#and that is what she’s leaving to do exclusively - so that’ll be GREAT

[starbuck]

still riding high on the fact that my boss’s boss is leaving tbh…

[tteokdoroki]

✩࿐TRACK 06: BESIDE YOU. denki kaminari (2K)

about. upon finally escaping your toxic ex, your friends do a little scheming which leads to a hook up with an old high school friend looking for something more.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! suggestive, sfw, slight angst, fluff, happy ending, weed mention, mutual pining, make outs, old friends to lovers, love confessions, fem!reader, pro hero!kaminari.

things to note. eee here it is!! the final fic, thank you for joining me on this journey. i’m quite proud of myself for completing a project like this!! enjoy my loves! special thanks to @maliciouslove for beta reading mwah - masterlist / series masterlist / series playlist ✩

you don’t go to parties. 

something about them makes it hard for you to find the appeal in bass boosted music and sweaty bodies complied into one uncomfortably tight space. the drinks are never to your liking, cheap and sour at house parties but overly priced and bitter at the clubs your friends drag you to on the weekends. 

you don’t go to parties because of the people too. 

sure it’s fun, when you’re dancing up on your friends, sharing a giggle and snapping selfies that’ll serve as reminders of your youth when your knees grow a little too fragile for the excessive ass shaking and grinding on your girls. but then as soon as you start to feel yourself loosening up, a drunk stranger who meets the bare minimum will start hitting on one of your friends and the other will be dragged away to dance amongst a circle of them with the promise of texting you when they’re safe (and done fucking randos) for the night.

one by one, they typically leave you to fend for yourself until you end up at the shitty bar getting pity drinks from the bar tender. often while another drunk stranger (who’s so pissed that they can’t tell their nose from their toes) tries to flirt with you until you feel physically sick. 

you don’t go to parties, because you’ve never needed them. your friends tell you that they’re a great place to meet people and mingle, perhaps even date — but you’ve had no need to ‘organically’ meet people up until recently, being tied down to your ex and all. the way you’d met had been super cute too, he’d worked at a coffee shop you frequented on the way to your 9-5 job and one day grew the confidence to leave his number on your cup. you had spent hours deliberating on what to text him, settling for a simple ‘hey :) <3’ and the rest had been blissful history. 

of course he started treating you like shit and dumped you for the next best thing. 

so lately (with the hope that you would start getting over him)  your friends have been hauling your sorry ass to whatever motive they could find — even if the event had been hosted by some rando on the street.

that’s how you ended up with an exclusive invite to a house party full of pro heroes. your friends had gone snooping into people you knew from high school and encountered mina ashidou, who you worked closely with as a student on the support course. she was more than happy to help you soothe your scars and find some new meat at one of her monthly rager house parties. and of course your friends snapped up the chance to try their luck with your old (now) pro hero friends.

to say you were nervous to see everyone again was an understatement, and for most of the night you kept to being a fly on the wall — watching the alcohol induced antics ensue. you don’t even want to be here, surrounded by people from your past who are clearly doing much better in life than you are right now. 

this is so stupid.

why did you even think that coming here would do you any good? listening to your out-going, party-goer friends was probably the worst decision you’ve ever made. who were you kidding? coming to this place to make your ex jealous? like that would work in a million years. you really should just leave before anyone notices, tell them you felt sick and that you couldn’t do this. mina would surely understand—

“there you are, cutie. i almost didn’t recognise you!”  looking up at the sound of a velvety, yet, chipper voice — you rack your brain to match its tone with the pair of sunrise-gold eyes peering down at you. “still stuck in your head i see. you remember me?” 

“k-kaminari!” you squeak out the syllables of the electric blonde’s name — shocked and surprised that pro hero chargebolt would even recognise you after all the time that’s passed since high school. from what you can remember about back then, denki kaminari was a friend of mina’s and so a friend of yours by extension. he was a good guy, struggled with his quirk but genuinely tried his best. “hi! how are you?” 

as if the blonde hadn’t heard your question, he swoops down to meet your height and presses an arm against the wall just above your head — asking you to repeat the question with a gentle smile. 

“what was that, sweetheart? 

you think you might fucking pass out from how close denki is. his citrusy cologne overwhelms your senses and from this close, you can tell how much he’s grown. through the smokiness of the party — the joints and the cigarettes, you can see that he’s much leaner and taller than when you were in school, with the right amount of muscle as well. his golden skin glows under mina’s party lights, his eyes are sleek and sensual but inviting too, and he’s so handsome you can feel yourself beginning to swim.

swallowing thickly, you stutter out. “i said…how are you?” 

“oh!” denki chuckles, the sound shooting straight through you warmly. “i’m doing good, better now that i’ve found you here cutie! mina told me you were coming.” cocking his head, he gives you the once over and that same smile from before returns to his pretty face. “you look good, i’ll admit, my jaw practically hit the floor when i first saw you from across the room.” 

what the fuck is going on here? 

while you’re flustered and certainly enjoying the attention from an old schoolmate — you can’t seem to piece together the puzzle, asking yourself exactly why he would be flirting with you. you haven’t seen denki since graduation aside from his TV appearances and marketing campaigns (which, by the way, his PR team are doing amazing at), so you’re confused as to what he wanted with you.

wishing the wall or the floor would swallow you whole — you press your hands gently into denki’s broad shoulders to push him away from you, surprised when he doesn’t budge. “uh…kaminari…”

“hmm?” 

grimacing, you avoid looking him in the eye, knowing you’ll melt into a puddle if you do. “why are you suddenly flirting with me?”

for a moment, the blonde looks taken aback but he quickly blinks the expression away and smirks down at you again. “‘cause i’m into you, duh!” you flinch when his soft hands (slightly rough due to his quirk) tilt your chin upwards and you lose yourself in his amber irises. “come on, lemme take you somewhere? i wanna be able to talk to you properly.” you frown in suspicion which only makes denki laugh cheekily. “promise i’m not a serial killer. i’m a hero now, remember?” 

relenting, you let the electric hero lead you away from the bustling crowd infiltrating the living room, hallways and kitchen — swallowing your heartbeat when he drags you up the stairs to one of ashido’s unoccupied bedrooms. kaminari has you seated on sheets with a thread count so high you fear they might cost half of your rent for the month. he clambers onto the bed beside you, so close that your shoulders bump and you can feel the warmth of his skin bleeding into yours. 

“so now that it’s just you and i… no other guys,” he purrs into the shell of your ear, coaxing you backwards into the sheets. there’s no interruptions, just you and him. “we can finally catch up a little, huh, cutie?” 

“uhuh…” you nod dumbly as you feel denki’s hand traverse up your thighs, stopping just under the hem of your shirt while he crawls on top of you. it’s nice, having someone touch you like this after so long, after your ex — but there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you that this isn’t genuine or real. “w-wait!” you squeak when kaminari’s lips drop to your jawline, working their way up to your own.

denki, from what you’ve gathered, is a renowned fuck boy. now that he’s a little hotter (not that he wasn’t before) and more charming, he and his little friend sero hanta had been playing lucky dip with their dicks across the population right up until recently — when sero found himself in a long distance relationship. you had just gotten out of a long-term one yourself and you weren’t even sure if you could handle just having a bit of fun right now. 

the blonde peels away from you, faster than the speed of light, sitting back on his haunches. “hey, are you okay?” 

“yeah i’m just—“ you’re sure that you look a mess, clothes askew and chest heaving — but you have to make sure that this won’t be a mistake. “how do i know that you even like me, kaminari? we haven’t spoken in years, i just got out of a relationship and you’ve got this reputation now—“ 

it’s like kaminari can sense that you’re nervous and hesitant but just as easily as he can do that, he can also tell how badly you want this. “i’ve always liked you,” he says easily, unafraid, much unlike you. “but you never took me seriously back then. ‘nd i’m different now, i’m not nearly as slutty as you think.”

even in the darkness you can see a genuine glow to the electric hero’s golden eyes — you feel yourself trusting in him despite the charming front he puts up. “you made it a thing, yanno?” he continues, voice dipping into lower octaves that have your skin erupting in goosebumps. “in high school, you used to make a point of telling me that i’m not your type.” denki is all over you again, but he doesn’t push the boundaries of what you consent to. his hands only move further up when you let him, his nose pressed against your neck when you say yes. his lips on your skin when you plead. “how about now, cutie? judging by your reactions, i think i know what’s on your mind."

doubts and worries swirl around in your mind like a grade four hurricane. he’s making you dizzy, his scent, his smile, his words are driving you insane but you can’t help but worry. having sex with denki wouldn’t be the same has making love with someone you were once committed to but he still wants you, despite everything you’ve gone through. 

tilting your head up to face him, the electric blonde pulls you from your thoughts. “don’t worry, cutie. we won’t do anything you don’t want to.” he simpers, his canines just grazing your bottom lip. “but if you want me like i want you. then i’m here. anything to sate ya, beautiful.” 

“okay,” you swallow thickly, your shaky fingers coming up to rest on kaminari’s shoulders. “i want you.” 

“yeah?” he interrogates you lightly, searching through the sexual tension in the air for your absolute consent. bowing your body into denki’s, you breathe a quiet but firm  ‘yes’  which gives him to go ahead to push your legs apart with his knee. you’re so ready for him already and the fun has barely begun, your breathing hot and heavy as you cover your face at the indecent moans you let out. “don’t be shy, you decide how far we go tonight — i just wanna make you mine.” 

and with that, you decide to trust denki with the shattered pieces of your heart — accepting the sloppy kiss you find yourself locked in when he swoops down to give you one. soon after that, a haze falls over your mind and the night quickly falls away. 

when you wake up the next morning, patches of your body are sore and bruised just under the skin — littered with an array of deep blues, purples and burgundies from where kaminari had insisted on marking you all night. theres a tenderness  between your legs that makes a pulse of heat dance across your face as light bulb memories from your late night activities flash in your mind. 

you’re still at mina’s place, judging by the fact that your bed is not your bed and your clothes are crumpled on the floor where you usually would have tossed them on the back of your desk chair. rubbing at your eyes, you note that your makeup is definitely ruined, remembering that denki liked to see you cry — the aforementioned blonde nowhere to be found either. 

panic seizes your chest, intertwined with your lungs and your heart like the prickly vines of a pesky weed. had he left without a word? surely he didn’t regret last night? surely you weren’t that bad of a fuck? tears begin to flood your eyes, you’d trusted denki with a part of you that only your ex had seen and now he was gone like the wind too. 

you’re too caught up in your pity fest to notice the bedroom door creak open, however, only looking up when it slams shut and a sheepish denki is standing before it. “i-i brought you breakfast,” he stumbles over his words in an attempt to rush over to you with arms full of what smells like hashbrowns and breakfast muffins. “i-i got hungry and figured you would be too. i really did a number on you last night— oh please don’t cry, cutie!”

“i’m not crying!” you damn near screech, trying to hide your face from him. in a way, it’s sort of adorable how denki looks with his hair all messed up and marks of yours littered down his neck and what you can see if his shoulders. his golden eyes, so warm and charming, erratically search your face for any sign of pain as you dab away your own tears. 

“i texted too! i had to bug mina for your number before i left. which meant waking her up and she almost killed me — i’m sorry, maybe I should have woken you up too—“ in three short strides, denki crosses to the room and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his arms after abandoning the food. it’s nice, being held like you matter to someone. it was never like that with your ex. 

but in your heart of hearts, you started to believe the words he told you at your break up. that you wouldn’t be able to move on, that your dependency on him would be the only thing to hold you back…and he was right. pitifully so. because while you’d shared an amazing night with kaminari, an old school friend, you were spending the morning-after crying your eyes out in front of him because you were afraid he’d leave. he owed you nothing!

“we should’ve never done this,” you hiccup pathetically despite how denki rocks your bodies back and forth to calm you down. “h-he was right… i’m so stupid!”

blonde eyebrows meet at the centre of denki’s forehead as he frowns deeply. not at you, never at you. he had heard the rumours about your ex and the downfall of your seemingly happy relationship, hell, it had even shocked him to see your relationship status on social media change from committed to single. that didn’t mean everything was as it seemed, nor that you deserved to have your heart ripped in two.

“fuck that,” the electric hero whispers a little too quietly at first, just barely heard over your sniffles and sobs while he sways you both. “fuck that guy. that’s a fucking lie and you know it!.” 

“k-kaminari!” you squeak in surprise, looking up at him with wide doe eyes.

shaking his head, he meets your gaze with frenzied sunshine eyes of his own. “this wasn’t a mistake to me, i really fucking wanted you, i always have,” he begins, using a knuckle to brush a stray tear from your cheek. “your ex was an asshole, but his love could have never felt right if he treated you so badly. made you feel like this.” next, denki presses his forehead to yours, hoping that his reassurances are enough. “maybe I’ve gone about this the wrong way, sleeping with you first and buying you dinner…breakfast… second. but i’ve always liked you, and i want to be the one beside you from now on…if you say it’s alright?” 

you’re not pleased to admit that kaminari makes you cry all over again — happy to admit that it’s for a different reason. because even after all this time apart, the blonde still wants you and only you. you’d be a fool not to switch sides and be with him. someone who likes you for you, they way you could like him.

so you giggle, allow kaminari to wipe your nose and call you pretty while you breathe out a quiet. “yeah, it’s alright…”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[newtonsheffield]

Molly, Modern Bruises makes me FERAL. I couldn't pick a favorite out of your stories at gunpoint but a tiny part of me will always hope that the mood/muse will strike you to write this one!

Yeah, I know probably everyone wants to see it, but I just want to give a little bit more distance from the original story to sort of challenge myself.

I love this Kate and Anthony though, I love humble little Anthony with his wool farm that’s actually worth millions of pounds and yet he’s still driving the same old Land Rover that’s been on the farm since his birth. And Kate, the somewhat famous model and sister of a baroness who truthfully only started looking on the dating profile her sister set up as a joke. But then she found Anthony. And he was a little stilted and awkward in his flirting at first but earnest as well. She’s almost scared to meet him, when she pretends to have business in Kent, scared that he won’t be who she thought he was. She’s scared they won’t have chemistry face to face but she really shouldn’t be worried. From the moment she rushes up to the tiny pub, mortified that she’s nearly 30 minutes late because of the traffic, her heart stops in her chest. Even though he’s walking away, his shoulders slumped and defeated something in her echoes There he is.

Even when she has to leave on Sunday afternoon something ached in her chest as she left the farm he’d clearly been so proud to show her. Kate stares down at their fingers intertwined on her lap, his car trundling back to the bigger city he’d asked to meet her in where she’d left her car that morning.

“I hope um… I hope you… had a good time today.” Anthony cleared his throat as he pulled up outside her hotel. “I know… I have a lot going on but I… I like you. I really like you.”

Kate squeezed his hand, “I had a really great time today. Last night as well.”

���I’d um…” Anthony took a deep breath, “This might be kind of a big commitment when we just met but… I’d really like it if you’d consider being in a sort of… exclusive relationship.”

Kate’s heart fluttered in her chest and she fought a smile. “You want to be my boyfriend?”

Anthony nodded quickly, using his free hand to ruffle his hair, “I get it if you have to think about it but I… yeah I… want to be your boyfriend.”

Kate nodded, taking out her phone and taking a picture of her hand, held in his. “That’ll do.”

“Do?”

“For me to soft launch my new boyfriend.” Kate kissed his cheek, “I don’t need to think about it.”

Anthony smiled, a soft thing that lit up his entire face though his brow furrowed seconds later. “I… don’t know what a soft launch is.”

Kate sighed, “You don’t need to. All you need to know is I’m coming back next weekend, and I’ll leave early this time.”

“Do you want to…?” Anthony swallowed, “Maybe you could stay with me at the farm? You could bring Newton.”

“I’d love that.”

[cuntess-carmilla]

The level of performance you demand from bi people as a whole, but especially of bi women, is motherfucking insane. I really don't get why you all demand bi women virtue signal their sexuality by "rejecting" men in order to not deem them gross lesbophobes by virtue of existing. "Even" if they prefer men that's not necessarily out of some internalized homo/biphobia. They just like men. That’s kind of part of (most bi people’s) bisexuality. Shocker, I know.

A lot of the behaviors you all accuse bi women of (not taking other women seriously as partners, for example) are behaviors a lot of lesbians in denial exhibit too but in us you see victims of our own pain and misogyny who need help and understanding, while in bi women you see vile irredeemable perpetrators who must be ostracized and punished.

You blame them of their own abuse at the hands of cis straight men in ways that if you remove the "bi" from "bi women" you would recognize as disgusting victim-blaming, WHILE rejecting them & pushing them out of LGBT spaces, which, guess what you fucking geniuses; leaves them to have cis straight men as their only viable option. Funny how that works. You're all "women should stay away from dating bi women" or "bi women fetishize lesbianism by wanting to be with women" but shame bi women for being with men IN THE SAME BREATH. What the fuck do you want them to do? Be celibate for your own biphobic comfort?

I legit saw idiots on Twitter say "normalize lesbians only dating other lesbians" as if that's not what's normalized already. Bi women are already seen as gross sluts that kiss women at parties to turn men on and only seriously date men. What the fuck isn’t normalized about lesbians dating lesbians only?

You think that I, a literal fucking dyke, didn't see women at some point as hot for sex and men as the only viable partners for serious relationships? Would you see me as a disgusting dangerous misogynist for having been there, or as struggling with internalized homophobia? If it’s the later, why don't you extend that same compassion to bi women? Only difference there is that I'm a lesbian and they're bisexual.

Sure, they like men so being with men isn't INHERENTLY torture for them like it is for me, but you don't think that thinking/behaving that way is traumatizing for them too? They love women and are depriving themselves of that experience out of internalized biphobia, misogyny and homophobia. You think that doesn’t fuck them up too? They're hurting too, but you think that, unlike a lesbian who does the same, THEY deserve that suffering.

And no one is telling you to date them or to suffer for them through it just because they're suffering too. What you're being told is to see them as the non-straight women they are who're suffering too and understand the complexity of their situation the same way you would someone like me.

You think too that the “solution” to the horrendous rates of IPV they face with cis straight men is swearing off men. Would you tell straight women to do the same if they don’t want to be abused by male partners? You wouldn't. Because you see straight women as not having "an option" but think bi women do and thus they MUST be asking to be abused. Literal “asking for it” shit. It's all victim blaming + Boys Will Be Boys, but add a "bi" to it and it's progressive somehow.

This points to you seeing women's attraction to men as only ok when it's not "chosen", just a passive reception of misogynistic violence (which, way to take away the agency of women’s sexualities, you dumb bitches), but when they IN THEORY have a "choice" because they also like women, their attraction to men is active instead of passive, and thus they're cock-sucking sluts who’re choosing to endanger themselves. You see women whose desire for men is active, as deserving of whatever results from their involvement with men. You can't be a biphobe without being a misogynist.

You see bisexuality as a fractured amalgam of homosexuality + heterosexuality instead of its own standalone identity, and thus they can and MUST choose one or the other, because their “heterosexual” attraction and their gay attraction are in active competition within them like the fucking two wolves shit. You can’t be a biphobe without being a homophobe.

Bi women's attraction to men is NOT normalized and biphobes are living proof of it. It's not normalized; they're bisexual, not straight. Their attraction to men coexists with, interlinks with and isn't independent of their attraction to women. Bi women ARE shamed and punished for liking men because they don't like men alone, they simultaneously like women and those are inseparable for them.

If it was normalized, it wouldn't be widespread to blame them for the abuse they receive when involved with men, like they should pick a side for their abuse to count or matter. They wouldn't be pushed out of LGBT spaces for being with men, it wouldn't be seen by other LGBT people (even many bi women themselves) as a flaw in their sexuality that makes them a gay-straight chimera. They wouldn't feel ashamed of their attraction to men. They wouldn't be seen with suspicion for liking men if it was normalized.

Them simultaneously liking men is seen as not loving men "correctly" AND as not loving women “correctly”. No LGBT women (including cis bi women and straight trans women) are seen as doing love and sex "correctly".

You can only claim bi women's attraction to men is normalized if you see bisexuality as a Lego combo of straight + gay and thus their attraction to men is separable from their attraction to women. It's not. They're not cherry-picked bits and pieces of heterosexuality and homosexuality. They're 100% bisexual, always, no matter in what way their bisexuality expresses itself. Be it bisexual with no preference, bisexual with a preference for women, or bisexual with a preference for men.

It's not 50-50% straight-gay, 25-75% straight-gay, or 80-20% straight-gay respectively. ALL are 100% bisexual-bisexual. If you can't respect that, you're a homophobe and a misogynist.

And yes, it is HOMOphobic to see bi women with suspicion for liking men. You see "homosexual" attraction as inherently in jeopardy if there's a coexisting "heterosexual" attraction because the gay one will be lesser and you see the "straight" one as a threat that'll take precedent. That’s your gay insecurity from internalized homophobia speaking.

Then too, there's a reason biphobes think bi men are secretly gay, and bi women are secretly straight. You see men as the superior and inevitable choice for both. That's misogyny. If you're a biphobe, you ARE undoubtedly a misogynist and a homophobe, even if you're gay and/or a woman yourself.

Every time people make armchair judgements of bisexual women as man-worshipers all I can think of is my sister who cried rivers of tears to me about how painful and stressing it is to over-perform her attraction to men who're not even her type (she likes gnc men!) just to stay closeted, and when I think of that, I wish so badly I could slap each and every person doing that.

And yeah! You read right, GNC MEN. Bisexuality is "gay enough", "even" in their different-gender attraction, that plenty of bi women prefer gnc men, and plenty of bi men prefer gnc women. In fact, plenty of bi people, including the cis ones, are gnc themselves (with a specific tendency towards androgyny but there's many who're distinctly masculine/feminine at it) and thus much more visible as gay than someone like me; a fucking lesbian, but I'm fem-presenting.

"Bi people can stay closeted while in relationships." So can gay men and lesbians who have beards, who hide our partners, whose partners are trans and closeted, if we're trans and closeted ourselves, or if we’re single and not visibly gnc.

My relationship would be seen as straight by outsiders because my fiancé is a closeted trans lesbian. Unless you’re a transphobe you would NOT call that a fucking privilege. It’s not a fucking privilege that she’s forced to hide herself and hide that the nature of her exclusive love for women is gay. That shit fucking kills her inside. It’s not a privilege that to keep the love of my life safe and myself too I have to pretend that our love is straight when it was so fucking hard for me to just detect, let alone ACCEPT and take pride in that I don’t like men.

All of that keeps us safe, but at great emotional cost. Being closeted is safety for all LGBT people, but it’s not a privilege, it’s PAINFUL. You understand this when it comes to gay men and lesbians, and can feel compassion for us. Why not for bi people? Why are you so angry at bi people? Why do you hold so much contempt for bi people?

I'll tell you why: BECAUSE YOU'RE BIGOTS.

[antiloreolympus]

9 Anti LO Asks

1. What I don't get is ... isn't the ending of LO, is RS is actual accurate, won't that still be bittersweet at best? Because unless she changes the ending completely (and if she does, it firmly proves she doesn't care about the mythology, so I doubt she'd change it) then HxP is still seperated for half the year, Hades is still alone for half his time, and Persephone is stuck with her abusive mom, so they still lose in a way, don't they? How is she going to spin that?

2. Ok so, the much less popular Hooky got on the NYT bestseller list with no promotion from Webtoons, meanwhile LO had them promoting them over all social media for months, had a ton of preorder exclusives, a B&N collectors edition, & a week of promoting it on their website/app and it still didn't get on the NYT list. Even I have to admit that must sting a little. I think they were banking on NYT bestseller tagline and it backfired. And we know sales tail off with sequels ... whoops?

3. For the person wondering in the that old tumblr ask post, yes Apollo in the Canvas/Discover version of LO was Persephone's kinda sucky boyfriend and it played more into a old school "girl leaves crappy bf for a better guy" trope, and there was no SA involved. TBH this version is so much better for so many reasons but especially because it actually let Persephone have a choice and even let her have sex and date other men before Hades. Current LO is such a major downgrade in comparison.

4. there's more random furry creatures in LO than actual creatures from greek mythology. like seriously rachel.

5. I think a big part of the silly "anti"/"pro" binary is that us "antis" just want a healthy discussion and we have other things to do and worry about, meanwhile the "pro" people have made something LO a legit part of who they are and seem to determine their own worth upon it, meaning they think they have to defend it and hype it up as this great thing, because if not that'll look bad on them. I've seen this so many times before in other fandoms and it's sad to see it happening again.

6. Am I the only one who hopes Rachel takes a break? Not because I'm sick of LO, but because I'm seeing so many Webtoons creators burning out and even quitting their comics because the workload is just too much. I realize it might be different in her case, but I think it's pretty obvious there's burnout both in her art and writing that a several months (maybe even a year off) break would be so beneficial to her and her team. As much as we critique her, we don't want her to harm herself either.

From OP: I agree. I feel like a mid season break would be beneficial for her but then again, I don’t know RS personally.

7. It's always so obvious when LO stumbles because Webtoons makes sure to never mention it. They hype it up when it gets award noms, but never mentions when LO loses and yet never mention when other Webtoons do win (side-eying that HARD). Now they hyped up for months it would break book sales, and yet they're now refusing to acknowledge it's actually underperforming and didn't hit the big lists like NYT (which other printed Webtoons have hit). It's kinda embarrassing, tbh.

8. lo hades was already ugly as hell but somehow hes only gotten uglier during this trial. maybe its him snarling like a dog and his piss poor attitude but he's legit giving off the exact opposite of "sexy and romantic uwu emo boy" vibes.

9. not me going to my uni's bookstore today and already seeing the lo book was marked down %25 😭

[ailuronymy]

do you think every disabled character in wc is handled poorly? i understand theres def some cases of ableism but at the same time when i hear ppl say that its usually bc the disabled cat wasnt able to become a warrior due to their disability. and i feel like ppl forget, that not everyone irl CAN do what they want after they become disabled. ex. someone wants to be an athlete, but their legs have to be amputated. a cat like briarlight esp i feel is p realistic and could be a source of comfort

Hello there, thank you for writing in. I’m going to reply to this question with a series of questions I think are a bit more useful, given what you’re trying to ask me. I hope that’ll clarify what is a deeply complex, multilayered issue. 

Do I think Erin Hunter handles anything in the series “well”? Not really. I don’t have a high opinion of the work of the collective and, broadly speaking, I think every right note they play, metaphorically speaking, is an instance of chance rather than effort, skill, or intention. Stopped clocks are right twice a day, mediocre writers will sometimes do something cool by accident, similar principle. That’s not to say Erin Hunter hasn’t ever done anything on purpose--just that overall the underlying drive of the series isn’t so much quality as it is quantity, and speed of production, and it shows. 

Do I think Erin Hunter puts any significant research into how they portray disability? No. I do not think it is a priority for this series. They’re not trying to make a meaningful work of literature, or capture a realistic experience of disability, or tell especially impactful or thoughtful stories, or even make a particularly good or coherent fantasy world. Warriors is a specifically commercial product that was commissioned by HarperCollins to appeal to a particular demographic of drama-loving, cat-loving kids. It’s not really trying to do anything but sell books, because it’s a business, so the text in many ways reflects that. They’re not going for disability representation, in my opinion. They’re including disability in many cases as a plot-point or an obstacle. 

Do I think this means that people can’t connect to these characters and narratives in meaningful ways? No. Often I say that a work is completed only when it is read. Before that point, it doesn’t have a meaning: a reader finishes the work through the act of reading, and interpretation, and filling in the spaces and resonance of the story with their own values and experiences. When people talk about subjectivity, this is what they are talking about. What this means in the context of disabled characters in Warriors is that these characters and their stories can be multiple, conflicting, even mutually exclusive things at the same time, to different people, for different reasons. 

Do I think characters have to be “good” to be significant to someone? No. I think genuinely “bad” (i.e., not researched or poorly researched, cliche, thoughtlessly written, problematic, etc. etc.) characters can be deeply meaningful, and often are. Ditto above: for many people, and especially marginalised or stigmatised people, reading is almost always an act of translation, wherein the person is reading against the creative work of the dominant culture in a way that the author likely didn’t intend or didn’t even imagine. There’s a long documented history of this in queer culture, but it’s true for just about everyone who is rarely (or unfairly) represented in media. Disabled people often have to read deeply imperfect works of fiction featuring disability and reinterpret them in the process--whether to relate to a kind of disability they don’t experience themselves but which is the closest they’re offered to something familiar, or to turn positive and meaningful what is intended as narrative punishment, or simply to create what’s commonly called headcanon about “non-disabled” characters who echo their personal experiences. 

Do I think everyone has to agree? Extremely no. As I said before, people will actually always disagree, because all people have different needs and different experiences. What can be interpreted as empowering to one person might be very othering and painful for another. There is no “right” answer, because, again, that is how subjectivity works. This is especially true because marginalised communities are often many different kinds of people with different lives and needs brought together over a trait or traits they share due to the need for solidarity as protection and power--but only in a broad sense. It’s why there is often intracommunity fighting over representation: there isn’t enough, there’s only scraps, and so each person’s personal interpretation can feel threatening to people whose needs are different. You can see examples of this especially when it comes to arguments over character sexuality: a queer female character might be interpreted as bisexual by bisexual people who relate to her and want her to be, while being interpreted as lesbian by lesbians who also relate to her and want her to be like them. Who is correct? Often these different interpretations based on different needs are presented as if one interpretation is theft from the other, when in fact the situation is indicative of the huge dearth of options for queer people. It becomes increasingly more intense when it comes to “canon” representations, because of the long history of having to read against the grain I mentioned above: there’s novelty and, for some people, validation in “canon” certainty. And again, all of this is also true for disabled people and other stigmatised groups. 

Do I think this is a problem? Not exactly. It is what it is. It is the expected effect of the circumstances. Enforced scarcity creates both the need for community organising and solidarity and the oppressive pressure to prioritise one’s self first and leave everyone else in the dust (or else it might happen to you). The system will always pit suppressed people against each other constantly, because it actively benefits from intracommunity fighting. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these, and so on. A solution is absolutely for everyone in community to hold space for these different needs and values, and to uplift and support despite these differences, but it’s not anyone’s fault for feeling threatened or upset when you don’t have much and feel like the thing that you do have is being taken away. It’s a normal, if not really helpful, human response. But until people learn and internalised that the media is multifaceted and able to be many things at once, without any of those things being untrue or impacting your truth of the text, then there will be fighting. 

Do I think my opinion on disability on Warriors is all that important? No, not really. I can relate to some characters in some moment through that translation, but my opinion on, say, Jayfeather is nowhere near as worthy of consideration than that of someone who is blind. I don’t have that experience and it’s not something I can bring meaningful thinking about, really. That’s true for all these characters. If you want to learn about disability, prioritise reading work about disabled rights and activism that is done by disabled people, and literary criticism from disabled people. And as I mentioned above, remember that community isn’t a monolith: it’s a survival tactic, that brings together many different people with disparate experiences of the world. So research widely. 

Finally--do I think there’s only one kind of disabled narrative worth telling? No. For some people, a disabled character achieving a specific, ability-focused dream is a good story. For other people, a story that acknowledges and deals with the realities, and limitations, of disability is a good story. The same person might want both of those stories at different times, depending on their mood. That’s okay. Sometimes there’s power and delight in a fantasy of overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles and defying all expectations. Sometimes there’s value and catharsis in a narrative that delves into the challenges and grief and oppression experienced because of disability. There’s no one truth. 

To round all this off, I’m going to give my favourite example of this, which is Cinderella. I think it’s a great and useful tool, since for many it’s familiar and it’s very simple. Not much happens. In the story, she is bullied and tormented, until a fairy godmother gifts her over several nights with the opportunity to go to a royal ball, where she dances with a prince. The prince eventually is able to find Cinderella, due to a shoe left behind, and they are married. In some versions, the family that mistreated her are killed. In others, they’re forgiven. 

Some people hate the story of Cinderella, because she is seen as passive. She tolerates the bullying and never fights back. She does every chore she’s told. She is given an opportunity by a fairy godmother, and she doesn’t help herself go to the ball. She runs from the prince and he does the work to find her again. Eventually, she’s married and the prince, presumably, keeps her in happiness and comfort for the rest of her life. 

For some, this story is infuriating, because Cinderella doesn’t “save herself”: she is largely saved by external forces. She is seen as a quintessential damsel-in-distress, and especially for people who have been bullied, infantalised, or made to feel less capable or weak, that can be a real point of personal pain and discomfort. 

However, for some others, Cinderella is a figure of strength, because she is able to endure such hostile environments and terrible people and never gives up her gentle nature or her hope. She never becomes cruel, or bitter. She is brave in daring to go outside her tiny, trapped world, and she is brave to let the prince find her. She doesn’t have to fight or struggle to earn her reward of happiness and prove her worth, because she was always deserving of love and kindness. The prince recognises at once, narratively speaking, her goodness and virtue, and stops at nothing to deliver her a better life. 

Depending on the version, the wicked family disfigure themselves for their own greed--or are punished, which for some is a revenge fantasy; or Cinderella forgives them and once again shows her tenacious kindness, which for others is a different revenge fantasy. 

The point? Cinderella is the same character in the same story, but these are almost unrecognisable readings when you put them side-by-side. Which one is right? Which one is better? In my opinion, those are the wrong questions. I hope this (long, sorry) reply is a set of more useful ones. 

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Epilogue 2: A Queen’s Crown

A/N: I know this one is a bit short.  One more epilogue to go, and if you missed my update, it will be posted THIS WEDNESDAY at 7:30pm.  We’re ending the disaster that was 2020 with Aberdeen and Willy!

January 2023

Aberdeen Bloom was freaking the fuck out.  

Anna Wintour just walked into the room.

“Miss Bloom!  Hello,” she greeted, her signature accent filling the room as her dress swayed back and forth.  Every stylish, her boots clacked against the floor as she approached the photographer and set where Aberdeen was about to pose on a beautifully crafted, eccentrically pink upholstered couch in front of styled bookcases holding hundred-year-old editions of books.  

“Hello Ms. Wintour,” Aberdeen said as confidently as she could, shaking Anna’s hand.  Her own dress – a black, high-neck midi-length dress with sheer long sleeves and hand applied golden crystals she was styled in that morning – sparkled in the light of the room.  “It’s an honour to meet you.  Thank you for the profile.”

“It’s not every day a woman sets a record in the writing world,” Anna said.  “I would be a fool not to profile the youngest person to ever receive a Booker Prize for fiction.”

Aberdeen smiled.  Every time she heard that – the youngest person to ever receive a Booker Prize for fiction – she had to pinch herself.  She truly believed her life wasn’t real over these past few years.  Most authors dreamt of being nominated for awards.  Her first book was longlisted for the two biggest literary awards in Canada.  Her second book, published by Coach House again but then picked up by Knopf and published internationally, had won the two biggest literary awards in Canada and had just won the Booker Prize for Fiction, the most prestigious literary award in the world.  She was living in a dream world.

“And you must be the new fiancé,” Anna said, motioning over to where William was standing just out of shot, watching the photoshoot about to begin.  “Pleasure to meet you.  You must be in town to face the Rangers.”

“You as well,” William approached her to shake her hand.  “You made my fiancée’s dream come true with this profile.”

“Well considering how fashionable she’d been on the book tour,” Anna shrugged her shoulders, as if to say it was so obvious to have her in the pages of Vogue.  “I know some of the editors here kept tabs on it.  Did you employ a stylist?”

“No ma’am,” Aberdeen giggled slightly.  If Anna Wintour was about to compliment her on her style, she was going to drop dead.

“Impressive,” Anna nodded.  “Now let’s see the ring.”

Aberdeen held out her left hand.  Anna inspected the ring like a gemologist.  When William proposed with it, Aberdeen was blown away.  He’d designed it himself.  A 4 carat round diamond in a twisted halo design and pavé band.  It quite literally looked like a flower in bloom.  And for Aberdeen’s eyes only, an inscription on the inside of the band in the most delicate handwriting.  “Stunning,” she said, turning to the photographer.  “Make sure you get it.”

“Of course, Ms. Wintour.”

Anna side-stepped to inspect the set.  She took one last look at Aberdeen in her dress and high heels and perfectly waved hair and perfectly applied makeup.  Anna gave her an up-down and suddenly Aberdeen became nervous.  Anna looked towards the stylist.  “We need a crown.  Crowns.”

“Crown?  Crowns?  Multiple?”

“Her novel is titled A Queen’s Crown.  She’s the youngest woman – person – to win the Booker Prize for fiction.  Surely she should wear a crown in her photoshoot.”

“I—I’ll go into the closet,” the stylist nodded, hurrying out of the room.

Anna turned once more to Aberdeen.  “Enjoy.”

***

March 2023

“I’m not about to be murdered by Orla Bloom for not having our wedding in a Catholic Church,” William said as he stuffed pasta into his mouth at the dinner table.  

“But you’re not Catholic,” Aberdeen tried to explain to him, again.  “You don’t understand what we’ll have to go through to get married in a Catholic Church.  There are classes – like legit marriage classes we have to take.  And we have to get, like, permission from the diocese to enter into the marriage and follow a Catholic wedding forma—”

“Listen to me,” William said, interrupting her.  He grabbed her hand from across the table to calm her down.  He knew how stressed she was getting about getting married, if only because there was Toronto and Sweden and Northern Ireland and Scotland to deal with.  That didn’t even factor in hockey, making them only really able to have the wedding within a twelve-week span of the year.  That also didn’t factor in her job, which, between book tours and interviews and appearances and writing her next, also created limited time and availability for their wedding date.  But when she felt his hand wrap around hers, he saw her visibly relax.  “I love you.  We could go down to the courthouse right now to get married.  But this means a lot to Orla.  And I know you won’t say it, but I know how much this means to you, to be married in the same church you went to as a kid in Etobicoke,” he said softly.  “So we’re doing it there.  No ifs, and, or buts.  I’ll take any class I have to in order to marry you.  I’ll donate.  Give my blood.  Whatever.  We’re getting married there.”

Aberdeen couldn’t take it.  She got up from her seat and moved to sit in William’s lap.  She didn’t care that they were at the dinner table, and she didn’t care that William had to push back his chair really quickly to accommodate her.  All she wanted to do was melt into him completely.  “Thank you so much,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him.  “I love you.  You know that, right?”

William smiled.  “I do.  And I love you too.  That’s why I gave you that ring.”

***

TALK OF THE TOWN: Booker Prize-winning and Toronto-based author Aberdeen Bloom and William Nylander (you know, of the Toronto Maple Leafs) just bought “the last lot on the Kingsway” – an old 1970s style bungalow empty for some time now.  Sources say the couple plan to tear it down (of course) and build their dream home, a Scandinavian-inspired house where Bloom will no doubt produce her next great novels.  Bloom and Nylander will be two blocks away from her former and his current boss, Brendan Shanahan, President of the Toronto Maple Leafs.  Bloom has always said in interviews that she will never leave Toronto, so it’s fitting that the girl who was born and raised in Etobicoke would buy on one of the city’s most exclusive and coveted streets.

***

May 2023

“Vogue is coming to the wedding?  Vogue?!  Like…Vogue magazine?!” Aleida asked as she fed a now two-year-old Helena sitting in a high chair.  Aberdeen smiled wryly before nodding her head.  Aleida was still dumbfounded.  “Like…Anna Wintour Vogue magazine.  That Vogue magazine.”

“That Vogue magazine,” Aberdeen nodded.  “They’re profiling it for an issue, along with my dress fitting.  And then when the house is done, they’re going to do a feature on that too.”

Aleida looked towards Bee, who was just as shocked as Aleida was.  “We need to go shopping for new dresses.”

“We definitely need to go shopping for new dresses,” Bee agreed.  “I better let Aryne know too.”

“Guys, it’s still like, two years away.  We set the date for August 23rd, 2025,” Aberdeen smiled as she reminded them.  “You will have plenty of time.  Plenty.”

“I don’t know about that.  Weddings creep up on you quick,” Bee joked.  Aberdeen completely understood where she was coming from.  Bee and Morgan were getting married in July.  William and Aberdeen were invited, of course, and would be going.  Bee spoke a lot about the planning the past few months and always gave updates whenever the girls were all together.  “I mean, I thought a year would be plenty of time for the wedding.  And it is, don’t get me wrong…but it definitely came sooner than I thought!”

“You need to get the venue sorted now before anything else,” Aleida offered.  “You’re two years out so you should honestly have your choice in place.  But I don’t think there’s any venue in this city that would turn you down.”

“We’ve already booked,” Aberdeen smiled wryly.  She was just full of surprises for the girls today.  They looked at her, waiting for a response.  “The Aria ballroom at the Four Seasons,” she revealed.

“Ooooooooooh,” both women cooed simultaneously at the revelation.  Even Helena join in on the sound.  “That will look stunning,” Aleida commented.  “I can see it now – those floor-to-ceiling windows with flowers hanging and—”

“—don’t forget the drapery over the dancefloor—” Bee offered.

“—the drapery over the dancefloor—”

“—and the centrepieces…big, tall arrangements that stretch up—”

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Aberdeen held her hands up gently, causing Bee and Aleida to stop momentarily.  Aberdeen paused for dramatic effect.  “We’ve gotta write all this stuff down.”

The girls smiled and wiggled in their seats excitedly.  “I’m giving you Rachel’s number,” Bee said, immediately mentioning her florist.  “Your last name’s Bloom.  There’s gotta be a shit ton of flowers at this wedding.”

***

July 2023

Aberdeen had tears in her eyes as she watched Morgan and Bee say “I do”.  William had been holding her hand throughout the entire ceremony, rubbing the back of it gently with his own thumb.  When they finally had their first kiss, it was the only point he let go so he could whistle loudly and clap and cheer.  Bee looked extraordinary in her lace dress.  Aberdeen could only imagine what would be in store for her when she went wedding dress shopping.

When the reception began, Aberdeen couldn’t help but get even more emotional.  Knowing what Bee had gone through in her life, and seeing her dance with Morgan for their first dance made some tears fall down her cheeks.  William noticed almost immediately, even though he was behind her; he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly and nestled his head onto her shoulder.   “That’ll be us soon,” he whispered.

Aberdeen nodded her head.  “I know.  I’m so excited.”

“I love you so much.  I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”

“And I can’t wait for you to be my husband.”

“And baby daddy.  Don’t forget baby daddy,” he joked.

Aberdeen giggled.  She knew he said that to make her laugh, because even though these were tears of joy, he didn’t like to see her cry.  “Baby daddy too,” she nodded.  “I can’t wait to have a thousand more little Nylanders running around Etobicoke.”

“We’re going to take over the world.”

***

August 23rd, 2025

Aberdeen looked at her dad as he held his arm out for her to grab.  He looked so spiffy in his suit, and every time she saw him today, he had a giant smile on his face.  It hadn’t left since their early morning wake up call to get hair and makeup done.  He’d cried when he saw her in her dress for the first time.  Now, if it was even possible, his smile was even wider.  “Ready, sweetheart?” he asked.

Aberdeen nodded, linking her arm with her father’s.  “I love you so much, dad.”

“I love you too, Aberdeen.  Every day I thank my lucky stars for you and Siena and Camden.  You’ve brought so much light to my life.”

Aberdeen’s bridesmaids had already walked out – Jacquie, Stephanie, Daniella, Kasha, and Siena as her maid of honour.  She knew Alex would be standing beside William at the front of the aisle, with Camden (now a smart-as-a-whip-16 year old) and some of his cousins there too.  The music began playing.  She took a deep breath.  The doors opened.

As she walked down the aisle with her father, she saw a lot of familiar faces.  Morgan and Bee, of course, cradling a six-month-old Andy.  Fred and Aleida, with a four-year-old Helena in the cutest little tutu-style dress.  Auston, John and Aryne, Zach and Alannah, Joe with his wife and kids, Pierre, Rasmus, Mitch and Steph, Jake, Courtney, and Luna, Justin and Audrey – so many of the Leafs.  Beth Zadakis.  Her editor from Coach House Books.  Her editor from Knopf.  Jason, Jennifer, and their four girls.  Brendan and his wife.  Her grandparents, who came in all the way from Northern Ireland.  Michael and Camilla.  Her mom.

And of course, William.  William, who was wiping tears away from his eyes.  William, who looked so dapper in his tux.  William.  

Her William.

[marrys-dream-world]

About Chloe, anon doesn't think her fans are EVER going to acknowledge how mean she actually is, and there's a reason for that: Tumblr "Woke" culture is based on Karl Marx's "conflict theory", where all conflict is between The Oppressors (men, white people, adults, etc.) and The Oppressed (women, black people, kids, etc.). Here's the key: both teenagers and girls are classified as Oppressed, so Tumblr fandoms can't allow teenagers to actually be monsters, because The Oppressed Can Never Be Evil.

Hi, anon, I let this ask stew a little cause I wanted to think about it a bit.

Sooo… I see your point, I really do, but I kinda do disagree with you. I don’t think the fandom immediately latches on “the oppressed” and become character apologists. Lila is a woc and the fandom loves to write fanfic of her completely humiliated and ruined for the rest of her life. Sure, she’s a villain and all, it’s just that people go a little too far (in my opinion) and her being a teenage girl of color doesn’t stop anyone. (Hell, Kagami is awesome and she still gets an incredible amount of hate for… *checks notes* being 14 and liking a boy). Your theory is just too simple, I think it’s something else: people like a character and, because of purity culture, they think they can’t stan a character without them being Completely Good™.

I was in the ML fandom in 2016 and there just weren’t Chloé apologists around (if there were, they were few because I didn’t see any and I was on tumblr and AO3 a lot). Sure, people liked Chloé back then and some were very invested in writing redemption arcs for her in fics. However, they rarely set aside the things she did or even that she deserved an arc like that. We were already aware something was going on with Chloé’s mom and a lot were sympathetic, we just didn’t let the things she did go. When I came back to the fandom in the beginning of season 4 (I had only heavily participated in the fandom during season 1 and a few episodes of season 2), I was surprised at her fans saying she was robbed of a redemption arc.

I can only guess that Chloé got sympathizers after we met her mother and started her redemption arc and that’s fair enough. The problem is: Chloé got a little better, but she was still mean and arrogant and seemed to sincerely believe that she deserved to use the bee miraculous. Most of her development didn’t seem to stick around and yeah, we could say that’s because the show is inconsistent. Still, it doesn’t seem so. Chloé’s arc is still going on, only stronger than ever (without the Queen Bee crutch), and Season 4 proved it (Queen Banana is right there). So saying that her arc was ruined and that she wasn’t that bad is flat out lying.

Anon, I'm sure you said it in your complementary ask (that’ll answer separately bc I want to talk about fanworks too) because you KNEW that I would bring it up, but I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna talk about B/akugou. He’s the epitome of privilege in the world of b/nha. He has a great quirk that allowed him to get away with everything he did with Izuku, he’s a man and he’s seemingly wealthy. Yet, a lot of the fandom still bends over backwards to defend him and leave his victim to rot (or say stuff like “I/zuku is a K/acchan stan :3”, like, Fuyumi isn’t angry with End*avor and we can still be angry for her but not with B/akugou for I/zuku? And it’s like they don’t know how trauma works smh). They act like 10 years of bullying is not that serious. I’ve seen a baku///deku fan that said B/akugou’s suicide baiting I/zuku in the first chapter wasn’t a big deal because they didn’t have a real bully/victim relationship. I wish I could unsee that.

(Yes, I’m aware of what’s happening in the manga and I still think his arc sucks <3. Nobody come in my inbox with B/akugou defenses)

Chloé is just like that. She’s really privileged in the world of ML, like B/akugou is in the world of b/nha. So I don’t think it’s a problem of the fandom defending who they see as the oppressed, they’ll cherry pick what they like most and defend anyways. It’s just a thing that happens and it’s not exclusive to any media. Watch any kpop fandom react when they faves get accused of bullying, suddenly the victim is an attention-seeker wh*re. In book fandom too, one my friend recommended me has the male romantic interest torture the protagonist on screen and the fandom is completely in love with him.

Bottom line: the fans will just defend who they like best, they don’t have a formula for who they choose.

(This post isn’t anti-Chloé bc I like her character and her place in the narrative, some fans just piss me off, specifically. This is anti-b/akugou though. Chloé’s ongoing redemption arc >>>>>> B/akugou's redemption arc. Maybe I’ll explain this someday, I don’t know.)

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 5 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

*****

Madja smiled as Gwyn followed her sisters into the healer's house,

"I believe you wanted to get a brace made for your wings?" She asked, gesturing for Emerie to sit, and she nodded,

"I can't fully draw a bow with the limited movement." She admitted, and nodded when Madja paused before reaching out to see exactly how far her wings could move on their own, and then with assistance. Gwyn and Nesta sat in front of Emerie, each holding one of her hands, and she squeezed each time something hurt, but never stopped Madja.

"How much higher do you need them to rest?" Madja asked,

"Not too much, I can't remember exactly what Azriel suggested."

"That's okay, I'll make one that's adjustable, so it can change as needed. Just so you're aware, bracing your wings higher than where they naturally rest will stretch the muscles, and might leave them a bit sore depending on how long you brace them for." Emerie nodded, "But it might also loosen the tightness that's come with the years, and if you want to, perhaps we can incorporate some physical therapy to improve movement a little."

"Physical therapy?" Emerie's eyes flashed with fear, "Not - not reopening the wounds to heal?" Gwyn gently squeezed her hand,

"No, nothing like that. You're not alone in wanting to avoid that, just stretches and exercises to improve strength and movement as your wings are. Perhaps with the right encouragement, your wings will be able to rest in a position suitable for archery without a brace at some point."

"That'll certainly be helpful," Emerie mused, "Okay, let's try it."

"Wonderful." Madja slowly released Emerie's wings, and pulled a sketchpad from under her desk, she sat silently for a few moments while Emerie turned to sit normally in her chair, "This is what I'm imagining," she explained, showing the females her sketch, "Does that look about right?"

"Yes. Thank you." Emerie grinned, and Madja smiled, her joy at helping a patient obvious in the way her eyes shone,

"I should have it made within a week or so, I will send word when it's done, and I'll let you know a potential schedule for your physical therapy."

"Oh. Um," Emerie started, "I don't live in Velaris, and I'd rather any letters not be found by my neighbors."

"I know," Madja said, smiling softly, "I meant, I'll send word to the House of Wind, I assume either Cassian or Azriel will help you when you come for training."

"Thank you," Emerie grinned, and turned round to Nesta, "Watch out, Nes, I'm coming after your title." Nesta narrowed her eyes,

"We'll see about that," she muttered, and Gwyn laughed,

"Oh please, neither of you stand a chance against me," she joked, and thanked Madja again before leading her sisters outside, to where Mor was already waiting,

"Well?" Emerie grinned and nodded,

"She says it should be made in a week!"

"That's great, are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, she also said that she thinks she can help with some stretches and exercises to eventually strengthen my wings so they won't need a brace." Mor grinned, and Emerie threw her arms around her, holding on tight as they winnowed back to the House.

Gwyn and Nesta shared a knowing look when they arrived, and slipped away, leaving Emerie and Mor alone for a moment,

"Oh, Gwyn, before I forget, there'a family dinner tonight, I doubt Emerie will be able to come, but you're more than welcome to if you want."

"A family dinner?"

"Yeah, at my sister's River House."

"You mean, a dinner with the High Lord and Lady?"

"With my sister and brother-in-law, my other sister, Elain, I don't think you've properly met, but she'll be there, and Amren and Varian, have you met them?"

"Briefly, but only for a couple of minutes,"

"And obviously, Mor, Cass and Az are all coming. It's okay if you're not comfortable coming though."

"No, I'll come, is it okay if I decide to leave early though?"

"Of course. Whatever you're comfortable with." Nesta didn't say it, but Gwyn easily noticed the pride in her eyes, pride for her, that she was willingly going to a gathering with people she didn't know well, or at all, in Elain's case. She smiled, Nesta didn't need to know that Azriel was the sole reason that she was comfortable with going,

"I'll see you tonight." Nesta grinned, before turning away,

"Oh, and my nephew will be there as well, at least for a bit." Gwyn smiled as Nesta disappeared off to whatever work she had to do.

*****

Gwyn was beautiful. There was no other way to describe her as she walked towards him, Azriel couldn't help the smile that sprung to his face, and his shadows shot across to her, not even waiting for his permission, dancing around her as she walked across to him. She had forsaken the robes of a priestess tonight, instead opting for a loose dress, the skirts not quite falling to the floor, leaving her shoes on display. The dress itself was midnight-blue, the skirts made from several swathes of fabric, flowing around her as she moved, and on her feet were a pair of flat shoes, matching the dress, elegant but practical. She had swept her hair onto her head, out of the way. She had dressed to look relatively formal, but so that she could still run, and fight. Azriel extended a hand, waiting for her to reach him, his shadows still surrounding her when she grasped his hand. They stayed with her as he flew her down to the River House, with Cassian and Nesta beside them.

Gwyn took a deep breath when Azriel set her down on the porch of the River House,

"You okay?" He muttered, and she nodded, but didn't step away from her side, going motionless when the door opened, and Feyre grinned at them,

"We're just getting sat down." She said, her gaze lingering on Gwyn for a moment, "Gwyn, I'm Feyre, we met briefly a few months ago." Gwyn returned her smile, and shook the hand Feyre held out for her,

"I remember," she faltered for a second, "I don't know what I should call you," she admitted, and Feyre smiled again,

"Just Feyre, no 'my lord' or 'my lady' within our family." Gwyn smiled, and,

"Alright, Feyre." Feyre grinned, and Gwyn seemingly opened up, her nervousness visibly fading a little at Feyre's friendly tone,

"Come on in then, you lot."

Azriel kept a hand on Gwyn's lower back as she followed Nesta and Cassian inside, and she flashed him a grateful smile, this was still difficult for her, but if he could make it any easier, he would.

Everyone else was already sat down when they reached the dining room, except for Mor, who was still sitting in an armchair across the room, playing with baby Nyx, her joy at his every giggle and squeal of delight plain for anyone to see. Were it not for Gwyn at his side, Azriel's gaze would have lingered, but he checked that Gwyn was still alright, and deliberately guided her to a chair away from the males she didn't know well. She was still close to Elain though, and Mor slid into the chair opposite Azriel after handing Nyx back to his mother. Gwyn kept close to him as conversations started around the table, casual conversations, no mention of work, or the potential situation in Illyria, not at family dinner. Gwyn was unusually quiet, mostly observing everyone around her, and talking politely to Mor and Nesta when she needed to. Every casual move was clear, calculated, her instincts for observation were perfect, had she been there to report back to someone, she would have been able to talk about everyone. A flash of pride shot through him at the realization that she was trying to figure out what to talk about with different people, and he cursed himself for not briefing her beforehand,

"Feyre tells me that you got some new seeds, Elain," he started, daring a glance at Rhys as her attention snapped to him, his brother wasn't watching, thank the Cauldron. Elain stared straight at him, and he tried not to squirm under her gaze as she excitedly talked about the new plants she was growing, exclusive to the Night Court. Was she still upset that he'd had to stop whatever had been starting to form between them? He almost winced at the intensity of her gaze, resisting to urge to ask his shadows what was up with her, but he wouldn't invade her privacy, even if she was mad at him.

"Did you ever find any night-blooming lilies?" It was the first question Gwyn had asked all evening, "We had some at Sangravah when I was young, but I've not seen them since,"

"No," Elain sighed, "I can't find them anywhere, it's as if all the seeds vanish the moment I try looking for them. I'll get my hands on some eventually. Excuse me," she muttered, standing to go and fetch the food, returning with Nuala and Cerridwen a few minutes later, leaving Gwyn hanging, and Azriel almost glared after her, but turned to Gwyn,

"Well done," he whispered, just loud enough for Gwyn to hear him, and he noticed Rhys glancing towards them for fifth time that evening, "If you're okay, I think Rhys wants to come over,"

"Oh?"

"You're a part of the family now. But he'll understand if you'd rather not tonight."

"No, it's okay," Azriel jerked his head slightly, and Rhys made his way slowly towards them, claiming the seat across from Gwyn, and smiled at her, "Hello, my lo-, sorry, Rhysand." He chuckled softly,

"Just Rhys is fine, Gwyn, we don't reinforce rank here."

"I know. Feyre mentioned, it's just a bit of a surprise," she glanced across to Azriel, just for a moment, wanting that little reassurance that he was still there,

"How's Nyx doing? You getting any sleep now?" Rhys rolled his eyes, and snorted,

"Sleep? What's that?" Rhys groaned, but grinned, and Gwyn smiled,

"Nyx is your son?" Rhys nodded,

"He's almost four months old now," he turned to see Feyre making her way across the room, Nyx in her arms, grabbing at her hair, and giggling when she passed him to Azriel,

"Say hi to uncle Azriel," she crooned, and grinned as she returned to her seat, Nyx stared up at him, and he reached out for something, grabbing at the air, the shadows,

"He's beautiful," Gwyn whispered, "I've always loved children, I used to look after the younglings at Sangravah."

"Do you want to hold him?" Rhys asked softly, and she nodded, giggling when Nyx hiccuped, staring up at her with wide eyes, then back at Azriel, "I hope we might see you around a bit more, Gwyn," Rhys said as he too left, following Feyre back to their seats. Gwyn looked around in a panic,

"Doesn't he want his son back?"

"You're fine, Gwyn, look, Nyx loves you." True to his words, the child had fallen asleep in Gwyn's arms, his little wings flopping down, and she carefully gathered them up,

"It's been ages since I held a child," she whispered, "I miss it." She smiled down at the sleeping child in her arms, "Babies don't ever judge, they see the world exactly as it is, and don't apologize for it." Azriel couldn't help but smile as she look back at him, laughing when Mor swooped back in to steal her nephew,

"My turn," she demanded, and grinned when Gwyn relinquished the child, his chubby hands pulling on a golden chain around her neck, a necklace, the necklace, oh shit, Elain was going to see it. He had to distract her attention, if Elain saw it, she'd mention it, and Gwyn, he never wanted her to think herself second best, if he'd been thinking he would have returned it, and bought her a different one, but it was too late now, shit. He could hide it, with his shadows. It was too late, Elain had already turned back, her gaze landing on the necklace,

"That's a lovely necklace, Gwyn." No. Shit, shit, shit.

"It was a gift from a friend at solstice, I never found out who." Gwyn smiled and touched the charm,

"I'm glad Azriel found someone who wanted it after I gave it back to him." Gwyn turned to face him, and he wished he could just vanish,

"What? Is that true? Did you give it to Elain first?" Tears were shining in her eyes, and devastation marred her beautiful face,

"Yes, but -" she didn't give him a chance to speak, running out of the room immediately,  "Gwyn!" he called after her, and glared at Elain, "What the fuck, Elain?" he almost shouted,

"She deserves to know. No one wants to be second best."

"She's not. I didn't even tell her it was from me! I just wanted someone to be happy with it, not using it as an escape from something else!" He snapped, following Gwyn out of the room before Elain had a chance to answer.

*****

He had just given her the necklace because Elain didn't want it. Azriel thought she was just someone to pass off unwanted gifts to. She would have been thrilled to learn it was from him, if he hadn't just been passing it on to her. She paused at the door, hearing Azriel's angry words to Elain, and debated going back, but ran outside, into the gardens, finding a bench to sit on. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but couldn't stop the tears from falling. She had thought he was different, better, but he had only thought of her when Elain had given it back, of course he wanted Elain, his brothers were with her sisters, so of course they were, whatever they were. She was foolish to think he'd ever want her. She buried her face in her hands and cried, letting out the sobs that she had hidden earlier, tears falling freely down her face.

Footsteps sounded on the marble floor at the entrance to the house,

"Go away," she muttered,

"Gwyn, please." Azriel. He thought he could just follow her out here, as if he had done nothing wrong,

"Why don't you run inside and find Elain!" she snapped,

"I don't want Elain." He said, not coming any closer,

"I won't be someone you just use to replace her. If you cared, you would have bought me a present for me, not just because the person you bought it for didn't want it."

"Gwyn," his voice broke on her name, "I never meant for you to feel second best-"

"Aren't I?"

"No! I just wasn't thinking."

"Obviously!" Gwyn glared at him, her vision still blurred by tears, "You were supposed to never lie to me! You're the first male I trusted! And you didn't even prioritize me!" She shouted, "I just wanted you to trust me, to not hide from me like you do with everyone else, and you lied to me."

"Gwyn please, it wasn't like that, I do trust you, I just, I was going to tell you, but then it was so long, and I thought it would just upset you to bring it up. Yes, I bought it for Elain, but it didn't make her happy, and I just wanted someone to be happy." He took another step towards her, something like devastation crossing his face when she shifted away, ready to run, and he stopped, "Elain didn't want to face her mating bond, either to accept or reject it, and she used me as a way to avoid it. I thought I wanted her, that she wanted me, but she wanted an escape, and thought I could provide it. I bought the necklace because I thought she would be happy, but I, Gwyn, there is nothing with her, and she gave it back when she realized that. I just wanted it to make someone happy. Clotho never told you it was from me, because it doesn't matter, I just told her to give it to someone who would be happy." Tears were shining in his eyes as he spoke, "I know I'm an idiot, you don't have to tell me that, and I know I can't fix it, but I'm sorry, I should have taken it back and bought you something different, but I wasn't thinking, and," he stopped, "I'm just sorry." It had made her happy, and she didn't know what to say. Perhaps she was overreacting, it was true that Clotho had never told her it was from him, and she supposed it didn't matter, but she unclipped it from around her neck,

"Then take it back now." A tear slid down his face as she passed the necklace to him, and he dropped his head, but before he could apologize again she continued, "Return it, and let's choose something different, together."

"You're not mad?"

"Oh, I'm furious, but not just because of you. I understand, I know what is to want to make someone happy, but you do make people happy, Az, you are more than just your job. I don't care what you've done, I just care that you're honest with me. You lied to me. That's what upset me, that, and I thought you preferred her."

"No, never."

"Let me finish. But mostly, I'm angry at her, she saw that I liked the necklace, that you had made someone happy with it, and she tried to ruin that. You should have got a different one, and you should have told me, but Elain shouldn't have tried to upset me with that, she was jealous, Az." Azriel smiled, and dropped to his knees in front of where she was still sitting on the bench, clasping her hands in his,

"I swear to you now, I will always tell you everything, always, Gwyn. No secrets." He gently kissed her hands, and she smiled,

"Thank you, that's all I ever wanted." The necklace was left on the bench when they returned to the dining room, where Elain was nowhere to be seen.

"Gwyn!" Nesta shot to her feet the moment they stepped through the door, glaring daggers at Azriel, "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, Elain, she was way out of line, I don't think she'll be coming back, I was pretty mad," Gwyn laughed at Nesta's explosive temper, but reassured her,

"I'm fine, stop it, it's not his fault, it was a misunderstanding, it's fine." Nesta narrowed her eyes at Azriel once more before relaxing,

"Don't ever pull that kind of shit again," she said,

"I have already sworn to never keep secrets from her." Nesta nodded,

"Good,  I won't have to cut your balls off then," Gwyn snorted and sat back down, apologizing to everyone for making a scene, but Mor just laughed,

"There's always something that goes a bit wrong, at least you two made up." Gwyn laughed, and stayed for the rest of dinner, her hand still clasped in Azriel's as they finished dessert, she didn't let go until they were in the air again.

"Where are we going?" The House was behind them as they flew,

"You'll see." Azriel chuckled, gently setting her down outside a shop, still open, even at this time, and pushed the door open, "Let me at least try to fix my mistake,"

"You don't have to. You apologized, and took responsibility, you're forgiven, it was a mistake."

"Let me do this." he repeated, "Neve! What do you have that would suit Gwyn?" A female popped her head up from behind the counter, studying her quickly,

"Perhaps something in emerald, one moment," Azriel led Gwyn to the counter,

"Pick whatever you want." Neve returned moments later, a pair of emerald earrings in hand,

"These are new, one of a kind, perfectly suited to your lady,"

"Oh, she's not-" Azriel started, but Gwyn smiled, stopping him before he could finish,

"They're beautiful, but they must be expensive?"

"That's alright." Azriel insisted, "Rhys massively overpays me."

"No, Azriel I can't accept this, I'll pay you back."

"It's a gift. For you. Please." Neve held the earrings up as if Gwyn were wearing them, and Azriel's breathing hitched, almost imperceptibly,

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. We'll take them."

"Excellent, I'll put the charge on your tab,"

"Thank you, Neve." Azriel helped her to put the earrings on, and grinned at her, "You look beautiful," he whispered before guiding her out of the shop, and flew her back to the House. Gwyn felt herself drifting off to sleep and buried her face in Azriel's shoulder, she was asleep within moments.

*****

Gwyn was asleep in his arms when he landed, and Azriel unconsciously hugged her closer, setting her down in her bed, stopping when she mumbled his name. He turned back, but she was still asleep, reaching across the bed to where he had been sat moments before. He was still there when she opened her eyes,

"Az?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay with me? I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Yeah, okay."

"Just turn around a moment, I need to change into a nightgown." He did as she asked, and quickly returned to his own room to grab a set of sleeping clothes and to move a few of his weapons into her room. When he got back, he made to pull the chair he had slept in before to the bed,  and Gwyn was already asleep, his shadows swirling around her,

She's fine, get some sleep,

They whispered, and he settled down in the chair, sitting next to her all night.

[collecting-stories]

Sunny Boy - JJ Maybank

Request: i rly hope ur taking requests🥺 a pre-relationship jj imagine where the readers pretty innocent and has a cute style and jj does love it but let’s kie dress her for a kegger one night and jj is speechless and way more protective than usual

A/N: So I kind of got an idea and ran away with this, I apologize. Reader is genderfluid and has body dysmorphia. The reader in this goes by they/them and JJ calls them ‘boy’ twice. (gender fluidity is different for everyone and I based this off my own preferences though I do go by she/her almost exclusively.)

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

However it was classified, your ‘style’ consisted heavily of band tees, one-piece bathing suits, a worn in pair of knock-off vans from target, jean shorts, and baseball caps. And sure, the shorts were as short as Kiara’s but nothing else about your personal style necessarily lent to you being feminine in the traditional sense. You didn’t get a lot of attention from the guys, outside of being their friend or someone they saw like a sister. On one occasion JJ had even claimed you were like a brother to him. Which wasn’t exactly the image you wanted him having in his head.  

It wasn’t that you cared what anyone else thought of you, because you really didn’t, it was just that sometimes you wanted JJ to look at you the way he looked at Kiara or any of the girls who came to parties the pogues hosted. It was probably stupid, you told yourself on multiply occasions, but you wanted him to want you. You wanted to be more than ‘best friends’.  

“Wear something cute, that’ll get his attention.” Sarah suggested, holding up a bikini top that was pink gingham.  

“They shouldn’t have to put themself on display just so someone likes them. If he doesn’t want to be with them based on who they are then he’s not worth it.” Kiara remarked, pulling a crop top over her bikini.  

“Being the ‘they’ in this convo I would just like to point out that I wouldn’t mind the whole ‘she’s all that’ makeover...even if it’s just for a night.” You commented, picking up Kiara’s discarded maroon bikini and holding it against your chest.

“Did I hear the word ‘makeover’?” Sarah smiled, “Cause I have wanted to put you in a bikini for ages.”

“Thanks but I’m interested in JJ.” You teased and Sarah stuck her tongue out at you.  

“You can borrow the maroon one if you want, or I have a others in the drawer.” Kiara said, waving her hand over to the dresser in the corner.  

“It’s okay, I have a bikini at home. Besides, you have a smaller chest than me.” You had bought a bikini at the beginning of the season last year when you were feeling especially feminine. You’d never actually worn it because the feeling had passed as quickly as it came, but you kept the suit just in case you ever had that feeling again.  

“I do not.” Kiara replied, looking over at you.  

“Either way...are we taking this party to your house so I can work my ‘makeover skills’?” Sarah asked, looking between the two of you.  

-

The party of three did move to your house where you let Kiara and Sarah help with your outfit. Sarah lent you her high-waisted jean mini-skirt to wear over the powder blue underwire bikini that you owned. You didn’t look like yourself in the mirror but you did look exactly the way you said you wanted to, like all the girls at the beach that always caught JJ’s eye.  

John B was the first one to see you when you showed up with Kiara and Sarah at the party. He jokingly whistled at you and you rolled your eyes, giving him the finger in reply.  

“Wow,” John B laughed, “can’t even give a compliment.”  

“Is whistling a compliment?” You asked, letting him pull you into a hug.

“You don’t want him to answer that.” Sarah replied, smiling cheekily at her boyfriend.  

John B kept his arm around your shoulders as he walked the three of you down the beach toward the party. Someone had music going but you weren’t paying much attention to it, eyes scanning the crowd for JJ. You wanted to see him see you.  

You got your wish too, as you stepped down to where the keg was set up JJ looked over, eyes going wide at the sight of you dressed more like Sarah Cameron than yourself. He’d seen you in dresses occasionally and there was the year in ninth grade that you were really into makeup but you’d never been in an outfit like this.  

He almost choked on his beer as you stepped out from John B’s arm to greet him and Pope. JJ beelined it in front of Pope to give you a hug. “Hey, you look hot!”

“Seriously JJ,” Kiara rolled her eyes at his compliment, “that’s just as bad at whistling. Could you not objectify people?”

“I’m not objectifying them, am I objectifying you?” JJ asked, pulling away enough to look at you.

“Well, you directed that question at my boobs so...” you said, avoiding looking down to where JJ’s eyes were fixed. He glanced back up at you, biting his lip in an attempt to look innocent.  

“Okay, I would like a hug,” Pope announced, pulling JJ away from you, “and not in a creepy way.”  

“I wasn’t being creepy!” JJ objected, glaring at Pope as you hugged him.  

You were feeling comfortable enough as the night went on, surrounded by friends and kids you knew from the island who knew you. But then the beach started to get more crowded, people you didn’t recognize joining the kegger. You weren’t the only one who was growing increasingly annoyed with the newcomers, JJ was hovering closer and closer to you as the beach got more crowded. You didn’t mind, his presence took your mind off your growing feeling of discomfort over your outfit.  

You had been on board with the idea when Sarah had first suggested it and assured Kiara that you were totally comfortable, that you felt as much like yourself as you always did. But as the night wore on you were beginning to feel less and less like yourself and as people continued to talk to you all you wanted to do was leave.  

“Hey, sad boy, you okay?” JJ asked, coming up beside you. He offered you a drink and you shook your head.

You smiled at the term, JJ always called you boy and it always made you feel better. It was just an instant moment of calm and reassurance. “I’m alright, just feeling a little weird.” You replied. You glanced down at your chest before looking back up at him.  

JJ had been the first person you’d come out to in eighth grade. You had expected him to be the least understanding of you friend group but he was arguably the most. Last year he’d taken the ferry with you to Chapel Hill for your first pride celebration, happily sporting a rainbow painted on his cheek. He’d been surprisingly willing to read articles you offered about genderfluidity.  

“You want my sweatshirt?” JJ asked, he was definitely enjoying the top but he knew how you felt about your chest. You’d told him at homecoming in ninth grade when you burst into tears because of the way your dress fit your upper body.  

“Would you?” You had wanted to impress him. Sure, he was a great friend but you wanted more than that, you wanted him to see you as more than that. But you couldn’t take glancing down and seeing yourself in the bikini top you were wearing. The emphasis on your chest was making you feel sick.  

“I’ll be right back.” He kissed your cheek and then disappeared back into the crowd to find his sweatshirt, leaving you alone again.  

You looked around for someone to talk to and frowned when you made eye contact with a tourist who was making his way over to you. The last thing you wanted to do tonight was occupy some random guy’s time. He didn’t know you were feeling bad and he definitely wasn’t looking to act as therapist tonight. He was just some tourist, here for a week or two and then gone, looking for someone to party with and you definitely fit the bill tonight.  

-

“Hey, sorry about losing it on that guy,” JJ said, stepping over a piece of drift wood and sitting down next to you in the sand, “I know you’re capable of standing up for yourself or whatever.”

“It’s okay.”

“Just pissed me off, seeing him with you.” JJ admitted.  

“Well,” you shrugged, looking down at the sweatshirt you had borrowed from JJ, “back to normal so I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”  

Unsure what to say, JJ dug in the sand with a stick near his foot, “I liked the new look.”

“That was kind of the point.” You admitted, shifting so that you could look at him. “I was hoping if I dressed like Kiara and Sarah, you’d notice. That you’d think of me that way.”  

“I liked the look,” JJ repeated, “but you don’t have to dress like them. I do notice you. I think of you a hell of a lot more than I think about anyone else.”  

“What?” You sat up a little straighter, surprised at what he said.

“I notice you.” JJ confessed, shrugging as if it was the easiest thing in the world to admit. “When you get super competitive with John B about who’s better at surfing-”

“I am.”

“Yeah you are.” He laughed, “or the weird insistence you have to juggle anytime you see a fruit bowl even though you’re absolute shit at it. Or how you always have like an arsenal of stuff in your backpack-”

“You never bring sunscreen!”  

“What I’m trying to say is, yeah I liked the way you looked tonight but you don’t have to dress like that to get my attention...if that’s why you were doing it. You look equally as hot in what you usually wear.” JJ replied. Sure he’d said dumb stuff about you being like a sister to him before but you guys had been in eighth grade back than and he was a lot stupider when he was thirteen. He wasn’t that stupid anymore.  

You laughed, “thanks.”  

JJ put his arm around you, pulling you into his side and kissing your head, “my sunny boy is back.”  

“Shut up!”  

“I’ve liked you for a while now...I’m just not really good at this stuff.” He shrugged.  

“As opposed to what other stuff?”

“You know...I’m highly skilled in other areas.”

“Aw, gross JJ is back, just when we were having a moment.” You teased, smiling at him.  

He smiled at you before looking back at the party going on, “do you wanna go?” JJ asked, setting his cup on the ground and standing up.  

“I don’t want you to have to leave.” You replied, knowing that JJ always loved beach parties. More than anyone else.

“Honestly I’d rather have pizza and watch a shit movie with you.” JJ said, offering you his hand. You let him pull you up.  

“Extra cheese?”

“Is there any other kind?”  

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @howdyherron @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @ssprayberrythings @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @jjsthumbring @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @jolomez @timotaychalabae 

[skzsauce01]

love you to limx

Anniversary Request Special

Description: Jisung’s secret crush on his childhood friend, you, might not be so secret after all, especially when your tutee starts laying moves on you right in front of his iced americano.

Warning: none!

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung

“Y/N?” Jisung calls out as soon as you walk past the library doors.

You smile and wave to him while flashing your ID card for the person at the front desk. He waves you over so you go to him.

“Jisung? What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d make some extra money this semester, so I signed up to tutor underclassmen during this hour.”

You let out a gasp. “Same!”

“What are the odds?” he chuckles, feigning surprise. It isn’t like he bribed Chan, the head of the program, to tell him what time slot you signed up for, nor is it like he fought Hyunjin tooth and nail for this time either. The only reason why you and him are at the same place on a Wednesday afternoon is pure coincidence. Really.

You pull out the seat in front of his and take a seat. “I wonder who’s going to show up,” you ponder mindlessly.

“Someone who needs help with not math, I hope,” he mutters in reply.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you laugh. “There’s a reason why they ask you whether you’re in liberal arts or STEM on the application.”

“Ahh, right,” he blushes and distracts himself with his backpack. After a few seconds of digging, he realizes a new problem.

“Oh, shoot,” he mutters.

“What’s up?”

“I left my pencil case at my apartment!” he panics with wide eyes.

“Honestly, Jisung. You’re supposed to set an example for the underclassmen!” you tch, harshly pushing your pouch between you two to share.

“Thanks, Y/N~” he sings, choosing a pen. This one is bunny capped, how cute.

At that moment, a new voice interrupts,“Excuse me, is this the SKZ tutoring club?” 

You smile at him and shift the organization’s logo for better visibility. “Yes! I’m L/N Y/N. And you are?”

Jisung’s jaw drops when he recognizes the boy.

“Yang Jeongin,” he replies, “and I desperately need help with calculus.”

He takes a seat besides you while smirking at the other male. Jisung knows this kid. He knows him alright; he’s best friends with his housemate and scheming math wiz, Kim Seungmin. The fact that he is here now sending snide looks at him cannot be good.

“Don’t worry; limits can be tricky,” you reassure him, unaware of the tension between the two. “You’ll get a hang of it in no time though.”

“Thanks,” breathes Jeongin innocently. “I’m counting on you, noona.”

“‘Noona?’” you giggle. 

Jisung grits his teeth.

The hour goes by rather uneventfully other than the few times Jisung nearly screamed when Jeongin gets something he was “struggling” with before and your whole face lights up as you compliment him. A student came over with a question for Jisung too, but that only took twenty minutes of his hour. Besides that, he just sat with his head on the table, getting lost in your focused eyes and waiting for Jeongin to leave-- he means, for time to pass by.

Unlike the boy who came for Jisung, Jeongin’s session with you lasts the entire hour. Finally, when the clock strikes five, you two begin packing up your things.

“Thank you so much! I think I finally get it now!” Jeongin bows slightly.

“You’re doing great! Just have a little more confidence in your work, and if you ever get stuck again, SKZ tutoring is here to help.”

“I’ll be sure to come back during this time then. You were so clear and easy to understand.”

Yada yada yada. Save it and leave, Jisung wills while glaring daggers at his junior.

Jeongin doesn’t seem to notice or care as he leisurely zips up his backpack. Even worse, he insists on walking you to the door before you two finally wave goodbye.

“Finally,” Jisung mumbles when the boy at last walks away.

“What was that?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he hums. “Anyway, want to get ice cream to celebrate our first day at work?”

“With what money?” you joke. 

Jisung scoffs. “Come on, I’ll buy if it’s such a big deal.”

“No. That’ll make me feel bad,” you pout.

“It’s fine. Think of it as thanks for lending me a pen,” he suggests, walking towards the shop. “Mint chip?”

“How’d you know?” you chuckle, clutching on to his arm to optimize your puppy-look angle. He is buying after all.

Jisung nearly goes into cardiac arrest the second he feels your fingers around his sleeves. It takes him a moment before he’s able to reply, “You’ve liked that toothpaste ice cream since you were five.”

“Hey! It’s not toothpaste flavored!”

He rolls his eyes and looks at you. You’re smiling. He loves it when you do that, especially when it crinkles the corner of your eyes. You’re doing that now, but not when you were with Jeongin, he recalls to console himself. That’s right; this smile is exclusive to him, your childhood bestie, only. 

Before long, you two are seated on some questionable bench behind the statue of your school’s legendary football coach with frozen treats in hand.

“--and now I have to wait for her to finish that before I can even get started on the powerpoint.”

Jisung lets out a sympathetic hum before eyeing your ice cream. “Ah,” he says, pointing to his mouth.

You groan. “Why do you insult my ice cream then ask for some every time? Just get mint chip yourself if you like it so bad.”

“Hey, I paid,” he reminds you.

“Yeah, yeah.” You scoop some ice cream with your spoon and place it in front of his lips, and he opens obediently before clamping his lips over it to get all the ice cream from the dip of the spoon.

He then watches as you thoughtlessly scoop more of the treat and place it into your own mouth while continuing your story. Jisung turns away because of a creeping blush when you complete the indirect kiss. So what if he’s been tricking you into doing this since forever? He’ll still never get used to it; not unless he gets to try the real thing, at least.

After ice cream, you decide to head home to get in some studying. Jisung heads towards his own complex with feather-like steps. That is, until he opens his front door and sees what-- or rather, who-- is inside.

“Yang Jeongin?”

“Oh, hey, Hyung!” he chirps, not looking up from his game with Jisung’s housemates.

“What are you doing here?” Jisung demands.

“Relax,” sighs Seungmin. “We invited him cause we needed another player and you were too busy with your date.”

“S-she-- I-- It was not a date!”

“Oh really?” Hyunjin challenges.

“Oh really?” Jeongin piques hopefully.

For some reason, Jeongin irks him more despite Hyunjin being the one trying to purposely annoy him.

“Well, I-- uh--”

“You’re blushing,” Seungmin says without even looking up.

Jisung lets out a strangled noise and slams his room’s door behind him.

For the next few weeks, Jeongin shows up at tutoring a handful of times, each time annoying Jisung more than the last. His favourite days though are not only Jeongin free but tutee free all together because one, he gets paid for just sitting there and two, you.

Today, to his fortune, is one of those days. You lay with your head rested on an arm that’s stretched out in front of you on the table, invading Jisung’s area. He doesn’t mind though, mindlessly playing with your fingers and sipping iced americano.

“I seriously need a tutor myself,” you lament aloud. “That chem midterm is going to kill me on Tuesday.”

“Oh, come on. You still pass every time you say that.”

“But still,” you gasp dramatically.

Jisung rolls his eyes with a smile. “Well, if all else fails, you can still fall back on your education minor and become a teacher. You’re pretty good at that from what I see.”

“You really think so?” you squeak.

He nods.

“That’s only because all my students are so talented themselves. I mean, the only ones who come to tutoring are self motivated kids. Especially Jeongin.”

There his name is again. Jisung doesn’t respond and instead breaks the lead of his pencil against the paper. The motion shakes his hand which accidentally tips his coffee forward, covering the front of your t-shirt in brown.

“D-do you really like him that much?” Jisung stutters.

“Is that important right now?” you exclaim, quickly repositioning the beverage.

Your voice snaps Jisung back into reality, and he apologizes and digs in his backpack for tissues. Minutes later, the mess on the table is thankfully cleaned up before anything leaked to the ground. This means there is only one problem left: your clothes.

“I’m sorry…” Jisung apologizes for the hundredth time.

“It’s fine,” you sigh. “I’ll just see how much I can clean off in the restroom and sit here for another” --you check your phone-- “twenty minutes. It’s pretty quiet today anyway, so it should be fine.”

“But you have to walk home for another fifteen minute after. Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable?”

“Well I don’t have another shirt, so…” You bring your hands up and shrug your shoulders.

“Here,” Jisung offers, taking off his hoodie. “Just put this on. It should be better than a wet sticky shirt.”

You look at him from the corner of your eyes.

“It’s clean! Jeez!”

“I’m just teasing,” you joke, gratefully taking his sweater and promising to be quick in the restroom.

When you returned, Jisung was not ready for what he saw. Sure, he isn’t of large stature himself, but he likes his clothes loose, especially his hoodies, so with it on you, you exuberate hug-ability potential.

“Thanks again for the clothes,” you say as you sit down. You bat your sweater paw around a few times before grabbing your pen, trying to find your hand from under there.

Jisung coughs something incoherent while draining the rest of his beverage.

You two sit quietly as you work on your own things while waiting for students to show up. Jisung can’t stop peeking over his books at you though. That is until he shows up again, right as the two of you are about to pack up.

“Noona!”

“Jeongin!” you return, recognizing the voice. 

He slides into the seat besides you and Jisung reopens his book to duck his head behind.

“You look so cute in that sweater!” he compliments.

Jisung bites his thumb. He wanted to say that!

“I’m older than you, you rascal,” you scold though obviously pleased.

“Age doesn’t have anything to do with the truth,” he shrugs.

You roll your eyes and lightly swat his shoulder.

“So, did you have a quick question?”

“Actually, I just came here to show you this!” The boy whips out some papers from his bag and hands it to you.

At first, you are silent. Jisung comes out from behind his wall to see what has gotten you so quiet. Then you stammer out, “O-oh my. Oh my! Jeongin, you did it! You got an A on your midterm!”

Disregarding your surroundings, you throw your arms over the boy. 

“It’s all thanks to you,” he strangles out from under your embrace.

And then Jisung sees it. He sees it, the smile on your face as you pull away. The smile that crinkles your eyes. Before he can say anything though, Jeongin beats him to it.

“I also came here to ask you something.”

“What is it?” 

“Well I know we have kind of a teacher-student relationship…”

You nod, prompting him to go on. 

“But even so, you’re so patient and caring and smart that I can’t help but ask. Will you go out with me?”

“NO!” 

The entire library turns towards Jisung after he slammed down his book in exclamation. He feels heat rising to his face as he looks around and sees all the eyes on him. He slides his foot half a step back, papers crinkling under the grip of his fingers, before he dashes out of the building without another word.

“Jisung!” he hears you call after him.

He runs and runs until he can’t anymore without even seeing where he is going. Once he finally stops to catch his breath, he realizes he is in front of the football coach statue. He has many memories with you here at this place; not only is it your favourite place to hang out, it’s also where you both opened your college acceptance letters at the same time, promised to be best friends forever as kids, and gazed at the stars whenever someone was feeling down. It’s also where he first realized he is in love with you.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

Jisung looks up and you toss his backpack at him.

“I’m sorry for making a scene back there,” he mumbles.

You either don’t hear him or don’t care, for you sit down at the bench and wave him over.

He defies your wishes and stands in front of you, head down and looking dejected.

“Shouldn’t you be with Jeongin?”

“Why would I be with someone else when my best friend is upset?”

Best friend. Is that all he’ll ever be to you?

“Well I’m okay, so just go.”

“No, you’re clearly not,” you object, taking his hand and pulling him next to you. “So tell me, what’s wrong? Do you not like Jeongin?”

It’s not like he dislikes Jeongin. The younger male is cute and funny, which is all the more reason Jisung hates him.

“No…” he admits quietly.

“Then why are you so upset?”

Jisung can feel his nails through his jeans as you press his head against your chest comfortingly. He’s about to explode; how can you play with his heart like this?

“Fine, you want to know why? It’s because I like you, that’s why! I like you and I don’t like it when other guys take you away especially when they’re tall and handsome and--”

You shut him up by pressing your lips against his cheeks. He turns to you with eyes as wide as discs.

“I didn’t accept his confession,” you tell him. “You wanna know why?”

“B-because of my outburst?” he mumbles incoherently.

“No, because I like you too, Jisung. And only you.”

“Y-you’re lying. Is this a prank? Are there cameras--”

“I’m not lying,” you promise, holding his arms down when they start flailing around in excitement.

“Well then, I think you missed my lips earlier,” he pouts.

“Oh, you cheeky little--”

He cuts you off this time by swooping in and holding you against him.

“Finally!” 

The two of you break apart when you hear the voice. 

“Jeongin?” you call, recognizing it.

A sheepish boy steps out from behind a tree followed by a few of his friends.

“Seungmin? Hyunjin?” Jisung gasps. “What is this?”

The trio look at each other before Seungmin speaks up. “We got tired of you two dancing around each other and not expressing your feelings, so we decided to expedite some things.”

“You mean--” Jisung points at Jeongin.

“Yep. I was all a ploy to get you to break,” he admits.

“For three months?” you exclaim.

“I think you mean, ‘thank you,’” Hyunjin interjects.

You turn towards Jisung. “I have a feeling we’ll be third, fourth, and fifth wheeled a lot.”

“Then let’s make them go away on their own accord,” Jisung smirks. He leans down and locks your lips into another kiss while dramatically tangling your limbs together.

“Okay, ew, bye.” The three yelp and scramble to get away from the scene, making Jisung snicker.

“Shush,” you scold, tugging on his collar with your sweater paws.

Oh, Jisung will shush alright, and he’ll make sure you do too for a good long while.

~ ad.gold

A/N: Thanks for your (actual) request! Hopefully this brings you back to campus during this shut down. #Pappy Waldorf

[valkyrieelysia18]

RWBY Rewrite: The Relics

Hello there everyone! I’m back with another post on my Rewrite series that hopefully will delight you.

Admittedly, this might be an odd topic after my last post. Well, that one was pretty big and I wanted something a bit smaller to tackle. I had thought about getting into the White Fang next, but that post is going to be a dozy and then I thought of the Relics. And I thought “Sure, that’ll work.”

The Relics, in my opinion, were handled poorly in the show. Items that can grant great power and when collected something amazing/terrible have been done before and done well (which is honestly true a lot of stuff in RWBY). In RWBY, we didn’t know the Relics existed until over halfway through Volume 4, reduced the Maidens to essentially gate keys in Volume 5, and even at the end of Volume 6 we only know what the lamp can do on its own. I mean come on, Dragon Ball took one episode to explain its titular item (granted they were a lot more simple, but still)! So we’re going to tackle these things.

Now before we get into the individual items, let’s address some things that about the Items as a whole.

The first thing to note about the Relics in this Rewrite is that gathering the four together won’t summon the Gods back to Remnant. The Brothers in this Rewrite are much more distant figures, preferring to observe their creations rather than directly interfering. 

So then, why does Salem want to collect them? The full reason will be in her and Ozpin’s backstory post, but to put it simply Salem has a more personal history with the Relics here and wishes to get them back. She views that leaving them in the hands of mortals will just lead to them abusing the items, causing more pain and suffering for the world. Not an entirely baseless viewpoint as we’ll get into soon enough.

The next thing to note is that before the Relics were under the care of the Academies and Ozpin’s group, each was possessed by a former Royal Family. Vale had Choice, Mistral had Knowledge, Vacuo had Destruction, and Mantle had Creation. Granted as time passed and certain things were failed to be passed on, by the time of the Great War only the Crown of Choice’s abilities were known and even then only to a select few.

Each Relic will have a have a spirit that will be involved with the item’s power. I’m not sure whether it was said in RWBY after I left that each Relic had a spirit or whether Jinn was an exception, but I’m going to roll with the first one. Also, each Spirit technically doesn’t have a biological sex, they choose how they want to look.

Also, only the Lamp will have the blue glow. The other Relics will associated with the color of their kingdom: the Staff having a White crystal, the Sword having an Orange gleaming blade, and a Green jewel in the center of the Crown. They can still have the gold, but this will make them more distinct from each other.

Finally, they are NOT the major Grimm magnets as presented in the original show. While they do give off a sort of a signature that Grimm can recognize, it’s a faint one. It would attract Grimm attention if it stayed out for too long in the wild or Grimm would be looking for it in an area if Salem directed them personally to it.

All right, now let’s get down to business!

Knowledge: Jinn

The Lamp of Knowledge is the only Relic we’ve gotten to know it’s full abilities as well as meet its spirit. Even then, I think that three questions every a hundred years is maybe a little too limited for something that is a power of the gods. So, I’m changing it.

Instead of granting three questions within a certain time frame, I like the idea of giving anyone who uses the lamp the ability to ask Jinn one question of the past and present. Everyone is entitled to knowledge after all and they should determine how they want to use it. I know, I kind of stole the idea from the scepter from the direct to video Aladdin King of Thieves, but I think it’s a good setup. It’s powerful, but it still has limitations. This will contrast with its opposite the Crown, which will be more exclusive and deal with the future.

Then there’s Jinn and am I the only who thought her design was lazy? I mean we get it, she’s a genie, but there’s nothing interesting or unique in her design. Pretty sure comparisons to Aladdin’s Genie and Magi’s Paimon have been made. I’d leave her redesign to someone who is fully capable of putting a new spin on it, but I would like the idea of her not having a consistent wardrobe. Maybe have her wear a top that was similar to something found in Central Mistral while wearing a hairpiece you would identify being at home in Eastern Mistral. Not only would this symbolize how multicultural Mistral is, but also how history is made of many different parts.

Now Jinn herself wouldn’t be that different of a character from canon. She would still be a rather pleasant, teasing spirit who is quite thrilled to finally be out of the Vault again. Amongst the Relic spirits, she’s probably the one who has the least regard for mortals, but that’s partly because of what people usually use her for. Most people would ask about power, riches, dark secrets; it got kind of boring and predictable for Jinn and it was less pleasant when they would get mad at her for telling them truths they didn’t want to hear. Let’s just say a few rulers of Mistral that used her Relic didn’t use it very wisely.

Jinn’s favorite type of petitioner would be someone like Oobleck: someone who would ask her about some part of history that doesn’t have much known about it and she doesn’t get to talk about nearly as much as she’d like to so she actually goes into more detail than necessary. She’d also respect someone who probably knows the answer she’s going to give them is not one they want to hear, but is resolved to face the truth whatever it is.

Creation: Eve/Ev

The Staff of Creation is a bit interesting in that works better for some than others. It uses what a person pictures in their mind to bring what they want to reality, within reason. So it really works best with someone very creative and has a clear vision of what they want to do. It can’t create something that’s alive (like a dog) or that had been living (like someone who has passed on). Also, the more detailed and involved an item is, the longer it will take for the Staff to recharge. For example, the little crystals (which are basically a crystallized form of the staff’s power) Ironwood has been creating as an alternative energy source would take a couple of hours to a day depending on how many were created at a time. Whereas a huge detailed palace would take decades to over a century, longer than it would have taken them to build in real time.

Eve is the Spirit of Creation and would have a rather androgynous appearance. I was also thinking that the Spirit could be called Eve or Ev depending on who’s addressing them. Their main color would be white, but their appearance would resemble that of artist. Perhaps having smudges of charcoal on their face or a splattering of color on an apron. I think it would be really ironic that the kingdom that banned the arts at one point would have a Spirit that is quintessentially an artist, heck Eve might have locked up during that time and forgotten about until after the war was over. Again, I’d leave the design to someone who is much better suited for it.

Now in this Rewrite, the Staff is no longer in the Vault because Ironwood took it out. He reasoned that having a powerful tool that could be used to in the fight against of Salem would be wasted simply being left in the Vault. Needless to say, Eve doesn’t like the way Ironwood is using them. It’s clear the power is just a means to an end to him, something he can use to make Atlas more secure. There is no love or passion for what he’s creating and he treats them with no courtesy or respect, not listening at all when they try to talk to him. When Watts eventually comes to retrieve the Staff, Eve is basically “Oh thank the Brothers! I could care less about your plans, just get me out of here!” It’s sort of a summary of what partly causes Ironwood’s fall: the inability to get that people aren’t purely logical beings that will do what they are told for the greater good, but emotional irrational people who will snap when pushed too far.

The best person Eve could work with is someone who specializes in the visual arts: painting, sculpture, architecture, etc. Someone who has a very clear vision and obviously very passionate about the things they want to create. Eve would also enjoy someone who is perfectly okay if they don’t get their creation exactly right on the first try  and is more than willing to take Eve’s advice/criticism. 

Destruction: Adamou

The Sword of Destruction is perhaps the easiest Relic to understand and use. Using the sword will increase your physical abilities and the sword can send out waves of power that can devastate a group of foes or alter the environment. However, using it takes quite a bit of energy. Best case scenario will involve a week of recovery. Worst case scenario you expend years of your life. Even the King of Vale with all his power, lost two or three years he should have had to live on that Final Battle of the Great War. This cost was so great to the old Vacuo Monarchs (and given that most of their past was peaceful) that it was hidden away and forgotten about until the Great War happened and the last King of Vale rediscovered it.

I’m still little unsure of how I would like Adamou, the Spirit of Destruction, to look like. The closest example that comes to mind is something like Nemesis from Fire Emblem Three Houses: a large older battle scarred man with light armor. Once again, I’m a writer and not a character designer so if anyone has ideas I’d be willing to see them. That being said, his name is actually a West Africa variation of the name Adam, putting him in contrast to Eve. Anyone who has a passing understanding of the Old Testament should probably understand what I’m doing here.

Adamou, despite his outward and intimidating appearance, is actually a pretty easy going spirit. He’s also somewhat disappointed in how he doesn’t get used as much compared to his brethren, but he does understand why and has great respect for the old rulers of Vacuo for doing what they did. He enjoys a good fight, but he also enjoys competitions of all kinds whether physical or mental. You could talk him into a little kiddie board game and he’d go at with as much glee as slaying a hoard of Grimm. As the Spirit of Destruction, he knows better than anyone that life is finite and it’s best to live and fight to the fullest until your time comes.

Adamou would gravitate to people like Yang or Pyrrha: those who enjoy combat and wish to live their life to the fullest. Those who’s spirits burn bright even if it means they burn out quicker. That said, he also respects those who fight to protect those they love and things they believe in (to an extent, he’s not fond of fanatics who would give their lives away without a second thought for something obviously sketchy).

Choice: Caesar

Whereas the Lamp reveals the past and present, the Crown of Choice is focused on the future. Those who wear it have the ability to see the possible outcomes of any choice they face. As such you can see what the cost and consequences of your options. That being said, it’s not a hundred percent as the future is always in motion and there’s no telling how other people’s actions and choices may affect what you decide. Still, the predictions do tend to be very accurate. There’s also the possibility that wielder may obsess over said choices or may become dependent on the Crown, but that has happened very rarely since Caesar usually stops their wielders before they go too far in this.  

The thing about the Crown is that unlike the Lamp, it can only be used by one person. When its user dies, the Crown is free to be taken up by another and once it has bonded to someone they are bound for life. Now the Crown can be lent to another person, but every wielder can only do so once in their lifetime and those who borrow it can only use it for three days. On the fourth day, the crown will tighten around the person’s head, giving great pain and hallucinations, and will only stop if that person takes it off at which they can no longer use it. 

Seeing the obvious issues of such a powerful item potentially falling into the wrong hands, the first King of Vale came to an agreement with the Spirit Caesar to set up a trap/test to anyone who would try to claim the Crown. The Crown would be placed in a special chamber when not in use with a multitude of different crowns and circlets in the room. It’s up to the person to choose the right crown with no outside input. Get it wrong and the crown will turn to ash and that person is forever barred from taking the Crown. The twist? The true crown’s appearance in the trial is in fact not a crown, but a wreath of laurels (which can be seen on Beacon’s symbol). And if you’re thinking this sounds quite a bit like the scenario from Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, that’s cause it is as its kind of the sort of trial you’d find in a fable or fairy tale. It would take either a very thoughtful and self aware person to pass the trial as well as one not greedy. It’s also made a little more complicated as the Crown looks slightly different for each of it’s wielders, which will be noticed in an earlier scene with our group of heroes in a hall of portraits of the past monarchs of the Vale. Because that is what determined who would succeed to the throne of Vale.

And yes, we will learn a lot more on this when I do the King of Vale Rewrite Post.

As a result of the nature of Crown, Caesar is the spirit that is the most close to mortals as they build a strong personal relationship with their users. As part of this, when a new wielder is chosen, Caesar will take upon the appearance of their predecessor to guide the new one. I’m still a little torn over whether Caesar should appear as the old wielder when they first took up the Crown, in the peak of that person’s life, or how they looked when they died. 

Caesar, for the most part, acts as a sort of advisor to their wielder. That can come off as them acting very parental which given how often the Crown would pass from parent to child is quite fitting. They will give advice when asked for, but in general will advise against using the Crown’s power if its a situation their user can more than handle on their own. They are very much the type of person who would advocate that “It’s the journey, not the destination” and is more than willing to let their wielder fail if it meant they could learn something from it. That said, they do get very attached and is probably the only Spirit that would openly speak positively about Salem due to her history with them and also has issues with Ozpin. They and Jinn will be the ones to eventually give the more specific details to group about Ozpin and Salem’s history after they got the general outline elsewhere.

Caesar has worked with many different types of people, but the main thing they each had in common is that they were the type of people who were always concerned with the consequences of their actions for those around them and the kingdom of Vale as a whole. They generally work best with someone who is humble and empathetic. However, they generally don’t like someone if they put a singular goal above everything else without consideration of all the consequences (again, issues with Ozpin).

Well, that turned out longer than I was expecting it too. I guess I just got into the creative juices. Anyway, I think I’ll do a different post before coming back to do Cinder. And just as a reminder people, I dropped this show at the end of Volume 6 so don’t bring up anything after that to me in a comment.

See you soon!

[redbirdbella]

@clintasha-week advent calendar day 25 - holidays

No hate against quiet celebrations of christmas i just really want to write a found family fic. My last advent calendar day!!! 

The Invitation arrives mid-November.

You are cordially invited to Morgan Starks first Christmas. The 23rd to the 27th of December.

Great. Just great. It's a little too early for Christmas but either Peppers excellent organisational skills or Tony's excitement had got the better of one of them. She should reply, she really should, she loves her little goddaughter. But Christmas has always been a quiet affair, a lazy day between her and Clint. One where she didn't have to walk around with her guards up, ready for anything. She pins the invitation to her notice board and mentally makes a note to reply, once she's made a decision.

Then HYDRA rears their ugly head and Christmas becomes more of an afterthought. Its Clint who gives her the nudge she needs.

"So what's the plan for Christmas?"

Natasha shrugs "It's Morgan's first Christmas"

"Yeah, I know. That normally happens once someone's had a baby"

"I'd like to be there"

"Yeah?" Clint asks smile rising to his cheeks, "Pepper says it's just going to be low key. Just the Avengers, Bucky, Rhodey, Happy and Peter and his Aunt. We can bring Lucky. Leave early if it gets too much"

Natasha nods. That sounded - tolerable. "At least I won't have to cook"

It sounded simple. Just RSVP but nothing could ever be simple for Tony. There's even a freaking timetable for her to agree too.

They should arrive anytime on the 23rd but preferably in time for the adults-only party in the evening. The words PETER CAN ATTEND BUT WILL NOT BE SERVED ALCOHOL have been written in pen underneath. The 24th involves baking and board games and carol singing and a visit from Santa followed by a child-friendly fancy dress party in the evening. The 25th is Christmas. Presents encouraged, Pyjamas only. The 26th is an open house with exclusive invitations to those Tony deems worthy of paying homage to his baby daughter. She knows that Hills been invited so that'll be - nice.

They receive time off from SHIELD starting the 16th so there's a rush to get presents (I mean what do you get a billionaire and an 8-month-old?!) acceptable pyjamas and a fancy dress costume. Clint decides they should be pirates so he can master the eye patch ready to take over from Fury. Natasha leaves that to Clint using the time to buy her archer a few presents. A new lead for Lucky and a Tourist's guide to Budapest amongst other things. She spoils Morgan into a state of rotten worse than the back of Clint's fridge but it's worth it or it will be.

It's already by the 23rd. Just. She'd be lying if she wasn't still wrapping presents under Lucky's supervision in the back of the quin jet on the way over to Tony's Minnesota mansion. The sun is dipping as they arrive exchanging hugs and a quick squeeze with Morgan before she needs to go to bed. She's surprised to find she doesn't hate it. They give them space to settle into their rooms. Separate accommodation had been provided, but one instantly becomes a luggage storage facility. No one comments. It's nice even when Jarvis directs them down to the Outside barn for the party. It's smart casual, laid back and lit up with fairy lights and a moderate Tree in pride of place. Like someone had put real thought and care into who and what they were doing. Theirs an ice sculpture that's giving out some sort of non-alcoholic punch. A pool table, air hockey table and various amusements but it's the target practice area built into the corner with various weapons from axes to darts that they make a beeline too. Clint quickly claiming the bow. It's a nice icebreaker. Bucky and Clint hit it off occupying two of the lanes showing off to no one but each other, leaving Natasha and Steve to talk.

"Your Clint is good isn't he- there's not much between them. Your Clint. My Bucky" he's had a little to drink but Natasha doesn't care. They've earn't this.

"He's not my boyfriend"

"I know. You're just sweet on him and he's sweet on you. It's nice to see you both happy" Steve says knowingly.

That just about sums it up. She's sweet on him -for him. Just about him.

"Yeah, I'm just sweet on him" she nods.

"Good. Think he's got a fan" he says tipping his bottle towards the young Spiderman who Clint greets warmly.

Natasha smiles downing the rest of her drink in one "Ever thrown an axe before Cap?"

Slowly the numbers in the building rise until everyone's arrived and it's - nice. Really nice. Just a relaxed evening with people she considers friends. She doesn't think once about home or switch to the 5D chess or Machiavellian mind games. They all call it a night at 2 am for fear of waking Morgan but Tony assures them the Barn will be open to use thorough out the stay. Perfect.

Lucky wakes them early the next morning. Too early. but he still manages to drag them on a walk exploring the gardens of the house. It's beautiful even as the snow starts to fall driving Lucky crazy. Clint holds her hand once the mansions out if view. "Need to keep them warm or Morgan will scream the place down when hold her"

They walk until the winter sun rises enough to melt the snow clouds and return to the house Jarvis greeting them upon arrival. Apparently most of the house were in the kitchen baking- or at least attempting to. Only Rhodey seemed to be busy with a few saucepans. The pantry is well stocked though and Steves happy enough to try his hand at gingerbread to escape Bucky and Sam's endless bickering. Natashas just happy to hold the sleeping Morgan, Lucky laying on her lap as Pepper gives Clint the pantry tour. She can't escape the nagging worry that she's not worrying enough until Morgan wakes and stares longingly at the next Christmas tree of the Starks small forest. She gives her a tour and gets roped into help Clint with cookies when Morgan gets hungry and Clint forgets the correct conversion rate between metric and imperial. They're good though melting into her mouth as Clint offers her out a bite. She can feel eyes on them but she doesn't care. They don't care, she reasons or they'd have commented when they'd disappeared into the same bedroom the night before. The afternoon starts as planned with boardgames but quickly dissolves into chaos once it becomes clear that playing trivial pursuit with 3 geniuses, two people with somewhat blank memories of the past 60 years and a Norse god will simply end in tears. It moves to charades which Clint cheats at using ASL to end his torturous turns as soon as possible. Peter soon figures that out causing them to move swiftly onto Jenga the ultimate superhero lever. The games are long drawn out competitive things. It's taken more seriously than most of their missions Natasha notes with a grin. She melts into Steve's arms letting her whisper trash talk into her ear, maybe he's more fun than he first appears. It lasts until Morgan decides it shouldn't screeching and whimpering and demanding a nap. Ruining the quiet calm required for competitive Jenga. Slowly the party breaks away, Tony reminding them of the carols and Santa's visit promised later. Natasha promises to come only to see Morgan's reaction Clint had a $50 bet she'd cry at the sight of the new Intruder, presents be dammed. He's unfortunately right and it takes her through half of the carols (and some of those own songs that mention too much war to be specifically Yuletide) to settle into Pepper's arms before doing the tour of all her Uncles and Aunty's. She coos at Natasha obviously complaints about the new red intruder, but one tickle under her chin and she bursts into giggles.

"Your a natural" Pepper says with a smile, "Obviously her favourite"

Natasha savours the cuddles for a little longer before handing her back carefully removing her little hands from her curls.

"Thank you, Natalie, we are going to have a little nap ahead of the party tonight. Starts at seven. Back here, it's too cold for this little one in the barn. She'll want to see all the costumes hopefully you'll be much happier when it's all your friends dressed up, huh, baby" Pepper coos.

She whisks the little one away before the tears can flow once again leaving Natasha to care for her own needy creature who is just desperate for a walk.

Clint has laid out their costumes on the bed. The costumes are beautiful, Clints has a definite focus on his arms sleeved cut enough to draw attention to each muscle. The swords are surprisingly substantial.

"Mine from the circus"

"A pirate in the circus?!"

"A swordsman in a circus?"

He grins "exactly would you like to learn?"

She smiles picking one up and testing its weight. "I think I can figure it out. Most weapons are fairly intuitive"

"Ready then? Let's see if you can figure it out"

He meets her sword swinging it gently into hers. She grins and meets it using the motion to try and push him off balance. It's ineffective so he capitalises using the swing in her weight to knock her backwards on to the bed but he's too confident in knocking her down leaning too far forward that it would be rude not to bring him down with her.

"Hey" he grins, not exactly disappointed by his new position.

"Hi" She whispers standing up before the blush can rise to her cheeks "You'll have to bring these to SHIELD one day. Give me a proper lesson."

Clint agrees completing a quick change into his pirate costume. Natasha isn't one for fantasy but she can make one exception letting her mind wander.

"Your turn?" He says before putting on his boots.

She doesn't even need to question the sizing if anyone's Natashas body it's him. She changes quickly staring at her self in the mirror. What would madam say at this act of childishness dressing up for a child barely able to comprehend their presence let alone who they are dressing up as. Whatever she would say it doesn't matter Clint wraps his arms around her waist.

"This has been surprisingly Ok. Christmas with the family"

Natasha leans back into his arms "It's complicated, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else"

"Welcome to Christmas" he laughs, "now I just need to get the mutt ready, You wanna be a pirate bud?"

Lucky complains about the pirate flag neckerchief until the fuss arrives at the party. Steve and Bucky and Sam have dressed in 1940s attire. Bruce in his lab coat and goggles. Thor surprisingly as a firefighter though Natasha isn't sure how he learnt about them but she's sure it's a long story. Rhodey as a member of top gun. Peter is some sort of star wars character Clint recognises on sight though the teenager seems more distracted by his Aunt and Happys couples costume. Tony and Pepper are attendees of Jurassic park the two scientists that become a couple if Natasha remembers the films. Morgan dressed in a dinosaur all in one.

"Oh, you are terrifying" Natasha coos offering her arms out for the little girl. She chirps and delightedly reaching for her hat.

Pepper hands her across returning to grown-up conversation with May and Happy.

Natasha let's her hold the hat bringing her to the sofa and to Lucky's waiting nose.

"Does she smell like dinosaur" Natasha coos letting Morgan pat at Lucky's ears. She manages to keep a hold of her goddaughter for most of the night but she has a curiosity for hats swapping quickly to gain a small collection. She falls asleep playing with Clint's buttons and that draws to a sudden close. Tony smiles that new smile he's developed just for his daughter and takes her into his arms.

"Jarvis will drop off breakfast in bed tomorrow if required. Presents opening at 10.30"

The rest of the evening is a timeless blur of a short walk for Lucky, Warm showers and bed before waking up in Clint's arms as Lucky nudges her arms. Apparently jet lag is harder to adapt to when you're a Canine.

"Merry Christmas Lucks" She whispers brushing her fingers through his hair. They're walking fifteen minutes later holding hands today simply out of habit. They discuss gifts and tell stories until they can no longer feel their fingers when they get back no matter how hard Clint holds her. The ice melts away as they eat breakfast, warm Pastries on a platter left by Jarvis dressed in her new pyjamas. It's a new sort of intimacy. Childlike and raw but it's not awkward. Not like she fears.

They give presents amongst friends when 10.30 rolls around. It's tolerable everyone opening presents at once no one needing to explain or pretend. She needs to work on her pretending, she decides as she opens present after present and finds herself liking most of the presents. It's easy to slip under the radar and just enjoy opening presents or watching others open they're own. Well, that is until Clint opens his tourist guide to Budapest his pointed look puncturing the mood until everyone's quiet.

"I know you've been meaning to visit," Natasha says with a grin.

"Yes, I've been told Budapest is very beautiful at Christmas time" Clint returns flicking through the book.

"Well?" Sam asks "is that it?"

"Thank you Natasha," Clint says with a nod when he reaches the back page.

"Fine keep your secrets" Sam mutter's returning to his own pile.

They settle in for Lunch and then nap in front of the fireplace after the queen's speech. Tony had indicated a childhood tradition enforced by his butler. She holds Morgan as they doze pulling the little one in close.

"So this is Christmas huh?"

[demivampirew]

Keep Calm and Go to London chapter 16

Synopsis: This is the story of (y/n), a successful actress, musician, musical producer and songwriter. After battling depression and breaking up a long relationship, she seeks for a change of air, escaping LA for a while going to visit some friends in London and there she meets Henry. -Disclaimer: some chapters are mostly smut.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Triggers:   SMUT ( s&m); use of slang and cursing words; mention of body image issues.

Disclaimer: I made this chapter as a challenge to myself. The idea was to write something inspired by songs and I’ve made a playlist with some songs which parts of the lyrics will be included on the chapter. At the end I’ll post the playlist in the order that the songs appeared. This chapter doesn’t contain vital information to the story (if so, I’ll talk about it again in another chapter), so if you are not into this type of stories, you can skip this chapter and continue with the next one.

Tag list: Here’s the incredible people who showed me support (thank  you    so much for that) and people who asked me to tag them too  ☺️   (I    think I will write a few chapters of this story, if you want me to  tag   you, tell me ☺️   ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo   constip8merm8    penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen  littlefreya  wondersofdreaming   alyxkbrl solariumss  sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira   @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog   @lunedelorient​  @michelle-1185​  

-I've got a surprise for you tonight - you said to Henry as he was turning off the computer after playing games. - Do you? What is it about? - he asked, curious and amused. - If I tell you, it won't be a surprise, right? You replied grinning devilishly and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. - Hmmm... it's a Bond Girl type of surprise? - he questioned as he raised an eyebrow, smirking pleased by the idea. - Well, something like that. - you told him laughing. - Do I have to wear a suit or something? - Let me think... - you paused for a second- Oh... I know... Do you, by any chance, still have the shirt that you used on the video that you appeared with Simon for Vanity Fair to promote Mission Impossible? - you asked him, pouting like an innocent little girl. - The black shirt? Yes, I still got it. I'll put it on for you then. - he assured you, and you smile at him excitedly. - This is going to be a night you won't forget- you promised as you got closer to kiss him. - Oh, every night is a night that'll I never forget. I feel like I remember everything that we've done since I met you. - You're a smooth talker, aren't you Mr Cavill? - you finished as you kissed him.

The great thing about becoming confident with your body again was the fact that you felt free to show another side of you. The part of you which didn't care about anything that people might think and was not afraid to explore when it came to pleasure. When you were with your ex-boyfriend, the first years after you started dating again after a three-year break, you were this woman. You not only enjoyed sex but discover that you liked being in charge. The last years of that relationship, made you put that confident woman in a deep sleep because he failed in making you feel desire. There were periods in which you wouldn't even have sex because he was always "busy" with work. On one occasion, he completely ignored you, that was wearing sexy lingerie as if you were invisible. That affected you a lot. But now, Henry brought back that side of you. He made you feel beautiful and sexy all the time. He didn't shame you for your lust, he enjoyed it as well. His sexual side amused you a lot. He was shy, sometimes a bit too much, but at the same time, you could tell every time that you put yourself in charge of the situation that is was something new for him. He was clearly used to be the one to do most of the work in the bedroom. At first, you could feel that he was surprised by your dominance, by he enjoyed it too much and became his favourite thing. Let you choose the positions and all was something that he became accustomed to. But, he also knew that you were a sucker for his kisses, so he would use that against you to distract you and take the lead again. And you allowed him that because you adored the fact that he had the strength to take you as if you were light as a feather and move you in the position that he pleased at the moment. Between the two of you, there was no doubt that you were the one most comfortable with playing games and creating new situations for fun. This wasn't because he didn't have that on him, because as soon as you started something, he gladly played the role you assigned for him. It was mostly due to a lack of practice. Even though he admitted having one night stands on the past, he was mostly a man that preferred to exclusively being intimate with partners and his previous girlfriends apparently weren't too much into the idea of roleplay and other kinky stuff. You didn't know much about it, because he was a gentleman and respected the intimacy of his former lovers.

The night came. As soon as you finished getting ready, you texted Henry to let him know that he could come into the room. He opened the door and found a chair a few steps away from the bed. There was a note on it that read "Sit and close your eyes until you're told otherwise." He did as it was told. His heart was beating fast due to the excitement and expectation. Moments past and finally he felt the soft touch of your hands on his arms. Then, you grabbed both of his hands and put on a pair of handcuffs. You softly bite the lobule of his ear and his cheek. He laughed as an act of reflex due to the tingly sensation. "Keep your eyes closed" you ordered him as you walked away. Music started to sound in the room. It wasn't partying or romantic music. At first sounded mysterious, like the perfect for the soundtrack of a vampire movie. But, after seconds the tone change into metal. The seductive raspy voice of a woman invaded the room.

I'm the girl you've been thinking about The one thing you can't live without I'm the girl you've been waiting for I'll have you down on your knees, I'll have you begging for more. [ ... ] So how can this be, you're praying to me There's a look in your eyes, I know just what that means I can be, I can be your everything

I can be your whore I am the dirt you created I am your sinner, I am your whore But let me tell you something, baby You love me for everything you hate me for.

"Open your eyes", you ordered. He did that and saw you standing in front of him. You were wearing a black sleeveless latex bodysuit that had a plunging neckline and short boots with pointy heels. In your face, you had a lace masquerade face eye mask and a blood colour lipstick on your lips. Your hair was straight, tight in a high ponytail.  You came closer to him. Slowly, place your index finger on his lips, locked eyes with him and grinning devilish. You turned around as the song finished and a new one started to play. You started to move to the sound of the music.

I must confess I'm addicted to this Shove your kiss straight through my chest I can't deny, I'd die without this Make me feel like a god Music, love and sex (Adrenalize me)

You moved sensually and slowly, touching your own body to the sound of the music and giving him looks, knowing how much he'd loved to be the one touching your body.

Get a little bit higher So we can fall 'til we bleed Push a little bit harder Pull me into the speed So tell me, can you feel this Come into my dream Are you ready to awaken? Are you ready to feed? 'Cause I need to feel Yeah, I need to say

You dropped on your knees and put your hands on the floor as well, classic doggy style position and moved erotically. You give yourself a few spanks, hard enough for him to listen to the sound of the collision of your hand with your butt, even with the loud music playing, and leaving red marks. You crawled to him placing your hands on his thighs and rubbing them. You could see that he was already hard. Lust and desire were visible on his eyes. He wanted you. He wanted you now. But the games were just starting. A new song was playing while you continue moving your hands up and down his thighs.

Is it sick of me To need control of you Is it sick to make You beg the way I do Is it sick of me To want you crawling on your knees Is it sick to say I want you biting down on me

Are you sick like me

Am I beautiful As I tear you to pieces Am I beautiful Even at my ugliest, you always say

I'm beautiful As you tear me to pieces You are beautiful Even at your ugliest, I always say You're beautiful and sick like me

As the song was getting closer to his end, you stood up again and way away from him, offering a nice view of your ass on the way and the stopped and moved your hips from side to side. The following song was from a different band, same style. This was music that Henry wasn't accustomed to, but he was still enjoying the game you were playing with him.

All I desire (Temptation) Keep climbing higher and higher (Temptation)

Adorable creatures (Temptation) (With unacceptable features (Temptation)

And trouble is coming (Temptation) It's just the high course of lovin' (Temptation)

And you can take it or leave it (Temptation) But you better believe it

As the song was playing its chorus, you got closer to him again, giving him a lap dance, close enough for him to feel the heat that your body emanated by not close enough to touch. You were driving crazy. You turned around and sit on his thighs, facing him. You kissed him and felt his desperation with the touch of his tongue with yours. You bit his chin and licked his Adam's apple. You touched the entirety of his chest. Then, you kneeled as you lift his shirt and lick and bite his chest, concentrating mostly on his nipples. He moaned louder than the heavy music playing. A new song started to play as you decided to end his suffering. Still, on your knees, you unzipped his pants and grabbed his member and started to please him with your mouth.

Beware the night Beware the night before the dawn Beware the dark when light is gone For there's a phantom lust to wake They wanna make you bend and scream They wanna take your hand and lead you in the light of Venus, girl Come let them take you for a ride Forget the lord and cross tonight And let your carnal lust prevail tonight Oh, demons come at night and they bring the end Oh, demons are a girl's best friend Oh, demons come alive and they take command Oh, demons are a girl's best friend

The song continued playing till the end, while you pleasured your boyfriend. This wasn't like other times, in which you did it slowly and tenderly. This time, you went fast and deep. Many times you went completely out of breath as you reached the base of his cock as this was inside your throat and your mouth. More than once you went as deep that you managed to licked his testicles while he was still inside of you. You took him out of your mouth, tasting the sperm coming out of him and stroking it. You stood up again and started to dance again to the music, giving him time to recover for another round.

When the night just strikes through you And the night just spreads its legs and open up for you When the day is dead to you And the silvery starlight seductively glimmers through

Its Night... Night!

When the night just comes for you And its fingers just crawl and move deep inside of you When the light is drawn from you And you sear your lips and let the sweet poison come on through

Its Night Night Electric Night

The world lies silent The night burns of wrath

You got closer to him again. You planned to uncuff him but that'd be like unleashing a savage beast. You were not planning to give him power. You made him stand up and walk to the bed, still with both of his hands tight to his back. He sat on the edge of the bed, as you open the handcuffs, realising one of his hands and tightening the other to the bed. Then you grabbed a tie from the closet and used it to trap his other hand. You sat on top of him and softly press your body against his. You kissed, licked and bite his neck for a bit and later kissed on his mouth, biting his lips now and then. After that, you unbuttoned his shirt and scratched his chest and bite his nipples. He was more than ready for the second round. You pulled the panties part of the bodysuit aside and entered Henry's cock inside of you and began to ride him. You change the pace of your movements to the rhythm of the song playing at the moment.

She looks like the girl The girl you ever wanted She looks like the girl The girl who could Give you everything And kisses run like hell And she like it She's got the look That could kill And you see the greed in her eyes It is far too late [ ... ] Too late to run Too late to hide There is no escape When she is hunting you And she is hunting you Tonight She takes everything from you She is uses you With her Body of sin You are addicted to her touch And you lose yourself in her Dangerous smile

Henry was grabbing the tie with one hand and the chain of the handcuff with the other; he was desperate to touch you, to grab you and make you his until you scream his name. You then sat on his face, letting him taste you and pleasure you. It felt so good to have his tongue inside you as well as licking and sucking your clit. After you reached an orgasm, you sucked him again before sitting on his cock for one last time.

Just a little bit, just a little, bitch You've got a pussy, I have a dick So what's the problem? Let's do it quick So take me now before it's too late Life's too short, so I can't wait [ ... ] Just a little bit be my little bitch You've got a pussy, I have a dick So what's the problem? Let's do it quick So take me now before it's too late Life's too short, so I can't wait

The last song played and you moved fast to its beat. You could feel his big and thick member inside of you, getting in and out so fast that it hurt, but you liked the pain; it felt wonderful. When you saw he was about to release, you changed position and quickly put it in your mouth, sucking him until he finished, leaving your mouth full of his cum. You shallowed it and then decided to free him. He was exhausted. His heart beat so fast all that time, so as soon as he was able to catch a breath, he fell in a deep sleep. You laughed and left him to sleep as you went to the bathroom to take off your clothes and makeup, shower and then go to sleep with him.

Playlist:

In this Moment- Whore In this Moment- Adrenalize In this Moment- Sick Like Me Cradle Of Filth - Temptation POWERWOLF - Demons Are A Girl's Best Friend Deathstars - Night Electric Night Blutengel - Vampire Rammstein- Pussy

[kstewdeux]

A Very Specific Day

A Tumblr Exclusive

@inuyasha-valentines

“So, he asked you to join him for dinner and you said yes?” Sango asked barely above a whisper as she sank into the hot spring. Despite Kagome’s belief that only Miroku spied on them, the slayer knew better. How the miko didn’t sense his aura or the noticeable, sudden rustle of leaves that occasionally occurred when Kagome exited the spring was beyond her but the miko would deny the obvious until the cows came home and then would be in denial about the cows.

“It’s a holiday,” Kagome tried to explain weakly, “Its, um, a great shame to not share that day with a romantic partner in my time.”

“So, you see Hojo as a romantic partner then,” Sango pressed as she gave the miko a skeptical look and Kagome sighed heavily.

“I mean, that’s the point of dinner. To find out if that person is someone you would want as a romantic partner,” she replied a little sadly before cringing when she saw the slayer’s skepticism increase exponentially. Huffing once and folding her arms across her chest, she snapped defensively, “Its not a crime to see what my options are, Sango.”

“I can think of someone who might disagree,” the slayer laughed softly as she settled back against the wall of the spring, “You need to tell him why you’re going home. You know he always follows you.”

“He doesn’t…”

“He does,” Sango interrupted with a soft sigh, “Even if he doesn’t tell you or even let you see him, he always does.”

“Does he really?” Kagome asked in a fascinated tone and Sango’s lips twitched upwards when she heard the rustle of leaves that signaled ‘someone’ might have arrived to ‘protect’ the girls.

“Inuyasha cares for you a great deal,” Sango commented as though she hadn’t noticed anything, “Although I know you don’t think so.”

“I mean we’re friends but he isn’t interested in being any more than that,” Kagome sighed sadly before groaning and commenting acidly, “Unlike Hojo. I mean, honestly, based on how they treat me, I think its pretty clear which one I should be trying to date. One insults me all the time. The other gives me gifts and tells me I’m pretty. Seems pretty open and shut.”

Somehow, mysteriously, although no wind was blowing whatsoever a single tree in the distance shook so heavily a cascade of leaves fell to the ground and the tree itself groaned loudly. Even more mysteriously still, the miko somehow must be either blind or deaf because she didn’t notice the ‘strange’ event.

“Does it?” Sango laughed softly as she consciously turned so the obviously spying hanyou couldn’t see any part of her. Kagome, however, was pretty much on full display.

“So, what happens on a date?” Sango asked as she decided to throw the little obviously upset spy a bone. What he did with it was his business.

“Well the boy usually picks you up at your house. You go to somewhere special. Like a nice place to eat food or you watch a, uh, show or something. Then you go home and if the evening was good you give them a kiss and that’s that. It’s, you know, courting,” Kagome tried to explain as she wrinkled her nose.

“Unchaperoned courting,” Sango corrected. Her lips twitched upwards when the tree in the distance rustled once more.

“Well yeah,” Kagome replied with a soft laugh, “Guess that doesn’t really happen here.”

“Are you going to tell Inuyasha?” Sango finally addressed the elephant in the room and Kagome sniffed pointedly.

“Its not his business,” she clipped back a little too quickly, “I’m so tired of him acting like he owns me just because I can see jewel shards. I don’t complain when he goes to see Kikyo. That’s his business and this is mine.”

“You do complain in your own way,” Sango commented knowingly and Kagome gave her friend a sour look.

“So what? I’m tired of hurting so no, I’m not going to tell him because he doesn’t care about me and I deserve someone who does,” the miko clipped back before worrying about her lip and glaring into the distance, “I just….I love him Sango and he just doesn’t love me back. I’m trying to come to terms with that, okay? If he found out he’d say something hurtful and I don’t want to deal with that right now. I want to be happy.”

A short distance away, a certain half-demon was having a heart attack, a brain aneurysm and quite possibly the stomach flu all at once. His mind and body going completely apeshit over well, literally everything he’d just heard. It didn’t start off too bad. Not great but he could’ve handled a date with that Hojo guy. She didn’t smell attracted to him at all and never really seemed interested. Unlike with Koga because even though she said she didn’t like him that way she sure didn’t smell like she minded the eye candy sometimes. Anyway,  a pity dinner with the Hojo guy was not terrible nor was it worrisome. Sure he would’ve bitched a bit about it and probably stop her from going because (1) obviously that was cruel when she was already spoken for and (2) she was spoken for. His mind had been scrambling to figure out why she had even agreed in light of number two when she started going on about how she thought he was a right asshole who didn’t give two shits about her and was still in love with Kikyo and she wasn’t happy and that….

It was a miracle his heart hadn’t given out it was beating so fast.

Swallowing thickly as he tried to remember how to breathe, he watched with wide, frightened eyes as Kagome and Sango existed the hot spring and began preparing to return.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed as he very seriously almost passed out from the shock to his system, “What am I supposed to do now?”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Inuyasha arrived back at camp almost a full hour after the girls did. It honestly had taken him that long to calm down and try to formulate a plan. A plan that would not give away the fact that he was spying on Kagome naked and in the process thereof, overheard what she’d said.

“Inuyasha? Can I talk to you?” Kagome asked him quietly and any plan he’d managed to formulate was instantly wiped from his mind by almost blinding panic and dread.

“S-sure,” he offered as calmly as he could under the circumstances and gave her a very forced smile just for good measure. This seemed to unnerve her.

They walked a short distance away until they were almost in the trees when she began her proposal.

“I need to go back in two days,” she began calmly as she tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t quite do it. He almost asked why but then thought better of it. Asking why would most likely have her lie to him which in turn he would call out and then there’d be a fight because him hearing meant he saw her naked and it wouldn’t matter that she was lying to him because he saw her naked and….

“Okay,” he replied a neutrally as one could when they felt like their heart was breaking, “Can….may I go with you?”

Kagome blinked at him a few times before shaking her head and clearing her throat.

“I think, uh, it would be best if I go alone,” she chuckled nervously as she scratched the side of her neck, “You know those pesky homeworks aren’t going to do themselves and I have a, uh, test. I have a test.”

Inuyasha wilted miserably at the realization that she was, in fact, actively lying to him. What else was she lying about? He didn’t even want to think about that.

“I won’t bother you,” he tried softly as he tried to ignore the ice spreading through his veins, “I just…I want to spend some time with you is all.”

“Are you okay?” Kagome asked in a worried tone as her eyes began scanning his body for injury. He smiled sadly and shook his head.

“Nah I’m fine. Just…just realized something is all,” he sighed before seeming to deflate even more, “Yeah. Sure. Go ahead. Do whatever makes you happy.”

The miko’s brain was racing a million miles per second trying to figure out whether he knew she was lying or not because this type of behavior was so unlike him it was beginning to scare her. When he glanced back with a strange look in his eyes, she knew her answer. He could probably smell it on her anyway. Why did she think lying was a good idea? This wasn’t like her at all.

“Wait, Inuyasha,” Kagome called out softly as she wrung her hands and he paused – his hair blocking his face as he glanced over his shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just….I’m being courted, okay? And you usually fight me and this is a very special honor in my time to be courted on this very specific day. I wanted….I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go. I shouldn’t’ve lied.”

For a moment, he tried to digest what she’d said and tried to overcome his own hurt at the situation. Unlike Kikyo, she had never given him a reason not to trust her until now. Even in life Kikyo was constantly lying to him and his sensitive nose could always tell. It was little stupid things but even small things add up into a larger pile that’ll crush you one day. Being able to trust her word was one of the things he loved so much about Kagome.

Yeah, he loved her. Sure, he’d never said as much but dammit that didn’t make it hurt less. She lied to him. Thought it was fine to sit there and tell him that she was being courted like it honestly didn’t matter. He wanted to get angry and yell at her out of frustration but he never was good with words and he might end up just hurting his cause. No matter what she did he’d still want her. That was just how he was when he was in love apparently. She could literally try to murder him and he’d probably thank her for the privilege of dying by her hand. Case in Point: Kikyo. God he was fucking pathetic. 

But pathetic or not....this was as good a plan as any to get what he wanted.

“Its an honor to be courted on the day you want to go home?” he repeated softly as he turned to face her and hurt amber eyes searched her face. She nodded as she worried about her lip and continued to wring her hands.

“And so, you agreed to be courted to receive that honor?” he tried to clarify and Kagome shrugged as her brow knitted together in confusion. That was the weirdest sentence she’d ever heard come out of his mouth literally ever. And what was with his tone?

“Would it…” he began softly and Kagome’s hair nearly stood on end. Since when did he talk like this? Especially to her? He normally yelled or…or at least was abrasive at a minimum. He never talked softly or without cussing unless he was dying or with Kikyo. Since he wasn’t with Kikyo at the moment….what the hell was happening right now?

“Would it be an honor if anyone courted you or does it have to be that guy?” he asked politely yet nervously in what couldn’t be a hopeful tone before he cringed, sighed heavily and blurted out, “Because I could do it ya know. I…I could court you and wear different clothes and…and….”

He trailed off at the look of utter shock on her face and his insecurity got the better of him.

“Know what? Forget it. Just fucking forget I said anything. I just…”

“You want to court me?” Kagome squeaked as her eyes widened in shock and darted about trying to read his utterly humiliated expression. For a moment, he wanted to curse her out and storm off without having to explain himself but then again, she did finally seem to catch the hint that he was at a minimum interested in being with her.

“Since when do you want that?” she continued skeptically and his temper flared.

“I’ve been courting you woman but you’re apparently too fucking dumb to notice,” he countered bitterly before shaking his head and sighing when she continued to merely gape at him.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath and turned to head back towards  camp before Kagome rushed forward and gripped his wrist.

“Yes,” she breathed as she tugged once to get him to stop, “Yes you can court me.”

And so it was that Inuyasha and Kagome celebrated Valentine’s Day together.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Power Outage

The Flash stars in: Power Outage

Dramatis Personae

The Flash (Jay Garrick), the wise, benevolent hero of Central City

Joan Garrick, Jay’s intelligent, charming wife

Captain Cold, the earthy, practical leader of the Rogues and Central City’s worst villain

Golden Glider, a thrill-seeking, deceptively charming thief and little sister of the above

Weather Wizard, a lazy, dimwitted crook who works with Captain Cold

Script

Act I

(Enter Jay and Joan)

Joan: Honey, I’m worried about you.

Jay: Why? Any particular reason?

Joan: I don’t like how you’ve decided to protect Central City all by yourself while Barry and Wally go on vacation together for two weeks. You’re not as young as you used to be, you know, and I don’t want you to get hurt chasing down supervillains who are half your age.

Jay: Why didn’t you tell me that earlier, honey?

Joan: Well, Barry and Wally seemed so excited to be able to get away for awhile, and you seemed so happy to have a chance to come out of retirement, so I was afraid I would disappoint you if I said anything about it.

Jay: Joan, you know me better than that. Sure, I do love a little crime fighting, but that’s not nearly as important to me as you are. If I’d known that you were that worried about me, I would never have agreed to come out of retirement.

Joan: Well, it’s too late for you to change your mind now-Barry and Wally are already halfway to England, and you can’t leave the city unprotected.

Jay: I’ll be careful, Joan.

Joan: Oh, I know you will, dear. You couldn’t have survived this long as a hero if you hadn’t.

Jay: And you’re sure you’re okay if I go out?

Joan: I suppose. I just worry about you.

Jay: I know, and that’s why I’m so careful. I know that you’re waiting for me, so I can’t take any unnecessary risks. I can’t bear the idea of my dying and leaving you all alone.

Joan: Oh, Jay, I don’t worry about you because I don’t want to be alone-I worry about you because I don’t want you to be hurt.

Jay: Every hero risks that, Joan. It’s part of the job.

Joan: I know, but you’re just so athletic and you love to run. I’d hate to see you get injured and lose your ability to exercise.

Jay: Have I ever mentioned that I’m blessed to have you for my wife?

Joan: Every day, dear, every day-and I’m blessed to have you for my husband.

Jay: Thank you, darling. I love you so much.

Joan: I love you, too.

(Jay and Joan kiss, then Jay’s phone rings and he pulls it out)

Jay: Hello? Hello, Commissioner. Yes, I am filling in for Barry and Wally while they’re on vacation. Yes, I’ll be at work protecting the city soon. Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. Yes, I’m sure I’m still up to the task. I may be old, but I’m as fast as ever. Oh, it’s no problem, Commissioner. I love Central City-I certainly don’t mind protecting it. Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t need any money. Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. Tell your wife happy birthday for me. I’ll be sending her flowers soon. And send Officer Johnson my condolences. No one should lose their wife that way. Mm-hmm. Uh-huh. All right, Commissioner. I’ll be watching for them. Okay. Okay. Good-bye. (Jay puts phone away)

Joan: What did the Commissioner tell you?

Jay: He was just checking to make sure that I was ready to protect the city-and to warn me that Captain Cold broke the Golden Glider out of jail, and that they and the Weather Wizard are on the loose.

Joan: Captain Cold and Weather Wizard I remember, but who is Golden Glider?

Jay: If I recall correctly, her name is Lisa Snart. She’s a former ice skater who apparently got bored with her career and decided to turn to crime-and she’s Captain Cold’s little sister.

Joan: A supervillain who’s a woman? Why, I never!

Jay: Villany isn’t exclusively the department of men, you know.

Joan: I suppose that’s true. How dangerous are they?

Jay: It’s hard to say, but since Captain Cold likes to avoid attention, they’re unlikely to try anything too diabolical.

Joan: Well, that’s one good thing, I suppose.

Jay: Agreed. (Pause)  Well, I’d better get going. Love you, Joan.

Joan: I love you, Jay. Good luck!

Jay: Thank you. Good-bye, dear.

Joan: Good-bye, darling. (Exit Jay) I hope Jay knows what he’s getting into. He’s been retired for a long time, and those villains are young enough to be our children. If he gets himself into trouble, I’ll never forgive myself. (Pause) Well, standing around here and worrying isn’t going to change a thing, so I might as well start making some plans of my own!

Act II

(Enter Captain Cold and Golden Glider. Weather Wizard is asleep onstage, and a doll and a large necklace are sitting next to him)

Cold: Stop trying to peek, sis. You’ll ruin the surprise!

Glider: I’m not peeking!

Cold: Oh, what the heck, go ahead and look.  

Glider: (Sees presents) Oh my gosh! Lenny, you didn’t!

Cold: Happy birthday, sis.

Glider: (grabs the necklace) How did you afford this? It’s beautiful!

Cold: Uh….about that….

Glider: You stole it for me, didn’t you?

Cold: No! I robbed a bank and used the money to buy it.

Glider: How come the Flash didn’t stop you?

Cold: I got lucky, I guess.

Glider: (Picks up doll) And what would this be? Cold: You don’t recognize that?

Glider: No. Am I supposed to?

Cold: Seriously? You asked for that for your birthday and Christmas like every year!

Glider: I did?

Cold: Uh-huh. Don’t you remember? When I couldn’t find it for your sixth birthday, you cried for like ten minutes and then Lewis beat the living daylights out of both of us because you woke him up.

Glider: Lewis beat the living daylights out of us on like every one of my birthdays. That doesn’t narrow things down much.

Cold: It’s still got the tag on it. Maybe that’ll help you remember.

Glider: (Reads) “Lucy”. (Pause; laughs) Lucy? The doll I was obsessed with as a kid? But she went off the shelves when I was eight years old. How did you find this one?

Cold: Well, I’ve been scouring garage sales and thrift stores and stuff for the thing around your birthday every year since you were eight. The odds were in favor of me finding one eventually, especially given how popular the thing was when you were little, and I finally found this one two weeks ago at that creepy Goodwill downtown.

Glider: Are you telling me that you’ve been trying to find this doll for me for 25 years ?

Cold: Of course. Given how much misery the stupid thing caused for both of us, I couldn’t’ve lived with myself if I hadn’t.

Glider: So even though, in the same general time period, you’ve given me 4 different cars, several dozen necklaces, and several thousand dollars in cash, you still felt obligated to get me a doll that I wanted when I was eight just because you couldn’t get me it then?

Cold: Well, yeah. Don’t you remember that I promised you I would get it for you someday?

Glider: Vaguely.

Cold: Well, I finally did! Don’t you like it?

Glider: No. (Cold looks upset, then she hugs him) But I do like you, Lenny.  I’m glad you think so much about me. You’re the best big brother in the world.

Cold: Okay, enough with the mushy stuff. I didn’t break you out of prison just to celebrate your birthday, you know.

Glider: Ooh, do you have a heist planned?

Cold: You’d better believe it, sis.

Glider: Hurrah! This day just keeps getting better and better! What’s the angle?

Cold: I’ll tell you as soon as I wake up Mardon.

Glider: What’s he doing here? Didn’t he win the lottery or something?

Cold:  He did, but now he’s broke-again-and needs a place to stay. Again.

Glider: There’s a shock.

Cold: (To Wizard) Yo, Mardon, look alive! We’ve got a job to pull! (Wizard doesn’t respond. Cold throws a pillow at his head)

Wizard: What time is it?

Cold: It’s two in the afternoon, you lazy bum. Get up- we’ve got a job to do.

Wizard: But I’m still tired, Cold! I just spent two weeks without a roof over my head!

Cold: Yeah, because you spent all your cash on parties, gambling, and cars you couldn’t afford. Again.

Wizard: I was doing it to impress my new friends!

Cold: The friends who skipped town as soon as you ran out of money?

Wizard: Yeah.

Cold: I rest my case. Honestly, Mardon, why I bother to keep you around is beyond me.

Wizard: Because of my charming personality and dashing good looks?

Glider: Definitely not that.

Cold: It’s because you have a wand that can control the weather, you doofus!

Wizard: Uh, about that. I may have accidentally kind of broken the wand a couple days ago.

Cold: HOW?

Wizard: Well, I was robbing a gas station when the thunderstorm I created to short out the power grid got a little out of control. I got struck by my own lightning, and the wand flew out of my hand and into a tree and snapped in half. And, uh, I didn’t even actually manage to rob the gas station, because when the wand broke, the thunderstorm cleared up before it could take out the power. Well, that and I was still recovering from the whole getting struck by lightning thing. So yeah. No more weather powers.

Cold: Can’t you just-you know-fix the wand?

Wizard: No. I don’t know how it works!

Cold: What do you mean you don’t know how it works? You’ve been using it for like 14 years!

Wizard: I stole it from Clyde, remember? He’s the one who built it! I don’t have a clue how he made it or how it actually produces its effects- I just know it works. Er, worked.

Cold: Clyde?

Wizard: You know, Clyde! My older brother who was better than me at everything!

Cold: Okay, then we’ll just ask him to fix it.

Wizard: We can’t. He’s dead, and he was kind of a recluse, so it’s not like he had any partners who were watching him build the thing.

Cold: Are you telling me that your wand is permanently broken?

Wizard: Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you.

Cold: Well, that’s just great. Now I’m going to have to change my plans, and it’s all because the man who had the most powerful weapon in the world was enough of a brain-dead moron to both never learn how the thing worked and to break it!

Glider: And on his little sister’s birthday, too!

Cold: Yeah, and on her birthday, too!

Wizard: Sorry?

Cold: You know what? If you don’t have your wand, then you’re useless to me.

Wizard: You’re kicking me out?

Cold: Not yet. You’re one of us, after all-but you aren’t getting a cent from our heists until you figure out a way to either fix the wand or provide some other asset to them, and if you can’t do that in a month, then you’ll have to find someone else’s basement to live in. I ain’t running no charity here, Mardon.

Wizard: Are you saying I’m not a good thief without my wand?

Cold: No, I’m saying that you were a mediocre thief with the wand and that you are a terrible one without it. Powers or no powers, you’re pathetic.

Wizard: Nobody talks to the Weather Wizard like that! Nobody! (Punches at Cold. Cold catches his punch, and then Glider knees Wizard in the abdomen. Wizard falls to the ground and Cold “freezes” his left leg to the ground with his gun.)

Cold: Well, maybe no one talks to the Weather Wizard like that, but until or if you fix the wand, you aren’t the Weather Wizard, you’re just Mark Mardon.

Glider: And we can talk to an idiot like Mark like that all we want.

Cold: See you after the heist, loser.

(Exit both)

Wizard: (Breaks ice on leg and sits up) How can this be happening to me? A month ago, I was a millionaire and the most powerful crook in the world, and now look at me. I’m broke and my wand is broke and now Cold says I ain’t even the Weather Wizard anymore. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was right about me bein’ a pathetic idiot. (Pause) Oh, who am I kidding? They’re right. Without the wand, I’m nothin’ more than stupid, pathetic Mark Mardon. (Pause) I need a drink or something. Anything would be better than sitting around thinking about how bad my luck’s been lately-or working to try and fix the wand!

Act III

(Wizard is sitting at the bar of a restaurant. Enter Joan)

Joan: Nothing like a nice cup of coffee to take my mind off my worries. (To Weather Wizard) Excuse me, sir, but is this seat taken?

Wizard: Huh?

Joan: I was wondering if this seat was taken.

Wizard: It’s not.

Joan: All right, then. (Sits down next to him) I’m Joan Garrick. Who are you?

Wizard: Name’s Mark. Mark Mardon.

Joan: Are you here by yourself?

Wizard: Yeah. You?

Joan: Well, I normally come here with my husband, but today I’m alone, too.

Wizard: Why? You have a fight with him or something?

Joan: No. He’s just filling in for some friends at work today.

Wizard: Are all your other friends busy, too?

Joan: No. As a matter of fact, after I eat lunch here, I’m going to my friend Betsy’s house to help her sew some clothing for her latest grandchild.

Wizard: Boy or girl?

Joan: Girl. Her name is Maria, and she’s only a month old.

Wizard: Is she cute?

Joan: All babies are cute, Mr. Mardon-just like all brides are beautiful.

Wizard: Not according to my baby pictures!

Joan: Oh, hush! (Pause) So, why are you here alone?

Wizard: Trust me, it’s not by choice. I can’t stand being alone without my power.

Joan: Have you fallen on hard times, then?

Wizard: Yeah. I’m pretty much broke, and my friends have made it pretty clear that they won’t give me any money until I can help them, which I can’t.

Joan: Are you sure these people are your friends?

Wizard: (Shrugs) They haven’t kicked me to the curb yet.

Joan: Don’t you have your own home?

Wizard: Not any more!

Joan: Oh, dear, you are in a mess, aren’t you?

Wizard: No duh, lady.

Joan: Is there anything I can do to help?

Wizard: Not unless you’re a millionaire.

Joan: No such luck, I’m afraid.

Wizard: Too bad. I could use that money. (Pause) You always start conversations with random strangers in restaurants?

Joan: No. You just seemed to need some company, and since I was alone, I decided to provide it.

Wizard: Why? There’s nothing all that special about me-at least not the way I am now.

Joan: Because I know how it feels to be lonely. My husband is wonderful, but he’s also very busy, so I spent a lot of time by myself before he retired.

Wizard: Why do you love him so much if he spends so much time away from you?

Joan: Because he’s a good man who sacrifices himself for me. The least I can do is make sacrifices for him in return. After all, a big part of love is being willing to sacrifice your own desires for the people that you love.

Wizard: That sounds like an awful lot of work, lady.

Joan: Sometimes it can feel like it, I’m afraid-but it’s worth it to experience genuine love.

Wizard: I think I’ll pass.

Joan: How can you say that? Haven’t you ever loved anyone?

Wizard: No-and no one’s ever loved me, either, except maybe my older brother, Clyde-and that was only ‘cause he felt bad for me.

Joan: Felt bad for you-why?

Wizard: Because I was a lazy bum right from the start, that’s why. No ambition-not that there would’ve been much of a point in trying, what with Clyde bein’ a genius and a great athlete and all. Even if I had decided to try, Mom and Pop would’ve liked him better, ‘cause I never coulda been as good as he was. The only thing I was ever good at was getting lucky.

Joan: You sound almost proud of yourself for that!

Wizard: Well, it beats feeling terrible about myself.

Joan: Not if it keeps you from improving yourself.

Wizard: Now you sound like Clyde.

Joan: Well, in that case, I would suggest that you listen to your brother on occasion.

Wizard: I can’t. He’s dead now.

Joan: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.

Wizard: Don’t be. It was a while ago, and I was never real close to him anyway. He was too perfect.

Joan: Aren’t you close to anyone?

Wizard: No one I don’t work with.

Joan: Well, if you don’t mind, I plan to fix that.

Wizard: But you don’t know anything about me!

Joan: I know that you have a dead brother, some questionable friends, and a somewhat self-destructive lifestyle.

Wizard: Oh, believe me, you don’t know the half of it.

Joan: And I won’t pry. Are you up for continuing the conversation?

Wizard: I guess. (Pause) You are the weirdest woman I’ve ever met.

Joan: I know-but I’d like to think I make decent company anyway.

Wizard: You’re better company than my partners, at least.

Joan: That’s always nice to hear. So, is there anything you particularly like to eat?

Act IV

(Enter Cold and Glider)

Cold: Okay, sis, I’ve taken out the alarms. Are you ready for the biggest heist of our career?

Glider: You bet, Lenny! This is so exciting!

Cold: And you’re sure you’re not mad about us doing this on your birthday?

Glider: Of course not! In fact, I can’t think of a way I’d rather be spending my day.

Cold: (Aside) I could think of several ways I’d rather see her spending her day, but if this makes her happy, I can’t refuse her. (To Glider) I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Now let’s move!

(Enter Jay Garrick)

Jay: Stop in the name of the law!

Cold: Well, well, well. Look who it is. It’s Grandpa Flash. Aren’t you retired?

Jay: As long as criminals like you are roaming the streets, I’ll never be truly retired.

Glider: Wow. You sound like a really bad Saturday morning cartoon show.

Jay: Perhaps that line was a bit hackneyed, but then again, so are supervillainous bank robberies. It’s not like the two of you invented that idea, you know.

Glider: No, we just perfected it.

Jay: I’ll give you one chance to surrender peacefully.

Cold: And I’ll give you the same chance, Grandpa Flash. I don’t particularly want to beat up an old man like you.

Jay: Old or not, I would never surrender to a criminal.

Glider: Okay then, Grandpa-let’s dance!

(Starts “skating” around him)

Jay: (Knocks her down) I don’t dance with anyone but Joan, miss.

Cold: Leave her alone, old man! (Shoots at Jay and misses)

Jay: You’re good, son. It’s quite a pity you decided to waste your talents on crime.

Cold: Don’t call me son! (Shoots wildly and misses badly)

Glider: (Gets back on her feet and tries to hit Jay from behind, but he catches her punch) Let me go, you old geezer!

Jay: Sorry, daughter. I’m afraid that’s a no can do. You’ve violated the laws of our fair nation, and you must pay the penalty for your actions.

Glider: (Aside) Is this guy for real? (Breaks Jay’s hold) Only if you can keep ahold of me! (Captain Cold finally manages to hit Jay while Jay is attempting to recapture his sister)

Jay: Nice try, son, but I’ve gotten out of worse traps than this before! (He breaks free)

Cold: DON’T CALL ME SON! (Starts shooting wildly again as Glider begins to enter the bank)

Jay: (Dodges Cold’s blasts and grabs Glider) Oh, no, you don’t, child.

Glider: (Steps on his foot; Jay screams and releases her) Oh, yes, I do.

Jay: (Aside) As much as I hate to admit it, Joan’s worries may be more valid than I wanted to admit. These younger villains are wearing me down pretty well. (Manages to grab the Glider again, only for both to be hit by a wild shot from Cold, who runs over and smashes the ice around his sister. Jay vibrates free a few seconds later, but both villains have moved out of his way in the meantime)

Glider: (Aside to Cold) How is it possible that this old guy is harder to fight than the other two?

Cold: (Aside to Glider) Never mind that-just get into the bank! (He starts shooting again and Glider moves towards the bank, only to be stopped for the second time by our hero. Cold stops shooting when this happens to avoid hitting his sister again)

Glider: We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Grandpa.

Jay: Well, if all goes as planned, child, you won’t be meeting me for several years.

Glider: Why do you keep calling me child? I’m your enemy, not some dopey little kid.

Jay: Force of habit, I’m afraid. After all, you and your brother are young enough to be my children-though I would have raised my children to have better manners.

Cold: SHUT UP, FLASH! (He rushes at Jay, who dodges him, manages to keep a hold on Glider, and then handcuffs both of them)

Glider: Well, this is turning out to be a lousy birthday!

Jay: It’s your birthday?

Glider: Yeah.

Jay: Then I am sorry that you and your brother were foolish enough to break the law on it, child.

Cold: Stop calling her that.

Jay: Why? It’s not an insult.

Cold: It’s what Lewis used to call her. If that’s not an insult, I don’t know what is.

Jay: Who?

Cold: Our “father”. He treated us like trash. If that’s being someone’s child, I’d rather die.

Jay: (Aside) So that’s why he kept-pardon the horrible pun-losing his cool. When I called him son, it seems I was bringing back some ugly memories. (To Cold) Very well, then. I’ll stop calling her child.

Cold: Good. No one upsets my baby sister.

Glider: Before you take me away, old man, would you mind bringing me something real quick? It was the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.

Jay: I’m afraid I don’t trust you two enough to leave you alone here. If you want to see it, I’ll have to take you with me.

Glider: (Aside) Well, it was worth a shot- and I do want to see it. (To Jay) Okay, that works. The gift’s in our hideout on Seventh and Main.

(Cut to hideout)

Jay: Which one is it?

Glider: The doll. (Jay hands it to her)

Cold: But I thought you said you didn’t like it!

Glider: Lenny, she isn’t the present-the fact that you spent 25 years looking for her is. Having a brother like you was the best present of all.

Cold: Aww, shucks. It was nothing, sis.

Jay: Now who sounds like a bad TV show?

Glider: It’s still you, gramps.

Jay: Unfortunately for the two of you, you still have quite a debt to pay to society. Let’s get you back where you belong.

Act V

(Joan and Wizard are still sitting at the counter. Joan has a cup of coffee now)

Wizard: And then I got a concussion.

Joan: (Aside) Well, one thing’s for sure: this fellow wasn’t kidding when he said that I didn’t know the half of his self-destructive lifestyle! In fact, I’m slightly surprised he’s still alive. (To Wizard) And this was before you dropped out of high school?

Wizard: Two weeks after, actually.

Joan: I’m starting to think you might need more help than I can give you, Mr. Mardon.

Wizard: Told you. (Pause) And just call me Mark.

Joan: Well, Mark, have you ever considered seeing a counselor?

Wizard: You mean a shrink? No way, lady. I’m stupid, not crazy.

Joan: Going to a counselor doesn’t mean you’re crazy. In fact, a lot of the time, it means that you’re smart enough to realize that you need help to change.

Wizard: Who said I wanted to change?

Joan: No one-but by your own testimony, you’re responsible for the mess you’re in right now, and nothing will get better for you until you decide to change your life.

Wizard: Seriously, are you sure you never met Clyde? Because you sound just like him.

(Enter Jay)

Jay: Hello, Joan.

Joan: Hello, sweetheart. What a pleasant surprise!

Jay: Well, I already recaptured Captain Cold and the Golden Glider, so I decided to stop by and visit my lovely wife.

Joan: Oh, Jay, stop flattering me.

Wizard: Your husband is the Flash?  

Joan: Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to mention that! Mark, this is my husband, Jay Garrick, the first Flash. Jay, this is Mark Mardon. He and I have been having a little chat.

Jay: Joan, get away from him-now!

Joan: Why? He’s not bothering me.

Jay: Joan, Mark Mardon is the Weather Wizard!

Joan: You’re a supervillain?

Wizard: Yeah.

Joan: When were you planning on mentioning that fact?

Wizard: Well, I wasn’t planning on mentioning it at all, because I assumed that you knew who I was. Although, now that I think about it, your not knowing would explain why you didn’t freak out when you saw me. (Pause)  No hard feelings, right?

Joan: I’m not sure what I’m feeling, honestly.

Jay: How long have you been here together?

Joan: About an hour, I think.

Jay: And you never recognized him?

Wizard: Well, in her defense, I’m out of costume and you and I haven’t fought much. There wasn’t all that much of a reason for her to recognize me without my gear.

Jay: And you didn’t realize that she was my wife?

Wizard: Nope. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her before.

Jay: Son, if I find out that you’re lying about that and this was a plan to kidnap her or something, you will regret it.

Wizard: Kidnap her? Why? I don’t hate you nearly enough to do something like that-and besides, I’d have to be crazy to kidnap her now. My wand’s been broken for a week, and I can’t fix it, so I’d have to have a death wish to make you angry at me.

Jay: You can’t control the weather any more?

Wizard: Sadly, no-and that means that you won’t be hearing from the Weather Wizard again. Without the wand, I don’t have the talent to be a supervillain, and if word got out that one of the Rogues was back to picking pockets, I’d be the joke of the underworld. I’d rather quit crime than go through that sort of humiliation.

Joan: Well, while I certainly don’t admire your reasoning, I’d say that quitting crime is the best life decision you’ve ever made, Mark. At the very least, it’ll certainly make the city safer.

Wizard: Okay, so now what happens?

Jay: I don’t know. That would depend on whether you’ve committed a crime since you got out on parole four months ago.

Wizard: Why would I tell you if I had?

Joan: Because if you do, he’ll be a lot less angry than if you lie to him and he finds out later.

Wizard: You make a good point, lady. (To Jay) I tried to rob a gas station by knocking out the power, but before I could actually knock out the power or do anything, I got struck by lightning and my wand broke, so I didn’t actually try to steal anything. Is that attempted robbery?

Jay: I’m afraid we’ll have to let a jury decide that, son.

Wizard: And since I don’t have my weather wand, I ain’t about to get humiliated by trying to escape from a guy with super speed and then failing.

Joan: You know, for a man with such limited common sense, it’s amazing how practical you can be when it helps you save face.

Wizard: Well, considering I already lost a million dollars and my powers, I’ve kinda had my fill of being laughed at and called an idiot for the year.

Joan: So, you can change after all.

Wizard: (Shakes head) Lady, you’re something else. I’m not sure if it’s a good something else or a stupid something else, but you’re something else.

Jay: All right, son, time to go.

Wizard: (To Joan) See you around, lady. It was nice talking to you.

Joan: I suppose I’m glad you appreciated it. Good-bye, Mark.

(Jay exits with Wizard, then returns)

Jay: Are you alright, Joan?

Joan: Yes, I’m fine. He didn’t really do anything to hurt me, after all.

Jay: Oh, thank goodness. If he’d hurt you, I’d never forgive myself.

Joan: See, now you know how I feel!

Jay: Why, Joan, I think you’re right!

Joan: Have I ever mentioned that I love you?

Jay: I’m not sure. You know how our memories get at our age.

Joan: (Laughs) Well, then, Jay, I love you more than you can imagine.

Jay: And I love you to the moon and back.

(They kiss)

Joan: Oh, that reminds me-I need to go to Betsy’s house! My, I can’t imagine what she’ll think when I tell her that I had coffee with a supervillain!

Jay: The same thing that I do: that you’re the bravest, kindest woman on the face of the Earth. (Pause) Do you want me to take you to her house before I go back on patrol?

Joan: Oh, of course!

Jay: Then your chariot awaits you, my lady.

Joan: Oh, Jay, that’s so cheesy!