#and only let out into the open world once their art skills have developed enough and theyve earned their freedom

[chimchiri]

I have yet to meet a furry artist that is not crazy good.

What the hell are those people drinking

Is there a secret furry cult where you are granted insane art skills after sacrificing a toe?! Is that it!?????

[fantasyfantasygames]

Illustrated Primer

Illustrated Primer, Market Drift Games, 2005

If you're thinking of the title of The Diamond Age: Or, a Young Lady's Illustrated Primer, you are right on target. Illustrated Primer is a mid-future game, set between a Neuromancer near-future and a Star Trek far future.

The personal-level setup is a family of women being pulled into a story that's always bigger than they realize, until they can turn the tables on the big players and take control of their own story. This happens against a backdrop of a massive technological shift - AI, nanotech, bioengineering, neural interfaces, all happening at once and reinforcing one another.

Your character has a set of base stats, randomly determined "straight down the line". They have a randomly determined background that sets skills and resources. It's all pretty swingy - you might be a rich, young, highly skilled woman or a great-grandmother with nothing left but memories. It's up to you to stitch all those random backgrounds together into a unique family story of marriage, divorce, estrangement, love, and adoptions.

If you're not a fan of chargen that's random to that level, the good news is that they hardly matter. It's the tech trees that determine your real abilities. At the beginning of the game, only a few enhancements are open. As the game goes on, the GM opens up different parts of the tech tree based on in-game events. Your characters are likely to be involved in developing some of the tech. Other pieces will be opened up as individuals and corporations around the world release their discoveries.

Your character's motivations and personal limits are key, especially because this amazing, powerful, immature technology has side-effects and drawbacks. Some even let you choose - are you going to take the dexterity reduction from the bulk, the stealth penalty from the heat signature, or the charisma penalty from the nervous system hijack? The best part - what's the only part of character creation that isn't random? Your motivations and personal limits. What does the XP system let you change? Motivations and personal limits.

The game book is somewhat reminiscent of the book for the Die RPG but in black-and-white. The art is not quite as fantastic, but quite good. There are a few iconic characters who appear multiple times. The layout is fairly standard. I feel like it might benefit from an update with a more avant-garde approach.

The system uses a d6 dice pool fairly similar to Open D6. It tones down the all-out craziness of the Wild Die, requiring extra 6s or 1s before the critical hits/fails kick in. It uses the roll's total for success, and a target number system to trigger enhanced successes based on tech powers or charge up higher-powered abilities.

All in all I'm a big fan of the game. It tells a specific, wide-spanning but character-focused story, with enough flexibility that it doesn't feel railroaded or forced. The tech tree is expansive enough to make every character unique. Most of the tech is at least plausible. All in all, a definite win for Market Drift Games.

I have another game with this name waaaay down my review queue, so we might get to that some day. It's a much more pastel kind of game, but equal amounts of... calling it "girl power" feels dismissive, but that's because people dismiss girls and women. Anyway, it's fun, and I hope I get to review it eventually.

[lybeuh]

Sims 4 Legacy Challenge

a challenge by @chellplays (revisited by @lybeuh)

This is a twelve generation challenge for all of the marriage candidates from concernedape’s stardew valley.

Usual rules apply, meaning no cheats that give you an unfair advantage. Your sims do not have to look or be named after the characters in each generation. do whatever you like!

Generation 1: Abigail:

 You were raised with humble upbringings. Your dad ran a general store, while your mom was best at complaining about your “alternative lifestyle.” You left home looking to start a life free of rules and parents, and with 20 000 simoleons in your pocket, you settled down in a new city.

traits: music lover, adventurous, geek . aspiration: the curator. career: tech guru, esport gamer branch

goals:

⦁ max out the rock climbing skill ⦁ reach at least level 5 of the video game skill. ⦁ reach at least level 5 in any musical instrument. ⦁ complete the frog collection. ⦁ climb the top of the mountain in Mt. Komorebi ⦁ have one “quirky” trait, appearance-wise (e.g. unnatural hair color). ⦁ have two best friends, and marry one of them. ⦁ own a cat named david jr. ⦁ have at least two children.

Generation 2: Emily:

 You’re just working at the bar to make ends meet… but your real passion is tailoring. You make your clothes from scratch.

traits: cheerful, vegetarian, good. aspiration: freelance botanist. career: barista.

goals:

⦁ max out the knitting skill. ⦁ complete the knitted clothes colection. ⦁ must live in the same house as your sibling. ⦁ make a best friend with a sim who lives in another city/world. ⦁ grow your own garden. you like your meals organic. ⦁ decorate your house with clothing racks. you love fashion. ⦁ develop max affinity with another sim in both the green and pink bars, have two or more children with them, then “ask just to be friends.” ⦁ never marry.

Generation 3: Sam:

 You are an outgoing, friendly sim who is brimming with youthful energy. You play guitar and drums, and want to start a band as soon as you have enough songs together. However, you do have a habit of starting ambitious projects and not finishing them.

traits: music lover, outgoing, ambitious. aspiration: musical genius. career: entertainer, musician branch.

goals:

⦁ have a job as a part-time retail employee as a teen. ⦁ reach level 10 of the entertainer career. ⦁ max out the guitar skill. ⦁ reach at least level 5 in the video game skill. ⦁ must not be the youngest child. live with your younger sibling(s) until they are old enough to move out. have a good relationship with them. ⦁ have a strained relationship with your father (if not applicable, with any one parent). ⦁ become best friends with two other entertainers. ⦁ be married twice, and have one child with each spouse.

Generation 4: Sebastian:

 You are a rebellious loner who lives in your parents’ basement. You tend to get deeply absorbed in computer games, comic books, and sci-fi novels, and will sometimes spend great lengths of time pursuing these hobbies alone in your room. You can be a bit unfriendly to people you don’t know.

traits: loner, geek, bookworm. aspiration: computer whiz. career: freelance programmer.

goals:

⦁ reach the top of the freelance programmer career. ⦁ reach level 5 of the keyboard (piano) skill. ⦁ reach level 5 of the video gaming skill. ⦁ max out the programming skill. ⦁ have a negative relationship with your half-sibling and step-parent. ⦁ live in the basement of your parents’ house. ⦁ only have one child, with whom you have a strained relationship. ⦁ eventually let your relationship with your spouse deteriorate and subsequently get a divorce.

Generation 5: Penny:

 You live with your mom in a little trailer. while your mom is out carousing at the bar, you quietly tends to your chores in the dim, stuffy room you are forced to call home. you are shy and modest, without any grand ambitions for life other than settling in and starting a family. You likes to cook (although your skills are questionable) and read books from the local library.

traits: family-oriented, bookworm, neat. aspiration: big happy family career: none.

goals:

⦁ live with your mother (if not applicable, any one parent), with whom you have a negative relationship. ⦁ you must cook for your parent and clean the house every day. ⦁ live in a trailer-esque house. you are by no means wealthy. ⦁ reach level 5 of the cooking skill. ⦁ both you and your parent may not have jobs ⦁ marry the first person you fall in love with. ⦁ your spouse is the only one who may bring in any income, while you are a stay at home mom. ⦁ own a luxury pool at some point in your life.

Generation 6: Harvey:

 You’re a little old for a bachelor, but you have a kind heart and a respected position in the community. You live in a small apartment, but spend most of your time working. There’s a sense of sadness about you.

traits: genius, foodie, good. aspiration: successful lineage. career: doctor.

goals:

⦁ never date throughout your teens or young adulthood. focus on your career instead. get married only as an adult. ⦁ reach the top of the doctor career. ⦁ you love planes and decorate your house with plane related items ⦁ own a coffee machine. drink coffee as much as possible. ⦁ go jogging at least three times a week. ⦁ set up a reading garden in your backyard. ⦁ live in an apartment until you marry ⦁ have at least two children. having spent most of your life single, you want to have a comfortably sized family asap.

Generation 7: Haley:

 Being wealthy and popular throughout high school has made you a little conceited and self-centered. You have a tendency to judge people for superficial reasons. But is it too late for you to discover a deeper meaning to life? Is there a fun, open-minded young person hidden within that shell?

traits: materialistic, snob, outgoing. aspiration: fabulously wealthy. career: none (only get one after you are married).

goals:

⦁ become enemies with your one of your sibling as a teenager. ⦁ max out the photography skill. ⦁ you may only get a career after you are married, and you must follow the same career path as your spouse. they opened your mind and inspired you to have interests beyond shopping. ⦁ earn at least three points in charisma, so you may donate to online charities after you are married. ⦁ bake a cake for every birthday that comes around. ⦁ grow a flower garden. ⦁ become friends with your sibling(s) again after you are married.

Generation 8: Elliot:

You live alone in a cabin. You are a writer who dreams of one day writing a magnificent novel. You are a sentimental “romantic” with a tendency to go off onto flowery, poetic tangents. When you can afford it, you enjoy a strong beverage at the bar.

traits: romantic, bookworm, loner. aspiration: bestselling author. career: writer, author branch.

goals:

⦁ reach the top of the author career. ⦁ live in a cabin-esque house near the beach ⦁ max out the writing skill. ⦁ reach level 5 of the piano skill. ⦁ reach level 5 of the cooking skill. ⦁ own a small garden. ⦁ specialize in romance books and poetry. later, you may also specialize in sci fi or mystery novels. ⦁ write love emails to your love interest at least once a week. ⦁ go to a bar at least once a week

Generation 9: Leah:

 You love to spend time outside, foraging for a wild meal or simply enjoying the gifts of the season. You’re a talented artist with a large portfolio of work… Yet you’re too nervous to display it to the public.

traits: art lover, loves outdoors, foodie. aspiration: painter extraordinaire. career: none (painter, later on).

goals:

⦁ max out the painting skill, and paint at least 5 masterpieces. ⦁ date only one person in your young adulthood and have a child with them, but never marry. your partner is unsupportive of your artistic lifestyle and encourages you to “get a real job.” whether you choose to get a traditional career, that is not as a painter, is up to you. ⦁ eventually marry the love of your life as an adult: someone who is supportive of your art. if you did choose a career, quit and take up a career as a painter. ⦁ have at least one child with your new spouse. ⦁ harvest wild fruits, vegetables, etc. on weekends. ⦁ grow an excellent apple tree. ⦁ attend a flea market and sell your art.

Generation 10: Maru:

 You acquired a passion for creating gadgets at a young age. When you aren’t in your room, fiddling with tools and machinery, you sometime do odd jobs at the local hospital.

traits: ambitious, outgoing, geek. aspiration: nerd brain. career: astronaut, space ranger branch.

goals:

⦁ reach level 10 of the athlete career track. ⦁ max out the handiness skill. ⦁ max out the logic skill. ⦁ have a negative relationship with your half-sibling. ⦁ upgrade at least five objects. ⦁ own a rocket ship. ⦁ your sim’s partner must be friends with your father (if not applicable, with either parent) before you can become engaged. ⦁ eventually, your relationship with your spouse becomes strained and you break up. you die as soon as your eldest child is a young adult.

Generation 11: Alex:

 You love sports. You are quite arrogant and brag to everyone that you are going to be a professional athlete. Is your cockiness just a facade to mask your crushing self-doubt? Are you using your sports dream to fill the void left by the disappearance of your parents?

traits: bro, active, dog lover. aspiration: bodybuilder. career: athlete, professional athlete branch.

goals:

⦁ reach level 10 of the athlete career track. ⦁ max out the athletic skill. ⦁ become enemies with your father, but have had a very close relationship with your mother. ⦁ begin dating in your teens and go on at least three dates with three different people. ⦁ do not marry until you are in the later stages of young adulthood. you’re marrying your soulmate, someone who stuck with you despite your arrogance. ⦁ own a dog named dusty.

Generation 12: Shane:

 You are often rude and unhappy, and suffer from depression and alcohol dependence. However, your attitude starts to change towards your spouse. After work you frequently spend your evenings at the bar. If you could reset your life maybe you’d start a chicken farm. Only free-range eggs of course.

traits: lazy, gloomy, cat lover. aspiration: friend of the animal. career: retail employee.

goals:

⦁ go to the bar after work every day. ⦁ get pizza delivered at least once a week ⦁ only get married as an adult. ⦁ after marriage, quit your job as a retail employee and choose a different career path. you’ve been encouraged by your spouse to give up alcohol. ⦁ after marriage, start a small garden. ⦁ have a maximum of two children. ⦁ max out the pet trainig skill ⦁ adopt a cat named charlie. ⦁ adopt one dog and train them all tricks

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Robotic Workers to Soldiers

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

Taken from the biography “The Fall of Dijballer” written by Uguntus Val

 Breaking a human is easy.

They have no armored exoskeleton, no reinforced scaled skin, not even an enhanced healing metabolism; it is an amazing feat that they have been able to survive on their own planet let alone survive the rigors of space travel.

They are weak and frail creatures of flesh and blood.  One could push them down a simple slope and there was a high chance they could break their arm.

We expected a war with them to be swift and merciless.

Our forces would descend upon their worlds like the waves a ravaging storm and sweep them clean away as we added their colonies to our domain, and continue the glorious expansion of our race. Yet for all our knowledge of human biology we failed to grasp the critical flaw in our plans and strategies until it was too late. The simple truth that could have changed the fate of the war in our favor had we learned it earlier on.

Humans were well aware of their frailty, and they adapted accordingly.

On the colony world of Dijballer we made our first strike. It was a temperate world perfectly designed for year-long farming and capable of sustaining a constant stream of crops to feed a dozen empires when fully developed.

The colony had only been on the planet for ten years and was centered around the initial landing site of the colony ship. A compact industrial center had formed to support the growing colony and several companies had established facilities to support the colony, including several robotics factories that supplied a majority of the work force. What made it even more tempting of a target was that by all accounts it lacked a sufficient military presence, only housing a token police force to maintain order.  

When the war began three legions were dispatched to secure the planet. The twelfth, the third, and the honored first legion that had been present at the beginning of every major war our people had ever fought.

They made planet fall just outside of the main settlement and began steadily advancing through the fields of crops, passing dozens of robotic workers mindlessly going about their work as if the thousands of alien soldiers marching passed was a normal occurrence. The machines were humanoid in shape with two arms and legs, often either using farming tools or manning heavy equipment.

Roughly ten miles outside of the city did we first encounter resistance. We were now in the center of the fields when the rear of the column reported they were under attack. A massive harvester had diverted its course and rammed a troop transport flipping it over. The surrounding infantry opened fire on the vehicle as it attempted to ram a second vehicle. Not being built for military use the vehicle quickly broke down and exploded in a shower of shrapnel and fire, setting several stalks of nearby crops on fire. It was here that the order to halt was given and the column began to reorganize. It was as the Privants were giving orders that the second attack began.

Thousands of farming units sprang out of the stalks on either side of the column like predators of old. In their hands were nothing but farming tools and yet they moved with unnatural swiftness. Before anyone could fire a shot they were among our ranks hacking and slashing us to pieces.

I’ve hear over the years how our soldiers were mocked. How pundits and politicians question how a fully armored legionnaire could be brought down by nothing but farming tools.

Were any of them to say that to my face I would smash their face in; for none of them were there to see what those machines could do.    

They dove and shifted to either side like a blade of grass in the wind. I saw my captain unload an entire clip on full auto at one and it casually darted to either side as if it was nothing but rain as it closed the distance.

When it was within arm’s reach it grabbed it’s scythe and drove it deep into the neck joints of the captain’s armor. The captain barely had time to swat away the metal scythe but the robot merely took its fingered hand and drove it into the unarmored joint itself.

I could hear the captain gurgling blood over the communications net as the robotic monster pulled its hand out of his throat, covered in blood and gore, and stabbed it in again and again and again.

While it was distracted goring my captain I brought my rifle up and brought the monster down with a single shot to the chest. The robot sparked and fizzled as it toppled over, its hand still embedded in the captain as it dragged his lifeless body down with him. I had little time to grieve for my captains death as another trio of farmer units rushed from the stalks at me.

All around me was sheer chaos as the robots swarmed over us like insects. Their fragile bodies meant nothing when their speed and enhanced reflexes made them near impossible to hit.

They knew were the weak spots in our armor were, they were capable of calculating the angle of fire from our weapons, they even somehow knew our ranking system and made sure to target our officers first.

The three that came at me lunged for me to close the distance and that was the only was the only thing that saved me that day. On the ground they could easily dodge side to side but midair they were cut off from that level of maneuverability.

I easily trained my gun and sprayed the machines with a full mag from my repeater rifle. The white fragments of their shells harmlessly bounced off my armor as their broken bodies crumpled before me. I barely had a moment to enjoy my victory before another massive harvester machine drove through our column.

Several of my comrades weren’t fast enough to get out of the way and were swallowed by those rotating blades of death. I heard their screams echoing on the communications net just as I had the captain and then they were cut off in an instant by a blood curdling crunch.

After that it was chaos.

Soldiers fought in tight circles or back to back with comrades as they fought off waves of robots. This went on for hours but to me, in those panic filled moments of terror, it felt like an eternity.

By nightfall the entire field was ablaze with fire just as the robots ceased their attacks. We gathered what remained of our dead and wounded and took stock of the situation.

Thousands of broken robot bodies lay strewn across the ground like discarded dolls, and the burning husks of the larger harvesters cast gloomy shadows dancing in the firelight. We had been out numbered a 3-1 and still managed to survive, and yet the victory was hollow to the core.

The twelfth legion was cut in half and lost the majority of their vehicles during the opening attacks, the third was at a quarter strength and had lost all of their officers, but worst yet was the honored first legion. The pride of several centuries of warfare, the first legion had been entirely wiped out at the front of the column. Their pride denying them anything other than a death on the battlefield as they refused to regroup with the other legions.

What remained of the officers of the twelfth legion was split between retreating to the initial landing zones or to continue with the assault. Only after the fighting had stopped was communication with orbital command reestablished, and the commanders in orbit almost couldn’t believe what had happened.

The twelfth officers requested an additional five legions be deployed to the planet and that the authorization of aerial bombardments. Debate between the twelfth and orbital lasted about an hour before the robots returned.

First signs of danger were the screams and weapons fire of sentries posted around the surviving column. Robots that had been laying on the ground thought destroyed rose back to their feet and attacked wandering soldiers.

The fear and terror spread throughout the survivors as everyone capable grabbed a weapon and began firing at the robots once more. In the confusion several soldiers fell to friendly fire as several panic stricken legionnaires opened fire on full auto blindly.

At the end of that night the third legion was almost entirely wiped out and the new rule of fully destroying the head and body of all machines became mandatory.

The war pressed on for another four months before we finally claimed the world.

All it had cost us was nearly four entire legions against an army of farming units.

The disgrace felt by the military was overwhelming and morale never recovered for the remained of the conflict. What’s worse was that throughout those four months the primary factories nestled beneath the primary settlement had been continuously producing more and more robots. What should have been a simple easy victory devolved into a grueling war of attrition.

When we finally stormed the office of the robotic factories we were able to download files from their mainframe and the horrid truth was realized.

Embedded into every robot humanity produced, regardless of their function, was a sub routine dictating military tactics, strategies, and combat methods. A maid unit designed for cleaning could be switched over in an instant to become a skilled sniper marksman with years of training with a kill count of triple digits.

For all of their frailty the humans had not lost the ability for death and destruction. They had imparted it into every machine in their service effectively creating an army of billions skilled in the art of death.

After the war was over I went out of my way to order one such unit to tend to me in my home.

I often wonder, as it goes about its cleaning work, that if I activated its military mode if I would be capable of taking it; though I doubt I can in my age now.

Instead it serves as a constant remind that one should never underestimate the nature of a being. No matter how delicate and frail it may appear, it may be hiding a dagger aimed straight at your throat.

[nabrizoya]

RoW Theories and Things I Want to See

with RoW literally a few weeks away, here’s some theories your way. 

this is Really long. like, really very long; mind you. 

Nikolai might become a disabled character.

It’s just the vibes. If we can take reference from the Too Clever Fox story, there’s a line that says “...and his [Koja’s] fur never quite sat right the same...”, which might hint at it (mostly bc i don’t want him to die). Also if this is indeed possible, it can be used to address ableism if it exists in this universe, especially since Nikolai is someone in the highest position of power. 

Zoya will experiment the shit out of powers. 

Idk why the synopsis says that using her powers might be a great deal, which tbf will be because she is truly the most most powerful atm; but Zoya wouldn’t mind taking the step outside of the old norms and bend the orders until they serve their purpose. That’s the entire goal rly.

But all along, she will consciously keep herself mindful to not hunger or discharge her power in a way that may cause harm. She knows the tyranny of the Darkling and the ways he employed. She knows better. 

More character depth to Zoya. 

Given the excerpts, the book does seem to explore Zoya’s infinite grief. And of course her Suli heritage, which a great part of the fandom consistently wants to shadow what with the talk “white features/ part Ravkan” bs. 

But there’s more. I hope RoW will show Zoya’s dilemma (that was alr hinted in KoS) she has with the power she holds, the responsibility she has with having that power + using it in the way that will not be detrimental to her and the country. It will be a great way to portray her self-awareness and doubt and insecurity. She is a good leader, that much is told in text but not shown. There’s character development from the end of R&R until KoS that makes her evolve from a what she was then to the capable and mature 22 year old she is in KoS. 

Of course all of their capabilities will come to light in RoW but I think Zoya and the agency to her as a character will play an integral part. More so because Zoya is to be the conduit to reversing the current Grisha orders, which runs in parallel with the fact that she needs to go back, go back to the roots of her Grisha knowledge and roots of her i.e. her unending grief and trauma. 

She will need to forgive herself while also dealing with the guilt and anger she may have caused due to her position and power. All of this while dealing with her own complex and contrasting emotions due to her own trauma.

Nikolai is held for treason. 

The word of allying with The Darkling may be out and that is enough reason for the entire country to turn against him. The secret about the monster causes issues more than enough already, and this will plunge the country into deep political turmoil and threats to security. So RoW will be more politically driven. That said...

There’s no overt war. 

By this I mean that there will not be war on the battlefield, both armies or more charging at each others’ enemies and such. Ravka cannot afford one either. The excerpts have already proved that. There will be skirmishes akin to a war scenario, but a complete battle like the last battle in R&R? Like a final battle? That’s not going to be there, I think… What I’m assuming might happen is that the Fjerda and Ravka will take a possible Cold War route, if it isn’t already the case they’re already dealing with atm. 

Ravka’s monarchy will collapse. 

It may become a democracy or any other form of public or majority vote. But the monarchy (as well a possible dictatorship, esp with the Darkling returned) will be eliminated. ...Or so I hope, since it has been alluded to in KoS. 

But that poses many problems. With no one line for the throne, let alone with a crime so dark like a blot on Nikolai’s skill (of taking the Darkling’s help), it is possible that Ravka will shun it, right alongside being torn about it because Nikolai has been, for the best of his ability, a good King. All of this in line with the Resistance rising in West Ravka. 

This ties in with the court matters, especially if I want to hold the further points I make true. The resolution to acquit Nikolai of his charges requires a testification forth a jury which will then make a decision about his motives and future. 

Zoya as the Interim Head. 

After all of this, Zoya’s point about Ravka not accepting a Grisha Queen will be true after all, because there will be no monarchy to welcome such an arrangement. 

But Ravka will need a good and trustworthy leader despite Grisha powers and Zoya is the best person to take care of that. The comment “...becoming a steady leader...” and the “Welcome home, Commander,” were there in KoS for a reason (and this is what I think it will link to). 

That being said, there’s more nuance to this than my summary. Zoya is a character of colour. That—in addition to the already existing threats, objections and possible question of capability in the position—ill play into how she will be able to discharge her responsibility. It’s not going to be convenient.

EDIT: taken from a reblog/addition to the og post:

A smoother/more structured transition

Once after the monarchy collapses and a leader must be chosen, it will not be Nikolai. Nor will it be Zoya, though she might serve as an interim head. What I assume might be possible is that someone older is chosen, someone older and loyal and with the proof of knowledge and service to the country. Possibly by majority vote or elected by a council.

Instead of the sudden change, this can be a smoother (if that can even be said about such a major political scenario change) or more structured. I also say this because a. if Nikolai is indeed charged (and later acquitted), firstly his political career will already hold a blot if the word about using the Darkling as a resource is out and secondly, he’s way too young to serve as the leader (by modern standards, sure, but like, the required age will be set while drafting the constitution? currently its 35+).

Instead, the current cast can become representatives (which Zoya would already be, (mostly the head of the) international committee that safeguards the Grisha all over the world) and the Triumvirate will be dissolved. (it should be, tbh)

And hey, b. after all of this, they can and kind of need to take a step back. Nikolai and Zoya will be able to truly explore their relationship, given how Nikolai mentions how he wouldn’t marry unless he’d have had the chance to court someone and marry someone he barely knows nor knows him. For Zoya’s part, she does know Nikolai but surely probably not the extent of openness that a healthy relationship has, and on Nikolai’s part, he admits he barely knows her beyond as a General except for just little things about her.

They could be able to realize and work on their feelings while alongside being involved with the workings of the country and the constitution.

“One day you will overstep and I will not be so forgiving.” 

Need I say more? Something that Zoya does will cost her Nikolai’s goodwill and we know Zoya knows her practicality and the extent to which she will unapologetically move if there is threat to the country and its King. She will do what was right and required. 

A major part of that line ties in with Magnus Opjer and I think with the confidence in the versatility of her powers, Zoya might as well move w/o any word to the Triumvirate to eliminate the most direct threat to the throne. This will bring splits in Nikolai and Zoya’s relationship. 

How this tension between them will be resolved without compromising either of their values, without playing into fandom stereotypes and others must be carefully handled. All of this while showing the best of their dynamicity, practicality and priority as they carefully pull out just those weak sticks of the jenga without putting the whole country into trouble. And with a war in plain sight, they’d know better than pointlessly argue and would rather see how the two of them are wrong. This ordeal will bring out just how condensed power is in the current scenario, imo. 

Importance on the way women have shaped history. 

Something that KoS has already set precedence for. Zoya being a PoC, Nina taking into account of the sufferings of women she comes across and the consistent ‘Who will remember them?’ will be elaborated on further. As for how it is done and how well it is done, that remains to be seen. 

Baghra is alive but maybe not thriving bc she’s stuck in the Ice Court. 

They entered a chamber where an old woman sat with her hands chained, flanked by guards. Her eyes were vacant. As each prisoner approached, the woman gripped his or her wrist.

A human amplifier. [...] But the Fjerdans used them for a different purpose – to make sure no Grisha breached their walls without being identified.

Kaz watched Nina approach. He could see her trembling as she held out her arm. The woman clamped her fingers around Nina’s wrist. Her eyelids stuttered briefly. Then she dropped Nina’s hand and waved her along.

Had she known and not cared? Or had the paraffin they’d used to encase Nina’s forearms worked?

- Chapter 22. Kaz; Part 4: Trick to Falling, Six of Crows.

Nina will be the one to free her and together they might wage a war from Djerholm together.

This gets even more interesting because we know the anguish and scorn that Baghra feels for her son at the same time; she understands the wrongness that he used to seek and will continue to. Zoya does take Baghra’s name at the Fold when she mourns and rages over how people forget the destruction and most importantly, forget the women. Baghra could be the symbol of the stag as the art piece depicts, or will be shown with relation to the Darkling’s powers.

As for how she will play into the story, perhaps she will be the one to help reverse and find the roots of the orders, in the sense that changes the perception of the Grisha powers for the Grisha as well as the common folk of Ravka. She is the only other person other than Juris and the Darkling to have the age of eras together, knowing Ilya Morozova, and she will be instrumental in giving Ravka an advantage over Fjerda. Either that or she will help in scrubbing the prejudices of Fjerda slowly away with whatever powers she has left. Or both. 

Alina will reappear, but will not contribute to the plot significantly.

Zoya understands that the truth she knows about the Darkling is very minimal not enough to end him for once and for all. It makes sense that she will probably consult Alina for it. So, Malina appearance, possibly at the orphanage. Alina will not directly contribute to this war, but she will play a critical role in defeating the Darkling.

Besides, Alina —and Baghra— are the only ones who know that there has only ever been two Darklings. Zoya did sense, multiple times during KoS, that the Darkling is damn old. Yuri mentions it. And while it is not outright specified, the fact that Zoya thinks that she realizes just how ancient Lizabetha is in context of meeting the Darkling is enough proof for her to seek more information about the age and the older skill of the Darkling. 

And I think it goes without saying that I want to hope that the Darkling and Alina will not meet. Pls, she’s had enough. 

Lada is the lost, other friend that Zoya refuses to bury. 

“She saw her mentor die and her worst enemy resurrected, and she refuses to bury another friend.”

Liliyana is dead, we know. But there’s no other mention of Lada except for the “wondering what happened to the pug faced girl.” Lada is possibly a part of the group of women and a Grisha returning to Ravka from Fjerda, exploited by the parem. She might die being unable to withhold the sheer torment of the parem induction, which will devastate Zoya because Lada was also the closest she’s had to a family with Liliyana. 

Either that or Lada is already dead or dies some other way, and Zoya cannot bring herself bear the grief of losing her. 

Cameos: Inej and Jesper. 

The most likely of the crows to appear in RoW are Inej and Jesper and they’ll play equally important roles in the plotline. Here’s a breakdown of why:

Inej

Inej has taken the responsibility of becoming a slave hunter, and it makes sense for Inej to make an appearance in the book, given that there’s going to be a ship taking the Grisha from Fjerda to Ravka. 

The women aboard are vulnerable and require immediate attention, which Inej will immediately zero in on. She will have enough reason to suspect both Leoni and Adrik on the ship, especially when the jurda parem is still a secret. Leoni and Adrik cannot give that information away because they don’t trust Inej (and have no reason to either). Inej won’t trust them either, not until she understands that the reason why the women are being taken to Ravka and for what reasons. 

Which gives her excellent reason to step in, try to analyze the situation and help the women accordingly.

Here’s an exciting thought though. Once after the entire misunderstanding is overcome and Inej understands (esp. if Nina is brought into the conversation and security and secrecy of the conversation is ensured), there may be discussion about how the Grisha might find a safer space in Ravka.

Inej’s appearance might also extend to playing a pivotal role in giving Zoya the confidence to seek her heritage and where she hails from, to embrace the part of her past and forgive herself and others for her mistakes. 

ALSO, 

Grisha finding a safer space in Ravka will mean that Inej can pitch Jesper’s case for him to Zoya. Being the highest authority who takes cares of the responsibilities of the Grisha, Zoya will be the best person to talk about this with. 

And so, here comes Jesper. 

Jesper

For one, I wish Jesper and Leoni interact, talk and just bond like the iconic siblings they would be. <3 But more than that, Jesper plays very integral to the plot for more reasons.

Jesper’s arc will parallel Zoya’s. Both of them are new to their powers in their own individual sense; Zoya is trying to use her new powers in a way that hasn’t been done before, thereby breaking the Grisha orders of powers and Jesper (assuming he has decided that he might want to learn and embrace his Grisha powers) is learning them afresh. 

This journey of them trying to embrace, learn and relearn and reject older norms and experiment really work in tandem.

That will lead us to a further (plot) theories. 

Ties with Novyi Zem 

As of the KoS end, Ravka has no support from anyone atm. Sure the Kerch will provide funds but Ravka has no real allies. Here’s where Novyi Zem and Jesper come in. 

We know Novyi Zem is a new country and also that it is the second safest country for the Grisha in the universe. As of KoS, their agreements are not renewed and they would be since between Kerch and Novyi Zem, Ravka was forced to pick Kerch. Yet Ravka needs their help in acquiring jurda for the antidote. 

So here’s the deal: Ravka will get their jurda but at many conditions that the Novyi Zem will impose on Ravka to not let exploitation get in the way. 

The conditions imposed could be (these are just some at the top of my head but I hope there are more to ensure the safety and security of the Zemeni, in Novyi Zem and in Ravka too) : 

Naval support from Ravka

We know of the Zemeni ships and ofc Nikolai has been hard at work trying to develop plans to use the sea to its fullest advantage. While the news of the izmars’ya isn’t public, Zemeni can place a condition for technical aid from Ravka since Ravka does have the technical knowledge it can dispatch as a condition.

A Grisha School in Novyi Zem

Think about it. Ravka, despite being the safest place for the Grisha, still isn’t entirely safe. Not all Grisha become soldiers in Ravka, they have a choice to abstain but those who are training are still recruited a honed for purpose alike preparing for war, especially the teens and preteens from the time of the Civil War. The training does take a lot of time. Ravka intends to make a home first and then service, but at the moment, while the Grisha are provided safety, it’s not assured in the best sense. Both the facts about a home and service are in precarious positions atm.

TL;DR: Ravka isn’t entirely safe for Grisha therefore the Grisha themselves too are not + Ravka is war torn. 

So what happens? 

One of the conditions as the next best country that serves as home to the Grisha, Novyi Zem may put forth the prospect of building a Little Palace like institution for the Grisha in Novyi Zem. It sounds morally wrong in the sense that the Grisha there will also be trained for war, but the war will end and soon, the Grisha will not be subject to serve for something but engage in economic activities as anybody else with the progression of time.

All of this won’t happen immediately either; learning their powers, honing it in the way that is unocnventional from what it had been pre-RoW and that transition + the building of the establishment in Novyi Zem and laying foundation for the  transnational panel or committee for Grisha that Zoya talks about will all take so much time. 

A few Grisha representatives from Novyi Zem can learn at the Little Palace and by the time the construction of the institution is done in Novyi Zem, these Grisha, along with other willing Grisha who either want to return to the country they were born in (like Leoni) or are offered to teach in a different country can do so too. 

There will be stricter terms so as to not ensure exploitation and possible colonization in these nations. 

Zoya mentions in one of her chapters that eventually there will be a need for the a  transnational panel or committee for Grisha. Jesper can Zoya can make it possible, adding in other countries to the panel slowly as the war recedes. 

Kaz and Wylan? 

Least likely to make an appearance, in my opinion. I think they’ll be mentioned plenty of times or brought up once and given great importance for how they can help in the side plot. 

Shu Support: 

This is more a hope than an actually theory dfbkdhjadfh but Makhi might have to step down from the throne because Ehri will take the place; either as a Queen (no...) or she might oversee the process of strengthening Shu Han and finding a leader (if she doesn’t want to become one herself). 

Ehri is capable, more than capable despite the little we know of her from the last chapter in KoS. All I hope is for an understanding and friendship between Nikolai and Ehri (and the subsequent cancelling of the marriage duH) for this to happen. She has little interest in statecraft but with the time she might spend with Nikolai, she might change her views. Even if not then she still gets the happy ending she deserves with Mayu (which is canon at this point rly).

Emotional Development or Breakdowns

Okay but I really, really, really hope we get to see all the three protagonists lose their shit and deal with their trauma, seek help or trying to stop isolating themselves or anything else they do to cope? Nina, Zoya and Nikolai, all of them cry, all of them get to completely lose it, let themselves be human and healthily cope and learn to rely on the people they trust the most. Like the sheer power and potential to show the myriad of ways to deal with grief, sadness, stress and more and make use of the trio’s backgrounds to show healthy and diverse ways of helping themselves, by letting themselves and others help them is just *combusts* Incredible! 

That being said, can I also ask for moments of fear and desolation from the side characters too? Impending war isn’t small business, it will take its toll on people, and all these reactions just cement their fears and what they value the most so. pls. Humanizing them rly. 

The Saving Each Other 

As much as I mostly kinda hate this trope, there are traces in the KoS that Zoya might be the one to end Nikolai’s affliction. On the other hand, there is talk of Nikolai helping Zoya control her powers which seems counterintuitive when you consider that Zoya knows that there is a line that she must never cross and that she is very, very careful about it and will continue to be. 

They can instead be the ones who motivate each other in times of distress as they always do (as shown with how Nikolai tries to gain control over his monster during the burning thorn ritual in KoS, allowing himself the vulnerability but also knowing that giving up will be unforgivable to both himself and Zoya as well) but I seriously do not wish for each other to be the ones directly ending one another's misery. Or perhaps this is just a fear imo that Leigh wouldn’t even take the route of (in which case, thank fuck).

Stab Stab Stab 

Zoya gets the chance to kill the Darkling with the rest of her friends. After all, Darkling does call them all his old friends. Just Julius Caeser him all the way and put a bow tie on the book. *chef’s kiss* Everybody deserves a second chance... at ending a tyrant when it fails the first time. 

+

So far, this is it. Rule of Wolves is in less than a few weeks and im- asdfghjkl. not Ready. i’m more Worried than Ready.

[jaskierswolf]

My dearest darling Wolfie, I saw your idea for game gerlion friends to lovers in @thewitcherbog horny chat and I am here to ask you to write the fic. Pls 💜😘

Tada!! I can't remember if this was exactly what I had planned... but it's what we're getting. Lovingly beta'd by @comfyswitcherblanketfort.

CW: probably rated M? Briefly mentioned masturbation more horny than smutty.

____

A retirement at Corvo Bianco had never been what Geralt expected of his life. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told a young Dandelion that witcher’s never retire, but in recent years between looting caves and haggling for contracts, he’d managed to save quite a bit of coin. He was, objectively, rich. He had the best armour on the Continent, the most deadly swords and crossbow bolts, and thanks to B.B., his house was beautifully decorated, with the exception of the rather garish portrait of his most loyal friend. Yet, he was still gaining more money than he knew what to do with. He’d started investing in merchants and refusing payment but the vineyard brought in a steady income and Geralt had to admit that his life was pretty luxurious these days.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise when Dandelion had turned up, in fine, brightly coloured silks and the elegantly decorated elven lute from so many years ago. Geralt sometimes wondered whether Toruviel had enchanted her lute. There was barely a scratch and Geralt couldn’t even recall Dandelion ever having to change the lute strings in all the years he’d known the bard. Geralt was no expert but he was pretty sure that you were supposed to change the lute strings.

The sun was shining over the fields of Corvo Bianco, and Geralt felt at peace. Perhaps that was why he was feeling so nostalgic, pondering over the events that had led him to this moment. His life had always been so busy, but with Ciri off touring the multiverse, and Yennefer doing whatever Yennefer did these days now the Djinn wish had been broken, he was… well… bored? He had every Gwent card currently made, and no one would play him. It was just him and the bard, living the bachelor’s life in Touissant.

So was it any wonder that Geralt had started to develop feelings for his friend? Perhaps they’d always been there, clouded by the wish that tied him to Yennefer, or perhaps their newfound domesticity had awoken something in Geralt that he had never expected. Dandelion spent a lot of time in the makeshift study, working on his latest book, but they always ate together and sometimes the bard would even accompany Geralt on his contracts in the fields, for old times sake. After long nights of drinking too much wine or vodka, it wasn’t unusual for the pair of them to fall asleep together, curled up in one bed just like they used to in their youth. Those were Geralt’s favourite nights, because despite his protests of being better alone, he enjoyed the familiar warmth of another body pressed against his, and Dandelion had always been a cuddler.

And as if on cue, the bard burst through the doors onto the patio where Geralt was watching the world go by.

“Ah, Geralt, old friend, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Dandelion announced with a flick of his wrist. “I was just in town.”

“Dandelion,” Geralt groaned. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Dear Henrietta will forgive me in time, my friend,” Dandelion winked, his tongue flicking out between his lips, “and until then I have plenty of friends who will offer me shelter if the guards are around.”

“You look like a man sized peacock,” Geralt scoffed. “How the hell does no one see you?”

“Ah, dear witcher, you forget that I used to be a spy,” Dandelion laughed, putting one hand on his hips. “Now, stop interrupting, Geralt, or do you not care about the gift I picked out for you in town today?”

Geralt hummed, knowing that it didn’t really matter whether he cared or not. Nothing would stop Dandelion once he was in the middle of a story. Some things just never changed. “Go on.”

Dandelion beamed, and from behind his back he produced a wooden box. The poet cocked his head as he opened the lid, revealing a set of tiny vials neatly lined up. Geralt almost choked, his breath catching in his throat.

“Oil?” he spluttered. A man such as Dandelion had to know of the more promiscuous uses of oil. Whilst Dandelion had never explicitly said as such, the way he talked of his lovers had always led Geralt to believe that he was rather flexible in his tastes, much like Geralt himself.

The poet blushed as he pulled a single vial from the box, his long lutist fingers wrapping around the glass. “Bath oils, Geralt.”

“Oh, of course,” Geralt cursed internally. Dandelion had bought all sorts of expensive oils and lotions when they had been on the path together, neither of them were shy with their bathing habits and the poet was a highly skilled masseur.

Which was not helping Geralt’s sudden rush of arousal as he remembered the feel of the poet’s hands on his skin. They’d laughed off awkward erections in the past, it was just a thing that happened… but Geralt was starting to wonder what would happen if, for once, they let it happen.

“This one will probably be a bit much for your witcher senses, my friend, but I rather like it,” Dandelion continued, oblivious to Geralt's inner turmoil. “This one,” another vial was plucked from the box, “however, I think you will like, and I managed to buy this,” Dandelion pulled a scroll from his pocket, “from a local mage. It’s supposed to move the water around the tub, like a massage!”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” Geralt sighed, rolling his eyes. As much as he adored his old friend, the man could take his sweet time getting to the point. It was even worse when the poet and Regis got together, Geralt honestly thought he might never know peace again.

“Because, Geralt, I am treating my dearest friend to an extravagant bath time experience!” Dandelion exclaimed with wide arms, almost knocking off his own hat in his enthusiasm. “Friendship and love, art and wine, Geralt. What more could you want in life?”

Love.

No, friendship. Geralt needed to focus on that. How many times had Dandelion called him his friend? Too many to count.

“Assuming you have wine, what’s the art?” Geralt smirked, enjoying the offended noises Dandelion made.

“Geralt, I’ll have you know that-”

“Relax, Dandelion. I’m teasing. So how about this bath then?”

The two men made their way upstairs, peeling off their outer clothes as they strolled past Geralt’s bedroom, and picking up a robe each. Dandelion had filled the room with candles, and there was a soft floral scent hanging in the air, roses, the oil vial that Dandelion had initially held up.

“I thought this one was too much for my ��witcher senses’?” Geralt scoffed, peering at the magically bubbling water.

“Well, yes, but I did also say I liked this one, and I’ll admit that I got a little carried away. You don’t mind, do you Geralt?”

Geralt shook his head as he stripped off his final layer of clothing and settled into the tub. Dandelion sat in a chair, still wrapped in his robe, and picked up his lute. He plucked idly at the strings until he was seemingly happy that they were in tune, and then he began to sing. Geralt sighed as he sank deeper into the hot water, the enchantment really did feel like a sort of massage as jets of water pulsed against his skin, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The oils, the candles, the romantic ballad…

Was his friend trying to tell him something?

It was time for Geralt to test the waters as it was. He trod the water with his hand, gently splashing to the beat of Dandelion’s song. Normally, he would close his eyes and let the poet’s music fill the room, but instead he was mesmerised by the way Dandelion’s finger caressed the lute strings. Geralt could feel his cock harden as he pondered what other uses his friend’s delicate hands could have, the way they found their mark with such precision. The poet could make any instrument sing to the gods in his hands, Geralt was sure that he was no exception.

“Practicing your fingering?” he asked Dandelion with a tilt of his head.

The strings twanged unpleasantly, making Geralt grimace as the sound reverberated in his head. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Geralt smirked. “On your lute.”

“Right, yes, of course,” Dandelion muttered. “I’m just trying to figure out the next verse. I could use a hand, or an ear if you’d be willing to help.”

“I have a hand you could use, or two,” Geralt muttered not really intending for Dandelion to hear him but the poet had sharp ears and he spluttered incoherently as he set down his lute.

Geralt hummed and let his hand drop beneath the water, stroking his cock lazily. He wasn’t really chasing any real pleasure, but it was a good feeling, sending warmth across his skin. The bath, the candles, the song, they had to mean something even in Dandelion’s subconsciousness. The man was an insatiable flirt, and yet never seemed to notice when others’ affections were cast upon him, not unless it was blunt in its honesty.

So Geralt would be blunt.

He closed his eyes as he continued to stroke the length of his cock, the motion causing the water to ripple slightly, but not yet enough to draw Dandelion’s attention. The poet was too busy wittering on about his rhymes, only noticing when Geralt’s breath hitched as he cupped his balls.

“Geralt?”

“Dandelion,” Geralt grunted softly, his pleasure beginning to build from a warm ember to a roaring blaze that burned through him. The poet’s cornflower blue eyes were on him, dark and hungry. His cheeks were flushed rosy, and it seemed his dear friend was finally catching onto what was happening.

“I- I can leave, my friend, if you would prefer…”

“Stay,” Geralt insisted. “This not what you had in mind?”

“Well,” Dandelion laughed. “I had hoped, but I never thought it would actually happen, and well, really I thought it might take a little more convincing. Who knew all I needed all along were a few cheap candles?”

“Just get in the bath, Dandelion,” Geralt growled.

“Okay, okay,” Dandelion said with a roll of his eyes but shrugged out of his robe, allowing Geralt to admire his slender form. The poet’s cock remained soft as he stepped into the water. “So… how long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have I been more than just a friend to you, Geralt?” Dandelion asked, settling into the water with a soft moan. His hands resting on Geralt’s thighs, fingers drawing patterns on Geralt’s skin under the water.

It wasn’t an easy question to answer. Could he even pin it down? Geralt wasn’t sure.

“Hard to tell, our friendship has never exactly been normal, Dandelion,” Geralt admitted.

Dandelion laughed, leaning forward in the tub, his hands stroking up Geralt’s thigh, the movement forcing the air from Geralt’s lungs. “You know, you’re right, and I think we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Mhmm, and how about we start with a kiss?” Dandelion winked, before falling into Geralt embrace with a splash.

[mk-wizard]

Sailor Moon 90s Anime is STILL the best

Hi. I know I am on a Sailor Moon binge here, but after seeing all of Crystal, Eternal and on R (season 2) of the first anime, I want to get this all off of my chest... and before I go further, since these are all animes, I will refer to them as 90s, Crystal and Eternal. And after watching them all, I have to say that the 90s takes the gold medal as the best Sailor Moon anime so far and this is why;

1- It had the best pacing. - While I admit that sometimes, it went too far with the filler, 98% of the time, it worked with the 90s. It took its time to make you get to know the characters for better or for worse, it made you see different sides of them, it gave them a chance to truly develop and be multi-dimensional, and it made you care about them. When a death happened, it felt tragic. When a victory happened, you cheered. And when you saw what side characters did, it mattered. I mean, who can ever forget the contribution 90s Naru Osaka had to the story? And everyone who has seen the 90s anime cannot forget her. More on the character development and getting to know characters later.

Sure, it wasn’t true to the manga and even the characters had different personalities, but I let that slide by because when Crystal and Eternal did follow the manga to the letter, we didn’t get a chance to digest anything. The only characters who develop are Usagi, Chibi-Usa and the outer guardians, and for the last bunch, it was the bare minimum. Crystal and Eternal were fun rides and I would be lying if I said I didn’t like them, but they were like roller coasters. They gave you a thrill, but fast and been done. The 90s was like a slow scenic ride that gave you surprises, emotionally touched you, made you cry, made you laugh, made you root for the heroes and even at the age of 37 years now, I keep rewatching this series.

2- The art of the 90s was better because it was sketchy, dark and edgier. - I know Sailor Moon doesn’t seem like this on the surface because the heroines are lovely girls in cute costumes, it emphasizes femininity and all things pretty, it has a romantic theme and is all about love, but Sailor Moon is also one of the darkest, grittiest, edgy and violent magical girl animes I have ever seen since Magic Knights Rayearth. Sailor Moon has on screen deaths which were permanent most of the time, on screen stabbings and the drawing of blood, and fights that got so hardcore, that real punches and kicks were thrown. The dark edges, black line art and sharp edges worked with the atmosphere of the story. I mean, look at the difference between the halls Dark Kingdom of the 90s (above) and that of Crystal.

And if that is not enough to win you over, the characters were much more animated, organic and conveyed more emotion whether they were exaggerated or serious.

In Crystal, the expressions and body language was very dulled down. Not to mention, very stiff.

Everything is also too bright and soft which makes the characters look like velvet dolls with too much make up especially with the line art. I will give them props for adding better details, cleaner lines, the glow of magical items, and details in the gems, but everything else is all wrong.

Eternal was better, but still not quite there. The colours are still way too bright and the characters still look too much like dolls from having line art that is too wispy. And I really do not like how the eyes have this unnatural glow to them. The edgy scenes become lost with all this brightness.

3- We got to see that there was so much more the characters than just heroes or villains. - Since Usagi is the titular character, let us just talk about her in the 90s since I could go on forever about how much we learned about the characters. In any version of Sailor Moon, Usagi’s role as a Sailor Guardian has always been the core of the story and she does indeed show progress as one. However, the 90s tells us that no matter what, she is still going to be herself too which is just as important and she shows character development as just plain old Usagi too. The manga, Crystal and Eternal which only paint Usagi as not doing anything right except be a Sailor Guardian, but the 90s show her hidden talents and learning new skills. For example, she was bad at cooking at the beginning of the series.

However, by Sailor Moon R, she gets the hang of it and is able to cook a meal by herself. Yes, she is messy, clumsy, never gets the hang of making cookies and is nowhere near Makoto’s level especially when it comes to presentation, but she is good at cooking food.

Another hidden talent of Usagi’s is her drawing skills. She isn’t just good at drawing. She’s got talent at it, so in the 90s, Usagi is quite the artist.

And it is admirable that 90s Usagi is open to trying new things even if she isn’t good at them. She practices, she explores and tries to enlighten herself. Sure, academics, coordination and organization will never be her fortes, but she really does have other and tries to discover more.

In Crystal and Eternal, she is good at being Sailor Moon, she is a good friend and a good girlfriend, but that is it. She is one dimensional here and she isn’t the only one to painted like that. Everyone is only the obvious and that is all the audience gets.

4- Better character redemption. - I mentioned before that Sailor Moon had grit and was dark, but the 90s also made it more complex and did character redemption right. It was open to the possibility of bad people becoming good. For instance, the Black Moon Clan Specter Sister are unforgettable for being successfully redeemed.

Yes, I admit that the monster of the day would get killed by the hands of the Sailor Guardians, but they also clearly showed that the monsters were not people or even alive. They were made of energy, clay or sand. When the monster of the day was a possessed innocent, they were saved through exorcism. Very rarely was an actual person ever killed and even when they were, it was either by the hands of another villain, their own hand, self defense or as a last resort. They never used killing as means of dealing with every single bad guy.

Furthermore, the bridge arc about the Makai Tree that also served as a prologue to Sailor Moon R could be seen as a story about mercy, kindness and love. It stands out as the one time the big bad was actually a misunderstood big good being the Makai Tree herself. And even Ail an An were never bad, but were raised bad. And even then, they changed. This story is unique only to the 90s so far, but it was great and stood out for that reason.

In Crystal, the heroines will kill a person without a second thought which I am shocked that no one brings up how repetitive and contradictory that is. The pretty warrior of love and justice should by all means protect the Earth, but doing so by killing off the bad guy all time is not love or justice. I also think the caption in this picture sums up how I feel about how the one and only time bad guys were given a chance to be redeemed...

Eternal was better because the Asteroid Guardians got redeemed and saved. However, even then, I feel like there is still a double standard. They were one of the good guys to begin with and Sailor Guardians. In the 90s, the Amazoness Quartet wasn’t, but were given a chance to change anyway. I find it cool that the Quartet turned out to be Sailors and even better that they will go on to become Chibi-Usa’s team, but mercy is not just for your allies or for your own benefit. Everyone should be given at least one chance to fix their mistakes.

5- We got to know Mamoru better. - I admit that no matter the incarnation, Tuxedo Mask will never be as powerful as Sailor Moon except when he is King Endymion, but the 90s take on his character made him better even if they did omit his super attack being Tuxedo le Smoking Bomber. What the well dressed masked man lacked in firepower, he made up for in intelligence, insight about the enemy’s weakness, courage and skill. The only times he ever did get overpowered was either by bad luck or because it was intentional because he was taking a hit for Sailor Moon. And even then, he always got back up. He’s a real man like that.

More importantly, we get to know him as Mamoru too. Even before he confides being an amnesiac to Usagi, we see his struggles with feeling alone in the world from having no memory of his life before a tragic accident which also killed his parents. Now, him being a stern cynical person makes sense because I probably wouldn’t be pleasant to be around either if I lived with that. Once his walls come down, we see that deep down, all he wants is to belong somewhere and have a family. It should also be noted that 90s Mamoru doesn’t love Usagi because he is “destined” to. He loves her because he wants to. Even during that brief period where he broke up with Usagi was an act of love. The thing I also always liked best about 90s Mamoru is that even though he loves Usagi more than life itself, his life doesn’t revolve around her which is a healthy thing and he tries to encourage Usagi to be the same way for her own good. He is studying to be a doctor, he has a job and he even has his own crowd which I think is great.

In Crystal and Eternal, while I do see an attempt at trying to follow this trend by showing that Usagi and Mamoru were on their way to falling in love even before they got their memories back, I still find he was one note and we never really learn much about him that has nothing to do with Tuxedo Mask, Endymion or anything royal related. Sure, we know that he’s studying to be a doctor and is a genius to an extent too, but that is it.

I would like to end this by admitting that the 90s was not perfect either, but out of all the takes on the tale of Sailor Moon as of date. Crystal and Eternal were ok, but they just cannot stand up to the quality of the 90s. The only thing I can say I find Crystal did better than the 90s were the costume designs. Specifically, how they let Venus keep her chain belt, Pluto’s key chain belt, Uranus and Neptune’s shorter gloves, Uranus’s sword, Uranus having two earrings, Mercury’s suit is shoulder less which I always found suited her better, and I liked Sailor Moon’s brooch and necklace better in season 1.

And even then, I should have liked it if Jupiter’s antenna was always on display as it is just something I always found cute in the manga, I liked Mars’ five point star earrings better in the 90s, and I like how in the 90s, each of the Inner Guardians’ sailor stripes were a little different.

Of course, this is all my opinion. I would like to hear which of the animes did Sailor Moon right in your opinion and why. Thanks for reading and stay safe, and have a great day.

[rogerslovesstark]

Hi there! A huge fan 💜💙 I was wondering if your requests are open?

If yes, could you please write an angsty fic where in reader is dating Bucky and for some reason he belittles her and breaks off their relationship. After which eventually everyone on the team stops talking to her. She's forced to leave off on her own and struggles a lot. Later Bucky realises his mistake and tries to contact her but the old her is gone. Like she finds her own happiness. Sorry if it's too detailed☹️

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

WARNING: Angst

Your recruitment to the team was quick and very low-key. Almost no one knew that you had joined the Avengers because you requested Tony not to hold a press conference. You loved being an Avenger, the idea of helping people in need was so fulfilling.

However, the spotlight of being an Avenger was not pleasant. You did not know how Tony and Steve were able to handle it, the constant feeling of eyes on you, paparazzi almost always being on top of everything you do.

The few events you did go to, you stood with Bucky most of the time. He always kept you safe and comfortable while the party was booming. The two of you would walk around the venues Tony would rent out, looking at the architecture of the building, admiring the art that was around.

The conversation was kept minimal because there was already so much noise from the party. Both silently agreed that there was no need for extra noise.

It was the New Years Party two years ago where Bucky asked you if you wanted to slow dance. The Venue had multiple balconies and he chose the smallest one for the two of you to dance.

The two of you swayed to the soft music that could be heard from the party. Once the clock hit 12:00, Bucky leaned over and kissed you. You two began dating shortly after.

Every Sunday was a day for a date unless either of you had a mission. Every other week you planned a date for you and Bucky, walks in the park, restaurants, bars, everything you could think of.

You developed a dependency on Bucky. Always seeking his reassurance, seeking his comfort and touch. You felt as though you were not complete unless you were with Bucky. 

Your childhood was to blame, primarily your father. Physically, your dad was there but not emotionally. You never received emotional love from your father, the ‘I’m so proud of you’ or ‘you’re doing amazing’ Just a stiff nod.  

Being raised by your psychotic father was the reason you developed into the cold-hearted killer you were. From 16-19, you worked as a mercenary and killed for money.

You craved emotional validation from someone because you were so deprived of it when you were a child. You struggled to form relationships with others because of it too. That was one of the main reasons why you were not as close to the team.

Bucky would always smile at you, or kiss you when you were excited about something you would accomplish. On missions, he would always stay near you unless instructed otherwise by Steve. 

Bucky has been extremely off recently, always working with Steve, or working out with Sam, helping Wanda train her new abilities because it’s hard to kill a super-soldier than a normal human. 

He had missed five Sunday dates. Five of them. In those five weeks, you barely saw him and it was driving you crazy. You constantly would search for the time where the two of you could just be alone. You were so deprived of physical touch and emotional love, you began to fall into a depressive state. 

You walked towards the conference room, you asked Friday where Bucky was. She said he was in the conference room alone which is weird that she specified.

You opened the door and found Bucky just sitting on his phone. It was almost 10:30pm and he was just chilling in the conference room on his phone.

“Baby, I’ve been looking for you,” You said, walking over to him and running your hands along his broad and muscular shoulders. He was always so tense when he was sitting hunched over.

He shrugged you off his shoulders and turned to look at you. Not a soft, loving kind of look that a lover would typically give his lover; he gave a harsh glare as if you had done something to him. 

“God, you are so fucking annoying, you know that,” Bucky said. He grabbed that hand that was touching you and stood up from his chair. He let go of your hand rather quickly as soon as he stood from the chair. 

“I can’t fucking stand being around you Y/n, I don’t know why I ever asked you to be my fucking girlfriend,” He said, lowering his face closer to your face so the two of you were at eye level. 

Tears pooled in your eyes, every word he said was like a thin blade stabbing you in the stomach over and over again. You did not know what you did wrong, you had not even seen him in almost a week despite living with him.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I’ll be better, what can I do to be better, please,” You whispered, if your voice were any higher, you would being sobbing. 

Bucky just watched as you pathetically tried to hold your sobs in. You really were a weak woman and Bucky knew that. He knew that he held you in the palm of his hand and if he wanted to, he could break you.

He watched as your world crumbled around you because Bucky had decided to hurt you. Your hands were shaking and curled into fists. Your nose was turning red from holding back your tears.

“You are nothing without me, and I don’t want you anymore, so get the fuck out of my face and leave. No one on the team likes you, they would rather see you dead than ever have to see your horrific face ever again.” Bucky snarled, ready to see you burst into tears.

He knew that was the last straw.

You quickly turned around and left before you burst into tears. Bucky grabbed your arm and tried to turn you around, wanting to see you cry. You were forced to turn around, tears in your eyes pulling your hand back and smacking Bucky on his cheek. 

You left him dazed in the conference room. You ran to your shared room, collecting all your belongings. You had a small apartment in the heart of Montreal that no one knew about. You deliberately left off your information given to FRIDAY.

“FRIDAY, get rid of all information regarding Y/N L/N” You requested.

“Request denied, reasoning: unauthorized access to function,”

“Override denial, code Tony Stark has a fat ass” You rolled your eyes at the code Tony had told you to be used as a last resort code.

“Permission granted, removing all information regrading Y/N L/N,”

You grabbed a piece of paper on your desk, writing a short goodbye to Tony knowing he would wonder where you went. You quietly walk over to Tony’s office and placed it on the monitor he mainly used.

You left the compound shortly after, walking seven miles to the small car you planted in the forest. You prepared this as a last resort option. You never wanted to use this car but times were desperate and you had to get away from Bucky.

++++

You were struggling, barely able to figure out how to live on your own. The money you had saved from working for the Avengers was running low and the waitress job you did have has barely enough to pay the bills you had. 

Montreal was really expensive you ended up realizing, with such a horrible job, you sold your apartment and moved in with some college students in a small house. You shared a bedroom with one of the women in the house. 

Ashley, your roommate, actually found the job for you, she helped you changed your appearance and spotted your money whenever you were desperate for it.

You had no skill set for an actual job, the only skills you had were killing. And your skills had developed rapidly as an Avenger. You knew what you had to do to survive.

The first kill that you had was a child trafficker in Toronto. Ashley covered for you, saying you two would go to a spa for a girl's weekend. She stayed at the spa while you finished the job. You gave her 20% of the income made. 

You two had gotten close over the two years that you spent in the shared house. She was one of the only people that you trusted at this point. She suggested that you started therapy, which you decided to actually go to.

Your therapist wanted you to start realizing that you were more than who you surrounded yourself in. You deserved the love that you craved and you could only get it when you truly loved yourself.

++++

Bucky was laying in the bed the two of you shared. Two years had passed since he had driven you out of his life. He didn’t know why he did it, he was so upset because he saw you flirting with Tony. But Tony got engaged to Pepper only a few days later. 

After nine months of you being away, he started to crave your presence in his life. He asked FRIDAY where you were but she had no information on you. When FRIDAY said she had no information on you, he had one of the biggest meltdowns he ever experienced. 

You were officially gone from his life. Even with all the winter soldier experience of tracking people down, he couldn’t find you. Bucky knew that you were smart, you could hide in plain sight if you wanted to. 

It was in Toronto that he saw you again. Bucky’s whole world stopped after he saw you. You were so different now. Your hair was completely different from what he was used to, and you dressed differently too. 

It took him two months to finally get you to speak to him.

“What do you want Bucky?” The way you used to speak to him was so soft, now you were so cold towards him. Bucky’s stomach churned, almost nervous to respond to you.

“Y/n, please come back, I’m sorry for everything I have done to you, everything I said was a lie. I still love you” Bucky pleaded to you. 

“Bucky I’m not the same woman I used to be, you broke me, I was so broken and I was the only one who fixed me. You don’t get to come back after I learned how to not live with you.” You shouted at him.

Tears pooled in Bucky’s eye, he had lost the one person who had shown him, true love. The one person he wanted to protect for the rest of his life. He lost you, forever.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Ensnarled

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, Havoc, Colonel Casey

He’d underestimated her, assumed that it was just a teenage rebellion phase that she’d grow out of in time.  There wouldn’t be any growing out of this.

Double whammy of prompt filling here: @flashfictionfridayofficial’s weekly prompt “a greater horror” and day 1 of @whumptober-archive‘s Whumptober “All trussed up and still nowhere to go: barbed wire and bound” This one clocks in at exactly 1000 words, according to MSWord.

There may be more to this one, but it really depends on what my muses think and if any more whumptober prompts fit.  There’s now more!

Scott had never really considered the Chaos Crew to be more than a nuisance, in the grand scheme of things. Yes, they spread International Rescue very thin, and they worked for the Hood, but while they made extra work for him and his family and presented a danger to civilian lives, they’d never come accompanied with the fear that the Mechanic had instilled in him.

Perhaps it was because they felt immature, rather like teenagers finding their feet – and Scott had plenty of experience with those – but while Kayo, Lady Penelope and the GDF hurried around after them to put them behind bars, he’d simply got on with his job and worked around their disruptions.

It had slipped his mind, perhaps because the teenagers Scott were used to were his siblings, that immature could well slip into its own brand of dangerous.   Immature meant not knowing when to stop, or seeing the line and intentionally crossing it with a sharp, cruel smirk stretched across lips.

Havoc was wearing that exact smirk now.  He’d never properly met the woman before, only heard stories from those who had, and seen snatches of holofootage on the rare occasions she hadn’t cut it off or hacked it into oblivion, so his opinion of her had been developed from that.

No-one had ever told him how cold her eyes were.  That when she looked at them, she clearly wasn’t seeing another peer, or even another person.  That her eyes were the eyes of a hunter, whose prey was far, far below her and held value only as an entertainment piece until she grew bored.

This wasn’t a young woman who would grow out of a rebellious phase in a few years.  This was a woman who had looked at the world and found it disappointing.  A woman who would annihilate it without a single care for the lives snuffed out in the purpose.

Havoc was a far greater horror than Scott had ever considered, and now he was paying the price for his ignorance.

Skilled in subterfuge, skilled in martial arts, skilled at remaining unseen until she chose otherwise – he’d known that, but he’d underestimated exactly what that meant when put together, assuming she was more like a mirrored version of Kayo and never stopping to consider other possibilities.

The barbed wire snarling around his wrists, tight enough to be drawing a concerning amount of blood and securing him to an entire fence guarded with more of the stuff, forced a re-evaluation of her cruelty.  The tendrils coiled around his throat, forcing him to keep his head uncomfortably craned back to prevent the vulnerable skin there meeting the same fate, highlighted her sadism as she regarded him with cold enjoyment in deadly blue eyes.

Trapped on his knees, with no way of escape that wouldn’t drain him of more blood than he could afford to lose, there was nothing he could do except look up at her, projecting defiance and burying the very real fear that was blooming up inside him.

How had he ended up like this?  Another false call, one that John was going to be tearing himself up over, placed as a lure to get Scott out and alone.  A paralytic jabbed into the exposed skin of his neck by what had been supposedly empty air before the hologram had flickered away to reveal the woman in all her smug, self-satisfied glory.

Why had she done this?  What did she have to gain by going through so much effort?  If she’d wanted him dead, he’d already be dead.  There was something else at play here, something Scott was completely in the dark about, and that did nothing but raise his unease.

She wasn’t talking, wasn’t taunting even though all the information he had on her said that she liked to gloat. She was simply regarding him, openly satisfied and enjoying watching his discomfort as he tried not to let the barbs draw any fresh blood from his wrists or tear open the delicate skin of his throat.

In fact, it felt rather like she was waiting.

But for what?

As if in answer, the whine of a GDF flyer reached his ears, the large military craft approaching painfully slowly, in comparison to a Thunderbird.  Scott couldn’t turn his head to watch it properly, but there was no missing the deliberate steps Havoc took until she towered over him, well within arms’ reach.

Right now, Scott was no threat to her, but he was uncomfortably aware of how much of a threat she was to him, especially when gloved hands carded unnervingly gently through his hair.

Once, twice, her fingers traced his scalp.  Three, four, five.  Each touch, soft and reminiscent of stroking a pet, sent Scott’s stomach lower and lower with dread.  Not that he knew what he was dreading.

The flyer’s large door swung open before it finished landing. Colonel Casey strode out, expression tightly reined under control, even though deep brown eyes widened a touch as they passed over Scott.

“Well?” Havoc drawled, seemingly unconcerned as ranks of GDF personnel filed out behind the Colonel.  “Where is it?”

“The GDF does not barter with criminals,” Colonel Casey said, her back ramrod straight in perfect military posture.  “Surrender, Havoc.  You’re outnumbered.”

Havoc bit out a sharp laugh, full of dark amusement.  “But you won’t risk this one, will you?” she jeered, confidence oozing from her words.  “Mr Commander of International Rescue.”

“Havoc-”  The Colonel’s voice was sharp, but not as sharp as Havoc’s smirk as the fingers petting Scott’s hair clenched tight all of a sudden, a fistful of strands wrenched uncomfortably into her grip.

“Your choice, Colonel,” Havoc mocked.

There was pain in Scott’s godmother’s eyes as her back straightened impossibly further.  “The GDF does not barter with criminals.”

“Then this is the GDF’s fault.”

The fist flexed against his scalp, and then Scott’s head – throat – was being driven forwards.  Down.

Right to where the barbed wire lay waiting.

“Scott!”

Don’t Hesitate >>>

[novelconcepts]

fic: something to hang on to

When Jamie buys a camera, she isn’t really thinking about it. They’re driving through Virginia, stopped off at a little gas station; Dani’s outside filling the rental Jeep, which puts Jamie on snack-duty. At the counter, she spots a display of disposable cameras and, almost without thinking, adds one to the pile of sugar and caffeine. It isn’t a plan. Isn’t for any particular reason. 

Dani, pawing through the plastic bag of their spoils, raises it from a mess of M&Ms and Pringles and says, “You like photography?” She asks it the way she asks everything, like every little detail she learns about Jamie is another brand-new color added to the shine of the world. Jamie shrugs. 

“Never was much for it, but this brave new land is pretty enough. Don’t mind keeping track of it for later.”

It’s more than that, she thinks as Dani raises the viewfinder to her eye and clicks a photo of Jamie behind the wheel, one hand steering, the other stretching across the center console to rest on Dani’s knee. I almost lost you once, Poppins. Wouldn’t have had anything but my own memory to remember you by. This...this will help. 

Later, much later, years later, Jamie will look back on that moment as one of her wisest. Later, on a bed she can no longer sleep in, holding a thick album between shaking hands, she’ll think some of the most important choices you ever make are split-second recklessness. A camera, tossed in at the last second. A habit, built on nothing more than needing Dani’s smile immortalized. 

Open the album. Take a breath. Flip the page. 

***

A photo: Dani sprawled on a red-and-white beach towel, chin propped on folded arms, gazing out away from the camera as though she has no idea anyone is watching.

They’re with Henry and the kids--the first time they’ve seen the Wingrave family since the events at the house, and, though they don’t know it, one of the last times they’ll see them all together--in Florida. It’s strange, Jamie reflects, watching Miles chase Flora across an endless strip of sand. Strange how much world can fit into one country. England was green, rolling with hill and fog and haunted by things older than any of them can imagine. Florida feels...young, somehow. Too warm, too bright, too perfect on a Saturday afternoon. 

She’s hugging her knees, seated on a blanket with Dani sitting just an inch further away than she’d like. It’s the safe thing, the smart thing, but she misses her--misses the way they sit in hotel rooms and empty bars, knees touching, pinkies overlapping. Dani, in a sundress that matches the blue of her right eye, is laughing as Miles grabs Flora around the middle and tries with all his ten-year-old strength to hoist her off the ground. 

“Miles,” Henry calls, his voice laden with the anxiety of a man who has only just begun learning how to parent. “Miles, be careful--”

“They’re all right,” Jamie interrupts, tossing a handful of warm sand toward Henry’s precarious perch on a plastic chair. "Have you been wound this tight the whole fucking time?”

He looks pained. “You’ll excuse me for never having raised two children before. They’ve been a bit...”

“Precocious?” Dani suggests brightly. 

“Demonic?” Jamie says at the same time. Henry sighs. 

“Adventurous, shall we say, to meet in the middle.”

“They haven’t been...” Dani’s smiling, the way Jamie has grown accustomed to over the last few months: a beautiful smile that never entirely reaches her eyes. It’s the way she smiles when she thinks she needs to wear a mask of stability, when she needs everyone to think she’s doing all right. 

Henry frowns. “Haven’t been what?”

Dani shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Scared? Having nightmares? I don’t know...”

She’s asking-not-asking about that night, like she told Jamie she wasn’t going to do. They don’t need me bringing it up, she’d said back at the hotel, holding tight to Jamie in a way that said she very much needed to talk about this against her own will. They deserve to just live their lives. 

Henry looks puzzled. “Strange, but no. No nightmares. Flora had a few at the very start, before we left London, but...no. Not since arriving here.”

Dani nods like this is all she wants to hear, and rubs her cheek with one slightly-sunburnt hand, the moment passing into obscurity as Flora shrieks and Miles trips directly into an oncoming wave. It’s all good here, all sunshine and ease of temper, and Jamie watches Henry stand. Brush off shorts that look truly insane set against his pale legs. Go awkward-jogging into the surf to lift a giggling Flora heavenward. 

“They make a fine little family,” she says, pitching her voice so only Dani can hear. Dani nods. There’s a tightness to her mouth that says she’s only half here, only half able to let the sun bake away the shadows. Jamie touches her ankle lightly, wishing they were somewhere less requiring of distance. 

“I’m all right,” Dani says. Not a lie of intent, at least, though Jamie suspects it’s more that she wants to be all right. She watches Dani roll onto her front, eyes on the endless ocean, the children tumbling around in its gentle grasp, the man doing his best to keep up. 

Could watch her forever, Jamie thinks, knowing it’s far too early to say something so catastrophically huge. She’s been having these thoughts more and more, wild notions of turning this brand-new adventure with Dani into a lifetime event. It turns a key somewhere deep within her chest, some far-off engine making a deep rumbling sound that sends her tripping toward a very real, very powerful feeling of terror. 

Her hand slips toward the bag of sunscreen, paperback novels, sliced oranges. A camera, small and yellow and used mainly in moments like this one, emerges. Dani never notices as she brings it to her eye, frames Dani’s blonde ponytail and sun-pink skin, snaps a photo. 

Later, when the pictures are developed and spread out across a hotel bedspread, shots of Miles with an orange-peel grin and Flora standing before a monster of a sandcastle intercut with Dani’s far-off pensive expression, Dani will touch the print. Lingeringly, fingers trembling just the slightest bit.

“Why this one?”

Because I loved you more than words could capture, Jamie will know it’s far too early to say. It’d be reckless. It’d be testing the bounds of something still fragile, still one-day-at-a-time hopeful. 

“Why not?” she’ll say, and tuck the photo safely back into its sleeve. 

***

A photo: Jamie and Dani, backs to the freshly painted Leafling sign, standing carefully apart with shoulders back and a small bouquet of flowers clutched in Dani’s hands.

They keep to themselves, mainly, but some of the nearby shopkeepers have been kind as The Leafling goes from mad late-night concept to brick-and-mortar reality. They bring welcome-to-the-block plants and casseroles that are mostly-edible, and Dani accepts each one with true Midwestern courtesy. Jamie leans back, watches the art of neighborly behavior being painted before her eyes: older women who compliment Dani on her earrings, young men bullied into helping move heavy boxes into storage by their mothers. Dani, in the middle of it all, wearing a soft pastel sweater and a smile that has finally remembered its own strength. 

She wasn’t sure how this would go, if Jamie’s honest about it. She’s been telling Dani not to worry for weeks, telling Dani they don’t need to know much about a business to run this one. I grow, you arrange, we make out like bandits with all the nice Americans who value pretty things. It’ll be perfect, Poppins. She’s been saying it, and she thinks she even believes her own words most of the time, but there have been dreams. Anxiety running its red thread through her sleep, telling her she has no skill in this arena, no education to speak of, no idea how to survive in American business while hiding her relationship with her “business partner”. 

The day the shop finally opens, Jamie has been saying “it’s going to be great” for so long, she almost surprises herself by rushing into the bathroom and vomiting into the toilet. Dani, expression warm and just the tiniest bit teasing, leans against the doorframe.

“You all right?”

“Perfect,” Jamie gasps, staggering to the sink and thrusting a toothbrush into her mouth. “Jus’ great.”

“Too late to turn back now,” Dani points out. “What would we do with all the business cards?”

Jamie groans, spitting mint foam and rinsing out her mouth. “You could show just the slightest bit less glee, Poppins. I’ve just run us into a brick wall of imminent failure.”

Dani laughs, coming up behind her to hug her tight around the middle. “We should probably at least unlock the doors for the first time before you decide it’s time to shutter them again.”

She’s good today, Jamie senses--not the fake-good where she tries her best to pretend she isn’t listening for some deep-down movement Jamie can’t register, but truly happy. Her body is relaxed, her hands certain as she tips Jamie’s cheek and kisses her calm. 

“How,” Jamie gasps when they break, “are you not out of your bloody mind right now?”

Dani shrugs. “It’s like the first day of school. Spend all summer planning and worrying, but now it’s happening. Just gotta jump in.”

There are already people waiting when they arrive, to Jamie’s mingled horror and delight. Most of them are their fellow shopkeepers, waiting with the brilliant smiles of people who have already lived this particular nightmare themselves, and just want to pay forward the relief of customers actually turning up. They’re kind, these people--they don’t know Jamie in the least, don’t have the first idea what shadows lurk behind Dani’s eyes, but they take their hands, squeeze, and congratulate them all the same. Jamie thinks they even mean it, most of them. Americans are complicated, boisterous, scandalous people--but they can have such heart. 

One woman, old enough to be Jamie’s grandmother, presses a bouquet of peonies against Dani’s chest. “For luck,” she says croakily, patting Dani’s cheek like she’s known her since Dani was three feet tall. “Dry ‘em, hang ‘em somewhere in the back. Remember we’re all rooting for you.”

“Rooting,” a man who owns a nearby pizzeria hoots. “Good one, Carol!”

Jamie almost rolls her eyes, but Dani is beaming. When the others make flapping get in front of the sign gestures, they can’t help but obey, standing with a perfectly-maintained half-person between their shoulders. She wants so badly to reach over, to take Dani’s hand, to kiss her with all the terror and relief she’d never known she could feel at once. Instead, she smiles as professionally as she knows how for the camera someone produces. It’s enough.

Later, tapping a finger against the print the photographer drops on their counter, Jamie says, “Look like I want to pass out.”

Dani glances toward the window, takes note of the empty street, presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’d have caught you.”

***

A photo: Jamie, sitting just behind Dani on a plush couch, arm wrapped around her waist, cheek pressed to flyaway blonde hair. Dani, grinning her widest, cheesiest grin, leaning back like she knows there is no world in which Jamie would ever let her fall.

There are parties, occasionally--usually thrown by other under-the-radar couples they get along with well enough for drinks, not so much that they truly build relationships. They like the quiet life, the two-person road trips, the easy silence after a long day. But, sometimes, life is grand and big and loud, and on those nights, they venture out into the world.

There are a pair of men maybe five years their senior who have been together for “a decade”, if you ask Mike, “a century”, if it’s Paul telling the tale. They’re good people, and their home is a safe space Jamie doesn’t anticipate finding. 

Friends are hard, she thinks. Always were, but they’re so much harder once you’ve lost a couple.

Still: when Mike and Paul are set to celebrate a round ten years together (”An eternity,” Paul clarifies, leaning against the Leafling counter to invite them over), they go. Dani wants to, and it’s good seeing Dani want things like this. It’s been almost a year together, almost a year of exploring the map and one another, and Dani’s been getting softer around the edges, less prone to jumping at shadows. The Dani Clayton of a year ago wouldn’t want to attend parties, lest the beast inside leap while her guard is lowered; the Dani Clayton of tonight is holding up a dark green dress, brow furrowed. 

“Too much?”

Jamie hums a moment to buy herself time. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you’d like to actually leave the house tonight.” Jamie wiggles her eyebrows, buttoning a black shirt and searching for a good pair of suspenders. Dani laughs. 

“I think you can keep your hands to yourself for a few hours.”

“You,” Jamie points out, sidling up behind her and kissing her neck, “have always had entirely too much faith in me, Poppins.”

Dani is, however, a woman of her word when it comes to accepting social invitations, and soon they’re sitting on an exceptionally soft couch in an exceptionally loud living room. Jamie glances around, reading the environment, registering the two women holding hands by the coffee table, the men dancing near the kitchen, the way even the male-female pairs seem not to see anything odd. Mike and Paul have been doing this a long time. This is as safe a space as their own home. 

She likes the way Dani relaxes, a little more with every drink tucked into her hand, a little more with a lit cigarette pulled from Jamie’s, a little more still when Mike nudges her and mutters, “Your girl looks good tonight, Clayton.”

She likes, most of all, the way Dani doesn’t flinch away when a Polaroid comes out. These are good people, brave people, smart people. If there are photos taken tonight, they will be pressed straight into the hands of their subjects, gifted away before the chemicals have even processed. 

Dani presses back against her, seated on her lap, laughing at some joke Jamie hasn’t really been paying attention to. She’s too busy watching Dani’s profile, the way her head tips back when she’s really laughing, too hard to care what she looks like. Too busy reveling in how it feels to hold Dani in a setting so much more public than usual, her fingers stroking the soft material of Dani’s dress, her body burning and the most comfortable it’s ever been. 

Later, with the Polaroid on the nightstand, the green dress on the floor, and a sheet tucked up against the fall chill, Dani says, “We should do that more.”

Jamie chuckles against her shoulder, kissing a patch of freckles. “This?”

“Yes.” Dani wriggles a little, giggling. “But also that.” She’s gesturing to the photo, propped between a lamp and copy of some old Shirley Jackson novel. “It was nice, wasn’t it? Not...”

“Hiding,” Jamie supplies. Dani makes a humming noise soft in her throat. 

“I like not hiding you.”

***

A photo: Dani, eyes dark with a smolder only Jamie ever sees, a cigarette between her lips, hair loose around her shoulders. 

Nights spent home with Dani, nights where there are no groceries to pick up, no accounting to be done, no errands waiting to be noticed, are Jamie’s absolute favorite thing in the world. There’s just something about this sense of home they’ve been building together, this sense of locked door and secured window and no one else invited to partake that gets Jamie the way nothing else does. 

Especially Dani. Dani at home is less reserved, less careful. With every month that passes quietly, no sign of anything but her own mind, Dani gets a little less tight. A little less prone to gazing off into the middle distance. A little less likely to disappear from an otherwise-normal conversation, emerging several minutes later like she’s pulling herself out of a dream.

And, some nights, she’s not just here--she’s utterly present, every atom of her tuned to Jamie like they have no need of space between them, no need of separation. These nights, the nights where Dani strides into the room on a mission, are Jamie’s favorite of all. 

“Why,” Dani says, leaning back in a kitchen chair with legs spread and head tilted to exhale smoke toward the ceiling, “are you looking at me like that?”

“Me?” Jamie teases. “You’re the one gazing at me like I’m some terribly interesting new buffet.”

She’s half-joking, but there’s something about the way Dani looks at her on this very particular sort of night, with every line of her body tuned toward Jamie’s, that makes her feel a stupid kind of brave. A reckless kind of excitement unwinds outward, until her fingertips itch to grab at Dani’s hair, her knees weak with the desire to pull Dani close. 

She’s doing it now, smoking that cigarette with all the languid energy of a woman perfectly at home, watching Jamie with a faint smirk playing around her lips. No one else sees that smirk, Jamie understands, and it makes her a little faint every time she thinks it. To have something of Dani, some integral comfortable part of Dani that belongs solely to their apartment, their life together, is still a good fortune Jamie can’t entirely parse out. 

Her hand moves toward the camera, small and plastic and containing some of the best memories of Dani she desperately needs to keep. Dani lets her snap off a shot, shakes her head when Jamie lowers the camera.

“That’s going to be one of yours.”

She says it every time Jamie tries to capture the white-hot energy of this kind of evening. Dani doesn’t like to see herself through this particular lens, gets fidgety and embarrassed at the sight of her own face etched with such a confident hunger. Jamie asked the first time if Dani wanted her to stop taking the photos altogether, and Dani had shaken her head.

“I don’t mind. But they’re yours, okay?”

She sets the camera aside, moving to take the cigarette out of Dani’s hand, taking a long drag and dropping it in an ashtray. The rest doesn’t need anything in the way--no lens, no embarrassment, nothing but the way Dani’s mouth opens beneath hers, hands already roaming. The rest is not Jamie’s, but theirs, a joint ownership of soft moans and soft skin and soft assurances that this is still, always, home. 

Later, with Dani asleep, one hand thrown loosely over Jamie’s hip, Jamie will look at the photos that are hers and hers alone. Dani, mouth wet and swollen from a night spent confined to their bedroom around their anniversary. Dani, grinning and half-asleep, glancing over her shoulder to coax Jamie into putting the camera down, joining her among the blankets. Dani, smoke-haze around her face, wine glass in her hand, looking just past the camera at Jamie’s own desire. 

Dani’s choice to share a life with her, Dani’s decision to share every inch of herself with Jamie, is more than Jamie feels anyone deserves. 

***

A photo: Dani in front of the Eiffel Tower, sunglasses on, arms spread wide.

A photo: Dani kneeling at the Grand Canyon, gesturing bewilderment at the sheer scope of the place.

A photo: Dani standing before the alleged largest ball of twine in the world, looking rather like she regrets letting Jamie pick the destination this time.

They travel until Dani can’t stomach it anymore, can’t take the uncertainty of unknown roads and unmapped hotel beds--but, first, years of travel. Years of postcards and rental cars, of Jamie turning maps upside down and Dani being shockingly savvy in small-town situations. 

These photos, more than any other, feel like they have to be taken for someone else’s idea of posterity, and Jamie feels a little strange, at first. Dani’s already seen much of Europe by the time they meet, and has no photos whatsoever to show for it. Jamie, who started turning up in photos for the first time as an adult, says, “It’ll be good to show ‘em off,” while never quite bringing herself to the edge of an unspoken follow-up question: to whom, exactly? It isn’t as though she and Dani are having children, isn’t as though there will be grandkids tottering around down the line to tune out their stories. Who, exactly, are these mementos for?

Dani is far too kind, far too pragmatic, to put the question to her. Dani only poses, grins, lets Jamie take all the pictures she wants, and then--camera tucked safely away once more--grabs Jamie’s hands and leads her into living it: the food, the outdoor markets, the snowstorms, the sun-kissed hikes. As the years go by, Jamie takes more and more photos, never quite able to explain to herself why it’s so critical. Never quite able to look away when Dani finally covers the lens with one hand and brings her close, kissing her like it’s the first time. 

They stop looking at these photos together, after a while. Stop trying so hard to go back, as the days grow shorter and the exhaustion begins to steal the warmth from Dani’s smile. At first, it’s about moving forward--always one foot in front of the other. At first, every photo taken is set aside as a gift to another life. And then, finally, it’s about the moment they’re in, nothing more. Jamie sets the camera on a shelf. Refuses to look at Dani through any barrier but her own two eyes. Dani doesn’t like the snap-click of the camera anymore, anyway--each time, she flinches, like Jamie is about to show her a glimpse of whatever horror she’s been seeing in the mirror. 

I only see you, Jamie promises, the ache in her chest so great, she’s sure it will swallow them both. But Dani can’t bring herself to look. Can’t bring herself, just in case Jamie is wrong. 

Later--so much later, with eyes stinging and arms empty--she flips through the album and remembers Spain, California, Minnesota, Greece. Later, she finds Dani sticking her tongue out, spinning like a deranged nun out of musical, sitting quietly in a cafe with a small cup of coffee warming her hands. Dani, stiff-shouldered and trying not to laugh as Jamie made faces the one time they ever ventured back to Iowa. Dani, hair blowing back into her face, arms looped around Jamie at a terrifying, exhilarating first Pride parade. 

And, in the back, the photos of Dani as only Jamie knew her. The sly grin a second before pinning Jamie to the couch. The sweet surprise from Jamie coming home early with dinner. Shot after shot of no make-up, or smudged eyeliner, or ruined lipstick, of Dani in pajamas on Christmas, or Dani in bed after a shower, or Dani laughing herself silly at nothing Jamie can remember now. 

They’re all here, and they’re all Dani--all of Dani Jamie’s got left now--and still, they’re wrong. They sit, plastic and unyielding, beneath flimsy protective sheets, and they don’t laugh like Dani, don’t breathe out against her skin like Dani, don’t smell like Dani’s shampoo or swear like Dani tripping over a shoe in the dark or look at her with that solid, palpable love like Dani did and should still and never will again. 

Jamie sits, album in her lap, staring down at Dani with paint smudged on her cheek and their then-new bedroom behind her, and suddenly can’t remember how to breathe. Had she known? Somewhere in the back of her mind that day in a gas station, picking up a little yellow disposable camera, had she known that one day, this would be all she had left of Dani? Surely not. Surely, she hadn’t believed it would go this way, all the way back then. Surely, it was one day at a time, and we’ll have time, and any day with you, Poppins. 

Had she known? No. No, of course she hadn’t.

And yet, the idea of not having these in front of her--the idea of Dani’s face slowly, surely, washing away over time as Jamie fails to find her in a world so uncompromisingly cruel...

She touches a shot of Dani with her left hand covering her mouth, her ring gleaming gold against her smile, the day the state had legalized civil unions. Dani as gold as sunshine, in one of the last truly clean moments, before old ghost stories dug rotting fingers into their life. Her vision grays, her head suddenly too heavy to hold up. 

She hadn’t known. But she’s glad. She’s glad she has, at least, this much to hang on to.

[cienie-isengardu]

Lin Kuei: food

RELIGION <> ORIGINS / ARCHITECTURE <> FOOD <> FOR THE LIN KUEI <> ART <> CRYOMANCERS <> LIN KUEI SOCIETY <> MONEY & MATERIAL GOODS

The continuation of the morgianesffs-blog’s awesome list of questions about Lin Kuei. I initially divided them into smaller categories and the food will be the subject of the essay.

For the formalities, the original questions:

Food.  What foods do they normally eat? What foods do they like?  What foods don't they like? What foods do they absolutely love so much they'll stop what they're doing to get it?

I guess the Lin Kuei take on food may be stricte pragmatic one - they eat what is available. Preferable something that will keep them in top shape but everything will do, if necessary. Self-sufficiency and the art of survival are part of training so Lin Kuei would not have any second thoughts about eating stuff that people normally would not even think about. At the same time, there is a big chance that every adepts to some degree suffered from hunger and thirst, either as a part of punishment or test for endurance or a simply lack of skill to catch (steal) the food. I doubt the clan cares to feed warriors any fancy food, even more since the Lin Kuei headquarters (Temple / Fortress) is usually located in a harsh environment in which food is hard to grow to begin with. Because of this natural disadvantage, hunting seems like a good additional food source. It fed the clan but also gave opportunity for adepts / warriors to show their skills and gain experience (or in case of coming back with empty hands, bring them shame?). MK: Armageddon had the ice beasts marauding through the Arcika region - killing them could provide: food, furs, maybe some magic ingredients and safety.

Also, Lin Kuei knew about and used portals leading to Outworld - one of old comics, Battlewave #5, outright says the clan had a hidden passageway.

So the Lin Kuei could also get food from different realms, either by stealing the necessary stuff or as payment.. I kinda think that Lin Kuei has a system of related villages that serve the clan and satisfy the material needs like food and clothes. Maybe they pay tribute to the clan out of fear or maybe it is a more symbiotic deal? 

Anyway, I don’t think the clan would spoil their people with any fancy food to keep the rigorous discipline in check - albeit the clan could put on a suitable feast in honor of a respected guest/client like Shang Tsung if the occasion required it. At the same time, I don’t think it is forbidden to taste new dishes once the warriors were on mission. Especially not on a long-term kind of job when clan members must pretend to be normal human beings.

Because of that I suspect that those warriors who work undercover in various parts of Earthrealm and/or Outworld may indulge in eating all sorts of food, from expensive to the cheapest trash food. Whatever the budget / occasion would allow them, at least. And who knows, maybe the warriors like to challenge each other to eat the weirdest possible food, as some sort of courage test? Or just for personal fun? You know, like many young people do taste the freedom once they are on their own, far away from a strict “family”? 

At the same time, in times when there is not enough food, I can see the best parts or full portions being given to the most useful / essential members so the position in hierarchy may influence what and how much warrior is allowed to eat. Because let's be real here, (the old) Lin Kuei does not have a good track with empathy for weaklings. 

Now, I’m gonna head into headcanon-ish territory, so keep that in mind, please.

I know it is a pretty popular joke (included even in the game itself as part of “friendship” finish moves) that Sub-Zero likes ice cream but honestly, I do think that cryomancers in fact prefer cold food over anything else.

(Human hybrid) Cryomancers are said to develop their powers as an young adults(*) and growing the freezing skills with passing time (which Bi-Han being the exception to the rule because he developed ice ability earlier than usual), so the older they get, their bodies are more and more adapted to hold the toll of cryomancer nature (like temperature dropping to negative degrees?). So getting inside them anything remotely warm sounds more like torture than feeding. 

(Of course, it could be the other way, as needing the hot food to keep cryomancers from freezing from inside but the drastic temperature differences are not human-friendly. First aid in case of frostbite even cautions against heating the body too fast with too high a temperature to avoid negative effects. Which is why I’m sticking to cryomancers preferring cold food over anything warm)

The cryomancer kids may be less sensitive to the difference between temperature of their bodies and eaten food / drink - though I suspect cryomancer genes should not be dismissed even at such young age - but in all fairness, I can’t imagine Bi-Han or Kuai Liang eating anything else than raw food, preferably not touched by fire or at least deep-frozen / cold and ice-creams are both cold and can provide necessary minerals / calories to keep them going. 

So yeah, I can totally see Bi-Han and Kuai Liang buying dozens of ice-cream boxes for breakfast, dinner and supper like it was the normal thing in the world. And probably keeping various deep-frozen foods in the fridge and eating it raw. To Tomas, Sektor or Cyrax’s horror, whoever was unlucky to be stuck with cryomancers on an undercover mission. Okay, I lied. Bi-Han would probably just send others to do the shopping so he would not need to deal with annoying people.  

Bi-Han and Kuai Liang are capable of eating and drinking hot food because they were forced to learn that. That is why Kuai Liang was capable of brewing tea and why he used such a ceremony as a sign of good will toward Hanzo Hasashi even though drinking hot tea is, by nature, painful. 

As for taste, I think both Bi-Han and Kua Liang like plain flavors. Especially Bi-Han with his minimalistic nature. Kuai Liang seems more willing to taste different food and drink under Smoke’s challenge or suggestion. Ice creams may be the exception but less because cryomancers care for taste in itself and more because they are okay to eat any flavor as long as it is cold and available. Otherwise, they may just freeze various liquids (water, milk, juice) and eat them as ice creams. Something that actually could be pretty frustrating for other warriors if they left a carton of milk out of sight for a moment only to find Bi-Han or Kuai Liang freezing it and eating its content with a spoon. Because of that, the idea of coffee or tea with milk could be problematic (controversial) matter. Bi-Han accepts only Hydro’s need for milk added to coffee or tea - once Hydro gets it, the rest of milk is a fair game. And Cyrax seems to be bold enough to guard any open carton of milk or juice and keep it out of reach of Bi-Han, especially if he was the one responsible for shopping.

(Also, if Bi-Han even decided to smuggle the outside food for young Kuai Liang, I think it wouldn’t be anything sweet. More like frozen french fries just to tell his little brother how earthrealm people eat it heated up. Just imagine the shock and outrage of little Kuai Liang at the human stupidity!)

Comics!Hydro, as a close companion of Bi-Han is the most used to weird cryomancers eating habits. Because of water-related powers, Hydro likes everything liquid or with liquid consistency - soups, broths, jogurths, smoothies, everything will do. Somehow not really into meat. Also, the one advantage of such power is that Hydro can feed on water if necessary. 

In contrast to cryomancers, I imagine Tomas actually likes deeply fried or smoked stuff. Because without a fire there is no smoke and I like to think Enenra draws energy from fire / heat. Except the moments when Tomas is triggered by something from his past - then the smell or taste of burnt / burning meat (skin, hair) disgust him completely. May actually not like ice creams. Otherwise, he likes Czech food or in general, Central European / Central Eastern European cuisine because its taste is one of few things he remembers from his previous life. This is Tomas’ comfort food.

For me, Sektor with his obsessive behaviour is the one that tries to balance his food and reject the idea of eating anything for fun or out of curiosity. He wants to be in perfect shape and does not care for taste at all. To some degree, he also worries about how the foreign food will affect his strength, weight or body shape when on a long-term mission. The same as Bi-Han, Sektor is the last person that should be sent on shopping. However in case of the older Sub-Zero the problem lies in his abrasive nature and how he doesn’t conform to social norms (thus standing out too much) while Sektor won’t buy anything unless he reads the whole ingredients list and all additional information put on the package. Which means a shopping trip that takes like 10 minutes at best for other warriors usually takes Sektor around two hours, at least. You send him alone to shop for food and you are going to be hungry for the next few hours.

Considering how Cyrax is the most normal (balanced) Lin Kuei, he probably has the most healthy approach to food. Will eat anything that looks good, including fast foods ‘cause why not, it is cheap, edible and takeaway. And trust Cyrax to convince Sektor to eat that damn food too (the trick is to not let Sektor read what is - or is not - inside his meal). I don’t think Cyrax has a favorite kind of food because he doesn't like to limit himself. The same as Smoke, he may miss cuisine from his homeland but the general idea is to enjoy small pleasures like eating good food with companions.

Also, Cyrax is the only one that should be trusted with a shopping list if the Lin Kuei group for some reason ends in a shopping centre. A shopping list and the control over the trolley.

(Frost, like Bi-Han and Kuai Liang is all about cold / frozen food)

(*) From Mythologies Sub-Zero: “Sub-Zero learned of his ability as a young adult [...]. The ability to harness the element of cold is one that takes years of practice. It's full potential realized only by those who've mastered it at the latest stages of life. Sub-Zero's skills have the ability to develop much faster than those of the other Lin Kuei.” The fact that Bi-Han A) learned of his ability as a young adult and those B) develop much faster than usual at least suggest most modern cryomancers get their ice powers rather as grown up.

[whereflowersbloom]

Meet me at the horizon

Damian has spent nearly three hours inside the meeting room of one of the biggest companies of the Eastern Coast, Wayne Enterprises, the silence was strong after several hours discussing the approval of new projects, majority of them Proposed by Timothy Drake. Tim was a genius in Computer Engineering and Technologies, currently working with Lucious Fox. He just graduated and was already making money developing enterprise digital assistance apps and what not for the company. Unfortunately the silence lasted less than two deep breaths as the board directors, shareholders, his siblings and even his own father were exchanging goodbyes and handshakes, scheduling the next meeting already. His father had promised to take Helena shopping with Selina. His adoptive siblings stayed in the meeting room, deciding to have a much-deserved break, to catch up with their daily activities.

Damian frowned unconsciously, his head was throbbing with the surge of scenes in his head. The scenes he was so used to see in his dreams for the last nine months, but the last three months have been assaulting him any moment of the day, especially close to his eldest brother Richard. The meeting seemed to have opened a door to these dreams and this talk about opening an office in Jump city was making it worse. Jump City. He had the vague sensation he’d been there before...

Tim, Richard and Duke seemed to be too busy speaking about the next big game of Gotham Knights, the hockey team, to notice his troubled expression. They mumbled something about asking Jason to slow down from his intense sportbike racer life and watch the game all together. Damian didn’t bother listening to the rest, he was attacked by images of that younger version of himself in some kind of flashy vigilante costume fighting criminals.

“We should go to the game this weekend. The girl I’m seeing now, Kori said she was interested in learning about traditional sports. She’s been in Gotham for six months now. She’s very enthusiastic about cultural learning.” Richard suggested with a wide smile to his siblings completely excited. Eyes like wildfire lit with the spark of life. He hadn’t met Dick’s girlfriend but he looked happier than he’s ever seen him in years.

“Are you joining, D or you’ve got a date?” Duke asked with a teasing tone in his sardonic voice.

Damian did not retribute the smile his adoptive brother gave him, trying to mask his still throbbing head. He looked at him, threatening gaze was a subtle warning. He didn’t know why this was happening that day, but the talk about Jump City and Dick’s new girlfriend were just bringing more of those images. Most of them weren’t good ones. Gory, brutal, bloody. He liked more the ones that seemed to joyful. The ones with that girl.

“He barely seem to have time to meet someone. He’s a workaholic.” it was Tim who answered with an amused smile on his lips, masking an exhausted mien.

“At this pace he’s close enough to become a celibate monk.” Duke joked elbowing Tim lightly, who laughed in response.

“I tried to set him up with some girls, but I almost end up with a broken jaw.” Dick shrugged slightly as he told them with details how Damian had turned down Kara Danvers, Tim’s girlfriend’s best friend. Admittedly she was a nice-looking woman but not the one he desired.

Damian decided to ignore the moronic comments about his love life from his siblings.

Storming out of the meeting room without uttering a single word. They knew nothing about his romantic life. Tsk. A breath of fresh is what he required, lost in consuming thoughts about the girl.

People form the company knew him as the extremely professional boss that run his department with an almost iron fist, he was fair though, accepting the situation of people that worked under him, but he didn’t accept people trying to take advantages or lacking in his services. And he was indeed workaholic.

The media knew him as the ‘Ice Prince of Gotham’, the young heir that was always looking serious, with a cold aura around him, with no type of relationships or scandals so far. He didn’t have the bad boy aura like Jason, ‘chicks’ seemed to dig it as Duke would crudely express. He appeared distant of people out of his inner circle. However, women followed him like bees to flowers in order to collect nectar.

It was just his Wayne charm he couldn’t turn off, regardless of the situation. Like his father, Damian just attracted female attention like a magnet. But no girlfriend. He's had the odd fling here and there but nobody has ever really caught his eye and he's incredibly busy he hasn't the time to feel that maybe he's missing out. Until he saw her.

All his time, attention and passion have been poured into his work. Not that he loved it exactly but he's never been one to do things by halves. Of course he made time to spend quality time with his family, after all, little Helena was barely ten years old. Perky and tireless, too smart for her age if he added. EHis youngest sister.

He was also known in the sports world as one of the most skilled people on the art of the traditional sword fighting and martial arts. He didn’t know where this passion for sword fighting began, although he would bet all his money that it had something to do with his strange recurrent dreams.

 Although his life was satisfactory in his personal view, he always felt as if something was missing. He felt as lonely as the teenager in his dreams when the girl was not around him. She was missing.

Why this bothered him so much, he couldn’t find a logical reason that made any sense. It was just a simple dream, and that girl wasn’t much more than that. A dream. But why he felt that way? That need to look around every time he was in a place full of people hoping to get a glimpse of those shinning amethyst eyes looking at him like she did in his dreams with such profound emotion. Or his necessity to look for her around the world as if he was sure he could find her. She was etched in his bones, buried in down his bronze skin, burning in his chest leaving him out of breath. The images were flooding his mind again. More than absurd dreams, they were a recollection of memories...from a different lifetime perhaps.

They had something briefly, he gathered from the persistent dreams. It was intense, passionate. It was only something he could describe as love. But suddenly they parted ways, forced to be away from the other. They lost contact. The images were so vivid. They felt so real. A first last kiss filled with sorrow, powerlessness, genuine affection. It was carved into his mind until he memorized it. That moment. The warmth and scent of her breath put him in an hypnotic daze. Her lips parted softly, and he could taste faint traces salt from her tears when her soft lips pressed against his. He could feel lightning coursing through his veins, as if his entire world had been set ablaze only lasting seconds. Then it was gone. The ghost of a promise of a second chance. He’d grown tired of waiting for her to appear before his eyes. Every damn second felt like an eternity in itself. With every passing moment, his patience waned a little more and his heart sank a little further.

The haunting pain, endless longing, fear of losing her, the regret of leaving her behind first. They were all real. It was a silent torture.

At first, foolishly he believed these feelings would eventually fade and he would no longer be haunted by her phantom presence. Only memories he thought as he closed his emerald eyes. And her pale, heart-shaped, beautiful face flitted across his mind. Damian had spent his entire life being in control. But every time he met her in his dreams, he seemed to lose his grasp on his emotions, his life, and sometimes, even his destiny. He had to find her.

The wind howling through halls of old memories, piercing through solitude, skin and bone until there’s nothing but heavy emotions and melancholy. Walking with a heart that’s taken too many hits, never too fragile but refusing to be held in the hands of another’s that don’t belong to hers. In his chest remained an ache, a longing for what was or could have been. What he let slip.

“I am sorry we did not have time, Raven.” He mumbled almost in a whisper to nothingness. It felt like a heartfelt apology a thousand years too late. Maybe more or less. A lifetime too late. If their hearts and destiny were entwined surely they would find their back to each other no matter what. Damian carried that hope in his heart, always his constant companion. If He were to walk to the ends of the earth and waited for her on the horizon after the sun has set, would she be there? At the point where the land and sky meets. Could they be together once again?

Raven. The girl. He thought of her during the long hours between dusk and dawn, as he ate dinner alone or read next to the window. She was an ever present fixture in his mind and never more so than today. He considered what he might say to her once he found her, but what rational excuse could he offer to a stranger? He doubted she would find comfort in the ridiculous phrases he might string together about meeting in a past lifetime or those dreams. What if she had them too? If it wasn’t some breathtakingly realistic illusion and she was so where in this city or Jump City or anywhere else looking for him. It was silly to entertain such notions, he knew it well. But that didn’t stop his mind from wandering from time to time when he found a poignant passage of poetry that tugged at his heart, or a new book that fascinated him. She loved books how he knew that, he was not sure. What he wouldn’t give to have long days spent indulging their mutual passion for literature, poetry, history and ancient languages.

He’s been walking around for longer than he imagined, looking at his watch it’s last 6:00 pm. It was out of instinct or some magnetic pull forcing his body to look at the flower shop, whatever universal spirit or energy did it. He was thankful. The shop was tiny, a sliver of space between a cafe and bookstore, and would have disappeared into the surrounding stone and woodwork had it not been for the white and lavender exterior. Eyes quickly scanning surroundings. It was exquisite and untamed, thorny blackberry brambles mingle with fresh citrusy kumquats wrapped languidly around overhanging light fixtures for a wild, yet utterly magnificent and unique look. It had a three-panel glass window boasting an avant-garde display of blush dahlias, blizzard hydrangeas, soft purple lilacs, a mixture of green stems and leaves that balanced everything out. He had been here before but never spotted the shop. The shop was definitely new and if Damian hadn’t known this neighborhood so well, the faint smell of fresh paint would have given it away.

Her hair was a deep navy blue sprinkled with white, like starlight in winter. Her heart-shaped had matured beautifully, moonlight skin. She was a flashing star born with striking surreal violet orbs. She was holding astilbe flowers in white and soft pink. She set the flowers on the counter carefully, her fingers hovering in the space around them, like she wanted to guard them, to protect every petal from the possibility of being crushed. As if they were more than blooms of colour, like there were uniquely cherishable aspects to each one that is not present in the next. He could see that type of caring in her. This was his Raven. This can’t be real, Right? The world wouldn’t be this cruel to him, playing mind tricks on him. She was here. O

Damian thought of every slow-motion, heart-stopping, head-spinning scene in every romance movie or show or novel and how he’d always assumed they were stupid, nothing but rubbish. But here he was standing astonished literally staring at the woman of his dreams. Speak with her. Just hear her low and calming voice. That was all his mind would permit him to focus on, the single-minded determination to see her again.

He moved with driving purpose, his legs propelling him to go inside the little store and tell her everything about his dreams, recollection of old memories. The thought crossed his mind so briefly he scarcely dwelt on it, but that was how it had been for him in the months since dreaming of Raven. His pace slowed as he was stopped by the entrance door, opening it slowly, willing his heart to steady the gallop rhythm of its beats. The sun was shining brightly through the shop’s windows, soft classical music played through the serene and scented atmosphere.

The anticipation rushing through his veins felt like burning his tongue on Earl Grey too hot-tea a chilly rainy day, a dry mouth after sleepless night tossing and turning because other side of his bed looked too empty, trees in the park swayed and shuddered by the afternoon air before lighting fractures the sky and shakes earth, like he’s been waiting a million of breaths for this moment. In his twenty-one years of existence never experienced this wild and frantic emotion.

He swallowed around a very dry throat when he let the door swing shut behind him as his short, hesitant strides brought him directly up to the counter. Now they were face to face. Mustering the courage to say anything. Anything that dint make her think he was insane. But when his gaze met hers. Damian found himself awe-struck by the intensity behind familiar amethyst eyes. The stars couldn’t compare. The world and moon would crumble away. The sun would collapse into itself at this dazzling and glorious constellation that she was. Lilac pools hiding something mystic and ancient in their depth.

She leaned in closer to him in such a natural way, raising her head just to meet his. Her smile was sincere and expectant, pupils blown wide, but they’re focused, dark and determined, nearly drowning out the violet glint of her irises. His lips ached to reach for hers in a hungry kiss but refrained. Speechless, heart pounding in chest, peculiar fluttering sensation in his stomach, waiting for her to speak. Finally she took a deep and long breath before whispering. “Hello Damian. It’s been quite a long time.”

I rewrote this and hope you all like it. I can’t find it in me to update stories right now but have this short prompt. Specially written for @chromium7sky @ravenfan1242 @xaphrin @alerialblu @niahti and all my friends and readers. I’m so sorry some of you have been getting hate but we stand strong and together. 💜❤️❤️🥺🥺

@deep-in-mind67 @kallura-juniblade @bourniebna @timid-soot-sprite @deepbreadlover @tweepunkgrl @srose-foxfire

[rebloged-content]

Recommended Sanders Sides creators

Marry Christmas, everyone! And a wonderful December day to all of you who don’t celebrate Christmas, too. Let’s be honest right off the bat, though: I’m only using the date as an excuse to do this list anyways.

So. Throughout the time I’ve spent as a part of this wonderful corner of the sanders sides fandom over here on tumblr, I’ve often found a new creator and wished I’d found them sooner. It kind of makes me wonder who else I might miss. If you do to, here are a few creators I’d love for you to check out. You’ll probably recognize some of the names, if not all, but maybe you’ll find a new favorite creator here?

And to the creators in question, I really love your content. If you’ve made it onto this list, you’ve definitely cause one or two sleepless nights of reading for me, because who needs sleep if I can have this, right? XD Whatever you’ll find written next to your name is the impression you’ve left on me and… Well, just know that you’ve made some days of my life at least a little happier, all of you. And I hope to repay the favor by telling you how much I appreciate you releasing your content into this world… Well, repay the favor at least a little, I suppose.

Let’s begin, then, shall we?

@5am-the-foxing-hour Because this? This is who you go to if you want to read good Janus-content. You are in a mood to read sympathetic Janus? Wanna see the danger noodle just casually interact with other sides? Go to their short stories. I mean, “the cult”? Prime example of how to tell a story with impact in just a few words. 8 paragraphs, but boy did I read that one on repeat. Or “water spray bottle”, this one is fun, short and will make you laugh. An energy drink for the fander heart, so to say.

Then there’s their mafia-au, “there’s more in me than precious metals”. Six are out so far, and I adore every single word of every single part of this. Protective Remus, sassy Janus, angst, comedy relief, destruction, Roman-Remus-sibling-rivalry, braincell Logan, survival instinct Virgil, working together over a common enemy… This fic has it all, believe me. Take your time and read it, because you will read the entire thing in one go once you start. At least I did, and I didn’t even notice.

And their advent writings? Those had me squealing and jumping around in a way I will deny if anyone ever sees it. I don’t even know what else to say, they are fucking fantastic and that’s that.

So, yeah. Go check them out, before I start fangirling about them even more. You know my personal favorites now, so just go there. You won’t regret it.

Next up is @coconut-cluster. Ah, yes, Lexi. Lexi, whose uni-AU started as self indulgent and has become the loceit story on tumblr. We all know her, or at least most of us do, and we all love her too. And while I also drop everything I do at any point of time I possibly can once I realize the uni-au has any form of new addition, there are a lot of other fics created by her that you should check out as well.

Did you, for example, ever want a sappy prinxiety one-shot with the sappiness only being implied, a mutual understanding of “we’re-not-saying-we-care-but-we-both-know-we-do” born from joking reassurances and a not-a-date-nope-only-a-break? While that may seem to be a tall order, that is exactly what “before the sun goes down” is. Plus there’s ice cream. Or maybe you’re more of a logince fan? Do you want a fic where Roman isn’t the prince but serves His Highness? Do you like sincere talks while you’re procrastinating showing your face to the subjects you don’t really want to rule over? In that case, you really should read “Viva la Vida”. Careful, though, this one is so sweet you’ll probably get a toothache… There also is an analogical fic that I’ve enjoyed very much: “Cracks in the Ceiling”. I love it, because it’s just calm. Fears creeping up on you, thrown away by a trusted friend with a few words, just by being there and playing into the metaphors you head created this time around. It’s calm, and there’s not really a climax or anything, but it doesn’t need one. Because it’s just a glance into everyday life. It’s beautiful in its own right, really.

What I’m saying is, Lexi has a lot more wonderful stories to tell than the uni-au. It’s the most popular one, sure, and it’s one of her best works. But you really should check out her other fics as well. Lexi herself once said that she writs fics she’d like to read. I would figure it’s because of this, but her stories are mostly things you don’t really find anywhere else. Dynamics, stories, world building, all of those are aspects you may find somewhere else. But Lexi is just one of those people who see what they miss in a fandom and create it themselves, and among these creators Lexi is my favorite. She just has that certain skill that makes that approach to writing result in the most enjoyable reading experiences. Lexi’s fics are special, because they’re different, because they are authentic and you can feel that when you’re reading her work.

@djpurple3 is another talented individual I want to talk about. I have to confess, DJ is, as far as original content goes, almost exclusively locked in my brain with the fiction “I just keep loosing my beat”. 23 Chapters so far, one better than the last. It’s a bitter-sweet story following Remus and his children, after the bitch of a mother has been brought behind bars. Abusive piece of shit. Yeah, I don’t like her much. But the story is so full of love and support, everyone trying their best, everyone seeing how much the others deserve the world and wishing they could give it to them… Roman and Remus have a sibling-dynamic I would die for here, too. Patton is just the most adorable friend to Deceit - here Damion - Virgil is a precious bean, Logan is cute and the teacher we all wish he’d had ourselves and… god, I could keep gushing about this fic forever. I’ll stop now, though, before I’ll start spoiler things. Wouldn’t want to do that, especially since I really, really, really want more people to give this a go. It’s not underrated, I just think everyone who doesn’t is missing out by a lot, so… Go over there and read DJ’s fic right fucking now, if you haven’t already read it at least once. Thank you.

@delimeful​, our wonderful lime-friend with a cute cat making a terrifying face in his header. First of all, there is the WIBAR universe, short for “Watch it burn and rust”. 5 chapters in act one, 4 intermissions (one of those with three chapters), one chapter of act two, as well as three extras and an au of this au called “the end of being alone”, and I’ve lost count of how many nights I spent reading those instead of sleeping like I should. (Or interacting with family. Or being productive. Or… It’s really a good story, okay?!) WIBAR is a deathworlder au. So a space au in which humans are regarded as dangerous deathworlders who can survive on a deathworld like earth. In other words, Virgil is the only human, and boy does that scare everyone around him. And the best part? You can feel the development, the shift in mentality regarding Virgil, feel the moment approach in which he isn’t a threat but a companion instead.

And, apart from the fic that inspired me enough to start writing “TINND!R?” over on my writing blog, there are a lot more amazing fics to read on lime’s blog. He wrote “How easy you are to need”, for example. It’s soft, it pulls at just the right heartstrings, it’s achingly hopeful and, god, the ending still has me in tears, even after the fifth - ? sixth? something among those lines - reread. This one’s a werewolf au, actually. Virgil is the werewolf, Logan, Patton and Roman are the humans.

Do you want yourself some of that pre-AA dynamic? I’d recommend “to taste your beating heart”. In this, Virgil gets separated from the rest of his group of vampire hunters and gets turned into a vampire himself, loosing his memories. And he’s “Anx” now, not “Virgil”, goddamnit! He isn’t their friend anymore, why don’t they understand that? Well, probably because they can still see Virgil’s old habits shining through. There’s a lot of tension, a lot of angst and a whole lot of frustration involved in this.

He also wrote some amazing one-shots. They’re mostly so well written that I’m almost sad not to be waiting on a continuation. There’s “the littlest mermaid”, in which Virgil goes to investigate a noise, finding a scared, tiny mermaid in need of help. In “community gardens” we have Remus being Remus, gaining the interest and friendship of the forest’s giant Logan. “Magical mutualism” tells the tale of a witch and a demon making a pact beneficial to both parties and opening the doors neither could have gone beyond alone. The way we’re all confused about our ships not actually having set sail yet comes to a hight in Virgil in regards to his friends in “amateur matchmakers”. And this is the point at witch I stop talking before I actually recommend every single one of lime’s fics instead of just my favorites as I had planed because I started to gush too much… XD

Let’s move on to @muppenthings​. Mupp is an amazing artist and she created a giant mermaid au. There’s this one orca who’s just… We love her, but I actually don’t think she’s the brightest. I really, really love her, though. Virgil himself is being a little protective over his human friends and casually so. I love this comic series for the art style, but I also love the way it makes me crack a laugh at least once per work. Or appeal to my mother-instincts, if it’s about baby Virgil. Too cute for his own good, I tell ya! And the facial expressions! The detail, the jokes, everything about this is wonderful. You should at least take a look.

@whenisitenoughtrees​. Cat got me with “This cup of yours tastes holy (This lie is dead)”. “A slow voice on a wave of phase” was next, later “Infinity and beyond”, “we are not alone in the dark with out demons” and “changing of the guard”. And then, suddenly, the night was over. I’ve read almost all of the fics in one go, and I’ve been semi-frequently visiting her master post ever since. When “There’s an endless road to rediscover” came out just a little while back, that lead to me re-reading through almost the entire list. I don’t regret it, my plans for that weekend would like to disagree.

These six fics I mentioned here are, by no means, the only ones I enjoyed. Those are just the ones I’ve found myself opening up again and again in sleepless nights. Those are the ones that pop up in my head and have me smiling to myself in the middle of god-knows-whatever-I’ve-been-doing-at-the-time.

Angst, fluff, hurt-comfort, you’ll find everything in that list. And something I’ve grown to like about Cat’s fics even more than anything else is the quick change between feeling perplexed, a startled laugh at certain wordings (you’ll know what I’m talking about when you see it) and apprehension. These fics will have you at the edge of you seat, swooping you away on an emotional roller coaster. And, god, the way Cat writes from Remus’ perspective? The introductions of her stories and the way she redirects to the main topic after going into detail on something? I saved a few paragraphs as screenshots on my phone because I love them and I want to read them again when I’m down. I just… Cat’s great.

Next up is @eliemo. Because Elias Virgil is the royalty of Virgil angst. From the touch-starved Virgil we’ve all had a head cannon of at one point in “Heart of Ice”, over ace Virgil panicking over telling his boyfriends that he his ace and didn’t think to tell them before in “Love our way” to so, so much more.

Mostly EV follows the story arc of an underlying feeling of dread at the beginning, which slowly grows into panic, exploding in a storm of angst and concludes in everyone, or at least whoever is around, coming to the rescue and helping to calm down, with the end being the hope for getting better in the future. They always manage to convey the confusion, fear or just the general thought process so well that you can’t help but get absorbed in the story. They know exactly what to say and what to leave between the lines to get the maximum effect. And, your heart will definitely be shattered after their angst. Still, the way the sides comfort each other and support each other so well every time is just… I love their stories, a lot.

I want to make two more suggestions if you want to check out this creator. A Janus angst fic, which can only be described as “ouch” you’ll find under the name “snake bite”. It hurts in the best way possible, because Janus gets the comfort he deserves.

The other suggestion gets a lot darker. It’s about Virgil having been abused by the “others” before he got accepted into the light side. The others are shocked to find out what has gone on behind their backs and they help Virgil in every way they can to recover. Of cause it’s a rocky path, though. This would be “Learned Behavior”. The series/au has twelve stories so far, one of which has two parts. You’ll find the master post for this pinned to the top on their blog.

If you like angst, you should also give @maybedefinitely404​ a look. Ly has a soulmate-au going, in which they use the concept of “you hear the music your soulmate listens to”. "Music in my head” is a prinxiety fic, but the two of them have yet to meet. Four chapters and two mini-fics in. The reason I mentioned angst is because in this - spoiler alert for the first few chapters here - , Virgil gets put through conversion therapy. Luckily Janus and Logan are better foster parents than the ones who did that to him.

They also have a master list for all their soulmate stories, featuring different ships. Apparently they participated in soulmate month, if I understood that correctly. And to be honest, that was how I even found their account. I absolutely adore their anxceit fic, which takes place in a human au. It’s starting off pretty sad, but the bonding moments are absolutely wonderful. It’s a lovely story, and the ending is one of the best ones I’ve yet to read. Their logince fic took my breath away, too. A flower shop/tattoo artist au, and Logan is the tattoo artist. Stunning writing, wonderful world building, just the right amount of backstory to have everything make sense without overwhelming/drowning the reader in unnecessary details. Their moxceit fiction… Well, this one had me in tears within the first few paragraphs. It’s terrible and you feel for Janus, whose perspective this is written from. The ending, though… Gods! The ending was so indescribably cute. To be honest, all of the soulmate stories are great, these three are just my personal favorites.

Concerning their one shots, you’ll probably have to figure it out on your own concerning this. I haven’t been able to read all of them yet, as sad as that makes me. Definitely palling on doing it in the future, though. I did read two of them, though. “Pippity poppity” really was amusing, and I am so looking forward to the second part of “The Boy who sings next door”. The way they write the dynamics between the sides? I live for that.

Another creator I would like to recommend is @maybe-im-tired.They don’t have a master post, as far as I could see, but they only post their content anyways, so… “Can’t take my eyes off of you” is my favorite out of their fics so far. I mean, the way they managed to fit the sheer chaos that is intrulogical into this one short fic is amazing. And you could take about two thirds of what Remus said and put it up on your wall as out-of-contexts-quotes. Don’t worry, he says them out of context anyways, and they will definitely make you laugh. 

The series of short stories for the human au that starts with “Glowing stars” is another au by them that you will almost certainly like. We have Logan and Virgil as kids (about 7 I think), Remus and Patton as single parents, Roman as the most adoring uncle, Emile as babysitter and Remy as his amazing partner. Remus is a great father, wonderfully chaotic as well. And a teacher! Imagine that, Remus as your teacher... He’s great with kids though, as long as they aren’t entitled villains come to make his precious Virgil feel bad, that is.

They also wrote a bunch of “random one shots”. They are all amazing, but my favorite has to be this one. It’s a logince one, once again human au. Patton may or may not tell his big brother’s crush about the feelings he wasn’t prepared to share yet. You know, as small kids do. It’s soft, it will make you smile as much as Logan does, and I love Remus in it. I generally like how they write Remus, okay? I know how much I’ve said it, but I’m not even exaggerating. They always write him differently, and all versions they write him as are so, so lovable and just… I wanna hug the life out of all Remus versions they wrote, okay? Take a look, you’ll know why.

Anyways. Let’s continue with @figurative-siren-song. This is the last account I’ve followed and I’m still sad about it having taken me this long to find them. Little salty, to be honest. (I’ll stick to they/them because they said just not to use she/her, and, well… consistency, you know? Don’t have much, so I have to get what I can XD). When I finally did find them, I went through their entire master list (at least all of the ships with characters I actually know. I’m kinda bad with the shorts characters, so I usually just… avoid them? Idk. Personal preference, I guess), and, well… I would honestly recommend every single fic on that list. They call themself “Repair Fluff King™️” and they deserve that title. But when they warn you that a fic will be angsty, it will be angsty.

I found them through the anxceit fic “A Deal”. Well, through an animatic by their friend on youtube that had linked the fic, but details. I’ve been reading this fic up and down again and again. It’s just so good! And when they talk in the second part and Janus explains why he proposed that deal. Or in the continuation, which i can’t talk about because I will probably spoiler things! So wholesome!

 Also, their losleepxeity fic “We’re worth it”. So soft! The nicknames, the plot, the everything. It’s softer than clouds look, and we all know that means something.

But, really. Everyone will find something for them by this creator. So many ships, all incredibly well written, and soft and fluffy without getting boring in the slightest. It’s as energizing as coffee, actually. And, let’s be honest, this whole fandom drowns itself in angst most of the time. Take a break from that, repair your broken hearts with goof fluffy content that you’ll want to read over and over again. Go check this creator out. You will love them. 

Last but not least… @myfriendsasthesides​ A blog by a creator who just takes the wonderfully chaotic dynamics of a friend group and using that to give us content of incorrect sides quotes. Maybe it doesn’t fit with me going on and on about fics here. I don’t care. Follow them and turn on those notifications, please, because seeing even one post of theirs on your dashboard will make your day. It’s funny, it’s absurd, it’s chaotic, it’s making you jealous of them for having friends like that. Believe me, you will want to see those posts. It’s just… the random shots of serotonin and dopamine out generation needs really fucking desperately 100% of the time. 

That’s it with the list! Eleven creators I absolutely adore, and I’m sorry I was babbling so much all the way through, but… Well, actually I’m not sorry. And actually, half of the reason I even made this post is to tell them how much I love them and fangirl about them a bit. So… Yeah. Well.I love you guys and hope you’ll have a wonderful day! And to everyone else reading this: I hope this helped you ind some new creators you can enjoy. And a good day to you too, of cause.

Sincerely, Joy 🖤

(@joylessnightsky/@sanders-sides-fic)

[darkpoisonouslove]

Winx Club Rewrite Is a Go

I don’t know how I ended up here because I’ve always maintained that rewrites aren’t my thing (and I still kinda do) because it feels a lot like reading the same thing over and over again and to me it can be annoying. Yet, here I am with my very own Winx Club rewrite.

I started writing the first episode today but I have A LOT planned out already. Seasons 1 and 3 are pretty solid already even if there is still a lot of character work to be done and logistics to be figured out. I also have some structure for seasons 2 and 4 and I figured out the backstory of the Wizards of the Black Circle yesterday and that gave me an indescribable feeling which is pretty much what I took as a sign that it’s time to talk about this project.

To explain what I am doing - I am taking everything and changing it while keeping it the same. If that doesn’t make sense, then imagine that I am keeping the major plot points and most of the episodes (I have removed some because they are just irrelevant) have the same starting and ending point as they do on the show but there are big changes between those. Seasons 5, 6 and - you’ll find out in a sec - are going to have a lot more changes. I have removed transformations and switched around some of the transformations so that they are earned at a different point than in canon. I have picked a place to end this already and I have arcs for each season.

Now when it comes to the seasons, I have removed season 7 which will be done as a “movie” and will have additional plot still because there really is THAT little to season 7. Season 8 becomes season 7 in my rewrite and is the last and final season. It is the end of Winx’ journey and I think it is a satisfying end to a pretty long story. I am keeping the movies but:

1) There will probably be “movies” after seasons 1 and 2 as well just to make the structure make sense and because I feel like there is enough to be talked about between the seasons.

2) SotLK is majorly different from canon because there was no sense to that movie and only plot holes instead. I’ve saved what was salvageable from it and mostly put it in season 3 to free the whole movie for more interesting and logical stuff to happen. The end goal is the same, though - bringing Marion and Oritel (and Domino) back.

3) Magical Adventure is the least changed but there will be several changes here as well. The plan is to make the movie relevant on a wider level than just to Winx and the Specialists but I still don’t have that clear a vision of it. Just some things that I want to see but need piecing together.

3) The “movie” after season 5 will deal with the season 7 plot instead. I have switched them around. There will be Kalshara and Griffin and Faragonda and some major Bloom drama as well. I need to make these pieces connect, too, but this one feels almost coherent at the current time.

4) Politea is saved for the last movie that is after season 6. You’ll see why. Anyway, major Daphne and Bloom feelings are planned for that movie... and I don’t know what else yet. We’ll see.

I am currently working on all of the seasons and all of the movies at once so it is a bit of a mess. I write down and rewrite ideas. Everything is one big map in my head that isn’t completely translatable to someone else. Anyway, you can find everything I have posted about this in the “wc rewrite” tag. You can ask me questions if you have them and I’ll see how much I’ll share while trying to resist the urge to spoil everything because I have been at this for about 5 months now and I have so many ideas that I adore and want to talk about. Despite that I have no idea how quickly I can work on it. This is bound to take years which was the hardest part of this project for me to reconcile with but I really want to do it. So let’s see how that goes.

I want to say that I am planning on doing one episode a chapter but because I have decided to both develop the characters and be self-indulgent, that will make the chapters long. I don’t think that they are devoid of tension or action, however, because this thing is packed with so much stuff happening. Here’s a little sneak peak from the first episode:

“Bloom, honey, wake up,“ Vanessa’s mellow voice reached her through the colorful explosion into which her dream was retreating.

“Just five more minutes, mom,” Bloom mumbled as she wormed her head under the pillow to block out the interruption. She reached for the fairy princess in her dream with hair of liquid light and a touch like sinking through the reflective surface of a mirror that showed none of Bloom’s own features to her. She’d lose not just the way but her own self if she let go of the figure in front of her.

“You’ll be late for school, sleepy head.”

The woman evaporated in a heap of steam with a nasty hissing sound that rattled Bloom’s bones as she jumped into bed. Vanessa’s apologetic smile came into focus to draw a groan out of Bloom’s parched throat as she threw her head back.

“Not funny, mom,” Bloom grabbed her fallen pillow from the floor and plopped herself back down on her mattress, eyes wide open as the image of the fairy burned in her mind. “I wanted to see where she’d lead me!”

“Who?” Vanessa sat down on the edge of the bed.

“The fairy from my dream,” Bloom covered her eyes with her free hand to narrow her focus to the woman. “I’ve seen her before, I just...” she threw the pillow next to her on the mattress. “I can’t remember where.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. You’ve read every book on fairies that you could get your hands on. It’s only natural that they’ve started blurring together,” Vanessa chuckled.

“Yeah, but it’s not that.” Bloom shot up once again, her vision spinning for a moment from the sudden action. “She’s not a character. She’s something... someone else.” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger looking for the warmth enveloping her at the presence of the mystery fairy. It couldn’t be the first time she’d dreamed about her but she couldn’t recall more than that. “Grandma always said that dreams are important.” Another reason not to let go of the fleeting imagery in her head.

“I’m pretty sure she meant the other kind of dreams,” Vanessa’s amusement was more of a ghost itself now that Bloom had mentioned the newest loss in their family. It was her who had to stay open and talk to Bloom about Mike’s mother when he froze every time the topic was brought up until Bloom could no longer bear to cause him that. “Did you finish your art project last night? I sure hope it was inspiration that kept you up so late and not the lack of it.”

Bloom beamed despite the deflection. “I did!” She jumped out of bed as her mom made space for her to launch herself at her desk where her masterpiece was covered by stray sheets to keep her parents from peeking without her there to see the reactions. Finals had really inserted themselves in all areas of her life–including dreams–to throw a wrench in her works. Finishing a drawing she’d been sitting on for over a month had let her breathe fresh air again. “Here it is.” She pulled two sheets from the pile. “This is the sketch I did during spring break.” She’d spent a whole day wandering Gardenia looking for the building to put her vision into. “And here is the one I’ve reimagined.”

Vanessa gasped, hands flying to her mouth as her eyes gleamed with unformed tears. Not unlike her response to Bloom’s first steps in art back when she’d been three but, somehow, her reactions had developed to match Bloom’s growing skillset without giving undue credit.

Bloom’s heart swelled in her chest with pride boosted by the trust she had in her mom. Her work was almost complete now that it’d accomplished the desired effect with one parent. She’d been in awe herself by the alterations she’d made to Earth architecture to make it elaborate and alien enough for a fantasy... something. She still couldn’t decide what format she wanted to create her world in. Comics were a handy option but a vision of an elusive deal for a TV show still reared its head every time she reached for a pencil and a blank sheet of paper. And there was, of course, the popularity of video games accompanied by her lack of skills or contacts when it came to coding. There was always one more step to the door of her fairy utopia but she had to focus on the art for now.

“I hope that keeping this up will be easier after school is done stifling my inspiration,” Bloom chewed on her lip as she waited for her mom to collect herself enough to give the verdict of whether a summer job was about to take over that function now.

“Uninspired? You?” Vanessa shook her head in disbelief. “Honey, you have the imagination to create worlds and I am sure that one day you will,” Vanessa reached out cautiously towards the museum Bloom had created for her fantasy world. Her fingers barely brushed the paper to leave no traces of their presence and the bittersweet look on her face was too much for Bloom to stand. Her art was not meant to be an untouchable monument. It was supposed to be a temple, a home. Maybe her yearning had come through too well.

[1dfangirls35]

The Language of Your Soul

An enemies to lovers Ballet AU in 5 Acts

Masterlist

Act I

A/N:

First of all, thank you so much to @booksncoffee for the absolutely gorgeous banner!

I am so excited to share this story with you all! Inspired in part by a night rewatching Center Stage on Netflix and from years of ballet classes, I hope this AU brings a new twist on Harry fics (and maybe even helps you gain a new appreciation for the world of ballet). Please note, while I have used my own 10+ years of classical ballet training in addition to research on this topic to hopefully make this as realistic as possible, this is still a work of fiction- and some details may have been changed to better fit the constraints of the story. The companies mentioned in this fic are real, however this story and its characters are entirely works of fiction. On a more personal note, while I have chosen to publish this story now and believe I will be able to maintain weekly updates to its entirety, I am preparing to take my boards in less than four weeks. Should I not update as scheduled- please be patient and know that an update is only a few weeks away! :) Thank you so much for reading!

Warnings: This story will contain language, mentions of emotional abuse from a parent and eating disorders. Please read at your own discretion.

Ten Weeks to Opening Night

Albert Einstein once said, "dancers are the athletes of God." Giselle Mason certainly doesn't feel like pne of God's athletes at the moment. Not with the way her muscles are screaming with every movement that she makes as she stretches before class, not with the way her right hip cracks as she lifts her leg onto the bar, and certainly not with the way her feet sting as she tapes up yet another blister on her toe before shoving her foot into her pointe shoes for another day full of torture.

Giselle stands, sticking one last bobby pin into the bun of her nearly ebony hair and finding her spot at the front of the barre in the center of the studio. She grasps the wooden cylinder with her left hand before releasing her body in a forward bend, taking a deep breath in and then a deep breath out. There is a familiar ache in her hamstrings as she begins to stretch, which loosens ever so slightly with every breath.

And so begins her daily morning routine in the studio. Fifteen minutes of stretching before company class begins. Relaxing each hamstring, hip flexor and spinal muscle until a sense of calm washes over her body. Letting her mind drift into a thoughtless focus, preparing itself for the waves of choreography that would be coming in minutes. Typically, this time is quiet; the only melody present the rhythmic breathing of company members preparing for class. But today, the studio seems to be filled with an underlying buzz. And Giselle doesn't have the slightest idea why.

"I heard he slept with the artistic director's wife, so they kicked him out of the Royal," she hears one of the new corps de ballet members murmur.

"I mean have you seen him, I don't blame her for getting her hands on a piece of him," another girl giggles.

"Did you hear, G?" Caleb, Giselle's friend, whispers as he slides into a spot on the barre behind her, adjusting the black bandana keeping his signature black curls in place across his forehead.

"Hear what?" Giselle asks, removing her leg from the bar before reaching down to adjust the black leg warmer that had fallen down her calf.

"They've hired Harry Styles- you know from the Royal," Caleb adds as if Giselle hasn't heard of Harry Styles. Everyone who was anyone in the ballet world had heard of Harry Styles. A good chunk of the non-ballet world might even be able to point him out as that 'sexy male ballet dancer' from the Sports Illustrated nude edition.

Harry Styles was a rare kind of natural talent. The type of person that was put on this earth to dance ballet. His talent had landed him the honor of being the youngest person to be named a principal in the history of the Royal Ballet. And if the rumors were true, that talent had also landed him the reputation of one of the ballet world's most arrogant. Giselle had heard several stories about how the male dancer had been a terror to work with- demanding, rude, uncooperative. Giselle didn't doubt it- people of that skill and fame rarely developed without some sense of entitlement.

"Why would we hire Harry Styles, we've already got Viktor?" Giselle questions. This isn't the first time a rumor has circulated through the American Ballet Theatre company, and it certainly won't be the last time. 

"Rumor is they want Viktor to retire," Caleb shrugged before stepping back to his place behind Giselle as Mistress Ivanova claps to gain the class's attention.

Giselle couldn't believe the rumors. Viktor Dmitri retiring from ABT? He was practically the face of the company. The man had been dancing for the American Ballet Theatre for over a decade. He'd been the principal ever since Giselle had joined the company as a corps de ballet member five years ago. 

Giselle knew that retirement came early for a ballet dancer. Her own mother, the famous Natalia Korsakova, had retired at the age of 33 after a knee injury. Viktor had just turned 35, but he'd shown no signs of slowing down. She refused to believe that he was calling it quits. Or to believe that the board would be stupid enough to bring in someone with Harry Styles's toxic reputation into the company.

She shoves the thought aside. Viktor is in his usual place at the back of the studio and Harry Styles is nowhere to be seen. This was simply another piece of gossip threatening to distract everyone from the Swan Lake auditions tomorrow afternoon, and Giselle won't lose her focus. The auditions are too important.

Giselle Mason has dreamed of playing the role of Odette/Odile ever since she first watched her mother on stage at the age of four. It was one of her earliest memories of the theater- her mother twirling about in a bright white tutu that at that time Giselle could only dream of wearing. In fact, Giselle wasn't sure there had ever been a moment where her dream hadn't been to be a principal dancer at ABT, like her mother. She'd been in ballet shoes from the second she could walk, wore a leotard and tights more often than she'd worn pajamas, and didn't recognize herself in the mirror if her hair wasn't pulled back into a bun. She'd ate, slept and breathed the art form. But she supposed that all came with having a prima ballerina as a mother.

Natalia Korsakova was a ballet sensation. "One of the greatest to have ever danced," according to the New York Times  at the time of her retirement. The world had come to watch her dance and she'd traveled it performing: Russia, Australia, London, Paris. You name the location and Natalia Korsakova had danced there.

When Giselle was growing up, she was constantly told how lucky she was to have Natalia as a mother. To have seen the shows she's seen, to have met ballet royalty, to have traveled the world. But Giselle never felt lucky. Not when she was the accident that put her mother's career on hold for almost a year. Not when her mother was gone for months at a time performing, missing recitals, parent days and school concerts. And certainly not when an injury forced her mother into retirement, shifting her focus from her own artistic talents to turning her daughter into her next protegee.

Much to her mother's dismay, Giselle was not the younger version of her mother. She was good, great even, but she was no sensation. Giselle made soloist in her fourth year at ABT, which was a feat all on its own, unless you compared it to her mother's two. Giselle lacked the raw, natural talent that her mother possessed. Instead of her mother's high arches, she had her father's averagely flat feet. Instead of her mother's uncanny ability to match the music, Giselle had spent hours counting eights in her head to get down a rhythm. Instead of looking effortless the first time she ran through a routine, Giselle spent hours in the studio after rehearsal, running through the choreography until it wasn't possible for her to get it wrong. Giselle had gotten to where she was because of her hard work, not her natural talent- something her mother would never let her forget. To Natalia Korsakova, Giselle would never measure up.

The Swan Lake auditions are Giselle's first real shot at landing a lead, especially with principal dancer Anna Elliot out with a back injury for the foreseeable future. Giselle wants this role more than anything. To prove to herself that she is capable of  following in her mother's footsteps. And to prove to her mother that she is just as capable a dancer as she. For once in her life, she wants to hear her mother say not that she'd lost her spot or forgot to point her toes, but that she was proud of Giselle. Four words- that's all Giselle really wants.

"And will start first position, demi, demi, grand, demi and port de bra. Repeat in 2nd, 4th and 5th and then balance in fifth position arms in fifth," Mistress Ivanova barks, before gesturing to the pianist to begin.

Giselle focuses on her movements as the music begins. She tightens her core, elongates her neck and reaches her fingertips to the edges of her silhouette. Her legs quiver slightly as she bends her knees into the first grand plié, her mind focusing on maintaining her turnout.

"Relax that face Giselle," Mistress Ivanova corrects, as she makes her way around the room. "I don't want to see that this is work."

Giselle takes another deep breath, this time releasing her lips from their concentrated place and focusing on her breath. She lets the downtown Manhattan studio disappear from the background. Gone is the distant honking of impatient taxi drivers maneuvering their way through the New York City traffic. Gone is the light shining in from the full-length windows looking out at the city skyline- well what you could see of the skyline behind the crumbly brick building neighboring the school. There was nothing but the dancer, the barre and the music flowing gently through her veins.

"Beautiful lines Teagan, thank you," Giselle hears Mistress Ivanova say from across the room and she fights the urge to roll her eyes. Giselle has known Teagan Davidson since she was fourteen years old, when Teagan had moved from California to New York to join the ABT school. Over the course of a decade of competing for roles, partners and teacher's praises, the two had developed quite a rivalry. To Giselle, there was almost no better feeling than snagging a role that she knew Teagan also had her eyes on.

Giselle uses Teagan's praise as motivation to work harder, feeling the burn in her inner thighs as she pushes further into her grand plié in second. The role of Odette/Odile was hers, Teagan would have to settle for understudy.

The class is in the middle of their balance, Giselle's focus locked in on a spot just at the edge of the window at the rear of the studio when a loud bang reverberates through the room. Dancers drop their balance and turn their heads, looking to see who has caused such a commotion with their entrance.

"Mr. Styles, you're late," Mistress Ivanova snaps.

He is taller than Giselle imagined, and even from this distance she can see the definition in his arms through the black tank top that clings to his body. His hair is slightly disheveled, curling at the top. His face plastered into some cheeky grin, dimples present on both cheeks, like he knows exactly what he's doing, interrupting class like this. Almost like he's enjoying the attention. He throws his black messenger bag to the side before grabbing his ballet shoes and scurrying over to an open spot at the barre near the front of the studio.

"My apologies," he replies in a thick British accent. His tone sounds anything but apologetic.

"Damn, he's even better-looking in person than he is in magazines," Caleb mutters under his breath, eliciting an eye roll from Giselle.

"Well, I suppose after that entrance," Mistress Ivanova sighs, stepping to the front of the class. "Now is as good of time as any to announce that Mr. Styles will be joining our company as a principal dancer."

Gasps fill the room, and Giselle turns her head to look at Viktor, whose face is stoic after Harry's entrance. A low chatter fills the studio, everyone trying to figure out exactly what is going on. Would he get the lead in Swan Lake? Would he be understudying Viktor?

"Silence!" Mistress Ivanova shouts. "This chatter can wait until after class is over!" She turns to face Harry, her lips turned into a stern frown. "If you'll find a place at the barre Mr. Styles, we will continue our class."

Giselle watches as he slides into a spot at the front of the room, shooting a grin at the young company member behind him. Giselle rolls her eyes, returning her focus to the mirror in front of her. Two minutes with the company and she was sure Harry Styles was exactly who she thought he would be.

Giselle tries to forget Harry Styles is in class with them. Instead she focuses on her breathing, her turnout, the rhythm that comes from the pianist in the corner of the room. She watches the early morning New York City sunrise reflect off of the mirrors, leaving little spots of sunlight over the gray Marley floor. Everyone else in the company could focus on Harry Styles all they want, but she is only focusing on one thing- and that is landing the role of her dreams tomorrow.

But Harry Styles wasn't the type of person whose presence could be forgotten so easily.

********

Harry Styles isn't scared of a little attention. In fact, he typically thrives on it. That's why he is a performer after all. To Harry, there is no better feeling than knowing all eyes are upon you, that you are the center of attention, the focus of the room. Maybe that is a prideful and egotistical thing to say, but it is true. Everyone wants to feel important, valued, admired- and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

But the attention Harry has been getting since he walked into the American Ballet Theatre studio a little over twelve hours ago has not been the type of attention he necessarily sought out. He knew there would be rumors, leaving the only company he had ever been a part of during his dance career was sure to draw up the best of them, but something about this felt different. It was the whispers. The stares. The way some members of the room were staring at Harry as if he was a god and a few wouldn't dare look in his direction.

Harry doesn't know what's come over him- this wavering self-confidence. Maybe it's this new place. This new country. Or maybe it's the fact that in the words of his agent, if he "doesn't get his act together" he will never dance at this level again. And if he's not dancing on the world's biggest stages, well, Harry might as well not be dancing at all.

Harry grabs his phone from the side pocket of his black messenger bag, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker he found in the corner of the studio and presses play on his hip hop playlist. He needs something to drown out his thoughts, and classical music just doesn't cut it. As the beat begins to fill the studio, Harry lets the music take over his body and begins to dance.

Giselle tries to focus on her music, but there's the noise of a pounding bass in the background interfering with concentration. She's always the only one at the studio this late at night- that's why she comes- to be alone and without distractions.

She tries to ignore it, focusing on the one and two of the music as she fouettés. One and two, three and four, five and... a boom from somewhere in the building breaks her concentration and she falls out of her turn, letting out a groan. This could not be happening to her the night before auditions, and if she found out that Teagan was here trying to interfere with her practice...

Giselle makes her way down the hall, guided by the incessant bass that sounds like it belongs in the backseat of a teenager's car and not one of the most prestigious ballet studios in the world. When she turns the corner to enter the studio, it's not Teagan she sees but Harry Styles.

But he's not dancing. He's laying on the floor, wearing nothing but a pair of black athletic shorts that show off the god-like definition of his thighs. His signature butterfly tattoo stands out on the middle of his chest, beads of sweat dripping towards the center of his stomach, the bass vibrating the mirrors around him. He doesn't notice her at first. How could he with the music so loud?

"Excuse me," Giselle says loudly in an effort to get his attention. His body doesn't even flinch.

"Excuse me!" she yells this time. 

Harry looks up. In the corner of the studio, towards the door stands a girl. Her almost black hair is pulled tightly back into a bun. Her thin arms are crossed like she's about to lecture him, and her lips are held in a tight line that looks anything but happy. The corners of Harry's mouth curve upwards in a grin, entertained by the fury that was seeming to come from her tiny body.

She taps her foot impatiently, like she's waiting for something. Harry realizes that she is- she's waiting for him to turn off his music.

He sighs, reaching over to his phone beside him and sliding one sweaty finger across the screen to bring the rhythm to a halt.

"Yes?" he asks expectantly, not bothering to move his body from his reclining position.

"Other people in this studio are trying to practice, you know. It's kinda hard to do that with this," she gestures into the air, as if trying to find an appropriate adjective to describe the torture that had been gracing her ears over the past half hour.

"Not a fan of my music?" Harry smirked.

"I'm not a fan of someone disrupting my rehearsal." Giselle spit back.

"Rehearsal? It's bloody 11pm."

"I know what time it is, and like I said, your music is interfering with my ability to practice." Giselle stares Harry right in the eyes. He doesn't intimidate her, and she's not going to back down until he agrees to turn down his music.

"Wasn't aware you were the owner of this studio," Harry taunts.

"I could say the same about you." Giselle moves her hands to her hips. Just agree to turn off the damn music, she thinks to herself, even though she knows at this point, it's not worth the time it will take to warm back up to continue practicing.

Harry sits up, grabbing a blue towel from inside his bag and wiping the sweat that remains off his forehead. "Fine, music's off. Continue your rehearsal. I'm too jet lagged for this shit," he stands, wrapping the towel around his neck.

"Thanks," Giselle says under her breath, before making her way back to her studio, where she knew she would be gathering her own belongings.

Harry groans, grabbing his bag from the floor and sliding it over his shoulder. You could travel halfway across the world and still run into the same entitled ballet brats who thought they ran the place. It's those type of people, company members and otherwise, that were precisely the reason he had left the Royal. Well, not that he had necessarily had a say in that scenario, but they had been the cause of all of his problems.

You just have to dance, Harry, he tries to tell himself. But Harry knows that as much as he tries, there's a lot more too it than that.

**********

“Gi!" Caleb exclaims, bounding down the hallway towards her without concern for anyone in his way. "Cast list is up."

Giselle gulps. She isn't sure that she is ready for this. The look of disappointment on her mother's face if she doesn't land the part. The list of corrections that her mother has come up with from watching Giselle's audition. "Now you see there, you've lost your center. You're never going to make that triple if you don't hold your center Giselle." The reminder that "you only have so many opportunities to prove your worth, before they move onto the younger, better version of you." It didn't matter to her mother if Giselle was the youngest soloist at ABT by five years. It didn't matter if nearly every other soloist had previously understudied for the role. Everything but a lead was a disappointment to Natalia Korsakova.

"C'mon," Caleb exclaims, and before Giselle has a moment to collect herself she's being pulled down the hallway by her arm.

And there it is. The thin, white piece of paper that holds the fate of her next ten weeks in its hands. When she looks at it at first, she thinks she must be dreaming. Because her name has never been on that spot on the list before. Not since she officially joined the company five years ago.

Odette/Odile- Giselle Mason

Sigfried - Harry Styles

She feels frozen. Like she's in a dream and she's paralyzed. It's what she's always wanted-this role and yet, suddenly it feels like a whole lot of pressure.

"You did it Gi," Caleb exclaims, lifting her up and spinning her around before Giselle even has a moment to look any further down the list. Giselle laughs, giddy with excitement. "New York will have never seen a more beautiful Odette."

Giselle rolls her eyes at his comment. Caleb, her friend since joining the American Ballet School at the age of six and partner for many years had always been her biggest cheerleader. In a way, he made up for what she didn't have in her mother.

"And you Caleb?" Giselle asks, realizing in her excitement that she had forgotten that her best friend also had a role in the this ballet.

"You're looking at the newest Benno," Caleb says with a grin. Giselle often wondered what it would be like to be like Caleb. To be happy with any role. To not care about his place in the company. To simply want to dance. Caleb had always been like that- relaxed, calm- the antithesis to Giselle who was always high strung and anxious. Perhaps that's why they'd always been such good friends, because they balanced each other perfectly. Giselle pushed Caleb when he needed some extra motivation and Caleb- albeit not always successful- tried his best to keep Giselle out of her own head.

Giselle watches as Teagan makes her way over to the board, her long black hair swinging from the ponytail at the crown of her head. She grins in slight satisfaction as she sees Teagan's face turn into a frown. Giselle turns and gives Caleb her best, "what did she get?" eyes. He exaggeratedly mouths, "UNDERSTUDY".

As if sensing that she is the topic of conversation, Teagan looks over at the two. "Congrats Giselle," she says, her face moving in a way that makes it seem like the words taste disgusting leaving her mouth.

"You as well," Giselle responds, to which Teagan only scoffs and storms off.

"You know she's going to make your life living hell as your understudy don't you?" Caleb said with a laugh.

"Ugh, I know," Giselle groaned.

"It will be worth it though. You are going to be dancing the role you've always dreamed of." Giselle smiled. "Plus," Caleb begins, leaning down so his mouth is next to Giselle's ear. "You get to dance with the greatest male dancer of our generation. Think of all the hours you're gonna get to spend looking at that GORGEOUS body."

Giselle groans. Her perfect moment temporarily ruined by the realization that she would have to dance with Harry Styles. Sure, he may be talented, a great dancer, and likely a great partner. But his entrance yesterday and their encounter last night told her everything she needed to know about Harry Styles. And she was sure that working with him would be anything but easy.

"That GORGEOUS body," Giselle imitates Caleb with an exaggeration of the word, "Doesn't make up for the fact that the guy's an asshole."

"Okay, okay, point taken. Now can we go get some lunch?"

Giselle nods, but she already knows she's not hungry. Instead, all she can think about is how she's going to get through the next ten weeks of rehearsals with a man she already loathes.

**********

Giselle slides into the rehearsal studio with extra joy in her step later that afternoon. She's so on Cloud 9 that she doesn't even realize Harry standing at the barre doing pliés as she hums the opening notes of Swan Lake aloud.

"Sorry didn't know anyone else was in here already," she apologizes quickly, standing and stretching out her feet.

Harry looks at her, his face hard and eyes sharp. If he recognized her as the girl who interrupted his jam session last night his face didn't show it. "And who are you?" Harry asks, his voice laced with condescendence.

"Odette," Giselle smiles, the words feeling foreign leaving her mouth.

"Obviously," Harry scoffs, and Giselle feels her confidence waver. "Who are you?"

"Giselle Mason, soloist."

"Doesn't ring a bell," the corners of Harry's mouth turn up at his comment, like he gets satisfaction out of reminding others that they aren't the household name that he is.

Giselle wants to say something back. Something sharp and witty to show him that just because he was one of the greatest dancers in the world and she was still trying to make her way into the spotlight didn't mean that he could treat her like a nobody. She was going to be his partner after all- whether he liked it or not. But then Gregory Alexander, ABT's Artistic Director, enters the room, clapping his hands and tells them they are about to begin on the Act II Pas de Deux and Giselle doesn't have a chance to say otherwise.

"As new partners you will need to put in the time to understand each other. Build trust. Anticipate the other's movement. Portray to the audience that you are a swan and a prince in love." Gregory moves his arms in the air theatrically, as if he isn't wearing a designer suit.

"Now I understand that the ten weeks we have to prepare before our season debut isn't an ideal amount of time to form a relationship with a new partner. But in this case, it simply must do." Gregory's face turned serious, the wrinkles on his forehead more defined as he furrows his eyebrows. "I expect that the two of you will put in the time outside of your scheduled rehearsals to work on this chemistry. Anna and Viktor will also be assisting with rehearsals and my hope is that they will also be able to assist the two of you with this transition."

"Gregory," Harry interrupts, then as if realizing he'd made a mistake, he corrects himself. "Sir."

Gregory nods.

"I'm not sure what the concern is. I've danced with hundreds of partners in my career, I'm not sure how the other principal's would have much more experience than me?" Giselle thinks Harry is meaning this as a question but it comes out more like a statement.

Giselle watches as Gregory's eyes narrow again. He looked irritated, and why wouldn't he be? Harry had been here all but forty-eight hours and was already questioning the artistic director's decisions. 

"That may be the case, Mr. Styles," Gregory paused. "But when the two of you step onto Metropolitan Opera House stage in ten weeks, I expect the audience to believe that you two have been dancing together for years. Have I made myself clear?"

Harry nods, this time remaining quiet.

"Now then, I'd like us to start with the Act II Pas de Deux. The very beginning- with your entrance Harry."

It's an hour into rehearsals when Giselle hears the echo of heels clicking down the wooden hallways. She doesn't even have to look up when the steps stop as they reach the studio floor. She could recognize that walk anywhere.

"Aahh, Natalia!" Gregory exclaims. "So glad you could stop by," Gregory reaches over to embrace Giselle's mother, his grey hair brushing the sides of her face as he kisses each cheek.

"Mr. Styles, I'd like to introduce you to Natalia Korsakova, former ABT principal and member of our board."

Natalia Korsakova looks as put together as always. Her dark brown hair pulled tightly into a neat French twist. Her tight black dress and coordinating pumps show off every bit of the dancer's body that she still maintained. Giselle watches as her mother's mouth curves to form a polite smile.

"A ballet legend. It's an honor to meet you Madame," Harry says offering his hand.

"The pleasure is all mine. I'm so glad you are joining us here at ABT. And what a joy it will be to watch you next to my daughter," Natalia gestures towards Giselle, with a polite smile plastered on her face that was generally reserved for generous donors and patrons of the ballet. It is all a show. That's all Giselle's mother ever did was put on a production. She was a performer after all, how could anyone expect her life to be anything but a crowd-pleasing performance?

"Your daughter?" Harry turns to look at Giselle, raising an eyebrow. His eyes narrow, as if he's caught Giselle in a lie. As if she'd snuck her way into this position and was just hoping that someone wouldn't notice she wasn't the real deal. "Why that makes this even more special."

Giselle fights every urge to roll her eyes from across the room. It is clear that Harry Styles is every bit as much of a performer as her mother. Just minutes before he was looking at her as if he had been paired with an amateur and suddenly working with her is 'something special'?

"I'm going to watch rehearsal for a bit," Natalia announces, making her way over to a stool next to the pianist. "Carry on." The pit in the bottom of Giselle's stomach grows as her mother takes a seat next to Gregory in front of the mirror.

"Odette makes sense to me now," Harry whispers into Giselle's ear, as he slides behind her to resume practice. It takes everything in her to keep her face stoic as Harry's hands settle once again on her waist.

Rehearsal goes badly. Giselle can't seem to get her leg into the attitude position that Gregory wants, she losing her balance on her penchés, and Harry almost drops her on several promenades. Giselle says almost, because someone as experienced as Harry Styles would never let his partner hit the ground, but she should have, because she surely wasn't holding her weight quite right. And then there's the fact that Gregory pronounced that Giselle "looks at Harry as if he is the villain of the story instead of the prince she's fallen in love with". 

Giselle wants to say that's because he is the villain. The villain of her story anyways, the person that is somehow going to turn her dream role into somewhat of a nightmare. Why couldn't she be dancing with Viktor? He was so patient and kind and he would never look at his partner as if she deserved to be in the audience instead of on stage with him.

After yet another failed run through of the first half of the pas de deux, Gregory announces that they are done for the day, but that he expects to see them in the studio bright and early tomorrow morning to work on their timing. Giselle's never been so thankful for a rehearsal to be over, and as she sits down to remove her pointe shoes, running her hands over her swollen feet, she watches Harry leave the studio without saying a word.

"I hope you realize how big of an opportunity this is Giselle. It's not one you should take lightly," her mother's voice startles her, as Giselle had almost forgotten she was there. Almost.

Natalia stands above Giselle, one hand on her hips and the other on her forehead, as if watching today's rehearsal had been exhausting for her. It probably was exhausting for her, keeping tally of all the things that Giselle had done wrong for the past two hours. Natalia's voice is shrill as she speaks again. "There are thousands of ballerinas around the world that could only dream of getting to dance with Harry Styles. And here you are dancing with him in his first show with ABT. That's an enormous responsibility, darling. This performance with him will set the stage for his entire career with our company. One that the board is hoping will last until his retirement."

Giselle nods. That's all she can do when her mother begins one of her lectures- nod. She thought maybe this would be the time that her mother told her congratulations. The time that her mother did what she'd watched countless other mother's do during her time as a dancer, wrap their arms around their daughter and express their pride to them. But instead, today is like any other day, and even with a lead role in an ABT production, Giselle still hasn't done enough to make her mother proud.

Giselle shoves her shoes into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she stands.

"And Giselle?" her mother adds, as she makes her way towards the door.

"Yes mom?" 

"Might want to hit a few more cardio classes this week too, my dear. Got to make sure you are going to be an easy dancer to partner with." 

And with that comment Natalia Korsakova clicks away, leaving Giselle standing in the middle of studio wondering if her biggest dream has suddenly become her biggest nightmare.

[theyscreamjade]

May I request an AU where Izuku, Shoto, and Kirishima are Emperors of their own kingdom and they all have their eyes on one Empress (the reader) they’ve fallen for in particular? This would take place in Medieval Japan. The Empress is skilled in weaponry, the arts, and politics which makes her very powerful. The three Emperors have to proof their worth to the Empress and only one can be chosen to have her hand.

What the Future Holds

Hello, My Dear Anonymous! I hope it’s okay but I changed the story up a bit. I kept starting with the original concept but my mind kept reflecting on this. I hope this is okay and if you don’t like it, it’s okay.

Disclaimer: Fluff and talks of arranged marriage (sorta.)��🥺

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“Madam! Madam!” A voice screamed from afar while you released the last arrow, watching it shoot right on the target. You turned towards the source, resulting in your dear mother’s messenger/assistant.

She huffed in exhaustion while holding a list in her hands, the summer heat was starting to get to the poor female who ran a far way from the dear castle just to speak to you. She bowed to you, putting her hands on her thighs. “My Princess.” She announced while you sighed a bit. You were never the type to go above and beyond all because of your royalty and quirk. You honestly hated going into the city because of the civilians going above and beyond just because you wanted to purchase more things to use.

Your quirk is an absolute blessing, some would proclaim. Your great grandmother was blessed with it only to have it passed down to you, the factions of the future at your eyesight. Your quirk was developed before a tsunami which you were able to want your father. He didn’t believe you at first but the more you declared he should, he finally gave in and hadn’t regretted it since.

You were next in line for the throne while the search was on to find a fit suitor to rule beside you and to keep the kingdom’s strong between each. Your kingdom was known to be peaceful warriors, all about peace but was never afraid to make some bloodshed.

“Y-Your mother insists you should begin the preparations for the ball tonight!” She said as she opened the list of things your mother had probably written down for you. Her voice began to speak about the list of things while your mind began to drift. The simple thought about the ball made your quirk activate on its own.

A vision began to play as you could feel your body swaying to the beat of a beautiful song. You could feel eyes staring into your body as a handheld onto your back, pulling you close to him as his other handheld onto yours securely. The image of his strange yet cute two different colored eyes was the last image you saw before you came back to the world. “Ma-Madam? Did you hear me?” She asked before you smiled, nodding at her.

“Let’s go get started.” You replied, walking back towards your home. You swiped your head as maids rushed to you once you stepped inside the home. They began to dart and swipe the sweat off your neck and face, you closed your eyes for a belief moment while your mind displayed another vision.

The green locks of his hair as the moonlight seemed to glow off his skin perfectly, your heart raced behind around him while the water from the fountain cascaded down into the clear water. Two doves sat within, swimming with one another as his hand touched your gloves one as chills rushed down your spine, a touch so pure and powerful that you never experienced before.

You soon snapped back again, watching your servants and maids prepare your bath. The warm water poured into the tub bedroom you stood to your feet, watching the bubbles and flowers pedals cover the bubbly surface. Once they were done, the sweetest of oils lingered around the room while you sat in silence. You treasured the moments with yourself though being alone was starting to worry you due to your quirk.

It displayed not one, but two futures of the unknown. Who were these individuals and what made them so significant? Cyan and grey eyes? Green hair? There’s no way it could be one person, there’s no possible way.

You cleaned your body, the oils glistening off your gorgeous skin. Your beauty was going to display tonight and the unknown would be discovered, was this a sign? Your quirk was such a confusing thing, often left you unsure what to discover or what you’d receive but often just warned others of their fates. It was a rare occurrence for you to receive one for yourself.

You finally left your tub, pulling away while the water dripped off your body. Once you say down, the process began. A robe was wrapped around your body, your hair was prepared while your makeup was painted on your face.

“Oh, Dumpling!” Your mother called, rushing to you with excitement in her eyes. It was obvious she waited for this day longer than anyone else, it was an important day. You did hate hoe you were opened to all these supposed suitors, but you’d do anything to please your mother and father. “You look exquisite, Dumpling.” She said, her hands on your shoulders while she admired you through the mirror. “Just think about it, you’ll meet your Prince the same way I met your father, it’s such a funny story how we met but I’ll never forget the day. Your father was such a terrible dancer before we wed, he always stepped on my toes! Even on our wedding day!” She began as another vision snapped to you.

Laughter roared from your lips while another spun your around, you wore a simple dress that flowed with the movements of the spinning mister. Your heels touched the cement ground as his red eyes locked with yours. His obvious large demeanor though he wore a sharp cute smile on his face. The save over his eye was another key point before your hand touched his cheek, a diamond ring sparkled in your eyes against the sunlight before you snapped back to your reality.

You were speechless as each vision left you with...excitement. Each one gave you the unsure success of happiness while you wore their ring on your finger. “But enough about me and your father, It’s about you and finding your happiness. I have the absolute success that you will too.” She said as she smiled, her cheery attitude was something you always admired.

You finally got dressed, wearing a gorgeous gown. The similarity between your dress and your mother's was obvious but who wouldn’t like to match with their parent for the last time.

Your heels clicked softly against the ground while your parents stood behind you. Your father stood tall with your mother on his arm, you lead the way because you were the future. The new beginning within your kingdom. The double doors opened and you walked out towards the base of the stairs, gazing down at the large crowd that became silent when you stepped in. A soft clapping erupted as everyone admired you while you made your way down the stairs, stepping onto each step before finally touching the floor.

“This is a day to be remembered! It is a day that my daughter shall find a suitor to rule the throne with her by his side! Thank you all for traveling far and wide to celebrate and fellowship with one another and may you all find happiness within the walls of the ballroom! Let the festivities begin!” Your father ordered from the stairs above.

You fixed your gloves a bit as three gentlemen approached you, each bowed to you as the distinctive key points flashed into your head. One with green hair, one with red hair, and the last with a part white and red hair.

“I am Shoto Todoroki, of the Todoroki kingdom.” The red and white hair said, before looking up at you. His eyes snapping the vision back into your thoughts before another voice spoke.

“I’m Izuku Midoriya of the Midoriya kingdom, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The green-haired spoke, lifting himself as his freckles reminded you of the smile he had like your vision.

“And I am Eijiro Kirishima of the Kirishima Kingdom, the manliest kingdom in the world.” He said, lifting himself with a smile, his sharp teeth flashed while you giggled at his comment.

You smiled softly before holding your hand out to...

So many options, Who will you choose?