#I’m one of those dweebs that are like “’EYE COLOR HAS MEANING’

[badboychaser]

Euphrasia is a new favorite character

[elsecrytt]

omfg i LOVE your demon culture headcanons, they're so fun and really make obey me so much more interesting than it already is. one hc ive always had of the devildom folk and culture is that in their courting rituals it's common to bring their mate fresh prey as a show of strength. imagine one of the brothers coming up to mc and straight up dropping the mangled body of a lesser demon at their feet and mc is just HORRIFIED but the brothers are like "what? im showing u i care and that im strong"

Adjkflshfgk oh no oH NO *OH NO* I’m so sorry but unfortunately this is exactly the kind of thing that awakens something inside of me so.

I'm gonna be real with you. Sure MC is horrified and all bc like, damn, dead body, but also... like... IDK I JUST THINK. THE IDEA'S PRETTY HOT.

I just find it narratively compelling and erotic and sexy if a character is wiling to kill for me. And you know Mammon would be like. A super cute excited puppy with a dead animal,, showing off his kill to his owner you hehe

So you’re walking around town with Mammon. All’s well in the Devildom. Maybe you stride into a cafe after a bit of a shopping spree (he says he’ll treat you, he really wanted to try the parfait here, you see - coincidentally, your date had been about to end…) and you’re sitting at your table, waiting for your order.

As you watch the nearby couples (you already know Mammon’s latest moneymaking scheme idea is stupid and you’re going to tell him no, but it would make him feel better if you didn’t shut him down right away), you come across one example in particular that looks… not so good.

Two incubi who’d come in together were starting to fight. One of them looks like he’s got tears in his eyes - you see him gesture to his phone.

You can’t hear the exact words but you can imagine already what they are by the flush of embarrassment on the other one’s face and the guilty looks, how he keeps glancing away and appears at a loss to explain himself.

Was he…?

“You cheating whore! I should have known - how could I be this stupid - " His voice starts to crack and you start to really feel bad for him, other people are watching now, "You’d just texted me last night and you were with him - ”

OOF. Big oof.

Mammon must have seen how sorry you felt for the guy written all over your face, because he caught on to where your attention was right away and whined at once.

“Heya!! I’m talking ta ya here, yer really gonna pay attention ta those dweebs over there over the Great Mammon?”

You roll your eyes (they’re shouting now). “Why don’t you watch, too? Something like this would never happen with us, it’s interesting.”

It’s like he’s got dog ears that perk right up, his attention immediately captured as you watch him blush and try to fight the urge to smile (he never won).

And when his gaze flicks over to the couple in question, a slap has gone out... but it's from the accused cheater, to his partner.

"Well maybe if you weren't absolute shit in bed, I wouldn't have to get it elsewhere!"

You actually wince at that. In public? Seriously? After he cheated...

"The audacity," You mutter, and Mammon nods.

"Yeah, you can't even compare a couple like that to us." His tone is unmissable, smug, a feeling he didn't often get to show.

(He's still blushing, but it's more of a smirk now, and if anyone can look cute while smirking it's your Mammon)

In the corner of your eye you watch Mammon's eyes gleam in the light as he gazes over the guilty party, and you remember that Lucifer is his favorite brother.

Guess they have something in common after all, hmm?

But you don't point it out, instead saying, "At least the dude is showing his true colors so the other guy dumps his worthless ass. It'd be worse if they got back together."

"Oh yeah?" He cocks his head at you.

"Well, imagine the dude apologized. Then that poor guy might take him back..."

"So what if he did, though? I mean, ya said yerself, the dude's trash. If he wants to take him back, then whatever."

You can't believe you're having this conversation. "Well, different people have different opinions. But I'd never take back a cheater. It's demeaning."

"Course you wouldn't! Ya have me, after all." He preens, and you want to smile at him again because he's just so cute.

"But what's this got to do with them?" He's genuinely confused, too, which makes you want to roll your eyes.

"It's just sad to think about someone getting less than they deserve, Mammon."

When this is met with yet more indifference, you switch up the tactics, "Look, scum belongs in the trash, doesn't it? I wouldn't take someone like that and I wouldn't expect anyone else to."

You're pretty sure Mammon would n e v e r but you give him a suspicious look anyways.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right!" There's your boy, changing gears on the fly, "You wouldn't take somebody like that. They don't deserve anything!"

He's beaming, so you're sure you haven't gotten your point across. But you always did love that smile.

Plus he's holding out the spoon bashfully, hoping to feed you a really delicious looking scoop of his parfait that came during the conversation.

When you lean forward and close your mouth over the spoon he looks like he's about to explode from happiness... it he doesn't overheat from that massive flush, first.

Augh. He is just. Too cute.

[Warning: Listen. You read the ask at the beginning. You know what it said. GRAPHIC description of an injury/dead body ahead. They’re demons. It’s fucked up. You have been warned.

Also. It's kinda romance. Like it's kinda horror but. He's Mammon. He's your good boy. He's very sweet about it even if it's kinda horrifying. Also his tits are out in demon form, it would distract anyone - ]

>Mammon: Heya! C'mon over to my room, I gotcha somethin'

You get the text. And of course, you came at once.

Mammon is squatting on his heels, arms on his knees and his hand resting on his chin while he stares at his DDD (it looks like his messages app).

His clothes are as stylish as ever, spic and span, his bright white head of hair eye-catching as always until you meet his eyes, which light up even brighter.

You notice this especially because just in front of him, not two feet away, in a pool of blood, is a corpse.

The urge to hurl is instantaneous - even looking at it makes you wince and tear your eyes away, but you have to see - and a terrible recognition strikes you.

From - from the cafe? Oh god. Oh god. You remember him - he was standing up and moving, he was speaking, you'd heard him talk earlier today and he's - is he -

“We need to call - ”

Mammon cuts you off, for once. "Hey! I know I ain't the best at magic but even I can take care of a body."

Your heart thuds in your chest. There's a gaping hole in the center of his - it's? - chest. The ribs curve outwards as if something in his chest exploded, the bones exposed with tiny bits of flesh and redness clinging to them in stringy, thin webs.

And then your eyes follow down to its exposed crotch, where there's nothing but a bloody stump - if it could even be called that. Fuck, you can see the -

You have to look away again, back, over into Mammon's eyes.

"A body? Mammon, this is a lot more than just - just a fucking body!!"

He perks up at that, "Ya better believe it is! I wouldn'ta done this for anyone else! Look at him - he got what he deserved. Just like you said!"

Mammon smiles up at you, his eyes flickering, and -

And he looks just as sweet as he did offering you a parfait, just as bashful and unable to hide his delight. A trace of insecurity, as if you're not sure he'll accept his affections, when he's offering you a corpse.

"Mammon..." You trail off, not sure how to say it - just in that tone he knows to think twice about.

You watch him stand, eyes down and bashful like a chastened dog, and a dark aura engulfs his figure - in an instant.

And now you know where all the blood is. his chest is splattered with it; it's a good think his outfit is mostly leather because it's all over him. His boots are all red.

Mammon has never scared you before. And now...

...he still doesn't, because he's giving you puppy dog eyes.

"I gave him just what he deserved, and brought him here for you to see!" He tells you eagerly, fixing his eyes on yours.

Mammon kicks over the body, closer to your feet; its arm rolls out limply as it sags there, like a ragdoll made of flesh.

"I'm the second strongest of all my brothers! The Great Mammon! Not just anybody would do this for ya, and almost nobody could do it as fast!"

Every sentence feels like a new swerve. You look away from his eyes, down -

"It's all for you, ya know? Because... well... I like ya so much..."

- down - there's barely any of the white markings visible on his chest, splattered with redness that trails down in rivulets as you step forward to look at it -

"A-and ya said yourself! He deserved to be punished! So I... y'know. Did what ya wanted... I did your will, master..."

His voice lingers in your ears, high but keening, somehow, that longing you know buried deep inside always calling out -

the rise and fall of his chest, so perfectly defined even with red all over it -

"For you..." Mammons says your name and your heart jumps, "I brought him here for you, at your feet, on the ground, dead beneath you where he belongs..."

You stumble over it, the heavy mound of bone and muscle in the vague shape of a body, tumbling over at your touch, pallid from the loss of blood.

The skin is waxy, and before the massive gash in its chest can make itself known you draw your eyes back, back towards the magnetic pull of Mammon's plaintive words -

His eyes draw you in, in an instant, as you seem to step forward, right into his arms... even as he falls to his knees.

Mammon's face is beatific, adoring.

"Let me show ya... how much I can do for ya, all that I wanna do for ya, I can make ya feel so good.."

You lick your lips. The demon from earlier might be dead... but your heart is pounding - desperately, and something much lower along with it.

[welllpthisishappening]

Only Live Forever in the Lights You Make

Hey, remember that time Killian met Meg in some tunnels in the Underworld and introduced himself as “Captain Killian Jones” before he called himself “Captain Hook”? Because I do and, surprise, I’ve got some feelings about it! As always, I am still on my season five ‘ish, so here is about 4.2K of name-based feelings, some out of place flirting and some, surprise, Captain Cobra Swan that I didn’t plan on until I typed it. I hope you guys got all the carbs you wanted yesterday. 

All credit always and forever to @shireness-says​ for constantly telling me to keep shoving words at the internet. Even before she reads said words. (I only listened to Arctic Monkeys and My Chemical Romance while writing this. Take from that what you will.)

----

The words are heavy on his tongue. 

Still, as if they don’t belong there, or never really did and the feeling makes him ache. Although most of him aches at this point. Killian is sure his gashes have scrapes and those scrapes have bruises and gaping wounds that are likely far more metaphorical than he’s willing to admit. Staring out at the expanse of Main Street doesn’t particularly help. Hazy air hangs low over cracked asphalt, thin branches and dead leaves that only swirl slightly against the barely-there breeze coming from the Gods know where. 

There’s no water here. No hint of salt-tinged air. 

Occasionally there are some strikes of lightning, leaving the sky bright enough that Killian swears he can see for miles. He wishes he couldn’t. None of it looks right, feels even more wrong, and he supposes that’s to be expected in a place like this, but it also seems like another metaphor of sorts and maybe the torture hasn’t ceased yet. 

Maybe it won’t. 

He deserves that, he’s sure. 

Darkness doesn’t scare him much anymore, at least the more literal variety — or so he will swear, but this is somehow even worse. Every flash of light that cracks across the sky dredges up memories of the kind of storms that threatened to capsize any of the ships he once called home, and he imagines it’s something about extremes. 

Complete darkness can blind a man, but so can light. Stunning him, until he has to blink away the dots that hang in front of his eyes and the dots never entirely disappear. 

He shouldn’t have told that lass his name. 

Foolish, that’s what it was. 

“I can hear you thinking from upstairs,” Emma murmurs, slumped against the side of the railing that should lead up to her room in her parent’s loft. Something similar exists in this place, of course. He can’t imagine the blankets on that bed are as soft as the ones he only barely remembers falling into, what now feels like several lifetimes ago and—

“Might be getting worse now, actually,” she adds, “surprised there isn’t steam coming out of your ears too. Y’know, just for good measure.”

Letting out a breath, he’s all too aware of how slumped his shoulders are when he turns. Emma lifts her eyebrows. 

“The streets are already steaming,” Killian says, “anything else seems like overkill, doesn’t it?” “Stupid word.” “Aye, that it is. In poor taste.”

“What are you thinking about?” He tilts his head. Strands of hair fall towards his eyes, but Killian doesn’t make any effort to brush them away. “Did he fall asleep?” “Yeah,” Emma nods, eyes flitting back towards her room and the space she’d marched Henry into nearly fifteen minutes earlier. “About time, too. I think he was half a second away from falling asleep standing, could barely keep his eyes open anymore.” “Stubbornness is an inherited trait.” She clicks her tongue. “You think?” “Rather pointed.” “Nah, definitely round,” Emma objects, “in a circle-type way that could bring us back to my question and what you’re thinking about and—” “—Henry shouldn’t be here.” “No.” Jerking his head up the way he does only guarantees that several muscles in the back of his neck almost audibly object to the movement, Emma giving him a tight-lipped smile that isn’t exactly his, but is at least getting there, and that’s something almost vaguely positive. 

Her hair is longer than Killian remembers it being. 

He tried to remember that. 

Before. 

Wandering — stumbling, more like — around those caves, blood dripping down the side of his face, caking the same strands of hair that now threaten to actually poke him in the eye, and all he could think about was the exact shade of gold Emma’s hair turned in the moonlight. Preferably when she was also sitting in the harbor, feet hanging above the waves as they passed his flask between them. Or on the deck of his ship. 

He didn’t allow himself that particular fantasy very often, though. Getting both felt distinctly like the kind of selfishness he’s now hoping to avoid. 

“Stubborn,” Emma shrugs. 

“Something about circles, love.” “And going in them, yeah. But I’m also legitimately worried about that pinch between your eyebrows, so seems like as good a time as any to fess.” “Fess?” “Confess,” she amends, “more slang.” Killian’s smile isn’t really that. Is more a grimace and twist of his lips, and yet the weight he’s only marginally worried has taken the place of his heart lightens ever so slightly. Nothing beats yet. He’s still dead. “I like that one, actually.” “When we get home I’ll make you a list.” “Of slang?” “Whatever you want.” Neither one of them move. 

He’d like to move. Would love to, really. To cross this space and pull Emma flush against him until she grumbles about the inevitably uncomfortable nature of her perched on either one of his thighs and how his chin digs into her shoulder when he tries to breathe her in, but something about the overall tension in her jaw and the weight of those yet-to-be acknowledged words keeps Killian rooted to the spot. 

Every one of those words came out quicker than the last, as if they were an admission Emma wasn’t entirely ready to make and he’s fairly certain the pinch between his eyebrows won’t ever disappear completely. He hopes she doesn’t cut her hair. 

He hopes to get his fingers in that hair eventually. 

“I mean—” Emma stammers, color rushing in her cheek. “Within—y’know, within...no, fuck that. Whatever you want. Lists of...I don’t know, movies and books and you’re a giant dweeb right? So you’ve got to like books.” “I do, in fact.” “Yeah, yeah, I figured. I just—do they have holidays in the Enchanted Forest? No Thanksgiving or Christmas, right?” Killian shakes his head. Gets the hair away from his eyes. And makes it easier to see the exact moment Emma starts wringing her fingers together. The railing is very likely digging into her shoulder now. “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” she continues, “but uh...shit, what about birthdays? That’s a thing, right?” “Do you think I get two now?” 

One side of his mouth tugs up. Despite any efforts otherwise and his own, rather intimate, knowledge of that edge Emma is quite obviously teetering on. 

Killian’s been balancing there for the better part of the last few days. Ever since she appeared in front of him again, magic wrapping around him and making goosebumps prickle on his skin, a low heat that felt as if he’d been put on simmer without any threat of boiling because he’s not all that capable of boiling anymore, just festering and stewing and—

“I told that lass my name,” Killian says, voice hardly loud enough to qualify as any sort of sound. One of Emma’s knuckles crack. “The one in the caves, another one of Hades’ prisoners. I can’t—Gods, I can’t remember her name.” “Megara,” Emma whispers. “Yeah, I know.” He quirks an eyebrow, a sudden retreat back to flirting that’s not entirely honest. It’s very likely he’s something of a cad. And it’s easier that way. To slink back into the role, and the person he was and that person deserves everything he’s gotten and may still get. 

Of course, he can’t keep it up for very long. 

Not with Emma staring at him like that — far too appraising and understanding, and the whole thing fails rather quickly. 

Completely. Immediately. A few other words that end in ‘ly,’ just to drive the point home. “Wow, you totally suck at that.” Laughter rumbles in the back of Killian’s throat before he can even begin to rationalize the sound, rubbing his fingers into the raw skin just above his brace. “Fraid you’ll have to be more specific, darling.” “Low blow.” “Endearments, or…” “It’s not going to work,” Emma objects, rolling her eyes when Killian’s mouth shifts in the very specific kind of smirk he knows has always worked. “You don’t just get to start playing pirate and think I’ll swoon enough to get distracted.”

“Suggests I’m still able to distract you.” “Like that would change.”

Heat ripples up his spine. Surprisingly, so. The flicker of normalcy catches Killian off guard, facade slipping for half a moment, and that’s far more time than Emma needs. His hair is greasy when he runs his fingers through it. “Are you something of a soothsayer then, Your Highness? Good at reading minds now?” “More circles, babe. Open books, and all that.” He hums. Can’t do much else, actually. Emotion claws at the center of him, threatens to take root in that stagnant heart of his, and maybe that will help, but it also feels like it could drown him if it had a mind to. The give and take of all this may very well drive him insane quicker than anything Hades could hope for. “How do you know that?” “Which part?” “About the girl,” Killian says, “did you find her?” Emma scrunches her nose. “Regina and I did. In the forest. There was blood and—” She shivers. Tries to hide it, but open book works both ways and he’s always been able to tell when she’s thinking too. Or being inherently stubborn. “I was...well, I wasn’t cool about it.” “Sounds suspiciously like a compliment.” “Ass.” Staying upright is becoming increasingly difficult. “I believe that’s been well-documented, m’dear. I’m sorry about that.” “My inability to insult you better?” “That you thought it was my blood.” 

“Presumptuous,” Emma grumbles, although that sort of misses the insult mark as well and he’s genuinely not sure who moves first. Creaking joints give way to a groaning floor, a tangle of limbs and hands that almost immediately search for skin. If only to remind the other that they’re here and real and at least partially alive. 

If Killian feels his pulse pick up, he’s sure he imagines it. 

That’s not possible. 

“And,’ he adds, Emma’s back against the nearest wall now. He has no idea how his head found her thigh. He’s not going to complain. She doesn’t when she inevitably notices how goddamn greasy his hair is. Fair is only fair, after all. 

“And?” Eyes fluttering shut, Killian briefly worries for the state of his muscles. Which appear to be unspooling the longer Emma’s fingers move, tracing over his temple and the furrows of his forehead and it takes all the self control he’s only marginally in possession of not to wrap his arms around her, bury his face in her stomach and sob. 

“And,” he repeats, “that you were ever uncool about any of this.” Her body shakes when she laughs — soft and disbelieving, which is another marker in the stubborn column, really. Killian doesn’t mention that. He closes his eyes. Breathes. Counts his inhales and takes his time on his exhales, only a little disappointed that the honeysuckle scent has disappeared from Emma’s hair. 

“Can I tell you something?” “Anything.” “Half the reason I think we should make a slang list,” Emma says, “is so you can say more of it. Might be one of my favorite things.” “A slang puppet, huh? Here to entertain you.” “Why are you freaking out about telling Megara who—by the way, was not nearly as snarky as her Disney counterpart would have me believe.” “I’m sure being chased around by the three-headed beast of the Underworld will do that to a person.”

Emma’s thumb taps his jaw. Three times. Exactly. “Ah now I feel like an ass.” “Impossible,” Killian mumbles. Turning his head isn’t easy, but he doesn’t have to worry about the rest of his body when he’s splayed out across the floor like this and the muscles in Emma’s stomach noticeably contract when he noses at the hem of her shirt. 

She squirms. Above him and below him, and there it is again. More metaphors. More dichotomy, or some other philosophical bullshit he’s not willing to think about now. When Emma’s breath noticeably hitches. As soon as Killian’s teeth graze her skin. 

“Distracting—” Gasping, Emma’s nails drag across his scalp. Which isn’t as unpleasant as it probably should be. “Ah shit, I can’t think of—” “Scoundrel? Miscreant? Blackguard?” “What century is that last one from?” “Not nice at all, love,” Killian chides, but Emma just widens her eyes and perhaps they’re both dancing. Without any music. “Probably around the time the first King George ascended the throne.” “There was more than one King George?” “Several, if memory serves. You know those royals. Can’t concern themselves with naming creativity, have to honor the past and whatnot.” “Whatnot,” Emma echoes with a smile. “You want to tell me now? About Megara and how she knew your name.” “I told her, we’ve been over this already.” “Yeah, but—” The rest of the sentence disappears on Emma’s shrug, her lower lip twisted between her teeth. Nerves radiate off her, falling in waves Killian can almost see and nearly remind him of the real thing. 

Time doesn’t mean much here. Days pass on loop, and exhaustion is a guarantee more than an occasional state of being. And yet, somehow — as the last few flickers of warmth continue to lap at the base of Killian’s spine, and Emma’s fingers return to their pattern through his hair, something almost like moonlight casts a welcome shadow across the floor. Stretching over Emma’s outstretched legs and bent ankles, it curls up her arm, lingering at her elbow before it drifts towards her hunched shoulders and the edge of Killian’s wrist and then—

It’s gone. 

Disappearing as quickly as it arrived, Killian wonders if he imagined it. He didn’t. He knows, he didn’t. Just as easily as he knows it didn’t happen simply because of him. 

He licks his lips once. 

“I found her,” he starts, “or she found me, I suppose. Not easy to keep your direction underground.” Glancing up, Killian finds Emma’s eyes on him. Wide, they don’t quite demand an explanation, but they want one and he supposes wanting is half the battle. At least metaphorically. “No stars underground, you see.” “Real confident in your navigational abilities huh, Captain?” “Only if you’ll keep saying that.”

She can’t be comfortable when she bends. Twists towards him, and kisses the top of his absolutely disgusting hair. 

There’s a shower upstairs. In the right version of it. He’s not sure what’s here. He can’t bring himself to go up there. 

An absolute coward. 

“Anyway,” Killian continues, “there was a three-headed monster, this lass, and I—we weren’t both going to get out.” “You let her go, though. Told her to go.” He nods. Talking is something of a challenge once more. “As if you’d ever do anything else,” Emma mumbles, a note of pride in her voice that makes every one of Killian’s internal organs clench. That’s all they can do, really. None of them are working all that great, after all. 

“That’s not true.” Tensing, Emma’s fingers still. “That wasn’t really you.” “Ah, that’s not totally true, either. It was at least partially me, all those deep-rooted desires given free reign. But I wanted...she was so scared, Swan.” He doesn’t bother mentioning the rest. Being more specific seems pointless, especially when Emma’s fingers stay exactly where they are. And she knows, anyway. He was terrified. Of what he’d lost and what he’d done and what he’d still be willing to do, if it meant she got out of here. 

Safe. 

He wants them all safe. 

“I told her to find you,” he rasps. “That—I knew you were here, could...feel it, almost. No matter where I was or—” This may be their least organized conversation. Full of tiptoeing and heavy words, unspoken meaning that neither one of them is entirely ready to give credence to yet. “Gave her my name, my—my real name.”

Hair brushes the top of his head, softer than it has any right to be and several things in Killian’s chest threaten to combust. “I was doing a lot of yelling of your name in that bloody forest.” “Joke, or…” “Fresh out of jokes, I think.” He noses at her jeans, not sure if he’s desperate to touch her or the opposite. Desperate to brand himself there, so she’ll remember. No matter what else happens. “I didn’t even think about it,” he admits, “just—I told her to find you, said I was Captain Killian Jones, like that was something I could say, and that you needed to know I was here.” Emma’s silent for a moment. 

Another. Two moments. That become three and four and then Killian’s counting his inhales again and doing his best not to stare too intently at her. She kisses his hair again. Luke she can’t help herself. 

“Had to use the title, didn’t you?” Killian exhales. “Haven’t in quite some time.” “Did you think I wouldn’t have known it was you?” Emma teases, so the joke-thing was something of a lie. A nice one as far as misplaced lies go. Making another noise, he finally burrows closer to her until it’s closer to snuggling and clinging and another round of goosebumps explode on his skin when her hand flattens against his back. “Or,” she says, “was it something else?” “Several somethings, maybe.” “Wanna ballpark for me?” “Not sure I understand that one, actually.” “I don’t need all the somethings, but a few would be good right now. We can get to the rest of them later.”

Those words don’t necessarily fall on top of him. They’re as heavy as the rest, all that meaning and the possibility for a future that seems as distant and impossible as the past or the overall softness of the bedding upstairs. So, while gravity does its best to pull the words down on top of Killian, there’s an ease to them that makes it feel as if they’re simply resting across his back, a reminder that helps keep him pressed to this plane and this place and Emma’s left thigh. 

Which is one of his favorite places to be, quite frankly. 

Usually without the jeans in the way, but dead beggars can’t be choosers. 

“I don’t know why I did that. The name, I—” “Liar, liar.” “Would you like to talk about pants, Swan? Because I have my fair share of thoughts regarding the ones you were wearing in Storybrooke.” “I didn’t pick that outfit.” “Rather good happenstance, then.” “Is deflection a required pirate characteristic?” she asks. “Distract your enemy with half-hearted compliments and—” “—Oh no, those are full-hearted, I guarantee.” “If nothing else, I did look stupid good in those pants.” “Hair left something to be desired, but the pants fit like a glove.” Her smile almost reaches her eyes. Obvious when light filters through the gauzy curtains, once more. “Flirt.” “Only with you.” Emma’s eyes widen. Not in surprise. Closer to frustration. A hint of impatience. The stubborn sort of determination that requires an answer. “And, I—I wanted it.” “Wanted what?” “To be that. Again, I suppose. After everything. All that I’d done, and how much I’d hurt you, I—”

“—You didn’t…” “Swan, let’s be honest that’s the worst lie either one of us has told.” “Ever?” “If not longer.” Huffing out a laugh, she slides further down the wall, a move that can’t feel good on her spine, but does ensure that she’s closer to Killian and he’s still enough of a pirate to want exactly that. “But I—a very long time ago, Captain Killian Jones believed in something. Wanted something, and thought he could get it. Even if some of it was distinctly lawless.” “Probably a requirement for your line of work.” “Ah, well that king deserved all the insults you could come up with. Stealing from him, destroying everything he’d built. That felt like justice, somehow.” “Should I mention the circular nature of time again or is that redundant?” “Unnecessary,” Killian agrees, his mouth inching further up Emma’s ribcage. The noise she lets out is closer to a giggle than he’s capable of dealing with. In a place that’s always tinged vaguely red. “I suppose part of me wanted to return to that. To the ideals, maybe not the laws or the uniforms, but certainly not the…” He swallows. “Villain. Evil. Wrong.” “I never thought you were wrong,” Emma says, soft enough that it’s difficult to hear. Over the ringing in Killian’s ears. And whatever rushes off her. Magic, of course. Responding to emotion and its innate desire to meet him halfway. 

Gods, but he loves her more than he ever believed he could. 

“I know that,” Killian promises, “even when I didn’t want to. Especially then.” “Make it sound less like an insult next time.” Tightening his arms isn’t easy when there’s this blasted wall in the way. Killian tries all the same. Emma doesn’t tell him to stop. “You were Captain Hook,” she adds, “when we found you. Buried under all those bodies in the Enchanted Forest.” “Eventually that’s really all that was left.” “I can make some more snide comments on pants, if you want. What’s the flammability of leather?” “I have no idea, honestly.” She smiles. He doesn’t check. Knows, can feel it in the very center of soul. “Ah, well, they can probably catch fire. Regina’s going to teach me how to do those ball things, anyway.” “Absolutely menacing, Your Highness.” “Don’t you forget it.”

The room is getting brighter. 

Or Killian’s finally fallen off that edge. Either one seems entirely reasonable and maybe even a little enjoyable and he’s not sure when, exactly, he decides to start talking again. Only that the words arrive without much thought and even more feeling and Emma’s eyes don’t leave him.  

“It was a mask. A reason for everything else, an excuse that I’d rationalized so I could fall asleep. Captain Hook was a product of his own misfortune, all those unfair hands he’d been dealt. The loss, the anger, the fury that grew every single time metal found skin. Being that, being him, allowed me to drift further and further into that darkness.” “But?” “But,” Killian repeats. “You found me under a pile of bodies in the Enchanted Forest.” “Oh, that’s kind of nice.” “It kind of was. After you got rid of the blade at my neck.” She flicks his chest. The knot of their limbs is another kind of miracle. “And then everything else that happened. Beanstalks, and Cora, and magic beans and—” “—You came back,” Emma cuts in. “Seems you’ve returned the favor several times over, love.” “That’s how it’s supposed to work, I think.” Maybe he’ll marry her.

The thought strikes him as suddenly as the lightning that flashes outside, a spark that’s eerily similar to the flames Emma was just talking about and there are far too many metaphors bouncing around his skull. He might just have a headache. 

And yet the thought doesn’t disappear. Not immediately. No, it settles. Threatens to grow at the forefront of his brain, where the institution of marriage has never been given much consideration. Until now. With his left shoulder close to popping out of his socket, and Emma’s fingers in his hair and her back contorted while half a dozen bruises on his legs refuse to heal. 

“I love you,” Killian says, unable to do anything else. Except propose, apparently. He should be alive for that. 

And sitting up. 

He can’t bring himself to sit up. 

Only pull himself closer to Emma, until it’s obvious how much he wants and possibly needs and something about a circle. Coming back. Over and over. 

“I know. Which is—” “—Good?” “Better,” Emma says. “I love you, too. Just you, you know that right?” Nodding leads to jeans scratching at his cheeks, but these pants fit fairly well too and both of them flinch at the noticeable creak coming down the stairs. Tufts of Henry’s hair stick up in every direction. 

“You ok?” Emma asks her son, only to get a teenage-type shrug and genetically inherited head tilt. 

Killian narrows his eyes. “What’s the matter, my boy?” The head tilt reaches an angle unaccomplished by anyone over the age of twenty-five. Killian isn’t even sure he could attempt such an angle. But it doesn’t seem to bother Henry and neither he nor Emma point out the use of those particular words in that particular order. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mutters, already stumbling forward. Falling is likely far too generous a descriptor for whatever Henry does next, another mess of limbs that adds to Killian and Emma’s knot, and there are a few more grunts than there should be. 

From all of them. 

Until they find something resembling comfort, Killian’s head still on Emma’s thigh and her legs stretched out so Henry can take advantage of her right one and— “Probably should have found a pillow,” Killian mutters, hoping it sounds like the apology he wants it to be. It’s not enough. Nothing ever could be, really. And he’s not all that surprised by Emma’s head shake, the way it makes her hair sway and brighten under the bit of light they’ve probably created just now and she winces when Henry’s chin digs into her knee. He starts snoring five seconds later. “I’m fine,” Emma says, and it’s impossible to argue with her. Even in this impossible place. “You’re comfortable like this.”

His heart thumps. 

With wishful thinking or more misplaced hope, but it’s there all the same and he kisses exactly where his lips land. 

[mirdaniaa]

i’m in the dark

Aethelflaed needs a date. Aldhelm is just the man for the job.

Rated T

written for @tlkfanficfest bingo

read it on ao3 if you wish

“So, let me get this straight.” Aldhelm folds his hands on top of the table. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for a party, not because you are trying to make your ex jealous, but because you don’t trust yourself around him?”

“Basically,” Aethelflaed admits, blushing guiltily.

“And...what am I supposed to do? Throw myself in your path if it looks like you’re going to hit on him?”

“ I’m not really worried about me initiating anything,” she says slowly. “I’m more worried that Erik will make a move and I’ll do something desperate.”

“I see,” Aldhelm says wryly. “So if he sees you with someone, he won’t hit on you, and you won’t be tempted into desperation.”

“Exactly!”

He considers her. “Are you sure you want me to be your fake boyfriend? I mean, will I really stop him from hitting on you? I’m sort of a…”

“Dweeb?”

“Ouch.”

She smiles. “Sorry. But, to answer your question, yes. Erik is a good guy. He wouldn’t try to get between a couple.” She sips her tea. “Uhtred and Aethelred, on the other hand….”

“They’re both going to be there?”

“It’s a very small world,” she says wryly. “But I’m not in danger of doing something desperate with Aethelred, and Uhtred is one of those men who wouldn’t hit on another man’s girlfriend, if that makes sense, even if that man is, well…”

“A dweeb?”

“I was going to say a beta male.”

“I wish you’d stuck with dweeb.”

They both laugh, but as Aldhelm picks up his coffee, he wonders.

Personally, he doesn’t think that his presence is likely to stop Erik, or Uhtred, or even Aethelred from making a move on Aethelflaed if they really wanted to. He is, as she so bluntly reminded him, a dweeb. They won’t see him as a threat.

But that isn’t why he has reservations.

He has reservations because Aethelred knows—or at least suspects—that Aldhelm is in love with Aethelflaed.

Ironically, Aethelred had been his friend long before Aethelflaed had entered the picture. He hadn’t given Aethelflaed much thought when she started dating Aethelred; he was polite to her, as he was to all of Aethelred’s girlfriends, but he knew she wouldn’t last long, because none of Aethelred’s girlfriends did.

And she didn’t last long, but she did come back, desperate for someone, even Aethelred, to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.

Aethelred, in typical Aethelred fashion, was not interested in her heart, and without even meaning to, she had turned for solace to the only person who was kind enough to listen to her:

Aldhelm.

He’d listened—patiently, if slightly disinterestedly, at first—and before long, he’d found himself falling hopelessly, pathetically, and irreversibly in love with her.

“You’re so easy to talk to,” Aethelflaed had told him over coffee once, and he hadn’t had the courage to tell her that it was because listening to her talk was the highlight of his week.

Aethelred had figured it out eventually, but rather than being upset, he’d been relieved.

“Thank God,” he’d said. “You can fuck her and I can accuse her of cheating and we can break up.”

“Why can’t you just break up with her sans accusations of cheating?” Aldhelm had asked, askance.

Aethelred had rolled his eyes. “Because I want her to feel like she wronged me, so that someday when she’s feeling low, she’ll come crawling back for a pity fuck. She won’t do that if I break up with her just because I got bored of her.”

“I do believe,” Aldhelm had said, “that you are a sociopath.”

Aethelflaed had been the one to end things, and she’d taken Aldhelm with her in the breakup…but before he could summon the courage to tell her how he felt, she’d moved on to Uhtred, and by the time she and Uhtred had ended things, Aldhelm had come to cherish their friendship too much to risk it with his own feelings.

But Aethelred doesn’t know that. Aethelred might say something at the party, and then she’d realize Aldhelm has been in love with her for years, and then he’d look like…

Well.

A dweeb.

But then again, if he didn’t go with her, and Aethelred said something anyway…

“So?” Aethelflaed asks a bit nervously. “Would you, ah, consider it?”

“I’ll do it,” he decides, ignoring the way his heart leaps at her smile. “But if my beta-y presence isn’t enough to deter your exes, I shan’t be held responsible.”

Aethelflaed laughs. “I think we’ll manage just fine.”

.

As the evening of the party draws closer, however, Aldhelm begins to wonder if he’s made a mistake. It’s quite one thing to go to a party with Aethelflaed, and it’s quite another to pretend to be her boyfriend for the duration of that party, especially if no less than three of her exes will be prowling about.

God. Three. One ex, he might be able to handle, but three? He’s supposed to just waltz into a party with Aethelred and Erik and Uhtred and pretend he’s in the same league as them?

He picks up his phone on Saturday to tell Aethelflaed he’s not sure if this is such a good idea, but to his shock, his phone buzzes with a messenger notification from her.

I can hear you thinking.

He laughs out loud, his anxiety momentarily assuaged.

You can hear me from two miles away?

Yes. And I know you too well. You’re having second thoughts.

He hesitates before responding, but she messages him again.

STOP. It’s going to be fine. I’m more nervous than you are.

He smiles at his phone.

Right, sorry. It is going to be fine, and I’m not going to back out.

I can still hear you thinking.

...I don’t know what to wear.

That navy blue sweater you got last fall.

He tells himself not to read into the fact that she remembers that sweater, which he had specifically bought because she said blue was a good color on him. Instead, he puts the phone down and forces himself to take a deep breath.

It’s. Going. To. Be. Fine.

.

Aldhelm meets Aethelflaed in front of her building, and together, they take the train to Finan and Eadith’s housewarming party. Aethelflaed carries a potted plant, as she insists a house isn’t really a home until it has a plant.

“It’s not a home, it’s a fifth floor walkup,” Aldhelm notes wryly.

“Even more of a reason why it needs to feel like a home,” Aethelflaed dismisses.

Aldhelm has to admit, the flat is nicer than he was expecting. He’d been to the flat that Uhtred, Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth had shared in their bachelor days, and it had set some low expectations for tonight. He’s pleasantly surprised, therefore, to find that there is real artwork on the walls, not just a single Inception poster, and that the furniture seems mostly new and in the same color scheme.

Eadith greets them warmly, exclaiming over the plant while her eyes flit calculatingly between the two of them. Aldhelm knows she’s too polite to ask questions—at least while he’s around. As soon as she gets Aethelflaed alone, though, he’s sure she’ll ply her with questions.

“Aethelflaed!” Finan exclaims, bounding over to greet the newcomers. He hugs her warmly, muttering something Aldhelm can’t hear, but he’s positive he hears the name “Uhtred.” “And Aldhelm!” he adds brightly, stepping back.

“Aethelflaed and Aldhelm brought us a plant!” Eadith tells him, but there’s a look in her eyes that Finan picks up on.

“Thank you both,” he says emphatically, wrapping an arm around Eadith’s waist.

“Aethelflaed says a house isn’t a home until it has a plant in it,” Aldhelm offers.

“Well, she’s right,” Eadith says. “Sihtric had the same idea, which is why our bedroom is currently being hotboxed.” She takes Aethelflaed’s hand. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”

Aldhelm watches her leave with a feeling of trepidation. Should he play the dutiful boyfriend and follow? Or would that be creepy?

It doesn’t matter, because Finan waggles his eyebrows at him. “So, you and Aethelflaed.”

Aldhelm can feel himself flushing slightly. “Ah, yes. We are...together.”

“I always thought there was something between you two,” the other man declares proudly.

“Ah, yes, well,” Aldhelm says, not sure what else to say. “I like the new place.”

Finan lights up even more at that, happy to talk about his new home--which, Aldhelm is not at all surprised to learn, was decorated almost entirely by Eadith. Finan can’t stop raving about her taste, and honestly, Aldhelm finds it kind of adorable. He’s enjoying Finan’s rundown of the artwork (local, which would explain why Aldhelm finds it so…not to his taste, but Finan seems proud of it) when an uncomfortably familiar voice exclaims, “Is that fucking Aldhelm?”

Aldhelm tries to keep the smile on his face when Aethelred appears, an unfortunate rosiness to his cheeks that Aldhelm knows means he’s been drinking. “Aethelred.”

“God, it’s been ages,” Aethelred declares, clapping Aldhelm on the back. “How’ve you been?”

To Aldhelm’s dismay, Finan quietly slips away, leaving him to fend for himself. He supposes he can’t blame the other man; he would also like to slip away from Aethelred.

“Oh, fine,” Aldhelm says politely. “How about you?”

“Fine. This party’s lame,” Aethelred laments.

Aldhelm cocks his head. “Not to be rude, but why are you…here?”

“Eadith’s brother is trying to suck up to me so my father will hire him,” Aethelred says smugly.

Aldhelm raises an eyebrow. “And you decided to go to your ex-girlfriend’s housewarming party because…?”

“I heard Aethelflaed was coming.” Aethelred grins. “Is she here? Have you seen her?”

Aldhelm stiffens. “I came with her, as a matter of fact.” And, feeling oddly small, he adds, “We’re together.”

Aethelred’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. “Is that a fact?” His grin widens. “Well, it only took you for-fucking-ever. You’ve been in love with her for how long now?”

Aldhelm doesn’t want to rise to the bait, but he knows he can’t let the question go unanswered. “A while,” he mutters.

“A while. You tosser, it’s been years. I really thought you two were gonna get together when she broke up with me; imagine my surprise when I found out she was dating Uhtred. I guess he’s more her type, though, isn’t he? I mean, he’s good-looking and charismatic, and you’re that creepy friend who’s always lurking, hoping to catch her between boyfriends. That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

Aldhelm can feel his jaw clenching. “No, not really.”

“Not really,” Aethelred repeats, but he’s grinning victoriously, knowing he struck a nerve. “I wonder…if I made a move on her tonight, do you think she’d go home with me? I mean, I’m sure you fulfill her emotional needs or whatever it is she was always going on about, but can you satisfy her—”

Aldhelm doesn’t quite know what possesses him, but suddenly he’s reaching for one of the framed multimedia pieces on the wall and smashing it over Aethelred’s head.

There’s a stunned silence, and then Finan, Uhtred, Sihtric, and Erik cheer loudly.

There’s a commotion as Eadith’s brother bundles a dazed (but mostly unharmed) Aethelred out of the flat and about thirteen people rush to clean up the broken glass. Aldhelm sputters an apology to his hosts, but Eadith waves a careless hand.

“I bought it at my friend’s art show out of pity, and it was worth every penny to see you smash it over Aethelred’s head.”

Finan nods in fervent agreement.

Aethelflaed appears at Aldhelm’s side. “Can I talk to you?” she asks softly.

He nods, following her into the bedroom. It reeks of weed, so much so that Aldhelm’s eyes begin to water as soon as Aethelflaed closes the door. He opens a window, letting in the cool night air.

“Why does Aethelred think you’ve been in love with me for years?”

Aldhelm freezes, pretending to be fascinated by something outside. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“I find that hard to believe. You were close to him. Until we broke up.” Aethelflaed’s voice is tinged with suspicion.

Aldhelm wonders if he could climb out of the window and flee into the night. Probably not. “You know how he is.”

“Aldhelm.”

Unwillingly, he turns to face her, ashen.

She’s staring at him, an unreadable look on her face. “Is there any truth to what he said?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There’s no denying it, not anymore. “I…have been in love with you for a while, yes,” he admits. “And Aethelred knew. In fact, he wanted me to make a move on you while you two were together so you would cheat on him and he would have an excuse to break up with you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “But you didn’t.”

“Well, no, I’m not an asshole.” He clears his throat. “I valued—I still value—our friendship, and I don’t want to ruin it with my stupid crush.” He clears his throat again. “I’m not…just some creepy guy lurking and trying to catch you between boyfriends. But if…my feelings make you uncomfortable…”

“Aldhelm.”

He falls silent, sure she’s going to tell him that he’s a creep, that she never would have asked him to pretend to be her date if—

She closes the space between them and kisses him.

It takes him a moment to recover, to realize that there hasn’t been a mistake, that she’s kissing him, before he remembers to kiss back.

“Does this mean,” he asks after a long moment, “you aren’t totally repulsed by my confession?”

“Not totally,” she teases, and kisses him again. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s get out of here.”

His heart leaps. “Really?”

“Unless there was more artwork you wanted to destroy.”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

Aethelflaed laughs, and leads him out of the room.

[haileygarciasunshine]

I’ll Make a Man out of You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 2,354

Summary: The readers brother gets a letter from SHIELD letting him know due to his abilities he will be required to fight along side the Avengers in the next big battle. 

*Based off of Mulan and the song ‘I’ll Make a Man out of You.’

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

I was thinking of doing a part two to this!

Opening the door to your apartment, you saw your brother sitting on the couch with a letter in hand. Glancing down at the envelope as you sat beside him, it was from S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“Theo....”

“Y/N, according to shield I am needed to fight along side the Avengers.” His voice sounded worried, while he tried to give off the emotion of happiness. “Come on kid, I’m taking you out to dinner to celebrate.”

Standing up from the couch, he headed towards his room. Once he was out of the room, you grabbed his letter looking it over.

Dear Theodore Y/L/N,

We are pleased to inform you of your selection in joining the Avengers into their next battle. We will need you to immediately arrive at the Avengers tower upon receiving this letter. Please keep this letter to obtain access into the tower. Over the next month you will train side by side with some of the best agents from across the country. It is truly an honor to be able to fight along the Avengers, see you soon!

Nick Furry.

“Ready?” Theo asked.

You hummed in response. 

“What do you feel like?” He questioned.

“It’s up to you.” 

“Okay! Your car or mine?”

You hesitated, “Would...Would you mind if we walked?”

“We can do that...Dweeb.”

Theo spent the walk to the restaurant talking about a girl he had met and how he thought this time she might actually be the one. You hadn’t paid much attention to much of the conversation. During the walk, you could only think about how you couldn’t let Theo go. He had gotten severely hurt during the last battle he was in. The doctors had told you that if he were to ever fight in another battle that it would be his last since he wouldn’t make it out alive. They never told you exactly what was wrong with him.

Theo was a very special hero in your eyes. He always give his all into defending however he was defending, he got along well along the men he fought against. He had some extraordinary powers, however since that last battle, he was always worrying about being consumed by them and becoming evil. 

He nudged your shoulder, “Hey, you alright kid?”

“Yeah. Just thinking about how much of a nerd you are.” You teased.

“Keep telling yourself that dweeb.”

Finishing dinner, you both walked back to your shared apartments. During that time, you had finalized your thoughts on what you were going to do about the letter. Making your way to your room, you began to pack items that you would need during your month gone. You had decided to wait until Theo, had fallen asleep so that you could sneak out.

It was now 11:30pm. Placing your hair in a bun, you put on your brothers clothes that you had stolen awhile ago. Grabbing your bag, you softly walked into the living room. Looking at the couch, your brother was cudding his girlfriend in his sleep. Quietly, you leaned down and placed a kiss to his forehead. Tears began disrupting your vision threatening to fall. 

Making your way to the Avengers tower, you quickly got out making your way to the front desk.

“Theo Y/L/N reporting for duty.” You said in a deep voice.

“Welcome! We’re glad to have you join us!” The front desk clerk clapped excitedly. “Please follow me. I’ll lead you to your quarters. Make sure you turn your cellphone off as we will be confiscating it for the duration of your training.”

Right away, you noticed the lack of female presence in SHIELD draft. There wasn’t very many people there to begin with. 

“Maybe Theo should just give up and go home.” One of the fellow men taunted in his group as he passed you by. 

“Yeah! He’s not cut out for it.” 

Training hadn’t been going well. Every sparring match you had gotten beaten up, you were practically covered in bruises from head to toe. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you rubbed your hands along your face. 

“Don’t let them get to you.” 

Whipping around you were face to face with Bucky.

“I’m James but my friends call me Bucky.” He said holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N- Theo.” You quickly corrected. Looking in Bucky’s mesmerizing brown eyes, you were lost for a few beats.

Clearing your throat, you retracted your hand taking a step back.

“I think you have a lot of potential.” He complimented. “Don’t listen to those guys. Prove them wrong.” He said lastly, before he left down the long hallway.

That night, his words rang true inside your mind keeping you awake. Deciding he was right, you wanted to improve your skills, proving them wrong and wanting to make your brother proud. 

Getting out of bed, you got dressed in training clothes before making your way to the training room. Not realizing the current time, you walked in only to be with confused expressions. 

“Theo!” A sudden feminine voice squealed. “I’m Wanda. Bucky here has told us so much about you.”

Buckys eyes met your startled ones. He had a light pink color across his cheeks. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You replied, almost forgetting to speak deeply.

Steve, Sam and Natasha taught you some moves that night. Before, leaving the training room Bucky caught your elbow. 

“Theo...I’m sorry. I... I hope I didn’t cross any boundaries.” 

Looking into his chocolate eyes you replied, “Nah dude. It’s fine.” 

“Uh...Cool... Did you...Did you want to hangout?”

“I would be happy to.” 

That night was the beginning of your friendship with the group. Whenever it was time to eat, you had sat by yourself at a corner table. 

Today was different. As you quietly sat at your corner table, there were voices that seemed to get closer and closer to you.

“Hey, T.” Wanda said excitedly.

“Dude. I’m telling you, she was into you.” Steve was deep in a conversation with Bucky, as he sat beside you.

“Maybe I’m not interested in her.” Bucky said shrugging his shoulders, sitting across from you, “Want to watch the Harry Potter movies tonight, Theo?”

Lifting your gaze to meet his, you felt shock course through your body. The cafeteria was suddenly quiet. Daring to look at the rest of the room, all eyes were on you and your table. You hummed in response, dropping your gaze to the table in embarrassment.

Knocking on Buckys door, he opened it promptly. 

“Hey.” He said quietly.

The butterflies in your stomach erupted flying into your chest. 

“Sup.” You replied making sure to pop the ‘P’.

As the next few weeks went by, Bucky had grown close to you even considering you his best friend besides Steve. He had opened up to you, talking about his life before the War and some of the darkness he continued to carry along with him.

Being brought out of your current daze, you had bruised knuckles from punching the boxing bag repeatedly.

“Could Theo Y/L/N please report to the conference room.”

 A series of ‘ooooh’s’ filled the gym. 

“Shut the hell up.” You teased them back causing the gym to be filled with laughter. 

Walking into the conference room, you saw the familiar faces of the people who had become your friends.Taking a seat you felt as if something bad was about to happen.

“It has come to our attention, that you aren’t who you say you are.” The man speaking cleared his throat. “There will be severe punishment for your actions.”

“Wait. What do you mean?” Steve questioned panicked. “You can’t do this to Theo. I won’t let you.”

“Us either.” 

“Please. Mr. Rogers and friends, calm down.” The man said in annoyance. “This isn’t Theo Y/L/N.”

The room fell silent as all eyes fell upon you. You began to fidget nervously with your hands in your lap.

“Now’s the time to come clean.” He pushed. 

Meeting their gazes, guilt surged through you. Your heart had begun beating so loud, you were able to hear it in your ears. Letting out a sigh, you brought your hand to the baseball cap that you had been wearing since arriving at training. Lifting it up, your long hair fell around your shoulders. 

An tense silence took over the room. 

“Is there anything you’d like to say miss...”

“My name’s Y/N.” Your voice weak. “I took my brothers place. He wouldn’t have made it out of this battle alive. I was just trying to protect him.”

Without another word, the man had security beside you in a matter of minutes, escorting you to your room. Once you had packed up your belongings, you were met with the faces of the Avengers.

“Can we have a minute with her?” Nick questioned sternly.

Leading you into another area, everyone stood in silence.

“Was it worth it?” Tony questioned from beside Nick.

Lifting your eyes from your shoes you met the saddened eyes of the rest of the team. Locking eyes with Tony you replied, “Yes it was.”

“There should be some type of punishment for your actions.” Nick said angered. 

Tony turned to Nick cutting him off of any further insults, “Can we have a moment alone with her?”

Nick hesitated before he nodded, once he left the room, everyone turned their attention back to you.

“I was hoping you would say that.” Tony said suddenly, “Aye, yo, boys.”

There was a secret door that opened revealing the men you had befriended on your training team.

“Y/L/N, I can’t believe you’re actually a chick.” One of the guys said, greeting you with a hug before stopping, “Is it cool if I hug you?”

You nodded in response. 

The rest of your friends greeted you with the same enthusiasm along with hugs.

Turning to the Avengers you looked at them guilitily, “I’m sorry, I lied about who I was.” You nervously fidgeted with your hands. There was hands on your back gently rubbing up and down attempting to sooth you. “I did it to protect my brother Theo. He’s....He’s the only family I have, I couldn’t let him walk into battle.”

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of the goon squad, but I’ve made my decision.” 

“You...You have?” You whispered in disblief.

“I stand behind you, Y/N. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

The rest of the team agreed with Tony. A sudden ping of guilt hit you as the realization dawned on you that Bucky might not forgive you for what you had done. 

“Now that that’s settled, I get the feeling that you kids know something.” 

“Well, our darling Y/N here, is the one who knows something. We just followed her lead.”

There was a sudden nudge on your shoulder, pulling you out of your short daze. 

“HYDRA’s in the building, but we don’t know exactly where....”

You went on to tell them everything you knew about how HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD. One night, your drunk friends were stumbling along the halls, while you were following as sober as can be. You stumbled into a restricted part of SHIELD and saw the many, many HYDRA agents. 

“What’s the plan?” Steve questioned, turning to face you.

“What?” You questioned confused.

“What’s the plan Y/N?”

“Why are you asking me what the plan is? You’re the Captain.” 

Your friend suddenly butt into the conversation placing his hands on your shoulders. Earning a stern glare from Bucky, “She has a plan don’t worry...Wait!” He exclaimed, “Is that why you were so weird about talking about guy things?”

“Dude! Now’s not the time for this!”

“That’s why you were so weird about those conversations!” He busted into a fit of laughter. 

Your cheeks felt like the were on fire, as an engine red color washed across your face.

Going over the plan, you were about to leave the room before a metal hand gripped your elbow once again.

"You lied to me..” Bucky said in disbelief.

Frowning you looked at your hands, “James, the only thing I lied to you about was my name.” 

Lifting your gaze to his, he stood in silence not moving to say another sound. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you left the room.

“You like her.” Steve said from behind Bucky.

He twirled around, “What? No, I don’t.” 

“She’s right you know...She did only lie about being her brother, not the mutual feelings you have for each other.”

As the was under attack, everyone had carried out their duties. Just as you had finished yours, Bucky had made his way to you.

“Sergeant Barnes.” Your friends said standing up straight.

“Buck-” 

Cutting you off his lips met yours with determination. His hands made their way into your hair gently tugging you closer to him, as yours rested on his waist accepting the close proximity. Taking your bottom lip in between his teeth he bit down softly as he lightly sucked your lip. Opening your mouth you allowed his tongue to dance into your mouth, memorizing every crevice. Before it could get heated, he pulled away resting his forehead against yours, as air was filled with panting from the both of you. 

The sound of wolf whistles and cheering quickly filled the air. Giggling you both turned looking at the culprits. 

“Our baby’s grown up.” One of the men said in a teasing tone.

“Okay, Okay let’s go you creeps.” You rolled your eyes holding the door open. 

Once you entered the hallway, the rest of the team was waiting.

“Kid, we don’t have good news.” Tony’s voice was laced with sympathy. “We...We think HYDRA has a hostage.” 

“Very good, Tony.” A line of HYDRA operatives  had lined the opposite direction of the hall. “We do have a hostage. I think you’ll like this one, Y/N.”

The lead HYDRA informant, stepped forward placing a hand on your cheek. Yanking his hand away from you, your friends protectively stood by your side.

“Bring the hostage forward.”

Once the hostage was in your line of sight your jaw fell open as tears began pooling in your eyes threatening to fall.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #9- Cops is Filmed on Location With the Mechs of Law Enforcement

It’s time for some gotdang origin stories, y’all.

Back before the war, when Functionist ideology was really just rocking the scene hardcore, Nightbeat stood outside of Maccadam’s New Oil House and had a chat with Quark.

No, not that Quark, the other one.

Quark’s reading an article at Nightbeat’s request about an attack on something called a relinquishment clinic, by a member of the Decepticons. Quark’s not a huge fan of the Decepticons, because he’s got a good thing going on Functionist Cybertron as a rare proton microscope, and even if things aren’t perfect, they’re pretty okay for him personally. At least he’s aware of his privilege.

Don’t be so quick to judge, Quark. Some Decepticons are into microscopes.

He’s pretty convinced that if the Decepticons get their way, they’re going to murder anyone who’s never handled a shovel. This is the same sort of misconception a lot of people have about the phrase “eat the rich”- it’s more about those who benefit from the social structure by way of oppressing others as opposed to those who flourish within it by their own work ethic and talents.

Granted, we as the reader know that shit is absolutely going to go sideways for everyone once the war kicks off, but Quark as it currently stands shouldn’t be nearly as worried as he is. He thinks Rung of all people is a threat, so you can tell he’s really feeling the paranoia of the times.

Hi Rung! Hope you’re enjoying your you-time. It’s important to have that, good for mental health.

The conspiracy convo gets cut short as Quark’s drink gets dripped in.

I mean, it’s all the same stuff, right? He could probably still drink it. Waste not, want not.

In the present day, we set up our framing device, with all of our friends welcoming Ratchet into the fray, as he shows off the fact that he finally color-matched his hands to the rest of his body.

Here’s a little joke for you: a spiritualist, two doctors, an archivist, a sentient marshmallow, a victim of ritualistic mutilation, and the hottest guy on the ship watch a third doctor walk into a bar.

Gentlemen, please, I haven’t even gotten to the punchline yet.

Anyway, Rewind’s set up this little hang sesh for medicinal purposes, after consulting Chromedome on the nature of the brain.

Rung’s looking a lot better than the last time we saw him, in that he’s got a head again, but he’s not really… functional right now. Hence this little meet up- everyone here has had their paths cross many times in the past, whether they realized it or not.

Except Tailgate, who took a six million year dirt-nap. He’s just here for shits and giggles.

And Swerve, but it’s his bar, and he’s lonely, so of course he’s going to stick around for this.

Anyway, those assembled will be taking turns in telling the story they all played a part in, in an attempt to kick-start Rung’s brain back into letting him do literally anything. Thanks to his obscenely large collection of historical documents and footage, Rewind more or less knows the structure the story will take- as shown by his conspiracy bulletin board that maps out everything that will be covered in the Shadowplay arc. The central pin in all this? Well, it’s Transformers, and it’s been a hot minute since we’ve seen the face of the franchise, so you tell me who it’s going to be.

Rewind sets the scene, giving everyone the skinny on the setting we’ll be in for the next little bit.

Way to see the silver lining, Swerve.

Chromedome starts the story off, because he’s a main character in all this, and also if you think Rewind would pass up the chance to listen to this capital-T-shaped dweeb talk, you’re deluding yourself.

In the past Chromedome worked mechaforensics- y’know, forensics for mecha- under a different name, which we will not be learning at this current time because it’ll muddle the already-convoluted narrative we’re about to get going here. Chromedome had the displeasure of working alongside then-desk jockey, Prowl.

Awful geared up for a desk jockey, ain’t he?

Yep. Chromedome used to be a cop, he partnered up with Prowl, he looked even more like a koala than he does now, and he was on the case of the assassinated Senator Sherma. What they don’t tell you is that if Sherma had turned out to have survived the ordeal of being strung up from a bridge upside-down, he would have been charged with food and health code violations for that little stunt he pulled on Quark’s drink.

Skids breaks the narrative flow to get the low-down on Prowl’s whole deal, because he doesn’t know who that is. Swerve breaks it down real quick, while Rewind provides visual aid.

A for effort.

The boys get a little distracted discussing Prowl’s anger management practices, until Drift asks that they move on, because Rodimus is sending him insulting messages on his tiny and paper thin comm because he can’t handle being ignored by his #1 fan. It’s just as well though, because it’s Drift’s turn to spin the yarn.

So, once upon a time, Drift wasn’t doing so hot. It wasn’t the whole “I’m a murderous Decepticon” thing- that was later on- but rather a horrific drug addiction, sense of self-loathing and being homeless. On the day of Sherma’s assassination, Drift was so out of his gourd on circuit speeders, he didn’t even register the fact that he was approached by a pair of robots and promptly beaten by the two of them for money.

Things looks bad for poor Drift, but not to worry, because the main reason for this arc existing just showed up.

There he is, in all his pin-up art glory.

Orion Pax, the mech who would become Optimus Prime, proceeds to arrest Sonic and Boom- yeah, it’s the two guys from Delphi, we aren’t wasting the brain power on creating two new characters for this one scene, that’s crazy talk- and then calls for a bus to keep Drift from biting it due to drug overdose.

Listen to the professionals, folks. They know more than you about the shit that can kill you. It’s why they get paid the big bucks.

(I have no idea what Ratchet’s salary is like.)

Drift is taken to Ratchet’s super-secret, please-don’t-tell-the-Senate-about-this clinic in the Dead End, where we get a taste of Drift riffing on Ratchet in the present, as he paints a picture of a spiritual young doctor who actively and loudly praises Adaptus as he works on a ODing patient. The Ratchet of the here and now doesn’t appreciate this twisting of the truth, and makes it known by smearing his still-wet hand paint all over Drift’s face.

Shane McCarthy slipped James Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet back in issue #4. Here, Roberts tends to the seeds of their shared past that were planted in the Delphi arc.  

Drift didn’t take Ratchet’s advice back then, something that is and will continue to be a running issue for the two of them, and the sudden downshift in tone lets Tailgate ask about just what in the sam hill a relinquishment clinic is. Chromedome fills him in, Rewind providing visuals.

A relinquishment clinic was a place where a Transformer could sell their body- not in a sex-work way, but literally, as you let someone else have their spark planted into your vacated frame for a short period of time, just to try out different modes and looks. It was expensive, and only used to get around the fact that only the most elite of cybertronians could alter their bodies, because only they had enough influence to have the Functionist Senate look the other way. Ratchet never approved of the practice, and this is where he takes over the story.

Too bad we don’t get to see what all that’s about just yet, because there are more pressing matters at hand, like the fact that Nominus Prime is dead.

Seems like there’s a conspiracy at hand, and Orion is considering introducing Ratchet to a friend on the inside- and in the present time, Drift leaves to go meet with Rodimus so he’ll stop being a pest. Chromedome picks his story thread back up, bringing us to Prowl’s requested autopsy.

The boys in the lab broke Sherma down to his base parts, labeled each part, and laid them out on the floor in no discernible order. Maybe it’s based on the Cybertronian alphabet. I suppose we’ll never know.

The autopsy revealed that Sherma was shot several times, which we’d already managed to suss out at the scene of the crime, without getting half the forensics team involved, but we did get a little something for our troubles.

More evidence for Rodimus’ Uggs.

No, I’m never letting this go, don’t even bother asking.

The kind of glass that they found is only found in one specific area of Iacon, known as Translucentica Heights, and how about that! Prowl just so happens to have a search warrant for Translucentica Heights. Wow. Way to go, Prowl.

Meanwhile, Ratchet and Orion are hanging out at the monument for the Ark-1, which is the ship that fucked off into space and got eaten by the Dead Universe. Cyclonus remembers. I bet he kind of wishes that he didn’t, but he remembers.

Orion’s very good friend the Senator shows up, and Orion introduces him to Ratchet. The Senator was first introduced in Chaos Theory- he’s convinced that Orion is a very special individual, and had his body altered without permission while he was passed out, so that he might one day carry the Matrix.

Orion is maybe just a touch too trusting of authority figures, unless that figure is god himself.

Ratchet helps create a visage of not-plotting, as Orion and the Senator discuss whether or not Nominus was assassinated by the Senate. Dear Senator says “fuck yeah he was” and it was in no small part due to the fact that the Matrix he was carrying was a fake.

There’s also something that’s going on between Sentinel and the Decepticons, which leads Orion to ask about Megatron and how he’s doing. He’d probably be doing a hell of a lot better if you hadn’t given the Senate that he directly opposes his full name and occupation, Orion, but it’s sweet that you’re worried.

Back with the wonder cops, Chromedome and Prowl are shooting across the sky to the tune of Shooting Star as they make their way over to Translucentica Heights. They discuss the validity of claims that the Institute exists as they make their way over to Sherma’s apartment building, when someone gets thrown out the window from roughly 4000 stories up.

Trailbreaker was right, Fort Max having guns in his legs doesn’t make him special, if these losers are doing it too.

In the present, Drift’s finally caught up with Rodimus in the oil reservoir, where he’s coaxing Grapple like a wounded baby deer through pulling something out of the muck.

It’s Red Alert, and he’s seen better days.

I mean, sure, that seems like the most likely option, seeing as he’s the only non-Autobot aboard this giant stupid ship, and you haven’t done anything to actually gather evidence on what’s happened to our pal here. It makes sense for the knee-jerk reaction to be to blame the dude who blew up Kimia.

We’ll see where that line of thought gets us next issue.

[marvelslut16]

Prom night

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Synopsis: The day for Steve to take (Y/N) Henderson to prom has finally arrived. While they have grown closer over these past few months, can he use this night to woo her and finally ask her out? Or will it be ruined by Tommy H. and Carol?

Word count: 2085

Warnings: Swearing, slight violence, Tommy H. and Carol being complete assholes. 

A/N: This is a sequel to milkshakes and fries, but can be read as a stand alone story. I was ecstatic when someone requested I do it (even though I was gonna write it anyway). So two long months filled with homework and injuries later, I’m finally posting prom night. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did. For some reason I absolutely adored this one, and it’s my new favorite thing I’ve written. 

Months have passed since Steve Harrington asked you to the prom, and boy did those months fly by. Steve hasn’t backed out of your ‘date,’ like you assumed he would, he has actually been spending more time with you. He comes over after school some days to spend time with Dustin and to get homework help from you. The biggest change that has happened are those pesky little butterflies you get when he accidentally bumps your hand, or when he smiles at you.

“(Y/N), Harrington is here,” Dustin pops his head through your doorway, whatever smart ass remark he is going to say dies in his throat as he catches a glimpse of you dressed up. 

Your hair is styled in an updo and you have a light layer of makeup on. Of course you used some of Dustin’s Farrah Fawcett spray to keep your hair in place. You decided to skip a necklace since the neckline of your dress went up your neck. You also opted out of chunky and large earrings for an elegant small pair of diamond earrings your grandmother had given your mother. Lastly was your red dress, the top was sparkly and slightly off the shoulder. There was an open portion in the back, and the bottom was plain and flowy. 

“Whoa,” Dustin’s eyes look like they're about to pop out of his head. 

“Is it that bad?” you spin around to face your little brother. “Maybe you should just tell Steve that I don’t feel good enough to go.”

“Are you shitting me? You look amazing, and your definitely fucking going,” Dustin gives you a stern look. “Steve is nervously pacing the living room, you better get out there.” He pushes you out of your room and towards the living room, where your date is waiting.

Date, that’s so strange to think about. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington had asked you, a nerdy nobody to go to prom with him. Granted he’d lost his coolness when he got dumped by Nancy Wheeler. But the new, genuine Steve, he’s so much better. The Steve that cares about Dusty’s well-being, who wears his heart on his sleeve, and who embarrasses himself every time he asks you for help on his homework. If you didn’t know any better, you might say you were falling in love with the new Steve. But that’s impossible, right?

You’re breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on Steve. He’s in a black tux that fits perfectly, and he has a red bow tie that matches your dress to a t. You’ll have to thank Dustin for that later, he was in charge of helping Steve get the right color tie. 

“You look beautiful,” Steve breathes when his eyes land on you. A light pink blush colors his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you all dressed up.

“So do you,” your ears burn hot, feeling the heat raise up to your cheeks. Dustin is snickering at your mess up behind you as your mom grins from ear to ear. “Handsome! I mean, you look handsome Steve.” The two of you hold eye contact, with little smiles gracing your faces for what seems like an eternity. 

“Stop looking at my sister like that,” Dustin’s face scrunches in disgust. “It’s gross.”

“Shut up dweeb!” you turn and glare at Dustin.

“That’s enough,” your mom walks between you and Dustin. “It’s time for pictures!”

Steve nervously pulls a simple white rose corsage out from behind his back and places it delicately on your wrist. You hear the snap of the camera go off repeatedly as your mom takes multiple action shots. You giggle nervously as you attempt to pin a matching boutonniere on his jacket without stabbing him. Steve’s intense gaze isn’t helping either. 

After the flowers are situated, your mom poses you, with Steve behind you and arms wrapped around your waist, and your hands lay delicately over his. He keeps trying to resituate, accidentally tickling your sides causing you to giggle, making him laugh as well. You grin over your shoulder at him, and the way the lights reflect off of his hazel eyes is mesmerizing, it makes the green come off a shade brighter. The two of you reluctantly step away from the others embrace as you go to leave. 

“You hurt her you’re fucking dead Harrington,” Dustin promises, getting up in Steve’s face. The familiar flash of the camera goes off as your mom giggles. You grab Steve’s hand and pull him out the door. “Just remember I know where your bat is!” Your mom laughs at Dustin’s words, taking them as empty threats. But Steve takes a big gulp of air knowing he means every word he says.

“Bye mom, bye Dusty,” you call to them as you pull the front door shut behind you. 

Steve stutters through some jokes as he drives you to dinner, your jaw drops slightly as you pull into Enzos’ parking lot. Steve grins at you as you stare at the building in front of you, there's a little sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Steve, this is too much,” you protest when he walks around the car and opens your door for you. He offers a hand, and gently helps you out, briefly pulling you into his chest. 

“I want to spoil my date,” he grins at you, his stupid goofy grin. Not that ingenuine smirk he always had plastered on his face when he was King Steve. You don’t know how to respond, so you just grin at him and lace your fingers through his. 

Steve leads you into the fancy restaurant, where there’s a quartet playing and lights strung up. You grin at him and squeeze his hand. 

“Reservation for Harrington,” Steve smiles at you, barely even glancing at the pretty hostess. The familiar heat of a blush makes its way to your cheeks, and you smile down at the ground. 

While you and Steve are eating your entrees he tells you his good news, “I got the job at Scoops!”

“That’s fantastic!” you grin widely at him. You had helped Steve prepare for his interview. When he gets nervous he tends to clam up and make a fool of himself, and he really wanted this job. It was his way of proving to himself, his parents, and even you, that he was more than just a trust fund baby who lacked the basic skills needed in life. “I’m so proud of you! I have my interview at JCPenney’s next week, so we might work a few stores away from each other.”

“We can have lunch breaks together, and I can give you free ice cream as often as you want!” Steve’s so excited he looks like he could start bouncing in his seat at any moment. You grin at him, and reach across the tabletop to lace your fingers with his. For two friends, the two of you touch each other too often, always savering the warmth that went straight to your souls. 

“I’d like that.”

--

“I’ll get us some punch,” Steve’s hand ghosts over the small of your back as he whispers in your ear. The two of you had been at prom for almost an hour, awkwardly standing on the sidelines as happy couples danced. 

“Well if it isn’t Henderson, and looking extra grody I see,” a familiar and annoying voice says behind you. Steve has been gone for less than a minute and his ex-friends were already on you like vultures. 

“And dateless no less,” Tommy H. joins in on Carol’s teasing. “I didn’t know that was allowed.”

“I have a date,” you say quietly. 

“Then where is he?” Carol steps closer, laughing mere inches from your face. 

“Getting us punch,” you say stronger this time, fists clenching at your sides. “He’ll be back any minute now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you try to walk past them towards the table Steve walked off to. But Tommy H. stepped in your way, and you almost walked into his scrawny annoying chest. 

“You aren’t going anywhere sweetheart, not when you lie to us,” Tommy H’s fingers wrap tightly around your wrist. 

“Where’s your boyfriend Billy? I’m surprised you two aren’t attached at the hip,” you sneer at the bully. His face is so close his large nose is poking yours, and you can smell the cheap beer on his breath. “Now, could you please extract your ugly freckled face from mine, it would be greatly appreciated,” you deadpan, irritation growing as his grip on your wrist without the corsage tightens. 

“You better watch yourself,” Tommy H. threatens, his nails digging into your skin as hand tightens this time. 

“Let go of her,” Steve growls from behind Tommy H, punch long forgotten and discarded on some table. You sigh in relief at his arrival, not knowing how much longer you could have held them off. As soon as Steve sees that Tommy H’s grip loosened he whips him around, staring him down. 

“Don’t do anything stupid Harrington,” Tommy H. sneers. “Wouldn’t want to damage that pretty face of yours before you can convince your date to put out.” 

“Don’t talk about (Y/N) like that,” Steve’s hands grip threatening around the lapels of Tommy H’s jacket. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Tommy H. laughs. “You never win a fight.”

“Steve,” he glances at you, the pleading look in your eyes makes him loosen his grip on Tommy H. He growls as he roughly pushes the shorter teen back, causing him to trip over a chair and fall onto his back. 

“Tommy!” Carol’s fake voice goes up one annoying octave louder before rushing to her boyfriend's side. 

“You stay away from (Y/N) Henderson,” Steve threatens. “And you best watch what you say about her and Dustin.”

Steve grabs your hand and twirls you onto the dance floor, and away from your bullies. “When did you get so smooth Harrington?” you giggle as he spins you into his arms. 

“When I wanted to start impressing you Henderson,” he admits softly, pulling you in closer to him. 

You don’t know how to respond, so you sway to the music with Steve. Being in his arms feels so right, but so wrong at the same time. He is Dustin’s best friend, and you don’t want it to be awkward for them if anything ever happened between you. The familiar beginning notes of a Foreigner song are being played by the band on the stage in the front of the gym. Steve’s voice joins, out of tune, the baritone voice from the lead singer.

“When you love someone, when you love someone, it feels so right, so warm and true, I need to know if you feel it too. Maybe I'm wrong, won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong?

This heart of mine has been hurt before, this time I want to be sure,” you pull away from Steve’s shoulder and stare into his eyes. There’s nothing but sincerity in those hazel eyes as he sings to you. 

“When you love someone, yeah, really love someone. Now, I know it's right, from the moment I wake up till deep in the night, there's nowhere on earth that I'd rather be than holding you tenderly,” you sing back, causing Steve to smile shyly at you.

“I love you (Y/N),” he admits nervously, but never breaks his eye contact. 

“I love you too, Steve,” the words slip out of your mouth. Tears prick your eyes as you realize just how much you mean those words, you would be lost without Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. 

Steve grins at you, cupping your face and pulling it to meet his half way. The moment your lips touch your breath leaves your body, a fire lights through your body and rests deep in your soul. For the first time in over two years, you feel safe and content. Happy. Who would have thought King Steve would have been the one to make you so indescribably happy? You’ll have to thank Dustin for this later. 

“I’ll follow you anywhere Steve Harrington,” you breathe out as your lips disconnect. 

“Well it’s a good thing I never want to be without you then,” Steve’s thumb caresses your cheek as he smiles the widest you’ve ever seen. You swear if his smile gets any bigger it’ll split his face in half. Then again, your sure your faces mirrors his.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny​

[nodesiretogrowup]

alrighty, let’s recap this bitch!

LAUNCHPAD! I’VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH! PLEASE COME BACK!

I looked up when National S’mores Day is (because I’m a nerd) and it is August 10. So either the photo later was mislabeled or, more likely, Launchpad got the wrong info

Huey with the little baby scouts is TOO CUTE!!

I wonder if Violet’s there. Probably not because she would have been hanging out with Huey if she was. Or this episode was meant to come before Challenge

It’s a baby beagle boy! I wonder if he’s there of his own will or if it is part of some plan

He scared away most of the kids! Now they won’t get to enjoy s’more-y goodness

His s’more sounds DOPE AF, though it probably would give you INSTANT DIABETES

“Aw, not even a modern robot.” MY SWEET SON!

I know it was the bully saying it, but Huey should chill a bit when it comes to doing things EXACTLY and PERFECTLY. It’s just gonna cause stress

 BOYD IS BABY AND I LOVE HIM

“Would you like to be friends?” “Sure. Wow, that was easy.” If only it was always that easy

I don’t know if Huey has the JWG as memorized as he thinks, going by Challenge and Quack Pack

“We’re just kids.” “Definitely!” *uses laser eyes to light fire*

This episode does a good job showing what a trigger word/phrase is like, though I’m not sure if that was the intention

I like that a squirrel with a burnt tail scurries out of one of the trees. It’s the attention to detail that helps elevate this show

Instead of jumping out of the way or hiding Huey jumps straight onto Boyd to try and help him. Huey already sees Boyd as someone worth protecting

The kid that just runs across the screen while his hat is on fire is great

Not sure why they took the time to change before going to Gyro but whatever

BOYD IS ADORABLE AND I LOVE HIM

“I’m more than an intern, I’m a scientist.” I feel like this might be hinting at Fenton’s arc for the season, possibly wanting to be seen more as a scientist than a superhero

I’m gonna pretend that using sunglasses on someone who is shooting lasers out of their eyes is a Cyclops reference. And they look pretty dope too

At least Fenton knows when he is in over his head...this time

Gyro trying to climb up on the table to avoid Boyd was kind of funny. And then him protecting himself with Lil Bulb

“Which one?” Manny is DONE with this shit

“Boyd? What idiot called it that?” Even when he’s not there, Gyro can still burn Mark lol

I figured 2-BO was a reference to something but wasn’t sure what. Apparently it’s a bit of a play on the name of Astro Boy’s in-universe creator’s son. Neat

 Huey stays in between Gyro and Boyd to protect Boyd

Fenton’s face cracks me up. There are NO THOUGHTS in this man’s head lol

“You were an intern like me?” “Nothing like you.” Damn Gyro, why so salty?

I don’t know why Fenton is so surprised that Gyro was an intern. I feel like that’s a pretty standard thing

LOVE IS STORED IN THE BOYD

It make me sad when Gyro mentions how many times Boyd’s core programing was altered. Poor baby doesn’t really get a say in what happens to him

“ROAD TRIP!” Huey, you do these kinds of things ALL THE TIME. I feel like he should be used to this by now

“YOU’RE not going. GIZMODUCK is.” Does Gyro see Fenton and Gizmoduck as separate entities or is this just a no, but yes type of joke?

Huey standing up for Boyd is so sweet. They barely know each other but Huey trusts him

When the episode doesn’t have the theme song you KNOW shit’s ‘bout to go down

I wonder who’s flying the plane. My guess is Launchpad because Della would have been cooing over Huey making a new friend and go into embarrassing mom mode. He probably went of on his own adventure or did tourist things like buying collectables. Or maybe Gyro flew them there. Who knows

As many people have said, the art direction and animation for this episode are BEAUTIFUL. I love the pink tint the lighting has in most of the episode

SAILOR MOON CONFIRMED CANON

I bet Mark Beaks is a Sailor Moon fan

I like that the in-universe Sailor Moon is a bunny because Usagi is Japanese for rabbit

I love that going incognito nowadays means you wear a hat, a hoodie, and sunglasses. Boyd looks good in red (though red is my favorite color so I might be biased)

Gyro-takes one step and the fuzz shows up. NOICE

I like detective lady. She has a cool design

Huey and Fenton are awful at acting casual

“Crimes?” Oh my sweet Hubert. I’m pretty sure most if not all of Scrooge’s employees have had run ins w/ The Law

Gyro is like, move I’m gay

“I’m here on a very important...field trip.” ALL THE KIDS NEED A GYRO FIELD TRIP LIKE HOW THE GAANG GOT ZUKO FIELD TRIPS

Lil Bulb said FUCK THE POLICE

I wonder what it actually says

Fenton just watches as the inspector chases Lil Bulb

Seriously though, Fenton does a bunch of silly stuff in the background and this episode warrants a rewatch SOLELY for him

How did Lil Bulb know where to find them? And how did he shake off the inspector? I want to see his little adventure

FOR SCIENCE!

“Blah!” *arm armor attaches* I want this joke to come back

Fenton and Huey INSTANTLY nerd out. I love them

Fenton being a Gyro fanboy is ADORABLE

“AH, DUST IN MY EYE! The dust of GENIUS!” What a dweeb lol

I like that Fenton keeps the arm on for the whole scene

Poor Boyd, he looks so scared

Huey going into protective big brother mode

Doofus continues to be equal parts hilarious and disturbing

Where are their parents? Like, someone should be looking after these kids! ESPECIALLY DOOFUS!

“Do you need a hug?” I SURE FUCKING DO

Mark is such a prick lol

“NO WAY, A ROBOT BOY! DREAMS DO COME TRUE!” YOU DON’T DESERVE THAT DREAM YOU COCKWAFFLE

SOMEONE HUG THIS CHILD! BECAUSE I CANNOT!

“Seems like the little guy’s had it tough.” MY POOR BABY

Lil Bulb gets SO PISSED he blew a fuse

You really shouldn’t have left them alone, Gyro

Why does Fenton automatically jump to superhero for Boyd? I mean the theme of the episode is letting Boyd choose who he wants to be so of course Fenton would have his own idea of what Boyd should be, but why go straight to superhero? Do you want superbros, Fenton?

Huey already realises this might be a bad idea, because he’s more concerned about Boyd as a person rather than Boyd as a machine

“IN RETROSPECT WE PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE USED THE FIRST HOLE” Fenton, you dumbass genius

Dr. Akita’s setup made me laugh. I DIED when he “enhanced” the image

I recognized the character on the chips though I don’t know their name. I’m more of a western animation fan, so many of the references probably flew pass me

BOOP

I also have a key on my laptop that flies off (it’s the u key)

I LOVE BABY GYRO! It’s so cool they went with his og look (minus the red hair) to show him younger

I LOVE THE OUTLAW COUPLE! SO COOL! SO HOT!

Huey is so DONE with Fenton

I love the stupid G pose he does. PLEASE HAVE HIM DO IT AGAIN. PREFERABLY WHEN DW IS NEARBY

Such a polite boy

“My bones are metal!” This line and Boyd’s catchphrase of “Hi, I’m Boyd/2-BO, a definitely real boy!” reminded me of Olaf. The end of the episode gives Boyd even MORE Olaf parallels

Gizmoduck sliding by those boxes was cool

How did Gizmoduck get himself unstuck from that alley?

I loved the double take the female outlaw does

Huey is TRAUMATIZED

I legit thought Boyd was gonna light the oil on fire the first time I watched and I was like that won’t help

“So, what do we do now?” “I...don’t know.” This is why you don’t leave babies alone to fight criminals

Boyd reminded me of Calculester from Monster Prom when he asked the lady to return the money

STOP LEAVING THE CHILDREN ALONE! THEY ARE BABIES! THEY AREN’T EVEN TEENS!

“Why do we always fight when we’re on vacation?” Because this is Ducktales and there is no such thing as a normal vacation

Lil Bulb just kicking his lil feet

The “lab” safety poster made me chuckle. Then I remembered Akita is also a dog and I laughed more

LITTLE BABY GYRO GRADUATING! My guess is his professor/dean/principal influenced him on a personal level and is partially the reason Boyd is a parrot

Lil Helper blueprints. Nice reference to the og series

Has anyone talked about the poster with the cogs and the dogman in old-timey clothes that says GIZMOS on it? I think it’s a Dr. Who reference

IDEALISTIC GYRO AND BOYD IS TOO CUTE!

How did he NOT notice the second hole in the wall?

That is a surplus of handcuffs. Do you think she uses them for...fun times?

“I’m just a guy! With very bruisable skin!”

Poor misunderstood Gyro inventions

Boyd just politely waves at everyone

Huey is WAY calmer than I would be if I got lost in an unfamiliar city

Boyd says FUCK WORK

 I love Huey stimming. Really hope Disney will let them confirm in words that Huey is autistic

Is it more common for two kids to wonder around by themselves in Tokyo? Because as an American I find it super stressful and would want to find their parents so they could be safer

THE BUNNY! AND THEN THE KITTIES!

Do cats just take buses on their own in Tokyo?

CHERRY BLOSSOM TIME BITCHES

“And I know what you’re thinking, what about ninjas?” I am ALWAYS wondering about ninjas

I like that Huey finally has a friend who shares the same interests and doesn’t mind info dumps

“Boyd, I don’t think you’re a killer robot. You’re just a kid.” “Aw, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” T_T

I CAN SHOW YOU THE WORLD

I like Boyd’s motief

Akita is us after the quarantine

When he complained about being stiff I was like mood

I like his Green Goblin disc thingy

The other people don’t give a shit about Boyd just FLYING DOWN WITH HIS ROCKET FEET!

Gyro shows up *dramatic wind*

His tablet has a duckie on it. I wounder if they have a Mac/PC thing going on with Waddle and what brand the duckie represents

When the adults argue and Boyd gets all sad and scared I FELT THAT

Huey doing his best to keep Boyd calm and defend him SO PURE

OH GOD HELP THIS POOR CHILD!

HUEY IS A GOOD BOY AND A GOOD FRIEND

“Because of you I’ve become an outcast.” I feel like you did that to yourself

ANIME HAIR POOF

ngl, that shit was TERRIFYING

“You don’t have to do what Akita tells you. Do what I tell you.” So close

“INTERN! FIGHT BETTER!”

Huey must weigh NOTHING if Gyro can pick him up

Akita’s tail looks like a cinnamon roll

Huey always finding that hidden info

The gibberish Gyro says is great

BOYD SAYS IT BECAUSE GYRO TOLD HIM THAT!

THAT HUG!!!

HOW DARE AKITA HURT BABY GYRO AND SWEET BABY BOYD?!

PROTECTIVE PAPA GYRO

NEEEEERRRRRRRD FIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT

“You’ll never invent anything worthwhile.” LIL BULB HAS ENTERED THE FIGHT

Are doggos recyclable?

HUUUUUUUUUUUUUGS

Blue eyes=good robot

ANOTHER HUG

Be Only Yourself, Dude

I like that basically Gyro admitted that he was like Fenton if Fenton hadn’t had support

“That’s not technically how doctorites work, BUT I DON’T CARE!” Do you think Gyro doesn’t have his doctorate or do you think he assumed Fenton already had one?

“The hugging is a ‘just for today’ thing.” YOU CANNOT STOP THE HUG TRAIN!

“Leave. Now.”

Are they gonna go to the plane?

This season has been consistently knocking it out of the park! I’m a SLUT for backstory episodes, so I enjoyed this one a lot. I loved seeing Gyro when he had hope and faith in the world. It SUCKS that Akita took that away from him. Hopefully Gyro will see things slightly less cynical now. Fenton was a dweeb the whole episode and I love him for it. Boyd is SO SWEET AND PRECIOUS and in NO WAY deserved the treatment he got. I have a feeling there is more to Boyd’s creation/Dr.Akita that we’ll get later on. Huey was ADORABLE this episode. It’s really sweet to see him hangout with someone who gets him. Everyone deserves to have at least one friend like that. The fight scene was GORGEOUS! SO FLUID! I really loved this one and I hope we get more Team Science episodes because these characters play really well off each other. 

[bangtangcorner]

Chapter 1 : The Interview

pairings: mafia boss!park jimin x reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: You were just a pawn in the play. Things take a twisted turn when you fall in love with the one you were supposed to cheat on. Chaos, as usual, ensues.

warnings: a few cuss words, that’s all. Oh and a little bit of a toxic relationship?

a/n: OH MY GODDDD I AM SO EXCITED TO START MY FIRST EVER FIC ON TUMBLR! I really really hope that whoever reads this, likes it :) There is no particular time for the updates but I’ll try my best to keep them regular. Feedback and criticism of any kind is always appreciated <3

part of the deception series

****

Why do you sound like ‘soul’?

What kind of soul is it that you have?

What holds me back at your side like this?

****

“You are going to wear that?”

I turned around and saw Jackson sitting on the edge of my bed with a deep scowl on his face.

I looked down at my outfit and frowned, “What is wrong with this?”

“Baby, no offense, but you don’t look like you’re going for an interview to work for Seoul’s biggest Mafia in those clothes. Wear a skirt at least.”

“No” I deadpanned.

He raised his brows and tilted his head to the side,”Are you saying no to me?”

My breath caught in my throat as I panicked, my face contorting into a frown.

“I, uh... I-”

“I’m letting it slide right now, but think before you speak next time.”

I nodded and let out a shaky breath before turning around to look at the mirror and coated my lips with some peach gloss before spraying some perfume. I picked up my sling bag and slid in some essentials into it.

“Okay, I’m ready!”

Jackson locked his phone and stood up, standing in front of me. His hands firmly grabbed me by my shoulders as he looked me in the eye.

“Don’t do anything that you don’t want to. Don’t answer anything that you’re uncomfortable answering. You can’t, under any circumstance, blow your cover, you get me? We’re doing this for us, for Baekhyun. You understand, don’t you babe?” His eyes were bleeding into mine, tone stern.

“Yes, I understand.”

He smiled brightly at my words and dropped a little kiss on my forehead.

“Great, at least you didn’t wear those shitty pink sneakers of yours.”

“Jackson!”

****

“Hi, I’m here for an interview?” The statement came out more like a question. I couldn’t help it, the surroundings made me jittery.

The girl at the front desk seemed to notice this as she chuckled, typing something in her computer.

“First time in a place like this, sweetheart?”

It was a warehouse turned into a makeshift office. The walls were black, paint crippled. The furniture looked old and damaged. People were rummaging around the whole area, some with files and papers in their hands, others with guns and knives. It was hectic; not one person looked like they had slept for more than 3 hours.

I looked back at the girl who was now looking at me with raised brows.

“No, not really.”

As soon as the words escaped my mouth, someone came barging through the front door. His face was extremely bruised, cuts on almost all of his exposed milky skin. He doubled over and groaned, spitting out blood while falling to his knees. His hands clutched his stomach and people rushed to him, helping him up and taking him to what I’m assuming, the infirmary. He removed his blood covered hand from his stomach to reveal a big gash, continuously bleeding. I cringed at the sight and twirled around on my feet.

“I take my words back.”

She laughed lightly, “Your name?”

“Y/n”

“You gotta wait for a few minutes.”

I sat down on one of the chairs laid out beside the front desk. I took my phone out and saw that I had a missed call from Jackson. My fingers quickly worked against the phone screen as I called him back. He picked up at the first ring.

“So now you don’t pick up my calls, huh?”

“Jackson..I was talking to the receptionist.”

 “You know it doesn’t work this way baby, no excuses, remember?”

“Yes, I’m sorry Jackson, it won’t happen again.” I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning back against the chair.

“It’s okay Y/n, when is your interview?”

“It’s i-” 

“Y/n!” I looked up to see the receptionist nodding at me, silently telling me it was time.

“I have to go Jackson.” I said as I stood up and slid my sling over my shoulder.

“Knock em’ dead baby.”

“Bye.” Slipping the phone in my sling, I followed the girl to the elevator.

“15th floor?”

“He likes heights.” She smiled. “I’m Rosé by the way, and I’m not a receptionist. Thought you should know, just in case you get the job.”

My face turned red as I looked down at my feet, feeling embarrassed. She clearly had heard my conversation on the phone earlier.

“What do you do then?

“I’m his secretary. My girlfriend works at the front desk but she’s running a fever today so I’m covering for her.”

“Oh”

The elevator ‘dinged’ and opened, revealing the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen. The city looked breathtaking, the sky sparkling under the sunlight. 

“Surprised?” Rosé’s voice snapped me out of my stance. I turned around to see her grinning face.

 “This floor is exclusive so you should feel lucky to be here. And Y/n..”

I looked at her, she continued, “To the outside world, this is a normal warehouse. It should stay like that. We both know the power boss has, if you leak information, you’ll be basically signing up for your own death.”

I nodded, too dumbfounded to say anything. The whole building looked like it was severely trashed but this floor was absolutely gorgeous. The walls had a beautiful texture and were adorned by various paintings. 

“These paintings are marvelous.” I said as I walked closer to the wall on my right. The colors were lively and splashing into each other. It made me feel warm in the chest, made me feel content and calm.

“I know hun, but you can stare at these for as long as you want once you get the job and for that, you gotta ace that interview with boss.”

I giggled and followed Rosé down the hallway. We stopped at two huge doors. She knocked twice before calling his name out.

“What?”

“I have the hacker chick for the interview.”

“Send her in.”

Rosé turned around and patted my shoulder, “I hope you get it, you seem like a great girl.”

I nodded and looked at the door before closing my eyes shut and taking a deep breath. Now or never.

With a shaky breath, I pushed the doors open. My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes fell on the seven overly exquisite men scattered all over the room. I suddenly felt dizzy, bombarded with too many alluring faces at the same time.

I bowed down to all of them which they acknowledged with short nods. 

“Hey, you must be Y/n?” The one with dirty brown hair squealed, his big grin almost blinding me.

“Hobi, calm the fuck down!” The one with blue hair scolded him.

“Please sit Y/n.” The one who sat at the desk in the middle of the room said. My eyes met his and for a whole second, I could feel my heart violently throbbing in my chest. His blond locks were perfectly styled on top his head, eyes captivating and lips plump and red like fresh cherries. He looked back at me with the same amount of intensity with which I stared at him, his mouth parted slightly.

I cleared my throat and took a seat in front of his desk.

“I’m Park Jimin” He said as he offered me his hand. As soon as his fingers clasped in mine for a handshake, I felt my skin burn at the touch. His skin was  soft yet had the right amount of roughness.

“Y/n Y/l/n, but you probably already knew that.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat and nodded, bending forward to pick up a file. He started flipping through it while clicking his tongue.

“You have quite an impressive resume, Ms.Y/n.”

“Thank you Sir”

“I don’t really give a shit about this.” He said as he threw the file on the desk. I gasped in surprise and slouched back in my seat, suddenly feeling very small under his condescending stare.

“I know you hacked your college’s server to bring down the college website because it was trying to stop the students riot against the authorities. That was enough for me to know that you’re not only good at what you do, but you also do it for a good reason.” He said.

His words made me smile, his voice softer than before.

“What I need to know is that you will be loyal to me, to my men. Give me one reason why I should hire you and not those pathetic dweebs who need this job a hundred times more than you do.”

My throat felt parched as I tried to speak.

“Can I have a glass of water?”

Jimin nodded and pushed his glass towards me. My hands clamped around the cool surface as I chugged down the whole glass in a single sip and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Suddenly, I became very aware of the 7 pairs of eyes staring at me fiercely, making me feel more intimidated than I have ever felt in my whole life.

Keeping the glass back on the table, I answered him, “I’m sure you must’ve done a background check on me. I live with my friend Jackson. He found me on the streets when I was 18 after I ran away from home. He helped me get a job and go through college. Now he needs me to step up and take charge.” 

I stopped for a second and leaned back in my chair, looking up and meeting Jimin’s focused eyes.

“He has stage 1 cancer and we don’t have enough money for his treatment. I know this job will pay me well even if it’s not in the most ideal condition. I know my life will be at a constant risk working for Seoul’s biggest mafia boss, but if it means that I get to help Jackson survive, then I’m willing to work with this risk.” I let go of the breath I’d been holding and look down at my lap, nervously playing with my fingers.

“These 6 men around you are not only my best, but they have also grown up with me. You will directly respond to only us and no one else. Rosé will show you your work space and introduce you to Jisoo tomorrow. Is that clear?” 

My eyes widened as I looked up, “Does this mean I-”

“Yes Y/n, you got the job.”

I grinned as I clapped my hands like a little child and thanked him again and again.

“There’s no need to thank me Y/n. Rosé will guide you and clear all the doubts you have.”

I nodded and bowed down to all of them before practically running out of his office. 

I immediately pulled out my phone and called the last dialed number.

“He-”

“I’m in.”

****

a/n :Phew, so that happened.

Deception Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[vmheadquarters]

Welcome to…

We’re going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then “toss” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Two of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @nearfantastica​.

And stayed tuned next week for Ch.3 from @saoirsekonstantin​ -tag, you’re it!———————————————————————————————————– [CH1]

CHAPTER TWO by @nearfantastica​ a/k/a casket4mytears

“Of course he’s dead.  Murder mystery weekend?” Dick rolled his eyes.  “Look, we all know Ronnie’s gonna work her PI magic and solve this with ten minutes of searching Google.  Nerd.  Can we go back inside and drink now?”

“No Dick,” Logan gently chastised, as if explaining to his child yet again that he couldn’t grow up and be a Jedi.  “This isn’t part of the game.  He’s actually dead.”

Gia spun around, poking Luke in the chest.  “I did not sign up for actual dead bodies, Luke.  You told me this would be fun.”

A lump formed in Veronica’s throat as she stared at the lifeless form of Leo D’Amato.  Years ago, before Lilly’s murder, she’d considered following in father’s footsteps and pursuing a career in law enforcement.  She’d toyed with the idea anew last summer at her FBI internship, the possibilities a Rubik’s Cube spun deftly in her palms.  Moments like these reminded her why she’d veered towards practicing law instead.  

Bodies, especially those of people she knew, unsettled her.  The inertia of them, the inconsistency… she couldn’t reconcile it.  People breathe.  People move.  At Lilly’s funeral, she remembered whispering to her father that it wasn’t Lilly—that Lilly was never still.  That they should shut the casket, because Lilly would hate to be remembered as motionless.

“Veronica?”

She was coaxed back to the present by the sound of Logan’s voice, concerned and closer than she expected it.  He was crouched beside her, shining his light over the body.  Casting her own Maglite across the ice, she noticed something fluttering beneath the camping lantern.  Hmm…

“You okay?  I know that you and Leo… were friendly.”

Veronica huffed softly.  “We dated.  Briefly, until I cheated on him with you.  I’m fine, Logan.”  Glancing over at him, she smiled gratefully.  “Thank you for asking.”

Logan’s gloved hand reached for hers, offering a reassuring squeeze.  For a moment, she lost herself in the depths of his eyes, all fears of frostbite forgotten as her heart panged with regret.  Seven months, nine days and six hours, and no bookie in Vegas would touch the odds of her moving past Logan Echolls now. 

Focus, Veronica!

Gently extricating her hand from Logan’s, Veronica rose slowly to her feet, circling around the pool of blood towards the lantern.  She kept her eyes downcast, scanning for footprints, drag marks, anything of use, but saw nothing.  The blustery winds of the snowstorm were swiftly disposing of evidence for the killer.  Retrieving her phone from her jeans pocket, she began snapping photos of the fluttering object in situ—well aware the police would be furious she was touching it at all.

“Phone.  Good idea!” Casey enthused.  “We need the cops here now.”

“Casey, do you really think there’s reception on Death Island on a good day, let alone during a storm like this?” Carrie sneered.  “Do you see a cell phone tower anywhere?”

Casey bristled, adjusting the collar of his parka. “Technological advancements being what they are—“

“I have no bars and I’m just taking photos,” Veronica snapped, reaching down to retrieve the mystery object.

Now this might be useful…

“Hey, hey!  She’s hogging all of the clues!” Cole protested, tapping Kimmy on the arm.

Brushing a tear from her cheek, Kimmy shoved him aside.  “You idiot!  This isn’t a game anymore!  How many drinks did you have tonight?”

“ENOUGH,” Logan warned, silencing the chatter.  “Veronica, what is that?”

“It’s a folded sheet of paper,” she replied, tucking it in her pocket.  “It’s too wet out here.  If it has writing on it, I don’t want the snow to damage it.  We should read it inside the house.”

“No, what we should do is get the hell out of here, fast!”  Wallace shouted.  “I’ve seen my share of horror movies.  As the only person of color in this group, that means I’m the likeliest to end up with a knife, a bullet or a fish hook in my gut.”

Veronica frowned, stepping forward to console him.  “Wallace, it’s going to be okay—“

Wallace’s arms flew up in the air.  “For you, maybe!  You’re the Final Girl!  White girl, PI, your ex dead on the ice.  Come on now, Supafly.  Name a horror movie where a Black man lives to the end.  No, we need off this rock.  And until we’re off it, I go where you go.  You feel me?”

“Where else would you go?  I’m your plus one,” she soothed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.  Lowering her voice, she whispered, “I need to check one thing and then we’re headed back to the house to figure a way out of here, okay?”

Wallace nodded anxiously, glancing sideways at Logan.  “Alright.  But we need to bounce.”

“No arguments here.”

Reluctantly, she circled Leo’s body and snapped photos from a variety of angles.  Fighting the urge to vomit, she reached inside his jacket pocket, retrieving his wallet and a set of car keys, but finding no other papers or items of note.  Satisfied she had everything useful, she headed back to the warmth of the mansion, eager to escape the sleet pelting her bare cheeks.  Logan and Wallace—ever helpful in a crisis--ushered the party guests along behind her.

As she trudged through the snow, Veronica considered her priorities:  contact authorities; secure evidence; keep everyone together.  Wallace was right:  they needed to get off the island or engage law enforcement as quickly as possible.  In the meantime, if a killer was on this island with them, safety would be found in numbers.  Cell service was a bust, but surely the sprawling home had a landline or other means of communication with the outside world.  No one wealthy enough to construct a home this beautiful would leave themselves without a means of calling in the cavalry.

“Why was that guy here?” Kimmy sniffled as Veronica opened the front door.  “Who even invited him?  He didn’t go to Neptune High, did he?”

“He went to a dance, once,” Carrie replied.  “I’m surprised you don’t remember it, Kimmy.  Meg invited him for Veronica.  Shouldn’t you have that memorized as part of your body snatching?”

“And I thought it was icy outside,” Wallace muttered quietly. 

“Just remember: you made me come to this party, Papa Bear.”

Kimmy tugged on Veronica’s sleeve, spinning her around.  “Wait, you were dating the dead guy?  Doesn’t that make you a suspect?”

“Dated, as in past tense.  It’s been years, and we only went out a few times,” Veronica replied dismissively, yanking her arm away.  “Leo and I were friends.  Besides, the state of the body… he was dead before Wallace and I arrived.”

“She’s dating that radio dweeb now… Pizzle,” Dick interjected, pouring out a martini.

Veronica stared at her boots, avoiding Logan’s gaze as Wallace mercifully jumped into the conversation.  “Also past tense.  They split up in the summer.  We haven’t seen him since we flew out to New York to visit him at Presbyterian, right V?”

“Mmm-hmm.”  Just keep staring at the tiles…

“Poor guy got hit by a bus, the last week of his summer internship.  He’s still in the hospital there, full body traction, head trauma,” Wallace continued.  “Guy wasn’t even conscious when we were there.”

“Damn.  I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan offered quietly.

“Says the guy who rearranged his ribs and face?” Wallace snapped.

Veronica laid a warning hand on his arm.  “Wallace… You promised.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”  With a heavy sigh, Wallace stormed across the room to console a shuddering Alexis Link.

Veronica shot an apologetic look at Logan, who shrugged it off.  It’s fine, he mouthed.  It wasn’t—that much was clear from the crestfallen look that flickered across his features—but she would apologize in depth later.  Her relationship with Piz, and its demise, had nothing to do with Logan’s fists of fury.  Their ending was the product of a man who couldn’t see the hypocrisy in pursuing his internship and dreams, while holding her solely responsible for the long distance between them as she rightfully pursued hers.  She’d ended it while still in Quantico, moving on to Stanford without looking back.

Well, not at him, anyway, she amended silently. 

“You know, it’s funny,” Carrie Bishop mused aloud.  “I heard that Troy Vandegraff died in a car accident over the holidays.  Didn’t you date him in junior year?”

“I did, for a little while.  That’s a shame…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Veronica noticed Dick tugging Logan behind the bar, struggling to wrap his hand around his bicep.  How are Logan’s arms even bigger than I remember them?  Logan’s expression was one of bemusement, his feet firmly planted in place.

“Black Widow,” Dick muttered ominously.  “I’m not letting you end up on Dateline, dude.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself,” Logan insisted, moving to Veronica’s side.

Dick formed his index fingers into a cross, holding them up in Veronica’s direction.  “Fine.  Your funeral, and I’m so not sending flowers.”

Drawing a deep breath to steady herself (and to resist the urge to chuck the ornamental bowl beside her at Dick’s stupid head), Veronica smacked her palm on the table.  “As much fun as rehashing my love life has been, there’s a dead man on the pond and a killer loose on the island.  Priorities, people?”

Sweeping her Maglite over the group of partygoers, Veronica studied them all in turn:  Wallace, her best friend, consoling a crying Alexis to her right; Carrie and Susan, imbibing with tense expressions on the sofa; Casey and Kimmy, upset, but holding it together; a shocked Luke clinging to a distraught Gia; and Cole and Dick, both of whom seemed too intoxicated to fully appreciate what was happening.  And then there was Logan to her left, whose worried gaze was laser-focused on her.

“Okay, since cell phones are a bust, has anyone seen a landline?”

A lot of shaking heads, save one:  Susan Knight hesitated, her brow furrowing.  “Hmm… I might have seen one in the kitchen earlier?”

Carrie Bishop drained the frothy white concoction in her hand.  “I’ll go look with you.”

“Cole, you go too,” Veronica ordered.

Carrie huffed angrily and advanced towards Veronica.  “Of all the people in this group, the last I would expect sexist bullshit from—“

“Actually, I just want him out of my sight for five minutes and know you can take care of him.  Thanks for being a pal, Carrie.”

Cole’s protests were silenced by Carrie’s arm looping around his, dragging him down the long corridor towards what Veronica assumed was the kitchen.  Not that she and Wallace had gotten that far.  Damn it, they hadn’t even managed a drink before this had all gone to hell. 

Speaking of, Dick was still at the bar, making what were likely terrible, overly strong martinis in the dark. 

“Hey, bring back snacks!” Wallace called after them.  “Chips, Cheetos, a man’s not picky.”

Alexis pulled away from his embrace, tears streaming down her face.  “Are you serious right now?”

“It was a long trip and I’m hungry!” Wallace protested. 

Extracting Leo’s wallet from her pocket, Veronica flipped through the contents, finding little of interest.  Driver’s licence, debit card, credit cards, photos of his sister and his mother.  One item stood out:  a current private investigator’s licence for the state of California.  Huh.  If she did the math… he would have renewed it recently.  Last she’d heard, he was still working as a Deputy for Balboa County, although her information could be out of date.

Now, for the key find:  the mystery paper pinned beneath the camping lantern on the ice.  Veronica carefully unfolded it on the coffee table and shone her Maglite on it.  What she found left her reeling.

It was page three of a case file from Van Lowe Investigations—and according to the header, the lead investigator was none other than Leo D’Amato himself.  The text was smeared in several places from the snow, and being the third page, the notes were difficult to follow in places, but what Veronica could pick up…

“What’s that?” Casey asked.

“Motive for murder,” Veronica replied coolly, snapping photos of the page before carefully re-folding it. 

“So’s being your ex,” Casey remarked dryly, earning a glare from the petite blonde.  “What?  We’re all thinking it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Troy and Piz had accidents.  Piz?  That was five months ago.  Hardly relevant to—“

The thud of hurried footsteps approaching drew the attention of the group.  Heads turned towards Susan, breathless and distraught, with Carrie and Cole in close pursuit.

“The phones are dead,” she panted.  “But not just dead.  They’re cut.”

Logan cast his flashlight in their direction.  “Cut?”

“The wire was cut,” Cole blurted out, visibly shaking.  “So we ran upstairs, because Carrie remembered a phone in her bedroom.  But that one was cut too.  We checked all the rooms upstairs, but every single phone was cut.  Slashed like buddy’s throat out there.”

“What did I tell you?” Wallace snapped.  “Veronica, we need to go.  A brother’s about to get filleted.”

“Oh hey, found you a Milky Way!” Cole added absently, tossing a chocolate bar in Wallace’s direction.

With an exasperated sigh, Wallace unwrapped the chocolate and waved it in Veronica’s direction.  “Look at this.  My last meal’s going to be the weakest chocolate bar there is.  Some Mars Magic, please?”

Veronica’s mouth fell open to speak, but she found herself cut off by Dick Casablancas, now wearing a tiny bow tie and carrying a tray full of martinis, as he circulated the room.

“No, no way.  If we’re dying, we’re having one last drink first!” Dick insisted.  “I made us chocolate martinis and we’re gonna down these bitches and say a big fuck you to murder, and then Veronica can order Logan around like her lapdog.”

“Dick,” Logan warned.

“What?  Like we all don’t know she’s still got your scrotum in her super purse next to Mr. Zappy or whatever she calls that thing?”  Dick handed martinis to an eager Gia and Luke with a flourish.  “As Class Party Boy Peter Bogart, my alcoholism means I call ‘em like I see them.  Wallace is the token, so he’s toast.  I’m the frat boy, so I’m done-zo.  Might as well die drunk and happy.”

“No one is going to die!” Veronica shouted.  “Not if we stick together and work fast.”

“I don’t recall voting you in charge, Veronica Mars,” Gia sneered, sipping her martini. “I say we drink first.”

As Dick continued to pass around martinis, Veronica nudged Logan in the arm.  “This is why I am not going to Neptune High’s reunion.”

“I’ll handle this.”  Moving into the centre of the room, Logan sighed. “Fine, let’s take a vote:  all in favor of drinking a martini before trying to call the police or leave the island?”

Gia, Luke, Dick, Cole, and Kimmy raised their hands.

“All in favor of leaving right now before anyone else ends up dead?”

Veronica, Logan, Wallace, Carrie, Susan, Alexis and Casey raised their hands.

“Majority says survival over booze.  Sorry Gia, Veronica’s in charge now,” he added wryly.

“Thank you.”  Tugging on her gloves, Veronica rolled her shoulders back.  “We have no landlines and no cell phone service.  Our best bet to call for help is also our way off the island:  the Irish Wake.  Even if the storm’s too bad to leave yet, we can try using the radio to call the coast guard for assistance.  I say we head for the caretaker’s cottage and get the captain’s help.”

“Okay, have fun doing that.  We’ll stay here and drink martinis,” Kimmy replied, sipping her drink.  “Ooh!  Is this Godiva liqueur, Dick?”

Dick clinked glasses with her, grinning.  “Hell yeah!”

“No, we are all going,” Veronica insisted.  “We need to stick together to stay safe.”

Gia’s leg raised in the air, dangling a knee-high leather boot with a blood-red sole and a three-inch heel.  “Do these Louboutins look like they were made for trudging around the grounds of this place?  I barely made it to the pond alive.”

“So change them,” Veronica snapped.

“I only brought my cute boots.”  As Luke began to shake his head, Gia pouted.  “You told me we were going to a party inside a beautiful house!  Why would I need hiking boots, Luke?  This is your fault.”

“Maybe the killer will take me next,” Luke mumbled.

“Or Gia,” Carrie muttered.

“No, it’s Logan next,” Dick insisted.  “Because of the Black Widow.”

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Veronica rolled her eyes.  “Dick, shut up.  Gia, walk carefully.  Luke will help you.  Bring your martinis for all I care.”

As much as she wanted to abandon the group, grab Wallace and Logan and head off into the blinding snow as a trio, she’d learned years ago to keep everyone in her sight and trust nobody.  There would be no metaphorical backseat surprises tonight.  If she had to tie a rope around the waist of every 09’er here and drag them behind her through the drifts, she would. 

She and Wallace were innocent.  Everyone else was a suspect.

Even Logan?

Listening to the din of complaining rich kids, she stole a glance at her ex.  Even Logan.  Technically.  But I know he didn’t do this.

It was Logan who identified the location of the caretaker’s cottage as they stood on the front porch, a collective of shivering bodies whipped by icy shards from the west.  Visibility was near zero now, the wind cutting through the down filling of Veronica’s ski jacket, but Logan was able to just make out a small structure down a path that veered to the southwest of the property, lying between the dock and the mansion.

“That will be it,” he assured her.

“Lowly peasant I am, I’ll have to trust your expertise.”

“See the chimney, Veronica?  It’s a domicile, not a storage unit or barn.  Simple observation, not elitism.”

Veronica bit her tongue, pressing forward with Wallace at her side.  She was off her game, and their lives literally depended on her. Contact authorities, stick together, preserve the evidence.  Repeat mantra.  Her love life, or lack thereof, was a distraction.  Dick’s outburst—and Logan’s curiously sad expression ever since?  Also a distraction. 

“So, what was on the page?” Logan whispered.

His breath was hot on her ear and Veronica involuntarily shivered.  Body memory carried her to happier moments:  late-night conversations, their naked bodies entwined in tangled sheets.  The security of his muscular arms wrapped around her frame; her head pressed to his chest, counting the beats of his heart.  She bit the inside of her mouth, shocking herself back to the bitter cold of the present.

“Leo works—worked for Vinnie,” she began quietly.

Wallace edged closer and the trio picked up their pace, pulling away from the group.  “Worked for him?  He was a PI?”

“Apparently.”

“But he was friends with your dad.  Why wouldn’t he work for him?”

Veronica shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine, Wallace.  Dad probably turned him down, told him he could do better.  He’s always been a lone wolf.  Vinnie, on the other hand, would welcome the opportunity to recruit one of his own deputies for his OG business.”

“So the page was what, a case file?” Logan queried.

“A partial,” Veronica confirmed.  “The page was water-damaged, and I couldn’t find a name anywhere on it, but from what I could read, Leo had stumbled onto a cover-up of a crime, maybe a wrongful death?  It’s hard to tell with so much obscured.  If Leo had ammunition like that on someone here…”

Logan glanced back, taking stock of their present company. “Someone like Luke, who plans to run for Congress.  Or the Gants…”

“It’s a secret someone would kill for,” Veronica affirmed.

“But how did he get here?” Wallace asked.  “We had to give our names and a code word.  Did he come over with you?”

Logan shook his head.  “I came over with Dick, early this afternoon.  Same deal:  name and code word.  For Leo to cross, he would have needed an invite.”

“Maybe the captain knows something,” Veronica decided, veering down a narrow path towards the caretaker’s cottage. 

The cottage was more of a bungalow house, complete with a modest yard of its own.  It was nearly as large as Veronica’s childhood home, sprawling and framed with gardens edged in decorative stones.  Three steps led up to a porch of deep oak, where a heavy door without a window loomed as the entrance.  The curtains were all drawn, offering no view inside.

Without hesitation, Veronica jogged up the steps and pounded on the door.  “Hello?  Hello in there?  We have an emergency!”

No answer. 

Wallace approached, standing behind her.  “Knock again?”

“I might have my lock pick kit in my purse somewhere,” Veronica grumbled, shining her light inside.

Logan pounded on the door, calling out to the captain, to no avail.  “Yeah, I’m not getting a good feeling about this…”

Veronica’s stomach turned.  “Enter through the back door?”

“Title of your sex tape!” Dick called out, immediately clamping his hand over his mouth. 

Oh, he did NOT just go there!

Veronica’s hand closed around her Taser, pulling it from her purse.  “After all these years, Dick you still haven’t learned…”

No sooner had Logan and Wallace’s arms flown out to restrain her than the chilling sound of Gia Goodman’s screams rang out from the back of the cottage, startling a snowy owl into a frantic flight across the night sky.

[yolo-contendre]

Billy Hargrove’s Clothes

Hi, I’m a sad cretin and have nothing to do but sip gin and catalogue each one of Billiam Hargroove’s outfits, scene by scene, throughout S2. Excellent possibility the gin will seize me half-way through this. STAY TUNED. (Also, I’m chucking half of this under a keep reading because, DISCLAIMER, it’s loonnggg). 

Ok, our first scene. 

We already know he wears boots. But did we know he wore black motorcycle boots with a big old pilgrim buckle? Probably not. They also have heels. The jeans are mid wash denim and boot cut. Which means we don’t know if this feckin’ dweeb wears socks. Since he’s so gross, I’m gonna place bets on no. 

Then there’s this: 

From the same scene. Billy’s wearing his denim jacket, which you’ll see a lot more of. Today, he has his earring hoop in. It appears to be silver. He’s wearing a white henley-styled shirt (notice the waffle pattern), his necklace, and his cigarettes stuffed into the left breast pocket of his jacket. Idk what brand of cigarettes he smokes. Someone tell me. Help. Something with red and blue? 

Next up: 

Here, Billy is rockin’ almost the same feckin’ outfit as above, but today he has on a wife beater, a denim snap shirt, and his trusty denim jacket. We can see the hoop too, just a little baby bit. The cigarette carton is red, and I believe, but don’t quote me on this, the blue part is electrical tape? The carton appears to have a red border around it. I searched way too long for old cigarette cartons on google, but didn’t find a design that looked close enough. 

Same scene. A reminder that Billy has a brown messenger bag! It looks pretty thin here because I doubt this boi carries around his textbooks or homework. There’s something yellow inside it, probably a binder. Today, his cuffs are undone on his denim jacket. You can also see his ring, which he wears A LOT.

 Now it’s Halloween. Oof bb. He brought a leather jacket out tonight. Probably treating the denim one to a nice night in. No shirt. His necklace appears to be gone? Actually, this is the first scene where he doesn’t have it, which is interesting. Why’d he take it off? Midwash jeans again, and a black belt. 

So. He’s wearing fingerless gloves here (WHAT IS HE DRESSED AS? WHO IS HE DRESSED AS?) and his jacket appears to have a pin on it, attached near the left breast. I couldn’t get a good enough look at it to see what it was. Diggin’ that diagonal pocket, Bills. Still no sign of the necklace. 

And we spot the necklace again. Very faintly in this burry grab. Billy is rocking the only pair of non-tennis shoes on the court. A pair of classic hightop Converse, which appear to be knockoffs, because they don’t have the star symbol. Maybe he didn’t have enough money for the real ones? They seem extremely worn in. The gym shorts are universal, but peeping out of them is a white band. I doubt those belong to a pair of boxers. Safe to say Billy probably wears briefs. At least in this scene. 

Another day, another denim jacket. Our boy really likes this jacket. In fact, I’m gonna say, in canon, it’s his favorite. Today he has those cuffs flipped up. We see the ring in full display. His watch, which is digital, is on his right hand. The necklace is back. The belt looks the same from the Halloween party. Honestly, every man I’ve ever known has always had exactly one belt and no more. I bet Billiam is the same. This is probably HIS belt. THE belt. Shirt isn’t tucked in. Annnnddd, unnamed cigarettes, hanging in his left breast pocket.   

Ok, ok, YES, he’s not wearing clothes here. Kill me. I just wanted to capture these bedroom eyes. Also, he’s wearing his necklace here too. SO. What the feck happened on Halloween? Why did he take it off? 

Denim jacket? Check. Nondescript black belt? Check. Midwash jeans? double check. Our boy is rockin’ his fav jacket today with a little twist. This shirt looks like an actual button shirt and NOT a snap shirt. AND. It’s tucked in. Also, looks like that cigarette carton still has the piece of blue tape on it (unless it’s part of the design). That could mean Billy doesn’t actually smoke as much as I think he does if he has the same carton a few days later. So he might not actually be a chain smoker like I’ve been writing him. 

OKAY. OKAY. We have a NEW leather jacket out to play. This looks like a weathered leather bomber jacket my grandpa gave my Mom sometime in the 80s. Also lovin’ Billy’s aviators here. He’s wearing a red crew neck shirt and his necklace in this scene. 

Up close of the aviators from the same scene. You can also see here that the shirt really comes up high. Is that still considered crew cut? 

Literally. What is in the fucking background? BILLY. What are you watching? Is it an exercise tape?? What is it?? Okay, so here we got a nice shot of his sweaty, shiny arms in a cut up T-shirt. GAWD. I love the idea of Bills sitting down on his bedroom floor and cutting off the sleeves of his old shirts. Maybe he’s listening to music and watching himself in the mirror. 

Bad quality screen grab, but I wanted to see what his bottoms were. They look, from here, like nondescript basketball shorts. Love the above the knee action, Bills. Of course, he has his knock-off chucks on, and a pair of tube socks. Also, for anyone who wants to know, the Hargrove address is officially 5280 Old Cherry Street. 

Our final scene. THE red snap shirt, which has a white pattern on it. Unbuttoned 4 buttons officially. He’s got his dagger earring in here. 

Billy shrugging into what I presume is the same leather jacket from before. It looks exactly like my Mom’s bomber. 

OOOOOOOHHHHHHH yeah. So, there’s like WAY more than four buttons undone here. Did he undo the rest just for Steve? He’s wearing his ring. He’s wearing his watch. The jacket came off because it’s fightin’ time. The same wash of jeans as previous scenes. I am actually convinced, after doing this, that Billy has exactly one pair of jeans. MAX two. MAX. 

Alright, the gin is gripping me. Hope you enjoyed a meandering walk through Billiam Hargroove’s wardrobe. I’ve come to the conclusion that his favorite jacket is the denim one. He probably only owns like 15 clothing items max, and they all appear to be different solid colored shirts. He has one pair of jeans. Two different pairs of earrings. And two different leather jackets. He is canonically a walking dumpster fire. But, like, a really sexy walking dumpster fire. 

[temporaklepticgalanty]

Kids Species Swap

I decided to take another look at the extended zodiac and pick out what it would indicate about Homestucks’ canonical cast of lost human children. Most people go off their text colors and call it a day; and while clown makeup Rose Lalonde is a good laugh and an interesting design challenge, I’m not so easily satisfied.

June Egbert is adventurous and impulsive as a rule. There’s a reason flighty is the key adjective for this broad, and it’s not just because of the breeze. If it doesn’t keep going at a good clip, June considers it boooooriiiing and gets too far into her own head to pay any more attention to the doldrums around her. All of this clearly aligns with the Rust class, making her an Arus. Her blunt, tall horns go straight up from the sides of her head, looking like lagomorphic ears. Her lusus is the swift yet tasty Ziphare, whose long limbs let it sprint and leap with the greatest of ease and the fastest of speed. It’s an attentive guardian, often leaving gifts and treats everywhere for June as it zooms around in fear of predators, and to serve as a good example: teach its charge how to really run.

Rose Lalonde is, if nothing else, a genius. A multifacted prodigy, an intellectual force, with prose as collegiate and purple as her chat text. And she likes to show it off. She likes to use it as a big, terrible lance of eldritch force, especially if it throws off her brother from his game or seduces dangerous girls into her quadrants. You might not like it, but that makes her decisively Gold, that is, a Gempia. She’s got horns exactly the way Kanaya imagined them. Her lusus is the Bearded Primkey, a lanky pseudoprimate that descends into wailing, seizing, and hystrionic sobbing as it grows hungrier and less sleepy. When it’s full and drowsy, it’s a slow-paced but clingingly affectionate guardian.

Jade Harley is, if you would have to put a word to it, agreeable. She cares a great deal about connecting to people, even if she isn’t quite sure how. She is anxious in the unfamiliar, and although she never loses her nerve, she often loses her cool. Plus she’s a furry. Olive it is, then, as a (lmao) Lego. Naturally, her Olive theme is dogs. Her horns look much like June’s, except shorter, wider, and sharper. Even though they are clearly very different castes, people joke that they must have the same ancestor. They like to think so, too, unjokingly. Her lusus is the mysterious Blipdog, which can teleport and see without eyes. Most people treat it as a myth, and even Jade has never heard of another one.

Jane Crocker is particular, matronly, and sometimes corrosively toxic. She likes when everything is perfect, even when that’s an impossible expectation. She is supportive and handy, but she explodes after her breaking point, and all of her nurturing habits are swept aside by a bit of the ol’ ultraviolence. All of that spells Jade, specifically, a Virsci, which sounds like a for-profit tech school. One of her horns ends in a blunted bulb shape, and the other, split. She doesn’t have a lusus, but she does have obligations in the caverns. Obligations that she’s growing more and more afraid of being trapped by, and that she’s more and more eager to find any excuse to shirk. Watch out, Janey!

Dave Strider is an artistic lad of a hundred interests and a dozen talents. Last week he was into collecting body parts in jars. Before that, it was guerilla photography, and before that it was silent parkour. He’s got a self-destructive stubborn streak and a bad habit of hiding masks behind masks, but he’s also friendly and can be surprisingly philosophical and is fiercely intelligent. This is exactly how Indigos are described, making him a Sagiries. His horns look like bulges. It’s not his fault. He was born this way. His lusus is the Satyr, a capricious guardian more prone to ambushes and pranks than raising a kid.

Dirk Strider is a Purple. Just read the damn thing, it describes him better than it does any of the canon clowns we’ve met. (His face paint looks like Billy the Puppet and Lil Cal of course, but that also makes him look like Caliborn. Poor guy.) He’s a Caprio, which, if you ask me, is pretty fitting. He’s got horns like katana tips, including the flat blade, that point tilted forward from his forehead like an oni. And still those stupid, stupid yet iconic glasses. It’s called fashion. His lusus is the Wavegull, an amphibious bird and demands frequent food.

Jake English is a real weird dude. Everything he does is rather eccentric. He’s loyal, game for much, and if we’re being totally fair, both unfairly exploited and kind of a desperate dweeb. All of this indicates a Violet sign, his particular one being Aquanius, sort of a lunar inversion of a certain Violet we’re more used to. His flattened horns curve closely over his scalp, sending his hair everywhere, but otherwise being usefully protective and a bit fetching. His lusus is the Skultopus, an eight tentacled mollusk whose shell protects everything but the limbs and the sunken, staring eyes. Distant dad, but a caring one.

Roxy Lalonde is a bit too in her fantasies and anxieties. Extremely important, but often overlooked, you might be thinking Indigo. But she’s alluring and accomplished, talented and daring, hard to know and hard to defeat. She’s a princess lost in time and space, a true Fuschia, baby. She clocks in as a Pittarius, and might just hack it as an eternally unconsumed heir. Her horns look something like upside down fluted champagne glasses, which also gives her a kooky space alien bulbed antenna vibe too. It’s pretty cute, actually! And this means you know exactly what her lusus is and what their relationship is.

[mlovesstories]

Stop

Warnings: MAJOR STUFF! physical abuse, verbal abuse, cussing, s14 spoilers, Robin from Props

Words: 2500

Summary: Jensen messes around too much on set.

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“Yadira, here.”  Robin handed the actress her character, Kaia’s, spear.  “Don’t let the boys have it until the script calls for it. Poke them with it if you have to, got it?” Robin raises a brow.

“Yes, ma’am.”  Yadira smiled. “I know how to use it. They don’t.”

“Perfect.”  Robin affirmed.  “Boys! Let’s go!”  She ordered them to their marks. Jensen and Jared eyed the spear in Yadira’s hands. “Don’t even think about it, you two.”  She eyed them playfully while they arrived at their spots, and she walked behind the cameras.

“Yes, mother.”  Jensen chuckled.  “Let me have it, Yadi.”  He whispered. She put the sharp edge to his chest.

“Don’t touch my spear.”  Yadira growled, smiling.  She brought it back, away from his body as they got set for the scene.

“Wow, so serious.”  Jared raised a brow.

“Leave her alone, guys.”  YN rolled her eyes.  She stood on her mark, ready to start the scene.

“Bossy people today, jeez.”  Jensen sighed. 

They did the scene a few times.  When it was over, Jensen snatched it from Yadi and started to swing it around ungracefully.

“Jensen!”  Robin yelled.  “Give it back!”  She stared him down. “Actually, hand it over.”  The props director moved toward him and put her hand out.  He slowly released it to Robin with a pout.  “Big baby,” she chuckled. He groaned.

“But I want it!”  He complained as they walked to the next set.  The group giggled at his tantrum.  

“Later.”

“Yes!”  He pumped how fist in the air.  “You promise?”

Robin rolled her eyes and said, “If you’re good.”

———-

“Kaia!”  YN yelled for Yadi’s character.  She turned. Jensen grabbed the spear, per the script. When they called cut, he swung it around, joking. Before he knew what had happened, it flew into the air, hitting YN’s upper body..  She fell back from the force, blood evident on her.  When the girl hit the ground, everyone froze. Their light-colored clothes now spattered with red. Onset EMTs rushes to them.  Jensen stood still in shock at what happened.  Robin walked up behind him and snatched the spear from him.

“I told you to knock it off,” Robin groaned.  She took the weapon out of his hand.

“Yadi! YN!”  Jared ran over. “You okay?”

The cast and crew heard whimpers from both girls.  Yadi tripped back, but she had no injuries.  Jensen’s face turned white.  Bending over, he threw up onto the ground from the shock of the situation.

“It’s okay, we gotcha.”  The EMTs noticed that YN’s head was bleeding.  They put her on a stretcher and whisked her away.

“I-I didn’t. She-“. Jensen spoke in gibberish.

“Jared, take him somewhere else,” a crew member said.

“Come on, dude.” The taller TV Winchester took Jensen’s arm and walked him off the set. Jared stopped when he saw dark stains on Jensen’s collar. “Wait!”  Everyone turned around. “He’s bleeding.”  Red drops were coming from Jensen’s eyebrow.  Another set of EMTs walked over to assess him, but as soon as he had a flashlight aimed at his eyes, he dropped. Jared and the EMTs lowered him to the ground.

—————

The two injured cast members were evaluated at the hospital.  Jensen was stitched up and released.  Yadira had a concussion so the hospital staff watched her for the next few hours. YN was injured the most. Jensen had hit her on the forehead hard enough to render her unconscious. He went to her room to watch over her.  Jared was already there. Puffy eyes showed his exhaustion.

“Hey,” Jensen slowly walked in.  Jared saw him stumble so the younger one guided him to a chair. “How- oh shit.”  He saw tubes and a mask on his co-star.

“Just breathe.  She’s sleeping. It’s only oxygen.”

Jensen sat next to Jared. The younger of the two looked at Jensen. “Let me see your eye,” Jared put his hand near Jensen’s face.  Jensen swatted his hand away.  

“I’m fine.  How is she?”

“Good, conscious.  Just sleeping right now.”  Jared offered a sympathetic smile.

“I can’t believe I- I hurt her and Yadi.”

“It happens, dude. You know that.”

“Her parents would have killed me.”  Jensen ran a hand over his face in frustration. “They trusted us with her and this is the way I treat her?”

“Stop it, Ackles.  You can’t do that to yourself.  Go get a coffee or something.  Go home.  Do something.”

“No. I hurt her, now I’m going to stay here and wait.”

“Don’t make me and Clif drag you out of here.”  Jared threatened.

“No-“

“CLIF!”  Jared didn’t want to yell too loud. When the bodyguard entered, he looked at the boys.  “Take him home, please.  I’ll call you when she wakes up.”

“Don't you dare, I need to be here.  I did this.”

“And you’re going insane!”  Jared spat back.

“Let’s go, Ackles.”  Clif walked over to the older Winchester and hoisted him up. Jensen growled.

“Go, Jensen.  I’ll call you.”

—————

“I’m going to show you something, and I don't want you to jump to conclusions.” Jared looked straight at Jensen in YN’s hospital room. He whispered to not wake up the girl.

“Okay…?”

“Look at her biceps and forearms.”

Jensen walked over to YN’s bedside and noticed discoloration covering each appendage.

“That’s not from what I did. Those are days’ old.”

“I know,” Jared affirmed quietly.  

“My girl.”  Jensen whispered with a heavy, deep breath.  “She’s practically my kid, Jared.  What happened?”

“Mine too, Ackles.  Let’s not assume anything though, okay?”

“YN has bruises everywhere and we shouldn’t assume?”  Jensen raised his voice.  Jared shushed him when he realized YN was waking up.

“Ya know, I realize I’m a pain in the ass a lot, but you cause me a lot of headache,” YN chuckled.

Jensen squatted down to look at her.

“YN, I’m so sorry.  Robin told me to knock it off, and I didn’t-“

“Who’s Robin?”

“Uh, Proppin’ Robin.  The props coordinator.”  Jared went to the opposite side of YN’s bed.

“Oh.  She sounds interesting.”

Jensen sent Jared a look of concern. The doctor walked in soon after.

“Hi. I’m Dr. Doe.  And you are?”

“That’s my uncle and my dad.”  YN smiled, lying.

“Perfect.  She was unconscious, but obviously doing better now since she is awake and talking.  Have you noticed any delay in thought process or stimuli?”  He looked at the men.

“She couldn’t remember a friend that we see often.”  Jensen frowned.  “Will it come back?”

“It’s common, so let’s not fret just yet.  Do you remember what happened?”  Dr. Doe looked toward YN.

“I got hit in the forehead,” she saw Jensen’s face fall.  She mouthed, “It’s okay,” to him.

“I’m encouraged by your progress. I’ll have my staff check on you later,” he smiled and then left.  Jensen was about to apologize, but she put her hand up.

“Don’t, Jensen. You didn’t mean to, and I’ll be fine.”

“But-“

“Baby!”  YN’s boyfriend walked in.  “Are you okay?”

“Umm.  Who are you?”  YN sank back into the bed at his sudden entrance.

“”It’s okay, YN.  This is your boyfriend, Brett.”  Jared smiled at her.

“Oh.”  She looked down at her hands.

“What do you mean?  She can’t remember me?!”  He growled, uncontrollable.  “You did this!”  He stomped toward Jensen.  Jared intervened.

“Stop.  It was an accident.  You need to calm down, Brett.”

“You hurt her!”  He tried to pass Jared to attack Jensen.

“It was an accident!”  Jensen screamed.

“Hey!”  A security guard pulled Brett off of Jared.  Leave.  You need to leave, sir.”  He took hold of his arm and escorted Brett out of the room.

Jensen fell back into his chair, flustered.

“Jensen,” YN whispered. He didn’t look up.  “Green eyes. Let me see ‘em.”  He turned to face her.  “It’s fine.  I will be fine.”

“How can you not be upset at me?”

“You’re my dad.  Well, practically.”  YN smiled.  

“What if-“

“Leave if you’re going to play that game,” she sternly said.

“Give us a minute, YN.” Jared pulled Jensen out into the hallway.  “You need to stop.  Get out of your freaking head.  You ACCIDENTALLY hurt her.  She’ll  survive.”

“But, the bruises.  I mean-“

“I saw them.  Let’s take it one step at a time, Ackles.  Just breathe.”

———-

“I love you, kid.”

“I love you too, adult,” YN giggled.

“Hi, YN.”  A female with a pant suit walked in.

“Who are you?”  She cocked her head.  “Do I know her?”  YN looked at Jensen.

“Nope.”

“I’m a social worker associated with the hospital.”  The lady smiled.  She took a seat in the empty chair next to YN’s bed. “How is your recovery?”

“Good.  Memory is still foggy, but it’s getting better.”

“Good. I saw you got some stuff on your arms.  You must play sports or something.”

YN looked down and saw the bruises.

“Huh?”  She looked back at Jensen with an alarmed expression. “Where did these come from?”

“I am not sure, baby.”  Jensen prayed they could figure out what was going wrong.

“You hit your head and fell back onto the ground right?  You didn’t hit anything you on the way down?”

“She just collapsed.”  Jensen spoke up.

“Alright, so do you play sports?  You must be an active kid!”  The social worker smiled.

YN looked at Jensen, scared of all the questions.

“YN dances.”

“Oh, really?” The social worker smiled.  “My daughter is involved in ballet.”

“I love dancing.  It’s an outlet from working with that dweeb over there,” YN chuckled.  

“Hey!” Jensen crosses his arms.

“Stressful?”  The social worker raised a brow but giggled.  

“You have no idea,” YN rolled her eyes playfully.

“Oh, shut up, YN.”

“Okay, well, Thank you for your time.  I will leave you be.  Please don’t cause too much trouble though.”  The specialist stood up with a grin and walked out.  Jensen excused himself.

“Hey, lady!”  He called after the social worker. “Please, I don’t think she knows what those bruises are from.”

“I believe her, I don’t think she remembers.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Hard to tell, sir.  Are you her father?”

“Yes, now please tell me.” Jensen didn’t care that he played her TV father.  He wanted to know how YN was hurt.

“It looks like fingerprints.”  She let out a deep breath.  “I observed a few deep bruises, but most of the coloring on her arm is consistent with oval shapes.”

“Someone grabbed her.  A lot.” Jensen suggested.

“Basically.  Yes,” the worker agreed

Jensen grew red in the face.

“Please let us do our investigation.  We want what’s best for her too.”

“Whoever did this-“

“Will have to deal with an angry dad.  I know.” She gave a reassuring smile. As she left, Jared walked up.

“So?”

“The social worker thinks someone hurt her.”  Jensen sighed.

“Poor baby.” Jared rubbed his forehead.

—————

“Hey, YN.  How you feeling?”  Jensen brought her dinner the next night after being released from the hospital.

“Good, better.  Thanks for the food.”

“It’s the least I can do for ruining the last few days.”

“Oh, shut up.  I’m fine!  I’ve been getting my memory back.  Really, I’m good.”

“Speaking of, you okay?  You been dancing a lot lately?”

“No,” she tilted her head.  “Why?”

“Because you look like you’ve fallen a lot lately or something.  Look at your arms.”

YN pulled up her sleeve.  “I’m not sure.  I saw them earlier, but I just can’t remember.”

It’s okay, YN.”

—————

“Hey, YN.  You ready to be back?”  Jared grinned and lightly hugged her.  She winced.  “Oh, sorry YN.  I forgot I needed to be extra gentle.”

“I’m fine, thanks.  So glad to be back,” she smiled as she walked up with Brett.

“Good.”

“YN!  Wardrobe!”  One of the crew members called for her.

“Oh, gotta go.  Brett, meet me in my trailer.” She ran off.

She took her clothes for the day to her trailer.

“You’re fine, don’t wince when someone hugs you.  You know you deserved those marks.”  Brett growled lowly. “You did this to yourself.  Deal with it.  And what are you doing ordering me to go into your trailer?”

“You did that?  Why?” Shocked, she stared at him.

“Like you don’t remember!  You were bad so I punished you.  You deserved it.” Brett stood from the couch quickly and walked toward her.

“No!” She put her arm up to block his, but he was able to hit her other arm.  YN created enough space to kick him and step back.  As he stumbled, she exited the trailer.

The scenes were long and arduous with emotional aspects that drained the cast. Since the next scene required wardrobe changes for a physical fight, YN chose to change in the wardrobe trailer.

When YN came out, she had a tank top on and was putting on her flannel when Jared stopped her.

“What’s that?”  He saw a fresh bruise on her arm.

“Nothing.  It’s nothing.”

“You know who did that to you, don’t you?” Jared looked over the marks on her arm.  He saw a fresh bruise on her tricep.

“No, leave me alone.”

Jensen walked up to them. “What-“ he noticed the purple bruise.

“Stop.”  YN growled.

“No.”  Jared responded sternly.  “You’re getting hurt somehow.  We love you, and we want to protect you.”

“Why?  ‘Cause my parents made you?  You doing your duty as my pseudo family since my parents died? Back off! Stop being so damn protective!”

“Woah!”  Jensen reacted.  “What is going on?”

“Nothing,” YN dismissed his concern.

“Hey, whore! Get back here!” Brett opened the door to her trailer not realizing Jared and Jensen were standing with YN outside the trailers.

“I’m going to kill him.”  Jensen stared at Brett.

“I didn’t know it was him! I promise!”  YN shrieked.  Jensen ran toward YN’s boyfriend. Jared hugged YN tightly, but then he realized how much Brett had hurt his TV niece. He let her go and chased after Jensen.  Before she knew what happened, security guards were pulling the boys off of the abuser.  Brett was brought to his feet by the officers and escorted to their office.  When the crew realized what had happened, Jared and Jensen were taken to the first aid station. Misha took YN into his arms and walked her behind Jared and Jensen.

“Come on,” he whispered.  He stroked her hair as they arrived to their destination.  “Let’s get you fixed up.”

“How?  Why would I let him do that?”  YN expressed.  

“I am not sure, YN.  But I’m glad you’re okay.”

She was encouraged to sit on the bumper of the first aid vehicle as Jensen and Jared plopped themselves on the gourney.  As she sat down, an EMT tried to wipe the dried blood from her arm.  YN flinched.  

“Sorry, sweetheart.  I’ll be gentle,” the specialist smiled at her.

“Here, take my hands and close your eyes.  Just relax.  No one will hurt you.  They are here to help, promise.”  Misha squeezed her hands.

“Okay, thanks, Meesh.  Love you.” 

Forever Friends (Everything):

@supernatural-crazed-girl

@katymacsupernatural  

@unicornblood4ever  

@ellie-andthemachine 

@fangirl-moment-x  

@empirialwolf

@winchesters-favorite-girl  

@super100012  

@waywardnewcomer  

@percywinchester27  

@waywardsuns  

@supernatural-jackles  

@mcallmestiles 

@mandyreese 

@sdavid09  

@kingandrear  

@bellero

@rosie-winchester​​ 

@seality​​​​ 

@blogsnowflakeme​​ 

@jaycc7983​​ 

@luci-in-trenchcoats​​ 

@cherryblossom1997​ 

@because-you-never-know-when 

@lauren-novak 

@sleepylunarwolf 

@fainthearteddaisy

@choosemyname 

@internationalmusicteacher

@mersuperwholocked-lowlife 

@find-sammys-shoe 

@encounterthepast

@spn-tw-37

@torn-and-frayed 

@dreaminemz

@giggles1026

@xiumin-girl99

@bertiemaklinn

@encounterthepast

@strangedeerconnoisseur 

@sbcamp08

@mangueweaschester

@girl-with-a-fandom-fettish

@skylarraker

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mutilated Mannequin (Final Part)

Katara doesn’t see much of Azula for the next few weeks. With her lawsuit in full swing, she only gets to see the girl in class and only gets to have real conversations with her during lunch, that is if she is in school at all. A good handful of her court dates seem to take place during school hours. When she does have a day off, she spends it catching up on home and classwork. Katara feels awful for her, she doesn’t seem to have any breaks. Not that it seems to bother her, she has mentioned once or twice that it helps keep her mind off of things to be bogged down with assignments. 

And, for what it’s worth, the trials are going flawlessly. Between her own testimonies and those of her former surgone’s, Katara doubts that Kho has a chance. 

Azula sits down next to her and hands her a brownie. It smells heavenly and looks just as amazing. She has topped it with a strawberry and a zigzag of chocolate syrup. Katara gives it a taste, finding that the flavor is absolutely rich. “I didn’t realize that you were so good at cooking.” 

“I have many talents.” Azula shrugs. “Hidden or otherwise.” She smiles, and this time the smile reaches the right side of her face too. It doesn’t seem to span as wide, but it is reassuring all the same. She can only imagine how thrilling that it must be for Azula. 

She takes Azula’s hand, “is everything still going well with the trials.” 

“Very.” Azula confirms. “We’ll be wrapping them up by the end of the week. And once I win I plan on celebrating with a trip to the mall. I promised that I’d buy TyLee a certain dress. She doesn’t know it yet…”

“Why are you suing him if you can already pay for the damages yourself?” Chan asks upon sitting down.

“Spite.” Mai answers for her. “A good old fashion vendetta. I admire that.”

Yue drops into her chair next. She looks Azula over, “I think that your face looks less fucked up today.” She comments. 

Katara has never seen her girlfriend look less amused. 

“Like, that was a compliment.” Yue says.

“You have a way with words.” Azula grumbles. 

“I’m like one of those old guys that writes poetry. What are they called?”

Katara catches Toph giving her a thumbs up across the table, she can’t imagine why. 

Azula inhales deeply and casts an almost pleading look at Katara. 

“Poets.” Katara replies. “They’re called poets.” 

Yue bursts out laughing. “Oh you guys should see the looks on your faces!” 

“Does that mean that you know what a poet is?” Suki asks.

Yue nods, “Toph said that it would be funny to pretend like I didn’t.” 

“And you thought that it would be a good idea to lead into that by insulting Azula’s face?” Chan asks. 

Azula gives a dismissive wave. “She hurt herself too.” 

“I did not.”

“Yue, you just found out that we all think you really are that airheaded.” Katara pointed out. 

“Oh.” She says softly. “Oh…” 

“Wo-ow” Chan rolls his eyes.

Katara chuckles to herself. She wonders what she would have had to say about this a year prior. She can’t imagine that a younger her would have ever anticipated sitting at a table with this clique--with Yue--muchless, having a pleasant conversation with her. She couldn’t have predicted it any more than she would have guessed than Azula would be giving her little handmade gifts.  Azula, who she had kind of just assumed was just like every other arrogant rich girl in the school. Katara supposes that maybe she had been, at least to a degree…

.oOo.

Katara wears a look, a distant one that Azula has trouble interpreting. “What are you thinking about?” She asks. 

“Just that it’s kind of weird to be sitting here.”

Azula tilts her head but TyLee is the one who poses the question, “what do you mean, you fit in just fine.”

“No, no, I mean…” She pauses, what does she mean? “I just didn’t think that you guys would think that I’m...cool.”

Another burst of laughter from Yue, followed by an, “oh, no, don’t get any of us wrong, you’re still a major dork.” She pauses. “Like that key chain you always carry around with you and that dumb dolphin notebook...dork stuff. All of it. And only nerds like science and outer space.”

Azula opens her mouth. 

“Oh, you were under the impression that we didn’t think you were also a dork this whole time.” She gives it a moment to sink in. “Yeah, even before the surgeries...total…” she jabs her finger against Azula’s forehead. “Geek.”

“I hate you.” Azula grumbles. 

“Tell her, Chan!” Yue exclaims. 

He rubs the back of his head, “yeah, you’re pretty much a dork.” He seems to consider for a moment. “But with style and personality.” 

Azula looks at TyLee who remains quiet. “You think so to don’t you?” 

TyLee nuzzles her cheek against Azula’s. “Yeah, just a little.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asks stiffly. 

“Because you’re kind of scary.” Mai shrugs. Even she laughs, “geez, you look so victimized right now.” 

“I’m just trying to eat my lunch and you’re telling me that I’ve been a nerd this whole time.” Azula replies. 

“Correct.” Yue nods. 

“But you’re a cool nerd.” Toph punches her bicep. 

“This whole time…” Azula whispers to herself. This whole time and yet they had treated her like she belonged. Like she was the leader of their posse. She looks to Katara. 

“They’re your friends.” Katara shrugs. “And they’re all like you.”

“This is what we’ve been trying to tell you.” Chan says. “We didn’t keep you around because you had looks and money. We talk to you because you’re you. I don’t think that I’ve met anyone quite like you before.” 

Suddenly the jesting gives way to something less entertaining. “Is that a good thing?” 

“You get all of these straight A’s but, Jesus, you’re clueless about people.” Mai replies. 

“It’s a good thing.” TyLee smiles. 

Azula’s smile is significantly more sheepish when it comes back, “I suppose that that’s good to know.” 

“Sounds like things are getting deep and gushy over here.” Jet remarks. “Christ, I leave for a few weeks and all of you hop aboard the dweeb train. And you’re trying to make it sound cute and quirky.” 

“Fuck off, Jet.” Chan grumbles. 

“I guess, with a face like that you have to settle for mediocre.” Jet eyes Katara.

“I’m not dating you.” Azula tries to raise a brow, momentarily forgetting that she can no longer do so. Instead she quirks the left one. 

“Yeah, but I bought you a gift anyways.” He drops a doll onto the table and turns it over. The plastic is gashed and beaten; clearly the boy had taken a screwdriver and possibly a hammer to its face. “Just thought I’d give you a doll that looks like you, we’re all about inclusivity here, right lads?” He asks of his new gang. 

Azula takes the mutilated doll, almost feeling sorry for it. 

“So what’s worse?” He asks Smellerbee, “plastic or broken plastic.” 

“It’s all fake, Jet. At least when it’s not broken, it looks good.” Smellerbee shrugs. 

Chan rises, but Azula holds him in place. “I can speak for myself, Chan.”

“Then do it?” Yue says.

“I could.” Azula replies. “I could remind Jet that he used to shove crayons up his own nose when he got mad. I could remind him that I remember every secret he shared when we were kids.” 

He goes tense. 

“And the ones he told me last year.” She turns to Smellerbee. “Has he shown you this picture yet?” She scrolls through her phone and finds the image she’d taken when they had gone to the beach that summer. “My dad had to drive into town and buy him new trunks because he couldn’t seem to find his.” 

Azula thinks that the color in his face is in equal parts anger and humiliation. She digs through her shoulder bag and pulls out a red crayon. She holds it out to him, “you look pretty angry.” 

.oOo.

Toph is still laughing as they wander down the hallway, her face red with it. Occasionally she slaps a locker in delight. Not that Katara isn’t feeling exactly the same. To know that Jet is probably feeling exactly as sick as he made her feel during homecoming. 

She wonders how he had forgotten that he had told Azula so many embarrassing things about himself…

She can’t help but feel somewhat sad. Dreary at the realization that he and Azula had been that close at one point. That they had been friends since they were children young enough to do ridiculous things like shove crayons into their noses in protest. 

“It kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”

“What?” Toph asks.

“That he used to be just another silly kid and now look at him.” 

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, Katara!” Toph declares. “We just had a great victory.” 

“Yeah...I guess.”

“And you’re going to have another one in a few hours!” 

It takes her a moment to realize that Toph is referring to the astronomy club. She spends the next several hours crossing her fingers and shooting silent prayers. She is jittery and antsy when she arrives in the classroom after hours. Azula slips into the chair next to her. “Nervous?”

Katara nods. 

“Don’t be.” 

Katara swallows. But how can she not be. This is her entire future. Her best opportunity to help bring her family out of a tight spot. 

Pathik, awkward as ever stumbles before the whiteboard. He haphazardly lays down an arm full of papers and certificates. “So glad that you can all be here for our last meeting before winter break. This year, has been the most impressive yet. There are more faces here today than I’ve ever seen in this club. It’s wonderful to see so many people enthusiastic about the mysteries of our galaxy.” He pauses. “There have been so many grand achievements this year. We have people who didn’t know a lick about astronomy suddenly passing my class with perfect test scores.” He holds up a slip of paper and a hand held telescope with a painted silver moon. “Improvement like that is just as important as those who had straight A’s from the start.” He makes his way to Yue’s desk and sets the certificate and telescope in front of her. “After I announce the honorable mentions and winners of our NIR-Ex trip and scholarship, we’ll celebrate you achievement by going moon gazing!” 

Yue’s face lights up. 

He leans towards Yue and says quieter, “you and I both know that you have a brilliant mind, you ought to show it to people.” 

He makes his way back to the front of the classroom. “It truly was hard to choose the winner of the scholarship and NIR-Ex trip. I have two pupils who are just as worthy. That is why I pushed for a double prize. NIR-Ex labs has been kind enough to allow two people to attend. Unfortunately, there will be only one recipient of the Lake Laogai scholarship.” 

Katara feels her face grow clammy. “Azula and Katara, I am pleased to tell you that your next date will be at NIR-Ex.” 

Katara rolls her eyes at the smoochy faces Yue and Sneers make as she and Azula walk to the front of the classroom.

“The two of you have been stellar pupils!” Pathik declares. “Absolute stars!” 

Katara can’t even count the number of eye rolls that has earned him. 

“I truly do wish that I could pick both of you.” He pauses. “Congratulations Azula...”

Katara’s stomach reels. She wants to be happy for her girlfriend...she truly does. But she feels sick to her stomach. Nauseous as she smiles at Azula and pulls her into a congratulatory hug. Nauseous as she breaks the news to her mother and father.

She tells them not to be spiteful towards Azula when she brings her over next.

.oOo. 

“Can I talk to you about something?” Azula asks. There is a tension in the air and it makes her uncomfortable. She hasn’t seen Katara since winter break began and it is beginning to eat away at her. “There’s a gazebo in the park if you want to meet there.” She doesn’t tell Katara that she is already sitting there. She just hopes that the other girl will show up. 

Her hands tremble and it is not entirely the fault of the frosty gusts that rattle the gazebo. Azula fidgets with the garland that lines the gazebo railing a shimmer of silver and gold. 

“Hey.” Katara greets. Her eyes look puffy and forlorn. 

Azula adjusts her hat and returns the greeting. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

She pats the spot on the bench next to her and Katara sits. “A few things.” 

“I’m not mad at you.” Katara says quickly. “You worked really hard for that scholarship.” 

“Yes.” Azula replies. “But I can pay the tuition in full…” She trails off. “I can’t give you the scholarship, but I can give you this.”  She slides Katara an envelope. 

“Azula…” She trails off. “I can’t take this.” 

“Then pretend like Kho is paying for it...technically he is.” She shrugs. 

“But this is your compensation.” 

Azula shrugs. “Father takes care of me well enough.” 

Azula has never seen such a wide smile on any one person’s face. That hopeful and excited glimmer in Katara’s eyes as she pulls her into what is probably the tightest hug that she has ever received is a gift. “I was going to wait until Christmas but I didn’t want you to mope around for our entire break. It would have been bothersome.”  

“I love you too, Azula.” Katara chuckles. She wipes at her eye. “What else did you have to tell me?” 

Azula takes a deep breath. “I’m going to get it fixed.” 

Katara cocks her head. 

She gestures to her face. “I talked to my old surgone, he does medical surgeries too. It won’t happen for at least a year, but I’m going to have some reversal surgery.” 

“Azula.” Katara’s brows scrunch. “I thought that you were going to try to…”

“I am trying to accept myself.” Azula replies. “That’s why I’m having him bring my face back, my old face. Before the first surgeries.” She pauses. “It’s not a cosmetic thing this time. It’s…” she thinks for a moment, “it’s like having your face fixed after a bad car accident. He says that correcting some of the damaged facial structures will give me more movement again.” 

Katara nods, seeming to accept the explanation, but she isn’t quite done. “He says that the surgery won’t remove the scars and some of the lumps might still be there. That I can get a cosmetic procedure done to have those fixed…”

“Are you going to?” 

Azula shakes her head. “Just the one that will help me get more movement in my face. I don’t mind the scars.” 

“Or the lumps?” 

“Those bother me.” She confesses. “But I suppose that  I’ll get over it. If Zuzu can get over whatever is going on with his face, I can do the same.” 

“Really?” Katara laughs. “You’re bringing him into this one.”

“I’ll insult him at every opportunity, it’s what the two of us do.” She pauses. “And I have to make the most of it because he’s moving in with mother this summer. He says that his dream college is closer to her home.” 

“Why does he want to go to school so far away?” 

“Uncle teaches there.” She replies. “Culinary arts.” 

Katara nods. 

“Anyways, I’m staying because there has to be at least one ‘wild hormonal teenage nightmare’ to drive father mad...and make sure he keeps going to his therapy appointments.” She pauses. “Oh and there also might be someone else worth sticking around for.” 

“I’m glad that you’re sticking around. I don’t know if I can tolerate Yue without you.” 

“Of course not.” Azula tucks her bangs behind her ears. 

“I guess things are going to be different next year…” Katara gazes up at the ceiling of the gazebo.

“Things are going to be different after winter break.” She shrugs. “Hopefully this time they’ll be a good different. “ Katara leans into her and Azula strokes the top of her head. 

“You’re wearing gloves this time.” Katara notes. “I think that they will be...a good different, I mean.”

[rowan-torquill]

Another Fraxus Thing

Freed was shopping at the open air market for food for his teammates. Laxus went with Freed so that he wouldn't overexert himself as the Thunder God Tribe had just come back from a particularly difficult mission, and Freed had done slightly to much magic.

Freed was looking at the fruit as Evergreen had said something about craving chocolate and strawberries on the way back to Mangolia. Laxus, bored and wanting some meat, went further down the market to look at the prices of the usual and unusual meats. Unfortunately, when he did this, a young brunette solid script mage had recognized Freed and started a conversation on runes.

"Hey, you're Freed, 'the demon' aren't you. I love what you can do with your dark ecruíte." the twenty two year old commented.

"Yes... who are you" Freed asked, looking cautious.

"I'm Jax Wilde, I'm a solid script mage." He answered, smiling sunnily down at Freed,  who was a few inches shorter than the other.

Freed blinked in surprise, and though something seemed . . .  off about the other mage, but as nothing aggressive or untoward had happened, there was nothing Freed could do, though he realized that his feelings would likely start to catch Laxus's interest if they got stronger.

"Mmm," Freed mumbled as he tried to seperate himself from the other mage. "Interesting, I didn't notice any sort of guild mark on you, are you part  of a guild?"

"Ah, no I don't actually have a guild. I did join one for a bit, but it wasn't really for me." Jax replied leaning toward Freed, seemingly crowding, and towering over the other.

Laxus, having felt the quick instance of uncertainty, and having a general bad feeling quickly paid for what he had purchased and returned to Freed. He growled lowly at seeing his mate being cornered and intimidated by some sleazy brunet. His heart warmed slightly as he made eye contact with Freed over the others shoulder. Laxus noticed that Freed was curled in on himself, and curving his hands into claws, like a nervous animal. Seeing his mate so nervous had his dragon snarling, and he forced himself between the two.

"I would advise that you step the fuck away from my mate," Laxus grumbled, grabbing Freeds hand and lacing their fingers together. "Before I take your fucking head off, asshole."

"Okay, okay, I get it. Leave him alone." Jax huffed hands up, palms facing the pair. "Look I'm leaving. Sorry for the trouble or whatever."

After making sure that Jax had left, he turned to Freed, and sheepishly apologized.

"Shit, sorry wonder. I know that you don't really like it when I try to protect you like that. It's getting close to our anniversary, I think it may be causing my "dragon" to be more protective."

Freed sighed, and gave a quick squeeze to Laxus's hand, "I know, I can't really hold it against you either. He was creeping me out. C'mon, we really shouldn't keep Ever waiting much longer."

-- LD+FJ --

Laxus leaned onto the pillar that supported the upper level of the guilt hall. He smiled and huffed slightly as he let his gaze wander over his guildmates. He grinned and pushed of the pillar to walk over to Freed, who was leaning against the bar, talking to Mira. He hugged the shorter male from behind and placed his chin on the others head before grumbling out a question.

"Can I talk ta you treasure. Nothin bad, swear on my heart, just a question bout our anniversary."

Freed chuckled a little before moving his head to the side in an effort to get Laxus's head off his hair.

"Sure, let's go upstairs darling."

Freed grabbed one of Laxus's hands and gently pulled him towards the stairs to the upper level.

Once they reached the upper hall, and found a room that Freed then runed to be locked and soundproofed, he turned to his mate, and cocking his head to the side slightly, raised an eyebrow, smiling. Laxus chuckled before grabbing one of Freed's hands and playing sligtly with the others fingers, and asked,

" Do you wanna go with me to that nice, fancy new place along the canal? I woulda asked downstairs, but I know that all those dweebs woulda bothered us, and I didn't want to havta blast em."

Freed chuckled, and leaned forward to press a light kiss to Laxus's lips. Before pressing their foreheads together and whispering an affirmative, and just contentedly standing in his mates embrace.

-- LD+FJ --

Freed smiled and chuckled quietly as he watched Laxus from across the table. He and Laxus had been enjoying their night at the new restaurant that had opened in Magnolia. The two had just started their desserts, a chocolate cake for Freed, and a mixed berry pie with vanilla ice cream for Laxus, they shared the treats, and as Laxus paid, Freed said,

"This has been amazing Laxus. I know that this isn't really your style, and since you did this for me, why don't we go home, change into something different, and go to a club."

Laxus smiled, and tugged Freed along, the entire way back to the house. Freed, who had had his hair in a simple but elegant low ponytail, braided his hair, and changed into a pair of tight black pants, steel-toed combat boots, and a silky golden colored button up shirt. As a final touch, he put on a wide-ish leather choker, with a ring in the center. He walked into the hall, to see Laxus standing there in his purple shirt, tight pants, and boots like Freeds. He also had his fur lined coat draped across his shoulders. Freed smiled, stepped up beside the dragon slayer, and kissed his cheek before tugging the taller towards the door.

"C'mon, let's go have some fun!"

-- LD+FJ --

Freed laughed and sensually danced around Laxus, a bit buzzed from the drinks that he and his mate had shared. Freed chuckled again, before kissing Laxus quickly and leaving to go to the bathroom. As he entered he felt ... something, and he recognized what it was, but only when it was a moment to late, seeing the flash of runes appear from the corner of his eye. He tried not to panic as a gas appeared and he started to get light headed. As he stumbled and fell, he realized that he couldn't feel Laxus through their bond as well. He panicked as he realized that whatever the gas was, that it includes some sort of blocker for a mate bond. As he started to slide down the wall, passing out, the gas disappeared, and the runes released to allow him to quickly see the mage that he had been talking to earlier in the market.

"Hello Freed Justine," Jax said as he cupped the rune mages face, "you know, you really should learn to check your drink. You never know what could be in it. For example," He pulled out a mostly full vial, "someone could slip you some of this wonderful two-part bond suppressor. Of course, it would be useless anyway, as it doesn't do anything until it's introduced to the gas." He chuckled. "Well, I'm sorry about this, but ... you really should be careful about who you talk to."

-- LD+FJ --

Laxus walked off the dance floor, over to the bar, and waited for his mate to return. As he  swirled his drink, he realized that it was taking Freed just a bit to long, and decided to go check on him, especially when he realized that the feelings he was getting through the bond were unusually dulled. As he entered the bathroom, and realized that Freed was gone, his dragon snarled as it picked up the scent of the mage that had been intimidating it's mate earlier. He tried to quell the panic pooling in his heart, as he realised that someone had not only taken his mate, but that they had also blocked the bond the two shared.

He growled lowly, but left, and went to talk to a manager, his hands sparking slightly. Fortunately, there was no scent of his mates blood, which means he wasn't injured, unfortunately, that meant there was no solid way to track him as his scent would be all over Magnolia.

After seeing the head of security, and realizing that there was no clues, he left, and went back to the house. He then changed into a pair of sturdy pants, that wouldn't restrict his movement, and a sleeveless shirt. He decided to wearing his coat, but brought both his headphones and Freeds sword.

He contemplated just flashing to see his grandfather, and decided to save his energy, ran there instead. He told his grandfather what had happened, and was given permission to leave and look for his mate. He left the guild hall, and became to follow the faint scent of the other man out of Magnolia. He traced the scent to a small house in the mountains. As he approached, he had a harder and harder time holding his dragon at bay as he started to smell his mate. What truly made him lose control was the sharp pain that suddenly came through the mate bond as the blocker wore off with the distance he covered. His dragon took over with a snarl, wanting to destroy whatever had hurt his mate!!

He ran the rest of the way to the house before kicking the door open, startling the small group that had been sitting inside. They looked over at the doorway, only to pale as they saw the siloughette of the dragon slayer, with lightning arching off his body.

-- LD+FJ --

Freed slowly blinked his eyes open, realizing that he had a bad headache, and after remembering what had happened, tried to sit up. He realized he couldn't, as he was strapped to a table, seemingly underground. He realized that he could turn his head, but that was it, as he tried to look around, he realized that the straps holding him down where covered in magic dampening runes. He could feel his magic running under his skin, trying to get out, but being held back by the straps.

Crap, Freed thought.

His head jerked as he heard faint footsteps coming towards the room he was in, and then the door creak. He could feel his face turn into a snarl as he saw Jax along with someone in medical scrubs.

"Mm, so you're awake now, good, we were waiting to explain to you what we want, and why your here." Jax smiled and gestured to the other person, "See, the good doctor here has many theories that he'd like to figure out. Most have to do with either writing type magic, or dragon slayers. Yes, I know, a bit strange. However, as a rune mage, and the mate to an artificial dragon slayer, you may see why he was so interested in you."

Freed glared, but remains silent, waiting to see if the idiot in front of him would explain more or just leave, which would be, not ideal. Fortunately, luck was on his side.

"See, the main thing we want to know is what the differences between someone who uses dark rune magic, like yourself, and someone who uses light rune magic. Later we hope to obtain a grey rune magic user, but we will make due with what we can. And, if we can learn more about what being the mate of a dragon slayer entails, well that's just a bonus." Jax smiled coldly, before turning to the other man and said, "He's all yours." Then he left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

Freed stayed silent throughout this interaction, as he could feel his bond with Laxus growing in strength. He realized that they still thought the bond was blocked, and he could feel it straining less, meaning that Laxus was nearing, wherever he was being held. He hoped that his mate would show up soon.

His attention was pulled back to the present, " Well, I don't suppose that you would tell us anything specific about our aims, would you?" Freed just glared. "No, I suppose that was to much to hope for." The other walked out of Freed's line of sight, and returned with a rolling cart full of various medical instruments. He gulped, closing his eyes, and resolving himself to not give his captor the pleasure of his screams.

-- LD+FJ --

Laxus snarled as he looked at the charred mages and men laying on the floor of the house before his head snapped up, feeling a spike of panic from his mate, before pain overwhelmed it. His dragon howled from inside, and he then followed his bond to a hidden door, which he just blasted open, a snarl on his face. He wanted to stomp down the staircase he found, but realized that that would alert his mates captors. So instead he slunk down the stairs, treading carefully, he reached the bottom after a couple minutes, and just as he realized how close he was to his mate, with the strength of the bond, he smelled the idiot who had tried to seperate them, and had brought his mate here to harm him. He snarled silently and snuck to the room that he could detect the scent from. He opened the door, and after see the source of the scent, his dragon took over and knoked the other unconscious before returning to the Hall and following his bond. He found the door, heavily locked, and etched with lightning impervious runes. He sighed, realizing that he couldn't blast this door open. His dragon however was tired of being away from its mate, it took over, and just ripped the door off its hinges. He roared once he realized that his mate was not only strapped down to a table, and that the straps and table had magic dampening runes etched into them, but that someone else had stripped Freed if most if his clothes, and was actually taking samples, as if Freed was some sort of lab experiment. Luckily, the roar had an extra concussive blast that knocked the other man in scrubs out. Laxus was suddenly standing over his mate, in control of his body, and his dragon stayed back to look out for enemies.

"Freed? Freed, treasure, please say somthin'! Please, treasure." He was desperately repeating this as he carefully unstrapped Freed and wrapped him in his own long, fur-lined coat. He scooped up the tired, bearly responsive mage, and carried him upstairs to a couch the miraculously survived the earlier fight. He was about to storm back down the stairs, when a hand caught his.

"'Axus?" He whipped around, and looked down at his hurt mate, and softened his expression as he saw blue green eyes looking at him blearily.

"Ya, treasure?" He murmured.

"Stay, pleze?"

He sighed, but couldn't refuse his mate anything, so decides to sit down and scoop his mate into his arms, Freed sighed, and relaxed into his chest. "Thnk you."

"Not a problem treasure." He murmured, keeping an ear out, just incase one of the two idiots down stairs came looking to see what had happened to them, and their captive. There was always time for revenge later.

[thisislizheather]

The Witches Are Coming by Lindy West - A Review

I’ve been waiting for this book of essays to come out for months and it was so, so worth the the wait. I know it’s asking a lot, but can this woman please just write a book every year? Or every six months? That’d be great, thanks. Favourite parts ahead!

“This moment in history is about more than individual interactions between individual people. Those matter, too - it matters how you made your subordinate feel with that comment, and it matters quite a lot that the woman on the bus went home and sobbed after you groped her - but, as Rebecca Traister wrote in December 2017 on The Cut: “This moment isn’t just about sex. It’s about work.” It’s about who feels at home in the workplace and who feels like an outsider - which, by extension, dictates who gets to thrive and ascend, who gets to hire their replacements, who gets to set their children up for success, who gets credit and glory, and who gets forgotten. It’s about who feels safe in public spaces and who doesn’t. Which is to say, it’s about everything.”

“We gobble up cable news’ insistence that both sides of an argument are equally valid and South Park’s insistence that both sides are equally stupid, because taking a firm stance on anything opens us up to criticism.”

“We kept letting Adam Sandler make more movies after Little Nicky, because white men are allowed to fail spectacularly and keep their jobs.”

There’s literally an entire chapter on Adam Sandler movies that is perfection. You have to read it. Seriously, just pick this up at a bookstore and read that one chapter, if nothing else.

I loved all of her points about how there was endless discussion about The Ted Bundy Tapes when it came out earlier this year and how we debated whether this murdering monster was handsome or not. And how that same type of debate is somehow in the same arena as when people debate whether Elizabeth Warren is “likable” or not.

There’s a part in the Ted Bundy special where the judge sympathizes with Bundy and goes on a ridiculous tangent about how it’s “such a shame” that he turned out that way when he had so much potential, it’s truly disgusting to see a judge commiserate with a rapist and murderer, but it happened and it’s wild to see. “That anecdote is often held up as evidence of Bundy’s charisma - even the judge sentencing him to death was seduced by that smirk, that finger wave. But it is the most blatant, overwhelming evidence we have for the opposite. Men don’t need charisma to succeed. It doesn’t matter if men are likable, because men are people who do things, who don’t have to ask first, whose potential has value even after it is squandered.”

“Chasing likability has been one of women’s biggest setbacks, by design. I don’t know that rejecting likability will get us anywhere, but I know that embracing it has gotten us nowhere.”

Absolutely in love with the fact that she loves the movie Clue as much as I do.

I really liked the chapter that she discussed Gwyneth Paltrow’s GOOP, even if I did wish that she went in on her/the brand harder.

So in love with the chapter where she talks about South Park and its creators. I’ve always hated that show, it’s never been good, and I can’t understand who the hell would be into it. It’s never been funny, edgy, smart. Insane that it’s still on.

Maybe I’m really reading into it, but there’s a tiny part where she mentions that PETA sucks and I can’t stop all my little inside screams - it’s hard to find somewhere who dislikes all the same stuff as you.

“Men think that misogyny is a women’s issue; women’s to endure and women’s to fix. White people think that racism is a pet issue for people of color; not like the pure, economic grievances of the white working class. Rape is a rape victim’s problem: What was she wearing? Where was she walking? Had she had sex before?“

“Whenever talk turned toward solutions, the panel came back to mentorship: women lifting up other women. Assertiveness and leaning in and ironclad portfolios and marching into that interview and taking the space you deserve and changing the ratio and not letting Steve from accounting talk over you in the morning. During the closing question-and-answer period, a young woman stood up. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice electric with anger, “but all I’ve heard tonight are a bunch of things women can do to fight sexism. Why is that our job? We didn’t build the system. This audience should be full of men.”

“Sexism is a male invention. White supremacy is a white invention. Transphobia is a cisgender invention. So far, men have treated #MeToo like a bumbling dad in a detergent commercial: well intentioned by floundering, as though they are not the experts. You are the experts. Only 2.6 percent of construction workers are female. We did not install that glass ceiling, and it is not our responsibility to demolish it.”

When talking about what men can actually do to help women: ”“Do you ever stick up for me?” sounds childish, but I don’t know that gussying up the sentiment in more sophisticated language would enhance its meaning. It isn’t fun to be the one who speaks up. Our society has engineered robust consequences for squeaky wheels, a verdant pantheon from eye rolls all the way up to physical violence. One of the subtlest and most pervasive is social ostracism: coding empathy as the fun killer, consideration for others as an embarrassing weakness, and dissenting voices as out-of-touch, bleeding-heart dweebs (at best). Coolness is a fierce disciplinarian. A result is that, for the most part, the only people weathering those consequences are the ones who don’t have the luxury of staying quiet. Women, already impeded and imperiled by sexism, also have to carry the social stigma of being feminist buzzkills if they call attention to it. People of color not only have to deal with racism; they also have to deal with white people labeling them “angry” or “hostile” or “difficult” for objecting. What we could use is some loud, unequivocal backup.”

“I know there’s pressure not to be a dorky, try-hard male feminist stereotype; there’s always a looming implication that you could lose your spot in the boys’ club; if you seem too opportunistic or performative in your support, if you suck up too much oxygen and demand praise, women will yell at you for that, too. But I need you to absorb that risk. I need you to get yelled at and made fun of, a lot, and if you get kicked out of the club, I need you to be relieved, and I need you to help build a new one.”

The entire chapter about the complications with Joan Rivers is such a great one.

“You can hate someone and love them at the same time. Maybe that’s a natural side effect of searching for heroes in a world not built for you.”

Okay, so the only thing that we strongly disagree on is her previous love for Adam Carolla. Always hated that man.

““Common sense’” without growth, curiosity, or perspective eventually becomes conservatism and bitterness.”

“There are pieces of pop culture that you outgrow because you get older. Then there are pieces of pop culture that you outgrow because you get better.”

“Art has no obligation to evolve, but it has a powerful incentive to do so. Art that is static, that captures a dead moment, is nothing. It is, at best, nostalgia; at worst, it can be a blight on our sense of who we are, a shame we pack away. Artists who refuse to listen, participate, and change along with the world around them are not being silenced or punished by censorious college sophomores. They are letting obsolescence devour them, voluntarily. Political correctness is just the inexorable turn of the gear. Falling behind is preventable.”

Talking about Ricky Gervais:” “People see something they don’t like, and they expect it to stop,” he said. “The world is getting worse. Don’t get me wrong, I think I lived through the best fifty years of humanity, 1960 through 2015, the peak of civilization for everything. For tolerances, for freedoms, for communication, for medicine! And now it’s going the other way a little bit.” “Dumpster fire” has emerged as the favorite emblem of our present sociopolitical moment, but that Gervais quote feels more apt and more tragic as a metaphor: the Trump/Brexit era is a rich, famous, white, middle-aged man declaring the world to be in decline the moment he stops understanding it.”

“Adam Carolla isn’t angry because he’s being silenced; he’s angry because he’s being challenged. He’s been shown the road map to continued relevance, and it doesn’t lead back to his mansion. He’s angry because he’s being asked to do the basic work of maintaining a shared humanity or else be left behind. He’s choosing the past. Gervais and Carolla are not alone in presenting themselves as noble bulwarks against a wave of supposed leftwing censorship. (A Netflix special, for the record, is not what “silencing” looks like.)”

Talking Louis CK: “Less than a year after his vow to retreat and listen, CK made the laziest and most cowardly choice possible: to turn away from the difficult, necessary work of self-reflection, growth, and reparation, and run into the comforting arms of people who don’t think it’s that big a deal to show your penis to female subordinates. Conservatives adore a disgraced liberal who’s willing to pander to them because he’s too weak to grow. How pathetic to take them up on it.”

“Like every other feminist with a public platform, I am perpetually cast as a disapproving scold. But what’s the alternative? To approve? I do not approve.” - This is probably my most favourite line in the entire book

“Not only are women expected to weather sexual violence, intimate partner violence, workplace discrimination, institutional subordination, the expectation of free domestic labor, invisible cuts that undermine us daily, we are not even allowed to be angry about it.”

“I’d been taught that when ordinary people try to do activism, they look stupid. Of course now I know that there is no effective activism without the passion and commitment of ordinary people and it is a basic duty of the privileged to show up and fight for issues that don’t affect us directly. But maintaining that separation has served the status quo well. It keeps good people always just shy of taking action. It’s tone policing. It’s the white moderate. But it’s changing.”

“Diet culture is a coercive, misogynist pyramid scheme that saps women’s economic and political power.”

Definitely the best thing I’ve read all year. GO BUY!