whatever I do, I do it with love for you.”

Elain flung herself at Azriel, and this time he was prepared for her. His arms enclosed her in the safest place she had ever known. Azriel lifted her off the counter, without breaking their kiss, and carried her into her room. He only stopped when his shins hit the wood of the bed, and he let out a curse as he took in the tiny cot.

“It was just meant for one. I don’t think my sister thought I would be… entertaining in the bedroom.” Elain explained with a blush. Gods did he love when she blushed.

“Hold on tight, Love.” Azriel said, and Elain knew what was coming next. In the blink of an eye everything was black and she was engulfed in shadow, and a moment later she was back in Azriel’s room. It looked exactly how it did early this morning when she left it. The same fire crackling in the fireplace and the same cozy quilt on the bed. Elain thought it was cute that he slept with the quilt, but she wasn’t sure why.

Azriel tossed her gently on the bed, only to prop his arms on either side of her, and kiss her again. He kissed her as if he were drinking from her, sipping at her lips, as if she was his only source of life. Elain let out a moan as her finger went to his hair. She loved his hair. He kissed her, and with every kiss they leaned a little farther back on the bed until he was crushing her with his weight. She loved how heavy he was on top of her; it made her feel safe. Elain brought her legs up to wrap around his hips, and she shifted her legs forward in a deliberate move, and this time they both let out a groan at the friction.

Scarred hands fisted in her dress, and Azriel pulled away to ask, “Can I take this off?”

“Yes,” Elain said breathlessly. “Just don’t rip it. It’s hard to find dresses that match your siphons.”

“I love you so much,” Azriel said with a surprisingly gentle kiss, and removed her dress with such delicacy it was borderline reverent, and in no time she was naked beneath him.“And I’m going to tell you every day for the rest of our lives. Morning,” Azriel pressed his lips to her lips. “Noon,” He kissed her bare stomach. “And night.” He pressed a kiss to her hot center.

All of his desperation seemed to have melted away and he licked at her like she was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted, as if she was something to be savored and enjoyed. Elain wished she had his serenity, but her fire was burning hotter than ever, and Azriel’s tongue was the only thing that could soothe her. She gripped his hair a little too harshly and ground against her face in a lewdness she had never experienced before.

The growl that came from Azriels throat vibrated in all the right places that she couldn’t stop herself from coming all over his face. She rode out her orgasm, until the fog lifted from her mind, and when she opened her eyes she saw his molten eyes gazing at her as he licked her center. His wings fluttered ever so slightly.

“Oh,” Elain said with a sudden wave of doubt. “Was- was that ok?”

He grinned at her in a way that promised pleasure and said, “That was more than ok,” He crawled up the bed to her until he was right above her. “I think hearing you scream as you come on my tongue is my new favorite sound.”

Elain’s face heated and she gently pushed his shoulder.

“Do you think someone heard?” Elain whispered and Azriel threw his head back with a laugh. A wild and free sound that resonated deep in Elain’s soul. He didn’t think he had ever laughed when he was in bed with a woman before, but he found he loved it.

“I hope they did.” Azriel said with a self-satisfied smile, and laughed even harder at Elain’s horrified expression. He didn’t stop himself from kissing her nose. He would never stop himself from kissing her ever again.

“Az!” Elain whisper-yelled, and Azriel couldn’t help but adore her more.

“Promise me something,” Azriel said. His hand found hers, and he wrapped their fingers together before brushing his lips against her delicate fingers. “Promise me that you will never hold back. Never suppress your sighs, moans, or screams — even if you’re screaming at me for something I did wrong,” The vulnerability in his voice nearly shattered Elain’s heart. “Never feel embarrassed when you feel anything, especially when you feel pleasure.” The vulnerability melted away into something smoother and headier that caused Elain’s skin to heat and prickle.

“I promise.”

Azriel shifted just a little and Elain felt the blunt edge of him at her entrance, and she didn’t even try to stop the moan came from her throat. He brought their entwined hands up over her head, and the other placed itself at her hip. Elain would have sworn that her blood was boiling wherever he touched her.

“Are you ready?” Azriel asked, and Elain was too muddled from her lust to form words, so she gave him the barest of nods. His lips captured hers is a slow, lazy kiss, and if Elain were capable of thinking she would have been irritated by how collected he was. She felt more impatient than she had in her entire life, and true to her promise she didn’t hold back, she lifted her hips and let out a sharp breath at the feel of him inside of her.

Elain’s eyes had opened just in time to see Azriel’s roll back into his head.

“Fuck.” Azriel let out a jagged breath. He held himself still, Azriel knew how large he was and that Elain needed to adjust to the size of him, the feeling of her soft, velvety heat clenching around him — coupled with an ungodly amount of restraint — caused his body to tremble. He waited until he felt her relax around him before pressing deeper into her, and after a small eternity she accepted all of him.

“Elain,” Azriel said in a strained voice. He waited to hear Elain’s incoherent mumbling before speaking again. “I’m not sure how gentle I can be.”

The brown eyes that gazed up at him somehow turned incredibly clear.

“I’ll take whatever you give,” Elain said with a loving smile. “I don’t want you to hold back either.”

She had shattered his self control — completely annihilated it and smashed it to smithereens. He heard him promise her that the next time would be better, but his hips were already snapping into hers, and then their lips were seering each other's skin, and the smell of their arousal and sweat perfumed the room.

Neither of them cared that the bedframe was hitting the wall at an alarming rate, and that if their family didn’t know what was happening, then they certainly did now.

The only thing the lovers cared about was each other.

Azriel had never left so drained, yet so light, after making love. Actually, Azriel thought, this was probably the first time he had ever made love before.

Soon after Azriel found his release he gracelessly flopped onto Elain. He didn’t have the strength to lift himself up, or pull himself out of her body, but he needed to feel her. Feeling her skin against his reminded Azriel that it was real — that what had happened between them, something he had never even let himself dare to hope, was real and that no one would take it from him.

“Azriel?” Elain said, her voice thick with sleepy pleasure. This time it was Azriel’s turn to form some type of disjointed reply of random sounds, which caused a sense of giddiness to flood Elain. She had done that to the shadowsinger. She made him feel so good that he couldn’t form words. “I think we should do that as often as possible,” She suggested and was pleased when she felt him nod. His head was tucked into her shoulder, and his hair tickled her neck. “I think I want us to make love in a meadow. I found this beautiful clearing a couple months ago, it’s so secluded, it would be the perfect spot. I want to see how your skin looks in the sunlight, fully exposed. All of your skin.”

Azriel could tell that she was slightly embarrassed by her request, and his heart thrummed excitedly with the knowledge that she felt safe and comfortable enough to share that with him. He didn’t think he would ever get used to that. He peered up at her and said, “As you wish, my love.”

Eventually, their frantic love making turned into lazy melding of their bodies and souls. All day and night they planted hot kisses on each other, their bodies easily finding a perfect pace every time they made love, and they stopped only when they felt the need to sleep, but whoever woke up first would wake the other in the most delightful way.

Nobody dared disturb them. Not even to bring them food.

As the dawn broke the next morning Elain and Azriel came to an unspoken agreement that it was finally time to face their family and return to reality, no matter how much they wished they could stay in their own world they created. When they finally tore themselves away from each other long enough to put some clothes on and go downstairs, they realized how hungry they were. Not two seconds after smelling the freshly cooked bacon did Elains stomach growl, in a very unladylike way, and notify everyone in the dining room of their presence.

Everything looked almost the same as it did the day before, except this time Mor was sitting at the table with an absurd amount of food piled on her plate, and Lucien was nowhere to be found.

Mor was looking at the pair with a knowing grin, and Cassian’s wolfish smile was almost enough to ruin the bliss that Elain and Azriel felt. Almost, but not quite. Feyre and Nesta looked almost as happy as Elain felt, and both Az and Elain were surprised at the happiness on Rhysand’s face.

“Good morning.” Elain said tentatively. She noted that they didn’t bother to wait for them to eat. Azriel didn’t say anything, but he followed Elain to the buffet table and held two plates that she filled with bacon, ham, eggs, bread, and potatoes. It was more food than Az had ever seen Elain eat at once, and a blush coated her cheeks at his raised everbrow. It was obvious to everyone in the room how Elain had worked up such an appetite.

They remained silent as they sat in the two open seats at the table, ignoring how everyone watched their movements. Azriel smiled fondly as he watched Elain prepared their coffee.

“Took my advice, huh?” Cassian broke the silence, which caused a flurry of events. Mor, Feyre, and Nesta all scolded him — Mor even smacked him on the head. Amren gave an amused smile, and Rhysand rolled his eyes affectionately, but his smile turned wolfish as well.

“Do you know?” Elain asked, fighting off any embarrassment she might have felt. She didn’t love the idea of her family knowing all of the sensual details, but she knew she did nothing wrong. Maybe someday she would feel more comfortable discussing her sex life, but right now she wanted to keep it between her and Azriel. “About the bond?”

They all nodded their heads.

“And you're happy about it?” Elain asked the group, but it was really directed towards Rhysand.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Rhysand said with an annoying grin. “A bond created by the Mother certainly trumps a mating bond, and now that there is no cause for a Blood Duel there’s no real chance of you guys starting the next war,” The High Lord stopped and thought for a moment. “Hopefully.”

Elain reached under the table to grab Azriel’s hand to give it a squeeze. All of her worries were quickly vanishing except one. She turned to Feyre to ask, “Is Lucien still here?”

Feyre looked at her with surprise in her blue eyes, and Elain knew why; She never once sought out Lucien before, but Elain had hoped to catch him before he left. She didn’t want any more misunderstandings or hurt feelings.

“He’s packing now,” Feyre explained. “At some point yesterday after you left breakfast Lucien tried to feel you through the bond, but the bond wasn’t there,” Her eyes went back and forth between her sister and the spymaster. “We connected the dots after Mor told us what happened.”

“I’d like to speak with him before he leaves.” Elain said, and that was the end of that. They all went back to their breakfasts and simply enjoyed the food and each other's company, and they tolerated Cassian’s crude jokes.

It was an hour after they had finished breakfast that Lucien was ready to travel home to the human lands. Feyre, Rhysand, Elain, and Azriel waited in the parlor to see him off. Lucien shook hands with Rhysand and said a quick goodbye before turning to Feyre to give her a warm hug. When Lucien finally turned towards Elain, who was tucked into Azriel’s side, his eyes widened and he let out a small gasp as he saw the bond between them. For whatever reason he hadn’t noticed the bond between them yesterday, and it was only now that he saw the silver-blue river flowing between them. Elain would have loved to see it again.

“I hope you travel safely,” Elain said with a kind smile. “And I hope there are no hard feelings.”

Lucien tipped his head towards her and said, “I hope you are happy,” He turned towards Azriel and almost all of the warmth in his face had faded. Their relationship was still impersonal and cold, but they had hundreds of years to fix that. “Treat her well.” Was all the goodbye that Azriel got, and the shadowsinger’s response was only a narrowing of his eyes.

“Oh, Lucien!” Elain remembered right before Lucien went on his way. A big smile formed on her face as she said, “Vassa loves orange carnations. Especially ones from the field where you walk.”

Elain was delighted by the blush that appeared on his face, and the stutter that he had as he tried to figure out how she knew. It took a second before everything clicked into place and he realized that she had seen it. Lucien gave a warm thank you before leaving.

“Playing matchmaker?” Feyre asked with a bright smile.

“The world could use more love.” Elain responded before beaming up at Azriel, and she saw him gazing down at her with pure adoration and unadulterated affection. Love churned in his hazel eyes.

“I agree.” Azriel muttered and pulled her into a kiss.

They were finally free to kiss as much as they wanted, and Azriel was going to make every kiss count.

[harvestdew]

pls will u ever elaborate on kiki's backstory im dying to know what on earth is going on there

yeah i was like wow i’m gonna be so cool and mysterious and NOT tell anyone not even my friends what’s going on with kiki til i pump out my comics because i thought it’d be better that way? but school saps the energy from me so idk why i expected to get comics out in a timely manner when comics take a lot of time. i also feel bad because i’ve had multiple people go like “WHAT the fuck is going” so i’ll just tell you all as a little 500 followers treat so you guys don’t misunderstand and think she’s a murderer

also if you ever want to hear me talk about my oc’s more you can always come to my livestreams (i stream my stardew valley gameplay w/ friends or when i draw)!

disclaimer: this will be long. it’s complicated, if you’re more confused just send me another ask and i’ll elaborate, and i’ll split it into 3 sections! i’m so sorry

childhood - after kiki’s parents divorced, she chose to stay with her dad, her mom remarried to a rich CEO (more on this later), whatever. her dad dies in an accident, but instead of being passed over to her mom, kiki got sent to pelican town to live with her grandpa on her dad’s side when she was 13. i think at this time haley is too young for her to hang out with because i always thought she was younger than kiki BUT sebastian is her age and they’re actually put in the same class

kiki struggles with acclimating to pelican town because she’s a) grieving b) joining the class in the dead middle of the year so everyone thinks she’s a loser LOL. i guess sebastian felt really bad for her cuz he finds her crying outside once of class and gives her like his juice or something out of pity. they end up becoming friends though, and by extension, she becomes friends with sam and abigail. she hangs out with sebastian the most though, plus they’re kinda neighbors so robin was used to her stopping by constantly out of convenience

unfortunately kiki only spends 2 years in pelican town because her grandpa died, but before he does he gives her the envelope like in the intro of stardew valley and tells her not to open it. everything goes downhill for her at this point because it means she has to move back in with her mom. kiki knows that her mom has 0 attachment to stardew valley so the only way she thinks she can really keep in contact with everyone is writing them letters which sounds pretty infallible at first

anyway i may or may not have taken inspo from an e ve MV here because childhood friends parting makes me really sad

teenage years up to early 20s - around this time surprise her mom is (surprise) awful. by this i mean her mom literally married a chairman at joja corp., enrolled kiki in private school, and tried to siphon any connection she had to her dad, grandpa, and stardew valley by substituting it with her new life in zuzu city. not to mention kiki’s step-sister irene who i’m going to design lately hopefully (?) also loves making her miserable only because she hates kiki’s mom 

the only thing that makes city life bearable for her is frequent letters from her friends, most often (if it wasn’t obvious again) sebastian. daelin told me he probably sent her emo poetry and i think that’s literally SO funny but even then the letters don’t last that long because within a few months her mom decides the letters are getting in the way of her kid’s success and starts throwing them out before kiki gets them or sends her own. naturally she thinks sebastian just doesn’t give a fuck about her so she stops writing after a while. but then this makes HIM think she doesn’t give a fuck about him and he holds a grudge against her for it for years even though she has no idea

then kiki forgets about stardew valley since there seems to be nothing else tying her to it, goes to business school, and eventually gets as a job in PR at joja corp. if that’s not bad enough she gets engaged to a MAN she doesn’t even like. her fiance is someone who manipulated her into dating him which i’ll again elaborate on in a second, plus her mom is obsessed with him like ohhh big handsome man WHATEVER except he literally only wants to marry her because her step-dad is a chairman. but kiki’s absolute breaking point (which i’m still kinda hashing out and only have a vague idea of) is when she figures out her fiance orchestrated a PR disaster by logging into her computer and messing a bunch of stuff up (idk if i should do hacking or whatever) so she gets blamed, only to take blame/save the day for the thing he LITERALLY started so she could feel indebted to him enough to date him. at this point she feels so suffocated by her life in zuzu city that she contemplates running away, so while packing she finds grandpa’s letter and decides to run away to stardew valley

present - i know the missing person stuff didn’t make sense but i hope everything i explained kinda gives you more context? her mom put out a missing person notice and her peers/family from zuzu city are still looking for her. this is partly why she doesn’t have a phone when she moves in, she tries to pawn her engagement ring off to clint for extra gold, and refuses to have pictures of her taken by haley for the first few weeks of their friendship. ofc when kiki goes back, she is escorted by robin, talks to lewis, etc. whatever is in the official intro and it’s kinda standard but on her way to pierre’s for cleaning supplies she accidentally runs into sebastian and realizes he hates her guts and has no idea why because he literally won’t tell her. the idea of childhood friends to strangers is really fun to write imo and then the story persists from there! 

LASTLY - I’M SO SORRY for writing so much i just couldn’t condense it into less paragraphs if i wanted but i hope it was interesting!

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #101

Summary: Part 2 of the Decennial Awards (Part 1)

“Our next category is the Weirdest Sleeping Spot! As the title suggests, this category is based on the weirdest spot one has been caught sleeping.” Joe turns on the TV behind him and starts the slideshow of them all snoozing in various spots and positions. “We require plenty of rest to remain youthful. This, unfortunately, means we have to catch our Z’s in some unconventional places.”

“When did you take all these pictures?” Booker asks, leaning forward on the couch. Joe glances back and sees a picture of Booker asleep on top of a fridge. The man wasn’t even curled up on top like one would assume. No, he was half-draped over the top, head and arms hanging on the other side, looking as close to dead one can be while still alive. He looked like a poor Halloween decoration. “I don’t even remember that.” 

“That’s because you’re senile,” Joe retorts and immediately wishes he can take it back. Three unimpressed faces stare back at him from the couches and Joe knows that this is going to be counted against him. Dammit. He wants to win the best host at the end of the century. Joe plasters on a winning smile. “I apologize; that comment should have been saved for after the show. All of the pictures were taken some time in the last 10 years; anything before was disqualified. Now, our first nominee, Nicolò, fell asleep in-“

Booker stands up and turns around to look at Andy and Nicky. He gestures wildly at them, some of his drink sloshing onto the floor and all over his hand. Booker slurps up what he can on his hand before saying, “Are we not going to talk about how Joe’s been taking pictures of us sleeping? For more than a decade?” 

Andy lobs a peanut at him. “Sit down!” Booker catches the peanut and pops it into his mouth. For a second, Joe hopes he chokes on it. 

When it’s clear that he will not, Joe says, “No, we are not. Please take a seat, sir.” 

Booker whirls around, spilling more of his drink. “This is an invasion of privacy!”

“You were in a public area.”

“Technically-“

“If you have to start with technically, you’re wrong,” Joe sighs, motioning to the couch more insistently. He feels like he has just finished 8 hours of customer support and was told by his manager to cover for the coworker they’re currently sleeping with. Andy snags the back of Booker’s pants and whatever was left in Booker’s cup is now sitting on the carpet. Wonderful. “As I was saying, Nicolò, over here, fell asleep on a crane that was on top of a 500m building. He had a couple of hours to kill until his target arrived and rather than playing on his phone like any other sane person, he decided to take a nap.” Everyone turns to look at Nicky. 

“I still don’t see the issue here. I even set an alarm for an hour before the scheduled arrival,” Nicky says and Andy squints at him. 

“The construction workers were using the crane. It was literally spinning the entire day,” Booker says and Joe nods. Some carousels spin less than that crane. 

“You cost me 500 euros,” Andy adds with a scowl. “It was supposed to be an easy win. You puked after the teacups.” 

Nicky gapes at her. “That doesn’t count! Booker made me eat 5 bananas and drink 2 cans of sprite!” 

“It was a projectile. You could calculate the angle of it.” You could. It was absolutely disgusting. Joe had made sure to slip the janitor an extra hundred as he tended to his violently sick husband. 

Knowing that this will lead to a full-blown argument, Joe quickly interjects, “Now Sebastien, he fell asleep in the trunk of the wrong car and ended up giving a poor old lady quite the scare. Later, I would like to discuss Sebastien’s concerning taste for younger women.”

“Yeah, she was less than half your age. That’s gross, Book,” Andy teases.

“Preying on the young and vulnerable?” Nicky tuts. “Where're your morals?”

“Fuck you guys,” Booker groans.

“I like older men,” Nicky says. “Thank you, though.”

With a smirk, Joe continues. “Next is Andromache, who fell asleep on top of a moving train and managed to stay on it the entire duration of her nap. In fact, she did not even sway an inch; not even when the train was climbing the side of a mountain.”

“Less stuffy up there,” Andy says, taking a sip of her drink.

“I believe you.”

“Plenty of space.”

“No one’s going to join you, Andy,” Booker groans, leaning back on the couch. “It’s fucking cold up there.” 

Nicky tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing. “That’s-,” Joe shares a look of incredulity with his husband and slowly shakes his head. It’s probably best that they leave this one alone for a couple of centuries. 

“For our last nominee, Yusuf managed to find a yak and fall asleep on its back.”

“You conveniently left out the part where it woke up startled and kicked you 20 feet away.”

Joe gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Sebastien. As always, your contribution is entirely unwanted.” Joe pulls the second envelope out. “Now for our winner,” he opens it and snorts as he reads the card. “Sebastien! Congratulations! You won this decade’s weirdest sleeping spot.”

Booker slowly gets off the couch, like he expects Joe to say ‘Psych!’ and call out somebody else’s name. Andy decides he’s moving too slow and slaps him on the ass.

“Here you go,” Joe hands him the prize when he’s a foot away and Booker frowns. 

“A sleeping mask from Delta Airlines?” It’s folded in half and barely thicker than a paper towel.

“To make your sleep more pleasurable.”

“There’s a better one in the bathroom upstairs.”

“Don’t be ungrateful, it’s rude.” Did no one teach their kids manners these days? “What do you have to say?”

Booker shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Margaret. Both cars were extremely similar.” It’s not a bad apology. Joe has definitely heard worse. 

“One was a minivan, the other was a hummer, you dumbass!” Andy heckles. Sadly, she’s not lying. 

“Looks the same when you’re drunk and have your eyes 90% closed.” 

“Alright, thank you, Sebastien,” Joe nudges him back to his seat. “Continuing with the weirdest theme, our next category is Weirdest Death.” 

Andy and Nicky groan, Booker smirks. 

“Just give it to Booker already,” Andy says. “Fucker always dies in the weirdest manners.” 

“He’s won every single time since he joined us,” Nicky adds, waving a dismissive hand. “Give him his prize and let him do his speech.”

“So you guys can count me off later? No way!” Joe’s not a fool. This is their test. “Unlike our previous categories, this nominee will cover both Nicolò and Yusuf. Our dearest Nicolò and Yusuf were having a lovely picnic in the middle of the safari. They were enjoying a nice Pinot Noir with some young cantal cheese when they were rudely trampled by a stampede of elephants. ”

“Picnic,” Joe really wants to wipe that stupid smirk off of Booker’s face. Nicky, his dearest heart, reaches over to smack the bane of Joe’s existence over the back of his head. It’s a satisfying thunk too. “Ow! I only have one brain, Nicky, Jesus!”

“More like one brain cell,” Nicky responds. Joe almost bends down onto one knee right there. 

No. He has a plan. He’s not going to ruin it because he’s too impatient. 

Joe gestures to Andy, “Andromache, was taking a stroll in one of Colorado’s mountains when she accidentally walked into a cult’s trap. After being shot with an elephant tranquilizer, she woke up tied to a tree and was shot with a special marijuana filled bullet as a sacrifice to their Marijuana god.”

“Bullets filled with marijuana,” Booker says, impressed. “If I weren't here, that’d surely be the winner.”

“I know,” Andy grumbles, taking an angry swig of her drink. 

“For our reigning titleholder, Sebastien continued to drink an excessive amount of soda, despite everyone telling him that there were not going to be any bathrooms for another hour. Our stubborn Sebastien, of course, ignored us and after drinking 64oz of Pepsi, he had to pee. So in the pouring rain, Andy pulled over. Sebastien sprinted to the treeline and as he began to relieve himself, Zeus struck our poor nominee. He died in his puddle of pee.”

Nicky shakes his head, looking at Booker with a little bit of awe. “How do these things keep on happening to you?” 

“The comedic gods really like me.” Something out there really likes him, that’s for sure. 

Joe pulls out the correct envelope and is completely unsurprised with what he reads. “Our winner is, of course, Sebastien! Congratulations!” Joe picks up the prize and holds it out; Booker takes it with a grin.

“A voodoo doll of myself?” The doll has a denim jacket and the same haircut Booker has been sporting for the last six years. Booker pokes the doll’s eyes and squishes its plump body. “I’m keeping this.”

“And not the other prizes?”

“This one is custom made; it gets custom treatment.” He has a point. “As for my speech, I would like to thank myself, the greatest and worst person to exist.”

Joe shares another look with his husband. Andy, on the other hand, says, “The prize should’ve been therapy.”

“Okay,” Joe says after an awkward moment of silence. “Thank you for your speech; please return to your seat so we can continue.” 

[cherryobx]

Slow dancing is stupid//Rafe Cameron x reader

requested?: yes bb “can i maybe request fake dating with rafe? i don’t even have an idea on why or how it happens i just know i’m a sucker for the fake dating trope and i would live one with rafe 🙈”

i don’t even know if what i wrote makes sense hahah

summary: you need a date for midsummers so you turn to the one person who could help you

warnings: one mention of drugs, nothing really, my bad writing

WC: 891

(not my gif!!!)

Midsummers. You favourite event of the year. You had gone there every year of your life and you absolutely loved it. 

This year was a bit different though. 

“You’re not going unless you have a date. You’re 18, you should’ve gone with a date years ago already.”

“Mom, please!”

“No.”

You were so mad at your mom. She wanted you to go to the Midsummers with a date, which you didn’t have. Hell, you didn’t even have a boyfriend. 

But you wanted to go so badly. There was no way you’d sit out on this one.

So you went to the one person who could possibly help you.

“Oh come on, Rafe. Please! Just this once. You just have to pretend to be my boyfriend. For one night.”

“No. Are you crazy? I’m not going with you.”

“Why the fuck not? Do you already have a date?”

“No, but-”

“So what’s the problem? You have nothing to lose. Please, Rafe.”

“I just don’t want to go with you, that’s it.”

“I’ll pay you.” That one sentence was enough for you to get his whole attention.

“Depends on how much.”

“300?” you offered, making him think about it, which was already a good sign.

“Make that 500 and you’ve got a boyfriend for the night.”

“Deal.” You two even shook hands, making it official.

So a few nights later, Rafe came to your house to pick you up. You were in your room when he arrived, giving your look some finishing touches. You heard your parents talking to him, which made you chuckle. He must’ve been so uncomfortable.

When you kind of started to feel bad for him because your parents were attacking him with questions, you made your way to the living room where they all were.

Your eyes landed on Rafe, who was wearing a light blue suit. You sent him a you-have-to-be-kidding look because your dress was the exact same colour. But he was really attractive though, you couldn’t even lie.

“Oh my goodness! You two look so cute! Let me take a picture of this.” Your mom exclaimed happily, running out of the room to fetch her phone.

“Wow, you look beautiful, honey.” Your dad complimented you, making you smile.

“Thanks, dad.”

When your mom came back to the room, she lightly pushed you closer to Rafe.

“Oh, come on! Get closer, please.” She instructed when she saw how awkwardly you and Rafe were standing next to each other, more than a foot apart.

Rafe then put his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him, making you accidentally let out a yelp. 

“That’s better. Smile!” She snapped the picture and then placed her phone on the coffee table.

“Now, get going!” she ushered you two. “Don’t want you to miss anything.”

“Wait you’re not coming?” you asked, a confused look on your face.

“Of course we’re coming, you silly. We’ll be a bit late though. But we will see you two there, have fun!”

You left the house and Rafe even opened the car door for you. But that was just because your parents were watching through the window from inside the house.

“We should’ve really talked the outfit thing through.”

“You don’t want us to be matching?”

“Not at all,” he said with a completely serious tone, which made you giggle slightly.

“So when we get there, what’s going to happen? Do I have to hold your hand or something?” 

“Yeah, because we’re a couple there. We have to show affection or whatever.”

“Fine.”

Even though Rafe did everything you asked at the party (holding hands a kiss on the cheek and a few minutes of dancing), he seemed distant and cold. It was probably because he’d much rather be with his friends at the moment, snorting a few lines in the bathroom.

When everyone started slow dancing, you and Rafe walked away from everyone else. 

Of course, he’d not want to slow dance with you.

“Can we go dance?”

“Why? Slow dancing is stupid.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Well, we have to do something. My parents are watching right now.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Kiss me.” He was taken aback by your words. To be honest, to get these words out of your mouth was a challenge. You want to know why? Because you had liked him for as long as you’d remember.

“What?”

“You heard me. We don’t have to like actually kiss, you can just-”

You were interrupted by his lips on yours. You felt like you just entered heaven. His lips were so soft and delicate, exploring the territory. He placed his hands on your waist, giving a slight squeeze.

You deepened the kiss and put your hand to the back of his head, slightly pulling his hair.

When you broke the kiss, you looked into his eyes in confusion.

“Why would you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Kiss me like that. We didn’t have to like actually kiss.”

“But I wanted to.” He nervously scratched the behind of his ear.

“What?” you grew even more confused.

“Do you know how long I have been waiting for this? Like literally forever.”

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah.”

You pulled him into another kiss. “You’re the best fake Midummers date ever,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I’m not faking anymore though.”

taglist: @ethereallust @teamnick @www-imbored-com @delightfullynlove @prejudic3 @afterglows7b-tch13 @tomhardybby @ad-infinitums @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @ilovejjmaybank @drewsephsmiles @allycat449-blog

[highfaelucien]

I really enjoy your idea of friendship mates being a thing, especially for mor/az, because it would eliminate more of the toxic masculinity and possessiveness sjm tries to spin as romance and replace it with something else that isn’t explored much. Especially since the inner court is supposed to be a found family, it would tie in nicely to include deeper friendships among them.

I might explore it/write it anyway, tbh. Because Mor and Az deserve to have the connection and the understanding and the obvious love they had for each other in ACOMAF again.

I re-read some of their scenes the other day, and while I'm sure they were building up to a romantic relationship (bc that's what sjm do/The Ultimate Relationships Always Ever) they spoke of such a quiet, familiar intimacy:

Mor waiting for him/being there for his return from every single mission. Knowing he needs someone to greet him as Azriel, before he has to go to Rhys as spymaster.

Mor having the stubbornness to wear down his "infinite patience" to get him to open up, and talk about his feelings. Her being literally the only person he'll do that with.

Az being there for Mor in the Court of Nightmares, by her side, utterly willing to have everyone there know that he's hers for her comfort.

Interrupting Cassian to stop him saying too much.

Keeping eyes on each other when they get upset/overwhelmed by a situation or topic of conversation.

Az going dancing with Mor at Rita's whenever she asks - a victory for them both.

Mor knowing Azriel is in love with her but not pushing him to confront it. Not rushing him. Az acknowledging how much the inner circle means to both of them, how terrified she is to threaten that dynamic again, and refusing to ask her to do it.

This intimate, mutual stasis in their relationship, both longing for more, but being too respectful and understanding of the other to ever push them. And so they maintain.

And that didn't have to be fucking romantic. It could have been platonic. She didn't have to completely eradicate one of the most nuanced, subtle, and beautiful dynamics in the series just because she decided to make Mor a tormented lesbian.

And I will never, ever, EVER fucking forgive her for using 'I don't/can't love Azriel' as the method of her coming out.

Her voice broke as she said, “I don’t love Azriel.”

I remained perfectly still. Listening.

“No, that’s not true, either. I—I do love him. As my family. And sometimes I wonder if it can be … more, but … I do not love him. Not the way he—he feels for me.”

The big "dramatic reveal" shocking plot twist bit of dialogue here is "I don't love Azriel". And then she tries to backtrack/make that sound less bad, and 'I do love him as my family' but 'I do not love him the way he loves me.'

It's just. The whole thing is steeped in 'romantic love is the most valid/powerful kind of love and everything else is secondary'.

As if she and Azriel don't have as deep a connection, as strong a bond, as intense a relationship as Feyre and Rhys do just because they're romantically connected? As if 500 fucking years of devotion and adoration and connection and companionship isn't worth shit compared to 'what Az feels for her'. As if Azriel loves her more than she loves him becahse he wants to bone her and she doesn't want to bone him.

It's fucking infuriating. And it's fucking insulting as well.

The implication that ace people can't love their partners as much because they don't want sex.

The implication that aro people can never form meaningful bonds/love anyone as deeply as people in romantic relationships.

I call fucking bullshit. It's an absolute fucking disgrace and I'm still mad about it multiple years later.

And in ACOMAF she set up the idea of mates as like soulmates? You know. Two people who can understand each other and see each other and connect with each other more deeply than anyone else.

But then she had to introduce ~drama~ into into elucien and oh maybe they won’t get together. And then ACOWAR Rhys is coming out with ‘maybe the bond is just for who’ll make the nicest babies’ and I wanted to commit BLOODY MURDER.

So ace people can’t have bonds because they don’t want to bone?? Aro people can’t have bonds because it’s just for loving and having kids (which you know sjm only considers valid if it’s done by two people In Love/a typical nuclear family option). Gay people? Trans people?? Infertile straight people??? None of you or your bonds are valid because it’s just for making babies.

GO FUCK OFF.

Moriel as mates even after the utter DISASTER of Mor’s sexuality reveal is quite literally the only way to fix this fucking mess.

Saying ‘you don’t want to be in my bed, but you do want to share my life, you love me, and you understand me in a way no one else ever has. And that has always been enough for me. And it always will be. Because you’re my mate, and we’re bonded, and we’ll be there for each other whatever.’

And then they’re happy queer platonic people who live together and love each other but also have other partners, sometimes long-term, sometimes short-term, and they’re poly and happy and we expand the idea of mates beyond ‘we want to fuck non stop and we’ll eat you if you so much as look at our partner’ because I’m TIIIIIIIRREEEED and this could be so much MORE. It could be so deep. It could be so nuanced. It-

WAIT. I’VEJUST HAD A RANTING REVELATION.

I want ACOTAR mates to function exactly the same as the drift compatible concept in Pacific Rim. People who can just fucking vibe so hard their souls merge and they can control giant robots together.

And the grumpy TL;DR of this post is: if you don't think Mor and Az are drift compatible you can remove yourself from my blog for being BASIC AND WRONG.

That concludes today’s ‘how SJM fucked us all’ rant.

[janiedean]

Amazing how you can erase and twist everything someone says and not even bother to check things before launching in your 1000 words answer where you repeat the same things over and over again. When I say “Theon’s story is about destroying death”, I AM talking about his trauma and abuse. I’m not saying that Theon is a superhero, I’m saying that Theon’s story is literally about surviving and saying no to the dying of light, he’s always been trapped between life and death. How is that less meaningful than Jon being AA just because he’s special. Jon is stereotypical, not matter how much you deny it. He is the bastard son of the “good” Ned Stark that everyone seems to venerate, he becomes important, he’s actually a prince, and heir to the kingdom, he’s going to come back from the dead and apparently it’s not enough because he’s also AA. Also “I search for AA and see only Snow”, how is that not a red flag? Didn’t you think that it could be about Ramsay hiding Theon? I didn’t say that everything is about mythology and ancient literature, I said Theon has a lot of connections to it, connections that are hard not to notice, that actually make sense and are not taken out of nowhere like everyone in this fandom does. Theon’s story is about himself, not about Bran or any Stark, you’re just obsessed with throbb. Theon is connected to magic and to the gods, Theon is the rightful king of the Iron Islands, so why it’s so amusing to people when someone suggests that Theon has something to do. I’m not saying that Theon has to be important for his story to count, but why it’s so amusing to people the idea that Theon is an abuse and rape victim and at the same time he has something to do. When it comes to female victims, they want them to do great things, when it comes to Theon they constantly reduce him to poor say boy, but Theon is not like that, Theon is in pain and he wants everything to end, but he’s also angry and he wants to be free. I didn’t say that he has to explore the sea because he’s an Ironborn, you said that, not me. I think that that’s something Book!Theon would want to do if he survives everything. Because he would be free and he would go into the unknown. That’s not true Theon has no connection to the sea, the Drowned God himself wants him as king and he likes ships, there’s also the fact that he never learned how to use a ship because he was kidnapped at 10. Also what’s so wrong about him connecting with his culture? He could change things, he wouldn’t be a viking, he would be an explorer. The way you talk about it, it’s like dealing with trauma means closing himself in an house. And about the prophecy, what’s so amusing about saying that Theon has a lot that fits? I know that the prophecy is vague, but Davos and Stannis don’t come close to it as Theon does. Theon died in almost every possible way and managed to come back on his own. He keeps saying that he died in Winterfell. Read the last chapters in ACOK, it’s all there and it all happens at the same time, and still there’s so much more, so many things. And it’s like this HAS to be true, but you say no to everything, you don’t even think that he has something to do with the Iron Islands, you just think he has to “atone” to Bran, so how are you different from D&D? Theon doesn’t have to atone to Bran, Robb or anyone else called Stark, his story is about identity. And Bran is talking to Theon and yes, Theon took Winterfell, but it’s not the only reason their stories are connected, Theon taking Winterfell from Bran was a foreshadowing to them interacting in the future for different more important reasons, that was always clear to me

... anon never mind that I hadn't talked about this in ages so like you came into my inbox with some 500 words of replying at 8 am on a sunday morning and idk how *I* am supposedly twisting things when

you brought this out of nowhere

I hadn't talked about the AA thing nor anything wrt theon's ending in like... a year

you are basically making up half of what I said or didn't because like 'oh I didn't say he had a tying to the sea because he's an ironborn' but two lines later you say 'what's the issue if he reconnects with his ancestry' which.... means that he'd have a tie to the sea because he's an ironborn so what's the truth here

'you're obsessed with throbb' I didn't mention robb once in my entire answer nor throbb nor I have written throbb meta recently like... I ship throbb but I don't see how that has any relevance to an answer where I literally didn't mention it and I said theon's sl can't be just about the starks

idk why you seem to think I have great stakes re jon snow and 'he's stereotypical no matter how much you say he's not', I'm saying that for a chosen one archetype he's a deconstruction so he's not stereotypical in the way h*rry p*tter is or aragorn is or whatever and it's like objective text and honestly I have fic to write and stuff to do and I could have like completely ignored your ask and said 'I think you're wrong' instead yesterday I spent half an hour answering you like... you don't need to sound that aggressive or come at me with this entire block of text when I wasn't even the one starting this conversation

what’s so amusing about saying that Theon has a lot that fits?

anon I explained in those 1k reply or whatever all the reasons why everything theon has that fits is something every single other character has at that point dany has the exact same reasons for fitting it and I told you all the reasons why jon has extra things that fit that no one else has, like.... it's my opinion, I haven't changed my mind since 2012 on it, you aren't going to change it and no one is until grrm writes different, you don't need to convince me or look for me to validate your reading because you can have whichever reading you want and no one stops you, I just don't think it's correct, the end

The way you talk about it, it’s like dealing with trauma means closing himself in an house.

anon you keep on saying I say that but you are aware that if I say I want char X to get their little house in the village/woods/city of their choice and grow strawberries with their loved ones and be happy I'm not saying what you said and I'm talking abt endgame? jaime and brienne both also deal with trauma and when I say that I hope they get married on tarth have fifteen kids and never set foot in a court again I'm not saying having children is the only way to deal with trauma like.... one thing is the endgame one thing is how you get there, where did I say theon is gonna lock himself in a cottage in wow and stay there until ados? nowhere, like.... please a bit of chill here? you read a thing and arbitrarily decided it meant stuff it doesn't mean but I am the one twisting and erasing? like sorry but it sounds like you want a fight about it or smth and believe me fighting about who is AA is not on my list of to-do things for today, also 'I died in winterfell' is like... yeah, theon greyjoy died in wf then he became reek then he became theon again, it's metaphorical, jon literally died, also like if AA wasn't a main fiver then it'd probably be someone completely out of left field that no one gaf about and for that matter there's a character who has been dying and coming back to life who has a flaming sword since like acok, but do I see you telling me it's textual proof beric is AA? no, but that would make more textual sense than theon imvho so *shrug*

in short: anon sorry but it sounds like being that theon is your fave - which... I mean he's in my top three so I agree that he's a great fave choice - you want him desperately to have the main role in the main storyline which is imvho not the case and again... even if jon was stereotypical (which we can argue on but like... from your wording I think you hate jon ngl which fair enough everyone has their dislikes) it wouldn't make the textual evidence less evidence and like... idk how to say it nicely but not liking the protagonist is more common than not and if you don't whatever but that doesn't mean he's not and that the textual stuff indicating he has the mystical hero storyline doesn't exist, I'd suggest you make peace with that concept and with the concept that your fave doesn't need to have any specialness in their sl to be a legitimate fave, also like... in asoiaf everyone who is special™ has a shit life and when grrm says he wants a bittersweet ending like in lotr, do I have to remind anyone what was lotr's ending? samwise gamgee goes back to his little house and children and wife in the shire and says he's home and we're all happy that the dude who deserved it most got it great, if that's what he's aiming for I really don't think presuming everyone gets the magical great™ storyline is in the cards X°D but most of all: again, everyone who's had a sl being full of magic prophecies and shit in these books has had a crap life and hated every second of it that was related to those prophecies and I want theon to be happy at the end so in lack of any imvho text proof that says it's anyone but jon I'll stick with that because it means none of my faves is in line to hate their life, which is exactly what happens to jon if he's AA and exactly what I think is gonna happen and I don't particularly like that for him either bc I do want jon to have nice things but idt he'll get them, doesn't mean I'm trying to find any textual reason to decide on my own that AA is dany (a char I care a lot less about) so that she gets the brunt of it because that's now how it works, I made peace with it too X°D

[aforrestofstuff]

What's the heroes' morning routine to start their day before going to work? Or their night routine before they're going to sleep? (And here is sprinkle of positivity vibes for you today: 😊😉���💕💞💗💓💝💝💖💖🌟✨🍀🍀🍀🍀💐💐 Have a nice day! ❤)

Thanks for the request, anon! ❤️❤️ sorry this took me so long to get to, hope you’re still around!

Tornado of Terror: I’ve said in a previous hc that she sleep-levitates and wakes up in the weirdest places. So, she’d probably spend 10 straight minutes prying herself out of her bathtub or some shit with hella cramps. After that, she’d spam Fubuki over text message, asking her how to make a cup of coffee for the 57th time, then manage to burn it anyway, and finally go to work salty as fuck.

Silverfang: Wakes up at the crack of dawn, mediates next to a waterfall or some shit, broods over Garou, and makes himself a nice breakfast with a cup of tea. After that, he drags Charanko’s ass up the mountain to do some training, meditate some more, drink more tea, and around then it’s gonna be like 9 AM, so he’d probably just go the fuck back to sleep for a quick nap before actually going to work. Look, he’s old. Let him vibe.

Atomic Samurai: Also wakes the fuck up at the crack of dawn and proceeds to freeload a breakfast off of Iaian, wash it down with some alcohol at 6 in the AM, and complain about the weather. Then, he’d probably run over some sorta training routine with his disciples before doing group meditation and finally, finish it off with another drink. His tolerance is so damn high at this point. He shows up to work while pretending he wasn’t ten seconds away from getting wasted that morning.

Child Emperor: Wakes up rather early (if he even slept at all), runs diagnostics on all of his machinery, does tests on his latest weapons, takes 7 decontamination showers, and then makes himself a hearty breakfast consisting of Froot Loops and choccy milk. He shows up to work early and energized, running solely on his 87th lollipop and the single shot of espresso he had that morning. If it’s a weekday, he’d wait off on going to Association headquarters and teach a few classes at the local university instead. He’d then go to work in the middle of the day, grading papers and dying internally at the dumb shit his students say. He keeps a mental tally of how many people forget to write their names on their assignments. He’s suffering.

Metal Knight: Upon slapping the shit out of his alarm clock, he rolls out of bed and commands one of his bitchbots to make a Michelin-Star quality breakfast for him, then proceeds to stalk to the bathroom. He doesn’t shave or shower. He just takes a 45-minute shit because he’s forced himself to go to the bathroom once a day to “save time” when it, in fact, does not save time. After that, he takes a decontamination shower before entering his lab (also another 45 minutes because he’d spend the whole time je— nevermind) and doesn’t show up to work at all because he’s a little bitchboy hellbent on building Skynet in his mom’s basement.

King: Wakes up, cries, plays video games, cries some more, eats some cereal, takes a shower, cries, calls Saitama over, plays video games, Saitama leaves, cries. Then, he’ll show up to work for a single meeting at 4 PM just so everyone knows he isn’t dead, have an anxiety attack, go home, and then cry (while having another anxiety attack). After that, he’ll play video games until 3 AM. Rinse and repeat.

Zombieman: He’ll wake up at 3 AM and then sarcastically open his blinds like “oh wow, what a beautiful morning”. He’ll make himself a hearty breakfast consisting of leftovers, some protein pills, and half a pack of cigarettes. Next, he’ll shower, shave, and do some routine vigilante detective work out in the town before coming back home just as the sun is beginning to rise. After that, he’ll take a thirty second nap and walk his ass to work (because his car has been in the shop for like, seven years) so he can vibe for 3 hours before throwing in the towel and isolating himself for the remainder 18 hours of the day because depression.

Drive Knight: he sleeps plugged into the wall like a Samsung. Either that, or he’s solar-powered.... or maybe he runs on AAAs. I don’t know, but his ass ain’t waking up like everyone else. He’d power on, do some routine checkups on his laboratory or whatever the fuck he’s got going on, and then show up to work for 3 seconds only to dip the fuck back out and go poach some endangered monster species for his collection or some shit. Look, he’s a robot.

Pig God: wakes up at 10 AM like a king and eats a small breakfast consisting of three rotisserie chickens, a whole pot of rice, 57 eggs, and a cool glass of milk (because calcium is important, kids). He’d spend 4 hours on the internet before he gets hungry and decides to go outside, stopping to casually devour an entire species of demon-threat monsters in the middle of the street while simultaneously traumatizing every single child living in a 3-mile radius in the process of doing so. After that, he’d do some hero work for like 30 minutes (and somehow eat like, 200 living things in that timeframe), go back home, and then indulge himself in a 17-hour food coma. He’s earned it.

Superalloy Darkshine: Homie wakes up at 5 AM, works out for two hours, takes a shower, and eats a breakfast big enough to feed a small family of 19. After terrorizing every health expert in the country with his buckwild diet (ironic considering Pig God exists), he hits up his bro Tanktop Master for another 2-hour workout. He then proceeds to take 3 seconds getting dressed in his hero uniform because it’s literally just a thong, and goes to work for a full 8 hours because he’s a good boi who takes his job seriously and genuinely wants to make the world a better place. :)

Watchdog Man: wakes up, pisses on a fire hydrant, eats dog kibble, sits on his pedestal in city Q, and then gets dressed.

Flashy Flash: wakes up in a forest somewhere because he’s probably homeless. The local birds flock around him and sing a morning song. He feeds a baby deer like a Disney princess. Then, he bathes in a waterfall and spends two hours doing his hair. After that, he buys himself a fucking bagel and takes his ass to work smelling like the inside of a Cabella’s. He vibes at HQ for like, 30 minutes, before traveling 500 miles away on his 57th quest for revenge and ends up breaking a record for “most homicides committed by a hero” on the way there.

Genos: wakes up, makes breakfast for Saitama, takes a shower, and spends half an hour doing chores while Saitama bums around with a yolk stain on his pajamas. Then, he’d hit up the professor for any news about upgrades, and go on about his day handing out justice as he sees fit until Saitama suddenly gets the urge to go buy some cabbage. It’ll be another 2 hours of walking around the inside of a grocery store while holding 2 grams of food (because it’s all Saitama could afford, broke ass) before he actually goes to hero HQ for a single meeting (while Saitama tags along), and then slaughter 87 monsters on his way home.

Metal Bat: wakes up at 6 AM because it takes him 8 years to do his hair. He’d wake up Zenko about an hour later and tell her to get ready for school while he hauls ass downstairs to make breakfast (burnt toast and 8 Flinstone vitamins). They walk to Zenko’s school together. He takes ten minutes to shower her with love, and then he turns back around to walk to his own school only to show up like, 45-minutes late to his first class. He only attends hero meetings on weekends because A. Homework and B. He doesn’t give enough of a shit to juggle official hero business and school in the same day (unless it consists of a monster/criminal [or 12] in need of a beating).

Tanktop Master: same as Superalloy. He wakes up at dawn, works out, eats enough to feed a small army, and then calls his actual army over for a meeting. He and the gang discuss ways to better represent the Tanktop ideology over tea, while also sharing workout tips and just having a good time together in general. Around then it’ll probably be 8 or 9 AM, so he’d join Superalloy at Hero HQ and do hero work for the rest of the day alongside his homies. He’s living the life, honestly.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: he’s in prison so he’d wake up at 8 AM on the clock every day, eat his nasty-ass breakfast (although, I’ve said in a previous headcanon that he gets special meals prepared for him on account of being a literal superhero, but I digress), and then he works out in the courtyard for a good hour before going to work in the cafeteria for 3 bucks a day (or the yen equivalent). During visiting hours, he and his boyfriend are inseparable. They’d make some crafts together, gossip, and just hang out. If there’s a threat in the area, Puri will waste no time busting himself out and hugging that shit to death. A true icon.

Amai Mask: he either wakes up at 10 AM or 2 PM every day, there’s no in-between. He’d spend his morning doing every self-care routine under the sun: taking a warm bath, doing a face mask, eating a good breakfast (prepared by his own personal chef, of course), listening to an audio book, you name it. If he has a concert that night, he’d spend the entire day surrounded by people as he gets ready/rehearses/prepares. If not, he’ll just patrol the streets, handing out autographs and some slices of justice. He wouldn’t really show up to any meetings or do official hero business at HQ unless he’s in the mood to cuss out Sekingar and Sitch over some stupid shit or insert himself in S-Class business.

Iaian: wakes up earlier than any of the other disciples and Atomic Samurai because he’s like, responsible or whatever. He meditates, showers, does his own personal routine, and then kicks everyone out of bed for breakfast like an angry suburban mom. After that, he’d participate in everyone’s routine training, and then take his ass to work while showing up to every meeting at HQ (sometimes tagging along with Kami) because he’s a good boi and he has no problem engaging in business. :)

Okamaitachi: She sometimes wakes up with Iaian, but sleeps in most of the time because she needs her beauty rest, obviously. After breakfast and participating in everyone’s training routine, she’d do her hair/makeup and go do her own hero work the majority of the time. She’d sometimes tag along with Iaian, but she prefers to go on her own every so often. If she has some extra time before breakfast, she’ll also do a face mask or catch up on her favorite soap operas.

Bushidrill: this motherfucker sleeps like a log and Iaian wants to kill him for it. He wakes up like, 2 seconds before breakfast and hasn’t shaven in a month. Still, somehow, he manages to get ready in time for training without Kami trying to assault him for being a doofus.

Fubuki: She wakes up hella early and texts her herd of hooligans the daily plan before dealing with Tatsumaki’s shit over the phone. Then, she showers, does her hair, and takes fifteen minutes to get her makeup done right. It doesn’t take her long to plan out her outfit because she has like, 87 black dresses. After an actual hearty breakfast (unlike the rest of these clowns) that she makes herself, she meets up with the blizzard group to discuss business and engage in hero work together as a ✨team✨. She never gets asked to participate in official business by HQ because Tatsumaki strictly forbids it.

Saitama: he brushes his hair and sits on his ass all day.

Mumen Rider: wakes up at dawn, feeds the cats outside, eats a good-ass breakfast (despite being poor, because he’s actually really good at budgeting), and goes out for a nice, morning patrol. He’ll also call his mom and make sure she’s having a good time because that’s important. If it’s not a busy day, he’ll go to the gym and treat himself to some time at the park afterwards. If there’s monsters all about, he’ll spend the rest of the day in the hospital after getting his shit rocked for the 300th time that week. They’ve basically got a bed reserved for him at this point. He’s so pure but so, so selfless. And a little dumb. But mostly selfless.

[sunlightdances]

Public Relations (Bucky x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Prompt: “I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability” Author’s Note: Written for @captain-kelli​’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge! Congrats, Kelli, and thank you for hosting! Takes place post-Endgame, but with some adjustments to canon (Tony and Nat are alive, Steve stayed). This has a lot more dialogue than I initially planned! Hope it’s not too choppy. My love of commas is also evident in this piece. *shrug emoji* Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky, Marvel, or any other related characters or events. The other details of the plot are mine, including the characterization of the “reader”. Please don’t post my work on any other sites without my permission! If you liked what you read, please consider reblogging to help my work be seen. I would love you forever!

Let’s clear one thing up straight away: Bucky Barnes is not an asshole. He has a chip on his shoulder, sure, and it’s also true that he can be grumpy from time to time.

But can you blame him, really?

His life after age 26 has been one giant shit show that he’s just starting to get back on track, so he thinks the world at large could forgive him if he’s not super nice to the reporter hanging around outside the coffee shop or if his resting face sometimes looks like he wants to punch someone.

Still - he’s working on it. Trying to appear a little softer around the edges, trying to remember how to be the person he once was, not because he thinks it’s healthy to try to go back to that time, but because that’s the last time he actually remembers liking himself.

But, again, he’s not an asshole. Or, he tries really hard not to be. A fact he has to keep reminding his friends of (and he uses that word loosely, sometimes), especially when you’re around.

Everything just comes out of his mouth wrong when you’re there.

Probably because you’re around all the time, and you’re smart, and funny, and pretty, and-- nope. He’s not going there. Because reminding himself all the reasons why he likes you just makes him feel more guilty about the way he acts around you. He’s just too chickenshit to admit that he likes you, and ends up being a dick.

As soon as he walks into the Tower, you’re there.

After Thanos, the Avengers returned to New York City. There’s not much left of the Compound upstate to live in right now until the rebuild is done, and he’d been thinking about Brooklyn anyway. Manhattan is different, but he feels better in the city. He thinks the rest of the team likes it here too - it reminds them of the old days, or whatever.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you greet him coolly, matching his stride as he heads towards the elevator. “There’s a meeting in fifteen minutes in the main conference room.”

Bucky makes a noise of acknowledgement, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the tenth floor. “Do I have a choice to attend?”

“No you do not.”

“Great.”

He thinks you’re trying not to smile. He grinds his teeth.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice comes through the overhead speaker. “Captain Rogers requests that you, and I quote, don’t even think about it.”

You snort, and Bucky rolls his eyes. “Punk,” he whispers. “Thanks, FRIDAY. Tell Captain Rogers I said, and I quote, to shove it--”

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” you interrupt, “Thank you so much.”

The few remaining minutes in the elevator are in silence, and you push your way out of the elevator before he can even take a step when it stops. Bucky follows you reluctantly to the conference room where some of the rest of the team is waiting.

Nat looks barely awake (she has trouble sleeping after literally coming back from the dead when Steve returned the stones, what a shocker), Sam is spinning in his chair, and Steve is patiently listening to Peter prattle on about some project he’s working on for biology.

“We’re just waiting on Tony, Bruce, and Scott,” you say, heading towards the head of the table. “Wanda is on a mission with Clint, and Thor is off world. No word from Carol in a few days, either.”

Steve waves you off. “Don’t worry about it. We can fill them in later.”

Bucky’s brow furrows. “Wait, this is your meeting?” He asks you. “What was the point of the AI-assisted lecture from you--” he pointedly glares at Steve.

“Because I knew you’d try to get out of it, so I asked for some help.” You smile sweetly at him.

The rest of the team files in over the next few minutes, and Bucky watches as you shuffle through a few papers before turning on the overhead projector. He has to admit, while he absolutely despises public relations, he has a lot of respect for what you do.

He knows it’s not easy wrangling Tony’s ambitions plus whatever manic situations the team get themselves in on a daily basis. Trying to do press for the Avengers is probably akin to wrangling cats, he supposes.

“So,” you clap your hands together, “the event at Children’s Hospital is in two weeks. Can we please, please avoid any earth-threatening situations that might take precedence over this? We missed it the last few years, obviously, so we need to get out there and make some kids happy.”

A murmured agreement goes throughout the room, and Bucky tips back in his chair, counting down the minutes until he can go literally anywhere else. It’s not you, really. It’s the idea of public appearances. He hates them. People still think of him based on who he was, not who he is now. Despite the fact that Steve and the rest of the team have publicly vouched for him and are working on clearing his name, he sees how people look at him.

You’re tied to that feeling, even though he knows that isn’t fair. He has a hard time separating you from your job.

“The next thing -- and I don’t want to hear about it --” You look around, eyes landing on him meaningfully, “-- there’s a magazine feature for the anniversary of the Battle of New York.”

“Well, that’s me off the hook,” Bucky says flippantly, grinning smugly at Sam, who high fives him.

“No, it absolutely doesn’t,” you argue.

“I wasn’t there, in case you forgot.”

You glare. “Thank you for the reminder.”

“Guys--” Steve tries to interrupt.

“You have to participate, because this article is about the team and how it’s grown since the inception of the Avengers.” You say, almost sounding bored. Probably because you and Bucky have this argument at least once a week.

“Bucky, it’s an hour.” Steve says gently, trying to barter.

“Whatever.” Bucky grumbles, “You know what they’re going to ask,” he says, suddenly angry. “Where was the elusive Winter Soldier during the Battle of New York? Do I remember it happening, or was I in the middle of being frozen or wiped for the thousandth time?”

You shift your weight, looking down at the floor. He feels guilty for a half second. “I won’t let them ask.”

His heart thuds weirdly in his chest at how earnest you sound, but he just can’t help himself, apparently. “Because you’re so sure they’re going to listen to you.”

Hurt flashes across your face so quickly he thinks he’s imagined it, but he knows he hasn’t. Again - he’s not usually an asshole. He still hates himself for it, though.

“Alright, we’re done here.” You say quietly, gathering your paperwork. “I’ll email you all the details.”

Sam elbows him, and across the table, Steve is giving Bucky a look that he’s come to associate with a lecture.

He sighs and rolls his eyes before getting up and heading out of the room, his friends at his heels.

“Wow, a five minute meeting,” Sam is saying, sarcastically. “Gotta be a new record, don’t you think, Rogers?”

Bucky’s new plan is to ignore Sam at all costs. It’s not a plan he thinks is going to work out in his favor, but it’s what he’s sticking with.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

“Are you a mind reader?” Bucky asks, hitting the button in the elevator for the residential floors.

“It’s two events, Buck.” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can handle it.”

“Yeah? Why don’t I let you field the questions I normally get, and we’ll see how you like it.”

“I’m not doubting you. I just don’t understand why you always have to take it out on her.” Steve’s voice is so disappointed, Bucky almost wants to laugh. When his best friend turned into such a mother hen, he’ll never know.

“Don’t be late!” Sam calls as Bucky gets off on his floor, leaving the other men in the elevator.

Flipping him off over his shoulder, he hears Sam’s chuckle and Steve’s sigh before the doors close, and finally he’s alone with his thoughts.

.

.

.

Turns out the interview happens before the hospital visit.

Bucky is in an uncomfortable chair, a reporter across from him, and you behind the reporter, fidgeting slightly. He feels almost relieved that you seem to be as nervous as he is.

“Mr. Barnes,” the reporter begins, a smile Bucky already hates on his face.

“It’s Sergeant.” You say quietly from behind him, and Bucky meets your eyes briefly, seeing the resolve there.

“Of course.” The reporter says smoothly, offering another smile to Bucky. “Sergeant Barnes, you weren’t in New York for the Chitauri invasion, were you.”

“No.”

If the reporter thought he’d elaborate, he doesn’t let on. Bucky saw these questions coming a mile away, and isn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of saying something he’ll regret. Well, he won’t regret it. But it’ll be a pain in the ass for everyone if he can’t keep his cool.

“This was the first official Avengers event. Do you remember hearing about it?”

Bucky wants to laugh. “Do I remember-- no. I don’t think I was awake for much of 2012.” You fidget again, shifting your weight, and Bucky sighs, grinding his teeth. “I’ve been fully briefed on the invasion and know that what the Avengers did that day saved the world.”

The reporter looks at him for a long moment before shifting the papers on his lap around a bit. “The Avengers have changed a lot in all those years since that first mission. Can you tell me a bit more about your role with the team?”

Bucky relaxes a bit. This is the part he prepped for, the part he could recite in his sleep if he had to. Whatever instinct he had back in the day that allowed him to lead a unit and report to his CO is still there, especially for questions like this. “I work mainly with Captain Rogers and Sam Wilson to coordinate missions and do strategic planning. Recon and research are my main areas of focus, but I go on missions too if needed as backup, or if it’s an all hands on deck situation.”

“So you’re not handling any weapons?”

Bucky blinks. Over the reporter’s shoulder, you frown.

“All Avengers team members undergo weapons training.”

“During the War, you were a sniper with the 107th, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So you’d say that you’re pretty proficient with a gun?”

Your eyes are flashing now. “I’m sorry - none of this was on the list of pre-approved questions.” You interrupt, and the reporter holds up a hand to stop you, causing you to make an affronted face.

Bucky would laugh if he wasn’t feeling so sick at this turn of questioning. Every time. No matter who they vet, no matter how many times reporters insist they aren’t trying to catch him in a question he can’t or doesn’t want to answer… this is why he hates interviews.

“I’m just saying -- you’re one of the world’s most accomplished assassins. I guess I wanted to know why you’re doing research and recon when you could be on the front lines with the team? Are they worried you’ll have a setback?”

Bucky barks out a laugh.

You start, taking a few steps forward. “That’s enough. We’re done here.”

Bucky’s already standing, pulling out the chair from behind him as you come around to follow him out, until the reporter stops you, a hand firm on your elbow. You freeze, and Bucky’s eyes narrow on the point of contact, an unfamiliar feeling surging through him.

“Do you know who I work for?” The reporter hisses. “You told me I’d have a half hour.”

“That was before I knew you were going to ask questions that have nothing to do with your article.” You reply, face darkening when he still hasn’t let go.

Bucky waits, waits for one more sign that you’re uncomfortable before he steps in.

“If you ever want to get another high profile piece done on your team you’ll let me finish here.” He threatens, hand tightening.

You sigh, almost looking bored, and in one swift move, you’ve shifted enough of your weight to turn, pulled the elbow he was holding out of his grasp, and driven it into his ribs, simultaneously kneeing him in the groin.

Bucky’s eyebrows raise, and you look at him, rolling your eyes. “What?”

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he says, letting a smile slip out so you know he’s kidding.

The reporter is doubled over, still making threats, but neither of you pay him much attention as you walk out the double doors of the conference room in the unfamiliar magazine office, heading towards the lobby.

In the car that’s waiting for you outside, Bucky watches you carefully as you roll your shoulders a bit, clearly smarting from the move you pulled back there.

“If I would have known you could do that, I would have been a little nicer,” he teases, but there’s an undercurrent of truth to his words. Not that he thought he’d ever piss you off enough for you to hurt him, but that he wishes he was nicer to you in general.

You glance at him, face neutral. “It wasn’t that hard. Everyone who works for the Avengers goes through basic self defense training, and I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability.”

Bucky nods. “Still. Thank you, by the way, for putting an end to that.”

You sigh, sitting back in your seat, all the fight leaving you. “It’s nothing.” You dig your phone out of your pocket and he watches as your thumbs fly across the screen before you hold it to your ear. “Hi, Steve.” A pause, “No, that’s cancelled. You’re not doing it. Tell Tony I’m cancelling the rest of the interviews. We’ll find some other place to get it published.”

He knows he’s staring and he knows he should stop before you notice, but he just… can’t take his eyes off you. The way you stood up for him, the way you promised him you would even when he was being a total asshole… he has no idea what he did to deserve it, but he’s damn grateful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, your tone softer than he’s ever heard it.”

He shakes his head, looking down at his feet. “No reason. Just-- sorry I’m such a dick sometimes.”

You laugh, and he immediately wants to hear it again.

“I mean it,” he continues, “I don’t mean to be. You don’t deserve it.”

“Bucky.” Your voice is even softer, quiet, and he struggles to think if you’ve ever called him by his name before. You wait until he meets your eyes. “It’s fine. We’re all-- just trying to get through this.” You shrug. “I know it’s not easy for you. Just… Trust me sometimes, will you?”

“I do trust you.” He replies immediately, absolutely sure of himself for once.

It’s your turn to be a little surprised.

He rubs his hands together, a nervous tick he’s never gotten rid of. “I’ve been trying to distance myself because I like you. And that honestly scares the shit out of me. I don’t know--” He stops, frustrated. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. And all I keep thinking about is what could go wrong.” He takes a chance and glances up at you, and the look in your eyes… it’s more than he expected. He feels his heart take off in his chest.

“We’re both so stupid, Bucky.” You tell him, but your words are light. “You should have said something.”

He rolls his eyes. “People always say that. But when has a conversation like this one ever been one that someone wants to have?”

“Maybe when the other person feels the same way?”

Bucky can’t breathe. He never even considered it. It was always a forgone conclusion in his mind. He thinks you’re beautiful, and you never think about him at all. That was always the truth that he thought he knew. “Go out with me.” He blurts, and then feels his face redden. “I mean-- let me-- will you let me take you to dinner?”

The car stops in front of the tower and you’re opening the door before you say anything, making him panic a little. A look over your shoulder, “I’ll see if I can pencil you in somewhere.” You say, and then with a wink, you’re gone, leaving him scrambling to get out of the car to catch up to you.

Before you can, Steve is there, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Not now--”

“Can’t help it. She called a meeting.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, and laughs. “Did she.”

“She must know how much you love them. Come on.”

Upstairs he finds his usual seat next to Sam and across from Steve, but when you gather your notes and meet his eyes, yours absolutely sparkling, he finds he’s not dreading this one at all. He still wants to take you to dinner though, so he might have to try to break his own record.

A 5 minute meeting so he can convince you to go on a date with him? He thinks he can swing it.

End

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Forget Me Not || Morgan & Vic

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @natusvincere & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: The women gather more than just weeds and thorns when Vic comes to visit. Maybe we should have stayed home. :/

CONTAINS: Brief references to homophobia

Morgan set her basket down in the garden and brushed the frost from Deirdre’s pansies as she made herself comfortable in the earth for weeding. She was here to tend her own patch of witch hazel and tending to her lavender saplings, which were sectioned off only by placement, indistinguishable to everyone but her and Deirdre. She tended the yellow buds and tender stalks with swift, decisive care, until she heard her guest come through the gate.

“Over here!” She called. Strangely, she hadn’t been all that surprised when Vic wanted to do something calm, even gentle, on their friend date. She came off as brusque and dismissive online, but the times Morgan had seen her at the local art gallery, her look was so thoughtful and sad. She didn’t strike Morgan as someone with a thirst for violence so much as someone in pain. Of course, this was exactly why Morgan thought keeping sharp on her training skills with Victoria would be a good idea, but she didn’t have enough drive in the idea to push for it. She would rather heal herself than stay on her toes, expecting violence sooner than later. No, this was better.

When her friend came through the gate, Morgan waved and beckoned her over. “If it’s too cold for you, we can always duck inside. I’ll have you know I am a very good cook.”

Morgan Beck was certainly an anomaly in White Crest.  In a world full of annoying, nosy fools who always seemed to have a sinister endgame, Morgan offered a calm, gentle contrast that Vic wasn’t sure she’d ever been used to.  Though Morgan was still at arm’s length, it wasn’t often that Vic let anyone get so close, not in a genuine way, at least.  There was too much risk- of abandonment, of death, of someone lurking in the shadows, ready to whisk the happiness away in a heartbeat. And then there was the problem of Morgan’s obvious lack of a beating heart, stirring questions deep in Vic of the morality of the situation.  She refused to become friends with a vampire (ignoring the pull for friendship she often felt for Fran, what a ridiculous, weak thought).  Morgan never questioned her request for an evening gardening session, free from the threat of the sun, which was also slightly alarming.

Even as she walked up to the address Morgan provided her, she wasn’t quite sure she’d stay.  But then Morgan’s voice was beckoning her over, and Vic rolled her eyes as if closing the distance between them was an inconvenience.  “I thought you needed help gardening”, she said, glancing toward the small studio behind Morgan and trying to hide her disappointment at the thought of a change of plans.  “I mean, if you’re cold, it’s fine, but I’m okay.”  She blinked, pulling gardening gloves out of her pocket, not giving Morgan a chance to protest.  “What do you like to cook?”, she asked as she slipped them on.

Morgan grinned sheepishly. “I’m pretty sure what I actually said was, I’d really appreciate it if you would garden with me, since you seem to know so much about it.” She didn’t need help so much as she wanted to get to know Vic better. There was something familiar about the woman, a loneliness that seemed, to Morgan, to ache as much as it bristled. Morgan wanted to slip her hand past all the thorns and brambles Vic planted around her and clear just enough room for her to realize this was no way to be. Whatever she feared or grieved, it could be okay. “But you don’t need to sound so disappointed. There’s plenty of work here to keep us occupied for an hour or two.” She gestured to the weeds and the azaleas in need of watering. “But any longer and we probably will have to duck inside so you--we--don’t catch a chill or anything, huh?” As for her cooking, Morgan opted to claim the pride she held in her accomplishments. “Oh, lots of things. I bake a lot of pie and pastry, so I’m starting to get into the savory variety of those. And some traditional Irish dishes, for my girlfriend. But she says everything I make tastes good, so I’m not sure how successful they really are.”

“We don’t need to argue semantics”, Vic said, sending Morgan a stern glance.  She didn’t know how to respond to the compliments or kindness, it was too much to think about.  It was more useful to ignore them all together.  If Morgan was going to continue to be sickeningly sweet, she better get used to that reaction.  She let out a phantom breath at the sight of the weeds, happy to get started clearing them away with expert hands.  There was something peaceful about the act- some sort of silent therapy in cleaning up the weeds of the physical world when the ones that wrapped themselves up inside her heart and stomach sat there so stubbornly.  She furrowed her eyebrows at Morgan’s small slip-up, wondering what she meant.  “If you insist… but I don’t know how long I’ll stay”, she warned.  Truth be told, getting cozy inside of Morgan’s studio with a small bite sounded nice, even if she could live without the eating.  But the risk that came with it was greater than it was worth.  

She had been working rather absent mindedly, only half listening to Morgan’s rambling, when one word stuck out to her like a bell in a storm of silence.  “You have a girlfriend”, she asked, her hands pausing among the weeds.  “I didn’t realize you were… I didn’t realize you weren’t…” she swallowed, clearing her throat awkwardly.  “That’s… nice for you.  Do you...enjoy having a girlfriend?”

Morgan looked sidelong at Vic as she froze and sputtered over the mention of the word ‘girlfriend.’ “Is the phrase you’re looking for, ‘not hetero’? Not all lesbians look like Ellen, Vic. Some of us like wearing skirts sometimes. Some of us even wear lipstick.” Laughing, she smacked her pink painted lips to emphasize her point. She stopped pretending to work and shifted so she could sit and look at Vic straight on. She didn’t know what kind of uncomfortable the woman had fallen into, if it was just embarrassment or latent homophobia or something more tragic.

“I’m in love, Vic,” she said after a while. “I spent most of my adolescence convinced that the sheer magnitude of my gay was a literal curse on my family, and then the next ten or so years being closeted and awkward and afraid and pretty much all the time after that being convinced that even with Don’t Ask Don’t Tell repealed, even with Obergefell v. Hodges, I was just not a person made to share a whole life with someone. And I did everything I was supposed to, I made do, I tried as much as I could be brave enough to try, but I was practically forty without a relationship lasting longer than six months. Dating for all people is hard, but for me, and probably for a lot of queer gals...it’s a different kind of hard. And then I fell in love, and in spite of our mountains of trauma, our fears, we fit in such a way that...it’s like being held. She looks at me, she smiles at me, she touches my hair or squeezes my hand or says something and it’s like being held. It’s a kind of safety I didn’t know I could have.” She shrugged and fished out her phone to show Vic the lock screen: Deirdre laying sprawled on a window seat in their home, all three cats sleeping peacefully on her, as she looked up at the camera with an adoring, sleepy look on her face, in that bright instant when she realized she was being photographed and composed her face. Morgan had been going for a candid shot, but she was still beautiful, still warm, still herself, and that alone made the image worth keeping. “If you’d told me that this would be my life even a year ago, I would’ve thought you were being cruel. But not every surprise life throws at you is a bad one.”

Morgan looked good and hard at Vic, trying to guess if anything had changed, if she suddenly had one foot out the door, if she should let her. “At the end of the day, I feel like everyone deserves to be known, and understood, and loved. Even if it’s just for a little while. Life is so fleeting, and there is so much beyond our control, but nothing else, people should be loved, by whoever they want, however they want, however the magic of attraction or understanding works out.” She held her gaze, still searching. “How do you feel about it? Have you ever been in love, Vic?”

“Ellen is insufferable”, Vic muttered. Her hands returned to busying themselves with the weeds, but Vic’s ears were focused on the rambling falling from Morgan’s heart.  Love.  She was in love, with a woman, so openly and freely without a goddamn care in the world.  Still, her naivety sparked something inside of the woman, and despite her best efforts, she let her eyes land on Morgan’s, taking in every word as if they were the sweetest sounds she’d heard in years. Maybe they were.  She let the rest of the world believe the was aloof about politics and world events, but she could admit, at least to herself, that she had much of the same reaction when the United States seemed to offer more and more rights to LGBT couples in the last 20 years than they had in her near 500 years on this Earth.  It was both exciting and frightening. She hadn’t realized it, but she was nodding at Morgan’s words with a silent expression on her face, one that told Morgan she related more than she was willing to admit. Her features softened even more at the picture she was offered, and it was all she could do not to reach out and snatch the phone from Morgan’s hands.  There was so much hope in her voice- so much warmth and love and happiness.  And then the way she spoke of her girlfriend, as if nothing more in the world mattered, as if everything made sense in her arms, it sounded so much like-

No.  No, no, no, no. She wouldn’t think of her.  She would not think of that time in her life.  It was frivolous, useless, tragic, awful, devastating, painful...

Seemingly suddenly, she stood up, looking away from Morgan with hard, angry features.  Her beat of silence lasted an uncomfortable amount of time.  “Love doesn’t exist, Morgan”, she said finally, her voice devoid of emotion.   “It’s the harsh truth.  Better you realize that now, than to have your heart broken down the road.”  She turned away from her willing the moisture in her eyes to disperse without her bringing attention to it.  “I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you, but that’s how it is.”

Morgan saw the pain and the longing in Vic’s face as she finally met her eyes. So, it wasn’t homophobia. Or if so, not the kind she wanted to send people away over. She followed Vic to her feet, waiting for the admission, as if it wasn’t already telegraphed by the tears shining in her eyes. “Vic...” Morgan whispered.

And then she spoke, stiff and hard as the shears she’d been handling a second ago.

“Of course it exists,” she replied, soft and patient. There was no arguing, just as you wouldn’t get worked up over reminding someone that the sun hung in the sky and flowers needed light and water to grow. She walked around to face Vic again. Whatever pain the woman was running from, she wanted to look at it with her, to understand where it had come from and how deeply it was buried. “Love is as real as air, or flowers fooled by a false spring…” she offered Vic a purple bloom from her hand, a gift, and a point. “I think some part of you knows that, too. Or you did once. What I don’t understand right now is who convinced you of such an awful lie, and what made you choose to say that to me just now.” She tilted her head and leaned in, anything to make the woman look at her. “Can you tell me, Vic?”

Vic scoffed out a laugh at Morgan’s insistence, looking to the side with a cynical shake of her head.  Love- long, everlasting love, was a fantasy, and Morgan was fooling herself.  In a cruel life that lasted forever, everything had an end.  And fate, with her twisted, evil intent, liked to make sure the end of happy things like love were especially tragic.  She let her eyes fall on the flower offered to her, but her hand didn’t budge to reach for it, no matter how much it ached to.  Instead, her eyes finally found Morgan’s, a mix of anger and sorrow gleaming from them.  Why was she doing this?  Morgan didn’t know anything about her, and somehow she sat here, gently demanding the truth- as if talking things out could make centuries of sorrow disappear. “I convinced myself.  Nothing happened, nothing is wrong, this is just something one knows.  You’re living in a fantasy, Morgan.  And nothing will come out of it but pain.”  She blinked, watching Morgan and waiting.  Waiting for her to demand that she leave, to tell her they’d never speak again thanks to her outburst.  When nothing seemed to happen, she let out an annoyed huff.  “I didn’t come here to discuss personal lives.  I came here to garden.  If we’re not going to do that, I suppose I’ll just leave.”

The anguish in Vic’s expression was only too recognizable to Morgan. She inched closer, as if she could read her trauma in her pores if she squinted hard enough. “People don’t convince themselves of anything that awful for no reason,” she said quietly. She flinched back as Vic flexed her cold stiffness, shutting Morgan out.

“You asked me,” she said. “I said one thing about fucking Irish stew, actually less than that! And then you asked me! Why is that? Is it because you’ve shut yourself so much that hearing about other people’s happiness is the only thing you have left? Because there’s nothing stopping you from being happy, Vic. You could have someone, you could at least have hope, if you weren’t spending all your energy into being like this. But why try to crush my happiness, why try to argue with me that everything I have isn’t real? Does it make you feel better when other people are as sad and hurt as you are, or do you actually think that you’re the only person who understands the world? Oh, stars, or better yet, are you actually so naive as to think that suffering makes you wise? Because I have some big news, teenage drama queen!”

She stared at the woman, searching and accusing. Her mouth throbbed with anger. She didn’t know this woman half as well as she thought she did. She hadn’t imagined that she could be cruel. Not to her, not with this much determination. But there was something in Vic that made them similar too, she reminded herself. She could see it in the water glazing her eyes, in the clench of her jaw. It was so much work, it must get exhausting sometimes, even if it had become muscle memory. She softened and breathed slowly. Her body didn’t need it, but it was a good distraction for her mind. She’d been caught off guard, and so she’d been hurt, but she didn’t know this woman. She didn’t have all the pieces she needed to understand any more than Vic had all the pieces to understand her. She had no idea how insulting she’d been, and so Morgan couldn’t hold that against her.

“You aren’t the only person who has suffered, Vic,” she said, her voice calm and even now. “And my decision to be happy, to love someone, doesn’t mean that I’ve been living some kind of gay Nancy Meyers fairy tale. You don’t know a thing about what I’ve lost or what pits scraped myself out of. I know what it feels like to have nothing, to have only your own suffering for company. I know. But I’m not going to play some cynicism game to prove it to you. I want to be your friend, and I don’t need you to see everything like I do…” Not yet, anyway. “But you don’t have to be so cruel. I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve that, and I don’t think that’s the person you really are anyway.”

Vic stood there, stoic and unblinking as Morgan unleashed onto her.  Her jaw was clenched and she swallowed hard, but she refused to let emotion show on her face. This was, despite the swirl of emotions dancing deep in her chest, each of Morgan’s accusations stirring a new wave of recognizable dread. Morgan was speaking as if she knew her, as if they were friends, as if they had some deep connection that Vic had just severed by saying how she felt.

She was speaking the truth, and it was all too much to handle. She scoffed out a bitter laugh, shaking her head at the name calling.  Morgan’s grandmother wasn’t even alive when Vic was a teenager.  

There was a moment after Morgan’s calm words, a beat that hung in the air between them, but it was directly followed up with the storm that was Vic. “Are you done?” she asked, her voice coming out with more uneasy gravel than she intended.  “You’re the one being dramatic if you think me offering words of advice is so offensive.”  The words fell out of her mouth like lava, burning and vicious and unstoppable.  Later, when she was alone in the dark of the night, she’d bore over them, wondering why, why, why she didn’t ever stop.  “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.  Everything you think you know is made up in your head to make things seem nicer.  I haven’t suffered, to burst your bubble, I’m just a shitty fucking person.   We’re not friends!”  The silence that followed was deafening, encompassing, suffocating.  They weren’t friends, they never would be, because there was nothing friendly or lovable she could offer.  She wiped at her eyes, finding tears there once more.  Weak. With a flare of her nostrils, she turned on her heels, running out of Morgan’s garden in double the time it’d taken her to arrive.  Going there, thinking something nice would come out of it, was a mistake, and she was sure she’d never be back.