#Did it ever occur that for ace women it might be *both*?

[taggthewanderer]

Because as we all know, asexual women never suffer from corrective rape attempts from people who don't respect their sexuality. /sarcasm

[fizzingwizard]

I finally watched Persuasion. As a fan of Jane Austen, I can't approach it without thinking about the book... try as I might, I have a bias. It's not impossible to make Austen movies I like - I adore the old BBC Pride and Prejudice mini-series, and I enjoyed Emma with Anya Taylor-Joy with only a few quibbles. Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet in Sense and Sensibility was slow-moving but a decent adaption (although I struggled to like the romantic interests as much as I did in the book). Northanger Abbey with Felicity Jones wasn't my favorite, but neither is the book.

So, Persuasion. I wanted to keep an open mind. The first few scenes didn't work for me, but then things started to look up for a while once Anne went to Uppercross, and for a while I really did like the not-quite-canonical-but-close-enough modern spin.

I was back and forth about the humor. A few jokes landed well, others felt forced. But it will be interesting to see how I feel about it if I ever watch this again. The tone was of course completely different from the book, but I don't mind that. Persuasion is a difficult book to make a movie out of because so little happens, so much of what does happen occurs mainly in Anne's head, and Anne is one of Austen's most tactful and conscientious characters. With the absence of narration, she needs a sense of humor and distinct voice to avoid coming across as judgmental and dull.

Speaking of narration, I was also back and forth about Anne introducing everyone and cracking jokes and explaining how she feels at the moment etc etc. Sometimes it worked for me, others it didn't so much. I definitely don't hate it, but I guess my opinion is the tone of this movie is confused. Is it a comedy or isn't it? The source material is not, so that's always going to become an impediment without a lot of work.

Now here are the things which really bugged me:

There were so many comments about how women don't need marriage, women don't need a man, etc the same kind of phrases parroted in all romance movies these days, faced with the same paradox of all the characters involved winding up married by the end :P Only Mrs Russell is spared with her "European tours," which was a fun addition, but doesn't help the weirdness of watching woman after woman declare "You don't need a man to be happy - but I know you want one!"

Wentworth is one of my favorite Austen love interests, but I strongly disliked him here. In the book, yes, he is bitter, but it isn't so freaking obvious. He hides it by fooling around with other girls and generally ignoring Anne. In the movie they don't have him ignore her and they more or less erase his leading Louisa on. Yes, they're still a thing in the movie, but his thing with Henrietta is NOT, which makes him seem so much more sincere about Louisa. So even when we find out he doesn't really love her, it's hard to blame him. Also he's just sad all the time. Not attractive. Really hard to see the successful, hard-working, thoughtful young man Anne was so in love with.

Anne's awkwardness takes away from her chief quality which is that she's supposed to have good judgment. In the name of humor, they made quite a fool out of her. I'm sure it was to make up for how hard it is to express "no one pays attention to her" in a movie versus in a book with exposition. But, like, she's meant to NOT be awkward, lol. And worse than that, her narrative throughout the movie is quite judgmental of her family - and although they deserve it, when Wentworth comes out with "She's privately judging everyone in her head," it's like - well, yeah, Anne, you definitely are! You're 100 times worse than Lizzy Bennett lol. Which is not true to Anne's character at all.

Mary is a pest so it's no surprise that she lost her few redeeming qualities in the movie version. But the Musgroves also lost their less virtuous qualities. Henrietta isn't toying with both Wentworth and Hayter; Charles Musgrove isn't self-serving; Louisa is Anne's close friend (a change I actually liked a lot, but it still falls under this umbrella); Louisa and Henrietta have just as much, if not better, judgment and tact than Anne around difficult types like Mary. The reason this is a problem to me is it sucks out so much of the complexity in their relationships. Anne can't shine because everyone else doesn't need her. They are fine. She's the problem, not them. Also Louisa being so likable makes her jump from the steps kind of out of nowhere and ridiculous. I'm certain she was meant to seem playful rather than conniving, but I didn't vibe with how that scene was handled.

A small thing but it made me roll my eyes: After Wentworth says Anne is judgmental, he then blames her... for being easily persuaded. And yeah, that is the point of the book, that is their point of contention. But imagine saying someone's opinions are strong and then immediately following up by saying their opinions are weak. That's basically what he did here. That's why this is not how things go down in the novel, lol.

Now, in the book, yes, Anne goes up to Benwick and starts soothing his grieving heart with poetry and sermons. And yes, even in the book, it makes me cringe. But at least in the book she has time to lead into it. She doesn't just go, "Hi Benwick, heard your wife died, you should read Byron." She makes a little bit of small talk beforehand, AND the book does take care to point out that she waits to gauge his reaction to her advice before saying anything more bold. At least book Anne seems aware that she could be saying something totally cringey.

I'm torn because I did really enjoy Anne and Wentworth becoming "friends." But it felt so unearned. Technically it was earned: by Anne's support of Wentworth during the meal, and by his admiration of her taking charge of Louisa's injury. But I didn't feel that anything had changed, that's all I can say.

"You'd make a great admiral" This felt like feminism SHOEHORNED IN soooo hard. I wouldn't mind if it didn't feel like there were so many token feminist moments in this movie, without really having any characters who broke typical female tropes in romance movies. And it's even more ridiculous when almost directly afterward Anne acquiesces to her sister without so much as a protest, even though it was Wentworth's personal request that she stay with Louisa, AND what she preferred to do herself. Book Anne is not a great advocate for herself, it takes her a lot of time to get there. But movie Anne is definitely no Admiral.

Mr Elliot. I think I shouldn't be surprised that he's so odious... but he's so much worse than in the book. I really don't think that Twilight-style love triangles work in Austen adaptions. They are too juvenile. Elliot getting all up in Wentworth's business, as well as Wentworth being so openly annoyed by him just existing, even before he even began courting Anne, just felt so teen drama to me. And then the result is him wildly making out with Mrs Clay! I may be remembering wrong, but I'm pretty sure they weren't officially a married couple at the end of the novel, rather a couple of convenience. But that's no big deal. By having him propose to Anne then immediately start making out with Mrs Clay, they reduced Elliot to a horn dog. AND they completely erased what ACTUALLY makes him such an awful person: his treatment of Anne's old school friend and her husband. That was just entirely left out! In the book it's a long, honestly pretty boring passage of just telling the story to Anne, so I'm not surprised but - it's the revelation of Elliot's true character, and I don't like that they replaced his cold-heartedness with "he's a playboy."

The "Who loves longer, men or women?" speech. -__- I love that speech... in the book. For many reasons. But it's so truncated here that I don't like it one bit. Wentworth's letter saves it a little, by softening Anne's insistence that men don't love as long as women and making it something more realistic. But I can't like it because ANNE is supposed to make it realistic. Once again she's not allowed to show her discernment of human nature. She can only be despairing over unrequited love at all times.

What I was most curious about, beyond anything else, was whether Wentworth and Anne's discussion of persuasion (THE TITLE OF THE STORY) would be included in the finale. It is so, so important. Why? Because Anne spends the whole novel beating herself up for letting her family persuade her out of marrying Wentworth the first time, yet also struggling to decide how she could have brazenly ignored the advice of people she loves and respects when she was so young and inexperienced. And she concludes that she was NOT wrong in being persuaded, because when you love someone and they are worthy of respect, you take their opinion into account. You don't have a crystal ball, you don't know that they're right, but you also don't know that they're wrong. Wentworth's conviction that she should have blindly followed him out of love alone is the beginning of tragedy for many a heroine, after all. This doesn't mean she made the RIGHT choice! The whole point is maybe there wasn't a right choice, but a choice needed to be made nonetheless. And she made it, and it's not worth resentment and bitterness over, and though there will naturally be regret, she doesn't need to blame herself for it. That is such a critically essential final thesis of the novel, and honestly, THAT is feminist: a woman isn't wrong simply because a man feels conviction, and soft power is also power!!! But did it make it into the movie? NO OF COURSE NOT. The movie is the story of a girl who didn't follow her heart and got punished for it, and the only reason she gets her happily ever after is because the Perfect Boy waited for her with big puppy eyes.

Now I've written all that I'm sure it seems like I hated the movie. Well, I don't - I just don't think it's a good adaptation of Persuasion. It misses the point of the story. It messes up characterization so badly that they're hardly recognizable. Out of fear of Anne being too boring, they gave her a sense of humor not her own and the price was her strength of character. She's only "better" than her sisters because her sisters are truly awful. Unfortunate.

[itwoodbeprefect]

hellooooo 🎢 🤩 🍦and. bc i saw your last answered one and i'm being mean. ✨

shaking my fist. devilish!

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

for me, or for my readers? for me, oof, probably one of the longer things. i’ve been sending you updates about the starsky watches westerns fic, which i’m in the throes of now, but Coming Up Aces was also a Whole Thing last year (or actually in 2021, mostly), because it just would! not! be finished!

also. i think Rare and never simple deserves a weird little shoutout for being a birthday fic that i finished three months late, largely because it’s one of the longest things i’ve ever posted to ao3 even though it’s for a fandom i’m not in and a ship i have no particular feelings about one way or the other, while it’s somehow also one of the only fics i’ve ever written that keeps getting “oh i cried” as a response.

for my readers... well, depends on your mileage, of course, but it’s probably the jesus christ superstar fic that never made it to ao3. a significant percentage of comments for that one included an understandable “what the hell i thought this would be crack” sentiment.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write? 

overall, i think maybe john sheppard (of stargate atlantis fame)? he’s repressed in all kinds of ways, he’s queer in even more, people somehow think he’s cool but right under the surface he’s a huge dorky nerd, women keep throwing themselves at him and he keeps going “???” at it, he’s the hero of the story but he’s a giant slacker, he’s got a huge martyr streak but he does (probably) want to live, he loves his people so so much but he Cannot Show It, he chose the biggest asshole self-involved socially awkward supergenius as his best friend who he’s maybe pining for endlessly, and oh, the weird mix of pride and pressures that come with being responsible for the safety of others in an environment where you’re never going to be able to keep them safe - just so much interesting stuff. but most of all, joe flanigan’s face does many weird things at all times, and it’s never not fun trying to come up with ways to put that into words.

🍦 What’s the sweetest fic you’ve created so far?

huh. genuinely a difficult question! i’ve definitely written some stuff that in hindsight i think might... verge on being too sweet? but for pure sugar that i think still works, it’s probably something like In my dreams I have a plan (If I got me a wealthy man) or Get A Room, or: Three times Magnus and Alec were gratuitously in love and obliviously domestic about it or Flowers for no reason but you missed me. (respectively h50, shadowhunters and starsky&hutch). or. any of at least a dozen other little fics.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

you know, after i answered this the first two times it occured to me that i could have just gone "i did this one, here's a link!" but by then i'd already set a precedent and now i have to keep going, so: i'm good at writing short fic! 1-3k is a particular sweet spot where i think i have enough room to say something (even if it's just something silly) but it's still very bite-sized, and over the years i've grown pretty good at both beginning and ending stuff that short while still leveraging it into having some sort of meaning in between.

send me emojis (if you want)! 🌈  

[theglitterypages]

Haikyuu Boys As Your Boyfriend

******

Bokuto Koutaro

•He's a big baby

•He's the type of boyfriend to hug you all the time, he loves warmth and affection so please be generous enough to give him those.

•Clingy but not in an annoying way, you'll jusy feel like you have a boyfriend and at the same time, a son (LOL)

•Bokuto is the type of person who will always apologize first after arguments. Arguments will be very rare though, because when it comes to you he'll always listen.

•Kou is probably an insecure boyfriend, he thinks more men are much cooler than him that's why he's always working hard to improve himself.

•He's the type of boyfriend who will definitely avoid making you jealous, he'll limit his interactions with women because he doesn't like it when you're jealous, you're cute when you're being jealous but he's afraid that you might leave him.

•Loves kissing you

•He will always tell you how much he loves you.

•Your picture is his wallpaper and lockscreen.

•His IG, FB, Twitter or any other social media platforms is full of you, your pictures. messages for you and stuffs.

•Bokuto is your diary, he loves listening to your rants, it doesn't matter if you guys aren't together, just call him and he's always ready to listen.

•He's the type of boyfriend who will always brag about you, he's just so proud of everything you achieve. It doesn't matter how big or small the achievement is, he will celebrate it no matter what happen.

~°~°~°~°~°~°

“Baby Bear!” you opened your arms widely as you ran towards your boyfriend. Bokuto lifted you off the ground, he kissed the tip of your nose before putting you down. “I miss you, baby.” he told you as he let his hands rest on your hips.

“I miss you too, sorry if I don't have much time Kou.” you apologized and he just pulled you closer for a hug, “Shh it's fine. I know you're busy, but how's your tests?” he asked.

You looked at him with sad eyes and the poor baby panicked, not knowing what to do, “What? Did you fail? It's alright baby, I'm proud of you, I know how you worked hard for this.” he pressed his lips on yours with a smile, he cupped your face and let his forehead rest on yours before kissing you for another time, much longer than the first one.

“I almost got my exams perfect baby!”

“You scared me! But I know you can do it!” he laughed and showered kisses on your face as he keep on saying how much he loves you and that he's so proud of you.

“HEY, HEY, HEY! MY GIRLFRIEND IS THE PRETTIEST AND THE SMARTEST GIRLFRIEND EVER! SHE ACED HER EXAMS!”

~°~°~°~°~°~°

Kageyama Tobio

•Cold at the beginning of the relationship

•Kags is not yet used to physical contacts so don't expect much at first.

•But as the time passes by, he'll start wondering how it feels like to keep you in his arms for a long time so he will try and do it once when you two are studying in his house.

•Because Kags loves how warm and comfy it is to hug you, he'll start hugging you a lot (not in public though, he will be so shy)

•He's the type of boyfriend who'll fall asleep while watching movies (Forgive him, playing volleyball is hard)

•He wouldn't call you baby, babe or other endearments but he loves it when you give him one. His favorite endearment? LOVE

•Kags is a supportive boyfriend, he's the first one to cheer you up if you're sad.

•He's sharp as hell so he would always notice if you're not feeling well once he notice that he will do everything he can to make you smile or to make you feel better.

•Loves it when you keep on asking him to carry you.

•He loves the fact that you're shorter than him (Readers, if you're taller than Kags sorry😭)

•He would always walk you home.

•Sweetest thing he do for you? Taking care of your fingernails 💅🏻 he would definitely watch tutorials in applying nail polish. He also takes care of his fingernails so he wanted to do the same for you.

•When it comes to kisses it also take him some time to kiss you, he always wondered how it feels like to kiss you but he doesn't want to creep you out so he'll behave for quite some time.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

“Tobio, you used the wrong method for this equation.” you called him out, Kageyama was quick to look at the problem that you're pointing out and his mouth gaped open as he realized his mistake. “Sorry, I'll do it again.” you giggled and showed him your homework, “Look at mine and compare it to yours, both methods are similar but they will have different answers so beware.” Kageyama started revising his answer while you continued studying for the another subject.

When he was done he looked at you just to see you so focused on what you're doing, you were pouting while answering your own homework and he couldn't help but stare at your pinkish lips.

You two have been dating for almost a year and you two haven't kissed because Kageyama is too shy to make the first move but right now he couldn't help but be tempted.

“Y/N, look at me.”

When you looked up at him, he immediately grabbed your nape and pressed his lips on yours. He was still unsure of how to do it but he did his best and boy, Kags is not too bad for a first timer.

When he pulled away you couldn't help but look at him completely dumbfounded. He will chuckle on your expression and will lean down to press his lips on yours for the second time.

“I love you.” he whispered.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Kuro Tetsuro

•The type of boyfriend who acts like a Dad (no one can change my mind)

•Kuro will definitely keep on reminding you that eating vegetables is good for you.

•He will monitor your sleeping routine. He would even buy scented candles for you to help you sleep.

•He's so smart so expect him to help you in studying.

•Kuro is addicted to kisses, he will always do everything in his power to steal a kiss from you even if it's in front of his teammates.

•He will tease you a lot for being smaller than him but once you get pissed he'll stop and he will keep on bugging you until you finally agree to forgive him.

•He will always talk about you, in fact he never shuts up about you to the point that Kenma is asking you what kind of love spell did you put in Kuro. He'll politely ask you to decrease the effect of the ‘love spell’

•Kuro loves pinching your cheeks (it hurts so you will get mad) once you get mad he'll be showering kisses all over your face and will talk to you in a baby voice saying things like, “Oh look at baby YN looking so cute with red cheeks. Sorry baby, come here I'm gonna kiss the pain away.”

•What is the sweetest thing that Kuro did to you? He installed a period tracker app on his phone, so he can remember your cycle. If you're on your period, expect Kuro to be extra gentle. He won't tease you or anything, he will buy you snacks and he will always check up on your mood.

~°~°~°~°~°~°

“YN, the captain of volleyball club is looking for you.” says one of your classmates. You smiled at your classmate and nod but before you could stand up from your seat, Kuro is already in front of you, “How're you feeling? Do you want to go home? Internet says ginger tea is good for reducing nausea during period.” your eyes widened and you covered his mouth using your hands.

“You don't have to announce to everyone that I'm on my period Tetsu!” you whispered yell and he gently removed your hands from his mouth. “Okay, calm down. Sorry, I know that there's a whole lot scientific process going on inside you, I understand your outburst. I brought snacks for you.” he lifted the plastic bag on his left hand and smiled at you.

You were about to smile back at him but you realized something, “How did you know I'm on my period?” Kuro blinked for a few times before clearing his throat, “I saw the period tracker on your phone, I installed the same thing on mine so I can monitor your period. My Mom told me periods are uncomfortable and painful so I just want to do what I can for my dearest girlfriend.” your heart melted at that and you started crying, Kuro's eyes widened as he pulled you close to his chest.

“Shh, baby what did I do?”

“Nothing. It's just that...I love you so much.”

“Oh experts believe that the drop in estrogen and progesterone, which occurs after ovulation, triggers mood swings during or before your period.” Kuro whispered as he caress your back gently. You sniffed and hugged him tighter still crying because you just felt so loved. “These hormones reduce production of serotonin, a chemical neurotransmitter, it's natural to be emotional, baby.” you looked up at your boyfriend and when you saw how serious he was you just couldn't help but laugh.

“You're such a nerd. God, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~°~°~°~°~°~°

[fyeahwonderbat]

Keywords #3

Theme: Passion Rating: PG / T Word Count: 2,620 words NOTE: As this is set in the DCEU, I imagined Zatanna as Lyndsy Fonseca, but feel free to imagine whomever you choose!

“I had no idea you knew someone who was well versed in magic.” Wonder Woman remarked, lurking in the shadows of the balcony of the Bewitched Club. At her side, Batman frowned at the spectacle that was being performed on the stage down below. The audience was enamored with the floating lights and the levitating man being presented to them as some kind of inconceivable phenomenon.

In his eyes, Bruce saw magic as nothing more than child’s play.

Grumbling low enough for only the two of them to hear, he said, “There are many different kinds of people in Gotham.” He hoped that by the roughness of his tone of voice that Diana would know to leave the matter there.

Unwilling to comply with his wishes, she chose to address the matter while they witnessed the floating patron descend to the floor and the standing ovation that followed. “And you don’t trust any of them?”

“Not explicitly.” Was his blunt answer.

“Why?” Her curiosity was palpable, even as he turned away from her and walked towards the fire escape. They needed to reach the dressing rooms without being seen, meaning that exiting the club was more important to him than divulging his inner workings to her. He slipped through the open window without any intention of responding to her, which was why he wasn’t surprised that she probed the matter further the moment he felt her boots rattle the iron staircase. “You trust the people you gathered for the League.”

“Heh.” He released a single cackle, admittedly amused.

Diana, unimpressed with his behaviour, challenged him. “For a man who claims to love his solitude, you have a habit of reaching out to others more often than most.”

“I know who to contact when I need an ace up my sleeve.” Bruce explained as delicately as possible. He knew that he could run the risk of offending her again as he had on the plane trip back from Russia if he wasn’t careful with his words; she had already expressed her disdain for the way he made use of the Justice League, herself in particular, and if she thought that he considered her a tool more than a comrade, he wouldn’t have her at his side when they descended.

And he knew he’d need someone who accepted magic as a vital possibility while he groaned internally at the concept.

When Bruce reached the rooftop of the club, he apologetically turned around to offer a hand to Diana. But once again, the thundering of her boots landing behind him proved that she would forever be hot on his trail if he didn’t smarten up. Under the bleak shade of a dark and stormy night in Gotham, he stared at Wonder Woman through the lenses of his cowl, taking in the smug tilt to her grin. Proudly, she proclaimed, “From the moment I stole that flashdrive from you at Luthor’s party, I’ve never been your ace. If anything, Bruce, you’ve been mine.” 

The thundering he felt next came from the building, as it rattled when the storm overhead threatened to come crashing down on them. He quietly cleared his throat before finding his footing to say, “I’ll take that as a compliment, Wonder Woman.”

His sarcasm amused her for the first time ever. “As you should, Batman.”

“Emoc ot em, sredurtni.”

A familiar, feminine voice whispered in Bruce’s ear without warning. He witnessed the panicked look in Diana’s big brown eyes, however, he wasn’t able to warn her of what was about to happen as it all occurred too quickly. He recognized the style of the spell he heard a fraction of a second before they were snatched off of the rooftop and teleported into a compact dressing room. Lush in its decor, reminiscent of old Hollywood glamour, he knew they ended up in the right place even if he wasn’t a fan of how they arrived.

“I thought I saw you lurking in the background during my show.” 

Bruce steeled himself before he faced the magician in question. “Zatanna.” 

Standing with her arms crossed in the middle of the room was none other than the woman he’d been looking for, and then one he scowled at for using her spell to relocate him against his wishes. Still dressed in her corset and fishnets and her sparkly blazer, she looked like she stepped off the cover of a pin-up magazine from the fifties, with her top hat punctuating the look even while she held it in her left hand. It even sounded as if she was continuing her act when she faced Wonder Woman and interrogated her with her showman voice, “And what’s your name?”

“You may call me Diana. Bruce brought us here because he believes you’re the only one who can help us.” admitted Wonder Woman, offering a hearty handshake to the magician as a goodwill gesture.

Zatanna eagerly accepted the gesture the second she learned that he had put an ounce of faith in her. “Did he now?”

“I’ve been looking into a horde of monsters,” Bruce began to clarify immediately. “No matter how we analyze the sample I collected, I can’t pinpoint their origin.”

“We were hoping you might be able to tell us something about it.” Diana implored.

Despite their request, Zatanna refused to say a word while she studied the two of them. Her signature blue eyes hopped back and forth between the two of them, as if they were asking her to decipher something found in their auras or some other magical nonsense. Bruce was not amused by her scrutiny in the slightest, gritting his teeth for as long as he could in order to keep himself silent.

When that failed, he asserted, “We wouldn’t have come if--”

Zatanna cut him off with a toss of her hand through the air. “If you had any other possible option. I know you aren’t a fan of what I do, Bruce, so you’re lucky that I’m even considering this. Though I suppose the people of Gotham say cruel things about you all the time and you still keep them safe, so...” Her disinterest in his civility was made abundantly clear when she placed her top hat on her vanity’s table. Once it was out of her hands, it began to rattle ferociously in place and even started to hiss.

“What is in there, Zatanna?” Bruce demanded as he bent his knees ever so slightly in case her captive suddenly became free.

Sighing, the magician refused to reveal her secrets to them. Instead, she held out her hands and urged them both, “Give me the sample you brought, quickly.” 

With his hands already near his belt, Bruce removed the thin glass case from one of the compartments along his backside and placed it in her open palms. Bruce felt Diana move closer to him as they awaited for their own private magic show to begin. He could have sworn he felt an almost excited energy coming from her despite how foolish that seemed.

Bruce ignored his hunch so that he could lend all of his attention to Zatanna as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her brows knitted together over the bridge of her nose as she spoke her spell aloud, “Wohs em erehw uoy emoc morf.” Her voice was powerful, commanding for the cooperation of the darkened jagged rock formation he presented to her.

Then, the world went silent.

After that, there was nothing but chaos.

Zatanna returned to them when she threw her eyes open and gasped as though she had been suffocated by her astral trip. So startled by whatever it was she saw, she nearly toppled into Diana’s arms. 

“Are you all right?” Diana panicked at the sight of her evident fright.

“What did you see?” Bruce tried to remain calm for Zatanna’s sake, all while the fear inside of him grew. Every other trial had brought them nowhere near a possible answer as to who could be in control of the army of monsters, but when the source was located through magical means, it appeared to be a force strong enough to push the most powerful magician he knew off of her feet. 

“Y-You’re not going to believe me.” whimpered Zatanna. 

“Try me.” challenged Bruce, ready to face the truth of his hunt.

Diana decided to lead Zatanna to her vanity’s seat, helping her sit down as the desperation for an answer to his statement hung in the air of the dressing room. Bruce felt very much like whatever wild entity was hiding inside of her spinning hat, failing to remain patient when trapped in some way or another by magical restraints.

Thankfully, Diana’s calm composure was the key to getting the answers they needed. “So they are born from magic then?”

Zatanna nodded once, twice, then spoke firmly so they had no room to question her. “Not only are they magic-based, but they’re being created by gods.” 

An extreme case required an extreme reaction from him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

A white gloved hand slammed down on the spinning top hat before Zatanna glared at Bruce and fired her answer at him. “I’m saying that the monsters you are after are being made by the hands gods. Two, specifically, and their base of operation? The one you’re looking for that you can’t seem to find? Well, it’s hard to find what you’re looking for on Earth when you’re actually looking for hell.”

“Hell…?” Diana’s voice collapsed as she breathed the word. 

Zatanna did not show her the same amount of concern as she pushed onward, “I didn’t see them being made, but when I went looking for your answers, I encountered this woman.”

“Who was it!?” bellowed Bruce so loudly, it earned him a pair of matching leers from the two women in the room.

And a rather aggressive knock at the door.

“Miss Zatara? Is everything all right in there?” asked an inexperienced security guard from the other side of the door. Zatanna didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest. However, she did maintain her furious connection with Bruce through her gaze and quickened her retelling of what she witnessed in her search. “There was a woman being held captive in a cell deep underground. She’s very gifted in magic - she found me while I was searching and pulled me into her. Her mind guided me beyond her cell and showed me that the monsters you’re after are being made in the pits of hell, being shaped by… a higher ranking demon? Some type of evil figurehead down there?” “No,” Diana spoke with a grave tone of voice, with nothing but certainty cementing her words. “It’s Hades.”

As if their search hadn’t taken enough turns, it took all of the Batman’s strength to avoid recoiling at the mention of such a fictitious name. Despite the fact that an Amazon from the same mythos stood by his side for the past year, it was nearly impossible for him to accept that the lord of the Underworld that he read about as a child was preparing to wreak havoc on Earth. Being a founding member of a team that compiled some of the strongest people of the planet meant that he had to digest the reality of their gifts despite how improbable it would have seemed to him once upon a time. If he was forced to accept the truth about extraterrestrial life, he knew that he’d need to leap over his disbelief and accept what Zatanna was saying along with Diana’s confirmation. 

Still, he dared himself to ask, “Why him?” 

Diana seemed to reflexively reach for the hilt of her sword as she divulged her thought process. “There’s no one else it could be. Think about it, Bruce: gods in hell, making a demonic army? It has to be Hades. He must have coerced another god to help him create these creatures and he plans to unleash them on mankind for some malicious purpose. Whatever he’s planning, he’s gone so far as to invite others into his domain and most likely punished the woman in the cage for refusing to help him achieve his goal.”

Another round of banging on the dressing room door cut off Diana’s speech. A rather panicked cry from the hallway replaced her voice, “Miss Zatara?!”

“I have no idea what he plans are,” Zatanna fretted openly. “But I can do is take advantage of this blind spot I’ve found and send you to her.” 

Bruce concealed his worry behind his cowl. “If you transport us into this witch’s cell, how are we supposed to get back?”

Louder and louder the banging grew, but Diana had become so frightened by the enemy they were about to face that she had lost all interest in mortal matters. Instead of being bothered by the harsh sounds, she faced their magical messenger and said, “Contact Bruce’s butler Alfred and let him know where you’re sending us.”

“All right.” Zatanna swore to complete the task with a nod of her head. 

When she faced him then, Bruce saw Wonder Woman. He saw the heroine that he’d come to admire standing in the dressing room with him, the very same woman who saved him from Doomsday with nothing more than her brute strength. The intensity in her eyes made him believe that she had already convinced herself that the battle with the lord of the Underworld was imminent, and she would be ready for it. With an obstinacy he’d be privately yearning to see from her, Diana dictated their next step with the charge of a warrior, “Let’s go.”

He knew in that exact moment that he had no right to seek out the logistics of their situation, that he should have checked his supposedly rational hangups at the door. If Wonder Woman was certain enough to take charge of the mission, then Batman knew where he needed to be.

“You going to be okay to handle this on your own?” Bruce wondered as he tossed his thumb over his shoulder, referring to the man who was insistently assaulting the dressing room door. 

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Zatanna scoffed at his faux worry as she rose up out of her seat. She turned her back to him and held up her thumbs and index fingers in a square-like shape. As she pulled her hands apart, a glowing yellow rectangle materialized in the room that was filled with a dark, foreboding fog inside. “Go. That will take you right to her.”

“Thank you, Zatanna.” Diana softened her battle-ready demeanor to offer her genuine gratitude to the magician. 

“I’ll contact Alfred once I’m done here.” She informed them, materializing her wand in one hand while the other kept a firm grasp on her rowdy hat. 

Respectfully, Bruce added a quick, “Thanks.” 

“Now, go!” Zatanna shouted at the top of her lungs just as the dressing room door finally caved under the force of the punches being delivered to it. The wood splintered so hard, broken pieces of different sizes slammed into his elongated cloak. Bruce had to ignore every instinct he’d honed over the last thirty years of his life in order to charge through that portal. Whether he trusted Zatanna’s magic or not, he would never intentionally leave her to fend for herself if he could help. 

But Diana was waving him into the portal, disappearing into the fog that looked as menacing as he imagined the gates of hell possibly could be.

Leave it to the Amazon to rope him into the Underworld without any precaution, any escape route or signal to the League if needed.

[mysticandskepticmuses]

   SPANKING OR SCRATCHING?

                 Honestly, in pretty much every verse, June has pretty much no actual experience getting spanked - in pretty much any fashion, probably more so in her model verse than anything bc she is kind of all over the place in terms of sexual proclivities there but.  Main verse, she was never really rebellious or ever did anything requiring ‘spanking’ as a child, she might have been slapped once or twice in arguments with her mother but really, she kinda skipped all over that whole childhood physical violence / punishment thing so.  It doesn’t have any particular connotations or memories, good or bad.  She wouldn’t necessarily be against it, she doesn’t mind pain in her play but.  She’s definitely, instinctively way more inclined to scratch and dig at her partners and unless they complain about it / tell her they don’t like it before hand or whatever, shoulders and backs and hips are always gonna have some degree of war wound from her nails.  She keeps them short generally, but she has a lot of strength in her fingers and hands from all of her work and physical activity which includes hanging from cliffs by her fingertips so – she has a pretty powerful grip and has left some pretty impressive furrows on her partners that can take it.  She also definitely has a tendency to want someone who can equal her fervor / passion in a fling or relationship so if there’s not a spark / compatibility in the bedroom, it’s probably not going to result in a second go round / second date / etc.  She’s going to want someone who’s a challenge / who can challenge her / who isn’t going to just be a passive partner / who is invested and wants to be there w/ her, who can match her physicality if nothing else.

VIDEO CALL MASTURBATION OR SEXY SELFIES?

          Between these two, as much as she does love sending semi-clad or entirely nude pics to tease her partner with …. she travels a lot and spends a lot of time out of the country and away from her partners.  If she’s actually involved with someone when she has to leave on a dig, or, if for some reason they’re apart for a night and the mood strikes, she definitely favors video call sexy time.  She is pretty adept at dirty talk, to whatever level her partner is comfortable with (even if it’s an area I feel I struggle with as a writer) but even if it’s not very verbal and just visual appreciation and whatever sounds happen to occur, she is all about finding ways to get herself off and enjoy watching her partner at the same time.  

BLOOD PLAY OR BREATH PLAY?

           While June isn’t adverse to knife play / blood play …. she definitely has a thing for breath play.  Collars, chokers, hands, belts, ties…. whatever.  She’s not picky. She enjoys either end of things, but, it’s definitely one of her more sub like preferences; wrap your hand around her throat and she’ll melt.   This especially proves true during the time she’s possessed by Enchantress and her body becomes more durable / able to tolerate a lot more damage / trauma without risk of lasting damage.

 VOYEUR OR EXHIBITIONIST?

  While the degrees to VOYEUR or EXHIBITIONIST may shift somewhat from verse to verse, it’s a pretty solid lean to exhibitionist behaviours every time.  This is definitely way more prevalent in her model verse, where she does nude modeling as well as fashion etc. but she always has a penchant for risky and public behaviour that manifests especially in sexual activities whether it’s just heavy make out sessions and heavy petting or full on getting fingered beneath a table at a diner or full on banging in the bathroom of a restaurant or bar or – wherever.   This is something that she does tend to keep a lid on in her main verse(s) especially with her academic reputation and facing the double edged standards of sexuality between men and women, especially in such a strongly male dominated field but…  honestly, if she’s worked up enough, or if she’s had too much to drink (or on those rare occasions in main verses that she indulges in other chemical influences) it’s a preference that makes itself known if she has a partner that will indulge her.

 EDGING OR MULTIPLE ROUNDS?

Uggggggh this one is so difficult to answer.  I guess….. if she had to choose just one, she’d choose multiple rounds.  Being built up and falling back over and over makes each rise so much more poignant and intense but it does tend to make each ‘portion’ of the fun get shorter and shorter while multiple rounds tends to make each round last longer, allowing her to explore and learn more about her partner and what makes them twitch and lets them experience more variety usually than edging and she does enjoy experimenting and trying different positions and different elements and finding different pressure points and sensitive areas / vice versa, especially in instances where it’s more likely to be a one time scenario / hook up. She wants to get as much out of the situation as she can.

LAUGHING AND SILLINESS DURING SEX OR INTENSITY AND POWER STRUGGLE DURING SEX? MORNING SEX OR EVENING SEX?

LAUGHING VS POWER STRUGGLE.

           Why would you be so mean as to make her choose?  Okay but, in all seriousness, she can’t really just pick one for a blanket answer.  This is very situational and even that is difficult for me to define because I wanted to say, the more emotionally attached she is with someone, the less the power struggle element comes into play and the more she’s okay with / wants the laughing and silliness and playing and teasing and warmth but that’s not entirely true either because some of the most intense power struggle / power play / back and forth and all of the intimacy that can come with that when you really, really care about and really know what makes them tick and how to make them melt happens when you’re extremely invested into a relationship with someone.  And sometimes light and easy and laughing and just goofing off happens with a random one night stand or someone that’s been a friend that just turns into a random w/ benefits scenario.   It’s probably situational in the broadest sense possible in terms of the mood of the relationship at any given moment before it leads up to sex at that particular moment.  

             SORRY I CAN’T REALLY DO A SOLID one or the other on this one….  I mean.  If she really, really, really had to choose just one for the rest of all eternity, she’d probably choose laughter and silliness because that speaks to a connection between heart and soul and mind and not just physical but.  She’d have to be really really really hard pressed to have to make that final call for forever with someone because both sides of that coin can be so important in a real, long term relationship with someone.

MORNING OR EVENING SEX.

         Mmmmm another toughie but prrroooooobably evening if she’s looking at things practically speaking because almost every morning she’s getting up and dealing with her morning routine and is either off to the dig site or to the museum or to the university or has somewhere she has to be that keeps her from being able to devote full attention to her lover.  She really does have a weakness for late mornings when she can sleep in and wake up to attention from her lover though, so if it’s just a matter of preference, she’s a huge fan of waking up to physical affection and smooches.

FACE TO FACE OR FROM BEHIND?

         This is such a difficult choice because she definitely enjoys experimenting with different positions, reverse cowgirl & doggie style to name a couple are some faves that deal with from behind but if she had to make a choice she’d probably settle for any of the myriad of positions that end up face to face with her partner.  She does have a particular fondness for watching facial expressions and seeing someone when they’re losing control and / or fighting to keep it and seeing all the little bits and pieces of them as they come undone is … a fave.

PHONE SEX OR SEXTING?

           Hmmmmmmm another hard choice to make but if she had to choose she’d settle on sexting because it can be done in a lot more places than phone sex (okay so phone sex can technically be done anywhere if you’re brave enough but she does have a certain sense of decorum and professionalism she tries to maintain in most situations) and … again it goes back to, especially if she’s in the room with her partner, but really, just knowing it’s happening is win … the amount of control that the other person has to exert to maintain their cool while she’s tormenting them …. (I’m sensing a trend).

SUBMISSIVE OR DOMINANT?

            In general this is very, very much a tossup depending on the day, her mood, her partner, the situation …. but in general she would probably be classified more dominant than submissive.  She loves to take control, even if it isn’t in an overt way.  She’d very much be a power bottom, she challenges everyone, she’s all about testing limits (though she’d never want to push someone past an actual hard line) and finding new ways to thrill her partner.  She has zero qualms handing over the reins and letting her partner take charge but she’s definitely all about shaking things up, all about the unexpected.  But yeah.  She’s definitely got more of a dominant vibe, most times.   (Note:  some verses this may vary; in her default Suicide Squad verse she’s definitely got trust issues but if someone can get her to the point where they opt to take control and she lets them, it’s very much a relief sometimes to just let it all go and not have to make the decisions and not have to think and not have to do anything but focus on the pleasure of herself and her partner.  In AC, she’s definitely submissive as a default.)

WHIPS OR CHAINS?

          Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me.  Why can’t it be both?  Unfair.  If she had to choose just one she’d go with whips.  There are other methods of keeping herself or her partner tied down but there is a particular thrill that comes with the teasing touch of a whip or the little electric stings of pain that comes with being whipped that just can’t be replaced.

HANDCUFFS OR SHIBARI?

              This is all a matter of time and place.  There is something truly thrilling and erotic about the time and patience and skill that goes into shibari, a knowledge of anatomy and the art itself, it’s a thin line between just the right amount of tension and discomfort and potentially causing serious damage.  And it does definitely have a long, slow build up of tension and desire.  She would definitely love to find someone that could indulge her, there’s something particularly enticing about being entirely at someone else’s mercy, but it’s hard to find the right person in terms of skill, knowledge, trust levels.  Sooooooo, in terms of practicality alone, she’d opt for handcuffs… but secretly, the answer is shibari.

EDGING OR MULTIPLE ROUNDS?

             Choices, choices !!!! Why can’t she live in a world where she gets everything she wants, come on …   In all seriousness though…. personally, she loves the ebb and pull of being drawn to the edge and left teetering, and the ebb back down during whatever time in between the next almost is exhilarating and exhausting and it just heightens everything in between build ups.  Everything is more sensitive, everything just feels more enticing and extreme.  And when she finally gets that moment of release it’s just so intense, and yeah.  If she’s got a partner who has the self control and stamina to keep her on a roller coaster of sensation (especially if they drag it out over multiple sessions throughout the day?) mmmmhm.  She’s a happy camper.

VANILLA OR KINKY?

      While June doesn’t mind if her partners are more vanilla in their preferences, she’s definitely more on the kinky side.  She likes to try new things, test her limits, see what she enjoys and what she doesn’t.  She’s traveled and had the opportunity to experience different positions and techniques and different interests - different places consider different things taboo and some things that might be more taboo in the US are considered standard fare, per se, in other countries so.  She’s all about experimenting.

LENGTHY COCKS OR GIRTHY COCKS?

        She’s not generally overly concerned about size… there are more than one ways to cross the finish line…. But, if she had to choose she’d probably choose girth because of just the sensation of being, uh, filled.  Is nice.  But honestly, in the end, it really does come down to knowing how to use what you’ve got.  

ASS OR CHESTS?

         While a nice ass does provide good hand holds … she’s a chest girl mostly? Guys or girls.  She likes tracing lines and curves with her hands or her mouth, and little nips and licks and teasing kisses along her partner’s chest is just delightful.  

THIGHS OR ARMS?

         Unf this one is hard because it really depends on what for.  She does love a good, strong arm that can pin her down, or haul her around buuuuuuuut, a good sturdy set of thighs can support her for some fun play and biting and kissing at the inside of thighs can make even the most stoic of people melt so, if she had to pick, probably thighs.

STRAP ON OR DOUBLE SIDED DILDO?

          As much as she likes the idea of the double sided dildo, in practical terms, they just aren’t normally practical or actually usually rigid enough or designed to really stay in place long enough to get the job done.  She’ll stick with a strap on for giving, maybe with an egg vibrator or something for her if she really feels like it, or just wait to get off after she’s gotten her partner off and vice versa.  

 { MODEL } PUBLIC EDGING OR FILMING IN THE BEDROOM?

                       Mmmmmmmm, even though she really, really shouldn’t given her father’s constant vigilance / insistence on her behaving and staying out of the tabloids and out of the public eye in any way that might reflect badly on him if their connection came out (or maybe because of it let’s be real) and even though she really, really shouldn’t really, really like it when it’s with a certain NYPD detective….. she really, REALLY likes anything to do with public displays of affection especially when they border into the full on sexual.  Fingering her, grinding on her, using vibrators / vibrating panties w/ remotes or plugs or dirty talk or whatever to keep her turned on and on edge and not letting her actually get off so that it just gets worse and worse and she just slowly dissolves until she’s whining and giving little looks and begging for you to drag her somewhere and fuck her brains out is – honestly – pretty much one of her number one kinks of all time.  And, if she’s drunk or high on top of it, especially on anything that heightens sensations?  She’ll do pretty much anything you want to finally be able to get off….  

[snickerl]

I am reblogging this because I don’t know how or why the last part and thus the closure of this ficlet was missing. It’s in italics at the end if you want to find out how Ahab’s and Maggie’s conversation went on after “Did you ever...”  Instead of finishing the sentence he bit his lower lip.

Mom’s The Best

A collection of XF ficlets

I started this collection of stand-alone ficlets from Margaret Scully’s POV a while ago because she’s always been one of my favorite characters. This particular chapter has been sitting in my “yet to post” box for the longest time because I wasn’t sure if anybody would be interested in reading it. Anyway, today I decided it was time to post it and just find out...

So far, the collection contains the following ficlets:

PEPPERMINT TEA APPLE PIE ROOT BEER PEACH PUNCH CHOCOLATE COOKIES

APPLE CRUMBLE

"Hey Starbuck, have you decided which offer you want to take yet? I heard Johns Hopkins is interested."

Bill Scully, Sr. had just swallowed the last piece of roast. He was dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin and popped the question casually at his younger daughter who instantly stopped chewing. His wife sucked in her breath. Maggie somehow knew this wasn't a good after dinner topic. Dana had been avoiding to talk about what to do after her graduation from medical school lately whereas Ahab had hardly been talking about anything else.

Maggie knew he loved all his children but Dana had always been his favorite. Since the day she was born, she had been the apple of his eye. It had put her at the receiving end of his fatherly affection like none of her siblings but it had also put a lot of pressure on the girl to cope with. When she had been admitted to medical school, Maggie had seen her husband almost burst out of pride, Dana Katherine Scully, M.D. sounded like a melody in his ears. Therefore failing or, God forbid, dropping out hadn't been an option for Dana. It had turned her into an ambitious, tenacious, and determined young woman with an incredible amount of stamina who would do anything to not disappoint her daddy. To her mother's dismay, enjoying life had fallen a bit by the wayside in the process. Well, her older sister and younger brother had compensated for it more than enough.

Dana was putting the cutlery down in slow motion, then dabbed her lips thoroughly. She squinted her left eye for a brief moment and looked at her father.

"You heard? From whom?"  

Maggie noticed a sensitive undertone in Dana's voice her husband obviously missed because he continued unwaveringly.  

"Daniel told me."

"How did you get around talking about me with my boyfriend?"

Dana was tensing up noticeably. Maggie held her breath.

"He's as interested in your career as I am. Your move into the medical field needs to be well considered, and Daniel says Boston is offering the best opportunity for you to go into cardiology."

"Oh? Daniel says? I see." Dana chewed the inside of her cheek before she asked tight-lipped, "do I get a say in this, dad, or have Daniel and you already submitted my application?"

Bill's eyes widened at his daughter's harsh and open irony. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dana let out an annoyed chuckle. "Does it even occur to you that I might have other plans?"

"You're not talking about that crazy FBI idea, are you? That's absolutely out of the question!"

Bill shook his head. Ever since Dana had first mentioned that she had been approached by an FBI recruiter, he refused to even talk about it, always wiping the topic away with a dismissive wave of his hand, just like he was doing now.

"Bill, please," Maggie cut in as she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

The family dinner which had started out so nice and enjoyable was at the brink of turning into a veritable family argument. They hadn't been together like this for quite a while because the final exams of med school had accounted for all of Dana's free time. Now that all the tests - written, practical, and oral - were taken and they were waiting for the results, doubting not even for a nanosecond that her marks would be anything but excellent, their daughter finally allowed herself to spend an evening away from her textbooks at her parents' house.

"It's my life we're talking about here, dad, and not that many graduates get recruited right out of medical school by the FBI. I would get the chance to specialize in forensic pathology and might be teaching at the Academy later on. That's really something I can see myself in."

Maggie noticed how Dana's tensed-up body posture relaxed a bit, how exhilaration took over. It showed clearly how excited she was about this. Unfortunately, her husband wasn't this sensitive, for he exclaimed indignantly, "pathology? A medical doctor saves lives and does not cut open dead people who can't be helped anymore. It's stupid!"

"Stupid? Pathology is a medical specialty like any other. It isn't about some morbid slicing and dicing, it's about getting to the bottom of why and how a person died. It's science. Forensic pathology is a substantial part of solving criminal cases and convicting murderers. I would be saving lives by keeping potential victims from harm by killers that I helped to put behind bars."

Dana's passionate advocacy of forensic pathology didn't impress Ahab one bit. He didn’t seem to listen to her at all actually, Maggie noticed. Instead, he was pulling another ace from his sleeve; or so he thought.

"You really want to be a Fed, Dana? Lowsy pay and small reputation included?"

"This is what this is actually all about, isn't it? Pay and reputation." It wasn't meant as a question. "Your daughter being an underpaid federal agent wouldn't be anything you'd be comfortable talking about in your old boys' circle, would it? Your offspring performing open heart surgery though would be something else, something you wouldn't hesitate a second to let your friends know. Right, Dad?"

Ahab took a step backward. Was he perhaps impressed in some way by Dana's accusatory tone, Maggie marveled. There was a kernel of truth in it somewhere, for sure. Her husband had always loved letting his environment know how well his beloved Starbuck was doing. Dana had hit a blind spot with her angry words, she read from the change in Bill's whole demeanor and facial features. He had not only taken a step away from his daughter, not towering her anymore, but his whole body posture collapsed. His arms, which he had been fidgeting with, were hanging limply all of a sudden, his chin, which had been lifted challengingly, had sunken to his chest, and his eyes, which had been boring through Dana's just a moment ago, were avoiding hers now. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw pushed through visibly. Maggie had very rarely seen her husband searching for words; this was one of the times.

"It's just...Daniel...well, he says you're really good at it and that you'd have a bright future in cardiology," he eventually tried to defend himself, but Dana didn't want to hear any of it.

"Daniel? Daniel says? And what Daniel says is necessarily right? You don't trust me to make my own choice? To know what's good for me?"

Ahab tried to fend off the accusations he had been showered with a feeble, "you're getting it all wrong, Dana." Maggie almost felt like stepping up and pairing with him to form a consistent parental entity. It was what they had always done when serious arguments with their children occurred, she was wondering why she was somehow reluctant to do so now. Before she got to the bottom of the motivation, or rather lack thereof, Dana's voice filled the room again.

"I don’t think I'm getting anything wrong here! It's so typical for men to believe they are to make choices for us women. I mean, did mom ever had a say in whether she wanted to pursue her career after you got married?"

Maggie's heart skipped a beat and she realized that her daughter was unconsciously rubbing her nose into what was keeping her from backing her husband up in this matter.

"Your mother knew what it meant to be a Navy wife," Bill said without even looking at her as if the woman he was talking about wasn't in the same room standing just a few inches away from him.

"That does not mean she wouldn't have liked to keep working. She loved being a teacher, didn't you, mom?" Dana exclaimed, her glaring eyes meeting her mother's.

"I, uh-," Maggie started but was interrupted instantly by her husband.

"She was happy to be a housewife and mother."

"You didn't even let her answer herself just now, for Christ's sake! Was she allowed to have an opinion of her own back then? Did you even ask her or agreed upon what was good for her together with grandpa, just like you are doing for me right now with Daniel?"

Without even taking another breath Dana turned to Maggie and implored, "mom! Don't you have anything to say to this?"

"Watch your mouth, young lady! I am not to be spoken to in this tone by any of my children. And neither is your mother." Ahab's words came out of his mouth like shots out of a machine gun. Sharp, cold, deadly, but Dana would not let herself get intimidated.

"I'm an adult, dad! I'm not a kid anymore you can force to take piano lessons just so she can play Mozart to your party guests for their entertainment and your sick fatherly pride."

"How dare you-"

"Stop it! Now! Both of you!"

Maggie had been listening to what was being said about her with a mixture of shock, anger, and regret until she drowned the gamecocks in a high-pitched voice. She knew that if they went on, they would be saying something they regretted later. They had never been in an argument like this, mainly because Dana had always been a child trying to please her father, always wanting to make him proud of her. These times seemed to have come to an end. She was obviously ready to disobey his wishes, and Maggie secretly believed that it actually wasn't such a bad thing. Even though she herself had been pulled into their fight, she knew that right now was not the time to voice her own feelings about the whole FBI matter. Right now she had to protect father and daughter from getting themselves into a rage and saying something so hurtful the wounds left behind would be difficult to heal. Ahab and Starbuck had always been so close, if they tore themselves asunder over this, it would break both of their hearts; and Maggie's own heart along with it.

Both were staring at her, flabbergasted by her temperamental, forceful outburst. They weren't used to her speaking up, reining people in so openly. She usually tried to appease, to sugarcoat cracks and to smooth out disagreements within the family. "Don't look at me like this!" she said. "Did you even realize how you were yelling at each other? This is not how we talk to each other in this family!"

Maggie had a distinct need for harmony and every family member relied on it. No matter how severe the dispute was, everybody knew she would later arbitrate between the parties and make them reconcile again. Throughout her married life, she'd played the mediator between her husband and his children as well as between the siblings many times, had always tried to be impartial, to not take one side but make them see the other's point of view, to understand each other. It had always worked best like this. Until today. Today she would leave her neutral position and speak up for the person she believed had a reason.

"Dana is right, Bill," she said and was surprised about how easily the words were leaving her mouth.

"What?" her husband retorted, apparently dumbfounded by the statement which was so openly in conflict with his own opinion on this matter.

"What?" Dana whispered, equally caught off-guard like her father but in a more positive way.

"She's right. It's her choice to make, not ours."

Here she was again, Margaret Scully, a loyal wife to her husband, joining him as a parent by calling it their choice when as a matter-of-fact it had been just his. It was fair enough though, to not push him in the corner and blame him alone because if she was honest, she would have to admit that she was also not fond of her daughter's idea to join the FBI, but for totally different reasons.

Ahab's face turned red, anger creeping through his body. "What's going on in your minds, you Scully women? Very well, then," he spat but knew better than to start another argument with his wife now. He let out an exasperated huff, turned on his heel, and took a beer out of the refrigerator and mumbled under his breath, "I'm outside."

"Great," Dana hissed right after the porch door had been closed with a loud 'bang' seconds later, "now he's mad at me and you."

"That's alright, sweetheart. He's going to calm down again. We let him have his beer and give him time to think."

"I'm a disappointment for him because I'm not taking the career path he wants me to."

Maggie gasped. It hurt to see Dana being so hard on herself. Children weren't determined to fulfill their parents' dreams, they should aspire their very own goals.

"It's your life, Dana. You have to decide on your own. You've already signed the contract, haven't you?"

"No, but I really want to do this, mom."

"Yes, I can see your determination, but I always thought it was medicine you wanted to work in."

"I've never given anything else much thought until the FBI approached me."

"What is it with law enforcement that interests you so much?"

"It's not law enforcement per se but the opportunity to specialize in pathology. That's science, mom. Searching for the cause of death in a dead body is scientific work. It will challenge my intellect in many more ways than doing one heart catheter investigation after another. You remember that I wrote my undergraduate thesis about Einstein, don't you? If dad hadn't pressured me into medicine, I might've as well graduated in physics. I love science, mom."

"I know you do, but all this time you spent in medical school...you worked so hard for your degree, sweetheart. Are you willing to throw this all away?"

"I'm not throwing it away. A pathologist is a medical doctor like any other, and if I find out that the FBI is nothing for me, I can start as a resident at a hospital in cardiology or pediatrics any time. Johns Hopkins won't give me another chance probably but there are enough renowned hospitals in America." She looked at her mother with tears in her eyes, searching for some understanding. "I really want to give this a try, mom."

"You've already made up your mind," Maggie realized.

"Yes. I have an appointment with HR at the FBI headquarters this week. Field training will start next month."

Maggie tensed up. "You're going to be out in the field?"

"It's not intended. I get trained in forensic pathology and will work in the morgue and the lab mainly. Any time later, I might also be teaching at Quantico."

"Not intended? Does that mean it might happen nonetheless? That you have to go out into the field to track down criminals?"

"Mom, it's the FBI after all. I mean, it's part of the training and I have to do what I'm assigned to. If they need my expertise out in the field one day, I might be partnered up with someone. You know how it works in a federal institution, people are not asked but ordered."

Yes, being married to a naval captain, Maggie knew how it worked. Her family had been ordered to relocate to a different Navy base on short notice more than once, and her husband had been commandeered to dangerous missions around the globe never ever taking into consideration whether his wife was pregnant or his children had just made new friends at school. She also knew what it was like to worry about a beloved one on a daily basis, how to cope with the constant fear that something might happen to them. Maggie knew all of this and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to get through it once again. When Ahab had eventually retired from active military service and started working behind a desk, assuming a consulting role at the base, it had taken months until she had learned to not expect a compassionate Navy officer tell her something happened to her husband behind every nightly ring of the phone or urgent knock at the door. And now it would start all over again. How she wished her daughter would spare her dealing with this kind of fear.

She was fearing for Bill, Jr. already, her oldest son, who had followed his father's footsteps into the Navy. But he was tall and strong. A man. Dana was so small and fragile. Not any less fierce than her older brother, probably even more tenacious than he, but wouldn't she easily be outrun and overpowered by a muscled male criminal? Wouldn't she be bullied as a woman in a male-dominated environment? Maggie knew the FBI was as much an old boys' club as the Navy. Her daughter would have to fight herself through the system day in and day out. What a tough path she was choosing for herself.

Maggie sighed quietly but wouldn't voice her inhibitions. She would swallow her fears down and would resist the temptation to ask Dana to stay in the medical field just so her mother would be able to sleep more peacefully. Her daughter had every right to do whatever she wanted. It was her life, her career, her choice, and in a way she admired her guts. She would stand up to any man who underestimated her like she had stood up to her father today. Who would have thought that the tiny rosy bundle she had held prematurely in her arms all those years ago after a complicated pregnancy and difficult childbirth would grow up to become such a powerful and strong personality.

"I'm so proud of you, Dana," Maggie said, working hard though to mask her underlying worries.

"Thanks, mom, but you're the only one I'm afraid. Dad's never going to accept it."

"Don't underestimate your father. Give him some time to get used to the idea."

Dana shook her head. "Let's face it, he's disappointed in me."

"You have to go on your own way, Dana, not on the one your father wants to see you on. He will understand eventually."

"Do you really think so?"

"He's your father, and he loves you no matter what."

Maggie was sure of it. His love for his daughter was infinite. One day he would be able to swallow down his pride and see Dana's choice for what it was, an autonomous decision by his grown-up daughter. Something else was on Maggie's mind though. Her father wasn't the only dominant male figure in Dana's life.

"What's Daniel's reaction to your decision?"

Dana looked away. It took her a moment until she answered her mother. "I'm going to break up with him, mom."

"Oh. Because of this?"

"No...yes...well, I guess it's the straw that broke the camel's back. He's been so patronizing lately. He's not only planned my residency but has also more or less outlined my whole career after that. Can you imagine? I mean, who does he think he is that he acts like my goddamn guardian?"

A wave of relief was rolling over Maggie. She'd always thought that Dana's relationship with Daniel was not sufficiently based on equality although she had never mentioned anything to Dana, Dana was old enough to decide who she dated.

Daniel was Dana's teacher in medical school. He was an accomplished man, married, which bugged Maggie in particular. Not because she saw Dana as an adulteress - it had been the man's own decision to leave his wife and teenage daughter to get involved with one of his students - but because he used her, bathed himself in how she looked up to him. He enjoyed the role of her mentor, both in the medical field as in how to lead her life. Of course, he wanted her to do her residency under his wings in his hospital. It would give him the perfect opportunity to guard her furthermore, to mold her into what he saw in her.

A clear cut was maybe for the best. A completely clean slate. Another professional environment, another city, another man eventually. Maggie would hate to see her independent-minded, self-assured, and autonomous daughter permanently with someone who didn't treat her as an equal. There had to be men out there who saw her inner height and didn’t mistake her for a little girl just because she was petite. But Maggie also knew that Dana loved Daniel, that she had thought not long ago she would share her entire life with him. Breaking up wouldn't be easy.

"I better get going, mom. I don't think dad is coming back inside as long as I'm here."

"But what about dessert? I made your favorite." 

Even if it was a bit silly to believe there was even the slightest chance the three of them would be sitting at the table together having dessert, Maggie tried.

"Apple crumble with vanilla sauce and whipped cream?"

"Uh huh," Maggie confirmed.

She had even made the vanilla sauce herself this time. She hadn't done that in a while because of the time-consuming work involved, but the ones you could buy consisted more of sugar and artificial flavor than real bourbon vanilla, and that was what Ahab and Dana liked the most.

"Especially for your father and you."

"You're the best, mom." Dana flew into her arms and hugged her tightly. "I'm so sorry I ruined the evening, but I had to tell dad sooner or later. As much as I love your apple crumble, I lost my appetite. I don't think I can get anything down now."

"Take some home, dear. You can have it later, or tomorrow. I made it this morning, it'll persist a few days."

Dana gifted her one of her warm, genuine smiles. "I'd love to."

After Dana had said her goodbye with two Tupperware boxes in her hand and the front door closed shut behind her, Maggie stepped through the screen door out on the patio behind the house. Ahab was sitting in one of the deckchairs. His eyes were closed but he wasn't sleeping. There was an empty beer bottle on the floor and one half-full in his hand. He put it to his mouth and took a swig.

"Has she left?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"Yes. She told me to say goodbye."

He chuckled condescendingly. "There were times she gave me a hug before she left."

"Well, you didn't really make the impression you wanted to be hugged tonight."

He snorted, sat upright, put the bottle to his lips and emptied it in one gulp.

"Shall I get you another one?"

"Are you trying to appease after having stabbed me in the back?"

"I haven't stabbed you in the back, Bill. I just spoke out what I thought was right."

"It's not right that she throws away her medical degree and goes into law enforcement instead. The FBI, for heaven's sake, Maggie! She'll spend her time in a dull governmental building behind a utilitarian desk. She'll have to fight with the audit department over expenses more than she'll take criminals into custody. She'll waste years accomplishing nothing until she realizes she made a mistake." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe the money we paid for medical school was all for naught."

"Haven't you listened at all? She told us that she would specialize in forensic pathology."

"She could be a heart surgeon but wants to become a pathologist? That doesn't make any sense! Why doesn't she see what Daniel is offering her?"

"He might actually be part of the problem."

"Huh?"

"Daniel is part of the problem, Bill," Maggie repeated with more emphasis. "Can't you see that Dana wants to stand on her own two feet? That she wants neither her father nor her partner to tell her what career path to choose? Is that really so hard for you to understand? She wants to make her own decisions."

"You mean she's doing this to get one over on me?"

Maggie sighed. "No, Bill, this has nothing to do with you. Or Daniel. That's exactly the point."

Bill shook his head and put the bottle to his lips to take another swig. Realizing it was empty, he snorted. After contemplating for a moment, he popped a question which had obviously been bothering him for the time he had been out on the patio.

"Uhm...Maggie...what Dana said..."

"Yes, dear?" she said warmly. She had an idea of what was on his mind. They had never spoken about it, not even once since they were married, and she found it ironic in a way that one of their kids had to bring the topic up.

"What she said about you...uh, you giving up teaching," Ahab continued stammering.

"Yes?"

"Would you have rather continued working? Instead of...I mean..."

"Being there for you and the kids?" she completed his thought and added with a smile, "no."

"Hmm," he grunted apparently not fully convinced.

"Times were different then, Ahab. Today, it might have been possible for me to be a teacher and a housewife and mother, but not back then. You were right when you said that I knew what it would be like to be a Navy wife, and I chose to be one. I loved you, and I wanted to have children with you."

"Did you ever..." Instead of finishing the sentence he bit his lower lip.

"Regret it? No. Not a single day." "Hmm," Bill gruntled again, staring at the empty beer bottle in his hands, peeling the label off. "Why does Dana have to be so stubborn?" "Oh, Bill," Maggie laughed good-naturedly, "because we raised her to be an emancipated woman with an independent mind and a strong will. When has Dana ever been inconsiderate or unreasonable? Huh, Bill? I'm sure she's given this much thought, and I'm also sure that the feeling she's disappointing you is hard for her to handle. She adores you, Ahab." "Weird way of showing me," he mumbled, softening a bit. His shoulders, which had been tense were slowly descending, his brows returned to their original spots, and the wrinkles on his forehead were fading. He breathed in deeply and let the tension flow out of his body with a prolonged exhale. Maggie seized the moment to go for his soft spot again. "She's still your Starbuck." His special nickname for her, being the only person allowed to call her like that, never missed having an effect on him. He was relenting even more. "Yes, sure. Of course, she is." Maggie took the empty bottle out of her husband's hand and put it on the floor next to the other. She pushed the second deckchair right beside his, placed herself in it, and intertwined her fingers with his. After a while, she asked, "are you ready for some apple crumble for dessert?" "You made apple crumble?" "It's Dana's and your favorite. The plan was to spoil you a bit tonight." "Did you buy that sugar-sweet sauce again?" "No, I made it myself. Following your mother's recipe." Bill Scully smiled lovingly at his wife and squeezed her hand tenderly. He pulled it up to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on its back. "I don't deserve you. I'm sorry the evening turned out like this. I know how much you like to have your children around. They drop by seldom enough." "It's okay, darling. You said what you had to say. Just don't be too strict with her. She's doing what she feels is right. She's not doing it to purposely contradict you." Bill left it at that for a moment. "I can't believe the money we spent on medical school," he said again and groaned. "Well, you never know, Ahab. Dana will be a medical doctor, one way or another, and who knows what the FBI has in store for her. She might become the Bureau's first female director," she said with a smile. He let that sink in for a moment, and although the fact that his daughter would not become a heart surgeon was still bugging him, this new idea soothed him a little. Maggie could imagine what was going on in his mind. If there was a woman capable of achieving this seemingly unreachable position for a female, it would have to be his Starbuck. "You did give her some dessert to take home, right? She loves your apple crumble." "Sure." Maggie smiled. Despite all the grievances Ahab had aired this evening, he cared very much for Dana. Inside the strict Navy captain was a devoted father; devoted to all his children but particularly to his younger daughter. And even if it seemed to Dana that he had been a dominant husband, having pressured her into a life as a housewife and mother, it had been her own wish to be this exactly, a supporting wife to her husband and a loving mother to her children. Maggie knew Bill treasured her, that he had never even thought of anyone else but her to share his life with. He had always been a loyal husband and family man, and she had relied on him to provide for her and the kids in return. She never had the feeling she had missed or lost anything because she had once decided to marry him. On the contrary, he had given her four wonderful children and a sheltered life. For that, she was infinitely thankful. She loved him.

[justsomebandfanfics]

You’re All I Ever Wanted - Ben Bruce ft. Austin Carlile

Can u do one where you’re dating Austin carlile & you catch him cheating & you go to Ben Bruce (he’s a close friend who u know has feelings for you) and y/n ends up realizing she and Ben were meant to be. 

My first piece back in the game! I hope you enjoy, cute & fluffy! - 3,145 words - written by Emma. 

Ben pulls up outside of yours and Austin's house. 

"Thanks for the lift Ben." You say, gathering your things from his car after what's been an extremely long day spent out with him. You've been to the cinema, out for lunch, even included a little shopping. "I've had a really good time." You add.

"I'm happy you did. Remember, any time you want or need me, to see, to do things with... I'll be here." He shrugs with both of his hands on the wheel. 

Leaning over, you cup his chin to give him a thankful peck on the chin. As you do so you feel him inhale a sharp breath and his jaw clench. Afterwards, he bites his lip but smiles briefly. 

"I'm sorry..." You murmur, suddenly flooding with instant regret. 

"It, it's fine. I don't mind." He drops a hand from the wheel and runs it through his brown hair. "You've got him, and you love him." He swallows hard. "I can deal with that, I'll be on the sidelines waiting, as I always have been." He chuckles, but you can tell it isn't real laughter. "I always will be, too." 

"I love you too, Ben. You know that... But..." You lose words. 

"You’re with Austin, and you love each other." He builds the words up for you. "It's okay, Y/N. I understand." He places a hand on your thigh and strokes it softly. 

You smile thoughtfully at him and trail your fingertips lightly down his arms. "I'll text you later, okay? Maybe sort something out for tomorrow?" You tilt your head.

"You bet." He nods his head with a smile. "Unless Austin says you can't." He says in a joking manner, although recording what happened the other day.

“He won't." You say, you hope. Sometimes, Austin is a little weary/paranoid about yours and Ben’s friendship. It doesn’t bother you much, however, because you know nothing like that would occur.

Opening his car door, you step out, bags in hands. Turning for a brief moment, you wave him off as he starts his car. As soon as he's driven down the road, you walk down yours and Austin's driveway. 

Ben has been your best friend for years. Although you've been close, you've never been close in the regards that you've been in a relationship, or anything of that nature. 

However, Ben has made it clear that he would want something like that with you. You, on the other hand, are scared, scared that things would mess up and that you'd ruin your friendship. Maybe you two just weren't compatible in that way? Maybe it just wouldn't work? If there ever was to be a breakup you know there wouldn't be any hard feelings, and that Ben would still want to be friends, so would you...

But sometimes... Things don't work that way, unfortunately. Ben was and always has been your best friend, even when you did the more than likely unforgivable - you broke up somebody's marriage. 

Austin had a wife - had. Together, you and him demolished it in order for Austin to be with you. Does it make it worse that she was your friend? Was? 

Nonetheless, Ben still stood by your side, he said that if it feels right, it must be. He's been protective, as any friend would be. There's been times where he's tried to persuade you to end it with Austin, because he doesn't get that "good feeling" about him. He's always said that "once a cheat, always a cheat". But then... What did that make you? 

Fumbling for your keys in your pockets, you eventually find them and click open the door. 

It's quiet downstairs, but the lights are on. You dump the bags in your hands to the floor and kick off your shoes. Austin must've gone to bed, you think to yourself. 

Or, he might not be home yet. Austin sometimes works late, so it's happened plenty of times before. He can't be, you think as you see his shoes kicked on the floor. 

However, you notice an unfamiliar pair of shoes - women's shoes - besides his. Wait... you think as you remove your jacket. Before you're about to hook it on the coats peg, you notice another jacket, another unfamiliar one. 

"Austin?" You call out, feeling confused. 

Instead of a response, you hear a bump, or bang, coming from upstairs. Your curiosity pulls you towards the sound, and so you march up to the landing, not bothering to call his name out. 

You hear the sound of a woman’s giggling and Austin's husky chuckle from your bedroom. The feeling in the pit of your stomach is telling you not to go further, that you won't want to know what's happening through that door. 

You take a couple of petite steps, so that you're by the doorway. You can hear the same noises and you swallow hard, feeling nauseous all of the sudden. But your brain makes your body step forward, closer and closer until you'd wish you'd listened to your stomach. 

In your bed you can see Austin underneath the covers and a clear outlining of a woman with him. You fold your arms, punishing yourself with what you see. 

You cough loudly, trying to mask the feeling of sickness in your tummy, feeling the need to be seen. 

Sudden realisation comes to the two and they stop. Austin draws back the covers and you flick the light switch on. You don't bother to see who he's in bed with; you didn't need to hurt yourself anymore than you know you already will. 

There's dead silence. 

"I, uh...” You stammer. “I’ll be getting my things in the morning.” You say quietly, doing your best to conceal the tears.

Turning around quickly, you have no hesitation in going the exact same way you came. You go down the stairs and grab your coat, slip your shoes on as if everything is normal. 

But it isn't. And you know it isn't, but it's better to pretend and leave looking like the heartless person you wish you was. 

You hear the staggering of Austin, rushing out of the bedroom and down the stairs after you. "Y/N, I-" 

"Save it." You interrupt, holding up a hand. 

He goes quiet. 

You grab your phone and don't mess around, you slam the door straight behind you.

You walk down the driveway, no anger blasting from your mouth, but you're left alone with your thoughts. You deserve it, you knew he was like this, but you persisted that he was somehow going to be different with you. 

You should've known better, it's how you and him got together in the first place: by destroying his previous marriage. But you were in love, that's what your excuse was. And you thought he was too... But clearly that isn't the case. 

Ben told you, he warned you. He told you that cheats will always be cheats, and that someone who had no issue with dumping a wife for another woman would always have no issues with dumping that woman for another. You didn't believe him, of course. 

You thought Austin loved you, that you two were in love, that that's the reason he left her. Or was it because he was everything Ben said he was? An egotistical airhead who's actions and thoughts revolve around him? The selfish asshole who cares about nobody but himself? Clearly, you answer your rhetorical questions in your mind. 

You know the one place your will be welcome that certainly isn't your home: Ben's house. You call his number, awaiting a response. He answers almost immediately. 

"Y/N?" He says. "I've just gotten home, what's up?" You even hear him slamming his car door. 

"C-can you get me? P-please." You try to keep everything together over the phone. 

Ben knows. No questions asked, he accepts, "Sure thing, of course. Are you by yours?" 

"Yes." You answer, throat becoming dry. 

Hanging up, you wait patiently, clinging to a street lamp pole outside of your own house. Ben will be here soon, is all you think to reassure you, everything will be okay.

As soon as you see his car, you stand by the pavement. Without a word, you slip in to his passenger seat. He looks at you, seeing your obvious forlorn expression, but doesn’t say anything as you turn away to face the window.

At first, he drives back to his in silence. Although the air is heavy with questions, Ben doesn't ask. It's one of the things you liked about him - he never persisted and waited for you to feel ready to tell him things. But it was so... Embarrassing... You think to yourself. He's everything Ben said, everything. 

"Austin's cheated on me." You break the silence. "Or has been. I don't know." You admit in defeat. 

All those long working hours... Was he really working? 

Ben slows his car down. "What?" He turns to you. "You mean-" 

"You was right, yeah." You swallow hard. "I, uh, don’t really know anything but... I just found him with someone else. I didn’t stay to ask.”

"Oh, Y/N." You feel him looking at you. 

Turning, you see his eyes setting on yours. His head is tilted, and he's attempting a half smile, but not a cocky one. Not a smug expression as if he's thinking "I knew he would do this"... But possibly a sympathetic one... He looks at you as if he's saying "sorry, you deserve better".

His hand rests on your thigh and the other is on the wheel. With his thumb, he strokes your leg. Surprisingly, it's comforting. 

The rest of the journey is quiet, but you feel okay. You don't feel anger burning inside of you, perhaps just like you want to burst into tears, but you sit there, content.

With no more than a few words, you walk through Ben's front door together. 

"Wanna go to bed?" Ben asks, looking at you with his kind eyes. Nodding your head, he happily leads you up, switching on/off lights as he goes. 

As you walk into his bedroom, he turns on the bedside lamp, giving the room a yellowy glow as he doesn't bother to switch the light on.

"How about we get you in something a little more comfortable, hm?" Ben asks, just as he has every other time you've slept at his. 

You nod as he walks over to his wardrobe, picking out a shirt for you. 

"Here we go." He says, pulling out a black AC DC top and walking over to you. "This should be just fine." He holds it up to you with a smile. 

"Thank you." You reply, grateful, wearing a smile.

"You're very welcome." Ben says to you, turning away as you start to take your t-shirt off.

He never looked at you in a sexual way or tried to take advantage, he just wanted you to be comfortable, which puts you at ease as you slide into the band tee and hop into his bed. You kick off your jeans before snuggling down. 

Ben sits on the side of his bed, ensuing you're comfy, tucking you up securely. He stokes your cheek with a smile. "You ready for me to love you and leave you?" He tilts his head. 

Ben had never shared the bed with you; he thought it may be disrespectful in case Austin ever found out. Austin was prone to jealousy and didn't like you hanging out with Ben as much as you did, you'd like to think he was protective but sometimes he got pretty controlling. 

Sometimes he pushed you to your limit, where you would lie and say you're at a friend's. However, both Ben and you knew that nothing would take place if you did share a bed. You were loyal to your relationship as Ben was to your friendship. Neither of you ever tried to break boundaries. 

"Yeah." You murmur to him, rolling to your side, not feeling prepared for the night alone.

Ben is about to leave the room, until you call his name. "Yeah?" He asks, leaning on the door frame. 

"Would you..." You huff, feeling embarrassed. “Would you mind staying in here tonight?” You ask in a gentle tone. 

Ben subtly frowns. "In the bed?" He usually slept on the couch. 

"Mhm." You nod your head. "I, I just want to feel... not alone." You say. 

Ben made you feel like home, like you were protected from all the bad things. You didn't want him to leave. 

"If you'd like me to, of course." He steps back into his bedroom.

You nod, not feeling the need to say anything else. 

Wandering round to the other side of the bed, you hear him kick off his shoes and toss his jacket to the side. You don't pay close attention, but you watch him reach for the corners on his own shirt and pull it over his head. He undoes his belt, adding it to the pile of clothes he's removed. 

"You wouldn't mind me taking off my jeans, would you?" He asks, always wanting you to consent to everything. 

"It's fine." You ensure. You've seen him in his boxers enough times, but you guess this is under different circumstances. 

He slides into bed, leaving a space to divide you. You roll over and look at him, resting on your own forearm that’s placed on his pillow. The smell of another man’s cologne, albeit only Ben’s, is peculiar.

“I don’t believe it.” You murmur, not being able to stare at him in the eyes.

He knows immediately what I’m referring to. “I know,” he replies softly. “But it will be okay, I promise.” He reaches and places a hand on your side, squeezing you.

“I don’t have anything.” You scoff, thinking of all of your items being held in his house. “Everything of mine is there... I don’t... have anywhere else to go, Ben. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You try to keep your tears at bay, rubbing your head onto the soft pillow. 

“You have here, with me.” Ben replies, looking at you with intent. “You can stay here, Y/N. For... however long you like. I won’t have you struggling for places to sleep when you could be here.” 

You close the gap and you lay on your back and tug him closer to you. “Thank you.” You say appreciatively. “But, this is your flat. It has one bedroom, all of your things in it. You don’t want me waltzing in here with all of my clutter.” You add, your lack of confidence in yourself becoming obvious.

“Your clutter, is probably a lot nicer than half of the shit I own.” Ben laughs softly in response. 

You shake your head. “If we lived together, you would see what I’m really like. You... would discover my stupid annoying habits, get fed up of me, I don’t know.” You mumble, your insecurities showing.

“I love your annoying habits.” Ben replies, grinning. “Like that stupid thing you do when you’re thinking and you stick your hair in your mouth. It’s gross, yeah, but I don’t view you any differently.” He continues, making you smile. “I’ll get a sofa bed for the living room, sleep there. It wouldn’t bother me at all.”

“I don’t want to take this all from you... Just because, because I’ve been dumb and have got myself stuck in a shit situation.” You mumble, feeling ashamed of your own poor life choices. “How... how didn’t I know that that would be what would happen? I’m so, so stupid.”

“Your not stupid.” Ben contradicts. “You... love him.”

“Loved, loved.” You correct, hoping that if you say it it will make it true. 

Ben strokes your face, looking at you with a soft smile that’s laced with sympathy. “You overlooked his flaws because you loved him, that’s not stupid, Y/N.”

“Well then... how come you don’t have any flaws? How come you’re all nice and... perfect and stuff.” You blubber, wondering how there’s men like Ben out there who would never dream of doing something so stupid, yet every man you bump into it’s at the top of their agenda. 

“I...” Ben shuffles, sitting up. “Have plenty. Just like you and your hair chewing, I leave clumps of hair I pull from my hairbrush around the house. Just wait until you see that.” 

You smile into his pillow, admiring the way he improves your mood even though you’ve landed yourself in the worst situation imaginable. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Because...” He shrugs in return. “You don’t deserve to feel like shit because of someone else’s wrong-doing. I know that you know this, but... I love you, so much, Y/N. I want to and will always do my best to make sure that you are okay.”

You look at him, the faint yellow glow of the bedside lamp making him look all-that-bit more amazing. You knew Ben was lovely, kind and the best person in the world that you could have stand beside you, but in this moment you realised, shit, he is totally beautiful.

“You know...” You murmur, struggling to find the words. “I love you too, right?” You push some hair behind your ear. “That I’ve always loved you from the second I first saw you, and just knew that we were supposed to be friends.”

“Friends,” He nods back at you. “Yeah.”

“But what if I told you that maybe, this is more than that? Maybe as well as overlooking Austin’s flaws, I overlooked our... relationship?” You frown, hoping that you make sense. “Because I’m looking at you right now, and... you’re all I want.” You smile faintly, hoping he reciprocates it. “Do you know what I mean?”

You watch the way his smile grows, and how his eyes beam back at you. Slowly, he moves a hand to your chin, cupping your face. He draws you closer to his face, before slowly pressing your lips together. For a moment, you freeze, wondering if you are really willing to cross the line over your friendship.

But suddenly, everything seems to fall into place. You relax in his grasp, moving with the flow of his body, sinking into his touch. You begin to kiss him back and an overwhelming feeling of serenity hits you, making you feel calm, making you feel like you’re at home. 

He kisses you softly, his lips gently pulling at yours, causing your head to move with his. Although the moment draws by slowly, it’s phenomenal. Pressing his weight into you, your body sinks into his mattress, surrounding your senses with the sight and smell of him. 

Once he finally pulls away from you, he looks at you admirably.

“Y/N,” he breathes quietly. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” 

[riddleredcoats]

So I just finished AC: Odyssey...

I have thoughts...Many, many thoughts. 

(This is mainly for me so I can remember what I loved about this game when I replay it, or when my friends buy it and I don’t forget anything, but anyone wants to discuss Odyssey is 100% welcome)

Spoilers!!

We’re I’m doing this in parts.

1. The overall

Man, I always loved Greece, I always wanted to go to Greece and I always loved  Greek history... This game only made love it more and it actually made me look up price flights to Greece  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This game is really, really cool in that aspect - it made me feel like I was there, enjoying the sun, beaches, the killing bears/sharks/fucking boars. It looks amazing, the graphics are awesome and the views are to die for. Aesthetic 10/10

The boat mechanics are practically identical to Black Flag - but hey, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. But the lesbian crew? perfect. talented. inspired. worth the 35$ I paid for the game alone.

The music is decent, but the sea shanties deserve a soundtrack of their own lbr. 

The fighting was really fun, the movements fast and the animation was distinct, really fun feel.  (full disclosure I played on easy settings, cause I enjoy feeling like my character is a badass that can just walk into any fight and you know what, that’s exactly what I got, some enemies fell down with one blow. Super fun experience. Next playthrough Imma do a higher difficulty tho.)

2. The Family Storyline

I actually finished this one pretty quick. Everyone came out alive and well and living on the Adrestia. It was good drama, and I really loved Myrrine - she was incredible lbr, the only woman who can make Kassandra do anything with a single look.

I kinda liked Nikolaos too, in a weird way - even if he’s still an asshole. Spartan’s determination to have/be the best Nation was eventually its downfall, so I think it fits Nikolaos...He is a shitty father, he’s a good Spartan.

 Stentor is kinda meh, but his little spats with Kassie/Alexios are golden.

Deimos!Alexios is such a little shit, and his VA does a good job of portraying the asshole/bad guy, even if there were 1 or 2 cringe moments.

Barnabas is the only valid father figure in the game, there I said it! Y'all can @ me.

Herodotus is the weird and yet boring uncle. I approve of him and anyone who even looks at him funny will have to deal with me. 

Phoibe... Oh, Phoibe. The only moment where I actually felt a tear slide down my eye. I was emotional in other parts, but Phoibe’s death murdered me. 

3. The Cult of Kosmos...

I just wanna say to the asshole who spoiled me who the Cult Leader was... Fuck YOU! I mean honestly, it was a really cool reveal! Luckily he only spoiled it for me when I had done everything with Aspasia and I thought I’d never see her again, LMAO.

So yes, I saw Aspasia and I immediately fell in love with her. Like the second she walked into the scene I was hers. Just like that. 

I already knew of Aspasia - the real one - and like, it never even occurred to me that she might be the Ghost... Real!Aspasia was such a badass woman that needed no man but fell in love with Perikles and I never ever would have suspected her.

That final scene I have 2 complaints:

Why isn’t there an option to talk about Phoibe? I feel like it would be important and the forefront of Kassandra’s mind when she saw Aspasia again.

Aspasia sounded a little crazy? I mean I get HER, I do. The world was a mess - and let’s face it, it still IS - and I get her motivations and ambitions but her voice, her tone was too...dreamy, crazy? The VA for her was super good throughout the game, but I wonder what that part might have sounded like played differently... I dunno, it was hard to take her seriously. But I did let her live (and I kissed her...I am only human after all.)

4. The ‘’Atlantis’’ storyline.

So um... Kassandra dies, which, OUCH.

That part where she speaks Ancient Greek as she dies practically stabbed me in the heart lbr here, cause I imagine she hasn’t really spoken it for soo long (and no one has spoken it in so long). So, she says a prayer for herself cause she knows no alive knows how to do it the proper Greek way and I just... sobs. And as if it isn’t enough she just sounds so tired, so defeated, as if seeing humanity making the same mistakes over and over again broke her a little bit.

Loved going around Greece and fighting all the myths. ISTG, it was honestly one of the most fun parts of the game. The Minotaur is my fav, the aesthetic of the labyrinth was everything and Ardos was such a cute/asshole kid. Really liked the ‘’Medusa’’ too, but more the fighting it part -  it required a little more brain than the others - but that sick looking forest was 10/10.

Pythagoras was an asshole, but I knew that in fifth grade when I had to learn his fucking theorem.

Now we wait to see what Layla does with the staff. It will probably break me and I won’t be able to look at Herme’s staff the way ever again...

5. The Romance...

Kyra was my favorite romance in the game, their scenes were romantic but with a little air of tragedy still. It was well done, really. And the characters - Thaletas and Kyra - felt as if they had a little more thought put into them than some others. 

I really liked Roxana too. They were adorable, by far the best ending for any romance that I saw. 

Odessa was the only one I didn’t romance, mainly cause she gave weird vibes... 

Yes, I felt weird vibes with Odessa - who arguably also ends up with a decent romance ending - but not with Aspasia? I’m hopeless. My love for slightly evil women will be the end of me. I’m at least 30% sure I’ll end up unknowingly married to a serial killer...

But my favorite pairing for Kassandra tho? Aspasia. No doubts, no regrets, no takebacks. Everything about them is bathed in history, drama, and attraction.

We all agree that the first time Kassandra sees Aspasia, she basically has heart eyes. Right? That scene was so gay, I felt straight in comparison... And Aspasia was practically eating her alive with her stare. 10/10 sexual tension. 

The dynamics are really interesting... They both want the same thing but feel there are different ways to get it.  Yes, I know Aspasia was in the Cult that put everything in motion but like that the beauty of it. Aspasia knows its wrong, she knows she did wrong (and she probably wasn’t in the Cult when they interfered with the Oracle to throw Alexios off the Mount Taygetos). 

Also, Kassie is Spartan and Aspasia is Athenian (technically). Two lovers -  a Spartan and an Athenian - in the Peloponnesian War? Yes, please.

So, Drama? Double Check  

The Kiss. Like, don’t get me wrong I loved it and I definitely kissed her (#noregrets), but I wish it would have a little more build up

[one-of-us-must-be-crazy]

stained.

So I doubt any store or fad will last this long into the future, but it was brought on by a tumblr post “cute date idea: go pick out a bathbomb with your S/O and use it together” and then a conversation I had about said horrible idea with OutreOtter (”how don’t they stain the bathtub?”), who said I needed to write it. 

It didn’t snow on Luna. The artificial climate didn’t allow for it. More than that it was August, which was why it was so concerning to Christopher to see it outside of the shopping mall window: small white flakes falling from above.

“Amy, why are they making—“

“Snow? They do that sometimes, it’s a Christmas advertisement I think.”

“That’s months away.”

“I know,” she said, looking at a window display of colorful gift-boxes, “The godforsaken world of retail wants people to get excited for Christmas early, it’s bullshit. I try not to go near big shopping areas after July,” she said. Gods this place is turning into a theme park… When her mother was born, Luna was a mechanical station and a three-building campus for low-gravity research. When Amanda moved there for work, there was a major Colonial Marine base, complete with a hospital that served the entire lunar colony; military, corporate, and private docks at the ship yard, and dozens more research facilities. A small city building up around the number of full-time citizens that were needed to run both the base and the mechanics of preserving the crater fields on the front of the moon while maintaining a stable atmosphere. At first the place was a refuge from holidays and current events and current trends, but within months she noticed the change, noticed the city developing more into the kind of small city-town that she had lived in as a little girl: shopping and a library, cafes, and tourists. Gaudily dressed upper middle-class families and couples there to see the Earthrise. Hotels and bars (the latter she didn’t mind so much; if there were other people in the bar it didn’t count as drinking alone), more fucking shopping stores and then the mall. Holidays were the worst, but the screaming tourist children weren’t the reason.

Before moving to Luna Christmas was a miserable season of constant reminders. Advertisements of big, happy families mocked her openly wherever she went. The respite from it barely lasted two seasons. In the malls and departments stores it began early. Everywhere else it still began early, but not until October or so. Damn shame too, Halloween’s about the only holiday that doesn’t guilt you for not having anyone in your life. Though this upcoming Halloween had occurred to her, and in the process of wanting to give her lover as much experience in the human social world as she could, she planned on finding something for them to do. Maybe even hand out candy to the kids in their apartment building.

“What,” Samuels asked, looking over Ripley’s shoulder into the store, “are those?” An employee was dropping a soft-ball sized blue and green globe into a clear glass tank: it spun around in the water and began to froth.

“Bath-bombs. Expensive little soap balls that fizz and bubble when you drop them in water. Some of them have dumb prizes inside, or a fuck-ton of glitter.”

“I want to go in and see,”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“Can you come with me?” They had reached a point that they weren’t bothered by splitting up while out. For him to ask her to watch him wasn’t usual anymore; she had already been poised to cross the hallway into a Wallace computer store.

“Why?”

“Because most of the patrons inside are teenage girls.”

“Afraid one of them will try flirting with you?” it wasn’t likely; thus far the only women she ever noticed giving him more than a passing glance were usually older than her.

“No? I’d only feel out of place.”

“Alright,” she smiled, not wanting him to think that the request bothered her, and followed him in; she was immediately assaulted by a few hundred horrifically clashing scents of fruits and flowers. “What was so interesting about—“

“If I could get a closer sense of one of them, I could tell their chemical make-up,” he returned her smile, “I’m curious.”

“Epson salt, soap, and acid of some kind—I think.” She watched him pick up a few different ones, smell them and set them down. “Do you want one?” she asked picking up a small robot-shaped block.

“You aren’t funny, luv.”

“It’s called ‘ickle-baby-bot’, it’s adorable.”

“It’s insulting.”

“Ickle baby,” she laughed, pressing a slight, quick kiss on his cheek. “Still wish you could blush,”

“Ah, the only attribute of mine I am thankful for: that I can’t.” Though he was hardly recognized this far from the marine base and Weyalnd-Yutani’s Luna offices, he was more concerned that someone would notice that Amanda was kissing a synthetic. He was far from being embarrassed by her affections, though still a little flustered at the idea of getting drawing attention.

“I’ll buy one if you want,”

“Not really, I was curious, that was all.” A large purple one stood out, emitting a heady amount of lavender perfume; he picked it up, and handed it to her. “What do you think of this one?”

“I like it,” she smiled. “Let’s get a couple of them, we could use one tonight.”

“Should I leave?”

“Why?” she asked.

He lowered his voice to answer: “We’re an obvious couple looking at them together, and if we purchase them together…”

“We’re wearing wedding rings. Those girls by the front window are holding hands, they’re not separating to sneakily buy anything.”

“Alright, alright. Then at least let me buy them,”

“Whatever you want.”

An absurd amount of money later, they boarded the shuttle back to the old side of Luna. They lived closer to Tranquility Base, closer to the offices and austere military buildings, and the older laboratories—which meant that at least once a week he was recognized as a synthetic.

To those who recognized his make, the ring told them nothing: they never noticed and he might as well be invisible. Still, for Amanda’s sake (though she didn’t know about it) if going out on his own he put his ring in his pocket, or didn’t wear it out at all. True, he had a suspicion that the building manager and front desk attendants all knew what he was and that he and Ripley were together, but he didn’t want it becoming common knowledge for the sake of her reputation and dignity.

At least holding out a hand, and gently taking her forearm to help her off the shuttle could have also been read as an action of servitude rather than genuine care. Unlike her insistence on kissing him, even chastely while they’re in the city center, these were quiet and unnoticeable gestures that felt strangely freeing.

Touching her in general felt freeing.

Once to the front door of their building, Amanda held it open for him: her sense of courtesy rather than chivalry. If someone was behind you, you hold the door, even if that someone was actively insisting that he had it along with all the day’s shopping bags and her jacket over his arm. She showed her card at the front desk and used it to activate the lift. The design of the place was dated, half three-star-hotel like any nicer-than-garbage building she had ever seen, and half gimmicky-retro-space-station. She repaired a historical roller coaster in Florida once with a similar design after Weyland-Yutani bought the theme park. Walking the whole way around to the other side of the building after arriving on their floor was just the tip of the “bad layout” architecture, but that did mean that their corner apartment was in the price range of Weyland-Yutani’s payout. Didn’t matter, it was endlessly better than the dormitory-style place she had lived before.

Christopher set the bags down on the kitchen counter bar, and Amanda flopped onto the sofa across the flat.

“I’m too tired for all that we did,”

“You lasted through five stores though,” about where her limit was now. They’d taken a trip like this the first day in the flat—mere weeks (excluding cryo) since the disaster of Sevastapol—and she could hardly take the crowds, having to sit in corners, tug her partner aside, and eventually apologizing that she had to stop and go home. A lovely day shopping for ‘new home’ items and groceries had driven her to a breakdown. Now she was only crashed on the couch, only as worn out as anyone might be if they’d been up late the previous night.

Which she had been.

…Quite late.

“Do you still want to try one of the bath bombs tonight?” she asked.

“If you’re exhausted then no,” he was unpacking the day’s prizes: an odd looking blender that he thought he could use to make her fruit smoothies breakfast—pestering her to actually eat fruit might be easier if she didn’t have to sit down, seeing as she preferred to roll out of bed less than half an hour before she had to be at work. Really anything other than those toaster pastries and cold coffees. There were also other things, more foreign to him, more strange and surreal: a cake knife and server engraved in elegant script an intertwining AC. He had picked them out, chosen the script, gave the initials, and paid for them. Amanda didn’t care about material things, she didn’t even need the ring he bought her but they were all things that she would have if she had a real engagement, a real marriage. It’s been hardly eight months; if you were human you wouldn’t have bloody proposed to her yet, you overthinking, overdramatic, overexcited idiot.

“Earth to Christopher, where the fuck did you go? I asked you something.”

“Hmm? Sorry, I was thinking…” he played over the last moments of audio in his head, heard her question: “I’m fine as long as it’s just the bath, sounds relaxing. What about you?”

“Just relaxing sounds nice; you can run it as you see fit,” he walked over and handed her the bag of the bathbombs.

“If you’re good then I’ll get on that now, before I pass out.” she stood up and stretched, and then walked down the hall. A wayward glance at the bags on the counter and he followed her; he could put them away later.

Amanda gave another yawn, and stretched out as she pulled her shirt off. Despite seeing this often he wasn’t used to it yet, the look of her skin, the curves, lines, scars and freckles. Red, mean looking indents where her bra-straps had dug into the skin. She stepped out of her jeans too as the water in the bath rose.

“You can drop the thing in if you want,” Amanda said, slipping in the water contently. The soft vanity lights gave enough of a glow to see, but without the harsh light of the ceiling lamp, he’d have to keep an eye on her to be sure she didn’t fall asleep in the water. He undressed slowly, bordering on shyly, and followed her, reaching for the paperbag of the purple-hued balls and dropping one in the water between them. Amanda had rarely used any before—too expensive, too temporary—and watched with interest, though less interest than he took. Christopher was strangely fascinated by it. However, unlike Amanda the first time that she used one, he didn’t prod at it until it fell apart. The quiet fizzing and the scent of lavender lulled her even more and she stretched out her legs beside her lover’s, leaned back against the edge of the tub and shut her eyes.

Christopher smiled at the sight of her, up nearly to her neck in the water. They had taken to showering together somewhat often, and baths a little less. Some days still Amanda would need the company if not the contact and they’d sit like this until the water grew cold, her with her eyes shut and he usually reading on his waterproof-cased datapad. It wasn’t inherently sexual, but seemed all the more intimate for it.

The thin layer of foam dissipated quickly on the water’s surface was less exciting than he had hoped it would be, but the water was dyed a gentle purple.

“Amy?”

“Mm?”

“This won’t stain the bath will it?”

“Oh no, the color rinses away,” she sat up, the water now barely to her chest, and shivered at the contact of air on wet skin. “Fuck, I’m gonna pass out; sorry...I have to go to bed.” She climbed out of the bath but spoke up when he made motion to follow, “No, don’t. Relax and enjoy it,” she dried off and let her hair down.

“Are you sure?”

“Mmhmm,” Amanda knelt by the bath and leaned over to kiss him.

Of course she probably didn’t mean for it to be serious, she’s tired, she’s going to bed to sleep, she was just trying to kiss him good night. Still Christopher’s voice of reason was shut down by a flare of mischief and he reached up behind her with a hand on the back of her neck, soaking her hair and tilting her enough that she deepened the kiss with a deep sigh.

Ripley enjoyed the bit of an ornery streak he was having, between this and initiating the previous night’s activities, and didn’t pull back until he moaned softly, and let go of her hair. She drew back slowly, catching a second, nearly imperceptibly quiet hum of pleasure from him.

“Good night,” she whispered, her eyes still half shut.

“Good night, darling.”

The light was dim, but his arm was still resting on the side of the tub, not under water as before, and she could note something not right about—

“Um…?”

“Everything alright?”

Amanda turned the ceiling lamp on as well, and Christopher was in full, bright color. Bright purple, to be more specific.

“oh hell, Amy what am I supposed to—“ he try to rub a patch of the purple off his arm under the water, reached around for soap and tried that, and still, his skin was the same pale violet that the water was.

“Try to shower it off under hotter water?” Amanda didn’t seem as bothered as she did amused, and the more frantic he became, the funnier she found it.

“Are you laughing? God, this is—this is—I have to be at the office tomorrow.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It won’t come off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Amanda I’m periwinkle!”

She didn’t know which was funnier, the look of terror on his face or—

“PERIWINKLE? Why not say blue or purple or—“

“Oh does it matter?” he shook his head, trying to think of a solution, something as an excuse to not report to the office the next day. “Alright, I have to dry off, can you leave?”

“What, why?” she managed between bouts of laughter.

“Because, dear, I think it’s safe to assume that all of me is ‘blue or purple,’” he quoted her with a meticulous copy of her accent, “And I’m afraid that you won’t ever stop laughing then.”

“Ffff….S-Sorry, it’s just so—“

“I know, it’s my fault, I’m the one that wanted to see the damn thing—“

“You’ve sworn twice, you are upset.”

“You think so?” he turned his respirator fans on high, and then gradually slowed them until he was back to a workable internal temperature. “Please leave?”

“Alright,” she left her towel on the floor, nudging the door half-shut behind her as she retreated to the darkness of their room. Only after he heard her open a dresser drawer for a night shirt that he got out of the water.

A quick glance and the damage was surveyed: from the middle of his chest down, and on his arms from just under the elbows, he was stained purple. His lover wasn’t, their bath wasn’t.

“Wonderful…”

“I’m sorry I was laughing,” said the Ripley-shaped bundle of blankets on the right side of the bed.

“Apology accepted, please help me figure out what will take this off in the morning...”

“Can I see?”

“I’m not turning the lights on,”

She rolled over and reached out to him in the dark, purred softly when her hand made contact with bare skin; her hand drifting gently down until meeting the waistband of his pants. She withdrew in favor of leaving her hand over his core; about where a human’s heart would be. “How d’you think it happened? Your skin isn’t porous.”

“I am thoroughly convinced that the reason this happened is because you are the only stroke of luck I have had in eight years,” his hand covered hers, and he continued softly “And you are so amazing that to even it out, the rest of my life is going to continue to be a series of absurd misfortunes.”

“That’s very sweet. Still don’t think I can take you seriously until you don’t look like background ghoul in Beetlejuice.”

“When have you ever taken me seriously?”

“I did before.” The slight emphasis on the last word made it clear what she meant: their entire mission of Sevastapol. Unless it was the subject at hand, Ripley never mentioned the place, or anyone involved by name.

“I need an excuse not to go to the office tomorrow.”

“Use me as an excuse; or say you need servicing, it’s not like you’ve ever cost them a sick day before. We’ll go to the hardware store, find a solvent that might lift that stain out.”

“Could you go alone? I’d have to wear gloves to hide this and I would rather not attract the attention.”

“Understood,”

“God I hope something works,” he said in as close to a mumble as his audio system would allow. “I’ll bleach it if I have to.”

“Wouldn’t that take out the flesh tone too? You’d look like a ghoooooost,” she was quiet, tired but still sounded mirthful. “Better than the purple people eater.”

“The what?”

“It’s an old, old stupid Halloween song about a purple monster.”

“Please go to sleep before you come up with any more flattering remarks.”

“Then please stop sounding like you’re fucking dying.” Amanda tugged their duvet up to her shoulders, and shut her eyes.

“Dear.”

“Hm?”

“Was that a pun on dyeing as in to give color to something?”

“No, but let’s say that it was, make me sound more clever,” she shifted slightly, her arm over his torso hugged him tight for a moment and then relaxed. “‘Night…”

Earlier that year, he would wait until she was asleep to leave the room and sit awake in the center of the apartment, ever on guard, paranoia tearing him away from her side. Now he waits until she fell asleep before starting partial shut-down, a sleep of a kind. The last fully conscious act was a soft kiss on her temple, before the quiet exhale of his respiratory fans turning off.

[laserhunter136]

Educated By Tara Westover Amazon

Imagine you were born and raised in a family with radical religious beliefs. And imagine you didn’t have a birth certificate until the age of 9 and were not allowed to go to school until 17. Would you be able to muster the strength to earn a Ph.D. from Cambridge? “Educated” by Tara Westover reads as if a barely believable novel. And yet, it is a true-to-life memoir. So, get ready to relive a life stranger than fiction – through the eyes and heart of a fascinating firsthand witness!

Raised by Mormon survivalists

Tara Westover was born in a small Idaho farming town, the youngest of the seven children of Mormon survivalists Val and Laree Westover, hidden under the pseudonyms Gene and Faye in the book. Due to the beliefs of the couple, Tara was born at home, and she was not issued a birth certificate until she reached the age of 9. Until then, there was no way for anybody outside of her family to know she had been born at all: Gene and Faye had decided to live in isolation after the 1992 Ruby Ridge incident, in which federal agents ambushed and gunned down a woman and her 14-year-old son for, at worst, a minor offense.

Even before that event, Gene had firmly believed that public schools were just a way for the socialist American government to brainwash individuals into obedient slaves of the system, which is why neither Tara nor her six siblings ever got a proper chance to experience education. Gene didn’t believe in hospitals either, meaning Tara’s concussions or burns over the years were treated with herbs and home medicines. On the other hand, Gene did believe in a Mormon God, and this god (like, unfortunately, most other gods) didn’t seem to be that fond of women, proclaiming their place to be in the house – which is where Faye was all of the time.

Skip to main content.ca. Tara Westover grew up in the same era as Vanilla Ice, 'Beverly Hills 90210,' 'Saved by the Bell' and MC Hammer but apparently none of those other 'book learning' kids in town mentioned this. Pretty much the only pop culture references in the book involve Ralph and Alice Kramden. Tara Westover grew up in the same era as Vanilla Ice, 'Beverly Hills 90210,' 'Saved by the Bell' and MC Hammer but apparently none of those other 'book learning' kids in town mentioned this. Pretty much the only pop culture references in the book involve Ralph and Alice Kramden. Harrowing, near-fatal accidents appear in what to seem to be. Buy Educated: The international bestselling memoir 01 by Westover, Tara (ISBN: 021) from Amazon's Book Store. Everyday low prices and free delivery on eligible orders. “Like The Glass Castle, Educated is a wise and deep reflection about surviving one’s family. I bow down to Tara Westover, not only for her marvelous, sentence-by-sentence craftsmanship but also for making sense and meaning from a confounding and hair-raising childhood.

Tara’s grandmother wanted her youngest granddaughter to get a proper education, so one day, when Tara was 7, she offered her a chance to escape to Arizona and go to school. Tara, however, stayed. To nobody’s surprise, really, not even hers. To this day, she claims, she has very fond memories of her childhood. In view of what followed, that is somehow hard to believe.

Opening doors to the world

At the age of 10, Tara’s mindset changed abruptly. It happened when her 18-year-old brother Tyler, the third son of Gene and Faye, announced one day his intention to go to college. Gene, of course, objected to this choice, both because Tyler’s older brothers Tony and Shawn were not around the house anymore to help and because, well, he believed that going to school would not teach him how to support a wife and a few children. However, Tyler persisted, and this inspired Tara to start reading a bit more, mostly the New Testament and the Book of Mormon.

Soon after Tyler left, Tara’s older sister Audrey left the house as well; and the only ones who remained were Luke, Richard, and her. Due to the lack of helping hands, Gene had to move away from farming and Tara had to help him. So, already at the age of 11, she was scrapping old cars for parts. However, she felt that she could do better, so one day, she posted a flyer at the local post office, offering her services as a babysitter. This opened her up to the world.

One of her clients, a woman named Mary, offered Tara an opportunity to visit a dance school. Tara enjoyed the experience very much, but her father soon forbade her to go anymore, believing that dancing inspired immodest and unfeminine behavior. By then, however, Tara had started taking voice lessons as well, and these were something even her father could find nothing wrong with. Especially after they helped Tara impress the congregation at their local church one Sunday. In fact, she was good enough to even get a part in a play at the local Worm Creek Opera House. More importantly, she was starting to enjoy life.

It’s the end of the world – as we know it

As far as Gene was concerned, Tara’s 13th birthday should have been her last. Not because she had done something to drive him mad, but because it was supposed to occur sometime during September 1999, about three months before the end of the world. A Mormon survivalist, Gene believed that on January 1st, 2000, all the computer systems in the world would fail and that there would be no electricity or telephones anymore. Everything would sink into chaos, he claimed, and this would usher in the Second Coming of Christ.

English philosopher Thomas Hobbes once said that there exists nothing worse than a man believing to have had a revelation, since no argument would convince them of the opposite. Not even if reality invalidated their beliefs. Psychologists call this cognitive dissonance, and we all suffer from it. In the case of Gene, the problem was far more severe than it is for the rest of us. Case in point: even when the end of the world didn’t arrive with the year 2000, he didn’t change his beliefs. He just changed the dates. Even so, his worldview was visibly shaken, so the family finally left Idaho for Arizona to visit Tara’s grandmother.

On the way there, the family’s van spun off the road and crashed into a field. Everyone survived, but Tara was badly hurt, even losing consciousness for a while. That did not matter one bit to Gene: as far as he was concerned, curing Tara was a job for God and Nature, not for doctors. Fortunately, even though Tara’s neck frequently locked up on her for a while, the accident didn’t leave any permanent damage. Even her neck got back to normal, eventually.

However, untreated head injuries not unlike Tara’s probably contributed to the very unstable condition of her brother Shawn, who continually abused her and her sisters. Prone to violence and as fanatic as his father, he once violently attacked Tara, waking her up from her sleep and dragging her by her hair from her bed. The reason? Tara had started wearing makeup and spending time with a boy named Charles. In Shawn’s opinion, this was not an appropriate behavior for a 15-year-old girl. Gene’s reaction? A little short of, “Way to go, son!”

College, finally

Encouraged by her brother Tyler, at the age of 16, Tara finally decided to take the ACT test, a standardized test used for college admission in the United States, not too dissimilar from the much more well-known SAT test. Tara failed the test, scoring 22 out of the 27 points she needed to get into Brigham Young University (BYU), a Utah-based university entirely owned by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints – that is to say, the Mormons.

Considering the fact that she barely knew any math, it wasn’t such a bad score; however, she was devastated. It took her some time to recuperate and a lot of help from her mother to figure out algebra and geometry. The effort was more than worthwhile. When Tara took the ACT again, she scored 28! Everybody was happy with the result, except for her father, who didn’t want to let Tara go. His reason? God had told him personally that Tara would greatly displease the Almighty if she ever went to college.

Even so, Tara decided to throw all caution to the wind and three days before her 17th birthday, she left for BYU. It wasn’t long before she started experiencing culture shock. For example, one of the first things she noticed there was that her roommate Shannon wore pants that had the word “Juicy” written on them. In an act that seemed blasphemous to the teenage Tara, her other friend Mary even dared to shop on the Sabbath!

The classes were challenging and scary for Tara. She took English, American history, Western civilization, religion, and music. As you might guess, she didn’t have many problems with the last two, but she had quite a few with everything else. The history she had been taught at her house was very different from the history being taught at university, and the whole idea of Western civilization seemed as strange to her as Einstein’s theories of relativity would seem to a novice in physics.

Just one quick example. One day, she asked her professor what the word “Holocaust” meant. The professor thought she was joking and scolded her. She wasn’t, of course. Her father had talked at some length about the Boston massacre and the Ruby Ridge incident, but he had never mentioned the Holocaust. So, Tara believed that, at worst, it was just some small conflict that very few people would really know about.

The education of Tara Westover

The Holocaust incident didn’t discourage Tara. On the contrary, she started studying harder and, after overcoming the initial issues, she eventually sailed through almost all of her exams, Western civilization being the only exception. Not wanting to leave any gaps in her knowledge, she didn’t back off. So, eventually, she aced that exam as well.

But that was always her philosophy. It wasn’t, “Stay away from things you don’t understand,” but rather, “Where trying doesn’t work, try again and try harder.” Consequently, even though she had come to college to study music, she kept signing up for history and politics classes. Her professors noticed her enthusiasm, and one of them referred her to a study-abroad program at the University of Cambridge.

Tara applied and, soon enough, she was headed to King’s College, Cambridge, to study a course under world-renowned professor of European history, Jonathan Steinberg. Just a short time prior, she didn’t even know what the word “Holocaust” meant and now Steinberg, a Holocaust expert, was supposed to grade her words and ideas. Amazingly, he had only nice things to say about them, telling Tara that her final essay was one of the best he had ever seen in his long career. Because of this, he promised to help her with her graduate application.

And that’s how Tara managed to win the Gates Cambridge Scholarship, only the third BYU student to achieve this feat in the long history of the university. After enrolling at the prestigious Trinity College, Tara became a celebrity back in Idaho and was revered by almost everyone who had ever known her. Everyone except her father Gene and her brother Shawn, that is.

Educated By Tara Westover Amazon Prime

Family troubles

Everything was going well after Tara returned to England, this time as a graduate student. So, well, in fact, that Tara began feeling as if she was a new person, one who was allowed to drink coffee and wine, and even tell stories of her fabulously strange upbringing. However, back at home, things were stranger and darker than ever.

First, Gene suffered an accident which almost killed him and left him with severe burns all over his body. Even so, he refused medical help and, once again, stayed alive against all odds. Then, Tara received a letter from her sister Audrey, in which she informed Tara that she was planning to confront her parents about the abuse she suffered from Shawn. Tara stood by her side and went back home to testify in her favor.

However, Gene and Faye were left unconvinced by the claims of the sisters, even though Shawn had explicitly threatened to kill them in their presence. To make matters worse, he repeated the threat to Tara by phone, not long after ceremoniously hugging her during the peacemaking sessions with their parents. Simply put, he was beyond treatment.

The same could be said of Gene, who, as Tara learned at one of her psychology classes, suffered from a severe case of bipolar disorder, which was getting worse by the day. On the bright side, while Tara was in England, he had started a line of medicinal oils with Faye. The business brought them local recognition and a lot of money. It also brought them a lot of interest from big companies. One of them offered Gene $3 million to buy the recipes. Gene declined the offer.

Educated Tara Westover Amazon Uk

The meeting of the two Taras

Tara’s trips back to her family opened her eyes to a strange discovery: that there were now two Taras. One of them was the respected student of a prestigious university, and the other the lost daughter of a couple of Mormon survivalists. Gene and Faye loved the old Tara much more than the new one and they were trying to get her back at all costs. However, it was the new Tara who was really experiencing life, and the one who was starting to understand the world.

Among other things, the new Tara realized that she had been lied to all of her life about one fundamental thing: the real value of women. “I loved the fiery pages of Mary Wollstonecraft,” she writes, “but there was a single line written by John Stuart Mill that, when I read it, moved the world: ‘It is a subject on which nothing final can be known.’ The subject Mill had in mind was the nature of women. Mill claimed that women have been coaxed, cajoled, shoved and squashed into a series of feminine contortions for so many centuries, that it is now quite impossible to define their natural abilities or aspirations.”

Educated A Memoir Book

Soon after, Tara began reading more about Mormonism, but this time she read with a much more open mindset. It didn’t take her long to realize that, compared to almost many other intellectual and religious movements, Mormonism was downright radical. She decided that she didn’t want to remain an adherent. Quite the opposite: she wanted out.

The triumph of the new Tara

One day, while Tara was doing research for her Ph.D. at Harvard (where she had won a visiting fellowship) her parents appeared at the doorstep of her dorm room. The reason was that Gene had had another one of his revelations. This time, the angels had told him that Tara’s soul had been taken away by Lucifer and that the only way for her to save herself from Hell was by accepting his blessing and by coming back to her hometown.

Everything Tara had worked for – as she writes at this crucial place in her memoir – had been to acquire for herself just one simple privilege: to see and experience more truths than those given to her by her father, and to use those truths to construct her own mind. “I had come to believe,” she goes on, “that the ability to evaluate many ideas, many histories, many points of view, was at the heart of what it means to self-create. If I yielded now, I would lose more than an argument. I would lose custody of my own mind. This was the price I was being asked to pay, I understood that now. What my father wanted to cast from me wasn’t a demon: it was me.”

This was a price she wasn’t interested in paying. Even though she suffered a mental breakdown in the process of severing the ties with her family, she eventually persevered and opted to finish her thesis instead. The breakthrough came one seemingly ordinary day, when, looking in the mirror, Tara realized that it was time for her to bury her old self in the past. “The decisions I made after that moment were not the ones (the old Tara) would have made,” she writes. “They were the choices of a changed person, a new self.” Tara says that different people might use different words to describe this new selfhood: transformation, metamorphosis, falsity, betrayal. She chooses to call it an education.

Final notes

There are really not enough superlatives to describe “Educated.” Alluring, courageous, heartbreaking, heartwarming, beautiful, propulsive, best-in-years, one-of-a-kind, fascinating, extraordinarily evocative – these have all been used by different reviewers. And all of them quite justly.

Book Review Educated

A unique memoir, “Educated” seems almost too strange to be believed. And yet, despite its singularity – as one Vogue reviewer has noted – the questions Tara Westover’s book poses are universal: “How much of ourselves should we give to those we love? And how much must we betray them to grow up?”

Educated By Tara Westover On Amazon

To quote the Sunday Times, “Educated” is a book “fit to stand alongside the great modern memoirs.”

12min tip

Be curious. Research. Contrast and compare. As Tara Westover learned, the only way to create an authentic self is through the evaluation of many ideas, histories, and points of view. Everything else is dogma.

[huntermagazine362]

Educated Tara Westover Amazon

Amazon Usa Amazon Usa

For readers of The Glass Castle and Wild, a stunning new memoir about family, loss and the struggle for a better future #1 International Bestseller. Tara Westover was seventeen when she first set foot in a classroom. Instead of traditional lessons, she grew up learning how to stew herbs into medicine, scavenging in the family scrap yard and helping her family prepare for the apocalypse.

Hello Select your address English Books.

“Tara Westover is living proof that some people are flat-out, boots-always-laced-up indomitable. A heartbreaking, heartwarming, best-in-years memoir.” ( USA Today (four stars)) “Memoirs of difficult childhoods have a high bar to cross these days, but Westover’s struggle to make sense of the world and of her upbringing sails right. “Educated” by Tara Westover reads as if a barely believable novel. And yet, it is a true-to-life memoir. So, get ready to relive a life stranger than fiction – through the eyes and heart of. Educated is a nonfiction coming-of-age memoir by the historian Dr. It describes her life from her childhood in rural Idaho salvaging in her father's junkyard, her first time away from her family in college, and her experience discovering that the world is not the place her father always said it was.

Imagine you were born and raised in a family with radical religious beliefs. And imagine you didn’t have a birth certificate until the age of 9 and were not allowed to go to school until 17. Would you be able to muster the strength to earn a Ph.D. from Cambridge? “Educated” by Tara Westover reads as if a barely believable novel. And yet, it is a true-to-life memoir. So, get ready to relive a life stranger than fiction – through the eyes and heart of a fascinating firsthand witness!

Raised by Mormon survivalists

Tara Westover was born in a small Idaho farming town, the youngest of the seven children of Mormon survivalists Val and Laree Westover, hidden under the pseudonyms Gene and Faye in the book. Due to the beliefs of the couple, Tara was born at home, and she was not issued a birth certificate until she reached the age of 9. Until then, there was no way for anybody outside of her family to know she had been born at all: Gene and Faye had decided to live in isolation after the 1992 Ruby Ridge incident, in which federal agents ambushed and gunned down a woman and her 14-year-old son for, at worst, a minor offense.

Even before that event, Gene had firmly believed that public schools were just a way for the socialist American government to brainwash individuals into obedient slaves of the system, which is why neither Tara nor her six siblings ever got a proper chance to experience education. Gene didn’t believe in hospitals either, meaning Tara’s concussions or burns over the years were treated with herbs and home medicines. On the other hand, Gene did believe in a Mormon God, and this god (like, unfortunately, most other gods) didn’t seem to be that fond of women, proclaiming their place to be in the house – which is where Faye was all of the time.

Tara’s grandmother wanted her youngest granddaughter to get a proper education, so one day, when Tara was 7, she offered her a chance to escape to Arizona and go to school. Tara, however, stayed. To nobody’s surprise, really, not even hers. To this day, she claims, she has very fond memories of her childhood. In view of what followed, that is somehow hard to believe.

Opening doors to the world

At the age of 10, Tara’s mindset changed abruptly. It happened when her 18-year-old brother Tyler, the third son of Gene and Faye, announced one day his intention to go to college. Gene, of course, objected to this choice, both because Tyler’s older brothers Tony and Shawn were not around the house anymore to help and because, well, he believed that going to school would not teach him how to support a wife and a few children. However, Tyler persisted, and this inspired Tara to start reading a bit more, mostly the New Testament and the Book of Mormon.

Soon after Tyler left, Tara’s older sister Audrey left the house as well; and the only ones who remained were Luke, Richard, and her. Due to the lack of helping hands, Gene had to move away from farming and Tara had to help him. So, already at the age of 11, she was scrapping old cars for parts. However, she felt that she could do better, so one day, she posted a flyer at the local post office, offering her services as a babysitter. This opened her up to the world.

One of her clients, a woman named Mary, offered Tara an opportunity to visit a dance school. Tara enjoyed the experience very much, but her father soon forbade her to go anymore, believing that dancing inspired immodest and unfeminine behavior. By then, however, Tara had started taking voice lessons as well, and these were something even her father could find nothing wrong with. Especially after they helped Tara impress the congregation at their local church one Sunday. In fact, she was good enough to even get a part in a play at the local Worm Creek Opera House. More importantly, she was starting to enjoy life.

It’s the end of the world – as we know it

As far as Gene was concerned, Tara’s 13th birthday should have been her last. Not because she had done something to drive him mad, but because it was supposed to occur sometime during September 1999, about three months before the end of the world. A Mormon survivalist, Gene believed that on January 1st, 2000, all the computer systems in the world would fail and that there would be no electricity or telephones anymore. Everything would sink into chaos, he claimed, and this would usher in the Second Coming of Christ.

English philosopher Thomas Hobbes once said that there exists nothing worse than a man believing to have had a revelation, since no argument would convince them of the opposite. Not even if reality invalidated their beliefs. Psychologists call this cognitive dissonance, and we all suffer from it. In the case of Gene, the problem was far more severe than it is for the rest of us. Case in point: even when the end of the world didn’t arrive with the year 2000, he didn’t change his beliefs. He just changed the dates. Even so, his worldview was visibly shaken, so the family finally left Idaho for Arizona to visit Tara’s grandmother.

On the way there, the family’s van spun off the road and crashed into a field. Everyone survived, but Tara was badly hurt, even losing consciousness for a while. That did not matter one bit to Gene: as far as he was concerned, curing Tara was a job for God and Nature, not for doctors. Fortunately, even though Tara’s neck frequently locked up on her for a while, the accident didn’t leave any permanent damage. Even her neck got back to normal, eventually.

However, untreated head injuries not unlike Tara’s probably contributed to the very unstable condition of her brother Shawn, who continually abused her and her sisters. Prone to violence and as fanatic as his father, he once violently attacked Tara, waking her up from her sleep and dragging her by her hair from her bed. The reason? Tara had started wearing makeup and spending time with a boy named Charles. In Shawn’s opinion, this was not an appropriate behavior for a 15-year-old girl. Gene’s reaction? A little short of, “Way to go, son!”

College, finally

Encouraged by her brother Tyler, at the age of 16, Tara finally decided to take the ACT test, a standardized test used for college admission in the United States, not too dissimilar from the much more well-known SAT test. Tara failed the test, scoring 22 out of the 27 points she needed to get into Brigham Young University (BYU), a Utah-based university entirely owned by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints – that is to say, the Mormons.

Considering the fact that she barely knew any math, it wasn’t such a bad score; however, she was devastated. It took her some time to recuperate and a lot of help from her mother to figure out algebra and geometry. The effort was more than worthwhile. When Tara took the ACT again, she scored 28! Everybody was happy with the result, except for her father, who didn’t want to let Tara go. His reason? God had told him personally that Tara would greatly displease the Almighty if she ever went to college.

Even so, Tara decided to throw all caution to the wind and three days before her 17th birthday, she left for BYU. It wasn’t long before she started experiencing culture shock. For example, one of the first things she noticed there was that her roommate Shannon wore pants that had the word “Juicy” written on them. In an act that seemed blasphemous to the teenage Tara, her other friend Mary even dared to shop on the Sabbath!

The classes were challenging and scary for Tara. She took English, American history, Western civilization, religion, and music. As you might guess, she didn’t have many problems with the last two, but she had quite a few with everything else. The history she had been taught at her house was very different from the history being taught at university, and the whole idea of Western civilization seemed as strange to her as Einstein’s theories of relativity would seem to a novice in physics.

Just one quick example. One day, she asked her professor what the word “Holocaust” meant. The professor thought she was joking and scolded her. She wasn’t, of course. Her father had talked at some length about the Boston massacre and the Ruby Ridge incident, but he had never mentioned the Holocaust. So, Tara believed that, at worst, it was just some small conflict that very few people would really know about.

The education of Tara Westover

The Holocaust incident didn’t discourage Tara. On the contrary, she started studying harder and, after overcoming the initial issues, she eventually sailed through almost all of her exams, Western civilization being the only exception. Not wanting to leave any gaps in her knowledge, she didn’t back off. So, eventually, she aced that exam as well.

But that was always her philosophy. It wasn’t, “Stay away from things you don’t understand,” but rather, “Where trying doesn’t work, try again and try harder.” Consequently, even though she had come to college to study music, she kept signing up for history and politics classes. Her professors noticed her enthusiasm, and one of them referred her to a study-abroad program at the University of Cambridge.

Tara applied and, soon enough, she was headed to King’s College, Cambridge, to study a course under world-renowned professor of European history, Jonathan Steinberg. Just a short time prior, she didn’t even know what the word “Holocaust” meant and now Steinberg, a Holocaust expert, was supposed to grade her words and ideas. Amazingly, he had only nice things to say about them, telling Tara that her final essay was one of the best he had ever seen in his long career. Because of this, he promised to help her with her graduate application.

And that’s how Tara managed to win the Gates Cambridge Scholarship, only the third BYU student to achieve this feat in the long history of the university. After enrolling at the prestigious Trinity College, Tara became a celebrity back in Idaho and was revered by almost everyone who had ever known her. Everyone except her father Gene and her brother Shawn, that is.

Family troubles

Everything was going well after Tara returned to England, this time as a graduate student. So, well, in fact, that Tara began feeling as if she was a new person, one who was allowed to drink coffee and wine, and even tell stories of her fabulously strange upbringing. However, back at home, things were stranger and darker than ever.

First, Gene suffered an accident which almost killed him and left him with severe burns all over his body. Even so, he refused medical help and, once again, stayed alive against all odds. Then, Tara received a letter from her sister Audrey, in which she informed Tara that she was planning to confront her parents about the abuse she suffered from Shawn. Tara stood by her side and went back home to testify in her favor.

However, Gene and Faye were left unconvinced by the claims of the sisters, even though Shawn had explicitly threatened to kill them in their presence. To make matters worse, he repeated the threat to Tara by phone, not long after ceremoniously hugging her during the peacemaking sessions with their parents. Simply put, he was beyond treatment.

The same could be said of Gene, who, as Tara learned at one of her psychology classes, suffered from a severe case of bipolar disorder, which was getting worse by the day. On the bright side, while Tara was in England, he had started a line of medicinal oils with Faye. The business brought them local recognition and a lot of money. It also brought them a lot of interest from big companies. One of them offered Gene $3 million to buy the recipes. Gene declined the offer.

The meeting of the two Taras

Tara’s trips back to her family opened her eyes to a strange discovery: that there were now two Taras. One of them was the respected student of a prestigious university, and the other the lost daughter of a couple of Mormon survivalists. Gene and Faye loved the old Tara much more than the new one and they were trying to get her back at all costs. However, it was the new Tara who was really experiencing life, and the one who was starting to understand the world.

Among other things, the new Tara realized that she had been lied to all of her life about one fundamental thing: the real value of women. “I loved the fiery pages of Mary Wollstonecraft,” she writes, “but there was a single line written by John Stuart Mill that, when I read it, moved the world: ‘It is a subject on which nothing final can be known.’ The subject Mill had in mind was the nature of women. Mill claimed that women have been coaxed, cajoled, shoved and squashed into a series of feminine contortions for so many centuries, that it is now quite impossible to define their natural abilities or aspirations.”

Soon after, Tara began reading more about Mormonism, but this time she read with a much more open mindset. It didn’t take her long to realize that, compared to almost many other intellectual and religious movements, Mormonism was downright radical. She decided that she didn’t want to remain an adherent. Quite the opposite: she wanted out.

The triumph of the new Tara

One day, while Tara was doing research for her Ph.D. at Harvard (where she had won a visiting fellowship) her parents appeared at the doorstep of her dorm room. The reason was that Gene had had another one of his revelations. This time, the angels had told him that Tara’s soul had been taken away by Lucifer and that the only way for her to save herself from Hell was by accepting his blessing and by coming back to her hometown.

Everything Tara had worked for – as she writes at this crucial place in her memoir – had been to acquire for herself just one simple privilege: to see and experience more truths than those given to her by her father, and to use those truths to construct her own mind. “I had come to believe,” she goes on, “that the ability to evaluate many ideas, many histories, many points of view, was at the heart of what it means to self-create. If I yielded now, I would lose more than an argument. I would lose custody of my own mind. This was the price I was being asked to pay, I understood that now. What my father wanted to cast from me wasn’t a demon: it was me.”

This was a price she wasn’t interested in paying. Even though she suffered a mental breakdown in the process of severing the ties with her family, she eventually persevered and opted to finish her thesis instead. The breakthrough came one seemingly ordinary day, when, looking in the mirror, Tara realized that it was time for her to bury her old self in the past. “The decisions I made after that moment were not the ones (the old Tara) would have made,” she writes. “They were the choices of a changed person, a new self.” Tara says that different people might use different words to describe this new selfhood: transformation, metamorphosis, falsity, betrayal. She chooses to call it an education.

Final notes

There are really not enough superlatives to describe “Educated.” Alluring, courageous, heartbreaking, heartwarming, beautiful, propulsive, best-in-years, one-of-a-kind, fascinating, extraordinarily evocative – these have all been used by different reviewers. And all of them quite justly.

A unique memoir, “Educated” seems almost too strange to be believed. And yet, despite its singularity – as one Vogue reviewer has noted – the questions Tara Westover’s book poses are universal: “How much of ourselves should we give to those we love? And how much must we betray them to grow up?”

To quote the Sunday Times, “Educated” is a book “fit to stand alongside the great modern memoirs.”

12min tip

Amazon Usa Amazon Usa

Be curious. Research. Contrast and compare. As Tara Westover learned, the only way to create an authentic self is through the evaluation of many ideas, histories, and points of view. Everything else is dogma.

[janeturenne]

So about that Leela post

Okay, so I see lots of excellent posts exploring the idea that Time Lords can be read as non-binary and/or asexual, but I’ve never seen anybody explore a related possibility that I love: that Leela’s choice to live among them may be influenced by the fact that she is both of those.

Leela is literally the only female member of the Sevateem we ever see during The Face of Evil.  Whatever the majority of Sevateem women do with the majority of their time, it doesn’t seem to be warrior’ing (or if it is, why the hell is Leela the only one off with the men?).  Despite this apparently super strict gender divide, nobody makes the least bit of a thing about Leela being a warrior--not even when she’s being tried and exiled.  

Now, I’m not saying this is conclusive proof of anything, but it’s certainly suggestive.  And one possible explanation, and one I like, is that by choosing to become a warrior, Leela ceased to be a woman in the eyes of her tribe, and laid claim to a third-gender role of a kind found in many cultures around the world.  Nobody says ‘oh what did you expect of a woman warrior’ when she’s being cast out because to them, she is not a woman.  She is a Warrior (contrasted from here on out from the lower-case variety).

So what if it goes a little something like this:

Young Leela, say somewhere around puberty, chooses the Warrior role for a lot of reasons.  Obviously she’s damn good at fighting and likes it, but there are other considerations too.  She’s getting old enough to realize that the idea of having babies is Not For Her.  It’s not that she doesn’t get crushes, on boys and girls both, and it’s not that she doesn’t like children, she just definitely doesn’t want to actually carry a child.  Becoming a Warrior neatly avoids that option.  If she’s a Warrior and chooses to marry, she’ll be expected to marry a woman, and if they have children, it’ll be her wife actually bearing them.  (I have not decided the exact mechanism on that one--perhaps it’s accepted that the wife of a Warrior may take male partners whose identities will stay secret, or perhaps it’s an honored role for a known friend of the family.)  

Whatever the finer points, as a Warrior, Leela would be free from societal pressure to have sex, and she’d be beginning at that age to realize that’s something she doesn’t want.  It’s hard to prove a negative and I’d imagine she spends a little while wondering whether she just hasn’t started feeling that way yet and will someday, but in any case, choosing to identify as a Warrior gives her the option on abstaining from sex without abandoning any hope of a romantic relationship or facing societal pressure to marry a man and bear children.  So it’s a relief in that regard, and suits her, and as she gets older and more sure that she’s ace it only becomes more of a relief.  Kissing Tomas is nice and all, but she doesn’t even have to make the point that they’re not going any further than that because she’s a Warrior of the Sevateem, this is understood.

But then the Doctor shows up and whisks Leela off to a bunch of worlds with different traditions, where ‘Warrior of the Sevateem’ doesn’t mean the same thing to the people listening.  Unfortunately, the Doctor himself is clueless and can’t really help her out in getting people to respect her boundaries.  

At first it’s kinda nice, being exposed to other perspectives.  Litefoot calls her “a lady of refinement,” and she’s delighted.  It’s never occurred to her that she can be a lady and a warrior both at once, that there are worlds where that is even an option.  She’s not really used to thinking of herself as a woman and that probably isn’t gonna change, but it’s nice to think that she could.  But the trouble is that other people think of her as a woman whether she wants them to or not, and they make all sorts of other assumptions as well.  Because of what she wears (and Leela is used to being the most dressed person around her, have you seen the men of the Sevateem), or maybe just because she’s a person in the world, people in her travels, especially men, seem to feel this automatic... ownership of her body.  And it’s gross.

There are comments.  And unwanted touches.  And propositions.  Even the people who are decent, the ones for whom she might feel romantic attraction under other circumstances--the ones with whom she tries to have romantic interludes, for however long she can steal the time in her whirlwind life on the TARDIS--want things from her that she doesn’t want to give.  She eventually figures out the right words to explain something that at home needed no explaining, but it’s exhausting, and most of her potential partners look at her differently, after, and she stops even trying after a while.

And then she gets to Gallifrey, and meets Andred.

She likes him.  A lot.  He reminds her of home in the ways she likes, and not in the ways she can do without.  He’s pretty and sweet, but a fighter too, and when she kisses him he kisses back, but lets them be just kisses, and doesn’t make her uncomfortable even a little.  And when their adventure is over, he steals a quiet moment, and nervously asks her something.

He wants her to stay here, with him.  But he’s nervous, because he’s done his Matrix homework.  He explains about looming.  He tells her that Time Lords as a species no longer need to reproduce sexually, that those desires just aren’t there for most Gallifreyans anymore, but he knows that the same isn’t true for humans, and he wonders... he wonders if that’s something she would miss.  If she could be satisfied with his admiration, with his hearts, with physical affection, if sex wasn’t a part of it.  She is the most incredible woman he has ever known, and he loves everything about her, and he wants her to have everything she wants.

...Not quite breathing, she asks him whether it would trouble him that ‘woman’ isn’t exactly the right word, and explains to him what ‘Warrior of the Sevateem’ actually means.  Not quite breathing either, he replies that it’d be awfully hypocritical of him, because his first regeneration looked an awful lot like her.  Gallifreyans may use ‘Time Lord’ and ‘Time Lady’, but gender is far from a binary concept for them either.

She proposes on the spot.

And it’s not that everything magically gets better, because even Gallifreyans, Leela learns to her disgust, make assumptions about her just by looking.  And sometimes it’s even more frustrating how completely the Time Lords deny her the right to belong even here.  But love, at least, is easier and better on this world than she ever knew it could be.

...and that is your far too many words of asexy nb Leela for the night.

[mytennisdiary]

Australian Open 2021 - Day 2

Before coverage began Muguruza won her first round match in straight sets. As did Mertens who took out Layla Fernandez. Sophia Kenin won a closer straight set match against Inglis.

John McEnroe is on the broadcast today and he’s talking about how far the Australian Open has come. Of course, no one used to go and this used to be in part because it was played during the Christmas holiday. McEnroe wants this tournament to be played in March so there can be more of an offseason. There’s also a lot of talk about how good older players are, filtered through the lens of Brady’s Super Bowl win.

Cahill says that they’ve had football matches with full stadiums in Australia. They’re aiming to get to 50 - 75% capacity for the final if everything goes well. Another fact, the renamed court, “John Cain Court” is named for one of the men who was responsible for bringing the Australian Open to the complex where its located now. McEnroe considers this move to be the most important in the event’s history, playing a role in shifting the focus away from other tournaments and towards the majors as the high-water marks in tennis. McEnroe says that in his era, the focus on the majors was not the same.

My typical complaints with the broadcast were more obvious today. Too much time on Nadal and Gauff. Didn’t go to Barty’s match until she was already up 5-0 in the first set. Didn’t do the best job keeping track of the other matches as they went. Even flashing the score-bug more often would have helped.

First on the broadcast is Azarenka vs Pegula. Pegula is an American who I’ve seen before. Azarenka was one of the players who had to do a hard 14-day quarantine. After serving well all set, Azarenka double faulted 3 times while attempting to serve out the set. According to Goodall, this has been Azarenka’s achilles heel in her career. The double faulting lead to a lot more errors creeping in to what had otherwise been a clean set. Pegula, despite not being that big, has a nice offensive game. She hits a very flat ball and was able to take advantage of Azarenka’s lapse in play. Pegula served for the set and won the game on 4 unforced Azarenka Errors. Azarenka had breathing problems back in 2013 and something similar seems to have happened here. She used an inhaler between games, but then up 40 - 00 on her serve she leaded against the side barrier and they called out the doctor. Pegula pulled out the biggest upset of the women’s tournament so far, even if Azarenka was hampered by her injury.

Svitolina looks to be swinging freely against the young Czech player, Bouzkova. Nothing is ever easy with Svitolina, but it did feel ultimately that she was the one who was dictating the majority of the points, especially with her forehand. 6-3 7-6 in a 2 hour match.

Rublev took out Hanfmann in straight sets to continue his good play. Hanfmann played college tennis at USC. He’s 29, but has never won a match at a major. Rublev has the big forehand, but he’s also really improved his serve, bringing it up into the 130s. 6-3 6-3 6-4 in an hour and forty minutes.

Khachanov vs Vukic was played on an outer court. Gilbert calls Kharchanov “Silent K”. He hasn’t been playing at a high level over the last year.

Gauff vs Teichmann. They just played a tight match the week before. Coco has not been great over the last year since she beat Osaka at the Australian Open. She continues to have problems with her serve when attempting to close out matches. She can also have problems with her forehand which is the wing that tends to break down. Teichmann is a Swiss lefty who broke through at Lexington last year. She has some aggressive, flat groundstrokes. Both players were serving well until Teichmann’s serve broke down entirely. Coco had a shaky service game after going up a break, but then hit 3 aces in the next game to close out the set. Probably the best I’ve seen Coco look in a while. When the problems with her serve started to emerge she was able to move past them. However, a lot of this match was about Teichmann who just looked really uncomfortable, making a lot of errors, A funny moment in the post-match interview when Coco said it was important to not look ahead, but then admitted that she knew she’d be playing Svitolina in the next round.

Next up on Laver is Nadal vs Djere. The big story with Rafa is that he is dealing with some back problems. Djere is a clay-courter. McEnroe says that Rafa’s team has been trying to get him to train less for years, saying that he over-trains. His injury occurred in training. McEnroe thinks the major thing that the back could effect is the serve and how much power he can get on it. Nadal is pounding his groundstrokes. His serve seems a little more conservative than usual. Rafa does seem a bit tentative, not running down every ball. The first set was closer than you probably would have expected it to be. Djere has been able to stay in it, doing some particular damage with his forehand. The commentators told a story about how he lost both his parents to cancer within a few years of each other when he was younger. Nadal just doesn’t seem to be in control of every point like he usually is; not smothering the life out of the match. After working hard to get the second set, Nadal rolled in the third. 6-3 6-4 6-1

Medvedev is rolling against Pospisil. Probably won’t see much of it because of the Nadal match. He won in straight sets. 6-2 6-2 6-4

Li vs Lopez showcases Tu Li, an unranked australian wild-card who’s been away from the game for about 6 years. He actually coaches Darren Cahill’s kids. Lopez won the match. He hasn’t missed a major since 2002.

Albot vs Bautista-Agut got a little play in the 4th set tiebreak. RBA hasn’t been great this last season, but he’s normally very consistent. Albot is the only player from Moldova to play in a major. Albot just seemed to have more control of the match, RBA out of sorts. 6-7 6-0 6-4 7-6

Popyrin took out Goffin in a 5-set upset.

De Minaur vs Sandgren Gilbert calls him “the little demon”. De Minaur looked strong on his serve, but Sandgren looked totally out of it. He’s one of the ones that had to hard-quarantine for 14 days. De Minaur stands way up on the baseline, even on first serve returns, to try to take time away from his opponents. A little drama in the final few games. Sandgren his De Minaur with a ball and then De Minaur returned the favor on Match point. He hit him hard. 7-5 6-1 6-1

Mmoh vs Troicki Mmoh is a young American against Troicki, a veteran Serbian. Troicki has been on tour for a long time, but he’s trying to rebuild his ranking after testing positive for performance enhancing drugs. He played a strong tiebreak in the 2nd to level the match. Mmoh has been unable to stay healthy in his career. Mmoh has a big serve and an extreme western grip on his forehand. Troicki is having real problems with his forehand, ultimately making too many errors down the stretch to send the match to a 5th set.

Paul vs Basilashvili Tommy Paul looks like he’s going to win with his big serve in 3 sets.

Evans vs Norrie in a battle of the brits. Saw Norrie looking convincing despite being the lower seed, winning the first set. Evans got the 2nd. Norrie won in 4.

Pliskova beat Paolini in straight sets.

Collins vs Bogdan. Bogdan is a Romanian. Collins looks aggressive. Controlling the points. 6-3 6-1

Stevens vs Putinseva Putintseva is from Kazakstan. Both players were ones that had to do the 14-day hard quarantine. Putintseva had a mouse in her hotel room and couldn’t get anyone to come get rid of it. Apparently she fed it and bonded with it. Putintseva looks a bit more aggressive, but she’s been making a bunch of errors. Gilbert talked about Sloan and her footwork not being very good when she is in the center of the court.

Barty vs Kovinic Kovinic is ranked 575 in the world. She’s from Montenegro. Barty was up 5-0 in the first when we joined the broadcast. Kovinic has a big serve, but Barty has her totally off balance. Her slice backhand is staying really low and hew movement looks sharp. She played a 19-minute first set and is blitzing towards the finish. 6-0 6-0 in 45 minutes.

Tsitsipas vs Simon is the last match of the day on Laver. Simon moves well, but Tsitsipas looks totally in control early. Serve is imposing and he is patiently constructing points and executing well. I love the way Tsitsipas closes down space. He’s on top of the court, taking the ball early, and looking to come in and shorten points. Tsitsipas was just totally dominant. 6-1 6-2 6-1 Tsitsipas was pretty frank about how easy it was in the post-match interviews. Some laughs with the crowd about the lack of deference to Gilles.

Rodgers and Kokinakis through in straight sets.

Berrettini vs Anderson Anderson just gave away the 2nd set on his serve at 5-6 with careless errors. The australian commentator refers to it as “no wriggle room”. That might be even better than “wiggle room”. Very strong serving from Mateo. No breaks against his serve. 7-6 7-5 6-3

[altiria]

Not Sure If Unfair or Helpful: Chapter Four

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11675995/4/Not-Sure-if-Unfair-or-Helpful

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13869411/chapters/32883678

Second Division Report: Otherwise known as 'the revenge of Fire-Fist Ace.' Aka if you like warm hugs, warm hugs is what you're going to get. (He totally deserved it, and my division agrees with me.)

Location: San Alisia was the island, uhh I forgot what the town was called. Honestly, I was pretty distracted, and you and I both know that it was your fault in the first place. So San Alisia on the island somewhere.

Time: ??? daytime? I forgot the date; we were all pretty drunk (Sorry again Marco!)

It was a week after their visit to their most recent island stop and Pops had been drowned in requests. It was understandable, in the last few months several 'extreme temperature' islands. They had gone to Arctaplatia – no it wasn't really called absolute-zero island like Thatch so liked to claim. After checking over the bears, the crew had traveled quickly to the island where they could collect the flowers required for Pops' medicine. Then straight over to one of their protected islands called Estershade since the secret wife of one of the men from the first division had gone into labor and the man had wanted to be present.

Their brother was staying behind while his newborn daughter grew up a bit. Not a problem to the crew, really Pops was thrilled that he had a new grandchild. Though all the ones he did have were kept strictly secret, so their enemies got nowhere near them. The crew in the end spent at least a month on that island freezing their asses off - again. Not so secretly everyone was tired of the extreme temperatures from the last four islands they'd stopped at. They wanted a pleasant, comfortably warm island, not magma hot.

Officially leaving their protected island nearly everyone on the crew, Marco included, requested perhaps a spring island ought to be next. Which is why they were heading to San Alisia know for its great-reefs, sandy beaches, and the yearly carnival which was occurring just about when they arrived. San Alisia was more of a neutral island within the New World, belonging to no one and visited by all. From Red-haired Shanks who had a preferred taste of its signature alcohol to their own Whitebeard Crew who adored the parties.

Since they had missed the celebration the previous year - due to their 'forced' and welcomed recruitment off Ace - the crew was quite excited to be going this year.

Marco was unhappily aware that he was going to have to be the voice of reason among his siblings once again. Doubly true due to the carnival occurring. Glancing to Ace sound sleeping and surrounded by pillows Marco smiled softly. This year would be Ace's first and their father and siblings were thrilled, it was quite the experience, and they were eager to see how Ace would react. Marco supposed he could relax enough to enjoy himself with Ace. His siblings would... probably be okay.

"What are you guys doing?" Ace asked leaning over Izo's shoulder. Many of the sixteenth division were sitting around in the mess hall with an obsessive amount of fabric, sequins, and feathers.

"Oh!" one of his sisters named Etrea looked up from the collection of glittering fabric she was sewing looked to him in realization "this is your first year isn't it!"

"Uh?"

Etrea clapped her hands in delight and looked to Izo.

Izo hands were calloused enough, so he did not need to bandage them or even use a thimble as the rest of the group were doing. However, he was frazzled with feathers sitting in his hair and stray hairs sticking out of his usually meticulously cared for hairstyle. Izo hissed as he jabbed himself in his thumb again and decided to take a short break. At least one long enough to explain. Forcefully putting the fabric down Izo patted the chair beside him and shoved the material to the side. Ace obediently sat down curiously peering at their supplies.

"We're sewing our costumes for the carnival," Izo explained.

"Costumes?"

"Indeed" Izo gestured to the fabric and sewing group which Ace realized distance included some of his division. Men and woman alike were comparing their work and chattering excitedly. "For the carnival everyone goes while dressed up. Typically the people on the island sell different variations, around ten different sets of colors for men and women. They sell these months in advance, and each color tends to stay with their own group."

"But you're making ours?" he clarified.

"Because by now they're sold out," Izo told him "we decided this trip on quite short notice. So instead we're making our own. I thought Pops colors would be most effective."

Izo grabbed a finished set and held it up for Ace to see. It was a bikini top and bottom done in black and purple, the same as their Jolly Roger. Sequins and feathers were sown into the fabric making it sparkle. The male set was a pair of shorts with the same sown into the fabric. While there were also pieces that appeared to add onto to the whole outfit, items for the wrists, ankles, and arms covered in more gems and feathers. With all that, there were several headsets of long feathers in bright shades of white and red.

Ace grinned observing the shorts; it was almost exactly what he was already wearing except in a different color and with different accessories. He couldn't wait to try one on.

His siblings chuckled at his eager reaction. Some of the crew became quite nervous to wear the costume in public; but no one ever expected Ace to have trouble with it, they'd expected him to be eager, which he was.

"Everyone will be in one?" Ace asked.

"Men, women, elderly. Not so much children," Izo told him with a wink "sort of an adult event."

"Equality!" Charlise cried out punching the air from the other side of the table "we've got them in all sizes. See that one!" she pointed to a huge pair of shorts "is for pops. The headset is fighting us a bit, but we'll manage."

Ace nodded along while staring at the male version of the costume. Then he had a realization as with a dry mouth he asked: "Everyone's gonna be in these?"

"Yup!" sang several voices.

"Even Marco?"

Now he was the center of attention. Izo closest to him gave him an impish leer as he confirmed, "Even Marco, and you of course."

"Oh," he breathed "do you need help?"

"Yes!" the group gasped out desperately.

That was how Ace spent the rest of the trip drowning in feathers which he was painstakingly attached to a set of headdresses. Until he was demoted after lighting his work on fire after he got frustrated.

Ace was not all that nervous about his costume, after all, he regularly went around without a shirt. He was basically wearing the same amount of fabric. The main difference - if you asked him - was not the feathers or sequins, but the fact that he was wearing sandals instead of his boots.

Most of the afternoon he'd been helping his siblings into their costumes. In some cases, it meant to convince people they did not look ridiculous. Some of his division, while pirates, were not wholly comfortable with their bodies. Seeing him in his costume had helped he figured, besides everyone looked terrific no matter what their body type was.

His division had all but dragged him onto the deck when they were all dressed, when they did Ace got his first real look at the carnival. The streets were covered in people; it was a rainbow of feathers, costumes, and dancing. Music blasted over the whole island. The bass was nearly shaking the floor and the jumping in time was definitely doing so.

Ace hopped in place as his siblings took off running to join the fun. He waited behind for Marco who would be last off the ship. He was always last unless someone was staying behind. No one was this time. Their father had been dragged off a good hour earlier, and Haruta and Thatch had gone running the second they docked.

Ace heard a click of teeth behind him as Marco walked up, dropped his chin to Ace's shoulder, and said: "Red hair is here then yoi."

Rather than look back, Ace scanned the marina and located the Red Force virtually abandoned opposite the docks from them. Between their two ships were dozens of others, from pirates, a few of Kaido's, one of Big Moms and several marine vessels. Thankfully no one was going to cause trouble. This island, like the well-known Gild Tesoro, was neutral ground.

"It'll be fine," Ace turned back to Marco who pulled back and choked.

Marco stood in the same costume as Ace with some minor variations. Along his arms were feathers making it look like the wings he often carried only in a black shade rather than blue. He also had a glittering piece around his neck. Instead of the large headset everyone else was wearing Marco had a simpler design which placed several feathers in his hair, which were purple instead of the regular blue and yellow his powers granted him.

In also seemed that Marco was having much of the same problem as Ace as they stared at each other in appreciation.

"Wow," Ace managed to choke out.

Marco glanced Ace up and down appreciatively "Likewise."

Ace current found his brain's thought process entirely and utterly derailed. "Y-yeah, I mean you look good!"

Marco smirked and offered his hand "Shall we?"

"Okay." Ace breathed, brain still stalled, as he took it.

Marco and his siblings had been right; Ace loved the carnival. Honestly, he spent the entire time dancing and enjoying himself. He also learned the celebration was not a single night, it was a full week long and they'd arrived right on the first day.

Ace might have lost track of what happened during the second day. He'd gotten pretty drunk, and he felt a bit bad for that. Marco, as opposed to Ace, couldn't get drunk. Thankfully Marco had only seemed amused; Ace suspected he'd, like usual, gotten pretty affectionate. Ace was a pretty happy drunk he knew that for sure. The first time Ace learned he was a happy drunk, he and Luffy had been experimenting in a 'safe' environment with Makino. She's served them enough to get Ace a bit tipsy, to give him the idea of his limits and what he would act like when drunk. He and Luffy were both incredibly affectionate he learned, though he'd cling and hug and Luffy would be a slightly more energetic version of himself. Dadan refused to allow them to drink around her because of that; she said they were hyper enough without alcohol.

At the current moment, Ace was drenched in sweat from the dancing. Not from the heat of the bodies or the environment since neither affected him. But in physical exertion. Ace had quickly become fond of a song called 'represent' which had the singer calling for them to wave their flags. When it played the first time, Ace understood why he'd discovered a miniaturized Whitebeard flag with his costume. So when called to he jumped with the crowd swinging his flag overhead and cheering eagerly.

Dancing with Marco during a different but similar song was where Marco froze. With their bodies pressed together as they danced their bodies to the music the whole group launched up at the same time with the beat swinging their flags. Marco made a noise of horror as they did. Following Marco's gaze Ace glanced over and spotted the reason for it, not two bodies away was the Red hair pirates flag flapping through the air.

It was Shanks and Benn together from what Ace could see, the two of them dancing together with red cheeks from exertion. Both of them were in a costume done up in green and red, though Benn only wore the shorts. Shanks was meanwhile wearing enough feathers and gems to cause a disco ball effect around him. Ace's eyes locked with Shanks' who turned at the same time following their own Whitebeard flags to see who was swinging them. The man lit up when he recognized them both.

"Ace!" Shanks called out in delight "Marco! Join my c-"

Marco snatched up Ace's hand, turned on the spot and bolted dragging Ace behind him. 'Not today' Marco told himself, he was not getting involved in this, not today.

Ace laughed as he was towed along, the two vanishing into the crowd leaving Shanks pouting as he lost track of them from the sheer amount of people in the area.

As the carnival came to a close, the Whitebeard pirates decided to spend a few extra nights at the island. It was after all still a vacation location, some of the crew wanted to spend time on the beach and wanted to go shopping. Even Marco had taken a day to buy a few items as he did he spotted Fossa buying out a toy store. Fossa had a habit of buying toys wherever he went for when they visited their home islands; he'd give the toys out to the children of their islands many of which included their nieces and nephews. In the case he couldn't stop at one he'd instead craft several himself, carving adorable pieces out of wood.

After he returned to the ship, Marco found himself looking at the collection of bodies on deck. Strewn across the wood were most of his siblings and father. Every single one bathed in sunscreen and chilling on deck. Not far off some were playing on the beach and having water fights. The commotion that had taken Marco's attention was Thatch. The chef was running across deck screaming bloody murder over... Ace.

"Ace, please, please don't do this" Thatch begged backing away. Ace moved forward grinning like a cat.

More than one of his siblings glanced up unsure what exactly Ace was planning. The second division commander had nothing in his hands, nothing behind his back. He was wearing only a pair of his shorts and looked utterly harmless. Despite that, Thatch feared for his life, for a good reason.

"But Thatch... I thought you liked my warm hugs" Ace taunted moving forward.

"Ah." said a few people in understanding. It had only been a matter of time before Ace his revenge.

"Don't burn him Ace," Marco warned, "unlike you and I, Thatch can char."

"Marcoooo," Thatch whined realizing the man wasn't planning on helping him.

"Warm hugs Thatch!" suddenly Ace pounced and embraced Thatch pulling him tight into his grip.

"Hot, too hot, ACE!" Marco chuckled lightly knowing Ace was merely keeping his temperature up, enough to be warm on this hot day yet not enough to burn.

"Warm hugs!" Ace yelled again as several of their brothers cracked themselves up. Ace rounded on them with an evil grin still hugging Thatch. "Whats that? You guys are jealous? No worries, I've got enough hugs for everyone."

More them one screamed in alarm and raced away, the crowd going flying in every direction. Their father didn't even twitch remaining asleep in his chair, Marco brushed past and perched himself on top of it giving himself a higher view of the chaos Ace would bring.

Thatch struggled in Ace's grip groaning uncomfortably at the heat. "Ace I get it, please it's too hot," he whined his face going slightly red. Ace seemed to agree and released the man turning toward his fleeing siblings with a twinkle in his eyes.

Yelling about vengeance and warm hugs Ace raced away this time targeting Haruta.

"What about Marco!?" Haruta cried out diving away defensively.

"Sorry, unlike some of you I actually prefer warm hugs," Marco noted. He didn't mention that Ace had already gotten his warm hug revenge the night before – not that it had worked. He might be susceptible to cold, but the heat never bothered him.

"Besides, didn't you say I was hogging all his attention? That I was- what was it again? Stingy yoi?" an almighty smirk crossed Marco's face "I guess I just have to learn to share yoi."

[dartlekey]

Wings

Now on Ao3

Word count: 1914

A Serirei Fic featuring trans!Reigen and ace!Serizawa (implied ace!Reigen as well)

This is a gift for @cinensis because he’s been in a lot of pain lately and I wanted to cheer him up; his fallenangel!Reigen and trans!Reigen drawings were my inspiration for writing this. (This is my first time writing about a transgender character, though, so any feedback from transgender folks is greatly appreciated!)

Please enjoy!

********

The first time Serizawa saw Reigen's wings was on a Thursday morning at 7:14 am.

He was early to work - well, he usually was, but even more so today. He'd had a bad night, and thus woken up two hours earlier than usual. With fresh memories of his nightmares still lingering in the back of his head, Serizawa had thought it better to just stay up and have a calm, relaxed breakfast instead.

However, the silence in his tiny apartment had quickly descended from comforting into eerie, and so he took the earlier train to work. He had his own key now, after all. Reigen had presented it to him two months ago, with an exaggerated flourish and a smile that made Serizawa's heart skip a beat. "You're not just a valuable employee, but also a trusted friend," Reigen had told him, "so I think you've earned it."

Serizawa had blushed and spent the whole day alternating between giddy and proud.

He was too tired for that now, but the memory still brought a smile to his lips as he quietly unlocked the office door - only that he wasn't the first one there.

Outlined by the morning light pouring through the window was Reigen, standing in front of his desk with his bare back to Serizawa. His blazer was hanging across his chair, but his shirt lay crumpled on the desk; a large coffee stain and Reigen's frustrated scrubbing at it told Serizawa all he needed to know.

Well, perhaps not all, because he'd never known Reigen had a tattoo.

Large, feathered wings spanned all the  way down his back; folded as if they were growing out of his shoulder blades, the tips trailing off just above Reigen's dress pants. The detail was masterful; in the warm morning glow, they almost looked real. Serizawa wouldn't have been surprised if they'd felt fluffy under his touch.

His hands were out and reaching for the feathers before he even knew what he was doing, but his fingertips only grazed soft, warm skin. The reaction, though, was immediate: Reigen jumped so hard he bumped his knee into the table, then spun around, hands snapping up to cover his chest. "What the-"

His shoulders slumped marginally when he recognized Serizawa, but he didn't loose the guarded, almost fearful look on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, Reigen-san! I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to, to startle you - I just, I wanted to touch your wings - the tattoo, I mean... But I should have asked, I'm sorry."

Unable to meet his eyes, Serizawa stared at Reigen's hands instead, which were still loosely covering his chest - very loosely, actually, more sphere-shaped than flat, grabbing at air. But Serizawa only understood why when he saw the symmetrical scars peeking out between Reigen's fingers.

"Oh," he said with surprise.

He wasn't exactly sure what else to say, and as he looked at Reigen's face, he realized Reigen wasn't either. So he stuttered, "W-why do you have wings on your back?"

Reigen tilted his head, surveying Serizawa with thoughtful, calculating eyes, before slowly starting to speak. "Did you know that onsen's have a no tattoo rule?"

When Serizawa shook his head, Reigen elaborated, "If the tattoo is small enough, they'll let you in if you cover it with tape, but you can't go into an onsen with a big one. It's because of Yakuza gang tattoos plus a lot of history stuff I won't bore you with; in any case, the owners want to keep trouble out of their bathing houses. But it also works the other way around: getting a tattoo gives you a convenient excuse not to visit onsen's with friends or colleagues."

He paused and looked at Serizawa then, half defiant, half hesitant - and Serizawa was struck by how out of character, how caught off guard Reigen seemed. Because Reigen was never hesitant, never afraid of anything fate could throw at him. He was an unwavering marble statue, and only if you looked very carefully could you see the cracks in the stone, and glimpse at what lay beneath.

"I... Think I understand, then. Why you got the tattoo, I mean."

Reigen blinked, curious, but still cautious. "You do?"

Serizawa swallowed, knowing he was walking on a knife's edge. If he phrased his answer right, perhaps Reigen would open up a bit more. If he phrased it wrong, Reigen would not only be offended, but probably loose all respect for him, too.

"With the separate bathing areas and everything...You couldn't bathe with the men because they'd treat you as an outcast at best - and you couldn't bathe with the women because... because you're not a woman. And you never were."

Reigen simply stared at him.

And then he smiled.

It was one of his genuine smiles, too, not the one he wore for clients. Instead, it was warm and heartfelt and grateful, and it made Serizawa feel dizzy in the best of ways.

Who says he's not actually an angel, under that marble?

"Your open-mindedness does you credit, Serizawa... I - I'm glad you see it that way. See me that way. Thank you."

Serizawa shrugged, perhaps too abruptly, and looked down. "You shouldn't have to thank me for that. I... Minegishi of the Super Five, they're nonbinary. They taught me about gender dysphoria, and transphobia... They were going to make people accept them, once they were part of the ruling class."

Reigen made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. "If only it were that easy."

As Serizawa looked back up, their eyes met, and for a moment he was filled with a strange sense of regret. If Claw had won, would Reigen have been able to visit an onsen? Undisturbed, and unjudged? Perhaps they could've gone together.

But no. A non-esper and rebel, Reigen wouldn't have survived the esper uprising; and Serizawa would have become the monster he'd been afraid of all his life. He wouldn't even have known the world's softest smile...

"So. Um. Can I... touch the feathers?"

Reigen raised both eyebrows. "Why?"

Serizawa blinked, "I... I don't really know. Um. I just, want to? I'm sorry, I'm so weird." Embarrassed, he ducked his head, but Reigen just chuckled and ruffled his hair. "It's fine. I mean, it's not really a bother, I guess? Just don't expect them to feel like the real deal."

With those words, he turned around. This time Serizawa didn't overlook any details; he saw how Reigen's shoulders were narrower without the suit jacket's stiff sleeves, saw the way his waist looked thinner and his hips wider than when he was fully clothed.

And Serizawa saw nothing wrong with that. Serizawa only saw a handsome man with a silver tongue who was trying to fix the world, fake exorcism by fake exorcism.

Slowly, he lowered his hands onto Reigens back, gently touching the bottom feathers. Reigen tensed at the contact, but soon relaxed as Serizawa slowly and carefully let his fingers explore the tattoo.

Reverently, he let his hands trail upwards along the lines of ink, touching every single feather separately. It was fascinating, watching the dark strokes twirl and curve under his fingers, seeing how the feathers connected, feeling what was basically just human skin, but for some reason held an air of the supernatural.

It occured to him that touching another man like that (especially when that man was the one he'd been in love with for the last six months) should have felt sexual, but it wasn't at all. Admittedly, to Serizawa nothing had ever felt sexual before, and he'd never really wanted it to either, but in this case he thought it wasn't anything like that for Reigen as well. Intimate, yes; under normal circumstances Serizawa would never have been so bold, but tired as he was, he dared to be a lot more open with his wants - and Reigen wasn't stopping him...

As Serizawa reached his shoulder blades, Reigen sighed contentedly and said, "You know this is actually pretty nice. It's no wonder people love my massages so much... I mean, my body exorcisms."

Serizawa chuckled shakily, blushing at the praise. "This is nowhere near as good as the massages you do, Reigen-san."

"Ah, don't put yourself down like that!", Reigen responded without missing a beat, his tone light but sincere. "You have very good hand control, and you're very gentle. I bet if I let you at our regulars, they would love you just as much as I d-"

His voice suddenly trailed off, and he cleared his throat. "I mean... yeah. They'd like it."

"I... thank you," Serizawa managed, heart hammering at triple speed. Did he just...?

The office fell back into silence as Serizawa followed the feathers all the way up Reigen's shoulders, finishing with the stray outliers on his arms. In a way, it was satisfying to have touched all of them, but Serizawa also felt a sense of dissapointment. He didn't want to stop; he rarely got a chance to be close to Reigen like this, and to do something that Reigen enjoyed -

When Reigen felt the hands disappear off his back, he turned around with a casual smile, only to stop in surprise at Serizawa's closeness. He'd probably thought that Serizawa would immediately step back, timid as he was. In all honesty, Serizawa had thought so too. But...

But technically, he hadn't really touched the whole wing. In a way. Had he?

Serizawa made himself meet Reigen's gaze, then lowered his eyes to Reigen's chest, and hesitantly raised his hands to hover just over his surgical scars.

"They... They're part of your wings," he explained quietly, "to me. Because, because your wings are freedom? They're freedom, and beauty, and you. Like your scars. Do I... have your permission?"

Reigen stared up at him, eyes wide and filled with an emotion Serizawa couldn't name, and for a moment Serizawa was terrified that he'd gone too far.

Then Reigen kissed him, and any coherent thought Serizawa might have had evaporated like water on a stovetop.

Reigen tasted like espresso and cheap cigarettes, and when Serizawa ran his hands through his hair, it was strawy and rough. And it was perfect, all of it, it was Reigen, and Serizawa couldn't get enough of it, of him, of the exhilaration flooding his lungs and the butterflies in his stomach and the warmth pulsing in his veins.

"Not yet," Reigen finally murmured the answer against his lips, pulling back just a bit to get his breath back. "I'm not really comfortable with anyone touching my scars right now. But you can touch the rest of my wings anytime."

Serizawa nodded, letting out a breathy, nervous laugh. "T-that's okay. Good. Great. Wonderful. I love you. Please go out with me."

Then realized what he'd said and winced. "Sorry! I mean, um. I... you. Uh."

Reigen laughed, and kissed his cheek. "I get it. I feel the same, you know. Let's have dinner, after work. But, well, right now..." He glanced past Serizawa at the office clock, "We still have about half an hour before work starts?"

He grinned at Serizawa almost bashfully, and Serizawa's heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

"O-Oh?"

Reigen leaned closer, and added, "Do I have your permission?"

Serizawa must've been beetred by now, but he didn't really care. "T-to kiss...? Yes! Always! I think."

This time, both of them laughed - and Serizawa felt like he'd grown wings of his own.