#firstly getting beat up by a nine year old

[oifaaa]

It’s a shame Tim isn’t going to be in the baby Damian au. Because Tim competing and losing to a 6 year old who is everyone’s favorite is really funny. Imagine being Robin, thinking you’re the coolest kid every and Nightwing like 7 year old better then you. The elementary schooler has high security clearance then most of the batfamily.

You say this like canon wasn't a 16 year old boy losing constantly to a 9 year old child isn't that embarrassing enough for Tim

[safetycar-restart]

it took me nine days. but i finally have inspiration. hope everyone had a merry christmas and im sorry if it was a bit rough.

iiiiimmmmmm bbaaaackkkkkkk

so. charles is obviously preparing for the new season, new year, new opportunity. and he’s becoming visibly more stressed to the point he does some very un-bunny stuff. he’s trying his hardest he really is. he must make mommy proud. he must make pierre proud. so he’s putting all his effort into training, reading his notes, constantly on the sim, going into meetings. you’ve only been back from skiing with his family for three days yet you’ve barely seen him. and bunny isn’t being bunny. it’s as if his horniness has left him. and you and pierre are seriously confused and worried.

so tonight you decide to distract him and make him feel so good so he can destress for a bit. pierre is preparing the bedroom, lube is out and he himself is stripping. you’re going into the sim room to grab charles and bring him back with you. you open it and he’s sat on the sim redoing the monaco circuit for the millionth time and beating his old timings. he doesn’t even notice you come in. you say his name to get his attention but he doesn’t look up, he just continues to drive and replies with a curt ‘yep’. you put a hand on his shoulder to once again gain his attention, but it causes him to jerk in the game and crash. and he snaps. ‘what the fuck seriously’ and he finally looks at you and sees your expression. and he breaks down into tears. cause he’s been a bad bunny, neglecting his mommy and his pierre. so he just starts sobbing and mumbling and apologizing. you hold him and shush him and tell him its fine and he’s fine and you aren’t angry and he’s been a good boy he’s your good bunny. but he just keeps crying. you obviously cannot lift him so you shout pierre in so pierre can carry him out, and pierre walks in with little panties on that charles is instantly glued to. can’t take his eyes off of pierre.

and in the bedroom he calms down whilst cuddling with both you and pierre, and he’s back to bunny again. he’s so hard after seeing and cuddling with pierre wearing only panties. and he hasn’t come in three days because he hasn’t been with either of you. and he’s so desperate. grinding against pierre, grinding against you, moaning the second he has hands on him. so he bounces on pierre’s cock as if his life depends on it, because in his head it does. he must prove he’s a good bunny, and he also must cum. and he does. he cums with pierre filling him up and his mommy stroking his cock whilst telling him how good he’s been.

bunny is back.

🍁

Nine days is a long time but holy fuck you’ve made up for lost time because this is perfect. I love everything about this oh my god. This also went way off topic because I got very carried away because I just love this whole concept so much and had so much fun expanding on it.

So firstly, I think that Charles would give himself a date that he has to start the season prep on? Up until that date, he’s allowed to be his horny, subby self. But the moment that date arrives, he has to focused on preparing for next season.

You and Pierre know nothing of this, but you notice a change in Charles in the lead up to that day. He starts to be even clingier, crying out and whining whenever you or Pierre move away from him because he knows that soon he won’t be allowed to have this anymore.

Usually, when something is wrong with Charles, he'll tell you and Pierre immediately. You and Pierre have learnt to push him though, he doesnt want to be asked or treated differently and he will come to you and Pierre very soon for help. Pierre, on the other hand, needs to be pushed into opening up otherwise he will bottle everything up.

This method has always worked fine. But that's because Charles usually comes to tell you and Pierre what's happening almost immediately.

You and Pierre decide together not to push Charles, worried that asking him will make things worse.

And then suddenly bunny stops acting like bunny at all. Not only because he stops seeming so horny and needy, but also because he stops with all he usual affection he loves?

You try to give him his forehead kiss in the morning and he moves away, then you ask him what he wants for breakfast and he says he'll eat on the way to the gym. When he gets back home, he doesnt greet you or Pierre, just goes straight to his sim room. He sees you and Pierre cuddling on the couch and he walks straight past to the bedroom, doesnt even ask for a kiss. And he even showers earlier and so doesnt get his shower with his Pierre!!

Everything that he usually loves, all the little bits of affection he usually cant function without, he just ignores? That worries you and Pierre so much more than Charles not being horny. And the more you and Pierre try to offer him love and affection, the more upset he seems to get?

Of course for Charles, he's getting more and more upset every time one of you offer him affection because he wants it so badly. But he can't. He has to be stronger than this, has to be strong enough to perform better.

Eventually it's been three days of this and you realise that Charles isn't going to come to you and Pierre for this. And Charles is your bunny, but he's also your sub. You're his dom. If he needs you, then you have to be there, and you have to help him even when he doesn't think he needs help.

You tell Pierre the plan, explaining to him that he must wear pretty panties and wait for you in the bedroom. You will go fetch Charles yourself.

He's so cold with you when you approach him, even snapping at you when you touch his shoulder. Charles has NEVER snapped at you or at Pierre. Ever. Charles is your sweet little one. Everything about him is soft.

You're more shocked than upset with Charles, even more worried now that he's acting so out of character.

Charles sees your shocked expression... and he breaks.

Seeing his mommy clearly to upset, realising that he snapped his mommy... he's been so bad. It dawns on him that in his preparation, he's been a bad boy. A bad bunny.

He's ignored his mommy and his Pierre, not listened and not taken the affection you've offered him. He's been so bad. He even snapped at his mommy!!!

He just starts sobbing, so overwhelmed and scared.

You quickly kneel down and hug him, telling him that he's your good boy and not bad at all, that you and Pierre will help him sort through whatever is going on with him. He just cries harder, not listening to your words because he's convinced he's been so bad.

You call Pierre, because you need him to carry Charles to the bedroom.

Pierre is so shocked when he comes in and sees Charles crying, so confused because he was certain that you would have gotten Charles to the bedroom easily. He looks to you for an explanation, but you just shake your head, not knowing either.

Pierre carries Charles to the bedroom, and Charles cries even harder when he sees pierre's panties and realises that you and Pierre had a whole scene planned out and he ruined it.

Pierre just hugs him tighter and puts him into your arms when he gets to the bedroom. You hold Charles against your chest, whispering comforting words and praise. Pierre hugs him from behind, whispering soothing words in French.

It takes him a long while to calm down, and you and Pierre just hold him through it. When he eventually stops crying, you praise Charles, telling him that he's the best bunny you could ever ask for and that you and Pierre were going to help him. He whines and hugs you tighter, mumbling that he was trying to be strong on his own and prepare for the next season.

That just breaks your heart. Thinking about your poor subby bunny trying to be strong on his own is awful. That's not how it's meant to be.

He gets hard eventually, a result of finally being back in your and pierre's arms. You hold him tighter, asking him if he'd like to feel good, reminding him that he is allowed to, that he deserves it.

He nods against your chest, allowing Pierre to pull him against his chest so that you can stretch him out. Pierre keeps a constant stream of French going to Charles, whispering praise and reassurance until he's ready to be fucked.

You wanted Pierre to fuck Charles while you held him, but Charles asks if he can please ride Pierre instead. You realise pretty quickly that he wants to prove himself, but you dont bring that up. You just let him do it.

And holy fuck he's back to being a horny bunny. He rides his Pierre like his heart depends on it, crying out as he bounces on pierre's cock, tears in his eyes because he's so desperate and it feels so good and he can't believe he went three days without this.

You stroke his cock to make him cum, then let Pierre lick it all up.

The three of you have a long conversation after that, discussing why Charles felt like he had to do that and how you can make sure it never happens again. But that conversation takes place with Charles between your arms, exactly where he's always supposed to be.

[saga-project]

Okay, Do---Cain. Why'd you get us all here.

Yeah, what's happenings.

You look upset, who d'we need t---

Just. Let me talk. Please. All of you.

Right. Go on.

I....uh. This is......that is to say. GAHHHHH I had a whole speech prepared why isn't anything--

Hey. Deep breaths.

....Right. Right. Okay. So, firstly, there's....there's where I've been going. Sometimes. There's a sort of pocket universe that connects to here. Full of people that I....consider. Close. Acquaintances of sorts. I go there when things get overwhelming here. Which I realize is....often. I will try to work on that--

Awww. Don's makin' friends.

'Nardo, do not patronize m--eep.

...you haven't called me. 'Nardo. In a while.

Uh. N-no. That's the....the other thing I wanted to talk about. I....I went through a closet space when you were all out shopping. I....I found a box. Full of things you saved Donnie. I realize it was probably off limits, but....I....I just.....

....what's up, Cain?

We're not mad, we promise. We're not gonna punish you. You didn't call all of us just t' tell us that, did ya?

No, no. I.....I wanted to say I.....it....I.....rememberallofyounow.

What?

I remember all of you now! Okay? A-and I know I've been gone for nine years, a-and I know that I can't make up for that, a-and.....and I thought you all didn't care about me but you do, and I'm a terrible brother because I forgot but I remember now, I remember sneaking into Raph's bed after I had a nightmare and I remember sharing things with Leo and I remember so many of the things I was going to do with Mikey a-and---

Don, hey--

--and I missed so much, I'm sorry, I swear I was trying to get back and I didn't think it had been that long and I--

Donnie, breathe.

....I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I forgot all of you, I'm sorry, I forgot Leo, I f-forgot---

It's okay. It's okay. It's not your fault.

I don't know why I--

Probably repressed 'em or something. It's fine, Don! You're with us now.

Y-you guys aren't mad? You look upset.

....We're not mad. We're happy. Don, I'm so happy.

Really? Because I thought---OOF.

I n-never thought I'd be this happy over my little bro callin' a family meeting! You r-remember us!

Raphyou'recrushingme---

S-sorry! Sorry. It's just....we missed you.

....I don't know if I can be who I. Was before.

That's okay! If we made you feel that way--

No. I mean. Not entirely. I just.....you can call me Donnie, now. I just don't know if.....

That's okay. We can take it slow. Nice 'n easy. One day at a time.

Oooh! We can paint together more! Please please please?

Sure, Mikey.

....and I bet I can still beat your ass at Mario Kart.

I wouldn't be so sure.

....I'm really glad you told us, Don.

....I'm glad too. Can we....turtle pile tonight? Like old times? Sure, bud. Whatever ya want.

[jisungsmochi]

confessions - park jisung

jisung x reader / jisung being whipped / fluffy, lil angst / hope it makes you feel something lmaoo 

word count: 8.7k 

mini playlist: 

Cloud 9 - Beach Bunny 

Falling - Chase Atlantic 

Enchanted - Taylor Swift 

summary: confessing to your crush was always daunting. but how else were you supposed to let them know how you truly feel? y/n has learned the hard way, always being the confessor rather than the one being confessed to. oh how she wished that one day, someone will have the courage to tell her how they feel, without her always having to make the moves...

//

“i like you”

“ew, you’ll give me cooties”

y/n was barely seven years old when she confessed to her very first crush, lee donghyuck. he rudely rejected her offer to play marbles during lunch, but she wasn’t fazed. she plastered a bright smile on her face, calmly nodding at the little boy,

“cooties aren’t real, it’s probably just germs from not washing your hands!” she snickered, turning on her heel as she made her way to a shaded area in the quad. she left donghyuck speechless that day, slightly bruising the young boy’s ego. how could she be so calm when her very first crush had harshly rejected her? she always tried to display a cheery exterior to her peers, she found it embarrassing if people caught her crying over some boy. so she pushed her feelings aside until she was alone.

when y/n was twelve, she had grown a crush on her desk mate, jeno. he was quiet most of the time, only speaking to her when he needed answers for homework, but she was whipped nonetheless. he was undeniably handsome, especially for someone their age. how was that even possible? she would intently watch him play soccer with his friends on the school oval, softly cheering every time he made a goal. jeno had noticed when she attended his games, often smiling at her from the field.

after weeks of innocent stares in the hallway and short conversations during class, y/n decided it was time to confess to lee jeno. she came up with the cute idea to write a small note to him during class, it read:

hi jeno!! i think you’re really cute, and a great soccer player. i also have a crush on you...would you go out with me?

tick yes or no

she had written the letter in sparkly pink ink, folded it gently before sliding it over to jeno’s desk. the confused boy swiped the card over to his side, slowly opening it. her heart was beating out of her chest. jeno started scribbling on the paper, causing her to furrow her eyebrows, all he needed to do was leave a tick?

jeno returned the note to her, a soft smile plastered on his face. her eyes scanned over the note, landing on his answer. the ‘yes’ box was ticked, followed by a short sentence under it,

would this mean you’re my girlfriend?

tick yes or no

she couldn’t help but smirk at his charms, immediately ticking yes. from that day on, jeno and y/n began dating. but when you’re going through your pre-teen years, things get really dramatic. jeno ended things with y/n after only three months of dating, which seemed like forever for a twelve year old. he dumped her over text, as many pre-teens did back then. she put on a brave front, acting as if she was okay with it all. it wasn’t even a serious relationship, but it was still her first. of course it hurt. but she continued to suffer in silence, no one needed to know.

when y/n was fifteen, almost turning sixteen, she befriended huang renjun. they were always aware of the other, often hanging out in the same cliques. it was the school’s swimming carnival, when she began getting closer to him. after donghyuck had accidentally pushed her into the pool, too caught up with chasing mark around, renjun came to her rescue. he offered her his towel, wrapping her up tightly as he sat and chatted with her while the others scolded donghyuck. he was a great conversationalist, always having something new to talk about. y/n adored that about him. from that day onwards, she would message him back and forth, almost becoming a daily occurrence. they would skype call after school, catching eachother up on any drama or daily events in their early high school lives. she started falling for him, fast. but there was one downfall to renjun. he would never acknowledge y/n at school. whenever he was with his friends, he pretended like he was merely acquaintances with the girl. it hurt her to see him act like nothing was happening between them. word got around that renjun had a crush on somebody. as usual high school gossip goes, the signs led back to y/n. her friends would cheer her on to confess to him, so would his friends. they believed they would be a strong couple. so she decided to take measures into her own hands, opting to confess to huang renjun.

y/n approached the boy during lunch, interrupting his conversation with jaemin.

“can i talk to you, uh privately?” her voice wavered as she spoke, but she stood her ground. renjun looked over at his friends, jaemin raising an eyebrow at him, encouraging him to go with her. he eventually gave in, keeping a slight distance from the nervous girl as they walked around the school grounds together.

“what did you want to talk about?” he coughed slightly, feeling an immense amount of awkwardness around them.

“i wanted to tell you something” she started, now stopping in their tracks. renjun gulped, a guilty feeling beginning to rise in his stomach.

“i like you, renjun. more than a friend” she finally spat out, trying to read the reaction of the boy across from her. but renjun remained silent, eyes avoiding hers. y/n felt deflated, why the hell wasnt he saying anything?

“i-thank you” he stuttered, causing her to raise an eyebrow at him. thank you?

“i mean thank you for telling me, it’s nice that you’re so honest” renjun tried to smile, but she didn’t budge. he wasn’t taking this seriously at all.

“you know what, just forget i said anything, bye renjun” y/n rolled her eyes, fed up with this constant rejection that seemed to follow her around. why couldn’t she get a happy ending? just for once. why did she have to settle for less than what she deserved? not only did she get rejected by a crush that day, she lost a great friend. y/n swore that she would stop focusing on chasing other’s affections. what was the point? she was just going to get rejected anyway. atleast that’s what she always told herself. those memories always stuck with her, and she refused to ever feel so dejected in life. she wouldn’t let this happen again. she just wanted someone to confess to her for once, would that really be so hard?

park jisung was a simple boy, cruising through life with little to no worries. all he wanted to do was finish high school, he dreaded it more than anything. everyday was the same for him, waking up to the same alarm, riding his skateboard to school, sitting for what seemed like forever, then going home to rest and repeat. he never took notice of those around him, why would he? it’s not like he was going to stay in touch with many of them after school finished. except for his best friend, chenle, he could never escape him no matter how hard he tried.

it was the first day of junior year, when jisung found himself placed in a seating plan for his modern history class.

‘is this really necessary?’ he mumbled to himself, shuffling to his assigned seat. atleast it’s by the window, he thought to himself.

y/n strolled through the halls, making her way to her first period class, modern history. a new year, a fresh new start. she waltzed into the room, noticing students gathering around the seating chart. she found her name, whipping her head around the classroom, eyes landing on a messy haired boy next to the window. she shrugged to herself, not recognising him at all. as she made her way to the desk, jisung suddenly perked up. she was stunning. it may have only been nine in the morning, but seeing her was enough to completely wake the previously tired boy up.

“hey, i guess we’re deskmates” y/n greeted politely, taking a seat right next to the timid boy. jisung was thinking of something witty to say, but nothing was coming to mind.

“y-yes we are” was all he managed to let out. y/n just nodded at him, eyes focusing on their teacher who had called the attention on the room. but jisung couldn’t keep his eyes off her. how had he never seen her before? she was practically glowing, her soft features accentuated by the light. he was breath taken by her, despite only having shared simple greetings.

y/n felt the boy staring at her, but decided not to call him out on it. she promised herself to not get involved with anyone this year. it would only bring her eventual rejection again. so she tried her best to ignore park jisung, it was the only way to get him to lose interest.

“i don’t think she’s too fond of me” jisung confides in his best friend, chenle as they sit under the bleachers, munching on their lunch.

“can you blame her? you probably ask her too many unnecessary questions” chenle smirked, teasing his pouty friend.

“no, i don’t even talk to her much, she just refuses to acknowledge my existence” jisung lets out an exhausted puff, thinking back to his numerous attempts to atleast become acquainted with his desk mate. firstly, he tried greeting her brightly each morning, in which she would only raise her eyebrows before pulling out her books for the class. secondly, jisung attempted to ask her questions about class work, in which she shushed him, pointing over to the teacher who was speaking. even after class, she would immediately pack her things before he had the chance, rushing out the door as if she was the flash or something.

“sounds like she just isn’t fond of people in general. does she even have any friends?” chenle questioned, trying his best to pull his friend out of his solemn state.

“i-i’m not sure, i mean she has to have atleast one friend...right?” jisung started thinking to himself. if he couldn’t get her to talk, maybe her friends would.

“you might be playing with fire here, is she really worth getting to know?” chenle scoffed, slightly admiring jisung’s determination.

“you never know unless you try, right?” jisung took a bite of his sandwich, there has to be a way for y/n to open up to him.

//

“i heard that park jisung has been going around, asking about you” one of y/n’s longest friends, ningning, suddenly brought up. y/n looked at her as if she was crazy, what is up with this park jisung dude?

“what does he want with me?” she rolled her eyes slightly, flipping through her history textbook.

“maybe he likes you? or maybe, he just wants to be friends. why are you so harsh to him anyway?” ningning sighed, memories of seeing her friend cry over boys now cluttering her mind.

“i don’t need any more friends. i have you, and like...sungchan” y/n shrugged, continuing to take notes as she read.

“i think you’re being unreasonable, he seems really nice. give him a chance” ningning tried persuading her friend but y/n was stubborn. she wasn’t going to get wrapped up in any unnecessary drama. maybe she was being a little rude towards jisung, she could cut it down a bit. but being anything more than classmates was not in the cards for her at all.

the following monday morning, jisung entered the classroom, skateboard attached to his hip.

“mr park, the skateboard stays at the front of the room, we’ve been through this” mr kim warned the tired boy, earning a subtle nod from him. jisung gently placed his skateboard against the wall, before making his way to his desk. he was surprised to see that y/n was already seated, scribbling down all sorts of things in her planner. jisung let out a soft cough, signalling her to raise her head to face him.

“could i uh get to my seat?” he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. he was more shocked to hear her response,

“oh of course, sorry jisung” he froze after she finished speaking. was this real life? was y/n really acknowledging him right now?

she scooted closer to her desk, allowing space for the tall boy. jisung quickly snapped out of his thoughts, rushing to sit down. she couldn’t help but let out a slight chuckle at his antics. it didn’t go unnoticed by jisung.

“may i have your attention? as you all know, it’s now the middle of the term. to test your knowledge, i want you guys to pair up with your desk-mates and make a presentation on a historical topic of your choice. please refer to the assessment outline for more information”

jisung was practically beaming after hearing ‘pair up with your desk-mate’. his eyes shifted to the girl next to him, who seemed quite pleased. she looked over at him, simply nodding, acknowledging their future partnership. did he wake up in some type of alternate universe?

“uh jisung, i really want to do well in this subject. so we should probably get started as soon as possible” y/n gently tapped the side of his desk, drawing in his attention.

“oh yeah, for sure. w-when did you want to start?” he stumbled over some of his words, catching her off guard, making her softly smile.

“maybe tomorrow? do you have a free period?” she continued the flow of the conversation, making jisung feel more at ease.

“uh yeah, just before lunch” he responded, watching as her face lit up.

“oh great! me too, we can work at the bleachers, barely anyone goes there anyway” she confirmed, writing down the extra details in her planner. jisung couldn’t stop staring at her, how could she do such simple tasks, yet look so beautiful?

all he had to say was, thank you mr kim.

//

y/n patiently waited for jisung to arrive, typing up random notes on her laptop. she was onto her second paragraph when she heard the huffing and puffing of someone next to her. jisung hurriedly sat down next to her, needing to take a deep breath.

“a-are you okay?” she questioned, shutting her laptop, turning her body to face the boy. jisung just nodded, holding up a finger before speaking.

“i just had chemistry with Mr Jung, he wouldn’t let us leave until we could recite the first twenty elements on the periodic table” jisung finally felt relaxed, taking out his water bottle, consuming a concerning amount of water. her mouth created a slight ‘O’ shape, grasping the situation.

“i had to sprint here, i always get stuck past Sodium” jisung continued rambling, allowing y/n to simply stare intently. she didn’t mean for it to seem creepy, but she couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at his constant ramblings.

“a-ah sorry, we should probably get started” he shook his head, pulling out his own laptop from his bag. y/n nodded at his words, unsure of how to continue a conversation with him. it had been a while since she spoke to someone outside her inner circle of two people.

after about forty minutes of hardcore work, y/n’s eyes started wandering around. she caught sight of the boys soccer team, who were preparing for their lunch time practice. jisung’s eyes followed hers,

“you like soccer?” he blurted out, trying his best to start a conversation with her. she nodded softly, the side of her mouth curving upwards.

“yeah, i do. i’m no good at it, i just like watching. do you?” she questioned him back, eyes now focusing on him.

“of course, my parents weren’t so subtle, naming me after a famous soccer player and all” he joked, watching as the girl across from him started hysterically laughing. oh how he adored her laugh.

“oh my god, i didn’t even realise! they must have been onto something! why aren’t you on the team?” she furrowed her eyebrows, jisung bit his lip nervously,

“ah yeah, contrary to popular belief, i suck at soccer and didn’t make the team.” he sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed. y/n paused momentarily before opening her mouth,

“ah who cares! we can just watch together from the stands then” she shot him a soft smile, relieving some of the tension jisung had previously felt. the bell for lunch rang through the field, signalling that their free period had come to an end. jisung was about to pack up his things, when he noticed that y/n was still sitting, eyes glued to the players on the field.

“hey, it’s lunch now” jisung gently tapped her shoulder, snapping her out of her mini trance. y/n just nodded,

“oh i know, i was just going to watch them practice and eat my lunch here” she explained, turning her head back to the field. jisung held the strap of his bag tightly, thinking to himself momentarily. chenle can wait, he thought to himself. jisung plumped his bag to his side as he returned to his seat right next to her.

“what are you doing?” y/n questioned the boy,

“what does it look like? i’m keeping you company” he just smiled, pulling out a packet of chips, offering her some. she couldn’t hide how entertained she was, kindly accepting his offer. they continued to watch the soccer team practice, eyes scanning for the best players.

“that jeno guy is pretty good, i’m kind of jealous” jisung pouted, causing y/n to start giggling.

“am i wrong? like who wouldn’t be jealous of lee jeno? he’s got like everything! he’s athletic, and good looking and probably gets lots of chicks” jisung praised,

“wow jisung, sounds like you have a crush!” y/n teased the boy, softly nudging him. jisung froze at the sudden contact, he liked how playful you started being with him.

“don’t you? he’s kind of a catch, i thought girls would be all over him” jisung shrugged, watching as she slowly became quiet. he was startled by her reaction, feeling heat rise to his cheeks immediately.

“d-did i say something?” he muttered, unsure whether or not she was upset.

“n-no you didn’t. i mean, lee jeno was my first boyfriend, so i can say i’ve been there and done that!” y/n let out a small scoff, she noticed that jisung had now grown concerned.

“it was nothing though, we were like 12, and he dumped me over text. hasn’t spoken a word to me since though” she sighed, eyes scanning back to the boy in question. jisung was unsure of what to say next. y/n knew she had just over shared, she couldn’t help it. once she started, sometimes she couldn’t stop. she knew it would make jisung feel uncomfortable, part of her regretting it immediately. but when she saw the boy shoot her a cheeky grin, all her worries washed away.

“it’s good to hear that one girl at this school doesn’t have a crush on lee jeno” was all he said, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

“why’s that?” she curiously questioned,

“because that means i have a chance” he just smirked, head turning to focus back on the field. y/n was speechless. was he really being serious? or was this just some playful joke? she chose not to respond, feeling heat rise to her ears and cheeks. since when was park jisung such a flirt?

//

“come on, it’ll be fun” ningning whined as she sat with y/n and sungchan at the bleachers.

“yeah, you’ll get to see me play for the first time since i got on the team” sungchan begged, watching as y/n debated to herself.

“okay fine, not like i have three assignments to do that night” she sighs, giving into her friend’s peer pressure to attend friday night’s school soccer game. ningning and sungchan high-fived eachother, slightly surprised by her response. y/n’s gaze drew to the one and only park jisung, who was currently trying to do some weird skateboards tricks with chenle. she couldn’t pull her eyes away, finding it amusing whenever he made a mistake and tried to awkwardly cover it up. ningning snickered, catching onto the entire situation.

“park jisung huh? guess it’s finally time for you to put yourself back out there?” y/n snapped out of her trance, now glaring at her friend.

“n-no, what are you talking about? i wasn’t even looking at him” y/n immediately became defensive, sungchan deciding to step in.

“you totally were, in fact i’m sure you have a little bit of drool at the side of your mouth” he playfully teased, pretending to wipe off ‘drool’ from her face. y/n shoved his hands away from her, softly pouting.

“guys, he’s just a classmate. i said i wasn’t going to get involved with anyone, remember?” the annoyed girl reiterated to her friends, who weren’t buying the act at all.

“you can’t shut off your feelings, you know? it’s clear that you’re interested in him, even if it’s the tiniest bit. and you already know he’s interested in you too! why can’t you see that?” ningning sighed, feeling sorry for how hard y/n was on herself.

“because things will get messy. i’ll end up falling harder and ruin everything. it’s not going to happen again, i won’t let it” y/n looked down at her hands, gripping her water bottle tightly.

“maybe he’s different. he’s not going to be another jeno, or renjun, or donghyuck even. just keep an open mind, you have to start lowering your walls” sungchan pulled his arm around y/n shoulders, allowing her to rest against his side. ningning held her hand in y/n’s, gently stroking the back of her hand with her thumb. inside, y/n knew her friends were right. but something kept telling her that she was going to end up broken by the end of it. she really hoped that park jisung would be different. she needed him to be different.

//

y/n and jisung were halfway through their assignment, sitting next to eachother in the school library during their free period.

“damn, we are doing pretty well, way ahead of the schedule you had planned for us” jisung teased, eyes shifting to the page of scribbles, indicating the tasks for the assignment. y/n let out a scoff, pulling her planner towards her,

“don’t diss my planning okay? it’s just a rough outline!” she pierced her eyes at him, watching as he just smiled back at her. why does he keep doing that?

“you going to the soccer game tonight?” jisung nervously stammered, trying to play off as if he didn’t care too much about it. y/n only smirked at his words, placing down her pen before responding,

“may i ask why you’re asking?” she leant back in her chair, watching as jisung shifted his position so that he was directly facing her. she held her breath for a moment, not realising how close he actually was to her right now.

“because i’m going, and i was wondering if you wanted to watch it together. you know, since we are just the spectators rather than the players?” y/n wasn’t sure why she felt so...flattered, he really was unknowingly charming.

“oh yeah, i’m going, but i’ll be sitting with my friend” she tried to push the idea of her and jisung sitting alone for two hours in the cold, out of her mind. but jisung wasn’t going to back down so easily.

“oh great! i’ll bring chenle too, we can all sit together” he smiled widely before returning to type on his laptop. y/n let out a soft sigh. it doesn’t look like he will be giving up anytime soon.

//

y/n and ningning were both cozied up together on the bleachers, eyes on the lookout for sungchan. they locked eyes with the tall boy, waving at him erratically, causing him to respond in the exact same manner, gaining looks from his team mates.

“oh i sure hope they win, otherwise we’re making him buy us hot chocolate, i’m freezing!” y/n huffs, her breath now appearing infront of her.

“someone say hot chocolate?” the familiar voice rang through her ears. jisung was now seated next to her, two cups of hot chocolate in his hands. her mouth was agape, watching as the boy handed her friend one cup, then offering her the other. ningning kindly thanked him, gently nudging y/n’s arm.

“and one for my favourite desk mate” jisung snickered as she gently took the cup from him.

“hey! i thought i was your favourite desk mate!” chenle, who was on the other side of jisung, whined. jisung let out a scoff, softly shoving his friend,

“that was three years ago, things change” chenle continued to sulk, jisung not paying any attention to him. y/n couldn’t hide her amusement, taking a small sip from the warm cup of goodness.

“thanks jisung, i’ll pay you back” she offered kindly, reaching for her bag, but jisung stopped her, his hand wrapping around her wrist. y/n’s eyes shifted from his hand, to his face. jisung quickly removed his hand from her wrist, placing them into the pockets of his large coat.

“it’s on me, take it as a thankyou, for being such a great partner” a soft grin was plastered on his face. y/n just nodded, continuing to sip on the drink. the game had finally started, cheers of their fellow classmates echoed throughout the stands. sungchan played his best, assisting jeno in scoring the winning goal. the group of four in the stands, wailed at the top of their lungs, gaining the attention of those around them. y/n couldn’t stop laughing, continuously slapping jisung’s arm as she did so. jisung couldn’t stop looking at her. all he could think about was how gorgeous she looked in this light, the state of pure happiness she was currently in. it was enough for him to fall harder for her. along with her, not so gentle, slaps to his arm, jisung could swear he was in heaven.

“i-i’m sorry, jisung” she quickly calmed down, now realising how hard her slaps actually were. jisung shook his head,

“its okay, i’ll be your human punching bag any day, if it means you’ll hang out with me more” he smirked, causing her mouth to open slightly. was this guy even real? how could he come up with such cheesy lines?

“you’re an odd character, park jisung” y/n slightly shook her head in amusement, allowing her arm to brush against his as they sat closer together.

“it’s one of my best qualities” it sure was.

after the game ended, sungchan ran up to the group, jumping up and down, still pumped from his win.

“you did amazing!” y/n engulfed him into a warm hug. jisung watched the interaction unfold, part of him wishing you would be comfortable enough to embrace him like that one day.

“thanks for coming guys, i really appreciate it” sungchan smiles over to jisung and chenle who were aimlessly standing.

“anyone wanna get milkshakes or something? on me” chenle suddenly pipes up, watching as everyone’s face lit up.

“and this is why you’re my best friend” jisung pulled the other boy by his shoulders as the rest followed the pair. it was short drive in sungchan’s car, to the nearest diner. y/n was slightly shivering whilst in the car, jisung immediately noticed. he debated on whether or not to offer her his coat, but didn’t want to seem too persistent about it. as y/n stepped out of the car, she felt strong shiver throughout her body. jisung pushes his prior worries aside, immediately slipping off his coat, draping it around her shoulders.

“o-oh you don’t have to do this, jisung” she tried to decline, but the boy refused.

“nope, you’re cold and i’m already warm in this hoodie, just accept it” he convinced her, not taking no for an answer. as the five of them stepped into the diner, ningning made a beeline for her favourite booth near the back window. she slid herself into the booth, with sungchan next to her. y/n slide herself in the seat across from her friends, jisung quickly shoving in right next to her, chenle on his other side, once again. ningning gave y/n a playful smirk, eyes scanning over the overly large coat she had on. y/n raised her eyebrows, eyes straining, warning her friend to not mention it.

y/n’s eyes shifted over to jisung, who had started a conversation with sungchan and chenle about some new video game that was coming out soon. she watched as he threw his head back in laughter, continuing to argue with chenle about who was the best avatar in the game.  she then noticed how he balled hands into fists, gently rubbing them against the surface of his pants. he would occasionally blow on them, trying his best to get some warmth. she felt guilty for taking his coat, but knew he would do anything in his power to have her wear it. so she swallowed some of her pride, reaching for his hands. jisung froze at the sudden contact, trying to not make it obvious to the rest that he was now disengaged from the conversation entirely.

“w-what are you doing?” he muttered, moving closer to y/n, which made her slightly blush. she pulled his hands into her lap, wrapping them in the excess material of the oversized coat.

“they looked cold, i’ll warm them up for you” she softly smiled, and jisung swore his heart was about to burst out of his chest. was this real life? it couldn’t be, it had to be some crazy dream he was having.

y/n noticed the sudden shyness from jisung, heat now rising to his ears. she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him adorable. her heart racing as the close contact.

the rest of the night was spent chatting away between the five of them. from how lee donghyuck got suspended for putting shaving cream in the soccer coach’s cap, to the dreaded mid term exams that were approaching. y/n wished she had participated more in the discussions, but her thoughts were too preoccupied by park jisung. his hands still rested in hers, her fingers slowly beginning to smooth over his own, making his heart skip beats. he felt himself lean in closer to her as the night went on, practically crushing her against the window, but she didn’t mind.

“we should get heading home now, our parents are probably wondering where we are” ningning pouted as they all raised from their seats. jisung didn’t want to pull his hands away from y/n’s, making the bold decision to intertwine their fingers as they left the diner. y/n’s eyes widened at his actions as he smiled down at her. they sat in the back of sungchan’s car, as y/n felt her head lean on jisung’s shoulder, her hand still holding his. her eyes slowly became drowsy, ready to fall asleep.

“you two are really cute” ningning whispered, not knowing that y/n was listening intently,

“t-thanks” jisung whispered back, trying his best to hide how happy he was by the comment.

“so are you confessing?” chenle snickered, causing jisung to roll his eyes,

“i want to take things slow. i want her to like me back first” jisung sighed, reaching to brush some of y/n’s hair from her face.

“oh trust me dude, she likes you. she just won’t admit it yet” sungchan smiled to himself, happy to see y/n finally start opening up again.

“good, cause i’m in it for the long run” oh park jisung, who wouldn’t fall for him?

//

when jisung got to school the following monday, he saw y/n standing at the front gates, swaying slightly. she was wearing black stockings with a plaid skirt and a creme coloured sweater vest. but she was wearing something else that caught his eye.

“goodmorning jisung” she greeted the boy, fast paced walking to meet him. jisung smiled softly at her, pulling his skateboard to his side.

“goodmorning, y-you’re wearing my coat” he pointed out, causing her to freeze slightly.

“o-oh yeah, do you mind? it’s been pretty chilly lately” she wrapped herself tighter, eyes facing the ground. jisung felt a swarm of butterflies emerge in his stomach, she really had that effect on him.

“it’s totally okay, you suit it better than i do” he softly chuckled, beginning to walk alongside her, arms brushing against eachother.

“you gotta stop saying stuff like that” y/n sighs, waltzing through the school hallway, to their history classroom.

“and why should i?” jisung playfully teased, tugging on her sleeve, turning her to face him. her hands instantly went to his chest, not realising how close he had pulled her to him.

“b-because” she spoke barely above a whisper. jisung’s eyebrows furrowed at her,

“because it’s making me feel things” was all she said as she pulled away from him, rushing to her desk. jisung couldn’t help but admire her awkwardness. he was slowly getting there, she had partially admitted to having feelings for him. but he knew she wasn’t going to fully admit it anytime soon. he had to make the first big move...but he needed some outside help.

//

“is there a reason why we are hiding from y/n right now?” ningning whispered, face to face with jisung.

“i want to confess to her” he blurted out, ningning’s eyes widening in shock.

“you want to confess to her?” she repeated, mind still trying to wrap around the situation.

“uh yes? is it so hard to believe? i thought i made it pretty obvio-“

“no no, i know you like her. it’s just that, she’s never EVER had a boy confess to her before. it’s always been her making the moves” ningning explains, jisung’s mouth pressing into a firm line.

“she’s not used to this type of attention. like where the guy is genuinely interested in her as a person, and the things she likes. she’s used to always getting to know the guy, doing everything in her power to gain some type of feelings for her. then she ends up hurt after she realises that she fell harder than they did for her” jisung would be lying if this wasn’t hurting him. how could they do that to someone as caring and loving as y/n?

“how do i show her that i’m different?” jisung stammers, nerves slowly taking over. ningning just giggles,

“you’re already half way there. trust me, she knows inside that you’re not like the rest. you just have to hit it out of the park with a bomb ass confession! here’s what i’m thinking...” ningning continues to whisper to the boy, jisung stringing along to every word. operation confession for y/n was underway.

//

“hey, are we ready to hand in our assignment?” y/n approached jisung just before class. he responded with an affirmative nod, pulling out the ten page report from his backpack. her eyes widened at his efforts, admiring how prettily he presented the report.

“j-jisung” she stuttered, flipping through each page.

“i had some spare time last night, don’t mention it” he winks at her as she felt heat rise to her cheeks. she quickly moved to her seat next to him, trying her best to hide her face with her hair. but jisung noticed, smirking to himself. could she be any more adorable?

“there’s another soccer game on friday! did you want to sit together again?” jisung turned over the the girl next to him, catching her completely off guard. y/n looked over to jisung, his face completely softened, his eyes practically begging her to say yes.

“y-yeah i’d like that” she nodded, silently cheering that she would get to spend another night with park jisung. the plan was now in motion.

//

jisung was standing under the bleachers, awaiting y/n’s arrival. chenle approached him, giving him a slight pat on the back.

“you ready, buddy?” chenle whispered, a cheery expression on his face. jisung slowly nodded.

“yeah, the worst she could say is no” jisung tried his best not to psych himself out, reviewing his confession in his head.

“they’re here” chenle announces, eyes drifting to y/n and ningning. jisung took a deep breath, moving slowly towards the pair of girls. y/n was the first to notice him, shooting him a small smile, meeting him halfway.

“good evening ladies” chenle greets, making ningning giggle.

“oh please, we are barely ladies” she sighs, stepping past groups of people to find a seat for the four of them. chenle followed her in suit, with y/n and jisung straggling behind. jisung nudged y/n’s shoulder, giving her a small nod. she returned the gesture, feeling slightly awkward. but she pushed it aside, happy to spend another evening with jisung. she noticed that throughout the game, jisung’s leg kept bouncing up and down. she sensed he was nervous about something, it was either that or he was just really cold.

“do you want my coat to cover your legs? i brought an extra blanket with me” y/n whispered to jisung, causing him to halt his movements. he looks over at her, as she was halfway to taking off her coat.

“why don’t we just share the blanket?” jisung slyly comments. now it was her turn to freeze. she looked over at him, lips pressed in a firm line. as she placed her coat back on, and pulled out the blanket, jisung could feel his heart pumping faster than it had ever before. this was a good sign, right? she must like him back...right?

y/n gently placed the half the blanket over his knees, moving herself closer to him to gather warmth. she didn’t say much to him after, too focused on the game they were watching. but the position they were in right now, was all that was on jisung’s mind.

the game ended with a close win by sungchan’s team. although everyone was celebrating, it was noticeable that sungchan was not proud of how he played.

“dude don’t beat yourself up about it, it happens to the best of us” chenle tried to comfort. sungchan just nodded, not wanting to talk much about it.

“okay grumpy pants, let’s go get some food” ningning pulls the sulky not by the arm, chenle on the other side of him, doing the same.

“you two coming?” ningning calls from behind her. before y/n could answer, jisung reaches for her wrist, stopping her in her path.

“c-could i steal y/n for the night?” jisung didn’t let go of her wrist, watching as their three friends all had identical smirks.

“sure thing, see you two tomorrow” chenle winks, rushing off with the others. y/n’s face contorted into utter confusion. the feeling of jisung’s warm hand wrapped around her wrist made her nervous. he let out a short cough before letting go.

“what did you want to talk about?” she questioned, allowing multiple students to pass by her. jisung didn’t respond immediately, pulling her to sit at the bleachers again. he reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a pink folded piece of paper. her eyes were immediately drawn to it, but part of her was still wondering what this entire debacle was about.

“i-i don’t want you to read this yet. well until i tell you what i have to say” jisung mutters, hands becoming sweaty. this was such a different jisung to watch y/n was used to seeing. he always made witty jokes out of any situation, and was barely ever...nervous.

“go on” she urged, eyes still glued to that piece of paper. jisung cleared just throat, eyes finally meeting those of the girls across from him.

“i have a crush on you” those words had y/n stunned. her mouth became agape, no proper words able to be formed. jisung decided to continue,

“i know that you aren’t looking for a relationship or anything. and you’ve been hurt before. but i just had to tell you. i couldn’t keep it inside anymore” he finally admitted, shoulders now slouching. his eyes wavered from hers at times, but they were now drawn to his hands. y/n wasn’t sure how to respond. this was her first ever confession. the first person to actually have interest in her first. she wasn’t used to this at all. jisung was a nice guy, she knew he was. but was he the guy for her? or was she just struck with the idea of him confessing first? did she even really like him that way?

jisung noticed the mini debate occurring in the girl’s mind, part of his ego becoming bruised. y/n wanted to say something articulate back to him but she couldn’t find the right words.

“uh t-thanks for telling me, jisung. it must have taken a lot of courage” that wasn’t the way he expected things to go, but he continued listening to her.

“but are you really sure you like me? like really sure?” y/n questioned, the idea still not wrapping around her head. jisung was in disbelief, was he not obvious enough?

“i’m more than sure. i’ve liked you ever since i’ve met you” he mutters, feeling completely dejected.

“t-that’s not possible. you didn’t even know me then” she shook her head, eyes drifting to the hurt expression that was now on jisung’s face.

“i didn’t need to. you were so beautiful to me. i had to get to know you. i thought i made it pretty obvious that i liked you. but i guess i should have done a bit more, maybe save myself the embarrassment” he mumbled the last part to himself. his words striking her right in the heart. she didn’t want to come off as rude or unappreciative. but how was she meant to know this wasn’t some kind of joke, or if his feelings were true.

“is it really that hard to believe that i like you?” jisung tried his best to remain calm, but he wanted nothing more than to dig a hole and lay in it.

“yes. it is. because guys don’t confess to me. they just don’t. they don’t fall for me first” she continued to tell herself, watching as jisung’s face flatten.

“you can keep thinking that. but it’s not true. i’m living proof. i really thought you liked me too. i must have misread this entire thing” hearing those words stung her heart. she did like jisung. maybe not as much as he claimed he liked her, but she definitely had feelings towards him as more than a friend. but she didn’t feel ready, for any of this.

“jisung, it’s not like that. i like you too, i just don’t think i’m ready” she whispers, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. jisung could barely look at her, an overwhelming wave of embarrassment washing over him.

“when will you ever be ready? because by the looks of it, it seems like you never will be” jisung shook his head, forcefully brushing through strands of his hair. y/n moved closer to the boy, placing her hand onto his shoulder. she felt him tense at the contact, his eyes finally coming back up to meet hers again.

“i-i don’t know when i’ll be ready. i just need some time to think about it” she sighed, not wanting to rub more salt into the wound. jisung only nodded in response. there was no use trying to convince her any further. jisung accepted her reasons, even though he held resentment towards her for initially rejecting him.

“i’ll give you some space. let me walk you home atleast” jisung stood up, offering his hand to her. y/n cautiously took his hand in hers, slowly walking alongside the tall boy.

silence filled the air on their walk home. the only sounds being heard were the hoots of owls and screeching of cicadas. jisung had let go of her hand along the way, which pained her to admit, she missed his touch immediately. as they made it to her front door step, jisung was in a rush to get home, ready to sob his eyes out. but y/n stopped him.

“i understand that you’re upset. trust me, i know how it feels. but i hope you can see where i’m coming from” she mumbled as jisung nodded along to her words.

“it’s fine, i get it. i’ll just give this to you now” he pulled out the folded paper from earlier, handing it over to her.

“if you still don’t believe i like you, that should give you a sign about how much i actually do. have a nice night” he shrugged at her, turning his back to walk away. she watched as he left her driveway, head hung low. she shook the thoughts out of her mind, opening the door to her house. she didn’t bother looking back at jisung, closing the door behind her. but just as she entered her home, jisung’s gaze lingered on her. how could she have hurt him so much in such a short amount of time, yet he still felt the exact same about her?

park jisung, you are a fool. he thought to himself on his way home. how would he move on from this?

//

after the long night she had, y/n wanted nothing more but to sleep her problems away. but as she held onto the pink paper in her hands, she knew she wasn’t getting any sleep. she seated herself on her bed, carefully unfolding the paper, her heart racing.

“dear y/n,

if you’re reading this, i’ve just confessed to you. and you’ve most likely rejected me. i understand why you did it, i really do. i just couldn’t hold it inside any longer. i know you aren’t looking for anything serious at the moment. but i want you to know that i’ll be waiting for you. i hope that one day you realise how amazing you really are, and how i would be the luckiest guy in the world, to have you reciprocate my feelings. i honestly feel like you’re out of my league. i mean, you’re so confident in yourself. and you never let people bring you down. you’re so optimistic about such trivial things, it’s started to rub off on me a bit. i appreciate the sweet moments we’ve had together, and i hope you do as well. i don’t want to lost hope, that’s something you’ve taught me. you’re now nearing the end of this awfully structured letter, and i just want to say, that you deserve the world, and i can be the guy to give it to you. if you just give me a chance.

- park jisung (you already know who it’s from i just wanted to sound formal okay bye)”

y/n suddenly felt tears stream down her cheeks. for once in her life, she felt truly appreciated and cared for in return. of course she could see herself with jisung. it wasn’t a hard decision for her to make up her mind about it. but her constant doubts always held her back. it wasn’t fair to jisung at all, to keep him stringing along. she needed to make a decision, quick. there was no way she was going to hurt this boy.

//

the following monday morning, jisung patiently awaited y/n’s arrival in class. he nibbled on the side of his lip, tapping his pen rapidly on the desk. other students asked him to stop, as they were getting annoyed at the sounds but he couldn’t help it. he was praying she read the letter and didn’t just discard of it.

just as he was slipping into his own thoughts, he felt a sudden slam of books on the desk. his eyes met y/n’s as she sat down next to him. his quickly broke eye contact, flipping through his textbook as if he was studying. but she caught on to the boy’s antics, tapping him on the shoulder. jisung froze at the contact, looking over at the girl, who was still wearing his jacket.

“this is for you” she pulled out a small jar of origami hearts, sliding it over to his side of the desk. she felt heat rise to her ears, slightly embarrassed at the sweet gesture. jisung was practically speechless, his heart beating at a rapid pace.

“wow thank you, i love it” he gave her a gentle smile, eyes suddenly disappearing. she only nodded back, unsure of how to continue.

“i read your letter” she got to the point, jisung’s attention fully attended to her.

“i didn’t realise you felt so deeply about me, jisung. i thought you just had a silly crush, maybe that’s why i thought it would be easy to push you away. but you never let it go. and i’ve never had anyone do that for me before. so thank you” y/n barely whispers, feeling her palms begin to sweat. which was only something that happened when she was extremely nervous.

“what i’m saying is. you’re not like the guys i’ve liked before. you like me for me, and you genuinely want to be with me. so would you consider going on a date with me to the movies this weekend?” she cautiously suggested, watching as the boy’s face lit up in utter glee. he wanted nothing more but to pull her close and swing her around as he hugged her. but they were still in class, he needed to be tame...for now.

“i would freaking love that” he chuckled, causing you to smirk at his response.

“i’m glad you accepted my confession, i would have given you the silent treatment if i really tried” jisung pouted, making a fake angry expression, crossing his arms. she gently slapped his shoulder, laughing at the boy’s ridiculous antics. if this what it was like dating park jisung, then bring it on.

//

[ three months later ]

“come on! sungchan shoot!!” ningning’s voice echoed through the stands, the whole crowd geared up for the school’s soccer grand final. y/n and jisung were bundled up together, sipping on their hot chocolates, silently praying for that grand final win. there was only a minute left, jeno passed to sungchan and...he scores!

all the students from their school

jumped up, screaming endless cheers at the team. ningning waved her mini flag she made with sungchan’s face on it, as y/n and jisung hollered with the crowd.

“you did so great out there” y/n complimented her friend, like many times before, pulling him into an embrace. she saw how jisung slightly pouted, missing her warm touch. she slipped perfectly back to his side, his arm instantly wrapped around her waist as the crew made their way to the diner. jisung held y/n back, offering to meet the rest later on. y/n was yet again confused, following her boyfriend’s steps to sit on the bleachers.

“what’s up, sung? everything okay?” she pouts, watching as jisung nervously looks up at her.

“i love you” he blurts out, hands covering his mouth once he does. her eyes widen, not expecting those three words to leave his mouth at all. she pressed her lips into a firm line, her mind comprehending the situation. jisung was left worried, trying to read her expressions as best he could. he hoped he didn’t scare her away, it would completely ruin him.

“you’re just in luck” jisung’s head whipped up and met her. “because i love you too” y/n whispered, inching closer to the boy. his hands gently stroked her cheek, it was slightly cold but she didn’t mind. her lips fanned over his, ready to press them together. as she did so, jisung smiled widely into the kiss, hands coming to squish her cheeks together. it made both of them giggle for a bit, breaking the kiss momentarily. before jisung pulled her back in.

y/n soon realised that she didn’t need to live in fear of rejection any longer. because jisung gave her every ounce of reassurance she needed. the boys from her past slowly fizzled away from her memory, jisung now taking place as the one boy who truly loved her.

a/n: pls let me know what you all think!! 

[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 51.08 - Exeter vs Manchester

So I just realised that Edinburgh are on tonight’s episode, which means that I want to watch it live, which means that I’ll have to finish this very quickly, because I also have to make lunch for the rest of the week after the episode finishes. With that in mind, lets do a University Challenge Review speedrun…

Fortunately for me, Manchester were on last week, which means I can rattle out my old favourite story about how they reached nine out of ten semi finals between 2005 and 2014, a truly wild run of consistent quizzing excellence. I can also state that they did this largely because of the tutelage of University Challenge’s own version of Sir Alex Ferguson, Stephen Pearson, who trained those teams on their journey towards greatness. During this time they won four UC trophies, a haul matched only by Magdalen College, Oxford, who won their fourth in 2011, the only year in Manchester’s 10 year dynasty where they didn’t even compete.

Since 2014 their performances have been less majestic, though they did reach consecutive quarter finals in 2019 and 2020. Exeter meanwhile, have three quarter-final appearances to their own name, but haven’t made it out of the first round since 2011.

Something else I can be grateful for is the wonderful sartorial choices of a few of the contestants. I haven’t written an ode to an outfit for a while (previously a staple of this blog) but each of the teams offered up some lovely articles for me to fawn over. Firstly, Exeter’s Ting is wearing a brilliant pair of glasses. I’m a bit of a nerd for glasses and whenever I see people wearing a pair that are a bit out of the ordinary it puts a big smile on my face (he also has a rather cool shirt on). Secondly, Manchester captain Irving is wearing a top with Starry Night by Van Gogh emblazoned on it. This has the potential to look a bit tacky, but Irving manages to pull it off.

Anyway, that’s enough pre-amble - I said we were in a rush, didn’t I? Here’s your first starter for ten…

McCafferty recognises a series of clues leading us to the phrase Once Upon a Time and kicks things off with ten points for Manchester, who manage a single bonus on Twinned Towns. Kirwin then beats his teammate Ting to the buzzer on the next starter, correctly identifying Flak to bring Exeter into the game. They take the lead with two bonuses, and a second starter in a row from Kirwin extends their advantage. 

No one recognised the Glasgow riverfront on the first picture starter (if you are aware that there is a building on the Glaswegian riverfront which is called the Armadillo and which looks like an armadillo the question becomes a lot easier), and when the bonuses come around Manchester don’t know Barrow-In-Furnace, Birkenhead and Middlesborough either.

A few negs from Manchester allowed Exeter to build a big lead, before Stone, the progenitor of said negs, finally managed to get one right, and they took one bonus on characters from The Matrix. They take the music starter too, but can’t capitalise (with McNair guessing Gluck for every question, including on the last one, despite Irving saying, plaintively, ‘realistically?’ when he suggested it for the third time), and afterwards Exeter took total control of proceedings with a series of unanswered starters (unanswered in the sense that Manchester didn’t interrupt them, not in the sense that they didn’t answer them, because that wouldn’t make any sense).

When the match was all but over, Manchester did manage to sneak a few more points to bring them up to a respectable 80 points at the gong (almost wrote and published that as 800 points, which would have been slightly more than respectable).

Final Score: Exeter 130 - 80 Manchester

Another low-scoring match, but one with plenty of good moments. I think the quality of play will increase as the series continues, as the players get to know each other, and the feeling of quizzing in a studio, better. 

[soriseerakyra]

Flight of Fancy -5- (Black!Batmom)

“You know we haven’t gone on that date yet.”

Perhaps if this had been the first time that he had said something like that to you would have been surprised. However, it had already been three months since you had come to work for him. More than enough time to get used to his advances. Not that they were unwelcome in the first place.

“We did go on a date,” you comment feeling a smile across your face, gaze trained on the screen in front of you. You were waiting for his X-rays come in.

“That’s how I started working here, remember?”

“Mr. Wayne,” you say in mock irritation, hands on your hips. “No one is demanding you to be the first human test subject.”

“The only test subject, unless you’ve found some mice running around here that I don’t know about.”

“Just the ones native to the Gotham underground,” you quip back. “And besides, if you’re so worried about not being able to feel your arms in the morning, find me someone that has much less to lose than the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company.”

“And have someone try and plant a spy and figure out what we’re doing, not a chance.”

“You brought me here to make experimental tech, and it sounds like you’re saying that anything I make you want me to try it out on you first.”

“I don’t sell anything that I wouldn’t use on myself first,” he says with a shrug.

“A wholesome business practice,” you say looking at him skeptically.

“What can I say, I’m a decent guy.”

“If that’s what you call it,” you say with a smirk as you focus on the screen in front of you. A download prompt had just appeared on the screen, his scans had just arrived.

“You know you don’t have to be here today; the test is tomorrow. I’m just going to be calibrating the machine to focus on any areas that look weaker than the rest on your X-Rays.”

He had been planted in one of the chairs in your workshop since you had arrived this morning, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was anxious about you seeing his X-Rays. That or he just wanted the chance to the pester you.

“And miss the chance to ask you to dinner, no way.”

Seemed like it was that latter.

“Maybe when this is done,” you say non-committally.

In truth, when you had agreed to date and work for him, you had meant it. And while you had been glad about the job, the space, the access, and the ability to limit that amount of people you encountered everyday had been wonderful; you had been hesitant to date him.

Not that you hadn’t wanted to, you looked forward to him coming down to visit you and the smiles he sent you were enough to send you to cloud nine. Still, you worried about what it would look like if you had agreed to go out with him. There was the age difference was bound to be an issue, but not the only one. Sure, the fact that you weren’t like the tall model thin girls that he usually dated, but there was alse the unfortunate reality of the scrutiny and vitriol that you would have to deal with because of your skin color. And to make matters worse, those worries came second to your other feeling, guilt.

You felt horribly guilty about what happened between you and Kenya. One of your oldest friends simply cut out of your life, like the two of you meant nothing to each other. While you would never feel bad about taking a job that would be, in the long run, better for you than any of the others had been, the way you left things off had been bad.

If you gave into Bruce, and dated him like he wanted, wouldn’t you just be proving Kenya’s point? She knew that he would be attracted to you, and she used that to her benefit and you were angry at her for it. And yet here you are, almost in the exact same postion that she had predicted that you be in, and yet you were fine with it. Perhaps agency was the issue, in this case you determined your fate while in the other, she held all the cards.

‘And I want to be in control for once,’ you think to yourself slightly bitter.

“That bad, huh?”

The questions startle you out of your thoughts and your left blinking, looking at your employer stupidly.

“Sorry?” You ask somewhat sheepishly.

“The scans,” he clarifies. “Sorry, just judging by the frown on your face I thought that the results came in.”

“Oh, right,” you say flashing him an apologetic smile. “I was lost in thought, sorry.”

Oh, and look, the X-Rays just downloaded from your computer, but that can’t be right.

“I think that they sent the wrong ones,” You mutter.

“Why do you say that?” He questions.

Your eyes flick over the screen of your computer, barely registering the fact that he had stood and was making his way over to your desk.

“Well, firstly, the folder says these are from six years ago,” you say looking at the date on the folder before opening one of the scans. “I really should be working with something more recent.”

“Hmm,” He’s standing behind you now looking at everything on your screen. “I have a feeling everything would be pretty much the same, just slightly worse.

“And second, holy shit,” you say, with wide eyes, gasping at the sight. “How are you standing right now?”

While you weren’t an expert at reading X-rays you knew enough to see the severe trauma that had been done to his body. And if you were right, judging by the callousing around his joints, this wasn’t the result of a horrible accident, but this was repeated trauma of years. And if these dates were right, there was not telling how bad a shape he was in currently.

“Is this a joke?” You ask spinning around in your chair to face him. “You’re about to keel over any second. Are these really yours? You don’t have to trick me if you want me to use the machine, I’ll do it if you want it that badly.”

He gives you a smile, “It’s not a trick, I’m pretty messed up.”

“What are you doing to yourself?” You question worriedly, your thoughts immediately going down a dark route.

“I like to mountain climb,” he says with a shrug, hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks, “I’m just not particularly good at it.”

“But this doesn-”

“Why are you so worried?” He questions with a smile. “This just means if you can fix this, you’re guaranteed to be a wealthy woman and a certified genius.”

“But-” you start anxiously.

“If it bothers you so much you should come with me to dinner tonight, you know just so you can be sure that I don’t pass out in the middle of the street.”

"Mr-"

“Bruce.”

“Bruce, sir, this is serious,” you say with slightly narrowed eyes. “You need to go to the doctor like now or something, I don’t know.”

“Let’s say it is serious,” he says the joking tone leaving his voice as he addresses your concern. “If I am about to ‘keel’ over like you say what could a doctor do for me at this point?”

“I- nothing,” you answer sadly.

“So what would be the point?” He asks.

“There wouldn’t be, I suppose,” you relent. “But you have to be and pain.”

“Luckily for me, I happen to know a genius that just so happens to have a device that could possibly make at least some of my problems go away.”

“Manageable,” you correct.

“Manageable,” he agrees.

Your eyes find themselves looking at the pale polished linoleum on the floor and your lip drawn in between your lips in uncertainty. On one hand, he was right, if everything went well tomorrow, you could really help him. On the other you were really thinking about calling Mr. Fox and having him help you drag the man to the hospital. Although would he really help you? If anyone knew Bruce it had to be him, right? So, there was a high probability that he already knew what kind of condition the man was in and thought the same way he did about it.

“Alright,” you say with a sigh. “But if this doesn’t work you have to find something that does.”

“I’m touched really-”

“Also, if you die, how will I get paid?”

He looks at you blankly for a moment as if trying to assess the seriousness of your comment, “You’re lucky I like you enough not to fire you.”

“You wouldn’t fire me until after we on a date.”

“What happened to the timid girl that I hired, I remember her being much more agreeable.”

“Well, when you have to beat an old man off with a stick every day, you tend not to feel as shy.”

“You’re killing me,” he says fight the smile from coming to his lips.

“Not as much as you’re killing yourself with your _‘mountain climbing’, _” you counter back arms crossing.

“I could take you, I think you might enjoy.”

“No thanks, I more of a dinner and a movie type of girl.”

“Good then I’ll pick you up tonight for dinner.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” you say with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t think we’ll have time for a movie though, since you know, tomorrow is a big day,” he says backing away from you and phonily checking his watch. "Hmm, maybe a party instead."

“Did you hear me? I didn’t say yes.”

“Though if we have a party I'll need a little more time to plan everything,” he says weighing the options with a furrowed brow.

“I can’t believe you,” you say feeling a relenting smile coming over your face. “Does the word 'no' even register in those ears of yours?”

He eyes you curiously for a moment, "I'm sorry I missed part of what you said. It must be my aging ears."

You can't stop the snort the nearly erupts out of you.

You meet his eyes once again, the casual intensity of his gaze made you flick your eyes away from his, but you manage a relenting nod at his suggestion. He made you nervous, the same way he did when the two of you first met. The thought of subjecting yourself to that torment, seemed like madness. You had been denying yourself something that you had wanted from the first time you met and now you were giving in. Was that really the smartest thing to do?

“Next Friday it is, then, ” he says with a smile.

“If it works,” you stipulate feeling a need to give yourself an out just in case you changed your mine.

“It will,” he promises, clearly having more confidence in your abilities than you did.

He tosses you a wave goodbye as he exits your isolated workshop.

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself.

What had you gotten yourself into?

"What if I kill him, Mr. Fox?" You ask the older man who is standing next to your console, hands positioned authoritatively behind his back. The both of you were watching your subject from the observation room.

Bruce lay on a medical table in what was sure to be a freezing room, only in his boxers.

This was it, the moment that all three f you had been waiting for, although Bruce probably more so out of the lot of you.

You were worried, for many more reasons than just your experiment. It seems Mr. Wayne was more than a little secretive. And while you were aware of that when you took the job, some of his precautions were starting to seem more than a little bit ridiculous. Trying to make sure that you could mitigate whatever horrible side effects that could happen, you had suggested the hiring of a few nurses and maybe an actual doctor, to watch over him and his vitals while the experiment.

He had refused. Reiterating that he had complete faith in your expertise.

'Doesn't meant that I won't accidentally kill you,' you had thought to yourself when he had flashed that winning smile of his that made you agree to all of his requests.

"It would be a problem if he doesn't survive," the older man eventually responds to your question with a chuckle. "Try not to kill him."

You knew he was joking and that he was jut trying to keep you loose, but it only made your shoulders tighten with more anxiety. Why did neither of them seem to see this as the big deal that this actually was? Why didn't they take the possibility of the horrible pain he was about to endure seriously? Sure, he probably wouldn't die, but he could be seriously hurt, you could render him immobile or worse. Seeing the brusies and scars on his body when he began undressing made you think that he was in worse condition then you could actually fathom.

Whit a shuddering breath you try to calm yourself down. If they weren't going to worry then there was no reason that you should.

"This is going to hurt, okay?" You call to your patient lying on the table in the other room. You wondered how your voice sounded coming through that speaker. You imagine it was robotic and cold, making the message you delivered even harder to digest than it already was.

Despite that, however, he leans up and flashes you a smile through the observation window.

"I've been through worse," he says with a mischievous glint in his eye. He must have been horrible to look after when he was a child.

"So you people keep telling me," you mutter to yourself turning your attention back to the knobs and switches in front of you.

You take a moment to center yourself and confront the reality of what is happening. Hovering a few feet of the man who was helping to finance your dream, is your prototype. Well, it's more than that now isn't it? It means much more.

Eight stainless steel mechanical appendages hang limply over the table, suspended by a long arm that goes from the table to your console that holds the medication that you would be pumping into the billionaire in front of you.

The medication: A concotion of manufactured stem cells, cortisone, and other regenerative properties. You were sure that it would help some, you just weren't sure how much. Not only did the damage that he suffers seem to be exceedingly extensive, but there was always the chance that he would react negatively to the new chemicals and fluid running through his system. You weren't sure how well he would be able to function if something like that should happen. There was also the possibility of rapid degeneration of the new cells in his body, meaning that he would have to constantly have to experience the trauma of the procedure if he wanted to retain the same level of functionality after an extended period of time.

In the bright room of your lab is perhaps what scared you most about the upcoming procedure. Attached to the spider like legs of your machine were eight large sterile needles that would be digging themselves into the space between his joints, injecting him with the concoction. He kept saying that he would able to handle whatever pain that you subjected him to, but you weren't completely sure that he understood exactly what all that entailed.

There is a clock in front of you and you watch it carefully. As soon as it reached 11, you would start the experiment and you would know if the life you had so carefully built up for yourself would come crashing down or not.

The ticking of the clock hits your ears like a hammer, and you feel your throat tighten with anxiety.

“We are beginning,” you say announcing he start of the experiment.

Your mind is whirring at with all the possible outcomes, and you barley register Mr. Fox’s “good luck” and the fatherly squeeze that warms your shoulder.

With a heavy sigh you type in a few commands to the monitor in front of your and execute the experiment. As the machine begins to whir to life in front of you, you find yourself grateful that you had the wherewithal to automate the program, you have now idea if you would be able to even man the controls if it was something that you had to do manually.

It doesn’t time take long from the arms to take their positions and begin the procedure that you had only seen in your mind’s eye up until that point. They move to align at his ankles, his knees, hips, and shoulders. You see the fluid flow from the console, feeling the syringes that each was holding. The covers that were keeping the needles clean are shed and they glint in the harsh white light with their sterile glory.

‘This is it,’ you think to yourself, biting your lip in anticipation. It occurs to you that perhaps you should offer some words of encouragement to your patient. Your eyes flash to his face and his eyes are closed and his body is completely relaxed, almost like he is in some sort of meditative state, clearly, he is more ready for this than you gave him credit for.

There is a ten second countdown that flashes in the corner of your screen. The needles are all hovering above their chosen targets. The AI would handle everything else, all you had to do now is watch.

As the number’s count down the needles a lowered down until they press against his skin, forming an area of depression. There is a slight hesitation in the machine as it waits for the clock to reach zero. When it does reach that fateful number, you find yourself having to swallow a gag as the flesh across his body is pierced. To your surprise the man doesn’t let out a grunt or even flinch when the needles enter his flesh. Clearly, whatever ever he had been doing to get his body in such a disastrous shape prepared him from the pain of the procedure.

Still, though, this is only the beginning.

You see, the moment that needles hit the target not only on the screen though, but also through the slightly convulsive flinch that runs through his body. They had hit the joints that they were supposed to be targeting.

There is a feral groan that rips itself from his throat next, and you only have to through a passing glance at the screen in front of you to know that the they are now digging through the damaged areas of his joints to find the optimal place to start injecting the fluid.

You can see the pain that is beginning to etch itself on his face. You feel slightly guilty because a part of you wants to mute the sounds coming from the room as the groans begin flowing from his mouth. While you knew the had pain had to get worse in order for him to get better, knowing that you were the one that was causing him that level of discomfort hurt your heart. You wanted to make him, and others, feel better not cause them pain.

You stop yourself, however, when you see the flexing of his hands and his toes. His body clearly, trying to adjust and fight through the pain.

“I know this is hard Mr. Way-, Bruce,” you say, speaking to him through the intercom, “But you are going to have to do your best not to move so they can have the best chance at to inject the medicine where it needs to go.”

At your voice he freezes, almost like he has been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. Like he just remembered that he wasn’t completely alone. His eyes, still closed, seem to tighten. His hands ball into fists and then they fall limp, the same with the rest of his body. He relaxes and all traces of pain seem to fade as if he was never troubled to begin with.

_‘His force of will is amazing,’ _you think to yourself, more than impressed watching his heart rate calm down from its stress speed.

There is a clicking sound as the machine arms have locked into place, they have found their targets and are ready to begin. There is another countdown as the medication is primed and warmed in the machine, the fluid spinning rapidly in the syringes.

“So Bruce,” you start, pausing to make sure that the man is cognizant enough to hear you. He may be so focused on blocking out the pain that he might not register what you are saying to him. Luckily, you see him move his head in your direction, giving you the cue that he as listening to what you are saying to them. “We are about to inject you with the medication, it shouldn’t hurt any more than anything you have experienced already, but it’s going to feel… weird.”

“_‘Weird’ _she says,” he says scoffing slightly.

You can’t help the small smile that comes over your face, relieved that he is aware enough to respond, no matter how sarcastic it was.

“We are beginning,” you say once more as the countdown reached zero once more.

It starts. The fluid begins to be pumped into the man’s system.

He’s quiet at first, the only sign that he is feeling what’s happening a slight groan leaving his lips. His feet start to flex again before him regain control of them and forces them relax. And though you can plainly see that he is trying to control his body as best as he can, there are some things that lie beyond his control.

You see it first in the hands, the fists that are so badly trying not to rip out the needles that are inside of him, are turning red. In fact, all of his skin is turning a deep shade of crimson. There is a sweaty sheen that begins to encase his body and his mouth opens as he begins to pant, the heat rolling over him becoming more than uncomfortable.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Mr. Fox asks you curiously, but there no traces of panic in his voice. You doubt that you would know if he felt uncomfortable until it's too late though.

“The medication needed to be primed and activated for it to work,” you explain. “In order it for it it to activate it needed to be heated up. He feels hot, because the liquid is hot, as it begins to settle he should begin to cool back down.”

You manage to stop yourself from adding an “I hope” to the end of your sentence. There was no reason to doubt yourself now, it’s too far in for you to do anything but to ride the up and downs of the procedure.

Despite the boost of self-confidence that you just tried to inject yourself with in order to come yourself down, it is quickly outweighed by the dread that rolls over as the instruments of your console begin to blink red in warning.

Everything happens so quickly, you're surprised that you were able to keep your head from popping off.

As the alerts flash on the screen, mostly stating that his temperature was reaching critical levels, the man undergoing the procedure begins to thrash and groan uncomfortably, his body rising and arching of the bed.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself as you are forced to activate emergency restraints. Two halves of a large silver ring announce themselves with an aggressive whirring and a clanking sound as the connect over top of Bruce’s body. Once they connect, they slowly begin to press down to lock him in place, he begins to shake.

Panic consumes you as your eyes flash between to the screen and back to the man. There isn’t much left that needs to pump in and yet he is in so much pain. Should you stop? Would he want you to stop? Is it right for you to stop? Your finger hovers over a button to terminate the procedure and you feel yourself gulp as the idea of pressing it bounces back and forth between your mind. It’s then that you feel the familiar hand on your shoulder, another fatherly grip there to reassure you.

“Almost done, now,” Lucius says with a hum. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn you saw a hint of worry flash in his eyes, but there is a confidence there that reassures you and you find yourself relaxing. You warned the man about what would happen, and he told you to continue. If he has that much faith in you, you should have faith in that he would be fine and pull through.

It’s an agonizing ten minutes, that feels like ten hours. The medicine emptied into him, the needles pause their movement, a pause given in an effort for the body to cool down and the patient to relax. He groans and twists as best he can for another five minutes, but soon, he falls quiet. His body falls still. The needles, pull back and the machine lifts back up moving back into a corner. The procedure had officially finished, and you’re pretty sure that you didn’t kill the billionaire that paid you to do it. You look at the monitor, his heartbeat is steady, and his temperature is slowly returning to normal.

“Bruce?” Your question was spoken through the intercom, he doesn’t respond and all you can see is the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

“I imagine he’s passed out,” Lucius says with a bit of a chuckle with his hand sliding into his pockets. His calm attitude makes you feel like that this is something that he’s dealt with before. What kind of people had you agreed to work for?

“I’ll come back in a few hours, I’m sure he’ll be awake then.”

“Wait your leaving?!” You balk at the older man looking at him with wide worried eyes. “What am I supposed to do about him? What if he’s got brain damage or he doesn’t wake up?”

The old man gives you a small knowing smile and it frankly pisses you off a little bit, why is it they have a habit of making your concerns seem trivial. “Trust me, he’ll be fine, he’s been through worse.”

“Been through worse than mountain climbing?” You question incredulously, arms crossing in irritation. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Mountain climbing, skydiving, base jumping,he’s adventurous”, he says making his way to elevate and summoning it. “Don’t worry, he’ll pull through. And I’m sure you’ll get a bonus for all your hard work.”

You're left alone both agitated and concerned, “Can’t get a bonus if he doesn’t wake up.”

You look back at the procedure room and feel guilt racking up in your chest. The medical instruments and restraints removed from the table, he looks like a cadaver. It didn’t help that the red flush is now gone from his body and he looks disturbingly pale under the harsh lights.

With careful steps, you rise from your desk and tiptoe over to the door separating you from him. With a sigh you resign yourself to the fact it’s your duty to care for him now. It really would have been so helpful if he had allowed you to hire a nurse or two.

You enter the room and immediately make your way to one of the cabinets to fetch a blanket to cover him. There would be no telling how long he'd sleep, but he didn’t have to be cold while he did it, conscious or not.

Draping his body in the blanket, you find yourself tucking him in like a mummy, the way that your mother used to when you complained about being cold. It always kept you warm, so it would do the same for him… right?

You feel a bit of relief wash over you when you look at his face. His pale visage was slowly starting to regain some color, the blue tips of his ears flushing pink as the body begins to acclimate his temperature once again.

For now, your experiment, it seems, is a success. You hadn’t killed your boss, hurray!

Looking at him he seems very much alive, although in a state that you had never seen him before. Unguarded. It’s a strange thing to see his face at rest. A part of you didn’t know it was possible. He usually kept a flirty smirk on his face, but the few times you had seen with anything but that look he had been sporting a heavy frown and furrowed brow. There was always something that seemed to nag you about him. While you enjoyed your time with him and loved your job, you were almost certain that the flirty banter and attitude he'd greet you with wasn't the real him. Perhaps that is why you denied his request for so long. If you had agreed to go out with him who would show up to that date? Bruce the flirt, or the man who let that angry frown form on his face when he thought no one was looking. You weren’t sure that you wanted much to do with either of those people.

Looking at him now though, he looked more real. You imagine it’s because when he’s like this he’s not in control and doesn’t have the ability to act in a way that he thinks he should.

Still, if he was awake, you would have liked that a whole lot more.

When he’s was as bundled up as you can possibly make him, you leave. Back to your observation room and sit and monitor his vitals and wait.

And Wait.

And Wait.

And…

Your neck hurts, it’s aching. Your thighs feel a little numb too, and your shoulders aren’t doing any better than the rest of you. Maybe if you roll around a bit you can get comfortable and go back to sleep.

Shifting your hip to the far side of your chair, you take some unwanted pressure off of your body and soon find yourself relaxing once again into a much needed slumber.

Well, you would have, but there is a deep chuckle bouncing around in your ears and you aren’t sure where it’s coming from.

Your eyes blink open slowly, they feel heavy and you knew you had been asleep for more than a few hours. Your vision is blurry at first, the shock of the white lights confusing their focus for a second and making you unsure of your surroundings. You were sure of one thing though, there was a tall figuring standing in front of you.

“Hello?” You question, voice heavy with sleep.

“Hello,” the deep voice almost coos at you amusedly.

You know that voice and that condensation.

“Bruce?!” You question sitting up straight in your chair, eyes suddenly as awake as the rest of you are.

There he is, standing tall and strong as if he hadn’t just gone through hell. There is a little bit of weary look about him, but he looks more than healthy. And judging by the smirk on the face, more than ready to get on your nerves.

“You’re okay,” you sigh out appraising him. Nothing looked broken or contorted, and he hadn’t grown and extra arm out his back.

“I think so,” he says, flexing his hands and rolling his wrists around. “A little sore, though.”

“You should feel like shit,” you say bluntly. “But in a few days, maybe a few hours even, you should start to notice a difference. And we should schedule a time for you to do follow up X-rays.”

He nods as if he’s listening to your advice, but you can tell he’s already fascinated with how his body feels. He rolls his shoulders back and you must stop yourself from staring at the tightening fabric of his back. He brings his hand up to his face and looks at the backs and the palms multiple times. You find yourself jumping slight surprise when quickly jab one of his arms out aggressively in what would have been a knockout punch if someone was on the other side. His mouth curls up as a satisfied smirk crosses his face.

“I think you just saved my life,” he says somewhat boyishly, a giddiness in his tone that you had never heard before. It leaves you slightly stunned.

“Were you trying to punch the mountains?” You ask slightly confused by the punch.

He gives you a deep, genuine belly laugh, and you feel a warmth spill over you when it happens. You’d like to hear him laugh like so much more.

He gathers himself with a calming sigh and gives you a rather affectionate look, “With this you’re going to change the world you know that?”

“Well, there are still a few kinks to work out,” you say, averting your eyes feeling heat scorch your cheeks.

“Don’t do that, you’re brilliant,” he reemphasizes earnestly. And you wish you could stop your heart from beating so fast, like a schoolgirl with her first crush. This time, though, you decide to take the compliment in full.

“Thanks.”

“I’m still throwing that party by the way.”

’Shit’

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Creatures of Yuletide: The Companions of Saint Nicholas

Do you know what Santa has in common with Batman? They don’t work alone, but adaptations what you to believe they do

Art by Spearhafoc on Deviantart

A common motif in European Christmas lore is that when old St. Nick goes to deliver gifts to well-behave children he often doesn’t go alone. The Companions are the figures who would assist him in his role as a gift-giver, and they change a lot depending on the time period and local.

In theory, these companions are local variants of the same guy, a somber and darker figure that would punish the bad kids, while Nicholas himself would reward the good ones. Krampus, who I talked about in my last post, is one of these, and his characterization as a half-goat demon comes from the context of the alpine region. The context of the place in question and the way the legends about St. Nicholas are told there shape the form of the sidekick that comes with him. In some places the companion assumed the form of a terrifying old man, in others, he stays in the middle ground with Krampus, as scary man with horns.

Some of them came to a more positive light is recent times and are considered now the Robin to St. Nick’s Batman.

I will talk about three of them today.

Quick note, where’s my Christmas movie where Santa is a (Batman voice) “I work alone” type of hero and then a young wide-eyed sidekick comes in and says, “Teach me in the ways of Christmas, Santa!”. I would watch it

Knecht Ruprecht

“From out the forest I now appear;

To proclaim that Christmastime is here!

now speak, what is there here to be had?

Are there good children, are there bad?”

“Knecht Ruprecht”, Theodor Storm

In my last posts I made a mistake. I associate Krampus with Germany, but now, it seems like he’s more from the Austria and the Alpine region as a whole. Germans have the Knecht Ruprecht, and instead of being a half-goat demon from Hell, he’s a sinister man with a black beard bearing a black furry robe, a chain and bells along with a bundle of birch sticks to punish the naughty children. The word Knecht in German means servant or farmhand, so in English his name would be Servant Ruprecht or Farmhand Ruprecht, and you can even get a Rupert or Robert if you anglicized his name.

It seems that in traditional German Christmas lore, it’s the Christkind, a magical version of baby Jesus, who brings gifts on Christmas Eve. However, Saint Nicholas do appear, but only on December 5th, the eve of his feast, bringing along Ruprecht. St Nicholas would open the big book to see if the devil had written anything bad about the children. Then Knecht Ruprecht would ask them if they knew their prayers. Kids who had been good and could recite the Lord’s prayer would be given apples or nuts by Nicholas as a treat. Bad children would receive sticks, coal, or could even be stuffed in Ruprecht’s sack and be dragged away to never be seen again.

I don’t know if this is true, but during my research I learned that some German parents went to great lengths to teach their misbehaving kids a lesson. They actually had someone to take them away, and some even remember being taken out to the woods. Don’t mess around with Germans!

His backstory is nebulous. Remember what I told, variants of the same guy. In some tellings he is closer to Krampus, with horns in his head as a result. In others he is a wounded foundling that St Nicholas rescued and raised. And in others he is told to be the butcher from St. Nicholas’ lore, that would inspire our next companion.

Père Fouettard

French for, “Father Whipper”. One of the darkest and most vicious companions.

There’s a very dark legend about St. Nicholas. A butcher (in some versions an innkeeper) kills three children that were on their way to enroll in a religious boarding school. In some versions he and his wife drugged the kids, sliced their throats, cut them into pieces and put them in a salting tub. When St. Nicholas turned up at the door the butcher attempted to ingratiate himself to his visitor by offering him his best meat, the children. St Nicholas immediately discovered the horrible crime and brought the boys back to life and punished the butcher by forcing him to work alongside him for all eternity.

In France, it is Père Noël, Father Christmas, who distributes gifts to good children, generally on Christmas Eve, except in eastern France where St. Nicholas Day and the night of December 5th still are observed. He is traditionally accompanied by Père Fouettard.

Pere Fouettard is portrayed as a man with a creepy face, disheveled, messy hair, and a long white beard. He is often described as clothed in murky robes, covered in soot, wearing a scruffy hat and buckled shoes. He follows Père Noël/St. Nicholas from house to house, acting as his punisher, dispensing coal, and beatings to the naughty. In some tellings, he carries a wicker back-pack to carry naughty children away. It is also believed that Pere Fouettard tells St. Nicholas, which children misbehaved during the year, and consequently, they are deprived of the treat. Some even say that, he cuts out tongues of children who are caught lying.

Why in the world St. Nick would trust a cannibal child killer to be near children is beyond me.

Zwarte Piet, “Black Pete”

Oh boy! You know where this is going!

Zwarte Piet is that type of character that the more you research, the worse it gets

Sinterklaas is the form that Saint Nicholas assumes in the Netherlands and Belgium, and he is the main source for the American Santa Claus.

In the first Saturday after 11 November, he arrives by a steamboat at a designated seaside town, coming from Spain. In the Netherlands this takes place in a different port each year, whereas in Belgium it always takes place in the city of Antwerp. The steamboat anchors, then Sinterklaas disembarks and parades through the streets on his white horse, welcomed by children cheering and singing traditional Sinterklaas songs. He then parades through schools, hospitals, and shopping centers until the evening of December 5th, where he would deliver gifts to the children.

I will admit, this sounds so much cooler and more fun than modern day Santa.

Sinterklaas has a sidekick, a moor from Spain, Zwarte Piet, the Black Pete, usually portrayed as a blackface caricature, wearing a colorful Renaissance attire in addition to curly wigs and bright red lipstick. His role is to be Nicholas’ servant, a rascal and a prankster, amusing children and distributing traditional sweets during parades and public events. In older lore he was said to act just like the other companions, punishing bad children with coal in their shoes and threatening to kidnap them.

Some older traditional Sinterklaas songs claim that he and Sinterklaas could even drag the naughty kids to their home in Spain, were they would force them to work in their workshop for an entire season or longer. They essentially used slave labor! 😬

Some link him and Sinterklaas to Odin, and Huggin and Munnin. Huginn and Muninn would often fly through the Nine Realms, bringing a report of who was good and who was bad back to Odin. So, the black guy's role may have come from Odin’s crows 😬

Others link him to Krampus and Krampus-like figures, evil demons who were show to be under the control of Saint Nicholas and the power of God. According to a theory firstly proposed by Karl Meisen, Zwarte Piet and many other companions, like Krampus, were inspired by these enslaved demons.

Zwarte Piet and many modern traditions about him and Sinterklaas came from a children's book written school teacher Jan Schenkman, in 1850. The book was titled Sint Nikolaas en zijn Knecht, "Saint Nicholas and his Servant". In Schenkman's version, the devil figure that followed St. Nicholas was changed to a Moorish helper.

More modern lore presents him as a more of a Robin-like figure, a more heroic and charismatic sidekick. He is said to be a Turkish orphan rescued by St Nick, or an Ethiopian slave freed by him. Or he is just completely whitewashed, and the dark skin is explained as the ashes and ambers from the chimneys.

He is very controversial, and said to be a remnant of colonialism, slavery and racism. Some say he may be even inspired by a slave brought by one member of Dutch Royal family in market in Cairo in the mid-19th century.

As far as I know, Netherlands is very divided into those who want to keep the tradition, and others who see him as racist stereotype. A lot of protests and acts of violence had come from this simple problematic character. It’s very common for neo-nazi groups who want to keep him as he is to brutally attack and threw racial slurs on those who want a revised version of the character or his removal from the holiday tradition altogether.

[teaboot]

So my boomer 2nd cousin has been semi disowned since 2016 for voting a certain way, it was the last straw for most of us including her own mother. I say semi as some of the family still speaks to her. I was at a wedding where she was invited and she decided to start up a conversation with me, the disabled lesbian cousin, about how my pills are what make me sick and gay. I stg I almost launched over a buffet table to beat her with a ladle. Any tips on not killing her?

I too have similar issues, and deal with them in one of three ways:

First, I remind myself of a time when I too had similarly ignorant beliefs fuelled by flawed reasoning and a lack of personal experience. I remind myself of the experiences that corrected my ignorance, and do my best to gently replicate those circumstances with the individual- I listen to their concerns and carefully steer them into questioning why and how they came to these conclusions. 

I do this got two reasons: firstly because they will naturally resist any outside idea that conflicts with their image of themselves or the world around them, and secondly because any answer they come up with for themselves will always be more powerful than an answer said to their face. 

If you want to teach a dog to sit, you don't yell at him to sit until he gets it right- you manipulate his circumstances so that he decides to himself.

Option two: I accept that this relative is simply one of many people on this earth who just generally sucks, and resolve myself to putting up with their incoherent, intolerant ramblings as I would the anxious, frantic shouting of a coked-out businessman riding the subway at 9 PM on a Wednesday. Am I uncomfortable? Am I concerned? Am I worried for his wellbeing and the health of his social circle? All yes. Am I fully equipped, able, willing and responsible to personally take him under my wing? Unfortunately less so. It would also be in poor taste to punch him into silence, and so I sit, playing Mahjong on my phone.

Option three: Relentless Mockery. 'Yeah dad, the atmosphere isn't real. Neither are lakes, birds, or 38% of your highschool graduating class. What, you're gonna believe what some scientist tells you? They work for the government, genius, they'll tell you whatever they want you to believe. You think Australia is a thing? It's a cover, genius. You ever been to Australia? No? Didn't think so. Hey, look at me, I'm Craig, I believe in global warming and dolphins. God, read a book.'

Relentless Mockery can be practiced both to the subject's face and in private, by your digression. Bonus point in favor of privacy or the close confidence of a friend: from there on, any otherwise shitty future encounter is *magically transformed* into yet another in a long line of ridiculous stories; an event to look forwards to instead of an ordeal to be suffered.

With Option Three™, you too can experience the euphoric high of a close personal friend asking, 'so, any new Aunt Linda stories?', to which you can respond, 

"Oh my god. Okay, so my cousin's funeral was last weekend, right? So I go, and she's there. Not a big deal, except- you know- she *specifically* wasn't invited. So like, I'm in line to go in, and she's right in front of me just *sobbing*. I'm talking snot, tears, the whole nine yards. Going on about she can't believe he's gone, poor Danny, oh, she's going to miss him so much, she was his favourite auntie- and then she starts talking about the time she took him to Disneyland for his birthday. And I haven't heard this one, so I'm just nodding along, but she's saying how she rented a motel and took him to the pool, and how she took him up on the log ride and took pictures with peter pan or some shit- and I'm starting to zone out, right, but then my other cousin cuts in, and he's like, "when was this?" And she was like, "oh, his fifteenth birthday", and HE goes, "you were in Chicago when Dan was fifteen, remember? Your boyfriend invited you out while he was on time off", and she just turns, like, purple. Saying that he must be remembering, that it was definitely then, and she could never forget, but then- get this- AUNT CAROLINE shows up. And she's, like, PISSED. "You never took Daniel anywhere, you haven't been there for his birthday since he was nine years old, what are you talking about?" And I'm just standing there like. Oh My God. Right? And then they're just SCREAMING at each other, right, and that's when the priest walks in, and he just sees them tearing each other apart, and he goes- "ladies, please keep it down, we can hear you in the chapel"- ...and then she turns to HIM. I didn't hear the rest. I just ran. Didn't go back until the wake. They're not talking anymore, though."

Option Three: A Trusted Personal Favorite. 

Then again...... Some people really do need an ass whooping. Not that I'd endorse that. Encouraging violence would be irresponsible. Don't hit your shitty relative with a ladle.

Or just avoid her forever. That works, too. 

IDK. Still working on this one. Anyone else got anything?

[thetriggeredhappy]

85 for EngieSpy please, also I'm a sucker for same faction

as a brief insight into the way stuff is rn i wrote and am posting this before i head to work in the morning and thats probably a commentary on my writing effort idk. (warnings for sappiness)

85.) “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”

One of the things Engie simply needed to get used to with Spy was how particular he was about keeping clean.

He didn’t shower with everyone else, Engie was aware. He knew that because he knew the layout of the pipework on the base, and knew that there was another bathroom branching from Spy’s smoking room. He wasn’t sure how one would access it—maybe from the room directly via hidden entrances, maybe from somewhere else nearby. But Spy showered often, and he made trips often into town to get his clothes dry-cleaned and pressed. And when they were stationed away from civilization for a while, he knew Spy kept up the habit, washing and ironing his clothes himself.

That was one thing that did make Engie curious, though. The fact that Spy was so particular about staying pristine, and yet still he so often went to be with Engie in his workshop. Home to grease and oil and sawdust and rust and metal, always smelling faintly of spray paint.

He’d decided that there were a few options to explain what might be going on.

Firstly, that Spy was indeed a cleanly person, and just liked Engie enough to put up with his workspace, aware that he really did enjoy his work and therefore couldn’t be pulled away from it very easily.

Secondly, that perhaps Spy’s cleanliness was a charade, and he didn’t particularly care in any real way, and it was just something used to exude an air of superiority much in the same way his scalding speech and calculated body language did.

Thirdly, Spy’s cleanliness was something enforced in much the same way that a good portion of his secrecy was, that it was part of his job description in a similar way that Soldier’s involved him marching the halls and Sniper spending time in the watchtower and Scout running errands for everyone and Heavy being a peacemaker.

Well, that last one probably wasn’t in Heavy’s job description. He was just like that naturally. Regardless.

He tended to favor the first one, even if he was aware that believing it was the first one just made him a downright sap of a romantic. But in terms of being sappy and romantic, he’d never really beat the Frenchman, he knew. He settled for little gestures instead, leaving all the roses and candles and grand declarations to the other man to do.

Admittedly, as much as his grimy workshop was surely a hassle for Spy to deal with, there were things that Spy was about that he himself didn’t so much work well with. In the same way Spy balked at leaning on a sawdust-covered workbench, Engie fidgeted at headed out to nice dinners and the like for dates.

He’d grown up in a small town in the middle of nowhere—there was a price to privacy for a family of born-and-bred geniuses—and due to his grandfather’s and father’s paranoia and overall seclusion he never even really knew about having guests over. Dressing to the nines and headed to a restaurant so expensive they didn’t list prices, sampling wines and sitting with elbows always off the table and never pouring his own water and staring down at far too many forks before him, it was downright stressful. And worst of all that stress meant he often slipped, forgot the purpose of him being there, forgot to focus on his date.

So he made Spy do yet another compromise. At least half of their dates were decided by Engie rather than him. So he settled for small diners, family-owned types of places, full of the smell of the same coffee and the same pancakes and the same bacon and the same hash browns that had been served the past twenty years of the establishment being open. Places where instead of a suit plucked straight off a walkway in Europe, he wore a pair of pants stained with paint around the knees, and a long-out-of-style jacket that had been far too big for him when he’d nabbed it from some hapless frat boy in college and only now in his later years when he’d put on equal parts muscle and fat was starting to fit correctly.

Spy’s habits died hard. Engie was half sure he didn’t own a single shirt without buttons (besides his undershirt, but Engie was fairly sure walking out in that may as well have been the equivalent to walking outside in boxers), and his pants were spotless and pressed, and his shoes were shiny. But he did roll his sleeves up to his elbows, and didn’t tuck the shirt quite to neatly, and didn’t even bring a vest, which was a considerable leap down from the suits that he wore whose prices rivalled that of his old, beaten-down stick-shift truck.

Most often, Engie asked him out to breakfast. He didn’t necessarily have an opinion on most restaurants, but he knew when a diner had good breakfast food, and the one in town (at least, the one without wanted posters) most certainly did.

Sometimes he did ask Spy to dinner, though, on busier weekends, if only for the very different feeling of it.

Leaving one of the nice restaurants Spy was so kind as to take him to, Engie was still stiff, still just a bit embarrassed by the looks he’d garnered with his thick accent and his version of politeness, and wide awake as a result.

But walking out of one of those little diners, stomach full of food that was mostly grease, usually late at night (the places often being open until halfway between dusk and dawn), Engie was always relaxed, feeling well at ease, well calmed, satisfied.

He did watch as Spy surreptitiously tried to pull his sleeves down to cover more of his arms, a half-step behind as Engie went to the counter to pay. Night in the desert was a bitter kind of cold, the kind of cold that animals had to have evolved to tolerate, and suddenly Engie was a bit sympathetic towards the fact that the other man hadn’t brought his layers with him for once.

Waiting for his change, Engie finally just sighed, looking over Spy. Twig like him would practically freeze to death walking to the truck, let alone waiting for it to kick on what meager heat it could provide.

All at once he was shrugging off his jacket, pulling himself free of his sleeves, ignoring the goosebumps jumping up on his now-bare arms in protest. “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside,” Engie said simply.

Spy looked almost startled, holding up a hand and shaking his head on almost instinct. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly—“ he started to deny.

Engie rolled his eyes, draping the thing around Spy’s shoulders before he could further protest. He noted the slight bend Spy put to his back in order to allow such a thing. “Just take it,” he said, allowing himself a little smile.

He was somewhat surprised by the way Spy didn’t immediately start inspecting the coat over his shoulders, instead crossing his arms across himself to grip at it, pulling it on more securely, and looking over Engie’s face. He looked at his expression carefully, then glanced over his now-bare arms, then back to his face again.

Engie shrugged under the scrutiny, smile widening a touch. Spy fought back a smile of his own and pulled the jacket tighter over his shoulders. It didn’t fit in the slightest. It made Engie chuckle.

They left the tip and left the establishment, headed for Engie’s truck, parked on the far side of the parking lot out of a paranoia that never quite left when they got off the battlefield.

It was something Engie didn’t really think about until the moment it happened.

He stood to the left of Spy, his keys held loosely in his left hand, and all at once felt something bump the back of his hand near his wrist. He glanced down, and saw Spy’s hand there, and when he looked up, the other man was looking at him with a kind of interest. Spy’s hand bumped against his own again.

Engie grinned as he finally understood the hint, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation as he laced his fingers through Spy’s. And it was then, all at once, that he realized he didn’t really hold hands with Spy. Not while going places, and certainly not in a public area. He wondered why for a moment, if maybe it was paranoia, if maybe it was pride, but the thought fell away as Spy’s thumb brushed over top of his own idly and he realized Spy had taken off his glove.

“Thank you for the jacket,” Spy said quietly.

Engie squeezed his hand. “This isn’t my giving it to you forever,” he chided jokingly. “I’ll want it back eventually.”

Spy hummed. “Maybe someday,” he said airily, and damn him, it made the poor Engineer laugh.

Little gestures. Little ones. Maybe they were all the more important.

[angrylizardjacket]

i like the nightlife, she says {Roger Taylor}

A/N: more of the modern high school AYDTD au no-one asked for. I wrote this all on my phone so it's probs not great but it is what it is. In the modern au her brother's not a dick and I'm loving it. Feedback is appreciated. I'll fix the formatting tomorrow.

"You need more friends your age." Oscar tells Ash while he's making them both dinner. Their dad's still at work but mac and cheese was never something either of the siblings complained about.

"Why?" Ash, sitting on the counter top by the sink, watches as her older brother frowns at the question.

"Why? What do you mean 'why'?" He spluttered, eyebrows raised as he turned to face her. "It's good for your social development-"

"So you're a psych student now?" Ash crosses her arms, leaning back against the wall, "I've got friends back home, I'm only here for a year and a half before I'm going to uni so why should I bother?" And oh, it's like two successive gut punches; the elder of the siblings has to take a long moment of staring into the saucepan, stirring idly, in order to process what Ash had said.

"A year and a half is a longass time," Oscar chooses to focus on the latter, and Ash rolled her eyes, "how often do you see or talk to your friends back home?" He uses her phrasing but it hurts just a little. Ash, in turn, is quiet for a long time.

"Do Snapchat streaks count?" She asks, a little sheepish, like she already knows his answer.

"They absolutely do not; you should be out with friends being young and dumb on a Friday, not eating mac and cheese with your brother." He turns off the burner and motions for her to hop off the counter. As he plates up dinner, they're both contemplative.

"I'm young and dumb regardless," finally Ash speaks, giving Oscar a pointed look, and he concedes on that point at least. After a beat, Ash's lips twitch into a mischievous smile, "but if you let me borrow your friend's ID again we can go see Queen and I can make friends with John." Oscar regards her curiously for a moment, mouth full of food.

"Not Roger?" He asks through his food, genuinely confused, "isn't he in your class- ?"

"Gross, finish your fucking mouthful first." Wrinkling her nose, Ash pushes her food around her bowl, waiting for him to finish. Instead, he opens his mouth wide and makes an obnoxious noise, laughing as Ash fake gags, "you're an absolute cretin sometimes, you know that?"

"Is that your word of the day?" He asks with a grin after he dies actually swallow his mouthful, poking fun at how strange the word 'cretin' sounded amid her usual vocabulary. "Anyways, why not make friends with Roger if you're going after the band? He's in your year, isn't he?" He waits patiently for Ash to finish her own mouthful before answering.

"Firstly, he ruined my major work so I hate him on principle," Ash held up a singular finger before moving on to get next point, "secondly, I've been at this school for one semester and I already know that Roger Taylor does not just make friends with girls," she's far too passionate for this to be off the top of her head; Oscar know when she's been thinking hard about something, and this must have been on her mind for a while, "and thirdly, I'm not going to try and befriend him at a gig, he's got girls all over him, and I don't think he even knows my name." Slumping back in her chair as her momentum left her, Ash shovels another spoon full of pasta into her mouth angrily.

"Why does that matter?" Oscar finally asks, and when Ash looks to him making a confused noise, she doesn't like the knowing look in his eyes. "Why does him not knowing your name matter? Can't you just introduce yourself?" Ash turns pink in the silence that follows, scrunching up her face and refusing to meet Oscar's gaze as she begrudgingly agrees. "I mean I'm not saying you need to forgive the guy for the whole major work thing," Oscar shrugs, letting the tension drop, and Ash visibly relaxes, "that was fucked, and if you want me to punt him into the English Channel, you know I will." That gets her to actually laugh, and Oscar's gaze turns fond, "but maybe give him a chance."

"Half a chance." Ash counters, as if it were a game, and Oscar nods, as if agreeing to her terms. "And I'll make friends with John anyways; he's funky, I like him." She says bluntly, and Oscar snorts out a laugh.

"Alright, sounds good; did you wanna go tonight?" He asks, and Ash's expression turns confused.

"I thought you had that poetry competition tonight." She frowned, and there was a moment in which Oscar's heart filled with fondness for his little sister, his number one fan.

"Yeah, after that, biscuit, that only goes 'til eight; Freddie said they don't usually start until nine-thirty." After a moment of contemplating his words, Ash grins and nods.

Oscar and Ash walk in during the band's sound check, and Roger almost drops his drumstick where he's twirling it. Both Brian and Freddie give them a wave, which is returned by the gingers, and Roger has to stop himself from snapping at the others where they glance pointedly at him; he's already turning red as it is. He's grateful to hide behind the drum kit. They saw each other like six hours ago; they always have art together last period on a Friday, but seeing her at one of his gigs is different.

She's standoffish and aloof in class, she actually uses the free time the teacher allocates in art to work on her projects where everyone else uses it to socialise. He's not even sure if she's bothered to learn the names of half the people in her class, she might not even know the teacher's name, but when she's here, bright and bubbly next to her lanky, uni student of a brother - who is literally over a foot taller than her; side by side they're a little jarring to look at - she clearly know John, who is two years below them, and as it turns out, she knows Roger too.

Roger spends his time between sets by the bar, with the others, and a crowd of uni girls who haven't realised he's probably too young for them. Not that he's quick to point that out. It takes until he spots Oscar at the other end of the bar, taking to Brian with a softly starry-eyed expression, to remember that it's probably a terrible idea to leave any of his bandmates alone with Ash. Taking one look at the table Ash had commondeered earlier that night, he realises he might be too late, seeing John squinting suspiciously at Ash.

"Hey, your eyes are green." Roger hears John say as the drummer makes a beeline for the table.

"What? Yeah, why?" Ash, confused as all hell, shoots a concerned glance at the incoming Roger, as if silently asking what the hell was going on and if this was the bassist's normal behaviour. John follow her gaze and gives Roger a shiteating grin.

"No reason." John says pointedly, sliding from his stool. "I'll be back, I'm going to take a piss." And with that he leaves. Roger regrets ever inviting the little twerp to join the band; fifteen-year-olds are universally terrible, Roger decides, and John Deacon is no different.

"What was that about?" Ash asks, and Roger takes a long sip of his beer, enduring the taste despite how much he hated it. Finally, he sits in on the stool directly beside Ash, though she doesn't seem inclined to move away.

"Nothing, ignore him." Roger rolls his eyes, shooting for casual, and silence stretches between them. Finally he gets a good look at her; from the stage he could sort of see her, but not really beyond knowing it's her, and even then he could only identify her for her hair. He really needed to find his contacts of she was going to keep showing up looking this good to gigs. He's seen her in her school uniform more times than he can count, and last time she was here she was yelling at him and he was too focused on trying not to think about how hot she was when she was mad to notice her clothes. But today? Today she'd dressed up, and he'd be dammed if he didn't admire it a little bit.

He's never seen her in makeup, granted it was just some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, but it made her look a little softer, somehow all of the look, from the sleeveless button down shirt being tucked into her high waisted skirt, to the dainty, lace up heels she wore, all just made her look... cute.

"You guys sound really good; its weird seeing you, Brian, and John all on stage together but it sounds good." She half laughs, and Roger hadn't considered it from an outside perspective, especially not from her's; her tutor, classmate, and a kid two years below all somehow in the same band? It is a bit strange when he thinks about it.

He's about to thank her when she frowns, looking at him and tapping a finger to her lips in thought, grimacing when she forgets she's wearing lipgloss and her finger comes away slightly shiny. Roger ignored the thought of how much he wants to taste that lipgloss, preferably while she was still wearing it.

"I thought you wore glasses." She mused, voice quiet enough that it seems to be mostly to herself, wiping her lipgloss-finger on a napkin. The idea that she'd paid enough attention to notice his sporadic use of his glasses made his heart flutter just a little.

"Not while drumming." He grins, and Ash nods, the look in her eyes like she's filing that information away for later.

"It would ruin the look?" She asks with a smirk, eyes making their way down his body as she takes in his full outfit. Roger crosses his ankles in the stool, puffing out his chest a little in obvious, nonverbal agreement, and her smile widens. "You've got a whole seventies thing going on here," she takes a moment to play with a bit of fringe on his open vest; "it's groovy."

"Yeah, well, we're trying for a classic rock, like Guns 'n' Roses type thing." Roger explains easily, there's a pause, and in the silence he reached out to where the hem of her skirt had flipped up on her thigh. He smoothed it out, but pushed his luck by leaving his hand there. "You look nice, by the way, Ash," and maybe it's the fact that he does know her name, or his hand on her thigh, or even just the compliment, but Ash turns bright pink. She's not sure if he notices, at least she hopes he doesn't. She takes a long sip of her drink, and thanks god for the low lighting of the bar, and after a moment she's pretty sure she's recovered enough to answer.

"Thanks, Oz had a thing before this." She awkwardly explains, and though it's not the full answer - if she had to explain that she did in fact dress up a little to come see the band, she might have to explain why - but she's saved by the proverbial bell when the rest of the band comes to collect Roger for the next set. Roger gives her thigh a cheeky squeeze beneath the table before he's hopping off the stool and heading to where the band was set up, though there was no stage this time.

"Did you make a friend?" Oscar practically coos, poking at her cheek where he can see a blush even in this light. Ash swats him away, unable to stifle her grin. "Aww, you did, didn't you?"

"You're such a dick." Ash slaps his hand away where he goes to pet her on the head, but she's still smiling, and also glad that their table is far enough away that the band can't hear them. "Where were you anyways?" And Oscar's smile becomes genuine.

"I was making friends too." And he sounds a little wistful as he gazes up at the band. Ash follows his gaze and then Brian grins at them Oscar grins back.

"Oscar Demitri Clarke, I forbid you from having a crush on my tutor," Ash hisses, though she's clearly elated at how much she'll be able to tease him about it.

"I make no promises; he's cute and he clearly cares about people so-" Oscar says loftily, but Ash groans, thumping her head into the table as the music starts up.

"You're already planning your imaginary wedding to him, aren't you; you know he's a vegetarian and an animal rights activist?" And at that information Oscar make the single funniest noise Ash has ever heard come out of him, like a hamster being sucked into a pool drain.

"He's perfect." Oscar breathes, before he clears his throat, and he leans down to nudge Ash's shoulder with his own. "Anyways, those in glass houses, biscuit; I saw Roger's hand." And Ash could feel the blush rising on her cheeks again.

"Fine; truce?" She asked, and Oscar's grin was sharp but compliant.

"Truce."

[blueandgoldstella]

Hello everybody! I’m Sarah, I am 23 years old, and live in EST. This is my beloved OC, Stella. She happens to be one of my all time favorite characters of mine and I hope that y’all love her as much as I do. Below the cut is all the information you should know about her! I will say, there is some potentially triggering content so please be noted of that!

[ LAUREN JAUREGUI ] ( ✶:･ﾟ♦ — ▓ hey, guess what - i just saw STELLA VALDEZ by sweet water river, you know they’re SIXTEEN and a HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT who identifies themselves as FEMALE i sometimes hear people describe them as RECKLESS and STUBBORN but others say that they’re LOYAL and ADVENTUROUS . me personally? i’m wondering what they were doing at the scene of jason blossoms murder, alone.

TW: child neglect, child abuse, gang violence, murder, alcoholism, drug abuse 

 Alright, to start off firstly - Stella is what I’d like to consider a mixture of Kat Stratford and Fiona Gallagher. She’s also totally the mom friend and momma bear of the younger serpents lbr

FAMILY UPBRINGING/DYNAMIC:

 She is the oldest out of six children. Yes, six children. She has three brothers and two sisters.The birth order of the Valdez family is as follows: Stella (16 years old), Nick (13 years old), Avery (10 years old), Serenity  (7 years old), Evan (3 years old) and Rowan (4 months old).

The Valdez family has ultimately been labeled as that family on the Southside that ‘never stops growing’.  Basically, you blink - and there’s another member of that family.

Growing up, Stella has never came from a life of privilege. She’s never known of the concept of a trust fund or a comma in her bank account. For her, it always too small of clothes. Too cold of nights.  Too hungry of mornings. To be frank, she’s dirt poor. Always has been poor.

A majority of her younger years consisted of moving around, quite a bit. The places she grew up and lived in prior to Riverdale were not great by any means. They hardly had any furniture or personal belongings. They often consisted of a two bedroom apartment (if they were lucky) where Stella would find herself sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag because her family couldn’t afford actual beds. She wouldn’t actually have her own bed to call her own until she was over 10 years old.

She is of Cuban decent, having been born and spending the first years of her life in Miami, Florida.

Her parents grew up in the same neighborhood with one another, becoming close as teenagers, eventually starting to date once they were at the age of 16/17.

Her dad has had a criminal record ever since he was a young teen. Having been in and out jail throughout his life, even when he was a juvenile. He joined a gang within Miami when he was around the age of 13/14. As he grew older, he’d become more engulfed into gang life and what it involved.

Contrary to popular belief, Stella’s dad wasn’t always a terrible person or father. Yes, he has always done sketchy things but it was always because he needed to feed his family and provide for them.

When Stella was 5 years old and Nick was around the age of 3, they’d kiss Florida goodbye. One night, seemingly out of the blue, her dad came home late, extremely distressed, physically in bad shape, and shaken up, Stella and Nick had no idea what was going on, but they were told by their mom and dad to pack up enough things that would fit in the van and that they had to go. Completely fleeing the place they had been living at.

Unknown to them, their dad had an altercation with a rival gang that turned deadly. The rival gang members were trying to jump one of his ‘boy’s and Stella’s dad wasn’t going to have it. Having grown up with his fellow gang members, he had to be loyal to his guys. He ended up killing one of the members in the rival gang. Being afraid that his actions would put him and his family at risk, he had no other choice than to flee.

The death of the rival gang member eventually lead to her father becoming an alcoholic. This was a turning point in not only his life, but his family dynamic. This was a point in Stella’s life when she knew something changed and her parents weren’t truly her parents anymore. To this day, Stella still doesn’t know her dad killed a man.

When they fled Florida, they had little to nothing with them. They had very few belongings and no home. Their financial situation was at an all time low and for the next almost 3 years of her life her family was basically homeless; living out of the Friday van. She had dealt with temporary homelessness before, having to sleep in the family van for a few days or weeks at a time at the most. But, this would soon become months at a time. Stella had no idea where they were headed, but she knew Florida would never be their home again. They were lucky if they could spend a few nights at a time at homeless shelters and such. During this period in her life, she’d go days without eating full meals and the food she did have, she’d find giving to her siblings.

Before finding their way to Riverdale, her parents would fall into addictive tendencies, not putting the needs of their kids before that. This was a turning point for her when she came to realize that nine times out of ten, her parents were going to put their addictions before themselves. If she wanted to survive, she’d have to provide for herself and for her younger siblings.

She has learned to become a humble person and be thankful for the things that she does have. Even if it might not be much, she knows there is probably somebody way worse off than her. Living in the Sunnyside trailer park feels like luxury compared to the living conditions she was so used to during her childhood. 

Nobody knows much about Stella’s past prior to moving to Riverdale. It’s not like she’s ashamed of it, she just doesn’t want to remember that low point in her life, or for people to take pity on her. (Of course, I HC that some people would obviously have to know about her troubled upbringing, but I can’t imagine it would be all of Riverdale, nor the Southside).

Officially moved to the Southside of Riverdale when she was 9, almost 10.

Throughout her childhood, her parents have had on and off custody of her siblings. CPS has had to step in and turn her family upside down more than once. With her mom being an on and off drug addict and her dad having drinking issues, it has only created chaos.

As of right now, her mom is currently not in the picture. She ditched her family shortly after the birth of her sixth child. Her dad’s drinking habits has increased due to her absence (they were under control for a bit, long enough for him to find stable work within Riverdale. Now, they are getting out of hand once more, him on the verge of loosing the job he currently has). Also, her dad’s anger has worsened and he has chosen to take it out on his oldest daughter while he is strung out. Currently no one knows about the abuse she is suffering at home and Stella wants to keep it that way. If anybody were to get too involved, that could mean the kiddos getting taken away from her.

OTHER INFORMATION:

Stella is actually extremely smart and a borderline genius. She has always done well in school without trying hard. It’s all come natural to her. She has a 4.0 GPA in school and her teachers have high expectations for her.  

Stella has found ‘creative’ and ‘different’ ways to make money for her family. This includes doing other people’s homework/writing papers for them,  pick-pocketing, stealing, and scamming people out of money (with the help of her adorable little siblings). The ways she sees it - when you’re poor, the only way to make decent money is to steal it or scam it.

The girl, over the years, has found herself developing a love for cooking (mostly baking).  Aside from her non-conventional ways of making money, she works part time at a bakery on the Southside. It’s a job that she actually enjoys and she gets to score free bread and sweet-treats for her family. 

Along with baking, she loves to read. This girl can finish a book in what seems like seconds. She’s not really picky with genre's, ultimately just loving the escape that books bring to her. You can usually catch her reading a book in the mornings on her front porch of her trailer, cigarette and coffee alongside with her. 

She has dreams of possibly going to college and ultimately doing some good with her life. Either wanting to become a lawyer, working in the foster care system, or going for a business degree to open up her own bakery. But, even though she could get into some good colleges the thought of doing anything after HS doesn’t seem like a reality for her. She doubts she’ll be able to leave the Southside, as sad as it sounds. Plus, she has had the lingering thought of when she officially turns eighteen, becoming an official guardian (or possibly fighting to fully adopt) her younger siblings. She vowed to herself a long time ago that her family was going to come before anything, including herself. Her siblings future and well-being are more important than her own. All she wants is for them to have a wonderful future as they grow older and she is willing to do whatever it takes to do so. Even if it means putting herself on the back burner and not doing the things she, deeps down, desperately wants to achieve and accomplish for herself. 

The Serpents have became the family she never knew she needed. She’s always been close to her southside neighbors and such, but eventually found herself joining when she was a young teen (age 14). She’s fully involved with them now and would do anything for her fellow Serpents.  She’d literally take the shirt off her back for her Southside family (but especially the Serpents). Even if her trailer may be tiny and always chaotic, her door is always open for a place to crash, to eat, or the such.

She’s never ‘too’ fond of the Northsiders due to have always been judged by them due to her lack of money and large family.

She drives an extremely old and beat up ‘mom van’ that she named Clifford. She can be seen toting around her younger siblings in it with pride. Please note though: Stella is a terrible, terrible driver. This bitch is constantly running over curbs and such. It’s a shock she passed her driving test in the first place.

[trash0lympus]

I Knew You When 1a - Malec fic

So this is just a very early draft of the first scene of the first chapter, but I've made some progress and I wanted to share!  Magnus isn't going to appear for quite a while, I'm sorry.

Title: I Knew You When

Pairing: Alec Lightwood/Magnus Bane

Warnings: Some swearing, puberty, light homophobia

Summary: Alec is starting his senior year in less than a month and if he can't find a way to deal with this insomnia he's never going to make it through the year.

Or: The one where Alec and Magnus have the same therapist, meet in the waiting room, and kind of stalk each other for a while.

ONE - Somnambulate

August, 2007

Alec can't sleep. It's nothing unusual, to have his thoughts swirling around in a sickening downward spiral of anxieties. It's the same invasive thoughts he spends his days distracting himself from, only to have them assault him in the safety of his bed.

He rolls over for the hundredth time and punches his pillow in hopes of getting out some of his anger about still being awake at 3:05am, a good four hours after he'd laid down for the night.

It's always the same, a veritable hurricane/tsunami/? On the variation of the theme not good enough/repulsive/worthless/no one would miss you if you weren't around.

Alec punches his pillow again, then throws his face into it and lets out a small scream of frustration. He doesn't have to worry about anyone overhearing, since Izzy and Max sleep like the dead, and his parents' master suite is at the opposite end of the apartment. He drags in a deep breath, meant to calm the frantic staccato his heart is playing in his chest, and keeps his eyes closed while he lets the sounds of New York drifting through his window wrap him in familiarity.

His senior year is starting in less than a month, and Alec is already starting to feel like the might crack under the pressure, his father's voice echoing in his head as a steady beat, 'this is the most important year of your life, Alec. Getting into law school is your only priority. You'll be a Yale man, just like your father'. Or, even worse, his mother: 'Columbia is an amazing school Alec, I spent the best years of my life there, you could be something great if you'd simply apply yourself'.

He needs to deal with this, or he's going to finish his senior year in tatters, his former face cut away to spite his former nose. And as impressive as that college entrance essay might be, he's not sure there's any special admission allowances for partial humans.

Alec snorts at the delirious image his brain conjures at the thought, and then presses his face as deeply into his pillow as possible and groans.

He's going to have to tell his mother. Dad would never understand, his world consisting only of the endless parade of 'get up, go to work, eat dinner, sleep, get up, go to work' - a monotonous, nauseatingly infinite loop of responsibility that Alec can't even conceive of. No, it will have to be mom. Alec can tell her that he isn't sleeping, and he won't have to explain to her the true depth of what's keeping him up most nights, and with how busy she's been since formally accepting a teaching position at Columbia last month, she probably won't care enough to ask any follow-up questions.

With a defeated sigh Alec sits up in his bed and throws off the sheets, knowing that he'll never be able to relax enough to fall asleep now that he's started this train of thought. He needs to make a plan of what to tell Maryse in the morning. Maybe if stayed up the rest of the night it might help his case? If he looks as exhausted as he truly feels the she couldn't possibly say no to his request for some kind of sleeping pills, or really anything. Alec would be willing to try hypnotic suggestion at this point. He's always been a bit of a night owl, too caught up in his own thoughts to shut down when everyone else seemed to, but it's one thing to be getting less sleep than everyone else, and quite another to be getting none. He only hopes his mother doesn't dismiss his concerns as his usual problems dropping into sleep, that she simply makes a call to their family doctor and continues not to look too closely at him.

Robert and Mayrse Lightwood are by no means neglectful parents, but in the last few years they have certainly begun to shift some of their parental burdens onto Alec himself. Robert finally made partner at his firm when Alec was 14, and a few years later Mayrse had offered a position as guest lecturer at Columbia Law, her alma mater. Just last week a formal offer had been made to her to join the faculty in a permanent position, and while Alec had never seen his mother happier, she had been so busy she was barely home at all anymore. With Max being just nine-years-old, and Izzy still 15, that meant Alec was in charge of making sure they stayed out of trouble, went to school on time, and completed their school work. His senior year came with both a blessing, and a curse, however. His parents had made two announcements during a rare family dinner last night: firstly, they had decided that Max was now old enough to start spending the weekdays living in the dorms at his boarding school; secondly, Jace would be moving in with them for the school year.

Jace is Alec's best friend - well, his only friend really. It's too pathetic to even consider Izzy as his friend, seeing as she's a sophomore, not to mention his little sister. But Jace, a year younger, and the golden boy of their school, has been by his side since their first meeting when Alec was 11. Jace had just been adopted by the Waylands. He was quiet, but not sullen, and Alec remembers the strange way that his eyes seemed drawn to Alec just as Alec couldn't keep his own from seeking out Jace. They would spend that first meeting sitting in silence in Robert's study, Alec pretending to read and Jace staring at him while making a poor mimicry of investigating the knick-knacks and awards on his father's bookshelves. It was at school that first week Jace had been transferred in that Jace had come up to him in the yard at recess. Alec had been sitting under a tree, trying to enjoy the last of the weakening September sunshine with his latest book in hand when a shadow had loomed over him and blocked his light. It was Jace.

"You don't have any friends," he has said. Not accusingly, just flat, like he was reciting a fact. Two time two is four, two times three is six, Alec Lightwood doesn't have any friends.

Alec had scowled, but responded simply with "no," and sent a challenging glare at Jace.

It had the opposite effect than he'd anticipated, and he was momentarily baffled when Jace just huffed out a small breathy chuckle.

"Okay," was all Jace had said, and all but threw himself onto the ground beside Alec. "You can be mine then".

And that had been it. Jace would show up next to him at every recess, sought him out at lunch and ate beside him. After a few weeks Alec had snapped and asked him why.

Jace had shrugged and said, "your eyes. You don't tell lies, but your eyes say what your voice doesn't".

It's been nearly eight years since then, and Alec still isn't really sure what Jace meant, but he's never been comfortable examining the reasons why a ten-year-old Jace had already known to read people so well. He was the first person to see Alec, and if he was going to be living with them for the next year Alec didn't know how he was going to keep everything together, to keep his secrets locked away where Jace couldn't read them in his eyes, couldn't see it written all over his face.

Alec figured it out for real at 13, during one of the countless sleepovers when they're wrestling like they always do, but this time Alec really enjoys it. He goes so quickly from tussling on the floor with Jace to running through the bathroom door and locking it behind him. He's terrified that Jace felt it and he's willing himself not to panic. He's had the talk by now, even had a sex-ed class at school, and he tells himself that it was just hormones. It doesn't mean anything, it has nothing to do with Jace, he just got too excited, a little over-stimulated. Almost convinces himself it's true until he has the dream. It was all Jace's flashing eyes, his smile and his chest and his arms around Alec and when he woke up his pajamas and sheets were ruined. He had stuffed them into the garbage chute before anyone woke up. From then on when Jace stayed over they didn't share a bed.

He starts to base most of his decisions on a creeping paranoia of being discovered. He knows, without a doubt, that his parents would not like this, and while he can't put his finger on what it is about him that's different, he knows that it's wrong.

He starts trying to pay attention to the girls in his grade, and panics when he realises that he should have already noticed them. Jace is a year younger than he is and he's been talking about girls for ages.

That was the year before high school. When he started ninth grade he planned to keep flying under the radar, but his parents insisted he needed to participate in extracurriculars for his college applications. He tried to argue that he could volunteer in the library, take extra AP courses, or get summer internships, and while they agreed he should still do all those things they believed a sport would create a more well rounded application. It was the first time they had implied he wasn't quite enough on his own. He'd chosen archery only because the club was small, and he thought that at least it would be easier to hide away in a corner of the locker room inconspicuously while they changed, to lag behind and shower last.

Alec dragged his hands roughly over his face, feeling exhaustion clawing at his body while his mind churned, considering and discarding ways he might bring up the topic with his mother in the morning. His bare feet hit the hardwood floor of his bedroom and he decided a hot shower might be the thing to clear his head, or at least pass some time while he waiting for his family to wake up. There was nothing to do until then but wait.

--

[alwaysmarilynmonroe]

Firstly, hello! It’s been a long time, almost six months in fact! However, I’ve finally found the inspiration to start writing again. Sometimes it can be hard to feel inspired when you’ve been blogging fairly regularly for over three years, however, I never intended to stop forever, I simply wanted to look forward to writing posts again and well, today is that day!

As a huge lover of makeup, I look forward to seeing what products are going to be released that I can add to my ever growing inventory. Therefore, when I discovered Ciaté London created a collection dedicated to Jessica Rabbit, I think my heart may have skipped a beat! If you know me it’s hardly a surprise, but, Jessica Rabbit is one of my favourite Bombshells, inspired by Old Hollywood’s Veronica Lake, Rita Hayworth and Lauren Bacall – she’s an absolute dream! Yes, she may not actually be real, (I know, I’m still coming to terms with it) but, there’s no doubt she’s an icon in film and as a pinup.

The Jessica Rabbit Collection features three products;

The Jessica Palette – a nine piece eyeshadow palette. (£35) Glow To Highlighter: Roger, Darling! – a powder highlighter. (£26) Glitter Storm Lipstick – a glitter metallic lipstick. (£19)

Each product can be bought individually, or altogether in a beautiful Jessica themed box set – naturally, I had to buy the full set! At £60, it’s definitely not on the cheap side, but you save a total of £20 compared to buying them separately, so if you’re a super fan, it’s worth it. Plus, the quality is incredible, arguably the most beautiful makeup packaging I own, each is worthy of being collector pieces. Currently, the collection is sold out, but the three items are still available on their own.

The amount of detail and research that has gone into every inch of the products is truly impressive, Ciaté have made sure to create the ultimate Jessica Rabbit products and they have not disappointed! Like the Superstar she is, Jessica features all over the items, even her stunning silhouette is etched onto the outer packaging. When she’s not gracing us with her presence, there’s the ever reminder of her through the signature purple shades of eyeshadow and the striking bold red lipstick. She’s one lady that definitely won’t be erased, (I’m sorry – it had to be done!)

With makeup constantly growing, you can often end up buying many products that look similar, however, I can categorically say that The Jessica Palette is a true individual and a must have addition. The palette features nine different shades in two different formulas; six shimmers and three mattes. Each colour is related to Jessica and the iconic film she stars in, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?;

Love Letter – a signature Jessica red. Oh, Roger! – a midnight blue. Sunset Blvd – a medium gold. I’m Not Bad – a warm bronze. Patty Cake – Jessica’s trademark purple. Drawn That Way – a bright vivid gold. Carrot Cake – a warm orange. Toon Kisses – a muted lilac. Honey Bunny – a light peach.

I feel this palette possess the shades to create both day to night time looks, going from day time dream to smokey screen siren! It’s a great size, not too bulky and therefore can easily be carried around from place to place.

The second product in the collection is the Glow To Highlighter: Roger, Darling! once again featuring an iconic pose by the leading lady on the outer compact and a beautifully embossed Jessica on the highlighter itself! I’ve seen various highlighters featuring lovely logos embossed, but this is truly on a whole other level! I can honestly say I wish I had the money to purchase another highlighter to keep in pristine condition, it really is almost too beautiful to use. For now I shall apply the highlighter by working my way from the outer corners! The colour is described as a, “soft focus peach/gold” and created using, “ultra fine pearls and a cream powder texture” it’s a little masterpiece, that’s the only way to sum it up. Also, I find the colour choice to be very universal and suitable for both day and night time.

The grand finale in the trio of products is the Glitter Storm Lipstick, a bold stunning true blue metallic red, definitely not for the faint hearted! This shade oozes Jessica appeal and helps you come one step closer to achieving your pinup bombshell dreams. The lipstick is described as a, “hybrid that combines star like pigments with a full colour base, for hyper shine and shimmer like never before” therefore, I’d say creating a semi matte metallic formula. It feels comfortable to wear and is a statement piece in the collection, there’s truly no mistaking that this is Jessica’s signature lipstick.

If you thought it couldn’t get any better then you’re wrong, as all Ciaté London’s products are Peta certified and cruelty free! Ever more fitting considering Jessica’s lovely husband is Mr Roger Rabbit!

I’ve bought Ciaté products and reviewed them before and I can honestly say that this Brand is extremely consistent in quality and has yet to let me down! I couldn’t recommend this Collection enough, I haven’t been this excited or passionate about one in quite some time!

Follow me at;

BLOGLOVIN

INSTAGRAM

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For inquiries or collaborations contact me at;

meganmonroes@icloud.com

Ciaté London Jessica Rabbit Collection. Firstly, hello! It's been a long time, almost six months in fact! However, I've finally found the inspiration to start writing again. 904 more words

[ziskandra]

did you know that i still write fanfiction? no? me neither! i had a lot of fun participating in the @mebigbang test reverse big bang - working with @ramblingandpie‘s art was a great inspiration! ao3 link.

Summary: Having confidently identified the problem, EDI works towards finding a solution.

Upon reuniting with a despondent Samantha Traynor several years after The Reaper War, EDI makes it a mission to cheer up her old friend. 

Ninety-Nine Percent Chance of Success

“Oh, hello, EDI! I didn’t see you there.” Specialist Traynor beams as she straightens upwards, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her smile, however, does not quite meet her eyes and her Alliance uniform, usually fresh and crisp, looks as though it had been slept in for days.

It’s been almost five years since they had last seen each other, three since the last time they’d even exchanged an email. “It’s been a while,” EDI agrees with a tilt of the head. “Longer than I would have liked.”

That admission brings a slight twitch of amusement to Samantha’s lips, but it’s short-lived as her face soon settles back into a frown. “I’m sorry,” she starts, not quite looking EDI in the eyes. “I’ve not been avoiding you.” Fortunately, EDI does not need to hold Samantha’s gaze to assess the source of the problem. Firstly, there’s the dishevelled state of the specialist’s clothing: the Samantha EDI had known would never have turned up to work dressed like this. Secondly, there is the woman’s downtrodden demeanour: EDI doesn’t have to be a highly-advanced artificial intelligence to know that Samantha is in physiological distress.

The third, and most obvious sign, however, is the complete absence of the physical signs of arousal that Samantha usually displayed whenever she heard EDI’s voice. Oh, she’d tried to mask them ever since she’d become aware of EDI’s true nature, but there’s no hiding symptoms from EDI. EDI knows. She always knows.

“It’s not me you’ve been avoiding,” EDI answers without a moment of hesitation. There are times, she has learnt, for subtlety, for ‘beating around the bush’ as the humans like to say. But Samantha is an old friend, and EDI has always preferred to chart the most direct path.

Samantha’s shoulders slump ever-so-slightly, but the action does not escape EDI’s notice. “Oh, I know, I know.” She pauses, swallowing a lump in her throat. “It’s just… being back here is harder than I thought.”

EDI takes in the view, watches the tears glisten in Samantha’s eyes as she looks across the bridge, up at the new Normandy. Samantha blinks, inhaling deeply, and continues, even though her voice begins to waver. “I’m fine, though, well and truly.” Unperturbed, EDI forges onwards. “You miss her.” The subject of their conversation goes unspoken, but there’s sometimes something to be said for inferences, EDI thinks. “Yeah,” Sam relents, “I do.” “I miss her too,” EDI confides. Her life has never been quite the same since she’d left the Normandy. So many of her processes had been so intrinsically linked to the ship for so long that her platform’s first foray beyond its range had felt like leaving home. She’d been able to emulate emotion for as long as she’d been self-aware, but it was the first time she’d simply just been sad. Now that they’re building more Normandy-class frigates, EDI’s been called into work more often. It’s nice to have a purpose again, to spend time with old friends. Jeff likes to pretend that he hasn’t changed a bit, but EDI knows there’s more wrinkles near the corner of his eyes. His life is different now. They all are.

Having confidently identified Samantha’s problem, EDI works towards finding a solution. Throughout her travels with Commander Shepard, EDI has discovered that some humans do not like being confronted directly with their feelings. While she has not had quite as many interactions with Samantha to draw experience on, she knows that Sam and the commander were close. What is the best way to deal with this situation? According to her simulations, there is a  route that leads to a ninety-nine percent chance of success. Those are not terrible odds, so EDI course-corrects. “Remember when she met her clone?”

Sam looks taken aback for a moment, although she soon recovers quickly. “How could I forget? My Cision Mark Pro IV saved the day!” She holds her hand aloft as she’d held it during that fateful moment several years ago.

EDI smiles. “I doubt you have had a more useful toothbrush since.”

Quickly dropping her arm, Sam admits, “Well, they did just release the newest model. The Cision Mark Pro VII. I’m still saving up for it, myself.” EDI, not having teeth or gums, can’t help but admire Samantha’s dedication to oral hygiene, even if she does not understand or truly empathise with it. “What capabilities does this one have the the older versions do not?”

“Oh, more of the same, really. Just faster.” Sam flashes EDI a smile that’s more about showing off her pearly whites than anything else. EDI’s glad to see that even though Sam has seen better days  that there is still more than a spark of the person she’d once known.

“Interesting,” EDI says in response as she’s overcome with the torrent of questions she now wants to ask Samantha. It would be so interesting for her research into human behaviours. But that’s not her task here, so instead, she focuses. Diverts. “Remember how ecstatic she was when she completed her model ship collection?” Samantha snorts. “‘Ecstatic’ might be an understatement.” She plants her feet a shoulder-width apart and balls her fists up by her side in an eerily-accurate imitation of their former commander. Brows furrowed, she continues, “If I find any one of you so much breathing in the directions of my shelves…” Samantha pauses, inhaling sharply through her nose, “… breathing will soon be the least of your problems.” “She loved her ships,” EDI agrees. “But as I do not breathe, it was not a very convincing threat.” Rolling her eyes, Samantha says, “As though any of us would ever enter the captain’s quarters without her express permission.”

EDI tilts her head. “Oh,” Samantha says, eyes widening in realisation. “I suppose you were always in her quarters, in a manner of speaking.” For a moment, she simply looks lost in thought. “Never mind, then.” Deciding it best not to pursue that line of discussion, EDI continues, “Remember when her hamster escaped?”

Samantha makes a noise of dismay. “She didn’t even name him!” she exclaims. “That’s no way to treat a pet.” “But she treated his recovery mission with the same solemnity as she did her other assignments. She assessed the crew she had on hand and made sure that no centimetre of the vessel was left unaccounted for.” “That’s because she thought he’d been kidnapped! Instead, we found him in the mess… cheeky little bastard was happily munching away on our rations without a care in the world. By the look of him, you’d think he’d not been fed in days! Well. The look on his face, that is, he was quite, what’s the word?” She gestures with her hands. “Rotund. Probably still is, the way Dr. T’soni dotes on him.”

“She was incredibly relieved to have found him.” EDI herself hadn’t quite understood the Commander’s attachment at the time, although the speech the woman had delivered afterwards had helped clarify matters somewhat. “Oh yes,” Samantha agrees, “the way she scooped him up in her hands and told him not to ever go missing again! Didn’t even scold him for getting into the food.” “We are family,” EDI reminisces, one of the benefits and drawbacks of her perfect recollection.  Her imitation of the commander’s voice is even more perfect than Samantha’s. It’s an unfair advantage. “Just because we’re a motley assortment of misfits doesn’t mean I won’t do the exact same thing for each and everyone one for you. Now, I’ve got to get this little guy back into his cage.” It’s not until she’s said the last sentence that EDI realises it most likely wasn’t an intended part of Shepard’s inspiring speech.

She’s about to play it off as a joke when suddenly, surprisingly, Samantha bursts into laughter, the kind that ignites in the belly and explodes in the chest and although Samantha might not be truly happy in this moment, EDI can’t help but think it’s the first time her friend has laughed this hard in years. Although this is an outcome she had been working towards, now that she has achieved it, EDI is quite unsure of what to do with herself.

“Oh, EDI, I could hug you!” Samantha explains once her laughs recede, a hand pressed against her stomach as though worried her insides might come tumbling out. The stance never ceases to be somewhat concerning: EDI’s not sure she’ll ever grow accustomed to how soft and vulnerable humans are.

“You can,” EDI replies firmly despite her building uncertainty. She’s not fond of the sensation because she is, by all accounts, an artificial intelligence, one that can perfectly adjust her behavioural paradigms with each new situation that confronts her. The first interaction is always the hardest, though, and what EDI is sure of is that she’s never quite been in a situation like this one before.

The fact of the matter is, EDI doesn’t yet understand how these two events relate to each other, that is, Samantha’s elation and her desire to embrace. The only conclusion she can draw is that humans are affectionate when they are happy, even when they are not intoxicated, and even when the galaxy is not about to end. When EDI had first begun learning about humans, she’d thought that human bonding was primarily sexual, that when under duress, their underlying biological programming pushed them towards reproductive behaviours - even if the result of such a mating would not necessarily result in actual offspring.

Yet, EDI has spent several years predominantly living amongst humans, although she’s certainly had a number of interactions with the rest of the galaxy’s species. And every day, she learns and she learns. She’s experienced teamwork and family and camaraderie and friendship, and she’s coming to grips with the reality that being alive, a sentient being, is all about the links one makes with other people, no matter who they are, or where they come from. EDI can change people’s lives, maybe sometimes only slightly, but hopefully always for the better. So that’s why she doesn’t shy away when Sam throws her arms around her, holding her in a seemingly-firm grip that EDI could nonetheless break free from in an instant. “Huh,” Sam says, pulling away just enough to be heard when she speaks, “you’re warmer than I thought you would be.” EDI can’t avoid the easy quip. “Did you think that just because I am a synthetic, I am incapable of comfort?” Samantha loosens her grip, and EDI doesn’t even need to look to know that her friend’s eyes have widened in alarm. “No, no,” she stammers, “It’s not that, I—”

“I have flexible alloys in my skin that allow me to adjust my internal and external temperature,” EDI says, cutting Sam off with more than a hint of smugness.

Sam bats at EDI’s arm as she lets go completely. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” “You did,” EDI confirms as Samantha holds her hands up in mock-resignation. “All right, all right,” Sam says with a wave, “No need to rub it in.”

“I will immediately cease with my abrasive processes,” EDI assures her, and Samantha laughs again. “I’m glad I ran into you,” she says. This time, when Sam smiles, it does truly reach her eyes.  She reaches down, attempts to smooth some wrinkles from her fatigues with limited success. “We should get a drink sometime.” She pauses. “Do synthetics drink? You know what I mean. Gather some of the old crew, too, if they’re around. I haven’t seen them in far too long.”

“James Vega and Kaidan Alenko are both in Vancouver,” EDI confirms. In the aftermath of the Reaper War, people have focused primarily on recovering their homeworlds. “As is Jeff Moreau,” she adds, although it almost goes without saying. At the end of the day, they’re never truly far from each other.

“Sounds like we’ve got a party!” Sam exclaims, before casting a guilty glance downwards at the crates piled up around her feet. “Oh, but look at the time! I’ve been stood here babbling on for far too long. I better get these requisitions on board before someone catches me slacking!”

“Let me help,” EDI offers, “I was just heading in that direction.” It’s not even a lie: EDI did have business upon the Normandy today. Running into Samantha Traynor is just a pleasant distraction.

“Oh, if it’s not too much of a bother,” Sam says, ducking down to heft a box in her arms. “I could use the assistance.” EDI wonders if she should tell Samantha that her platform is more than capable of carrying all the crates by herself, but then she reminds herself that humans like being involved and feeling useful, so she says nothing instead as they move the containers, making quick work of the load in companionable silence. Honestly, EDI would have preferred to keep talking, her processes always thinking of more observations to make, more inquiries to present, but the exertion required by SAM to move the boxes means that their interaction is limited in that regard. Still, EDI finds herself surprised by how pleasant it is.

As they relocate the final crate and Sam stands besides the new pile with hands on hips, admiring their handiwork, she remarks, “Well, that’s that done. Thank you truly, EDI! I couldn’t have done it without you.” “You’re welcome,” EDI replies. “It was my pleasure.” The words, once upon a time a formality for EDI, are genuine. She has truly enjoyed talking to Samantha again. “I better let you get back to it,” Sam says with a sigh, disappointment belied in the droop of her shoulders. “But I mean what I said. It was really good to see you again.” EDI knows she is not imagining Samantha’s elevated heart rate and increased temperature. Her measuring instruments are perfectly calibrated.

In this moment, at the very least, Samantha is herself again. EDI commits herself to catching up with the communications specialist more frequently to ensure the results of her learning today are easily replicated. “It was good to see you as well,” EDI assures her.

“I’ve missed my family,” Samantha says with a wistful smile, arms now crossed over her chest. She looks smaller, in a way. EDI finds herself surprisingly unable to understand why.

“You see them every other shore leave,” EDI dead-pans in response. At least she’s learnt that humour helps in these sort of situations. Samantha snorts. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” EDI confirms. “I do.”

Sam begins to turn, facing the direction of the next task on her agenda. “Take care, EDI,” she says, her voice slightly higher than its usual register. “I am incapable of performing with anything less than the utmost precision,” EDI assures her.

Samantha smiles again before finally moving down the corridor with one last look at EDI over her shoulder.

EDI begins downloading the schedules of all the former Normandy crew members who are currently in Vancouver to co-ordinate the most optimal date for a reunion.

[upontheshelfreviews]

As a lifelong Disney fan I can’t understate how much of an impact Mickey Mouse has had on me. In childhood, he was an icon and friend – instantly recognizable, a source of joy and entertainment, a hero and a role model. I know this is making me sound like one of those cheesy sponsors reading off a cue card, but when you’re talking about a mouse, expect plenty of cheese to be involved.

In the spirit of Mickey celebrating his 90th birthday, I’d like to share with you my 20 favorite shorts he starred in. Why 20? Because I couldn’t narrow it down to ten and I like to go nine steps beyond as opposed to one.

There were only two rules I set while making this list:

Mickey is the main focus, or at the very least he must be given as much to do as the other characters he shares the cartoon with. There’s a lot of great shorts out there that has Mickey’s name in the title – Mickey’s Parrot, Mickey’s Circus, Mickey’s Birthday, Mickey and the Seal, Mickey’s Christmas Carol, etc. – or has his face in the intro that advertises it as his adventure, but upon watching you find they’re really about Donald, Goofy or Pluto or literally anyone else but him.

Shorts only, no segments from full-length films or direct-to-video works. This means no Mickey and the Beanstalk from Fun and Fancy Free or various bits from Mickey’s Once/Twice Upon A Christmas, but sadly no Sorcerer’s Apprentice from Fantasia. I thought of excluding any short that ran over the usual length of five to seven minutes to about twenty, but that made my job even harder.

Now before we get to the countdown, here are a few Honorable Mentions:

Mickey, Donald and Goofy in The Three Musketeers – If I were including full-length films on the list, this would be in the top five, bar none.

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice from Fantasia – It would easily take the number one spot if it didn’t overlap with the #2 rule.

Plane Crazy – The mouse’s first appearance on the silver screen, though he wouldn’t make as quite a splash until his sound debut in Steamboat Willie a few years later

Orphan’s Benefit – One of my favorites as a kid. It made me laugh something fierce and still does, though a large part of it has to do with Donald and Goofy’s segments, hence why it’s only an honorable mention. Also, did you know that the color one we’re mostly familiar with is actually a remake of an earlier black and white version?

Mickey’s Delayed Date – Pluto and Mickey tussle for attention in this outing.

Haunted House – Spooky and atmospheric. Classic Disney nightmare fuel.

The Gorilla Mystery – Mickey plays Minnie’s white knight yet again as he goes to-to-toe with a dangerous gorilla.

Two-Gun Mickey – An American Tail: Mickey Goes West.

Mickey’s Surprise Party – After Minnie’s dog spoils the cookies she was making for Mickey, he saves the day with some shockingly transparent corporate sponsorship. At least I take comfort in the fact that Mickey’s favorite cookies are the same as mine.

Hansel and Gretel – Mickey and Minnie stumble upon a treacherous witch to the ominous strains of Danse Macabre.

Mickey’s Cabin – Mickey outwits Pete and his dimwitted cousin with a little reverse psychology when they hold him hostage in his winter cabin. Hilarity ensues.

Croissant – Mickey’s first short in the modern style proved you can’t keep a mouse on a mission down.

Yodelberg – Continuing with the previous short, it’s modern Mickey at its most fast-paced and stylish fun.

Shanghaied – It’s up to Mickey to save the day and Minnie again, this time from Pete and his dastardly crew of pirates.

Mickey’s Christmas Carol – Mickey’s first cartoon in 30 years has him slightly out of the spotlight, but still got him back in the public eye for good.

20. Mickey’s Trailer

This gets the lowest spot because the first half mainly focuses on jokes surrounding Donald and Goofy in their cool little mechanical trailer. But when it reaches the second half? That’s when things really kick into high gear. Goofy obliviously unhitches the trailer as they’re traveling through a perilous mountain pass and it’s up to Mickey to keep his vacation from reaching an untimely end. It’s amazingly suspenseful, with plenty of close calls from oncoming vehicles, trains and cliff sides. They still manage to sneak in a few decent moments of slapstick, but not at the cost of any of the tension. My only wish is that we could have seen Mickey and Donald’s response to Goofy’s cheerful “Well, I brought ya down safe and sound, a-hyuck!” at the very end. No doubt it would have been hilariously karmic.

19. Mickey’s Mechanical House

Coming from the Mickey’s Mouse Works/House of Mouse era of cartoons, we get a whimsical story in Seuss-esque rhyme, narrated by John Cleese no less. Sick of the inconveniences of his old abode, Mickey moves into a sleek totally automated house. He quickly learns, however, that easy modern conveniences aren’t what make a good home. Unlike the other cartoons made in this time, the art style goes for a 50’s retro look that pays homage to the likes of UPA. I especially appreciate the cameo from the iconic Mars robot from the famous Disneyland episode Mars and Beyond. That’s how you know this short was made by real old-school Disney fans. The story is charming, the gags are clever, and it earns this spot on the countdown.

18. Giantland/Gulliver Mickey

Yes, I know I’m cheating here due to this being a tie, but I found these two shorts to be similar enough that I felt they were both worthy of the same place on the list. Each one begins with Mickey telling a story to his…younger counterparts? Nieces and nephews? Godchildren? They all refer to him as “Uncle Mickey” and they all look like him so maybe they’re really…no, best not to think of the implications.

Anyway, Mickey makes himself the hero of each tale, firstly in the role of Jack in Jack and the Beanstalk (no doubt somewhat inspiring his future gigantic adventures in The Brave Little Tailor and Fun and Fancy Free), then of him being the giant washed up on the shores of Lilliput. There’s some good action all around, and plenty of creativity in showing the giant’s world, Mickey’s storytelling and how the Lilliputians attempt to subdue their captive.

17. Magician Mickey

Mickey’s putting on a magic show, but he’s constantly heckled by a disbelieving Donald. Little does the duck realize he’s messing with the Sorcerer’s Apprentice himself, and Mickey uses all his mystic powers to troll back at him. Even though it’s arguably Donald’s short as much as it is Mickey’s, he does provide the main source of the conflict, and Mickey does not hold back when providing some good old magical vengeance. He remains the perfect showman throughout, and the tricks he plays to get back at Donald are inventive and hilarious. I admit, I still crack up at the running gag where Donald attempts to go in one of his unintelligible tirades and spits out an entire deck of cards. Just goes to show you don’t mess with the mouse, especially when he’s in magician mode.

16. Steamboat Willie

Ah, the one that started it all. Well, technically it was Plane Crazy and The Galloping Gaucho, but Steamboat Willie was what really thrust Mickey into the limelight. It may be simplistic by today’s standards, but this short is nothing…short of iconic. It establishes everything you need to know about the character of Mickey Mouse – inventive, friendly, helpful, but not without a strong mischievous streak. Being one of the first cartoons to have fully synchronized sound certainly helps. It not only pushed the popularity of “talkies” but introduced the world to what would become one of the most recognizable characters of all time. How could I not include it on the list? I already wrote an entire article on its significance, so if you want to know more, feel free to go read it.

15. The Mad Doctor

When people talk about the darkest moments in Disney animation, there’s a reason why this short is often brought up. The Mad Doctor goes for straight-up horror, and pulls no punches. Mickey must work his way through a creepy castle to save his beloved dog Pluto before he becomes the next victim of the titular doctor’s dangerous experiments. There’s lots of shadows, spooky living skeletons, and booby traps galore that threaten Mickey along the way. It’s perfect fare for Halloween.

Without giving away the ending, it’s the kind I’d normally call a bit of a cop out, but I don’t see how they could have worked their way around it. This short was deemed so scary upon release that it was banned not only in the UK, but in Nazi Germany, which really says something. It didn’t frighten me that much when I was a kid, but there’s a pervading sense of dread that makes it unlike any other Mickey Mouse cartoon ever made. Its impact on the canon was strong enough that the Mad Doctor was made one of the main antagonists of the Epic Mickey video game. And getting to take him out after all these years is one of the most satisfying game moments you’ll ever experience.

14. Around the World in 80 Days

Now for something a bit lighter. Some of the best shorts made for Mickey’s Mouse Works and House of Mouse were the “Mouse Tales”, two-part adaptations of classic novels with Mickey and the gang filling in the roles. This is a simplified but still fun take on Jules Verne’s famous globetrotting adventure. Instead of a wager between high society gentlemen and a robbery caper mixup however, Mickey must circumnavigate the globe in order to claim an inheritance and save his orphanage. Goofy and a rescued native princess-turned-love interest Minnie (there’s no way around some of the more dated aspects of this story, is there?) help him along the way, but they also have to deal with a meddling Scrooge McDuck, who’d do anything to get his feathers on the fortune. They manage to squeeze in some great jokes, usually involving Mickey’s deadpan reactions to Goofy’s cluelessness. It’s a decent retelling that hits all the beats and will probably get kids interested in checking out the original story.

13. Ye Olden Days

Nothing like a good old-fashioned medieval romance to warm your heart. Humble minstrel Mickey attempts to rescue fair damsel Minnie when she refuses to marry foppish Prince Dippy Dawg – that’s Goofy’s early moniker to those not fluent in early Disney – and winds up engaging in a joust for her hand. Mickey and Minnie may not be the most fascinating couple in film history, but their earnest devotion to each other shows why their relationship has stood the test of time.

When I was rewatching this to see if it deserved a spot on this list, I was particularly impressed by how spirited Minnie was – she does not take her arranged marriage lying down, slapping the self-absorbed prince in the face while declaring “Never!” and fighting her captors every step of the way as she’s dragged to the tower as punishment. Plus, it’s her intervening on Mickey’s behalf that saves him from the guillotine and allows him to engage in trial by combat. Mickey, ever the underdog, uses his size and cleverness to his advantage, outdoing the prince in all his regalia with nothing but a spear, a suit of armor fashioned from a potbelly stove, and an intrepid donkey. I really don’t have anything to say other than this short’s simplicity and sweetness never fails to win me over.

12. The Pointer

An expertly animated adventure for Mickey and his loyal canine, even if the idea of the Mouse going hunting wouldn’t fly today. I just love Mickey and Pluto’s interactions; they remind me so much of me and my dog and the time we spent together (though let it go on record that I never have or most likely will engage in hunting for sport). This isn’t a case of the pet being smarter than the master like in future shorts, either. Those always aggravated me because of how they really dumbed down Mickey. Both are on equal footing here, and both get into equal amounts of trouble.

The moment where Mickey tries to talk his way out of an encounter with an angry bear is equal parts tense and humorous. It’s also one of the rare times I can recall Mickey attempting to use his own popularity to escape from a jam (“Well I’m, uh, Mickey Mouse! You know, Mickey Mouse? I hope you’ve heard of me…I hope.”) According to Andreas Deja, animator Frank Thomas incorporated a bit of Walt’s own actions while recording the lines for this scene, giving it a superb bit of what Thomas would call “the illusion of life”.

11. Lonesome Ghosts

Here we have another Mickey-Donald-Goofy venture with shenanigans surrounding the last two, but there’s enough of Mickey in there to make it count. Now tell me if this sounds familiar: a trio of oddballs, one smart if in way over his head, one irascible and sarcastic, and one delightfully naive, go into business capturing ghosts. And yes, at one point one of them says “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts”. It’s a shame Disney wasn’t able to capitalize on this fifty years later apart from syncing this short to the Ghostbusters theme in the DTV Halloween special. Lonesome Ghosts is a spooky jaunt where half the fun comes from the various ways the titular quartet of specters tease our hapless heroes. How the protagonists manage to send them packing kind of confuses me, but it still makes for a good chuckle. Steeped in atmosphere and loaded with laughs, Lonesome Ghosts is a ghoulish good time.

10. Mickey’s Good Deed

It’s Christmas Eve, and Mickey and Pluto are out in the cold with nothing but a bass fiddle that earns them barely enough to eat. A bratty rich half-pint sets his sights on Pluto and goes Veruca Salt on his father, leading to him offering Mickey a fair bit of dough in exchange for the dog. Mickey refuses, until he spies a poor widow and her many children even worse off than he is. This leads to him making a heartwrenching sacrifice to ensure they have a merry Christmas. It’s a short that runs the gamut of emotions. You feel for Mickey every second as he either loses everything he owns or willingly gives it up for a greater good, and there’s plenty of joy to be had when he gets his reward in the end (as well as when that terrible child is given his due punishment). I love watching this every Christmastime, and it exemplifies the giving spirit of the season.

9. Runaway Brain

You wanna know where that infamous image of a demonic Mickey came from? Well here ya go. Fast-paced, frightening and hilarious, Runaway Brain is a wild ride from start to finish. In some ways it feels more akin to a Looney Tunes short than a Disney one. The comic and story beats come right after another, yet leave room for sight gags and references a plenty. There’s even a brief shot that visibly homages The Exorcist. IN A DISNEY SHORT.

Borrowing from The Mad Doctor’s playbook, this time it’s Mickey who’s in a mad scientist’s sights after taking an offer for “a mindless day’s work” at face value, just so he could earn some vacation cash for Minnie. Said mad scientist, Dr. Frankenollie (love the nod there), voiced by Sideshow Bob himself Kelsey Grammar, switches Mickey’s brain with that of his King Kong/Frankenstein-esque creation Julius, who bears more than a passing resemblance to Pete. When the doctor is zapped into ashes by his own experiment – onscreen, mind you – Mickey, now trapped in Julius’ body, must find a way to get back to normal and stop Julius, stuck in Mickey’s form but no less monstrous, from pursuing Minnie. As I said before, the jokes come at you fast and hard. The climax in particular is especially rollicking, with some amazing lighting and coloring choices that pump up the action. As always, Mickey saves the day in the most entertaining – and in this case, bizarre – way possible.

8. The Band Concert

Mickey makes his technicolor debut in one of the first shorts that pits him against a troublesome Donald. All our stalwart conductor wants to do is perform a bit of William Tell for some music lovers in the park, but he’s consistently interrupted by Donald wanting to get in on the action with Turkey In The Straw and an improbable supply of easily breakable flutes. Still, you’ve got to admire both of them for their determination. I’d say nothing short of a cyclone could stop them, but that’s exactly what happens; the climax has them playing through the gale even as they’re hurled through the air! Considering the music they’re performing is appropriately stormy sounding, one has to wonder if they picked up their instruments from Hyrule. The Band Concert is a testament to Mickey’s unflappable perseverance and affinity for music.

7. The Little Whirlwind

Lured to Minnie’s by the promise of cake, Mickey agrees to give her yard a good cleanup in exchange for some dessert. Unfortunately, a playful sentient cyclone has other plans. I’ve never been bothered by Mickey’s voice, but this short shows how he works just as well silently. Much of the action is largely in mime with no dialogue. The slapstick is fun all around. I always did feel a bit bad that Mickey got the short end of the stick in this cartoon; after being tormented by the hellion hurricane, he’s pursued by a giant momma tornado who assumes her offspring was bullied for no reason, and when Minnie checks on his progress he’s blamed for the disaster area that was formerly her garden. I don’t know what the hell she was doing in the kitchen to not hear the two cyclones roaring through her yard but I hope it was worth it. At least Mickey ends up getting the cake – though not in a way he was certainly expecting.

6. Mr. Mouse Takes a Trip

Once more we witness Mickey’s loyalty to his equally devoted canine companion. A simple train trip to Pomona goes off the rails when Mickey must shield Pluto from dog-hating conductor Pete and both find themselves on the run from him. There’s disguises and mishaps galore, and it’s a constant back and forth to see who’s one step ahead of the other. Interesting fact: this short is also the source of the only known footage of Walt Disney recording his lines as Mickey.

5. Symphony Hour

A spiritual sequel to The Band Concert, Mickey once again plays conductor for a classical orchestra made up of his friends. Unfortunately someone thought it was a good idea to leave all the instruments in Goofy’s hands before their big debut, and they’re quickly destroyed. Now poor Mickey has to keep everything together as the concert falls to pieces and their sponsor Pete fumes from his viewing box.

This short… it’s hysterical. There’s no other word for it. Everything from the animation to the music – which sounds like a precursor to Spike Jones – cracks me up. Mickey is pushed to the limits of his endurance as his show crumbles around him. Not helping matters is the attitude of the performers. Sure, Goofy, Horace Horsecollar and the like soldier on admirably, but Donald threatens to up and leave several times. Yet Mickey isn’t afraid to stoop to any level to ensure the show, no matter how terrible, will indeed go on. And the worse it gets for them, the better it gets for us.

4. Thru the Mirror

After falling asleep while reading Alice Through the Looking Glass, Mickey dreams of entering his bedroom mirror and exploring the bizzarro version of his world on the other side. Living furniture, card battles and jazzy dance sequences ensue. Out of all the Mickey shorts on this list, this is probably the best animated. The scenes stick out in your mind long after the cartoon has ended. The size-changing walnuts, the catchy tap dance starting with a game of jump rope with a telephone cord that evolves into a Busby Berkeley homage with playing cards, and the escape from said cards while traversing the dangers of a literal living room? It’s golden age Disney at its finest. There’s not much in the way of story, but that’s not the point of this short. It’s just great animation fueled by years of practice and boundless imagination.

3. Get a Horse!

I remember hearing way back when this short was announced that it was supposedly one from Walt’s heyday which was lost to the ages and recently unearthed. Little could we have realized that it was merely a smokescreen – instead of an old cartoon, we were getting the first new theatrical Mickey Mouse short since Runaway Brain, one that paid tribute to the classic Mickey cartoons of old.

Since I watched Frozen more than once during its theatrical run, I had the privilege of experiencing Get A Horse as it should be: in a big dark movie theater with eye-popping 3D. It gives the perfect illusion that this crazy cartoon with characters jumping in and out and running around the theater really is happening right in front of you. Mickey and friends play around with the screen and the dimensions contained within and with-out in a way not seen since Chuck Jones’ masterpiece Duck Amuck. And having seen many, MANY classic Disney shorts before (if this list hadn’t already indicated), I could even tell where many of the sound bites used for the characters’ dialogue were lifted from. I simply don’t get it when people dismiss this short for “mocking” old school Disney when in reality it does anything but. I think this short is the epitome of what Disney is doing now with their animation, blending the best of the old with the technology and promise of the new. Also, Oswald cameo for the win!

2. The Prince and the Pauper

Talk about nostalgia. I watched this short with the same frequency as my favorite Disney movies on VHS. In fact, due to having no sense of time when I was younger, I thought this twenty minute short was about the same length as those films; it certainly flies by at the same speed. Mark Twain’s tale of royal identity switching has seen its fair share of adaptations, but this one will always be my favorite. We’ve got riveting action and phenomenal voice acting (Wayne Allwine, you were the best Mickey outside of Walt and Brett Iwan can’t hold a candle to you).

It’s also one of the most dramatic shorts in the Disney canon. Pete is at his most menacing outside of Mickey’s Christmas Carol. Scenes like where Mickey attends to the king in his final moments and the prince learns of his father’s passing carry so much weight to them. They’re framed cinematically and let you take in the gravitas. Still, that’s not to say there isn’t any comedy to be found. The Prince and the Pauper has plenty of moments that still make me laugh twenty-eight years later. It’s a short that has everything. Easily one of Mickey’s finest moments.

1. The Brave Little Tailor

If I were to point to one short that summed up everything I love about Mickey Mouse, all you need to know about him, and why he’s so great, The Brave Little Tailor would be it.

Due to a simple misunderstanding, Mickey is thrust into the role of reluctant hero, one who must face down a killer giant no less. But if most of what the previously mentioned shorts have shown, Mickey’s nothing more or less than the perfect underdog. And when he gets into action, he’s like a cartoon blend of Chaplin, Keaton and Fairbanks – not a coincidence as the former two were big influences on early Mickey. Scared though he is, he rarely panics. Instead he relies on his greatest strengths to save the day – his quick thinking, nimbleness from his diminutive stature, and his loyal, caring heart. There’s a reason why I chose this particular thumbnail for this entry. No matter how many times I see this enamored incarnation of Minnie shower her champion with kisses, making him stumble around dizzily and cheerfully cry “Whoopee! I’ll cut ‘im down to my size!” I always, always go “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwww”. It’s just too adorable for words. When you’ve got someone who loves you like Minnie does, you feel like you can take on the world.

I could go on about how the scene where he’s telling the story of how he killed seven with one blow (that’s flies, by the way, not giants) has been studied by animation students and enthusiasts to the point where Junction Point Studios aspired to recreate that level of expression and fluidity when creating Epic Mickey, or how Mickey defeats the giant has been homaged in other shorts as well as the airport fight from Captain America:Civil War, or just that wonderful storybook golden age Disney feel it has from start to finish, but I won’t. By all means, seek out the short and see it all for yourself.

No matter how many times the corporate side of Disney has airbrushed Mickey’s foibles to present him as the bland, perfect company mascot, Mickey’s bravery, kindness, and penchant for attracting trouble has never been fully scrubbed away. Different voice actors, animators, story writers and financial visionaries have come and gone throughout the years, and each has presented their own unique take on the character, but there’s no mistaking the world’s most famous mouse, the one who started it all.

Happy Birthday, Mickey. Here’s to 90 more.

Thanks for reading! What are your favorite Mickey Mouse shorts? Share them in the comments and be sure to follow and check out my Patreon if you want to read more!

My Top 20 Favorite Mickey Mouse Shorts As a lifelong Disney fan I can't understate how much of an impact Mickey Mouse has had on me.

[tcbefree]

hey ! i’m blossom, i’m sixteen, i go by any pronouns, i fell so hard ice skating once that i got an actual gash. i’m on discord @ dios mio #2857 & here on any of my tumblr accounts. this is my introduction to my six character, sky ! read under the cut for about her and some wcs. FIND HER PINTEREST HERE.

( JENNIE KIM, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER ) — ✧ that looks like SKYLAR MCCOY/ARTEMIS CREED! they’re the TWENTY-TWO YEAR OLD DAUGHTER of HANK MCCOY/TAKEN BY VICTOR CREED. [ they are also a UNDERGRAD & PSYCH TA at paragon. ] i hear they’re ADROIT & JOCULAR, but tend to be CRUEL & SELFISH. her file says that her power is GENETIC ATAVISM & GENIUS INTELLIGENCE. { blo’s rly goin thru it }

tw : graphic descriptions of violence, child abuse, and kidnapping, blood, death

i / v.  ｢    background  ! ｣

skylar mccoy is born with desire so deep in her being it leads her to do things she does not want nor understand. above all else, she wants to be free. this does not often line up to the situations she is found in.

her childhood is a mystery hidden in plain sight. her first memory is that field. they lived in a pretty home, nice and big and suited for one hank mccoy. there were always people to be around and her father was always there for her.

born to the silver of the moon, on the summer solstice, are the mccoy twins, famous beyond themselves. hank’s little science experiments. their first cries echoed against the cold walls of the lab and the warm arms of a beast that was not a beast.

skylar helix & margot astra. small, clawed, fanged... twins in every aspect of the word.

in another world, they would have grown up together. learned to love together, learned to drive together, learned to live together. they wouldn’t know despair. they wouldn’t know what it was like to reach for someone who would never be there. they wouldn’t know the shadow of tragedy, the way it sticks to different parts of ones being.

they wouldn’t miss something they could barely remember.

skylar is five when she learns how to get out of it without anyone knowing. she is like her father in many ways, but most importantly, smart beyond her wits. in that time, when she does escape, she wanders, as if her feet are driven by something else. not logical, certainly not. something primal, that shakes her bones.

when she finds that field, she’s six. it’s the only thing she remembers, and later, the only thing she remembers vividly. how it was filled with flowers. it smelt wild. like the modernization hadn’t ever thought to touch it, like it never would dare. and when she is six years old, she is in that field again. it’s close enough to her home that she can get back quick, but far enough that she has to memorize the path.

skylar is much older when the particular memory of meeting him for the first time comes back. but when she had first saw him, ugly and ferocious, she growled, a low thing that vibrated her bones. she thought he was an animal, and he would stalk in the opposite direction at her tone.

whether he was an animal or not, that was up to debate. but that he stood his ground was not.

victor creed was on a mission for the hand when he found her. skylar was alone and little, and everything he could hope for. for skylar didn’t look much human either. she was clawed and fanged and her ears pointed. she fought with urges that were not those that came from the twenty-first century.

she is amazing and intuitive and smart beyond her years, but she does not realize that he’s taking repertoire until he’s baiting her. he steals her and gives her a new identity. after that, skylar mccoy disappears. artemis creed takes her place.

she doesn’t find out for years that she had made news, that for the years that passed someone would put out an article as a reminder of the date, that people really were looking for her. ( SKYLAR MCCOY : MISSING )

victor makes himself the only figure in her young life. everything she does, it depends on him. he orders: to act, to think, to breathe.

artemis, back when it was still artemis, thinks that being with him, of running, living in the woods, it’s an awful lot like being free. she’s not given a home again. she is given a leader. follow him, do what he wants, or else.

she’s seven when she realizes that she is not going back. by the time she is seven, she’s learned the definition of abuse in absolutely chilling detail. she learns, then, survival.

artemis learns something very important about herself. she might be the girl who can’t look people in the eye anymore, who flinches when doors slam, who writes up schemes in her head of the various ways she can bring down her father. she learns that when it came to kill or be killed, she was always going to choose kill.

victor tells her often that she is made for him. he is the reason for her being. artemis, over that next year, her first year with him, kills all her memories of that house in the open, of that father who was a father. of this soul she shared ━ thoughts, tired eyes, a blood curse. she forgets because forgetting is easier.

artemis has a problem, victor always tells her after she does something that ‘ makes ‘ him beat her. ( that will always be her second memory: her, trying to bring herself to her knees. victor, smiling cruelly down at her, hand dripping of blood. )

she can’t obey, he tells her. artemis spits blood and smiles. she’s always been free, she tells him. all her wit gets her is another hit. victor tells her he should be more like victoria.

artemis learns that she is not a girl. she’s the animal her body wants her to be. the claws, and the fangs, and the ears. victor does not care about her intelligence. he cares about how much power she can pack into a punch. how much force it takes her to rip someone’s throat with her teeth. how easily she can sneak up on an enemy.

he’s not the perfect teacher. if she does not get it on the first try, he starves her. or hits her. or anything, really. what he makes up for in intelligence, he has in spades for creativity. but artemis is the perfect student, though.

she meets this perfect ‘ victoria ‘ when she is nine. she, victor tells her, is what you’re going to be. ( skylar does not ask: blank ? caged ? raw ? ) she looks up at her, and artemis thinks to herself that her and victoria, despite being sisters, do not look very much alike.

sisters & not alike. it stands out to her. it feels wrong. 

she wonders about victoria sometimes, after that, when their paths cross again. she grows bitter, in this way she does not want, that she’s second-rate. how can she spend all her time with this man & still not be the best ?

( because she is free, she is free, she is free. she is still skylar mccoy. she has people looking for her. she never learned to listen. her tongue runs before her. his violence can not degrade her spirit. )

when artemis is fourteen, though she does not know that she is fourteen, her father has left her alone in the city and tells her to not return to him until night. this is not out of character of him. artemis, always, comes back to him.

she had wondered at first, why she did it, but the answer was easy. if she didn’t, victor would kill her. she wasn’t his perfect daughter, she was the one that he ‘ saved, ‘ the one he was trying to fix of her own crimes of humanity.

she wanders until she finds a diner and walks inside. she looks as she always does. dirty and wide-eyed, but enough like some other homeless city kid that it does not make people turn.

she orders a soda because that’s the only thing she has enough money for, and sits and waits. the news is on the tv in front of her, so it’s with that she occupies her time. victor doesn’t tell her about things like those. he keeps her shrouded in a bubble. he tells her that people are poison. that anyone but him cannot be trusted, because they’ll lie to girls like her.

she does not have a reason to not believe him, but she is a smart girl, so she knows she also does not have a reason to.

the news roll on and on. it’s mundane. they talk about robberies and jumpings, of people bleeding to death in alleys and on cold linoleum floors. she thinks there are much worse ways to die. the man whose throat she had slashed with her claws two days ago, whose blood was black, whose eyes were wide open the entire time.

then, they talk about something else.  ❝ it’s been eight years to the day, ❞ the news anchor says, voice both sympathetic and void, for it has to be, she thinks. ❝ since prodigy child skylar mccoy, half the famous mccoy twins, went missing from her home in upstate new york. there have been dozens of reports all across the world, but nothing has come up with an answer to where she disappeared. her father, doctor henry mccoy released ― ❞

artemis does not hear the rest. her entire body goes rigid. it sparks something within her that was diminished long ago. the names, so familiar, and as was the story. she feels disoriented and confused, and like she can’t breathe.

artemis drops her few soiled bills in front of her and flees from the diner and throws up right there on the sidewalk. a concerned woman comes up to her, but when artemis growls, she backs away.

she does not remember, not right away, but there’s a part of her that thinks she knows, now. she takes this realization with startling calmness. artemis finds herself walking back to the cabin they have made up stay in. by the time she gets there, it is dark.

the walk clears her head. being in the forest makes her feel better. artemis doesn’t burst into the cabin, demanding answers. she’s too smart for that. she comes in quietly and goes to the space on the floor that victor had allowed her to sleep on. she makes a plan.

artemis, before she goes to sleep that night, figures out three things. three things, that she knows to be irrevocably true. firstly, she was the missing skylar mccoy. second, victor creed was the man who had taken her. third, she was going home, wherever that may be.

it does not happen in the snap of a few months. she needs time. it’s three years until she’s managed to find her opportunity. by then, she is another asset of the hand, officially, though victor is still with her every step.

if she is the weapon, he is the hand wielding her.

she thinks, in part, the time it took her is not just because of the plan. it is also because, deep down, in this undeniable way, she was scared to leave him. he was all she knew. her memories had not come back yet.

when she realizes this, it comes with something else, too. why had she been scared to leave him ? because he had caged her. she was no longer free. she had never been free but had just convinced herself that she was.

so, the plan commences, then, days later, for once and for all. they’re on a mission and skylar pretends to slip up, to fall in battle. she lets herself be brutalized to the brink of death.

victor kills the man who does it, but it’s too late. she lays on the ground as he stands above her. his voice is unapproving and angry.  ❝ a waste, ❞ he says, as her eyes flutter shut. she hears as her breathing slows. victor’s footsteps leave.

skylar, for one terrifying moment, thinks that her plan will actually fail. that she will really die. that getting away from him will be her end. but then she’s being swept into darkness with the lasting thought that, at least, victor will not eat her body.

when she wakes up, it’s to a new world. it must be days later, or at least that’s how it feels. her wounds are mostly healed. she must’ve not been hit in any organs or arteries, then. if she had, she’d be dead. ( it’s just another thing skylar never told victor about. )

she brings herself to her feet. she feels it again. freedom. victor thinks she’s dead. he won’t be coming for her anytime soon ; when he does, she will be protected. she lets out a giddy laugh as she starts to walk, weak and hungry, toward the main road. she walks into the first store she sees and tells them her name and then she asks for a phone.

it’s at the police station that she meets her family again. 

identical eyes met one another. margot. the one who made it. they stand together, arms wrapped around each other. skylar, dirty & beaten, and impossibly, unbelievably alive.

as soon as hank sees her, he cries and she finds herself doing so too, though she has trouble understanding why. 

she tells them a quiet voice that she knew that they looked for her. she tells them she’s sorry. they don’t want to hear it.

she goes back to the house she grew up in. her memories from before are fuzzy, but they come back with time. people re-introduce themselves to her, and sometimes she replies with a memory, and sometimes nothing comes.

the only one that she remembers is margot. or maybe remembers is the wrong word. she’s trying, but it comes easy with her. like she was made to know her. they will never be so close to another being as they were.

margot is always going to be her favorite hiding place. a secret she never wanted to tell.

it had always been that for her. margot was always there. she didn’t remember her the right way, but she was still a fixture. in dreams, flashes of memories, stories she does not remember being told.

warm, brown eyes, a loud peal of laughter, their treehouse...

skylar is candid with them in a way that she knows makes people uncomfortable. she tells her father everything. what victor did to her. that she didn’t remember him or herself for a very long time. that she’s killed people, hundreds, with her bare hands, with her teeth, with knives and beatings, like it was nothing.

no one rejects her. they all speak in common tongues: you did what you had to do to survive. skylar knows that she could have done better, though. she doesn’t tell them that it was easy. that she knew that she had a decision, in those moments. her or them. that she had chosen her, every time, and she would again. she thinks that would make them uncomfortable, too.

they send her to school and to therapists as well, because, naturally. skylar’s, as expected, a genius, just like her father. even advanced subjects manage to bore her. she enjoys math and science, most of all, but school is more of a hobby than anything else for skylar. she prefers doing other things, trying to catch up with everything she lost.

ii / v.  ｢    powers  ! ｣

genetic atavism doesn’t fall over on the ‘ cute ‘ end of the power spectrum, but skylar wouldn’t ever change anything about herself, even if she was willing to at least partially blame victor taking her on how she appeared.

it’s a regression, in a way. to an earlier form. for skylar, it manifests in more animalistic features. claws, fangs, and pointed ears from the day she was born. it’s not the sort of mutation one can hide, not that she’d ever want to.

skylar has never been ashamed of her powers. she never will be. ( if that, in part, is because of victor, well, that doesn’t need to be explored. )

with atavism comes more than looks. she’s enhanced. in speed, strength, agility, senses, and reflexes, just like those of an animal. she has a healing factor, one that saved her life. it’s not very powerful, but it will heal her acceleratedly from any non-mortal wounds.

on the less beneficial end of this spectrum is her animal instincts. they are easily taken advantage of. she’ll have impulses that are not those a normal human posses. she’s an extrovert to the extreme, always drawn to places she deems ‘ wild. ‘ it’s lead to more than a few problems.

iii / v.  ｢    work ! ｣

skylar becomes a person of society again at seventeen. she doesn’t ever attend high school, despite that she is, in fact, back in time to go for one year. they spend a year rehabilitating her, instead.

skylar doesn’t think she needs to be rehabilitated. she has trouble understanding severity. she always has. she hates knowing that what victor did took so much from her.

eleven years of her life, of her childhood, that she will never get back. from ages six to seventeen, she was a ghost because of him.

the trauma she deals with is the one side of the rehabilitation. skylar is deeply scared but has problems with admitting to this. it runs through even the most simple parts of her being.

when she’s seventeen, and she’s been back five months, for the first time since then she manages to anger her father. naturally, it’s because skylar did something she was expressly told not to.

hank does not yell at her, but rather calmly explains why what she did was wrong. skylar, for all her disregard, understands and apologizes. she doesn’t understand why he doesn’t hit her though. when she tells him this, and he looks like he might cry, she doesn’t understand that either.

skylar’s miseducation runs deep. she’s still trying to rectify it.

the other half of her rehabilitation is… school, really. skylar was in kindergarden when she was taken, but she was at a fourth-grade level. catching up is scary easy for her. skylar could still read and write, and everything else had faded with the rest of her memories, but it comes back.

she goes through everything at once. it would take a normal person years what takes her months. she is the daughter of one the smartest people on the planet, mister six phds.

hank lets her go back to school and into paragon after she passes her ged ( a seven & a half hour long test which skylar completes in three after chugging a starbucks espresso ). skylar runs to join margot.

skylar’s father makes a joke about her majoring in psychology. he see’s her suppressed emotion bullshit for what it is: bullshit. so… skylar majors in psychology, just to spite him for it.

she’s twenty-two, but almost completed her degree with the number of credits she has. after this, she’s thinking she’s going to apply to be a school counselor but also go for a biochemistry degree. she’s trying to outdo her dad & sister both.

skylar isn’t very devoted to school ; she considers it rather rudimentary. but she is smart enough to be concerned about her future.

iv / v.  ｢    personality ! ｣

skylar is usually one of the smartest people in the room, but you’d never guess it in a million years. she’s flamboyant and loud. she purposefully misunderstands people in order to make fun of them.

she positively radiates chaotic energy. skylar’s not a girl you bring home to your parents. she’s the girl you only talk to in a party setting. she’s known for being excruciatingly honest. don’t ask her what she thinks unless you’re ready to bear the weight of it.

skylar has problems taking things seriously. she’d rather not be deep or poetic. she can’t stand people she considers downers. she doesn’t want to talk about her feelings. she still, in a way, wants to forget, but this time it’s different.

acknowledging what victor did to her makes it more real than she would like. she doesn’t think she could stand it. of how susceptible she was, how stupid. she let her instincts get the better of her. she was just a little kid, all alone through her own making.

skylar feels responsible. she knows what they would tell her if she aired this: that she is not. she doesn’t need to air this.

but still, for all her frilliness, for all her diversion, for her play-acting at being some useless character, skylar does not hesitate to show her true colors. you don’t want to cross her. she’s gotten in trouble countless times by countless school officials & therapists alike for threatening people with harm.

skylar doesn’t really understand the problem with letting people know how powerful she is, that’s the thing. the girl she put in a chokehold deserved it, she thinks. she doesn’t see the issue.

v / v.  ｢    wanted connections !    ｣

people who knew her from victor ! someone who knew her as artemis. this can range far and wide, from someone with a personal conenction to victor or who just saw them passing through.

people who see thru her nonchalance ! they, for whatever reason, can see past all her fake ‘ fine ‘ bullshit. they call her out on it.

tutor-ee ! she’s a genius, certifiably. against all odds, she still remains a top student at the school. skylar’s definitely tutorted people, now and in the past.

other ! i’m always up for new ideas. if this sparked an interest in you, feel free to message me here or on discord.