#When you have to grudgingly admit that this looks great

[completeoveranalysis]

[1]

Chapitre 197 - Two Lives

Oh mister imbalance himself! No thank you take it back. 

The splash text reads:

My indecision and my hesitation I discarded long ago

So that I may obtain one singe thing

And yeah I guess that does sum him up pretty well.

The pose is frankly incredible, I don’t think he deserves it. 

This is the giant oil painting of himself he hangs in the break room of his evil organisation. He has smaller poster versions he puts up in all the hallways. He also has bookmarks made as well. He loves this version of himself dearly. It’s the way he really sees himself. It’s the way he assumes he is. 

And the moon he reaches towards is so beautiful, but I think there’s a little bit of actual moon nonsense I don’t quite get with him yet. The full moon appeared in the reflection of the water that one time, out of sync with the time around it, and I’m not sure if that’s if further significance to Evil Wolverine himself or if it was more of a warning of the time of his arrival. 

But either way It’s so interesting that he could be just be standing by the moon, but instead he’s standing in front of a roughly hewn out poor imitation of the moon instead. It’s not even exactly the right shape, and you can see the broken base at the bottom, still jagged. And IS it the moon, or is it a leftover fragment of that statue Sakura that was praying at? Is it an echo of Evil Wolverine hacking away at the universe and taking the remnants proudly for himself? 

Is it a continuation of how he hacks away at everything he touches in service of his own wish, leaving everything else around him a broken ruin that suits him perfectly? How he not only doesn’t care about the lives he ruins but ACTIVELY aims to do it in order to get what he wants? 

Is it a peek into the fact that he wants "the moon", but all he’ll ever be able to achieve is an ugly simulacrum of it? How he’ll never get exactly what he wants, but thinks that ruining the universe until he can get something close enough is good enough for him? That it’s some incredible and worthy goal worth looking forward to, but in reality it's just a shambles of broken rock, battered and stolen and only a fraction of what it might have been without him? 

Is the fact that it’s all Rock a sign that Evil Wolverine’s wish is essentially just a barren landscape, a lifeless universe that roughly looks almost like what he wants if you squint a bit?

And yet he thinks he’s pulling it off masterfully the entire time. 

Also there's a JUICY, delicious morsel in the fact that the splash text refers to him leaving behind "hesitation" specifically - and it was Lava Lamp's hesitation that ultimately lead to him missing Sakura's hand and being unable to save her. It shows the parallel between the two (that Evil Wolverine himself is so thrilled by) and also demonstrates why Evil Wolverine thinks he's right. It's almost like he's experienced the exact same moment already, or something very similar to it. If he ever does hesitate he'll have the same result - he'll lose the person he's fighting to save. So he's decided to go Full Speed in the other direction and never hesitate or let anything else ever hold him back again, and this has lead to him full on slaughtering countless worlds without ever thinking twice.

It's a great reflection on what Lava Lamp's own dedication could turn into - and he's from the same bloodline, so the parallels write themselves. If pushed in the same directions WOULD Lava Lamp end up as the next Evil Wolverine, or will his heart let him grow in ways that Evil Wolverine cut out of himself a long time ago?

[maysileeewrites]

something there | teaser

movie! Fiyero Tigelaar x gn!reader

Synopsis: When Fiyero suggests a group date activity with Galinda and Elphaba to try and quell the tension between the two, you agree, not knowing that these two might have a common goal in sight as well. (And maybe playing matchmaker wasn’t the only thing on Fiyero’s mind when he suggested the idea …) 

AN: based off of this concept post. I'm so sorry that it's taking me this long to write this, but this story is turning out to be a beast, I'm nearly 4k words in and the actual group date hasn't even happened yet. I might have to split the final shabang into two parts, we'll see. please be just a bit more patient with me <3

Your doubts didn’t seem to phase Fiyero in the slightest. Actually, it seemed that the more vocal you became in voicing your concerns, the more determined to see this through to the end - and see it through successfully - Fiyero became. 

Not even Elphaba’s irritated expression, when he cornered you and her after dinner the following evening, seemed to intimidate him, which, you had to admit grudgingly, was a feat in and of itself. Because while you liked Elphaba very much - when she wasn’t using her breath on venting about Galinda that was - and valued her friendship, she could be quite intimidating. 

If she’d looked at you the way she was currently looking at Fiyero, you were sure that you’d have already crumbled under her withering glare. 

As it was, Fiyero merely shrugged, smirking, when she said, her voice dripping with irritation: „And why in Oz’s name would you do that?“ (Fiyero had just announced that he wanted to invite you two for dinner in a fancy restaurant in town the next evening.) 

„Because I want to spend some time with my best friend’s other friends - get to know them myself, you know“, he said, an easy smile on his face, as he walked closer to you and slid an arm around your waist, the gesture so casual, so natural, almost as if it was something he did all the time. 

It wasn’t. Because while Fiyero had always been extremely affectionate and not even your sister’s irritated glare when he’d casually grab your hand and lace your fingers together or gently touch your arm to get your attention could discern him, he usually didn’t do something like this. 

This felt new and dangerous and thrilling and - you liked it. 

You liked being this close to Fiyero, feeling his body right next to yours, heat radiating off him, even though it caused your heart to start beating frantically in your chest, your palms to sweat and your cheeks to flush. 

Sweet Oz, what was happening to you? 

Because this really wasn’t the moment for you to be this flustered and confused by Fiyero’s shenanigans, not when Elphaba’s irritated, hostile glare was still fixed on him. 

„I see“, Elphaba said dryly, her tone clearly indicating that she didn’t understand at all and that she wasn’t very interested in hearing more. 

„I mean - I already know you’re great, I’ve already heard so much about you, but I thought that we two should get to know each other as well, get to spend some time together, if you know what I mean.“ 

At this, he actually winked at Elphaba. 

Elphaba was having none of it though, raising her eyebrows pointedly. „And what if I happen to not share that sentiment?“ 

„Well, then I’d be very disappointed“, Fiyero said, shaking his head. „I mean, I was quite looking forward to discussing Dr. Clover’s lecture over dinner with you - I happen to admire his work as well -, but no can do, I guess …“ 

„You want to go to Dr. Clover’s lecture with us?“, Elphaba said, the surprise in her voice mirroring your own. You hadn’t heard of this particular aspect of Fiyero’s plan yet, and his satisfied smirk told you that he knew - or at least thought so - he’d won Elphaba over.

tagging: @angel-starbeam @matt-patt-engarde @hazbingirliexoxo @tn22220-blog @crisis-unaverted @graham-mackrackers @a-quick-request @tattooed-galaxies

[bruisedboys]

I’d love to see candy cane ❛ wow i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look. ❜ IT’S SO JAMES CODED OMG

also congratulations on 6k you deserve it so much!!

omg it is sooo james coded!!! also this is funny bc a while ago my bff aerial did this exact prompt with james for a request I sent in! great minds think alike I guess

james potter x fem!reader

James is bombarded with your loveliness the moment he walks in the door.

“Jamie!” You beam at him from where you’re folding laundry on the living room floor. You roll up a pair of his socks before scrambling to your feet to meet him. “Hello, honey. How was work?”

You throw yourself at him in a clumsy but no less affectionate hug. James takes the brunt of your weight happily, his hands folding around your waist.

“Hello,” he says back, a little dazed. You smell lovely. His hands skim over the strip of bare skin on your back, where your top rides up. You’re warm under his palms. “It, um. It was good.”

You pull back, still positively beaming. James blinks at you. You’re so pretty and so clearly ecstatic to seem him. He could die.

“Yeah?” You ask him, head tilting slightly to the side. James thinks you resemble a puppy, a little bit. “That’s good. Are you hungry, baby? ‘Cos I haven’t started on dinner yet, but I can get it going now, if—“

“Sweetheart.” James stops your sweet rambling, and brings a hand to your jaw. “I’m okay. I’ll eat whenever you’re ready, yeah?”

You nod. “Okay. You’re sure you’re not hungry?”

James does his best to smile at you, but it’s hard when you’re being so lovely and all he really wants is to kiss you silly. “Yes. I’m sure, bub. Let me help you with the laundry?”

You let him help you, albeit grudgingly. You both sit on the floor and sort things into piles. James notices, with not much surprise, that your folding is much neater than his. You’re chatting away to him, and he’s listening, he swears he is, but he’s so distracted by how achingly lovely you are that it’s hard to pay attention.

When you’re done you crawl across the piles to sit closer to him, crossing your legs so your knees press into his. You put your hand on James’ thigh and he feels starstruck.

“So, for dinner,” you start conversationally, like you’re not being the loveliest most captivating girl he’s ever met right now. “I was thinking mac ‘n’ cheese? There’s lots of pasta in the cupboard for it. Or we could do tomato soup, or just takeout if you want. Whatever you like, Jamie.”

And you push your hand further up his thigh, and smile this awful smile that makes James’ heart race, makes his palms sweat and his head swim.

“I— okay. Um. Uh, um.” What were you talking about again? He thinks you might have mentioned pasta. “Pasta is good, I think?”

You give him a half bewildered, half amused look. “James, what?” You say, giggling a bit. You bring your hand to his cheek and he hopes he’s not as boiling hot as he thinks he is. “Are you okay?”

James shakes his head from side to side as if to clear it. “I’m fine, it’s— I’m just. You’re—“ And he literally has to stop talking, because the way you’re looking at him is tying his tongue in knots. How do you expect him to be able to function properly when you’re being so lovely? When you’re touching his cheek and sitting so close, asking him what he wants for dinner and looking at him like he’s made of starlight. He puffs out a big breath, hot in the face.

“Wow, I really can’t speak, huh?” He admits, totally embarrassed but also totally past caring. “Must be because of how pretty you look.”

The spell breaks. You rolls your eyes and huff at him, good natured. “James,” you groan.

“What?” James laughs and takes your hand from his cheek, lacing his fingers with yours. “I’m serious. You’re messing me up, sweet thing.”

You squint at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s being serious or not. Your must realise he’s totally and completely serious, because you wrinkle your nose at him.

“Ugh.” You say, and unfold yourself to stand up.“You’re impossible.”

James gawks up at you. “I’m impossible? You’re the one bewitching me like some sort of evil witch woman.”

You giggle and flounce off, saying something about putting the pasta on to boil. James is left to sit there wondering if you really have put him under a spell. He sure feels like it.

[oceaneyesinla]

Fabric and Feelings

I've been thinking about Sanemi and how he ended up confronting Madea. This is my idea on how it might have come about

Content warning: brief mentions of harassment

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Sanemi couldn’t say he particularly liked being paired up with the new recruits, but sometimes there just wasn’t another choice. He grudgingly accepted that they were useful for gathering information, especially if they were still bright eyed and eager, friendly and approachable in a way Sanemi himself hadn’t been since childhood. So, despite the fact the quality of their members was dropping with every passing year, they still had some small uses.

The demon he was tracking at the moment was proving elusive, a fact that had already put him in a foul mood even before he had to call in support from one of the new Mizunoto, barely a month out of Final Selection. He figured you would be just another poor excuse for a Slayer, still shaking in your boots at the thought of a demon.

He met you just outside the village, and the first thing he noticed was your uniform. It was hard to miss; with a skirt that barely covered the tops of your thighs and a shirt that hardly deserved to be regarded as such. A slit down the middle revealed the swell of your breasts, and he imagined it was only the single small button at the top of your white undershirt which kept everything even slightly covered. It wouldn’t do a thing to defend you against sharp claws and bared teeth, which was the whole point of the fabric it was made from. It was supposed to give new Slayers like you a vague chance of surviving past the first week without being maimed by the low level demons you were sent after.

Was this really what Demon Slayers were being given these days? Well, he couldn’t really judge, taking a look down at his own uniform, jacket and shirt unbuttoned to reveal muscle built and scars gained from years of fighting for survival.

His eyes landed on yours as you stopped in front of him, and you were quick to look away with a slight flush in your cheeks and a hand fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Great - one of those. The Slayers with stars in their eyes and fantasies of having lives and families and the ones who treated the Hashira like they hung the moon and stars. Stupid idiots never realised that the Hashira were just as painfully human as the rest of them - what separated them was the will to destroy; the bone deep desire to see every demon eradicated, no matter the personal cost. Sanemi had learned over the years that their own death wasn’t the worst thing a human could experience.

“Shinazugawa-san. My crow told me to meet you here. What’s our mission?” Your cheeks were still red, but your voice was steady as you addressed him, eyes already scoping out the area around you both. Maybe this wouldn’t be a complete waste of time after all.

“Come on.” He didn’t wait to see if you were following, taking off in the opposite direction. It wasn’t his responsibility to babysit you.

***********

Your mission was proving successful, and Sanemi almost felt bad about his initial assessment of you. As expected, people looked at him with guarded concern, but as soon as you opened your mouth, they were at ease, chattering as if you had lived in this village all your life. It reminded him of Masachika, and Kanae, and he pointedly ignored the way his heart clenched at the thought. That attitude could never last, not in the Corps. Masachika’s blood, a permanent invisible brand on his skin, and the memory of the dead look in the younger Kocho’s eyes at Kanae’s funeral were stark reminders of that.

You just had a way with people, and he had to admire that. He knew he was hard on the new recruits (and for good reason) but he wasn't too proud to acknowledge when someone proved themselves useful to the Corps.

That natural charisma was starting to work on him too, though he would rather eat glass than admit it. A few days after your reconnaissance began, he found himself watching as you regaled a couple of old ladies with an animated tale, your hands moving as you told your story. They were enchanted, as everyone else had been thus far, and as they walked away, Sanemi heard them comment on how you were ‘such a nice young girl’.

You seemed more relaxed than you had been when he first met up with you, and by the time you split off from him to chase leads on opposite ends of the village, his opinion of you had improved drastically. He still hadn’t seen you fight, which was the make or break factor of any Demon Slayer, but he was impressed with your perception, and the way you kept up with him - seamlessly following his lead even when he didn’t bother to tell you what he was planning.

He also liked the way you called him out afterwards. It was almost amusing to watch you grumble and bitch about his impulsive actions before you suddenly realised you were badmouthing a Hashira and your jaw snapped shut, a pretty red flush covering the apple of your cheeks. Usually, he would have the guts of any lower rank Slayer who mouthed off to him for garters but something held him back in this case. It had been a long time since someone actually gave him a hard time - usually too busy being terrified of his reputation or his attitude to even consider it. 

His solo questioning went well, and he finally felt like he was cornering the demon prowling this area. Hopefully, your exploration had been just as fruitful. As he walked towards the centre of the village to meet back up with you, he barely paid any mind to the sound of raised voices - not an uncommon occurrence, and never usually worth getting involved in.

That was until he got closer and realised he recognised one of those voices. His lips pulled into a frown as he rounded the corner and found you facing off with a civilian, eyes flashing with anger as you argued with the man. Great. The Corps struggled enough with its reputation as it was - the last thing they needed was random recruits having it out with civilians in the street. He didn’t bother to focus on what you were so pissy about as he stalked over, more concerned with ending this little spat and drawing attention away from you both, “Oi, Y/L/N! What the hell are you doing?!”

You whirled around to face him, mouth opening but he just held up a hand to cut you off, “I’m sorry about her, sir. She needs to keep her temper in check. I’ll handle it.” More than a little hypocritical, coming from him, but soothing the guy’s ego was probably the quickest way to end this little drama. Sanemi was familiar with men like this; they didn’t like women to stand up to them, or to fight back, and the last thing he needed was this guy feeling belittled and raising a hand to you.

Thankfully, the man accepted his apology and walked away, casting one nasty glare back at you before he did so. Sanemi took a breath to centre himself before wrapping a hand around your upper arm and dragging you away from the scene, careful not to grip too tightly; he would never want to hurt a woman, no matter how pissed off he might be.

He shoved you onto a deserted side street, turning you to face him, “What are you doing, picking fights with the locals? I leave you alone for a couple of hours and you start causing trouble.”

You scanned his face, studying his expression and he couldn’t say he liked the guarded look that grew in your eyes as you did so. Jerking your arm out of his hold, you stiffly briefed him on what you had learned in your time apart, succinct and to the point. He wanted to assume you were angry with him, but something about the way you held yourself just didn’t fit that. Your shoulders were hunched in, as if you were trying to hide away, to make yourself smaller, and you wouldn’t meet his eye even as the pair of you planned to meet up just after sunset, near the border of the village. Your intel matched, and Sanemi was certain this was the night the demon would fall to his blade.

As soon as the plan was set, you turned on your heel and stormed away. Sanemi just shook his head - whatever was going on, hopefully you would get over it before tonight. You both had a job to do.

*************************

The wait for the demons to appear was awkward, to say the least. You hadn’t said a word to him since you met up at sunset, and you were pointedly avoiding looking at him, feigning interest in a nearby tree. Part of him wanted to say something - now he had cooled off, he felt a little bad about not hearing you out. He made an assumption based on past experience with hot-headed Slayers, but that didn’t quite fit with what he had seen of you so far, nor with how you had closed yourself off after he confronted you.

Before he could broach the subject, rustling from beyond the bushes caught both of your attentions, and for the first time that night, you met his eyes, silently agreeing a plan. Sanemi unsheathed his sword and watched as you did the same before gesturing towards the clearing ahead of you - time to end this.

*********************

His sword slashed through the demon’s neck, and a thud signalled the end of his fight. Immediately, Sanemi scanned the area, finding you standing across the clearing, a demon of your own at your feet, its head rolling towards the treeline. He straightened up and flicked the blood of his sword, hissing as the movement pulled the new gash in his arm. Self-inflicted, of course, but still hurting like a bitch.

He was impressed - you held your own. Before this, he was convinced he would have to step in and save your ass like he usually did with new Mizunoto. However, you took on the weaker of the two demons like you had been a Slayer for years. However, you hadn’t escaped unscathed, which wasn’t surprising given the amount of exposed skin on display. After all, the uniform was supposed to protect against low level demons like this. A particularly nasty set of claw marks was dripping blood down your leg, and he could see the pain lining your face no matter how hard you were trying to hide it as you limped over to him.

He called out to his crow, “Get a couple of Kakushi here. She needs to get to the Butterfly Mansion.”

“No. I’ll get there myself.” Your face was pale with blood loss, and you already looked a little unsteady on your feet even as you argued. The throbbing of the wound on his arm made him a little quicker to anger, and he couldn’t help the rush of frustration flowing through him as he was reminded of just how little protection you had from the uniform you wore. Yes, his uniform was exposing, but he wasn’t fresh out of Final Selection and prone to catching a demon’s claws during fights.

There was no way you could get to the Mansion in your condition, and he told you as much, watching as your face scrunched up in frustration, “That thing you’re calling a uniform didn’t do shit to protect you. Shut up and wait for the Kakushi.”

He saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes, but before he could apologise, it morphed into anger as you squared up to him, “I know it doesn’t protect me, okay?! I know it’s revealing - I see the way people look at me. Men treat me like a doll to stare at and play with. I spoke to Madea when I got my uniform, and I begged for a new one, but I was told it wasn’t allowed. So I make do with what I’ve got. Your judgement isn’t needed or appreciated. I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong.”

Rage burned in your eyes, but he could see tears welling up on your lash line, face flushing a blotchy red with emotion. Your voice stayed steady despite all that, just as it had the first time you met. Was this how you felt then, too, when his gaze found your clothing before anything else?

“Goodbye, Shinazugawa-san. I trust you can report to the Master alone.” Somehow, you managed to make the honorific tacked onto the end of his name sound anything but respectful as you stalked off, gait remarkably even despite your injuries. You didn’t even give him time to respond to your outburst, which he honestly couldn’t blame you for. Guilt began to curl in his gut, and anger wasn’t far behind. You had mentioned one Kakushi in particular - Madea - who was responsible for the design of your uniform. Once Sanemi had reported his - your - success, he would pay the man a visit. The piece of shit was abusing his position to objectify the Slayers his uniforms were supposed to be protecting, and Sanemi wasn't about to let that go unpunished.

*************************

A few days after your mission, you were still feeling more than a little bitter about the Wind Hashira. You really thought you were getting on well - after that initial eyeing of your uniform when you first met, he had been nothing but respectful. His eyes never wandered below your face and he never once commented on the too short skirt or the uncomfortably revealing shirt. For that, you were grateful - you were all too aware of just how scandalous the uniform was, and you couldn’t shake the discomfort you felt every time you had to put it on. It made you feel vulnerable and exposed - a horrible combination when your job was to fight man eating demons.

You thought the Wind Hashira was different, and even had plans to ask him to spar once your mission was over; maybe even become his friend, over time. His reputation preceded him, and you had spent the whole journey to the mission site fretting over how best to make a good impression, and not earn his ire before you had even begun. Over the course of your mission together, though, your opinion had changed. More than once, you had caught him watching you, eyes studying you with curious concentration, and you felt your cheeks heat up at the memory. The last month had made you hesitant to find yourself under the gaze of others, but something about the way he looked at you made butterflies flutter in your tummy. 

Then he walked in on a man harassing you in the street and still decided you were the one causing trouble. At first, you thought it an act - playing along to get the man away from you. As he chewed you out in that alley, you came to the realisation that there was no act at all.

His comment after your fight with the demons just solidified your opinion. He was just like the others; judgemental, making assumptions about you just because of the clothes you were forced to wear. You had managed to hold your tongue after the incident with the civilian - you knew it would do you no good to get into a fight with a Hashira. However, the pain in your thigh and the humiliation burning through you made something snap, and you lashed out, hurt that he would judge you so easily, without even a chance to explain why you continued to wear such a degrading uniform.

Despite your lack of regrets around telling him off and storming away, you were still a little worried about potential repercussions - he was a Hashira, and you were just a Mizunoto. That worry is what made you jump at the sound of a knock on the door of the private room you were staying in at the Butterfly Mansion.

“Come in!” You were hoping it was one of Shinobu's little girls - they were so sweet, and always willing to keep you company as you recovered. The smile you wore for them quickly fell into a frown as instead, Shinazugawa stepped into the room, “What do you want?” Your cold attitude probably wasn't the best way to avoid punishment for disrespecting a Hashira, but you couldn't help it. You still felt a flood of humiliation every time you thought back on that night.

He didn't speak, walking forward silently to deposit the stack of cloth he was holding on the end of your bed and folding his thick arms over his chest. You looked up at him curiously, but he refused to meet your eye, choosing instead to feign interest in the bed frame.

You reached out for the bundle, lifting up the item on top. As you unfolded it, your eyes widened; it was a uniform jacket, and as you held it up by the shoulders, you noted silver buttons neatly fastened all the way down. It … would cover everything. No more scandalous slit revealing the swell of your breasts, and no more wandering eyes lingering on exposed skin. Your hands were shaking a little as you looked through the rest of Shinazugawa's gift - skirts, still the same style but now long enough to protect your modesty, and shirts, designed to fasten properly and leave nothing on display.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you picked up the final item - socks. You had assumed he wasn't listening to you, when you complained to him one night in the Wisteria House, about how the boots you preferred to wear would rub at your leg. Looking at these now, you just knew they would rise to just above where your boots sat.

You blinked up at him, trying to clear away the building tears, “Why?”

He looked up then, locking eyes with you and you could tell he didn't know what to do with the tears pooling in your eyes. He cleared his throat, a brush of red colouring his cheeks as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I … was an ass.” A surprisingly honest confession, and one you weren’t expecting. You stayed quiet, giving him space to speak his mind. This was a side of the Wind Hashira you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing during your mission, and you found that you liked it, “You didn’t deserve me giving you shit, especially for something you were forced into. You’re … alright. For a newbie.” He folded his arms back across his chest, muscles flexing with the movement, “I went and spoke to Madea. He should think twice before he tries this with anyone else.”

The growing smirk on his face made you think it was a hell of a lot more than a polite conversation, and you were grateful, but the double standard kind of pissed you off, “So you’re allowed to confront him, but when I call someone out for groping me in the street, I’m ‘causing trouble’?”

“That guy did fuckin’ what?” To his credit, Sanemi seemed genuinely outraged on your behalf, “Why did you not …” His rant stopped abruptly, and the anger faded as quickly as it came on, replaced with shame instead, “Shit. I never gave you a chance to say anything, did I?”

You could have held it over him; stayed angry, or thrown hurtful words his way. You didn’t really want to though. Remorse was obvious in the way he was staring at you, and he had more than proven that he was a good man. Even your Cultivator hadn’t confronted Madea about your uniform, and Shinazugawa had done it without hesitation. Holding grudges was never your strong suit anyway, and you always were a sucker for a pretty face. You felt a smile tugging at your lips, “No, you didn’t, Shinazugawa-san. I could consider forgiving you … if you promise me a sparring match once I’ve healed up.”

The wicked grin you got in response lit up his face, and you just knew this would be the beginning of something great.

[cherryfyre]

Speed Dating, Figure Eight Style

The sun dipped low over Figure Eight, casting a golden hue over the sprawling lawn of the Cameron estate. The event—hosted by one of the Kooks’ most prominent families—was as absurdly extravagant as you’d expect: a speed-dating competition, Kook-style. The twist? It wasn’t just awkward small talk. Participants would be paired up at random and forced to complete a series of ridiculous couple’s challenges. The grand prize? Bragging rights, free dinner at The Pearl, and a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

Martini!Reader had no idea why she was here. Technically, she wasn’t even supposed to be. But Pope and JJ thought it would be hilarious to infiltrate the event. While they snuck into the catering tent to swipe hors d’oeuvres, you were left to fend for yourself in a sea of Kooks, feeling every bit the fish out of water.

That’s when you saw him: Rafe Cameron, standing by the check-in table, radiating smug entitlement in his crisp white polo and tailored khakis. His sharp jawline tightened when his eyes landed on you.

“Great,” he muttered, running a hand through his perfectly-coiffed hair.

“Trust me, I’m not thrilled either,” you shot back, folding your arms.

It turned out, through some cruel twist of fate—or maybe just Kelce’s bad handwriting—you and Rafe had been paired together.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” he said, stepping closer. His cologne was annoyingly intoxicating. “I’m only doing this to win. Don’t get in my way.”

“Likewise,” you snapped, squaring your shoulders. “Try not to screw it up.”

The First Challenge: “Newlywed Trivia”

The first event was a rapid-fire trivia game where couples had to answer questions about each other, despite having just met.

“Alright, Cameron,” you said, grabbing a clipboard. “Let’s make this quick. Favorite color?”

“Blue. Yours?”

“Green,” you lied, just to make it harder.

The game began, and to your frustration, Rafe was ridiculously good at guessing. He nailed your fake favorite color, guessed your favorite season (“Summer. You look like the type who likes sunburns”), and even got your dream vacation right (“Italy? That’s so basic.”).

Meanwhile, you struggled to read him.

“Favorite hobby?” you asked, scribbling.

“Winning,” he said, smirking.

“God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re stuck with me.”

Despite the bickering, you somehow scored the highest points, advancing to the next round.

The Second Challenge: “Obstacle Course”

The obstacle course was set up along the Cameron property, complete with water balloons, rope swings, and a three-legged race section.

“Try to keep up,” Rafe said as the whistle blew.

“Oh, please. Don’t trip over your ego,” you shot back.

It was chaotic from the start. Rafe was fast—annoyingly so—but you were nimble, darting under ropes and dodging water balloons like a pro. When it came time for the three-legged race, things got… complicated.

“Stop pulling!” you yelled, nearly falling as Rafe’s long legs dragged you forward.

“Stop being slow!”

By some miracle (and a lot of yelling), you crossed the finish line first, collapsing into the grass, breathing hard.

“Not bad, Pogue,” Rafe admitted grudgingly, offering you a hand.

“Not bad yourself… for a Kook,” you replied, taking it.

The Final Challenge: “Trust Falls”

The last challenge was designed to test trust. One partner would be blindfolded and guided through a maze by the other.

“You trust me?” Rafe asked, tying the blindfold over your eyes.

“About as far as I can throw you,” you muttered.

“Cute. Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Rafe’s guidance was steady, his voice calm as he navigated you through the maze. “Left. No, your other left. Watch the step. There you go.”

When you finally reached the end and removed the blindfold, you were face-to-face with Rafe, his smirk replaced with something softer.

“Not bad,” you said, brushing off your hands.

“You weren’t completely useless either,” he replied, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

By the end of the event, you and Rafe had somehow managed to win, much to everyone’s shock—and your own. The cheers and applause were almost drowned out by your mutual bickering as you accepted the prize.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” you said, clutching the Dom Pérignon.

“Good,” Rafe replied, leaning in closer. “Because I definitely still don’t like you.”

But the way his eyes lingered on yours told a different story….

[ckret2]

Is Zanthar to the other gods similar to if a criminal joined a terrorist's group ? Another super important question is does Bill grow to appreciate Ford's moth collection.

It's iffy. I headcanon Xanthar as a god that brings about the apocalypse*; but like, is causing the apocalypse a crime? It depends on the circumstances.

(*I headcanon that this is why he's "the being whose name must never be said"—mythology, possibly true, from his home world that if you say his name, it will bring about (or hasten) the end of the world. WHICH MEANS THAT when Bill goes "ah what the heck, it's Xanthar!" he's tacitly admitting that yes, Weirdmageddon WILL destroy the world, and yes, he knows it—even if he never directly admits it, even to himself.)

In my worldbuilding, destroying a whole dimension without authorization is about the single most illegal thing someone can do; but like, gods probably destroy dimensions with authorization all the time. Like if it reaches heat death and they have to clear it out.

Plus I don't think Xanthar caused a universal apocalypse, just a global apocalypse. And if burning down a dimension is like nuking a whole country, then in comparison destroying a single planet is, like... setting one park bench on fire. Unless Xanthar's planet was part of some interplanetary government, probably the only people who'd have beef with him for destroying the planet would be any other gods that lived on the same planet.

And even the idea that the other gods on his world would be mad is a maybe. Lots of human mythologies say the world periodically dies then restarts on a pretty regular cycle. If Xanthar did cause the apocalypse, it's possible that was, like, his job.

We only have one piece of canonical lore about Xanthar: in TBOB, Bill describes him as a "Lovecraftian god/getaway vehicle." And the hallmark of a Lovecraftian god isn't "oh it looks so freaky that seeing it will make you go crazy"; rather, it's "when you look upon this god and its indifference, you realize that its goals are not hostile to humanity, but rather completely apathetic to humanity, and humanity is completely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things; and realizing that will make you go crazy."

Which would imply that, if Xanthar's destroying a world or two, it's not out of sadism, but because he's got some kind of legitimate priorities in which mortal concerns are irrelevant.

So there's a high chance that, to whatever gods he associated with, their priorities were similar Lovecraftian, and so him destroying planets was just, like, normal.

So from their perspective it might be less "a criminal joined a terrorist group" and more "that gardener from down the street joined a terrorist group." To the leaves on the hedges he trims, his arrival heralds great calamity; but like to the neighbors he was such a nice guy, what went wrong?

And to your second question:

No, Bill will never grow to appreciate Ford's moth collection. He might could grudgingly come to see it as cute that Ford has it, since that just says so much about what Ford's like as a person, doesn't it? (<- hard to tell whether Bill intends that as veiled insult or if he's being sincere in a way that sounds insulting.) But appreciating the collection itself? God no, most boring thing Bill's ever seen.

[obeymefictionwriting]

Love Potion

Tags: fluff, solomon x reader Word count: 1.2K

Something has been off for a while now and to be honest, it started bugging me.

No, Solomon was great. Perfect even — like always. Even Lucifer grudgingly admitted that Solomon was just a perfect boyfriend material, which was a really rare compliment from the Avatar of Pride himself. But recently, I had that weird tingling feeling…

It all started with a missed movie night. 

“MC, I am so, SO sorry”, Solomon smiled, regret crystal clear in his beautiful blue eyes. “I just have plans, some unexpected business. Can I make it up to you or can we maybe postpone our date?”

“No problem”, I brushed it off easily back then. “We can do it tomorrow”.

Solomon beamed in delight and hugged me tight, nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck.

“You are the most loving, beautiful, and patient girl in the whole Devildom and beyond”, he purred, his hand reaching for mine and squeezing it. “I will text you once I get home”.

I then received a text from him almost 5 hours later: a simple “sorry i’m exhausted love”. On one hand, it was okay, but on the other… something was off, really.

He started having this “business to attend” every week. And with every week, he just seemed more and more tired: light bags under his eyes, constant yawning and tiredness… And I simply had no idea what was going on and it was driving me mad.

To be fair, I always had doubts about how I even ended up with Solomon as my boyfriend. He was the most powerful sorcerer ever and I always considered myself a simple human, no more than that. Yet, the way he held my hand, carried me around or told stupid jokes just to see my smile served as a valid proof that he indeed loved me… Until now?

It was another Wednesday night and he, once again, “was busy”. And I just had that weird gut feeling that he was at home. So, I decided to crash the Purgatory Hall and see for myself, what’s been keeping him so occupied for the last couple of weeks.

As I approached the massive building, I spotted Luke in front of the gates.

“Oh, h-h-hi, MC!”, he exclaimed nervously. “Solomon told me to tell you he is not here!” The boy shut his mouth with his hands, panic clear on his face. I laughed and patted his head.

“It’s okay, dear. Just thought I’d drop by and say hi”.

“Hi, love”, a velvet voice purred and Simeon emerged from the entrance. “Care for a little walk? I promised Luke to treat him with this Satanico Ice Cream that the Devildom has been raving about. Asmo even has it on his Devilgram”.

Simeon was having the most honest expression on his beautiful face but it wouldn’t trick me.

“Thanks for the offer but I really wanna just say hi”, with these words, I slipped in the doors and walked to Solomon’s room only to find it…empty?

Heavy cursing from the kitchen got my attention. I dropped the idea of staying in the room and headed to the kitchen, dreading what I might see there.

The kitchen was lit by warm lights and candles. The fire in the stove was burning bright and everything seemed a bit too much in peace…

“MC! Oh no”, Solomon groaned from the kitchen corner. He hid his hands behind his back and approached me with a somewhat guilty look.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but what’s going on?” I looked around. Everything seemed…normal? A pot on the stove, cut veggies, a loaf of bread on a cutting board… And that’s when I understood what was missing.

“Hey, wait a second. Why does it actually smell GOOD?

Solomon sighed and tried to fix the mess of his blonde hair. He looked at me with a mix of affection and guilt and sat on a chair.

“Well, you know how I cook, right?”

“A disaster”, I said brutally. “But I love you for so many more things and you should know that”.

“Well, yes… but I just thought I really wanna cook you something, you know? I sometimes see how Beel treats you to all these amazing stuff and I often think how nice it would be if I were able to create something as delicious”.

“Oh, Sol”, I came up to him and ruffed his hair affectionately. “You are the most powerful sorcerer and the most caring boyfriend. It’s okay not to be able to do something”.

“But I want to”, he said arrogantly. “So… I’ve been taking cooking classes. That’s why I have been missing past few evenings. I…I wanted to surprise you”.

He looked at me with genuine worry and even a hint of sadness and I suddenly realized that, despite being the most powerful sorcerer, he failed at the only thing he wanted to perfect — cooking for me. I felt my heart skipping a beat, warmth flooding my chest with love for this silly boy.

“So, what’s for dinner?”, I asked excitedly, kissing him softly on the cheek and observing the table.

Solomon smiled weakly, clearly not eager to display his culinary progress.

“Well, I tried making a love potion for my baby, which was supposed to be a stew… But the only thing I managed to cook properly is.. this”.

He lifted a lid from a plate and I saw the most perfectly looking omurice with a little ketchup heart on it. I giggled and grabbed a fork.

“Can I try it?”

“Eh, if you are sure about it”, Solomon was observing me with a mix of anxiety, curiosity, and worry.

I took a small piece and put it in the mouth, chewing carefully. After a moment, I turned to Solomon, face dead serious.

“You are in so much trouble”.

His face dropped, becoming grey.

“Oh no. I messed up again, didn’t I?” “Well, you are in trouble because from now on, I will be requesting this damn thing for my breakfast every morning. Sol, it’s delicious!”

He smiled in relief, his face lighting up and making him look even more adorable than ever. He came up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and putting his chin on my shoulder.

“I will learn how to cook all your favorite dishes, MC. Hell, I’ll bake our wedding cake”.

“Wedding cake?!” I stared at him in disbelief.

He gave me a sly smile, grinning.

“Oops, let that one slip. Never mind, there is still some time till I master bakery. Finish your omurice, darling. And as they say in the human world — kiss the cook, right?”

“You deserve all the kisses”, I picked up the plate and took his hand. “But not in the kitchen”.

“Why not?” Solomon tried to object.

I was about to reply when we heard Luke’s voice behind the kitchen door, “Do not bake a wedding cake without me!”

“I haven’t even say yes”, I tried to frown but Solomon laughed softly, leading me by the hand to his room.

“Oh sweetheart. I am quite confident in your answer. But I’m curious about one thing, though… Should the color of the cake’s frosting match the bridal garter?”

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen react to their s/o bringing home a pet

requested by anon: "svt members reaction to you bringing home a pet? (Can change the animal for different members like kitten for wonwoo, puppy for mingyu etc) "

notes: i kinda altered it a bit to pet sitting? bc i just feel like it's a breach of consent (?) for you to bring in a whole entire pet to their lives unannounced lol

masterlist

seungcheol

stares at you and the cat in your arms with great scepticism as you beam up at him. you're looking after the cat for your friend while she's away for a couple of days, and seungcheol is very reluctant to call the cat cute for that entire time. he's loyal to kkuma and dogs, you know? does grudgingly admit that he's "not a bad cat" the day you're driving to drop the cat off to your friend. definitely complains about how much hair the cat shed tho

jeonghan

"oh, cool, a dog. did you pick him up off the sidewalk?" unbothered tbh. at least, he pretends to be, but he's then cooing all over the dog that you brought into the house. feeds the dog treats literally every five seconds, subsequently has him in love with him. is offended when you ask him to take the dog on the walk in the evening tho, bc wdym dogs need exercise???? he doesn't need exercise come on can't you take the dog on a walk instead?

joshua

the most adorable being he's ever seen is sitting in his room awww!!! oh and you're there too, he supposes. is shocked but mostly just vv soft when he sees you playing with a cute rabbit on his bed bc you'd bought it for your little niece and it had arrived early. pets the bunny for hours, fingers running through the soft fur, and manages to make the rabbit so comfortable in his arms that it falls asleep and just. cannot be woken no matter what you do

junhui

almost steps on the tortoise in his absentmindedness until you scream at him to look where he's going. then he's screaming too bc why is there a tortoise in the house?????? watches it with great awe as it walks very slowly around the house. tries to imitate the way it chews the lettuce leaves. asks how tortoise are able to do the deed with a shell on their back, and promptly watches several nature documentaries to find the answer

hoshi

the snake is out of control when he comes home, and as he sees you desperately trying to untangle the thick green thing from around their curtain pole, he screams and promptly backs out of the room. is shaking with terror the entire three days you're pet sitting the snake for your friend, despite the fact that you don't let the snake out of its glass box for the rest of the time it's here after that initial incident. tells you very seriously that you need to warn him of these things beforehand unless you want him to have a heart attack and die

wonwoo

"oh, when did we get a cat?" is totally chill. loves the adorable kitty that you've brought home for a couple of days to pet sit, bonds with it almost immediately. when the cat meows, he responds back like he knows exactly what the cat is saying to him. by the time your friend gets back, the cat is essentially refusing to part from wonwoo and is literally digging her claws into wonwoo's sweater in an attempt to not leave him. 

woozi

takes one look at the hedgehog that's temporarily taking up space in the corner of your room, laughs, and says it's basically the animal form of him. thinks the prickly and adorable little animal is rlly cute, but he's not really home enough to fully be able to spend time with it. takes a couple of pics and sends them to soonyoung tho, pretending that it's a deadly porcupine because honestly, hoshi probably would probably genuinely believe anything he said

minghao

"we're not keeping a skunk in the house." "hao, she's not a skunk!" "it has a weird tail and striped markings like a skunk, ergo, it's a skunk." "no!!" is not the most pleased when he comes home to you grinning at him, a ferret sitting on the top of your head. is slightly placated when you tell him you're just taking care of her for a friend who's away. will not touch the ferret, looks over in slight disgust and mild wonder as you play with the animal running up and down your arm. won't let you actually get a pet ferret tho. 

mingyu

there's a puppy in his apartment omg omg omg!!!! is excited for all of five minutes before he like "hey >:(( you're not replacing me with an actual pup are you??". still gets kinda sad when you tell him you're just pet sitting tho. bonds with the pup so well, is well on the way to replacing your friend as the puppy's actual owner lmao. takes the pup out with him when he goes for a morning run, and is actually really good n diligent at picking up the poop when the dog does its business on the street

dokyeom

he is enamoured oh god. you're not gonna be able to talk to your bf for a good hour bc he's not even gonna notice you're there. is totally fine with pet sitting your friend's dog for a week, and is utterly delighted to find out that the pup knows a few simple tricks. spends hours telling the puppy to roll over and sit and hold out its hand and by the end of it, both the pup and dokyeom are giddy with happiness. nearly cries when you have to say goodbye to the pup, asks your friend if he can pop by to say hi to his new friend sometimes

seungkwan

you adopted a dog without him?????? he literally already owns a dog why would you want to get another one. nods in understanding when you tell him you're pet sitting, pulls up a feeding and walking rota to make sure that the dog has The Best time while staying with you two. lowkey gets really sassy when the dog starts making high pitched barking noises at him for no reason, seems to communicate with the dog crazy well

vernon

he stands there confused at the sudden appearance of a fish tank in your living room for a good few minutes. turns out, your uncle is getting his new one fitted at home, but until he can get it fully prepped he needs someone to look after the fish, and that someone had been you. stares in fascination at the fish for a good hour that evening, mesmerised by them moving around. you laugh at him and call him a cat but he can't even deny it because the fish are just so fascinating to look at and honestly, he feels like a cat himself

chan

uhhhh honestly he's really not sure how he should react when he comes home to you staring at a glass box full with a bunch of twigs. it takes him a while to see the stick insect, thinks that maybe he should get his eyes checked out because ten minutes really is too long. it doesn't rlly bother him tbh. does think it's a little frustrating that it's taking him so long to see the insect. double checks and triple checks with you that there's actually an insect in that box and you aren't just messing with him. 

request guidelines

reactions tags: @jeonginssa @magicaltonaru @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @turningcarat @zarara @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @iheartyujin @summery-bat @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @ejspencer14 @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @saythename-chess @yonabutnotyuna @youthoughtiwasfeelingyou @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @sunshinekyeom-sang @ocyeanicc @zozojella @thesmellofcoffeeandrain @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @nananacomeonnnn @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @hansolaria @gam3bo1z @marisblogg @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt

[the-badger-mole]

In a Time of Adversity

It was just his dumb luck, Zuko thought. All year he had been butting heads with the city's most annoying overachiever. Katara, the prodigy with a 9000 IQ, who'd managed to skip a grade and end up in all of Zuko's advanced placement classes, had been thorn in his side since the day she'd corrected one of his physics equations in front of the whole class. Ever since they had been locked in an increasingly heated battle of who would earn the highest marks in their class, and every week felt like a new face off.

Sometimes he would come out on top, but he had to grudgingly admit that while gave as good as he got on tests and assignments, she had the upper hand when it came to quips and put downs. Too often Zuko had been left sputtering in her wake, struggling to find a comeback from some scathing retort she'd just delivered. It wasn't until after yet another one of these exchanges, when Zuko in his frustration had the thought that he would love to throw her against a locker and kiss her until she didn't have the breath for one of her smart remarks, that it occurred to him that there might be more to his feelings towards her than animosity. And that was the last time he ever spoke to her directly. Disaster averted.

So, of course, when their science class goes on a weekend long camping trip in the middle of Backwoods, Nowhere, he would end up being partnered with her to find a rare fungus. Of course they would end up losing the trail and wandering through the forest with no clue how to make it back to camp. And of course, it would start raining, sending them scrambling up the mountain to a cave that was hopefully abandoned.

"At least we won't have to worry about dehydration," Katara said, pulling the water from their clothes.

"Sure," Zuko replied gruffly. He looked around for something to burn, but there wasn't anything but some leaves and twigs around. Not exactly the makings of a bonfire.

"I'm sure they're looking for us already." Katara sat down against a wall and drew her knees up to her chest.

"Great." Zuko wasn't optimistic about the prospect. Their science class wasn't exactly full of the great outdoors types. Katara had the most camping experience of anyone. The best they could hope for was that the chaperones would call search and rescue early the next morning.

"Do you think we should look for some firewood or something?" Katara suggested. She was shivering a bit, and Zuko could feel the chill settling onto his skin, too.

"It'll all be wet," he told her. "All we'll end up doing is smoking ourselves out."

"I can dry it," Katara reminded him. There was a sharp edge to her voice now. Zuko looked over at her and realized she was scowling at him.

"What's your problem?" he asked, irritably.

"You!" Katara shouted. Her voice bounced around the shallow cave jarringly. "You're my problem."

"Me?" Zuko drew back, affronted. "You're the one who got us lost, Katara, Queen of the Jungle!"

"Alright, fine! I'm sorry, alright?" Her voice cracked dangerously. "I just thought we could work together on this and things could go back to normal between us." Whatever Zuko had been expecting her to say, that was not it.

"Normal?" he repeated, completely baffled. "Normal between us? What are you talking about?" Over the sound of the falling rain, Zuko thought he heard Katara sniffling. Was she crying?

"You-you've been avoiding me for weeks," she said. Zuko was stunned. He'd heard Katara laugh (usually at him), and yell (again...usually at him). He'd heard her confidently dressing down a teacher that once made the mistake of telling her that women didn't get far in the science field. But this...this vulnerability in her voice. That was new.

"I haven't been avoiding you," he said. It wasn't entirely a lie. It's not like he turned the other direction when he saw her in the hall. He just didn't engage in their verbal sparring matches.

"You won't talk to me," Katara said. "You barely acknowledge me when I talk to you. When Piando assigned us as partners, you looked like he had just told you to eat a raw snail. I don't know what I did to offend you this badly, but I'm sorry, okay?" She was definitely crying now, and Zuko was panicking.

"I'm not...I'm not angry at you," he told her hesitantly. "I just...it's just that our bickering was beginning to feel....I don't know...childish?"

"So it's because I'm younger?" Katara demanded. Zuko winced. That was a frequent sore spot for Katara. Because she'd been moved ahead in school, some of her teachers and classmates made a big fuss over her age whenever she did something they didn't like. Zuko thought it was stupid. She was a year and some change younger than him, and only two years younger than the oldest people in their grade. Hardly a mind bending gap, especially given how mature she was generally.

"No, that's not it," Zuko said. "It's not about your age, or grades or anything like that. I just don't feel like having an enemy I don't need to have." Katara fell silent for a moment. Zuko thought he could still hear her sniffling every so often.

"I didn't think we were enemies," she said softly. It took a moment for Zuko to understand what she'd said. Then he snorted.

"Right," he scoffed. "That's why you called me a spoiled brat who probably paid someone to do my homework for me."

"Okay," Katara huffed. "I'm not saying we were besties or anything. But I thought we were at least friendly rivals. I wasn't seriously accusing you of cheating. It's just...school isn't always a challenge."

"Egghead," Zuko muttered. Something small-an acorn, probably- hit the wall next to his head. He smirked at Katara in the dark.

"That's more of a criticism of our curriculum than a brag," she said defensively. "Anyway, I was saying that you challenge me. If I wasn't trying so hard to be better than you, I would be so bored."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Katara's soft spoken vulnerability hung in the air between them for a long moment. Then Zuko laughed. He sensed Katara stiffen, draw into herself, and he slid over to her side of the cave.

"I'd be bored without you, too," he admitted. "And for the record, the only one in our school who would be worth paying to cheat from would be you." Katara scowled up at him, Zuko was actually close enough to see it in the dark. Then she laughed, too.

"So what did I do to piss you off so bad, then?" she asked him. Zuko drew back, feeling the heat rush to his face.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "You didn't say or do anything. I just wanted to be different, I guess."

"Oh." Katara wrapped her arms tightly around herself and a hard shiver ran through her.

"You're cold," Zuko said.

"Aren't you?" Katara asked through clenched teeth.

"Firebender," he reminded her. "Um...if you want, you can..." Zuko opened his arm towards her, an awkward invitation. Without hesitating, Katara scooted over and curled into his side, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"You're better than a heating pad," she sighed contentedly.

This was a mistake, Zuko thought immediately. Katara lay her head against his shoulder and every thought he'd had about kissing her until she was dizzy came rushing back. He would be a complete gentleman, of course, but he prayed that sleep would come quickly and end his torture.

"Hey, Zuko?" Katara lifted her head to look at him.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here with me." Zuko's mind screeched to a halt. What did that mean? After a moment he decided it didn't really matter.

"I'm glad, too," he said honestly.

[blackjackkent]

Ask prompt fill for @thedarkstrategist for this ask meme: Major Arcana Tarot Prompts Shadowzel - The Lovers (Love, harmony, relationships, values alignment, choices) This one got away from me a little. D: Kind of drifted from the prompt and fought me a little and goes all over. XD So it's a bit more fluffy and rambly than I intended. But I hope you enjoy; ty for the prompt, friend!

-----

It is a battle for the ages. Lae'zel grips one end of the length of rope in each hand, her fingers white-knuckled with the intensity of her grip. Scratch has his teeth sunk firmly into the rope's center and flings his weight back on his haunches, pulling and pulling with all his might. 

“Careful, Lae’zel, I think he’s getting the upper hand,” Shadowheart says, leaning against a nearby fencepost and grinning.

Hearing her voice, Scratch rolls his eyes back in his head to look at her and yips softly, muffled around his mouthful of rope. 

“Chk,” Lae'zel says crisply. “It is an even match. Do you think I cannot best a dog in a trial of strength?”

“Oh, I see,” Shadowheart says with exaggerated seriousness, raising one eyebrow. “You’re allowing him to win, then.”

“It is a matter of protocol,” Lae'zel says stiffly, shooting her a fierce look. “A beast of war must taste of victory, to whet the edge of his hunger.” Scratch gives a great heave on the rope and she quicksteps forward with a grunt to regain her balance. “Any child of Gith would tell you the same.”

Shadowheart chuckles softly. In spite of the teasing, her smile is cautiously gentle. It's a soft night, for once; the scars of the Shadowfell still burn in the back of her mind, as does the fear of what lies ahead, but here on the edge of Rivington, the night air is sweet and filled with the low hum of insects. And there's a strange ache in her chest that she doesn't have any name for, watching Lae'zel wrestle with the dog, and the owlbear cub running circles around the pair with eager hoots. 

“Do you have dogs among the githyanki?” she asks curiously. 

Lae'zel's eyes narrow in focus as she pivots sideways, pulling Scratch along with her. “They are called kaoulgrim,” she says curtly - though Shadowheart can discern the hint of pride in her voice that rises when she speaks of her people. “Purpose-bred for battle. Some grow nearly to the size of Halsin in his bear form. In Creche Kliir, we kept a full contingent of warhounds, and it was considered a great honor to be assigned to their care. I myself held the post three times.”

“No wonder you and Scratch get on so well, then.” Shadowheart fidgets absently with a loose splinter of wood on the fence. “I had a dog once, I think. I must have done. Not in the cloister,” she clarifies hastily. “I think we had guard dogs, at times - but I was never allowed to go near them. But it feels natural - petting Scratch and giving him his bones and throwing the ball, and now I know there was a life I had, before Shar, before the darkness…” She rubs her thumb against the mark on the back of her hand. “I wish I could remember…” 

She trails off, then shakes herself, pushing the thought aside with deliberate effort. “Did you have names for them? Your kaoulgrim?” 

With a great burst of strength, Lae'zel hoists the rope upward, lifting Scratch (tail wagging furiously) onto his hind legs. “Tsk'va,” she says sharply. “They were not pets, no more than your Sharran dogs.”

Shadowheart lifts one eyebrow, watching appreciatively as Lae'zel's lithe muscles flex and twist to hold Scratch’s weight up. “That isn’t what I asked,” she points out.

Lae'zel rolls her eyes, lowering the dog back to the ground. “There were a few which I knew best, yes,” she admits grudgingly. “The largest I called Ir'mlar. ‘Crafter of Pain.’ He was our finest fighter among the kaoulgrim.”

“Crafter of Pain. That's what passes for a gith pet name, is it?” Shadowheart can't help a soft laugh. 

Lae'zel raises one eyebrow at her. “Indeed - zhak vo'n'ash duj.”

“Hm. Point taken.”

Scratch gives a low, eager whine and shakes his head rapidly back and forth, jerking Lae'zel's arm up and down in the process. Lae'zel, though, barely seems to notice - her attention is suddenly elsewhere, distant, back in the rock-hewn corridors of Stardock. “Ir’mlar was a fine dog. Well-trained. A pack leader; the others followed his example.”

“A good boy?” Shadowheart asks.

If Lae’zel registers the muted amusement in the question, she doesn’t respond to it. “Yes,” she says absently. “It was… a comfort to find him, after a day of training.”

Scratch’s ears perk up and he gives a muffled bark, yanking the rope and dropping his forelegs downwards so his wagging tail sticks up behind him. The barest hint of a smile tugs the corner of Lae’zel’s mouth. “Hm. Yes - like you,” she says.

She releases the rope ends. Immediately Scratch darts off with his prize in his mouth, barking excitedly with Buddy chasing at his heels; the two women are left alone in the corner of the abandoned paddock.

“Well fought,” Shadowheart says with a slight smile. 

Lae'zel makes a soft chuckling noise low in her throat. After a moment's pause, she moves to stand next to Shadowheart at the fence. Shadowheart's heart gives a brief little flip-flop as the gith's hand comes to rest - automatically, naturally - on her thigh. “It troubles me to think of the hounds,” she mutters. “I… cannot say why.”

“I suppose gith are no more immune to homesickness than the rest of us,” Shadowheart says quietly.

“Mm.” Lae'zel lets out a long, slow breath. “Do not mistake me. I do not wish to return. Nothing remains for me in Vlaakith's service.”

“Nor for me in the cloister,” Shadowheart murmurs. “But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.”

“Yes.” Lae'zel grips Shadowheart's hand with sudden ferocity, the clawed tips of her fingers digging in just above the stinging Sharran scar. There are a thousand words in that quick, fierce touch - the offering of reassurance and the clinging need for it, both at once. But, perhaps unsurprisingly, she speaks none of it aloud, instead turning her eyes away to watch Scratch rolling on his back in the dirt. 

“He is a fine hound,” she says gruffly. “He would make a poor fit for the stables of Kliir… but a fine hound nevertheless.”

Shadowheart chuckles. “Perhaps next time you'll even win the tug-of-war.”

“Chk,” Lae'zel says, rolling her eyes but making no effort to hide her amusement. “Peace, kainyank.”

[ajalholland]

Roommates (Reno x reader)

Reno hummed softly to himself as he stood at the stove, the sizzling of bacon and eggs filling the air. The sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the countertops. He was just finishing up the last few pancakes, their golden-brown surfaces bubbling invitingly, when he heard the creak of (Y/n)'s bedroom door opening.

(Y/n) stumbled into the kitchen, her hair messy from sleep and her eyes still heavy with dreams. She wore an oversized t-shirt that hung off one shoulder, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of collarbone. Reno's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he quickly looked back at the stove, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "Morning, sleeping beauty." he teased.

(Y/n) slowly shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes still half closed and her hair a tangle of messy (H/c). She wore a baggy shirt and a pair of mismatched socks, looking like she'd just woken up from a particularly deep sleep.

She rubbed her eyes sleepily and stifled a yawn before looking at Reno with a grumpy expression. "Morning," she mumbled, her voice scratchy with sleep.

Reno chuckled at her grumpy expression, secretly amused by how cute she looked with her hair all disheveled and her voice all raspy. He turned back to the stove, scooping the final pancake onto a plate and placing it on the table along with some bacon and eggs.

"Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." he said teasingly.

(Y/n) grumbled in response, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and taking a seat at the table. She reached for the pancake and began to eat it, taking small bites while still half-awake.

"Hmm.. pancakes.." she muttered, her voice even more gravelly than before.

Reno couldn't help but smile as he watched her eat, enjoying the sight of her grumpy expression. He chuckled as she muttered about the pancakes.

"I don't know if you're awake enough to appreciate them yet." he teased, sitting down across from her and pouring them both a glass of orange juice.

(Y/n) gave him a halfhearted glare as she continued to slowly eat her pancake. She took a sip of orange juice, the cold liquid helping to wake her up a little.

"Hey, I can appreciate food just fine, even when I'm half asleep," she muttered, stifling another yawn.

Reno chuckled again at her grumpy response, amused by how cute she was when she was tired and grumpy. "Oh really? So, what do you think of the pancakes then?" he asked, taking a bite of his own.

He found himself having to resist the urge to reach over and ruffle her hair.

"Hmm..." Sunny chewed slowly, taking her time to actually taste the pancake. Despite her grumpy demeanor, she couldn't deny that the pancakes were good - fluffy, perfectly cooked, and just the right amount of sweetness.

"They're... pretty good," she admitted grudgingly, taking another bite.Reno smiled at her reluctant admission, knowing that meant she actually really liked the pancakes. He liked seeing her feisty, it was cute.

"Pretty good? That's it? Maybe you're still half-asleep." he teased, taking another bite of his own pancake.

(Y/n) scowled slightly at his teasing, but deep down, she knew he was right. The pancakes were better than "pretty good," but she didn't want to admit it.

"What, you fishing for compliments?" she said, rolling her eyes.

Reno chuckled at her grumpy scowl, finding her resistance to admitting that she liked the pancakes amusing. He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again.

"Maybe I am. Or maybe I just want to see you admit that you actually like my cooking." he said with a smirk.

(Y/n) grumbled a bit more before sighing. "Fine. You'd make a great..."

She took another bite, making him wait in suspense. "..Male wife to Rude," she added, her expression turning smug.

Reno nearly choked on his orange juice at her comment, not expecting it at all. He let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the kitchen.

"Rude?! His wife? That's the best you can come up with?" He said between laughs, wiping a stray tear from his eye.

(Y/n) smirked, enjoying Reno's reaction. She took a sip of her orange juice, looking at him smugly.

"What? He'd make a great husband. Besides he clearly wears the pants in your partnership."

Reno raised an eyebrow at her comment, amused at her boldness. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, really? And what makes you say that?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his tone.

(Y/n) shrugged, resting her chin on her hand. "Well, he's the responsible one, isn't he? The voice of reason. The one who keeps you from getting into too much trouble. He's like the husband of the duo, while you're the complaining wife."

Reno chuckled at her description. She wasn't exactly wrong. He and Rude had always had a yin-yang relationship. Reno was the wild card who thrived on chaos, while Rude was the calm center, the voice of reason.

"Well then, what would that make you? The child?" He asked with a cheeky grin.(Y/n) rolled her eyes and gave him a deadpan look. "No way! I'm not being the kid." she said with an exaggerated huff.

Reno chuckled at her response, enjoying her little show of defiance. "Oh? And why not?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, a playful gleam in his eye. "It seems like the perfect fit, you being so grumpy and all."

(Y/n) stuck her tongue out at him. "If anyone's a child, it's you." She retorted. "All reckless and impulsive. I bet you're the reason they put up all the warning signs and safety railings."

Reno feigned offense, pressing a hand to his chest in a theatrical gesture. "Me? Reckless and impulsive?" he said with mock shock.He leaned back in his chair again, resting his arms behind his head. "I'll have you know I'm a consummate professional. I just have a bit more... style than your average Turks."

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her amusement. "Right, style. That's a nice way to say 'trouble magnet'". 

Reno chuckled, enjoying the banter between them. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table.

"Hey, I prefer 'adventure seeker'," he suggested with a playful grin. "Besides, you're one to talk. You're not exactly known for being a saint, ya know."

(Y/n) leaned forward a bit as well, her expression playful and challenging. "Oh, really? And what do you mean by that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Reno smirked, enjoying the back-and-forth. "Oh, you know," he said, lowering his voice a little. "That little incident a few months ago. The one where you picked a fight with some thugs?"

(Y/n) huffed out a breath, her cheeks flushing slightly at the reminder. "Oh, come on," she said, trying to downplay it. "It wasn't a big deal. I had it under control."

Reno smirked, watching as her cheeks flushed. She was too cute when she was flustered."Sure, you had it under control," he teased. "That's why I had to come and save your sorry ass."

(Y/n) let out an indignant "hey!" at his comment, her pride a bit bruised. "I didn't need saving, I would have been fine on my own!" she protested.

Reno chuckled, enjoying the banter and her feisty spirit. "Oh, really? Because from where I stood, it looked like you were getting your cute little butt handed to you." he teased, a smug look on his face. He stood up from his spot and made his way over to her.

(Y/n) bristled at his words, her feisty spirit flaring up again. "I could've taken them!" she argued, crossing her arms. "I was just about to turn the tables when yo-" 

Reno's lips came crashing down onto hers, muting her protestations and shutting her up effectively. As their lips met, his hand gently cupped her cheek, before he pulled away from her completely as if nothing happened.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened at the unexpected kiss, her protests and arguments forgotten as she was left speechless. Her lips tingled, her cheeks flushed, and her heart beat loudly in her chest. The moment was over as quickly as it had begun, and Reno pulled away, leaving her in a state of speechless confusion. She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape, her head spinning.

Reno leaned back against the counter, watching her reaction with a sly smile. He loved how easy it was to render her speechless. It was endearing.

"You were saying something?" He asked, feigning ignorance, his gaze fixed on her flushed cheeks and parted lips.

(Y/n)'s mind was still struggling to catch up with what had just happened. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to form words, but nothing came out. After a long moment, she managed to compose herself enough to stutter out a response.

"I... I was... I mean..."

She took a deep breath, trying to regain her usual demeanor. "Nevermind... I'm gonna go.. shower or something." Then she immediately got up, and left.

Reno's smile widened at her flustered reaction. it was so damn adorable. He loved messing with her like this, making her all tongue-tied and flushed.

As she got up and mumbling that she was going to shower, he couldn't help but feel a little mischievous.

"Need any help in there?" He called out after her, his voice filled with jest.

(Y/n) froze in her tracks, her cheeks turning even more red if that was possible. She slowly turned around, her embarrassment and annoyance clear on her face.

"As if. I'm perfectly capable of showering on my own, thank you very much." she sputtered, her voice shaky. She hurriedly closed the bathroom door behind her.

Reno chuckled as he saw her cheeks turn even redder. She was so damn cute when she was flustered. He loved riling her up like this, watching her reactions.

"Suit yourself," he called out after her, a smirk on his face. He leaned back against the counter, still chuckling to himself, as he heard the bathroom door close.

He let out a sigh, his mind still on (Y/n) and her adorable reactions. Then his phone went off.

He pulled out his phone and saw a message from Rude. 

Rude: Got a moment?

Reno rolled his eyes upon seeing the message.

Reno: Yeah, what's up?

Rude: Boss wants to see us. Now.

Reno rolled his eyes again. Of course this would happen on his day off.

Reno: On my way.

Reno typed his response and glanced at the bathroom door. He could hear the water still running in the shower.

He hesitated for a moment, part of him wanting to stay and spend the day with (Y/n). But duty called. Reluctantly, he pushed himself away from the counter, grabbed his jacket, and headed out of the apartment.

End

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Star City

ectoberhaunt24 day 22- steampunk fandom- dc x dp tw- none summary- Danny encounters a Clockwork wannabe

masterlist ao3 part 3 of TCAB

Danny slept soundly after the wonderful day he’d had. He fell asleep in a nice little ectoplasmic hammock he’d constructed in the woods. He woke up to birdsong and a racoon sniffing at the tethers of his hammock. What a wonderful morning! He couldn’t wait to see what city he arrived at next. 

This dimension was so goofy! All the villains and heroes he’d encountered dressed like they were middle schoolers who’d made their own halloween costumes! Danny could grudgingly admit to himself that Clockwork had been right. This was definitely relaxing compared to his kingly duties.

He stopped by the next city to have some delicious hot dogs for breakfast, and after exploring for a little and finding nothing interesting, he went on to the next town.

As he approached, the sounds of chaos reached him and he couldn’t help grinning. Hopefully this would be another goofy fight. Because this was meant to be relaxing and Danny knew that if he came across anything serious he’d feel the need to help, and that would not be relaxing.

When he got closer he couldn’t help snorting in laughter. There, fighting on a rooftop was a Robin Hood wannabe and a guy in clockprint pajamas wearing what looked like a very uncomfortable clock-like looking helmet.

Yup, this was definitely another goofy fight. He watched as Robin Hood shot arrows at Clockface who deflected them with a sword that looked like a clock hand. Clockwork would definitely hate this guy. Danny would be sure to tell the ghost all about his biggest fan. 

At least the arrows exploded or erupted with sticky slime stuff. Clocky was also throwing grenades that looked like, you guessed it, alarm clocks! It was hilarious and Danny had never laughed so hard, albeit silently without air, in his life!

“You can’t stop me, Green Arrow! Your time has run out! Your seconds have ticked away! You are all out of time! I will be victorious this time, and you will meet your doom!” Clockface laughed maniacally.

“You will never win, Clock King! You’ll be locked up again. This time for an even longer time!” Arrow Boy responded.

Their fight continued, and Danny wondered what he could do. He’d already used his ice, and he doubted Clockwork would do him the favor of letting him use any of the old ghost’s time related gadgets. Hmmm… Danny tapped his chin. What other fun powers did he have? It was always so hard to keep them straight.

He observed the scene again, noting the bags stuffed with money. Below, another arrow exploded covering another section of the roof in sticky slime. 

Aha!

Danny floated down to the money bags and made himself visible.

The men ignored him, continuing to throw arrows and bombs and quips at each other.

Danny frowned. “Ahem!” he cleared his throat loudly. The men still ignored him. Danny put his hands on his hips. “AHEM!” he cleared his throat louder. He was still ignored. Danny rolled his eyes, then flexed his fingers and shot ectoplasmic slime at the two men.

“Ack!”

“What is this!”

“It stinks!”

“What did you do!”

“I didn’t do anything! What did you do!”

Great Ancients above! Were these men so obsessed with each other that they couldn’t pay any attention to their surroundings and the epicness that was Danny!

“Well then,” Danny called out, “I guess I’ll just take this money and go.”

Finally! Finally, the two men looked at him.

“Who are you!?”

“Get out of here, kid.”

“Don’t touch my money!”

“It’s not your money! It’s the people’s”

“But I took it, so it’s mine now!

“That’s not how it works!”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t!”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t!”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t!”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t!”

Ancients above and below! Could they not see how amazing Danny was! He’d encased them in slime! What more did they want!

“Well, since it looks like you too are busy, I’ll just be on my way.” Danny said, levitating the bags of money.

“Hey!” they both called at once.

“Yup. I’m taking it. You can finish whatever this is.” he said, gesturing between the two men.

Danny floated higher up, taking the bags with him. Danny was amazing, and if people couldn’t appreciate that then Danny didn’t have to stick around. 

He ignored the men calling to him and looked around. There on the street were a few police officers. They were chatting amongst themselves and drinking coffee. Probably waiting for Robin Arrow Hood Man to finish up his fight. Danny decided to help them out and flew himself and the bags down towards them.

The officers startled as he came closer but didn’t draw their weapons. They must be used to weirdness, Danny thought with approval.

“Here you go, officers. The guys up there are still quite stuck squabbling.” Danny said, snorting to himself since they were both literally stuck. 

“Well, thanks. Any chance you know when Clock King will be subdued so we can arrest him?”

“You should be able to head up.” Danny said. Then paused. 

He had decided to be a villain in this dimension, and he just ended up helping! He frowned. These officers seemed too nice to mess with. What else could he do?

He looked around and noticed a big sign with a stupid blonde man’s face on it. It looked like a toothpaste advertisement. The man in the picture was grinning and had a speech bubble saying, ‘Queen approved!’. 

That was it! He could vandalize this stupid sign!

He flew up towards it and gave the blonde man a slime mustache, unibrow, crooked teeth, horrible hair, and an eye patch.

There we go! Danny had now completed his villainous act!  He floated back, to admire his work. It might not have been his greatest act of artistry, but it was still funny, and it wouldn’t come off. It was the perfect act of villainy! It definitely deserved a mad cackle.

“Mwahahahahahhahahhahahahhahahahhahhahahhahaha!” Danny cackled as he faded out of visibility.

[aclowntiny]

The Dancing Effect- Best Friend!Dino x Gender Neutral!Best Friend!Reader (College AU)

Word Count: 3,434 | Fluff, Best Friends to Lovers, College AU | Warnings: 💋 hehe

“Admit it, you love it.”

You turned to meet the eyes of your best friend, upturned in pleasure as he grinned at you, shaking your head in amusement as he ran a hand through his bleached-blonde hair.

He’d invited you to join a dance class with him, just a beginner one rather than the advanced stuff he did for his major, and out of need for an elective you’d agreed. The class was a mix of styles, ranging from swing and waltz to some fun Latin steps. Partners were assigned and you got given a guy named Jihoon who wasn’t exactly the tallest guy in class, but really shocked you with his strength when he effortlessly dipped you each salsa round. As you twirled around the smooth studio floor, you could see your own reflection passing the mirrored walls with a grin. There was no denying this was your most fun elective yet, even if you didn’t want to give Chan the satisfaction.

“I guess it is pretty fun,” you conceded mock-grudgingly, relenting into a grin at the pure joy radiating across Chan’s face.

He must have really wanted you to enjoy dancing. “What’s your favorite style so far?”

You swerved around a skateboarder, arcing around to return to Chan’s side. “I don’t know, there’s something cute about the swing,” you replied.

Your best friend nodded thoughtfully, squinting slightly at you as if in scrutiny. “I see.”

You just giggled. “What? Why, what’s your favorite?”

“I don’t know, the waltz is kind of romantic.”

“Oh yeah? Thinking of your partner, eh?” You couldn’t help but tease him. You didn’t know the girl he was paired with, but she seemed nice and no matter what his reaction would be funny.

“Ew,” Chan’s nose wrinkled, his face screwing up hilariously, “Minkyung is my friend’s sister! No way!”

You put your hands in the air, palms up. “All right, all right, just checking.”

“Yeah, she’s totally not my type.”

He always said that, but you’d yet to hear what was Chan’s type. If you didn’t know him so well, you’d just assume he wasn’t ready for a relationship, but he was a great guy, so probably just picky. Or looking for someone who could be as sassy as him, you reflected as the two of you continued teasing each other.

~

Chan’s club was hosting a little ‘fall bash’ outside of the student union. They were putting up one of those big shade tents with snack tables and setting up speakers, lights, and banners for some icebreakers and dancing. All students were welcome of course, so not majoring in dance didn’t exclude you in the slightest.

Free food and new company was all it took for you, a recent transfer to campus, to be sold, but the light show sounded like it was going to be bomb, too.

“Yeah, they’ll be dancing over us as we move! In fall colors of course almost like leaves! I tried to get them to actually make leaf-shaped formations, but they said-”

“Whoa, slow down there, Passion Boy.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

“What are you going to wear?”

You cocked a brow. “Why, are you supposed to dress up? I didn’t think this was prom.”

“Nah, it’s wear whatever you want.”

“Then frankly I have no clue. Maybe that orange sweater I got? That's fall-y."

"Orange sweater. Got it."

~

You weren't sure what Chan had meant until you showed up to the party and saw him dressed in a burnt orange blazer, which was buttoned smartly over a black turtleneck and matching jeans and boots, just a hint of fall color that perfectly matched yours.

"What is this, Sadie Hawkins?" You teased, tugging at Chan's sleeves.

Your best friend just shrugged, pinching a peach ring out of a nearby candy bowl and bringing it to his lips. "Thought it might be fun."

"That is a cool blazer. Is it comfortable?"

"Here," he unbuttoned it immediately, shrugging it off his shoulders, "try it on."

Chuckling, you removed your jacket, then pulled the sleeves on over yours, buttoning yourself in and inhaling a big whiff of Chan's scent. A unique mix of cologne and that faint, perpetual bit of dance sweat. Whether it was a good or bad smell you couldn't even tell at that point because you were so used to it, it just smelled like home to you. Ever since you guys had your first class a year ago, you were inseparable, sharing car space and visiting each other's dorms all the time. In all honesty, you were a bit surprised you could still smell it after this long, but the blazer seemed to hold an extra concentrated Chan essence you found yourself wanting to inhale just for the comfort.

"So," your best friend raised his eyebrows, "like it?"

With a nod, you answered "I do. I might just steal it."

He teasingly unbuttoned it and pulled it back off you, onto his own chest once more. "Alright, then no more. Go get your hand stamped, (y/n)."

"Get my what now?"

"If you wanna dance, you have to sign the waiver and get a stamp. Campus liability and all that."

"Right, in case our swing dance rager gets us grievously wounded," you rolled your eyes, making your way to the table where two guys stood, one on either side.

One of them, a guy in white with black hair and a sweet smile, introduced himself as Soonyoung, gawking when you signed in as (y/n) because 'oh my gosh you're the friend Chan is always talking about'. He gave you an incredibly pleased grin as he pressed the stamp against the back of your hand, leaving a little orange cartoon of a fall leaf on it.

"Do you have any other stamps?" The other guy, a tall, trenchcoat-and-sweater-clad figure with sort of long hair, asked.

"We don't and you know it," Soonyoung shook his head, nudging him teasingly, "you international students think you can come in and tell us what to do, huh?"

Tall Guy put his hand over his heart in mock offense, and Soonyoung reached over to quickly stamp it, sticking his tongue out as he did so.

"You're an international student? Where are you from?"

"China," he answered with a wide smile, looking directly at you but batting at Soonyoung blindly from behind with one hand, "Guangdong, to be a little more specific. My name is Junhui."

"See, I may be the (y/n) Soonyoung heard about, but I've heard a ton about your dancing skills from Chan! He says he wants to go to China, you and the other guy are so good! What's the other guy's name?"

Junhui waved off your compliment. "Minghao is a way better dancer than me. And if you want dirt on Chan, he's the one you want to go to," he added with a devilish little smile.

"I'll remember that," you reply, mirroring his expression before wandering back over to the snack tables to grab a few of your favorite candies, squinting a bit in the dim purplish ambience and nighttime air to find them.

Your classmate Mia was at the snack table too, gingerly grabbing some chips as you stuffed your own face, so you busied yourself with asking how her math test went until a lilting, old-fashioned tune poured forth from the speakers.

You gasped. "Time to dance!" Tossing your candy wrappers, you shuffled excitedly over to the wide open area of student zone concrete that was the dance floor.

Being members of the hosting dance club, Junhui and Soonyoung each grabbed you for a dance first, and wow, was that two different experiences. Junhui led you so smoothly, fluidly, and gently you felt like you were being glided on clouds, dancing just as well as your instructor did. You almost felt like you were back in class learning the best pace for each triple-step. He was so nice about it, you forgot to feel embarrassed at your own novice skills. Following that, Soonyoung was a whirlwind, twirling you exuberantly and performing crossovers and turns you'd never even seen before; your feet could barely keep up, but you were laughing the whole time. Mia asked you to teach her what everyone was doing, so you did your best to lead her despite usually performing in class as a follower, clumsily giving her a lesson before taking her for a turn around the spotlight-dotted dance floor, the sidewalk a glittering, wonderful mess of dancing duos and even singles doing their own thing.

You stopped to drape your jacket on a chair, grab a soda and recharge, and that was when you saw Chan. He was doing the same thing as you, catching your eyes with a smile and nod of his head. His blonde hair was thoroughly tousled by the wind now, all the fast steps of the last song clearly being taken as a challenge.

A new song started a few sips later. "Come on, it's my turn now!"

The moment you obliged, Chan took your hand. Close as you guys were, you'd never really held hands before. It surprised you how delicately your best friend intertwined your fingers, taking your hand slowly as if reaching for something behind a door that might close. He held your hand like that, gently connected, until you reached the floor, where he let go, sliding his right hand down to your waist as you rested your left on his shoulder. He joined your other hands, extending them out a bit before glancing off, clearly mentally counting the song's pace.

Chan swayed you so gently, leading you carefully into each step of the turn. Much more warning than Soonyoung, and a little more care somehow than even Junhui, who moved like it was second nature to him. Chan seemed to take his time, savoring every motion and smiling widely at the joy you got from each turn. When you went to each side and even as you stepped back, his eyes never left yours. Maybe it was the spotlights dancing over the makeshift floor, but they looked extra sparkly tonight. Or maybe it was what you called the dancing effect. Jihoon was always cuter to you when he was dipping you.

That had to be it, but you'd never looked into Chan's eyes so deeply, so intently before. You knew if you looked at your feet, gazed too long at another pair dancing, you'd lose time, falter in your footing, so your best friend's gaze was your anchor, the center of your every motion. There was no reason to look away, especially when the twinkling green and white lights reflected so well in them. You'd never felt the warmth of Chan's hand against your waist either, the way he softly pulled you closer to his chest after you strayed too far from a twirl. It was getting harder to convince yourself that your heart was just beating faster from the exertion of dancing to six songs in a row.

"Are you glad you came?" He asked in between songs, tilting his head and keeping you swaying even in the momentary silence, as if you'd run away from him otherwise.

What a time to ask that question. "Yeah," you breathed, giving a simple nod, "this is really fun."

"I was hoping you'd enjoy it," he replied. No teasing for once- you could tell by his tone how genuine he was being.

You felt his hand flex ever-so-slightly above your waist, the dancing effect sending your heart jumping. "Of course."

They'd snuck some Latin songs in before the night was over, and you were beyond frustrated upon your brief partner switch that Jihoon was no longer all that cute to you, even when he dipped you.

~

"Well, I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow."

"Whoa, whoa," Chan jogged to keep up with you, "oh no you don't, I'm walking you back."

"I know my way back to the dorms, Chan," you replied with a light laugh. The glittering spotlights had been once again replaced with almost eerie mystic purple ambiance, casting shadows on the concerned frown crossing Chan's defined features.

"Yeah, but it's dark. I'm getting you home safe."

There was that flutter again- he'd done that before, though, countless times. You'd walked between your buildings more times than you'd needed to keep record of. This was nothing new.

You relented anyway. "Alright, yeah, thanks. You're right."

"I know I am. Campus can be dangerous. You need someone to keep you safe."

"Oh, my knight in shining armor," you teased, giving his shoulder a little push and drinking in the smile you received in response. Why wasn't the dancing effect wearing off?

"Come on, let's go."

"The guys are still tearing down."

"Eh," Chan waved a hand, "They can fold a few tables without me. Right, guys?" He called a little bit louder.

Soonyoung gave him a thumbs-up. Junhui whooped, and the graceful guy you'd come to know as Minghao just remarked that no matter what they said he'd go anyway before cracking a mischievous smile.

"See? On we go."

Leaves drifted through the night air, carried in a dance of their own as cold air blew. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around your middle as you reminisced on the night's success.

"Here, you need this more than I do. Besides," Chan smirked as he removed his blazer again, "you liked it so much the first time."

You'd thought nothing of wearing his blazer the first time. Why did it make you so happy now? Maybe it was the way he draped it onto you himself, making you feel like a 1950s starlet or something. Maybe it was the way that as you took nearly-stinging breaths of cold air, still inhaling harder from exertion, you picked up that homey smell again, this time mixed with a skosh more dance sweat, but you didn't mind, knowing you had the same and Chan wouldn't judge you for it.

When you reached the door of your building, slowly drawing your key card from your wallet, you gave him his blazer back, hands dropping to your sides. "Well, thanks for everything. You guys really should have more parties. This was a lot of fun."

"Are you kidding? Thanks for coming! This was a success, so I'm sure we'll have an even bigger one next time!"

Your eyes didn't leave his. "That's the spirit."

"Always. Hey, well, good night."

"Good night," you breathed back as Chan pulled you into your customary goodbye hug.

You weren't sure if it was you, him, or just straight-up your imagination that held on a bit longer this time. When you separated, he kept a hand on your shoulder for just a second, leaning in a tiny bit and looking at you with those furrowed, scrutinizing brows, then just as quickly he pulled back away, scurrying off. You couldn't help feeling a very hard lightning bolt of disappointment zap you through the clouds of confusion.

"Guess I'd better go help. I'll see you tomorrow, though!" He ran off, waving like nothing different had happened.

You waved slowly, resisting the urge to lightly slap some sense into your head.

~

You were early to dance class that afternoon, feeling a strange anticipation of the whole event. You could tell as soon as you walked in, though, that you were going to have a hard time keeping your eyes off of Minkyung and how she got danced with, though.

That was the root of your anticipation. Ever since that dang party, that cursed blazer and the way Chan held you, it was like every muscle in your body ached to see him again. Despite all the time you'd gotten with him in the past year. It was like that had vanished completely, leaving a void more massive than you'd have ever guessed behind. Like even though you'd loved every minute of hanging out, you'd somehow took it all for granted.

"I'm surprised Chan hasn't come barreling in with your jacket yet," a voice commented at your side.

Turning around, you were met with Minghao.

"My jacket?"

He nodded. "Yeah, you left it behind at the party and Chan kept saying how he was going to have to remember to bring it back to you after letting you forget it. Seemed like he felt a little bad." That smile again. For all his calm, Minghao had a little streak of fire in him, it seemed.

And, if you remembered Junhui correctly, dirt on Chan. "Junhui said you know Chan pretty well, huh?"

That earned you a full-on grin. "Well, he's not my best friend or anything, but he opens up to me. Something you wanted to know?"

"No, Junhui just told me about you having something I could tease him about is all," you chuckled.

"Please don't." The slender dance major still sounded faintly amused, but something in his tone softened.

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Don't tease him about it, ok?"

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"He really likes you, ok? So don't give him a hard time. You should know better than anyone he's more sensitive than he gives off."

"He what?" You didn't mean to raise your voice as much as he did, especially with the reverb in the mostly-empty dance practice room, but you could barely hear anything over the roar of your chest's somersaults.

"Oh, wait, Junhui didn't spill the beans?"

So that was why no one was Chan's type? Your jaw dropped, but before you could say anything, the door swung open, revealing the figure of your bleach-blonde friend stepping into the fluorescent light, casually dropping his backpack against the wall and waving brightly at you.

You, for your part, waved back, well aware that you were probably smiling like an idiot. The void in your chest filled so fast, it was like it barely existed in the first place.

~

After class, you guys grabbed your stuff, presumably to take your usual walk to the student union, but Chan stopped you. "You left your-"

"Jacket, yeah, I realized this morning."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Don't be," you chuckled, "I have more than one, you know."

"Yeah, but I like this one, so I wanted to make sure you had it. It's your old one. I didn't wash it, so it still has that (y/n) smell," he commented with a sheepish smile.

So you had a smell too. Something about that filled you with nearly as big a wave of confidence as Minghao's words, which had your chest soaring all through class and even Jihoon asking you why you were so giddy. You just told him you'd gotten good news. Either way, your heart pounded as you threw caution to the wind. No more taking anything for granted.

"That one's your favorite, huh? Tell you what," you quipped, stepping close enough to take the jacket out of Chan's hands and drape it over his shoulders, "you keep it then and I will steal your blazer."

"Why would I do that?" He asked, gulping at the way your hands smoothed the jacket over his chest.

"Call it something in the dance floor air," you said, giving him one last look in the eyes before your hands found your jacket's collar, tugging it forward until Chan fell into you, his lips meeting yours.

The moment you connected, Chan kissed back, hands wrapping around your waist far tighter than they had last night as yours slid up his chest and around his neck. You moved faster, then he did, and you both kept at it, challenging each other until you both needed air. As you pulled away, though, Chan caught the back of your head in his hand, pulling you back into him so your foreheads rested together.

"Man, if all it took was dancing with you, I'd have made Jihoon switch partners with me on day one."

"Minghao also may or may not have snitched on you."

"I'm going to fight him."

"But it was mostly the dancing."

"Charmed you, didn't I?"

"Something like that."

"What can I say," Chan commented, flicking forward just long enough to ghost his lips over yours, "I know you so well."

You smiled and shook your head, which fell onto his shoulder, bringing that homey smell up into your head with the fall breeze once more. For once, you didn't feel like sassing Chan back, your chest-void now overflowing with more serotonin than you knew what to do with. "That you do."

[cricketnationrise]

For the ficlet fest: 6:42 pm, a private stage, and Arthur Fox please. My ao3 is katsudonforthesoul. Congratulations on the followers!! It's so kind of you to give back to us as a way to celebrate, especially on top of all the other things you do!

thank you so much for your kind words! the not so secret part of the ficlet fests is that all y'all's prompts are so fucking cool that i have an absolute BLAST writing them <3 for once the Arthur feels are non-angsty, which is exciting for all of us, frankly. enjoy!

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

6:42pm, a private stage

“O, for a muse of fire that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention!”

No one becomes an actor hoping for small audiences. 

Famous actors can wax poetic all they want about how “reaching even one person is meaningful,” but at their core, in their secret egos, all actors want to be able to interact with the largest possible audiences. That dream is why Arthur tolerates filming; the reach is so much greater than live theatre. Even so, he’d much rather be on a stage, in front of a live audience. That feedback, that energy of a crowded room, solely focused on him and the story he’s telling is intoxicating.

“A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, and monarchs to behold the swelling scene!” Arthur winks at Catherine as he finishes the line, making her giggle. As much as he loves a packed house, there’s something special about performing for her alone, hidden away in his flat for once. She’d worn down her PPO’s enough that they’d grudgingly allowed her to stay the night, and that they’d monitor from down the hall instead of right outside his door after sweeping his place. Arthur can’t stop looking at her, casual in a way she rarely is, even in her own rooms in Kensington, completely at home here with him. The next line, something about Mars and hounds, pours out of him automatically, years of muscle memory serving him well, but Arthur couldn’t have told anyone what it actually is right now. He’s too distracted trying to memorize the precise configuration of laugh lines around her eyes.

He comes back to the text in time to appreciate the irony. “But pardon, gentles all, the flat unraisèd spirits that hath dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.” It’s one thing to try to imagine vast battles and courts of ages past when you’re watching from The Globe, the building itself drenched in echoes of people imagining the same things for centuries—it’s another thing altogether to try and imagine fantastical settings and the grand scale of the story with a backdrop of worn out floors and his amazingly shit telly. Can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France, indeed?

“Or may we cram within this wooden square the very casques that did affright the air at Agincourt?” Arthur recites, swapping “O” for “square” to reflect the shape of the room, grinning when Cat catches the change. She’s a princess, and she’s bloody brilliant, and she’s dating him. And if she wants him to perform Shakespeare for her, he’ll do it with bells on.

He bows a little at the next line. “O pardon, since a crookèd figure may attest in little place a million, and let me, ciphers to this great account, on your imaginary forces work.” Arthur meets her bright gaze steadily, as the lines ask her to imagine mighty monarchies and proud-hoofed horses.

Arthur paces forward and kneels before her where she’s perched on the couch. “For ‘tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings carry them here and there, jumping o’er times, turning th’ accomplishment of many years into an hourglass.”

“Did you mean, my entire life?” Cat snorts. 

Arthur just chuckles in response and takes her hand for the last line. “Admit me chorus to this history, who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray gently to hear, kindly to judge our play.”

Cat twines her fingers with him and leans her face close to his. “I can’t believe you memorized a scene that wasn’t your own from Henry V, you gigantic nerd.”

“It’s a good monologue,” he protests. “And you like that I’m a gigantic nerd.”

“God help me, I really do,” she admits, standing up and pulling him up after her. “Now, let’s put a different gigantic part of you to work, shall we?”

“Well, if you absolutely insist…” Arthur fakes a heavy sigh, but lets her tow him toward the bedroom, more than happy to do her bidding.

[just-an-emily-existing]

As Lady reached Russia, she transform into a completely new steam engine, one native to Russia and unfurled her colors against the white snow, her steam billowing like a welcoming plume. She had finally made her way to a new railway, one bustling with diesels. Before she could change herself to a diesel, one spotted her. “Hey! Who are you? Are you the new steamie boss ordered?” (Of course they said this on Russian) Lady was caught off guard but quickly adjusted. "Hello, everyone! I’m Grendaline. I’ve heard so much about this railway. I can’t wait to work with you all!"

The diesel's looked her up and down, for they had little interest in steam. Daniel, or Diesel 10 as his friends and controller called him, the strongest engine of them all, was known for his booming presence and a scowl that seemed permanently etched on his face. He was regarded as the uncrowned king of the yard, feared and respected by all.

"Grendaline the Steam Engine, huh? What an ugly name and an even uglier face." Diesel 10 snorted rudely, his steel wheels grinding against the track as he advanced. "You won’t last a day out here. We have jobs to do, and I don’t need a tin kettle like you slowing me down."

Determined not to let Diesel 10’s harshness dampen her spirits, Lady smiled warmly. "Well, I think we can make a great team! Just imagine how much more we could achieve together." Diesel 10's eyes twinkled with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. Yet, he simply replied, "We’ll see about that."

Later that day, the foreman called out for the engine crew. “We’ve got an important cargo run to make, and Diesel 10 is going to need help with a few heavy loads. Grendaline, you’ll accompany him.” The whir of engines reverberated around the yard, creating an air of tension. Lady gulped but steeled herself. “I’m ready!

As the job began, Diesel 10 showed no signs of being anything but abrasive. They moved from one loading dock to another, and he constantly barked orders at Lady. “Keep up! You’re slower than a snowdome!" he grumbled as they approached a heavily-loaded freight car. Under Diesel 10's tough exterior, Lady sensed an underlying vulnerability. He accepted the weight of the world on his shoulders, the expectations of being the strongest engine, but the burden was heavy.

Soon, the task turned tough. As they navigated a steep incline, Diesel 10’s engine began to sputter. He struggled against the weight, his metal frame straining under pressure. Lady saw his distress, and in that moment, the gears of determination turned in her mind. "Keep pushing! We’re not done yet!” she urged, her voice sturdy with encouragement. "We can do this together!" At first, Diesel 10 hesitated, pride battling with fatigue. But desperation took hold. With a grunt, he pushed with all his diesel engine could take. With one powerful pull from both engines, they managed to haul the freight car up the slope.

When they reached the top, Diesel 10 slid to a stop, panting heavily. He had always prided himself on his strength, but Lady’s support had changed the game. In that moment of teamwork, a flicker of respect shone in Diesel 10's eyes. "Not bad for a little steam engine," he admitted, a hint of grudging admiration creeping into his tone. Lady laughed softly. "There’s more to engines than just strength. It’s how we work together that counts."

From that day forward, the dynamic shifted. Diesel 10 grudgingly accepted Lady’s insights and perspectives, and she unearthed layers of his personality buried beneath the rough exterior. They began to share stories during their breaks him, fierce tales of diesel dominance and her, completely made up stories, she couldn’t ever let him know what she truly was.

The other engines observed the unlikely friendship, wondering how a peppy steam engine softened the rigid demeanor of Diesel 10. Years passed, and as winter melted into spring, Lady and Diesel 10 became the heart of the railway. Together, they worked on hauling heavier loads, Diesel 10 teaching Lady how to back talk the other engines, and Lady teaching him how to know when to back down. Eventually, their relationship blossomed into a wonderful romance, a bond formed between the two engines.

The other diesels, once skeptical, now looked to Lady for sage advice and Diesel 10 for encouragement when scales tipped toward duress, a testament to how far they had come from mistrust to friendship and love.

As the two engines sat side by side one evening, basking in the glow of a setting sun, Diesel 10 turned to Lady, his demeanor softer than ever. “You know, you’re not so bad after all. Steam might have its place alongside us diesels.” Lady’s whistle blew joyfully in response. “And who knows, maybe one day, the world will see the beauty in both diesel and steam?” At long last, Lady had finally found her place in the railway and in Diesel 10's heart.

But Gazelle, still simmering with jealousy over Lady's newfound freedom, followed her to Russia. Posing as a diplomat of sorts, she approached Diesel 10 in his dreams as an actual gazelle with whispered seduction, weaving tales of betrayal and lies. “You are not meant to befriend a being who has hidden her true nature from you,” she hissed, her voice charming yet dark. “She will take everything from you, Daniel. She’s a fallen angel who has lied to you.”

Confusion twisted Diesel 10's heart. He had tried his best to ignore these apparitions but time after time, he grew more wary and curious of his lover's true nature. He confronted Lady with fire in his eyes, demanding the truth. “Is it true?” he thundered. “Are you really an angel? What are you!?” Lady's heart raced as she sensed the storm brewing within him. She had kept her true form locked away in secrecy, afraid of how it would change their bond, and now the weight of it felt unbearable.

“Daniel, I—” she stammered, desperately searching for the right words. But the moment was lost in a maelstrom of miscommunication, and in Diesel's mind, she was an embodiment of betrayal.

Fueled by anger, Diesel 10 lunged forward, attempting to obliterate the connection they shared and her body. But Lady, her essence awakened in fury, spun with a grace that made her feel like she had doubled in size. In a flash of golden glitter and determination, she defended herself, striking fiercely at the heart of Diesel 10. The impact sent ripples through the air, and he fell back as if the very weight of his betrayal had anchored him to the ground, wounded.

Lady, shaken but resolute, fled once again. The icy winds of Russia howled around her as she barreled toward Muffle Mountain, each rev of her wheels beat in her scarred heart. When she finally returned to the familiar valley of Muffle Mountain, she felt a wave of relief wash over her rods. Finally she was home, tired and beaten, but home at long last. As she finally reached the entrance, she saw Burnett, crying to himself but was quickly shaken out of his episode when he heard the chugging and grunts of an engine.

He whipped around to find Lady, his long lost friend, turning into her human self and crawled to him. He rushed over to her as she explained everything and how D10 and Gazelle were not to be trusted. There was no other explanation, her sister had to be behind D10's realisation that she wasn’t all she seemed.

But Lady's power was draining, her skin began to grow pale, her eyes dulled and her body grew weak. She crawled to the tracks beside them as she turned back into her engine self. She soon lost her face and only had a golden smokebox instead. Burnett was horrified and tried to put coal into her firebox but to no avail. He then vowed to bring her back, no matter what.

Lady on the other hand, had fallen into a deep coma, being surrounded by winters trees and snow as far as the eye could see. Lady soon realised she was in a dream and did her best to escape. In this slumber, her coma was woven with the memories of her time in Russia and England, and the bond she had created with her friends, human and engine. In her heart, a flicker of hope remained; maybe one day, despite all odds and misunderstandings, their paths would cross once more and she could escape.

[jainaism]

Supporting Women

Thrall shook his head. “Another woman in your military. Humans astound me sometimes.”Jaina‟s tone grew frosty; again, she tightly gripped the staff. “What do you mean? Can men and women not be equals in your world?” “Of course not. Nor would I say,” he added quickly before Jaina could interrupt, “that they are unequal—any more than I would say that an insect and a flower could be equals. They serve completely different purposes.”Grateful for the opening, Jaina said the same thing to Thrall that she had said to Antonidas when as a brash young woman she had insisted on becoming his apprentice. Back then, the archmage had said to her, “It is no more women‟s nature to become wizards than it is a dog‟s nature to compose an aria.”As then, she now said to Thrall: “Is not what separates us from animals that we can change our nature? After all, there are those who would argue that an orc‟s nature was to be a slave.” Then Jaina shook her head. “However, there are many who think as you do. It is why women have to work twice as hard to achieve the same position as a man—which is why I trust Lorena more than any of my other colonels. She will learn the truth.” Thrall shook his head. “Another woman in your military. Humans astound me sometimes.”Jaina‟s tone grew frosty; again, she tightly gripped the staff. “What do you mean? Can men and women not be equals in your world?” “Of course not. Nor would I say,” he added quickly before Jaina could interrupt, “that they are unequal—any more than I would say that an insect and a flower could be equals. They serve completely different purposes.”Grateful for the opening, Jaina said the same thing to Thrall that she had said to Antonidas when as a brash young woman she had insisted on becoming his apprentice. Back then, the archmage had said to her, “It is no more women‟s nature to become wizards than it is a dog‟s nature to compose an aria.”As then, she now said to Thrall: “Is not what separates us from animals that we can change our nature? After all, there are those who would argue that an orc‟s nature was to be a slave.” Then Jaina shook her head. “However, there are many who think as you do. It is why women have to work twice as hard to achieve the same position as a man—which is why I trust Lorena more than any of my other colonels. She will learn the truth.”

Then the girl said, “You can deny your accomplishments all you wish, but it changes nothing. You were an inspiration to all—” She smiled. “—to all the little girls who wanted to grow up to become mages. At the citadel, my favorite story was always the one about how you were chosen to be the first female Guardian by Scavell, who was the first mage to see the value of a female apprentice, and how the Guardians of Tirisfal applauded the choice and—”

A rope ladder fell from the undercarriage, and a figure in plate armor started to climb down. As the figure came closer, Aegwynn recognized the insignia on the armor as that of a colonel.To her shock, the figure was a human female. She turned and gave Proudmoore a questioning glance. The girl smiled.“If a woman can be a Guardian of Tirisfal, why can‟t a woman be a colonel?”Aegwynn had no choice but to concede the point. “Milady,” the woman said as she came down off the bottom rung of the rope, “I‟m afraid I bring bad news.” She then looked askance at Aegwynn. “Colonel Lorena, this is Magna Aegwynn. You may speak as freely to her as you would to me.” The colonel nodded and started to speak. Apparently the word of Jaina Proudmoore was enough for this colonel. Aegwynn grudgingly admitted to being impressed. A woman didn‟t rise to such a position without a great deal of hard work—she suspected that Lorena was twice as good as any male colonel, simply because she would have to be to succeed. If someone that talented trusted Proudmoore so implicitly, then Proudmoore may have been a more impressive specimen than Aegwynn had been willing to credit.