#at least he looks pretty while being duped by everyone he's ever met

[thereluctantinquisitor]

psst you mentioned making varlen in baldurs gate a while back. I was wondering... if you ended up doing it? :3

Oh boy did I...

I am calling it his “oh please guys I’m totally not a model” AU, in which all Varlen does is vogue for the camera while failing skill checks

[unmaskedagain]

Not Waiting forever

I’m pretty sure this has been done like a million times already. But I decided I’m going to try to answer as many prompts, that are already in my asks, as I can before I burn out. I AM NOT CURRENTLY TAKING PROMPTS.

THESE will not be full-fledged fics but more than likely ONE-SHOT drabbles. I need to push through my writer’s block. This is disregarding Miracle Queen.

 …It wasn’t Marinette’s choice.

Ladybug, the new guardian after Fu’s tragic heart attack, had gave her opinion but that was it. Kwami were stubborn. No matter what Marinette said in defense of Alya and Nino, Trixx and Wayzz. None of the Kwami were willing to be given out to anyone they didn’t give express approval of anymore. It wasn’t a risk they could take. And now that Marinette was the Guardian on top of being a full time hero, they couldn’t allow just anyone to watch her back. They all decided that Marinette needed someone she could trust and who trusted her. And just as importantly, they needed wielders who better fit them.

Alya failed to see through Lila Rossi. She fell too easily for lies to be a master of illusion. Instead of searching for the truth, gathering evidence, she rather just believe what she’s told. She demanded proof from Marinette rather than believing her friend over someone she just met. She was stubborn and once Alya’s mind was set on something, there was no stopping her.

Trixx refused to go back to her. The kwami wanted someone more creative and free thinking. Maybe a different type of writer, she said. A clever story teller.

Nino failed to stand by his friend when she needed him the most. His lack of loyalty to one of his oldest childhood friends had left a bad taste in Wayzz’s mouth. He chose Alya’s side, and thus Lila’s, without even bothering to hear what Marinette had to say. Or even demanding that they at least take her view into consideration.

If Nino couldn’t stand by his dear friend over a minor issue, the Kwami couldn’t trust he’d guard Ladybug’s back, who a technically stranger to him. Wayzz refused to allow Nino to be his holder again.

           Marinette had gotten more than a bit defensive because despite everything that was going on in class, she still believed Alya and Nino would come around. She believed that the two, and everyone else in class, would realize Lila was lying.  It was just a matter of time.

“That’s the issue, Mistress,” Wayzz frowned at her. “You shouldn’t have to wait for them to have your back.” He told her.

           Trixx nodded, “Alya could’ve easily looked up any of Lila’s claims when you told her Lila was lying. But she didn’t because she didn’t want to. Lila’s tales about Ladybug are a hit on her blog. Alya would rather cling to fool’s gold because its shiny than do what she knows is right.”

           Marinette crossed her arms, “Alya can just get a little… excited. You know how much the Ladyblog means to her!”

“Yes. We do,” Trixx nodded. “What we don’t know is how much you do. From what we can tell… not that much. Alya would rather think you’re jealous,” Trixx added, “And that you’re the problem than consider that her and the entire class got duped. It’s not fair.”

“Your friends routinely ditch you,” Wayzz reminded her. “Ignore you in class, believe the worst about you. They have all but severed their friendship with you completely. This has been going on for months. This is not something that can just be blamed on Lila’s falsehoods. It was their own choices that led to this. We do not trust them.

“I trust them?” Marinette offered weakly.

           Trixx and Wayzz shared a look before shaking their heads.

“No,” Wayzz said. “You want to trust them.”

“There’s a difference,” Trixx told her. “You want to trust them like you want them to be the friends you knew again. You want them back. I’m sorry, Marinette. But we want new holders. All the Kwami do.”

“You need a team now,” Wayzz stated. “Not a later. Hawkmoth is growing stronger. You need allies. It’s time.”

“Pollen doesn’t want a new holder,” Marinette said petulantly.

           There was silence.

“…Pollen was always the weird one,” Wayzz shrugged. “Pollen will never change her mind about Chloe.”

           Marinette narrowed her eyes. That had been the longest argument ever. Eventually Marinette had lost the battle when she was forced to admit how much the blond hero had improved over time. Chloe hadn’t bullied or hurt anyone’s feeling in a very long time. There had been no tantrums or threats to call her daddy. Even without a mask, Marinette had spotted Chloe helping people escape Akumas at the risk of herself. She was proving to be a hero outside of being Queen bee. Marinette did trust her to fight by her side which had been the deciding factor.

Plus Pollen refused to give in, and the only one the Kwami would pick. So Marinette gave in. She went to Chloe as Ladybug and gave her the hair clip.

“Welcome to the team,” Ladybug smiled as best she could.

           Chloe held the hairclip with disbelief and tears in her eyes, “I’m going to be a hero? You trust me.”

“You are a hero,” Ladybug said and did the bravest, and possibly the stupid thing in her life, “Spots off.” She detransformed in front of Chloe. The blonde’s mouth dropped. “And I do trust you.”

“Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe hissed but then goarned. “I should’ve known.”

“Yes, Chloe gets to stay.”

           Trixx giggled, “Pollen only likes Queen Bees, and she hasn’t come across any better than Chloe at your school.”

“And, while, Chloe didn’t like you before, she does now.” Wayzz admitted, “She was always very loyal to Ladybug. She has potential to be a good hero if we can break her love of the limelight completely.”

           Marinette huffed.

“And I remind you, there were conditions,” Wayzz advised. “A new costume and a new name. New hair color. Whatever it takes. She can never tell the public who she really is. Killer Wasp has a nice ring to it.”

           Marinette sighed and slumped face first onto her. She could hear Tikki snickering in the background and vowed to only bring oatmeal cookies to her for the next week.

What was Marinette going to do? What could she do? She had been so excited when the Kwami told her they wanted to get more permanent use like Tikki and Plagg… Until they broke the news. (And just a bit of Marinette’s heart)

           Now Marinette had to find new users.

           Trixx wanted a creative free thinker who wasn’t the least bit stubborn. A different type of writer, Trixx has suggested. A clever story teller.

           Wayzz wanted who had the natural born ability to be a protector. Someone smart and hardworking who had proven themselves to be loyal.

           Marinette’s head snapped up and she glared at the two Kwami, “You already know who you want, don’t you?”

           Trixx and Wayzz smirked.

“In my chosen’s defense,” Wayzz started, “She has proven herself to be loyal to a fault. And with the right amount of confidence, she will be an extraordinary ally.”

“My chosen is so creative,” Trixx swooned, “The most brilliant imagination. As a natural storyteller, his mind was born to see all the possibilities. It allows him to come up with theories and ideas no one else would even consider. There is no illusion he can’t see through because as soon as he sees it hundreds of different explanations run through his head.”

           Marinette raised an eyebrow and gave them firm stare. “Who is it?”

“I want Marc!” Trixx said happily.

The bluenette looked thoughtful for a moment but eventually nodded, admitting that Marc would be a good match for Trixx. “Agreed, I will give Marc a trial run to test his abilities.” Then Marinette turned to Wayzz who was looking very sheepish.

“Hear me out, if we get my chosen on our side, she’d be unstoppable,” Wayzz told her. “There would be nothing she wouldn’t do for those she cares for.”

“Who. Is. It?” Marinette asked again.

“I like her,” Wayzz insisted. “She has potential. If she was just a bit bolder…”

“Wayzz…” Marinette said.

Trixx snickered, “There’s a reason Wayzz gave into Chloe…”

Marinette paused. She slowly sat up on her bed, and looked at Wayzz long and hard, “…Sabrina? You want Sabrina!!!”

“Yes.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” The shout could be heard all over Paris.

“She hated me,” Marinette reminded the kwami.

“Disliked you,” Wayzz corrected. “But only because Chloe did. Once Sabrina found out you and Chloe had become friends, you have to admit she has become rather sweet. She’s a hard worker and defended you against Lila three times last week.”

“And you do like her,” Trixx added. “Why else would you have a slumber party with Chloe and Sabrina?”

“…I hit my head a lot during fights,” Marinette shrugged. “Magic can’t take away all the damage.”

           She sighed. Marc and Sabrina, huh? Marinette wondered how that was going to work out. She hated to admit it but Wayzz and Trixx were right. Ladybug couldn’t wait anymore. She needed a team. One she could count on in and outside of the mask. The city needed more heroes.

           It wasn’t right to make them wait just because she clung to a hope that everything would go back to the way it was. Marinette really missed her friends but she couldn’t wait for them anymore. It had been months.

           And even if everyone in class discovered Lila’s was lying, that Marinette wasn’t a jealous, nasty bully, that she was their friend… That Marinette had always been their friend… It wouldn’t matter.

           Truthfully, after everything that had happened, Wayzz was right. Marinette didn’t trust them, she just wanted to. And that wasn’t enough.

           Not enough for Kwami, and not enough for her. (not anymore)

           Nothing could or would go back to the way it was no matter how much Marinette wished it. Once bitten, twice shy. A part of will never entirely trust them again. (Not when they traded her for fool’s gold already before.)

           Paris needed more permanent heroes. Ladybug needed a team. Marinette needed people she could trust.

           She was done waiting.

(She wondered how Alya and Nino would handle being replaced...)

…

…

            ...They didn’t take it well.

(Sabrina, Shield Maiden, and Marc, Renard Masqué, thrived as heroes.)

[pride-moth]

If you were church, I'd get on my knees [Stolitz Week Day 4 - Wedding]

Ao3 Link

Event Info Link

The paparazzi are everywhere. They sit in the trees, in the windows of neighboring buildings, in the cars on the adjacent streets, some have even made their way onto the premises. They’ve been taking pictures of everything all morning. Of the seating area, the flower arrangements, the early guests, even the waiters. They’re prepared to fill the tabloids with the most scandalous wedding in hell. A Prince and an imp. The highest and the lowest. It’s gossip pages simply filling themselves.

They’re prepared for everything. Except for the ceremony not happening in the elaborately-staged venue. They will sit there for hours until dawn comes and there’s still nobody there, except the guests and waiters who have been roaming the place since the morning. “We’ve been duped,” someone will say eventually but nobody will have any idea what to do next.

Sometime in the afternoon, the real wedding congregation is happening in the I.M.P headquarters, with only a handful of people and a private wedding photographer. Everything is decorated in the crispiest shade of white they could find. It’s smaller and simpler than the fake venue they’ve coordinated, but it’s still stunning and gorgeous and perfect, and Stolas is slowly losing his mind in his little pre-room where Millie and Octavia are doing their best to keep him together. He picks at his white suit, wrings his hands and runs to the mirror every single minute to check himself.

“You need to calm down,” Via says, slightly exasperated considering Stolas hasn’t exactly been calm in hours, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“What if it isn’t? What if the paparazzi come here? What if they find out? What if Blitz decides he doesn’t want to marry me after all?”

“Blitz is…” Millie says while fine-tuning her own hair, “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think he’d ever marry. Didn’t seem like the type. But he’s decided to marry you and that’s something, right. Plus, you’ve gotten married before, you know how it works.”

“That was so long ago, I scarcely remember.”

“The point is there’s no reason to be nervous, everything is going to run smoothly.” Millie gives him a hearty pat on the back.

“Weren’t you nervous when you and Moxxie married?”

“Oh, I wasn’t, Moxxie almost lost it, though. But do you know what I told him?”

“What?”

“That marriage isn’t that big a deal. We love each other before the big party and we’ll love each other after the big party, just with more tax benefits.”

“That’s not very romantic…” Via remarks from across the room.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” Millie shrugs. “You’re just having a big party to celebrate how much you love each other. And to get tax benefits.”

“Maybe.”

“So, don’t worry about it! Also, there’s no paparazzi, they’re still swarming the fake venue, Moxxie has CCTV on them.”

“Thank you, for organizing this whole thing, I just… Didn’t want to do this with the press present. It’s… I don’t know, it feels less special when everyone gets to watch, you know?”

“No problem, and now get out there and marry my boss!”

Stolas takes a deep breath and his daughter by his hand and walks out of the room.

He walks in with Blitz already waiting in bated breath, wearing a matching white suit that makes him look just obscenely handsome and when their eyes finally meet, it’s as though all worries fall off him in an instant. It’s going to be fine, Stolas thinks, maybe all of it is going to be fine. Forever.

“You look great,” he says shyly and takes both of Blitz’ hands.

“You are absolutely smoking hot,” Blitz responds. Stolas chuckles.

Next to them, Loona, their impromptu officiator, clears her throat to get their attention. “So, uhm, again, can someone explain to me why we’re doing this all proper and pseudo-Christian??”

“Because I like to spite the establishment which I’m marrying into. Also, Christian weddings have a very good aesthetic, we’ve been over this, now ask us for our vows, Loonie,” Blitz replies sharply.

“Okay, sure, uhm, vows please?”

Stolas breathes in deeply. “Blitz, when you came into my life, I never could have imagined standing here with you now. You were loud, abrasive, vulgar and… Well, you still are all of these things, but now I love you for it. Now I want to listen to talk about nothing and rant about your least favorite fruit all day. I want to hear your voice from morning to evening and I won’t tire of it. When I met you… I thought you would be nothing but a tiny speck on my night sky. Seen once, but quickly forgotten. But now I know you’re the brightest star of them all, always leading my way. I love you and I wish to always find my way to you.”

There is some sniffling in the room, though someone is probably also throwing up.

“Wow, okay. Dad, would you like to go next?” Loona says, then, her voice shaking just the tiniest bit.

Blitz looks around and takes a deep breath. “I’ve never been lucky with relationships before, they were… Yeah, they were all pretty terrible. And I didn’t even plan on having one with you for a long time, frankly. But… You know, sometimes you don’t really have a choice. You don’t want to fall in love with the weird bird prince. You just want to get his book and you have sex with him to do, but… It becomes more than that and that’s why we’re here now. Because I love you, even though it took me a long time to accept that. And I can’t wait to be married to you and rail you in the Hellton Hotel honeymoon suite.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence for a moment. A silent, disturbed “What?” comes from Octavia.

“What?! Do you think I’m not gonna fuck my husband harder than ever before in our wedding night? Fucking prudes.”

Loona clears her throat again. “So, uhm, right. Stolas, do you wish to take Blitz over here as your husband?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

“Great. Dad. Blitz. whatever. Do you wish to take Stolas here as your husband?”

“Hell yeah, let’s go!”

“Good, then blah blah something something by the power of whatever is going on here, I pronounce you two married. But please wait until after the party with whatever you two want to do to each other…”

“And…?” Blitz says.

“Oh, right, yeah. You may now kiss. As if you need my permission for that. ...Wait, we didn’t even do the thing with the rings yet!”

But they’re already kissing. And so they share this, their first kiss as husbands, it feels exactly the same as always in the best way possible. They’ve kissed before, hundreds upon thousands of times, and this time is no different, it’s an intuitive motion, a well-practiced one, carried out with pure trust and comfort.

And yet, it absolutely is different because that kiss now carries a promise. A promise for many, many years of more kisses, years of just them, together.

The party goes into the dead of night, people dancing and drinking all in celebration of their love, it’s an almost surreal concept. Octavia gets drunk for the first time and that’s a whole piece of work, but Loona is there for her, them being sisters now and all.

But in the Hellton Hotel honeymoon suite they’ve booked for the night, nothing much actually happens because they’re drunk and tired and exhausted, so all they do is cuddle up against each other in the gratuitous pink bed and fall asleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that there’s more than enough time for everything else during the rest of their lives.

The next day, the tabloids will be filled with only one picture, the one their own wedding photographer made, the one they actually want the world to see on their own terms. It shows them, in their matching white suits, Stolas with one hand on Blitz’ hips and a content smile on his face while Blitz has his tongue out and gives the camera the middle finger.

[koreandragon]

What if they're playing us in tomorrow and he's not her husband or is instead her second husband??? I don't trust drama writers anymore. Also this should've been the story like this relationship and romance and angst should've been the main thing or at least gotten more than 2 minutes every episode lmfao. I'm rewatching some dramas and reflecting on some tropes they seem to love and omg for a medium that has lived and survived thanks to romance they sure do love to shit on it constantly, the BS they pulled with 2521 that post that was like a north Korean and south Korean and a goblin and a human etc found a way to be together but a reporter and a fencer couldn't adkfjjfj yikes. Like I'm so so tired of the EP 12 to 15 break up for no other reason than we need people to keep watching until ep 16, it always always undermines the entire relationship we're supposed to believe is true love~~~ I want ROMANCE back, yearning and fighting for each other against all odds and desperate hugs and kisses and longing and just all consuming love and passion I'm tired where are my princess man like dramas where she put a sword to her throat and stayed like that for a day promising to kill herself the moment her father killed her lover, my dramas like queen in hyuns man where they fought time and space and 3 different timelines and she felt his pain with 300 f*cking years between them. It's like they forgot how to write a good love story and all its different complex moving parts. With the world getting shittier and shittier we need these kind of stories now more than ever and yet they seem to be disappearing all together and I thought I only had to worry about western media looking down on romance but it seems like the tide has shifted in Korea too unfortunately.

oof go off anon... honestly it really does feel like it's been a while since we've seen a truly angsty and all sweeping romance. i would count doom at your service as a really good one though, i mean they were both ready to die for the other and found each other over and over again, even when fate didn't want them to. we need more like this.

i don't believe they're duping us tho like i'm pretty sure they've gone too far to turn back now so he has to be her husband?? and yes i would much rather have their story be the main focus of the drama instead of something that's on the back burner all the time, it's like they accidentally create this perfect love story with past lives and red threads and suicide and finding each other again despite all odds then they decide to just have that as a supporting story line. this is a whole drama material, i would watch 16 episodes of this story. everyone watching this is more invested in their romance than the actual drama and it's odd that despite being a main character goo ryeon's story is so sidelined.

i don’t even wanna talk about 2521 cause that was a whole disaster i absolutely hated it like it was actually deeply upsetting and deminished the whole show. you could say ‘well but this show was about friendship and coming of age and etc’ no this was a romance drama about two people falling in love, that was THE MAIN THEME, that was the main story and at the end they went ‘actually nevermind’ and just??? they never heard from each other again?? make it make sense. fucking sick of plot twist and diverting viewer’s expectations and essentially betraying your viewers because this is not what they signed up for. fuck that writer honestly

the dramas you mentioned are both sageuks or fusions that usually tend to be more dramatic and deep but i can't really speak on this genre now as i don't really watch them so idk the situation about those romances.

i don't know if it's the globalization of kdramas but there really seems to be less of these earth shattering romances nowadays. i'm scared to bring up mr queen but if you don't look at the ending, the whole appeal of that show was that these two met through time and space, being from different times, being different sexes and their love story was so beautiful and so fullfilling, it had me glued to the screen for months...when writers realize that romances bring in more viewers i will finally know peace.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Worthy (pt6)

A/N: once again - just keep poking me until I start tagging you if you want tagged. @rampant-salamander​, @bolontiku​

...

I looked from Tony to Thor and back to Tony.

“I don’t understand your question,” I responded, and threw back the drink. To hell with being moderate. I was pretty sure I was about to lose my dream job on my second day, I may as well go out with a bang.

“Ella, there has to be something special about you to allow you to lift that hammer,” Tony spoke slowly. That was probably a bad thing. I suspected slow speech meant a really active brain. I was now a mystery that needed to be solved.

“There is nothing special about me at all,” I argued.

“You can lift Mjolnir. That is special.” Thor was like a sage who spoke in riddles.

“But being able to lift Mjolnir isn’t what makes me special enough to lift it. That’s a redundancy.” I, like Tony, was slipping into scientific method in order to try to sort things out.

“Do you have Aesir blood, Ella?” Thor asked.

“My family is from Washington. By way of Wisconsin,” I replied. Tony snorted and Thor shot him a dirty look.

“Before this Wisconsin?” He pressed. The way he said Wisconsin made it sound unfamiliar and strange.

“Norway and England.”

“Norway. That is where the Northmen resided.” Thor looked thoughtful. “In the time of the Vikings, the Aesir traveled on Midgard much more frequently than they do now.”

“Are you suggesting that some ancestor of mine got knocked up by a god?” I could feel my eyebrow rising. Tony smothered a smirk behind his hand. My tone was lost on Thor.

“We are not gods, Ella,” Thor corrected. “And I am unfamiliar with knocked up. What I suggest is that your ancestor was impregnated by an Aesir.”

“But in order to lift your hammer, wouldn’t it have to be you that got this mystery ancestor pregnant? I’d have to be your descendent?” I could feel the blood draining from my face. It would be just my luck that the hottest guy I’d ever seen would be related to me. Thor’s smile was mischievous.

“Not necessarily. I would have discovered offspring of mine on Midgard by now, and I know left none. But I think it reasonable to consider you may have Aesir blood in your veins,” he explained. “Which makes you very special indeed.”

“Can everyone in Asgard lift your hammer?” I asked. Thor shook his head.

“None but I.”

“Then I don’t buy it. I keep telling people, I’m nothing special.” I was getting frustrated with the scrutiny. I never thought I would be desperate for a cute guy to stop paying attention to me, but in that moment, I would have given anything to be able to just go hide in obscurity in the lab, building my washing machine.

“But that’s where you’re wrong, Ella,” Tony interrupted. I’d nearly forgotten he was there, Thor had such powerful bearing. I didn’t think it was possible to lose track of Tony Stark, but I guess in the presence of not-actually-gods… “You are something special. That’s why Pepper and I lept on your application like we did. How did you make it through university with such a bad self image?”

“I don’t have a bad self image. I know I’m a fucking amazing engineer. I just fail to see a correlation between my ability to understand math and build things and my purported mystical ability to lift a magic hammer,” I snapped. I turned back to Thor. “You’re sure no one else can lift it?” Thor glanced at Tony, almost as though he was looking for approval. Tony gave a slight nod.

“I believe that Captain Rogers would be able to lift it, should he have the opportunity. But that remains untested,” Thor admitted. I sighed.

“Of course. He’s a legit hero. Full of righteousness and honour and nobility.” My tone was more sarcastic than I’d intended.

“Yes, intangible and arbitrary measures of worthiness. Who is to say you don’t meet the parameters in some way?” Thor shot back. I looked into my empty glass, wishing it were still full.

“Did you not see me level that d-bag in the elevator?”

“Tis nothing I would not have done myself, and yet I am still worthy,” Thor shrugged. Pepper had walked in at some point during the conversation, and Tony turned to her expectantly. She sighed and blinked slowly.

“We’ve had a discussion about appropriate professional behaviour. He is aware that if there are any further incidents he will lose his internship.” Pepper reached out for the glass of wine Tony was offering her.

“It’s a bit of a PR nightmare if we lose a second intern in as many days, Pep,” Tony commented.

“It’s a worse nightmare if, right as we’re rolling out a gender equality program and girl’s STEM mentorship program, the media gets ahold of information about how we’re allowing someone guilty of sexual harassment to remain in a prestigious and competitive internship,” she retorted. He pursed his lips and paused. After a moment he nodded in agreement.

“What do I know? You’re the boss.” His acquiescence was met with laughter from Pepper.

“What do you know, Tony? How many times did you attend the SHIELD seminar again?” She choked on her wine. “Trust me. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s a smart guy, and I’d like to think he’ll be respectful from now on.” Tony responded with some other comment and I slumped back into my seat, watching the show. If you didn’t know they were stupidly in love with one another, you might assume they were on the verge of war. But I think Tony liked to goad Pepper, and she rose to the bait. Not because she was gullible though. At least, I didn’t think it was because she was easily duped. I think she rose to the bait because it was how they clicked together. I looked away from them and over to Thor, who was sitting back on the couch, completely relaxed. The hammer was propped up beside him, handle leaning against the bolster. It was uncanny how powerful he looked, even in jeans and a t-shirt. I relaxed a little and just enjoyed looking at him, taking in the contours of his biceps, and the definition of the veins in his hands. There was a lot of him to look at, and it was all very pleasing to the eye. At least, everything I’d seen thus far.

I didn’t realize how overt I was being until he smirked. He turned to look at me, and nodded.

“Is it not considered poor manners on Midgard to stare at others?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, but I blinked and looked away, feeling my cheeks colour.

There was really no way for me to deny that I was staring at him. The only blank wall in the entire place was right behind him. I couldn’t even beg being distracted by some of the weird art that seemed to be all over the building. 

“I, uh, well,” I stammered. “I was looking at the hammer?” It sounded like bullshit, even to me. I heard a stifled laugh from Tony and shot him a filthy look. I pushed myself to my feet and glanced at Pepper. “If you don’t need me, Pepper, I’m going to try to catch up with Angela. I have some things I need to pick up for my suite.”

“You can order anything you need from distribution,” Tony offered.

“Except, apparently, towels bigger than a postage stamp,” I retorted. My ears were burning and I was having a really hard time not looking over to see if Thor was following the conversation. He probably was as there was no one else for him to pay attention to.

“You are aware there’s varying sizes of towel?” Tony’s tone was sarcastic. I rolled my eyes.

“Not that this is really a conversation I feel I want to have with my boss, but I grabbed the biggest one. It still barely covered me.” I was ready to pray for a hole to open in the floor and swallow me.

“Well, you’re not exactly supposed to be lounging around in your tow –“

“I wasn’t!” I interrupted. “I was just getting out of the shower when Thor showed up and I didn’t have time to be getting fully dressed before I answered the door, and then the towel slipped and oh my god I cannot believe I’m telling you all this.” I took a deep breath and looked back to Pepper. “Can I go? Please?”

“Let me walk you to the elevator,” she offered and led the way. As we walked away, I heard Tony clear his throat.

“You’ve seen her naked already, you sly dog?”

“That is enough, Stark. How you have lived so many years on this realm and not noticed how modest some of your women are, I have no idea. But you embarrassed her. Like many Midgardians, she lacks comfort with the physical form.” Thor’s words were a chastisement, and I somehow felt even more embarrassed about him having seen me naked. Because now, not only was I naked in front of the freaking Norse god of thunder, but also he took more notice of what a prude I am than that I was naked. I leaned against the wall and banged my head against it.

“That’s not how you call the elevator,” Pepper teased. “I know we all collectively keep telling you to relax, but, yeah. Relax. If Tony is already giving you a hard time, he’s assimilating you into his world as a permanent fixture. This will be something you laugh about in future years.” Her eyes were warm with empathy and it was so reassuring.

“You seriously need to do something about the towel situation, Pepper.” I stepped onto the elevator and pushed the button for my floor. Once the doors shut, I texted Angela to see how far she’d got without me. I didn’t have to wait long. I was swiping my passcard to get into my room when she stepped off the elevator.

“So, towels? Maybe a beer?” She followed me into my apartment.

“Yes. To both.”

XXX

For whatever reason, I expected getting beer with Angela would be more Sex-in-the-City than it was. She pulled me into a quiet bar after we’d found appropriate towels, and we ordered wings from the kitchen and beer.

“So I did some research today while you were meeting with Markus,” she volunteered over a heap of wing bones. I made a noise that was easily interpretable as curiosity and she continued. “I might have hacked some of Tony’s files about that hammer. Thor wasn’t kidding around when he said you shouldn’t be able to lift it. It was apparently forged in the heart of a dying star, of some crazy space-metal. And the Odin enchanted it so only Thor could lift it. Which is clearly a broken enchantment because apparently you can lift it too.”

“It says right on it that if you’re worthy, you can lift it,” I corrected her with my mouth full.

“Obviously it doesn’t take table manners into consideration!” She laughed. I hung my head in mock-shame, but made sure my mouth was clear before I spoke again.

“I don’t know how it determines worthiness. Honestly, isn’t that a little creepy? Is the hammer sentient? Does it consider the merits of each individual that touches it in that split second between grabbing it and trying to lift it? Or does Odin have some sort of approval system for worthiness, and he gets interrupted from whatever it is he’s doing to approve people in that same fraction of an instant?” I pondered.

“Way to ruin magic with science,” she groaned.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. That’s Clarke’s Third Law. The other two are pretty good too,” I shrugged.

“Oh, that was a kill shot! Come on, let me have some sort of fantasy about the mystical powers of the damn hammer, Ella!” Angela threw her hands up in frustration. I smiled and nodded.

“Of course. The hammer is mystical and powerful and absolutely should not be questioned,” I acceded. Angela swatted at me and flagged the waitress over for another round. I felt myself relaxing and forgetting about the overwhelming stress of the past couple of days as we decompressed over a second beer. When Angela dropped me back at the tower, I realized she may very well live on-site as well, but I was tired and had a bit of a beer buzz and forgot to ask before stumbling through my door and crashing on the sofa.

[cyndalyssa]

Oh, Look, Another Darkwing Drabble

This one’s a snippet of a bigger story in my head, based on the idea of Bushroot going massive mindless monstrosity. 

I dunno if I’ll ever write the rest of the story down, my life tends to get a little busy and I already have a lot of ideas I want to make in my free time, but I at least wanted to exercise the writing muscles. 

All was quiet at the Museum of Failed Experiments. The dark of night gave the appearance of rest to each polished display, even those that were still lit. Though dignified it looked, the place was home to quite a bit of failure, hence the name. Each wing, covering branches of science and engineering, was a hall of shame, showing off embarrassments, tragedies, and unfinished projects to the citizens of St. Canard.

It was at this scene that the night guards present had unfortunate encounters. A flower that sprayed sleeping gas, a stun gun, a joy buzzer that ended in instant knockout, being washed into a closet by water from the drinking fountain, and just getting hit by a mallet were their fates, and they were swiftly locked up by the intruders.  

The Fearsome Five then had the place to themselves. 

As they met up in the lobby, Megavolt couldn’t help but look up, in awe of the enormity of it. “Wowza, they really went all out on this place!” He glanced back at the corridor from whence he came and smiled. “They’ve got gizmos and gadgets aplenty!”

Quackerjack bounced to his side. “And whozits and whatzits galore!”

“They got thingamabobs?”

“Psht, at least twenty!”

Megavolt laughed. “I can’t believe they gave up on some of these! I oughta grab ‘em and show everyone how it’s done!” 

Quackerjack grinned. “Oh, I feel you, Sparky! In fact, I’m getting quite a bit of inspiration myself from doodads like the fruit-flavored fireworks! Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo, can you just imagine a literal explosion of fruity goodness?”

Megavolt narrowed his eyes, his plug hat sparking and an irritated growl in his voice. “How many times have I told you not to call me Sparky?”

“Not like you can remember.”

Cutting between them, the Liquidator piped in, “Fruit-flavored fireworks? The phenomenon of the century, guaranteed to sweeten up your 4th of July celebrations! Comes in apple, cherry, grape, and blue raspberry.”

Bushroot scratched his head. “I’m just wondering how the inventor expected that to work. What kind of chemistry was involved?”

Negaduck rolled his eyes. “Blegh, of course you dweebs get hopped up on exploding fruit snacks. Now remember, children, we’re not here for the fireworks, we’re here for the portal gun that’s supposed to be displayed here… and I expect you to be looking for it!” 

The other four silently stared at him for a moment, glanced at each other, and then back to him. Then, Megavolt asked, “Well, what does it look like?”

“It’s red and vaguely gun-shaped, with a spinny thing at the end,” Negaduck answered in baby-talk. Then he snapped, “I’m sure you could figure it out from the display name! Now, get to searching!”

Negaduck stormed upstairs. Quackerjack and Megavolt rushed to the technology wing--partially running from Negaduck, partially rushing to see what kind of doodads they could see. Perhaps even take some and modify them for later mischief. 

Liquidator was about to flow down another hall when he noticed Bushroot at the directory. The plant duck glanced the direction of the hall that Quackerjack and Megavolt rushed down, and then up the stairs that Negaduck had descended. Then, almost sneakily, he went in the opposite direction and toward the natural science and chemistry wing. 

Curious, Liquidator decided to follow him, and had caught up in a second. “One in ten customers would say that this portal gun is not in this wing, Bushroot.”

Bushroot flinched at the sudden voice, but quickly regained his composure. “Well, uh… when studying the map earlier, I recall that the storage room was somewhere in this direction. It could be in there.”

Liquidator raised a watery eyebrow. “You want an excuse to look around, huh?”

Bushroot glanced away. “Well… it couldn’t hurt. I mean, I’m curious and I don’t know when I’ll be able to have another opportunity for a museum visit.” He looked back to see Liquidator still staring like a disappointed parent. “But I do think storage is in this wing, honest!”

“Hm. Well, if it’s in this direction, why not treat yourself to this once-in-a-lifetime super private tour? Just don’t get too distracted, and it’ll be between you and me.”

“O-oh, that’s no problem. I’m a pretty fast reader.”

The two mutants wandered around the natural science and chemistry wing, looking for a door or hall or basement staircase that led to that storage room. However, Liquidator was doing most of the looking, sweeping around the rooms quickly, while Bushroot, though still looking at the walls in hopes of spotting the passage they were looking for, was circling displays in fascination. There were models and pictures of odd creatures or monstrosities, as well as deformed skeletons of unfortunate souls. He read about attempts to clone prehistoric plants and even animals, a tale of a man who accidentally fused himself with a fly, and the horror of radioactive moss. On occasion, he’d stumble on a display involving water, and invite Likki to take a look. 

Every so often, Liquidator would look to see what Bushroot was doing. There were moments that Bushroot seemed to be genuinely looking for that storage room--such as now, when walking along the wall of glass cases full of more experiments, he paused at a gap in the wall, looking at a door, but saw that it was an emergency exit and then moved on. Otherwise, the plant duck was more invested in the science that surrounded him, which Likki had a little trouble relating to. While some of the stuff involving water was interesting, he otherwise didn’t care for the biological stuff that Bushroot was so entranced by. 

Meanwhile, so far, the only doors they had found were emergency exits, but nothing leading to any storage or basement at some point. Liquidator was almost of the mind that Bushroot duped him, but Bushy wasn’t like that.

At some point, when Liquidator finally found a hallway that looked promising, Bushroot suddenly cried, “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Alarmed, Likki splashed his way to where Bushroot stood, at a display in the corner about biological chemical disasters. The plant duck was looking quite offended, glaring at one particular shelf where a green substance, surrounded by plant models and photos of a strange machine, sat. Likki took a closer look at the label, which read:

Chloroplast Infusion Solution, Dr. Reginald Bushroot, Ph.D

Skimming over the description of the substance, what it was supposed to do, and how it backfired, Likki just glanced over to Bushroot, who held his head in his leafy hands. 

“How humiliating! I can’t believe I made it into the Hall of Shame!”

Likki patted him on the back. “Aw, Bushy, do not fret! After all, you’ve gotten an upgrade! Who needs a normal sad sap scientist when you can have a super plant that can grow a forest with just a thought?” 

A sharp glare arose from Bushroot’s palms. “I just wanted to alleviate world hunger… and, uh, maybe get a little respect…”

“Respect, huh?” Likki shook his head. “I’m sure with your power, you can easily command it.”

“There is a difference between respect and fear.”

“Hm. Well, as Bud Flud, I was just a salesman trying to keep my business afloat; but as the Liquidator, I became master of all liquids, one with the water, and a force to be reckoned with!” A sphere of water detached from Likki’s hand and revolved around it. “I know my power, and I revel in it.” 

He grabbed the sphere, reabsorbing it. “As for you… well, you’ve got potential, but you lack nerve. Someday, I’d like to see you cut loose, show them what Bushroot is really capable of.”

Bushroot glanced at him, pondering on whether he should remind Liquidator of Negaduck and their shared fear of him, but decided against it. He crossed his arms. “Fine, whatever you say.”

He went back to glaring at the display of his fateful project. “If those two ignoramuses had just minded their own business and not made me look bad in front of the dean, then I would��ve still had the funding to test on the lab rats instead of myself. You know, catch the kinks and find a way to iron them out. But… here I am now.”

“I’d say that career change was for the better.”

“But I liked being a scientist… sure, I hated my coworkers--except one--but I love science.”

Likki shrugged. “Life sucks and we just gotta roll with the punches.” He turned around and marched toward that one hallway. “Now, come on, there’s a storage room calling our names, and who knows when the purple menace will pop in.”

Bushroot sighed, taking one last look at his experiment’s exhibit. “All right, I’ll stop wasting ti--”

He stopped when he caught a name on the display right next to his. Eyes boggling, he grabbed the bottle from that shelf and shouted, “Goodness grapevines! He has one here too?”

Likki stopped and turned around. “Inquiring minds must know… who’s he?” 

Bushroot gestured to the name on the display, which, when Likki took a closer look, read ‘Dr. Arthur Bones’. “He was my rival back in college, and he was one of the meanest, most condescending jerks that I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. I don’t know what I ever did to him, but sometimes it felt like it was his life’s mission just to convince me that everything I do is stupid and dangerous. Hmph, at least my buddy Andrew had my back.”

Liquidator rubbed his chin. “You just have a way of attracting bullies, don’t you? At the very least, you can take some joy that Dr. Bones is also in the Hall of Shame!”

“Yeah, I guess I could.” Bushroot looked at the label on the bottle, brow furrowed in confusion. “Although I do wonder what he was doing making fertilizer. Last I remember, he was into genetics--especially studies on mutations and defects.”

“For more information, check the description--it’s right there.”

Bushroot turned to the description and read aloud, “‘In 1990, a miracle growth formula invented by Dr. Bones took several western states by storm. With a natural sweet scent and potent power, it improved the lives of gardeners everywhere by making plants healthier, stronger, and sturdier against disease and pests, and helping them to grow faster than normal’.” He scratched his chin and nodded. “Well, now I’m tempted to bring it home with me and see what my plants think.”

Liquidator chuckled. “Oh, I bet they’d love it! The amazing miracle fertilizer, guaranteed to create a happy and hearty garden!”

“Ee-hee, it does sound great.” Bushroot’s smile fell into a frown as he turned back to the description. “But this is a Museum of Failed Experiments, so there is a catch here... ‘While at first it seemed to be a blessing, it soon proved to be dangerous for people, as proven with the Mallard High School Football Team during the fall of 1990. Reports of--’”

“I am the terror that flaps in the night!”

The sudden voice from nowhere made them jump. Bushroot even ended up tossing the bottle of fertilizer into the air. He didn’t even hear the second part of the introduction, too distracted by gravity smashing the bottle onto his head. The glass shattered, and fertilizer splashed everywhere on him and the floor, leaving him a dripping mess. His roots started lapping up the puddle that remained. 

“I am… Darkwing Duck!”

[koukouture]

Meant for you chapter 7) Welcome to Reim

”Cheif Rametoto, I the warrior Hinahoho am grateful for your presence” Hinahoho said. 

Hina, Sinbad, Amaris and a woman who’s name was apparently Rurumu, knelt in front of an old weathered man, Rametoto, cheif of Imcakk. Hina stood, “We are here to ask for your permission, will you allow us, Hinahoho and Rurumu to get married? And leave the Imchakk clan?”

’Hina, choose your words more carefully’ Amaris thought. ‘You do not talk to a girl’s dad like that’

“Answer this question, warrior Hinahoho, what are you able to provide for my daughter? Wealth? Power? Status? My daughter has been cultured to be a warrior, she’s wanted nothing else her entire life. She has everything you can think of. So, I ask again; what can you provide to a person like her?” 

“At the moment, I am unable to provide her with anything” Hina replied. ‘Bad answer’ Amaris though with a wince. 

“Bastard! Who in their right mind would dare to insult the great cheif of Imchakk!? I’ll mangle you!” 

The cheif yelled, jumping down and swinging his staff just above Hinahoho’s shoulder. Amaris was surprised he didn’t even flinch, ‘Hina, you now have my respect’ Amaris thought, trembling from the sudden commotion.

”I am unable to provide anything for her in my current state” Hina said calmly. “That being said, we can work together to make our dreams come true” he said, turning to face Sinbad. 

“That is my master’s dream”

’Again, WHAT ABOUT ME!?’ Amaris mentally yelled. 

Timeskip...

They were off, with an agreement with Imchakk. They would sell things from Imchakk, and make a name for themselves as great merchants. But, there was a downside to this...

”A dress!? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Amaris yelled as Rurumu held a white dress in front of her. Rurumu frowned slightly “You are a lady, you should dress and act like one” 

The white haired girl ran behind Sinbad “Sin-kun, protect me!” Amaris yelped, hiding behind Sinbad. 

“I don’t see a problem with this. You would look good in that. Plus, she’s right. We’re not street kids anymore” 

Sinbad was dressed in fine clothes, having changed out of the ones the Imchakk gave him. He looked good, more clean, but Amaris wasn’t digging her outfit options. Sinbad sighed, knowing he wouldn’t win if she decided to argue, he pushed her further into the room and shut the door  behind him “Have fun!” 

Amaris trembled as Rurumu cast her shadow over her. “Ummm...”

Timeskip...

“It’s truly a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ja’far, and I’m what you would call a merchant. We’d be honoured if you could stock our products in your lovely store- What the hell am I saying!” Ja’far fumed. Amaris sighed beside him, “Don’t worry. Sometimes I wonder why I’m here too” she muttered. She was dressed in a simple but beautiful white dress held together by a rope, her hair was free of it’s ponytail and hanging by her shoulders, a gold circlet set off her white hair “I’ve had enough of this you old hag!” The boy yelled, slamming his fists in the table. 

Rurumu’s eye twitched “Old hag?”

Amaris and Sinbad jumped as Rurumu karate chopped the poor kid’s face. 

“How many times to I need to tell you; when addressing a mature lady, you address them and ‘miss’ or ‘madam’. We are now a part of Sinbad’s merchant crew, we have to act the part. The way we carry ourselves is the key to building strong and true trade relationships” the Imchakk women scolded.

A few minutes later....

”HOW DO YOU EXPECT TO AMOUNT TO ANYTHING IF YOU CAN’T EVEN READ!? YOU MUST ALSO LEARN CULTURE, GEOGRAPHY, AND OF COURSE MATHEMATICS!” Rurumu scolded. ‘I should have paid attention to my teacher’ Amaris thought, regretting not listening paying attention to her classes in the other world. But there was more hell to come. 

“Ja’far! Correct you’re posture!”

”Stay standing!” 

Soon enough, the three kids were on the ground exhausted. They saw Hina, Vittel, and Maho standing over them. “Hey how are you guys? Hanging in there?” Hina teased. “C’mon! You’ve got this!” Vittel encouraged. Amaris groaned while Ja’far grumbled about his headache. 

“Lunch time everyone!” Rurumu called. 

“I should have stayed in Parthevia...” Amaris groaned as Sin pulled her up. He patted her back with an apologetic smile. “Remember your manners now!” Rurumu said. Amaris saw the boys cringing, but she was used to this crap and just dug in. ‘Man this is good’ Amaris thought, taking a bite of the well cooked meat. 

An hour later, they were back to studying. It was just grammar and speech, Amaris was pretty good at it. Having spent most of her life in a world where everyone had the right to an education, she was a few leagues above the boys. “Hmm, Amaris dear, you sound like you know these things rather well” Rurumu said, checking her work. 

“Well, it’s not that hard really” she replied. 

“Indeed, for a noble, at least” Rurumu said, eying her almost suspiciously. 

“Yeah!” Sinbad piped up “I’ve always wondered why you’ve always been so smart, being able to write and read like that. But maybe you were a noble before we found you”

”Found her?” Rurumu repeated “I thought you two grew up in the slums together” Amaris sweat dropped nervously but Sin came to her rescue. 

“When we were eleven, we found Amaris passed out a little ways past the village. She had amnesia so we took her in” Sin explained. 

“Oh, well, I’m glad you’re starting to remember” Rurumu said, patting her head with her large hand. “And since you’re one step ahead of all my lessons, I won’t need to teach you anymore” 

“WHAT!?” Sinbad and Ja’far yelled. “Thank you!” Amaris exclaimed before heading off to tell Hina so he could assign her something to do. “No fair” Ja’far whined. 

Many nights passed and Amaris got to know everyone else better. She learned that Vittel was incredibly funny and that Maho was amazingly good at handling delicate things. And that Ja’far and her got sunburnt easily. Yep. (Haha I can’t relate since I have dark skip ;P) 

It was one faithful day when she saw the docks of Reim up ahead, Sinbad had climbed up onto the mast for a better view, she would have joined him but she couldn’t do shit in a dress. 

“All right, let’s get to business! There’s no time to waste so let’s go!” 

“Come one come all! Get you’re exclusive imported goods from Imchakk” Sinbad and Ja’far advertised while Amaris just hung back. A crowd of people gathered around to look at the goods. Most of the women over Sinbad, and most young men over Amaris. “Eh” Amaris sweat dropped nervously at her new admirers.

”What a beautiful girl” 

“Such fair skin” (I’ve been watching way too much Saiki k...) 

Over the crowd, Amaris could see Vittel with an amused look. “Help me!” She whisper yelled. Vittel shook his head and waved at her as he dealt with some customers. But, her saviours were the guards. “Break it up, break it up!” startled, the citizens cleared out. 

“You don’t have permission to set up shop here young man” one of the guards said. 

“Oh, I’m sorry sir” Sinbad replied “We’ll begin the appropriate procedure right away. Where do I go?” 

“You mean you don’t know anything about trading in Reim?” The first one said, the other sighed. “All universal transactions must go through the Reim union, which controls everything. Only the companies approved by the union are permitted to sell” the other one explained. 

“If there aren’t anymore questions then you can leave. That goes for all of you, move it!” The guard said. The people muttered as they walked away. A man in a blue cloak walked up and asked for the proprietor, Sinbad Of course answered him while Amaris helped clean up. “Yo Amaris! Box up everything we have! We have a deal!” Vittel yelled. 

“What!?” 

A sac of silver coins clinked onto the ground “Please accept this. I hope to do business with you again” the mysterious man said, and with that, he boarded his carriage and left. But that night, they were in for a surprise. 

“What’s going on here? These are our products” 

“And look at the price! They’re five-no-times higher!” 

“We were duped!” 

“That jerk took advantage of us” Hina growled. 

“He must make his money by buying and reselling goods” Sinbad said. “That being said, he plays it safe and targets non union merchants like us”

”I see” Rurumu said sadly when they met up and told her what happened. 

“How much did we loose Sinbad?” Hina asked. (I’m too lazy to write Hinahoho ok?) 

“I don’t know” was the purple head’s reply. Amaris sighed, “So much for our effort” 

“Bottom line is we need to join the union in order to conduct business in Reim. There’s no point in arguing about the resale” Ja’far and Vittel looked down. “I agree. I underestimated the trading business” Vittel said. “We all did” Rurumu sighed “But this is the reality of our business” 

“When it comes to trade, we’re total amateurs” Hina said. 

“What are you saying!? Isn’t that the fun of being in this business!?” Everyone looked at Sinbad, shocked. 

“But that guy made us look like idiots!” Ja’far protested. 

“Look at the big picture! That’s why it’s fun” 

“Huh?” 

“I respect merchants. Is you ask me I think they’re the shrewdest people to ever live! The world is run by money, and merchants move money. They have a huge roll in this world. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if I said that merchants move the world! Just think of it guys! We get to compete with people of that caliber! It’s nothing short of mind blowing!” 

Amaris felt the Rukh buzz in excitement, she didn’t know how but, it was a feeling. “I cannot believe you’re talking me into this again” Hina scoffed. “Our leader has spoken, and it is our duty to follow him!” 

“Sinbad, are you sure about this?” Rurumu, Hina, Ja’far, Vittel, Maho, and Amaris were in their boat. “Yeah. Head back to Imchakk as fast as you can and come back with new goods. Hopefully when you return I’ve settled things with the union” 

“Got it. We’re counting on you Sin” and they sailed off, leaving Sinbad on the docs. When they were about fifty yards away from the docs, Vittel grasped Amaris’ shoulders “Ok, spill  it. Do you have a crush on Sinbad?” 

“WH-WHAT!?”

[feelingsdusk-writes]

Fides

Three thousand years later... ^^; Thanks so much @esamastation for letting me play with your idea of a terrarium filled with fairies!

---

Fides: (noun, latin) faith, trust, confidence, loyalty, promise of protection.

---

Chapter 1

Stiles Stilinski is a pariah, a loser, a freak and an outcast, and he’s proud of it.

It’s been like that ever since his mother lost it and Evan Richards -big brother by one year to Jonathan (Stiles' classmate) and son to Mary, who was his doctor. All of them trash, because who shares a child's medical history like that, huh? So trash family to its fullest. Trash mother (Stiles has never liked her), trash father (he has never met him, but nothing but trash can produce such trash) and trash sons. They should make a musical a la The Sound of Music, it would be a hit for sure!- spread a lot of rumors about him sharing the same sickness and being a total psycho. Suddenly, everyone had always suspected, friends had the prefix former attached to that title, no one wanted him around. He always did this and that, didn’t you see? He had to take some kind of medication every day, didn’t you see? He was too strange, didn’t you see? What kind of boy wanted to know that much (if anything at all!) about male circumcision, huh? It wasn’t normal, didn’t you see? Blah, blah, blah. Yadda, yadda, yadda. And then, no one in Lost Hills School wanted to touch that (him) with a ten foot pole.

Stiles, after two horrific weeks of shunning and jeers and coming back to an empty home because the sheriff was god knows where, decided to prove them right and fought back by being as crazy as he could… without getting caught, of course, he's not an idiot. The final balance? No one wanted to be his friend, sure, but no one wanted to be his enemy either.

Stiles is a vicious, cunning, vengeful and grudge-holding asshole, and he’s proud of that too.

He doesn’t need anyone. He hasn’t needed anyone ever since he was eight and he had to start cleaning up the fridge and going grocery shopping and tidying up the house and doing the laundry and mending his ripped clothes and… All in all, ever since he finally acknowledged that his father wasn’t going to get away from the bottle long enough to take care of him like he should.

(His stance was proven right when his dad did get away from the bottle (changing his mere alcoholic status to functional alcoholic) enough to relaunch his cop career into being named Kern County’s sheriff. Which pretty much changed nothing for Stiles, who still had to take care of himself, but now had to cook for one instead of two, more often than not. He got really creative with his cooking, that's for sure. Now he understands why people say that cooking for one is such a pain. He has also learned that a recipe found on the internet is like walking on a minefield: it may turn out alright or blow up in your face spectacularly.)

So he doesn’t need anyone, indeed, but he’s twelve, alone, with no means of transportation out of town to see anything new (unless he wants to bike his way out), some pocket money that he’ll most likely need to spend on groceries when his father inevitably forgets about him, and the entire summer vacation ahead of him and no activities to fill it with. The Internet, for once, is not cutting it at all, and hacking into his peers’ computers to plant viruses in them seems to have lost its charm and isn’t working either. And hacking the teachers'j room’s printer to have it spit pages with Mr. Jones’ porn sporadically isn’t funny with no one there to see it. Summer work, finished. Everything is clean. Laundry is done. He has the meals for the entire week prepared already.

In other words, he’s bored as hell and about to climb the walls in frustration.

He sighs and looks to the ceiling of the living room, as if the couple of stains above him are going to give him an answer to his dilemma. He’s been sprawled like a starfish since half an hour ago, ever since he let himself fall off the couch dramatically after checking all the channels on the TV. Thrice. He contemplates the idea of binge watching Star Wars again and dismisses it almost instantly, because he did that yesterday and, he loves them, he really does, but it would be too much even for him.

He wiggles in place almost in agony after going over all the possibilities again in his head and finding none suitable. The backyard catches his eye and he thinks of getting the inflatable pool to at least stop being an asphyxiated starfish and soak for a while, escaping the almost unbearable heat.

He dismisses the idea again because he hasn’t liked spending time there ever since his dad took a look at the mess his mother’s garden had turned into and took care of it. Definitely. Stiles had tried, he really had, but he didn’t seem to have his mom’s green thumb and also he had more than enough on his plate without having to despair over the gardenias.

(Seeing the empty spaces where the flower beds used to be always made his heart constrict, so he stopped looking.)

He looks again, raising up from his sprawled position. He misses her garden and the aroma that would drift through the window in spring. She never won any contest, but it was beautiful.

And now there isn’t a single plant in the house.

Stiles suddenly wants one. The memory of her garden is a good one, along with the smiles she would throw over her shoulder at him, with dirty hands and sometimes even face, when she would forget and scratch her nose. And Stiles, unlike his dad, is past the point where he avoids all memories of her and he tries to cherish the good ones. Even though the tools she used still give him nightmares sometimes (if he ever sees the little trowel with the light green handle and the matching hand fork it will be too soon), he still wants a plant. Or many. So that's it, he's getting some.

But...

But he doesn’t want to kill it, he had enough of that with the gardenias, thank you very much. So research it is. He’s going to research the hell out of it to start easy.

He nods to himself and, somehow, three hours later, the initial idea of getting a hardy cactus, which evolved to planting lavender or snapdragons, has in turn led him to inside moss terrariums and now he’s hooked. Because, apart from the awesome plant-only creations, some even put little houses un them… and there are Star Wars terrariums. Star Wars. And now he has decided he’s going to make an entire Ewok village. Not a dupe one, but an entirely functional one with even that cage elevator they had. And the bridges. And all the furniture. And… it’s going to last.

Decision made, he makes a list of what he needs and then, he plans. The container, he has, because they never got rid of uncle Celestyn’s big as hell fish tank. The glue gun, woodworking tools and materials, gloves and pebbles, he has too. Wood he can get from the broken juniper table his dad bought to fix and then never did, and moss he can easily find. He’s missing the peat moss soil and the hygrolon. The first he knows he can find at home depot, the second, he’s not so sure. True, he could make the terrarium without it, but he wants moss to cover the walls too. If he doesn’t find it or can’t afford it (there's no way he’s going to spend all his just-in-case money), he’ll make do with what he has, though.

---

The soil he has no problem getting, but the hygrolon he finds out is only sold online and it’s pretty expensive to boot. He mourns for a moment and then moves on, already making plans on how to shape the landscape of the terrarium.

He needs to cut the table to make the fake trees for the houses and he doubts he can do that without injuring himself. Not only does he not have that kind of heavy machinery, but he wouldn’t dare to use it. Then, he remembers his father’s former partner, Anderson, who likes woodworking and, more importantly, Stiles.

“Is everything okay, kiddo?”

He’s also the one he’s supposed to call in case of an immediate emergency when his father is out of town. Besides the one time he caught a stomach bug from his classmates and couldn’t go to school, he’s never done it. Not because he doesn’t like him (nothing farther from the truth, actually) but because he’s used to always dealing with problems himself.

“Sure!” he chirps. “I was just wondering if you could help me with a project?”

“You’re supposed to do those by yourself, Stiles,” the man laughs, obviously amused.

“It’s not for school!” he protests indignant and then explains what he needs. “Do you think you can help me with the trees and making the sheets of wood for the houses?“

There’s silence from the other side of the line and Stiles can picture easily what the man is thinking. He knows that Stiles is going to do it one way or another, that his father is on the other side of the county so it’s not like he’s going to be there to stop him, that it’s better if he takes on the more dangerous parts himself and instructs Stiles on how to make the others without hurting himself. In other words, he’s thinking about danger prevention and damage control. Stiles hears a sigh and makes a silent triumphant dance.

“Well,” he grumbles and Stiles snickers, “it’s not like I have anything better to do. Damn the retirement. Time of your life, my ass. I’ll be there in an hour, kiddo. Don’t you dare start without me there, you hear me? I don’t want to have to explain to your dad why you’re missing some fingers.”

“Yes, sir,” he salutes, still snickering.

When he arrives, he brings with him a portable grinding machine, a piece of fallen wood from his own garden and sealant. “I imagine you don’t want the moss to reach the trees and the houses, do you?” He explains and Stiles grins, delighted.

(Stiles really, really likes Anderson.)

About three hours later, Anderson has made a structure that will ensure that the trees don’t fall. There is one big tree and three clusters of trees joined each by various platforms at different levels, with spaces where the houses will sit. He even went as far as to shape them as if they are made out of wooden boards (instead of flat) and to hollow the thickest of the trees at that platform level. Stiles also had the idea of making the top of each tree hollow too to put a potted plant inside, so that it won’t look bare and strange. All in all, they are ready to start the setup.

“So,” the man looks at him intently. “Where are you going to put it?”

“I want it in my room,” he answers, “near the window. On the floor.”

“The floor?”

“Don’t wanna have to take the ladder every time I have to water it.”

“Fair enough,” Anderson snickers and Stiles pouts. “But you know you’re going to have to wait to finish the house to set the terrarium, right? Unless you want to do that kind of detailed work from above and with an awkward angle to boot,” he explains and then laughs at his despairing face. “Take it easy, kiddo. Call me when you want to do it and I’ll help you, ok? How about this, if you promise to be careful and not do anything careless, I’ll make a waterfall for your terrarium.“

“I can’t…” he starts protesting.

“It will be an early Christmas present. Deal?”

“There’s no waterfall in the Ewok Village…” Stiles grumbles, “but deal.”

And they shake on it.

All in all, even if he’s a little peeved about having to wait, Stiles is happy with the progress. He still hasn’t gotten the moss, so it’s not as if waiting for a bit is going to hurt… and he got a waterfall out of it. He grins, waving at Anderson as he leaves the drive. It’s going to be awesome.

—

Once he starts, he can’t stop, focused in a way that’s unusual for him.

The bridges are easy enough so long as he follows the measurements he’s made, because he only has to shape the steps, make a hole on each side of them, use the rope to secure them and then braid the whole thing. He uses the glue gun for good measure, to make sure it’s sturdy enough.

The houses are a little more complicated because they are rounded. He ends up getting round objects to support the wood while the glue dries. There are a couple of instances when they get stuck to the object he’s using and he has to start anew, but he learns how to avoid that pretty quickly. The windows and the doors are a pain in the ass in themselves. He destroys a couple of houses trying to cut them until he finds another method for that too. He precuts the wood and uses cardboard to fill in the space while it dries and it works like a charm. As it is, he has now seven vaguely house-looking semicircles with two levels (joined by a little staircase) and even some shelves inside, that he has to stick to the main structure to be able to finish the roof. He leaves that for later, because once he does that it will be a nightmare to put the furniture inside.

He struggles for a while with the tables, seats and any other detailed work he remembers from the movie, because working at that scale, even with the tweezers, is hard. Again, he’s nothing if not stubborn and he works out a method to do those too. The shelves are easy enough because it’s just a matter of measuring, cutting the actual boards of the shelves with a c shape to fit the circular walls and gluing them, both between them and to the walls. The table, the seats and the beds are easy after that, again just taking care to measure well and struggling to not have his hands tremble when he assembles them all. He even uses one of his dad’s old furry sweaters for the beddings and old t-shirts for other things like that, carefully sewing the edges to make them look more like the ones in the movie. The drawers and the wardrobes are a pain in the ass to make and he regrets even trying almost from the very first time he tries to put the drawer in its place and it doesn’t fit and then, after trying to fix it, it gets stuck. He perseveres, though, and it gets easier the more he makes. As for its door, he follows the same method he’s going to use with the doors to the house (with holes and string, because making hinges at this scale is beyond his capabilities and he has accepted that) and it ends up looking pretty neat.

(In the middle of all this, his father comes and goes but, even if he makes sure to come by Stiles’ room every night, he doesn’t seem to notice what has his own son so busy, always too concentrated on some case or another and the room too dark to actually see anything. They make small talk and he pats his head some mornings. Stiles is kind of indifferent. He loves his dad, he really does, but he’s tired of having to be always the one who tries to make a connection.)

The day when he can finally start gluing it all to the main structure comes, and he ends up not doing it after all, because he takes a look at the houses and finds them empty. Two days later, after hours of research on how to do the cutlery and the pottery, some failed attempts and a trip to the mall, he finds himself shaping them out of polymer clay, preheated oven beside him. If that wasn’t enough, after having rows upon rows of glasses, containers and different types of plates and bowls, he adds pans and pots to the collection until he’s satisfied.

Finally, nearly four weeks after he started, he starts gluing the houses in place and securing them with extra pillars that he pins to the main structure. He makes the roofs by shaping little sticks and gluing them in place, copying the ones from the movie. They’re not exactly like them, but it’s as close as he’s going to get with his current skill level. He then sticks the stairs that connect each level and the bridges between the three clusters and the lone bigger tree, where he has attached the biggest house too. As the final touches, he decorates the main area with rustic wooden benches and stumps, all around the setup for a fire, and attaches the polymer clay pulley with the cage (which has a working door, of course) at the far end of it. He then reapplies the sealant just in case and breathes, feeling deeply accomplished.

He waits a couple of days for everything to settle before he calls Anderson again. The man sounds like he has had fun with the waterfall project and like he feels pretty accomplished too. Stiles can’t wait to see it and to show him what he’s done too. Anderson tells him he’ll come by the next day and Stiles takes the opportunity to go to collect the moss and buy the plants for the tree tops.

At the home depot, he debates between the Pothos and the Heart-Leaf Philodendron. In the end, the Pothos is an easy choice, because not only is it very easy maintenance and purifies the air, but it’s also on sale and he spends much less than what he was expecting on them. He doesn’t have much pocket money left, but his allowance day is in three days, so he’s not as wary about it as he would normally be.

He feels a little silly about having to make two trips to take the six little plants home, but nothing breaks, so all is good. He checks the space for the potted plants at the top of the trees and they fit perfectly. He cheers and dances around the room like a dork for a while before going moss hunting. By the time dinner time rolls around, he has everything in place and having to eat dinner alone again doesn’t even sting like it normally does.

---

Anderson comes pretty early in the morning and whistles in appreciation at what he sees, making him beam and grin proudly. Then he takes out of his car a waterfall as tall as the whole tank and Stiles gapes astonished. The man snickers at his face, reaching to mess up his hair, and goes inside the house again.

After placing the tank in Stiles’ room, first they install the waterfall. It fits perfectly in a corner of the fish tank, going a little above its edge to disguise the wire and the flow’s setting very cleverly. The man has also made it so that Stiles can change the water inside using a little tube or refill it from outside, without having to take the whole thing out.

After that, they place the tree structure and then they cover all the spaces and the root part of the trees with pebbles. To the ones near the waterfall they apply a layer of sealant to prevent the moss eating the poor thing alive and over the rest they put a good layer of wet peat moss soil, making sure it doesn’t lay flat. Over that, they place the moss they’ve previously trimmed to fit and parts of the fallen wood to make it look more realistic. Finally, Stiles puts the Pothos at the tree tops, fills the waterfall and turns it on.

He has his Ewok Village like he said he would. His mom would have loved it because she loved gardening just as much as she loved Star Wars. Specifically, she loved the Ewoks. She had a lot of figurines and even made an Ewok onesie (furry hat included) for him when he was a baby. There’s photographic evidence of that in one of the dusty albums in the storage room. They feature Stiles in that onesie playing with the figurines and his mom in the background laughing.

(And now he wants to cry.)

(He waits until Anderson leaves.)

---

When school starts again, the moss is growing nicely and the Pothos are still alive. Stiles is also seriously considering either braving the storage room in search of those Ewok figurines or setting some of his allowance money aside to buy them, to put them in the village.

(His dad finally takes notice of the giant terrarium in his room. First he berates him for doing dangerous things and then, sighing exasperated, he congratulates him.)

(Stiles could have done without the lecture.)

—

There are two new kids at school that have transferred from New York of all places, which means they have climbed the social ladder ridiculously fast. Stiles hopes he’s wrong about the twins, but if things go as they normally do, he thinks he’s going to have to set some boundaries soon. He’s already caught others whispering to them about crazy Stiles that is a total nutjob that will destroy your life if you cross him and, while it somehow brings him a kind of vindictive glee and pride, it also can mean three different things for him. One, they think him a bully and try to teach him a lesson; two, they try to take him down to establish themselves as top dog for bragging rights; three, they don’t dare mess with him and avoid him like the plague. Okay, there could be a fourth and they could try to find if all those rumors are true for themselves, but yeah, right.

(Is it bad that out of those four choices he’s hoping for the third?)

Well, time will tell, he supposes.

(He has to resist the strong temptation of making a pre-emptive strike quite bad, though.)

—

About a month into the school year, the newcomers seem to have settled into a mixture of the three first options, leaning mostly towards the third after Stiles manipulated things into having them banned for the rest of the year from lacrosse in retaliation for a failed attempt at teaching him a lesson. Of course, no one can prove it was him, but they know .

It’s a rainy Friday afternoon in which he’s bored out of his mind, so Stiles finally decides to search for the Ewok figurines and to do a deep clean-up of the storage room while he’s at it.

After nearly one hour full of coughs, sneezes and watering eyes due to the ridiculous amount of dust, he decides that his plans of action are flawed and that he has to change them if he wants to come out of this experience alive and with his body intact.

(The giant spider that he’s pretty sure is actually the last dinosaur on Earth may or may not have helped force him into a hasty retreat.)

Half an hour and a trip to the store later, he tries to tackle the mission impossible again. With a facemask, the longest gloves he could find, his father’s protective glasses and his head covered with an old towel, no dinosaur is going to beat him. He also has long sleeves and has changed his shorts for pants, tucking them inside his socks for good measure, so that nothing crawls up there. He shudders just thinking about it. He just can’t stand spiders.

He decides to divide it into sections. First he organizes and cleans the things in those sections, making piles outside the room, then he tidies the spot superficially before tackling another section. And rinse and repeat. When he has the whole room mostly empty (there is some furniture he can’t move), he starts cleaning it thoroughly. Afterwards, he puts the organized piles (photo albums, books, music…) inside again neatly, filling drawers and shelves. He doesn’t dare to throw anything away but, except for some toys that hold a big sentimental value to him, he does set aside some things he never uses to donate them.

Six hours after he started, he hears his father’s cruiser pulling into the drive and he debates about what to do. He’s almost done but he hasn’t touched his mom’s things yet, having left them for last. His dad still won’t talk about her and all her things have been hidden in the storage room ever since he let go of the bottle, because the sight of them made him want to track the nearest liquor store and send them into bankruptcy after leaving them out of stock.

Stiles doesn’t want to be the one to pull him into that downward spiral again. He sighs, looking mournfully at the three boxes with his mother’s things. Maybe he’ll sneak in after dinner to at least get the figurines and set them in his terrarium, when his dad has gone to bed. He frowns when he hears him talking to the neighbor. Maybe…

In the end, with his heart beating wildly in his ribcage, he opens the boxes hastily, hoping that the figurines are in first sight. And they are. He rushes to his bathroom beaming but still jittery with nerves, and cleans them under the spray of water as fast as he can. When his father calls, they are already placed inside the terrarium.

He completely forgets about his battle attire and blinks in confusion for a moment when his dad asks about it, his eyebrow raised.

“Spring cleaning,” he chirps brightly, too happy about his success to care about resentment. “Er… Autumn cleaning?”

His dad snorts and pats his head fondly, only to pull his hand back with a grimace at the amount of dust settled there.

(The next day, by the time he finishes checking, cleaning and organizing his mom’s things, he’s not crying, dammit, it’s just that he forgot to put on the facemask and the dust is irritating his eyes.)

(He squirrels away the picture of himself in all his ewok onesie glory with his laughing mother and plastifies it, hiding it inside the biggest house of the terrarium so that if you crouch and you know where to look, you can see it.)

(He's the happiest he's been in a long time, and nothing can ruin what he's accomplished. Nothing.)

—

(Or maybe something can, because really, what the hell???)

Stiles wants to know what the hell has he ever done to deserve this. Or, if that’s a thing, in any of his past lives for that matter. Did he kill puppies or kitties for fun? Or babies? Was he Hitler? Because destroying the increasingly aggressive twins’ impeccable (or not so much now, but that was the point) record can’t possibly warrant this bad karma, right? Right?

It’s not his fault, ok? He did notice something was wrong, but who would have thought about this as an explanation? He did notice that the water of the waterfall went down too fast to be normal, but he thought it was maybe because of the heat wave! And of course he noticed that sometimes the ewok figurines were slightly out of place, but he thought that maybe his dad…

Seriously.

He calls a big WTF.

Fairies.

He can’t even…

No, seriously, he can’t.

He can’t because they somehow have made the Pothos grow meters in mere seconds and he’s plastered against the wall. Upside down. Stiles feels somehow betrayed because he’s their daddy, he’s been lovingly taking care of them since they were little babies and they have attacked him after all he has done for them…

He’s not being ridiculous, thank you very much. There are fairies in his room. There are fairies in his room pointing sharp looking little things at his face and he’s so completely out of his depth that he can’t stop talking. And there’s a little one (well, smaller that the rest, that is) that sneaked around the guards (or that’s at least what Stiles assumes them to be) about three minutes ago that wants to know where did all the hair go and he’s for some reason babbling about onesies and what ewoks are and the guards keep threatening him and…

“… what the hell?” he finally snaps, fed-up. “This is my house, my room, and the terrarium you’re accusing me of invading and all that shit? It’s mine too. I built it with my own two hands, and paid for the materials, and… I call bullshit here. You’re the ones trespassing here! I should be the one demanding explanations and not the other way round. And for the last time, I don’t know any glint or beam or spark or whatever the hell you’re talking about, ok?!”

The fairies go silent. They look at each other and then back at Stiles.

And it turns out that Stiles does know a spark… and quite well at that. Because he is one. Surprise, enter confetti and crackers. And the reason he has a fairy infestation in his room? Their colony was destroyed back in August and they were left wandering for a while, until the beckoning magic that Stiles had placed in the terrarium to mark it as a safe place for passing fairies called to them.

(His what now????)

Except they haven’t been able to find a suitable place to rebuild yet, and their manpower was reduced to a sixth (if that) of what it used to be when the colony fell, and there are members that are still healing, and their ruling pair is gone (which apparently means that their power has been reduced to a facsimile of what it should be), and…

In other words, they are desperate and grasping at straws and completely at loss about what to do right now. Well, it’s not like they say it outright (in fact they actually try to cover their obvious despair at the whole situation), but Stiles is quite adept at reading between the lines and he knows desperation when he sees it.

(He has intimate knowledge of it, after all.)

So, even though he’s still plastered to the wall with his feet nearly touching the ceiling, which places his head at an intimidating height from the ground and he’s definitely not happy about that, Stiles caves in. Kind of.

“We don’t have enough dishes and stuff,“ he grumbles with a sigh. When he receives no response, clearly having thrown them off kilter, he just continues. “Dishes and glasses and all that stuff, we don’t have enough. Because you’re about twenty people, that I can see, and I only made eight or ten of each, if I remember well.”

“We’ve been sharing?” the guard with his spear-like thing nearly up Stiles’ nose squeaks finally. Squeaks, yes, because all of them have high voices, man or woman, that he has to strain to listen to. He vaguely wonders about it, because there's no way he should be able to listen to them at this distance, but he dismisses it for now, chalking it up to some kind of fairy magic or whatever, because he has more pressing matters to worry about at the moment.

Stiles is going to regret all this, he just knows it. But he’s an incorrigible softie at heart just as much as he’s a vengeful asshole. He sighs again. “Come on, let me down before my brain leaks through my nostrils. I still have some polymer clay.”

So fairies are a thing.

He knows others in his situation would never believe what’s in front of their very own eyes, but Stiles has always been able to roll with whatever life throws at him, no matter what that is. Besides, thinking logically, he has taken no drugs or drank any alcohol that could impair his senses or make him hallucinate and, although he could be starting to develop the same dementia as his mother (and it is a possibility)… well, he pinched himself not a minute ago and yep, he was still hanging upside-down, plastered to his bedroom wall by the Pothos. The only thing left for him to do on that front is to somehow buy a pregnancy test to check if it turns positive, so until he manages to do that, fairies are a thing.

And he’s a wizard.

Or a spark, whatever. What matters is that that’s a thing too. A thing that is exciting and terrifying at the same time, because what other creatures exist too then? Elves? Vampires? Werewolves? Nymphs? Are those real too? Which myths are real and which not? As a spark, which are his powers? Can he do magic? Spells? Rituals? What can he do?

He wants answers, he’s not letting them stay out of the goodness of his… well, he is, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get something out of it, right? Admittedly, if they refuse to give him answers, he’s not going to kick them out. He’ll just have to find those answers by himself, that’s all. He’s pretty self-sufficient, so if push comes to shove, he’ll do it without help, like he always does. That doesn’t mean he’s not going to try to convince them, though.

His ears ring when he’s finally let down. He sits on the rug, holding his head as he waits for the dizziness to pass and for his vision to clear. He doesn’t appreciate the wet and cold sensation at all. Well, at least they didn’t just let go to see him brain himself with the free fall, so that’s definitely a sign of goodwill... right?

He eyes the overgrown Pothos warily, thinking of a way to manage it without having to chop the whole plant off. Then he decides that it’s not his mess, so he’s not going to take care of it. “You better leave these the way they were before,” he states firmly, pointing at the plant. “I’m not gonna explain that to my dad. My house, my rules and all that jazz.”

Up until now, Stiles has never let anyone walk over him and he’s not going to start with some fairies.

Next ⭐

[dranefarious]

Sugar Daddy AU! BTS: Hoseok. The smooth talker.

They were always the same smooth compliments and tricked treats that he used to dupe his clients, but when you had such a charming charisma and radiant smile, there wasn’t much you couldn’t convince someone to do.

Hoseok knew it, everybody knew it, and that’s why he was Jin’s director of public relations for their massive company, and he could dare to say, he was damn good at it.

Jin wasn’t exactly a saint, but somehow he looked like it and he took it as best as he could, hiding his scandals weren’t easy, but it wasn’t unmanageable to do so.

He took pride that his boss and longtime friend’s reputation maintained untarnished so far.

But who knows when it will happen? He snickered softly at the thought. It wasn’t a matter of if, but rather a matter of when.

He was not a saint himself, either, a long line of broken hearts and crying damsels behind him only piled, he wished they wouldn’t cry for him.

It wasn’t like he meant it, it was just that he took the opportunity to meet new ladies, one thing led to another, and due to his natural charm and gentlemanliness, they would often find themselves right at their feet.

And he was only a man, after all.

Just like he got women all over him, just as fast he got bored of them, for they were all the same. Empty girls who only wanted to accommodate their status further, devoid of any thoughts or opinion.

They were just to please, but usually, they couldn’t keep up with his quick wit.

After a tough day at the office, he found himself driving around, trying to get his mind off all the stress, finding solace in a small, cute pastry shop near the river. He has seen it sometimes, but this was actually the first to enter.

Parking in front of the place, he locked his car, giving a quick look to a cute girl right at the front, in a red poppy dress. He entered the shop, a young man attended as he ordered a smoothie, turning around, he checked out the place.

It was small, but well proportioned and decorated tastefully. Hoseok nodded thoughtfully, he might be more regular to this place.

From the corner of the eye, he saw a waiter come up to the cute girl at the front to ask if she was ready to order. “Hm-hmm, can you come in 10 minutes my date is late”, the young man nodded, watching the pitiful look he gave you after you stopped looking at him.

He walked up to the other waiter, who was taking forever with his smoothie, “I guess she got ditched”, he muttered.

The slow smoothie guy responded with a shocked look, “she’s so cute though, who would’ve left her like that?”. Hoseok has made his decision at that moment.

“Hey, I’m sorry but could you give me another one, and two croissants, please?”, he gave a serious look, stating the fact he was getting fed up with the slow service, both kids scurried off, giving his order as fast as they could.

He thanked them and watched you drop your head, probably ashamed, as he made his way to your table. He sat silently, watching you mutter something he couldn’t understand under your breath.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was awful”, you sprung from the table fast, as he smiled/laughed at your nervous face.

“Who are—” “I brought you a strawberry smoothie, on me, for being late”, it took you exactly 0.8 seconds, you blinked twice, opened your mouth but nothing came.

He noticed dumbly, how it was the first time he saw your face, and he didn’t doubt it was a safe bet.

“Hmm—thanks, really”, you lowered your voice, “sorry to ask but, who are you?”, he leaned forward, watching your expression change to one of embarrassment at the closeness.

“I’m Jung Hoseok,” he whispered back, a little mischief tinging his looks, you nodded, tasting the name on your lips, and he could swear it sounded even better out of your pretty lips.

“I’m ____ ____, nice to meet you”, you looked down at the smoothie he passed you, along with two croissants in a small bag, “thank you, really”, you muttered.

He rested his head on the table, smiling when you finally looked at him, “there’s nothing to thank, it’s his loss”.

You smiled, a little bit sad, but quickly shrugged the feeling off as you asked, “talk to me about you”.

-

It’s been a while since he had that much fun talking with someone, usually, it was him doing all the talking to enchant the other person.

It was well in the night as both of you laughed so much, tears pooled in the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t recall the last time you had this much fun with a guy.

After cleaning your tears with a tissue, you stared at the man who made your bound-to-be terrible evening to an amazing date, he looked equally as satisfied as you were. This probably was a surprised turned well for the both of you.

“I’m surprised all of this came out that well,” he sighed blissfully, “I hadn’t that much fun with a woman in so long”, you smiled, “oh, without involving other things”, he wiggled his eyebrows and you slapped him softly in his arm.

“Hoseok!”, he laughed at your embarrassed tone. You watched your phone light up, reading the text quickly, “oh, I need to leave”.

The crestfallen tone didn’t go unnoticed by him, even if you tried to hide it. “That’s too bad, you need a ride?”.

“I don’t want to impose, but thank you—” “It’s okay, it’s the least I could do.”

You frowned (very cutely if you ever asked him), and responded, “You’ve already bought food and been very kind to me—”.

“Then allow me to be even kinder to you”. You did not know how, but that tingled in all the right ways until it settled in a deep hot flush that spread all through your face.

“Please?”, he pushed further. You didn’t have it in you to reject a man that looked this fine. “Alright, but please don’t be creepy and throw me in some dump”.

He laughed loudly, helping you get off your stool and made your way out of the shop. He made his way to the passenger seat of his car, but you were still out of the front door.

“This is your car?!”, he smiled, drinking the surprised expression on your face, “what are you a drug lord or something?!”, he laughed again as you warily got close to him.

“I assure you I am not, I’m the director of public relations of a company”, you nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer he provided.

“Figures, It fits you”, you thanked him when he opened the door for you, then walked around to sit in the driver’s seat, “really, how so?”, he asked, expecting the same “you’re very charming”, answer everyone gave him.

“You look like a good liar,” the answer slipped before you could actually give it some thought. He tilted his head as he turned the engine on, “why would you think that and no, I’m not offended”, he added after watching your expression.

“Well, you can’t just like everyone or everyone like you, but you have to be able to do that in order to have a good relationship with your company’s clients, so I guess you have to be persuasive and a good liar”.

It was by far the most elaborated answer he’s got, and the one he liked the most.

He asked the direction you were going and responded “I think I like you more now”, you made a choked sound as you told him the place, “you’re far more interesting than any person I’ve met, and I’ve met a lot of people”.

“Thank you? I’ve never -I’ve never met someone quite like you either”. He smiled broadly, “that means it’s a first for both of us, then”.

The place wasn’t too far as both chitchatted the time away, it was local pub, a little cheap, probably full of horny college kids.

“Thanks for the drive,” he lowered the radio as he watched your fiddle with the hem of your purse, “this is the place?”.

You snickered at his slightly surprised voice, “don’t get any ideas, I’m picking up a drunk friend, this doesn’t look your style”.

He watched you giving him a look up and down, taking in the probably-too-expensive suit he was wearing.

“Believe it or not, this was my style back in those college days”, you laughed, jabbing a finger at his arm, “maybe you’re too old already”.

Just as he was about to answer your phone interrupted, you excused yourself.

Even he could hear the loud base of the music through your phone, you gave up on talking, and closed the call with a sigh.

“Alright, I really need to go now”, you smiled sadly, “this was fun, but I have friend duties to fulfill before he does something stupid”.

“Want me to go with you?”, you shook your head. “But maybe—”, you interrupted him, “do you have a pen?”.

You scribbled out what it looked like your phone number, “I’ll be fine, it’s not a first. Plus, I don’t want him to puke on your nice car”, you gave him the scribbled tissue.

“I’ll see you?”, you asked timidly, this was probably the boldest thing you’ve done in your life.

“Don’t doubt it”, he reassured you with a smile.

You unbuckled yourself from the seat and waved goodbye as you closed the door. He watched you cross the street but stopping right at the entry to turn around.

You went back and touched his window, he rolled it down, about to ask if you needed help after all, but before he could, you lowered, reaching inside to kiss his cheek.

“Okay—goodbye!”, you ran back, seemingly knowing the bouncer as he quickly let you in and disappeared at the pub.

He smiled, rolled the window up, and left.

Your kiss lingered on his cheek until the next day.

Light skin version.

Pictures are not mine. Credit to the owners. ©

[justanotherone16]

They started talking one cold February afternoon.

The flat was cold. Of course it was charming, it oozed Victorian romanticism from every crevice and corner. But those large windows certainly weren’t double glazed and the temperature outside had dropped to sub-zero. A very rare occurrence in London. A few years ago, Sherlock suspected he probably wouldn’t have even noticed the cold, but of late he felt the chill in the air cut right through him.

February is a unusual month. When it finally arrives it is almost always welcomed. People breathe a sigh of relief for the long awaited demise of January, a month that seems to exist purely to remind everyone that it’s a whole year until they can be festive again, and it’ll be a few months before they settle back into their financial norm. But February arrives bearing much of the same disappointments as January. Yes Christmas is long gone, but it hasn’t got any warmer and Spring is a long way off yet. Still... there are only 28 days to get through this time, making the whole ordeal marginally more bearable. Again, Sherlock finds himself musing that in times gone by, he wouldn’t have known what month it is, or paid any attention to the collective psychology of Londoners and their opinions of winter months.

The noise of the shower stops. 12 minutes, a very long shower by John’s standards. Sherlock takes this as a cue to flick the kettle on. It really was cold in the flat and there was no good reason why the shouldn’t consume unholy amounts of tea to keep themselves warm. While the kettle boiled, Sherlock wandered over to the fire place and started to prepare a fire. Why not go all out?

“Ah good, you’ve put the kettle on... aaaand you’re starting a fire. It’s bloody freezing isn’t it?”

Sherlock looked round to find John wearing a pair of jogging bottoms and one of his trade mark jumpers. They might look pretty ghastly but they do their job. “Yes, it is rather nippy today”.

John was pouring the water into the tea pot and putting tea cups onto the tray, “I feel for the homeless in weather like this, I can’t imagine being stuck outdoors tonight, they must get so cold it actually hurts”. John carried the tray into the sitting room, setting it down on the small table between their two armchairs. Sherlock hadn’t responded, he looked vacantly past John.

“Do your homeless network sleep rough in this weather?” John asks with as much confidence as he can muster though he predicts that there is around a 50% chance that Sherlock will ignore him. The homeless network is still a bit of a sensitive topic, what with many of them being in on Sherlock’s fake suicide, John has kept himself from asking what else they are privy to that he isn’t. It only pisses him off after all.

Sherlock doesn’t ignore him though, he slowly drags himself back to reality. “Some do. Some don’t.”

“Where do the ones who don’t sleep on the streets go then?”

“Here and there, there are plenty of empty buildings in London John, any sensible person would be able to find one if they only thought to look.” Sherlock spoke lightly, pouring tea into both tea cups.

“Like I where I found you, and Isaac?” John asks, the dying embers of bitterness just about traceable in his voice.

“Yes. Well, that was a house exclusively for safe drug use. There are empty buildings not set up for drugs too.” Two sugars for Sherlock, none for John.

“Like yours you mean? Where we... met Mary”.

Sherlock stirs his tea, wondering where this conversation was leading, but feeling grateful for the fire he’d lit a while ago. The warmth was comforting. “Yes. Like mine”.

John picked his tea up to sip at it, it was fractionally too hot but he persevered anyway. “Do you own more houses? That you just leave empty?”

“Yes... why?” Sherlock hesitated.

“Do you open them up for your homeless network? Are they drug dens?”

Sherlock smirked. A clever deduction from John. “Yes. A handful of my network who I have known for years have a key. It’s not a drug den, at least it wasn’t the last time I was there.”

Sherlock Holmes, the machine, the brain without a heart. Haha. Everyone that ever believed that was duped. Of course even John had bought the guise, a long time ago. But it was no surprise to him now, to hear that Sherlock had opened up a house to people who didn’t have one.

“It’s where you got your drugs though? Surely.” John asked.

“Sometimes.” Sherlock admitted.

There was a gentle silence between them. It was new. Gentle silences only come about after gentle talks. Sherlock and John had never made a habit of talking. Habits were changing though, often unconsciously.

“You know, you don’t have to hide your kindness. The house, opening it up, it’s okay. I know you’re a softie really...” John grinned.

Once upon a time Sherlock Holmes would have been scandalised at such an accusation. He grinned back, “I know. They deserve some anonymity though.”

“You mean your drug sources deserve some anonymity...” John fixed his gaze on Sherlock. It wasn’t a genuine accusation, but John’s eyes conveyed what his words did not. Please don’t use drugs again. Do you feel the urge to? Talk to me if you have to. It’s okay. Are you alright?

Sherlock heard all of these things, John’s emotions were always on his sleeve. “There are days when it’s hard. There have always been those days. But, to be frank, the last thing I want to do is go through another detox. I cannot overstate how awful they are. I’m okay John.”

John smiles. He believes Sherlock, he knew it, but hearing Sherlock say it was comforting. “Good. That’s good.”

[ellana-ravenwood]

The List - Bruce Wayne x Reader (Erotica)

Summary : You and Bruce, are making a list of all the people you slept with...Because why not ?

I just had this stupid idea when I was at work and sorry for it...hope you’ll still kinda like it and boom, here :

IMPORTANT WARNING : THIS IS EROTICA ! THIS IS NOT FOR YOU IF YOU ARE UNDERAGED, I GODDAMN MEAN IT. Like there’s cute and sweet feelings in the mix, but also...smut, so if you’re not 18 or more, or if you’re not comfortable with that sort of things etc etc, this story ain’t for you. I have tons of other very SFW story, for averyone to read, and if you wanna check those out instead, it’s right here, on My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives.

________________________________________________

You don’t even remember who started it.

You don’t remember if it’s you who made a snarky comment first, or him.

You both were equally gifted in the sarcasm area, so it really could be any of you. And none of you could actually remember the instigator of it all...

But oh someone definitely started it, and now, you were both sitting on the floor around the coffee table of the living room, a pen in hand, a blank sheet of paper in front of you, thinking about all the people you had sex with. 

Or rather, about the people you had sex with and that you both knew. 

Who cared about some unknown guy from a bar, or a girl from a gala ? 

They meant nothing. They were just pleasure on the spot, something that didn’t matter at all and...to be honest, both you and Bruce didn’t care about those one night stands with people you didn’t give a damn about...You both knew you weren’t each other’s first time after all, and one night stands ? They were long over and there were not nearly as much as everyone thought...Bruce had only a few, and you too. And again, it was such a long time ago, and so meaningless (definitely not your favorite kind of sex, and Bruce would agree with that). 

This list was about the people you had sex with, with whom you shared part of your life, and/or someone you both knew. 

You knew almost everything about each others, but your past relationships ? You rarely talked about it. You never felt the need to, as you were too in love with each others for anyone else to really matter...

Both of you already stated multiple times, in your long years of marriage, that you never loved anyone like you loved each other. That all those past relationships were nothing compared to what you felt to each others. 

But...Curiosity always got the better of the two of you. 

And besides, when Bruce learnt that you used to date his best friend, Clark, he started to wonder if you slept with anyone else he knew, after all, you knew lots of Justice League members before knowing him so...He just wanted to know (he would never admit it, but he was quite jealous really. Grumpy Broosh). 

And so here you were, after one of you made a comment about it (wether it was you comparing Bruce to Clark or him saying something about Selina, you didn’t quite remember), writing a list. You were writing the last name on yours when Bruce raised his head and, very sternly said :

-I’m done.  

You smiled as you finished the last letter of the name you were writing and looked up, smiling at him. 

-Me too. 

Just another proof of how you were always so damn in sync, finished right at the same time. He doesn’t smile, and you smirk at him as you exchange papers. And...Exact same number than you. You quickly look over it and chuckle a bit, he detached his attention from your list (his frown getting bigger by the second as he was reading it), and, a bit suspicious, says : 

-What ? 

-Bruce, I think the two of us basically slept with the entire league. We’re super-sluts my heart. 

It doesn’t make him smile at all, on the contrary, and you roll your eyes before saying : 

-Hey you’re the one that started this. 

-No you are. 

-I don’t remember starting it. 

-You did when you talked about Clark. 

-I’m pretty sure you spoke about Selina first. 

-No I...

-Listen it doesn’t matter. What I mean is, don't be so moody my Broosh. All those names there, they mean nothing to me. Well, I mean I’m still friends with many of them, and so are you but like...I love you. This is never going to change. I love you more than I ever loved anyone, and the only ones you could be somewhat jealous of are our boys because nothing can compare to the love I have for them. But, romantic love ? Like “I want to spend my life by your side” shit ? It’s you Bruce. It always been you. Don’t feel jealous because they might have had my body once or twice, but you’re the only one that caught my heart so...let’s just have fun ok ? Like I wanna know how it was to have sex with Zatanna ? Did she use magic ? 

This makes Bruce crack a smile and...Ok. He could ignore his jealousy, just like you were trying very hard to do. He wasn’t duped, he knew you were a jealous mess right now, but you were right, it didn’t even matter...You loved him. He loved you. Nothing could change that. He shakes his head and says : 

-Alright. I love you too. More than you can imagine. If I had to burn the world for you I would. But you already know that. You already know you mean everything to me, you’re the most important (you and the boys) person in my life. You’re the only one I ever actually loved and I just know you’re the love of my life so, I won’t repeat myself again. 

-You just did. 

-I know. I’ll never get tired to tell you I love you. 

-Cheesy fucker. 

-Only with you. 

-Yes, I bet you weren’t cheesy with...

You quickly glance at his list and, raising an eyebrow you say : 

-Lois ? 

He smirks at you and explains : 

-When I came back from my training, I went to Metropolis to make sure Clark wasn’t a threat and...Well, she was there. 

-I bet she was. So wait at that time I was probably...Hey barely finishing middle school. You guys are all so old. 

-Oh shut up, you love it. 

-Never said I didn’t...Also, since I slept with Clark and you with Lois, we should totally ask them if they’d be into a foursome. Oh and relax Bruce ! I’m kidding ! Kinda...

You approach him seductively and kiss him lightly on the lips but before he can grabs you you pull away, ignoring his groan (and damn the way it was so obvious he wanted to follow after you was hot, but his self-control was even hotter), you went back to your place in front of him, on the other side of the coffee table and took his list again. He took yours and...

-Harvey Dent ?! 

You jump at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to speak so soon, and you nod slowly saying : 

-Well it was before the all...hum...him becoming completely crazy. He was your friend, you know how great he used to be. Also, seems like even at the time I couldn’t resist justice. 

Your own joke makes you chuckle as your husband just roll his eyes at you and adds : 

-If I knew you’d do it, I would have added comments too...

-I bet you love it. 

-Oh yeah sure, I love to read about what my wife thought of the sex she had with other men. I particularly like you mentioning that “The ring comes in handy” next to Hal’s name. 

-Well I’m sorry Bruce, but it does. Have you ever had sex with a Green Lantern ?

-No. 

-I’ll steal Hal’s ring to show you what you can do with that thing. 

The sultry smile you give him makes him shivers and he turns back his attention to the piece of paper in front of you. He could just imagine your damn smug face and it calmed him down. 

A few minute of silence pass as you both scan each other’s list, when you finally break it : 

-So...Did Zatanna use magic ? 

-No. 

-I feel like she missed an opportunity there...

He grumbles an answer and oh you just love this all thing. It’s hilarious to see him so jealous and yet interested at the same time and...Oh you hide your own jealousy and interest way better than he does, which happens so rarely that it’s just too damn satisfying ! 

His voice brings you back to reality as he says : 

-When you write “Hades” do you mean...

-The God of the Underworld yes. Met him while helping Diana do a thing. 

-You slept with Hades. The God of the Underworld. 

-Mm mm. 

-Right. But of course. 

There’s a short silence before he adds :

-...And “Constantine” is it...John Constantine ? 

-Yup. 

-...

-What ? I have a thing for this all dark gothic thing ok ? Besides, I see here you slept with Nocturna so like, I bet you kinda do too. Props to you though, she’s hot. 

-The nail marks she left on my back were so much deeper than the one you leave. 

-I bet, she has long ass nails...Did she bit you ? 

-Yes. Oh yes. 

-Hot. 

-I know. 

You smile at him, happy to see him relax a bit and understanding that...This is the past. It’s ok to talk about the past. It’s ok that you both enjoyed being with other people before because...Now ? They were all long gone from your thoughts. Only Bruce remained in your mind. And only you remained in his. 

He smiles back, and your wink kinda drives him crazy but oh he’s decided to show nothing of it and starts reading your list again. 

You’re the one, once again, that break the silence again : 

-So. You have a thing for kinda...bad girls uh ? Talia, Selina...I bet they were completely wild in the sheets.

-You’re wrong. Talia was super into vanilla sex, I think because she lacked love in her life, and Selina...The wildest thing we ever did was to do it in front of her hundred cats. 

You full on laugh at his words and he adds : 

-It’s those whom you’d least suspect that are the wildest really. 

-So like...Julie Madison ? 

He sees you wince a bit at her name, as you knew she was his first love and..well, jealousy overwhelmed you a bit. 

-Yes. But believe me, nothing compare to what we did. Like that time we did it with you hung on the chandelier in my office. 

You smile and wink some more at him, all thought of Julie Madison gone at the good memories of that indeed very wild night. But you continue : 

-Ok but I bet that...hum Vixen and Hawkgirl were quite something ! Oh and Power Girl. Nice tits. 

-Yeah. Power Girl gave me a...hum...

-Titty job ? 

-...Yes...

-Was it good ? 

-Not as good as yours. 

You give him a satisfied smile and he smiles back. If he didn’t know that it would make you be very pretentious and that you would never let it go, he’d tell you that the best sex he ever had was with you. By far. But this thoughts are making him think of your body squirming under him and he has to think about something else to resist the urge to jump on you, so he says : 

-Hawkgirl’s wings made it a bit awkward sometimes. 

-What, she basically had to ride you right ? 

-Yes. 

-Awww you not being in control made you feel awkward ? 

-My love, I often leave you control. 

-No, I take it, or you’d always be the dominant one. It’s ok though Bruce, I like it better like that. I’ve always been more submissive anyway...

-Even with Oliver ? I see you put “Green Arrow” down...and seeing him with Dinah makes me think that...

Your laugh stops him and you say : 

-Oh yeah no, Oliver is totally the bottom haha ! What about Dinah ? I can see you got with her...

-Yes, before she met Oliver. And hum...Her screams were disturbing. 

You snort once more imagining the scene of Bruce using one of his extremely pleasurable signature move on Black Canary and her screaming in his ear...oh damn. 

And he can’t help it, he laughs too...and he can’t help but think that this situation could only happen with you. Only with you. Because only with you could it be so natural to speak about past sex and relationship. Only with you could it be totally fine and normal. 

Because you were too in love for it to really matter, and this was all part of both your lives...You weren’t each others’ first time. At least, when it came to “having sex”. When it came to “making love”, you were definitely each others’ first time. He never made love to anyone else but you. Because he knew that the only women he truly ever loved was you...He stares at you as your eyes scan his list, just admiring your beauty and...a thought comes to him slowly. 

With a smirk he takes his most stoic voice, his “I’m super serious voice” and asks : 

-Who’s...bigger ? 

You raise your head to look at him and at first, what he’s asking isn’t registering until finally, it does, and you roll your eyes, sigh, and say :

-Really Bruce ? 

-Yes. Really. 

-Erf. I’m not even gonna answer that, it’s too damn immature. 

He holds the smirk he wants to give you, holds it as best he can, before taking an extremely annoying and whiney voice to say : 

-Please ? Please ?! Ok never mind...all I wan’t to know is...am I bigger than Superman ? 

The sparkles in his eyes make you melt, and oh you wished he would be more often that cheery and silly...And you decide to indulge him : 

-...Oh for God’s sake, yes you are. You’re actually bigger than all of them, is your stupid masculine pride reassured ? 

-Yes. Yes it is. ...I knew I was the most well hung anyway. 

-...Oh my God Bruce...

He chuckles and it’s the most beautiful sound you ever heard, and you can see he’s about to say something but you cut him off : 

-Oh wait actually you’re not the biggest one, Plastic Man is. I mean, the guy can extend any part of his body as he wishes so...

Bruce’s smile falters and he just stares at you for a few seconds until he realizes that...of course you’re just messing with him, and with another wink you add : 

-But don’t worry, you’re the one that knows how to use it best. 

He smiles again until you continue : 

-In my top 10 of “best sex ever” you’re definitely holding the 8 first places ! 

The frown is back and he asks :

-...Who are the two others ? 

-Only one person. Clark. He does that thing where he...

-I DON’T WANNA KNOW ! 

You laugh yet again and the sound of your clear and childish giggle makes him relax a bit, and loose the frown. He shakes his head at your teasing and finishes reading your list. It’s not as bad as he thought in the end...Once again, you break the silence that installed itself : 

-Wait, what did you do with Diana ? You just wrote “Wonder Woman : Kiss ++”, what does that even mean ?

-That I kissed her in more than one place...but didn’t like...

-Penetrate her.

-Yes, penetrate her. Didn’t do that. 

He says a bit awkwardly. 

-Babe, we’re making a list of people we had sex with and giving each other details about it, so like...stop being so prude about it. Especially since I know “prude” isn’t really your style. 

You wink at him and oh the effect it has on you, to see his Adam’s apple visibly ‘”gulping” at your words...

-...fair enough. Yes. No. I didn’t fuck her.

-”Fuck” out of your mouth, I’m shocked...

He gives you an exasperated look and with a smile you ask :

-So what did you do ?

-Ate her out.

-Did she return the favor ?

-Yes.

-I knew it, she’s more of a giver really.

-How would you know ?

-Look at my number 14.

He does and...his eyes widen, and he shivers slightly. 

-...You ate her out too ?

-Oh yeah. More than once. And we both know now she’s amazing with her tongue.

He makes a strange face and you can’t help but laugh. You approach him again and rub your shoulder against his and, with an over the top wink you raise your eyebrows repeatedly and say :

-Does it make you all hot and bothered ?

-No.

It’s funny, to see him trying to resist you. Trying to act as if he doesn’t feel fazed at all. His short answer and apparent self-control can’t hide the truth for you. You know him. You know he can never resist you much. Besides, the apparent bulge growing in his pants is enough to know he’s lying...

-Reaaaaaaally ?

-Yes.

-Oh. 

You make your “oh” sounds so disappointed that it makes him shift on his spot and you just know the effect you have on him, damn minx...You continue :

-Cause imagining you giving a blowjob to Clark gets me all hot and bothered so like, I’d think the thought of me going down on Wonder Woman would have the same effect on you. And knowing that it’s not just a fantasy like me about you and Clark, that it actually happened...The thought of my tongue swirling in...

-Stop. 

-Or What ? 

He doesn’t answer and you straddle him. He raises his arms and put them away from you, as if he’s afraid to touch you, as if just his hands coming in contact with your body would make him loose his cool. You grind on him shamelessly and he takes a deep breath. With a smirk and the smuggest look you can give him you say : 

-Feeling all hot and bothered now ? 

-To the extent that it’s painful so just stop. 

-...Oh God Bruce, things don’t always have to be painful, just take me already we’ll finish those stupid list later...In fact, at least as far as I’m concerned, I don’t care, because the best one I’ve ever slept with is you, I love you and I...

You don’t have time to finish your sentence. You’re pretty sure he tuned off when you said “just take me” and tried to resist just a few more seconds for good measure...But when he tells you that you’re the only one that ever mattered, and that he loves you more than anything in this damn and crazy world, you realize you’re wrong and it’s not your “take me now” that made him want you, but the fact that he feels love when with you, that you want him for him, that you love him and...Damn he loves you.

_____________________

This was so stupid and bad. Sorry. But I had to..

[stripestheboar]

Day 25 - Soriel (Underfell)

This was originally going to be a Horrortale piece…. but fuck it. I like this concept. 

Besides, I’m saving the Horrortale concept for a…. later time *makes strange slurping noises with my tongue*

Pairing: Soriel (Sans/Toriel)

Word Count: 2,301

It was quiet at the stations as always. Sans watched his brother storm back down the snow-covered bath, having just given the smaller his daily dose of berating and scolding. He tapped his fingers impatiently, waiting for Papyrus to disappear from sight. He quickly checked he time on his phone. He should have a few hours before he came back. Perfect.

Sans stepped away from the station, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made his way to the purple double doors. Once there, he pressed his back to the stone doors and slumped down, giving the stony exterior of the hollowed door a firm knock with the back of his fist. There was an immediate response.

“You’re late,” the woman on the other door huffed. “Yeah yeah, I was held up,” he dismissed with a wave. “Not everyone has as much free time as you do,” he huffed, bringing his knees up to his chest to rest his ulnas on. He found himself wondering if she took the same position, leading him to once again try to picture what she looked like. He imagined a larger woman, and thought she might possibly be a bear or maybe some sort of mammal, since she was all the way out in Snowdin. He knew she was old and had children, from what she described, so he imagined a bit on the weaker side, though the regal tone left him with doubts. He momentarily wondered what she thought he looked like. Neither of them ever described themselves to the other in a physical sense, since they had agreed on introductions once they met face to face one day. So for all he knew, she could just be a figment of his imagination. He’s rather not think of that.

“Your brother again?” she hummed, an amused tone to her voice. Sans gave a slight groan. “Of course it was. Who else? Boss just won’t give me a fuckin’ break. It’s not like anything happens on sentry duty, anyways. Usually I just take a shortcut away, but somehow that fucker always finds me.” He heard a giggle behind the doors and turned his head slightly to look at the stone. “Well then, your family tree must be a cactus.” Sans blinked in confusion, before a grin spread over his skull. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he goaded. “Because everyone on it is a prick!” He had to cover his mouth to hold back a chuckle. “Okay okay, ya got me there,” he chuckled, feeling his spirits lifting at the joke. “But I least you admit I’m as sharp as a thorn. You’re just pointless.” He heard her snicker from behind the doors. “Oh, my dear, you remind me so much of my former husband. Young, dumb, and-“

“Hung?” Sans chuckled. Apparently that one was a real show stopped, because she burst into laughter. He was pretty sure he could hear genuine tears in her roaring. He felt like his soul lifted at the sound and suddenly he didn’t feel like such garbage anymore. He chuckled along, waiting for her to finish so they could continue their conversation.

“Oh, I’m going to have to have to figure that one out for myself, aren’t I?” she finished with a chuckle, sounding out of breath. He rested his mandible on his arms, smirking to himself, and at the same time, at her. “That’s an invitation I’d gladly accept, lady. Any day. It’s been a while since I’ve been laid, after all.”

“Not much luck, lately?” she hummed with a giggle, a knowing tone in her voice. “Pfft, don’t you know it?” Sans scoffed, rolling his eyelights in annoyance at his own shitty track record. “Haven’t gotten any since Boss gave me this fuckin’ collar.” He lifted his skull and tugged at his own collar, a black leather with golden spikes that could really impale a mother fucker if need be. He’d pricked himself a few times, even though he was made completely of bone. He looked back at the door, awaiting a response for a good minute, but there was none.

“Uh, did ya fuckin’ die back there or somethin’? ‘Cause I thought we had a pretty nice thing goin’ on here, y’know?” he joked.

“You wear a collar?”

Sans froze for a moment, not expecting that response. He mentally smacked himself in the skull. For weeks they’d went back and forth, and this was the first time one of them let something slip about themselves. He gave a small huff and nodded to himself. “Yeah… yeah, I do,” he answered. “Boss gave it to me a year back or so.”

“Is that why you call your brother ‘Boss’?” she inquired. “Does he own you?”

“Wha- no!” he responded quickly. “No no, he’s just my brother, and only my brother.”  

“Then why the collar?”

“He just… worries about me, okay?” he sighed. “You know he’s captain of the Royal Guard. I’ve told you, right? Yeah. Captain. And I don’t have very much HP, so it’s just to get people to back off. That’s it.”

The response took a few moments.

“How much HP?” she asked. Sans opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself before he could say anything. What was he doing? He couldn’t just spill everything about himself to this stranger. Even if she sounded caring, he’d been duped before.

“Four hundred,” he finally decided on. That was fairly low, but it didn’t show himself as completely defenseless. “Oh,” was her response. She didn’t sound doubtful, so he guessed he pulled that lie off. However, without actually seeing her face. “Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s not much, but I’m working on it.”

“Are you okay?”  

He wasn’t expecting the question, and he froze for a moment, not knowing how to respond. He felt his soul tighten for a moment. The last person to ever really ask that was Papyrus, and that was almost a decade ago. “Yeah… I guess,” he answered slowly. “I’m just… going through a few things, y’know. That’s… that’s it.”

There was no response. He couldn’t stop himself when he continued.

“I’m just tired. Tired of everything. I just want to take a long nap. A long… long nap. Just to get away from everything.” He rubbed around his sockets, letting out a sigh. “You ever feel like that, old lady?”

Things continued to be silent. Then, he heard her stand up. He hadn’t gotten too personal, had he? What the fuck kind of question was that? Of course he had. He sighed and lowered his skull, rapping a fist on his skull. “Stupid stupid stupid,” he muttered.

“Would you like some pie?” he suddenly heard from the other end. He froze up for a moment, before his frame relaxed and he raised his skull. “You know what, lady? That sounds fantastic,” he sighed, his grin broadening. “Real fantastic.” He’d only tried her pie once, but fuck was it a treat to have. He assumed she had gotten up to go retrieve the slice of pie, and yet he was shocked into standing when he felt the doors begin to move. He backed up, expecting the doors to only move enough for her to fit a slice of pie through, but was wrong on that account as well. The door kept opening wider until he could fully gaze at the woman before him.

He was right on two aspects: she was a mammal-type monster, and boy, was she large. Large with white fur, small horns, red eyes, and black robes with a very familiar red symbol on the front.  

Sans felt his breathing hitch as he took a stepped back to take her in. Things were starting to piece together now. The secrecy, the regal tone, the motherly attitude; there was no doubt about it. He had been spouting off his problems to the former queen of the Underground.

Even so, he didn’t feel as petrified as he knew he should be. There was a certain comfort in finally meeting this person face to face. Only moments before, she had been laughing at his jokes and sympathizing with the problems he had poured from his soul. He felt as though he didn’t need to hide himself around her. Even when she slowly scanned him up and down, he felt a strange sense of comfort. He felt a warm feeling in his soul at the sight of her. She made him feel a sense of safety and warmth for the first time in a while, something a few dozen bottles of mustard and booze couldn’t accomplish.

And then she started laughing.  

His expression fell.

It didn’t start off as a giggle, either. She burst into howls of laughter taking a step closer towards him. Any warmth previously felt was lost, and he took a step back because of a fear he wasn’t willing to admit.

“Why, you’re so small!” she exclaimed in between bouts of laughter. It was true that he was about half her size, but he hadn’t bothered to notice how intimidating she looked until he saw those sharp claws reaching for him. She quickly lunged at him faster than he thought someone of her size could move, easily grabbing him and lifting him up with a hand around his cervical, just barely touching the collar. She could pick him up with one arm; despite him being half her size and rather rotund, he was still a skeleton and thus fairly light. Her laughter died out as one of her large hands wrapped around the base of his skull, gripping tightly. “Why, I think I could crush your skull in one hand,” she giggled, looking down at him as if he was some amusing pet. He growled in a newfound fear that struck his soul as he tried to push her away. She didn’t budge. Instead, she checked him, laughing even harder at what she saw. He felt even colder right then. He swore he couldn’t feel anything but a tight sensation in his soul. “I wonder what else you’ve lied about?” she hummed, those sharp claws skittering around his skull as he tried to control himself. “Surely not about your brother or your petty sentry job. Well, you weren’t lying about he collar, that’s for sure.” She grinned, exposing the length of those sharp canines as she observed more of them. “Or are you really as weak as you make yourself out to be?”

“I am not weak!” he hissed at her, his red eyelight flashing; it almost felt as though it was burning inside his skull. “Oh, my dear,” she purred, pressing her head against his. “If you hadn’t kept detailing every aspect of your life to a stranger, I might actually believe that. No, you’re just a pathetic little whelp, aren’t-“

The former queen stopped for a moment, looking up in surprise when she saw a levitating animal-like skull form out of thin air. It opened it’s sharp-toothed maw, a beam beginning to charge in its mouth. “Let me go. Now!” Sans barked, a sharpened bone forming in his hand, pointing the tip at her chest threateningly. She looked surprised, bit her expression donned that wicked grin once again in a matter of seconds. “Go ahead. I dare you,” she growled, leaning her face close to his as her grip tightened.

Sans had the blaster charge further, almost ready to fire. The tip of his bone pressed further against the queen, ready to sink in without a moment’s notice. She grinned even wider, goading him into taking the next step and hurting her. He got ready and…

And…

What was the point? He went limp in her arms. He already knew he couldn’t muster up the will to intentionally kill someone. He fell silent, the weapons disappearing into nothingness as he looked away. Anger was replaced by an empty feeling once again. “Alright. Go ahead,” he whispered, looking back at her. She gave a soft smirk down at him, but didn’t attack him as he first expected. Instead she brought him closer to her chest, her hands moving from around his cervical and skull to circling his spine and ribs, keeping him supported. “Just as I suspected, she sighed, moving back towards the doors. He blinked in confusion, wondering what shit she was trying to pull now. “What… are you…?” he mumbled.

“I’ve decided to keep you for a few days,” she hummed, closing the stone doors with one hand. “Keep… wah? No, I, Boss’ll kill me n’ I…” he weakly protested. She shook her head as she moved down a long hallway, humming as she gently rubbed his spine in an almost gentle sort of way. “Don’t worry about him right now,” she sighed. “You’re with me.”  

Sans flinched for a moment when he felt her hand touch the back of his cervical, but jolted when he felt a heavy weight drop off. She took up the collar and placed it in her inventory as she walked. “You won’t be needing this for a few days,” she hummed. He brought a hand up to feel the now naked area. “Lady… what are you doing?” he asked, attempting to lean back and look at her. “Oh, my dear Sans, just call me Toriel,” she told him, walking up a small flight of stairs.  

She planted a small kiss on the top of his skull. “Consider yourself mine for these next few days. Hopefully then you won’t be as tired. Understood?”

Sans gave a slow, unsure nod, just letting himself go with it as he leaned his skull against her. He wasn’t sure what he could really trust at his point. Still, he felt that warmth creep back up into his still soul. He smiled some. “Yeah. I got you… Tori.”

[writings-andstuff]

Coincidences Part I (Bucky x Reader)

Okay, so this is me attempting at one of those “I texted you by accident and we ended up talking and I actually think you’re a pretty decent human being” tropes. I don’t know how it’s going to work out because this is the first time I’m doing something like this, but I dunno.  Maybe it’ll be cool. 

Anyways. 

Without further ado: Happy Reading!

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Modern AU if that’s what its called)

Words: 4259

Warnings: I mean, swearing a little. But none other than that. 

Excerpt:  Blowing a sigh through your nose, you realize you probably should just leave it alone and not answer at all. Then again, you are slightly curious to at least find out who texted you. They obviously thought they were talking to someone else, so it couldn’t hurt to maybe steer them in a different direction. Maybe.

*After writing this first part, I have determined that this is going to have to be a multi-part fic. Yeah. This got away from me, but I’m gonna try to post the parts in succession. 

Tagging: @langinator @beccaanne814-blog @fairchild21 

Series Tags: @melanie451 @sebstanwassup @colagirl5 @winenighthoe @hillrich @gotnotfeature

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

New Message from: Unknown

3:32 p.m hey u still wanna get that drink sometime? 

You stare at your phone in confusion. What the hell? Last you could remember, you hadn’t given any stranger your phone number, and you certainly hadn’t agreed to any drinks. 

Blowing a sigh through your nose, you realize you probably should just leave it alone and not answer at all. Then again, you are slightly curious to at least find out who texted you. They obviously thought they were talking to someone else, so it couldn’t hurt to maybe steer them in a different direction. Maybe.

You glance at the clock perched above the doorway to the kitchen. It’s after 3:30 so, technically, you aren’t due for a break for another half hour. The diner is pretty quiet, though, so maybe it won’t hurt to just slip out for a little bit. 

The door to the kitchen creaks as you open it, throwing your apron up onto the hook and casting a frown at Nat, who is sitting on a stool, scrolling through her phone. Man, is she lucky that the manager had to take the day off. At the griddle toward the back, Wanda is humming as she flips a grilled cheese. 

“I’m taking my break early,” you declare to your friends. Nat barely acknowledges you, nodding once and making you want to pull her phone from her hands and hide it from her. Ever since she’d begun dating Clint, she’d been stuck to her phone like glue to paper. You raise a solitary eyebrow. 

Wanda turns from her grilled cheese and leans against the counter. “It’s early.”

You nod. “I know, but it’s dead out there.”

“Pete?”

You smile. “Of course.” 

Peter Parker had been coming into the diner a few days a week after school to do his homework and pick up dinner for his aunt after his uncle died. It happened so often, that the manager actually offered him a job, but he declined, saying that he already had one and that he didn’t want to spend any more time away from his Aunt May than he already did. 

Wanda turns back to the griddle and pulls the grilled cheese from it with her spatula. She sticks the grilled cheese in a foam container and closes it. 

“Is that for him?” you ask. Wanda simply nods, walking over to the desert display and cutting a piece of cheesecake off, putting it in another, smaller container, and putting both in a bag. 

“You never saw me do that,” she warns you, as she walks toward the door to the kitchen, bag in hand. There’s a challenge in her tone that you’re definitely not going to indulge. 

You look around the room with a thoughtful expression on your face, before landing back on her with a questioning tilt of the head and knit brows. “I never saw you do what?”

She grins at you and pushes through the door with her back, turning expertly just as the door is about to open fully, and holding it with her elbow as she walks out. 

When you turn back, Nat’s finally looking up and away from her phone. 

“Look who decided to join us,” you joke, walking forward toward the back exit. 

“She’s a softie,” Nat says, looking through the window at Wanda, who is handing a grinning Pete the bag with a finger to her lips. “She knows she’s going to have to pay for that, right?”

You shrug. “The kid’s been through a lot, and everyone loves cheesecake.”

“Not me,” Nat says, looking up at you where you stand to her right. 

“You’re weird,” you shrug a single shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

You make it about halfway down the hall before Nat calls out for you again. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

You don’t answer. Nat wouldn’t answer a strange text message. Nat wouldn’t even acknowledge said text message. Maybe you shouldn’t either. But the curiosity is killing you. Forget the cat, it has nine lives. You don’t, and if you don’t find out who this is, you’re going to die. Definitely. 

It’s obviously not going to be anyone you know, because the number is unknown, and part of you knows that. The irrational part of you is winning out, though, and you can’t help it. Don’t want to. 

It takes another ten minutes of contemplation, of writing and re-writing a text, to actually get to the point where you say, “Fuck it,” and send it off. 

3:48 p.m Uh. who is this 

Damn, you forgot a question mark. Should you send one? No, double texting is weird. Then again—

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you frown down at it. The sun is too bright right now and your phone screen looks more like a mirror than an open message. You cup your hand above your eyes, against your eyebrows, to block the sun and squint at the screen until you’re sure you can possibly make out the words in the little gray bubble on the screen. 

3:49 p.m its james

You suck in a breath. James. You definitely don’t know a James. Does he think you know him? Probably, or he wouldn’t be asking about getting that drink. Obviously, it was an aforementioned thing, but not with you. 

Another few minutes of quiet contemplation in which you figure out what you should say, landing on something neutral and truthful.

3:54 p.m I don’t know any James’

Shit. Is he gonna know that the apostrophe means that you don’t know any people named James, plural? What if he thinks it’s a typo? That’s two typos in a row—

Your phone buzzes again and you narrow your eyes at his response.

3:55 p.m we met at that cafe a few weeks ago and you gave me your number

Nope, never happened. And you’re going to tell him so. 

3:57 p.m i think i’d remember if i met someone in a cafe and gave them my number. Any chance you got a false one?

The response is immediate and arrogant. 

3:57 p.m no chance

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say to that. Should you call him out on his arrogance? Should you just stop talking to him altogether? Should you keep trying to convince him that you definitely never met him in some weird cafe?

The last one sounds best, but it is a stranger—you’ll never meet him—and you really wanna call him on his shit. 

3:59 p.m big talk for a guy who most definitely got a fake number

This time, the response takes a few minutes, as if he’s had to read it a few times and then formulate a response. You smile to yourself, convinced you won that one and then confused because when did this turn into a competition? You never get to call people out like that because you’re always too scared of the repercussions, so you usually just keep your mouth shut. But a stranger through a phone is different waters altogether. 

4:04 p.m so…ur not dot?

It took him five minutes to say that? 

4:04 p.m no

4:05 p.m then…who r u?

Should you do it? Should you tell him your name? Based on the area code, he lives around you, which is weirdly coincidental. There’s always a chance this is a scam or something, but he does seem pretty confused. It took him five minutes to figure out he’d been duped and you were telling the truth, so…. 

There’s also always the off chance that he’s been in the diner and has seen you. 

Then again, he might never see you or meet you. It’s Brooklyn. A pretty big place to just randomly run into a person you accidentally texted. Still, you don’t want to give him your real name. You do what any sane person would do: you give him your middle name.

4:08 p.m Y/M/N

4:09 p.m oh thank god

You frown.

4:09 p.m ?

4:10 p.m u r a girl, right?

4:10 p.m i kno you didn’t just assume my gender

Fuck, the w is missing from know. Oh well. This one must have him stumped again, because his response doesn’t come for long enough that you think he’s busy or something, until it comes in. 

4:16 p.m uh, no?

4:17 p.m Relax. I am. And you’re a guy, I presume?

4:18 p.m look whos assuming now

You’re slightly offended that your joke just backfired so badly. You inwardly cringe and look back down at your phone, breath ghosting over the screen in the frigid air. Damn, you forgot your coat inside. Wiping the condensation off the screen from your frozen breath, you quickly type back. 

4:20 p.m Certainly not me. I’m presuming. Different. Also, what girl has the name James?

4:20 p.m Jamie

4:21 p.m different

4:21 p.m touche. im a dude

You’re indifferent about the answer, but you realize why he was a little freaked out at the possibility of you being a guy: the first thing he’d texted you had been asking you out for drinks. Then again, now you were assuming sexuality. But he had thought he’d been asking out someone named Dot, and that seems like a pretty feminine name. 

Ugh. Your head hurts.

You sigh, unsure of what to say next. Turns out, you don’t have to think about it too much because he texts you a moment later. A double text.

4:23 p.m sorry if this is wierd. yknow. txting a stranger

You’re smiling, and at first you’re not sure why, until you realize it’s because he’s misspelled weird. As much as you don’t want to be annoying, you can’t let it go. 

4:23 p.m weird*

4:24 p.m ohhh we have a grammar nazi

4:24 p.m i don’t know what you’re talking about

4:25 p.m you just corrected me

4:25 p.m totally didn’t. I was echoing you

4:26 p.m what about the * 

4:26 p.m autocorrect

4:27 p.m mhmm sure and I was born in 1917

4:28 p.m man you’re old

4:29 p.m srryy duno wht u sid cant see thu my catarcs

It’s at this point that you’re covering your mouth with a freezing hand, laughing your ass off. This James, whoever he is, is hilarious. You grin at the screen as you type your answer, before noting the time. You’ve got to get back to work. At this point, you have been talking to James for almost an hour, give or take ten minutes or so. 

You have to admit, your break flew by faster than any of your breaks ever had. 

4:30 p.m alright mr. cat arcs. I have to get back to work. it was strangely fun talking to you

4:31 p.m wats tht deery

Just to piss him off:

4:31 p.m dearie*

4:31 p.m oH its on, grammar nazi

4:32 p.m look who’s suddenly been cured of his cataracts*

The next text isn’t a message but a picture—a screenshot to be precise. He’s saved your number to his phone with the contact name Gramar Nazi. You laugh, but there’s a strange, excited feeling in your chest that makes you grin stupidly.

He’s saved your number to his phone. Does this mean he’s going to text you again? Does he want to? If you’re being honest, you want him to. 

Still grinning like an idiot, hands numb from the cold, you save his number to your contacts as Mr. Catarcs and take a screenshot of it. 

4:34 p.m grammar* 

Then you send him the screenshot of his contact. 

4:35 p.m lol see u later grammar nazi

The door behind you swings open and Nat’s standing there, frown on her face. You let your phone drop to your side as she knits her brows at you.

“You forgot your coat,” she says, as if that isn’t obvious enough. “Also, your half hour break was up half an hour ago. The dinner rush is going to start soon.”

You nod. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be in in a sec.”

Her frown deepens, if that’s even possible, and she tilts her head at the phone in your hand, still open to the message between you and James. She nods at it.

“Who’re you talking to?”

“No one.”

She eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t say anything, opting to prop the door open with the wooden wedge. You totally forgot to put that in when you came out here. It’s a good thing Nat came to get you or you’d have to walk all the way around to the front. 

Finally, Nat retreats back into the relative warmth of the diner. 

You shoot a really quick text back to James before entering the establishment:

4:38 p.m later cat arcs

4:38 p.m wah

You laugh, but don’t respond as you walk down the back hall toward the kitchen. What are you getting yourself into? Who knows, but he’s funny, and everyone knows you need a little more funny in your life. So you push your phone into your back pocket and pull your apron over your head, trying to rid your mind of James and failing miserably. 

When you finally get home after switching out with the graveyard shift, you’re exhausted and ready to just fall into bed. 

Instead, you peel off your clothes—which smell unpleasantly of french fry grease and coffee—and shower away the diner stink. It’s while you’re getting yourself dressed again that you remember James. You’d been so busy that he’d been pushed to the back of your mind during the dinner rush and hadn’t re-appeared since. Until now. 

You sigh and pull on a pair of leggings and a T-shirt before checking the clock. 8:08 p.m. Perfect. 

You grab the only other key on the key rack in the kitchen and exit your apartment, locking the door and walking a few steps down the hall to the apartment next door. 

Unlocking the door, you don’t even check to see if he’s home and opt instead to collapse onto his couch. Sure enough, you hear a deep voice down the hall talking on the phone. He doesn’t even know you’re here. 

You met Steve Rogers—what was it?—two years ago? Probably somewhere around there. The two of you were just out of college and just beginning to live on your own. Steve, who had moved in a few weeks before you, had helped you unpack almost all of your boxes. You’d gone on to learn that he was an art major starting his own studio and that he had lived in Brooklyn his whole life. After finishing college, he’d decided to move out into an apartment not too far from his childhood home.  

You couldn’t say the same thing. You’d lived your whole life in Manhattan, with its annoying cabs and its bright lights. Miss it desperately. 

It takes Steve at least five more minutes to come out into the main living room, still on the phone. 

“—g deal.” A pause. He makes his way into the kitchen, barefoot and wearing sweats. He still hasn’t seen you. “I’m sure it’s not, Buck. You’re overreacting.” Another pause. Now that he’s in the kitchen, he’s facing the counter, which faces the couch. 

His eyes widen when he finally sets eyes on you and he frowns, mouthing, “What’re you doing here?” 

You shrug and mouth back, “Bored.”

He smiles and waits for Bucky to finish talking to him over the phone. “Y/N’s here.” Pause. “Yeah.” Pause. He pulls the phone away from his cheek for a moment to address you. “Bucky wants to know if you enjoy breaking and entering.” Of course he knows you’ve just waltzed in unannounced; you’ve done it before.

You scoff and hold a hand to your chest in mock offense. “I’m offended! It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key,” you say holding up said shiny item. It glints in the poor lighting of the apartment. 

Steve repeats what you said back to Bucky, who says something else. “No, I’m not—” a deep sigh. “Fine.” He looks at you again. “Bucky wants to know what you’d do if I was ‘with someone’?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Like Peggy?”

Steve blushes almost imperceptibly, but you catch it, and he nods once. 

You shrug. “Leave.”

“Leave,” Steve parrots to Bucky, who must say something on the other line that Steve doesn’t like, because he shakes his head vigorously, despite the fact that Bucky can’t see him. “You’re gross, Buck.” 

You tilt your head. 

“Bucky wants to—”

Groaning, you pull yourself up from the couch, walk into the kitchen, and pluck the phone from Steve without giving him a chance to protest. 

The line crackles for a moment, as if Bucky has been driving and has just gone under a tunnel, but it clears up in another moment, and you breathe into the receiver. 

“That was annoying,” you say. “What does Bucky wanna tell me?”

Bucky laughs. “Bucky would like to know if you enjoy stealing his best friend.”

You look up at a very worried Steve. “He’s my best friend too.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Steve smiles at you and turns to put a filter in the coffee machine. You grab the coffee from the cupboard and hand it to Steve as Bucky replies. 

“I knew him first,” is his retort. 

“First is the worst,” you rebut, grabbing a few mugs from the drying board and retreating to the couch again. “Second is the best.”

“You can’t hear it,” Bucky replies, his voice higher than usual in the phone. Everyone, you think, sounds higher-pitched in the phone. It’s gotta be some sorta known fact or something. A scientific fact. Gotta be. “—but I’m sticking my tongue out at you.”

You poke your tongue out from between your lips and are extremely grateful that Steve has his back to you to prepare the coffee. “Me too.”

“Are you two done?” Steve says in the background as you stand again and sit on one of the stools on the other side of the counter. 

“What’s he want?” Bucky asks. 

“Wants to know if we’re done talking,” you repeat. “Think he misses his hubby.”

On the other end of the line, Bucky cracks up, laughing so loud that someone yells something—toward him, you guess—that you can’t make out. Bucky clears his throat and whispers, “Bye, Y/N. Gimme back my man.”

You laugh as Steve sets a cup of coffee in front of you, made just the way you like it. “Bye, Buck. See you later.”

Handing over the phone, you blow on the surface of your coffee, watching as Steve takes the phone, slotting it between his shoulder and ear, and gingerly brings his coffee over to the counter you’re sitting at. “Yeah,” he says to Bucky. “Yeah, I know. I’ll get on it, promise.” Break. “See you tomorrow. Night, Buck.”

A few seconds later, he hangs up the phone and turns his attention toward you. “You have work tomorrow?”

He’s talking about your other job, the one you went to college for: editing. You work at a low-budget publishing company and you spend all day reading over articles on topics you couldn’t care less about for grammatical mistakes. It’s your job during the week, but because it’s low-budget, you also work at the diner. Graveyard shift Tuesdays and Thursdays, regular shift Saturdays and Sundays. 

Mondays are your days off of everything, and today is Sunday. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “I took off Friday, so I figured I’d make it up by working tomorrow.”

Steve sips his coffee and then gives you an apologetic look. “At least it’ll be worth it.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “Go out clubbing with you, Peggy, Bucky, Sam, and Wanda. Cause I’m really a club-going type of person.”

Steve’s sympathetic look makes you feel sort of bad for snapping. “I know. I’d rather be home painting or something, but Peggy and Bucky think it’s a good idea, and Sam was all for it, so.” He takes another sip of his coffee. You haven’t touched yours yet. Too hot. “You said Wanda’s coming? Guess Nat and Clint are—”

“Going out,” you nod, finishing for him. “And Bruce and Stark?”

“Some science thing down at the plant,” he sums up and you shake your head. 

“Geeks,” you scoff. 

“Geeks,” Steve agrees with a nod. 

You end up talking to Steve for another hour before leaving. When you get back to your apartment, you hang the keys on their respective hooks in the kitchen and grab your phone from the counter before making your way to your room. 

You undress and get into your pj’s before getting into bed and lying on your side, clicking your phone open. 

There are four notifications waiting for you when you open it. The oldest is a Snap from Nat: 8:12 p.m. The next one is a message from Wanda, the preview reading something about the time for Friday: 8:31 p.m. Third is a message from your mom asking how work was and if you want her to drop off pasta for you tomorrow night: 8:54 p.m. The last one is—

New Message from Mr. Catarcs at 9:18 p.m.

Against your better judgement, you open that one first. 

9:18 p.m i was wondering why u were so familiar and i figured out that it’s cuz u remind me of this girl i kno

10:03 p.m oh?

You open your other messages while you wait for an answer from him. Nat’s Snap is a pic of the sign outside of the diner—the chalkboard one—before she took it in, with the specials written in the manager’s handwriting. It’s colorful as hell and sports the worst drawing of a chicken you’ve ever seen sitting right next to the words Chicken Marsala. How had you missed that earlier? 

You giggle and send one back, covering the camera with your thumb and writing ‘Wow’ in the black screen with red ink and some of those a-okay hand emojis. 

Still no answer from James. It is now 10:06. 

You tell your mother that you would love some pasta for tomorrow night, and ask her if she could send over a little more than usual so you could share it with Steve since he loves her cooking so much. 

Still no answer. 

It’s while you’re in the middle of telling Wanda that you’re going to pick her up around 7 on Friday night that your phone buzzes with a new message from James. You quickly send off the message to Wanda and click on the message from Mr. Catarcs at the top of your screen. 

10:12 p.m yeh uve got the same attitude as her

10:13 p.m that a good thing?

10:15 p.m depends

10:15 p.m on?

10:15 p.m what ur like in person

You’re not sure what to do with that, so you let it sit for a little while before answering. 

10:18 p.m guess you’ll have to get to know me better before that happens. need to make sure you’re not a serial killer or something

10:19 p.m im not a serial killer. r u?

10:20 p.m not as far as I know

10:21 p.m as far as uknow? what? u got smth to tell me

10:22 p.m definitely not

10:23 p.m unconvinced ur gonna have to try harder

You laugh. 

10:24 p.m nah its fun to think about you wondering if i’m a jeffrey dahmer wannabe

10:25 p.m im scared

10:25 p.m certainly you’re not scared of lil ol’ me

10:26 p.m certainly not

10:27 p.m i can feel the sarcasm all the way over here

There are a few minutes of radio silence during which you think that you haven’t had a conversation this entertaining in a long time. It’s fun talking to James, and it makes you both slightly nervous and very excited to see what happens. It’s that edge-of-your-seat, staying-up-even-though-you’re-exhausted-to-answer-a-text feeling. It feels like high school. You grin down at your black phone screen and wait for it to buzz. A few seconds later, it does, with an incoming text from Mr. Catarcs.

10:31 p.m its fun talking to u grammar nazi

10:31 p.m you too, mr. catarcs

10:32 p.m im gunna get u to use txt lingo

10:32 p.m yeah right. good luck

10:33 p.m just wait. ill do it. dont need luck. ive got skill

10:33 p.m LOL. i repeat: good luck

10:33 p.m mad skillz

10:34 p.m good night catarcs

10:35 p.m u forgot a comma

10:35 p.m you*

10:36 p.m just u wait. imma do it. gnight grammar nazi

[lunaraen]

Blaze of Glory

(Credit to @gliber-t for the idea and title.)

Everyone dies.

No matter what else changes, what does or doesn't happen, death is a constant.

It may not be permanent in some cases, but it is constant nonetheless.

In the case of the Blaze Rods, they have just as many possible deaths as anyone else, just as many near deaths and temporary ones as there are permanent deaths. Just as many possible lives too, new paths and possibilities springing up from every moment and every decision.

There are realities where they've never even met, ones where they never will and ones where they're bound to run into each other sooner or later.

There are, of course, realities in which they die in prison, where they die before other opportunities ever become available.

And on the other hand, there are countless realities where even after trying to destroy Sky City, they manage to be happy, manage to work hard to change and in some cases gain forgiveness. There are realities where they never set foot in Sky City, never bothered with rumors of portals and Eversources.

Even when so much has been set in stone, has happened and can't be taken back, there are so many variables and other branching possibilities.

There is one such reality where Maya is one of the most respected people in Sky City, along with her best friends, for all they know and all they're willing to share, a reality where this world is far kinder and better than the one they left behind.

In another, she and Gill manage to convince Aiden to not target the new Order, convince him that they don’t need Lukas to be happy and that they can live fine without him and without being eaten up by anger, a world where they manage to set up shops in the new city's market and are more than happy to welcome Lukas back with open arms and brush off the misunderstandings and confusion.

There's one where Maya and Gill managed to work long enough to be able to build themselves a house of their own despite their time in prison, one where both of them working full time in the mines barely gets them enough money for dinner on a good day.

There aren't many other jobs open to them, as known ex-criminals and would be murderers aren't often in high demand. There is one job though, one that even years later struggles to find willing recruits. Dealing with monsters is usually a deal breaker for most otherwise interested people, but that's not a problem for Maya.

The real problem is getting Reginald, or anyone, to let her join the guard.

But they need people, and her record's been clean ever since she was let out of jail. She's been nothing but obedient, and while she hates that people still think of her and Gill as Aiden's mindless lackeys, it's because they think she's dumb enough to follow orders without a problem while being competent enough to do so that she gets the job.

More importantly, she gets the pay.

It's not fair that Gill doesn't, the whole reason he's not allowed to be part of the guard being his size and the fear of what he'll do if they actually give him weapons, but at least one of them gets the job. She forces herself to look on the bright side.

The worst that comes out of the deal is what helped her get the job at all, and it's that there's no secret that she will always be the first one to take care of any and all monster patrols, and especially the occasional raids that plague them ever few weeks.

After all, while the usual monsters are bad enough, it's not uncommon for nastier monsters to swim, fall, or fly down from the still burning ruins of Sky City, the wreckage they thrive in and the monsters themselves both Maya's fault. Despite no one being able to go up there, it's thought that the monsters have managed to build nests and breed, hence why they never stop coming.

And one day, a day where in innumerable realities she's never heard of Sky City and in countless more she's only ever heard of it from Lukas, Maya finds herself stuck with a choice.

She's the one outside the walls, the alarm has been sounded, and she knows it will take several minutes for any other guards to reach her position. That's several minutes the city doesn't have, given the approaching wall of creatures.

The walls are made of stone, the doors iron, because they have learned. While blazes and ghasts can fly, the doors opening or the walls burning down would allow a sea of zombies and skeletons to follow in their wake.

The walls may not be able to burn now, but the doors aren't locked, and that's what keeps Maya from running inside the city and preparing defenses. While the doors may be heavy, heavy enough that Maya would struggle to get in even if she started shoving and pushing now, there are far more monsters closing in on them than there are guards ready behind the walls. It wouldn't take more than some nudging and pushing from the horde to open the doors wide enough for the monsters to flood the city, and with their numbers they would do it in a fraction of the time they have that Maya doesn’t.

And while the doors can be locked from the outside, they cannot be unlocked.

It's a choice where, in this path, her only concern is how quickly she can lock it.

The answer is just enough time, and only barley at that, before the first fireball hits her square in the back. The next shots are just as hot and just as accurate.

Maya burns fighting for the people she tried to kill years ago.

There's a reality where Gill isn't mourning. On the same day in a different reality, he feels like the luckiest and happiest guy alive, so much so that he half expects to burst from how ridiculously happy he is.

There's another reality where his days are still spent surrounded by his best friends, even if the roles are a little different and they aren't so biting towards other people while they get ready for their next performance.

In another, he's sick of reporters that exist in a city that's larger than it looks.

(But then he would know. There are various realities where he helped build the city, and this is one of them.)

He gets sympathy that's about as deep as a puddle, dramatics and flair that help his temper about as much as the people who still badmouth Maya, as he's pretty much told how awful he must feel, how terrible knowing Maya died for people who have never been supportive or tolerant of her must be.

It's the one place they're right.

Then he's told it must be nothing compared to the shame he's been carrying all this time, the shame from being duped and being a good friend to a psycho who never deserved his loyalty.

And that's where they're so very wrong.

Because as much as he regrets it, as much as he wishes it didn't happen, Gill's not going to lie and pin more blame on Aiden. He and Maya were just as happy to destroy a city full of innocent people. They were sick and twisted and deserved to be put behind bars. Then they built the city and shared everything they knew with the people and were treated like violent animals.

That's something they didn't deserve as much, and definitely not after Maya had managed to become a guard.

And when he finishes shopping for food one day, feeling dead and hollow and not caring that he’s got enough food for two people, he doesn't think twice about attacking the two criminals holding another shopper at knife point.

It feels good, to knock them out cold.

The knife in his thigh doesn't feel as good, and he doesn't feel like the hero the woman he saved insists he is.

He ignores her questions, her concern, not looking back as he limps home. He collapses on the floor, knife still sticking out of his leg, as soon as the door shuts behind him.

He's left bleeding on the floor of his empty home, and won't be taken to the infirmary he's proclaimed dead in until an hour later.

People, who, thanks to the claims of one grateful woman, can't comfortably demonize him too much, will say he really died of a broken heart, that the wound wasn't bad enough to kill him on its own, that it was only a matter of time before grief claimed him anyway.

All Gill knows, as the room fades to black and his breathing slows, is that he misses his best friends.

There is a reality where Aiden is the only one to starve in prison, a reality where his death is enough to get Maya and Gill pulled out of prison and back to their world.

In another, he's responsible for raising a villager child whose home blazes destroyed, and in most similar realities, he doesn't have to do it alone.

In yet another, he is alone, surrounded by stories that he knows by heart and has written in a million different ways. It's a messy hovel of a shack, the carpet hard to see under the paper, but it’s as well-made as anything else Aiden ever built.

Years of being alone haven't made him a worse builder.

It's a shack he's abandoning, one on the edge of the forest that almost no one goes into and is far enough out of sight that no one ever finds the building, along with all the writings. He remembers the stories better than he remembers his old life, sometimes.

It's a choice he's making that's been a long time coming, only now set off by what could've gone very differently.

Little more than a month ago, during one of his rare trips into the city for supplies, he'd run into Lukas.

Lukas, who never visited this world after Sky City burned, who Aiden was convinced would never set foot here again.

(But could have at any time, and did in numerous other paths, most times to confront his guilt and anger and a few rare times to get rid of Aiden entirely.

There are many realities where he visits just to show his best friends the cool city in the sky.)

In another reality, Lukas recognizes the scruffy miner hesitantly asking for an autograph.

In this one, he barely pauses, finishing one autograph and moving to the next, finishing Aiden's like it's nothing and with a look in his eyes that makes it clear that Aiden's just another fan he doesn't know and probably won't see again.

That's why Aiden's leaving.

And he's not just leaving this forest for another one. He knows there's a portal in the city, and he's going through it to another world.

Not the one he comes from of course, because no thank you, but he knows there are more on the other side. Any and all of them would do at this point, really.

He feels guilty, because of course he does. Two weeks ago, he was woken by a scream, shrill and harsh and one that made it sound like someone was dying in a way that shouldn't have been familiar at all.

When he looked, though, Aiden could only see a sea of monsters being successfully held off by the city's ever improving walls. The scream may've never happened, another part of a quickly forgotten nightmare, or it may've only been from some terrified person on the inside.

He can't let his guilt keep him here because he can do nothing but watch anyway, and they always seem to have it under control as it is.

He's not as sure about Maya and Gill because how can he be?

He hopes they're okay. He's sure they are. Him being gone hopefully helped at least a little to erase their perceived ties with him, and they're both resourceful.

He wants to go and get them, wants to get them to come with him and selfishly drag them away from their lives yet again, but they've been given enough time to settle. Part of the reason he's leaving is so he can stop trying to fix what can never be fixed. It's for the better, he tells himself. He's sure they've both been doing more than fine without him, and that they'll continue to do just as well. It's not like they'll know he's gone, after all.

(And there are countless other lives, other realities, where he never left, where the three of them decided to stick together, whether it was on their own in the wild or in the city or in another world entirely, but this is not one of those realities.)

Getting into the city isn't as hard as he maybe made himself think it would be, and it occurs to him only as he sneaks past a patrol that most people in the city probably don't know about where the portal really is. He's at least narrowed it down to where it has to be, but the fact that sneaking through Isa and Milo's headquarters has been this easy puts back on any edge the lack of trouble takes off.

But every guard walks right by him as he hides, skin and bones and dull patchy clothes that blend right into the background, and it's only because of his guilt that he stops at all.

He thinks he hears either Maya or Gill's name, maybe both, being mentioned by a guard as two stroll by, and for a moment he hesitates.

He can't stop, though, not if he doesn't want to land in prison. Just because the average person, or the man who used to be his best friend, doesn't recognize him anymore doesn't mean a guard won't.

The portal is unguarded and the most beautiful thing he thinks he's ever seen, shimmering and humming and alive with promises that he’s more than happy to hear and see to. Slipping through it, as icy and weird as it feels and as long as it's been since he's gone through a portal, is as easy as breathing.

And when he does, Aiden ceases to exist as more than a character, two dimensional and used only in stories to illustrate how downtrodden and overlooked the heroes were in the beginning. It's not that he never hears the name again, often all but spat from his own mouth when he gets dramatic or drawled when it better fits the scene to mock the character, but that's all Aiden is. A minor villain no one asks about after the story is done.

The man who tells the stories is a person, real and flesh, if one not many understand or want to try and figure out. His stories are good, and most swear they're true, and that's all they ask.

To some, he is simply the traveler, the man who always manages to entertain the curious and lonely, the man who manages to excite and enthrall those who want adventures of their own. Others know him as the storyteller, the mysterious man who knows so much about the heroes whose stories he never runs out of and characters he seems to share no connection to, the narrator.

[atamascolily]

Episode Review - Sinbad 2x13 - “A City Under Plague”

In which we learn Firouz has a thriving correspondence with a fellow scientist and they have the best science sexy talk ever. Also, crossbows are a pain for melee fighters to deal with, throwing knives are handy, and horses can be useful on occasion. And the whole "magic = agency for women" motif previously established on this show just keeps getting more and more fodder.

I'm actually quite charmed by this episode, which is such a relief after the... uneven quality of some of the preceding episodes.

(Photos from Far Far Away.)

We open on the boat, just outside the city of Scroff. Things look pretty quiet, but our heroes have more important things to do... like tease Firouz about the nature of his "correspondence" with a scientist named Velda and his eagerness to get off the boat and pay her a visit.

Come on, guys, she's NOT my girlfriend, Firouz insists. This is a matter of pure science! SCIENCE!

No one believes him, though. Firouz may be a genius but he also excels at self-delusion.

Meanwhile, in Scroff, a cat crawls into a crate and I am not sure why.

Sinbad and Firouz go and look for Velda. They find the marketplace deserted. Also, there are large red Xes on the doors of the buildings. This is never a good sign.

They find Velda's place. Velda is happy to see them, but warns them of a city-wide quarantine due to plague. We're only thirty seconds in and already I'm shipping this pairing pretty hard.

I mean, really.

Aren't they cute together?

Some dudes who are cleary Up to No Good bust in and want to arrest everybody on account of plague.

Dude, no, says Sinbad.

That's a rockin' jade plant (aka Crassula ovata) in a pot in the background, just in case you were wondering.

Firouz and Velda escape the guards while Sinbad creates a diversion.

Sinbad captures a horse. One of the themes of this season, apparently, along with fire and darkness and grittiness and leather pants, is that Sinbad rides a horse almost every episode, despite being a sailor. This time the horses have funny headgear, so you know they're different.

But it doesn't do much good because Firouz and Velda get surrounded and Sinbad is forced to surrender as well.

Back on the boat, everyone else is wondering what's going on with Firouz and Sinbad.

Suddenly, soldiers invade the boat, declaring it's punishment for violating the quarantine in Scroff. The crew puts up a fight but this time the soliders brought crossbows to a sword fight and the crew sensibly surrenders.

In the dungeons, Firouz and Velda are having a moment.

Aww.

Meanwhile, on the boat, everybody's chained up. Doubar fakes a seizure so they can lure the guards close, grab the keys, and fight their way free. Like you do.

The ruler of Scroff comes in. He's actually a decent guy and seems genuinely apalled by Velda's report of her treatment by his soldiers.

His younger brother, though, is a total jerkass.

Velda convinces the ruler to let Firouz and Sinbad go out of the city to gather foxgloves and use Velda's gear to find a cure, since she's stuck under quarantine because Jerkass insists. The ruler agrees, but Jerkass really doesn't believe their story or their agenda.

Dude, what the fuck, says his older brother, walking in. So the disagreement is shelved for the moment.

Bryn, Doubar and Rongar wander into Scroff but decide to split up... because that always works, right? Doubar gets stopped by soldiers using a wagon to cart bodies away. They share a laugh. Hahahaha!

Cut to Bryn about to be captured by a different set of soldiers.

All the prisoners under quarantine in the dungeons get stamped with a tattoo to indicate their status. This seems like real overkill, but Velda realizes that the tattoo is the source of the plague, because only the people who have it are actually sick or dying.

Bryn gets carted into the dungeons and put in the same cell as Velda..

... but the two guards decide it's a great opportunity for sexual assault. Things don't look good until Bryn's magic reasserts itself and Velda convinces the guards it's a sign of the plague. They hastily leave.

Sadly, this is a plot device to make the show "darker" and "edgier," as well as all too realistic for women in their situation. This show tends to sandwich its female characters into two archetypes - victim/princess/innocent and witch. Unlike other series, though, you can be young and pretty and still be a witch (and not necessarily evil). In fact, in the world depicted in this series, your life is actually BETTER if you're a witch - or at least you're more able to defend yourself and the people you care about.

Bryn and Velda establish that they both know Firouz and Sinbad, that the two men are outside the city looking for a cure, and that the tattoos are the real cause of the plague. They comfort each other.

Meanwhile, Firouz and Sinbad are outside, having successfully found foxglove. For the record, foxglove would be a good choice for heart ailments, but I would not recommend it as treatment for infectious diseases like the plague.

The jerkass brother tries to convince the city's ruler that Sinbad and Firouz are going to betray him.

A gang of soliders appear in the woods, slaughtering Sinbad and Firouz's minders. They know they've been betrayed by the jerkass brother. Happily, Dermott is there to help!

The pair concocts a plan to get horses so they can race back to the city. This plan involves Firouz creating a distraction while Sinbad jumps out of a tree. I approve of this plan.

Well, that was easy.

Bryn gets interrogated by the Jerkass Brother, but refuses to tell him anything useful.

Rongar, having found nothing of interest wandering around Scroff (really?), meets back at the rendezvous point, wondering where the hell everybody is.

Doubar drives up with a sweet new ride, courtesy of those dudes he met earlier. Go Doubar!

Bryn is dragged kicking and fighting to be tattooed with the tattoo of death. She knocks it over, but unfortunately, there are backups.

Sinbad swings in to save the day!

Firouz just wants to rescue Velda. She’s not there.

About damn time, Sinbad, Bryn yells as they finish fighting off the soldiers. But he does know how to make an entrance.

Cut to outside the ruler's palace (which is different from the dungeons because he's actually a civil leader and not a royal one, I think). It's guarded by some dudes with crossbows. Firouz wants to charge them so they can rescue Velda, who was taken inside.

No offense, Firouz, but that's a terrible idea, says Sinbad.

The ruler is upset with Velda for refusing to work, but she explains that the tattoo is actually the source of the plague.

Appalled, the ruler confronts his Jerkass Brother, who reveals it was a deliberate plot to get all the city's wealth for himself.

A riderless wagon approaches the gates. The guards come over to investigate...

Rongar and Sinbad jump out and kill them with distance weaponry! (Rongar uses a dirk and Sinbad uses a small sword.) An trick that never seems to lose its effectiveness. Sinbad stops to retrieve his swordlet, but Rongar doesn't.

When the good ruler continues to be appalled by his brother's evil activities, the evil brother decides to kill him! Velda backs into a corner, knowing she's next.

Fortunately, Sinbad knows how and when to make a dramatic entrance. Again.

It's just a flesh wound...

Anyway, Sinbad and the jerkass brother have a dramatic fight on the staircase. Of course, Sinbad wins. The grateful ruler invites the crew to return to Scroff whenever they're in the neighborhood. That might be soon, smirks Sinbad, as the group runs into Firouz and Velda, saying good-bye to each other.

Look at those shippers on deck there.

They're talking about ways to cure disease... like growing mold on bread.

Aww, yeah.

Talk nerdy to me, baby.

Wait for it....

So close...

Hey, what are you guys doing here, anyway?

Firouz hastily tries to pretend they weren't about to make out.

"Just kiss her, Firouz. That's an order from your captain."

Firouz is all too happy to oblige.

Very happy.

Whatever, dude, you'll be back on the ship hanging out with me for the rest of the season, Rongar is clearly saying here.

And that's how the episode ends!

So, admittedly, I am charmed by all the blatant shipping in this episode, and it's nice that the real ruler isn't actually evil, just being duped by his evil brother. Firouz hasn't gotten much of a spotlight this season, being mostly used for comic relief and bickering with Doubar. Also, he's barely invented anything this season, which is damn shame; he uses his healing skills if he gets to do anything at all. So it was nice to have a chance for him to shine for a while.

The scene with Bryn and Velda together again makes me wish there were more female characters on this show, who would talk and spend time together. It doesn't happen very often, but it's awesome when it does. I wish we could have seen some of that at the end, in addition to the make-out session.

One nice thing about the truly terrible episodes in this season is that everything else looks really good by comparison.

[glitterghast]

tell me more abt the modern au .... pls

okay so i completely let myself get carried away with this au. like…i need to put it all under a cut so that people don’t wind up with a massive wall of text on their dashboards

so yeah, it’s modern day and a poly au and the best way i can think to describe it all is through dot-points. but essentially, it starts before they all even know each other.

Jenny:

- likes girls and guys, with a slight preference for girls

- wears skinny jeans and oversized hoodies, or pretty dresses and cardigans. no in between

- a nurse at the local hospital, works with patsy

- was dating jimmy before she even knew any of the others

- listen,,, poly jenny/jimmy/alec technically kickstarted the entire poly ship in this au 

- meets trixie through some first aid course she was conned into doing at the school

- they kinda danced around their mutual crush for a while before jimmy and alec did the whole “oh yeah why don’t the four of us go out tonight- whoops we suddenly can’t go, guess it’s just you two” kinda thing

- always has to be the first one awake in the morning

- almost always arguing with patsy over how things should be organised. they can never agree

- she swears the most out of everyone 

Trixie:

- likes girls and guys equally. bisexual and not afraid to call you out on your bullshit stereotypes

- no change of fashion from canon

- dyes her hair weird colours

- has a history of addiction that she’s almost entirely recovered from by the time she meets everyone else

- works as a kindergarten teacher

- has known cynthia for a year; lived in the apartment across from her and gives her lifts to work

- dated cynthia before they met any of the others, even if they’d never admit they were a couple

- drinks too much coffee

- needs to kiss everyone before she leaves for work

- is okay with clutter as long as the Aesthetic™ of the room isn’t ruined

- has a huge dog called max who she dresses up in baby bonnets and carries everywhere

- loves the dog filter, won’t rest until she can get it to recognise max’s face 

- tries to be BFFs with her girlfriends’ mothers 

Cynthia:

- aroace. gets defensive when people think it means she just can’t date people

- has that sort of ‘skirts and peter pan blouses’ look, never really wears anything too colourful, always wears stockings despite the weather

- long history of mental illness; has had trixie drive her to therapy on multiple occasions

- works at the local library and bookstore

- volunteers at the parish hall and animal shelter

- (it’s entirely her fault that trixie has max)

- has a therapy cat named mary

- met jenny through trixie. they were kinda awkward for a while but…well this is a poly au so the rest is history

- often winds up the middle of cuddle puddles 

- officially dubbed the baby of the group by patsy 

- actually gets the angriest out of everyone 

- can remember everyone’s routines and eating habits. knows just how each person likes their coffee/tea/hot chocolate and what mug they like it in 

- knows how to dupe everyone else in every game ever. mario kart? always knows the shortcuts and always chooses rainbow road. monopoly? always ends up with hotels on every space. uno? somehow manages to have an endless supply of +4 cards

Barbara:

- fluctuates between saying she’s bi and saying she’s pan. has a preference for guys

- wears cute pinafores and overalls, huge collection of socks 

- has a huge collection of cacti and succulents, calls them her children

- somehow always manages to have a smudge of dirt somewhere

- likes pineapple on pizza 

- works at a cafe in town, knows patsy and delia from how frequently they eat there

- lived with them for a while after her apartment building was scheduled to be knocked down

- effectively the constant third-wheel

- went to school with trixie, had a huge crush on her 

- it takes her ages to figure out that trixie’s dating jenny and cynthia (and by this point that relationship is sorta starting to merge with delia and patsy)

- so it actually kinda takes her ages to join the entire relationship herself 

- (it’s totally patsy and delia who set her up w/ trixie lbh)

- was kinda scared of max for a while

- tries to be the peacekeeper of the group but it rarely works 

- idk whether or not tom exists in this au or not

Patsy:

- trans lesbian

- wears flannel all the time

- “if people can’t tell i’m gay within a second of meeting me, then what’s the point?”

- the only one who doesn’t celebrate christmas, begrudgingly deals with delia going overboard every year 

- constantly exhausted but “coffee is for the weak”

- will kill a man if she doesn’t get nine hours of sleep 

- delia’s high school sweetheart

- gay matchmaker. are you straight? she’ll find you someone that’ll make you rethink that

- tries to keep everyone else on a schedule, but it never works 

- can’t cook for shit 

- like seriously she nearly burned the house down trying to boil an egg 

- wants to be a writer, can’t find a moment of peace 

- A+ comfort-cuddler (needless to say, she’s really bad at seeking comfort when she’s the one who needs it)

- always has a mini first-aid kit on hand (for delia. she’s the only one who ever needs it)

- kicks in her sleep 

Delia:

- really fucking gay but i don’t need to tell you that

- legitimately gets offended when people think she could ever like a guy

- deaf. she’s deaf. the most concrete headcanon in this au 

- had adhd and a lack of self preservation 

- always covered in plasters

- will climb/drink/eat/do anything for money

- an artist, goes from job to job most of the time

- paints on the walls, the ceiling, the banister

- paints on barbara while she sleeps 

- once painted the door handle to patsy’s room because she wouldn’t buy milk 

- gets drunk and gives herself and/or trixie stick-n-pokes 

- takes super long showers, uses the hot water 

- totally didn’t mean to send those nudes to you 

- steals people’s clothes 

Valerie:

- nonbinary

- likes girls exclusively, but has only had boyfriends before (in high school)

- wears horrid 80s fashion (but will always let trixie dress her up)

- plays old video games. she’s really bad at them

- manager at the cafe babs works at 

- went to school with cynthia 

- join the poly group way later

- starts dating trixie and dates only her for a long while (see: nearly a year) before joining the cuddle puddle and moving in

- she and delia argue about pointless shit a lot 

- someone takes their eye off her for a second and she winds up in some small-town jail in scotland 

- sleeps in the latest 

- takes people on the cutest dates 

- rivals trixie for being the neediest affection-wise

so that’s like. the main group. but then you have jimmy and alec who’re dating jenny (and each other) and they’re like…the OG cuddle puddle so i’m gonna include them too even though they don’t move into the same flat like the rest 

Jimmy:

- small bi trans guy 

- like seriously he used to hold the half-inch he had on jenny over her head, and then they met alec and now he has to come to terms with his shortness 

- been dating jenny for like…a while 

- they kind of told people they were dating just so they’d stop asking questions but then it just sort of…became a real thing

- they came out to their parents together because they’re kind of inseparable 

- met alec through working as a carpenter and was like “holy shit i wanna kiss him but i can’t reach his face”

- eventually they came to the decision that it’d be alright if he kissed alec

- so he did? it was very unexpected for everyone involved 

- weirdly enough jimmy’s the start of the poly au 

- shares trixie’s love for the dog filter 

- has This Look when he wants kisses (it always works)

Alec:

- tall™

- dresses all smart and shit but also has a bunch of hoodies (that jimmy and jenny steal)

- is competitive with jenny over everything: finishing books first, getting through the door quicker, giving jimmy more kisses in a day, putting the most juice in their glass without it spilling over 

- doesn’t Get™ snapchat or any other type of social media 

- actually really good at drawing 

- secret art BFFs with delia 

- building inspector; nearly fell through a hole in the ground because he got distracted by jimmy 

- likes to see how much she can annoy jenny before she says something

then there’s like. extra characters who aren’t part of this giant fucking cuddle puddle they’re just there (but they’re important i promise you)

phyllis:

- lives in the flat next to the one the girls move into 

- a retired nurse 

- tries not to be so stern now that she isn’t a nurse anymore

- doesn’t succeed but at least she has a massive soft side

- lives with five cats 

- looks after mary sometimes 

- doesn’t like max at all 

- tries to teach her cats spanish 

- the others worried that she’d be super homophobic but she adores the giant gay family that lives next door 

- delia’s her favourite, though 

- purely because she witnessed her follow patsy barefoot out into the rain, yell “shoe’s are for pussies”, then proceed to climb patsy’s side like a fucking animal and cling to her while the taller girl kept walking 

dr. turner:

- still married to shelagh with all their children dw 

- works with jenny and patsy at the hospital 

- (i still haven’t decided whether shelagh works at the same hospital) 

- he’s basically who patsy and jimmy see about hormones n stuff like that 

- so in the end he kinda finds out about this huge relationship because how else could two of his patients be dating another nurse at the hospital 

- he’s p cool but he’s not really a main part in the au, so i don’t have much of a story for the turner family Whoops 

so that's...essentially it?? tl;dr: jenny knows trixie through work, and meets cynthia through trixie. they meet patsy, jimmy and alec through jenny, and through patsy they meet delia and barbara. and then through barbara they meet valerie. dr. turner and shelagh work with jenny and patsy. and phyllis is their next-door neighbour who probably puts up with far too much shit. this entire response is 6-7 pages in a word document. thank you