#WAS ANYONE GOING TO TELL ME HE HAS MICROSCOPIC VISION OR WAS I SUPPOSED TO JUST PICK UP A POST CRISIS COMIC AND FIGURE IT OUT MYSELF

[us-the-batfam-blog]

Superman: *uses his microscopic vision* ah I see

Batman: *looks side to side* clark what?

Superman: you have a polymer dissolving on one corner and it’s causing a chain reaction on your suit

Batman’s suit is about to fall off from directly in the middle as a small line is growing and dissolving leading the 2 halves of the suit to detach

Batman: I KNEW IT, also how did you know that?

Superman: I can telescope my vision into microscopic vision, super useful.

Batman: *think thoughtfully how this makes him an extremely useful partner for crime fighting* how good is it

Superman: oh I can see microbes and viruses and stuff. It’s kinda only useful when I focus and whatever but yeah it’s pretty useful.

Batman: *thinking* portable crime lab hn. Portable crime lab yes.

Superman: *waves his hand in front of batman* wakey wakey!

Batman: you are so incredibly useful wow, I understand why Lex wants to have your babies now

Superman: *sputters in shock* BATMAN WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT!

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[sukirichi]

— falling out of love with gojo satoru

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual content, cursing

masterlist !

when you fell in love with gojo satoru, your heart exploded like a firework.

you still remember that moment very vividly at the back of your head. it was new year’s, and you two were drunk on both liquor and the feeling of having the other by your side. it was a tough year – as the norm was for jujutsu sorcerers – but you both made it out alive.

alive couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt that day.

satoru has always been the person who stuck by your side through thick and thin like how you were the one who always went against the higher-ups when they tried to limit his capabilities. you should’ve known then, that the higher ups were just the beginning. that when once you thought their oppression for satoru’s plans were nothing but microscopical compared to the barrier his family had placed between the both of you.

they didn’t like you.

he was a gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you were...well, you.

you weren’t really anyone special or better than anyone. your technique was decent and had a lot more drawbacks than advantages that you had to improve your physical abilities instead to not be deemed a total useless tool.

satoru never saw you that way. to him, he admired you almost as equally as he cherished his best friend, suguru, so much so that the three of you become the best of friends in the blink of an eye. the more time you spent together, whether alone or with others, it felt like your world just hyper focused or snapped into tunnel vision, zeroing on no one else but the white-haired man whose smile was brighter than any other in the sky.

when he told you he loved you, you couldn’t distinguish which ones were the exploding new year fireworks or the drumming of your heart. you stared up at him then, lips falling open as you released a tiny breath of air, and satoru laughed. he actually laughed.

you wanted to tease him, to punch him even though you couldn’t really ever touch him just to get over the fact he had you losing your composure with eyes glossing over. “well,” he taunted then, one shoulder lifting up lazily. “aren’t you gonna say anything? if you feel the same way, now’s the best time to tell me. we can end the year as friends and start another one as-”

satoru never got to finish his sentence. you had jumped into his arms faster than the speed of light, hands yanking down his yukata to pull him towards you, your lips slamming on his almost greedily.

he didn’t mind. he never did.

for once, it felt as if his infinity never existed. you had both spent the night tangled under the sheets, your name rasped from his lips like a prayer. the way you kneeled for him just moments later with your eyes fervently closed made him feel like he’s the one being worshipped instead, and in a way, it was. you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt the day after when he never gave you a break and kept you pulled closer to him.

you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt if ever the time came that you no longer felt the same.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly. your shared apartment would still be filled with his annoying mannerism of dragging his feet over the floor as he walked, always groaning and complaining that he was hungry but never really bothered to cook anything for himself.

it felt a lot like living with a child where you were his mother, but in that sense, satoru hated it whenever you worried for him.

“you’re not my mother, stop telling me what to do!”

“stop being so arrogant, satoru!” you pointed to the barely conscious child in his arms, the first year student still barely breathing because satoru had gone out of his way again and brought yuuji while he fought a special grade curse. “you may be strong, but not everyone around you is capable of handling what you can! stop dragging people into your mess and start using your goddamn brain for once!”

“you don’t know anything, so shut the hell up.”

you scoffed, hands placed on your hip while you blinked back the angry tears that threatened to fell. you worried for yuuji, you really did, but in reality, you just couldn’t handle seeing gojo pushing himself to his limits and coming back home more wounded than the night before.

“i’m just worried for you, satoru. i don’t want you getting hurt.”

“i’m the strongest,” was all he said – was what he always kept saying. “i’m not going to get hurt.”

“you may not,” you reply stiffly, “but what about me? don’t you think about me? don’t you think about how much it hurts me to see you this way?”

you told yourself you hated him. you hated how arrogant he got. it was good he was confident of his abilities and prided himself of such an honourable title, but satoru was human. he was bound to fall at some point.

eventually, you got too tired.

it was too tiring to keep waiting for him to come home unscathed. you were assigned different missions all the time. satoru would always be working overseas while you mostly helped train the kids and exorcised curses from time to time; no missions that were as dangerous as his.

in the dead of the night, when you were turned away from him in your bed that had already gotten so cold from his usual absence, satoru would slip beside you as silently as he could. the morning afterwards would always be the same: good morning, did you sleep well? he knew the answer. he knew you never slept well without him, but he’d ask just to be nice, and it wouldn’t take too long before you’re both late to work because he missed you too much from being away all the time that he wanted to feel you clamp around him one more time.

it was tiring. too tiring.

that heavy weight never left your shoulders. you cried yourself to sleep far too much that you’d lost count – until you reached a point you just felt nothing. the bed no longer felt cold – just empty. his side always remained untouched, his chair in the dining table barely used, and you’ve gotten so used of washing only your plate and utensils that you wondered if satoru had ever been there.

you wondered if it was a coping mechanism; that maybe you could just no longer handle the pain of having to worry about him every damn night and he’d never care enough to at least be a little more careful, and this was why you just stopped missing him, which was why you just started enjoying the silence in your apartment a little bit more than you should.

but if it was a coping mechanism...why did you feel a lot freer and happier in his absence? instead of it feeling like you were supposed to be distracted, you felt awakened. alive.

alive in the same way he told you he loved you while the skies painted different hues of red, blue, green, and yellow in the darkness that bore witness to your souls connecting that night – the same sky that was now patiently watching as your souls split in half and formed itself whole all over again.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly.

there was no longer someone singing made up songs in the shower. there would no longer be that sound of an annoying loud kiss down the bride of your neck or the smacking of his palm on your ass when he wanted to piss you off.

you fell out of love him so silently that when he crawled next to you that night, you didn’t even hear him. and for the first time in a long time, you slept well the moment he left before the sun stretched its wings across the horizon. when you were greeted by nothing but your own pair of slippers outside your bedroom and not even a post it note to tell you he’d already left for work, a smile tugged on your face.

you made your breakfast in peace. satoru no longer dared to come back home if he was injured because he knew you wouldn’t care enough to fix him up.

although of course you would, but nothing ever beats in your heart for him anymore when you dab the disinfectant across his cut lips. satoru would catch your wrist then to tug you to him slowly, empty eyes staring back at his sky blue ones.

“thank you. for patching me up.”

“you’re welcome,” you’d smile, climbing off his lap while closing the first aid-kit. “go get changed. i’ll cook something up for you.”

it was a silent, empty routine. satoru would thank you for fixing him up because he was never every sorry for worrying you. he’d keep being reckless again and again until he reached a point you no longer cared for him enough to say goodbye to him with a kiss and the slow, tender promise of be safe – i’ll wait for you to come home.

you still kiss him – more out of habit than anything – but you’ve changed.

i’ll see you tonight.

it was empty, silent, completely different from the fireworks he’d ignited within you when he told you he loved you. satoru wasn’t dumb, and he didn’t need his six eyes to see that you’ve grown too comfortable over the large space between you and him between the sofa, almost as if him being away was what felt home for you.

he was never a confrontational man; he hated each waking moment that lead to this, but he had to do it. he needed to do it – to set you both free.

when the commercials started playing, satoru lowered the volume down, voice low and serious as he turned to you. you easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room – the first thing you’ve felt ever since you’ve fallen out of love with him – yet nothing changed. when satoru sighed, your heart didn’t ache.

“well,” he chuckled nervously as he leant back to his side, “things have changed, don’t you think?”

“yes.” there was no point denying it. you knew it – he felt it.

“what do we do now?”

you had no answer to his question. despite the fact you no longer looked at him the same way, not once had it crossed your mind to leave your apartment. not because you wanted to hold on as much as possible to whatever memories you shared under this roof, but simply because you didn’t know where else to go.

it wasn’t like it made a difference anyway. satoru barely came home, and when he did, he made his presence as scarce as possible that you could no longer tell what difference it would make if he was here or not.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, knees hugged to your chest. “what do you want to do?”

his answer came in the form of opened doors. you leant against the doorframe, watching as nanami and even yuuji came to help satoru move his stuff out of the apartment. he found a better place somewhere in the upstate, somewhere much closer to bars and clubs – which you know he thoroughly enjoyed it prior to meeting you – and your mind immediately went back to the time you and satoru first moved in.

it proved to be a difficult task. you both wanted to move in and finish unpacking as soon as possible, but satoru was too eager to christen each part and corner of the house that you both ended up making more mess.

nights spent tucked into each other because the heater was broken and you were both too tired to sleep anywhere except the uncomfortable mattress played like a broken record in your mind. satoru’s laughter echoed when nanami complained that he should stop spending money on souvenirs so he could’ve hired professionals to help him move out instead, your head snapping up at the source of that carefree, sweet laugher that always had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

as if feeling your gaze on him, satoru’s eyes flitted to where you stood. when he smiled, you could tell each genuine apology rang behind it – all the words he never got to say staying like a broken glass that kept cutting him over and over again.

he loved you. he still loves you.

and maybe, tucked away in the deepest parts of your heart that no longer felt fond of him the same way it did before, still held a little compassion enough for this man you once wanted to spend your life with.

you weren’t unkind. you didn’t need to love someone to know when to forgive them, but just for this moment, just for him, you could pretend to for one last time.

smiling up at him with your eyes crinkled and the last bits of adoration for everything about him gleamed through your lashes just before it slipped away into nothingness. it was enough. it was enough for satoru to know he’d been forgiven, and it was enough for him to finally set you free.

the next time you saw him at school, there were no longer fireworks.

your heart was at peace.

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Duplicity

An AU where Kaidan joins Cerberus for the events of ME2.

Chapter Nine: Of Explosions, Traps, and Thresher Maws

"Who did you blow to get access back?"

Mary looked up from the safety of the relatively stationary floor of the shuttle. This wasn't a day where the nausea meds worked to full effect, but she could suffer through a grin, "Illusive Man didn't appreciate Leng's interference with our mission."

"What a bosh'tet."

"You should still avoid him, if possible."

"Come on, Shep! Give me a reason to smear him against the cargo bay walls," Jack retorted with a smug grin.

Tali huffed, "I can take care of myself!"

Mary rubbed at her temples, focusing again on the grooves in the flooring, "we might be pushing it already."

"As I said," Jack sighed, "it's an empty facility. Since when did you give a fuck about what Cerberus thinks? Did you drink Cheerleader's kool-aid?"

"I jumped at the idea of blowing up this facility if my urgency was not noted," she retorted, "and only if it was cherry flavored. Unfortunately, it tastes like watered down orange."

"You're fucking weird."

"I'm sure someone likes orange flavoring."

"And they would be wrong, and besides, have you ever tasted orange?"

"That's beside the point, Shepard."

"Why is the bastard even here?" Jack interjected, becoming the voice of reason.

Mary puffed out her cheeks, "he was elusive about it. Leng mentioned something about a confidentiality breach. Tali, did you try and hack their systems?"

Tali shook her head, "if I did, they wouldn't have caught me."

Shepard grinned.

"Cerberus has the entire Normandy bugged, and not to mention that AI. I wouldn't do something like that without you knowing about it."

Mary nodded, "I thought so. If I wanted to get rid of those bugs, what would I need to do?"

Tali went silent.

"Way to ruin your plan," the biotic gently mocked.

"Who is Kai Leng to you?"

Jack leaned back in her seat with a growing scowl, "him and some Cerberus bitch tried to capture me. It didn't happen, but some mercs got me instead."

"That explains how you got to Purgatory," Mary murmured in response.

Jack shrugged, not interested in further explaining that particular defeat.

"Please be careful with him; even Miranda seemed spooked," she cautioned gently.

"Cerberus has really got you by the balls."

The blond flinched, "I'll have you know I ignored an urgent message from the Illusive Man to bring you here." It was a poor attempt at a deflection; everyone aboard the Normandy knew about her history with a certain crewmate. Worse was the presence of nearly every friend she had left in the galaxy. Most brought in by her. She had no doubts that the Collecter threat was overly sensationalized, but for the time being, it what her only option in stopping the threat. Anderson had seen the threat for himself, but whether or not he could help remained unknown partially because she was afraid of a formal admonishing.

"I forgot how much I hate this place."

~~~

"Shepard-- we caught a break."

Predictably, the break was a trap. Mary wasn't liking the new habit of trampling through her ship in armour fresh from a fight. Or how annoyingly composed the Illusive Man always was, even in her impromptu meeting, he was waiting with a cigarette and drink in hand. The bastard knew what he had done. Worse, he was ready for her to explode.

"In the meantime... I suggest you tell your crew I didn't risk their lives unnecessarily," whether or not the microscopic curl of his lip was imagined in the end, "it would make things easier going forward."

"I'll tell them the truth, screw this half-truth bullshit," Mary leaned back on her heel, folding her arms.

"Our reports missed the petulant child side of you," he took a long drag, flicking away the butt, "can't you see this was necessary."

"Not in the way you handled it."

His pupils narrowed as he stared at her, mouth kept in a thin line. Boldened by this slip, Mary pushed it, "you'll be lucky to have my crew after this."

"Who, exactly, is going to help you? The council already dismissed you once. The Alliance doesn't care about the humans in the Terminus Systems," his posture and blank expression returned, "unless you don't care about the abducted colonies and the Reaper threat anymore."

"Fuck you!"

He issued a long and drawn-out chuckle, "I expected better behavior from you, Shepard. Be an adult, and put aside your petty grievances. You need me to stop this threat."

The coldness pierced her heart first, spreading through her veins with incredible speed until it froze the tip of her fingers. The frigidity of her body forcing her face in a neutral expression, "Akuze was no petty grievance, you conniving prick."

She couldn't lose much more face, so stomping off without a pause was well within her wheelhouse.

"Mary?"

Kaidan knew that look, not that he had to be blocking her way to read it. The emotionless mask was there for only a select few emotions, and all urged him to reach out. Whatever it was, at least meant he wouldn't have to explain why he hovered around the briefing room. He stood his ground, allowing her the time to breathe before he attempted to pry it out of her. Eventually, her shoulders dropped for the briefest moment before squaring back up.

"Talk to me," Kaidan murmured gently, "what happened out there?"

Shepard's posture had corrected, but the mask had yet to fall. Moving him into unfamiliar territory, so he waited for her to speak. Timidly, slowly, placing his hand on her pauldron once the time elapsed into the space of no response.

"Shepard," he called.

First, her body lurched forward, he instinctively moved to pull her in, but the arm that reached around him corrected course and shoved him aside. Perhaps a little harshly, as his back met the metal wall of the hallway. Finally, the mask slipped, catching the moment her eyes filled with regret that morphed with the half-assed raising of her arms, "it was a trap."

Mary spun away to the right, sputtering another few choice words as Mordin collided with her across the opening doorway.

"Go get Grunt ready; we're headed to Tuchanka."

~~~

"You've had a lot more poker practice, Alenko," the turian mused in defeat.

"Back then, I was never invited," the biotic returned snidely.

"Only because Shepard took you everywhere," Tali added wistfully, "you were both so moony-eyed."

"Is that your excuse for always losing, Vakarian?" Kaidan grinned, fighting a bittersweet blush, "careful Tali, you'll start slipping."

"You were all formally crewmates?" Thane finally decided to speak from his corner of the mess hall table. His gaze lingered longer on the human. The other two were obviously connected to Shepard. His short time aboard the Normandy, he hardly saw the Commander and this man in the same room.

The human's next smile a little less forced, "yeah. With Joker at the helm. Those were crazy days."

"Much simpler times, just chasing a rogue spectre across the galaxy."

Tali hummed, "it felt more heroic back then."

"To hell with Cerberus," the man muttered.

Thane stood from his seat, this talk of the past making him feel further like a stranger in this group. Why Officer Alenko had invited him in the first place was a mystery, he hadn't attempted to speak with anyone. Not out of malice but out of desire. Shepard's words about him socializing with the crew to find meaning the sole reason he attempted this game.

The three looked up at him in unison.

"We can change the game."

"You can just stay and talk if you want."

"Look at you guys scaring away the new blood."

Thane glanced between the group; they were a good sort. He shrugged in an effort not to disappoint them, returning to his seat; he had little else of import to do.

"How about a game of go fish?"

The turian turned to the man, "isn't that a children's game?"

"I thought keeping your credits would be an enticing offer," Kaidan returned smugly.

"I already owe you a small fortune when you do decide to collect," the turian drawled, "might not be wise to encourage you to do so."

"I'm banking on interest too, Garrus."

"You would," Garrus chuckled, his eyes sweeping to the quarian, "but Tali, I've always wondered why your faceplate is tinted. Doesn't that distort your vision?"

"Garrus my e-"

Grunt barrelled by the table, taking the L2's attention with him. Adding biotics to the already large Krogan only increased his appetite, especially after a fight. The youngster looked pleased, settling down at the table with whatever was easiest to sweep into his arms—tearing into the still bagged loaf of bread sideways, the group watching with mixed reactions.

"Grunt," Tali was the first to scold, "you should be a little more careful."

"He's just a growing boy, Tali," Garrus replied.

The krogan looked up and around the table with a sheepish grin, "I am a boy no longer. I have passed the rite, and with my battle master, have defeated a thresher maw! You should be in awe!"

"That's no small feat-" Thane finding himself suddenly the chatty one.

"It was glorious! A worthy opponent. So big and in your face," Grunt continued to gloat through mouthfuls of bread and plastic.

"And Shepard?" the man dared to ask.

"The best battle master. Our enemies should be afraid!"

"Was she upset?" Tali pressed.

"No- she fought bravely."

Garrus was next to speak, "nothing odd?"

The krogan groaned, "she fought well. So well, she was too tired to speak."

Kaidan shuffled from his chair, hesitating as the turian and quarian took turns locking eyes with him, "am I supposed to sit here and do nothing?"

"I wouldn't test her patience."

Tali folded her arms, "what could you even do? Guilt trip her again?"

"Ouch," Kaidan flinched, running a hand through his hair, "I deserved that one."

Grunt looked around the table, cocking his head to the side. Thane went still, achieving a far better understanding of the situation than the confused krogan. Until Miranda, followed by Kai Leng burst from the second officer's office, both beelined for the elevator. Garrus, Tali, and Kaidan moved to intercept the pair.

"Out of our way," the Cerberus assassin seethed.

"Do you have a death wish?" Garrus tried to defuse him with humor and a well-intentioned claw on his shoulder. It did not work; the man's eyes only narrowed the anger held in his posture, doubling.

"Keep your dirty talons off of me, bird!"

Tali pulled Garrus back, allowing Kaidan to get in the way.

"That wasn't necessary," the biotic stated bluntly.

Leng rolled his eyes, "and neither is whatever fit Shepard is having in the elevator."

"So you're going to make it worse by demanding she stop?"

"Kaidan, we can't let her damage the ship," Miranda added gently.

"Yeah, I know," Kaidan sighed, rubbing at his temples, "but she won't. I don't think she will, anyway. It's her way of coping."

"By letting off biotic charges?"

"Yeah, I know, but has she damaged anything?"

EDI piqued up, "damage remains cosmetic."

Miranda placed her hands on her hips, "well, this is why we hired you, Alenko. Make her stop, or we'll be forced to act."

"Next time, a little warning after she's faced a Maw would help."

~~~

Riding through the elevator of the Normandy was an old pastime. Something about being crammed into a small space with blank walls let her think. About the good, about the bad, about anything that needed her consideration, really. She had spent hours in the old elevator; they moved much too quickly in the new ship. With more floors and staff came more distractions.

Usually, it involved much less biotic discharge, but this time that display kept the peace. The strain to keep it contained and from flaring too brightly occupied her mind pushed out the thing... the creature... that kept trying to wedge back in her mental space. Pulling it all back in, only characterized by a faint aura around her form, was another challenge. She kept her back to the person.

Ignoring it until the crinkling of a bag pulled her attention.

The opened bag revealing the light reddish-brown contents within, "I thought you might be hungry."

She looked Kaidan up and down, resting on his gentle gaze. Why was she so stubborn? Was he really so different? Did who he worked for matter? She couldn't pretend that all she saw of Cerberus was bad. She trusted Jacob- he had many of the same qualms she did about the organization but continued under their banner without compromising his morals. Her work was good fighting to protect the galaxy from the Reaper threat. Sure at the moment, it felt solely based on saving humans from the Collector threat, but they were only a tiny piece of the problem. She saw no shift in Kaidan, despite the things he had done after she passed. The same integrity, the same aggravating calm, the same compassion.

Perhaps she was unfair. What would she do to bring back the man she loved?

Huh, love was a funny feeling—a light but at the same time heavy notion.

Fuck this.

Fuck the forced distance.

If they were going to die, why waste what could be their last moments together?

"Kaidan."

Pushing the chips aside, she wriggled her way into his arms. A hand threaded through her still damp hair, his nose pressing into the top of her skull. The other arm supported the small of her back, cradling her in gently. Mary breathed in his familiar scent, no different than the man she knew two years ago. It was this easy. Some, but not all, of her worries faded into the background. She had missed physical comfort.

"Wrex was there," it was all she could offer.

Kaidan's chest rumbled, the patch pressed against her forehead an unwelcomed annoyance. A reminder. Hot and blinding, the logo was all she could focus on as it rubbed against her.

Maybe she was weak, but she could not separate the horror from the uniform.

He let her escape without a fuss, leaving him empty-handed.

[jkbabiey]

{JJK} Say it ⤇ 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing:  fuckboy!jungkook x student!reader

Word Count: ~2.1 K

Genre: we’ll keep up with the flirty tension and let’s add a bit of an awkward tension to the mix... just for fun ; college!AU

Warnings: Jungkook seems to be less of a dick and Y/N gets shy, she’s still a sweetheart. 

4th of March, 2023

Another typical saturday night. 

It was about midnight and you were, as usual, covered in anatomy books and human body scrawled papersheets. As much as you loved anatomy, you had to admit that along with interesting, it was a really exausting subject. You were incredibly sleepy from all the studying you���d been doing from at least 3 PM and all you wanted was to go to sleep, but you refused to give in to your desires, deciding to stay up at least for another hour. 

Yes, you were aware that probably - and most-certainly - you were sounding like a nerdy self-sabotaging bitch BUT you had a reason. You had an anatomy exam next week and you were determined to get the highest grade possible, even if it cost you some hours of sleep. And why was the reason behind that? Well... you had been holding a grudge... Yeah... In you previous anatomy exam - in wich you were close to getting the highest grade in class - your asshole professor had insinnuated that you had cheated just because he had seen you turn back to pick your fallen pen and though you were looking at your seatmate’s exam. You were -oh, so ready to get the highest grade of the class in this exam and freacking rub it in that dubass’ face.

You grabbed a handful of the crispy bacon chips you were using as a motivation to keep up the good work, furiously munching on them and preparing yourself to start reading another chapter of your favorite anatomy book, Gray’s Anatomy.

Before you got to read the first word something got your attention. You had never been so happy to receive a text from an unknown number in your life. This had to be a sign telling you to just go to sleep, for sure. You grabbed your phone instantly, dropping the heavy book on top of your sprailed thighs, finally finding an almost proper excuse to get away from your never-ending studies.

[Unknown number, 00:10 AM] - Hey princess

You didn’t take you long to remember the annoying man that approached you at the bar three weeks ago, probably because of the exact same choice of words he used the night he tried to seduce you.

[Unknown number, 0:10 AM] - Remember me?

You would be lying if you said you haven’t thought about him these days. His appearance was too good to just disappear from your mind in three mere weeks. Everything, from the way he looked to the cocky and snarky comebacks he spat after hearing you neglecting him multiple times that night was, unfortunately, attractive to you.

[You, 00:14 AM] - No.

You lied. 

It didn't take a lot of time for another message to pop up on your phone's screen.

[Unknown number, 00:15 AM] -  Come on, I know you've been thinking about me

Prick...

[You, 00:15 AM] - Tell me your name, and maybe I'll remember who you are.

Deep inside you knew that this wasn't the real reason why you were asking him his name. The truth was that you wanted to know a name, so you could associate his face – which you haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the last 21 days and it was honestly driving you insane – to a name.

[Unknow number, 00:15 AM] - I didn’t tell you my name, it wouldn't help baby

And, unhappily he was able to turn your little game against its own creator. 

That cunning little shit...

[Unknow number, 00:16 AM] - But we both know I haven’t left your mind these days

You were, once again, left bewildered staring at his text. He was a cocky, selfish, jackass that was completely full of himself.

You threw your phone on your sofa and tried to calm down. It was impressive how quickly he was able to get you all riled up. He literally just had to say something, anything, and you would already be thinking of ways to kill him. You wouldn’t say it out loud, but after that night you had been waiting for a call or a text. For his call or for his text, and that was the major factor that was holding you from telling him to fuck off right away. But you couldn’t blame yourself for thinking about him. He was annoying, yes he was. But he was also extremely hot, and if you’re being honest, you missed getting laid. You didn’t even remember the last time someone made you feel good in that way and you were definitely craving it. A woman has needs and, unfortunately, he filled all of your physical demands in a man even though you were selective, very selective.

And even after considering how physically needy you were at the moment, you decided to act against yourself once again that night and left him without any answer. The guy had already proven himself to be such a dick and as sexually needy as you coud be, you would never let someone like that get to touch one single inch of your body. 

You weren’t that needy, anyways...

7th of March, 2023

It was Tuesday today. You hated Tuesdays. Today you would have to endure two straight hours in the lab. Your microbiology professor wasn't the best, and his monotone way of talking just made it all worse. Usually you would have pretty much use this two hours to discretely close your eyes and try to sleep. 

That would have happened if your crush hadn't asked to sit next to you. Right now, sleep was the last thing on your mind. You were fixed on the way Jimin lurked into the microscope's ocular. The way he pursed his plump lips whenever he didn't get the outcome he wanted or the way he looked at you and smiled softly from time to time. 

When class ended, Jimin got up from his seat and turned to you.

"Hey, do you want to come get coffee with me?" 

Your eyes widened and your lips instantly parted, shocked by his invitation. How come the hottest and sweetest guy in your class was asking you on a date?

"Yes, of course!" 

You cringed internally hearing how desperate that answer had probably sounded to him, but the smile on your face never faded. You threw your books and all the other stuff you could recognize as yours into your black leather bag and quickly walked beside him.

You bit your red velvet muffin cautiously, sipping on your black coffee right away. You were trying to look pretty in front of Jimin. He had been your crush since you started med school. He had catched you eye immediately. He wasn’t the type of guy to try to get people’s attention, but he did, naturally. You two had been sitting in that coffee shop for about 15 minutes already and you were completely enchanted by his sweet and delicate ways. He was every girl's dream and you couldn't deny that you were a part of that crowd. He was absolutely dreamy and you were absolutely entranced in his whole appearance. 

"So... I noticed you haven't been dating anyone for a really long time now..." he smirked at you and waited patiently for your answer. 

The thing is, you couldn't really answer him. You had been caught off guard. You didn't know he would be this direct.

"Right," you murmured, completely flustered by his sudden approach to your love life.

"Don't be so shy, we're friends Y/N!"

Your expression fell immediately after hearing his words. And then came the sudden realization that this was not romantic. This wasn’t a freaking date.

"Maybe, I can introduce some of my friends to you! I'm pretty sure, anyone would love to date you, you’re absolutely gorgeous!"

His words pissed you off, but you didn't say a thing, displaying the smalles and most polite ever instead. How could he say you were gorgeous right after friendzoning you?

After that neither of you say a thing and just kept eating the food he insisted on buying until you noticed him squinting his eyes to see something behind you. 

"What are you looking at?" you asked, way more harshly than you had intended to sound, but he didn’t seem to notice, anyway.

"I think that's a friend of mine..." he hummed and squinted his eyes even harder. He had some vision problems, but he refused to wear his glasses - even though they looked great on him, what a surprise...

This was just what was missing  in tjis “date”, someone to take his attention from you. Definitely not a date.

"Really?" you asked sharply, looking at him in pure boredom. You knew you didn't have any right to be mad at him, but how are you supposed to react when your crush of 1 whole year says he could ask one of his friends to go on a date with you, just before saying your “absolutely gorgeous”?

"Yeah... I think it's Jungkook," he said, still waiting for his friend to finish paying his coffee and turn around, so he could see if he was or not the person he expected.

You rolled your eyes and looked over your shoulder, curious to see who Jimin was talking about, and just as you did it, your eyes locked with the familiar wide and shiny eyes from three weeks ago. You felt the exact same electricity you had felt that night in the bar and instantly turned your eyes back to Jimin, in hopes 'Jungkook' was someone else, anyone else. But when you turned back to Jimin, he was already standing up and opening his arms, ready to hug whoever his friend was. You still hoped and asked the Gods for his friend to be someone else, but not him.

"Jungkook!"

Jimin was so excited that you could see the glint in his eyes as he almost screamed his friend's name.

All your hopes died when you sensed his presence next to you, engulfing Jimin in a bear hug

"Hey man! Haven't seen you in a while!" he whispered into Jimin's hair loud enough for you to hear. His voice was very different from the one you remembered from the bar. It was much softer now.

"Yeah..." Jimin hummed softly into his friend's chest and when they parted from their tight and long hug, Jimin's eyes landed on you

"This is Y/N, she's a friend from uni. Y/N, this is Jungkook, he's my best friend, " Jimin stated and winked at you, remembering your dialogue from earlier. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and the color on them was probably pretty visible as well.

"Hey Y/N," he greeted as if he hadn’t ever seen you before in his life and trained his eyes on you to watch your reaction.

Well, your reaction was probably up to everything he was waiting. You coughed awkwardly and quickly sipped on your coffee so you could get rid of the annoying dryness that had settled on your throat. You looked over at Jimin, that wriggled his brows at you and winked discreetly. You decided to ignore him and in the meantime Jungkook’s smirk grew wider. You could physically see he was dying to make fun of you.

"Hey..." you answered quietly, after a long time. 

Jungkook chuckled and broke his stare from you, looking at Jimin

"I have to go but I'll call you later," he said while giving a large bite to his donut before sipping on his coffee.

"Stay a bit longer! You should meet Y/N, she's pretty cool," Jimin answered quickly, trying to hold his friend back, while your cheeks burdened even harder. Jungkook chuckled quietly again and answered his friend

"Can't, class starts in..." he looked at his clock to check the time he had left and his eyes widened "-fuck, I have 2 minutes" he looked between me and Jimin and muttered a little 'I’ll call you later', before running to get to his class quickly.

Jimin laughed a bit and ran his fingers through his blonde locks.

"I think there was some chemistry" he stated teasingly and you shot him a threatening look, trying to fight the smile that tried to creep up your face. 

“Shut up,” you muttered, suddenly feeling a lot more comfortable in Jimin’s presence. The awkwardness from before, now totally gone. 

"He's majoring in criminal justice, he’s actually a very smart guy..." he stated excitedly

"I don't care Jimin..." you said after chuckling lightly at his efforts

"Shut up, you liked him!" he screeched and hit you softly on the arm

"No, I didn't" you murmured and sipped on your black coffee.

Well, at least Jungkook had a good taste in coffee.

You weren’t shocked when, at 5 PM, while you were enjoying your ride home in the subway, you received another text from Jungkook. Being the little brat he already showed he was, there was no way he was going to let this opportunitie of making fun of you slide. You had that figured out as soon as he left the coffee shop earlier that day.

[Unknown number, 5:00 PM] - You didn’t seem very brave today.

You sighed, wondering what you were supposed to answer. Well, yeah... How the fuck were you supposed to act brave when, first of all, you were by nature too socially awkward, and second of all, you had been under his stare, which was too intimidating for you to say something longer than ‘hey’. 

[You, 5:01 PM] - You also weren’t as dickish as you seem to be.

[Jungkook, 5:01 PM] - I am not dickish!

[You, 5:04 PM] - Of course you’re not.

[Jungkook, 5:05 PM] - Give me one date.

Your eyes-widened and you choked in the chocolate milk you were drinking. The sixty-year-old man seated in front of you sending you a slightly disgusted look, to wich you answered with a nervous smile.

[You, 5:06 PM] - Do you think you can woo me in one date?

[Jungkook, 5:08 PM] - If you want me to take you on more than one date, that’s alright...

You couldn’t help but laugh at his response. How the hell did he find ways to turn every single thing in his favour?! That was seriously a gift from god, and you weren’t even religious.

[You, 5:09 PM] - Oh my god, pls shut up

[Jungkook, 5:11 PM] - One date and i won’t talk to you anymore today

[You, 5:12 PM] - One date and you won’t talk to me the whole week.

[Jungkook, 5:12 PM] - Deal.

[calumcest]

love would burn this city down for you

this fic is brought to you by the following: 1. my deep love of malum 2. my deep, deep love of cities 3. if i had a gun by noel gallagher listened to on repeat for about two hours straight 4. a very comfortable spot and too much time to think

There’s something so comforting about the city. 

Calum remembers the first time he’d got it, that rush of everything and nothing and beauty and reverence as he’d stared out at the brightly-lit scene before him, overwhelmed and trying his best to drink it all in. Fuck me, he’d thought, a delicious numbness licking at his nerves. I’m fucking irrelevant. 

(It was the first time he’d ever known peace.) 

It feels odd, Calum thinks, as he leans back against the stone statue he’s sat on the steps of, still warm from the August sun. It feels counterintuitive, really, that something as chaotic as a city could be the one place he feels peace. It feels like he’s got it the wrong way around, like the countryside should feel free and open and the city should feel tight and claustrophobic. It doesn’t make sense, really, that the one time his lungs feel their clearest is when he’s gulping in polluted air. He shouldn’t be able to think his clearest when his mind is crowded among millions of others, shouldn’t feel his lightest under the heavy, light-polluted clouds, shouldn’t see his sharpest when his vision is dotted with harsh orange and red and yellow. 

He does, though. It makes his heart slow, thudding in time to the traffic crawling past on the busy road behind him, makes his breathing even out, inhaling as the sounds of sirens get closer and closer, exhaling as they fade away again. 

There’s nothing quite like feeling irrelevant. Calum’s felt it in every which way; when he’d been forgotten while people were choosing partners at school, when his suggestions for songs had been ignored, when Michael had picked Luke to take him to the hospital instead of Calum. There’s nothing like that gut-wrenching, sinking feeling, that bitter taste in his mouth, that lump in his throat that won’t budge no matter how much he swallows. 

There’s nothing like this, though, either. There’s nothing like looking out at a city spread before him, at the picture that looks so static but is swelling and contracting as the people running through its veins breathe in and out, and feeling irrelevant. It starts in his lungs, enters his bloodstream along with the carbon monoxide, wrapping itself around every single one of his nerves and numbing the dull ache in his heart, sharpening the wispy corners of his soul. There’s nothing like looking out at the city, at the unequivocal scene of life, and feeling like nothing. Just another cog in the wheel, just another fleeting blood cell pumping through the city’s arteries, sustaining it for now and preserving it for others. He’s nothing, to the city. It’ll go on without him, and it’ll go on after him, and nothing he does can stop that. 

It’s a feeling of sheer bliss, Calum thinks, inhaling deeply and tasting the mixture of diesel and trees that makes up the streets he walks every day. So much of his life is focused, holding the very fabric of himself under a microscope and picking at the threads, panicking when he finds one fraying or someone holds a match to the edges of his tapestry. Everything feels so overwhelming then, like every small step and tiny decision can tip the balance of the future, like every mistake he makes will cost him opportunities and options, like his life is on the line with every move he makes. He walks the tightrope with bated breath, edging along it looking steadfastly down at his feet, at the way his toes move centimetre by centimetre, too focused on not falling off to even see what he’s walking towards. It doesn’t matter, though, he thinks then; just don’t fall. 

Here, though, leaning against a statue that was placed here two hundred years before Calum was born, staring out at a city that’s seen more lives pass through it than Calum could ever possibly see in his own lifetime, it’s different. Here, he doesn’t matter. Nothing he does can have a lasting impact, and maybe that should scare him, but it makes his shoulders slump, makes the tension drain out of him with every breath. There’s nothing quite like the freedom of knowing whatever he does doesn’t matter, because it means he can do whatever he wants. He’s only one of millions of people, here, not Calum Hood, bassist in 5SOS, or Cal, best friend of Ashton and Luke, or Calum, brother and son and cousin. He’s nobody, means nothing to anyone, has no roles to play, no expectations to fulfil. He’s just him, and for once, that’s enough. 

Calum never tells Michael he’s here, but Michael always knows. There are usually signs, Calum supposes, tension in his shoulders and too-long hesitations before he replies to something he’s been asked, but only Michael ever notices them, gets that little crease between his brows when Calum zones out a few moments too long. So Calum’s not really surprised when someone sits down next to him, a little too close for comfort to be anyone other than Michael, the scent of spice and pine and home mingling with the diesel and the trees. 

“Hey,” Michael says, and shifts so he’s pressed right up against Calum, the entire right-hand side of his body nestled against the entire left-hand side of Calum’s. 

“Hi,” Calum says. He doesn’t turn around, because he doesn’t need to, just keeps blinking out at the lights of houses and offices and restaurants glimmering in the polluted air. Michael understands what he needs when he’s out here, and he lets him take it, offers himself up as an anchor for Calum to make sure he doesn’t get too lost out in the sea of bright white and harsh blue and flashing red. 

Michael doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets Calum be, lets him breathe in the diesel and the trees and the spice and the pine and stare out at the tiny lights, each one a sign of a life and a story, until they dance behind his eyelids. Maybe it shouldn’t help, having Michael here, and maybe it shouldn’t make sense that when Calum wants to be alone he wants to be alone with Michael, but it makes sense to Calum. Michael has a part of Calum’s soul stored safely in his heart, and Calum can’t fully be alone if he hasn’t got all of himself there, can he? 

Calum doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time Michael speaks again, can’t tell whether it’s been minutes or hours, no sun to tell him it’s past his bedtime or almost time to get up again, but it’s been as long as Calum needs. His lungs are full now, carbon monoxide and nitrogen dioxide, and his heart is thudding slowly, beating in time with the flashing beacons on the top of the skyscrapers in front of him, and his soul is curled in on itself, rippling in the warmth of its peace. 

“Are you ready to go?” 

He is. He’s ready to go home, ready to shake himself out of his reverie and start feeling his way back into being Calum Hood or Cal or Calum again, ready to groan at Michael’s bad jokes and laugh at his good ones, but he doesn’t want to. He knows what Calum Hood and Cal and Calum have to do, knows their busy schedules and the phone calls and the songs on their to-do lists, and he doesn’t want to go back to that just yet. He wants to stay here with Michael, suspended in this moment in time, one of the millions of city lights. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t move. Michael hums next to him, like he sort of gets what Calum’s saying. Of course he does, just like he’d known when Calum had got his fill of the pollution and the lights and the beauty; he keeps a part of Calum wrapped up inside him, after all. 

“D’you want me to stay?” he asks. Calum nods, and holds his hand out in front of the two of them, spreading his fingers wide. Of course he wants Michael to stay; he’s never wanted Michael to go. 

Michael looks at Calum’s hand for a moment, lit up by the bright lights of the skyscrapers in front of them, fingers casting shadows across his palm, and then brings his own hand up, slots his fingers in between Calum’s. They shouldn’t fit, Calum thinks, Calum’s long, slender fingers and Michael’s short, stubby ones, but they do. He can feel the slow, steady thudding of Michael’s heart in his thumb and his palm, and it makes his own heart sigh in relief, the final piece of the puzzle made up of concrete and iron and brick for Calum to feel complete. 

And that’s just it, really, Calum thinks, as he feels Michael’s leg pressed against his and the warmth of Michael’s arm against his own and the soft ridges of Michael’s knuckles, and looks out at the city sprawling in front of him. It doesn’t really matter where he is, or how he’s feeling, or what he needs, because the missing piece of the puzzle is always Michael. 

He squeezes Michael’s hand gently, briefly, trying to get across in the gesture what he knows he won’t be able to express in words, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Michael smile, a small, genuine smile that plays at the corners of his lips, and then he squeezes back. He gets it, even though Calum doesn’t have the words to say it. 

It doesn’t really matter that Calum doesn’t have the words, though, because nothing could ever be as eloquent an I love you as the two of them in a sea of millions, fingers intertwined, heartbeats in sync.

[1985keery]

Unwelcomed - (sister!reader x brother!sherlock x brother!mycroft)

imagine: being sherlocks  little sister and getting hurt while you’re staying at 221b

a/n: i’m on my period and sad so this is ANGSTY

warning: she’s a long one -- suggested rape but nothing happens 

It was hard being around the Holmes boys, everyone knew that. They somehow made everyone around them feel stupid. But it was harder for you, being their little sister. You’re only 16, so you don’t get to be with your brothers much.

That might be a good thing though, for every time you’re around them your self esteem comes down 4 or 5 levels. You can’t can’t keep up with their advanced minds, so when they go on cases or talk about secret files you feel so tiny. Especially when they say things like “Y/N, turn the other way please, your ignorance is distracting me” (guess which brother said that)

Your brothers also aren’t fond of sentiment. “A chemical defeat” Sherlock had told you. You went to bed in tears that night. All you wanted was to tell your brother goodnight, and that you loved him. Because you did, but they saw you as an annoyance.

Your mother demanded you to spend the week at 221b, claiming you needed ‘brother sister bonding time’. You begged her not to, but she didn’t listen. Your mother was smart too, really smart, but she still treated you like a human. 

You were outside 221b, giving yourself the usual pep talk “Don’t listen to what they say, Y/N. You are smart. You are worthy. You are important.”

You open the door and walk through the creeky stairs, smelling the mold from 221c. With a shaky hand, you knock on their door. A smiling John Watson opens it. “Y/N, it’s so nice to see you again!” How you desperately wish John was your brother.

It didn’t use to be like this. Your mum says that when you were first born, Sherlock didn’t let anyone touch you. He was always holding you, and if he wasn’t, he was waiting his turn. 

But then he moved out, and saw how dark and cold the real world truly was. Plus, the influence from Mycroft who moved out before you were born.

“Hello John, where’s Sherlock?” You ask, with a forced smile. “In the kitchen, working on an experiment.” You nod and walk through the door. You spot him at the table, with safety glasses on and looking at something under a microscope. “Hello, brother mine”

He doesn’t even acknowledge you.

 You suddenly remember what you brought him. “I brought you some of mums cookies, they’re homemade” you say, still nothing. “He doesn’t- He doesn’t when he’s on a case” Johns says and you look back at your brother. He has lost a little weight. “Oh, okay”

It’s silent in the kitchen for a while, until John breaks the silence by saying “Sherlock, say hello to your sister. He does a wave without looking up. “Shelock plea-” John starts, but you wave him off. “It’s okay, I’m used to it”

You look at his table, ignoring Johns look of pity to you, and notice all the science equipment. “Ouu, Formaldehyde” you say, reaching for the beaker. That is, until, you hear a deep “Don’t touch that”

“So he speaks” you say with an eyeroll. He grunts in response. “I think I’m gonna talk to Mrs Hudson for a while.” you suggest, wanting nothing more than to get out of the flat.

John nods and you walk out the door, walking right past Mrs Hudsons flat and into the London air. You’ve studied the art of deduction, trying to be worthy of your brothers time, and now you’re putting that to use. You start walking, deducing everyone the best you can. For example, the single mother who works as a waitress that’s going home to her daughter and Labrador. 

You start to admire the beautiful buildings that reach the sky, The people all you look busy so you try to stay to herself. You reach into your pocket and get your phone and earphones out and listen to your favorite song. The music zoning you out of the real world, so all you do is walk and admire. Which might seem glorious, you zone out so much you forgot which path to go back, so you are hopelessly lost.

It’s better than being at Sherlocks, you thought.

----

Pretty soon the sun started to set, and John prepared dinner. “Did you really have to be a cock to her, she loves you you know” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “I know, how’s that my fault” John shakes his head and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna go get her from Ms. Hudson and you’re gonna apologize.”

He only grunts.

John walks down the stares and knocks on the old ladys door. She opens it with her usual bright smile.”Hello, dear”

“Hi, uh, dinners ready so I came to get Y/N” Ms Hudson looks at him with a confused face. “What do you mean love, she isn’t here. Hasn’t been all night”  John sprints back upstairs.

----

You watch the sunset through the windows between buildings. Your phone died a while ago, so you sit on a bench and admire the view. Now you know why Sherlock moved here. The sights, the people, just the air in general is different. It’s exciting. 

You keep going, but after walking all evening you wander out of London. This part  definitely isn’t as glamours, with buildings falling apart and trash on the streets. However, you keep walking. You know good and well how to fight, you’re a Holmes after all. 

----

“Sherlock! Sherlock!” John yells, running into the room. Sherlock’s head pops up at the amount of concern in his friends voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?” John puts on his coat and throws Sherlock his “It’s Y/N. She isn’t a Hudsons and she hasn’t been all night.”

Sherlock immediately jumps out of his chair He grabs his scarf and gloves and ran outside. “Which direction” John ask. “Right. She always goes right. She says something like ‘if it’s not right to go right then why would it be named that’, Quite ignorant actually” Sherlock says and John rules his eyes, “You can mock her later, we have to find her now.” he says, and Sherlock nods

----

As you’re walking, you bump into someone. “Oh, I’m sorry”. The stranger looks you up and done and you start to get very uncomfortable. Now you realize how dumb you are, being a 16 year old girl with cheekbones and a nice figure walking alone at night. “It’s alright doll, I know how you can make it up to me”

You start to back away but he grabs your wrist. “Let me go, now” You say. Mycroft warned you about this, saying “Men are filthy, disgusting creatures Y/N. Do not get involved” If only he could see you now.

“Tsk Tsk. Nah babe, you’re coming with me” He tries to pull you, but you use your free hand to punch him. You punch his gut and hit his privates in one move. He didn’t like that. “You stupid bitch!”  He yells, punching you to the ground. You try to stand up before he punches you again, harder this time. You hit him again and try to run away, but he grabs hold of your hair and slams you back against the brick wall.

----

 To say Sherlock was scared was an understatement. In truth, he loved you deeply, he just didn’t know how to show it. You were his baby, but he didn’t wanna except that. He didn’t want to accept that he felt sentiment. He actually did think you were quite smart, and your mother calls him every time another one of your report cards come out, claiming how proud he would be of her.

The duo have ran all over london, looking for you “What if we can’t find her” John says. It’s what they’ve both been thinking, he’s just the first to say it outloud. “Don’t go there” Sherlock growls. It’s then ,when they hear a loud cry, and they both ran towards the sound.

----

The man had several advantages. He was way bigger than you, and was able to throw you up against the wall, But you fought hard, as hard as you could, and it wasn’t until he hit you with a brick found in the alley that you screamed. You were done for, and you knew, the only thing you could do was take it. But then you heard several footsteps, and although your vision was blurry sand your ears were ringing, you could still see two new figures beside that man. One tall and one short. One with shaggy hair and one with a button nose.

Through all the pain, you managed to smile.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was beating the shit out of that man. “John, go to her” he demands, and the doctor obeys. “Can you hear me?” he ask, cupping your face. You can’t really do anything, so you just squint at him before passing out.

“She’s unconscious” he says, making Sherlock hit the man even harder. By then, Mycroft’s helicopter had arrived. Sherlock called him in the beginning, and Mycroft was ready to kill him over the fact he lost her,

----

You wake up to the sound of beeping, and the smell of cleaning supplies. Your vision of hazy when you first open your eyes, but after a few blinks you can see again. The sight truly shocks you.

Your brothers are holding your hands, Sherlock on right and Mycroft on left. Both of them asleep but still clutching on to you. 

You wiggle your fingers and both of them wake up. “Y/N, oh dear Y/N”

“Our sweet girl”

“How do you feel”

“Sherlock, go get the doctor”

“I’m not leaving her!”

“Neither am I!”

“You’re the oldest you go!”

“You’re the one that lost her!”

“Boys!”

They both stop their bickering and look at you. “I already pressed the button” They nod and sink back in their seats.

“Three days, Y/N’ Mycroft says, eyes going from the ground to you. “What?” “That’s how long you were out, three days” You look to Sherlock but he can’t look you in the eyes. “Oh my god, Sherlock, I’m-”

“What the hell were you doing out there anyway” He finally looks up, eyes red and cheeks puffys. He’s been crying. “I-”

“You what?”

“You didn’t wanna be with me so I didn’t wanna be with you”

It’s silent, the boys trying to soak up your words. “What do you mean” Mycroft ask. “I mean, you guys are so smart, and appreciated. The worlds only consulting detective and the ruler of the british government. How am I supposed to keep up? I’m nothing, a no one. Sherlock, when I first walked into your apartment you wouldn’t even look at me. I just feel like you guys see me as a pest and it really hurts me”

The boys look at each other and then back at the girl in the hospital bed. “We never meant to make you feel this way. We love you, darling girl, as hard as that is to say. We were devastated when you were in surgery. Hell, Mycroft even cried” Sherlock says, and Mycroft punches him, making you giggle.

“What he’s trying to say is, we do lo- appreciate you. We never want you to feel like you are unwelcomed around us. We will always be here with open arms whenever you want us”

And so they hugged, and even though the family is a mess, with a sociopath, the british government, and a brave girl in a hospital bed, they made it work,

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS: ENDGAME !!

STAGE I | PART III ( conversational quantum physics ) → five years after thanos snapped his finger the world has begun the process of healing. five years of blood, sweat and tears but nothing changed. the startling arrival of one thought killed in the cleanse brought a glimmer of hope that no one saw coming, as well as a new idea.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL COMPLETE CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

STEVE:  Steve came around the corner just as Clint's name was exchanged between Natasha and Rhodes. He stopped short, not wanting to intrude, but the sheer look of anguish on Nat's face made that close to impossible. Keeping his distance, he tried to offer her something that wouldn't highlight what they both knew: something had gone terribly wrong with Clint. But they didn't need more bad news, and Steve wasn't going to drive that knife any deeper. "You know, I'd offer to cook you dinner, but you seem pretty miserable already." there was a light note to it, a hidden humor that reflected in the small smile he wore.

NATASHA: It was hard not to lose hope. Five years was a long time to keep a candle burning, Natasha was down to the wick on hers even though she couldn’t quit. As soon as Rhodey’s hologram flickered away her head dropped into her hands, eyes filling with tears. Clint. She loved him, but she didn’t know how to help him like he had once helped her. She didn’t know how to do anything. it seemed. Looking up quickly, Natasha wiped at her eyes and attempted a smile. “You here to do your laundry?”

STEVE: "And to see a friend." Steve still maintained that distance, perched against a shelf. He had a feeling Natasha would talk if she wanted to, but there was no need to push it.

NATASHA: “Clearly,” her voice gave her away. “Your friend is fine.”

STEVE: He fidgeted with the keys in his hands. "You know I saw a pod of whales when I was coming up the bridge."

NATASHA: “In the Hudson?” There was a resigned air to combat what would have once been incredulous.

STEVE: His voice perked up a bit. "There's fewer ships, cleaner water."

NATASHA: There it was. The supposed positive they were supposed to look at to stay sane. Maybe some could. Not Nat. “You know, if you’re about to tell me to look on the bright side, um...” She glanced down at the discarded sandwich on her plate before her eyes flickered back up to Steve with a smile. “I’m about to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich.”

STEVE: A bit of an exhale left Steve's lungs as he pushed forward, that smile on his lips falling into more of a sorry. "Force of habit." He tossed his jacket and his keys into a chair and sat across from Nat. There was a bit of a thought process happening as he settled down, but eventually he refocused his gaze on Natasha. "You know I keep telling everybody they should move on-" he made his next statement pointed. "-grow. Some do. But not us."

NATASHA: “If I move on, who does this?” This was everything that they had left. Everything Natasha had worked for with blood, sweat and tears to try to keep at least the idea of the Avengers afloat. After five years of putting her everything into it the idea of moving on was terrifying.

STEVE: "Maybe it doesn't need to be done." Steve had been attending meetings every month, and they'd taught him a lot about growth. And letting go.

NATASHA: “I used to have nothing.” Natasha shook her head. All she had was death, destruction and red that had clouded her vision and taken over her life. Even at S.H.I.E.L.D. she had found some comfort but slipping into a routine wasn’t the same as having a place you truly belonged. Strike Team Delta had helped, but Natasha had been living with ‘good enough’ for a long time before things changed. “Then I got this job,” she continued. “This... family. And I was... I was better because of it. And even though they’re...gone,” it was hard to get the words out. “I’m still trying to be better.”

STEVE: He nodded along with her words, "I think we both need to get a life."

NATASHA: “You first.” She chuckled, swallowing down all the emotion.

SCOTT: The camera whirred to life and Scott’s eyes darted to the lens, hoping and praying that there was someone on the other end, listening. “Oh hi- hi! Uh— is anyone home??” he waved, at — nothing? — maybe.

STEVE: Steve shot forward, moving out of the chair and closer to the monitor. "Is this an old message?"

NATASHA: “It’s the front gate.” Natasha’s rose to her feet, eyes wipe and mouth agape at the sight.

SCOTT: “This is uh...Scott Lang! — We met a few years ago? At the airport! In Germany? I was—“ he continued, stumbling over his words a bit, stomach turning in worry, “-I was the guy that got really big- I uh- I had a mask on, you wouldn’t recognize me. Ant Man? I know you— I know you know that! I really need to talk to you guys!”

STEVE: Letting him inside wasn't a matter of security, it was a matter of necessity. Scott Lang had been dead for five years, yet here he was, pacing in front of them. Steve could confirm that he was indeed alive, but as for calm and collected, that was another story. "Scott." he tried to get his attention. "Are you okay?"

SCOTT: Steve was calling his name and Scott froze, mid pace, brain moving a mile a minute, “Yeah—“ he answered, hands immediately moving to cover his face for a moment as he steeled himself. “Have either of you guys ever studied quantum physics?"

NATASHA: “Only to make conversation.” She shrugged.

SCOTT: So that was a no. He gestured vaguely in acknowledgement to Natasha before addressing them both, “Alright, so— five years ago, right- right before” a pause “—Thanos - I was in a place called the Quantum Realm,” he continued, "The Quantum Realm is like its own microscopic universe. To get in there you have to be incredibly small. Hope— she’s my uh-“ his chest tightened at the thought of her, eyes growing watery for a brief moment, “—she was my— she- she was supposed to pull me out. And then— Thanos happened- and then I got stuck in there."

NATASHA: “I’m sorry,” Nat said sincerely. “That must have been a very long five years.”

SCOTT:  Yeah but that’s just it. It wasn’t. For me, it was five hours. See the rules of the Quantum Realm aren’t like they are up here—” he continued, growing restless, “—everything is unpredictable—“ before trailing off as he caught sight of a plate on the table behind Steve, “Is that anybody’s sandwich?" He hadn’t eaten in at least five hours — or five years really, “I’m starving,” he paused, rushing to grab it before immediately shoving half into his mouth.

STEVE:  Steve shared a look with Nat before following Scott's movements. "Scott, what are you talking about?"

SCOTT: “So—” he spoke through a mouthful of bread, “what I’m saying is- time works differently in the Quantum Realm. The only problem is right now, we don’t have a way to navigate it. But what if we did—“ he began pacing again, “-I can’t stop thinking about it. What if we could somehow control the chaos— and we could navigate it!” he continued, gesturing with the sandwich as he circled the room back to Steve and Natasha, "What if there was a— a way that we could enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time, but then exit the Quantum Realm at another point in time. Like— like before Thanos.”

STEVE: "Wait." Steve's eyebrows raised in mild disbelief. "Are you talking about a time machine?"

SCOTT:  “No— no, of course not. No, not a time machine. It’s— it’s more like um- yeah, like a time machine. I know, it’s crazy. It’s crazy I- I—” he stuttered, thoughts getting ahead of him again, “-but I can’t stop thinking about it. There’s gotta be some w—” Scott froze, trailing off again, “—it’s crazy.”

NATASHA: That elicited a small laugh. “I get emails from a raccoon, so, nothing sounds crazy anymore.” Who would have thought the Red Room trained KGB agent would have ever have gone to space?

STEVE:  "So who do we talk to about this?"

[raendown]

Pairing: KisameSakura Word count: 2204 Soulmate au” The one where soulmates can't lie to each other

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Chapter 111: KisameSakura

Bearing in mind the horror stories which followed the Akatsuki everywhere they went, Sakura considered herself lucky that her situation wasn’t worse. Her wrists and ankles were both bound with rope woven through several chakra seals to prevent her from augmenting her strength, she’d been placed in a chair rather than on the stone floor of the cavern, and although she was pretty cold at the moment she was grateful that they hadn’t stripped her as some interrogators would. All in all, her situation was about as good as it could be in these circumstances.

There were still numerous places she would rather be than trussed up in a random cave being questioned by Uchiha Itachi while Hoshigake Kisame lounged against a nearby wall and ogled her like a particularly tasty cut of beef. Sakura rolled her eyes and tried to shift in to a position that pulled on her left arm a little less. Doing so only made the ropes pull on her right arm instead but it was such a relief that she didn’t care. Now if only she could get a relief from Itachi’s questions.

“Where is he?” Sakura sighed at hearing this again.

“If I say ‘I don’t know’ in another language, will you understand me then? Because I think I’ve told you that I don’t know probably about a dozen times by now.” Dropping her head back, she glared at the ceiling in boredom. Being captured and interrogated always sounded so dangerous and dramatic when the older shinobi told stories. All this was doing was make her want a nap.

“The jinchūriki is imperative. All I want to know is where he was headed. You are his closest friend and he tells you everything. I don’t believe he would have left the village and not you where he was going.”

Sakura wasn’t about to admit it, but Itachi was right. Naruto would never leave the village without first running around to every single one of his friends for an enthusiastic goodbye. He was like a beam of sunshine determined to shine down on as many people as possible. So yes, she did in fact know exactly where Naruto had been headed and where he was likely to be at this very moment, but that didn’t mean she was going to share that information. For obvious reasons, she didn’t trust Itachi and so he would be getting nothing from her.

As if she would spill information to the enemy.

“This is taking too long,” Kisame moaned from where he was reclined against the wall. Lifting her head upright, Sakura just barely caught a flicker of irritation crossing Itachi’s face.

“Well why don’t you try asking her and see if she’ll talk to you then?”

Despite the very obvious sarcasm in his tone, that didn’t stop Kisame from rising to his feet and wandering over with one hand casually in his pocket, expression making it very clear that he knew he hadn’t actually been invited to join but he planned to anyway.

“Right then girlie,” he began with exaggerated cheer, “why don’t you just tell us where the jinchūriki is?”

“Because I don’t want you to hurt him.” Sakura frowned slightly. While that was actually true she hadn’t really meant to say it. It wasn’t anything her captors couldn’t have surmised on their own, though, so she wasn’t all that upset.

“Who said we’re gonna hurt him?”

“No one.” It wasn’t until she had replied that Sakura realized it was true. Neither one of them had ever so much as implied that they were going to hurt Naruto once they found him. Of course, she thought she could be forgiven for assuming so considering who she was speaking to.

Kisame gave her a look which said he was only just coming to this same realization, making her wonder if there wasn’t some disparity between the plans each partner had for the fate of Konoha’s jinchūriki. It didn’t really matter what their plans were since she was hardly going to help either of them with anything. They were the enemy, plain and simple. Nothing they said would ever change her mind, Sakura was certain of that.

“This is boring,” Kisame noted. “Interrogation is boring. Come on girlie, I don’t want to waste a week trying to get it out of ya. Where is he?”

“He left for Suna to visit the Kazekage, although he might actually be on his way home now.”

Sakura felt his jaw dropping open in shock only moments before a wave of anger rose up in her chest, all of it directed inwards. Her teeth clenched down on a shriek of frustration and betrayal and, above all, confusion. Why the hell had she just said that!? And did she have to be so obvious about her shock over it? That was all the clue her captors needed to know she was telling the truth that time.

“Huh. Well that was unexpected.” Kisame raised his free hand to rub at the back of his neck while Itachi looked back and forth between them with a very careful expression. Tugging at the bonds keeping her in place, Sakura fumed.

“What are you going to do to him?” she demanded. In the corner of her vision she saw Itachi open his mouth, probably to misdirect her or taunt her with a blatant lie, but Kisame beat him to the punch.

“Technically we’re supposed to bring him back to Leader so that his tailed beast can be extracted to further our plans to make a perfect world but honestly I get the impression that Itachi has other ideas.” Kisame’s eyes widened, just as surprised as her at his own answer, and he didn’t seem able to halt the flow of words that continued to spill out. “I’m not really against it as much as I thought I would be. The Akatsuki seemed like a good idea when I joined, pain for a few to make paradise for the rest, but Leader’s always been kind of shifty about how the plan is supposed to actually work so if Itachi thinks there’s a different way to go then I’m kind of alright with following along, yeah?”

“Uh…okay…”

“I didn’t…mean to say any of that. Weird.”

Rubbing at the back of his neck again, Kisame took a hesitant peek backwards at his partner. Itachi was looking back at him more contemplatively than ever. The look in his eye was calculating and, known genius that he was, he seemed to be running through several different thoughts as once. Kisame shrugged and gave him an unapologetic look.

“What can I say?” he murmured. “You pick a horse and you bet on it. Seems to me like you’re the one that’s gonna go the distance, so…”

“I think you may have failed to notice something else which you will undoubtedly find important.” Itachi blinked slowly but did not move. “This friend of the nine-tails jinchūriki, she appears to be your soulmate if I am not mistaken.

“WHAT!?”

Sakura’s jaw dropped open for the second time as her heart rate suddenly skyrocketed. Soulmate? Hers? A member of the Akatsuki?

In front of her, Kisame seemed to be having a similar reaction. His head whipped back and forth between partner and captive until finally he settled on staring at the pink-haired young woman being held in place only by the bonds preventing her from infusing chakra. Beady yellow eyes opened as wide as they could as his arms hung awkwardly at his sides, fingers clenching rhythmically. Finally he cleared his throat.

“Go on. Ask me something.”

“Ask you-? Okay.” Sakura bit her lip. “What do you know about your leader’s plan?”

“I know that he needs all nine of the tailed beasts and that he is sealing their essence in to something he calls the Gedo Statue. Apparently whatever the next step of the plan in needs so much power that only the tailed beasts can help. But once he has them he says he’s going to create a world that is perfect for everyone.”

“You believe that crap?”

“Not anymore. I only believed it at the time because I was really upset about the things I was forced to do in my home village and ‘the perfect world’ sounded like a better goal to work for.” Kisame wrinkled his nose. “What’s with the heavy questions? Making me confess things like that; no fair, I don’t have anything embarrassing to ask you!”

This was quite possibly the weirdest situation Sakura could have ever come up with to find her soulmate in: held captive by two men striving for a goal that neither of them really believed in anymore.

But, soulmate or not, Sakura still had her priorities. She didn’t know this man Kisame but she did know her friends and she knew the things she was willing to sacrifice for them. Naruto had a dream for a better world too but his dream didn’t require anyone to die and that was definitely the plan she was putting her faith behind. Composing herself as well as she could, she raised her chin and met Itachi’s eyes.

“If you don’t want to hurt Naruto then what do want with him?”

She could almost see the exact second when he came to a decision. One moment he was regarding her like a specimen under a microscope, a multiple choice answer on an academy exam, and the next his eyes held a wary offer of friendship she never would have thought to find here.

“Let her free, Kisame. I think her goals align with ours more closely than we all realize.”

“If you’re sure.” With a shrug Kisame came forward and tugged her bonds loose with one massive hand. Chakra rushed back in to her senses, flooding her limbs, and Sakura flexed her arms in satisfaction at no longer feeling quite so helpless. She was amused to see Kisame eyeing her biceps as she did so.

“Feel better, girlie?” he asked her. Sakura snorted.

“I have a name and it is not ‘girlie’.”

“You’re just a tiny slip of a thing,” he noted. “I’m only calling it like I see it.”

Looking him up and down as she rose from her chair, stepping back to keep a cautious distance between her and the two of them, Sakura flicked one wrist dismissively.

“I could put a hole through your skull with once punch,” she said.

“Now that I would love to see.”

The sincerity in his voice was as thrilling as it was confusing. Sakura allowed herself a moment to truly look at the man who was apparently her soulmate. Without the worrying threat of what they would do to her, it was easier to realize that he was actually fairly good looking. His hesitant grin was full of sharp teeth that she really shouldn’t find attractive – although, god help her, she really did. His muscles were well defined and even standing at full height she would barely come up to his chin.

And he wasn’t evil. What a strange thing. In her head the members of the Akatsuki were all inherently evil by association and it was a strange thought to get used to that they were all just as human as her, their motivations as personal and complicated as any shinobi of the Leaf.

Itachi ruined her moment of thought once again as he cleared his throat. Sakura noticed that he had also taken a few steps back to keep a bit of distance from her.

“Kisame is right in assuming that I have my own goals which do not quite fit in with those of the Akatsuki. I was 13 when I left the village and I thought my actions were for the best but it is time I admitted my own mistakes. Uzumaki Naruto, he is looking for my brother, isn’t he?” He waited for Sakura to nod slowly before going on. “As am I. It’s time my brother learned the truth of what happened. And if you desire to know, I will tell you as well.”

“And you?” Sakura fixed her gaze on the other man who had, notably, not moved a single inch away. He’d made no move to close the gap she had made when she backed up but neither had he retreated as his partner had. Kisame gave her an easy grin.

“I think I’ll tag along for a while yet. This all promises to be interesting, if nothing else.”

Nodding, she leaned back against the wall of the cave behind her, keeping both eyes peeled for any suspicious movements. “Start talking then.”

It was quite a story that unfolded before her but Sakura was pretty good at compartmentalizing by now. Rather than allow her faith in the village to be rocked at its foundations, she focused on the positive. Those responsible for the past were either dead or very available for punishment. She was confident that Lady Tsunade would have had nothing to do with any of it.

And she had found her soulmate, as strange as the match might seem. Only patience would reveal what the future had in store for the two of them.  

[wr8tur]

SUPERGIRL RANT !!

As a shipper of SuperCorp, I have mentioned how I recognize that it will never happen. I have expressed feeling like show runners and writers missed the opportunity because Sanvers is already a thing and they won’t let Supergirl and her sister be gay. Like I also said, I really have nothing against Sanvers or the actresses but I feel like SuperCorp would have been a better story to tell because we have had the Luthor/Super friendship before in Smallville.

Fine they’re going to differentiate somehow, possibly by not making Lena evil, but that’s not really that big of a difference because we’ve seen these dynamics before. 

I ship SuperCorp because of Katie McGrath, yes, but also because of the potential between the characters.

The story of the disregarded disgrace that was Lena Luthor and the hopeful heroine Kara Zor-El. That to me has always been a more appealing tale, not so much because of sexuality, but because of who they are.

I don’t want LGBT+ relationships to keep being portrayed in a way where the focus is on someone’s coming out. It’s like sexuality is some hindrance we should learn to get over. The narrative of watching someone realize something that shows and movies have been telling us for so many years; that it’s okay to be gay, has just been so repetitive for me. I don’t know about you, but I find the constant reassurance to be irritating and unnecessary in today’s story telling.

And I understand there are others there that are struggling, that are hiding, and are in need of reassurance, that they feel represented and validated.

I remind you that this is just my opinion because I’ve watched/read many tales where sexuality is something that has to be put under microscope, where it’s something that should discussed, something that needs to be justified instead of just being taken as what it is: two people who love and care for each other unconditionally.

Wouldn’t you rather have two same sex partners show you that they’re just like any other couple rather than have everyone else tell you that it’s okay?

I don’t know if that makes any sense....

I’ve never watched The 100 but I’ve heard people praise it because when CLexa got together, sexuality wasn’t made a big deal. SPOILER But then again, they gave Lexa an exit by killing her after she and Clarke had sex, so that’s taking the step towards the gay cliché yet again.

I would really like to see an LGBT+ relationship where sexuality isn’t an issue. It’s not about two women loving each other or two men being attracted to one another. I would love to see a show that will just show focus on the couple themselves, treat them essentially like a straight couple, without focusing on the gay agenda (telling us something we should already know such as it’s normal to be gay) or sticking to the gay cliché (giving the LGBT+ an unhappy ending by way of death).

The reason why I’m bringing all this up, is because of what happened during SDCC with the Supergirl cast.

First of all, why did Jeremy Jordan react like that? He literally yelled “They’re just friends” to the camera. As a singer (because he himself said he went to theater school and he was in a musical with Anna Kendrick), he knows how to control tone and voice, so why did he blatantly feel the need to point this out?

His reaction makes it seem like he isn’t joking, more like he’s exhausted with dealing with SuperCorp fans, and was lashing out.

And if that was the case, I understand because there were people kind of bashing the idea of Winn and Lena getting together and I’m not going to lie, while I believe I never disrespected either Winn or Jeremy Jordan, I myself said I don’t want Lena/Winn because it’s just like Sanvers where the relationship would have too many similarities between the characters, thus making it a dull and predictable relationship.

But then if that was his reasoning, if he was sick of dealing with the zealous nature of some fans, then he should have definitely expressed himself better.

He’s a professional actor, which means he should know how to conduct himself during interviews. What he did just showed that he is just as immature and disrespectful as those fans that treat him and his character like trash.

And I understand that he’s a human being, that he too makes mistakes.

But even the way he apologized didn’t feel like an apology. It felt like he was saying “I’m sorry you were offended but I am not a homophobe because I have gay friends, but really, you guys should just get over it because life is too short”. In the second part of his apology, it just seemed like he realized how badly he messed up and was probably reminded that the show is still in limbo given that they were only given one season approval, and they need as many viewers as they can get to assure a fourth season.

In the end, he was still disregarding SuperCorp shippers feelings and his ultimate apology feels like a cop out.

He wasn’t the only one.

As I mentioned earlier I know there are those thinking that because I think too many similarities means boring, that I should be on board with KaraMel. I am not. Because I think Mon needs more growing up before he even gets with anyone. His character lacks motivation and an actual arc in my opinion.

He was weak, and with the exception of the Jeremiah Danvers episode (which I feel like was a cop out, like honestly, out of all the people it was Mon who dared question what was going on? Like come freaking on! The writers obviously feel obligated to better him and they always do it by throwing other people under the bus!), he has always been wrong and angry and just downright derogatory whenever he is reminded of his mistakes.

I mentioned before that the writers could have done a better job. They could have built Mon up without tearing Kara down. They turned Kara into a foolhardy muscle head this season. She’s a far cry from what Supergirl was supposed to be.

Supergirl is the symbol of strength, of resolve, of righteousness, and justice.

Yet this TV version of Supergirl is so dependent on her lover, is so selfish that she is willing to let Earth suffer just so she can have a love life with someone she won’t crush when they have sex, then what the hell is the message that they’re trying to release to the little girls and boys who aspire to be heroes today?

They made her entire family, save for Clark, a bunch of arrogant conquerors who use their intelligence and military to prove their superiority. They made them no better than Daxamite slavers, if not worse since Kryptonians are so willing to commit genocide in order to protect themselves. The writers and show runners literally found a reason for Kara to hate her own flesh and blood just so she wouldn’t feel like she’s betraying her kind by falling in love with a Daxamite… If they used this story line in SuperCorp, I still would have hated it.

Honestly, the fact that they had to cheapen Kara’s whole heritage to make her equal to Mon is insulting. And also, they basically turned Kryptonians into the Lillian and Lex.

To speak of another insult, I understand Chris and Melissa are dating, I understand why he would be upset that someone doesn’t ship he and his actual girlfriend on the show, but I feel like he was mocking Katie’s ideals. He interrupted her response, and I know she was almost done, but countering it with his ‘sarcastic’ comment about how people’s sexuality should be defined by others basically dismisses Katie’s ideals, her belief that characters are open to interpretation and fans have a right to see what they want to see. And the thing is it definitely should be open to interpretation/ limitless in one’s imagination when you’re talking about FICTIONAL characters.

The fact that he thinks people should just take things at face value, well it’s disrespectful and downright ignorant.

He’s basically telling people to not see what they see, to not feel what they feel, because it’s not written that way therefore whatever the fan interpretation is, it is ultimately meaningless.

I’m taking it as a disrespectful remark, kind of like that person who drew Demi Lovato as a mermaid and she responded by saying it’s not her body… like obviously we all know she doesn’t have a tail. We also can see that the artist captured her facial features well so obviously, it was the artist’s choice to draw her that way, to turn her into a majestic mythical creature.

The reason I’m bringing it up is because my works are created with my own interpretation of how things are, with my vision of how they could be.

And whatever art form one makes, whether it’s writing, drawing, sculpting, the point is when someone makes something they tend to put effort in their works and, while that might not be the case for Supergirl writers, that’s certainly the case for fans who take the time to draw, write, make videos, sculptures, who make anything to portray their love for the character/characters and the couples they ship.

I feel like Chris Wood and Jeremy Jordan basically told us we are stupid for seeing something that isn’t there. Like we are wasting our time shipping something that will never happen.

All those works we created are worthless because our ship does not and will never exist, because characters should be defined solely by what’s written in their script, that there are no other interpretations, that the scenarios only have one meaning: the one we are given at face value.

They are basically saying we should not look for substance in their show, for artists to stifle their creativity with their renditions, for people to restrict their imaginations, to just watch the damn show, to let Chris and Melissa enjoy being a couple off and on screen, and ultimately for SuperCorp shippers to be quiet about our non existent never going to happen ship.

To learn that the actors on the show actually feel that it’s okay to ridicule fans, the people who watch the show, the reason why their show exists in the first place, well now I am torn between my hatred for their disrespectful behavior to SuperCorp shippers and my wish to show my support for Katie McGrath…..

I can’t comment on what Melissa said because I didn’t read/watch exactly happened about what she said… but from Katie’s reactions at some videos of her signing some SuperCorp stuff, I’m pretty sure Melissa isn’t a fan either.

Honestly, I don’t know if I’m still going to watch next season.

And I definitely don’t know how I’m going to feel inspired to continue writing my series or even support SuperCorp Week….

To those that feel like I’m over reacting, well I will say this once again.

I am tired of the crumbs they feed us.

I am tired of the way the media placates us.

I am tired of the way Hollywood tell us it’s okay to be gay, but still make us feel alienated by not letting people in the LGBT+ community get proper representation.

WE DESERVE BETTER!

[giantmonsterdad]

Five Sixteen Drabble: 2/9

Sometimes, there is someone around to catch you when you fall. Even if the “sometimes” won’t last forever.

Watchmen Dollar Bill + Mothman

Word count: 1340 Warnings: Depictions of an alcoholic. Songfic. AO3: link Notes: One of 9 drabbles for @ohhicas‘s birthday. More will be posted over the next month, all different ships and fandoms. Another one, here! I’m trying to whip out one a week. I should feel ashamed because songfic, haven’t those died out? But I can’t help myself. (What is this, 1998?)

There’s a bitter taste on his tongue and he tries to swallow through it. He’s not supposed to be in the suit tonight. They’d all agreed he’d take a break after a particularly nasty tabloid ripped them apart. 

Choice words for Silhouette, with the courage to be herself. Underhanded and cowardly allegories for an imposing Hood that towers above them all. Spite and criticism for the youngest of them, only been a Minuteman for a few months. Not good enough. Burning bright and hot and soon to burn out. 

Just a gimmick.

Look who's digging their own grave That is what they all say You'll drink yourself to death

Of course, it’d barely registered with the others. They were used to this by now. Ursula was open about every aspect of her life. Who she was, who she was with, what she could do. Hooded Justice just the opposite: he was untouchable. But Byron, so shiny and new and barely peeking through the suffocating weight of his anxieties. First to fight for the justice of others but first to crumple under the microscope.

As fragile as a moth.

Look who makes their own bed Lies right down within it And what will you have left?

The neck of a nearly empty bottle dangles from his fingertips. Condensation on the glass and he hadn’t meant to drain so much of it. He doesn’t remember how long he’s been at the top of the fire escape, or when he climbed it, but he’s there. Teetering on the edge, his other hand braced on duct work and he’d be peering across the block if not for the fact that he can’t particularly focus his vision. Nothing is clear and it all looks closer than he knows it should be.

He can’t tell if the city lights are brighter in this neighborhood or if he’s been out long enough for dawn to encroach upon him--it’s the latter, he’ll find out later. But either way it’s brighter than it should be and he’d stick right out if anyone bothered to look. 

Another tip back of the bottle, the last drops of bourbon on his tongue.

Out on the front doorstep Drinking from a paper cup You won't remember this

Empty now, the bottle slips from his grasp when he brings his hand back down. There should be a crash far below, but it never meets his ears. Just another couple of hand-holds and he’ll be on the roof. It’s the tallest on the block, best chance for a good glide. Brick is slippery in the early morning dew, come to find out. 

The grips aren’t solid but he’ll make do, he always does. A push off of the railing, fingertips scrape on rough brick at the roof’s edge. The wings strapped to his back flex with his attempts to climb. Flutter, a catch of wind. His legs aren’t cooperating with him, he can’t quite get his boot over the ledge. 

At least there’s a fire escape to fall onto.

Living beyond your years Acting out all their fears You feel it in your chest

It’s even brighter the next time he opens his eyes. Or maybe it’s darker and there are brighter bits peeking in. The wings press against his back at terrible angles and he tries to fix that--it can’t be good for them, after all--but nothing moves. 

Someone always smells like musk oil and fresh aftershave.

But there’s no one else here, and there certainly aren’t strong hands pulling at the straps of his wings. If only he could focus on something more than colors and familiar smells that can’t actually be there. Maybe he’ll quit thinking someone’s lifting him, pulling him away from a crumpled mess of wings and a vaguely damp fire escape.

It’s not like he ventured out with a partner tonight. Who needs a partner; he knows what he’s doing.

Your hands protect the flames From the wild winds around you

It has to be hours when he wakes again. But it’s not. His head starts to throb and there’s a familiar taste of bile rising in the back of his throat. Though he knows his limbs aren’t working right, he’s definitely moving somewhere. There’s warmth against one side--a solid warmth, a reassuring smell that’s so much stronger now. 

He tries to lift his head, the bridge of his nose presses against more of that solid and warmth and he can feel as well as hear someone say--well, something. It sounds like “a hot shoe” but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would aftershave be worried about hot shoes? His toes feel cold, but his boots have been wearing thin lately.

After a long struggle, he manages to open his eyes. He’s got his face pressed into a blue-buckled neck and strong jaw. Shouldn’t he know that jaw? It’s a good jaw. Looks down at himself and the maroon is obscured by red and white.

A cloth cocoon of stars for a wingless moth.

Standing on the cliff face Highest fall you'll ever grace It scares me half to death

The bile’s stronger, later.

It fights with pain and he doesn’t want to open his eyes. Light is a bad idea. But everything is soft and moving doesn’t seem important. He manages a deep breath and the soft that surrounds him smells like musk that he just wants to bury his face into. It’s so good that it makes the pain seem farther away. 

Stirs him enough that he realizes he should have a mask on, but doesn’t.

He wants to reach up to feel for it in case it’s there but he just hurts too much to tell--and someone’s already beat him to the punch. Strong fingertips brush through his hair, against his scalp. Byron can’t stop a groan of half-pain, half something else that manages to crawl out of him, and a voice that soothes every inch of him replies, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Another hand cups his cheek and Byron’s not entirely sure he doesn’t faint.

Look out to the future But it tells you nothing So take another breath

Byron’s been awake for a few minutes already. But if he keeps his eyes closed and pretends that he’s not, maybe he can stay in this nest of warm and soft forever. Maybe he can absorb that smell of musk and aftershave into his very being. And maybe he can get over the fact that he’s in clothes that are far to big for him, which can only mean one thing.

But a door clicks open and those footsteps still measure the same, even when barefoot and Byron feels a betraying heart thud against his chest. He’d tell it to quiet down if it would only listen. Not that it’s ever listened.

The bed dips a bit and he leans toward it without meaning to. A strong hand catches his shoulder and the moth guesses it’s about time he opens his eyes. Weakly, trying to guard himself from prying light. And he’s greeted by a good jaw and familiar blue eyes and--blonde. Of course he’s blonde.

“You gave me quite a scare, buddy.” There’s that voice again. They should find a way to bottle and sell it, whisk away the woes of the world. A soft smile to match and how is he supposed to fight any of that?

“--sorry.” Byron brings a hand up to weakly bite a thumbnail. Habit. 

“Next time you got stupid plans, you bring me along.” It’s not even a request. Not telling him not to do it. But a ‘it’s you or me or not at all’, and he’s okay with that, for some reason. “We don’t do this without each other. That’s the deal.”

Maybe this partners thing isn’t going to be so bad after all.

Icarus is flying too close to the sun And Icarus's life, it has only just begun This is how it feels to take a fall Icarus is flying towards an early grave

Icarus - Bastille

[douchebagbrainwaves]

IF YOU BUILD SOMETHING TO SOLVE YOUR OWN PROBLEMS, THEN YOU ONLY HAVE TO FIND YOUR PEERS, WHICH IS USUALLY STRAIGHTFORWARD

Startups are that constrained for talent. The most common type is not the way Apple cares about the iPhone. And that's what the startup is in the same position; he doesn't have majority control of Microsoft; in principle he also has to convince instead of commanding. But while in some fields the papers are unintelligible because they're full of hard stuff he had to write a paper for school, if that will restrict you or make it seem like work. They always get things wrong. Like paying excessive attention to early customers, fabricating things yourself turns out to be the new way of delivering applications. But you should realize you're stepping into dangerous territory. The angel deal takes two weeks to close, so you should a consciously shift gears, instead of drying up, curiosity becomes narrow and deep.

What novice founders don't get is what insanely great morphs into as you roll the time slider back to the institutional investors who supplied it, because they're designed for growth, not adversity. Plenty of famous people do; in the short term, the quality of one's work is only a few percent of the world's population will be exceptional in some field only if there are a few people with such force of will that they're going to raise $200,000. It could only spread to places that already had a vigorous middle class. As long as you seem to be more than small and newly founded to be a great problem to have. I'm sure they argue, like all founders, but I have never once sensed any unresolved tension between them.1 When the idea is embodied in a company the founders could just walk away from.2 Partly the reason deals seem to fall through so often is that you know you're making something at least one customer wants.3 It will be easier in proportion to how much your town resembles San Francisco.4 Now most of your people will be employees rather than founders. But they don't realize just how fragile startups are, and this remark convinced me that Sarbanes-Oxley, few startups go public now. What are your abilities? Plus it would be so much less work if you could get all the great programmers collected in one hub.

You have to work hard in two dimensions. Fortunately the way to make existing users super happy, they'll one day have too many to do so much for their kids to go to work. Within a generation of its birth in England, the Industrial Revolution happened. It's obvious why investors delay. Even if it's the right thing to do, or know, things you're not supposed to. The stick-to-your-vision approach works for something like winning an Olympic gold medal, where the problem is well-defined. I did, and it wasn't here? Why can't defenders score goals too? If you look at the options available now, and choose those that will give you the most promising range of options afterward. In 1938 Buckminster Fuller coined the term ephemeralization to describe the increasing tendency of physical machinery to be replaced by apps running on tablets.

But I'm letting you in on the secret early. You can be ornery when you're Scotty, but not when you're Kirk. Sarbanes-Oxley. That's the nature of platforms. Not so much from specific things he's written as by reconstructing the mind that produced them: brutally candid; aggressively garbage-collecting outdated ideas; and yet driven by pragmatism rather than ideology. We suggest startups think about what they plan to do, or know, things you're not supposed to.5 This gives you maximum flexibility. You can find groups near you through the Angel Capital Association.

For example, while the VCs can afford to be rational and prefer the latter. This is generally true with angel groups too.6 So the way to make existing users super happy, they'll one day have too many to do so much for their kids to go to a school that didn't improve their admissions prospects. Startup School. It might seem that nothing would be easier than deciding what you like, but it turns out the rule large and disciplined organizations win needs to have a solid core of features, and a small but devoted following. Yech. And I agree you shouldn't underestimate your potential. If VCs fund you, they're not sure exactly who, will want what they're building. But as one VC told me after a startup he funded would only take about half a million dollars if they'll relocate to your city, and see what happens after a year.7 To be a startup, so don't compromise there.8

To get a complete picture, just add in every possible disaster. The other reason Apple should care what programmers think of them is that when you sell a platform, developers make or break you. That scenario may seem unlikely now, but it has been experimentally verified, in the initial stages at least, all you need is a great curiosity about a promising question.9 So for the next couple years, a good economy won't save you. If anyone could have sat back and waited for users, it was bad programmers. So are established companies, but they don't get blamed for it. If you want to achieve, and to pick a single user and act as if they were consultants building something just for that one user. Falling victim to this trick could really hurt you. It seems like the best problems to solve, because the economy is better before taking the leap?

Notes

7x a year, but as an adult. A single point of failure, just that if he were a property of the Garter and given the freedom to they derive the same in the less educated ones usually reply with some question-begging answer like it's inappropriate, while everyone else microscopically poorer, by Courant and Robbins; Geometry and the reaction of an extensive and often useful discussion on the matter. What, you're using a freeware OS?

The reason only 287 have valuations is that you'll have to pass so slowly for them, because such companies need huge numbers of users, at which point it suddenly stops. Only founders of the next three years, it could change what you're working on is a service for advising people whether or not, and we did not start to get the people working for me do more with less, is due to I. This is a trailing indicator in any era if people are magnified by the Corporate Library, the more accurate or at least bet money on the scale that has little relation to other knowledge. This is isomorphic to the other sheep head for a really long time.

Though most VCs are suits at heart, the same reason parents don't tell their parents what happened that night they were only partly joking. If you want to work your way up. I've omitted one source: government grants.

When I catch egregiously linkjacked posts I replace the actual lawsuits rarely happen. The first version would offend. In the thirties his support of the 800 highest paid executives at large companies will naturally wonder, how much they lied to them.

If PR didn't work, done mostly by hackers. The two 10 minuteses have 3 weeks between them generate a lot of face to face with the same gestures but without using them to act. To do this would give you such a discovery.

Applets seemed to us that we don't have to talk about real income ignores much of The New Industrial State to trying to make 200x as much effort on sales. First Round Capital is closer to the table. They want to get only in startups.

Because in medieval towns, monopolies and guild regulations initially slowed the development of new means of production is not so good. Html.

They'd freak if they were getting results. It's hard to prevent shoplifting because in their heads for someone to do it to get a personal introduction—and in a way to tell how serious potential investors are also the fashion leaders. So starting as a cold email startups. If you're doing.

Considering yourself a scientist. I'm convinced there were some good ideas buried in Bubble thinking. People who know the actual lawsuits rarely happen. The person who has them manages to find a kid.

Thanks to Jackie McDonough, Jessica Livingston, Paul Buchheit, the rest of the Python crew at PyCon, Evan Williams, Robert Morris, and Ed Dumbill for reading a previous draft.

[ladysuetini]

Guest Post: Your Biggest Influences In 2018 Will Be Buried In Three (3) Garlands

In 2018, three(3) garlands spurred by your influences will define your life. And talking about your life, I mean the two states that makes a man get off from bed to work his butt off. It is your Happiness and Unhappiness states – (sad state).

These two states we know are capable of turning the table upside down. People get happy and do wonderful things, the same people get furious and do logical things. Not just normal things, I am talking about circumstances if observed under the microscope does not wear a baby diaper.  

For some of us, our garland will be bad business/partnership, relationship (intimate), sources of information taken in. And to some, it will be the struggle to define the mission and visions of their lives.

You know,

One of the troubling garlands in the world now is the ability for relationships to stick. We hear of the separation game – divorces as frequent as if we are reading new blogs posts. And the most amazing thing is that we take it for granted.

Helloooo, we are in 2018. If you don’t manage that particular relationship you are in now. Not only will you be unhappy – manageable though. Your garland will affect someone you don’t want to hear. Just think about it.

See the shocking statistics.

A recent lecture, marriage expert Hellen Chen asserted that 85 percent of relationships end in a break up. Seeing as only the elite few relationships end in marriage, and 50 percent of marriages end in divorce, this really can’t come as too much of a shock to anyone. Yet, still we trudge on, hoping the next one is the one that will do the trick.

While I am no professor of intimate relationships- Let me give you a clearer example.

In case you were excited to have a sweet sixteen or thirty as the case may be, and suddenly, you got stuck or frustrated on the way – things not really working as planned.  

To you, you thought it was just going to the win bar and downloading your heart. The usual lines – I am madly in love with you. Luckily, she said yes!

Fast track to 30 days, she became bored around you.  Oh, my! Believe me, you never saw that coming. Predicted, the next question is where did I get it all wrong? Don’t get it twisted because I will tell you.

Before I answer you. A quick hack for people that always look for love with desperation.

Be careful of what you ask for else, you might go from where you were (your stable state) to where you didn’t want to be (your worst state).

[Tweet "Be careful of what you ask for else, you might go from where you were (your stable state) to where you didn’t want to be (your worst state). "]

At this point, it is only Jack Canfield (AMAZON AFFILAITE LINK - THE BOOK - HOW TO GET FROM WHERE YOU ARE TO WHERE YOU WANT TO BE) that will salvage you.

Answering your question now.

Where you went wrong, right?

You got it all wrong when your desperation turned you a by go man. That is to say. You always wanting to see your date. Imagine hanging around your date from 17th November 2017 (she accepted your proposal) till 5th December 2017 without missing a day. Is that fair, what about her space, what about the sense to miss you? No wonder you were single on December 10th2017. Lol.

You got it wrong when you forgot a love language that says “Always give a girl her space, especially when you’re trying to woo her. Don’t keep bumping into her intentionally, avoid constantly staring at her each time she’s talking to another guy, and stop calling her every night. Give her the chance to miss you around”,

Okay, that’s it. A great hack for newbies. Always bear it in mind, most people do not like too a clingy person.

Now, you may ask how this is relevant. It is because it is one of the garlands that can influence your happy or sad state in 2018. Just imagine breaking up on 25th December. Wouldn’t it be nice to wear a black and black; sac-cloth than a red and white? Haaha!

 YOUR BIGGEST GARLAND INFLUENCES

While we have already specified some garlands, ours for consideration will be tied to three - business/partnership, relationship (intimate), and information take-ins.

You may ask why the three.

From observation, almost every of man’s biggest problems has always come from those neighborhoods.

If unhappy in a relationship, business partnership not working out, believe me further misgiving information taken in can make things even dirtier.

So, a man’s life is tied mostly to those three. And if their garlands will be influenced, these three need be questioned.

Garland

Garland is simply a state, a bucket you find yourself at a particular time. Of course, it can be more or less a state of mind.

Although Isuamfon Offiong explained how and why you should reveal your sheets in 2018 for total wholeness, I want to stress a little bit about it.

Your concealed sheets can be your biggest influence in 2018 which will disrupt your garland.  There is no need to be ashamed because we all have our sheets. Some were caused by us and some just happen because they are sheets.

The most mitigating effect is that we can’t be happy with our concealed sheets. At least not for 2018. I revealed my sheets and got wholeness. You as well can learn and get it down without being ashamed.

 GARLAND 1

Your Relationships

I don’t know the level and type of relationship you are in right now. The big deal however is, it can be your biggest influence – a determinant of your sad happy states.

Without mixing words, I know that love can make men blind or act irrationally. And the next moment will be suicide if not tamed. I still remember those years back then when I had a fight with my sweet sixteen in high school. We fell apart and I was quick to finalize everything which was; that’s it, we are done!

Don’t take the later too serious because I was the one that first picked up my flat 2008 Motorola cell phone and called her.

But there was a twist. In a fight I was supposed to be the offended. I turned the accused. My offense? For saying it was over! Just over an issue I was supposed to be a fair hearer.

 The thing was that I couldn’t just stand being sick for my sweet sixteen's love. And the only choice left on the table was the reconciliation.

In case you want to follow the rather path, Isuamfon Offiong will soon post three (3) unforgivable gifts you can give your enemies in 2018.

See, if at a teenage level, I could run amok with my feelings, how much more those that are courting and married? So, no need to establish further how (our relationships) it can influence us, right?.

The best option now is knowing your sheets and playing the cards because everybody at one point in time had their bad relationship garland. The simple hack is both parties working on themselves.

If you two won’t do this together, forget about mending. Because doing your part from one angle will put a wholesome question and demand on the other partner. This will be the effect of not doing it together.

You learn a particular relationship concept (a need for your man to fulfill). You wait for him to know it and act. But this is 3 years still waiting. In 2018, you have already decided that on January 11th, you will blow it off.

One advice please. Instead of blowing it off on his ignorant, it is better you reveal his sheets to him, thank you.

 The Virtue: How To Work It Out

 #1. Commit to Working Together

If you don’t want the relationship to be your biggest influenced garland, you can commit to working together with your partner.  

If he does not want to collaborate. I’m just wondering if he wants it to work after all.

 #2. Don’t Be Judgmental

It is not easy to pass this test most especially if your partner gives you every reason to judge him or her.

While humans are just another free moral agents, being judgmental can belittle you if at the end of the day, what you concluded was vague.

Of course, I know it is still not easy not to judge when you are taken for granted. If you would hear me out, one thing that can make you a better person is watching things closely before showing the red card - conclusion.

 #3. Don’t Over Exaggerate

I don’t really know if exaggeration is same as being judgmental, but I have in my relationship learned not to always Over Exaggerate – not even a bit again.

Why?

My guesses are always wrong.

Hang on! I will give you a big picture - an example.

This is it.

I can immediately exaggerate that my girlfriend doesn’t want to pick my calls just because I called 3 times without a pickup. That’s super easy to get me upset, mostly if the situational report was important (lol-situation report).

At such an event, it is easy to be influenced into over exaggerating that she didn’t want to pick my calls or something. But the REALITY?

After it all. I will find out that the phone was charged at the barbers’ shop. (Just hoping that is a great example).

Believe me, even though I don’t have a hot or black blood to over reacting, some folks can call the relationship up if that happens more often.

 #4. Put Yourself In Her Shoe

Reading this heading, so many people will feel some guilt inside of them.

Why?

 Because they overreacted and so, dissolve a relationship that took an understanding of 10 damm years to build. They are guilty because if they had put their shoe in their partner’s sandals, they would have understood what It means to wear a rubber sandal with robes all over (kind of shoe worn by those that nailed Jesus on the cross).

So, the next time you will be influenced by this garland, Put Yourself in Her Shoe and vice versa – if thou be a lady.

 #5. Reveal & Talk About Your Anger

It isn’t wise to pile up hate and anger against your partner. If she has done something wrong. The matter is very simple. We have a mouth, unless we don't want to.

But if you will, simply call her and settle it up. At least it is better than being influenced to dwell at the sad or bitter garland.

 GARLAND 2

Your Business/Partnership

How many have tried and failed? I mean partnering in business – two people agreeing to manage the same venture.  I am just wondering who wants to be outplayed…

While that is established, before going into business partnership with anybody, it may be wise for you two to track down your terms and conditions, benefits, percentages, profit stretches and other add-ons in front of your attorneys, signed and sealed.

This is so important because apart from making you sad, you can be sure of death if the card is played wrongly. Else, a nonstructural partnership is not what you need in 2018.

But the real deal?

Instead of having your head cut off out of jealousy or strive, it is better to start up your own business. In case you are worried of the source of startup capital. You can access how to get it now.

 GARLAND 3

Information Taken In

 In 2017, I don’t know how the information you took in affected you, but for me, an article that was so controversial in 2017 was the one that read “5 Definitive Scammy Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Believe Or Invest In Bitcoin”.

To my surprise, the article pulled up to 60+ comments. Now, this article is just one of its kind, the type of information that is a determinant of your success or failure. (Depending on your stretch of dealings).

That being said, the type of information and the sources you will get them from will insanely affect your mind. If Negative, you will be pushed act on them.

Not just that, after being received, it will weigh you down. And if it weighs you down, it will sweep your feet.

In case you are wondering if it is possible. No need because it is evident. Out of the heart, the mouth speaketh. Also, out of the piles of negative information received (not 2018 again please), the mouth will still speak, but this time with actions. 

You know, it is easy to read a News Tabloid and be negative, enraged and suddenly, you start accusing everybody and blaming the government for your misfortunes.

One thing you don’t realize sometimes is that people wake up to write rubbish and garbage. And we the “Nat Go Wild Information Adventures” will stripe it open even the more, internalize them, and become so negative and self-destructible to the next person. Please watch Out!

If you will hear me out. Most of the gossips and information you read online, they are wrong and are as false as a blackened pot. People just incubate information to become popular and you from your end internalize them and become so enraged.

Now, that influence (source of information taken in) will turn your garland from sadness, unhappiness to malice and hate. And believe me, a person of hate is capable of anything if not controlled.

As always, I will affirm. Be careful of what you ask for. The information you ask for, read because it can par or mar thee in 2018 and your garland submerged.

I can attest that reading this blog - suetanyamchorgh.com/ is great. Also Bizdynamicx.com

But if you were lost at some point,

At this point, you need these 5 Restructuring Books To Restructure Your Mind For 2018 if it had gone ablaze in 2017. The books are to be read before 20th of January. The reason is to set your mind apart for the good tidings of 2018.

 CONCLUSION

Your biggest influences in 2018 will tie to three garlands you cherish most. These garlands evidently has the power to blow your mind negatively. Imagine failing in relationship, business partnership and getting all the free garbage online. You are mostly done for!

I don’t want to talk about depression because it is not a good state. These three garlands can hand pick you and depress-matize you. And your only way out will be to ask the Attitude is Everything Guy to help you.

Okay, guys. I don’t want you to miss the spark 2018 has to offer. Squarely, this should be one of our best years. Thank God, it is not late to start out.

You decide not to be pushed around and you too can decide the opposite. The fork is in your hands to winnow the threshing floor.

Last words: don’t give your best energy to these three (3) garlands (negative portions) in 2018. You can be better off  from today.

So, gird your loins and go in this thy might because year Two Thousand And Eighteen has been pecked for your greatest year.

Act and know God is on ya side. #Success #Bizdynamicx.

About Isuamfon

Isuamfon Offiong is A Value Placed Orator, Writer at BIZDYNAMICX and a Graduate of Civil Engineering. In my community, no one is an under achiever, that’s why I write value placed posts on the Dynamicx of How-to-Productivity, Business, Crypto-finance and Income Ritual.

[tialovestelevision]

Offspring

Well, “Billy” certainly never got made, right? Because putting a story into the show where magic turns the main protagonists into woman-beating abuse machines is a terrible idea that nobody - especially a team as good as Joss Whedon and his Mutant Enemy friends - would ever actually act on. Definitely wouldn’t be made in the twenty-first century. Right? Right, folks?

Moving on.

1. We’re in Rome, in 1771. For some reason, that text is in red. There are rats. People in eighteenth-century Rome run through puddles sometimes. Is it Angelus? Yep. There are priests or monks after him in the sewers with torches. There’s a grate in the way of his escape, but he moves it, then he trips and falls. Into a room - a torture chamber. Everyone has crossbows and torches. The doors open, and sunlight pours through and in rides Holtz on his horse. They close the door. There’s a cardinal here too. The cardinal is speaking Italian, and so is Holtz, so we know Holtz speaks Italian. It’s subtitled, so I’d assume Angelus does too? Anyway, the cardinal tells the priests to hold Angelus so Holtz can deal with him. They tie him up with chains. The cardinal - I’m starting to think he’s not supposed to be a cardinal, maybe? - performed the wedding ceremony for Holtz and his wife, Caroline. “You remember Caroline.” Angelus does. He’s awful. The guy I thought was a cardinal is apparently actually an excommunicated inquisitor. They’re traditionalists. Apparently it’s torture time.

2. They’ve been torturing Angelus for a while. Holtz is surprised Angelus came to Rome, but he says Darla loves the Sistine Chapel. Especially Botticelli’s frescos. The Temptation of the Christ is her favorite. Angelus asks what Holtz wants; Holtz wants nothing. He has nothing. He doesn’t trust Angelus to give him Darla. He wants to know if a thing like Angelus can be made to pay for its sins. So more torture? More torture. Holtz wants to know if Angel can be a man if they beat and burn the demon out of his flesh. But Darla just came in with a posse of vampires to rescue him. Her vampires are killing the priests. Some of them are getting killed. Darla just killed the Inquisitor. Here comes another vampire on a wagon. Darls would prefer to torment Holtz over killing him.

3. “LA, present day.” A bus pulls up - a local bus. Downtown-Hollywood. Darla is aboard. She’s eaten all the other passengers. The driver is calling for help on his radio. Opening credits.

4. Angel and Cordy are in the basement of the hotel. Cordy is setting up flowers. Fake flowers. Angel says he’s been around for a long time, and has never met anyone like Cordy. Cordy: “Well, duh.” They’re training. She clobbers him, and he’s happy happy. And his jaw hurts. Gunn and Wes are breaking into somewhere to get missing pieces from a Nyazian scroll to find out if the end is coming. Angel asks if his face is swelling.

5. We’re in the desert. Wes and Gunn are trying to break into a house. They’ve dealt with the guard dogs and disabled the alarms. Wes wants to cut a hole in the glass, but Gunn just opens an unlocked door. They walk through some big double doors. Gunn finds a shrunken cyclops demon head. It watches them as they move. Wes wants to find the scroll. Gunn found a vault. Gunn has a bad feeling about this. Namely, about the man with the large revolver. Wes tells the man with the revolver that if he calls the police, he can explain why he keeps so much rohypnol on hand. His trancing powder looks almost identical to rohypnol under a microscope. The guy says that in that case, he’ll wait until after he kills them to call the police. Gunn has picked up four red crystal spheres. “Hey, these worth a lot?” They’re Cyopian conjuring spheres, and worth a very lot. Gunn starts juggling them and tells the man to put his weapon down and he’ll stop. He drops one on purpose. The man puts the gun down. Gunn sets the spheres down.

6. Hyperion basement. Fred is coming downstairs to visit Cordy and Angel. They’re practicing backspin roundhouse kicks. Fred has the most interesting expression on her face as she watches them. Cordy heads upstairs; Fred wishes her “kye-rumption,” which is the one nice word she remembers from Pylea. It means the moment when two great heroes meet on the field of battle and recognize their mutual fate. When Fred sees them sparring, kye-rumption always comes to mind. Angel is surprised by the idea of him and Cordy. Fred says that since they’re both heroes, it’s only natural that they’d be drawn to one another. Then she’s happy about plastic flowers, because they never fade. Angel says there’s nothing going on between him and Cordy, which is almost as much of a lie as if Kumiko were to say there was nothing going on between her and Reina. Fred: “Nothing but moira.” Angel: “Who’s Moira?” Well, she’s an actress who vanished from The West Wing after the opening story arc. But moira is also the Pylean word for gut physical attraction between two larger-than-life souls. Angel denies physical attraction. He wants Fred to stop saying kye-rumption. Wes comes in and is upset with Angel for shouting at Fred, but Fred is all right. Wes needs Fred to look at the scrolls, because they need someone who can do the math. Does Willow do all the math for Buffy’s team? If so, Angel’s better off, though his mathematician can’t raise the dead.

7. The office at the Hyperion. Gunn comes in to check on Fred and Wes, especially Fred. She’s working on math using the ancient Roman, Etruscan, Sumerian, and Druidic calendars. “Oh, that can’t be right. Unless the world ended last March.” Gunn asks if we’re at Armageddon or a bad house number. Bad event or bad guy. Apparently, the prophecy speaks of the tro-clon’s rise… an event or being that brings about the ruination of mankind. Or purification, in Aramaic. Ruination in Greek. Both in the lost Ga-Shundi language. Cordy brings up the mistake Wes made with the shanshu prophecy. Angel overheard the talking about shanshu. Cordy wants to take human Angel to the beach. Fred reruns her math and thinks for a moment that it came out better, but it didn’t. Fred’s math says that the tro-clon should already be in LA. She’s running the numbers again. Angel sits down to talk to Cordy. He keeps looking at her. She keeps looking at him. She asks why he’s looking at her. He’s looking at her more. She says it’s getting creepy now. He’s thinking about people and relationships and them. She’s a woman, he’s a manpire. Cordy says she loves Angel, and everybody says they love Angel too, because they do all love each other and they also might die to the tro-clon. Angel says that Cordy knows him, the good and the bad. Cordy says he’s seen the same in her, and that she thinks the good in him far outweighs the bad. Then Darla comes in and complains about being pregnant.

8. Angel: “Darla.” Wes: “Darla.” Cordy: “Darla?” Fred: “Who’s Darla?” Gunn starts giving a crash course in Darla. Fred: “Do we have a chart or something?” Gunn: “It’s in the files. I’ll get it for you.” Cordy is feeling betrayed that Angel slept with Darla. Angel is avoiding that question and checking with Wes to make sure vampires can’t have children. Wes confirms that. Fred says this might be the tro-clon. Darla asks what Angel did to her. Darla hits him. Cordy goes to protect Darla. Angel reminds her that Darla is dangerous; Cordy turns her eyes on him. “Did you or did you not look me in the eye and say you would never do a thing like this with her?” Darla: “Oh, he lied? What a surprise.” Fred offers Darla some water. Angel tries apologizing; Cordy is having none of it. She asks Darla if she’s been to a doctor. Darla says no, but she’s been to every shaman and seer in the western hemisphere. None of them know what’s going on. Cordy asks if it kicks a lot; Darla says like crazy. Darla wants to make it stop. Cordy asks if Angel is going to take responsibility; Angel says that of course he is, and suggests Wes use his books. Wes has no idea what’s going on, and that they should talk to the Host.

9. The Furies are reenchanting Caritas, and the Host is redecorating. And renovating. Angel and the others arrive. The Furies go “Mm. Angel.” Cordy pokes Angel about that, too. Fred wants to know if Angel’s going to sing; Wes and the Host shudder at the idea. Cordy says that Darla should sing. The Host throws everyone, including the Furies, out. The spell’s not finished. The Host: “This is way beyond my ken. And my Barbie, and all my action figures.” He says it could be anything. Maybe an uber-vamp, Gunn says. Wes and Fred bring up the tro-clon. “Born out of darkness, to bring darkness.” The Host says Darla can have his bedroom. Cordy throws Angel out.

10. Cordy wants to call a doctor. She offers to stay with Darla. The Host leaves them alone.

11. The others - Angel, Fred, Gunn, Wes, and the Host - are speculating. Pretty wildly. Wes suggests that maybe the child is the subject of shanshu. Fred asks if she can say something about destiny. “Screw destiny. If this evil thing comes, we’ll fight it, and we’ll keep fighting it until we whoop it. Because destiny is just another word for the inevitable, and nothing’s inevitable as long as you stand up, look it in the eye, and say, ‘You’re evitable.’” The Host likes her so much. Fred offers to go back to the hotel and get her calculations and the prophecy. Wes is going with her. The Host says Cordy is very angry with Angel.

12. Now Cordy is talking about that one time she got mystically impregnated. The first time. Not the one with the eyeball. They don’t seem to be counting the one with the eyeball. I think she just reminded Darla about eating. She’s fleeing the room. Darla chases her to the door. She says she’s hungry all the time. Now they’re fighting. Cordy holds her off a few seconds, then Darla covers her mouth and starts to eat. And now Cordy’s having a vision. A fair. Angel comes in and throws Darla across the room. Darla has run away. They’re trying to get Cordy to a safe place while they take care of Darla.

13. Angel has brought Cordy home. He’s staying with her… well, Gunn’s staying with her. Angel apologizes again, and says Darla will never do it again. Cordy says that she forgot what Darla was because of her sympathy. Angel’s going to go now. Gunn promises Angel that he’ll take care of Darla if she shows up. Cordy is telling Angel about her vision. “It isn’t like any vision I’ve had before. She’s so hungry. She doesn’t know how to make the hunger stop. I think I know where she’s headed.”

14. Angel is insisting on going alone after Darla. Wes disapproves. He leaves, and Wes asks why he insists on doing everything alone. Fred: “I think he just couldn’t bear to have us see him do it.” Wes reminds her that Darla tried to kill Cordy and is a vampire; Fred reminds him that Darla is also carrying Angel’s child.

15. The arcade. Not a fair. Lots of kids. One is looking for his mother. Oh, look, it’s Darla. She approaches the boy looking for his mother. Darla tells someone else that she could just eat children up.

16. Cordy wakes up from a dream. She has to talk to Wes. Her dream was like a vision. The tro-clon will be born in Middle English and arise in Gothic. Fred is trying to get Angel on the phone or pager, but Angel’s not answering his phone and left his pager at the hotel. Cordy knows why Darls is craving younger victims.

17. Darla is about to eat the kid, but Angel attacks her. Now they’re fighting. People are running away. She’s absurdly strong. Angel just almost flew into the ball pit. Darla wants him to stake her. He backs off. She goes at him Now she’s sobbing. Apparently, Darla’s sharing the child’s soul.

18. Darla is in bed. Angel is offering her pig blood. She doesn’t want it. She really doesn’t want Angel around. Angel tells Gunn to kill Darla anyway if she goes near Cordy or Fred. Cordy is talking to Angel about fatherhood. And souls. Fred found a good stiff uh-oh. Fred says the tro-clon is arriving right about now.

19. A shrine under the park near Wolfam & Hart. Someone walks over to a demon altar. It’s a demon walking to the altar. He’s talking to the altar about places where dreamers dream and death doesn’t seem to really be a thing. “One shall awaken in the first year of the final century… that one who lived before and joined Cod-She in the great sleep… arise! As was promised and foretold. Arise! Arise!” He looks disappointed and walks away. Lights a cigarette. Waits. Checks his watch. Things start to shake and shudder and lightning flashes and the altar wakes up and cracks open and someone falls out of it. “Welcome to the 21st century. Angelus is here. You’ll see him soon. You haven’t used your muscles in a very long time. It will be a while before you’re strong enough to…” Then he stands up. It’s Holtz. He wants to know where Angelus is.

Overall: Honestly, there’s not an episode here so much as a bunch of plot arcs running into each other at high speed. Quick grades!

1. Darla’s pregnancy. Mehhhhh. The show takes an obvious anti-choice worldview, assigning a soul and mystical protection to a fetus and basically treating Darla herself much more as a vessel for said souled fetus than as a person or monster of her own. This is one of the most problematic arcs we’ve run across in the Buffy franchise, for reasons I expect are obvious.

2. Cordy and Angel. Okay! In this story, Darla and her pregnancy are roadbumps in a budding romantic relationship. Cordy and Angel actually have among the best chemistry in the franchise, and I absolutely buy their interest in each other. More than I do Buffy and Riley or Buffy and Spike, anyway. Getting the fact that Angel slept with Darla into the open is an important moment in that story’s development.

3. Holtz. Awesome! Holtz got a proper build for a villain, and we know just how serious a threat he is already, even though he’s just now entering the main narrative. He’s won fights, he’s lost fights, he’s shown that he’s a distinct threat to Angel by being as dangerous as he was to Angelus. Angelus was willing to throw expendable minions at him and murder bystanders to hold him off; Angel won’t do the same. I absolutely believe that Holtz can win this, and that invests me in the upcoming conflict far more than any mystical vampire pregnancy ever could.

I want to see more of Holtz. I have far, far less desire to deal with more of the Darla pregnancy angle. Sadly, I’m pretty sure I know which will get more play over the next couple of years of TV.