#i also have way too many doodles of her snoozing

[humanblt]

day 31: i’m super late bc i kept getting distracted from drawing…. (my bed is the culprit)

[skyler10fic]

The Gift of Time

By Skyler10

Summary: A mysterious Christmas gift transports Carol to a future she needs to see, beginning with waking up in bed next to her superhero-coworker crush on the morning of Christmas Eve!

Notes: In one of many alternate universes to our own, the agents of Shield and Captain Marvel had adventures and lives that are in some ways much the same as the stories we know, but their family relationships and details are slightly different, and a certain witch from Agatha All Along appears! But different. Merry holigays and a happy new queer! :)

(Photo hat tip/prompt credit to the monthly @ficwip 1k image prompt for inspiring this, but the word count is six times that so it does not count for their event. haha)

Read on Ao3

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Cozy and warm in bed, Carol Danvers did not want to wake up. She could tell without even opening her eyes that it was morning, but she felt like it was far too early for that. Stretching and yawning, she wondered where Goose was if not pawing at her face for breakfast to be served. She turned over in the direction of the bedside table with her phone on it, but her arm hit something unexpected.

“Ow,” a female voice next to her mumbled, still half asleep. “I’m awake, geez. Just five more minutes, babe.” 

Carol blinked open her eyes in confusion and shock. The woman in bed with her was very much not awake, but still gorgeous even in her disheveled state. Carol’s eyes adjusted to the light, and her brain slowly caught up with her attraction. Wait. She knew who this was.

“Daisy?” With a caramel tint, her hair looked lighter here up close in the morning sun than it had at work this week.

“Mmhm?” Daisy peeked one eye open and did not in the least seem surprised to see Carol. 

“What do you remember of last night?” 

Daisy smiled and turned on her back to stretch, eyes still mostly closed. 

“C’mon, we didn’t have that much wine first. But if you really did forget, I can do it again.” Daisy turned back to Carol and slid a hand up Carol’s shirt suggestively.  

“I wouldn’t complain,” Carol said, not giving away that she had no idea what Daisy was talking about. There was nothing Carol’s lust wanted more than to find out what that was, but she had to figure out why her coworker crush, Agent Johnson, also known as superhero Quake, was in her bed, or even in her house, first thing in the morning. 

Daisy cuddled into her side and snoozed comfortably as if they did this every day. A flicker of light caught Carol’s eye, and she glanced around the room. The windows were wrong. The decorations were unfamiliar. This wasn’t her room. Or bed. This wasn’t her house at all. Carol tried to keep her pulse calm as her mind raced with what to do next. She knew Daisy’s powers would be able to sense if her body tensed in signals of fear instead of comfort and desire.

“Go back to sleep,” Carol whispered to Daisy as she snuck out of bed. She found the bathroom right outside the bedroom and noted the clear couple’s setup: double sinks, each with a toothbrush and various lotions and makeup and such. Two bath towels, one navy and one baby blue, hung next to the shower. Even Carol herself looked different with shorter hair, parted farther to the side. The mirror was framed with little notes to each other, some in her own handwriting and some in Daisy’s. A few were just doodles of Christmas trees and snowflakes, while others said “Bake cookies for Christmas lunch” and “Saturday, 8 p.m., Shield gift exchange.”

“Oh.” Carol remembered. The gift. The last thing she remembered was opening a mysterious gift… 

—----------------

Late on Christmas Eve, she’d received a cardboard shipping box, no message or name but her own, delivered to her house in Louisiana. Inside had been a gold present box covered in glitter with the warning on a gift tag: Do Not Open Until Christmas! 

Obviously, she had been too curious, and she opened the gift. In her defense, the glitter and glimmer on the box was very shiny. On top of the gold tissue paper had been another warning: “Not for Use Before Christmas Day.”

This, of course, made her even more curious, and Carol Danvers couldn’t resist a challenge. She was only a few hours early. Surely that was close enough. She pulled out the most beautiful snow globe, with a base of elaborately detailed gold and silver. Inside was a scene of two girls kissing in a snowy village. 

Goose meowed and tilted her head. 

“You know,” Carol said to her not-a-cat, “I actually have a coat and hat that look like the blonde one. Now if only I knew who the dark-haired girl was.” The mystery girl’s face was partially hidden by the blonde’s mitten on one side and a gas street lamp on the other. Carol turned it around and around, but there was no way to see. She realized how silly she was being. The real mystery was who sent it and who had been the intended recipient. No name tag or shipping label provided any clues.

“You didn’t order this, did you?” Carol asked Goose. The flerkin blinked back in disinterest and sauntered away. 

Carol turned the snowglobe over to check the bottom for any note or hint, but the only words there were likely from the manufacturer: “Time to shake things up.” 

Out of ideas, Carol did as instructed. She watched in melancholy as the snow inside flurried around. Single and lonely with only her cat(ish) for company was just the stereotype the Christmas rom-com movies started with. But superhero work didn’t leave a lot of room for meeting girls, and she was getting recognized as a celebrity both here on Earth and on other planets, which was awkward in the best of times but nowhere more so than on a first date. And no one would believe her if she signed up for a dating app. 

Besides, her heart was too busy falling for Agent Daisy Johnson. Daisy had helped her with some space missions, and they had come back home to Shield together as intergalactic politics and a massive meteor storm in the forecast made it safer to return to Earth. They’d been assigned to the same team and missions, and the more time they spent working together, the harder Carol fell for her. Daisy had seemed potentially interested and vaguely flirty, but then the holidays came and their team rotated off active duty. As they packed up to go their separate ways, Daisy mentioned being set up with a guy while back home and how much it sounded like a Hallmark movie. She rolled her eyes, and Carol laughed.

“I don’t mean to be a bitch about it, though. He really does sound like a great guy.” Daisy had shrugged. “Who knows, maybe he’ll be the one. Or, I don’t know, have a hot sister. Or some other cheesy Christmas movie plot.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Carol had given her a tight smile, wished her luck and happy holidays, then slung her red duffle bag over her shoulder and left before Daisy could ask about her plans in return. 

Then, the next night, with only a few hours until Christmas Day, Carol had shaken the snow globe while replaying this conversation in her mind and wishing she had the courage to ask Daisy out. Her eyes drifted to her phone, but the circumstances held her back from texting Daisy right that minute. If Daisy said no, or even if she said yes at first and then things didn’t work out between them, it would make their work together awkward, or worse, even more dangerous. They had people’s lives, including each other’s, in their superpowered hands every day. They couldn’t afford to be distracted. 

But still, watching the last faux snowflake fall through the liquid in the glass ball to the sparkling white-painted ground, Carol envied her miniature doppelganger inside the winter wonderland. Her stomach sank as the last flake settled. Then, the glass seemed to glow, but Carol felt woozy, almost like vertigo and being pulled through a funnel at the same time, and closed her eyes.

—---------------

Now, Carol washed her face and held the warm cloth to her forehead, trying to make sense of how she’d gotten from watching the mystery snowglobe in her living room to standing in the bathroom of an unfamiliar home that was clearly her own in this reality, but not the same one she’d had last night.  

“Ready to go?” Carol hazily remembered herself asking. 

“I know exactly how to get warm,” Daisy’s voice echoed in her head. It was fuzzy, like a dream. 

“Hey,” the real Daisy greeted, more awake now, and met Carol’s eyes in the bathroom mirror. “You okay?” 

“I don’t know,” Carol answered honestly. She’d seen a lot of weird stuff in her line of work, and anything—from parallel universes to an AI to someone playing mind games with her to literal magic from a sorcerer or witch—was on the table. Or this might all be an ordinary dream.

“This might sound crazy, but have you ever seen a snowglobe with two women that look like us in the middle, um, kissing? In the snow?” 

Daisy searched Carol’s expression. “You’re joking, right? Sometimes it’s hard to tell before we’re fully awake.” 

“No, I don’t know…” Carol tried to find a way that didn’t sound completely insane. “I guess it was just a dream.” 

“Sounds like a good dream to wake up from on Christmas Eve.” Daisy casually kissed Carol’s cheek and continued about her morning routine. “Oh, don’t forget, we have the Shield party tonight.” 

“Right!” Carol pointed at the sticky note. “And, uhhh, remind me of our plans for today before then?” 

Daisy let out a little laugh. “What happened to Mrs. ‘Drag brunch is our new Christmas tradition!’ hm? Or was that a test? You’re testing me.” 

“I just don’t want to be late,” Carol explained, hoping it would satisfy Daisy’s curiosity. 

Daisy sighed, and Carol realized she’d hit a sore subject. “Let’s not do this today. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re off work. I promise, even if an extraterrestrial criminal mastermind is roaming the streets of Chicago on our way to the restaurant, we will simply walk the other direction, okay? We will not be late.” 

“I trust you.” Carol didn’t know what to say as Daisy turned to her and took her left hand. Daisy slipped a ring on it, and Carol noticed Daisy wore one as well. Okay. So this wasn’t just spending the night with her girlfriend or even just living together. Both of the rings were untarnished, intact, and clean, clearly reserved for their days off. Carol noted the more durable, casual silicon rings in the jewelry dish on the counter. Ah. 

Daisy noted her awe and misinterpreted. “I just assumed we’d wear these today…”

“Yes! I do!” Carol said a little too fast. “I mean, I do want to wear these. They are perfect. Just so perfectly us. I love them.” She tried to hide her delighted grin, but she couldn’t help it. 

Daisy sent her another “you’re being weird” look and walked out of the bathroom toward the kitchen. “Coffee time!” 

—- 

Carol played along the best she could during brunch. Daisy drove on the way there, which allowed Carol time to scroll through the phone camera roll of this new-and-improved version of herself. She had learned from the phone that this was Christmas 2027, but luckily, smartphones still worked in essentially the same ways. The photo cloud app told her that she and Daisy were married last spring with a honeymoon in Hawaii. She scrolled further back, seeing coworkers and friends she recognized who were apparently now married or even parents themselves, and some friends she didn’t know. A lump formed in her throat as an unspoken question was answered in two photos: the first of a frame on a wall with a familiar cat collar inside and another of a headstone with an etched image of Goose and an epithet to a beloved extraordinary pet that must have left the engravers thinking it was a prank. 

Carol rushed on to the previous months, not wanting Daisy to notice her sudden sadness, but the emotional pendulum swung the other direction to the previous Christmas with Daisy’s family, then an adorable autumn romantic photoshoot, and a summer engagement before that. It struck Carol that to the average observer, they would have just looked like an ordinary couple. Even with no memory of these events, though, Carol could spy little hints of their hero life sneaking through. The sky of the autumn photoshoot, for example, had two white dots in the background and a third larger moon-like circle on the opposite side. It had to be Galadna, home of the most beautiful autumn festivals and plentiful harvest, which they traded for seafood and hydropower from their sister planet, Aladna. Of course this reality’s Carol would have taken Daisy to visit, and gotten Prince Yan’s annulment paperwork and gender-neutral royal succession legislation passed, before their wedding. What else would a hypothetical future with Daisy look like?

It wasn't the first time Carol had seen photos of herself in a life she didn't remember, but this was different. C arol felt like she was cramming for a test as they parked at the restaurant. She quickly swiped as far back as it would go and sent the tiny photo previews flying across the screen until they landed on something familiar: Christmas 2024. Goose in a Santa hat with a displeased expression, followed by photos of her house in Louisiana decorated just as she remembered it, but then there was a series of screenshots she didn’t. She read them as they walked through the parking garage. 

Daisy: At the cafe, about to meet up with Mr. Hallmark Holiday Special. ;P 

Then a little later: Hm, it’s been 20 minutes and no sign.

Oh wait, just had a text. His ex is back in town and they are meeting up tonight. Of course! I’m not the main girl. I’m the one who proves he’s ready to get back out there. Ah well, just my luck. 

A selfie of a beautiful Daisy dressed up for her date and alone in a cozy, warmly lit, holiday-decorated cafe accompanied a Wish you were here! 

Sorry if I’m disturbing your Christmas Eve! I’ll stop.

Carol hadn’t replied to any of these, which only added to her questions. Why hadn’t Past Carol responded? Clearly, things worked out in the end, but she needed more answers if this was some sort of vision from the Ghost of Christmas Future or possible alternate reality or message from fate! 

Thankfully, the drag brunch crowd was loud and fun, with plenty of entertainment that helped her avoid any more revealing conversations. Carol had a hard time enjoying the performance and food, though, distracted by her need to find the snow globe in this universe/dream world/virtual reality. If it was a portal to somewhere or a magical item or a well-disguised tech device (or even a weapon?), there was one way out. Decades of experience with the weird, supernatural, and extraterrestrial told her the first problem was acquiring the object, then returning to the trigger point. Flying to Louisiana, even if she could manage it without Daisy noticing she was gone, would be pointless without the snowglobe, she reasoned. Of course, if it was an alternate reality without the snowglobe, or a one-way portal, the trigger to reverse it could be something totally different here. 

Daisy took her hand under the table as the waitress cleared their plates from the table. “Back to Earth, space girl. You’re a million miles away today.” 

“Sorry.” Carol smiled at Daisy and played it off as simple distraction. “What did I miss?” 

“Elena was explaining her family’s Christmas traditions in Colombia,” Daisy filled Carol in as the others at the table continued the conversation—Elena’s husband, Mack; Fitz and Jemma, whom Carol knew from Shield back in 2024; Bobbi and Hunter, who had been on one disastrous yet successful mission with Carol and their presence in the friend group in 2027 amused her; and the newcomer, Fitz’s cousin Deke who was visiting for their holidays.   

“We’re all meeting in Miami for New Year’s this year at my cousin’s. It’s going to be a big Rodriguez family reunion,” Elena finished and turned the conversation to Carol instead, “How about the Danvers family holidays? What are your old childhood traditions?” 

“Oh uh,” Carol scrambled. Finally something she knew, and it was a topic she’d rather avoid. “Nothing much. Just the usual, I guess.”

Daisy jumped in. “We usually do Christmas with mine, but my parents took my mom’s parents on a trip to China this year and we’re on our own.” 

“I never really got along with my family.” Carol shrugged. She looked to Daisy to verify this hadn’t changed, but the others took it as a hint that it had something to do with Carol’s orientation. It wasn’t that so much as not being the kind of daughter they wanted. Growing up to be a lesbian teen and young adult in the 1980s had simply been the icing on the estrangement cake. She’d never been their ladylike pageant princess, and besides, they’d been informed by the Air Force that she died in 1989, and they hadn’t made contact in all the times she’d been back to Earth as a famous superhero. Carol wasn’t surprised their brunch friends wouldn’t have known this though. Most people didn’t realize how old Carol really was since she didn’t age like a normal human. Daisy had the same trait, a fact that had kept Carol up at night wondering if it was a sign they were meant for each other. To avoid the age question, it was simply easier to give as few details as possible. That had served her well on a normal day and was proving to be the trick to surviving this weird future too. 

Another of their friends, Jemma, spoke up: “They got together on Christmas, you know.”

Thank goodness Jemma’s analysis skills transferred to reading the awkward situation and calculating a smooth segue. Carol mouthed back a silent “thank you!”

Deke leaned forward and insisted, “Tell the story, c’mon, you can’t leave us hanging, Granny!��� 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “He calls me that because I knit, and apparently 10 p.m. is too early for bed unless you’re a grandmother.” 

Carol turned her real question into a teasing one, “I’m still dying to hear the story about the women who got together on Christmas.” 

She winked at Daisy and squeezed her hand, hoping she was passing off her information gathering as a game. However, the waitress arrived with their digital checks on a portable payment device, and Carol had to rein in her frustration at the timing. She had to know what she’d done between Christmas 2024 when she’d saved Daisy’s unanswered texts in her photos app and spending Christmas 2026 with Daisy’s parents and grandparents in her hometown, presumably planning their wedding in a few months’ time. 

“It’s my favorite Christmas story,” Daisy flirted back as they waited for their turn to tap their phones to the payment device. The design of the thing was different now, but it was close enough to the 2024 version, and Carol had used tech from all sorts of planets in distant galaxies, that she could easily fake her way through using it as if this was her ordinary home world and time.  

So she thought. The payment device beeped a clear error tone as she tried to pay for her breakfast and for Daisy’s. 

“Hm, that doesn’t usually happen.” Carol blushed. She had the right orders selected on the screen, her payment app had automatically launched as it sensed the device within a few inches of her phone, and it said she had money in her account. 

“Oh!” Daisy laughed. “You added mine to yours. One at a time.”

Carol’s confusion must have accidentally shown through. Daisy paused and observed her closely. 

“You remember everyone has to use their own card now, right? The new consumer ID tracking laws?” 

“Right!” Carol shrugged. “New laws. And tech! Changing all the time! Hard to keep up with all the places we’ve been; everywhere is different.”  

She hoped that was vague enough, whether they were back to space travel or not by now. 

Daisy added with a half-laugh, “Just like that time in Havana! Ugh, right?” 

Carol knew that old Nick Fury code word. She played along, hoping it was a coincidence. Hoping Daisy didn’t know it. Carol finished the transaction silently and passed the device to Daisy, who did the same, but on their way out, Daisy took Carol’s gloved hand and pulled her in the opposite direction of the parking garage. 

“C’mon, it’s the last day the Christmas market is open!” Daisy’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and the sudden chill of the air around them mirrored the cold fear in Carol’s bones.

“Honey, it’s freezing!” Carol pled. “Let’s go home. We have that party tonight...” 

Daisy led her around a corner into an alley. Carol followed, hand in hand, helpless to resist if she was going to find out what was going on here. An opening in the dark brick of the alley led to an empty brick building with a hole in the wall where a door would normally be and no glass in the steel-framed windows. It looked like it had been…

The thought was cut off as Daisy pulled Carol in close by the lapels of her coat and kissed her deeply. Carol couldn’t think, she couldn’t panic, she couldn’t do anything but kiss Daisy like her life depended on it. She’d been waiting and wanting so long, dreamt of it a thousand times, nearly closing the distance between their lips on dozens of occasions. Now, whether she lived or died here in 2027, she had kissed a version of Daisy Johnson and her Christmas wishlist was complete. 

The dreamy butterflies faded as Daisy backed away. There was a glint in Daisy’s eye and tension in her brow that sent Carol's internal alarm bells clanging. 

“I thought so,” Daisy whispered.

Before Carol could react, Daisy stretched out a hand and quaked Carol with lightning speed, pinning her against the inside wall. 

She demanded, “Who are you? What have you done with her?” 

Carol hadn’t considered the possibility that she was the imposter here. “ I’m Carol Danvers. What I’ve been trying to figure out is who are you? What is this place? AI? Wish fulfillment tech? Parallel universe? I’ve seen it all, but nothing as real as this.” She struggled against the harmless but firm quake holding her captive. 

A flicker of doubt crossed Daisy’s expression before it hardened. She raised the quake, pushing Carol up the wall six feet, then ten. “I’m going to let go now…” 

Again, with no time to speak, Daisy released the quake. This time, Carol knew exactly what to do. She ignited and hovered in place with a cocky smile. “Good. You know I can fly, and you clearly have the same powers here. I’m going to come down now, and you’re not going to crush me into the Earth, okay? Let’s just talk.” Carol floated back to Daisy, who still tensed in suspicion, but allowed it. 

Daisy’s voice edged on emotion as she demanded, “Who. Are. You? You look like my wife. You feel like her. But you’re not Carol Danvers. I know Carol Danvers. Better than anyone.” 

“It’s me! Daisy, I swear it’s me. Listen, I don’t know how I got here, but you have to believe me.”

“Don’t lie! You called me honey five minutes ago. You didn’t know how to work the tech you were so against, but it wasn’t in protest. You really didn’t know back there, did you? You didn’t remember drag brunch, I could tell you didn’t know any of those stories, and you didn’t sing along to our Christmas songs. You scrolled your phone on the whole way here and barely talked to me. You didn’t recognize your wedding ring!” Daisy was losing control of her emotions and the building tremored the slightest bit, sending a light rumble through the winter air. Carol tried to speak but Daisy couldn’t stop, pleading now. “You don’t kiss the way my wife kisses me. You didn’t remember the snow globe ? If you’re Carol, my Carol, what happened to you?”      

Carol’s voice cracked as she answered. “You’re asking the wrong question.” 

“What's the right one then?” Daisy’s breath huffed out a mist in the cold air.

The snow outside caught Carol’s eye, falling into place like the puzzle pieces in her mind as she spoke: “It’s not what happened to me, but what hasn’t.”

Daisy started to speak, but Carol took Daisy's gloved hands in her own.

“Just hear me out. The last I remember, it was Christmas Eve 2024, only a few hours to Christmas Day. I asked you first thing this morning about the snow globe because I’d just opened a box with one inside. A snow globe with us in the middle. And, I know this sounds crazy, but I think it brought me here.” 

Daisy stared at Carol in awe. “This is where you went that night? Why you didn’t answer my texts? I knew it didn’t take you that long to … Wait, I don’t know how much I’m supposed to tell you. I’ve traveled in time before and things got very complicated. If you’re you from 2024, there’s a lot that you shouldn’t know yet.” 

“Actually…” Carol wetted her lips subconsciously. “I think that’s why I’m here, because there were things I needed to know.” 

“Like what? A portal sent you through time and space so you could learn how to kiss me like you mean it?” Daisy was trying to be sarcastic, Carol knew, but with their bodies drawing closer and closer in the cold, and consequently, their lips this close together, it sounded like a sincerely tempting offer. 

“No, to teach me that I could mean it without the world ending.” Carol dared to kiss Daisy again, but let her take the lead, noting even the slightest movement of her lips and tongue and hands. 

“Okay, c'mon then,” Daisy whispered as they parted. She led Carol out the opposite side of the brick building with an identical crumbling hole in the wall as the door they’d entered through. 

“Was this you?” Carol couldn’t help but ask as they walked through it. 

“Us.” Daisy grinned and pointed up. A series of large scorch marks was clearly intended to be proof Carol had been here and battled something large, aerial, or both. 

Daisy led them around a corner and Carol gasped in delight as a winter wonderland stood before them. This was like no Christmas market Carol had ever seen. The snow had piled up over days in the plaza and along the neighborhood sidewalks and storefronts with elaborate holiday window displays. It was falling again now, and shoppers around them bustled around with packages and hot beverages in hand, purchased from stands advertising cocoa, wassail, hot toddies, and more. Every lamppost was wrapped in garland and ribbon, and topped with a wreath, and music began to play as they wandered. 

Daisy stopped in front of a faux cottage serving as one of dozens of seasonal gift shops. “If anywhere has a snow globe to replace the one we lost, it’s here.” 

“Wait, what do you mean lost?”  

Daisy worried her lip and tilted her head. “We don’t know. We put it out every year, but this year, it just wasn’t in any of the boxes. Everything else was there except the decoration that meant the most to us. It was a rough couple of days, looking everywhere we could think of, but it was gone.”

“What makes you think this place would have it? It was pretty unique.” 

“Same brand.” Daisy pointed to the sign. “That’s who made the first one.” 

A crafter’s logo, a name but so scripted it was nearly illegible, served as a mark of authenticity under the shop name: Shake Things Up. 

“Let’s go in.” Carol figured at worst, they would have plenty of time inside to warm up as they shopped. 

Inside was an old-fashioned wood cashier’s counter with a grand gold register, behind which the shopkeeper greeted them with a jolly smile. “There you are! It’s Lilia. Lilia Calderu?” 

“Hi?” Carol was certain in all the long decades of her life, across civilizations and empires, she’d never met this woman. 

All the same, the woman clearly knew her. “Oh Carol, you’ve done remarkably well. Not that I expected anything less from Captain Marvel.” 

“Let’s keep that quiet,” Carol said, glancing around. Her identity wasn’t a secret, but she liked to stay low-key where she could and hadn’t been recognized yet by the public masses around her. 

“Of course.” The shopkeeper turned to Daisy, somber now. “And you, Agent Johnson, are looking for this.” 

Lilia disappeared behind a curtain to a back room and reappeared with a gold glitter-covered box that Carol recognized. 

Something about Lilia’s focus on Daisy kept her quiet, however. She watched as Daisy accepted the box and Lilia raised a gentle hand to Daisy’s face, red from the cold. 

“Have faith,” Lilia said, as if it was a blessing and instruction. She seemed to snap out of the mystical persona and back into shopkeeper mode. “Now, that’s $55, plus $15 for shipping and handling, and of course, instructions for resetting the clock are inside.” She raised her eyebrows as if they were in on the joke.  

“Thank you.” Daisy paid with her phone, and they left the shop without browsing for anything else. 

“Whoa.” Carol was certain it had been daylight when they had entered the shop, but now, seemingly only a few minutes later, they exited to a dark, snowy early evening. Most of the shoppers had gone home by now, with only a few wandering from shop to shop, and staff in holiday costumes bantered about their day while closing up for the day. 

"We better get home for the Shield party, I guess," Daisy said, checking her phone for the time. "Time really flies by here."

They wandered through the market in the direction of their parking garage and passed through a grove of Christmas trees under a canopy of lights. 

“Hey,” Carol pulled Daisy to the side. “I don’t know what is going to happen with what’s in that box, or even how to make it work. Or if it will. I just want to say, today with you has been a miracle.” 

“A Christmas miracle?” Daisy smiled. “You were my Christmas miracle. That’s the story Jemma was going to tell. You saw my texts and flew right to me that Christmas Eve I got stood up, and I knew as soon as you walked in that cafe that you were the one I wanted. It couldn’t have been anyone else for me but you. You know, I’d always assumed that you didn’t respond because you were flying, but the timeline didn’t make sense. Now I know. You were here, right now, with this me.” 

“So you’re saying, if I get home, I’ll have those texts on my phone waiting for me?” 

Daisy shrugged. “If you do, remember, it’s the same the one we went to when we were the Welcome Wagon to that inhuman kid.” 

“She was looking for you so she could skip high school and become an enhanced agent,” Carol recalled. “She nearly passed out when she saw us.” 

“You know, that Christmas, she was telling everyone in town that she was being recruited for superhero service by Captain Marvel’s girlfriend.”   

“And you never corrected her?” 

“Maybe I wanted it to be true. And then it was.” 

Carol couldn’t resist pulling Daisy in for a kiss. They had been walking side by side, so it was an awkward angle, but they adjusted. Whether they really had a magic snow globe portal time machine waiting for them in that box, or if they simply froze to death in the cold of the Chicago winter wonderland Christmas market, Carol would regret not taking the opportunity while she had it. 

Daisy leaned into the kiss and Carol could tell she wasn’t simply teaching, but enjoying. Carol acted instinctively as her lips sucked at Daisy’s, in a move that was apparently just right. The box Daisy was holding shook with a little involuntary quake of surprise and pleasure, and the snow globe inside began to glow. 

“Ready to go?” Carol asked. 

“I know exactly how to get warm,” Daisy flirted. They parted, intending to walk to the parking garage, but they both felt lightheaded for a split second. They closed their eyes, and the fabric of reality slipped away into darkness.  

—------------ 

Carol woke to the sound of Goose meowing and her phone vibrating on the coffee table with an incoming text. Groggy, Carol saw the snow globe on the table and then saw her phone light up. Who’d be texting her this late on Christmas Eve? 

Daisy. 

Wish you were here! 

Carol bolted upright as she saw the message with the selfie. She knew with unshakable conviction that she was supposed to go fulfill Daisy’s Christmas wish. And that wish would be the Christmas miracle she’d been looking for herself. Carol packed clothes and makeup for a date but wore her supersuit to fly in. At the last minute, she impulsively grabbed the snow globe. Even if this went poorly, she could use the excuse that it was Daisy’s Christmas gift she’d forgotten to give her. 

Carol shot through the sky like a meteor, high over the towns and cities of America. The next day, children would tell of watching for Santa long after they should have been in bed, and seeing instead the flight of the Christmas star. 

She dimmed herself as best she could as she approached and landed in the back of the cafe, at the delivery entrance. She changed hastily between parked delivery vans, then did her makeup and tamed her hair in the side mirror of one. She stuffed her supersuit in her bag and snuck around to the front of the building. The windows revealed a date-ready gorgeous Daisy with hunched shoulders and an empty mug on the table.

Carol’s heart broke seeing her like this. Daisy checked her phone one last time, and Carol realized by now Daisy knew her date wasn't coming. She was looking for a reply from her. To those unanswered texts. Daisy put her phone in her purse and started to gather her belongings to prepare to leave. Carol knew it was now or never. With a deep breath for confidence, she opened the door of the cafe, which announced her presence with jingle bells. 

At the sound, Daisy looked up casually, not expecting the person she locked eyes with. Carol rushed to her table, and Daisy rushed toward her in return, wrapping her in a hug they both desperately needed. Carol tentatively placed the lightest of kisses on Daisy’s lips. “Merry Christmas, Daisy Johnson.”

“You came!” Daisy pulled her in and kissed her harder. By now, Carol's dream-liked memories of Christmas Eve 2027 had faded in the same way ordinary dreams do, and yet, Carol remembered something about exactly how Daisy liked to be kissed. She couldn’t have said how she knew it. She just did. Carol let instinct guide her lips and the cafe began to clap around them. 

One older waitress, with a nametag that said Lilia, called out, “She better have a good excuse for keeping you waiting so long, sweetheart!” 

They laughed as they pulled apart. Carol remembered what was in her bag. 

“I do. I had to be home to open a mystery gift for both of us.” 

Daisy’s curiosity turned to wonder as Carol revealed the snow globe. 

“How?” Daisy sat back down as Carol placed it on the table, and they watched the snow fall around the miniature versions of themselves. Carol sat across from her and sighed happily. 

“Honestly, I have no idea. I just knew it was meant to guide me to you, somehow. Then you texted with that picture, and I thought I’d grant your Christmas wish.” Carol winked, hoping she was reading the situation right. 

“I gotta admit, I didn’t expect such fast delivery. Five stars.” 

“Does that come with a tip?” Carol pushed. They’d been flirty before, but this held an underlying seriousness that had never been there before. 

Daisy considered it, tracing her fingers over Carol’s on the table in light touch that made Carol’s heart race. “It does, actually, one I’ve been saving to share with someone special. But we’d need to go back to my place for it, plus two glasses and a corkscrew. You’d have to stay over though, never drink and fly.”  

“Safety first, always.” Carol hardly knew what she was saying. All she could hear was Daisy’s low, sultry voice inviting her over for drinks and possibly more, including a sleepover.

Daisy paid her check, and Carol stored the snow globe back in her bag. 

“Ready to go?” Carol asked.

Lilia the waitress wished them Merry Christmas and urged them to bundle up before leaving.

“I know exactly how to get warm,” Daisy said, though Lilia was out of earshot as she tended to the other customers celebrating the holiday together. Carol was the intended audience anyway, and the odd familiarity of the words comforted her. She couldn’t place why exactly, but somehow she knew that by walking out of that cafe side by side with Daisy, this was going to be the happiest Christmas thus far of her long life. 

Inside the cafe, a “waitress” who had lived much longer than Carol could imagine, the benevolent witch Lilia Calderu, watched them in satisfaction through the decorated cafe window, knowing that not only would they have a magical holiday this year, but also Daisy and Carol, together with friends and family, would make many, many more.

[4lph4kidz]

uhhhh character ask uhhh roxy

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod

Anamanaguchi - Meow - it’s chiptune, it’s fun, it’s even got meow noises - seems like its Roxycore to me.

Evanescence - Bring me to Life - I think Roxy would be able to appreciate this track both ironically and sincerely in equal measure.

Tangerine Dream - Thermal Inversion - for some reason I feel like Roxy would like old electronica and synth stuff. Maybe experimental prog rock too? It’s possible these kinda vibes just remind me of the Roxy: Sleepwalk flash, though

the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep – where they’re not supposed to

Falling asleep at inconvenient times was more of a problem for her when she was dealing with alcoholism, but she might still have a tendency to drift off now and then. (Not literally, at least, not anymore.) But yeah. Sitting and looking wistfully out of the window with a beverage becomes an accidental snooze that gives her a crick in her neck for the rest of the day. 

the game they'd destroy everyone else at

She’d give you a run for your money no matter what you played. Board or video, Roxy’s game. But she cares about having fun more than winning. 

I think she does some fighting game moves in S Collide? So I’m gonna say she’s especially good at those. Put Roxy Lalonde in Smash.

the emoticon they’d use most often

;3 wink wonk

what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep

Very foggy and unfocused. It’s hard for her to stay awake.

their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.

Coffee, maybe? 

how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump

I’m not sure. Roxy seems like she’d have a wide range of things she’d do to cheer herself up and re-energise. Cuddling up with plushies for some downtime, going out and doing something fun or exciting to take her mind off things, spending time with her friends and family... Maybe even a dash of mad science... 

what they wanted to be when they grew up

I’m not sure if Roxy really... had many expectations for her future. :( She seemed to like the idea of parenthood. I also think she’d want a career in science like her altself. 

their favourite kind of weather

I’m not sure, so I’m going to say cloudy weather, but in a cool way where it’s refreshing as opposed to dark and shitty, because that’s my favourite kind of weather. 

(I’ve answered the last three prompts with ‘I’m not sure’ - Roxy’s Void aspect is showing) 

thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)

I think she has a pretty good alto voice. AND she can rap. 

how/what they like to draw or doodle

She likes to do silly doodles to illustrate her fanfics in canon I think. So i’ll hc her also also having an affinity for doodling cats, wizards, and cat wizards. And also those kinds of abstract squiggly patterns that are fun to mindlessly draw. 

[doorsclosingslowly]

Hell is just a beat away (3/9)

Despite early promise, young Maul has turned out to be a disappointment, willfully delaying his training with secret attempts to make himself friends from scrap metal. He must be properly motivated, and so Darth Sidious sends him to a slave market on an impossible mission. It backfires. Star Wars: Darth Maul (2017) comic AU | 5.2k | warning for slavery, sexual assault of a teenager (non-graphic)

Ten to doomsday, moving fast

Eldra does not sleep. She refuses. If she has to bite her fingers bloody when her eyelids threaten to drop, then so be it. Master Fyaar would have chastened her for it—she always insists that Eldra be at her best regardless of circumstance, and staying awake for what must be more than one or two entire standard days now will help with neither her innate distractibility nor her willful emotions. Her secret inadequacy, unknown to all but Fyaar, who chose Eldra when she was ten and had yet to develop the mind that is, and she has rarely admitted to those fears even in the privacy of her own brain, the mind that is perhaps fundamentally unsuited to the noble path of the Jedi. Sure, she does well enough in her classes, though she drives her teachers to frustration with her incessant fiddling with any trinket at all within her reach and her doodling and her daydreams. Sure, she mostly behaves acceptably among people, though she does not pick up on the right cues to be a diplomat and she vacillates too often between excited talking and secret loneliness, when she, once again, finds her peers more interested in each other than in whatever she has wanted to share. Her one friend in the Order is Bayro who’s two years older, though now she’s not even sure if Bayro would see her as more than a friendly, clingy acquaintance, and—

Will Bayro even miss her? They’ve made plans to watch a holovid after Eldra’s back from Teth and Bayro aces the Advanced Test on Coruscant Sublevels 6665 through 7900. Vague plans, though, and since Eldra didn’t know how long she’d have to guard Mayor Woobudg… Bayro will probably notice in a few months that Eldra hasn’t returned to the Temple, and then watch the holovid with one of her many other friends. She’ll—

Watch your feelings, Eldra, she remembers. It hurts. The memory of Master Fyaar hurts worse than even the imaginary indifference of Bayro does, but it’s necessary. As ever, Master Fyaar’s warning is right, even if it’s only the ghost of Fyaar living on inside Eldra’s grief. Eldra almost lost her calm over a scenario of her own imagination, yet another reminder of her unsuitable mercurial temperament. Yet another reminder of why she needs Fyaar, needs her constant watch, if she wants to remain on the path of the Jedi.

And Master Zalandas Fyaar is dead.

Fyaar’s dead.

Eldra watched her murder, and the murder of everyone she was supposed to protect on this mission. Eldra watched her murder and did not reach for the dark side of the force to avenge her. Eldra watched and held still.

Eldra allowed herself to be abducted.

She does not sleep in her tiny cell, just as she didn’t sleep on the freight ship that carried her to an unknown planet far away from bloodied Teth. She didn’t sleep then as stubbornly as she does now, but even before her wide-open burning eyes the pictures will not stop. The blood. The touch. The grin of her vile captor when he said that she would fetch a tidy sum, despite being a blue twi’lek (“A dime a dozen, they are, and this one’s not even a trained dancer! She hasn’t even… look!” Her captor had pulled her upper lip away then, and she had snapped for his fingers. “She’s still got those awful sharp teeth! Who the hell lets a twi’lek girl walk around with sharp teeth? She could tear a guy’s throat out, with these!”) she would still be worth a quick sale to her captors but only because she is (was) a Jedi padawan, and apparently there are quite a few pieces of shit out there who’d like to hurt a Jedi. Or—she keeps her eyes open, open, open till tears threaten to drop, and yet the thought comes. Or fuck one. Same difference.

A toy that’s padawan-shaped. That’s why they let her keep her own robes. But at least they did.

Watch your feelings, but still, Eldra shakes to her very core. She’s never thought of herself as being anything but a person, slightly inadequate perhaps in all ways that matter to her but a person; a luminous being, a small conduit for the very force to act through in the material galaxy; but now she’s been caught and taught that what she is is actually just a twi’lek girl. Cheap. Interchangeable. Nothing but her species and her gender, nothing but her flesh: a pretty dancer, never mind she hates dancing and if she ever makes it out, if the Jedi find and rescue her, please, please, she will never ever dance not even a single one of those silly novelty dances ever again even if Bayro does it first. She’ll go to whatever lengths needed to never be appraised, judged, looked upon, perceived as anything but a luminous dutiful Jedi ever again.

To these people, she’s not a person. Not a Jedi, unless the fetish counts, not really, not to the slavers and—watch your feelings, but still, the seething disgust returns and she wants nothing more than her lightsaber through her captor’s hearts or their hands torn off by her teeth—perhaps, maybe, please no, not truly anymore either to herself.

⁂

Maul wakes up to insistent beeping. He’s never heard the noise before, except—somewhere behind the headache and the nausea he remembers—except roughly five minutes ago, and five minutes before that, and five minutes before… He’s read about those periodical noises. Snooze button on an alarm clock, they’re called. He’s never used them before. He’s never used—Master teaches that a slothful tool is a tool broken, useless, and he’s never before dared to oversleep, even with his throat swollen and filled with mucus he didn’t, but now—it is a mercy he does not deserve, that Master was not here to witness Maul fail so deeply on this mission and just because something beats a booming drum inside his head and stuffed his stomach full of eels twisting up languidly through his esophagus.

Not real eels, though. He checks his vomit after throwing up. No eels. No animals hatched inside him; it’s just an inconvenient illness. And he feels better already, after spewing out the clear oily water and half-digested bread and no eels whatsoever. He does feel much better. Definitely. Illness during his mission would be inconvenient.

He has ample time to travel to the palace of Xev Xrexus before the padawan is sold there. Time he is grateful for, because Master’s ship will not let him in, so he has no access to his stilts or anything else he prepared apart from his cloak and the vocoder mask he carried in his satchel to the convenience store like a talisman of ingenuity and pretense. He doesn’t have his finest Sith robes that he left safe inside, only to be worn in the moment of Darth Maul’s triumph, and most of his weapons, too, apart from one anonymous knife strapped to his shin, are still tidied away in the ship Master gave him that will now pulverize anyone who dares approach.

Luckily, Maul is both incredibly clever—he figured out the location of the padawan! Despite Master giving him a wrong date and location! Solely by his own superior Sith cunning!—and he is within another sucker’s ship now—he sliced the lock in minutes! Because he is Darth Maul!—and the ship is full of new tools for improvisation.

Such as the large pair of black sunglasses that helps guard him at least slightly against the sun’s sickening poking and poking and poking of his cerebral cortex. Such as the trio of black shirts that, belted with a strange deltoid strip of fabric, bulk up his frame considerably and also make him feel toasty warm. Nar Shaddaa is cold, but Maul isn’t. Yet another victory to add to his tally.

With the gloves and the vocoder mask and the Sith cloak added on top, every square centimeter of Maul’s flesh is covered, and as he struts in front of the berth mirror he decides: he looks both incredibly dignified and scary, not to himself obviously but to those forcenull denizens of the underworld who will yet learn to tremble before the almighty Sith. He looks almost as impressive as Master. He doesn’t have the pale chin lurking under his cowl, obviously the most Sithly of looks, but in a pinch the black leather covering his cheeks and the opaque gridded speaker over his mouth should do almost as well.

Before he leaves, he ransacks the ship. No point in abandoning tools he might yet use. Everything he can carry, he stuffs inside his satchel.

Then, he begins the long pedestrian march to the palace of Xrexus. As usual, while he walks, he seethes in the Sithly anger of how much faster he could go if only he had a decent speeder bike. Soon, he reminds himself. Soon. After the oncoming awesome success of this mission, Master will be impressed enough to bestow the title of Darth and gift him a CK-6 swoop bike tuned up to the limits of terrestrial speed. Soon. Besides, with how slow the nausea is to settle, it’s perhaps a tiny bit useful that he is forced to take this brisk long walk in the Nar Shaddaa morning air. Although his coat and shirts fluttering with the speed of his bike would look very cool… He loses himself in his daydreams, and before long, he spies a duo of falleen in white dress shirts and black pants before the palace that belongs to Xev Xrexor.

The most adventurous part of his mission has just begun.

“Greetings,” Maul growls haughtily with the handsome baritone of his vocoder. “I have chosen to purchase a Jedi slave today. I trust this is the location for these sorts of errands?”

“Are you on the guest list?” the left falleen asks.

Guest list? Yet another complication. But Maul must not fail. “I am Ma Goweelr,” he says, borrowing the name of the man whose ship he ransacked. He found an identification card with his name on it and wisely brought it with him. He pulls it out now.

“You don’t look like Goweelr, friend,” she says.

“Unfortunately, I had… an accident.” Blast. They cannot see his face, so tt’s the height issue again. If Maul had his stilts, he could have made his way through easily, but because Master saw fit to lock the ship—no, it’s not Master’s fault. Because Maul was stupid enough to leave his tools aboard the ship, he now falters. What to do. What to do. What to—

“He’s slow,” the other bouncer whispers to his partner, but loudly enough that Maul heard it without issue. He stares intently at Maul, almost if he was expecting a specific reaction.

The left falleen winks. “All right. A little grease in the palm goes a long way, friend.”

Grease? Necessary for the function of machines. Cooking, apparently, also. Often a type of fat, either animal or plant-based, though hydrocarbons mined on certain planets or synthesized in labs such as Corellia’s X-Tech Max nowadays are a far more affordable and controllable—

“He’s dumb, Brighta. We don’t care whether you’re on the guest list. We want a bribe.”

A… Maul’s certain he read about bribes somewhere, but—

“Cash. Money. Credits.”

Credits! Maul found some on the ship. Since they were light enough, he put them in his satchel. The force is with him! He pulls out the chits he found, rummaging in a perhaps less than dignified way—the falleen exchange a look over his head that he’s too busy to try to read, but it doesn’t seem hostile—and when he hands over five thousand credits their vague non-hostility turns to genuine excitement.

“House Xrexus is honored to host you for this auction, sir,” the male falleen says when he opens the door.

“As am I,” Maul replies with a bow. When he walks past, the female bouncer taps him on the shoulder and then bends down to whisper in his ear.

“The Jedi’s auction’s in two hours, but the preview starts in one and she’ll probably get snapped up then, so. Might wanna hurry.”

“Thank… you?” Maul rumbles and winces at the vocoder turning his slight surprise into a question, but the falleen does not laugh this time.

“Appreciative customers are rare. Come back anytime,” and she winks and pushes him with her—warm, strong, startling—hand the rest of the way through the door and then slams it shut.

Presale. Other customers. Complicating factors Maul would not even have known about if it wasn’t for the bouncer—and for the force, therefore, willing him to succeed—because he didn’t… He did not actually expect any competition. After all, there are no other Sith but the Master and his apprentice. Who, then, would have need of a Jedi padawan? Who has need of Xrexus’ auction at all when they are not sent by their Master? Their… Master. Master might compete with Maul at this sale, both as a test of Maul’s readiness and as a failsafe, should Maul not manage to succeed in his mission. Master is incredibly smart after all, and foresees any number of possible twists and turns of a scenario, as unlikely as they might be. Even such unlikely eventualities as Darth Maul not completing in his mission. Master considers everything. It’s why he’s the Master.

Luckily, Maul was forewarned, and so when he passes a fire exit plan of the palace that’s nailed to a wall in the empty entrance hall he looks for any possible… There. A server room. A small bureau. Two places where Maul might gain access to the databases of Xrexus and convince the filing system that he has already bought the Jedi, before the first competitor has even placed their bid. It’s the only surefire way of preempting a person as thorough and prompt as Master is, and besides… Maul understands machines. He can charm and bend them to his will. His confusion at the bouncers’ hints and the tip the falleen gave him when he would never have expected anything of the sort based on the way the previous part of the encounter had passed—never mind the blasted lack of his carefully constructed stilts—were a sore reminder that in the field of people Maul does not yet excel to the standard of a Sith. Something he must remedy, but perhaps not on a mission as important as this. (Perhaps not among people who are oily and stare too hard.)

Laughter peals in a room straight ahead, but the server room is one floor down a side staircase. It’s sectioned off by a dangly gold chain that Maul needs to barely duck to pass under, and no-one passes through either the main corridor he left or the dusty unlit staircase while Maul hops down, thinking I am Sith alternating with I am shadow on every step.

The hallway leading to the server room is just as deserted. The door is locked, but Maul has sliced the access pads of twelve ships now and has refined his technique to under three minutes of elegant fiddling. This lock takes two seconds.

A datapad is already hanging inside right next to the door, from the cable with which it’s plugged into a socket there. Maul picks it up. Its screen is thrice-cracked and fixed up with clear tape. The touchscreen is incredibly sluggish to react, but as much as he might love the challenge of repairing it he only has less than an hour to spare. If he must, he will, but—gloves. He removes the right one, and the datapad responds.

A login screen.

Thus-far, the security has been abysmal. Worse than what he improvised for the secret hiding space of the first functional droid he built, and so he enters root, root. It works.

Pathetic, Maul thinks. Disappointing. Embarrassing. Horrendous. Useless. Awful. You deserve this. You deserve worse. It almost takes off some of the giddiness at how well Maul has been performing on his mission, thus far. His opponents are veritable morons. It is no great feat, to succeed against people as unprepared for basic survival as these, and it does not take a Sith’s cunning—it’s not worthy of the great Darth Maul who learns under Darth Sidious the greatest creature in the galaxy—to fight them.

In the central database he changes the status of the Jedi padawan to Sold and the buyer to Ma Goweelrand types in 666666666 for the winning bid. It’s a large number, and Jedi means valuable. It should pass muster. Probably. Money: yet another area where Maul requires further instruction. There was another card Maul stole with information on Goweelr’s account with the InterGalactic Banking Clan, and he enters it in the respective field. As to the user listed as making these changes, he picks the fifth-most appearing in the database. If he wanted to arouse no suspicion at all, he would need to research Xrexus’ organization in total, but—he’d really rather not. Even glancing at some of the entries of the database reawakened the eels in his stomach.

He pettily changes the admin password and wipes the screen carefully before he logs out.

Mission almost complete.

Half an hour left until the beginning of the presale, a clock tells him, and that’s most likely when they will check the padawan’s entry and approach Goweelr as her legitimate buyer. Everything is going according to plan, as long as he is not caught down here.

Since Maul is Sith and shadow and incredibly silent and deadly, he isn’t.

He sneaks back up and then strides, with as much power and dignity as he can muster when he wants to skip giddily to celebrate a job well done, into the room where the laughter comes from. It’s—

It’s bright. Loud. Full. But more than any other adjective, it’s huge, a room that is a thousand times bigger than anything Maul has ever set foot in, with a domed ceiling rising so far above that he can’t make out any details there. Can’t see whether there are any cameras, or snipers—can’t see anything but the luster and wealth on display. Plants growing on floating bowls of silver, plants he has never seen anywhere but in holos (Most plants are plants he’s only ever seen in holos. Almost all of them. Master rarely makes him train off-planet, and there is nothing but fire on Mustafar.), plants and waterfalls. Delicate staircases that appear to hover in the air just like the tree-bowls are. It looks like something out of a dream, if Maul’s dreams were able to imagine impossible worlds and not just impossible people who’ll save him.

Below it all, there are throngs of people in various kinds of festive garb, chatting and sipping on dainty glasses. People of most species he’s ever read about. Even…

Even a zabrak. There’s a zabrak over in a corner, not an Iridonian zabrak like the ones Maul finds often in his research but a zabrak who looks startingly close to him, hairless and bright and black-marked, only he’s much taller than Maul—he’s tall! Maul always worried that his species was doomed to remain as small as he is right now but he’s tall! He won’t need stilts forever!—and he’s yellow.

Idly—or trying to appear idle but actually shivering with curiosity—he saunters closer. The zabrak, it’s quickly obvious, is not here as a buyer. He’s chained up, both manacles connected to the neck cuff, though the bonds look so flimsy that Maul could have snapped them. He’s almost naked except for a pair of trousers that barely reaches his thighs and, moreover, is made of a fabric far too flimsy and tight to fight in. His skin is weirdly shiny as well, as if he was sweating but that is unlikely, given Maul’s not too hot under his three shirts and a cloak (in fact, it gets colder the closer Maul comes to the strange zabrak), and the yellow zabrak’s not exercising either but standing completely still, feet slightly apart and arms raised in a poor imitation of a fighting pose. The claws on his hand and feet would be called neatly trimmed if Maul didn’t know intimately that this length means they’re cut so close to the bed that it irritates several internal nerves. The horns are filed too close as well, and they look blunt.

A fighting slave.

No. A pretend fighting slave.

Everything about him might look fearsome to one who does not know what to watch for, but he does not stand or dress or groom himself like a fighter.

It’s—it’s difficult for Maul to sort out his reaction. This is a zabrak, the first person like him he’s ever seen, but he’s also a mockery of the warrior he trains so hard to become. Are all other zabraks like this? Does Maul look like this to other people? Flimsy and fake? It is almost enough to be ashamed of the association, and Maul is glad that with his clothes no-one else here can guess at their shared species.

“Welcome,” the unchained human next to the zabrak shouts, and Maul cranes his neck but apparently it’s addressed to him. “What are you looking for? A nightly companion? A gladiator? A—”

“This is not a gladiator,” Maul growls.

“Ah, well, he’s versatile,” the slaver says. “Do you see his muscles?” He squeezes the other zabrak’s biceps. The zabrak does not react. “He is excellent at bearing pain as well,” and alright, Maul will give him that. From this close, he can see the faint network of scars.

“He’s truly a wild beast when you want him that way,” and if to contradict him—the first time Maul feels anything approaching pride at their kinship—the zabrak refuses to bare his teeth, even when the human slaps him in the face twice and then prods him with something bearing electric sparks. Still, the zabrak will not relent. He’s breathing and moving but somewhere deep in his eyes he looks nothing short of dead.

“I have business elsewhere,” Maul stutters out and the vocoder smooths it into a low growl. The queasy pit in his stomach must be the return of the eels, or else the force aims to reveal to him that he might be being observed by fleets of holodroids, a technological wonder he should research immediately upon completion of his mission, when he will never think of the scar-covered zabrak and his empty eyes ever again. He won’t even remember his face or his color. No, Maul will attempt to engineer holodroids and present them to his Master, who will be proud.

That’s what he thinks about, while he wanders the huge room at random. Holodroids. He doesn’t think about zabraks. In fact, he’s forgotten every fact he ever heard about that species. No zabraks exist but Maul. That’s the way it goes.

He doesn’t think of zabraks at all for several more minutes, and then a tannoy system message calls out for Ma Goweelr and his time of floating is over.

⁂

Thus far, the boy’s little adventure has been a disappointment. There were moments of fear and shame and misery, but mostly, what Sidious receives from him is bright giddy elation at being entrusted with this mission. It should have figured that Maul is not intelligent enough to see through his Master’s true plans, and yet—it was folly on his part, Sidous is prepared to admit that, but he expected more of his little zabrak.

Well. More agony, mostly.

He’ll have to be a little more patient. Someday soon, Maul’s luck will have to run out.

⁂

“This is her, Sir. Opening the cell now,” a woman says in front of the suddenly-bright cell, and Eldra’s hard-won, tattered, wide-eyed serenity dissipates.

It’s Dilar. Dilar, self-loathing traitor of a twi’lek slave. Eldra’s only known her for a day and enjoyed exactly zero seconds of it. The old woman’s hatred and revulsion at what she is forced to do, preparing slaves to be sold on, crowds out the very air. For the slavers, her utter loathing might be imperceptible—Dilar is a grudging, but polite tool—but it’s everywhere in the force, and Eldra cannot breathe. It’s hard enough keeping herself calm—keeping herself Jedi—when she knows that any time now a lecher with a Jedi fetish will come to her cell.

A lecher, or her rescuer.

Watch your feelings: do not give in to despair, Eldra, as Fyaar would say if she could. Maybe a Jedi will come.

It’s a war inside her, equal parts of hope and terror, and without her Master’s guidance how will Eldra find the strength to make herself calm again? Calm, serene, like the Jedi she was supposed to be.

A Jedi is better than this.

There is no emotion. There is peace.

There is no hatred, especially. Eldra should not hate Dilar. She shouldn’t hate every single slaver in the entire world, with even deeper depths of seething odium reserved for anyone selling or buying her. She shouldn’t. She does.

She isn’t wearing a force-suppressant collar, but that doesn’t matter. There are things far more binding than chains, than collars, in this world: Eldra promised her Master that she would be strong. She promised. She promised, and she hates these slavers. If she reached for the force now, she wouldn’t be able to call herself Jedi anymore. She would fail her Master and lose herself.

She would use her hatred to kill her tormentors. She would tear their throats out.

She would Fall.

Fear, raging and cold, has been her only companion for uncounted waking days now, that and bitter loathing. Master Fyaar died in front of her. Eldra’s been stripped of everything she thought she was and turned into a commodity, and now the only bright spot in her life is the fact that Martrey Woobudg the slaver, slaver, slaver who brought them to Teth is also fucking dead. Hopefully, it hurt.

The sudden hope is new, fragile and staggering and still too volatile to make reaching for the force safe. Hope: maybe the new arrival isn’t one of them. Eldra’s Master was in constant contact with the Temple, after all, and they must know about the ambush by now. They must have sent someone to save Eldra. (She tries very very hard not to remember that they don’t, sometimes, search for missing padawans, because of deferring to a higher purpose and the will of the force and being instruments of the Galactic Senate and not privileging attachments, including to their padawans, over the greater good et cetera et cetera, which is a code of conduct that Eldra, too, had always believed in. Until she got thrown in this cell, at least.)

Please, let it be a Jedi. Even if she gets thrown out for her hatred. Please, let it be a Jedi.

“Get up, girl,” Dilar says.

Eldra struggles onto her feet. She almost loses her balance, and that would kriffing hurt, because she’s got little chance of breaking her fall. Her hands are cuffed in front of her, encased in thin manacles she could easily break out of if it wasn’t pointless. If she wasn’t watched at all times. If she could use the force without Falling. If there was any way off this planet she doesn’t even know the name of. She could break them, but she can’t. They’re tight, and her shoulders ache from the forced immobility. (Almost, she’d told the slavers that restraining someone like this for days on end was a sure way of causing muscle damage, that they were lowering her value—were hurting her, by treating her like this, but she’d reconsidered. It would probably count as ‘helping slavers’. She hopes instead that they lose all their captives to their own bad practices. Eldra will not help them, if it kills her.)

If her visitor is a slaver, they’ll probably enjoy the sight of her helplessness. If they’re a Jedi, there may be compassion, pity, judgment—they’ll feel how scared she is, and how close to breaking—and that’ll be even more embarrassing to deal with afterwards, but at least there will be an afterwards for her.

For a second, the force floods with pain. Anger. Then, the presence hides itself again. Doesn’t matter. She’s felt it.

A force user.

A… Jedi, then?

Would a Jedi… Eldra herself would be angry, if she saw anyone else treated the way she is now, no matter how hard she tries for serenity. Eldra isn’t a good Jedi though. She’s too scared for that.

She looks up. If the visitor is a Jedi, Eldra doesn’t recognize them. But that means nothing: they’re covered head-to-toe in layers of black fabric. They’re wearing some sort of mask that covers their lower face, too, and oversized mirrored-glass sunglasses, and gloves, and a cowled cloak and what looks like at least two shirts, one over the other. They look like a black ball with legs sticking out. They look like someone decided to dress up as the platonic concept of shady. They look ridiculous.

They’re very short as well. They’re about twice the height of Grandmaster Yoda, and shorter than pretty much everybody else that Eldra knows. Well… they could be Master Piell. Would Master Piell dress up like this, though? Would he come to rescue her? Would he… well, he wouldn’t feel like the visitor in the force. Even Piell is a Master of the High Council. He wouldn’t fall prey to emotions as easily as Eldra did. He would not fail the light.

The only bit of skin that Eldra can make out is the bridge of the nose, between the jaw-mask and those sunglasses. Red.

Whoever it is isn’t human.

It might give hope, but—whoever it is has already paid and they own Eldra now, they tell the slavers, in a deep and slightly mechanic voice.

Paid.

Own.

Not a rescue, then. The Jedi wouldn’t reward a slaver for abducting a padawan.

Eldra will not cry. Not because if does not befit a Jedi, because the Jedi didn’t come for her. Eldra remained faithful—barely—she didn’t give in to her hatred and fear, didn’t Fall… and no-one came to rescue her. She will never see the temple again. She’ll never watch those holovids with Bayro, and Bayro—will she even notice? Will she mourn Eldra? Or will she be relieved that the clingy kid is gone?

She won’t cry. She will not give Dilar or this new buyer the satisfaction.

The shielding of Eldra’s cell opens. Dilar attaches a chain to Eldra’s manacles and her buyer ties the other end to their belt. They barely look at her, at least—in the nightmares she refused to allow herself to grow into images they always looked at her, excited and hungry, but this buyer seems curt and weirdly business-like.

Without another word, they start walking.

Eldra has no choice but to follow. The Jedi didn’t come. She is alone. Whatever awaits her outside, though, it can hardly be worse than this cell.

[t0ngue-tech]

Up All Night

“Out of all the friends Seokjin made online, you were exceptionally precious to him for many reasons. One, you carried metal straws with you everywhere. Two, you both were majoring in the medical field. Lastly, to be frank, he liked you.”

↠ fluffy nonsense huhuhu, universityAU ↞

word count: 4.9k

↠ oneshot ↞

A/N: happy new year everyone! 2019 was a ROUGH year for me for so many reasons. i hope this new year will do me good. as a gift for the new year, here’s a little seokjin fic huhu. i hope your new years eve was a fun and safe one (im still hungover a little but im alive lmao) i also hope to put out more fics for you all to love! i love you guise so much! o and there’s a few maplestory references in this fic lol.

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Eatjean: I have no idea why it stopped working. I got this watch last week

Y0urnam3: i think you should just give it some TIME

y0urnam3: get it??????

Y0urnam3: cuz it’s a WATCH!!!

Seokjin slapped a hand over his mouth, but failed to stifle the broken laugh behind his hand. He ultimately released a squeaky laugh that almost had him in tears.

“SEOKJIN. I swear to--”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll log off, Yoongi. Relax.”

Besides studying for hours on end at his desk, Seokjin also spent hours playing an online game called Maplestory. He played for years and even if he was juggling his job, social life, and college, he always made time to play. Seokjin made a lot of friends all around the world through Maplestory and even a handful of his friends in college played. 

“Dude, you’ve been playing since 8:30. I have to solidify this lesson plan and I can’t concentrate with you laughing and slapping your desk every ten seconds.” Yoongi, Seokjin’s roommate, took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

“Sorry, but y/n has been busy with school and we haven’t played together for a while.” Seokjin explained.

Out of all the friends Seokjin made online, you were exceptionally precious to him for many reasons. One, you carried metal straws with you everywhere. Two, you both were majoring in the medical field. Lastly, to be frank, he liked you.

Seokjin met you online through the Monster Carnival Party Quest around four months ago. Being in the last room of the party quest meant having a larger party with characters that had buffs and skills that could be beneficial to the entire team. Seokjin’s party was in need of a healer and happened to choose you, a cleric, to join the party.

For five rounds, Seokjin’s party dominated the party quest and when everyone came to the mutual decision to call it quits, everyone sent each other a buddy request and it all started off from there.

For the next few days, Seokjin found himself logging on around the same time you were online and the two of you spent time farming for mesos, helping each other out with quests, or doing rooms three and four in CPQ because the rooms only required a two-person party. This allowed you two to chat for hours, getting to know each other little by little. Of course, you both took precautions because it was the online world, anyone could be behind their screens and pretend to be someone they weren’t.

After almost a month of chatting as much as possible, you eventually began to trust Seokjin with more personal details of your life. You opened up by venting to him about how your ex-best friend decided to hook up with your newly broken up with ex-boyfriend. Seokjin easily related with you with the same story however, his story happened in high school and he found out himself because he found one of his ex-girlfriend’s blouses in his ex-best friend’s room. Seokjin understood your pain and became an emotional sounding board for you.

Even if Seokjin was your listening ear, the only other information that was shared was each other’s names and major. Honestly, Seokjin was curious about what you looked like, what your voice sounded like, but those things were privileged information that couldn’t be shared that easily. Looking each other up online probably wouldn’t be much help either because there could be a lot of people who had the same names and there would be no way to figure out for sure who was really you and vise versa.

No matter how curious he was, Seokjin respected your privacy and didn’t want to ruin the friendship he had with you.

“You make like you haven’t spoken to her in years.” Yoongi quipped as he typed away at his laptop.

“Just do your lesson plan, Mr. Teacher’s Assistant.” Seokjin laughed and launched a paper ball towards Yoongi’s direction. “I’m packing it in anyways. Y/n has an early class tomorrow.”

↠↞

There were multiple places you could’ve been and your 8 am class was definitely not your first choice.

Your professor for medical terminology had an optional 8 am course which you stupidly decided to attend. It wasn’t because you were failing, your future wouldn’t allow for that. Focusing and studying hasn’t been in your mind for a few days and you needed a refresher.

“Y/n, tell me, why am I even here right now?” Irene dropped her folder on top of the desk next to you and groaned. “I swear my bed was caressing me and begging me to stay.”

You yawned and tapped her desk. “Trust me. I also almost pressed snooze on my alarm but you promised you’d go with me and a promise is a promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you promised you were going to treat me to breakfast after this soooo…”

Fifteen minutes felt like four days. Your professor stood at the front of the class rambling on, clicking through his slides while everyone stared back at him with hollow eyes.

You glanced over at Irene who had half-lidded eyes and lazily swung her pen in between her fingers. She was probably daydreaming about the french toast and hot coffee from the diner across campus.

You found yourself doodling in the corner of your notebook with rough sketches of orange mushrooms, slimes, and a family of snails. The corner of your paper was starting to look like a miniature version of Henesys hunting grounds.

Forty-five minutes dragged on by and your professor finally let the class go. You and Irene both had a 10 am class which was why you promised her breakfast; to pass time and to have girl time.

“Are you sure I can order the french toast and waffles? We’re both broke ass college students, you know.” Irene handed her menu to the waitress and smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine. We haven’t hung out in a while, so it’s okay.” You assured her.

“That’s because you’re always playing Maplestory.”

Irene wasn’t wrong.

You didn’t mean to spend the majority of your free time cooped up at your desk with your eyes glued to the colorful images on your laptop screen. Some days your logged on to bust ass and level up, but other days you actually waited to see if Seokjin was going to log on as well.

“So, anything new with that Seokjin guy?” Irene sipped her coffee. “Did you ask for each other’s social media yet?”

The answer will always be no.

“I told you, Irene. There’s something about the ‘not-knowing’. Plus, it’s a mutual agreement between us.” You explained for the thousandth time.

“Yeah, but what if he’s a creepy dude trying to hit on you!”

Of course you thought of that, which was also a hidden reason as to you why you didn’t expose too much personal information about yourself. Seokjin only knew your first name, your major in college, and you were sure to change the names of any personal stories that your shared with him.

You made sure to be careful. Always.

“Seokjin has been catfished before on Maplestory and he said it was so embarrassing and painful that he never wishes anything like that one anyone.” This was a story that Seokjin hesitated to tell because of how embarrassing it was, but he knew he had to tell you because he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about him. This was his way of showing you that he trusted you.

“Well, alright y/n. You’re a smart girl, don’t forget that.”

Classes seemed to fly by after breakfast and after a draining study group, you were eager to have some quality time with yourself.

When you fully logged into your Maplestory account, Seokjin was quick to greet you in the text box.

Eatjean: Y/n!!!!

Eatjean: How was class?

You smiled stupidly at your laptop screen.

Y0urnam3: seokjinnnnnn! classes were just as annoying as yesterday

Yournam3: my energy is at 5% right now

Eatjean: I think it’s bedtime for you

A pout formed.

Y0urnam3: nooooo i waited all day to talk to you

Your feelings for Seokjin wasn’t exactly subtle. You weren’t shy to type out things like “I love talking with you” and “I missed you, sorry I couldn’t play yesterday”. It took a lot of courage for you to do so, but you were sure the courage came from not knowing Seokjin face-to-face. If you were to see him in person after saying all of those things, there was no doubt you would shrivel up into an embarrassed raisin.

Seokjin took a little longer to reply than usual. Instead of seeing his screen name, a spam of a character selling a level 200 weapon for warriors filled the chat box instead. Maybe this was a sign that you needed to stop being so forward with him.

/

“Awww, okay then stay uwu.”

Seokjin scrambled around a blocked his screen with his hands. He whipped his head to the side and found Yoongi peering over his shoulder.

“Y-Yoongi, when did you get back?” Seokjin stammered.

“Just now. Aren’t you going to press enter?” Yoongi stepped away from Seokjin’s breathing space and took a seat on his own bed. “And what the hell is an uwu?”

“It’s a way to express, uh, extreme ador--no, just google it!” He learned the phrase from you a few weeks ago and at first, he was just as confused as Yoongi was.

Seokjin took another quick glance at Yoongi who was struggling to kick his converse off his feet and hit the “enter” key on his laptop. 

Within minutes, you replied.

Y0urnam3: OMG YOURE USING UWU ALJDFLKDJ

Eatjean: MY FIRST AND ONLY TIME

Y0urnam3: UWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWU

Y0urnam3: btw can you help me farm for some mesos? I still can’t believe i got scammed yesterday

Seokjin didn’t do anything to hide the smile on his face. Why was the word “uwu” so amusing to him? It was probably because it made you seem a lot cuter than what he originally thought.

In the next hour, Seokjin met up with you help you gain back the mesos you lost. After everything, the two of you circled back to Henesys and stood at a random spot in an empty channel.

Eatjean: Brb ya boi needs a snack lol

He stood up from his chair and retreated to a small table in the room that he and Yoongi dubbed as the snack corner.

“Still playing?” Yoongi asked from behind his laptop screen.

“Yeah. We’re waiting for a few friends so we can LPQ.” Seokjin ripped open a bag of sweet corn balls, sending a few flying to the floor. Just as he bent down to pick up the pieces, he caught Yoongi’s eyes staring at him. “What?”

“I have literally no idea what you just said, but go off I guess.” Yoongi went back to typing away on his laptop. “Oh yeah, before I forget, you’re coming this weekend right?”

Seokjin took a quick second to think about what plans he possibly had this weekend, but nothing came to mind.

“What’s happening this weekend?”

“Dude, Jimin’s party? Penthouse in the city?”

It finally clicked in his brain that Jimin’s uncle lent Jimin his penthouse for the weekend as an early birthday present. Seokjin was invited last week along with Yoongi and they were given strict instructions by Jimin to clear their schedule for Saturday night.

Was it selfish for Seokjin to want to stay back at his dorm and talk to you all night? There was no doubt that Yoongi would agree to go because he has been complaining the entire week about “needing a fucking drink because fuck this lesson plan”. With Yoongi gone for that evening, that meant Seokjin could laugh to his heart’s content all by himself.

“I--” Seokjin dragged on. “I don’t know. I might just stay here and relax.”

“Relax my ass.” Yoongi said in a joking tone. “Seokjin, you’re going. It’s just one night out. Y/n is not going to disappear all of a sudden.”

Of course Yoongi was right. It was just one night off campus and having a drink with his friends was a plan that was long overdue. But Seokjin liked you too much, so it was normal to want to talk to you as much as possible.

Seokjin sighed quietly. An unnecessary battle between the two choices flooded his mind. Going to the party was obviously the answer that settled at the tip of his tongue.

But y/n… ugh but Jimin...

“Fine, okay. I’ll go, I’ll go.” Seokjin lifted his hands in the air in defeat. 

There was no point in telling you about the party because just as Yoongi mentioned, you weren’t going to disappear into thin air. Plus, Seokjin wasn’t your boyfriend. He had no business in telling you every single thing that he was going to be doing.

Eatjean: Okay, back

Eatjean: Sorry my roommate was just telling me about his day

Seokjin waited a few minutes before receiving your reply.

Y0urnam3: ohhhhh this is the teacher’s assistant right?

Y0urnam3: how was his day?

Y0urnam3: and how was yours too!! i forgot to ask lol

He smiled and danced his fingers along his keyboard.

Eatjean: That’s the one! And he’s in desperate need for a drink

Eatjean: My day was alright. We’re already preparing for midterms so that’s a bummer

After hitting “enter”, Seokjin pressed the F4 button on his keyboard making his character have a crying facial expression.

Talking to you was always easy. He never felt the need to force a conversation with you because you both shared the same interests and had an understanding school schedule. If there was a chance where he could meet you in person, he was so sure that it would also be just as easy.

For the next two hours, Seokjin aided you in farming for mesos until the party was full to complete a few rounds of the party quest. Even if his eyes may have gotten dry and his back was tight, he enjoyed the time he spent with you.

Y0urnam3: okay seokjin it is LATE and ya girl needs to sleep

Seokjin frowned.

Eatjean: Already T__T

Y0urnam3: i know in sory

Y0urnam3: im sorry****

Y0urnam3: ive been keeping all school related stuff on the back burner and i need to get accepted into the nursing program i told u about

“Ah..right.” Seokjin muttered to himself.

Eatjean: OH OF COURSE OF COURSE

Eatjean: Pls focus on school too!! Trying to become a cardiologist isnt a walk in the park either so i understand

Eatjean: Study hard and get some rest y/n

After receiving your reply filled with words of encouragement for Seokjin to also study hard, he finally shut off his laptop and flopped onto his bed. Since school was a huge priority for you, this probably meant you were going to spend more time hitting the books and using your computer for actual research purposes.

“If only we had each other’s instagram handles or something.” Seokjin groaned and waited for a response from Yoongi.

The room stayed silent and when he turned around, Yoongi was sitting in his chair with his head tilted backwards and had a red pen tucked behind his ear. His desk was cluttered with debris of papers and his laptop was wide open with what seemed to be an answer key.

Seokjin stared at his sleeping friend for a while. “Yeah. He needs a fucking drink.”

↠↞

“Okay, bitches. Clear your schedules. We are going to get crazy tomorrow..” A mutual friend of you and Irene, Seulgi, dropped her binder and textbook on top of the table where you and Irene were studying.

“Crazy?” Irene questioned. “Really?”

Seulgi dropped herself into the seat next to you and sighed. “No, I’m kidding. I just wanted to invite you guys to my dorm tomorrow to have a study session and a few glasses of wine.”

“Ugh. I’m in. I have been crazed this whole week and I need the alcohol.” You shut your textbook and rubbed your temples.

“Are you sure? You’re not going to isolate yourself and play Maplestory—and I mean that in the nicest way possible.” Irene reached over and clasped your hands with hers.

You laughed knowing there may have been notes of bitterness in her words. “Yes honey, I’m sure. Both Seokjin and I have mountains of work that we’ve been putting off so I don’t know when’s the next time we’re going to be online together.”

Seulgi raised her eyebrows and leaned closer to your shoulder. “And how is it going with Mr. Eatjean? Are you two going to get married in Amoria yet?”

You snorted and gently pushed Seulgi’s head away from your breathing space. To your surprise, Irene laughed along understanding what Seulgi was talking about; she never played the game but you talked about it so much with her that she caught on some of the terminology that was used.

Unfortunately, what you said was the truth. You haven’t been able to play Maplestory in a while and you really missed talking to Seokjin. It wasn’t easy being in the medical field, but you had to give your future career some of your attention at some point.

When Seulgi invited you two over for a study session, you imagined having a few glasses of wine while listening to jazz and getting a lot of work done. However, none of that happened.

Just when the three of you were settled in Seulgi’s room, almost ready to pull out the wine cork, Seulgi receives a very delightful phone call from a friend. Next thing you knew, you were carefully applying lip gloss in the backseat of an uber and Irene was racking her brain over whether or not she wanted to unbutton the first three buttons of her top.

“Ugh, just do it already! Jihyo is going to be there tonight that’s why!” Seulgi gently tugged on Irene’s hand who was holding onto yours. “And y/n, stop pulling the skirt down. That skirt was meant to be that short.”

“I know, but oh my God, the exposure!” You tugged at the end of the black pencil skirt Seulgi let you borrow.

“Sooyoung, should’ve let us know ahead of time about these plans.” Irene complained.

“At least this is way better than studying—hey, Sooyoung!” Seulgi called out.

Sooyoung met the three of you at the elevator and hastily rushed you all down the long hallway that was filled with gorgeous college students. You all entered a doorway that was also filled with students who were either already wasted or making their way towards that level. Some of the students were familiar to you and others were definite strangers; Sooyoung seemed to know most of them.

“Girl, where is your brother anyway? We have to at least greet him happy birthday first.” Irene tippy toed to get a good look of the people in the kitchen.

“He’s in here somewhere. Let’s just find him later.” Sooyoung began pouring vodka into shot cups while you poured sprite into four other cups.

“You know, I keep forgetting you have a brother.” You spoke over the mixed sounds of music and voices of people. “Why don’t you two just go to the same university?”

“Well, you know how it is. Siblings, different majors, scholarships, blah blah blah.” Sooyoung brushed passed the subject and handed out the shots and chasers. “Come on, you girls need to catch up, especially Irene because Jihyo looks hot as fuck tonight—to Jihyo!”

Sooyoung raised her shot cup and while you and Seulgi complied with the cheer, Irene begged you all to tune it down. Although she did mutter, to Jihyo, before gulping down her vodka.

You, Seulgi, and Sooyoung were huddled in one part of the living room to keep an eye on Irene who seemed to be a bit more confident in talking to her crush; all thanks to some liquid courage.

The entire floor was covered with people making it almost impossible to not bump into anyone.

“Oh! Sorry!” You yelled over music. “This place is so boujee! If I ever lived here, I would never leave.”

Seulgi laughed and nudged your shoulder. “Penthouse or not, you never leave your dorm anyway!”

“Ooh! Is it because of that game you’re playing? How is that dude-guy anyway?” Sooyoung slurred.

You scrunch your nose and helped your drunk friend sit down on a nearby chair. “How much did you drink before we arrive?”

Sooyoung gently tugged on your pencil skirt. “Answer me question. When are you and denim jeans getting married in Amoria?”

Seulgi threw a fit of laughter as she explained to Sooyoung that she said the exact same thing.

“We are not getting married in Amoria. We’re not even in a relationship.” You squished Sooyoung’s cheeks with one hand and took a sip from your mixed drink.

“But why not? It seems like you and sack-jeans are into each other. I say, date!” Sooyoung waved her red cup in the air and you and Seulgi did your best to calm her down. A drunk Sooyoung was something else.

“Honey, you need to relax. It’s only eight in the evening and for your information, his name is Seokjin and we’re just Maplestory buddies right now. We don’t even know what each other looks like.” You stroked Sooyoung’s hair and took another sip of your drink.

“Y/n, just listen to the poor girl and date him!” Seulgi let out a high pitch snicker and gave Sooyoung a high five.

Talking about Seokjin was definitely bringing your mood down. Maybe it was the alcohol messing with your emotions for than usual, but you really missed talking with him.

“Y-Y/n?”

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you spun around, making eye contact with one of the cutest guys you ever laid your eyes on. He wore a red t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and had jet black hair that was styled upward. If his eyes didn't catch your attention, his lips sure did. The only thing wrong with him was that he knew your name and you didn’t recognize him at all.

“Um and you are?” You questioned, readying yourself to perform some sort of self-defense.

“It’s me.” He gestured to himself. “Seokjin.”

↠↞

Seokjin weaved himself around the kitchen, trying to find a bottle of Grey Goose to refill his drink.

“Damnit, Jimin. How many people do you know?!” Seokjin grunted. “Oh, Joy! Pass me the bottle when you’re done.”

The already-drunk-sister of his friend gave him a thumbs up before filling up the last shot cup and slid the bottle down the counter. Seokjin tried to thank her, but her focus was immediately back to her friends.

“Dude, where’d you go?!” Yoongi bumped into Seokjin, almost making him spill his drink.

“Okay, I know you need this wild ass night, but please relax. This is my favorite shirt. It accents my shoulders.” Seokjin grabbed his friend’s cup to give him a refill.

“Hurry. Namjoon is freestyling in the living room and it’s fucking fire.” Yoongi nudged Seokjin’s arm to make him lead the way into the living room.

Seokjin was more than supportive of his friend’s desire to drink his stress away, but having to deal with Yoongi’s drunk ass plus a few more of his friends was making him wish he was back at his dorm, double clicking the Maplestory icon. But he had to admit, Namjoon was spitting bars.

“Oh! Sorry!”

Seokjin turned around to find one of his friends stumbling over, almost knocking down a group of girls.

“Good grief, Sandeul. Sit here, please.” Seokjin gently forced his friend to sit down on the couch in front of him.

Just a few more hours, Seokjin. Just hold out for a few more hours, then you can drag Yoongi back to the dorm.

“-getting married in Amoria?”

Seokjin chuckled. I guess there are other Maplestory players here.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he was trying to catch wind of the conversation behind him. However, the music and crowd was too loud to hear most of the conversation.

“-and for your information, his name is Seokjin and we’re just Maplestory buddies for now.”

“Y/n, just listen—”

Huh, Seokjin. That’s my name too- WAIT.

Taking the heavy risk of appearing as a creeper, Seokjin turned around and tapped the girl behind him.

Here goes.

“Y-Y/n?”

When she turned around, Seokjin was blessed to see the cutest girl he has ever seen.

“Um and you are?”

Seokjin braced himself and pointed to his chest. “It’s me. Seokjin.”

You widen your eyes and Seokjin could tell you weren’t as convinced.

“U-uh, it’s really me. Eatjean? I just helped you farm for more mesos because you were scammed the day before.” Seokjin’s heart was thundering in his chest. The alcohol could’ve also played a role in that, but it was also because he was extremely nervous that the girl right before his eyes was actually a different person.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” You repeated. “Oh my God, you’re really Seokjin!”

The nervousness was slowly exiting his body once he saw the smile that grew on your face. Thank heavens, it was really you.

“Y-Yeah. It’s me! Wow, I just—I’m—w-wow.” Those words were the only ones that Seokjin could muster.

You let out a snicker and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. “I can’t believe—”

“Seokjin?! This is denim jeans?! Date her!” Sooyoung suddenly gripped your shoulders.

“Excuse her. Sooyoung get your shit together for a second please—” Seulgi tugged at Sooyoung to leave you two alone. “Continue!”

Seokjin chuckled and looked over his shoulder to check on his friends who were still invested in freestyling. He then took you by the hand to stand in one part of the living room that had a little less people.

“You’re friends with Jimin’s sister?” Seokjin questioned.

“Yeah! We go to the same university. Why the hell hasn’t she mentioned you to me before?” You sighed sadly.

“I’m actually closer to Jimin.” He explained. “I even forget that her real name is Sooyoung. Jimin only refers to her as ‘Joy.’”

You took a sip out of your drink and nodded your head. “What a small ass world.”

Seokjin stuffed his hand in his pocket and leaned in closer to you. “You wanna get out of here?”

↠↞

“I told you to not use the scroll! It only had a fifty percent success rate.” You shook Seokjin by the shoulders who was devastated by the choice he made.

At first, you were feeling hints of regret after quickly accepting Seokjin’s invitation because you didn’t know what his intentions were. But he was just as quick to assure you that he wanted to bring you to his dorm to have some pizza and help him with his character’s accessories.

Seokjin was the perfect gentleman, just as you imagined. He gave you some of his clothes to change into so you were comfortable, he even stepped out of his dorm so you could have privacy. He let you sit in his gaming chair while he took a random stool from inside the dorm. When the pizza arrived, he remembered how much you loved pizza crust so he gave you every single one from each slice he took.

If you knew this was the type of guy Seokjin was, you would’ve gave him your instagram a long time ago.

“Hey, cut me some slack. I took a huge risk here.” Seokjin spun you around in his chair. “And I remember a certain someone who spent almost nine hundred thousand mesos on a staff she ended up not needing.”

“Fine, fine. Touche.” You scoffed and jokingly threatened to leave his dorm.

You scanned Seokjin’s desk and saw nothing but textbooks, what seemed to be study guides, and a few empty coffee cups. Being under the same university major umbrella, you understood the mess all too well.

“How’s your studying going?” You asked, tidying up some of his papers.

“Ehhh. I put the dying in studying.” Seokjin joked and you playfully hit his shoulder. “I’ve been up all night for the past few days.”

“Awww, you poor baby.” You ran your fingers through his hair and his eyelids fluttered closed at your touch. “Well, I guess it’s sort of no different from when you’re playing Maplestory with me.”

“Hmmm, I beg to differ. I actually enjoy spending time with you online.” Seokjin sighed happily. “And maybe I can enjoy spending time with you in person this time around?”

You laughed and brought your hands to your face to hide the blush he caused. “Ohhhhh, very smooth, Seokjin.”

“Do you accept this quest?”

You studied Seokjin’s facial features on more time; his big eyes and pouty lips. After knowing each other through an online game, it was only right for you to finally get to know the real Seokjin. 

From what you already knew, he was a sweet man who enjoyed trying new food, doing word search puzzles, and taking every opportunity presented to him to make some sort of pun. He could be a bit cheesy and a bit dorky, but it was all endearing. And because of all the time you’ve spent reading his cheesy lines through your laptop screen, the next words that came out of your mouth was just as cheesy and dorky, but it fit the moment.

“Quest accepted.”

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♡ rae jagi

[ducktracy]

159. she was an acrobat's daughter (1937)

release date: april 10th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: mel blanc (dole promise, who dehr, heddie camphor, hippo, stickoutski, donkey, leslie howard, duck, father duck, angry moviegoers)

mel blanc’s roles are growing increasingly larger and larger, as they should be! not only is this a popular motif used in cartoons (such as being sung by daffy in daffy doodles), footage from the cartoon itself has been reused. bob clampett and art davis’ bacall to arms uses a hefty amount of footage from this cartoon, but for good reason. it’s a turning point for freleng for sure as we observe parodies of news reels, songs, movies, and more.

the title song is underscored as we iris in and pan down to the outside of a movie theater, advertising 36 HOURS TO KILL WITH HIS BROTHER’S WIFE (intentionally read as one single title). pan over to the other side: 15 FEATURES 15¢ -- ALSO REJECTED SHORTS (a pun on selected shorts). i believe this gag was in buddy’s theatre as well. inside, reused in bacall to arms, a lone moviegoer gets up and switches his seat. another decides to do the same, and then another, and soon enough the interior of the theater is whipped into a frenzy as everyone scrambles to change seats. a very funny gag with succinct timing. i don’t like comparing everything to tex avery, because friz has just as much talent as tex and i feel like i’m holding tex up as the Ultimate way to do animation, but this gag certainly does feel like an averyism. 

one of the many WARMER BROS. puns that we will be seeing in many a short (i believe debuted with hollywood capers? though it could have been from one of the bosko or buddy shorts too) as we open to the beginning of the show, a screen flashing WARMER BROS PRESENTS -- GOOFY-TONE NEWS -- SEES ALL-KNOWS NOTHING. the “sees all - knows nothing” is a take on “sees all, hears all, knows all”, from fox’s movietone news reels back in the day. the puns just keep on coming! 

a caricature of movietone news reporter lowell thomas, caricature design courtesy of t. hee, opens us up, billed as dole promise instead. mel blanc provides the vocals as dole announces “good evening, folks. this is, uh...” he pauses, forgetting his own name. the gag is wonderfully structured, as he has a nameplate and a sign posted on his desk, as well as his name posted in big letters right on the screen, yet he still squints at his script with the most analytical, stupefied concentration he can muster. the offscreen whisper of “dole promise!” is just the cherry on top. “oh yeah. this is dole promise, bringing you the latest news events of the day.”

the first news reel: U.S. BUILDS LONGEST LINER IN SHIP BUILDING RACE. wonderful timing (and a neat overhead layout!) as we see the longest liner in person: an extremely elongated ship right in the middle of new york and london. the ship inches forward to london, and then back to new york, and then we cut away to the next order of business. next: FLASH! SPECIAL! heddie camphor (a take on eddie cantor, of course) finds “little oscar”, vitamin (a take on vitaphone) newsreel man gets exclusive interview with oscar. we see a little bug next to a purse (that has the initials of JW on them, jack warner of warner bros fame) and hear mel blanc talking in a russian accent. “ahh, dere you are! tell us, oscar, how does feel for to be back home after being lost for such long time?” the little bug rambles on in high pitched, nonsensical garbles. “oh, thank you very much, oscar! how you like that? he say he would rather be lost!” i haven’t found anything as to what the gag means, so unfortunately the meaning has been lost to the sands of time. but, if anything, it’s amusing hearing mel do one of the voices we’ll be hearing so often in many cartoons.

what is it with movie-centric cartoons and hitler? bosko’s picture show in 1933 was the first cartoon of any studio to ever depict a caricature of hitler, and now we have a gag where a man is invited to sit in the last seat in the row. unfortunately, his view is seldom ideal: we see some rather impressive perspective and animation as hitler on screen marches forward, eventually disappearing into nothingness because the moviegoer can’t see anything. aggravated, he moves a few seats down, right in the front row and in the middle. i believe this is bob mckimson animation--this scene would be reused two years later in the film fan, with porky in place of the dog trying to crane his neck to see animation of a jockey riding on the horse. the warped perspective is quite impressive and does a good job of hitting home. we’ve all been there, stuck in the front row and trying to see what’s happening. nevertheless, the dog begrudgingly accepts his fate, forever doomed to view the news reel at inadequate angles.

also reused in bacall to arms is a gag of a hippo trying to get out of the row, proving to be a nuisance in the process. he’s a polite nuisance, at least, repeating “pardon. pardon me. pardon.” as he bulldozes his way through. tex avery would also lampoon overweight hippo moviegoers in his hamateur night in 1939. 

time for the birth of a caricature! we have our first caricature of vaudevillain lew lehr (penned as who dehr in this case), whose catchphrase “monkeys is da cwaziest peoples!” would be lampooned in many, many, many, MANY warner bros cartoons (especially bob clampett cartoons: porky in egypt, porky’s snooze reel, russian rhapsody, and so forth). here, he opens us up with nit-wit news. “ladies and peoples, listen while explaining you the latest news of da day.” the napoleon hat/garb in general is a nice touch, often used to symbolize insanity (like porky suffering here from the “desert madness”). 

lehr (or in this case dehr) narrates the malady of a strange dog bite affecting the city of “boondoggle”, mo. that strange malady has turned the citizens of boondoggle into boonDOGS as everyone runs around on all fours. “look at dat! even da mayor leads a dog’s life in boondoggle!” the mayor, digging a hole, comes across a dog and growls (i love the detail of his sideburns raising like a dog’s ears in defense), both him and the actual dog engaging in a tussle. the brushing on the fight is very well done for this time period, feeling like a precursor to drybrushing which would be so prevalent in so many cartoons. the mayor wins the fight, running away with a bone in his mouth. elsewhere,  BOONDOOGLE'S LEADING SOCIETY MATRON IS LATEST VICTIM OF SCOURGE. amusing animation and narration by blanc/dehr as a woman sits on a pillow, panting like a dog, eagerly running up to her butler and eating a piece of steak thrown at her. dehr wraps up the presentation, he himself getting a taste of the scourge as one of the affected residents crawls onscreen and bites dehr right in the leg. nonsensical? absolutely. but it’s the GOOD kind of nonsensical. the use of black and white is a nice touch with this being a technicolor cartoon. many of the other news reel cartoons have been/are in black and white, so the mixing of technicolor and B&W really adds some authenticity.

“boulevardier from the bronx” seems to be a theme for slow, lumbering characters as the lumbering hippo makes his return, squeezing himself through an angry row of patrons while he dismissively pardons himself. he sits himself down just in time to see “STICKOUTSKI at the fertilizer”. a lion caricature of leopold stokowski invites the moviegoers to a rousing chorus of “she was an acrobat’s daughter”--not unlike bosko getting his own audience to sing in bosko’s picture show. the song is very catchy, the slideshow visuals equally as entertaining as the lyrics. i especially love the gag where one picture, not a part of the slideshow, reads “please do not spit on the floor”, yet the patrons sing it in tune regardless, then correcting themselves and singing the next verse in the same tune. a hilarious gag with great timing. a short merrie melody for sure, but a good one at that.

next is a parody of the MGM lion, crowing like a rooster instead of doing its signature roar. the film is “petrified florist, a take on “petrified forest” (which would be used as a gag in book revue). after an interminable cast scroll through (reused in bacall to arms), we see the star of the film, a caricature of leslie howard unsuccessfully hitchhiking, tying his thumb to a railroad crossing sign, making the light swing. while the film is playing, a random donkey decides to peddle peanuts, crackerjack, chewing gum (with an underscore of “puddin’ head jones”, a favorite of mine). the donkey is booted out of the theater, hitting his head on a streetlight and still repeating his peauts, crackerjack, chewing gum mantra in a daze. a little incongruous and random, but there are some interesting angles and closeups as the donkey walks straight towards the audience.

back to the film, the leslie howard caricature summons a bette davis cariature (again, caricatures by t. hee), demanding some food. bette flirts with him, smitten. “what’s your name?” “puddin tame. ask me again, and i'll tell you the same.” “are you a poet?” “after a fashion. “ooh, i love poetry!” “would you like me to recite?” “no.” even better than the “no” gag is howard struggling to recite mary had a little lamb regardless. “mary lad a little hamb. mary mad a little amb. mary had... oh, she had a goat.” while leslie struggles to retell the story, bette sighs, completely enamored.

a very interesting discovery, at least for me: i always wondered why in some porky cartoons, porky had a little white duck sidekick (not daffy) who was a pest. mainly a 1939 phenomenon: i’ve only spotted him in it’s an ill wind and porky’s hotel. his name is either dizzy or dippy duck, i can’t remember. but i always wondered why he was porky’s sidekick when daffy was getting to be established as porky’s sidekick at the same time. turns out THIS dizzy/dippy duck’s first appearance, or at least a prototype. here, he pesters his dad, barraging him with questions. “why, daddy? why did the man look at her like that, daddy? why, daddy? does he like her, daddy? does he like the lady, daddy?” and so on. while the dad furiously attempts to hush his kid, his efforts are futile. the duck is only silenced once the entire row in front of him turns back to shoot him down with glares. that is, until the duck starts rambling again, asking a bunch of obnoxious questions. i love this in particular, for i can relate--weird anecdote, but my mom said the first movie she took me to i started walking up and down the aisles and chatting up strangers. so i like this kid! even better is when the angry front row shushes him once more with angry “NYEHHHH!”s. now, the father speaks up in a w.c. fields voice. “heyyy, what’s going on?” a punch to the face from an offscreen fist.

the kid, not getting the memo, pesters his dad once more, who shooes him away. now, the kid darts out of the theater and up to the projection booth. i love the animation of the kid turning his head in wonderment, staring at the door (bob mckimson maybe? it’s pretty solid and constructed). he barges in, fiddling with the controls. he turns a lever from MED. to FAST, and the movie is sped up to frightening speeds. the kid panics, trying to fix his error, but to no avail. now, the movie plays backwards. the animation is quite good--skipping and jumping around, but still room for there to be inbetweens of SOME sort. i can only imagine trying to sort those frames out in the (in)correct order! it’s easy to mess up, but hard to mess up on purpose!

now desperate, the kid sticks his beak inside the projection camera, where it gets caught. in a similar (yet less gruesome/strange) manner to baby bottleneck, the kid gets caught in the gears, his body twisting up and down and around, feathers expelled into the air. iris out as the kid flops to the ground, unscathed, cursing as his body is covered in film.

this cartoon is a GREAT one, probably the best we’ve seen from friz. or, at the very least, the funniest. it’s so ahead of it’s time--so much so that it was reused in chunks in bacall to arms in 1946, which proved to be quite anachronistic. you have the conflicting styles of clampett/davis (mainly clampett, this is probably the most clampett-y short in terms of looks out of the ones he didn’t finish) from 1946, and the simplistic 1937 friz style. that’s QUITE a contrast, but that tells you how well the humor holds up. i’m really fascinated by the dizzy/dippy prototype. in all likelihood, it was just a one off character. friz didn’t sit down thinking this would be his next star (our next review will cover talkative, famous ducks ;)), but he is VERY similar to the duck used in hardaway/dalton’s it’s an ill wind and later clampett’s duck used in porky’s hotel. i believe mel does almost all the voices, save for bette davis. i don’t believe the w.c. fields voice provided by the father duck is tedd pierce. it’s very exciting to see him climb up the ranks--next cartoon, he gets to voice our favorite pig (and duck!) in all, this is a hilarious cartoon. some of the gags are a little (or a lot) dated, often skewing the joke--i wish i knew what the meaning behind the little oscar joke was--but it wasn’t a constant thing. the song number was hilarious (i love the “please do not spit on the floor” gag) and catchy, the animation was good, the caricatures were lovely... while there are many more funny cartoons than this one, in terms of this time period and comparing it to what friz has churned out up to this point, it’s probably his funniest one yet, and that in itself constitutes a watch. it’s definitely the funniest news reel cartoon we’ve seen so far. go for it!

link!

[canvasofthecosmos]

Traits I’ve noticed in the rising signs I’ve met

Aries   Catchphrase: “Another Day in Paradise.” A lot of head shaking- pretty much uses their heads to point to objects and communicate in general, hates wasting their breath. First ones to get frustrated when confronted by any obstacles. Firm believer that if you want it done right, do it yourself. Starts a new hobby every few months then gets bored and goes on to the next. Wants SO BADLY for someone to be their gym buddy. Actually just wants everyone to be their friend, they talk to strangers like they’ve known them for years. Falls asleep instantly but also wakes up a lot in the middle of the night. Already thinking of what to get into after this. Taurus Catchphrase: "Hold your horses." Slow but sure footing, maintains eye contact, knows when to raise their voice. Moves like they have a weight on their shoulders. Just wants to get everything out of the way all at once so they end up furiously multitasking. Actually, probably winds up finishing everything at once because they procrastinated too long. During the times they should be catching up on work, they can probably be found doodling, trying to form a band or cooking. Tries to pull all-nighters because they even procrastinate in going to bed, then gives up some time after 3 am and oversleeps that morning. Gets new clothes and then proceeds to wear their staple sweatshirt for the next month regardless. Gemini Catchphrase: Whatever their favorite meme is at the moment. Will Stare You Down with such intent that you think they have beef, but it’s cause they either heard a story about you through the grapevine or just think you’re cute. Will find any excuse to make small talk. Probably talked to you once in passing and now always stops to chat when they see you. Great writers because they LOVE gossip almost as much as practical jokes, preferring to sit back and watch the magic unfold before them. Most likely to get yelled at by a teacher in grade school because they were nose deep in a novel in the middle of a lesson. Takes at least one (1) different personality test online a day. Lays in bed staring at the ceiling for at least an hour before they finally fall asleep. Signs of aging cease at the ripe age of 12. Cancer Catchphrase: “What do you mEan.” Tend to have rounder features, therefore more insecure about their weight even when they’re perfectly healthy. Fueled entirely by emotional fulfillment. You can tell EXACTLY how they’re feeling just by looking at them. Loves to baby anything they can, especially small pets. Always has like 3 candles burning at once. Has 1 tapestry per wall of their room/house. Their clothes look SO comfy but so stylish?? Try hards as kids but when they grow up, they shamelessly enjoy things that they pretended to hate when they were young. You can call them crying at any time of the day and they will come running with a wine bottle in one hand and a homemade meal in the other. Has to clean off their bed before they lay down every night not because its dirty but they have more pillows than one human could ever use at once. At least one of their parents, more likely their mom if they’re on good terms, will adopt all their friends as her additional children. Leo Catchphrase: “So...” (used to exaggerate, inquire, and to connect ideas, often all at once). I know that everyone says this but their hair is the first thing you see, there’s just so much how do you miss it?? So ready to party it has to be unhealthy. Will hug you and endearingly call you bitch within 5 minutes of knowing them. Ready to start so much shit at any time (air signs love em because they can just stand a safe distance away and take it all in) but eventually they or (more likely) the Offender gives in and it’s all good... for now. Heart on their sleeve 24/7. Needs to set the stage of their life all the time and has a playlist for every Mood, which means at least 40. A walking, talking advertisement for their favorite things- #1 hype man/wing man. Loves to sleep, will sleep through any/accidentally turn alarms off instead of snooze them so they have to set 5-10 at least. Will stay in bed as long as possible, and are very rarely morning people. Most likely to rock bangs and pigtails into adulthood. At least half of their possessions are holographic/glittery/light-up. Virgo Rising Catchphrase: "It’s no problem." Chuckles to themselves often because they pick up on the weirdest little details around them. The only time their hands aren’t busy fiddling with something is when they sleep. Seem mad shy at first but will dissolve tension in an instant with a wisecrack. Thrives in awkward situations and uses these opportunities to make friends. Makes things uncomfortable on purpose to watch people squirm. First person in the room to speak up about something and show initiative in projects. Probably fluent in technology, a trade like mechanics, culinary arts or cosmetology, or at least one instrument. Animal whisperers, probably has a couple cats and some fish. Still learning how to get their lives together. Only warning signs before they snap is a split second of frustrated silence. Drawing skills were enhanced the most during grade school because they drew on every surface their little hands could get to. Libra Rising Catchphrase: Probably whatever their friends have greeted them the most with this week. Desperate to connect, so they’ll talk about pretty much anything and probably won’t be bothered by someone they recently met sitting thigh-to-thigh. Makes friends with gorgeous folks but also flocks to loud, outspoken people. Personality is different around different people. Least likely to talk about their family. Perpetually confused but still truckin’. Will talk about anything and everything and see both sides. Only plays devil’s advocate when they don’t care about a topic/point of view and just want you to shut up. Subconsciously acts differently depending on who they’re around. Presentation is mad ambiguous so not only can they easily pull off androgyny but they can somehow flaunt styles that are hard to pull off, and then look like they can be anywhere from 16 to 30 to boot?? Takes a long time to fall asleep because they want to get their life together and plan the most when its time to go to bed.  Scorpio Rising Catchphrase: -they don’t have one as they prefer to communicate solely with their eyes. Either you love them or your hate them. The longer you go without seeing them, the harder it is to recognize them next time you do. Try so hard to look big and scary and unapproachable as a defense mechanism. You only need to know them for a few days to realize that they’re actually HUGE softies. Makes smart-ass comments under their breath when you do something ridiculous because “they can’t help it.” That’s partially true, but mostly they really want you to hear their mumbling so that they don’t have to spell it out to you. Trust me, their backhanded remark you weren’t supposed to hear is much nicer then what they’ll say to your face when provoked. Other than this, they can communicate perfectly with only their eyes. Most likely to give the best advice that no one listens to, but also the least likely to listen to good advice themselves because they learn best from experience. Believes there’s a time and place for everything. Pretends to hate cuddling but snuggle in their sleep; sleeps under a minimum of 3 soft blankets with the fan going. Sagittarius Rising Catchphrase: "I Know, Right?" Either smiling like a fool because they’re completely oblivious or because they know something you don’t, it’s hard to tell. Probably has long legs, most likely to fill out as they age. Somehow always approachable bc they are going into everything with gusto. In matters regarding everything but themselves, they blindly trust everything and everyone around them. Turns everything into a joke. Annoyingly agreeable until they feel comfortable with you, at which point they go full know-it-all mode. They have no patience and once they reach their wits end, they will tell you exactly what’s on their mind and they don’t care who you think you are. Always finding trouble because they have no impulse control and no respect for authority. Once you get them on their soapbox there’s no escape. Can only sleep in total darkness, probably sleeps with a pillow on their face. When you find them asleep in their bed, you’ll wonder at first if they’re dead if you can even see them buried under the covers. Capricorn Rising Catchphrase: Anything sarcastic. Rushes through everything so they have more time to relax before they go to bed at 8 pm sharp. Prominent bone structure, especially cheekbones. Will drop everything to help even though their plate is full because they secretly care but will cover this up with complaints. Gives people they care about allowances of some kind, especially when they have more of something you want/need. Hardest rising to find self acceptance/love, but wind up the best at it. Faces adversity with dark humor. True personality is hidden behind at least a dozen masks. First of their friends to have a Finsta. Rare to find one without an addiction to coffee or cigarettes. Learned at a super young age how to cook for themselves. Most likely to be a latch-key kid. Buys everything online. Researches everything they partake in beforehand at least a week before. Likes to sleep early and wake up early so they don’t miss anything. Plans their next adventure when they try to sleep. Aquarius Rising Catchphrase: something cryptic under their breath that doesn't make sense and can't be translated to modern english. Looks more like their ancestors further up the family tree than their own parents. Has to be raise as many eyebrows as possible. Does everything in a backwards, roundabout way that makes sense to only them. Quickly figures out out all the possible outcomes of a situation, still goes for the most hair-brained route. Makes everything a meme. Weirdest taste in music and fashion, but somehow rocks it effortlessly. They know exactly the impact they have on others and uses it to their advantage. Considers themselves the mom friend. Gone at the first sign of emotional involvement. Attracts drama but denounces it as petty at the same time. Like Capricorn, it’s hard to find one that isn’t addicted to something that’s bad for them. Can only fall asleep if they feel like they accomplished something and made a difference that day, no matter how small.  Pisces Rising Catchphrase: “Livin’ the dream.” Really just wants to go home and dissolve. This is the hardest sign to guess, but once you get their birth time it all makes sense. Sad puppy eyes perk up and reflect everything you are when you have their attention. Consumes media you’ve never heard of. Probably came out of the womb knowing how to play an instrument. Escapism of choice is either drugs and alcohol or fantasy games/books/movies. Half the time it’s impossible to tell if they are currently messed up, hungover or just tired, but it’s always at least one of the three. Doesn’t realize how much people drain them until it’s too late. They try very hard to give it their all, but most of the time they’re running on a low energy reserve as-is. Ironically most awake at bedtime, daydreaming of something to give them hope and a reason to wake up in the morning.

[epilogue-and-prologue]

To Protect and To Serve - Part II : The Training

Note: Same Drill.

Note/Warnings: Panic Attack. (1848 Words)

Disclaimers: None of these belong to me.

“But she likes to wear dresses!”

You could not believe what Clint’s kids had done to the poor dog.

July was nowhere to be seen, as was Steve, probably doodling somewhere in peace but leaving you and Bucky on your own with Clint and Tony’s barbecue shenanigans.

You were not supposed to be here in the first place, but you began to know a little bit more about the Avengers spending so much more time with Steve and Bucky as you organized illegal training sessions with Dori—Dorito started to get long after 4 hours calling after her. The training was hard, since the dog itself was traumatized and often it was the one getting help from Buck and not the other way around. Dori turned out to be a pretty big goof, running after pigeons even as she approached the age of one.

This was your typical Sunday barbecue only it was to introduce you to the team. Yeah, introducing your “friend who works with therapy dogs for veterans” to your superhero co-workers, nothing wrong there. Steve had insisted but you would not budge. It was when Dori and Bucky intervened that you had to say yes. Who could say no to two strays with the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen?

A beer in one hand and sitting on the porch with Bucky at your feet Wanda, Natasha and Laura—Barton’s wife—at your left you were admiring the skills of two grown-ass men bickering over barbecue.

“I don’t think they’ll be over soon enough. I’m starting to get hungry.

 —Don’t worry. It’s a family tradition. They’ve got it nailed down to the last minute.

 —The sausages will be ready first then chicken and then steaks. And before it’s over there will be marshmallows ‘for the kids’ and more bickering over who makes the best marshmallows.”

You nodded, impressed by the whole plan. Watching the kids play, you pushed Bucky in the shoulder a little. He turned to you, a few strands of hair falling in his face as the rest were tied up in a small bun.

“Well, Buck aren’t you gonna say something? Dori is run at by children who want to dress her up.

 —But look at her! She’s having fun. And I’m tired of running after her when she runs after pigeons.

 —This is not you, Buck. This is Dori. She loved to run after pigeons and any animal that has an ability she hasn’t—you saw her run after Vision for an hour, haven’t you?—but you also know she is scared as hell of kids. So let me tell you it does not help her. Just pick her up and feed the poor animal already. Then the kids can play with her and you.

 —Why me?

 —She’s your dog to take care of, Bucky.

 —... Good point.”

Leaving his bottle behind, he patted your knee, smiled at you and left to get his dog. You smiled fondly at the gesture. From afar you could see the kid gathering around him and talking to him. Bucky with Dori in his arm seemed less frightened than she used to before. He smiled at the kids before taking the dog to the car and feeding her giving him her medicine carefully. He was being affectionate with the puppy.

Wanda snapped you out of your thought.

“I’m going on a training weekend with Laura next week. It is taught by a retired SHIELD agent. Self-defense classes style. You wanna come?

 —Me? You sure about that?

 —Well, you’re one of us now. Better learn how to defend yourself, don’t you think?”

It was not something you had thought about. You had not thought the thought through. Helping Dori and the boys was fun, but it was your job anyhow. You could always tell yourself you had a way out of this, letting one of your colleagues take the lead.

The whole Avengers thing, on the other hand. It was not something you asked for. Not that it bothered you, but you never realized you could be a possible target because of your relationship with them.

Laura intervened.

“Don’t let yourself be pushed. Take your time. I could not get myself to learn when Clint joined the Avengers. Only when I saw on TV and what was happening I realized had to do something other than just sit around, especially after the pregnancy. It takes time to really understand the meaning of what it is to be surrounded by super-enhanced-power-wielding people.”

You gulped down a bit of beer before nodding slowly.

You turned to Wanda.

“I’ll let you know. Do you think I could have your email or something to tell you?

 —Yeah. Give me your phone I’ll give you my number.”

And before you could know what was happening your phone went around and you had Natasha and Laura’s number too. You did not know why Natasha left you her number, but you did not dare question it. Laura, on the other hand, told you directly why she had done so.

“If ever you need a day or two out of the city. Or someone to talk to. The line is open.”

She smiled, and you could not help but do the same. She left to check inside the house.

“Hey girls! Have you seen Buck I need him to help set the table?

 —You need him to set the table?

 —Yeah. Laura asked, and I could not get myself to say no.

 —Liar.

 —Natasha...

 —She’s right you’re a shitty liar.

 —(Y/N) et tu?

 —Come on Captain don’t act like a child set the table. You don’t need your best buddy for that!”

He sighed heavily, not even bothering to respond as he walked back into the house. You looked at the two other women and laughed. Dori arrived at your feet on that a toy sneezing in her mouth every time she chewed on it. Bucky was not far behind.

Suddenly he started clutching his chest visibly trying to calm his breathing. The dog did not drop the toy as she made his way toward him. You followed the noise with an eye and you landed on Bucky’s. His pupils were wide, and you could see the anxiety invading his features. You jumped to your feet and quickly jogged up to him. Dori was beside him as he closed his eyes slowly breathing in and out. It was all in slow motion to you but ever more to the dog. The attack would not dissipate. Bucky sat down in the grass as Dori climbed up his lap and nestled against his chest. You did not try to say a word or draw attention to you in any way. Even with that the Labrador went to you, barking to get your attention and draw you nearer. Maybe she had felt your tension. Maybe she had felt that his owner needed someone close by. You could not say but as you came to Bucky’s feet he let out a whimper. He was crying as he felt anxiety and derealization rise in his throat. You reached out on instinct, stopping yourself midway. Your heartbeat was in your ears making you deaf and blind to everything around you but him.

He finally allowed his body to relax a little as the worst of it had passed, then he raised his eyes to you.

Tears went down his cheeks as he nodded almost imperceptibly for you to get closer.

Your hand was shaking as you placed it on his head, slowly letting him fall against your chest. You felt him tense under your fingers. He was still, not moving except for his thumb slowly petting Dori.

July arrived with Steve in tow.

Your hand slipped from the hair to his back, your other hand cupping his cheek with just the tip of your fingers before letting the palm of your hand completely meet his skin. He did not seem to notice the gesture until he turned his face into the small embrace and ever so lightly left a breath and a kiss in your palm making your heart jump. If you had not been so worried, you would not have noticed the way his lips curled when he let his cheek rest into your hand. You were on the verge of crying, wanting nothing but to fully embrace him, fully take him in, not ever letting him go out of your sight.

After a few minutes, he broke the touch, and Laura accompanied you inside the house.

Dori was snoozing in Bucky’s arms and July was at Tony’s feet enjoying the scraps she could get from him as he was still dealing with the whole barbecue thing. Steve sat down on the couch next to his friend, with several cups of tea on a tray.

The sun was shining so brightly outside. The kids were back outside playing ball. As if nothing happened.

You were staring through the window when Natasha approached you.

She gave you somewhat of an apologizing smile and a steaming mug.

“I’m sorry you had to witness this. Don’t beat yourself too much though, Bucky is strong he can handle it.”

She saw your questioning look and came closer to you as if she was telling you a secret.

“It’s not the first time this happened.”

On that she cut you off before you could answer.

“I’ve seen many relationships start and end with what you two have. He feels he can trust you and you feel like you can save him. Maybe you’re right maybe you’re not. Maybe it’s the other way around. No one knows but you both. Let me warn you though: He’s barely out of his shell yet. He has a hard time looking people in the eye or going out on his own. Make a choice about this relationship. Start or end it. Soon. Before you get your hopes up more preferably. Before it hurts both of you.”

You nodded, a bit dazed by what she just told you. You did not really understand but figured it would make sense later. She kept talking.

“Oh, and be careful I might have spiced up the tea a bit. To give you strength.”

She slapped your shoulder and went back to the living room.

What the hell were you supposed to do with this? Damn it! You were an acquaintance, a friend maybe not anyone he would see as more than that, right? He could not, he did not have the time nor the thoughts for that. He was... Crumbling down and you were helpless. You wanted to help. You just did not know how. You wanted to be there for him. You wanted to be there. You only wished you could.

You only wished you did not listen to a word she said. But you did. Because you cared. You knew for weeks, it just did not seem fair to admit it but how were you going to say goodbye to Bucky Barnes if you had already fallen for him?

[lean-mean-sam-and-dean]

Imagine Dean Finding Your Sketchbook...

Word Count: Around 2500

Warnings: None other than fluff :)

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam

Pairing: Dean x Reader

A/N: This one really ran away from me, it was supposed to be kind of short…but enjoy! Maybe this will appease y’all while I work on the new part of Through the Flames! 

***This fic is pretty thrown together, I just wanted to give you guys something since it takes me such a long ass time to update

Summary: The reader has a sketchbook full of drawings of Dean. After a hunt, to the reader’s horror and embarrassment, she finds Dean with his nose in her sketchbook.

There was never much privacy in your life with the Winchesters. Every time you turned around one of them was always right there. On most days, that wasn’t a bad thing- especially on hunts. You knew they’d always have your back, that you were never alone. It was comforting really, comforting on those days that you needed someone when everything seemed to go wrong. Sam always had kind words of advice and assurance and Dean wouldn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you. You couldn’t help but love the fact that they were always there.

You also couldn’t help but hate the fact that they were always there. You’d started to develop a kind of sixth sense whenever one of them was nearby, you could just feel them lurking. It was more of Dean than anything, Sam knew enough to let you be.

Dean loved to hover. You decided that this was because he was such a mother hen, but you eventually came to another conclusion. Dean Winchester was sometimes too curious for your liking. You figured that at some point he’d learn his lesson because, as you had pointed out to him more than once- curiosity killed the cat.

As annoying as it could be at times, he wasn’t hurting anyone when he would lean over your shoulder to see what you were watching on Sam’s laptop. The one time he had followed you to yoga class to see where you’d been disappearing to all week wasn’t even that big of a deal either. Despite the fact that he could have just asked you, you dropped it and let him go with nothing more than a whack with your yoga mat.

There was only one thing you would not tolerate Dean Winchester getting his hands on- your sketchbook. You’d never had a diary or anything else of that sort but you’d treated the sketchbook just the same. You’d only shown Sam a drawing or two and that was the only exposure it had ever gotten. You shared most of everything you had with the boys but this was the one thing you kept to yourself.

It wasn’t because you thought you were a terrible artist, it wasn’t because you had drawn anything x-rated, as Dean had once suggested when you refused to let him see it. It was because it was filled with pictures of Dean. Sam had been featured once or twice but Dean dominated most of the pages. You hadn’t told him about it, not only because you were sure his ego would explode, but because you’d be mortified it he ever saw them. Sure, they were all innocent sketches, but something about Dean finding your sketchbook full of pictures of him was utterly horrifying.

The only thing worse than Dean finding your sketchbook, would be him finding your sketchbooks- plural. There were three of them including the one you were currently working on- all filled front to back with sketches of the older Winchester. To your embarrassment- you’d drawn him so many times you didn’t need to look at him in order to create an impressively accurate portrait of him. He was one of those people that were just fun to draw- not that you’d ever let him know that.

You laid long ways in the backseat of the Impala, listening to her purr as you worked on your most recent piece. There were only a last few touches needed and you smiled as you darkened the pencil lines of his jeans, following the length of his bow legs.

The three of you had just finished clearing a vampire nest and the boys were more than ready to get the motel and shower. If you were being honest, you were too. Between the three of you, you were covered in the most blood. Dean had even made you sit on an old blanket while muttering something about you looking like Carrie.

When you were satisfied that the drawing of Dean with a machete in hand was complete, you closed your sketchbook and slipped it into your duffel bag beside you. About a year ago you had started this habit. At some point, during every hunt you had gone on since you had started the sketchbooks, you drew a picture of him. Some were of Dean as he nursed a beer in a small town bar, others of him standing over the gaping mouth a desecrated grave.

Each one served as a memento from each hunt but there was one that held a special place in your heart. In a sleepy county in Montana you had taken pencil to paper and drawn him sitting at a worn picnic table at the county fair. He was smiling, holding three different kinds of deep fried food in his hands and as excited as a little kid. You couldn’t look at it without a huge grin forming.

The car slowed to a halt in front of the motel and you didn’t waste any time snatching up your bag and making your way inside. You quickly found some pajamas to wear after getting cleaned up and made it to the door of the bathroom just as the boys threw their stuff on the beds.

“Aw c’mon!” Dean threw his hands up, “You’re gonna take up all the hot water!”

You snickered, “Sorry Dean-o, you snooze, you lose.” You closed the door before he could say anything else. You knew the boys were just as tired as you were and decided to give them a bit of grace and shower quickly.

Dean threw himself onto the nearest bed with a grunt and your bag bounced off and onto the floor. Dean groaned. “Dammit.” He hauled himself up and strode over to the other side of the bed while Sam busied himself with his laptop.

He leaned down and grabbed your bag but all of its contents dropped onto the floor. “Are you kidding me?” He muttered. Dean was slightly afraid of what he’d find in the pile that had tumbled to the carpet. Who knows what girls packed in their bags? He quickly shoved your clothes back into the bag while trying to avoid anything he didn’t want to see. He was about to return a soft gray sweater to its place when he felt something beneath the fabric. It was stiff and thin and it took all of Dean’s will power not to take a peek. He looked over at Sam who paid no attention to him- probably doing whatever nerds like him do on their computers this late at night.

He really wanted to know what it was, and the more he thought about what it could possibly be, the more curious he became. He knew it was most likely wrapped up for a reason, it was private, and how would he explain as to how he’d found it? This had been in the bottom of your bag and there would be no easy way to tell you he’d been snooping.

Dean decided that what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you- it’s not like he’d be caught anyways, you took long showers. Maybe the sweater wasn’t even meant to hide what was inside, maybe the mystery object had gotten stuck in your clothes when you’d put it in your bag…and then the sleeves of the sweater somehow tied themselves. Before he could lose his courage Dean slipped the object from the fabric and found himself holding a blue sketchbook.

“Since when does she draw?” Sam turned away from his computer screen. “You say something?”

Dean shoved the sketchbook into his shirt and shielded the scene with his body. “What? No! I didn’t say anything. Nope.” Sam squinted in suspicion. “What are you doing?”

Dean shifted nervously as the tips of his ears burned red. “Nothing. I’m not doing anything.” Sam closed his laptop and stood from his chair. “Dean are you…are you hiding something?”

Desperate to escape the situation Dean attempted to turn the accusation back on his little brother. “I’m not- I’m not hiding anything. What- what are you hiding Sammy? I think you’re- you’re hiding something.” He backed up against the bed as Sam quickly approached.

Sam’s eyes widened as he stopped in his tracks. “Oh my god, Dean! Were you going through Y/N’s stuff?” Dean shushed him harshly. “Shut the hell up Sam, she’ll hear you!”

“Good!” Sam retorted. “She’ll know you were being a perv and rifling through her-” He was cut off when Dean clasped his hand over his mouth. “Would you shut up! I knocked her bag off the bed and everything fell out!” Dean removed his hand. “I was putting everything back in when I saw this.” He pulled the sketchbook out of his shirt and waved it in Sam’s face.

The younger brother still hadn’t the slightest idea as to why Dean had the book in his hands. It was yours, it was private. If it felt wrong to have it in his possession, it probably was. “So what? That’s her personal stuff, leave it alone, Dean.”

Dean stood with his mouth agape. “You seriously aren’t curious as to what’s in here?” Sam shifted from foot to foot but didn’t say anything. “That’s what I thought!”

Sam groaned. “I don’t want anything to do with this. Y/N didn’t say you could go through it.”

“But she didn’t say I couldn’t.” Dean reasoned. “Whatever, I’m not going to be in any part of this.” Sam reopened his laptop and sat back down with a scowl.

Dean rolled his eyes and opened the front cover. There wasn’t anything important you could possibly be hiding in a sketchbook. Maybe it was something like John’s journal, documenting new information and drawings of monsters he’d never seen before. So what if he’d seen some doodles you’d made, what was so wrong about him appreciating your art? Why had you hidden-

“Oh,” Was all he could say when he realized that the first drawing was of him. He wore a grin and that bulky winter coat with the big furry hood. Dean remembered this as a moment from a vengeful spirit hunt in Michigan months ago. Dean didn’t know what to say- didn’t know what to do, so he turned the page. Just as it was on the first, two more drawings of himself stared back at him.

He wasn’t even sure how to feel at first. He was so taken aback by the fact that you’d want to draw him of all people he could only stand and gawk at your artwork. Not only did you seem to be quite talented, but you had captured everything that made Dean, Dean. From the soft curve of his jaw to the way he held himself, it was all beautifully displayed upon the page.

“Woah.” Dean turned to find his brother looking over his shoulder. Evidently his curiosity had gotten the better of him too. “Yeah, woah is right.” Dean breathed. He flipped page after page, all of them filled with drawings of him, all from different hunts.

“Did you know she was doing this?” Sam shook his head. “I mean, she’s shown me a few sketches but not this. This is…these are amaz-”

“Oh my god.”

The brothers turned to see you in the doorway of the bathroom, face flushed red as you stared at them with wide eyes. “Where did you get that?” Dean guiltily closed the sketchbook and Sam chuckled nervously.

There was an awkward moment of silence until Dean cleared his throat. “I- um I accidentally knocked your bag off of the bed and this,” He held up the book, “fell out.”

You crossed the room in about three steps and plucked it from his hand. “That was private, Dean.” You said quietly, shoving it back in your bag. “It was wrapped up in one of my shirts, I know for a fact it didn’t just ‘fall out’.”

Sam looked to Dean and raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t seen his brother untangle the book from the sweater earlier. Dean let out a breath. “I know sweetheart, I’m sorry I just-”

“Just what Dean?” You turned on him with a glare. “You just thought that because I wasn’t there you could go through my stuff?”

“You’re right I shouldn’t have done that, but Y/N-”

You cut him off as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “I think I’m gonna sleep in the car tonight.” Dean caught your arm as you pushed past him. “Why are you so upset that I saw your drawings?”

You looked at him like he had grown a second head. “Are you serious?” Sam snatched up his own belongings and headed as fast as he could towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower.” There was no way in hell he was staying for that conversation.

“Because I’m humiliated Dean! You saw everything that was in there!”

“So what!”

“So every single one of them was of you! Going through that sketchbook is like going through my diary!”

It was quiet again and the only thing Dean could feel was shame. You shook your head and opened the door. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“They’re really good you know.”

You stopped in the doorway. What did he just say? Did he just compliment you? He didn’t just tell you that it was creepy that you had an entire sketchbook filled with pictures of him?

“What?”

Dean smiled and fidgeted with his hands. “I said, they’re good. Like really good.” You slowly closed the door. “You- you don’t think it’s weird? I mean I never asked to draw you-”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Dean took a step towards you. “I think they’re amazing.” Another step. Your chest tightened. “I think you’re talented.” Another step. He was now so close his breath stirred the hairs framing your face.

Dean tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “And I think you’re beautiful.” He said quietly. Your breath hitched in your throat as his eyes traveled down to your lips. He looked back up to you as if asking for permission, you gave a slight nod. Dean cupped your face in hands and pressed his lips to yours. Your heart about exploded in your chest. He smelled like blood and sweat but you didn’t care- you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and deepened the kiss.

“I thought it would scare you off.” You murmured as you parted, resting your forehead against Dean’s.

Dean chuckled and you felt the rumble from his chest against yours. “Are you kidding? I’ve held a torch for you for years. A few drawings aren’t going to scare me off, sweetheart.”

You leaned back to get a good look at him. “Really?” Dean grinned. “Really.”

Suddenly the mood changed as he wiggled his eyebrows. “And you know, if you ever need a nude model…” You slapped his arm as he laughed. “You ruined the moment, you idiot!”

He placed a kiss to the top of your head as he squeezed you in his arms. “But I’m your idiot now, right?”

“Yes,” you wrapped your arms around his middle, “You’re my idiot.”

Tags: @hasta-impalasta  @torn-and-frayed  @ilostmyshoe-79  @faith-in-dean @bringmesomepie56  @deanssweetheart23  @impala-dreamer @luci-in-trenchcoats @curliesallovertheplace  @chaos-and-the-calm67 @ravengirl94 @lipstickandwhiskey @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @effie-w

[captusmomentum]

Excessively detailed asks: 1-19 odds only for Inan, 20-38 evens only for Tace plz :D

fuck me running this is a lot OKAY HERE WE GOOOOOO

INANALLAS

(heads up the pronouns are gonna jump around here bc inan uses they//them and she/her so hopefully doesn’t get too confusing rip)

1. What does their bedroom look like?

Surprisingly Clean. They’re exactly the type you’d expect to be super messy but thanks to living in such small spaces like aravals all their life they’re very good about keeping things in come kind of order. This stands even for modern verses, they’re very good about it. In verses they’re inquisitor they actually rearrange the room a lot, putting their bed on the balcony and making the main floor more of an office/living room as well as creating panels to help block out some of that sun bc HOLY SHIT WINDOWS, they also have a panel set to block the view of the bed which is really just wedged between it and the railing. The little bed alcove is very cozy and the main floor is much more functional and better for have friends up :D In modern aus, like say amd, they’re one of those people who’re like ‘ live in an apartment that’s only 90ft big :D’ and when they show you how it’s like part science miracle and part acrobatics bonanza. Like look at any tiny home or tiny apartment type show/place/thing and thats’ how they Roll. Mainly bc they’re fucking Broke AF, creative/innovative and well trained by dalish life for it. So bedrooms are usually like, lofts and shit like that which can mean it’s not much more than the essentials of Snoozing. 

3. Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?They do! Inan works out pm everyday in pm every verse. Their style of magic is very, very very physical so it requires a lot of working out and training even in verses where they’re not constantly murdering ppl like canon ones they gotta get diesel for magic. In most verses they primarily do a variety of martial arts (or just one elf/dalish one? depends on how deep into worldbuilding you wanna get here honestly) and then things like running, weight lifting general kinda fitness exercise things. I imagine in modern verses and such (maybe more canon ones too tf do i know) that places like Arlathvhen’s there’s like, a sort of pow wow/olympics type event that goes on and clans have people representing them and Lath was disqualified for cheating bc she’s Weak in the temptation of Victory so Inan is the Obligatory Contender in at least some of the mage events, usually like, dueling bc it’s ironically her specialty. So she really does have to stay sharp when in verses where there’s no fighting bc she’s gotta bring home gold for clan Lavellan. 

(if u wanna get a sense of how inan fights it’s a LOT like pm anyone from avatar the last airbender/Legend of Korra especially Korra and Katara(atla) )(apologies about the katara vid and that shit music there’s So Little out there sobs)5. Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

Inan isn’t the most organized or together person which is combined w/ their dalish upbringing is why they’re Hyper Organized. Things have places and they go there ALWAYS otherwise they’ll never be found again ever. Also lots of labels. Their own living spaces are more organized than their work spaces, generally bc other ppl touch things or put things on their desk. Every time someone touches their things they have a small heart attack bc it means that something CRITICAL might have been moved and will never be found again. Seriously they are held together only by the power of their aesthetically pleasing organization and labeling. So school is Really Fun in modern aus (read: i’ve considered having them be a high school dropout for Various Reasons).7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

They Dream of wasting time. They Long to waste time. Everyday they pray they can waste time. Usually a lot of her time goes into things like Clan Stuff, Magic Stuff and Work Stuff so any chance they get to dick off they do. They fave method in modern verses is tv or youtube but in canon-y verses its Tavern w/ Bull or Tavern w/ Sera, the 2 people most likely 2 not call her out for Ditching Shit. Drinking w/ Dorian and/or Varric is very high on the list in all verses.9.Makeup?

Naaaahhhhhhhhhh. Generally too lazy for it and doesn’t like feeling of it on her face. Also it’s a real Bitch bc she’s always got tats on like 70-90% of her face and freckles (which she actually likes) so like foundation’s a Nah but you can’t do things like cover her dark circles w/o foundation otherwise the difference is Too Obvious like it’s just a Disaster. She can be convinced to wear it at special events and things but someone else has gotta do it. 

11. Intellectual pursuits?Some and very disorganized. Generally answering any Burning Mystical Questions they have regardless of worth or importance, debating (fighting) about topics involving analysis in books and things, Fade Stuff, Learning Elvhen. They don’t really actively pursue a lot of things bc they’re doing so much shit normally, they really only pursue it when the interest strikes. Also, proving that the occult is Real and Valid.13.Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?hoooooooooo boy dksjlgjfdsgfk, pansexual demisexual/grey-asexual is probably the best description. they don’t know they just like people and they don’t think about it they don’t think about Sex Stuff or ppls orientations it’s all W/E IDK and while they’re not prudish or squeamish about it they will run screaming for the hills things get too raunchy. Sex –especially sex involving them– has them looking for the nearest exit, not necessarily bc they’re sex repulsed but they are Extremely Anxious and Scared of interpersonal interaction so kissing is yiKESSSSSSSSSSSSS15.Biggest and smallest short term goal?Hmmmmm that’s really hard. Biggest is usually like: Not Die. Smallest is something like: whatever is next on to do list. They live a life of unnecessary extremes. 17.Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dressGoth mori/strega fashion vibes. Lots of skirts and layers and looking very much like a peasant wizard. Usually they just dress for the weather and put on as many layers as they can to feel safe and protected (and snuggly). There’s a lot of similarities in their logic about it with Uthvir but with miles of soft fabrics instead of spikes. Usually darker colors with an emphasis on blues. There’s not too much in the way of ritual around it since they’ve tailored their wardrobe so they can grab things put them on, and look good w/o any real effort.

 here’s the for inan fashion stuff 

19.What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Usually they go through a very specific ritual when going to sleep since they’re a dreamer to help keep that shit on lock which involves a lot of emptying of the mind and relaxing and preparing to deal with Fade Shit. If they don’t it’s just existential dread, anxiety and depression shit and panic. So they don’t not do the thing…….

TACE

20.Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?Tace wasn’t really sick much more than the normal amount and kinds as a kid and was the kind who conks out the whole time and doesn’t say, try to get up and play. As he got older and his dreamer abilities started to kick in he reacted to it like someone who was very sick, fevers, hot and cold, sweating. slept too much or not enough. He began to have trouble keeping food down and lacking an appetite which he still has problems with to this day along with sleep trouble and exhaustion. 22.Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?either doodles of dicks and such or a rude, raunchy or somehow unacceptable letter to someone whether he knew them or not he wrote for a laugh with no intention of sending. He’s very mature24.Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?He actually excels in a lot of things, he’s a pretty gifted mage. He just Hates the Circle and all that academia type shit so regardless of his skill in them he doesn’t want to do them. He thinks intellectual pursuits are on a whole a waste of time because they’re mainly just there to make people feel more important and fancy.26.Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?NOPE. NONE. past maybe ‘consult with that statue of Eleni Zinovia back in Ferelden about what to do w/ my life’ and ‘get a boyfriend’. 28.Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?hoooooo that’s Rough. Probably Banal though he’s more a father figure. He wasn’t very close to his other mages and hated the templars. Later when he meets Keshet and Shalev I guess they become his best friends which is...... very gay and lame.

Worst Enemy is Cullen and Meredith but Meredith is dead so fuck youuuuuuuu Culllleeennnnnnnn.30.Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)Boy This Sucks [Drinks like a monster even more than usual] 

he’s pretty desensitized to tragedy but also a shambling mess so it’s really just his usual self but like 1000000000000000% worse for a while

32.Thoughts on material possessions in general?

MORE PLEASE. he loves shit give him all the stuff he wants to lounge in a gaudy parlor on a opulent chaise. He never got to have much in the way of possessions in the circle so he lots shit now. also he’s just a material little shit.

34.Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)He doesn’t care about other people’s privacy pretty much at all and loves getting into people’s shit but he’s VERY intense about his own privacy. He’s deeply protective of himself and his things and privacy. So he’s a wildly hypocritical guy.36.What makes them feel guilty?Not fucking much. He occasionally feels bad about how he’s treated someone but it’s not often and he’d never say it out loud. just kinda adds it to the pile of fuel for self-loathing.38.Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

He’d be a Type A if it weren’t how his life has gone so I guess he’s like, a burnout Type A. 

[jayegum]

Santorini - Fira

The capital of Santorini is really just like a busy small town comparatively to anything back home. After settling in at our new abode, Anessis Apartments we headed in search of lunch and found Mama's House. Joel was feeling like an afternoon snooze so he headed back while I found a place to get my nails done. It's funny that you always know they are speaking about you in an Asian language back home or in Bali but I was a bit shocked to be called a 'malakas' by the girl doing my nails here as I literally hadn't said anything but answer her questions about where I was from (we had found out that malakas means wanker a couple of days before in a hilarious incident involving a car parking too close to a shop's ATM - the shop owner described him as a malakas from mykonos). That evening we headed off to Santos Winery at the recommendation of Erin. We went on the 630pm tour through the winery which was interesting and then sat down on their huge balcony to try their wines. When booking the tour package you can book anything from 1 to 18 glasses of wine...I went with 12 as it seemed a reasonable number. Joel and I had so much fun trying the wines, inventing our own tasting notes and jotting down our favourites. As we grew more exuberant we started chatting with the couple next to us. Mike and Katie from San Diego, California were headed to Paris for Katies brother's wedding after their tour of Santorini. Sometimes you just meet people and hit it off and these 2 are definitely in the good egg basket (along with the Candians from Mykonos). It may have been the (many) wines but Katie and I felt like definite spirit animals. We left Santos and unfortunately Mike and Katie who were off the next day in search of dancing which we hadn't done on our trip yet. In Fira town we headed to Tangos as recommended by Fay from Gizis. Unfortunately when we got there we found a ridiculously pretentious bar with tables of pretty people ordering Grey goose by the bottle and where cocktails were £20 each! While finishing our overpriced cocktail we starting chatting to an Australian couple which somehow devolved into him wanting us to all do a runner from the bar (even though we had paid.for our drinks?) He talked us into leaving first with his wife and while we were waiting for him she spent the whole time telling us how their favorite past time in Sydney was sneaking into A list parties or doing runners from restaurants which had got them arrested a few times. We finished the night with a cheeky dance in a absolutely chockers dive bar and then a delicious slice of pizza on the way home. The drunk pizza was so good that Joel and I went back there for breakfast (well noon by the time we dragged our hungover asses out of bed). I also had the best gelato of mt life - banoffee pie gelato! After an afternoon nap we hesded off on the bus to Oia at the very end of the island which is most famous for its sunset (except its the same sunset on the whole caldera side?) We walked the 300 steps down to Ammoudi bay on recommendation from Mike and Katie and had a lovely refreshing swim while watching people cliff jump. We stopped at a little taverna to sample the calamari before heading back up to Oia. I ashamedly took a donkey back up the steps (Joel walked them) which was both hilarious, frightening and uncomfortable all at once. At the very top (the donkeys can only go up to step 190) I was caught in the midst of a herd of donkeys coming down. This caused my guide to start yelling at the other guide so all you could see and hear where these stinky, fat donkey owners waving their long swatch sticks ar each other yelling malakas and other profanities I guess. For dinner I had made a reservation off TripAdvisor recommendations but when we got there we pretty quickly realised we had stumbled into the wrong venue with is still being in our day/exploring/swimming clothes. We went with it though and had a lovely last caldera sunset dinner serenaded by singer with piano (Until a group of 8 yankee doodles ruined the ambience with their wank and just when Id been convincing Joel that the yanks are great like Mike and Katie!) The bus ride home was a bit frightening as we had to stand which gave us a great view of the plummeting cliffs on our side and no security. Narrow roads along cliffs are a bitch when you have PTSD from a car accident! The next day we mooched around Fira until it was time to catch the bus to the port and then catch the ferry to Crete. The drive into the port was even more terrifying than the drive out! I calmed my nerves with a drink at the port and we were entertained by our waiter's antics. The Greeks are such larrikins with a great sense of play and humour. Next the 2 hour ferry ride to crete x

[dioskourixx]

In The Blood Ch.8

To say that my Spring Break was uneventful would be an understatement. The highlight of my time off from school would be the lunch date I had with Ms. Sven. Don’t get me wrong. I like Ms. Sven. I just wish that I had plans like my other friends did for the break. Raven had went on vacation with her parents. Himchan went to New York to visit some friends. Sophie decided to spend her time at her Uncle’s ranch in Tennessee, and Yongguk…well he just said that he was going home for the break and that he’d be back to catch the movie with me before classes started again. So while everyone else was busy with their mini adventures away from campus, I stayed behind, mostly locked away in my room, catching up on the many books I started at the beginning of the semester. I was actually able to finish three out of the seven I had picked up. Honestly, the break kind of passed me by in a blur. It was already the second to last night of the break before classes resumed. Some people have already started coming back to campus. Except my friends of course. I didn’t mind the time alone, but I was getting bored. Here I was, sitting on my bed with my sketchpad drawing aimlessly…again. I didn’t draw anything significant. Just doodles that would pop in my head as my brain began to feel numb due to lack of stimulation. Slightly frustrated, I closed my sketchpad and placed them on the floor beside my bed with a huff. I grabbed my phone. No texts whatsoever. I didn’t want to go on any of my social media, considering the fact that I had already scrolled on each one ten minutes ago. Looking at the time, I decided that it was a good time to leave to grab a bite to eat before the movie. The movie that Yongguk said he would go to with me, but now couldn’t because his folks didn’t want him to leave early. I understand. If my parents were alive, I’m sure they’d be the same way, right? I hurled myself out of bed and slid my sneakers on.

It didn’t take long for me to reach the small, cozy sandwich shop a couple of blocks from my dorm room. Although people had started coming back, places like this weren’t crowded. Those that returned early were most likely at bars and clubs with their friends they hadn’t seen in a week. It was a cute little shop that had its own uniqueness to it, especially considering the fact that it didn’t have a name. I’m not sure if that was the owner’s original intent, or it became nameless because they were indecisive. Either way, the food was good, and the name didn’t matter. After placing my order and receiving it about ten minutes later, I grabbed a seat in the fairly empty establishment and began eating. I was good on time since the movie started an hour later. Plenty of time to eat and walk to the theater on campus. A couple of minutes passed by before I heard the shop’s door open and his voice. The tall figure went straight to the counter to order his food before he spotted me. Ethan. He smiled immediately upon seeing me and I did the same. What was he doing here? Just yesterday, he said that he was at his folks place. He didn’t say anything about being back already. Either way, I was happy to see him. I waved him over to sit with me and he nodded in acknowledgement. He soon sat across from me after receiving his food and smiled brightly at me, revealing his beautiful teeth.

“So, I thought you were still with your folks.”

“I managed to sneak away a couple of days early. Missed me?” I wasn’t sure on whether I should tell him the truth and say yes, so I opted for a coy “maybe.” He didn’t need to know that a tiny part of me missed him. It was too soon. He seemed to be satisfied with that answer.

We continued talking as we finished off our food, asking the other about our spring break. Apparently he went to the beach with his dad for most of it. The times he wasn’t with him, he simply just caught up with his friends he hadn’t seen for some time. My break seemed like a snooze fest in comparison. A quick glance at my watch told me that it was time for me to leave to catch the movie. Not wanting to part just yet, Ethan had offered to go with me. He claimed that he was a sci-fi fan, so who was I to tell him no?

By the time we got to the theater, the previews were already playing, so we didn’t miss anything crucial. Fortunately for us, the theater wasn’t crowded either. In fact, it was more on the empty side, allowing us to pick our seats with little to no limitations. We eventually got comfortable in our seats and patiently waited for the previews to end. The opening scene was shown, introducing an alien species and a desolate environment. Already engrossed in the movie, it took me a minute to register that Ethan gently placed his hand over mine that was laying on the armrest. He turned it slightly so that he was now firmly holding it my hand. It was a sweet gesture, and despite me being shocked, it felt comfortable. I smiled slightly at myself, unwilling to look up at him, knowing that his gaze was fixed on me from his peripheral vision. He chuckled lightly and I could hear the playful smirk in it. Throughout the duration of the movie, we stayed like this. Holding hands while not just watching the movie, but also each other, looking away if caught by the other.

An hour and a half passed by and we were now on the outside walking around, hand in hand. No one said anything for the first few minutes until Ethan broke the silence.

“I’m sorry if I startled you earlier. I just really wanted to hold your hand.” I smiled at his honesty.

“It’s okay. If I didn’t like it, I would’ve told you so.”

“Right. Well, did you enjoy the movie?” I carefully thought about the movie and the scenes that stood out the most to me.

“Honestly, the plot seemed kind of dull. The makeup and settings were different and well done though. Did you enjoy the movie?

“I actually wasn’t paying that much attention.” He said this as he turned his head and looked at the ground instead of at me. His ears were now turning a bright red. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Was he really… blushing? “I actually have a confession to make too.”

“Oh, really? What’s that?” I asked, curiosity peaking my interest.

“I’m not really into sci-fi movies. I lied.” He was still looking at the ground as he said this, ears still burning. Why was he being really adorable right now? I could only laugh, but more so to myself.

“Are you serious?” I asked. He lifted his head slightly and nodded.

“Well, why did you lie? I wouldn’t have cared if you weren’t into the same genre as me.

“I honestly, just wanted to have an excuse to go to the movies with you. Like an unofficial date or something.” I couldn’t help but to smile at this cute human being. It was like seeing a new side of him compared to the romantic he portrayed himself to be during our first date. He was more shy this time around, which made me feel comfortable. We walked around campus for a little while longer, talking about school resuming soon, hobbies, and some childhood memories. Apparently he was an army brat, and moved around a lot to different countries his dad was stationed in during his service. Ethan’s mom died when he was young, making his dad a retired widow that lived close enough to the school to where Ethan could visit often. We avoided talking about my parents’ death, which I was thankful for. Looking at my watch, I realized how late it was getting. I insisted that I could walk back to my dorm on my own, but Ethan made it clear that he was going to walk with me. His exact words being, “What kind of gentleman would I be, if I allowed you to walk home alone?” Once again, who was I to tell him no? It took us about twenty minutes to reach my dorm, mostly due to our slow walking pace that I may or may not have set on purpose, just to milk my time with him. As we reached the steps of the dorm, I turned on my heel to face him.

“I had a great time tonight. Thank you.” I gave him one of the sweetest smiles I could manage. He smiled in response.

“No problem Hazel. I enjoy spending time with you.” He seemed so genuine. Was this guy even real or is he just a creation of my imagination? When holding his hand, it felt real. The scent that radiated off his body smelled real. Looking into his soft pale grey eyes whilst getting lost in them, definitely felt real.

“I’ll see you later then?” I asked. Was I actually seeking out his company this time around? His hand reached out to cup my face delicately, as if I was made of glass. His thumb slowly rubbed back and forth on my cheek that was now extremely warm with this sudden touch. I thanked God, that my blushing wasn’t visible to anyone. My only telltale was the heat that came from it. A small smile slowly stretched across his lips. He leaned forward and brought his soft lips to my forehead. He stayed like this, unmoving, for a few seconds, before pulling away leaving me somewhat frozen, with the sound of my heart loud in my ears. I watched him back away from the steps, eyes still on me as he put distance between us.

“Definitely,” was all he said, before he winked at me. Is he for real, or did I just imagine that? He was just acting bashful a couple of minutes ago. Where did this come from? His smile was now broad and showed his flawless teeth. Could he tell how shell-shocked I was? Did he gain pleasure seeing me timid for a change? Feeling flustered, I gave a quick nod and turned to go inside my dorm, not bothering to look back at Ethan. There was no point in embarrassing myself even more by looking back at him and being even more rattled. I was now safe inside my dorm. Free from his gaze. From his touch.

“What the hell was that?!”