#and then started discovering more and obviously that's when everyone saw his true intentions

[aithusarosekiller]

Idk if I'm just on the worst side of tiktok right now but am I the only person who thought it was pretty damn obvious that the news clippings about voldy on reg's wall were a hint towards him researching/piecing together the secret?

Like is that not what everyone else saw? Bc I'm seeing people use that to argue that he didn't change his mind at all

I think some people are just too set on him being completely evil

He's an inherently grey character yk?

He was a stupid teenage boy who had just started to grow and see the truth

and then promptly died before he managed to finish that journey (while doing something really fucking brave and risky). I thought that was the ENTIRE POINT

[kirain]

Hazbin Hotel and VivziePop Drama

I've been hearing/seeing a lot of drama concerning Hazbin Hotel and it's creator VivziePop, and while I don't know her personally or really care what people think, I do hate slander and the spread of misinformation. Truly nothing in this world upsets me more than when people believe rumours while making no effort to fact check, and that's exactly what's happening right now. That said, I wanted to try and clear up some of the rumours going around about Vivzie and the show, because I think some of them are absolutely outrageous and need to be addressed.

1. Vivzie hired an abuser onto the show.

Now, I’m not here to burn anyone at the stake, especially since I don’t know anything about Chris Niosi (the alleged abuser), who I believe openly admitted to the allegations? Regardless, this is a moot point. He’s not credited anywhere at the end of the episode. So either he was booted before production wrapped up or he had nothing to do with the show in the first place.

2. Vivzie supports bestiality.

Admittedly I thought this one might be true, since she draws so many anthropomorphic animals. In the very least, I figured she was probably a furry, but I haven't seen any evidence supporting this accusation either. Near as I can tell, this rumour started for two reasons. One, because of her famous Zoophobia comic, which revolves around a therapist named Cameron who gets assigned to work with human-like animals. Ironically, poor Cameron suffers from crippling zoophobia, which makes for some pretty decent comedy. I didn't read the whole comic because, quite frankly, it’s not my cup of tea and I just don’t have the time. But from what I saw there are no examples of bestiality anywhere in its contents.

Two, this message, which blew up all over social media:

To me, this just proves that people are more interested in virtue signalling than checking to see if their claims are actually true. Everything about this message is 100% false, which I’ll touch on in my next point.

3. Vivzie is a pedophile and she’s drawn child porn.

This is hands down the worst allegation and holy shit, I really wish people would stop using it to defame someone when they don't have any proof. This is a life-ruining accusation and you're disgusting if you believe it based solely on hearsay. This rumour began to spread when Vivzie allegedly shipped the two underage characters in the above photo and drew them NSFW-style. At the time, one character was 19 while the other was 14, and the relationship was a very illegal student-teacher relationship.

This is WRONG! The characters were not 14 and 19, they were actually 18 and 19, the legal age of consent! Additionally, the relationship wasn't student-teacher. One character is a student and the other is Alumni (a student teacher). This one pisses me off the most because it’s obvious the person who sent that message didn’t even bother to conduct any research. They said, “He’s a teacher, she’s a child.” Both characters are MALE!

Since then, Vivzie has apologised for any NSFW art she drew in the past and stated that it's not a reflection of her art today, and I'm inclined to believe her. Almost every artist has drawn NSFW content at some point in their career, and hers wasn't even distasteful. Other than this one example, there is no evidence anywhere that suggests she’s drawn “child porn”. In fact, she’s never even drawn explicit NSFW.

Please stop spreading this rumour. It’s dangerous and completely incorrect.

4. Vivzie said the "N" word!

No, she didn’t. It was a fabricated tweet. That is all.

5. Vivzie is copyright striking every video that criticises her!

No she isn't. YouTube’s DMCA is automatically striking people who are using full clips without permission. Vivzie has gone public several times, telling people exactly how to avoid getting a copy strike from the algorithm, which is something she absolutely does not have to do. At this point, she doesn't owe you anything. In my opinion, she should just sit back and watch these channels burn.

6. Vivzie copies and traces other artists’ work.

This is another one I’ve seen going around, but I looked into it as thoroughly as I could and failed to find any concrete evidence to support the allegations. As of right now, there are only two examples of Vivzie “copying” or “tracing” other artists’ work, and both of them can be explained. The first is a gif she made with a character from her Zoophobia comic, which looked a lot like the girl from ME!ME!ME!:

Damn, that’s pretty incriminating. She obviously stole-- oh, wait. This gif was part of a ME!ME!ME! MEP (multi editor’s project) and Vivzie didn’t take full credit, despite the fact that it’s not even a direct trace. It’s supposed to look like the original, which she fully cited. The second example comes from a short dance sequence from her Timber video, which seems to have been inspired by several Disney movies. As Vivzie herself stated, that was an homage to the original animations. Lots of artists and shows do this, including the beloved Stephen Universe series.

Regardless, this doesn’t count as stealing character designs or plagiarising someone’s work. It’s meant to be respectful, an admiration of other projects. Other than these two instances, however, there is no evidence of her tracing or stealing other people’s art. From what I’ve discovered, all other designs she’s been accused of “stealing” are characters she bought and paid for. They’re quite literally HER characters.

7. Vivzie supports problematic creators.

I’m getting really tired of guilt by association. Vivzie follows and enjoys some controversial figures, but who cares? We can argue all day about whether or not the accusations against them are true, but it ultimately has nothing to do with the show or Vivzie as a person. I do the exact same thing, to be honest-- follow and listen to people on all sides so I can learn, understand, and form my own opinions. The fact that some people think this is bad, to me, is absolutely mesmerising. Vivzie doesn’t control what the people she follows post, and if they do something overly questionable she publicly criticises and denounces it.

From Vivzie:

Now that that’s been dealt with, I’d like to address some complaints/claims about the actual show.

8. Vaggie is an angry Latina stereotype and a lesbian stereotype. Vivzie is appropriating Hispanic culture and misrepresenting the gay for profit.

First off, I see a lot of people passing around yet more misinformation regarding Vivzie's race. So many people seem to think she's white? Well, I'm here to tell you they're wrong. Very incorrect. Vivzie is in fact Latina, and Vaggie is meant to mirror some of her own personality traits.

Second, who is Vaggie mad at? Context matters, and if we take a look at the episode, we see that Vaggie is literally only mad at two specific people: Angel Dust and Alastor. Why? Well, for starters, it's her girlfriend's dream to run a rehab hotel for sinners, and Angel Dust nearly demolishes that dream single-handedly. Vaggie has every right to be over-the-top vitriolic. Then there's Alastor, a known sadist, narcissist, and murderer who loves trapping people in his nefarious schemes. He invites himself in, effectively takes over the hotel, and pushes both her and Charlie aside. At one point he even sexually assaults her by slapping her butt during his musical number. So yeah, I think her seething ire is totally justified. Keep in mind, however, that when she's around Charlie she's calm, collected, and happy. I wouldn't call that a stereotype.

Thirdly, the lesbian stereotypes. I keep hearing this argument but I really don't see it. Both Vaggie and Charlie have so much personality and trust for each other. Maybe I'm wrong, but the stereotype I know always totes a more butch, tomboyish woman with a ditsy, innocent, naive woman. Charlie is optimistic, but she isn't stupid. She refuses to shake Alastor’s hand because she knows he’s likely trying to screw her over. She’s also not entirely innocent herself and uses words like “fuck” and “shit”. I also wouldn’t call Vaggie butch or tomboyish. She has a cute, girly presentation, complete with a pink ribbon in her hair, lace stockings, and a dress. She's protective of her girlfriend, as I think we all are with our partners, and there's nothing wrong with that. They're flawed characters, as every character is meant to be. This isn't a problem.

9. The show is racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, blah, blah, blah.

I’m amazed this is even an argument. The show is supposed to be a dark comedy that takes place in HELL. You know, the place the worst of the worst end up after they die? What were you expecting? Everyone gets a shot or two fired at them, but that doesn't make them bad characters nor does it make the show itself horrible. Take, for example, Katie Killjoy, the news reporter so many people are up in arms about. She says she doesn’t “touch the gays” because she has “standards”. Well, here’s a newsflash of my own: we’re not supposed to like her! She’s an antagonist. Not to mention ten seconds later Charlie insults her and isn’t the least bit slighted by her pretentious attitude. The characters are strong and don’t take shit from anyone, because to some degree they’re all terrible people who can throw down when it’s called for.

Obviously if you don’t like the show or think it’s offensive, I’m probably not going to change your mind. That’s perfectly fine. You’re entitled to your opinions and you don’t have to watch the show. Just stop lying and stop trying to take it away from everybody else. Stop attacking Vivzie and spreading misinformation without checking the facts. I realise a lot of people probably aren’t trying to be vindictive and only want to do something good, but just remember this: the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Silly things you say

Pairing: Todoroki Shoto x pro hero!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, implied stalking, kidnapping, forced marriage.

Words: 1265.

Summary: Now Shoto knew he was just too young to understand what you meant; people said girls were maturing mentally earlier than boys, and that was probably true. You were so right about him. He was way better than the majority of men - and Heroes, too.

_______________

He remembered that day well. Even when Todoroki Shoto was in his teenage years he wasn't too sensitive, really, but that afternoon his heart was beating so fast as if he had just run a marathon. It was the day he finally decided to ask you out.

Despite belonging to the Department of General Education, you actually had a peculiar Quirk that made you able to control emotions of others. Shoto wasn't sure if that was because of your Quirk but he always felt a little better when you were around. You had an air around you that felt strangely comforting. Maybe it was the reason why he was attached to you a little more than to other girls, that what he used to tell himself. Thinking of it now made Shoto chuckle.

That afternoon he wanted to ask you to come to the city on Sunday with him. It was rather awkward, but he had never really done it before with a girl. Did he expect you to reject him because of this? No, he didn't. Not that Shoto was so full of himself he expected everyone to love him, but he somehow believed you'd go with him that time. He believed you'd give him a chance.

"I guess you're really gonna become a total husband material, but I'd prefer spending my youth with bad guys. It more fun that way." You sent him a cheeky grin and turned away before he had time to say anything in return. Actually, it was meaningless anyway: Shoto was at loss for words.

He couldn't understand what you meant and decided you just said something really stupid. Husband material? Seriously? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Besides, when it turned out you dated Tetsutetsu of all people, it didn't make sense to Shoto at all. You just weren't as smart as he pictured you to be.

However, the worst part actually was that it didn't stop him from liking you. He had troubles understanding himself, but he could do nothing but become jealous if he accidentally saw you in the Academy, his mood worsening instantly at just a mention of you. Why was it like that? You were just some girl, not even as good as he thought at first, yet he kept thinking about you and words you said all the time. It felt like a damn groundhog day until he started intentionally ignoring the fact you were somewhere around.

Now Shoto knew he was just too young to understand what you meant; people said girls were maturing mentally earlier than boys, and that was probably true. You were so right about him. He was way better than the majority of men - and Heroes, too. Being with him certainly meant more pressure, bigger commitment, and less fun. A 16-year-old girl certainly wasn't prepared for it, especially since he wasn't fully developed as a man either. Now the situation was different, though.

Bitter at your rejection, he thought someone as careless and silly like you wound end up just like Uwabami or disappear from the world of heroes at all. If course, he certainly didn't expect you to suddenly mature and become a good therapist attending to heroes suffering from PTSD, depression, and other mental conditions due to specifics of their work. Sometimes you also treated civilians after incidents right on the spot, ensuring they would recover from shock quickly. Shoto had to admit it was a decent job. It was a pity when his own mother had desperately needed help you were too young for give her that.

Anyway, it didn't matter now. Things had long changed, and Shoto had changed, too.

He had become one of the most well-known pro heroes in Japan, the one people prayed for thanks to all he had done for their sake. He didn't care about becoming #1 since it was purely the dream of his old man, but Shoto admitted his popularity was still growing even after years of service. He was a national hero. People dreamed to see him at least once; sidekicks were ecstatic when he offered them to work at his agency; even pro heroes enjoyed working with them thanks to his professionalism and calm demeanor. Shoto never thought it would actually happen, but he became a pillar of the community, and his authority couldn't be ignored. He was a force to be reckoned with.

Did you think about him now? Did you regret rejecting him that day? If you weren't so silly, you could have been by his side now, enjoying all those things Shoto could offer. Hell, if he had married to you, you'd be definitely considered a celebrity of some kind now. Did you think about it?

It was a pity Shoto couldn't get inside your head.

But he could certainly make you think about him again. Especially since now he obviously knew how to treat a lady: flowers, chocolate, sudden gifts, casual but always pleasant meetings, phone calls and messages at night. He knew you hadn't been dating anyone for quite some time, too busy with your work, so he was sure you'd appreciate his gestures. And you appreciated them, you really did, but it never seemed enough for him. It was taking too long for Shoto, the one who had been waiting and planning it for years. Did you really have to go through this whole courtship display? Did it matter so much? He was always there when you needed him, always ready to grant your wishes, do whatever he could to please you, make you feel safe, protected. He was sure he made his intentions clear, so why waiting for so long? Why pretending like you were still dating when you went as far as spend a night with him?

Once it occurred to him that maybe you weren't convinced his intention was to marry you, so it was probably better to propose properly. However, this thought seemed to somewhat bother him: what if you played your trick again? Tell him you were too young for that and just wanted to have fun? Going through this again now would be ridiculous. No, no, Shoto was clear enough; you certainly understood his intentions. It's just your understanding of courtship period was different from his. In the end, your own parents only married after a year and a half of dating, he discovered. Maybe you wanted to wait a little more, but Shoto just couldn't.

Looking at you sleeping soundly in his bed, he lifted the corners of his mouth, thinking how you were going to like the wedding dress waiting for you in the room next to his. Although he was in a rush to prepare to the wedding ceremony that, unfortunately, wouldn't be big, he already knew how to convince you to make a second one for the press and a thousand of guests if you wanted to. Besides, even though this ceremony was small, it was still fancy: your wedding dress and jewelry cost a fortune; the stylists and photographers were at your disposal to make this day even more special, and he made sure to buy the best wedding ring any girl could wish for.

Everything had been done to perfection. There was only one thing he needed from you.

Watching you slowly waking up while being cuffed to the headboard of his large bed, Shoto smiled, thinking of the words you said that day when he first asked you out. Oh, you were going to get the perfect husband material and a bad guy all at once.

______________

Tags: @coolio-love @awesomerextyphoon​

[gwynrielendgame]

Nyx x Tamlin’s daughter part 3

Y’all cannot stop me from writing this series 😭😭I want to write more gwynriel, but the thought of a love triangle has angered me once again, so my hyper fixation has transferred elsewhere.

If you have any suggestion for future fics leave a comment below.

"Do you think mates are as rare as the Fae say? Everyone in my life seems to have a mate, yet lore claims it to be rare." Nyx turned his head from his spot next to Isa in the meadow. They laid right next to each other as they stared up at the sky. Close enough to touch, yet not feeling it necessary in the moment.

"That iz odd that your entire family iz mated." She laughed. "Your family are the only mates I have ever met, so I would say it iz rare for everyone except them." He sighed deeply.

"What troubles you?" Isa turned her head away from the sky to look at Nyx.

"What if I never get a mate?"

"Then you never get a mate."

"Isa, I am being serious right now." He groaned as he lifted himself up onto his elbows, so that he could look at her without the grass getting in the way.

"I am too. It will happen or it will not happen. No point in fretting over it." She shrugged as if it truly did not bother her. Nyx did not understand her.

"You really do not care if you ever find a mate?"

"I do not need a mate to find love or pleasure."

"But what if you find your mate while with someone else?" He felt the need to point out. He could not love someone while his mate was still out there. Nyx thought it selfish to love someone with the knowledge they were not his mate. What would they do once he did find his mate? What would he do?

"Like my father and your mother?" Isa raised an eyebrow at this.

"Well not exactly like that, but yes I suppose." Nyx laid himself back on the grass and looked back up at the sky. Isa turned her head away after a minute as well.

"Well if they were truly my mate, then they would wait for me. And if the person I was with is not my mate, then fate has us ending at some point, no? I would let everything occur naturally I suppose."

"If you were my mom, would you have left Tamlin for my father if he had not been awful?" Nyx had always been curious about Isa's opinion on the matter. She always seemed so spiteful of Feyre that perhaps she had heard a different story than what Nyx knew to be true.

"Yes. I would have found myself unhappy with life as a wife. I was made for so much more than that." She let out a deep sigh. Nyx contemplated her answer. He supposed that to be true. He could not imagine Isa playing house wife to anyone, but especially one that expected her to pop out babies and display herself only when beneficial to them.

"Would you ever marry?" He asked. She seemed quick to offer a marriage proposal to Nyx when they first met, but that had obviously been a joke.

"For love?" She shrugged. "I am far more likely to marry for political power than I am for love. I am strides behind with alliances among the seven high lords. When I take power the Spring Court will be weak simply because I am unknown of. Other courts will test my strength and intelligence."

"That is strategic." He also felt it was sad. She clearly was not a romantic at heart like he was. "I want more from life than power. I want what my parents have. Is that too much to ask for?" Nyx found himself frustrated with the fact that he had not found his mate yet. He had to keep reminding himself that it took his father five hundred years and his grandfather nine hundred years. It might make him mad if he had to wait that long though.

"I shall pray to the spirits about it."

"About what?"

A noise interrupted them before she could respond. Both of them stood quickly to surveil their surroundings. They saw nothing, but moved to put their backs to each other so that they could not be blindsided. Isa pulled her two short swords from their sheaths as Nyx prepared his ax and shield.

"What was that?" He whispered to her. She shushed him as they turned simultaneously with their backs still firmly placed together.

"Let's get out of here." She finally responded back but before he could respond a figured winnowed right in front of each of them and blew a powdery substance onto them. They winnowed away again just as Isa lifted one sword.

"Shit." She muttered. Nyx tried to winnow only to discover that he could not. Fucking faebane he thought. Nyx's hand went slack around his ax, and then a group of six males approached them. They came at them from Isa's side so Nyx turned to face the males. He stumbled a bit. The line of Fae males stopped about twenty paces away. Nyx did not recognize them. It was possible that Isa did, but she did not say otherwise as they stood across from them. Each male was armed with a weapon and a shield.

"I will take the three on the left. You got the other three?" She asked. He did not respond as she ran towards them. He wanted to wait to let them make the first move, but after she started running, the assailants came forward as well.

He seemed caught in a trance, watching Isa fight. One of her swords clashed with the tallest male while she simultaneously swiped at another one of the fighters. The tallest one swung his arm out, almost decapitating Isa, but she bent backward at the last second. She sliced an artery in one of their legs before checking her surroundings. Nyx assumed she was looking for him, but he had not yet moved for some reason. The second of distraction allowed for the tall one to cut her arm. It was so deep that Nyx swore he could see the bone all the way from here. The only acknowledgment of pain from Isa was a grunt, and then she ran her sword right through him. Nyx was jostled from his trance by an approaching fighter. Surprisingly, he walked up to him at a leisurely pace. Isa, once again, glanced back.

"Nyx!" She shouted as the male lifted his weapon. Isa tried to run back towards Nyx, but was tackled to the ground as she started to flee. Right before the male delivered the killing blow, his face started to droop. Nyx stared in horror as his face appeared to be melting off. The assailant went to grab at his face as he stumbled away from Nyx. His screams would haunt Nyx's nightmares for a very long time after this. He looked for Isa again. She was slicing the neck of one of the males on his knees. To his surprise though, her tattoos were glowing. She used witch magic, he realized.

"Move your ass, Nyx." She shouted from where she engaged all three males.

He continued to find himself surprised that they focused all their attention on her. He was not proving to be much of a threat, he supposed. He willed himself to move towards Isa, but something stopped him. He wanted to help his friend, he truly did. Her use of blood magic made things complicated. He did not want to be associated with the mayhem that was bound to be the consequences of it. As she took out her fourth male, the last two winnowed away. He watched her take a deep breathe of relief. Their eyes made contact, but before she could start berating him, the males reappeared right in front of Nyx.

"Fight!" Isa shouted. Nyx assumed his reflexes were worse than he originally thought because he did not move a muscle. The males smiled at each other and then they burst in flames. It horrified Nyx to watch them burn, to hear their pleas and screams. He could do nothing to stop it. He flicked his eyes to Isa as she intently watched the burning men. Her tattoos were glowing still, and she was reciting something. He could not hear her, but watched as her lips moved. After what felt like an eternity, the males were nothing but ash. He could hear their screams echoing in his ears though.

"Vat da fook vaz dat?"

It was the thickest he had ever heard her accent which meant she was spitting mad. He could not necessarily fault her for her anger, but he was in shock. Even in war, he had not quite seen brutality to that extent in a fight. Nyx continued to stare at the body with the face that Isa melted off. His eyes flickered back to her. She was breathing heavily and had a deep cut on her arm that she was now trying to twist around with a ripped piece of cloth from her dress. Her tattoos were no longer glowing, but several new ones appeared on her hands and fingers. They looked similar to her others, but now they were bright red and irritated as if someone had scratched them into her skin instead of tattooing ink. She wiped sweat and dirt away from her forehead and roughly pulled her hair away from her bruised face in a messy updo.

"Are you actually insane?" Isa asked.

She was more composed now as she slipped into strategic mode. She was planning on what to do now since Nyx was obviously going to be of no assistance and they could not winnow for probably a few more hours. He continued to stare at the bodies, thinking of how easy it seemed for her to do this. Even now, she seemed unbothered.

"I mean when Lucien said you were a mediocre fighter, I assumed that meant you vould at least fight. Not just stand there as I did all the work."

She was digging through all their pockets rather roughly. She was looking for any identifying information from their attackers, but it only managed to annoy Nyx. She did not have any respect for the dead if this was how she handled their bodies.

"You melted his face off." Was all he could say. Her head snapped up to glare at him harder than she ever had anyone else. She was upon him in an instant, shoving him by his shoulders.

"To save your unhelpful ass!" She screeched.

"You set these two on fire!"

"Well I apologize that in the heat of battle I did not consider more humane methods of death." She turned to walk away.

"My father was right." He muttered to himself. Isa stopped cold in her tracks, slowly turning around. Her face was void of emotion.

"Say that again." Her voice was deathly calm. It unnerved Nyx after what he had just witnessed.

"You have claimed that witch magic is not malevolent. Clearly, your definition is a bit skewed."

"I make no apologies for how I save the people I love. And you have no right to pass judgement when you just stood there and watched! You vould have let them butcher me, yet I am the immoral one?"

They both recognized what she accidentally admitted but neither of them was willing to call attention to it or address it.

"Why did it have to be like that though? You could have used any method."

"That iz not how it works." She grabbed at her hair, clearly frustrated. "I request the help from the spirits and they oblige. I do not get a choice in the manner of their help. But trust me, it iz not without a price."

"What is the price for this?"

She pursed her lips. She would not tell him what she must give for saving both of their lives.

"You have been waiting to throw this back in my face, no? Waiting for one moment where you could prove your parents were not in the wrong?" Isa was pacing back and forth at this point, but her tattoos had finally stopped glowing.

"Trust me, I never expected something like this from you." Nyx spat at her. He wanted to reel in his anger. However, he found it almost impossible.

"Do not zit on your high horse and pretend your father would not have done the exact same thing for your mother."

"We are not my parents." He reminded her. She tried to compose herself before Nyx could see her reaction. Unfortunately for her, she was not fast enough. Nyx watched her flinch at his vehement response.

"Vell you are certainly right about that. Neither of your parents would have stood and vatched as the other risked their life."

He had no excuse for why he stood there. Normally, he would have fought side by side with her. He had fought in battles before and he thought he had seen all the evils war had to offer. This was a completely different level. While they had been outnumbered, the males were unskilled and untrained. Isa could have held them off alone with no magic. It may have required more effort, but Nyx believed any magic was unnecessary. As much as he wanted to help, for some reason his body refused to move. The faebane the attackers used did not allow for them to winnow away, but Nyx had never heard of it impacting the body physically.

"You could have shape shifted." She laughed almost hysterically at that.

"If you knew what my other form vaz, you vould realize that death by it vould not be lezz brutal."

He shook his head and finally moved from his position. He started scouting the area to make sure there were no more assailants hiding anywhere.

"Oh, zo now you are helpful?" It was full of sarcasm as she rolled her eyes. She plopped herself down on the ground and closed her eyes.

Nyx was not exactly sure why he was so angry. Perhaps it was because he felt embarrassed that she saved both of them while he stood there like a statue. Perhaps he felt lied to like everything she had ever defended was really just a scheme to win over the Night Court. But truly? It had more to do with the fact that if he had aided Isa, she would not have felt the need to use her witch magic.

"Damn-ti your parents to come retrieve us." She demanded after laying down on the grass and covering her eyes with the crook of her arm to block out the sun.

Now why could he not think of that before? Just another thought to make him feel guilty. He almost corrected her enunciation like he normally did, but he stopped himself in the last second.

"Oh and next time, a zimple thank you vould suvice."

                                           ***

"What the hell happened?" Tamlin shouted as Feyre and Rhysand winnowed in Isa and Nyx. Isa was looking worse for wear, but since neither of the children were talking, the high lord and lady did not have an answer. Tamlin zeroed in on Isa's hands and the new tattoos that were present.

"Oh Isa," his voice changed and was suddenly much graver than it had been. "What have you done?"

"Vat I had to." She snapped as she dropped herself down on the couch in Tamlin's study. She was exhausted after the fight and just wanted to sleep.

"Well you look fucking fine." Tamlin turned his glare to Nyx from where he stood in front of his desk. "Care to explain why you leave with my daughter in perfect condition, and return her home on the brink of collapse?"

Nyx clenched his jaw. He did not want to say anything in front of Tamlin or his daughter. He wanted to go home and talk to his parents. Though, his parents kept giving him nervous glances, so he was unsure if they would be willing to do that right about now.

"Just leave it." Isa muttered. Her eyes were closed with her good arm thrown over her face. Rhysand scanned Isa's entire body. His eyes rested on her hands like Tamlin's had.

"What did you give? To protect our son?" His voice was soft and his eyes were sad. He must have known more than Nyx about potential consequences of witch magic. Feyre sat next to Isa on the couch to grab her hand. Nyx was confused by his parents change of heart where Isa was concerned. Previously, they had always been antagonistic towards her, but now they were being...soft.

"My first born." She muttered. Feyre sucked in a harsh breath as Tamlin closed his eyes in frustration. Nyx did not know how to feel. She was willing to give up her first child for him? He felt that only proved his point further. What kind of female was willing to give up a future child for a male she barely knew just three months ago? And one that was not even her mate? Nyx furrowed his brow.

"I never asked you to do that." He defended, but he was only met with three pairs of glaring eyes that told him to remain quiet. Isa must have been exhausted though because her response was understanding.

"I know."

Tamlin did not understand, however. He pounded his fist on the desk.

"Isabelle, you are my only offspring. It is your responsibility to continue the family line. There will be no one to succeed after you die, if you do not conceive multiple children. You know how difficult this is for the fae." Something he said ignited a fire in Isa. She immediately sat up from the couch to glare at her father.

"That iz not a fair responsibility to put on me! You could have more children! All you would have to do iz stick it in a different woman everyday until one stuck."

"Isabelle, watch your mouth." He scolded her as though she were a child. Tamlin walked back around the desk and took a seat. Isa took a long, deep breath before speaking again.

"I do not," she paused nervously, looking around. "Think I vant children." She finished. Isa rubbed her hands together in a way that she normally did when she felt anxious. Suddenly, Nyx felt his parents and him should not be here for this conversation. It felt private. Nyx never knew Isa may not want children. They had never really discussed it, but had assumed- as much as Tamlin did, apparently- that she would have at least one to continue the line.

"Oh." Tamlin awkwardly shifted in his chair. He made eye contact with Feyre and tried to motion to her to say some words of comfort. Feyre patted Isa's arm gently.

"You might change your mind once you find your mate?" Feyre offered unhelpfully. Tamlin put her on the spot and she was unsure what words of comfort Isa may be seeking. Those were not it if her reaction was anything to go by. She huffed loudly.

"Does not matter now, no? I cannot have children without sacrificing the first one which I vill not do. Besides, I am no mare meant for breeding. I vas meant for something more than being stuck at home caring for and nurturing a child."

"That is hardly a fair assessment of motherhood Isa." Feyre shook her head as she said this. "You can still do great things and be a mother."

"Are you to tell me that you took trips to the Court of nightmares to handle izzues while Rhysand stayed home and breastfed Nyx?" Isa raised her eyebrows at his mother. "That you vere able train amongst Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel while pregnant? Vould you have ever earned the title 'cursebreaker' if you had been a mother at the time?"

"Motherhood is not without challenge." Feyre once again defended.

"And that is what I speak of. I do not want challenge. I have too many obstacles to overcome as it is. I do not want to add the obligation of a child to that." Isa pulled at her hair. Nyx felt it best that he stay quiet. There were too many emotions flying as it was, no need to add fuel to the fire.

"Enough." Tamlin declared. "Isa, you are right. I should never have put that responsibility on you. I could just as easily have another child."

Isa let out a breathe in relief. Nyx could see that she feared disappointing her father. He wondered if she would have had multiple children if Tamlin had insisted on it. Luckily for Isa, Tamlin seemed to have changed his ways from when his mother and him were together.

"I think it is best if you were to leave." Tamlin suggested as he stared at Nyx's parents. "I need to check on Isa's wounds and continue this conversation...privately." Feyre nodded before walking over to where Rhysand stood.

"Thank you again, Isa." Rhys murmured before grabbing both wife and son and winnowing away.

"Thank fuck." Is all Isa managed to say.

[thelazyhermits]

Touching Hearts

As I mentioned in this post, I’ve finally started watching season 4 of the anime, and because of that, I’m remembering things I had forgotten about since it’s been a while since I last read about those arcs in the manga.

One such thing I forgot about was how beat up Todoroki and Bakugou get from their provisional license training, which is mentioned at the beginning of the Overhaul arc, so I decided to write a scene focused on that which takes place directly after chapter 38 of TABF.

I hope y’all enjoy it! ^-^

After you convince Yagi to meet with Nighteye, the retired hero nervously calls his former sidekick in hopes to arrange a meeting with him. Much to his surprise, Nighteye quickly agrees and says you both can come by tomorrow afternoon.

Of course, you aren’t nearly as surprised as Yagi is. After all, there’s no way a diehard All Might fan like Nighteye could ever turn down a request from the former number one hero himself. Plus, you’re sure that he was happy to hear that Yagi wanted to speak with him, even though you bet he’s wondering what the reason behind the visit is since Yagi didn’t go into details.

Once that meeting has been set up and you’ve properly cleaned your tear-stained face, you and Yagi make arrangements to set up a meeting with Nedzu and Aizawa to let them know about the current situation at hand.

As expected, neither Nedzu or Aizawa are thrilled when they hear the news of Nighteye’s impending death, and the latter especially dislikes the thought of you trying to prevent it because of your drawback. 

Thankfully, in the end, you and Yagi manage to convince him to allow you both to meet with Nighteye tomorrow since you can’t just ignore your vision. You have to do something.

However, it takes a while to do that, so by the time you finally start heading back to the dorm, you’re completely exhausted, emotionally because of that horrific vision you had about Nighteye, mentally because of that meeting with Aizawa, and physically since you had training with Shinsou after that meeting finally concluded. 

That’s why you have every intention to go to bed early tonight, so you’ll be well-rested for tomorrow’s meeting with Nighteye. And you’re honestly just too tired to do anything besides cook dinner at this point, well anything except for giving Midoriya a big hug, of course, since you know he had an equally rough day and you will never be too tired to shower him with the affection and support he deserves. Plus, hugging him always makes you feel better, so it’s only natural that you take every opportunity to do so, especially on a day like today.

While you follow through with your plan to hug Midoriya once you return to the dorm, your plans to turn in early tonight end up changing when dinner comes and goes without you seeing Bakugou or Todoroki. Apparently, since it’s Sunday, today’s provisional license training is an all day affair.

Aizawa had told you as much earlier today, but you didn’t think he literally meant all day, considering how early the boys left this morning. Naturally, that just makes you wonder what kind of training they are going through that lasts from sunrise to sunset, obviously the really intense kind.

No doubt Todoroki and Bakugou will be exhausted by the time they return to the dorm. You just hope they won’t be too battered and beaten since you heard from the other UA teachers that Ganga Orca is a tough instructor.

Since you’re worried about your students, you can’t bring yourself to go to bed until they safely return to the dorm. That’s why, when everyone else turns in for the night, you remain in the living room and wait for the boys.

Fortunately, you don’t have to wait long since Bakugou and Todoroki both arrive shortly after their classmates turn in for the night. When they do, you discover that your wish for them to not be too battered and beaten was in vain.

With a gasp, you hurry over to the surprised boys, so you can get a better look at their injuries. “Are you two alright?! I heard Ganga Orca was a tough instructor, but I didn’t think you two would come back looking this beat up!”

Todoroki blinks, “We’re alright. None of our injuries are serious.”

He tilts his head. “What are you doing still up, Sensei? I thought everyone would be asleep by now.”

Frowning, you gently cup his injured cheek as you examine the damage done to his handsome face. “I didn’t want to go to bed before you two got home, and I’m glad I didn’t since you both need to get these injuries treated before you go to bed.”

Bakugou huffs, “You’re overreacting. These are just scratches. They’re nothing to make a big deal about.”

“Even so, we can’t ignore them.” You reply as you pull your hand away from Todoroki’s face. “So, after you two have eaten dinner, I’ll help you take care of them.”

Just as you turn to head for the kitchen, a question comes to mind, making you pause. “Or do you guys need to take a shower first?”

Todoroki shakes his head. “They had shower stalls at the building where our training was held, so we took showers after we changed out of our hero costumes.”

“Good.” You resume heading toward the kitchen. “In that case, just take a seat at the dining table, and I’ll bring out the food I set aside for you two.”

Rather than oblige, Bakugou drops the briefcase carrying his hero costume and follows after you. “I can carry my own fucking food. You don’t need to bring it to me.”

After Todoroki copies his classmate’s actions, he adds, “I can carry mine too. You don’t have to go out of your way for our sake, Sensei.”

Obviously, these two aren’t as exhausted as you first thought if they have enough energy to argue with you. You suppose you should take that as a good sign.

“Alright.” You huff, “I’ll show you what all I set aside for you in the fridge, and then, I’ll take care of getting some drinks for us.”

Not long after that, the three of you find yourselves at the dining table. While your students eat their food, you just drink from the water bottle you grabbed for yourself.

Rather than try talking to your students, you just watch them devour the food you prepared for them since they’re obviously more interesting in eating than chatting. You had expected they would have strong appetites after the long day they had, and you were right. It’s a good thing you made sure to prepare ample portions for them.

Once he has gotten through half of his meal, Shouto finally takes notice of what Bakugou is eating and tilts his head curiously. “I didn’t notice this earlier, but Bakugou and I are eating completely different meals. Why is that? Shouldn’t these just be leftovers from tonight’s dinner?”

Apparently, Bakugou didn’t notice that either, judging from the way he pauses his eating to examine his and his classmate’s dinner. When the blond later turns to raise an eyebrow at you, you chuckle, “Those aren’t leftovers from tonight’s dinner. Those are dishes I made after dinner.”

A grin forms on your lips. “I wanted to make you each your favorite foods once I realized what a long day you would be having since I wanted to make sure your day ended on a good note. After all, nothing’s better than eating food that you love after a long day, right?”

The corners of Todoroki’s lips tilt slightly upwards. “That’s true. My day definitely improved thanks to your delicious soba. Thank you, Sensei.”

As you return the ice user’s smile, Bakugou returns his attention to his food. “Your spicy food still isn’t anywhere near the level of spiciness my cooking has, but it’s not bad.”

An amused huff escapes you. “Thanks, and I’ll be sure to keep the spice level in mind the next time I make something spicy for you.”

Once that conversion concludes, the boys resume eating. Since it shouldn’t be long until they finish, you leave the table to collect the first aid kit that’s kept in the kitchen, so you can be ready to treat their injuries once they finish eating.

Fortunately, even though you know Bakugou finds your mothering to be annoying, he doesn’t try to make a break for it as soon as he and Todoroki finish eating. Instead, the blond takes care of cleaning his dishes and throws away his trash like his classmate does before returning to the dining table.

When you give him an approving smile after he takes a seat at the table, Bakugou scowls at you in return, but thankfully, he doesn’t do anything else. Still, you know he’ll be far from a model patient, so you decide to save him for last since you know Todoroki won’t give you any trouble.

Just as you expected, Todoroki just quietly sits at the table as you begin treating all of his injuries, only speaking whenever you ask him if he’s in any pain. Each time you ask him if your actions are hurting him, he assures you that he’s fine much to your relief.

That relief quickly turns tino frustration when you begin treating the scrapes on Todoroki’s face. “Honestly, what was Ganga Orca thinking, allowing such a handsome face to get injured like this? If the ladies of Japan saw you looking like this, they would all cry!”

Todoroki’s eyes widen slightly. “Really? How come?”

While Bakugou rolls his eyes, you answer, “Because nothing is sadder to a girl than seeing a handsome guy’s face get ruined! Looks like yours should be treasured, not treated like this! Doesn’t Ganga Orca realize a face like yours will eventually become one of Japan’s greatest treasures?!”

He continues to stare at you in amazement. “I didn’t realize my face was so important.”

Bakugou scoffs, “It’s not. Sensei’s just exaggerating. The only thing that stands out about your face is how fucking annoying it is.”

Just as you’re about to scold the hothead for his words, an idea comes to mind, making you grin. “Aw, Bakugou, is that jealousy I hear? Are you upset that I'm complimenting Todoroki’s face and not yours?”

His face reddens. “Hah?! Don’t be stupid! Like I give a fuck about that!”

Your grin grows. “I dunno. You sure sounded jealous to me.”

“There’s no need to be jealous, Bakugou.” Todoroki calmly says, “You have a nice face too.”

While you snort at Todoroki’s innocent compliment, Bakugou glowers at him. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Half-and-Half?! I’ll kill you!”

Confused, Todoroki tilts his head. “No? Why would you think that?”

Before Bakugou can retort, you intervene. “Todoroki is right, though. You do have a handsome face just like he does, Bakugou.”

With a grin, you add, “Although, I’m worried about it going to waste, considering how much you’re always scowling. You know, if you keep making faces like that, your face might get stuck like that forever.”

Todoroki frowns, “That wouldn’t be good. You should be careful, Bakugou, so that won’t happen.”

As you fight the urge to laugh at the stoic boy’s show of genuine concern, Bakugou’s scowl deepens. “It won’t! So, fuck off! Nobody asked for either of your opinions!”

Chuckling, you finish up bandaging the rest of Todoroki’s injuries. “Just giving you a friendly warning. After all, you want to surpass All Might, don’t you?”

Bakugou raises an eyebrow at you. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Once you’ve taken care of Todoroki, you begin tending to the blond’s injuries, taking full advantage of his distraction caused by your earlier comment. “In order to fully surpass All Might, you have to beat him in all aspects, right? Well, that obviously means you’ll have to have a smile that can outshine his, don’t you think?”

“That makes sense.” Todoroki agrees, “After all, when anyone thinks of All Might, one of the first things that come to mind is his smile since it’s so iconic.”

You give him a wink. “Exactly! If anyone ever hopes to beat All Might, then they better have a smile that can rival his. Otherwise, he’ll always remain number one in that category.”

When you return your focus to Bakugou, you see him frowning, wearing a contemplative expression. Obviously, he’s taking your words into serious consideration. 

Smiling, you finish bandaging one of his scrapes before ruffling his hair, making him scowl. “You’re amazing, Bakugou. There’s no question about that. You’re strong, smart, and talented among many other things.”

“However,” You raise a finger. “there is one important ability you and Todoroki both need to master before either of you can become the kind of pro hero who can surpass All Might.”

While Bakugou raises an eyebrow at you, Todoroki curiously asks, “And what ability is that?” 

Your earlier smile returns as you turn to point at his and Bakugou’s chests. “The ability to capture people’s hearts by touching their hearts and making your own hearts more apparent to the people you’re trying to protect.”

Noticing their twin looks of confusion, you elaborate, “The reason All Might was such an amazing hero wasn’t just because he was strong and talented. It was because he was amazing at touching people’s hearts by showing them his own.”

You rest a hand over your heart. “All Might gave people hope because they knew that no matter what he would always protect them, not just because he was the strongest but because he genuinely cared about everyone. Everyone could tell that he would always go beyond Plus Ultra to protect them because he considered them all equally important.”

Your expression softens. “That’s how I felt whenever I watched him on TV and in my visions. I could see how much he cared about others and how nothing was more important to him than maintaining the peace and giving others hope.”

When you lift your gaze to look at your students, you see them watching you intently, wearing contemplative expressions, proving that they’re deeply considering your words.

“Real heroes have the ability to not only save people’s lives but also their hearts,” You softly say, “and to some people, the latter is the most important ability a hero can have.”

“And that includes you?” Bakugou solemnly asks as he holds your gaze.

The corners of your lips curve upwards. “It does, because I wouldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for heroes that could save people’s hearts. That’s why I hope that you promising heroes-to-be will one day master that ability too.”

“I use the term ‘master’ because I’ve already experienced firsthand you both using such an ability. Although, I’m sure it wasn’t really intentional on either of your parts.” You add, earning some surprised looks from your students.

As you’re speaking, you think back to the I-Island incident and how Todoroki refused to leave your side and was determined to get you the medical attention you needed. Then, your memories drift toward the villain attack at the summer camp and how Bakugou refused to abandon you, even though it meant putting himself at risk.

Your smile softens. “One day, you both will able to intentionally touch people’s hearts in the same way you did mine. I have complete confidence in both of you since I know there’s nothing you two can’t do if you put your minds to it, so I have no doubt that you’ll both become amazing heroes that can outshine even All Might.”

For several seconds, your students just stare at you with slightly widened eyes, and then, Bakugou smirks, “Of course, I fucking will! I’m the guy who’s gonna be the next number one hero who surpasses All Might in every shape and form! I’ll master every fucking aspect of being a hero there is, so I’ll be the unequivocal number one!”

Todoroki nods, “I’ll work hard too, Sensei, to become a hero who can save lives and hearts. I won’t let you down.”

Grinning, you reach over to ruffle their hair. “I know. You two are always meeting and surpassing my expectations. This time won’t be any different.”

Both boys’ eyes gain a pleased gleam at your words, but Bakugou tries to hide it by averting his gaze. Rather than tease him about it, you just resume taking care of the rest of his injuries. 

As you’re doing this, Todoroki asks, “Do you think our training for our provisional licenses will help us get a better understanding of touching people’s hearts, or is that something we’re supposed to learn during our lessons here at UA?”

You hum thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what all the training for your provisional licenses entails, so I can’t say for sure about that. But as far as your school lessons are concerned, I’m sure you’ll eventually get lessons focused on that aspect of heroics. Although, I would think heroes-in-training would mostly get those kinds of lessons when they’re out in the field.”

Bakugou tilts his head. “Because it means interacting with actual civilians?”

Nodding, you give him an approving smile. “Exactly. The best way for heroes to touch people’s hearts is by learning how to understand the people they’re protecting, which happens by getting closer to them. Doing this helps both parties come to learn more about each other, which leads to trust building between them.”

After you finish tending to the last of Bakugou’s injuries, you begin putting up everything that you took out of the first aid kit. “Trust is key to touching people’s hearts. It’s important that you both become the kind of hero that people know they can trust and rely on no matter what happens.”

Once everything has been put away, you turn to face your students and smile, “You both have already proven to me that you’re strong and capable heroes that I can rely on and trust. Now, you just have to figure out how to do that with everyone else. It won’t be easy since social interactions aren’t really either of your forte, but I know you both can do it.”

While Todoroki gives you a determined nod, Bakugou just averts his gaze with a huff. “Obviously.”

Getting an idea, you cheerfully clap your hands together. “However, as your teacher, I shouldn’t make you do all that hard work without, at least, first imparting a little helpful advice.”

Once you have their undivided attention, you continue, “Obviously, as I mentioned before, one of the main things you both need to do is develop your own hero smile, so by the time you guys graduate, you must have a smile that can put everyone’s hearts at ease.”

As expected, Bakugou makes a face at your words while Todoroki just gives you another nod. Obviously, that one task in itself is going to be difficult for them due their personalities and typical demeanors, but you know smiling isn’t impossible for them. It’s just not something they choose to often do.

There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, as far as their daily lives are concerned. It’s only when they’re on the field, working as pro heroes, that they need to be able to implement what you consider to be one of a hero’s most important assets.

Once you’ve reaffirmed the importance of that ability, you decide to share the idea you came up with earlier. “Another important thing you two should work on is communicating with the people you’re supposed to protect in a way that will assure them that everything will be alright now that you’re there for them.”

With a grin, you wink, “And you should also make good use of those good looks you both have while you’re at it to win their hearts over even more.”

While Bakugou raises an eyebrow at you, Todoroki gives you a curious look. “How do we do that?”

Your grin grows. “I’ll show you! Just pretend you’re a civilian who got caught up in a villain attack, alright?”

Once you get a nod from him, you grab Todoroki’s hands and hold them in between yours. As he stares at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion, you hold his gaze and give him the most reassuring smile you can muster. “It’ll be alright. You’re safe now. I’m here, so you don’t need to worry anymore. I’ll protect you no matter what. I won’t let anyone lay a single finger on you.”’

You give his hands a reassuring squeeze as your smile softens. “So, don’t be scared. A look like that doesn’t suit your handsome face. The world would be much better off if you were smiling instead since a smile like yours can make even the darkest of days seem bright. That’s why I’ll fight with everything I have to protect that precious smile; I won’t let anyone ever take it away, I promise.”

While Bakugou gapes at you, Todoroki stares at you with slightly widened eyes. Obviously, you caught them both completely off guard with your performance.

When a few seconds pass without a response, you release Todoroki’s hands and grin, “So, what do you think, Todoroki? Did I make your heart skip a beat just now?”

He rests a hand over his heart. “There weren’t any irregularities with my heartbeat, but…”

“But?” You parrot, tilting your head curiously.

“My chest feels very warm now, all of a sudden.” Todoroki replies, “How strange.”

Giggling, you ruffle his hair. “That’s what it means to touch people’s hearts, Todoroki. That’s the kind of reaction you should be aiming for when you interact with the people you’re trying to protect.”

His expression appears thoughtful. “Come to think of it, I remember feeling similarly whenever I watched All Might on TV when I was a child. So, this is what it means to touch people’s hearts.”

Todoroki lifts his gaze to meet yours and gives you a small smile. “Thank you for showing me that, Sensei. I promise I’ll make good use of your example and your advice.”

“I have no doubt that you will.” You pat his head. “I have high hopes for you, Todoroki.”

When you later pull your hand away from his head, Todoroki adds, “I promise I’ll also take better care of my face in the future since I don’t want you or any of the other ladies of Japan to cry.”

A laugh escapes you. “Good to hear! You gotta take good care of that face of yours since it’s gonna be one of your greatest assets when you’re a pro hero.”

Bakugou, who has been quiet all this time, finally breaks his silence with a scoff. “Only if he ever learns how to stop being so fucking annoying all the time.”

While you give him an exasperated look, Bakugou rises to his feet and asks, “Are we done here, Sensei?”

With a sigh, you nod, “Yeah, I’m done treating both of your injuries, so you two are free to go. Sorry for keeping you both up when I’m sure you’re both beyond exhausted.”

Todoroki shakes his head. “You don’t need to apologize. If anything, we should be thanking you for staying up late for our sake. Right, Bakugou?”

The blond clicks his tongue. “Whatever.”

While the boys move to collect their briefcases containing their hero costumes, you quickly return the first aid kit to the kitchen before rejoining them in the living room. As you all begin heading for the elevators, you ask, “So, what did you think of the example I provided for Todoroki, Bakugou? Do you think that’s something you can do?”

“Of course, I can!” Bakugou huffs, “There’s nothing I can’t do, so I won’t have any issue doing something like that.”

Even though he says that, you have a feeling accomplishing such a task will be more difficult than he thinks once he finally tries it out, considering his less than ideal social skills. While you have full faith in him, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll struggle with this aspect of heroics for at least a little while since it’s completely foreign territory to him.

“I’m not as confident as Bakuguou since I’m not used to doing something like that, but I’m going to work hard.” Todoroki comments, “Hopefully, by the time we get our provisional licenses, I’ll be ready to try touching people’s hearts.”

“It might take you a little while, but you’ll definitely get there, Todoroki.” You assure him. “Until then, just keep working hard and doing your best like you always do.”

Around that time, the three of you come to a stop in front of the elevators. Just as you’re about to hit the button for the elevator you’ll be taking, you suddenly realize you had almost forgotten something very important. “I almost forgot!”

Both Todoroki and Bakugou, who were about to enter the elevator which will take them to the boys’ side of the dorm, pause at your exclamation. 

Before either of them can question you, you reach over to pat their heads, smiling all the while. “Welcome home, Bakugou, Todoroki. Good work today. I’m proud of you both.”

The two stare at you with surprise for a brief moment, and then, their features relax.

A slight smile rises to Todoroki’s lips. “I’m home, Sensei. Also, thank you for dinner and for taking care of my injuries.”

Bakugou averts his gaze. “I’m home.”

After a brief pause, he then mutters, “And thanks.”

Immediately, after those two words passes his lips, Bakugou hurries into the elevator before you can say anything else. Not wanting to be left behind, Todoroki quickly follows after him. 

Chuckling, you give them a parting wave. “Good night, you two. See you in the morning.”

Just before the elevator door closes, Todoroki returns the parting. You don’t hear anything from Bakugou, but you figure that’s to be expected. 

With a smile, you turn to enter the elevator that will take you to the girls’ side of the dorm. As you’re riding the elevator, you think back to the discussion you had with Todoroki and Bakugou.

Those two definitely both have the potential to become the kinds of heroes that can save people’s hearts. It won’t be easy, but I have full faith that they can overcome any obstacles that come their way.

Just as you think that, your Quirk activates, showing you a vision of your students in the midst of their provisional license training.

Feeling a mixture of amused and surprised, you watch as Ganga Orca declares that Bakugou, Todoroki, Inasa, and the girl Toga impersonated, Utsushimi  Camie, all have to participate in a special training where they have to win the hearts of a bunch of primary schoolers since he says what the heroes-in-training need is “heart”.

Seems like Ganga Orca and I were on the same page. What are the chances?

Looks like Todoroki will be getting a lesson on touching people’s hearts during his provisional license training after all. Unfortunately for him, it won’t be an easy lesson, considering how those primary schoolers have no interest in listening to anyone, not even the teacher they came with.

Of course, you still believe that your students can accomplish such a lofty task. You just have no idea how since you hadn’t considered giving them lessons on how to talk to small children.

That’s why you’re very eager to see what happens next in this vision since you want to see what your students will do. Just how will they win these children’s hearts?

Unfortunately, you don’t get all the details you were hoping for since a time skip occurs in your vision, preventing you from seeing how Todoroki and Bakugou will react to the crazy situation Ganga Orca has put them in.

Your disappointment doesn’t last long, however, when, after the time skip, you see all the children happily playing with the four students in charge of winning them over. 

All you can do is smile when you see all the smiling primary schoolers playing on large ice slides that were obviously made by Todoroki. Those are some great smiles you put on their faces, Todoroki. Good job. I knew you could do it.

Your smile grows when you see Bakugou telling a kid that he won’t be able to recognize his own weaknesses if he’s always looking down on others. Well said, Bakugou. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.

Around that time, your vision comes to an end, just as the elevator doors open. As you move to exit the elevator, an immense rush of pride washes over you, making you beam.

You’re amazing, Todoroki, Bakugou. You two really can do anything when you set your minds to it. Looks like you’re gonna soon be one step closer to becoming the heroes you’re both striving to become.

And you couldn’t be more proud.

[hafanforever]

Panic Attack

As we know, King Runeard had the dam constructed in the Enchanted Forest as part of his conspiracy to bring down the Northuldra people, since it would weaken the forest and limit their resources, forcing them to turn to him in their desperation.

But then, how exactly does the dam’s purpose work into his premeditated plan to eliminate them? What were all of his steps in carrying out his plan the day he started the war between his people and the Northuldra, and died during it?

First of all, let me make this clear: Runeard did not want to incorporate the tribe into his kingdom and rule them; he wanted to DESTROY them! I mean, he saw them as a threat to his monarchal rank and power all because of their relations with the magical spirits, so he wanted to wipe them out to extinction in order to remove this "threat"!

Second of all, I don’t think Runeard brought Agnarr, his whole army, and the citizens of his kingdom to the celebration in the forest just to start a war with the Northuldra...at least, not on that very day. Remember his memory figure in Ahtohallan tells the second-in-command, “We bring Arendelle’s full guard” and then "They will come in celebration, and then, we will know their size, and strength.” These quotes make it sound to me as if Runeard planned this gathering with both groups of people just so that he could determine the exact number of Northuldrans that resided in the forest, and just how much they outnumbered the Arendellians, or vice versa. Perhaps he planned to instigate a war between them at a later time, but only after he counted the Northuldra’s numbers so that he could know exactly what he and his kingdom were up against and make future preparations.

So for a while now, I had been trying grasp the whole picture on how Runeard plotted to eliminate the Northuldra using the dam...and then I remembered the kind of person he was. Runeard was a selfish, arrogant, ruthless tyrant, yet he hid this true nature of his extraordinarily well by presenting a false, artificial image of a generous, peaceful, noble king to his subjects and the Northuldra. He used this facade to gain everyone’s trust and respect, and it worked. Since he fooled everyone into believing that this was real nature, it was an image he had to keep up, one he had to protect, and ESPECIALLY because he projected it with his building of the dam.

On a motivation to protect his false image and keep his real nature under wraps from everyone, and especially to make the Northuldra completely unaware of his true intentions, I have a headcanon that Runeard decided that the best approach to bringing them down was to do it subtly rather than with direct force. As the dam was put to work in weakening the forest, perhaps Runeard thought the limitation of their resources would slowly kill off the Northuldra, significantly reducing their population size. Perhaps in his arrogance, supremacy, and superiority, he thought the people wouldn’t be smart enough to realize the dam's true purpose right away. When they finally would and come to him for help, maybe he thought it would be when their population size was greatly declined with few members remaining, leaving them in a very susceptible state.

Considering how much damage the dam could do to the forest and affect the Northuldra population over a certain period of time, perhaps there was a more direct part of Runeard’s plan to eliminate them. Perhaps when any of them would finally turn to him in their desperation, it would be in their greatest moment of vulnerability (as I described above), when their size has greatly declined and very few of them are remaining. Perhaps when they would come to him for help, they would do so as a whole group. And when they did, Runeard would lure the unsuspecting remaining Northuldrans into some kind of trap, and kill them all in one place at one time. In doing so, he would catch them completely off guard, making it so much easier for him to have them killed.

However, I believe that Runeard’s entire plan began to fall apart once the leader confronted him about the dam on the gathering day, then more so after he murdered him and started the war, and that is what led to him to his death.

Observe Runeard very closely in the gifs below from the scene when the Northuldra leader confronts him about the dam: after he is told “The dam isn’t strengthening our waters” and then while being told that “It’s cutting off the north...”, he glances behind the leader, over his shoulder, where there are people nearby, close enough to be within earshot.

Despite looking calm and composed (as well as we can make out from a blue/purple snowy figure of him), It’s all too obvious that Runeard twice looks past the man because he is terrified that the Northuldrans and Arendellians nearby will overhear the latter’s complaints. So he gently interrupts him, acting as if he’s really listening while claiming that they can discuss the matter in private...when all he’s really doing is shutting him up so that NO ONE will hear the dam is doing the exact opposite of what everyone else believes it is doing.

We know what comes after this, but I want to add something before I dive into that: any beliefs Runeard may have had about using the dam to bring down the Northuldra subtly, with it taking a long time for them to realize it was weakening their lands, reducing their numbers, and turning to him for help as a whole group at once, are instantly put to rest during this scene. The Northuldra leader clearly caught on to what the dam was doing very quickly, a lot faster than Runeard anticipated. He was obviously not expecting to be confronted about the dam too soon, and this might explain why he subtly frowns when he is told that the dam isn’t strengthening the forest’s waters.

Like I said before, Runeard had to keep up appearances by protecting his false image as a generous ruler from everyone, especially since he projected it with the construction and presentation of the dam. He had everyone fooled into believing that he was a good man, and a good king, who did an utmost good deed for the Northuldra. But once the leader voiced his suspicions about the dam harming the forest instead of helping it out loud, Runeard secretly panicked, and especially so because of how many people were close by in the forest. If someone else heard the leader talking about the dam, or if the leader had the chance to tell his tribe and the Arendellians about the dam, not only would Runeard’s long-term plan to destroy the Northuldra have been ruined, but his ENTIRE cover would have been blown. He would have been exposed as a liar and traitor to the tribe, as well as his people, staff, and Agnarr. This would have made him immediately lose the trust and respect of everyone in his kingdom, and he would have faced utter humiliation, wrath, and disdain; essentially, the revelation of the dam’s real purpose to everyone present would have destroyed Runeard’s reputation and legacy.

And Runeard wasn’t going to take a chance on having his reputation, image, and legacy being ruined. So the instant the leader tells him the harm the dam is causing, Runeard quickly concluded what his next move was: murder, and he had to do it NOW!

Again, on the day the forest fell, I honestly don’t think Runeard had a plan to start a war against the Northuldra and start by killing the leader in secret. Yes, he planned to eradicate the Northuldra tribe for sure, but on said day, he carried out his acts because things weren't happening according to his exact plan. Runeard’s act of killing the leader was premeditated, but also a simultaneous act of impulsion. He did it to prevent him from telling everyone else about how the dam was actually harming the forest. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision Runeard made in order to keep the truth a secret from rest of the tribe, and from his soldiers, people, and son.

After his deed, though, Runeard instantly realized that the Northuldra would discover their leader’s absence, much sooner than later, and be searching for him. Without a doubt, this realization drove him into another state of panic, so he had to act fast again and make another attempt to cover his tracks, to divert any possible suspicion away from himself...and that attempt was made when he instigated the battle between his people and the Northuldra. But this step was entirely carried out on impulse; it was not premeditated. It was a feeble and poorly executed attempt to wipe out the whole tribe, which Runeard was only trying to do now just because he had to cover up his deed of killing their leader before any of them found out.

In summary, Runeard panicked that his plan to eliminate the Northuldra started to fall to pieces when the leader voiced his suspicions about the dam, so it led to him committing murder on the spot...and since that act caused him to go into further panic, he instigated an attack on the rest of the tribe to try and eliminate them.

Runeard’s improvised, spontaneous attempts to cover up his crimes and keep his original plan intact were poorly done...and that, combined with his prejudice and arrogance, is what drove him to his death.

[nekoannie-chan]

My Princess

Pairing: Dark! Steve Rogers X Reader

Word count: 3628 words.

Summary: What will Steve be able to do to have the person he loves with him?

Warnings: Obsession, stalker, non-con., kidnapping, physical and psychologic punishment, maybe torture, violence, abuse, death of characters (not explicit), if I miss a warning, please let me know. IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, DON’T READ IT.

A/N: This is my entry to the @sherrybaby14 ‘s Sherry’s Reader-insert Smut Prompt Challenge! with the Steve Rogers’ prompt #9:

“Dark! Steve x Reader where he takes her and brings her to his mansion that he designed to be like a castle? And he calls her princess all the time and makes her dress like a princess”

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.  THIS ONE-SHOT IS +18

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet. 

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU’RE UNDER 18. 

Steve kissed your shoulder a little, the night before he had left you exhausted making love with him.

Seeing that you were not waking up, he got dressed and left without anyone looking at him, he had to go to supervise that everything was in order and finished.

Steve was overseeing how the mansion had turned out, he had asked for exaggerated discretion for the transaction, he did not want anyone to know of that property, he had made the design to look like a castle and he wanted his princess to feel like one.

He went in and began to check the closet, the princess dresses he had sent to make especially for you were already arranged there, he was sure that you were going to see very well with them. He did not even care how much he had to pay for them, he had also taken care of the design of each one of them, not only dresses but also nightgowns, slippers, tiaras, hair accessories, whatever he thought was necessary.

He put the last perfume he had taken from your room on the dresser, he had made sure to get the makeup you liked the most.

He smiled, he observed one of your photos he had on his cell phone, realizing the time he decided to leave, and he did not want to be late for training

“Where were you babe?” you asked to see he came in.

"I went for a walk," he replied.

You approached him to kiss him when the door opened and Tony entered.

“Am I interrupting something? Are you going to do something? Ah… of course I forgot that the Capipaleta is a virgin, “Tony scoffed.

“Stark! “You warned him.

Steve smiled internally, no one suspected what they had, they still thought he was so innocent, that would be very helpful for what he planned to do.

While you were with your friends, Steve sneaked into your room.

Everyone believed that you slept in separate rooms, but it was not so until now no one had discovered them.

It was the third time that Steve entered your room without your permission, he smiled with satisfaction when noticing that you hadn't noticed yet, he took one of the perfumes that you had in the dressing table.

He searched among your drawers, careful not to disturb anything, he took the set of underwear that he liked so much to wear; He stealthily left the place, he was always very careful so that no one discovered him, he could not arouse any suspicion.

If Steve was in love with you, according to him, who could not fall before your charm?

But he was also clear about something, no one could deny what he wanted, everyone adored him, he knew that girls could not resist his physique, he could take advantage of those advantages of his position.

He had taken advantage of that to convince you that you were in a relationship.

“You still don't agree that Y/N and Steve are dating, right?” Pietro asked.

"No," Wanda said.

“Y/N loves him, I don't see the problem.”

"There is something I do not like about all this, I would not like something to happen to Y/N" Wanda commented with concern.

Pietro made an awkward gesture.

"It's all his fault, Steve likes to have all that attention, he's obsessed with her, he doesn't want to leave her for a single moment alone," Wanda continued. 

Steve watched you while you slept, he couldn't help it, he seemed beautiful to him, and he took out his cell phone and took some photos, being careful not to wake up

"So beautiful looks like an angel," he thought.

He came out trying not to be noise, but he didn't realize that he threw your jewelry box on the floor.

Because of the noise, you woke up.

"Who's there?" You asked sleepily.

When there was no answer, you turned on the light of the nightstand someone or something had entered your room

You got up, covered your body with your robe, and went out, saw Steve in the hallway.

"Steve, did you see if anyone came out of my room?"

"No doll, shouldn't you be sleeping?" he replied trying to look calm.

"I already was, but someone threw away my jewelry box, by the way, what are you doing here?" Shouldn't you be on a mission?”

“I finished it earlier than expected, I was going to train, and I’m still not sleepy.”

You shrugged, there were not many explanations for what had happened to you.

"Maybe it was a Stark experiment or there are ghosts at the base," you determined.

Steve laughed upon hearing your deduction.

"Always such a creative doll."

"Well, I'll go back to sleep," you said with a bit of annoyance.

"Rest" he approached and I kissed you on the forehead

"Wanda, something strange happened last night," you commented.

“What?”

“Someone came into my bedroom while I was sleeping, I woke up when I heard the jewelry box fall.”

"Didn't you see who it was?" Wanda asked.

"No, there was nobody when I turned on the light apart some of my things are missing," you replied.

“What kind of things?”

“A perfume, some of my makeup, some accessories, and…”

“AND?”

"Clothes, even underwear," you said embarrassed.

"That's weird, don't you have a suspect?"

“No.”

"Steve!" Wanda called him.

He ignored her, she ran to catch up with him, seeing her in front of him stopped.

"Steve, what are your true intentions with Y/N?" Wanda asked.

"Y/N is my princess, so I don't think it's your concern."

"YOU'RE OBSESSED WITH Y/N!" She yelled at him.

"No Wanda, you are jealous of our relationship

"I'm not jealous, Y/N is my best friend and I care about her" Wanda said firmly.

"You're not going to separate us," Steve said.

Before she could answer, he was gone.

"I must find out before I tell her," Wanda said as she paced around the room.

"If you are so suspicious of him, you should read his mind," her twin suggested.

"I can't, it's I don't know ... I don't know what he's doing, but it's as if I can only read his superficial thoughts but not his true intentions."

"We must warn them, this can become dangerous."

Steve finished preparing, everything else was ready, the only thing missing was for you to receive the notification, so no one would suspect what was about to happen and when they realized it would be too late.

He was not going to allow anyone to interfere between him and his beloved, not even the consequences that it might have.

He sent the message, now he was going to look for you, obviously taking care that no one else saw them, especially Wanda.

You were walking through the corridors of the base when you met Steve.

"Why aren't you ready?" he asked.

“Ready for what?”

You were confused, you didn't remember having any plans.

"We have a mission," he informed you.

“What you mean? No, none notify me.”

You checked your mobile phone, there was the notification, and it had arrived just five minutes ago.

"Aren't the others going on a mission?"

"It's just the two of us," he clarified.

"I'm going to go to tell to Wanda so she doesn't worry," you said, turning around.

"Y/N, we have to go now."

He took you by the arm, you sighed.

"Okay, let's go."

You went on his motorcycle.

"You look good," he flattered you.

“Thanks.”

He stopped suddenly, they got off the motorcycle, and it looked like you had arrived at the place.

"Did they give you the information?"

“This”.

He gave you a few papers that he had taken out of his pocket. You started reading it, it seemed kind of routine so it shouldn't be difficult.

You started walking through a forest, Steve was guiding you until you reached the place

"It looks creepy," you commented.

You had a bad feeling, that place looked like a horror movie.

"There is nothing to fear, I will protect you," he assured you.

"What about Y/N?" Wanda asked.

"I don't know," Pietro replied.

"I haven't seen her," Nat said.

"Does anyone know where Steve is?" Tony asked.

“Oh no...”

"Is something wrong?" Nat asked.

You entered the place, agreed that it was better to separate to cover more terrain, and finish the mission faster.

You walked into a room, what you saw there left you frozen, one of the walls was full of photos of you, photos that you never remembered someone took you, some of them looked as if they had been taken in fragrant and your lost things were also there. Steve appeared behind you.

"Steve ... What ...?" What is this? ”You questioned as soon as you saw him.

"I didn't think you'd find it that soon," he replied.

"Steve, what does all this mean?"

Steve's face changed, a malevolent smile appeared on his face, and you swallowed out.

"Steve, honey, what does this mean?" Do I have a secret admirer or something? It's a joke?” You questioned.

Silence, for a moment it crossed your mind that this was a trap.

"Steve, let's go please, let's go back to the base," you asked, trying to stay calm.

"There is nothing to fear princess," he assured you.

"We have to go back to the base," you ordered, your voice faltering.

"You don't know how much I love you," he replied.

"I know you love me, but Steve is scaring me," you said as you turned to go to the door.

He was faster than you and closed the door with a lock so you could not escape, you tried to take out your weapon, but he took you by the arm, the struggled a little, he managed to make you throw it, with another movement he knocked you unconscious.

He took you to the castle, took off your clothes and put on the lilac princess dress that he had liked so much, he smiled with satisfaction, you looked just as you had imagined, he brushed your hair put on your tiara, and left you in the room.

Now he had to get rid of the communicators and anything that might indicate the location.

A few hours later you woke up, you blinked several times to adjust to the light, where you were lying was not your bed, it had tulle, it seemed like the beds of the princess stories you read when you were a girl; As you sat you saw the outfit you were wearing, you frowned, you have never seen those clothes before.

How did you get there?

And above all, why did you have a dress on?

You got up looking for your boots, but you only found matching shoes, you sighed, you had no choice but to put on a pair, you looked up and saw yourself in the mirror.

Was it some kind of joke?

You looked down at the dresser, there were almost all the things you were missing from your room, you covered your mouth with your hand.

Had someone taken the form of Steve and kidnapped you?

You looked for all the furniture and drawers for the communicator to ask for help, nothing was there, then your mobile phone was not there, none of your belongings that you had taken to the mission.

You saw the door, maybe there was someone on the other side waiting for you, you went to the window, it had bars inside and outside, you couldn't escape through there, you opened the door, it was rare that I didn't have a lock, you tried to open the others but if they were closed with insurance, all the windows in the hall also had bars, you tried to peek through one, it seemed that what you saw was the tower of a castle.

For a moment you thought you were in Transylvania, you walked up the stairs and down, you went to the main entrance and tried to open, it was impossible.

"You woke up princess at last," Steve said.

"Steven, what does this mean?" you asked.

He did not answer your question.

You came up annoyed and you slapped him, I was hoping that if he was someone with the appearance of your boyfriend maybe he would show his true face, but nothing changed more than his expression, now he felt a little annoyed.

Steve grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the table, you tried to get away without success.

"Let go of me, you hurt me," you complained.

"You have to eat," he ordered.

He forced you to sit down, you looked at the plate with food, you were not going to eat anything, but your stomach protested, so you had no other option, although you could not deny that the food was delicious.

"Let's dance princess," Steve said suddenly.

"I don't want to," you refused.

He pulled you hard to get up.

"I said we are going to dance."

He was guiding you, you were trying not to move, but it was practically impossible.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I love you and they want to separate us," he replied.

"Steve, let's go back to base, please," you asked.

"No princess, I will not allow anyone to separate us."

He tried to kiss you.

“Don’t!

You pushed him, took off your shoes, and started running all over the place trying to escape, all the doors were still closed, and he caught you.

"You are behaving very badly princess," he sentenced.

"Leave me!" You shouted.

He struggled and dragged you to the room where you woke up, you kept screaming, maybe if someone listened to you they could help you.

"Shout all you want, no one will listen to you, I built this castle especially for you," he explained.

"I don't care, I want to go back to base, I don't want to be here," you whimpered.

Steve looked hurt, he had done all that especially for you and you didn't appreciate it.

"You need a punishment," he sentenced.

He took out handcuffs and chained you to one of the bedposts.

"You will stay like this until tomorrow, I hope you think about your behavior princess."

You saw the clock, it was four o'clock in the afternoon, you screamed and cried until you fell asleep, you did not know where he had gone, you hoped that others would notice that they were not there and would look for you and find you, although you were not sure if they would believe you.

At seven the next morning, Steve came in, he saw you asleep, started kissing you.

"Time to wake up princess," he whispered in your ear.

"Steve, let's go back to the base please," you asked again.

"No princess, let's have breakfast," he refused.

He took you to the dining room, maybe it was best not to make him mad, but you probably wouldn't eat all day.

Then he decided it was time to take a bath, he entered the bathroom with you but not the tub, and he began to wash your body with the sponge.

"Steve, I can do it alone," you said calmly, you didn't want to alter it.

"I want to help you, princess," he replied.

It was awkward, yet you were at a noticeable disadvantage.

"Put this on," she said, giving you another dress.

“Don’t you have jeans or something? “You asked.

"I want you to dress appropriately princess."

You put on the light blue dress that you had reluctantly chosen under Steve's watchful eye.

“You like them? I had them made especially for you, “he commented.

“They are cute”.

He brushed your hair and then put on another tiara, you felt ridiculous dressing like this, and you looked away from the mirror.

"Like you, princess, you know, we are going to be very happy here," he assured you.

"Something must have happened to Steve and Y/N," Natasha said concerned.

"I'm sure Steve is guilty," said Wanda.

"Come on, I don't think Capsicle will be able to harm someone," Tony commented.

Wanda tried to call you unsuccessfully for the tenth time. After several more attempts, they managed to locate your mobile phone near a river.

Steve managed to send false leads, making others believe that here you were kidnapped by some enemy.

Again he had left you alone, but this time you were not handcuffed, you started to check the place looking for an escape.

As soon as you heard the castle door open, you ran, maybe you could escape, Steve threw you to the ground to get away so you got up and changed your strategy, you locked yourself in the room, he opened it easily since he had the keys.

You started throwing at him what you were hiring without importing if you broke or hit him, you wanted to keep him away from you and as soon as you had the opportunity you would go out the door.

He kept coming closer, he threw you against the bed and got on top of you, easily taking off your dress.

"No, no, what are you doing?" you asked, trying to pull him away from you without success.

"You need a lesson, I wanted to do things well, but you refuse to cooperate, then it will be otherwise," he said.

He started stroking your breasts roughly and sucking your body, you kept struggling and the tears started to come out of your eyes, previously Steve had never forced you into anything, but now he seemed not to care what you want.

He penetrated you without caring that you weren't ready, it hurt a lot.

“Stop!”

He covered your mouth with one of his hands as he continued, stopped until he came.

"We will get married and have many children," he said before leaving.

You did not know how much you were going to endure, but you were completely sure that you would find a way to escape.

Taking advantage that Steve was asleep, you hated that princess nightgown that forced you to sleep.

You didn't put on your sneakers, which would give you away, you carefully took the keys, and you knew Steve was smart, but anyone could make a mistake.

You held your breath, one wrong move and it could all end… it didn't sound like such a bad idea if you were sure he was going to kill you, but you knew it wouldn't, it was much worse.

You walked as fast as you could.

You opened the door and started running through the garden, you had no idea where the entrance was.

You didn't even care to feel the grass against your bare feet or the stones, you ran as fast as you could look for the exit.

You heard Steve's voice calling out to you behind you.

You entered the maze, there you could lose it and sneak away, and you hoped that the exit was the door if so, you would go to the nearest town to call Wanda.

You kept walking, sometimes you stopped when you thought you heard Steve close by.

It seemed endless, honestly, you had no idea where you were going, and suddenly Steve tackled you, knocking you to the ground.

"You did something very bad princess," he said between his teeth.

He carried you, you tried to get away, bit him, kicked him, however, he was stronger and taller than you, easily pinned you down, took you back inside the castle.

He tore your nightgown and put you in the tub, he carved you with great force.

"Steve, stop, you hurt me," you asked.

"You have been a very bad girl, princess," he repeated.

“You can have what you want, I can give you anything and still you're trying to escape”

He tied your hands to the headboard.

"You have me kidnapped!"

He slapped you so hard that tears came out of your eyes, he turned you so that you were face down.

“When princesses are bad, they should be taught a lesson.”

He took off his belt and hit your ass several times with it, at first you tried not to make any noise, but the pain was more so you ended up screaming, after a while, you weren't sure if it had been minutes or hours, but what that if you knew is that probably in a few days you could not sit down.

What were you going to do? You had no way out.

If you tried to run away again or something he did not like, he was surely going to do the same, if you did what he wanted even if it was against your wishes, you did not know where you had gone again, he refused to answer your questions, your body still hurt and you were hungry.

"My King, you returned," you said in a shaky voice.

"I see that you finally understood, princess," he congratulated you.

You looked away, you didn't know exactly how you should behave and you were terrified of doing something that would infuriate him, but you were determined to play along.

"I have something to show you," he commented.

He took your hand and led you to the living room showed you some photos.

You covered your face with your hands horrified to see the photos with the crime he had committed, Steve had murdered everyone, your friends too.

"Steve ... why?" You asked crying.

"No one is going to separate us," he assured you with a smile.

No one was going to save you, you would be trapped in that place for the rest of your life. 

[judylicious]

And When He Smiles I Swear I Can’t Breathe

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader

Word count: 2,246

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies. This refers to Alan Rubin as a character in the movie, not the real Alan (although he obvsly played himself but you know what I mean)

I’d like to add that I made everyone of the band a few years younger (so the age gap between the reader and Alan isn’t that big), so he’s approx. in his early 30s.

Sophia & Lisa are two OCs created by two lovely people within the fandom.

Warnings: swearing, be prepared for a lot of sob-stuff

a link to the song the two are dancing to, mentioned near the end, if you feel like checking it out

Chapter VI

The following days seemed to take forever, Charlotte simply couldn’t wait for Friday until finally it was about time. Shortly before 8p.m. she toddled down the stairs in her heels. “Bye mum, see you later!” “Where you’re going?”, her mum yelled back from the kitchen. “To Sophia’s!”, the young woman responded quickly and made it almost through the front door. “Why are you dressed up like this?”, Sylvia peeped her head out of the kitchen. Damn.

“We… wanna take some photos and try out some makeup.” “Huh. Alright then, just remember to be back before 11!” “I will mum, see ya.” After closing the door behind her, Charlotte looked for Alan, who had parked his car in front of the neighbours house, where she got off last time Alan drove her home. He was casually leaning at the car’s top, giving her a quick wave. “Hi Alan!”, she greeted him with a big smile. The musician looked absolutely gorgeous. Blue jeans, a matching blue suit jacket and a white, silk shirt, first few buttons undone. He couldn’t help himself but looked Charlotte up and down. “Oh God, something wrong with my dress?”, she panicked. “Am I underdressed? Shall I go back inside and change?” and tugged at her dress. “No, no, on the contrary. You look amazing.” “You’re sure? Where are we going?”, she still felt awkward. “A little Italian place I thought you may like. Don’t you dare changing though! I love that dress.” And with that he held out his hand to help Charlotte get into his car.

When they got to the small restaurant and their table Alan pulled out the chair for Charlotte, before ordering a bottle of Chardonnay, to show her that he didn’t forget about their first night. The evening was lovely. The food was delicious and the two discovered a lot things they had in common, like both being great jazz fans and they also enjoyed the same literature. “You know back in middle school I joined the marching band.”, Charlotte told the handsome man, who sat across the table. “Really? What instrument did you play? … No, wait, let me guess.” He took a moment to study her. “The clarinet!” “Is that a good or bad thing you think I played the clarinet?”, she asked laughing. “Nah, I played the triangle. I was actually pretty good at it!”, putting on a straight face. Alan gave her a questioning look until she decided to put him out of his misery. “I’m only needling you! I played the oboe. Yep. Hated it. Quit. End of story.” Causing them both to laugh. “Well, definitely wrong choice of instrument there. Should have learned the trumpet.”, Alan contended. “So it really is true what they say about trumpet players.” “And what is that?” “That you’re so full of yourself and that you like to play loud because you enjoy listening to yourself.” “Is that a good or bad thing?”, he grinned. “Mhm, I don’t mind.”, she shrugged her shoulders but shot him a seductive glance. “Lucky me then.”, he said in soft tone while raising his brows and took her hand in his, caressing it with his thumb.

“So what happened next?”, Sophia asked excitedly almost starting up from her chair. It was the next day and the three friends met for coffee and obviously Charlotte’s report on last night. “Nothing. He took me home like the gentleman he is.”, she said almost sounding disappointed. “No kiss?”, Lisa asked again. “A kiss on the hand only… Do you think that’s a bad sign?” “Of course not. It was your first proper date.” “Because the evening went REALLY well. We laughed a lot and shared so many things. And he constantly gave me that look. So I honestly wonder if I did anything wrong.”, Charlotte sighed. “I’m sure you didn’t!”. The two friends assured her and Lisa stroke Charlotte’s arm thoughtfully. “He probably doesn’t wanna rush things with you and wants to show you that he got serious intentions with you by taking it slow.” “And technically not kissing on a first dating isn’t really taking this ‘slow’”. “Exactly!” “I hope you’re right girls, I really do.”, the blonde woman said, resting her head on one arm, stirring her coffee absently. “When will you see him again?”, Lisa tried to cheer her up. “Huh? Oh, Monday night.” “What have you two planned?” “I err… don’t know to be honest. He said he got a little surprise for me. So no idea where he will take me. I’m supposed to dress fancy, that’s all I know”, she explained with a smile. “Aww, that’s so sweet! I bet it’s something real romantic.” “You know Alan is the sweetest. When he looks at me with those beautiful brown eyes and smiles at me, I swear I can’t breathe. It’s like everything around me starts to fade and it’s just him.”, Charlotte romanced about the trumpet player. “By the way, did you ask him about that woman you saw him with in the streets the other night?”, Sophia asked in a serious tone. “So why would she wanna do that?!”, Lisa countered. “Because she’s dating him and has a right to know if she’s the only one he’s seeing?” “Yeah but they’re not at the point yet where they should talk about being exclusive. It was their first date!” “But why did he meet that woman if he’s that much into Charlotte like he told us?” Charlotte tried to chip in into their argument: “Wait, you told me he was probably only distracting himself!” “See what you did?”, Lisa started again. “Try not to be so negative all the time, you keep ruining things!” “Girls, GIRLS!” “Excuse me that I don’t want her to get hurt.” “Oh, so you’re telling me that I want to see our friend getting hurt..?!” “GIRLS! Would you stop it for fucks sake!”, Charlotte said through gritted teeth but loudly enough for the two fighting girls to hear her. “Calm down, would you.” “I’m sorry Lisa.”, Sophia started and turned to Charlotte. “You’re just so found of him, I would hate to see him taking advantage of that.” “He won’t.” The dark haired girl sighed “Promise me you won’t put up with everything, alright? Try to see things around him as well.” “I promise.”, the blonde girl assured her friends with a smile.

On Monday Charlotte was sitting in Alan’s car again and still hadn’t got a clue where they were going. It was only when they stood in front of a big dance hall with a sign “Tonight Private Function with Freddie Hubbard” when it dawned on her. “No way! This is sold out for weeks.” And saw Alan waving with the tickets. “How on earth…? I’ve been dying to score tickets.” “Well, frankly I’m friends with Freddie. We’ve been recording a few albums together.”, Alan said proudly. “But don’t tell Jake, he would hate to know I’m working with others.” “Mum’s the word.”, Charlotte smiled and links arms with the handsome musician. The big dance room was decorated beautifully and it was more than a simple concert. There was a dance floor, they had put up round tables with hors d’oeuvres on silver serving plates and everyone in the audience had their assigned seat. Alan pulled out the chair for Charlotte, before he seated himself and ordered some drinks. As the band got up on stage and started playing she leaned towards her date. “Alan?”, squeezing his arm softly. “What do I owe you for this?” “Huh? What do you mean? Nothing of course.” “You’re sure this is alright? I don’t wanna be kept by you or anything.” “No of course not, this is fine. Please simply enjoy this evening, okay?” He smiled at her and softly brushed a curl from her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. And caught up in his smile, how could she deny him this wish.

Soon after the piano started playing Louis Armstrong’s “A Kiss To Build A Dream On” Charlotte gasped. “Oh gosh, I absolutely love this song!” “Would you like to dance?”, Alan asked her, offering her his left hand. “I-I don’t know. I haven’t danced very often and-“ And with one motion he got Charlotte on her feet and escorted her to the dance floor. “Don’t you worry.”, Alan told her and they started swaying a little to the side before he moved into her. When she got back into position after a turn she could feel his strong bicep under his shirt, how it tensed every time he pushed her a step backwards and her mind started wandering what his body must look like under his clothes. His strong shoulders and arms, his chest, she already knew he had a bit of chest hair which drove her mad and she had been admiring his tight buns for quite a few times. “See? You’re doing pretty well. … Charlotte?” He snapped her out of her daydream. “Huh? I’m so sorry.” “You’re a natural when it comes to dancing.” “Really? Well, thanks, I do enjoy this.” “What were you thinking about?”, he gave her a curious look. “Uh- nothing.”, she replied blushing. “I hope you thought of me.. and not anyone else in this room?”, he smirked at her. “I most certainly did.”, she said after lowering her view. But Alan tilted her chin up and stared into her eyes for a moment. “You look absolutely smashing tonight.” She was wearing a long, claret cocktail gown, with a lace trimmed, backless top. “Thank you, Alan!”, she smiled. “You look very dapper too.” the girl in his arm tugged at his bow tie. “Your back neckline is such a tease, you know that..?” He licked his bottom lip and moved his hand at her back a little higher to caress her bare skin. Still swaying he softly pulled her closer to him until their chests were nearly touching and almost intuitive her hand wandered from his biceps, over his shoulder to the back of his head, playing with his dark hair when she leaned into him. “Would you like to kiss me?” She whispered almost inaudibly, glancing up at him, smiling and he didn’t hesitated, his lips covering hers in a long, warm kiss. They felt soft and with every of their movements she could feel and imagine their full and sensuous chiseled shape and it didn’t take her long to run both of there hands through his wavy hair. His tongue forced entry and the kiss turned into a consuming, hungry yet sweet, teasing her with a hint of promise and driving her body to new heights of awareness. Somehow desperate he pulled away from her and cleared his throat. “Such a shame this is the wrong place.” “Well, we got all night.”, Charlotte replied, biting her lower lip.

After the concert Alan and Charlotte went for a walk. It was a clear and star-bright night. As they walked side-by-side Alan carefully put his hand over her back, watching the young woman vigilantly to make sure she was okay. “How come you still work at the Chez Paul if you got recording sessions with Freddie?” “It’s really more of an occasional job. I started working there when Jake and Elwood put the band together and we didn’t had many gigs at the start. When the money was good I quit and now I only work there like 2 or 3 nights a month cos they-“ He paused when he noticed Charlotte rubbing her arms. “Are you cold?” “Just a little bit but it’s alright!” She didn’t want this night and their togetherness to stop on no account, even if it meant freezing, she thought. But Alan stopped and let go of her hand, taking off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. “Don’t want you to catch a cold.”, he said in a soft tone and gave her a short but sensuous kiss on her lips. “Thanks Alan.” She smiled back at him and grabbed his hands as they continued walking. “So.. every now and then when they run short on staff I stand in. I know I don’t have to but the work is alright and they pay well.” When they reached Alan’s car he softly pushed her against it. “But I really don’t wanna talk about work now.”, he said in low voice and was just about to kiss her neck when they heard a female voice. “Alan, how marvellous it is to see you.” He instantly turned around to face a blonde lady, leaning against the bonnet. Charlotte tried to get a look at her and took a deep breath when she realised it was the woman with whom she had seen him in the streets a week ago. “Lari… what are you doing here?”, he asked the woman, squeezing Charlotte’s hand. “I don’t know, saw your car and thought I’d wait here for you. I see you’ve got a date…” “I do. What do you want?” “Nothing, just funny isn’t it. You’ve always been such a womaniser.”, she chuckled. “Tonight you’re on a date with her and just a few nights ago I remember how you got all down and dirty with me on the bonnet of your precious car. Hm.”, and she gave him a fake smile when Charlotte felt a sharp pain in her chest and immediately let go of Alan’s hand.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

[dragonrebelrose]

TROS Reaction 12-20-19. AKA my 6 page long dissertation about why I really disliked TROS.

I didn’t think it would be this bad. I truly thought there would be some gleaming moments of redeemability, but no. It’s one...giant...shit-show. What a horrible blow to the end of not only the sequel trilogy and these characters but to everything that came before. It really takes skill to mess up this badly.

A little something nice though, was the guy I sat next to. Really nice (and cute too ^-^ ) and he offered me some of his candy (Buncha Crunch! My favorite!) before the film started and then throughout the film because he said, “Well this is consolation for having to sit next to me.” Aw I couldn’t have asked for a better seat partner, I didn’t even know him! And then when the film ended he knew I didn’t take it well and I cried and shook through many moments and he offered the rest of his candy and I said, “Thanks, I think I need it.” I asked him what he thought overall and he said, “C-3P0 was pretty funny.” I said, “Yeah I agree. I actually knew everything that happened before I saw it, and I thought it was a mess.” He chuckled and said, “Me too, but I didn’t want to say anything in case you liked it.” I said, “Oh, no, I didn’t really like it. But I gotta be honest, Ben Solo didn’t deserve to die. That’s just my opinion.” I think he was surprised by that but didn’t disagree. He just kinda nodded or something and then we said goodbye and he left with his buddies, who also seemed pretty unenthused by the whole movie. Hopefully I gave him something to think about with my comment, but he was really nice and I’m glad he sat next to me.

Pessimism aside for now, I’ll start by listing the things I liked. I gotta be honest, there’s not much here.

Reylo is canon! But, in my opinion, it was handled pretty badly. Ben’s death is only the start of the problems for it, but more on that later.

C-3P0 is funny I guess. Yes he is annoying sometimes like usual, but not more so than other times.

D-O is freaking adorable. Out of everything good I’ve listed I have no qualms with this one. His manner is cute, his speaking is very funny, and his actions are just precious.

Babu Frik is very cute too, just perfect! Lovely little puppet! Don’t know why he was shoehorned in at the end battle but whatever. We never saw him again.

Maz is a puppet now? Okay, cool. Wish that would’ve been the case since the beginning. You had the technology JJ.

The music is good, when it’s given its own time to shine and be noticed. I feel like I barely noticed it was there because sound effects just drowned it out. Really wasted, but still good nonetheless.

Leia’s death and how it affected Ben. Wow. This was the first moment I truly cried. This was handled very well by Adam Driver, and then Maz saying “Goodbye, Princess.” Ouch, that got me.

Ben talking to the memory of his father! This is something I did not know was in the movie and boy am I glad I wasn’t spoiled for it! THIS is where the really hard tears and sobbing came. I was literally shaking and shivering trying to keep it in so as not to disturb everyone else. This. Part. Was. Perfect. Ben looks at him like he wants to say “I love you,” and Han says out loud “I know.” *crazy screaming and crying* Out of all the things they got wrong for Ben in this film, THIS they got right!

Ben Solo is the Solo boy we always wanted. Running in with a t-shirt, gun slinging, blasting opponents without even looking. THIS is a true son of Solo! But of course they give him no lines except “Ow.” THAT was a bad idea.

And that’s it. Yes those are the only things I even remotely liked, but I have to be honest, each one of these has some kind of problem attached to it which sours the real enjoyment.

On to what I disliked. Strap in lads, this is going to be a long ride.

1. The pacing. OH. MY. GOSH. SLOW. THE. FUCK. DOWN. For fucks sake I couldn’t even process what the hell was happening before we were on to the next thing! This was the biggest problem with the movie, BY FAR. Yes I know the story is terrible, we’ll get to that, but the pacing just completely took me out of the movie. I couldn’t feel invested in anything because it was all in one ear and out the other like ten-fold!

And this is part of the issue I have with how Reylo was handled. It. Felt. So. Rushed. And. Unfinished. There weren’t enough scenes with them and the scenes we did get were so fast and then over with that it felt like no progress was being made at all! It felt, for lack of a better word, unearned. And I know, that’s not really the case since they’ve had plenty of build-up in the last 2 films, but there wasn’t enough time with them spent NOT fighting and hating each other and opposing each other. Yes, I know, Kylo kept trying to get Rey to take his hand, but it doesn’t feel genuine because even Kylo feels out of character, and Rey too, big time. Now this isn’t the actor’s faults, they did what they could with the shitty story they were given, so I put all this blame at JJ’s desk.

In any case the overall film pacing was too fast, too much, too soon, too many things onscreen, too many things happening at once, not enough character, not enough motivation, not enough letting scenes breathe and just play out naturally. Everything felt forced for the sake of the “plot.” Oh we gotta get this thing, and then that thing, to get this thing, so we can defeat these guys! LET. US. BREATHE.

2. The story. My gosh, they couldn’t have picked a worse storyline to follow. Everything truly felt like it was written by a fanboy who wanted to retcon everything in TLJ, even down to the dialogue. Everyone keeps saying to Rey “You’re a Palpatine.” But it sounds SO strange, like nobody says things like this. I get it, it’s a space fantasy, they talk weird mumbo jumbo but it just sounds like a fanboy ghost wrote this. Like we gotta have everyone know now she’s a Palpatine! You’re a Palpatine! You’re a Palpatine! Palpatine heir! All bow down to the Palpatine! Give me a break.

3. Yeah, let’s talk about Palps. The old raisin himself. You know, I never really liked ROTS, but Palps was always a great thing about it. He was sinister, diabolical, he had a plan and knew what to do with it. But this Palps. *le heavy sigh* What a waste this was. For one thing, the lightning effects that lights up his face is really annoying, even for someone who doesn’t get seizures, I can’t even imagine what it’s like for those who do, I’m so sorry. And like, he has this whole legion of Sith followers? The fuck? Where the hell were these guys before? I’m sure they existed BEFORE the last Sith Lord died, right?

I digress. I have a question though: why does he want Rey so much? Why didn’t he try to get his son to take over? Wouldn’t that have been easier? Also, WHO DID HE FUCK TO GET A SON?? HOW DID HIS SON GET AWAY FROM HIM?? WHY DID HIS SON APPARENTLY TURN TO THE LIGHT?? THERE’S TOO MANY QUESTIONS HERE AND NO GOOD EXPLANATIONS. AND NO DISNEY, I DON’T WANT A 10-PART COMIC ON THIS. GO FUCK YOURSELVES.

The only interesting thing about Palps in this film is that his face gets melted off like a Raiders of the Lost Ark knock-off. He better not be coming back. Ever again.

4. And hey, while we’re on the subject, let’s talk about Rey’s parents. So apparently they’re both good people. *le sigh* But what kind of good people leave their daughter alone on a harsh and unforgiving planet with a blubber guy? And don’t tell me they didn’t know he was an abusive asshole, they LIVED on Jakku, they HAD to have known him, ESPECIALLY if they truly were junk traders, they would have DEALT with him. Oh, and apparently the “I’ll come back for you sweetheart, I promise” line is changed up a bit and given to her father after all. No. Screw that. That line was meant for Ben, I don’t care how petty this sounds, this is terrible. So yeah, fuck Rey’s parents, I don’t care how “good” you try to make their intentions, they’re badly shoehorned in and they screw up anyway. Next.

5. Ben’s story and his fate. So yeah, obviously I hate that Ben died, but more than that I hate how his story was handled here. It was so rushed, it didn’t feel as natural as it should have. It needed time to BREATHE. A lot of time! And I feel like they really shafted Kylo/Ben’s story off to the side to give more time to the hereby named GoldenTrio. (You know who I mean...we’ll get to them.) It really seemed like JJ didn’t even care about Ben’s fate anymore, and just kind of put it in as an afterthought. His death scene? Not even given a fucking minute to process because WE GOT TO PARTAY. All in all, his whole story is so terribly sad that I don’t even know if I can watch TFA or TLJ anymore, knowing how it ends.

6. The GoldenTrio. Oh for fucks sake, JJ, you should have killed Poe off when you had the chance, because now the story is all about THEM. Boom! They’re literally front and center in the movie. I don’t even think Reylo gets as much screen time as them. I mean really, Ben’s death scene and Rey’s grieving gets 1.5 minutes, tops. GoldenTrio reunion and threesome hugging? 5 fucking minutes of nothing but them hugging. I’m not even exaggerating. (Okay maybe I am, but it’s given more focus and time to “breathe” than Ben Solo’s fucking death. I’m getting a headache remembering it.)

Hey, remember in ESB and ROTJ where the trio got split up and had their own story lines and own purposes to fulfill without each other hanging around (apart from Han and Leia because their story lines are interconnected)? Yeah, I miss that too.

Also, Rey keeps wandering off being “pulled” to something, and every...single...time, Finn is like “Rey, wait! Poe we gotta get her! rEy CoMe BaCk!!” This happens at least 5 times, pretty consecutively too. It gets old real fast. Boy do I miss the days of TLJ where people got to be away from each other to discover new things without interference.

Which leads me to another point: They tried to shove FinnRey in here while shitting on FinnRose quite literally. What. A. Slap. To. The. Face. This is horrible treatment, and I hope Kelly will never do another interview for Lucasfilm again. She doesn’t deserve this.

7. The Ending™. Wow. What a way to show that your characters haven’t progressed at all by showing them in the same environment that they started in. Let’s do an overview: Rey starts out alone on a desert planet and meets a droid that isn’t hers. Rey ends up alone on a desert planet with a droid that still isn’t hers. PROGRESSION 101!! *slaps forehead* I mean, don’t even get me started on the fact that Ben isn’t there with her and that literally one half of her soul is gone (how is she not in agony right now??), but then to add more salt to the wound she’s just like “oh yeah I must be the rightful successor to the Skywalker name, even tho I’m a Palps...makes sense to me!” Fuck off. You don’t deserve that title after hating Luke for not doing what you wanted him to do and for hating Ben for most of this movie too.

Can we also acknowledge that this is THE ABSOLUTE WORST POSSIBLE WAY TO END A 40 YEAR SAGA AND FAMILY LEGACY? So, Palps had a kid who had a kid. This kid is then deemed a-okay by the family that was affected most by Palps and they welcome her like the sunshine child she is, yet shun their own offspring for being damaged goods because he was being manipulated by said Palps. Okay, it’s official now, everyone’s an asshole...except Ben. He seemed to be the only one to understand his faults and right his wrongs and not be an idiot. Then the kid who was abused and manipulated is killed because “reasons” or “problematic” or whatever and the offspring of Palps lives while the family that Palps manipulated is ultimately gone forever because it’s last descendant wanted to save the offspring of Palps out of the goodness of his heart. Now the offspring of Palps doesn’t even give a flipping thank you and steals their name. wHaT a SaTiSfYiNg EnDiNg!!! Someone gag me.

8. Luke’s X-Wing being raised out of the water and it’s in perfect working condition. What. The. Fuck. I don’t know if you guys realize this, but this completely undermines Luke’s arc in TLJ. That X-Wing was sunk and dead to show that he had no desire to return to the outside world. He was staying on the island. For good. And he buried that thing in water to make sure he couldn’t use it ever again, but it was still visible to him to remind him of his conviction if ever he questioned it. But no. That thing is a-okay and ready to fly. No need for parts, there’s no rust or any sea salt corrosion, ready to go skipper! This was just added for easy call-backs to ESB but boy this had absolutely 0 weight to it. I literally yawned or looked at my watch around this part thinking “oh my gosh isn’t it over yet?” Pretty much sums up my entire experience.

9. Rose got shafted to appease the fanboys. This one needs no further explanation or analysis, it just sucks and has no real reason to exist.

10. Luke was barely in it and offered not that great advice. Poor Mark. His performance really peaked with TLJ and never went back up.

11. Rey is suddenly the Avatar now? You can now talk to all previous Jedi’s who existed? What buffoonery is this? Oh, but Ben doesn’t get a single. fucking. word. from Anakin, the man he looked up to. I’m so tired right now. What’s left?

12. The message changed from “it doesn’t matter if you’re a nobody, you’re a somebody to me” to “you’re a somebody with a bad bloodline, but that doesn’t define you (except when it totally does)”. That sort of message would be fine if it had been the message since TFA, but it wasn’t. The message since TFA was “I’m a nobody, but I can become a somebody regardless of my lineage or my childhood.” Why change the message in the 11th hour? To appease fanboys. Literally anything that makes no sense in this movie can be attributed to fanboys. There’s so much contradiction and hypocrisy in this film from both the narrative and the characters that it’s insulting.

13. Hux was utterly shafted too. What a waste of a well built up and conniving little bastard who in the end gets shot for shock value and laughs. It’s like what TLJ did but way worse because he’s actually killed. Hux as the spy? Just no.

14. Jannah was kind of wasted too, not enough screen time. I get her and Finn kind of bonding over being ex-stormtroopers, but it’s not really delved into. Also the whole “nature vs. machinery” thing kinda briefly shows up at the big battle and feels unearned too, because there was nothing before in this movie or others to suggest there was a war between the two.

15. Poe is treated more as the heir to Leia than Ben is. Poe gets to fly the falcon and gets to wreck it up (dishonoring who it belonged to before), gets to be by Leia’s deathbed, etc. Not earned at all.

16. The pointlessness of random cameos or thrown in references. Not a single person in my theater noticed John Williams as the bartender, nobody pointed out or said anything about any reference from previous movies, it was silent.

17. What the hell was even the point of the whole “Dark Rey” vision? Oh, she shows her scary pointy teeth ala Bilbo style. No thank you.

18. Why the hell does it feel like these characters aren’t the characters from TFA and TLJ? They feel so different and it’s noticeable.

19. Finn is Force sensitive. Literally tacked on like nobody wouldn’t notice. We noticed JJ. We notice everything.

20. Rey and Kylo/Ben fighting for way too much of the film and their interactions. Not enough caring or understanding, not enough longing looks, it feels like their romance was almost cut from the film entirely.

21. Oh yeah, Rey floating at the beginning? Looked stupid as hell. And the “Be with me” line? I thought maybe, just maybe, she meant Ben, but no. She’s trying to reach “her past selves” like the fucking Avatar and she’s even floating rocks around like Aang did. Ugh.

22. Anything else? Oh yeah, this movie sucks completely and wholly...FOR NOT GIVING ONE FUCKING LINE OF DIALOGUE TO BEN SOLO AFTER HE HAD BEEN REDEEMED. HOW HEARTLESS CAN YOU BE THAT YOU LET HIM DIE WITHOUT SAYING ONE FINAL THING?!?! DAMN J.J. YOU’RE STUPID.

And that’s it. Kudos if you read the whole thing. I ramble a lot.

[valkyrieelysia18]

RWBY Rewrite: The Jaundice Arc

Hey there everybody! Sorry it’s been awhile since you’ve heard from me, but I’ve got a job now and less of writing drive than I had when I was high school/college. Doesn’t mean it’s completely gone though and now I’m going to tackle the point that people started to really have problems with RWBY: the Jaundice Arc.

I know, big guns, but frankly I wanted to get this one. Partially because I want to do Jaune’s post eventually and I feel like I need to do this one before I can do that one, and partially because like I said before: this point where people really started to have problems with the show. And more specifically, this when people REALLY start to dislike Jaune.

Now, I’ve touched on my feelings on him before, but let me get this all out and over with. I don’t hate Jaune and I don’t think he’s an inherently bad character. Almost everyone on this show has been written badly and I think the absolutely simmering undercurrents that some parts of the RWDE community have for him is perhaps a little over the top. Personally, I think the core idea of his character is pretty good and he’s at his best in my opinion when he’s playing support to the other characters.

That being said, I completely understand why people dislike him. He has been constantly given focus away from the main team, which started in Volume 1 which was already short as it was to devote about a quarter of your episodes to a non main character in your first season. He also doesn’t suffer nearly as much for the consequences of his actions while the female characters get constant crap for theirs. I’m not even going to go into the Miles Luna Author Self Insert thing.

After having read fan fiction and seen some rewrite scenarios on Youtube, I personally think that Jaune can be written well so long as he’s not being written by Miles and Kerry. With that, I’m ready to take my crack at it.

Setup

As I said, Jaune took massive screen time away from the main characters since early on in the series. There’s an easy way to fix this. As I stated in an earlier post, I was going to spend the first volume/season focusing on Team RWBY aside from a small potential team up with Team JNPR. Jaune, and his other teammates, would mainly be relegated to comedy and background support for the main four girls after the Initiation. I’d throw in a few hints of what’s to come with them, but that’s it. Thus, I’d actually put the Jaundice Arc in the second volume/season which would be significantly larger than the first.

Because we’d be doing it then, we’d have bit more buildup for this story. Cardin’s bullying and enmity towards Jaune would be set up in the prior volume/season’s class interactions. As I noted in my School Rewrite, Jaune’s strategic abilities would also be showcased early on as well as Cardin’s tendency to go head on and brutal without realizing potential problems with that approach. Jaune’s relationship with Pyrrha and the rest of his team would also be better set up.

Now that the board is set, let’s get to it.

Student Days

The first thing I would absolutely change is making it clear that Jaune is actually trying. That was the thing that really did irk me with how Miles and Kerry wrote this arc, despite having gone through the effort of cheating his way into a huntsman academy, he then proceeds to goof off and put absolutely no effort into it. So, before and during this arc, it’ll be clearly shown he’s been studying like crazy and putting in extra time into the fighting simulations that are available for students. He’s not failing in terms of his regular studies, but he’s not top of the class either. In terms of physical combat, he’s the worst in his year, but he’s exceptional in Strategy and Tactics. This I think would be a good and reasonable place for Jaune starting out given his character and background prior to the series.

Thing is, this pisses Cardin off. He sees how much of a weakling Jaune is as a fighter and can see that he is so out of place at Beacon. Despite this, he’s paired with arguably the strongest person in their class who hangs on his every word and has (unintentionally) been showing him up as a leader during Strategy and Tactics. He knows something is off with Jaune, leading him to spy on him to figure out what’s up.

I wouldn’t change that much with him and Pyrrha’s interaction on the roof, I already briefed the reason why Pyrrha trusts him as a leader in her rewrite post. Maybe throw in a hint that his father really didn’t want Jaune to become a huntsman, but I’ll get into that when I get into his backstory proper.

I also wouldn’t change that much revolving in his talk with Cardin straight after save for one thing. After Jaune is left alone with his thoughts on this situation his lies have gotten him into, the scene shifts to being shown on a screen, making it clear that this is being watched from a camera on the roof. A finger taps on the screen a few times and we hear a familiar pensive hum.

The fall out with his team and his one on one with Ruby isn’t really changed, aside from Ren and Nora being more vocally concerned about Jaune’s actions and Pyrrha’s frosty change in behavior which the latter shoots down the concerns sharply.

Forever Falls/Aftermath

I don’t think I’ll change that much regarding the trip itself. I was thinking of mentioning the reason the teams are there is because this is their group task for the month (gathering sap for Professor Peach, who would actually be here taking originally Glynda’s place) and that’s why it’s only these three teams here. Same overall events occur: CRDL tries to get Pyrrha, Jaune stands up to Cardin, Grimm take down with Pyrrha’s unknown aid.

Jaune does apologize to Pyrrha like in the original and ask to train him. Though I was thinking that he’d get something a bit more painful than just a hard shove. I was thinking she’d take his hand and tackle him to the ground hard while pointing out his weaknesses.

This will cut to Ozpin’s office, with Cardin finishing up with telling his version of events who is obviously very agitated from the day’s events. In this Rewrite, there is no reason why he wouldn’t just tell on Jaune. Ozpin merely takes it all in with pensive expression before asking about the light that seemed to protect Jaune. Cardin answers this with confusion and some surprise, Ozpin nodding with a “Good to know” before updating a file on his tablet. Cardin is even more confused and asks what the Headmaster is going to do about Jaune. His answer: Nothing.

Cardin is shocked and furious at the Headmaster, going into him a bit before threatening to go to the board with this. Ozpin responds that even if he did so, he wouldn’t have a case. Cardin is completely confused as Ozpin explains: When students apply for Beacon, their applications go through extensive background checks before there are selections for the second round (ie the Entrance Exam). Such fake transcripts would have been discovered around that time.....had they actually gone through the admissions board. As it was, Jaune’s was accepted through an alternative.

But honestly, that’s not to say the admissions board is completely infallible, Ozpin would muse. Some are very inclined to promote those connected to them, others are interested in advancing their career elsewhere,.....and some might be inclined to take money from very influential people, such as a well meaning Uncle whose Council seat is up for reelection soon. Cardin gets noticeably stiff at that last one. Then Ozpin bring up some videos to the screen, all of them showing Cardin and his team bullying others, particularly Faunus students. The headmaster then would muse aloud that he wonder how Councilman Winchester, or moreso his Faunus opponent, would react to such un-Huntsman like behavior getting out into the news. Cardin immediately gets what the headmaster wants and goes completely quiet. Ozpin would merely say that he is a big believer in second chances and that while he understands that shenanigans in such as a school as this is to expected, Cardin would do best to remember that even if he thinks no one is watching he should act like there is. This cuts the meeting to a close with Cardin leaving quietly and Oz going back to his tablet, clicking back to a file with Jaune’s symbol on in it amongst others files with symbols on them. Only Jaune’s is a different color than the others and a scroll up would show us only one other file with that same color: Ruby’s.

Okay, it feels like I spent a lot of this post musing on the Cardin and Ozpin scene (really I could have done a oneshot on it), but this really was an important scene to establish some very important things to this Rewrite.

1. Ozpin is not an idiot. Ozpin is shown to be very aware of what’s going on at his school. While he may not get directly involved with things, he is shown to be watching his students. And while he is shown to be merciful in giving Cardin a second chance after the crap he pulled, he is also shown to not be a pushover. With such vigilance showcased, it will the Fall of Beacon even more devastating in how Ozpin missed his enemies working under his nose.

2. Ozpin’s true nature and goals are thrown into question. This rewrite is going to be more morally gray, especially in regards to Ozpin. Not only has he blackmailed a student to keep it quiet about another student, he knowingly let someone into his school he knew wasn’t qualified. In this rewrite up until this point he would have been shown as a distant but well intentioned headmaster. Now, he’s just gotten plenty shady. It would also bring into question Ruby’s enrollment into Beacon given that she got in in the same way (also strengthening those two’s parallels, but I digress).

3. Makes us question why Ozpin let Jaune in and sets up that Jaune is important in some way. As noted in my musings in a previous post, it makes no sense for Jaune to have gotten into Beacon unless Ozpin saw his transcripts and accepted him on that alone. Since we are shown in this scene Ozpin is aware of the transcripts, it makes us question what did he accept Jaune for. This also sets up that he will be important to the story moving forward, and not just as the revenge driven not ex boyfriend of the girl who tragically died.

Now, why did Ozpin accept him? Well, that will be covered in his own character post. I think this is plenty long enough and I think I will do something different before I get back to these Rewrite post. I hope like this one more than the last.

See you all! And stay save in this Covid time!

[ghoestys]

✧*:･ﾟTHE JUNGS — task #2⌋

the jungs started out as world renowned physicians who would later take over the medical world through not only their medical advances as doctors themselves, but also by owning one of the best chain of hospitals the world had to offer. in the medical world, the jung family are highly respected and acclaimed. their hospitals offer the best level of care and perform their own research that help in finding the latest medical advances. due to their high status in the medical world, they’re also known globally for their philanthropy and hospitality. the family is very public, their moves and decisions are always being praised or criticized.

the dynamic of the jung family can be extremely turbulent. depending on who is talking about the family, their dynamic can sound very different. if you’re asking richard, then the dynamic is loving, yet confusing. if you’re asking elizabeth, then the dynamic is close enough to be considered perfect. if you’re asking sebastian, then the dynamic is selective and broken. if you’re asking silvia, then she wouldn’t even be able to tell you what the dynamic is because she doesn’t know anymore.

RICHARD JUNG, father

genuine, loving, and compassionate. richard was elizabeth’s husband, the father of the twins, and was a twin himself before jeremy died. out of everyone in the jung family, richard was the kindest and healthiest. he was a good husband, a good father, and a good twin. he loved being a physician and took a lot of pride knowing that he was helping make the world a better, healthier place for everyone. he was a true philanthropist, all he ever wanted to do was help everyone around him. he was genuine with his intention with various people being able to vouch that there is no mean bone in his body. after richard’s twin was killed by his wife, richard couldn’t handle the grief that resulted from it. richard saw jeremy as his other half and by having jeremy taken away from him by someone else he loved broke him entirely. to deal with the grief, richard disappeared and the only jung who has seen him since is silvia.  

silvia had a genuinely healthy and loving dynamic with her father. although silvia didn’t share the same bond their father had with sebastian, they still held a close father/daughter relationship. she looked up to him for everything good and true. her desire to help others and to become a physician and study medical engineering to discover medical advances stemmed from wanting to be like her father. growing up, silvia saw how loved and respected her father was and she wanted to be viewed the same exact way when she grew up. she worked hard all throughout high school and was known for being friendly and helpful because of how much she wanted to be like her father and follow in his footsteps. from attending yale to becoming the elite’s president, silvia has always wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps.

ELIZABETH JUNG, mother

conniving, cruel, and intentional. elizabeth determines how you view and know her. she’s the queen of manipulation and wearing masks. she can either be loving and kind or cruel and ruthless. how you know her depends on how she views you. if you’re worth something, then you see her “good” side and if you’re worth nothing, then you see her true side. elizabeth has always been a power hungry individual. although she claims to have married richard for love, a big part of the reason why she truly wanted to marry richard was because of the power she saw in him. she knew richard and his twin were going to change the world and become powerful and elizabeth desperately wanted to be apart of that. when she married richard and the jungs became world renowned physicans, elizabeth felt like she hit the jackpot. she loves power and everything that comes with it. she loves the forced respect, the luxury, the privilege, everything. elizabeth is a smart business woman who mostly handled the business part of the hospital. when she realized that her family could have more money by removing jeremy, she did not hesitate to do it. again, elizabeth is power hungry and will do whatever it takes to make it out on top. she will hurt, betray, lie, intimidate, and anything else to make sure she’s always the most powerful person in the room.

before everything, silvia loved her mother just as much as she loved her father. the mom has always been considered to be the “tougher” one of the two, but silvia always experienced the loving side of her mother instead of the cruel side that sebastian experienced. growing up, it was unknown to silvia that she was her mother’s favorite. again, elizabeth chooses how she wants you to view her and for silvia, elizabeth only ever wanted to be seen as the most loving mother possible. to silvia, elizabeth was the most loving mother and they had a good relationship. they’d go shopping, have mother/daughter dates, etc. silvia didn’t look up to her mom the same way she looked up to her dad, but silvia got qualities from her mom that she didn’t realize she had until recently. after finding out the truth of how her mother really is and what she did to uncle jeremy, silvia can’t look at her mother the same way anymore. a part of her is angry and disgusted by her mother, but the other part of her doesn’t know how to let go of her mother. she disapproves of who her mother is and can’t comprehend why her mother would do such an awful thing, but at the same time silvia can’t fully separate from her mother because of the relationship silvia thought she shared with her growing up.  

SEBASTIAN JUNG, twin brother

although it’s common for twins to skip a generation, every jung generation has had a set of twins that have made an impact in some way or another. maybe it was positive or maybe it was negative, but there was always something significant about being a twin in the long line of jungs.

growing up, silvia and sebastian were best friends and are opposite ends of the same magnet. since they are polar opposites, silvia never felt like she had to compete with her twin or had to drastically separate herself from sebastian to be considered her own person. sebastian is the older twin and has always been more protective of silvia. silvia has always been viewed and treated as the baby of the family that everyone tried to protect from everything. she grew up happily, but that was due to being heavily kept in the dark and at the expense of sebastian who obviously didn’t grow up with the same emotional luxury. as we all now have seen, the twins are obviously not the same and their relationship has turned upside down. before they were a power duo who were a force to be reckoned with, but now they’re too busy fighting each other to properly take care of each other. all sebastian wanted to do was protect her, but silvia didn’t see his protection as something that was productive or remotely helpful. he treated silvia like she was a glass doll and she grew up to essentially not know how to protect herself because everything was done for her. it was thoughtful and done with good intentions, but it obviously didn’t work out.

THUMPER & FLOWER, pets

silvia has two dogs! her first pet is thumper who is a male golden retriever she got when she was young and is the brother to sebastian’s dog bambi. unlike how silvia is usually calm and collected, thumper is more mischievous and tires themself out easily. he’s a very active dog and silvia loves taking him out on long walks and hikes. he’s very talkative and loves communicating with silvia. she got him buttons to push so he can talk to her and now she hears “treat” and “outside” 20x a day. flower is silvia’s second dog who is another male and currently a puppy. she recently adopted him at a shelter in new zealand and he’s a lot calmer than thumper. silvia decided to name him flower to match thumper & bambi. thumper is older than flower, but flower acts more like an old man than thumper. flower just wants to cuddle and rest, but thumper is the one constantly trying to get him to do something. while thumper is fond of walks and hikes, flower prefers to be held. flower is still learning to use the buttons, but so far the only one flower has utilized is “sleepy”.

[linssikeittomies]

The Place Between Here And There - Chapter 10: ...And Happiness In Private Life(cont'd)

Masterpost AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7  Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 9(cont'd)

I've finally updated the status of the fic to ABANDONED, I was going to do that way earlier but I didn't want to admit defeat, and then I just kind of forgot... Time really starts flying by as you get older, it totally doesn't feel like 2 years passed by^^' I'm still writing scenes for later on in the fic, and I've had the general outline of the story planned for a long time, but I haven't been able to write complete chapters for any of my projects for over a year now, it's very annoying. Anyway, this is the rest of chapter 9, not my best work but at least I like the part with Toris. He's noticed Ivan's small efforts of being nicer and wants to encourage them. Thanks for everyone who read this story and sorry for not being able to bring it to conclusion for all of you who were invested!

-

Ivan sent Fredya home until Wednesday – claiming it was so he could concentrate on work, but he was sure Fredya could tell he was just fretting about the upcoming meeting. Ivan was terrified Katyushka would get carried away, and that was closer to certainty rather than possibility, and then Fredya would walk out of his life. He had known from the start that the time would come sooner or later, but he had much hoped it would fall on the later end of the spectrum. This was a wholly different case from that of his first girlfriend - the one he had been with all of three days before Katyusha started talking about weddings. She had left him the next day, not surprisingly, and he hadn’t really cared one way or the other - she had been far too practical to occupy his thoughts when she wasn’t in sight. But if Fredya left as suddenly, and he was certainly impulsive enough to do so on the spot, then... Obviously it still wouldn’t be the end of the world,of course it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, losing a home for example would be far worse than losing a companion, it really wasn’t that big of an issue when you thought about it – there was no reason to lose what little will to live Ivan had left over something that insignificant. No reason.

So Ivan would not worry about it – he slammed the door on the thought, and worked hard to put all his concentration on his notes. He had not yet studied Rogers enough, his files on the computer had sat abandoned for too long. Opening his folder, going over the routes again, verifying time codes, Ivan fell to a comfortable, familiar routine, cup of tea beside him growing cold. Rogers didn’t have much of a routine, which made observing him a challenge and data collecting a thrill. At least this was an activity that Ivan could still lose himself in despite whatever non-turmoil was boiling in his gut. Comparing coordinates, discovering overlaps, identifying patterns, data was something Ivan was good at. Data had no emotions, so it was easy to handle. Data didn’t mind his extracurriculars, didn’t judge him for his jealousy, didn’t snoop into his past. Though it also didn’t text him at 3 am to tell him about a silly dream it had. Even less it cared about whether he was coming home for the night or not. It not wanting to watch brainless, cliched superhero should have been a positive, but in the dark, the brain gets sentimental. Ivan suddenly wished he had a file on Fredya. Ivan certainly had enough data on him, though so far it was all in his brain and a few lines in his notebooks. One photo on his phone, a selfie Fredya had sent some weeks ago. It was taken with one of those filter things, Ivan wasn’t familiar with the apps so he couldn’t tell if it was instagram or snappychat or whatever others there were. Fredya had cartoon glasses on his nose, on top of his real-life glasses. He was doing a victory sign, and there was a badly drawn pink heart floating in the lower left corner, not anchored into anything. The composition of the photo was bad. A large dead space occupied the top left, a pile of dirty clothes was poking into the frame from the bottom right. The lighting was scarcely better, the only diffuser was the dust inside the light fixture. Fredya’s artistic ability was nil, though he did make for an attractive subject, harsh shadows and all. It would be nice to have proper photo of him, before he got out of reach. With a reference to guide him, it might be possible. Ivan quickly scanned his bedroom for inspiration.

Perhaps it was too much effort for 2 a.m., but Ivan rather liked the end result. The handful of stars drawn on the wall to form a suggestion of a halo – however wrong it looked on Ivan – and hands posed to form a heart on the chest, and some minor lighting adjustments on photoshop, he thought it near perfectly captured how Ivan saw Fredya. Bright, innocent, center of the universe, unashamed of his affections. Fredya wouldn’t put as much effort in to it, even if he did take his own version of the photo as Ivan had requested, but that was also good. It wasn’t in Fredya’s nature to try too hard at something he didn’t feel like understanding - such as art other than of the moving pictures variety. Together, the photos formed a piece – the fantasy and the reality. It was a commentary on expectations. Fredya may or may not look at the photo when he inevitably got up to go the bathroom sometime soon, but he wouldn’t take his own until afternoon if ever, so Ivan finally went to bed. He only had a few hours before his shift started.

-_-_-_-_-

Fredya had sent an emoji Ivan didn’t understand the meaning as response to the photo, followed by hearts and something that seemed to be an abbreviation, Ivan didn’t research the meaning. It likely wasn’t important. Ivan got coffees for everyone again, and Amanda gave him a incredulous look. It was getting suspicious, Ivan acting nice. He should dial down on the social interactions for the next few days. It would be good practice for when Fredya left him, anyway. “Oh, thank you for going through the trouble”, Toris commented smiling. Ivan studied the smile, trying to map out proportions and gauge timings, but again he failed to replicate the gesture. It kept coming out as sarcastic. He would prefer if both would just shut up and their coffees without scrutinizing his intentions. Let a man act civil to fellow humans beings in peace. “If everyone is done sitting around, we need someone to go interview Fowler’s parishioners.” Predictably, Amanda volunteered for the task. That left Ivan and Toris at the office, reading through statements, comparing alibis and viewing security footage, the same draining and pointless sinkhole of never-ending choppy black-and-white footage that glared a print of the screen in your soul, so that in the end when you lost everything else to dementia and cataracts, you would still see that stinging bright rectangle staring you in the eye, smirking gleefully, taking pleasure in removing everything one used to take joy in, and replacing itself in place of loved ones. That metaphor ran a little wild at the end, there. In all fairness, it could be intriguing work when results could reasonably be expected, but everyone and their mother knew the only thing learned from these particular ones would be just how much time were wasting on them. Even Toris, being his professional self, couldn’t resist glancing at the clock every few minutes. He would of course try to make it inconspicuous, just letting his eyes dart to his wrist and back again, but it was noticeable enough when one was more concentrated on the coworker than the work. It came to Ivan’s mind that perhaps this was another aspect of Toris he should try to simulate, rather than keep studying, his work ethic was excellent. Surely that was something most people would approve of. And Fredya did often complain Ivan was rather lackadaisical about his work, he would appreciate the effort. “How do stay so focused?” he asked sincerely. It was admirable, really, how Toris could throw himself at something so tedious. Toris blinked at him in confusion, probably surprised to see his colleague who was supposed to working beside him blatantly ignoring said work. “I’ve practiced it for years, there’s really no easy trick for it.” “Ah. Shame.” “I find that meditating regularly helps. And a good diet.” Well, that was already two things Ivan would not be trying out. “I could send you some articles  if you’d like.” “You should spend your free time on yourself. You work too much.” Ivan went idly back to his files, not really feeling like working, but deciding to at least give it a shot, but feeling Toris’ curious eyes still fixed on him was too much of a distraction. After several seconds of silence he couldn’t take it anymore. “Yes?” “Thank you. That was considerate of you.” Ivan didn’t know how to answer that. It had been such a banal thing to say. Not warranting any response, really. Just a stock phrase, however true of some people and situations - such as this particular specimen. Toris must have heard the exact same statement hundreds of times in his life, knowing that he had an actual social circle who cared for him. Ivan was outside that circle, and people rarely care for the things outsiders say in matters like these - surely Toris should feel nothing particular about anything Ivan said. There was no need for him to smile like that, it was just embarrassing for a grown man to get so giddy about faint praise. Ivan scoffed and went back to his work.

-_-_-_-_-

U maek a habot of drawning on walls huh Outside of his brief childhood, Ivan had only ever drawn on walls three times - once in a drunk, misguided bout of creative frenzy, once to write his number on an intriguing man’s wall to annoy him, and once in an attempt to save a relic of happier times for the future. Mostly when you are involved, it seems. Perhaps you are my muse for wall-related artistry It had been a while since Ivan had drawn a portrait, but now might be the time to dust off that skill set. Ivan considered himself more of a photographer, but there was also something appealing about creating from scratch. Although... he would need to keep the portrait hidden, it would raise questions and pity later on. Ivan wished he was better at abstraction, that way it wouldn’t look like Fredya to anyone else, but his mind seemed to be too observational for it. It could only make sense of things that connected together in realistic ways, it couldn’t create anything out of feelings alone. Perhaps he simply didn’t have enough of them for that kind of art. The dinner with Fredya and his sisters was a few hours away, but Ivan was already nervously ironing his clothes. He once again pleaded Katyusha to control her romantic impulses, and of course she promised, but Ivan knew that meant little. She had very bad self-control. Tasha’s picking me up, we’ll meet you there Natasha was coming? Nataliya was coming?! Fuck - what was she - this was bad news - why hadn’t she said - oh god, forget about Katyusha ruining everything if Nataliya Grigorova was coming! She never mentioned wanting to come along That sneaky little girl, she told me you said it was okay, haha He would not survive this night sober. He wanted to make a good impression. He did not want to be drunk when the only three people who mattered to him were all in the same room. He wanted to be fully conscious, to enjoy an outing with his family while being fully genuine, not just sedated into calmness. But lord knew he would not survive the night sober.

-_-_-_-_-

Remembering the fit Fredya had thrown the last time Ivan had driven not-strictly-drunk-but-also-not-sober, he was glad that they had arranged beforehand for Fredya to pick him up. Because he was observant in the most inconvenient ways, Ivan had been sure Fredya would notice something was off, maybe a smell or the slow movements to counteract the unsteady hand-to-eye-coordination, but fortunately he was too stoked about meeting Ivan’s sisters again, officially, to notice Ivan’s oddly calm demeanor. He babbled excitedly the whole way there, and was halfway across the street before Ivan had even fully exited the car. “Come on you snail! They’re gonna think we ditched them!” “It’s only a few minutes away, you can afford to slow down”, Ivan chuckled. Fredya was so adorably excited, he resembled a puppy on a walk. “Being overeager is as bad as being late.” “Beg to disagree! Pick up the pace slowpoke!” Fredya sped up ahead, Ivan kept his leisurely pace. He missed the re-introductions, but it seemed like he hadn’t been needed for those at all - Fredya and Katyushka already looked like old friends, while Tasha regarded him with a haughty look, but nary a nasty word. She raised an eyebrow at Ivan, as if saying really, you chose this clown over me?, and he simply smiled pleasantly at her. As they waited for their food to arrive, Fredya and Katyushka were unsurprisingly the only ones to hold up conversation. They had found a common ground in Star Trek - in that Katyusha had heard a lot about it, but had never watched an episode and was interested, and Fredya was an expert in all the series and films and liked talking about them. They went through the pacifistic ideas on the original series and how it sometimes contradicted itself on it, analyzing the casting choices for the remakes, some more things that Ivan had no interest in.  When their plates were brought, the were in the midst of trying to speak klingon - the attempts of both of them were saddeningly hilarious. Or perhaps they were both surprisingly accurate. Ivan had no way of knowing, the franchise being something he had never taken an interest in. Of course he liked space, but he was more fact-oriented than a fan of fanciful fiction. “You seem so young, it’s almost like you’re still in college”, Katyusha giggled, and Ivan could not agree more. The youthful energy Fredya exuded was refreshing, at least most of the time. “Never went to college, I went straight to work from high school”, Fredya explained, crumbs flying. That was the one habit that Ivan never found charming in Fredya, it was just plain disgusting. Tasha made a small chortle of contempt that passed Fredya by. “Our brother is a very intelligent man”, Tasha commented sharply, and Ivan knew exactly what she was going for – he had come to the same conclusion, himself. And truthfully, neither of them had been wrong - Fredya really was stupid. “Oh, tell me about it”, the insulted man chuckled, not understanding what was being implied. Ivan would have liked being able to defend Fredya, but the thing was that Fredya was not intelligent – intellectually or socially, and attempting to claim otherwise would have been pointless. He might have been considered smart in some useless areas, such as entertainment trivia, but faint praise is just as damning as admitting faults. Trivia! There was the opening Fredya needed to impress Tasha! “He has a master’s degree in movie trivia and celebrity gossip, if nothing else. Just give an actor’s name and he will tell you every movie they have ever been in.” “And not just that! I can also tell which year each movie came out!” Fredya exclaimed proudly. Ivan started with an easy one - Tom Cruise. Tasha did look reluctantly impressed as the titles and dates kept on coming, but refused to admit defeat. She tried her favorite actor, someone much more obscure. “Ken Foree?” “Hmm… The midnight man, 2017… Rift, dark side of the moon 2016, Cut slash pri- no wait, I think he was in Divine tragedies, 2015, Cut slash print 2012 –“ However, since

Tasha’s obsession with her brother refused to give way to respect for her perceived enemy, she realized that to claim victory she could simply ask about any non-American film star. “Anastasia Zavorotnyuk.” “Anastasia who?” Of course he pronounced the name the American way, but Ivan was still mildly impressed he could tell Анастасия and Anastasia were the same name. “Zavorotnyuk.” Tasha allowed herself a malevolent smirk as Fredya racked his brain for the name in vain. “A true expert wouldn’t limit himself only to Hollywood”, Tasha hmphed in triumphant malice, believing to have proved her superiority over him once and for all, despite not showing an ability to counter his. It seemed the point had only been to prove Fredya was not omniscient. In Ivan’s eyes, it was enough to be merely well-versed. “He does hate subtitles to the point where I thought he might be illiterate”, Ivan joked. “Hey, at least I speak the language of the country I live in!” “Verily, my darling, thou speakest with the most biting of tongues. Shakespeare himself would envy your prowess.” “The guy lived like hundreds of years ago, who gives a shit? Ivan Drago was famous in the 80’s.” “Ivan can sound almost native when he tries”, Katyusha said, trying to diffuse the argument, not knowing the workings of their relationship well enough to tell it was all said in jest. “I haven’t tried in years, I doubt I could anymore”, Ivan thought. He had tried training his accent away in high school, so he would sound less foreign in job interviews. Having a foreign name was bad enough in an application. He had never achieved a smooth, natural accent, he had to concentrate very hard which caused the words to come out very slowly and robotically, and still there was always a hint of foreign phonemes. Combined with his attempts to deepen his voice – an incredibly embarrassing failure on its own – had made him cringe, even back then. Tasha had encouraged him, of course, because in her mind anything and everything her dear brother did was the right decision. Excluding taking romantic interest in someone other than her, of course.

The rest of the evening went by in much the same fashion. Fredya and Katyusha got along swimmingly, Tasha made snide remarks about Fredya, Ivan defended him in mean ways, Fredya played along. It was all very pleasant. Finally the staff started dropping hints that it was time to vacate the table, so they got up and parted ways. Katyusya was enchanted enough to not wait long enough to be out of earshot before starting to gush about her baby brother’s relationship, which made for a perfect opening for eavesdropping. “Don’t you think Vanechka looks so much happier than usual?” Katyusya said, nearly clapping her hands in excitement. “Idiocy might be contagious”, Tashenka grumbled in response. “I never imagined he’d go for that type, but I guess it goes to show opposites really do attract!” Katyushka squeed. “It’s only for the moment. That American moron will start getting on Vanya’s nerves soon”, Tashenka claimed, not sounding too confident herself. Ivan had expected that to happen as well, in the beginning. “I hope he won’t, I think Alfred is good for Vanechka. He’s come out of his shell.” What did she mean by that? As far as Ivan was aware, he had never been shy around his sisters. Or other people, for that matter. “What’re you frowning about?” Fredya asked. “I’m eavesdropping. Katyusha likes you, and Natasha doesn’t despise you.” “Well that’s good news isn’t it?” Fredya smiled, and tried to hear the women. “Man, you got great hearing. I can’t hear them at all.” Yes, it did take some practice to achieve Ivan’s level of spying on other people’s conversations. And by then they had gotten far enough that Ivan couldn’t hear then anymore either, actually. “Your eardrums must be damaged from the all screeching you do.” “You’re walking home, asshole.”

-

Tasha + Katyushka = affectionate nicknames for Nataliya and Yekaterina. Tashenka + Katyusya = one level more intimate. Ivan is being drunk and sentimental so at the end of the evening, the way he feels about his sisters is something like most people do when seeing tiny kittens. Thanks again for reading! Maybe in like 10 years so I'll add a final "chapter" describing the rest of the plot, but I know myself and won't make any promises. I have some more snippets on the masterpost if anyone wants to frustrate themselves with a story that will never be finished.

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (3)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3800

A/N: My HS German teacher would be so disappointed to discover I used Google Translate. I also actually researched WWII med kits for this.

[New York, New York, March 2024]

You sat at your kitchen counter and admired the ruby ring on your finger. Max had gotten half of what he had pillaged from Anderson’s home, you had even let him have first choice. He also got a third of the million dollars you had earned for the death of Morano. You had also given Izzy one fourth of the million for her troubles.

“What’s next?” Max asked from your couch.

“Nothing.” You stood up and joined your friend on the couches.

“Bitch, what are you saying?” He raised an eyebrow at you. Today’s theme was gold. When he had walked into your apartment, he held up one manicured nail as a warning before you could say anything. “We just had a great haul and you wanna stop before we really get the ball rolling?”

“The Avengers got involved,” you pointed out. “I am not dealing with them.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“They’re heroes set on ridding the world of evil and we literally fucking kill people for a living.”

“Uh-huh. Are you sure you’re not just avoiding someone?” Max laughed.

“I’m sure,” you said with a glare but Max only laughed harder. “What I’m avoiding— Max, shut up. What I’m fucking avoiding is being thrown in jail or even death. You just want to be caught so that you can shoot your shot with a supersoldier.”

“Or the God of Thunder.” He gasped and looked at you with wide eyes. “What if we could be in-laws!” You rolled your eyes and suppressed a smirk. “Hmm. Imagine being dicked down by a god. Well, I doubt you have to imagine.”

“Shut.” You picked up a pillow. “The.” You smacked Max. “Fuck.” Smack! “Up.” Smack!

“How was it? Tell me everything.” He escaped to the loveseat and composed himself.

“Get your fuckin’ head out of the gutter, Max. It was back in the 1500s and I was a princess and princesses don’t just go around getting ‘dicked down’ as you so nicely put it.”

“Damn, sometimes I forget that you were literally the Queen of fucking England.” He cocked his head. “Are you sure you don’t want to see Loki again? From what you told me it sounded like you really loved him and he loved you.”

“I-I never said it, though.” It was true. You loved Loki. You still love Loki. Did he love you too? You were soulmates and you were made for each other, but it had been four hundred and eight-six shitty years since he had last seen you. “Not to mention the awkward situation of having to explain why I’m still alive.”

“Um, that’s easy,” Max said. “It’s just, ‘Oh, Loki,’” he mimicked your voice. “‘It’s me, (Y/N), the one and only love of your life. Surprise! I’m still alive.’”

“That’s not how I sound.” But you couldn’t hide your grin.

“‘I am an Inhuman whose power is to look pretty and live forever.’”

“Your power is very obviously not mimicry.”

“See? Easy,” Max smirked. “I give you full permission to plagiarize my speech.”

“Nuh uh. It’s not plagiarism if I pay you to write my speeches.”

“Honey, what speeches are you making?”

Before you could respond, your phone started ringing. Hardly anyone called you. Could it be the Avengers? It couldn’t be, no matter how good Stark’s AI was. Max was also giving your phone a strange look. Your curiosity got the best of you and you answered.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N)? Oh, my god. Listen I know you said only to call if it’s an emergency, but it’s an emergency,” the person on the other side spoke quickly.

“Wait, wait. Arthur, is that you?” Arthur was your man up in Michigan with the ability to generate light.

“Yes, it’s Arthur. I’m calling because the Avengers showed up at my last job. I barely managed to get a picture and get out. I might have blinded the Scarlet Witch!”

“She’ll be okay. Hey, man. How about you lay low for a while. Spread the word for others to do the same.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that.”

“Stay safe, Arthur,” you parted.

“What happened?” Max asked.

You told him everything. “We have a technokeniser nearby, don't we?”

🌹

You looked at yourself in the mirror, the night time New York skyline twinkling behind you. You wore nothing but your undergarments, but your black stealth suit was waiting for you on your bed. Your skin was smooth and unblemished thanks to your accelerated cell healing. Everything was perfect except for the single, one-inch scar directly above your left knee.

Apparently, vibranium was your weakness. It didn’t bother you because everyone had to have a weakness. Thankfully, it was a rare metal on Earth. Your cells repaired themselves slowly like a normal human when it came to injuries dealt with vibranium. You had learned that the hard way.

[Austria 1944]

You were in central Austria for two weeks while things back in New York calmed down. It turned out that the man you had strangled three days ago was a low ranking member of the local mafia. Because the man wasn’t that important, they would, hopefully, move on quickly and you could safely resume your contract killings.

It was a beautiful place, with many trees that were changing with the season and beautiful lush mountains. Just a few days after you had arrived, Captain America and the Howling Commandos rolled into town. People cheered and it almost felt like a parade.

You had heard of them of course, going around Europe dismantling the Nazi organization called Hydra. You walked through town, dress swishing around your calves and hair pinned in the latest style. You looked like the stereotypical rich American girl. Your favorite heels clicked along the cobblestone road as you windowshopped.

“Guten Tag Fräulein,” a young man winked at you as he leaned against a wall. “Du siehst wunderschön aus, aber du würdest noch besser aussehen wenn—”

His words stopped when your fist slammed into his face, your ring cutting his cheek. You were not in the fucking mood to be catcalled today. You were never in the mood to be catcalled.

“Du verdienst das,” another male voice said behind you.

You turned around and your eyes widened when you saw one of the Howling Commandos standing there. More specifically, James Buchanan Barnes, Captain America’s best friend from Brooklyn.

“Bist du in Ord-Ordnung?” he stumbled over the word.

“I didn’t know you could speak German,” you smirked and continued your stroll through town. “Not the best at it, though.”

“Oh, you’re American!” He fell into step next to you. From the twenty-some years you had lived in New York growing your business, you had lost your accent.

“I suppose,” you said vaguely.

“We kinda need to know some German if we’re going to be intercepting Nazi communications,” he explained and rubbed the back of his head. “They usually don’t ask if everyone’s alright, so I don’t really know the phrase.”

“Bist du in Ordnung?”

“Bist du in Ordung?” he tried and you chuckled.

“Ord-nung,” you drew out the syllables.

“Ordnung.”

“Bist du in Ordnung?”

“Bist du in Ordnung?”

“That’s better,” you smiled. “You’ll be sweeping girls off their feet with your German in no time Sergent.”

“This may be a bit forward,” he said slowly and you raised your eyebrows. “But… Do you want to see the shield? Considering you’re American and all that. Girls always want to see Captain America’s shield.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m like them.” You brought a finger up to your chin and pretended to think. “But my answer is yes. I would like to see the shield.”

He grinned and led you to the edge of the forest. You held nothing against forests, but they always reminded you of Loki. They reminded you of the days long ago when he actually was there for you. When he cared about you. When you hesitated before going under the cover of trees, Barnes gave you a strange look.

“Just a bit suspicious,” you lied. “Leadin’ a sweet little dame like me into a mysterious forest mere minutes after you met me?”

“Based on what I saw back there, you can handle yourself. If anythin’, I’m worried ‘bout myself. The rest of the Commandos are within shouting distance so don’t you try anything,” he said with a laugh.

You joined in and you two walked deeper into the forest. Sure enough, the sounds of boisterous laughter and cheers reached your ears. Captain America and the Howling Commandos sat around a small clearing. When you said ‘small clearing’ you meant small. Like a circle with a three-meter radius small.

“Who do you have there, Buck?” a tall blond asked. It took you a moment to realize that he was Captain America. You almost didn’t recognize him without his helmet.

“Fellas, this is… Do I know your name?” The Howling Commandos lived up to their names and began to howl with laughter.

“You can call me (Y/N),” you laughed. “James saw me punch a guy and invited me to check out Captain America’s shield.”

“What’s a nice American dame doin’ all the way in Austria?” a man with a prominent mustache asked. Dum Dum Dougan.

“Hiding.”

“So you wanted to see the shield?” Jim Morita asked.

“That would be nice.” A look passed around the group. “I’m not going to steal it,” you scoffed. “Even if that was my intention, I’m wearing heels.” Another look went around.

“Be careful,” the Captain handed the red, white, and blue shield to you. “Buck, can I talk to you?” He and Barnes walked away and with your enhanced hearing, you briefly heard, “-can’t just bring over any dame…”

You smirked and examined the shield. Vibranium, the metal was called. It was strange how light it actually was. Once you finished, you looked up at the remaining Commandos who were staring at you.

“Do you know any tricks?”

Gabe Jones eagerly raised his hand and you passed him the shield. The other men quickly scrambled away. Jones threw the shield like a frisbee and it rebounded off of a tree with surprising speed, the dark-skinned man barely caught it.

“That was pretty good, eh?” he asked the group.

“Au moins, cela n'a touché personne cette fois,” Jacques Dernier spoke in quick French. At least you didn’t hit anyone this time. Jones groaned and you hid your smirk.

“I have a trick,” James Montgomery Falsworth said.

He took the shield from Jones and everyone took another step backward. Falsworth noticed this and rolled his eyes. He roughly threw the shield in the air with a flick of his wrist that gave it a spin. You guessed he wanted it to bounce back to him, but the shield hit a rock and veered off course.

Instead of returning to Falsworth’s hand, it flew at you. The vibranium hit your left leg above your knee through your dress. How sharp was the shield because it actually cut your leg. You could already see some blood seep into the dress.

“Oh fuck! I mean gosh darn it!” Dougan cried and helped you stay on your feet.

“I didn’t— I’m so sorry,” Falsworth stuttered in his British accent. “Are you okay?”

If only he knew that he had hit one of his former Queens. The thought made you laugh through the stinging pain in your leg. You shifted your weight onto your right leg.

“I’m fine,” you said in between short bursts of giggles. It wasn’t that funny. Anyways, the wound would heal soon.

“What happened?” Captain America and Barnes returned to the group.

“Uh—”

“Er—”

“Um—”

“The shield hit my leg,” you said and motioned to the small bit of blood on your dress. “I’m fine though.”

“We were only gone for two minutes.” The Captain looked at the Commandos.

“They just wanted to show off for a pretty dame,” Barnes winked at you.

“I told you guys to be careful,” the Captain sighed. “Come with me, ma’am, and I can help you clean up.”

Small wounds like these would usually be healed by now so you were about to tell him that you can handle it yourself but you could still feel the sting of the cut. You nodded and accepted his invitation. You walked over to him and he put an arm around you to help you support your weight.

He brought you to a house on the edge of the forest. Rows of cots covered the ground. A table with a map stood in the back. Men’s clothes and trinkets laid around the room. The Captain led you to one cot and pulled out a small first aid kit from underneath.

You rolled your skirt up just until the wound was visible. It was about two and a half centimeters long, but it was a bit deeper than you expected. The Captain pulled out a small tin box that read ‘Iodine Swabs.’ He removed one of the swabs and began to clean around your wound.

“I don’t know how this could have happened,” he said. You realized he was trying to avoid touching you.

“You can touch me. I don’t mind.” He nodded and the process went faster. “And don’t worry about the shield.”

“It shouldn’t be able to cut skin like this.” He moved onto the hydrogen peroxide and dampened a cotton pad with the solution.

“It was spinning. Maybe that had something to do with it?” Another question, a more important question was why weren’t you healed yet?

“Maybe.” Then he began to profusely apologize when you hissed the moment the hydrogen peroxide touched your wound. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“It’s alright, Captain,” you laugh lightly. “And just call me (Y/N).”

“Alright, (Y/N).” He wrapped your injury and gave you a kind smile. “Then you can call me Steve.”

“First name basis with Captain America, huh?”

🌹

Your phone read 2:47 as your silver Porsche 911 rolled to a silent stop with its headlights off. The Avengers compound was about a mile up the road. Liam, with his technokinesis, managed to get you this close, but now you had to leave the safety of the car. You crept through the woods, Max and Liam close behind you.

Liam just wore black jeans and a black leather jacket. He also had a black bandana around his head, again, courtesy of Max. Max also wore a similar leather jacket and bandana as well as black leather pants and a cape. He had shown you his Captain America shirt underneath the jacket, you know, ‘just in case.’ You were in a fucking normal skintight stealth suit.

“What if we get lost?” Liam whispered.

“We won’t,” you said. There was a force pulling you in the right direction. You could feel the familiar aura Loki’s presence grow stronger as you neared the compound. Your heart was racing, but it wasn’t because of the current mission. Could he feel you too?

Fifteen minutes later, the Avengers compound came into view. Fortunately, Liam didn’t need a computer to do his work. Stark was so fucking tech savvy that all Liam needed was to get inside. He didn’t need any help to do that either, easily disabling the electronic locks. Honestly, you and Max were just there for protection. Max took watch outside while you stayed with Liam inside.

“You know what to do?” you asked and kept your eyes fixed on the dark hallway.

“Yeah,” he placed his hand on the wall and closed his eyes. Glowing blue lines that resembled a circuit board grew from his hand. “First delete everything they have on us. Then, if there’s time, scramble everything else.”

“How long is it going to take?”

“Not too long. Maybe ten to fifteen minutes?”

This was the closest you’ve been to Loki since 2012. Maybe the closest you’ve been to him since 1538. What was he doing right now? Was he sleeping? Would your presence wake him up? If you could just…

“Where are you going?” Liam’s words shook you out of your head.

Where were you going? To your soulmate, probably. You were five feet away from where you stood before your mind was consumed by the thought of Loki.

The distraction had consequences when Max’s shout of surprise made you look back just in time to see your friend doge a blast from Iron Man. A small sound from the end of the hall caused you to whirl back around. You ducked, barely missing being decapitated by Captain America’s shield and you knew you wouldn’t heal from that.

“Fuck.” You pulled out a gun as the shield returned to its owner. “How much time do you need?” You fired twice down the hall and saw two sets of sparks where the bullets met the vibranium shield. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and saw your opponent.

“Just give me two minutes.”

Liam opened his eyes and clenched his fist at the flying billionaire outside. The Iron Man suit’s eyes dimmed and it fell to the ground. That left Max to deal with the Black Widow who was doing well on Max’s ice-like surface.

You went to meet the Captain in the dim hallway. You landed a quick hit on him before he could react. Instead of raising his shield, he pushed it into your chest, shoving you back. He moved forward and you dodged his punch. You went to punch Steve’s head again and this time he raised his shield. When he did, you used your other hand to punch him in the stomach. Hard. He bent over slightly and you took the opportunity to sweep his feet out from under him. You noticed something…

Shit, was Loki getting closer? You could feel the link grow stronger.

Steve used his shield to sweep your feet out from under you this time. You landed on your back which knocked the breath out of you. To recover, you took a deep breath while Steve pinned you to the ground. He was about to hit your face but you managed to catch his fist. Using his momentum, you forced his fist down to the side of your face, throwing him off balance. You flipped him over and now you were on top.

“Ma’am, we can work this out,” he said. Captain America, always the diplomat.

“I thought we were on a first name basis, Steve,” you smirked and you could pinpoint the moment realization set in. Using his distracted state, you grabbed his shield and slammed it into the side of his head, effectively knocking him out.

“We’re good to go,” Liam called. Just in time because Loki was definitely coming.

You stood up and took an involuntary step in the wrong direction. In the direction Loki was. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck. Come on, (Y/N). Go the other way. Finally, your body listened to you and you ran out the doors.

“You deleted the security footage of tonight too, right?” you asked Liam as you ran.

“Yes, I got that too.”

Max saw the two of you and joined you, leaving the Black Widow on the unnaturally smooth grass. You passed the Iron Man suit that was laying on its back. Wait, was the Stark asshole still in there? Yes, you could hear faint complaining coming from the suit.

You felt the ground under you change to feel springier like a track, no doubt Max’s doing. The three of you made it back to the car within seven minutes, all of you out of breath with you less so than the two men.

You started your car and sped down the road. Max and Liam collapsed in the back.

“Man, that was awesome what you did to Iron Man,” Max laughed.

“Nah, you were great against the Black Widow. Not everyone gets away with just a black eye and cut lip.”

“And bruised ribs and missing a cape.”

The two men laughed in the backseat as the adrenaline wore off but your tight grip on the steering wheel didn’t relax until the feeling of Loki was gone.

🌹

Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Thor, and Brunnhilde were immediately called to the conference rooms when they returned from Michigan. Steve quickly found Bucky by the hanger. The metal armed supersoldier noticed that his blond friend was in uniform and had a couple faint bruises on his face.

“What the fuck happ—”

“Do you remember being in Austria in 1944?” Steve cut him off.

“Those were pretty busy years, pal. We were all over the fuckin’ place.”

“Do you remember a girl? You said she punched some Austrian guy in the face for catcalling her. You brought her to meet the Commandos and Falsworth hit her with my shield? Her name was (Y/N).”

“Um, yeah, I think I remember. She taught me some German.” Bucky raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Why are you askin’?”

“She was here and it was like she hadn’t aged a day,” Steve said and gauged his friend’s reaction. “She was actually the one to…” he gestured at his bruised face.

“So what actually happened?” They walked into the conference room.

“Short story?” Tony asked. A blind man would have been able to tell that the billionaire was furious. “Three fucking people broke into the fucking compound and fucking deleted the files I had created for the fucking white rose assassins case.” He slammed his fist on the table each time he swore.

“What do we have?” Sam asked. “‘Cause we got nothin’ from Michigan.”

“Yeah.” Wanda put her head on the table. “Just blinded.”

“Three people,” Steve repeated. “Two men and one woman, all enhanced. against me, Nat, and Tony. Clint is still benched.”

“Where were you, brother?” Thor looked at Loki.

“I was distracted about something else,” he stated

Loki thought about what had happened during the attack. He had sensed her. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Something had been trying to pull him somewhere. When he finally gave in, the feeling had led him to find an unconscious Captain and Stark trapped in his own suit. The tugging had faded then and the attackers were nowhere to be found.

“The woman,” Steve continued. “I think she was the same one from the cafe.”

“She has to be at the head of this thing,” Nat said.

Loki had thought the woman in the video had reminded him of (Y/N).

“I met her before.” Everyone looked at Steve.

“We both did,” Bucky added. “In Austria back during the war.”

“And she hasn’t aged a day. She referenced something she said when we met. I know it was her. I never forget anything.”

The God of Mischief’s heart missed a beat. Was it possible for the woman to be older than they thought? All signs were pointing at (Y/N). The woman’s familiarity. The strange tugging. The long life.

“What does this mean?” Clint asked.

“We don’t know.”

*

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Tags: @kaithehero @liliannyah @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury @aberrant-annie @simplybree @adalina-perez @emage-king @yandereforyou @notactiveonmain @tvdplusriverdale

[thebaconsandwichofregret]

Happy False Value Day everyone!!!

As many of you know Ben Aaronovitch used to work for Waterstone’s, a bookshop chain in the UK, and because he’s quite proud of having worked there (and they are proud of having once employed him, no seriously, every time I even look at one of his books in one of their shops a member of staff spontaneously appears to tell me “He used to work here you know!” If I had a pound for every time I’d heard that I could afford to buy the Folly) he gives Waterstone’s a special exclusive short story in the first run of every new Rivers of London book. 

Obviously this is great for those of us who are UK fans. 

It’s less great for those of you who are international fans. However in the spirit of International Magical Cooperation I managed to get my hands on my copy ever so slightly early and so I have here for your reading pleasure, the exclusive short story from False Value - A Dedicated Follower of Fashion

Please note that this story contains mentions of sex and drugs and rock’n’roll

A Dedicated Follower of Fashion

By Ben Aaronovitch

You know that song by The Kinks? Not that one. The other one. No, not that one either. Yeah, that one- ‘Dedicated Follower of Fashion’. You wouldn’t believe it to look at me now, but that song’s about me. 

These days my daughter does her best to keep me looking respectable, and I haven’t the heart to tell her that I’d much rather wear my nice comfortable corduroy trousers, with braces, and leave my shirt untucked. But back in the sixties I was the dedicated follower of fashion. And it’s true that they sought me here and they sought me there but, as Ray Davies knew perfectly well, that was probably because of the drug dealing. What can I say? Clothes aren’t cheap. 

I was a middleman buying wholesale and supplying a network of dealers, mostly in and around the King’s Road. I rarely sold retail, although I did have a number of select clients. And of course nothing lubricates a soirée like a bowl full of alpha-methylphenethylamine. It was all going swimmingly until some little shit from Islington stiffed me on a payment and I found myself coming up ten grand short. And, believe me, ten grand in 1967 was a lot of money. You could buy a house in Notting Hill for less than that - not that anyone wanted to, not in those days. 

Now, I’ll admit that as an entrepreneur working in such a volatile industry, I probably should have ensured that I had a cash reserve stashed away against such an eventuality. Mistakes were definitely made. But in my defence, not only had I just discovered the joys of blow, I was also distracted by my infatuation with Lilith. 

Now, I’ve always cheerfully swung both ways and, to be honest, I’ve always been more attracted by the cut of someone’s trousers than what was held therein. But when I met Lilith it was if all the cash registers rung out in celebration. She was so like a man in some ways and so like a woman in others. I’d love to say that it was the best of both worlds, but looking back it was a disaster in every respect. Although a completely exhilarating disaster, like a roller coaster to an unknown destination. I tried explaining what she was like to Ray Davies and that beardy writer who ran that sci-fi magazine, but they both got her completely wrong. 

So there I was, suddenly ten grand down to people whose names you’re better off not knowing - let’s just call them the Deplorables and leave it at that. If I tell you that their nicknames were Cutter, Lead Pipe and Gnasher, that should give you a flavour of their character. You could call Cutter the brains behind the gang but that would be risking an overstatement. Organised crime in the good old days required little in the way of actual brains and relied much more on a calculated defiance of the social niceties vis-à-vis psychotic violence. Terrify your rivals, bully your customers, and hand out a bung to the local constabulary and you were away. 

And it goes without saying that aesthetically they were a dead loss. 

The Deplorables had a straightforward approach to those that owed them money which I will leave to your imagination - suffice only to say that it involved a sledgehammer and, of all things, a marlinspike. 

But I had no intention of losing my knees, so I had arranged a couple of new deals that would net me a sufficient profit to cover both what I owed the Deplorables and the same again to appease them sufficiently to save my poor knees from a fate worse than polyester. 

I know some of you are thinking that polyester was hip and groovy back in the Swinging Sixties, but trust me when I say that it was an abomination from the start - whatever the elegance of its long chain polymers.

In order to keep body and wardrobe together while I waited for these deals to come to fruition I decanted, along with Lilith and my faithful sidekick Merton, to a squat in Wandsworth just off the Earlsfield High Street. Now, I normally shun the transpontine reaches of the capital. But my thinking was sound. With my reputation as a flower of Chelsea and the King’s Road, I reckoned that nobody - least of all the dim members of the Deplorables - would think to look for me across the river. 

‘No fucking way,’ said Lilith when she first saw it, ‘am I living in this shithole.’

Squats come in many flavours. But political, religious or student, they are almost always shitholes. However, I could see this one had potential and Nigel, God bless his woolen Woolworths socks, had at least kept it clean. 

But not particularly tidy. 

Outwardly Nigel was definitely one of the children of Aquarius. Inside he had the soul of an accountant, but alas none of the facility with numbers. 

According to Nigel, who could be dull about this sort of thing, the building we were squatting in had been built in the eighteenth century as an inn that specialised in serving the trade along the river Wandle. This was news to me, because I had assumed the rank channel immediately behind the house was a canal. 

‘There used to be factories up and down the Wandle,’ he told me despite my best efforts to stop him, ‘all connected up with barges. And this is where the wartermen used to get their drinks in.’

With the collapse of that trade it was converted into a grad town house, a status it retained for a hundred years or so before providing slum housing for the unwashed multitude. Occasionally on its hundred-year odyssey it would surface into the light of respectable society before descending once more into the depths of squalor. 

Which is where yours truly arrived to bring a touch of colour and a modicum of good taste to the old place. 

Looking back, I believe that might have been the start of the whole ghastly business. 

Now the thing about the drug trade is that it overlaps with the general smuggling industry. As a result a man with the right contacts can acquire much in the way of valuable cloth - Egyptian cotton and the like - without troubling the good people of Her Majesty’s Customs and Excise. Then such an individual might use his reputation for fashion to sell on said items to the East End rag trade at less than wholesale, cash under the table, no questions asked and no invoices raised. Not as lucrative as a suitcase full of horse, but safer and more dependable. 

Cloth, even expensive cloth, takes up considerably more room even than Mary Jane, so the fact that the old building had a beer cellar capacious enough to store the stock was the other reason I’d chosen it as a bolt-hole. Merton and I pressed Nigel into service to help us carry the bales, wrapped in tarpaulin for protection, down to the cellar, which proved to be mercifully dry and cool.

It was surprisingly cool - you could have used it as a pantry. 

‘That’s because of the river,’ Nigel explained. ‘It’s just the other side of that wall.’

I touched the wall and was surprised to find it cool but bone dry. 

‘They know how to build houses in those days,’ said Nigel. 

Once we’d moved the good in, it was time to deal with the ever simmering domestic crisis that was life with Lilith. In the latest instalment of the drama, she had ejected Nigel from the master bedroom and claimed it as her own. This was less of a distraction than it might be because Nigel, like nearly all men, was clearly smitten with Lilith and acquiesced with surprisingly good grace. 

And so we settled in companionably enough, especially when Lilith and Nigel discovered a common in the works of Jack Kerouac. I could see that at some point I would be bedding down with Merton for a night or two. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t find Lilith’s peccadillos upsetting but Merton, bless his acrylic Y-fronts offers compensation in his own rough manner. 

Things started to go wrong the night of the storm and consequent flood. And while our decision to drop acid and commune with the thunder- Nigel’s idea, by the way - probably wasn’t to blame, it certainly didn’t help.

I don’t normally do hallucinogenics as they often disappoint. You go up expecting Yellow Submarine and get a lot of irritating visual distraction instead. My colour sense is quite keen enough, thank you, without having a pair of purple velvet bell-bottoms start to shine like a neon sign. 

The master bedroom - now Lilith’s domain - contained, of all things, a king-size four-poster bed that was missing its curtains. But since I’d arrived, it at least had matching cotton sheets in a tasteful orange and green fleurs-de-lis pattern. They matched the old wallpaper with its geometric tan and orange florets that still showed the retangular ghosts of long vanished photographs and paintings.

At some point - Nigel had said the 1930s - the owners had installed an aluminium-framed picture window that ran almost the length of the room and looked out over the canal, or more importantly, up into the boiling clouds of the oncoming storm. 

Lilith started on the bed with all three of us, but I can’t take anything seriously when heading up on LSD, least of all sex. So I quickly disengaged and chose to sit on the end of the bed and watch the storm. I doubt the others were troubled by my absence. 

I watched the storm come in over the rooftops of South London with lightning flashing in my eyes and that glorious sense of joy that only comes from something psychoactive interacting with your neurones. I lost myself in that storm and, in it, I thought I sensed the roar of the god of joy, whose acolytes dance naked on the hilltops and rip the goats apart. 

But the mind is fickle and darts from thought to thought and I became fascinated by the patterns the raindrops traced down the window glass. Then the play of light and shadow drew me to the walls, where I found myself pulling at the torn edge of the wallpaper. Like most squats, damp had gotten into the room at some point in the past and the top layer peeled away to reveal another layer below - a vertical floral design in red, purple and green on a pale background. Carefully I stripped a couple of square feet away. And while behind me Lilith howled obscenities in the throes of her passion, I started on the next layer. This revealed a faded leaf design in silver and turquoise. The colours pulled at me and I realised that if I could just find the original surface I might open a portal to another dimension - one of style and colour and exquisite taste. 

But I had to be patient. Clawing the walls would disrupt the delicate lines of cosmic energy that flowed along the pinstripes of the layer of blue linen-finish paper. Delicately, I peeled a loose corner until I uncovered a beautiful mustard yellow bird that glowed with an inner light. Gently and meticulously I revealed more. A trellis design overgrown with olive and brown brambles sporting red flowers and crimson birds. I knew it at once as a classic design from ‘the Firm’, the company founded by William Morris to bring back craftsmanship to a world turned grey and smoky by the Industrial Revolution.

I was ready for a hallucination then, and willed my mind into the pattern in front of me, but nothing happened. The wallpaper shone out of the hole in the wall, the light shifting like sunlight through a real trellis, real birds, but that achingly rational part of my brain stayed aloof. Chemistry, it said, it’s all chemistry. 

At some point Nigel escaped the bed and fled whimpering into the cupboard and closed the door behind himself. 

The trellis and its mustard-coloured birds mocked me from the walls, 

‘I think we’re sinking,’ said Merton, for what I realised was the third or fourth time. 

I was still coming down and it took concentration to focus on Merton, who was stark naked and pacing up and down at the foot of the bed. Lilith was sprawled face down, arms and legs spread like a starfish to occupy as much space as possible. There was no sign of Nigel, and in my elevated state I seriously gave consideration to the thought that Lilith had devoured him following coitus. 

Merton rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, as if testing his footing. 

‘Definitely sinking,’ he said, and ran out of the door. 

I flailed about a bit until I found a packet of Lilith’s Embassy Filters and a box of Swan Vestas, managed to not light the filter on the second attempt and dragged in a grateful lungful. A burst of head-clearing nicotine helped chase away the last of the lysergic acid diethylamide and I was just trying to determine whether I’d hallucinated a naked Merton when he reappeared.

‘I’ve got good news and bad news,’ he said. ‘We’re not sinking but we’re definitely flooding.’

The cellar was divided into two parts. The stairs led down to the smaller part of it, essentially a wide corridor which used to house, so Nigel insisted on telling me, the coal chute - now bricked up. A big metal reinforced door opened into the larger part of the cellar - the part with over ten grand’s worth of fabric stored in it. The door was closed but the corridor part was two inches deep in filthy water. 

‘Don’t open the door!’ called Nigel from the top of the stairs. 

I had no intention of leaving the dry section of the stairs, let alone risking the cuffs of my maroon corduroy flares in what looked to me like sewage overflow. Merton, who’d been trying to force the door open, now splashed back as if stung. For a man who I’d once seen cheerfully batter a traffic warden for awarding him a ticket, it was odd how he never argued with Nigel - not about practical things to do with the house anyway. 

Nigel, resplendent in a genuine Indian cloth kaftan - or so he claimed - passed me and stepped gingerly into the water. Reaching the door, he rapped sharply with his knuckles just above the waterline, then he methodically rapped up the door until he reached head height. After a few experimental raps to confirm, he turned to me and told me I was deader than a moleskin waistcoat. 

‘The whole room’s flooded,’ he said. ‘Probably not a good idea to open this door.’

I sat down on the stairs and put my head in my hands. I did a mental inventory of what I’d stored and how it had been packed. It was bad, but if we could pump out the room half of it could be salvaged - especially the silks, since the individual rolls had been wrapped in polythene. 

Thank God for Hans von Pechmann, I thought, and got to my feet. 

‘We need to drain the room,’ I said. ‘Nigel, get a pump and enough hose to run it back out to the river.’

Nigel nodded.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, and practically skipped up the stairs. 

‘Put some clothes on before you go out!’ I called after him. 

I told Merton that when we had the pump and the hose, he would have to cut a suitable hole in the door -  near the top. 

‘Will you need tools?’ I asked. 

Merton eyed up the door. 

‘I have what I need in my bedroom,’ he said.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Let’s have a cup of tea.’

It took Nigel the best part of the day to source the suitable equipment. In the meantime, I sent Merton out to the local phone box to see if I couldn’t rustle up another life- and kneecap-saving transaction. Ideally, I should have been making the calls myself but I didn’t dare show my face on the street - it’s a well-known face, even in South London. I spent the time cataloguing my wardrobe, alas much reduced by my exile, ironing that which needed ironing and casting away those items that had fallen out of style since my last purge. 

Some things never go out of style - some things, thank God, will never come back. Let us hope that the lime-green acrylic aquiline button-down cardigan is one of them. I really don’t know what I was thinking when I bought it. 

Apart from a spectacularly noisy toilet break, Lilith stayed blissfully asleep in the main bedroom until teatime and then vanished into the bathroom for the next two hours. 

Once Nigel had returned with the pump and the hose, Merton used his hammer and chisel to cut a rough hole, six inches across, near the top of the door. Nigel had brought down the cream-coloured hostess trolley and mounted the pump on that to keep it out of the water. Once it was rigged we ran a hosepipe up the stair, down the hall, across the kitchen and poked it out the back window. Merton stayed to supervise the outflow while I returned to the top of the stairs and gave Nigel the nod. 

It looked ramshackle and was, indeed, held together with string and gaffer tape. But like most things that Nigel built, especially his improvised hookahs, it was perfectly adequate. The pump puttered into life, the pipe going through the hole in the door stiffened, there was a gurgling sound and I followed the passage of the water upstairs and into the kitchen. There, an arc of water shot from the hose and into the river beyond. 

‘How long until it’s pumped out?’ I asked.

‘A couple of days,’ said Nigel. 

When I objected, he pointed out that it was a small-bore hosepipe, that the cellar was large and that we didn’t know how the river water was getting in. 

Some things you can’t control, I suppose, such as Lilith - who I found sitting in the kitchen in a loose yellow kimono, drinking brandy and letting her assets hang out. 

‘It smells different in here’ she said.

I pointed out that the window was open to allow egress of the hosepipe and was thus allowing fresh air, to which Lilith was generally unaccustomed, to enter the room. Lilith grunted and said she was going out that evening to meet some friends in Soho. 

I tried to talk her out of it but she insisted, and there was no stopping Lilith when she was set on something. 

‘What if the Deplorables see you?’ I asked.

‘Darling,’ said Lilith, throwing an orange ostrich feather boa around her neck, ‘the Deplorables never frequent the places I do and in any case - I’m invisible.’

I was making another calming cup of tea when I realised that Lilith had been right. The kitchen smelt fresh and, oddly, sun dappled - of you thought sun dappled was a smell. I went to the open window and took a deep breath. Not normally something I’d recommend given the foetid nature of the Wandle - which still looked more like a canal to me - behind the house. The air was fresh and another thing I noticed was that the water shooting out of the hosepipe was clear. I pulled the pipe in a bit and had a closer look and then an experimental tate - just the tip of the tongue, you understand. It was plain, clean water. Perhaps, I thought, the cellar had been flooded by a burst mains pipe. If so, then there was a chance that much of my stock might survive relatively intact. 

I also noticed that the house had a small back garden, or rather a side garden, an overgrown patch of weeds and brambles that filled a roughly triangular space between next door’s garden wall, the river and the side of the kitchen. I replaced the hose and went looking for the door that led to the garden. I’m not a horticulturalist myself, but to a man in my position, knowing there’s a back door - for egress in extremis - is always a comfort. 

It took three days to drain the cellar, which passed as quickly as two quarters of Lebanese cannabis resin could make it. Now I’ve never been one to get the munchies, but Nigel could consume an astonishing amount of fish and chips, and poor Merton was forced to make several supply runs. On the morning of the fourth day, Nigel declared that we could force the door and I went to fetch Merton. 

Who was nowhere to be found.

His room was as he always left it, the bed made with military precision and knife-edge creases. Merton was a thoroughly institutionalised boy, but what institution - the navy, prison, the Foreign Legion - I’d never thought to ask. His clothes, though dull, were hung or folded with the same admirable care. His tool case was missing but the canvas bag containing his baseball bat, bayonet and the long wooden stick with the stainless steel barbs that I didn’t want to know the purpose of, was tucked into the wardrobe next to his two spare pairs of Doc Martens boots. 

I returned to the basement corridor, which Nigel had mercifully mopped clean once the muddy water had soaked away. Nigel was standing by the door to the cellar, stock-still and staring at something on the floor. 

‘What is it?’ I asked.

Nigel pointed mutely at a battered blue metal toolbox sitting by the door. Its top was open and its trays expanded to reveal its rows of neatly arrayed tools and boxes of screws and nails.

‘He must have gone inside,’ said Nigel. His voice dropped to an urgent whisper. ‘Inside there!’

Since I had no idea why Nigel was so agitated, I reached out and pushed the door open. It opened a fraction and then pushed back - as if someone was leaning against the other side.

‘Merton,’ I said, ‘stop fucking about and let me in.’

I shoved harder and the door opened a crack and out poured a weird sweet smell like cooked milk. And with it a sense of outraged dignity which so surprised me that I jumped back from the door, which slammed shut. 

‘Is he in there?’ asked Nigel.

‘Must be,’ I said, but I wasn’t sure I believed it.

Neither of us could match Merton -  because that’s who it had to be - for physical might. I mean, I employed him precisely because he could intimidate your average creditor just by breaking wind. So we trooped upstairs for a cup of tea and some pharmaceutical reinforcement. 

‘Got any more black beauties?’ asked Nigel, who never could separate his biphetamines from his common or garden amphetamines. I swear, you try to educate people but there are limits. I gave him a couple of ludes, and given the day we’d had so far, took a couple myself. Lilith returned fabulously drunk at two in the morning, and we all piled into bed and didn’t get up until the next afternoon. 

The door to the cellar remained closed and Merton’s tool case was still where he’d left it. I tried the door, but it was stuck fast with no give at all. I even tried knocking it down, like they do in films, but all I did was bruise my shoulder. 

If Merton was in there, he wasn’t coming out until he was good and ready. And since I wasn’t getting in, I had to accept that I wouldn’t be realising any value from my stock of fabrics any time soon. Still, I’d already written down their value and put other deals in motion to generate cash flow - another drug deal, as it happens. A stack of Happy Bus LSD out of Rotterdam. A little bit riskier than my normal deals, but needs must, as they say.

Without Merton, I was forced to rely on Nigel to go out and make the necessary phone calls. Unlike Merton, who followed instructions without question, I had to explain everything to him as if he were in a spy movie with Michael Caine. Once he had the gist, he darted out the front door wearing an RAF surplus greatcoat. As I watched him go from the upstairs window, I realised that his hair had grown long enough to reach between his shoulder blades and wondered why I hadn’t noticed. 

The next couple of days went past with no sign of Merton, and I only managed to keep anxiety at bay with the help of my dwindling supply of cannabis resin and long punishing nights with Lilith. 

The door to the cellar remained closed. 

When I had nerved myself up to go look, I noticed that something had been jammed into the cracks around the edge of the door - as if it had oozed out from inside the cellar in liquid form and then set on contact with air. I took a set of pliers from Merton’s tool case and worried a fragment out. It’s a long time since I’ve prepared a slide in earnest, but while I didn’t have a microscope I did have a jeweller’s glass I keep for checking crystal shape. Under magnification the fragment revealed itself to be a tangle of threads - blue cotton, my good Egyptian cotton at a guess. I picked at the tangle with a pair of tweezers and a strange notion struck me -  that the threads weren’t tangled randomly, that there was a pattern to the knots.

I could imagine a circumstance where the pressure of water could both shred the original weave of a cloth and then tangle the threads. I could even imagine water pressure forcing the threads around the edge of the door, but it seemed unlikely. Before I discovered fashion and pharmaceuticals I did a degree in chemistry. Started a degree, to be precise - I stopped paying attention in the second year. But I always thought of myself as rational even when under the influence. 

If I’d known what I know now, I would have run screaming from the house and taken my chances with the Deplorables. But I lived in a much smaller world in those days. 

Although large enough for my Rotterdam connection to agree to a deal. Not only that, but it seemed my credit was good enough for me to procure a sample shipment on good faith. With the profit from that sale I could finance a larger shipment and thus dig myself out of my financial predicament and quit the squat - and it’s creepy basement.

The only catch being that I would have to provide my own mule to bring the sample in. Normally you don’t use your friends as mules, not even friends of friends. What you really want is a gullible person who’s been talked into it by someone you only know through business. I knew a guy who could meet a girl at a party and have her on a plane to Ankara the next day. He made a living recruiting mules and didn’t mind some wastage at all - right up to the point someone’s mother gave him both barrels of her husband’s grousing shotgun. The police never caught her and only Merton and I turned up for the funeral. 

It wasn’t hard to persuade Lilith to fly to Rotterdam - especially first class - and the beauty was that wherever she touched down, she paid for herself. Or to be strictly accurate, other people took care of her needs for her. The downside, of course, was that you had to allow her time to party - in this case, at least a week. You’d think that without Lilith sharing the high thread cotton sheets of the four-poster bed I’d be getting more sleep, but I found myself spending most of every night staring at the underside of the bed’s canopy. 

It didn’t help that I had to ration the Quaaludes - I needed them to keep Nigel functioning. 

‘There’s something in the cellar,’ he said, and refused to go down into the basement. 

I, on the other hand, found myself increasingly drawn to the cellar door. Especially when it started to flower. 

It started with a spray of cotton around the door frame, overlapping triangular leaves of white and navy-blue cotton that stuck to the bricks of the wall as if they’d been glued in place. I took a sample and found that instead of regular weave, the cloth was formed by the intertwining of threads in a complex pattern. Some of the threads amongst the white and blue were a bright scarlet and spread through the fabric in a branching pattern like streams into a river basin. Or, more disturbingly, like capillaries branching out from a vein. 

I did make an attempt, cautiously, to scrape one of the ‘leaves’ off the wall with a trowel I found in Merton’s tool case. But even as I pushed the blade under the edge of the cloth I felt such a wave of disinterest -  I cannot describe it more clearly than that- that I found myself halfway up the basement stairs before I realised what had happened. 

The next day the cotton leaves had spread out at least another six inches and surrounding the door were tongues of crimson and yellow orgaza. Individual threads had begun to colonise the door proper - curling into swirling patterns like ivy climbing a wall. I spent an indeterminate amount of time with my back to the opposite wall, staring at the pattern to see if I could spot them moving.

I wondered what it meant. Perhaps Nigel was right, and the Age of Aquarius was upon us and we had entered a time of miracles. 

When I was upstairs I tried to put the cellar out of my mind and concentrate on plans for the future. I had fallen into drug dealing almost by accident and had always found it an easy and convenient way to keep myself in the sartorial fashion I aspired to. But if my run-in with the deplorables was an indication of the future, then perhaps it was time to pack it in. A boutique of my own instead, one in which I could serve both as owner-manager and inspiration. Before the merest thought of doing actual work, no matter how supervisory, had filled me with disgust but now … now it seemed attractive. 

I didn’t trust these feelings. 

I needed out of the squat. I needed to be strutting down the King’s Road or Carnaby Street. I wanted back out into the world, where I could be as dazzling and as splendid as the first acolyte of the goddess of fashion. 

But you need working kneecaps to strut your stuff. And so I stayed where I was. 

By the third day the door was completely obscured behind a tapestry of red, black and gold thread, and wings of cotton spread out across the walls and ceiling. The organza had likewise spread and a third wave of pink and yellow damask now framed the doorway. By the sixth day the entire corridor was curtained in swathes of multicoloured fabric, so that it seemed a tunnel to a draper’s wonderland. 

I no longer dared leave the safety of the foot of the stairs and yet I still found myself walking down them three times a day to look. The urge to walk into its warm comforting embrace was terrifying. 

On the seventh day, Lilith failed to return. I started to seriously worry on the eighth; on the ninth, I fell into such a despair that no amount of near pharmaceutical-grade Drinamyl amphetamines could lift me from it. On the tenth, a postcard arrived with four jaunty pictures of a tram stop, a fountain, a town square, a gigantic statue of a man holding up the sky and Groeten uit Rotterdam written across the front. 

On the back Lilith sent me love and kisses, explained that she’d met a splendid sailor or three and would be staying on in the Netherlands for a bit, but not to worry because she’d found a perfectly wonderful Spaniard to courier my product back to London. Thoughtfully she’d written the travel and contact details of the Spanish courier on the postcard - in plain English. 

With a heavy heart I sent Nigel out to pick up the package and when he failed to return I was not surprised. 

We live in a universe constantly assailed by the forces of entropy. Nothing good, pure or beautiful can stand up to the relentless regression towards the mean, the dull and the shabby. A minority have always striven to be a beacon in the gloom, a constant source of inspiration to those around them. Some worked through the medium of paint, or music, or literature, but I have sought to make myself the living embodiment of style and culture. 

God knows it hasn’t been easy. 

But a man should always know when he’s been beaten. That morning, as I sat in the kitchen, futilely waiting for Nigel to return, I realised that that time, for me, was nigh. I went upstairs, stripped myself down to my underwear - not nylon and not frilly, thank you, Ray - and after taking a deep breath to steel myself, donned a pair of brown corduroy trousers and a matching moleskin shirt. A pair of Hush Puppies and one of Merton’s donkey jackets completed my transformation. I looked in the mirror -  I was unrecognisable. 

Stuffing the last of my cash reserves in my pockets, I headed for the front door. I paused by the basement only long enough to ensure it was closed. From behind it came a noise that might have been a giant breathing, or water flowing, or shuttles running back and forth across lines of thread. 

I shuddered and walked boldly out into the sunlight. 

My plan was simple. Take the train to Holyhead, the ferry to Dublin and then, via a few contacts I still had, to America and freedom. 

I didn’t even get as far as Garratt Lane before I ran straight into Cutter. I tried to braout but somehow he recognized me instantly and called out my name. 

I turned, ran back to the squat, slammed the door behind me and went for the back door. There I could escape via the garden, over the wall and run for Wimbledon Park station. 

But Lead Pipe was waiting in the kitchen, with a cup of tea on the go and the Daily Mirror open to the back pages. 

‘About time,’ he rumbled when he saw me. 

Three guesses where I went next. 

I was down the stairs and into the basement corridor before I even noticed that the walls had grown a fringe that glowed with a soft golden light. I was prepared to throw myself frantically at the cellar door but I found it open. I ran inside with no brighter plan than to barricade myself inside and hope the Deplorables grew bored.

Inside the cellar was a riot of colour. The walls were arrayed with purple organza and burgundy charmeuse, while sprays of a brilliant blue habotai framed cascades of fabric woven in a dozen colours - scarlet, yellow and green - into tangles of vines, leaves and flowers. Globes of light hung suspended from golden threads in each corner, illuminating a bundle of gold and black embroidered silk suspended from tendrils of lace - like a cocoon from a spider-s web. 

Around me was a giant’s breathing and the warp and weft of a loom gigantic enough to weave the stars themselves. I could no more have stopped myself from grasping that bundle than I could have stopped myself breathing. 

The bundle was warm and squirming in my arms. I unwrapped a layer of gauzy chiffon, gazed down on my fate and was lost. 

‘Oi,’ said a voice from behind me. 

I turned to find myself confronting the sartorial disaster that were the Deplorables en masse. I won’t describe their appearance on the off chance that children may one day read this account. 

‘Can I help you gentlemen?’ I asked, because politeness is always stylish. 

‘Yeah,’ said Cutter. ‘You can give us the ten grand you owe us.’

‘Plus interest,’ said Lead Pipe.

‘Plus interest,’ said Cutter. 

‘I’m rather afraid I haven’t got it,’ I said. 

‘That’s a shame,’ said Cutter, and he turned to Lead Pipe. ‘Isn’t that a shame?’

‘It’s definitely a shame,’ said Lead Pipe. 

The bundle in my arms squirmed a bit and made happy gurgling noises. 

‘Since the money is not forthcoming, I’m afraid we’ll be forced to take measures,’ said Cutter. He looked once more to Lead Pipe. ‘Is your sledgehammer ready?’

By way of reply, Lead Pipe held up his sledgehammer and I couldn’t help but notice that there were brown stains on the long wooden handle. 

‘And Gnasher,’ said Cutter. ‘Do you have a marlinspike about your person?”

Gnasher grunted and held up a pointed lump of metal that I can only presume, in my ignorance of all things nautical, was a marlinspike. 

Cutter turned back to me and smiled nastily.

‘I’d say that you should take this like a man,’ said Cutter. ‘But that would be a waste of time.’

Never mind his rudeness, I had more pressing concerns. 

‘Shush,’ I said. ‘You’ll wake the baby.’

Cutter’s face suffused to a fine shade of puce and he opened his mouth to continue his ranting, so I twitched aside the fine damask sheet to reveal my daughter nestled in her bundle of silk and high-thread Egyptian cotton.

Her beautiful brown face broke into a charming smile and, opening her chubby arms in a benediction, she laughed - a sound like water tumbling over stones. 

Cutter gave me an astonished look and whispered.

‘Is this your…?’

‘Yes,’ I whispered back. ‘Her name is Wanda.’

‘But,’ said Cutter, ‘you can’t keep her here.’

‘She likes it here,’ I said indignantly.

‘It’s a dump,’ said Lead Pipe in a low rumble. ‘It’s not fit for human habitation.’

‘He’s right,’ said Cutter. ‘There’s damp and mould and the kitchen is a disgrace.’

‘And there’s no nursery,’ rumbled Lead Pipe.

‘And the garden is a jungle,’ said Gnasher. ‘Totally unsuitable.’

‘Gentlemen,’ I said, ‘I can’t attend to any of these details if you break my legs.’

‘Obviously, we have to deal with the immediate shortcomings of the house before we return to the matter of breaking your legs,’ said Cutter. ‘Don’t we boys?’

‘I know a couple of builders,’ said Gnasher. ‘And Lead Pipe has green fingers. Ain’t that right?’

Lead Pipe cracked knuckles the size of walnuts. ‘That’s true,’ he said. 

‘Really?’ I said.

‘You should see his allotment,’ said Cutter. ‘He has compost heaps you wouldn’t believe.’

I thought of the rumours of what exactly happened to people who crossed the Deplorables and I decided that I actually did believe in those heaps. 

‘About my legs,’ I said but Cutter wasn’t listening.

‘And there’s the roof,’ he said, and the others nodded. 

‘About my legs,’ I said louder and then wished I hadn’t, because the trio were jerked out of their dreams of home improvement and focused on yours truly in a somewhat disconcerting manner. 

‘What about them?’ asked Cutter, taking a step towards me. 

‘I thought we might reach a more mutually beneficial arrangement,’ I said.

‘What kind of beneficial arrangement did you have in mind?’ he said. 

‘There’s the matter of the way you dress,’ I said. 

Cutter pushed his face towards mine. 

‘What’s wrong with the way we dress?’ he said. ‘It’s practical.’

‘Stain resistant,’ said Lead Pipe. 

‘Yes, but,’ I said, ‘it could be so much more.’

And Wanda laughed again and this time behind the chuckling stream was the crisp snap of fabric shears and the whistling hum of the shuttle as it plays back and forth across the thread.

‘But first,’ said Cutter, waving a blunt finger in my face, ‘we have to sort out the playroom.’

And that was that. I gave up the pharmaceutical trade and opened a boutique instead. Cutter and his boys were my first customers, and while they never stopped being an unsavoury gang of foul-mouthed thugs, at least when they broke legs they were well dressed doing it. 

Merton, it turned out, had fled the squat the day we pumped out the water and, being in need of some security, assaulted a police officer so that he could spend a couple of nice peaceful years at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Lilith visited him regularly, and after he got out they ran an animal sanctuary just outside Abergavenny until their deaths, within three months of each other, in 2009. Nigel is still alive and taught cybernetics at Imperial College until his retirement a couple of years ago. 

My daughter and I never got around to giving the boutique a name. It was always just ‘the shop’ and given that we never advertised it’s a wonder that we stay in business. We’re always at the cutting edge of fashion. We were out of flares while the Bay City Rollers were still number one and stocking bondage trousers before John Lyndon had dyed his hair. We’ve moved the shop a couple of times and, while we’re hard to find, we’re always close to the river. 

So if you want to know what the herd are going to be wearing next spring, and if you can find us and are prepared to pay the price, you too can join the ranks of the stylish, the à la mode, and truly become a dedicated follower of fashion. 

END

[lingeringscars]

bellamy’s mindset through the show can basically be broken up into 3 parts: we save who we can save (s1-4, 6), the ends justify the means (5), and sacrificing the few to save the many (7). there are caveats to all of this: in s1-4, bellamy will put the life of octavia over everyone else. in season 5, spacekru is where his loyalties lie and who he is willing to protect above all else, but only after his relationship with both octavia and clarke is severed. in season 7 this just isn’t true anymore. he’s trying to save everyone, not just his people, and he isn’t willing to run into situations that would get himself killed to save them anymore. it was the start of him learning how to balance himself and what he wants/believes in ( for once ) with the interests of the people he loves. for the first time ever, the few include his family. prior to that, he was willing to do anything for them, willing to die and kill, and it was just what could have been a conclusion to his arc because finally finally finding self love and not putting everything he is in others. that’s all i’m gonna say about s7 bc .. yeah. 

in early seasons, he also focuses more on protecting his people as a way to justify his choices. i once read a post talking about how bellamy says protect and clarke says save, and I think that does a good job at hinting where his mindset is. bellamy takes preemptive action as a way to try and protect his people. he can’t see 89 steps ahead of him, he only sees what is directly in front of him. this inability to look ahead and focus on saving who is in front of him has indirectly caused the deaths of multiple people -- and because it’s bellamy he of course blames himself for them too but it’s not something he thinks of until confronted with it. 

season 1

i don’t really have a lot of examples for s1 because it’s really .. a lot of protecting octavia & himself

hanging murphy is one though. when they discover murphy’s knife, i do believe bellamy put the pieces together before everyone else. i’ve talked a bit before about that and how based off what’s been shown, i think he was going to talk to murphy when they were alone instead of outright. this is also one of my examples when i think about how bellamy & abby have a similar leadership style. he’s more willing to keep that a secret because he understands how people will response - and he ends up being right. instead of blaming himself for this though, he transfers the blame onto clarke because he didn’t want people to know for this exact reason. he at that point had also put trust and faith in murphy and would have wanted to protect him from that, but by the time he hangs him, he has to choose between murphy and the rest of the delinquents. the delinquents are more important to keeping octavia safe if they’re on his side, and he has to go through with it. flash forward, and his relationship with murphy becomes increasingly contentious because murphy then leads the manhunt against charlotte. charlotte, to him, is just an innocent kid and he can’t handle murphy being willing to go after a child ( basically insert misplaced big brother feelings ). he feels the intense need to protect charlotte, even when it comes out that she’s guilty, and that goes first.

destroying the radio. this was a big protect himself ( and therefore protect o because he still believes he’s the only one that can ) moment. if raven could contact the ark and let them know that they’re all alive, then he’s as good as dead. he doesn’t know about the culling of the ark, at least not that it’s happening now. even still, clarke saying that it’s his people ( factory station ) that will die... isn’t on his mind. he knows that’s true, knows that it’ll be his people and not the elite. the beginning of s1 is rooted in his focus on the power dynamics on the ark in this way and it’s how he connects with the delinquents. by destroying the radio, he effectively signs the death warrants of 300 people. while he does try to stop this by showing them where he threw the radio and working on setting flares off, it’s another way that bellamy indirectly kills people because of his desire to protect (himself and) octavia. 

focus on the number dead vs alive. this is just a big bellamy thing especially earlier on. bellamy focuses on the number dead when they’re leaving camp, and clarke has to correct him to the number that are still alive. the delinquents at this point are his people, and he has felt every death ( she only came because of me ). his focus is on the people he couldn’t save, and that continues going into season 2

season 2

mel. when faced with mel, bellamy says that they don’t know how if their people are still alive, but they can save this one girl. this really begins his we save who we can save today mindset, and he focuses on the fact that they can help her when the odds are insurmountable. 

infiltrating mount weather + protecting echo. the 100 are his people; it doesn’t matter what the risks are because he’s doing what he can to bring them back and get them out. while in mount weather, other people become his people, such as maya. it’s also another moment where bellamy has to kill someone in order to escape the cages ( a direct threat to himself and others there ). bellamy has no reason to trust or protect echo at this point because he’s just come out of the war with the grounders and still prejudiced against them, and yet when they come at her, he makes noise so they take him ( the strong ) instead. he does what he has to to ensure that she’s protected for the time being, and then she helps him in return. killing the mount weather guard didn’t completely hit him until he saw the son of the person he killed, having to confront that there are children in mount weather and that the person he killed had people that needed him. 

pulling the lever. bellamy focuses on the people that have helped him and the children in mount weather as people that need to be saved too. they helped him so there has to be another way. it’s hearing raven being tortured and seeing that octavia will be too that makes him change his mind and help clarke because he sees that they don’t have time. as much as the other’s have helped him, they aren’t his people. octavia is his responsibility and he needs to make sure he protects her first. 

season 3

the massacre. i’m only going to focus on this here because it’s really the main thing but also brings him back into the we save who we can save. he asked gina to stay back to protect her, thinking she’d be safer there. he spent early s3 focused on finding and bringing clarke back as well. bellamy is also still recovering from having to kill people in mount weather because of lexa’s betrayal, and because of his prejudices, he lumps all grounders into one and is unable to see that azgeda blew up mount weather, not trikru. when lexa sends trikru warriors to protect them, he doesn’t believe the intentions because the last time they were there to help them, they made a deal with the enemy and turned their backs. they’re always going to put their people first. so is bellamy. the entire time he backs pike, it’s focusing on protecting their people. he doesn’t go into the massacre thinking that he wants to kill people, tries to get pike to spare the women and children and does convince him to spare indra ( i honestly don’t remember what the reasoning was but i think it has to do with her importance to octavia and at this point lincoln too ). he thinks that he’s protecting his people before they can get killed. this is a shift from the past two seasons too, which obviously influence this because he didn’t strike first in season 1 or against the mountain men in s2 and it led to the deaths of some of the delinquents and torture of raven. act first and he doesn’t have to live in fear of them attacking first, and thus convincing himself that he’s protecting everyone. 

season 4

blowing up the hydrogenator. this is one of the best examples of bellamy being unable to think ahead. outside of his intense faith in raven, he thinks they have six months to figure something else out. he sees the suffering in those people now. he can’t do anything about praimfaya, but he can save the people here. they’re being forced to work, they’re going to be moved, and a little girl tells him all of this. he sees the suffering and has to act ( how many people do you have to save before you forgive yourself ). these people had one day, but by saving them, the skaikru survival number has gone from 500 to 100. raven and clarke are able to see that he just sentenced all of these people to death, but bellamy sees that he gave them another day to live. 

opening the bunker. octavia above everyone else. clarke is telling him what the consequences of opening the bunker would be, but he can’t focus on that because octavia is on the other side of the bunker. it’s not just octavia though because kane is out there too. by opening the bunker, bellamy is again sentencing 400 people to death, and he again doesn’t view it this way. he sees that octavia and kane will die if he doesn’t. by doing this he also inadvertently saved 600 more people, which matters after the time jump.  

protecting echo. this !! is the moment that sparked this entire thing. it’s so subtle but when emori’s suit breaks, bellamy steps in front of echo and stops murphy from taking it. it’s another one of those moments where by doing this, he effectively sentenced emori to death. it’s not that he was trying to do this, and while i also use this moment as a way to show that b/echo always had a foundation even if bellamy pretended like they didn’t, it’s also just that he knows echo. anyway, if murphy takes echo’s suit, echo will die. bellamy steps in front with that mindset, not that by not letting murphy do this, emori dies.

season 5

threatening the lives of 300 inmates. not much has changed huh. bellamy threatening 300 people for the life of 1 ( who it’s important to note he originally thought was octavia ). octavia still comes first even after six years in space. upon finding out that clarke is alive, he doesn’t change his strategy because ... well.. she’s alive. he then uses this as leverage to save the rest of his people -- which at this stage, now includes wonkru just not in that train of thought. when it comes to saving the people in the bunker, he wants them all saved. even if o is still the priority at this point. 

killing kara. ends justify the means. taking lives to save them. the difference is that now bellamy actually views it this way. it isn’t just about protecting his people, he’s acknowledging that he is killing them. he is sacrificing the few to save the many. the only reason why he isn’t completely in this mindset is because he’s trying to save octavia from herself. it’s the beginning stages of sacrificing his own people though, which was never an option prior to season 5. he was willing to do anything for those he had promised to protect, and kara was originally skaikru. now, she was completely wonkru but bellamy didn’t want to believe that wonkru was completely the enemy and that his sister was still in there somewhere ( this didn’t change until after she burned the farm because he would never be able to forgive her willingness to sacrifice her own people when there was another option. when peace was an option. he is entirely unable to see octavia’s perspective and why she needs to be out of the bunker. he’s had peace the past six years, even if not peace of mind, unlike octavia and so he only sees that there is another way ). 

poisoning o + putting the chip in madi. prior to s5, he never would have poisoned o. he always thought that she would wake up and that they would have peace and she would understand. honestly prior to s5, putting the chip in madi probably also wouldn’t have been an option because of her age. this time he actually can see ahead more than he could before space, but he still doesn’t anticipate what does happen. he’s willing to betray clarke because honestly he thinks she’s overreacting. he still doesn’t think octavia will harm madi and he believes this is the only way to save them all. he’s terrified when it looks like madi might not wake up / take to the flame. ( and honestly part of why he can forgive clarke quickly is bc of this - he put her daughter in danger and he once upon a time would have done anything for o. ). putting madi at risk was a necessary risk to him though because it meant that all of their people might survive. he knows that the rest of his family is in danger if this doesn’t work, so it’s also putting spacekru above everyone else, and in the end he does decide them over o and clarke.

season 6

casting octavia out. while in s5 he had decided that his people specifically were spacekru, casting octavia out was because she was a threat to all of them. she had walked them into a war that destroyed earth, and after monty and harper died, he takes doing better to heart. he hasn’t forgiven himself for his actions on earth, many of which were to protect octavia, and his first action on sanctum is deciding that octavia is a threat that needs to be contained. she isn’t someone he knows anymore, and she is a threat to his family and everyone else. it’s not an easy decision, but he is deciding that she needs to go to keep everyone else safe from her. if octavia had died, it would have been another indirect death as a result of his actions, which i think he knows. i also think he blames octavia for monty & harper because if she hadn’t forced them into war, earth never would have been destroyed and they wouldn’t have spent their entire lives trying to find a new home for them. he isn’t going to let octavia threaten what monty and harper left for them.  

clarke. i don’t remember a lot of s6 but he does backslide into putting one above all. he does try for peace prior to finding out clarke is alive, but clarke brings up all of these feelings in him about protection in general. he’s already cast out octavia, lost harper and monty, and he’s grieved clarke before. he can’t go through that again, so they come up with a plan. when it goes south, he still looks to echo for confirmation that she can handle it. when she gives him permission, he leaves. he no longer thinks about the people he left behind because all he can see is that clarke will die. if he doesn’t take action, she WILL die. he believes in echo and thinks that she can handle herself and so the people he left behind.. they’re safe in his head but clarke isn’t. he also partially blames himself for this because he should have known clarke would be a target and didn’t do anything. clarke is the person that needs to be saved and the one he knows that they can. when he finds out that that aren’t safe, he works to make sure that they will be.  

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - It's Cute

Part 9

The awaited family reactions to the cuddle fest. Dear lord, this took so long to write! Probably should have tried writing these characters once before attempting to write all of them now, but oh well. They're all a bunch of cheeky shits. Bruce may be a world class detective, but he's clueless with his family. You cannot change my mind.

Aaaaaand Tags: @poshplumcot @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl @shizukiryuu . @my-name-is-michell @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @thecatnipmademedoit @shamefullove @ladylucina28 @crazylittlemunchkin

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

~---~

The first one to happen upon their new normal had been Dick, not that they were aware.

Around 9 in the morning, he'd found himself passing by the living room off the side kitchen the boys were allowed to use (the main kitchens off limits to all but Alfred himself, with occasional exceptions for Marinette or Jason) only to stop and backtrack, lips twitching into a wide grin.

There on the far couch, Tim lay passed out with his laptop closed on the coffee table. This in itself would be enough to endear Richard, seeing as he rarely saw Tim crash without it being face first into his work, but what really sold it was the tiny body curled up on the couch with him.

Marinette became a new normal around the manor, having been attached at the hip to their youngest around 3 months ago. Richard could still recall her first visit, half hidden behind Damian where he stood in front of her as though shielding his new friend from their sight. She'd had curious eyes trained onto them as he led her past and up towards his room. They'd all let Damian think he'd gotten her past them for the moment, bursting into speculation the second the two's footsteps fell out of hearing range.

The curiosity only grew as her presence became a near constant, Damian always a step behind or in front of her. Dick vividly remembered the suspicious look Tim had shot his coffee upon hearing the youngest call her Angel. At that point, they stopped feigning polite and sought her out. 

She took to their proding with grace, if a little overwhelmed and flustered from the fast switch in temperament. They'd all granted the two space for over a week only to all start approaching her on the near constant. And constant it was.

Richard knew he'd overwhelmed her a little in those first few weeks, but it couldn't be helped. He had never seen his babybat so protective and borderline sweet before.

Marinette turned out to be one of the most humble, affectionate, and downright considerate people Dick had the pleasure of meeting. She'd charmed them all.

From the recipes she shared with Alfred over an afternoon tea, to the little trips she took with Jason to bookstores. From random breakfast dates with Stephanie to quiet sleepovers with Cass whenever she made a reappearance. Babs and Duke had yet to meet her, but he was sure they'd find a liking to her just as easily.

Richard himself had been endeared to her the moment he saw how Damian softened around his 'Angel'. It only grew when she started coming to him, a bundle of energy, asking him if he really was versed in trapeze like Damian said. The attachment solidified upon her admitting a solid knowledge in aerial silks, afternoons between the two lost in the gym, talking through stretches and showing off to each other on their preferred apparatus.

And here it seemed Tim had finally found his endearment to her. 

It's not that the two hadn't interacted before. They were often found dying over their own caffeinated beverage of choice, lamenting to one another the struggles of running their respective business. While Tim may run WE as its CEO, he obviously respected and commended her ability to run her own technically small business, holding extremely high clientele, both local and world wide while keeping her workload contained to manageable levels. Meanwhile, she saw and admired Tim's insane ability to manage a massive sprawling company without falling over dead. 

Otherwise, you could occasionally catch them sharing playlists or texting random nonsense to one another.

That, however, seemed to be the extent of their interactions. Tim seemingly holding her at a distance for reasons undetermined.

The distance seemed pretty shattered now, Mari curled up to him, both dead to the world. Dick simply watched, smiling softly from the doorway. Finally, someone who seemed to be capable of persuading Tim into sleep. He really shouldn't be surprised that Marinette was the one to make it happen.

Lifting his phone, he snapped a picture and sent it to the family group chat with the caption, "Laying bodily on top of Tim seems an effective way to force him to sleep. Think it'd work for me?" Tucking his phone back into his pocket, satisfied with the near constant vibration from the chaos he reigned, he finally entered the kitchen, poured a bowl of cereal for himself and left before either of the occupants a room over could wake to find him.

..

Alfred had taken the sight of them cuddling in stride. It'd taken place around two weeks after seeing the evidence of such in the family chat, courtesy of Richard.

Carrying books back into the library, the elderly butler couldn't claim surprise at finding Timothy curled around Marinette in a protective huddle as the two napped. 

Ever since discovering the young woman's identity, he'd seen how Timothy watched her, intrigued and almost instinctively possessive. Of course Miss Marinette had befriended Damian first and the two were as thick as thieves, but in costume, she was Tim's shadow. She normally followed him everywhere and when she happened to stray, the young man would get restless and paranoid, no longer sensing her silent company. Eventually, he'd either group up with one of the others until he sensed her again or happen upon her handiwork and suddenly calm down. Alfred couldn't say whether Red Robin was even aware of his own actions or simply following his gut, but either way, the two were magnetized. It was only a matter of time before the same happened in civilian form.

Watching as Miss Marinette nuzzled his neck and settled closer in a deeper sleep, Alfred expected the two would be together by the end of the week.

…

Damian knew his Angel had found a body pillow in the form of his older brother. Of course he knew, she told him within hours of the development. He felt no need to confirm any further. 

This didn't mean he never saw them cuddle. No, it just meant it never took him off guard. Maybe a touch put off at times, but not surprised. One minute he'd be hunting the manor for his tiny friend and the next he'd find himself huffing to himself and begrudgingly leaving the two alone after inevitably finding her with Tim. Sure, he spent most evenings monopolizing her time to himself, but he already found himself having to share her with the rest of the flock enough during daylight hours when everyone wasn't otherwise occupied with work. The last thing he needed was for the one brother who left her mostly alone to start taking up all of her spare time. 

While Damian knew that Tim had redeeming qualities such as his diligence and intellect (his younger self was rolling in its grave at this admittance) he still couldn't grasp what it was his Angel saw there. His older brother was a certifiable disaster. A sleep deprived, caffeine addicted, sarcastic mess of a man. 

Then again, so was she. And somehow, that didn't end in a clash of personalities, but instead, led to breaking each other's more impractical habits. As much as he loathe to admit it, they worked well together and he knew it to be true everytime he stumbled upon their sleeping forms.

Leaving to find Richard after another failed attempt to collect Mari to hang out, he felt a small smile tug at the edges of his lips. Despite the confusion over the match, he took his small joys in knowing Tim kept her warm and happy.

….

Stephanie and Jason thought the picture from Dick was a once in a lifetime opportunity to view the workaholics at rest. That somehow all that coffee addled energy cancelled each other out and the two just passed out in the delirium next to each other only for Mari to become a koala in her sleep.

Imagine their utmost shock and delight when upon entering the library, bickering over something neither can remember, they find the same happy scene before them. 

A wicked grin crosses Steph's face and she sneaks closer to the couch, leaning into the space by Tim's face.

Jason, seeing her intentions, immediately rushes forward to prevent the inevitable. 

"Do you have a death wish?!" He whispered, unknowingly too late in his warning.

Marinette's eyes peek open right as Steph reaches to poke Tim awake, a low growl sounding in their ears in clear anger and annoyance, glaring Stephanie down until the blonde withdrew her finger from where it hovered an inch above his cheek. 

Eyes flying wide, Steph cautiously backed away from the pissed noirette, hands raised in surrender.

"Sorry, Mar, backing off now," Steph promised in reassurance and slight fear.

Suddenly Tim shifted, pulling Mari closer to himself as though sensing her discontent. 

Snuggling into him, she kept her eyes on the pair until she deemed them a safe distance before burrowing into his chest, falling back to sleep.

Stephanie could only stare before whipping around to whisper yell at Jason, "What the flying fuck was that?!"

"Pixie pop does not take kindly to being woken up. Learned that the hard way a while back. Imagine it's the same for waking up her personal heater there," he shrugged, carefully dragging her back out of the library. 

Glancing back at the pair, he couldn't help but shake his head. The little pixie sure had them all wrapped around her finger, didn't she?

…..

Cass…. Well she honestly didn't see how it mattered as long as the two finally got some sleep. If that meant forcing each other to nap, whether it be in the guest room of the manor or in the deserted Batcave, him slouched in the office chair and her draped across his lap, so be it.

If she played ignorant and never acknowledged to herself that Marinette definitely should not know about the cave, nevertheless be sleeping in it, no one was the wiser.

……

Bruce rarely regretted muting the family group chat. Only two hours into its creation, the notifications had reached into the hundreds. He muted it without a second thought and never looked back.

At times like these, he almost wished he checked it every once in a while. It might have prepared him better for what had transpired in front of him.

Sitting in his favorite high backed armchair by the fireplace, he'd briefly taken note of his youngest sitting in the corner of the couch, one hand holding a book in arabic up to read, the other arm wrapped around Marinette where she slept pressed against him.

He knew Damian hated being touched in his sleep, but perhaps his sweet little friend was an exception after all? It wouldn't surprise him seeing as she seemed to be the exception to all of Damian's rules. 

Bruce couldn't help the softening in his expression at seeing his son finally open up and accept the affection of another human. Sure, the kid had always been loving towards his many pets, but it was wonderfully new to see that extend to the young woman under his arm.

The first time he heard Damian call her his angel, Bruce had settled himself with the knowledge that this woman was to eventually become his daughter in law.

So absorbed in his reflecting, he almost missed Tim's entrance. 

Shaking out of it, he nodded to his second youngest and turned back to his book.

He almost became reabsorbed in his own reading when he noticed Tim approaching the opposite end of the couch.

What happened next, Bruce could only watch in dumbfounded disbelief.

Tim settled into the couch, shifting so he reclined comfortably and pulled the blanket off the back and across his body. Once he seemingly deemed the position suitably comfortable, he moved the blanket to the side of him and sat up, leaning towards the two on the opposite end. 

Damian lifted his head and made eye contact with his older brother, a silent conversation passing between the two, before moving his arm off Marinette and carefully moving her away from him and towards the other. The pass off went smoothly, her weight shifting easily from Damian's side and into Tim's waiting arms. 

From there, Tim gently moved her over to his side of the couch, laying back into his original position only now with her pressed between his side and the couch back. Lastly, Tim pulled the blanket back over the two and finally settled down. 

Marinette herself stirred awake once the blanket fell around her. She seemed to take stock of the situation, looking over to Damian and then turning to blink blearily up at Tim. A small, contented smile graced her face before it disappeared into his collar, where she buried her face, promptly falling back to sleep. 

The same sleepy smile crossed Tim's face as he ducked down to nuzzle the top of her head where he followed her lead. 

Completely thrown off guard, Bruce looked back to Damian only to see his youngest completely unfazed as he returned to his reading.

Clearing his throat softly, Bruce successfully gained the other's attention without waking the other two occupants.

"When did this become a thing?" He gestured towards the cuddling pair.

Damian simply raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"You really ought to read our messages. They've been like this for a month now." And with that, Damian went back to his reading, a smirk hidden behind the pages as his father gaped at him in disbelief. It was going to take a small miracle for his father to figure out the other two were dating at this rate.

Snapping his mouth closed and clearing his throat once more, Bruce turned back to his own book, filing the information away for later, thinking to himself, 'Perhaps Damian isn't as possessive as I thought?'