#PEOPLE DIIIIIIED THAT DAY

[boxwinebaddie]

bc i don't care about spoilers anymore, i want y'all to know that the climax of the south park portion of rm is at ike's winter formal where jersey is stuck wearing what sheila's brother or gerald wore to his prom in the eighties ( its giving downtown abbey, he looks like a founding father, help ) and is still mad as fuck at poor ravenstan, wolfing down punch ( he does not know is spiked, oof )

crimson dawn comes out, ravenstan is FITTED, bro like i put him in this badass emo boy red and black charro outfit because he's a legend with his red combat boots on and his eyeliner going crazy, ( ya i do think kenny and jimmy are in those 2007 scene shirts with the fake tie on them, marj looks like punk rock southern avril lavigne )

asks kyle to take him back, backflips into the splits says "HIT IT!" AND PROCEEDS TO DROP THE SICKEST BADDEST HARDEST POP GOES PUNK ROCK COVER OF STYLE BY TAYLOR SWIFT EVER.

[rubywithin]

Fate Hunter 5

-DIIIIIIING- It's time to get ready, I got up, got dressed and prepared my things. (Morgana) "I made you some toast.....I see you are taking today seriously!". (Gear) "Of course this will be my true test as a Nerazell hunter I guess". I made my way towards the school and like yesterday I plan on catching up on notes, with the pace I'm at I should be able to make up for the three days I missed. (Classmate 1) "Hey Gear I heard you tried scaring Ruri yesterday what is wrong with you?". I see so they are blaming me for that incident, (Classmate 2) "That's so messed up I can't believe you would do that to an innocent girl!". (Gear) "Look..." (Tozuru) "Did you actually witness Gear do such a thing or did Ruri herself claim this?" (Classmate 1) "Well um no...". (Tozuru) "Then stop enabling petty rumours about him!" wow he shut them up real fast, (Gear) "Thanks Tozuru...". He walked off before the teacher arrived, (Mr Tigeri) "Now settle down class, let me take the register". (Classmate 2) "He will probably be surprised Gear is here a second day in a row".

For some reason I felt un easy during everyone's snide comments. It's like I could feel the anger oozing from....crap anger this can't be good! (Girl) "M...monster! I could hear everyone get up and I had no choice! (Gear) "Activate Zone Void!" this was an item given to me by Morgana -Flashback- (Morgana) "Gear take this item, if the Nerazell attacks during school hours activate it. It will temporally freeze everyone around you who is unable to tap into their emotional power!". (Gear) "Why can't I use this to just hunt the thing down?" (Morgana) "It only has a 30 minute limit.....if we freeze people too long they will be more likely to suspect someone tampered with their day! Also it has a high emotional energy cost it's only full because I charged it!".

-Present- My assumption is that Morgana won't be able to casually charge it for me. So I have to take this guy on now, let's do this. (Gear) "Sword of Emotion....come out beast if you want to drain any more energy then you will have to beat me first!". (Nerazell) "Growl" the thing came charging at me so like before I tried expanding the swords blade....no way it dodged, it's faster than the last one! (Gear) "AAAAAAH....-drip-" it cut my arm I could hear it coming back for a second attack but I dodged out of the way! Okay let's practice that thing Morgana taught me....she told me to shape my sword around my true self. I guess I'm a cold guy who doesn't particularly care about others treating me like dirt. Yeah that's right I will just give them an icy stare and carry on with my life. "Sword turn to ice to reflect who I am, Icicle Slash" he dodged but I was able to freeze a lime. HYAAAAAAAAH I tried the blade expansion once again and this time bullseye (Nerazell) "UUUUUUUGH Darn huu...mon".

Fee...feeling faint....ugh...(Nonora) "GEEEEAR" that was the last thing I heard before it went dark for a while! I had some weird dream where I was in the mountains.....it was with some woman but who was she? (Morgana) "Oh dear what happened to him?" I heard a familiar voice and woke up. I was in the nurse's office, (Mr Tigeri) "Hmm we have no idea but we believe he cut himself on glass yesterday and maybe had a delayed shock" (Morgana) "Oh I see, Gear honey you have to stop bottling up your emotions and let them out. If you are hurt just tell us!". (Gear) "I will try....Mr Tigeri can I take today's notes home?..I want to catch up". (Mr Tigeri) "Oh don't worry Nonora has offered to help you catch up if you need a few days to recover". Ugh I need to learn how to not faint after fighting those things.

[chilling-seavey]

IVE BEEN WAITING ALL DAY TO READ THIS. PEOPLE HAVE BEEN IN MY DMS ASKING WHY I HAVENT READ THIS YET. IM HERE GUYS. IM HERE. When Di writes for George, she gets line by line analysis comments and I could not justify giving her some haphazard comment in the middle of the work day. But I am HERE now with a snack and a drink and two monitors to properly read and write my comments.

“Strip for me,” okay jumping RIGHT in. Im SAT

“making you feel as though he was stripping you bare with his gaze alone” Suddenly I have performance anxiety

“weight of his admiration” STUNNING LINE

IM GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET ALREADY AND BARELY ANYTHING HAS HAPPENED

DIIIIII I CANT IM ALREADY BLUSHING NO ONE LOOK AT ME “get on the bed” the breath on the neck EHJKGEBHRG

“his to orchestrate” word choice >>>

The ‘sweetheart’ sent me – I would be bye dead deceased if he said that to me

“Don’t you want a little taste?” PLEASE ACCEPT EJKNERNJG

I FOR REAL JUST SLAMMED MY FISTS ON MY DESK SO HARD LIKE FULL ON VISCERAL REACTION “Play with yourself. I want to see you make a mess of that pretty little cunt for me.” MY NEIGHBOURS ARE CONCERNED

I live for the vulgarity – I need this man to speak in sin to me

Ughhh the slight degradation hinted with the gentle praise I’m losing my MIND

I got so into it I forgot to go over here to my comment doc let me just take a SECOND to wrap my head around this omg. I think I need to lay and stare at the ceiling in silence for an hour or so  because WOW

And the aftercareeee…the forehead kiss…just makes it and ties it up in a pretty little bow

Di absolutely CHEFED this up and I am licking my fingers fr (LOL innuendo unintended but I made myself giggle)

Guide Me | G. Russell

Kinktober 3/11 - Guided Masturbation

Summary: George wouldn’t touch you, not until you made yourself cum only by following his instructions.

warnings: 18+ smut, fem masturbation, fingering, and filthy filthy words from Mr. Russell

wc: 2.5k

kinktober masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

“Strip for me,” George commanded softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his tone.

He sat on the edge of the bed, legs slightly parted, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race. His gaze was like a physical touch, caressing your skin with every passing second, making you acutely aware of your own body.

You took a deep breath, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for the hem of your shirt. Slowly, you lifted it over your head, the fabric brushing against your skin before you let it fall to the floor. George’s eyes followed every movement, dark and unwavering, making you feel as though he was stripping you bare with his gaze alone.

As you reached for the waistband of your pants, you couldn’t help but notice the way George’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. There was something about his presence, the way he watched you with such focused attention, that made your skin tingle with anticipation. You unbuttoned your pants, sliding them down your legs with a deliberate slowness, wanting to draw out the moment, to make him wait for it.

Finally, with your pants discarded, you stood before him in nothing but your lingerie, the soft lace clinging to your body. You felt exposed, but also empowered by the way his gaze roamed over you, taking in every inch as though he was memorizing it for the millionth time.

“Beautiful,” George murmured, the word a low rumble that sent a warmth flooding through you. It was a simple compliment, one you were used to, but the way he said it made it feel like so much more. His eyes met yours again, and you could see the desire burning in them.

George’s gaze lingered, moving slowly over your form with a deliberate intent that sent your heart racing. You felt the heat of his stare, the weight of his admiration, and it was almost as if he were touching you, his eyes tracing the curves of your body with a precision that made your breath catch. The soft lace of your lingerie seemed to amplify every sensation, making you hyper-aware of every inch of exposed skin, every subtle shift of his expression.

He rose from the bed with a smooth, effortless grace, his movements calm and measured. The space between you seemed to shrink with every step he took, yet he stopped just short of touching you, his presence a warm, electric hum that made your skin prickle with anticipation. George began to circle you slowly, his eyes never leaving your form, and you felt as if you were being hunted, every nerve tingling under the intensity of his silent command.

You stood still, letting him take his time, watching how he moved deliberately, like he was savoring the power he held in this moment. And all the while, he never touched you, never laid a finger on your skin, but you could feel the pull of his presence as though he had you wrapped in his arms.

He paused behind you, and you could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You shivered, acutely aware of how close he was, close enough that if you moved even an inch, your bodies would brush against each other. But he stayed just out of reach, his restraint a tantalizing reminder of the control he wielded.

“Get on the bed,” he instructed, his voice low and resonant, sending a shiver down your spine.

You obeyed, climbing onto the bed, your heart pounding as you positioned yourself in the center. George watched you with a dark, approving gaze, and it felt like he was assessing every movement, every breath.

He settled back onto the edge of the bed, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, but still too far to touch. The distance was maddening, the ache of wanting him so close and yet feeling that unbearable gap.

“I’m going to talk,” George said, his voice a smooth, velvety command that vibrated through the air. “And you’re going to listen, very carefully. You’ll follow everything I say, without question, without hesitation. Understood?”

You nodded, your breath catching at the promise laced in his words. He was making it clear that tonight, every movement, every reaction, every breath of yours was his to orchestrate.

George’s gaze held yours, unyielding and expectant, as if waiting for you to fully register the gravity of his words. When he saw the understanding settle in your eyes, his expression softened just slightly, though the command remained.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it resonated deeply.

“Touch yourself for me, pretty girl,” George ordered, his voice smooth and authoritative. “Slowly. I want you to feel everything.”

Your hands moved over your body, fingertips brushing against your skin, tracing paths that made your breath hitch. You let your touch wander, teasingly light, skimming over the fabric covering your nipples down to your stomach. His eyes followed every move, dark and intent, drinking in the sight of you.

“Lower,” he said, his voice a quiet command that sent a shiver through you. Your hands drifted over your panties, just barely grazing where you needed more, but his voice stopped you from pressing further.

“Not yet,” George said, smirking as he watched your hips shift in response. “Just tease yourself. Tell me how much you want it.”

Your breath hitched as your fingers hovered over the delicate fabric, feeling the heat radiate from your own body. You circled lightly, grazing the lace but never quite giving in to the urge to press harder, just as he instructed. Your voice caught in your throat, and you barely managed to find your words, the need threading through every syllable.

“I want it so much,” you whispered, your voice trembling with restraint, with the frustration of not being able to touch yourself the way you craved. “I need more, George.”

His smirk widened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as he watched you struggle to follow his command. The deliberate distance he maintained only amplified the ache inside you.

“Hmm, I know you do, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning forward slightly, his gaze fixated on the way your fingers teased over your panties, almost but never enough. “Show me how wet you are for me.”

Your hands moved to the waistband of your panties, lifting your hips and pulling them down slowly, letting the soaked fabric glide over your legs before tossing them aside.

With deliberate slowness, you spread your legs wider, your fingers parting your folds to reveal just how wet you were. George’s eyes darkened, following every movement with a ravenous intensity that only made your pulse race faster. A soft gasp escaped you, both at the sensation and at the sheer boldness of the act, knowing his eyes were glued to every slick detail you showed him. You couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at your lips, enjoying the way his jaw tightened, a sign that this teasing was affecting him just as much.

Slowly, you ran your finger along your folds, gathering your slickness before bringing it up, holding it in the air with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Don’t you want a little taste?” you asked, your voice dripping with playful challenge, letting the question hang in the charged space between you.

George’s eyes flickered, a dark amusement crossing his features as you licked your finger clean, humming at the taste. He chuckled softly, the sound rich and low, shaking his head as he leaned back slightly, as if to resist the temptation you were dangling in front of him.

“Tonight, you’re the one putting on a show, and I’m not done watching,” he murmured.

The hint of defiance in your actions had stirred something in him, but George was nothing if not disciplined. His control was ironclad, and even as his eyes drank in the sight of you, he kept his distance, refusing to break his own rules.

His tongue flicked over his lips as if savoring the phantom taste of you, a tease in itself that only fueled the fire burning between your legs.

“Go on,” he said, his voice rough with restraint, yet still unyielding. “Play with yourself. I want to see you make a mess of that pretty little cunt for me.”

You had always known George had a posh accent, but you’ve never paid much attention to it —until now. There was something about the way he spoke, the way his filthy words were wrapped in such a sophisticated tone that made your pulse race. His lips carefully curved around each syllable, every word meticulously crafted to leave you restless with need, dripping with desire.

With a shaky breath, you let your fingers glide lower, dipping into your slick folds, teasing yourself just as he’d told you to. Your touch was light at first, testing, then firmer as the need grew unbearable. You circled your clit slowly, feeling your body arch into the touch, seeking the release that hovered just out of reach.

“C’mon love, be a good girl and put a finger inside that pretty pussy of yours for me.”

You whimpered his name, your fingers dipping inside as your hips arched, trying to satisfy the ache within you. You could see him watching through your half-lidded eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of satisfaction and longing.

The room felt hotter, the air thick with the scent of your arousal and the intensity of his gaze. Your hips bucked against your hand, your breaths quick and ragged as you tried to mimic the way George would touch you. But it wasn’t the same—the angle, the pressure, the way his fingers knew exactly how to curl inside you, grazing that perfect spot that made you see stars. The lack of his touch was a torment, and your body responded with a desperate ache that had you keening softly, your whimpers filling the room.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” George’s voice was laced with faux pity, his gaze sharp and unrelenting as he watched you struggle. His smirk widened, savouring your every shudder and moan, delighting in the way you writhed under your own hand.

“I need more,” you gasped out, your voice edged with desperation. Your fingers worked in and out, slick and messy, but it was never quite enough. “George, please…”

He clicked his tongue, a mocking sound that sent a fresh wave of heat through your already burning core. “I know you know how to play with your pretty little cunt,” he chided, his tone a mix of teasing and authority. “Whenever I’m not around, you try to bring yourself to the same pleasure I give you. But it’s not the same is it?”

You shook your head frantically, your hips rolling against your fingers in a futile attempt to replicate the ecstasy once George could provide. “I need your fingers,” you whined, your voice breaking with need. “Your mouth, your cock—anything, please I can’t.”

But George didn’t relent. “I know, my sweet girl, I know,” he murmured. “But I want you to keep trying. Play with your clit a little, just like how I would.”

Your fingers moved up, coated in your slick, circling your clit with a pressure that finally made your hips jerk in response, adding to the stimulation of your fingers buried deep in your pussy to chase a sensation that had just been out of reach.

“That’s it, just like that. See, now you’re getting it. I know your cunt better than you do—I know exactly what it needs.”

He took in the sight of you, sprawled before him, fingers buried deep, your movements frantic and needy. The room pulsed with your ragged breaths, the slick sounds of your desperation, and the ever-present weight of his gaze on you, watching, judging, savoring every stuttered gasp and broken plea.

“Slow down,” he ordered, his voice smooth but commanding, a stark contrast to the feverish pace you’d set. “You’re rushing it, love. I want to see you take your time, really feel it. Imagine it’s my fingers inside you—deep and deliberate, the way you like it.”

You whimpered, obeying despite the overwhelming need to chase your release. Your fingers moved slower, mimicking the rhythm he dictated, pressing deeper as you curled them the way he would, seeking that elusive spot that only he could hit with such precision. The change in pace sent a fresh jolt of pleasure through you, your hips arching off the bed as you tried to stay grounded in his words.

“Imagine my mouth on you, my tongue flicking over that sensitive little spot. You’re dripping for me, sweetheart, making such a mess for my eyes only.”

You couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat, your body arching higher as you desperately chased the pleasure. Your fingers moved faster, pushing deeper, circling harder, everything a hazy blur of need and desire. George’s words wrapped around you, guiding every twist and thrust, his instructions the only tether you had to the rapidly fraying control.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “I can see it in the way you’re shaking, the way you’re struggling to hold on. Let go for me, sweetheart. Cum for me, right here, right now.”

The command pushed you over the edge, your fingers moving frantically as you chased the release that had been teasing you for too long. Your body convulsed, your back arching off the bed as the orgasm tore through you, relentless and powerful. You cried out, your voice a mix of his name and broken moans, your vision blurring with the intensity of the climax that wracked your body.

George’s eyes stayed on you, dark and heavy with satisfaction as he watched you fall apart. His breathing was measured, controlled, even as his own restraint teetered on the brink. He leaned back, a pleased smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, his gaze never once leaving your quivering form.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice soft but no less commanding. “So beautiful when you cum for me.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your skin before he placed a feather-light kiss on your forehead, a stark contrast to the raw intensity that had just filled the room. It was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a soothing wave of calm through your still-heaving body. George’s hands moved with deliberate care as he gathered you close, his arms wrapping around your pliant form and pulling you into the solid comfort of his chest. The strength of his embrace was grounding, and you found yourself melting into the warmth of his touch, the rhythm of his heartbeat steadying the lingering erratic thump of your own.

“You did so well, my sweet girl,” he whispered against your hair, his breath hot and soothing as it fanned over your ear. His hands traced slow, comforting circles on your back, each touch imbued with a tenderness that felt almost foreign compared to the dominant edge of moments ago. “So good for me. I’m so proud of you.” His words were a balm, easing the tension from your muscles and leaving you basking in the soft glow of his praise.

Taglist: @chilling-seavey @cheer-bear-go-vroom @ggaslyp1 @nominsgirl @moll1701 @mrs-saturday @teamnovalak @sassy-chan @ruti26-11 @kennysimp101 @falling-feels-like-flying @laeblue @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bountychanti @savewaterdrinkvodka @cloud-55 @aarchiives @holylovercopsludge @black-fireproofs @lazydragonpeach @biancathecool @myownwritings @rebelatbay @ethereal0810 @leclercsluvs @01rrdbull @fallingforfalll2 @lilorose25

[queerhargreeves]

I love your writing. I would die for you. Also, may I request some Trans Diego and NB Klaus bonding over ‘ugh cis people’ when Klaus is bumming rides off him.

Hi lovely!! I’m sorry this took so long!! I hope this suffices. Thank u so much for the request and the kind words !!

“Hey Diiiiii~” Klaus said singsongly, whipping around the corner to meet their brother in the kitchen, “I know you’re making breakfast, which no offense bread and scrambled eggs isn’t exactly the pinnacle of culinary artistry,” They jumped up on the counter next to Diego who was waiting for his toast to finish in the toaster, “but how would you feel if we went to go get waffles, yeah? I for one am absolutely famished!”

Diego took one look at Klaus who had their hands clasped together and a shit eating grin on their face and sighed. Didn’t look like his sibling was going to take no for an answer.

“Fine,”  He said flatly, “but you have to promise me you’ll get a side of fruit instead of hashbrowns though. That body of yours needs some form of nutrients.”

Klaus gasped dramatically, their hand lying limp on their chest, “Dear brother you wound me! But deal, I promise I’ll consume fruit just for you.”

“You good to go now?” Diego eyed their sibling’s attire - it was a more fem day for them it seems like. They had on a flowy, mesh, black maxi skirt and a fuzzy red cardigan unbuttoned on. They had an assortment of necklaces, their lover’s dog tags included, and black booties. All topped with a cat eye and red lipstick to match their cardigan. Clearly well thought out.

“Of course, I would never keep you waiting would I?”

The man just rolled his eyes and walked to yank his keys from the bowl near the front door, “Let’s go get your nutrients.”

Klaus happily followed their brother to the car, making it to the passenger seat before Diego reached the car.

“You know Diego, you’re looking more buff than normal. You been working out more?” Klaus turned to face the man as he got into the car, a small smile on their face.

“I guess,” He shrugged, pulling out of the alley where he was parked, “I’ve been training with Luther a few times a week now. He’s surprised at my ability to keep up.”

“Did you ever train with others at that boxing rink of yours?”

Diego glanced at their sibling, surprised that the conversation was about him for once.

“Uhhh, yeah I did a few times. Had a bad experience though and just stuck to helping with behind the scenes stuff instead.”

“Oh?” Klaus cocked their head, “Pray tell.”

Diego clenched his jaw, his grip on the steering wheel tightening, “I-I was uh, working with this new guy. Big. Probably 6’5, huge in build. After a half hour of working we took a break and I took my shirt off ‘cuz you know, we were working hard. And he saw my,” he pointed and dragged his finger in two lines below his chest, “and sorta freaked. Said he didn’t want to work with ‘one of those he-she freaks’. My boss was cool though, said his ignorance wasn’t welcome at his rink and kicked him out.”

“Jeez Diego, that blows. But at least your boss handled it well.”

Diego nodded, giving a small hum of affirmation.

“What is it with cis men and their fragile masculinity, huh?” Klaus threw their hands up in the air.

“I was at a party a few years back. Real rager, I tell ya! I met this cute guy and we were hitting it off pretty well. We had a few drinks, danced a bit. But then we were uhhhh…” They trailed off, debating how much they thought Diego wanted to hear, “we were getting pretty heated as one does, naturally. But he starts calling me this ‘sexy man’ and like ‘super handsome’ and all that jazz and I sorta just stopped him. I told him I’m not really a man and that kind of talk doesn’t vibe well with me. He got all pissy and started going off about how I make ‘actual trans people’,” They emphasized with air quotes, “look bad. And that my pronouns are fake and I’m an attention seeker all that other fun stuff. Needless to say I didn’t pursue him any further. I found another enby cutie after to occupy my time anyway.”

By the end of the story, they had arrived at the waffle shop. Klaus didn’t even realize the car was in park until Diego patted their arm.

“I don’t know why cis people aren’t capable of wrapping their head around the fact that gender exists beyond a binary. But I’m sorry you have to put up with that shit. You handled that better than I would’ve.” Diego’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, his expression gentle.

“It is what it is, oh brother of mine. Unfortunately, we have to put up with shit like that. Cis people can be the worst. But enough about cis people, I need two pounds of waffles in me stat!” Klaus patted their stomach, causing a soft scoff from their brother.

“And fruit, dummy.” Diego reminded, poking their shoulder.

“Yes,” Klaus grinned, “And fruit.”

[thebibliomancer]

50 More Days of Comics! 32/50: Firestar #4 of 4 (1986)

Oh good.

This miniseries is kind of infamous. Jay and Miles X-Plain the X-Men made it into a kind of running gag.

Because its the one where Emma Frost kills a pony and tries to gaslight a teenager into becoming an assassin.

Its basically politics. Sebastian Shaw, Black King of the Hellfire Club, asked Emma Frost, White Queen of the Hellfire Club, to send one of her students to kill Selene, Black Queen of the Hellfire Club, because Shaw was afraid Selene was plotting a coup against him and by his muttonchops, he will not stand for that!

So Emma Frost has been training Angelica Jones/Firestar in how to use her powers, while keeping her socially isolated from the other students, and subtly nudging her towards complete devotion to Frost. And then she set the stable on fire and gave Butter Rum the pony a heart attack to convince Angelica that her powers were still out of control.

Alas, poor, sweet Butter Rum.

BEAR IN MIND: Firestar was introduced in the popular cartoon for kids Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends.

She appeared in an X-Men issue before this miniseries but this is the most substantive focus she got after the cartoon.

Hell of a way to introduce her into the comics continuity.

Anyway, the last issue of this miniseries starts with Emma Frost faking an assassination attempt on herself and blaming Selene for it.

In a very Emma Frost twist, once Angelica is out of earshot, she yells at her guy that organized the fake hit for hiring someone so careless as to let her get hit by a piece of flying glass.

The fake hit worked though. Angelica says that the thought of using her powers on a living being disgusts her but she’ll do whatever is necessary to protect the people she cares about!

She swears on this Symbolic Bracelet that Ms. Frost gave her which represents the BOND OF LOVE BETWEEN THEM.

Meanwhile, Frost has a call with Shaw where he goes ‘hey is my assassin ready yet i’m real sick of Selene’s shit.’

Frost laments that its wasteful to expend Firestar on a single obvious suicide mission after all the time and effort that went into training her.

Shaw privately worries that Emma actually feels something for Angelica.

Which is possible.

Aside from her entertainingly terrible she is, Emma Frost’s redeeming quality later on is that she honestly loves being a teacher and cares for her students.

Doesn’t stop her from forging ahead with the operation despite misgivings. Or killing a pony, like that time she did.

Meanwhile, Angelica’s assigned bodyguard, Randall Chase, has been getting suspicious of things. How an assassin snuck on campus when it has ridiculous security. How Emma Frost is taking Angelica to a dance at the Hellfire Club even though there was just an assassination attempt.

So he goes digging into things and learns about the plan.

Which leaves him lost as to what he should do.

He’s Angelica’s bodyguard and he cares about her. But he works for Emma Frost and he’s scared of her. Why, she might even be reading his mind even now!

And she is!

And she has a bunch of guys beat the shit out of Randall for sticking his nose places.

The next morning, Frost tells Angelica that Randall died BRAVELY uncovering a mole that Selene had at the school.

She also tells Angelica that she has just learned that Selene plans to attend the Hellfire Club dance so maybe dead Randall was right that it is too dangerous for Angelica to go.

Because she wants Angelica to think it is her own idea to go. So Emma lets Angelica ‘convince’ her to let her go to the dance to protect Emma after ‘one heck of a battle.’

Actually aware that she could die that night, Angelica calls home and speaks to her dad.

Angelica: “Daddy? It’s Angelica. Listen, I know you’ve never quite accepted the fact that I’m a mutant. I know you’re still afraid of me, but... I still love you, daddy! I never stopped.”

That’s the whole conversation because dad Jones doesn’t manage to say a thing.

Meanwhile, Randall is still alive. In a weird bit of mercy that’s going to bite her in the ass, like Freeza letting Dende go the second time, Emma Frost left him alive but imprisoned.

He breaks free but gets shot in the attempt. But he manages to make it to Angelica’s room. With his last words, he tells Angelica how Emma has been using her. And then he diiiiiies.

And Angelica dramatically rips off the Symbolic Bracelet in her grief and anger.

Dying Randall also told Angelica not to try to fight Emma but Angelica has her dander up.

So when Emma Frost goes looking for her when she doesn’t show, she finds that the school’s secret underground facilities have been torn through and an entire army of Hellfire goons have been beaten up.

And here’s a weird thing. Emma Frost is wearing her party dress. And then there’s an explosion which knocks her on her ass. And then she’s wearing her supervillain fetish wear.

Explosions only make Emma Frost sexier. She’s far too powerful.

Anyway, what follows is several pages of Firestar kicking Emma Frost’s ass.

Emma Frost: “Look at yourself, Firestar! Can’t you see what’s happening to you? Your power is growing with each passing moment! You’ll never be able to control it without my constant supervision, my training! You need me more than ever before! You can’t survive without me!”

Firestar: “You’re wrong! I don’t need you. I never did. I can make it on my own!”

And then with Emma against a wall, Angelica pretends to burn her face off. Just to give her a scare.

With that, Angelica makes Emma promise to leave her alone and never bother her again.

Firestar: “I don’t want you to ever forget that I deliberately chose not to kill you! So I’m going to leave you with a little something to remember me by...”

And then she blows up the underground facility.

Later, Emma Frost tries to baby word games her way around her promise to Angelica by getting Shaw to go after her but Shaw says they’ve wasted enough time and effort on Angelica Jones already.

On the last page we see that Angelica and her dad have made amends and she’s living back at home.

And Angelica realized that by letting loose, she’s realized that she’s always been capable of holding her power back. She can control her powers, she can start getting on with the rest of her life.

Of course, she’ll later discover that she can’t totally control her powers actually because they were activated too early. But rather than being a risk to others, she’s mainly a risk to herself. Extensive use of her microwave powers having a deleterious effect on her own health.

But Hank Pym will hook her up with a special suit that prevents the backlash on her and helped her acclimatize to the powers so she eventually wouldn’t need the suit anymore.

I guess the point is that she did get on with the rest of her life. Became an Avenger for a while even.

So that’s nice.

Butter Rum would be proud.