#i just love how stories delve into people so young being screwed over with the power they dont know what to do with and how it effects them

[anxiously-sidequesting]

So I've been Sinning because I've been making posts on Malorn and Duncan individually but I don't think I ever really touched up on how their relationship with EACH OTHER would be and that's literally the most traumatizing thing I can think of for either of them

This is like, moreso purely speculation and 🌈 imagination🌈 anyways because I don't think there's like any canon material on the two of them interacting and their arcs and backstories are as small as bacteria in the first place but literally those two on their own could have their own fucking show with how much UNTAPPED STORYLINE that can come out of "Borderline child prodigy forced into and struggling with important position" Malorn and "Troubled child with undiscussed emotional issues and a jealousy complex borne from said position" Duncan

Idk about any type of interaction or relationship these two might have had before Malistaire became the Joker, but I can imagine there's ALREADY some type of rivalry (at LEAST one sided) between two guys in the same school in the same class, one of them is blatantly better than the other at everything they do and it's not the guy who says he is. (Like, idek how Malorn himself feels about him being the best in his class, but from what we've seen he doesn't brag about, mislead, or exaggerate about it like Duncan does. And the insane thing is Malorn AT LEAST would have a BASIS on his claims and attitude even if he was being a jerk about it)

But the thing is, Malorn back then as a regular student would not have been in any position to be up close and personal with Duncan in any meaningful way during school hours. Like they're classmates, at best they get grouped on a project together, but Malorn and Duncan being together would not be required and important until AFTER Malistaire dips and Malorn is now Duncan's PROFESSOR. Now in a totally more complicated and intimate way than before, Malorn and Duncan HAVE to interact with each other, speak and work with each other because now Malorn is the new Death teacher and he has to handle the brunt of Duncan's education and progress. GIRLS YOU NEED TO READ THAT LAST PART AGAIN BECAUSE THAT IS SO IMPORTANT!!!!!!!

Malorn and Duncan literally CANNOT escape each other if they wanted to do their jobs (good, unbiased educator and student still receiving education respectively). Yeah they may not be like, personal tutor and student but Duncan is in MALORN'S class now, and just that position alone puts a type of pressure on both of them to still maintain their respective roles and civility while dealing with the person who Does Not Make You Happy on a more personal level than before. That sucks actually

Like, Duncan couldn't even lie to Malorn about how "well" he's doing in Death class when he can SEE his papers. Duncan can't hide his grades papers from his professor, Duncan is no longer able to pull the wool over Malorn's eyes like he does with EVERYONE ELSE. Duncan already had some type of issues with being second best, but imagine one of the people that was threatening Duncan's spot as first place becomes his superior. His superior that can SEE that Duncan is in fact, not the best. Duncan can't even PRETEND that Malorn isn't better than him anymore because it's been proven, when Malorn was made Professor instead of him, and Malorn himself now has an inside view of Duncan's insincerity. What little ""power"" Duncan thought he had was now ALL taken away from him

AND THEN MALORN DOESN'T HAVE IT MUCH BETTER, because here's this little shit that just seems to hate him for no reason???? Idk if Malorn ever knew about Duncan bragging about himself or his jealousy of him in general before Malistaire left, but whether or not he did before he most likely knows NOW. With his new position and him having to care for Duncan as a student rather than a peer, now suddenly Malorn is in Duncan's DIRECT line of fire and he has no wiggle room to step aside or remove himself because in order for Malorn to be a good teacher *he has to be there for Duncan*. He no longer has the luxury to just "ignore" Duncan or even put him in his place if that's what he really wanted, because now Malorn has to be a certain type of responsible and not abandon or get into fights with students that give him any issues (looking at you Malistaire and Mabrose 😒)

Yeah ofc Malorn could always discipline Duncan or smth but what's the use if this one student is just adamant on causing issues? It seems like Duncan has more of a 'hands off' type of technique when trying to get what he wants (using other people to finish his homework for him), but it's super easy to imagine Duncan just doing little or petty things to undermine Malorn's authority in any way he can. Nothing evil but just like challenging or questioning Malorn's lessons during class, mouthing off whenever he can, things that are used to blow off steam and stick it to Malorn in what little way he can definitely sounds like some shit Duncan would do. And what are you supposed to do when this kid, someone who is YOUR AGE but is still essentially supposed to be listening to YOU, is lashing out at you and disrupting class every chance he gets? Discipline him for the hundredth time?

Imagine how this grates on Malorn's nerves how on top of everything else, on top of everyone else already being jumpy and snippy around him, in addition to his entire lifestyle being turned around, even with his tutor and someone he looked up to betraying him in the worst way, even with ALL OF THAT, this *ooooooone* person decides to go out of their way to continuously punish you for it. Malorn is doing his job, what he's expected of no matter how unfair or tiring or unrewarding it may be, and he is being persecuted by someone for a job *he never even asked for*.

Malorn did not plan or hope for ANY of this to happen. Yeah being a Professor sounds cool and shit at first glance but like I've said once before Malorn at that time is still like 12 years old and the change is so absolutely sudden and jarring that Malorn couldn't have even possibly PREPARED for this situation. Whether or not Malorn is actually good at his job now does not push aside the fact that Malorn may not have even WANTED to be in that job in the first place!! We have no way of knowing if Malorn was seriously like "man I wish I was a teacher right now" at ANY point of his life, but it's safe to say he most likely DID NOT because Malorn was never flaunting or showcasing his talent to everyone like Duncan was!! Perhaps the one person who wants this THE LEAST is being unfairly judged by the person who wanted it THE MOST

AND THAT ^^^^^^^ is getting to the core of this Malorn VS. Duncan thing going on here. Two opposites, two extremes that are forced together unwillingly and they're both unnecessarily suffering for it.

And at the end, when The Wizard is trying to do shit and Duncan pops up like "aaayyyy 🤪🖕" and is defeated in 2 seconds, how does that affect them both? Does Malorn ever like, know this about Duncan? Did Duncan even graduate before he was manipulated into a literal cult?

Imagine how messed up Malorn would feel if he ever found out. Would he take it personally, even though none of it was his fault? Would he still FEEL that it was his fault, that the one person who hated him sooo much it became the catalyst to his downfall? Would Malorn feel responsible for Duncan and all the hurt he's caused and all the hurt he's felt even though he shouldn't?

And the saddest part is even if Malorn did suffer any type of way from knowing how Duncan turned out to be, his responsibilities wouldn't leave him that much time to mourn before he had to go back to work. The saddest part is that even though Duncan was told over and over that he was alone and that nobody cared for him, he had Malorn by his side the entire time more than willing to support him. Their relationship is so interesting to me because it's so tragic and multifaceted when ultimately things could have been at least moderately better if the world hadn't let them both down

[petalsmooth]

I’ve more or less moved on from Riverdale. 

I am ONLY interested in Jabitha of which we have NO content right now. 

RAS being out a show to screw up.

Cole being released from this toxic show/cast.

I have spent last few months re-watching old favorites or reading old favorites. I’ve been re-discovering what it is to watch and read things I ENJOY and it has just cemented how little I enjoy most of Riverdale. Aforementioned exception of Jabitha. Who do make me smile.

I only want to watch or read stories that entertain me or make me happy. I like escapist entertainment. Riverdale isn’t escapist entertainment. It’s a flailing show with no rhyme or purpose servicing too many ego’s. It allows personal ambitions, relationships and biases to affect it’s direction rather than the audience’s enjoyment of the show or letting the characters move in realistic manner for THEM. It inspires no trust in it’s audience. There is no logical path to follow to ascertain it’s endgame. They literally just fling everything up in the air and see where it scatters.

There is just so much history with Star Trek and the next generation cast. I’m currently watching, remembering and kind of loving how a man who once lectured Spock and Kirk about Cowboy diplomacy and duty being considered the paragon of new Star Fleet is now the one being lectured by a hard nosed unimaginative captain about their crashing of ships and defying of star fleet edicts. Only took a lifetime for Picard to realize what Kirk knew in his 30′s. lol

I love the repore with Stewart and Frakes’. I love Beverly FINALLY being back in this universe. I love the implications of what Beverly having another son may mean. I’m invested in these characters because of the actors themselves and the history that is not uprooted and erased just because an actor throws a fit. TBH, in the Star Trek universe Voyager is probably closer to comparison to RD in how BTS drama could spoil a show. Which makes it interesting they pulled Jeri Ryan’s character into this universe, this cast would have been a far more welcoming one that the one she initially came to fame on.

And so maybe currently enjoying TWO casts, Bridgerton and TNG, that seem to be on fairly good terms make RD in less tolerable. I simply don’t care about KJ, Lili or Camilla’s whining or ambitions. I find it short sighted and shallow. Acting can be hard work It’s not say...construction work but you do delve into emotions and end of the day that can produce a different level of fatigue. I get it. But it’s still supposed to be fun. You are getting paid to play make believe. they are whining about getting to play dress up each day and do what they did at 6 year’s old. They are somehow completely unaware of how that sounds to people who don’t have that job. There were a handful of people at my work told they had cancer this week. My job isn’t make believe. It’s why I like escapist entertainment. So I have a hard time understanding why I should be engrossed in KJ’s tale of over indulgence and privilege and how he didn’t appreciate it enough while at same time still wanting to shout how he wants more opportunity. You were given an opportunity, abused it, were unprofessional and now that the gravy train ends want someone to stick out their neck for you again? Ok KJ. Good luck with that.

Ambitions are fine, goals are fine. Nothing inherently evil in having them but the one young cast member who WAS professional and appreciated he is in a privileged position they have endlessly mocked for it over the year’s. So really...I could care less about their belated scrambling attempts to run to the media to rehab their professional reputations to appear employable now. 

The entertainment business is a hard one to maintain a career in. IMO the ones who appreciate their positions are the ones who deserve to still be employed 30 year’s later as the TNG now is. Or deserve break out cameos and roles in new films as Bridgerton cast is being offered. I really don’t think most of the RD cast deserves any further opportunities given the only awakening they seem to have is the paychecks are soon to end. I’ve yet to see them truly realize how terribly they have responded to fame beyond an oligatory soundbite for the masses.

[sarasapen]

Among the Blues and Greens

Another installation of the Little One series.

Summary: Meditation often allowed for Jedi to discover and learn about their thoughts and feelings, aiding them in solving their problems. This meditation session unfortunately reveals more than you’d like.

Or the one in which Obi-Wan’s Padawan realises she loves him.

Warnings: Language, meditation, slow dancing, yearning, revelations, forehead kisses, Past Obitine relationship mentions

Word Count: 3k

Star Wars Masterlist

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 You were a fraud.

 Whenever you felt particularly emotional, you meditated, as any good Jedi was supposed to do. Before daybreak, the gardens at the Sundari Royal Palace were relatively uninhabited, at least by people. You didn’t mind the plants and animals. Their energies were soothing, incorrupt, they just were. That’s how you find yourself there, for the third day in a row, trying desperately to calm the tempest that’s seen fit to take up permanent residence in your mind.

 Why were you a fraud? A fake? A poser?

 Because here you were, years of training under your belt, pretending to meditate. Fraud.

 It was an old ‘trick’ that young Padawans- very young Padawans, you added- resorted to when they were made to meditate. Sitting there with your eyes closed, trying to keep your breathing even. No actual self-exploration or deep diving into your mind, just putting up a facade that any force insensitive being wouldn’t see through.

 Unfortunately for you, Obi-Wan Kenobi was Force sensitive.

 “You’re pretending,” He muses, lowering himself beside you and crossing his legs, assuming the same position you were in. You keep your eyes closed, forcing your breaths to remain even as if he hadn’t even spoken. He sees right through it, amusement weaving into the deep blues that were his signature.

 Oftentimes you wondered what it was like, to be in the middle of all that was him. Observing one’s signature from the outside was very much different than actually experiencing it. Each individual’s signature was different, and his signature was always so wonderful… You wanted to learn more about it, about him. But you knew you wouldn’t ever dare to be brash enough to even brush your signature against his, let alone delve into him fully.

 His signature morphs, from the vibrant, rich hums to a gentle, soothing wave. He’s meditating.

 You scowl.

 He’s barely been sitting down for a minute, and he’s already accomplished what you’ve been trying to do for the past three days.

 “Focus your thoughts on something,” He suggests quietly, sending out a wash of calm over your prickling irritation. He’s guiding you, as he used to do years ago when you were a young and distractible little thing, and you let him.

 You’d let him do anything.

 You’re swept backwards into the deep abyss that’s your mind, and you fall freely, watching Obi-Wan’s signature withdraw slowly from yours. It’s like watching waves upon the shore, gently sweeping backwards and away, taking with it such tiny, essential parts of you while simultaneously shaping you into a thing to behold. It was always, before anything else, soothing.

 He didn’t like studying others’ energies too closely. It was a common trait amongst blue sabers, whilst reading people's energies were crucial for the Jedi, studying them at great lengths could often prove to be uncomfortable. But yours, he had said. He wouldn’t mind spending days traversing the inside of your mind if you’d let him.

 When you were younger, you’d asked him what your signature looked like to him. He said it was a mass of shades of green that were so beautiful he doubted the mere names of the colours or any other descriptive words would be able to do them any justice.

 Beautiful, was the word he’d always use.

 And he was…gentle, and kind, and smart. You exhale slowly, no longer stiff in your posture. He’s always been so patient with you, even with his occasional sarcastic comment. The perfect Jedi.

 Even as a youngling, you’d hear exaggerated stories from Padawans slightly older than you, or, at least, he insisted they were exaggerated. A few years into your training with him, you began to think that maybe the far-fetched stories weren’t so far-fetched after all.

 You’re so lucky, younglings would say shortly after you had become his Padawan. After all, Master Kenobi’s previous Padawan was the Chosen One. You’d have to be something special to attract his attention.

 And you were lucky. But not for the glory and the awe that sparkled in people’s eyes at the mention of his name. It was for his undivided attention on you, his genuine interest in the things you enjoyed, his efforts to shift your training to aid in what you wanted to specialise in, even if it was wildly different from what he was good at.

 Not that there was much he wasn’t good at.

 You loved the way he carried himself, not with arrogance or pride (both of which you thought would have been deserved), but with a humble sort of almost shyness. You loved that he pushed to do better, to be better, not for himself but for you and Anakin. You loved the way he conducted himself with people, even those considered to be the lowest of the lows, he treated them with so much respect and kindness.

 Perhaps it was just that he was a decent human being, but that didn’t mean you loved him any less.

 You loved the way he’d throw in a sharp remark when facing an adversary, or the way he’d stand tall even in the face of-

 Hold on.

 You loved him.

 You loved him. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

 “What are you thinking about?” Obi-Wan calls from beside you, his voice no louder than a low murmur, and it still makes you flinch. “You’ve grown tense.”

 Play dumb. You could do that. Just… blurt out something random and leave it at that, and then you can-

 “She seems nice.”

 FUCK. Not that fucking dumb oh stars above you were so fucking screwed-

 “She… The Duchess?”

 “Yeah, your Duchess.” Oh kriffing hells, if you could just. stop. talking.

 “Duchess Satine is not my Duchess,” His force signature dips suddenly, as if he’s reeled everything back into himself. It pulls you along with it, and you can no longer pretend that you’re meditating. Not with the way your Master turns to face you, studying your features with a concerned curiosity. You tense up again, keeping your eyes trained on a lone tree, a distance away. There’s a caterpillar crawling on one of the branches, and you focus on that. You can tell that he can tell. He’s always been so good at reading you.

 “You…” He starts, but stops himself, straightening and regarding you once again.

 “Sometimes I find myself having to meditate more than usual. Even up to a few times a day, if I’m…” Obi-Wan’s gaze flickers down from your eyes for just a split second, a movement so quick he doesn’t even realise he’s done it. “Distracted.”

 There’s a stutter in your signature, one you try to hide by slamming up your walls, but the brush of Obi-Wan’s hand against your arm has you faltering. The waves of him approach slowly once again, waiting patiently beside the storm that’s your signature.

 “What’s gotten you so tense?” He probes gently, the weight of his hand against your shoulder mirroring the gentle reassuring taps of his signature against yours.

 “Do you love her?”

 You know what. There’s a ledge. Right there. You could just jump off. If you were dead you wouldn’t be facing this amount of embarrassment.

 “...I used to,” Obi-Wan reveals, and his admission surprises himself more than it does you. Not that he wasn’t aware of what the extent of feelings for Satine used to be, but admitting it, out loud? It was something he had never done before.

 “Used to?”

 “It was a lifetime ago, when I was still a Padawan.”

 It’s strange. Neither of you want to continue talking, to keep delving into dark and murky uncharted territory, between the blurred depths of what’s allowed and what’s forbidden. It scares you. It scares him too. 

 “So… what? You decided to give her up?”

 He should say something about the way of the Jedi, that attachments were forbidden, and that had anyone else known, they would’ve expected him to leave Satine. If it were anyone else asking him this, he would’ve said it, accompanied by a deserved lecture on subtlety and manners.

 But you’re the exception.

 You’d always be his only exception.

 So, instead, Obi-Wan says, “The Duchess, while a remarkable woman, has a very different outlook on life than I do, even back then.”

 There's a stretch of silence that he feels like he needs to fill. “Besides, it gave me the chance to meet people even more remarkable.”

 “Not many people can compare to the Duchess of Mandalore,” You mutter, closing your eyes to block out the sight of him when he gets to his feet.

 “No,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Although the Duchess couldn’t come close to comparing to you.”

 And with that heart-stopping revelation, he leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

 “Focus,” Obi-Wan whispers in your ear, and then he’s gone.

 Now you really couldn’t concentrate.

——

 “Breathe,” Obi-Wan had instructed you, sitting beside your fidgety body with his own long-since perfected form.

 It was the second week into your Padawan training, and it had taken Obi-Wan twenty three minutes to get you to sit still. Not including the sixteen minutes it took to get you past the normally three minute walk from library to your room, or the seven minutes it took for you to pad over to him and sit beside him. Not for your lack of trying, Obi-Wan mused, watching you fidget once again.

 Your eyes fly open at his words.

 “If I stop breathing during meditation will I die?”

 Yeah, okay, that one was on him. It takes a lot of control for Obi-Wan not to choke on his overwhelming surprise at your words.

 “Meditation can only occur when you stop speaking, little one,” He hints, keeping his posture straight. Thirty two minutes now, he’s been sitting in this position, not meditating, but focused on your wild little signature.

 “Oh, yeah,” You concede, shifting again and screwing your eyes shut.

 Master Kenobi, the whisper-shout in his head very nearly startles him, and Obi-Wan can’t keep pretending his focus is impeccable. He turns to regard you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. If I stop breathing during meditation, will I die?

 Again, to your credit, you weren’t exactly… speaking.

 Perhaps that’s why, with a self-indulgent smile, he sends back a quick no.

 Okay, you accept happily, shifting again in your seat. Your early days were so much like Anakin’s. Both of you, filled with a curiosity and outlook on the world that only children could view, and it baffled him to no end that both of you viewed him in exactly the same way.

 You just accepted everything he said without much thought, readily eager to believe that your Master was always right, because what else could he ever be? It was perhaps that specific period of time during both his Padawans’ training that Obi-Wan was the most stressed. The first few years were the years he felt as though he could disappoint you the most, to fail to protect you and teach you and nurture you.

 He didn’t fail. He didn’t even come close. You’d tell him if you could. Anakin would tell him too. But it just wasn’t a conversation Jedis had.

 And…there.

 You’re not meditating. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat when he feels you oh so carefully reach out your signature. He follows along at a distance, careful not to alert you, and he watches as your signature gingerly approaches the plant situated outside your apartment door.

 The plant. You were connecting with the plant.

 You’re calm, he realises. Nearly ridiculously so, if he didn’t know any better he’d think your signature was that of a fully trained knight. The spurts and bursts and branches that were usually your energy flutter gently down, acting obedient and serene.

 It’s… for lack of a better word, beautiful.

 So with your thoughts centered around that little plant outside, all Obi-Wan has to do is give you just a little nudge that blocks out all other distractions for you- maybe it’s cheating, but he wants to see what will happen.

 And then you’re meditating.

——

 “It’s the first time I’ve worn a dress!” Swishing the fabrics of the skirt around you, you’re easily entranced by the movement. It’s a pretty dress, courtesy of the Mandalorian court, floaty and airy with barely there off-the shoulder sleeves. It reveals more of you than Jedi robes would ever, but you’re so enraptured with such innocent curiosity that Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to suppress the affectionate smile he gives you.

 “You look lovely,” He responds honestly, pushing himself off the couch and taking slow steps towards you.

 “I feel like a… like a…” You pause, glancing up from your skirts to fix your eyes on him, mind racing.

 “Like a?” Obi-Wan prompts.

 “Like a cloud!” You settle for, twirling around as if to emphasise your floaty feeling.

 “A cloud?” He confirms, voice laced with amusement. He takes your hand, twirling you around once more through your giggles.

 “Yeah.”

 “Well, you’re the prettiest cloud I’ve ever seen,” Folding his hand over your own, he steps into your space mid-twirl, his other hand coming to press flat against your back. He doesn’t know what propelled him to do this, to press you against him and pull you into little steps around the room. The giggles he gets from you are enough to diminish any second thoughts he gets, so he hums softly, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

 Your little impromptu dance session is made to end as quickly as it started, a knock on his door reminding the both of you the reason for such fanciful dressing.

 A dinner.

 It was exciting to you, as most off-world mission events were, so different from the usual routine of your life on Coruscant. Your excitement is blindingly obvious, and yet Obi-Wan, who’s long since tired of having to accept invitations lest the Jedi be perceived as discourteous, Obi-Wan says nothing at all. He gives you a warm smile and gestures for you to move towards the door.

 And oh, what a dinner it was. The food was marvelous, the company a little less so, but the moments you’d glance up at your Master to find him already watching you made up for it. If only he weren’t seated so far away… and so close to the Duchess. You don’t turn your head in their direction again.

 Apparently a royal dinner on Mandalore was not just dinner, so after an hour of sitting at a table several seats away from your Master and surrounded by boring politicians, you’re ushered into a ballroom. Several ask for your hand to dance, but you turn them down with a polite smile and even politer excuse. You want to dance, you do. Just… not with them.

 Then you see her.

 She had changed her dress, and she was gorgeous. Elegant and beautiful and carrying herself with such grace even on the dancefloor, she looked every bit the Duchess she was. You sort of hated her.

 “The prettiest, huh?” You mutter bitterly under your breath, taking a moment to try to calm yourself. You take another breath when you turn to face Obi-Wan, expecting his eyes to be on her. Everyone’s eyes were on her.

 He’s looking at you.

 You immediately curse yourself out for the snide comment, hating that you’ve revealed yourself, your insecurities, that he’s going to admonish you for a silly little comment that just slipped out.

 Instead, he holds his hand out towards you, and bends down a little in a bow.

 “If I may have this dance, my dear?” The words come out as a low murmur, and even with the loud applause of everyone around you signalling the end of the Duchess’ dance, you hear him perfectly. Your cheeks are flushed and you’re trying impossibly hard to keep your breathing even as you slide your hand into his, letting him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.

 It’s strange, you think.

 The two of you have been in arguably far closer quarters than you were in now, with a decent amount of space between your bodies, joined only by your hand in his and his other hand on your waist. You’ve trained together, sparred together, been forced into close confines in the middle of missions and on occasion even slept in the same bed together.

 Obi-Wan’s grip on your hand tightens, the tips of his fingers skimming up your back and brushing tantalisingly against the skin that’s uncovered by the dress.

 No, this… this, in front of a whole room of people from all over the galaxy, this was far more intimate than anything ever before. It’s almost as if you’ve been transported back in time just a couple of hours ago, when it was just him and you in the privacy of your quarters.

 “The prettiest,” he confirms, voice low in your ear. Your breath hitches at his statement and all its implications. “It’s not even a competition.”

 Good things, as all things do, must eventually come to an end. Obi-Wan guides a slightly tipsy and very giggly you back towards your room, laughing despite himself when you trip over your own two feet. The last thing he wants after a successful mission is for you to get concussed by falling.

 He bends and effortlessly sweeps you into your arms, letting you swing your legs in the air. It’s not the first time he’s been in this position with you. Perhaps he’s carried you like this a little too often. His thoughts don’t linger on that topic for long.

 You change out of your dress and sit cross-legged in front of him, letting him brush out your hair and pull it back into a braid for you to sleep in, actions so practised that they’re not even spoken about.

 And on the floor of your room, discarded almost carelessly at the end of the bed, lay two weapons beside each other, one green, and one blue.

-----

The next one will be Obi-Wan’s revelation ;)

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Obi-Wan taglist:

@allinmymind @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mugoi-usagi @babymango-writes @fluffyhales @whinsical-ash @filthy-thots @altarsw @mando831 @ruleroftides @soft-and-lush @softlikefairydust @bumblegadget @stafskislava @torihester @shedobeclownin @satikryze @buwnni @mando-amando @mrskenobi19 @butch-medusae @fandomtrxshh @a-c-lee @neji85 @reejero @silverpuppi @thereluctantherosrose @shinybananapastanickel @hey-there-angels @grumpymuffinmama @hufflingpuffling-blog1 @kyle9no @qt-ane @arsowon @aesthelliec @lovelyweepingrebel @marvelranger @lovelylostminds 

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hey!!! I'm so glad you liked the blurb night idea :) 💞 Can I request a blurb with Peter bumping into the reader while she's kinda lost at times square and he's dressed as spiderman so he tries to flirt with you, but it makes you laugh instead?

I loved the idea hun, thankyou sm for helping me with this idea xxx

“You’re a guy?”

Pairing | Peter Parker x reader

Summary | based on the request

Warnings | mentions of crime, brief mention of death and drugs, mention of sex

2K blurb masterlist

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“And there was this girl. She was really pretty, but-“ May quirked her head at her nephew, hardly understanding his blabber as he sped through his words like he was racing verbally against a cheetah, though, she was manage to uncover that particular sentence.

“Whoa, slow down kiddo.” His aunt laughed lightly, bracing her shoulders on his arms as he caught his overexcited breath. “How about you start from the beginning, and take a breath?” May had much practice with calming the boy down, she sincerely remembered how that night his parents had dropped him off, how worried he had been for them not to return. And they didn’t.

Peter bobbed his head in a eager nod, doing as he was recommended by his legal guardian, puffing the air in through his cheeks, as he inhaled and exhaled normally through his nose.“I was out patrolling the city, checking out for any bad guys, and then, I saw her...” her, the girl that had captured his attention, and distracted him from his friendly neighbourhood duties. She was much like a magnet, pulling his north face into her axis spinning world, distracting him from the things that he was actually meant to be ensuring did not happen on his watch.

“Weren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” The elder of the two quirked a brow, earning a splutter of a response from the teenager under her roof. She wasn’t a strict guardian concerning his heroic antics, though, she made sure to keep him on track for his own sake. Peter had quite the tendency to become overrun with stress from the amounts of responsibilities that he took on, and him being only young did not help the situation.

“I’m getting to that!” He was fast to defend himself, huffing his chest in as he prepared to tell May his story, from the beginning. It was quite the tale, he’d say, combined with the embarrassment of his own presence entangled in the random and friendly interaction that he had felt promiscuously lulled to create.

Queens, it was new to you. There were so many streets, filled to the brim with people that seemed to know where they were going. Unlike them, you didn’t, in fact, you’d go as far to admit that you were lost. Lost in a place that was known for the chaos that wrapped it off with a tarnished bow, and made the collateral practically fashion within its various newspapers that rounded every corner to divulge their companies’ obscure theories.

A panicked look struck your eyes, as you turned, shaking your head and pressing through the mass of citizens and finding an empty lot, scrolling through your phone, diverting your attention quickly towards google maps. It was the only thing that you could think of, it’d be a shame if you were to disturb one of the many passersby from their clearly packed schedule; you did not need that, nor berating them on your conscience.

“You lost or something?” A voice asked, making your shoulders jump as a figure, twisted in the colours red and blue, with a seam of black fell from the roofs above. Your heart rate imploded, more so when you realised who the mask wearing vigilante was. The wearer, although unknown, was infamous for the successions of saving lives that they had participated in, including defending the galaxy against outside threats.

It was Spiderman, the neighbourhood dubbed avenger, that tried their utmost to return stolen or lost bikes to their rightful owners, and protected banks from armed and overnight robberies. There was known to be something different about this particular hero, they were young and clearly had time to improve their skill set, for they were quite the clutz, and spoke significantly more to those he faced off against than what was necessary.

But this one hero, stood out amongst the rest. Not only was their suit designed by Stark technology, as you had written about in a work article, but it was far more concealing, and not to mention restricting, for the person beneath the red concoction to wear. Yes, you were in town for a new job, specifically to delve into the details that regards the world of heroes, and exploit all possible angles to how they deserved as much recognition for their stunts, as the president received for his noble speeches.

“I-“ you paused, think back over what you were preparing to say. It was without a doubt, that you had not expected the vigilante to appear in your spectacle gaze the first time that you stepped foot on the premises that he roamed, and protected. But here the spider enthusiast was, leaping down to stand beside you, burdening you with more knowledge that you could use, such as the person beneath was not as tall as you had expected, and there was definitely no way you could see their true eyes through the shallow white cases that covered them.

That was something you could write about, and make various descriptive theories about. ‘Seeing in white vision, sparked by the purity that glazed their unknown signature irises, Spider-Man halts all with the sparing of their true self. They may have reasons for shielding their eyes, much like Daredevil, not needing to see when they are overcome with various other senses that convulse their body into attentiveness,” -no, that sounded absolutely terrible.

And not to mention, if you spread that horrid writing about, Murdoc would be ashamed of ever deciding to get your aid in uncovering the route of the villainous underworld, that had take over Hell’s Kitchen and turned it into their own ring for drugs and more. The battle of New York had many repercussions, that being one, another influencing you into the career choice of being said reporter that you now proclaimed yourself as.

“Yeah, I am.” You responded with the company of a smile, and Peter swore he could feel his heart convulse beneath his suit. It’s pace was vaguely rapid, disheartening him from thinking of any more to say, he was practically speechless. “I’m looking for New York Times, you ever heard of it?” Yes, he most definitely had, it was the average run of the mill newspaper company, though, he did not know that you intended to change that into something much more.

“Funnily enough I have.” He scratched the back of his head, his arm subconsciously flexing as he did so, feeling like he had failed as your eyes remained focused on the wideness of his suit’s intense eyes. “It’s about three blocks from here, I could take you there if you want, I have nothing more to do.” From his proclamation you quirked a brow, crossing your arms amusedly.

“Don’t you have a city to watch over?” You asked, watching as Spider-Man’s false eyes widened, and he visibly panicked, realising that you had been right. “I’ll find my way, I’ve been to New York, many a time, Queens is bound to be a piece of cake. Also, a map is always handy.” A shrug rippled off your shoulders, Peter watching and walking closer as he thought of something more to add to the initial acquainting conversation.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Inwardly, and beneath his mask, Peter cringed noting how his voice rose, and it could be perceived as boasting. That though was definitely not his intent in the slightest, but he worried of how it may have come across to you. He wasn’t sure how you may have read it as, but a swarm of relief filled his lungs as he watched the corner of your eyes crinkle up, humoured by the tone of his that had significantly heightened. “Im a guy by the way.”

He felt the need to state that, especially considering people’s perceptions in the past. But instantly after saying it, he was regretful, through, he had to admit, he enjoyed listening to you laugh, it was like a melody that he wanted to listen to until the end of time. “You’re a guy?” You released a dramatic gasp, aiding your phoney response. “Yeah, no. I completely thought that you were a girl.” Sarcasm, he had well gotten used to frequency of it thanks to Mr Stark, who... well, he wasn’t around any more.

“You’re funny.” He smiled, shaking his head whence he realised that you could not see his hidden expression. “I don’t know, maybe, would you like to go to coffee with me, if you have time before you have to get to the news place? I mean, I don’t drink that much coffee, I get told that if I have too much caffeine that I get a little hyper, but I mean, I’m trying to ask you out and I have a really bad track record of-“

“Sure.” You spoke, ignoring the map that had finally loaded onto the screen of your phone. It was to your luck that you weren’t required to make your presence known at the business until tomorrow, and there was always time to kill, so you thought screw it, and decided to find it so that you didn’t get lost the approaching day. “Are you going to be wearing that, or you know, take it off?” You pointed at him, making peter surprised.

“It’s not that kind of date.” He quickly responded. “I meant just for a drink, not to hook up in the back of an a- oh, you meant the suit, didn’t you.” With a roll of your eyes, you nodded, pursing your lips together, as Peter felt the rain of relief once more. “Oh, that’s good, not that I wouldn’t want to, you’re gorgeous, that just wasn’t my intent and I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“Basically.” You wrinkled your nose, with a laugh, the way you scrunched it up was adorable to Peter. “So I’ll meet you here in two hours, I’ll let you finish up your duties, and change into something that doesn’t make you look you’re wearing a thong, because I can tell you from experience that those things are not comfortable. That good for you Spidey?”

“That works.” He spoke, trying his best to contain his overflowing excitement, biting his lip to do so. “That definitely works.”

“Hi.” The familiar voice of Spider-Man spoke, and you turned around, watching as a young man, not much different in age from yourself rounded the corner. He was clothed in a blue and white chequered flannel, and grey jeans, and you had to say, that whilst the amazing Spider-Man was quite the sight, this was something else.

“Oh, I was waiting for a girl actually.” You informed him, clearly messing with him, as you walked closer, a stretching smile pinning up the corners of your lips. “But I guess you’ll do webslinger.” He could feel his heart racing, but he walked closer, watching as you eyed him, a stranger met with the sight of a vigilante unmasked. “Where to, red and blue?”

“There’s this really good place on main, they sell the best sandwiches. And trust me, once you buy from there, you won’t stop...” the two of you began to walk away together, and towards Peter’s secret destination, where the two of you learnt the others real name.

[7spaceace7]

Secrets (A Donatello x Reader)

This is incredibly self-indulgent and was really just a fic for me to obsess over tesla coils, but my girlfriend convinced me to post it- so here it is! It got kind of long too, but I hope you enjoy! 

Word Count: 3236

Reader is given feminine terms in this one

Mild cursing (thank you Raph)

Absolute fluff attack, the sweetness will rot your teeth

Singing was your greatest passion. From a young age, you had been roped into music, the emotions it could represent with just a few notes and some relatable lyrics. It was happiness, it was sadness, it was anger and excitement, and it was everything you couldn’t express well enough with just words. Being a writer, sometimes that would get frustrating, but music helped you overcome the most challenging spots in a new piece or story. This is why you would constantly have earbuds in as you sang along to every song you’d memorized on your Spotify shuffle. 

And Donnie noticed this. Every time you would enter the turtles’ lair, he would see you unplug and pack-up your headphones. Hell, he was even able to detect your singing from the sounds of the sewer tunnels echoing with every step you took closer. He’d hear you talk about the music or soundtracks of your favorite games and movies, analyzing what every slight twinge or reprise would allude to. And he loved every part of it. He loved getting to see those moments where music was all you could focus on. Your heart rate rose exponentially in anticipation and excitement. Your eyes would screw shut while you broke into a grin. Your hands would mimic motions to the beat as you played on invisible drums, or strummed a nonexistent guitar. 

It was adorable to him, to say the least. But he never told you so. He never said a word, in case this might scare you off for coming across as “creepy” or weird. He knew most people probably didn’t pay this close attention to little things like that, but then again, he also knew that most people weren’t madly in love with you. 

Which Donatello was. 

He couldn’t tell you, because once he started rambling about you, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. And if he didn’t stop, then he’d run the 89.07% chance risk of telling you how he’d been in love with you since the day they met you. That was way too high for him to be comfortable. No, he couldn’t tell you, no matter how badly he wanted you to know.

“Okay, so what if you just show ‘er you’re interested instead?” Raph asked, half paying attention to his brother’s predicament, half pounding the punching bag before him into the ground. Leo was in the dojo meditating, and Mikey was playing video games in the living room, which left the two middle brothers to their own devices. For Donnie, this was literally. His three-fingered hands fiddled with his latest electrical circuit. It was bound for sending the right amount of voltage into his inventions without needing four power strips and a generator all on their own. Unfortunately, he was too distracted to actually delve into its components, and settled for breaking and piecing it back together again.

“Show her? How would I do that?” Donnie’s voice trembled at the thought.

“I dunno, you’re the genius here,” Raph huffed, “There’s gotta be somethin’ in this place that you think she’d find cool. She loves music, right?”

“Yeah, like a lot, she even-”

“Rhetorical question, Don, heard the rant plenty,” His brother cut him off. Pausing his violent onslaught of the dummy, he turned to face him. “You’re nervous ‘cause you ain’t ever done somethin’ for a pretty girl before, I get it. So do somethin’ you know you’re good at. That’ll take the nerves off, your plan works, and then I won’ have to listen to you babbling about whatever new fuckin’ thing she did today. Win win.”

The younger turtle paused. “That was...actually pretty sound advice, thank you, Raph.”

“Anytime,” Raph nodded, a smug smile tugging at his lips from being able to help. Problem was, now he was invested. He’d listened to his brother’s rants and rambles and failed plans of possibly confessing for weeks now, what was gonna happen once he finally did it? Raph plopped onto one of Donnie’s bean bag chairs. He didn’t bother to pick up the training dummy. “So what ya gonna do, smart guy?”

Donnie blinked a few times, glasses twitching on his nose as he pushed them up. He didn’t know it, but you coined this his “brainstorming face”. He fiddled with the circuits once again.

“Uh...I’m not sure,” His tongue went dry. A million ideas fly through his brain each minute, and this decides to be the time that he can’t think of a single one good enough. Figures. “I could build her something? Maybe a new stereo, or upgrade the one she has.”

Raph made a noise of disapproval. “You can do better, any old fix-it guy could do that.”

“Fair. Maybe I could- ow!”

A short buzz of the air cut him off as his fiddling paid off. To the world’s great irony, a light bulb several inches away lit up.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I…” Donnie trailed off. The purple-clad turtle’s eyes widened as he registered what happened. “I’m better than good, I just had an epiphany!”

“Epipha-what?”

“An epiphany, sudden realization, an idea!” Donnie flicked his goggles back down, enhancing his vision with the magnifier on it. Wires were tugged in and out, and a transmitter was displaced. With a snort of triumph, he raised it to the air for his brother to see. “This is the answer!” 

“A tiny board thing. Just what she’s always wanted,” Raph rolled his eyes, but Donnie was prepared for this.

“Not just a tiny board, a tiny board with this!-” With great haste, Donnie was next to Raph, holding the board out properly. “My side-side project, this little thing, look at the coil here, this is it! This is a tesla coil, capable of transmitting thousands and thousands of volts of energy surging through the air, powering anything within its radius, which is perfect and exactly why I needed to reconfigure it to power my lab and this one new machine I’m working on, but that’s not why this is the perfect idea!”

“Wow, please continue, professor, I’m dyin’ to know.”

“Glad you asked! Watch this!” One aux cord, T-Phone connection, and light-dimming later, the lab went dark in anticipation. And suddenly, with the press of a play button on Donnie’s shuffle, music started to fill the air. But it wasn’t coming from his phone. It was coming from the coils, surging and creating not only electric energy that was visible to the human eye as it sparked, but music. Sound. The beats and notes of the song playing sprouted out in the form of electricity.

Raph’s green eyes became transfixed on the sparks flying out. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right!” Came the squeals of utter nerding out, “This is only a tabletop version of an SGTC circuit, my own type of it anyway based on Tesla’s original designs, but if I reworked it, made it bigger, made it lifelike and maybe four or five of them, I could create the most advanced musical performance this city has ever seen!”

“I’m gonna pretend I know everything you just said because clearly this is your nerd thing,” Raph started, utterly confused. Even still, a reassuring smile framed his features. “But this looks pretty damn cool. This right here? Exactly what ‘m sayin’, Don.  This is you.”

“Do you think she’ll like it...?” Donnie asked in a hopeful voice. He wasn’t just asking about the invention. 

“Course she will.”

~x~

A couple weeks had passed since that fateful conversation with Raph. He’d been in and out of the lab since then, but between patrols and the mandatory bathroom breaks, there was hardly a time he wasn’t working on his great new project. You weren’t even allowed to go into the lab, per his request, for all his time there.

However, he always made sure to make at least one movie whenever you’d come hang out at the lair from work.

Finally, one Friday night, the set up was complete. Pride swelled in Donnie’s chest as he looked at his creation: six symmetrically placed tesla coils sprung up from the ground and walls all around his lab space. The coilings wrapped around metal frames, spiraling into a beautiful arrangement of engineering, if he did say so himself. Mikey said it looked like the lasers out of a DC comic, which was also not a bad thing to be. He just hoped that you would like it. All of it was for you, of course, but over the weeks that he’d been preparing it, he found more beauty in the music of tesla coils than he ever had appreciated before. 

Donnie thought he might thank you for that, if he could get his nerves around it.

God, he was so nervous. Anxiety rushed through his body like the electric pulses he was perfecting. They were already done, but it was all he could do to distract himself while waiting for you to arrive. Maybe the frequencies weren’t in the right key. What if they sounded better this way? Or maybe the firing power wasn’t enough? Trajectory looked alright, maybe it just-

“Donnie?”

“Gh! Y/N, hey!” Stammered the surprised terrapin after knocking his head against the top of a coil. His goggles were on the setting of night-vision, but that didn’t account for night-spatial-awareness, it seemed.

“I got your text to come,” You tried to smile at him, but the dark laboratory proved to make that difficult. “How come it’s so dark in here?”

“Uh, well, that’s p-part of the surprise! Eheh. Gimme just a second-”

You waited patiently outside of his lab, vision still applicable, but grew concerned the more strange noises and clangs you heard coming from inside. This was definitely a whole new level of “Donnie Surprises” just by how nervous he seemed about it.

You yelped when his hand grabbed your arm and dragged you back inside the darkness.

“Okay, uh,” He started, before clapping his hands together for the lights to switch back on, “This is what I wanted to show you.”

Your gaze spun all around the lab. After adjusting to the light, you could clearly see giant mechanism after mechanism placed strategically around in a dome-like setup. Coils that protruded like round-edged spikes circled you both, and in the center was a metal cage. 

“Oh my god…” You almost whispered. A large grin broke out onto your face as you stared in quiet marvel at the scene. His plan was working, and Donnie lit up with an outstretched arm in presentation.

“These bad boys are called tesla coils-”

“Tesla coils!” You squealed in imperfect unison to what you assumed was the start of an explanation. “You made tesla coils, Donnie, holy shit!”

“You’ve heard of them?!” Donnie exclaimed, eyes widening behind his glasses.

“YES!” Your hands began to wave around excitedly, “Oh my god I used to be OBSESSED with these things! I heard about when I was a kid from that old movie, oh what was it, it was like the apprentice’s-”

“Sorcerer’s Apprentice!”

“THAT! Yes!” 

“I haven’t seen that movie in years!”

“Me neither! All I remember is that Hiccup’s voice actor totally nerded out and programmed his giant tesla coils to play music for the girl he wanted to impress, and it was the coolest thing because these giant machines were playing music, music out of nothing but sparks of electricity at different frequencies, which to be honest probably would have caused more of an energy problem than the movie suggested because goddamn do they take up a lot of power, but I was like six and didn’t care!” You laughed�� in an energetic burst of word association, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Donnie could have kissed you then and there for that alone. 

A grin crept onto his lips as he watched you ramble on about the movie, leaving all anxious thoughts to fall from his mind. For once, someone actually understood one of his passions. Better than that, she was explaining the process to him of all people! Sure, she was intuitive enough to know he didn’t need it, he literally had just built them after all. This was just out of pure excitement. Someone in his life was talking about science and technology like they were the most fascinating things on the planet, just as the purple-masked turtle believed it was. Well, second only to the ecstatic girl in front of him. 

“-And so, I randomly remembered it again not that long ago, so I looked it up and found so many videos on YouTube about it. I kid you not, I listened to tesla coils and tesla coils alone for a solid week.” 

You breathed heavily, a little winded after such an intense info-dump. God, he always loved when you got excited about something. 

“This is kind of surreal,” Donnie chuckled a bit, pushing up his glasses when they tumbled down his nose, “I had no idea you’d get what these were, much less have known so much about them.” Donnie’s eyes widened at his own panicked-fueled blabbering. “N-Not that I think you’re stupid! I just-- I mean it’s not-- common? It’s more of-”

“A niche interest, yeah. No worries,” You finished for him, signaling his stuttered words hadn’t fallen on offended ears. Donnie quietly sighed in relief. Time ticked by in seconds, but even that was much too fast for this martial artist to grasp. If he could have constructed a device to pause the fabrics of time, he would have long ago, simply to relish the moments with you that meant everything to him. It wasn’t your fault your eyes captivated him more than any element he’s worked with.

“So,” You began eagerly, startling him out of his thoughts, “Are we gonna listen to some zappy poles go brrr or what?”

Donnie snorted at your juvenile word choice. “Yeah, totally. Now, ah,” He walked over toward the large cage in the center, stepped inside, then poked his head out with a dorky grin. A large, green hand stood outstretched towards you. “I think you’d better step inside my cage.”

“If you keep quoting the damn movie like this, I am going to explode from excitement, and it will be your fault!” It was a wonder how you hadn’t caught onto his plan yet, honestly. You made no sense of hesitation before grabbing his offered hand (even though your hands were small enough that they hardly matched his palm’s size), and clambered into the cage in front of him. This was a great excuse for you to be close to him without it being weird. And now, with your back brushing up against his plastron, the butterflies in his chest told him it was totally a good call.

Donatello would take this secret to his grave, however.

“Put your hands on the rail here, yep just like that,” Donnie nodded after your hands found the safeguard rail. A couple buttons tapped into a laptop later, he settled his own hands next to yours. “Let the magic begin.”

Magic would have been the understatement of the year. A coil in front of you quickly shot out its first spark. Familiar music breached the sound barrier to your ears. The one behind you both caught it instantly. Spark after spark sent back and forth between the coils, soaring through the lab like the most incredible game of electric catch.

“Whoa!” You laughed when the sparks would bounce off the cage itself, pressing closer to the turtle behind you (much to his surprise every time). Your shining e/c eyes never left the electric bolts shooting out. “This is insane!”

“Heh, glad you like it!” Donnie watched you closely that entire time, more entranced by your excitement and wonderstruck self than anything he’d created. He could power up the tesla coils anytime of day, but this was a special moment he’d never be able to recreate in a controlled environment. This was no experiment, this was real and it was happening right now. 

The only thing left to do was tell you how he felt. 

“Y/N, I have to tell you something,” He began, stepping away to give you a bit of space. His heart rate was increasing by the second. The way you turned to look at him wasn’t helping, either. 

“What is it?” You spoke softly, somehow able to be heard over the music. Donnie could hardly meet your eyes, so he took your hands in his instead.

“I...I don’t know how to say this exactly,” He started, “I’ve been trying to do it for months, going over every possible conjuncture of words, something that would be heartfelt and honest, poetic even? But the truth is, words aren’t my thing, th-they never have been. I’m a science guy, I take things apart and put them back together again, I figure out what makes them work, I see life as a million tiny parts to analyze.”

He paused his quickened speech to take a breath. Your hands squeezed his larger ones as an offer to continue.

“And so, I’m...bad at feelings. I see it all as chemicals and components used by the brain to create action and reaction. But now I’m not so sure if that’s all they are, and really the only thing I am sure about is that it’s because of you that I’m questioning everything I ever thought I knew. Maybe, maybe life is more than atoms and chemicals, and instead it’s about..moments. Moments like this. Moments that...that I..that I really want to keep forever and play over and over again.”

“Donnie…” You spoke. This time he squeezed your hands.

“I know I’m rambling and I should really get to the point, so what I’m trying to say is,” He took another breath, steady this time. His gaze met yours again. “I want to live these moments with you every day. You’re special to me. You’re part of our family, but this is more than that, this feeling is-”

“Love.” You finished for him. Both of your eyes widened as you realized the other felt how you each did.  

Donatello nodded slowly, hesitant to be so certain, but knowing it was true. There were no more words to be exchanged after that, only actions, only movements so soft and gentle that the large terrapin was certain he’d break if they could fit in his hands. Your hands left his and instead reached up to grab the long ends of his mask, and tugged gently for him to reach you. He leaned down without a thought. A three-fingered hand found your waist this time. 

You kissed. Soft, human lips connected to his slightly chapped reptilian ones. The turtle had waited for this moment since he realized the attraction he felt towards you was not just powerful chemical reactions, but true feelings. It wasn’t biology, it was chance and fate and one-in-a-million all at once. As the sparks continued to (literally) fly, Donnie let his eyes close. This was the present. He was here, he was holding a great new adventure in his hands, and there was a brilliant future just around the corner. 

The song may have finished, but this is what would last forever. 

[petri808]

Hiding in Plain Sight

Art by @lucykirklandart @lucykirkland check it out! 💜 story Beta’d by @cashieeetime written as a reflection piece of the artwork for the @ftguildevents Fairy Tail Reverse Big Bang  -2k words

“Yeah sure,” Lucy taps out the text message on her phone, her manicured nails clicking away on the glass surface. “see ya at school 2morrow.”

She was groomed and cultivated from birth to appear perfect in every way. As the only child of prominent parents, she never dared to appear less than refined and above all obedient. She might’ve had a more peaceful existence if her mother had lived, but the woman died of cancer by the time she’d turned four-years-old. Left with a father more interested with their status in the community than for his daughter’s wellbeing.

Needless to say, it was a miserable existence for the young woman.

By the time she had entered high school Lucy was sickeningly proficient in making sure no one saw her true emotions. She was well educated and maintained honor roll level grades. Her beauty and poise attracted both awe and jealousy from those around her, despite never doing anything to attract too much attention. In public, Lucy fixed a smile on her face and always appeared to be sweet, caring, and helpful.

This attracted a slew of friends to her side. The young teen gravitated to a select group but was considered to be well-liked amongst the many student cliques around school. Anyone looking in would assume Lucy had the perfect life. It was an image Lucy maintained out of fear that someone would discover the darker tendrils of pain lurking just below her porcelain veneer.

It was like wearing a mask anytime someone else was around.

No one knew how deeply her mother’s death tore into her psyche because her father never bothered to make sure the young child wasn’t affected by it. But the emotions ran the gamut from sadness and loss to betrayal, of why would life deal a young girl such a painful blow in taking their mother away from them. It created a hole in her soul that in order to cope with the loss, Lucy had erected a wall around her heart. If someone she loved like her mother could be ripped away, it was best she not give anyone the opportunity to do it again.

She lets the phone slide from her fingers onto the couch beside her, curling up her body around a pillow, and wrapping her arms around her legs. The text was from one of her closest friends asking for help with his English homework after school the next day. She couldn’t tell him ‘no’—rarely ever told anyone ‘no’ because that’s part of her cover façade.

Dutiful obedience.

Not that she thought he was taking advantage of her, and maybe a part of her wanted to help this person in particular because he seemed to genuinely care about his friends; Lucy included. But this only served to escalate the conflict brewing inside of her. On the one hand, there is her desire to stay distant, but on the other, a human need for closeness. It was a double-edged balancing act-- Acquiesce to be helpful but letting them get too close would trigger her anxieties.

‘I hate my brain…’ Lucy buried her face into the pillow. She hated feeling so alone in this world, of having friends all around her but never truly feeling like she was a part of any group. Her brain could barely comprehend why she felt this way and her subconscious reminded her it was of her own making. Not a purposeful choice, but the results of walling off her heart. It was a constant conflict waged in her mind, and this conflict was the only consistency she’s really known.

Worst of all, she felt like a fraud. All the painted smiles, all of the lies told to keep her secrets, carefully woven like a spider’s web. Beautiful to the naked eye, yet deadly within… at least for herself. She justified every step she took in fear of everything coming unraveled and her life made bare to the world. All her so-called friends would probably hate her when they found out the truth, that’s what she believed with every fiber of her being. And so, she kept up the charade for them, for everyone, until fact and fiction were a universal confliction.

Lucy closes her eyes hoping to cast these images away, but they only burn brighter behind the lids. She didn’t want them to hate her. She wanted to be their friend. The teenage heart beating in her chest wanted what any young person wanted… to be loved. And yes, there was one person in particular who she’d sell her soul to love and be loved by, which in turn only sent her anxieties skyrocketing. Because what-if he felt the same way? But what-if it was for this shell named Lucy Heartfilia? If she were to show her true colors would he accept her for who she was?

And who was the real Lucy Heartfilia? When she was a young child, she shared a love of astronomy with her mother which smolders somewhere inside of her. She knows it’s still there, waiting for attention, that comes out whenever she notices a clear night sky. In her primary school days, literature caught her attention, especially the fiction stories. Being placed into advanced English classes in middle school opened that door even wider and provided a small escape from reality. But it never lasted because her father couldn’t see the importance of such skills for her future, so it was pushed to the side. Business was all that man cared about, and as his only heir, all the pressure of success was placed on Lucy’s shoulders. It was wholly unfair.

By the time Lucy had made it to high school, anything she loved or fancied was tossed to the side and a new persona born. Whatever interested those around her became her interests. Her life was destined to be miserable anyways, so why care about anything? At least if she was only pretending to enjoy the same things as others, it kept those people happy and at bay from delving too deeply into what and who she really was. That was the safest route in her broken mind.

She buries her face deeper into the soft throw pillow and quietly allows a few simpering tears to break free and soak into the fabric. There was no one around to hear them and blow her cover, but that only added to the weight of loneliness aching in her heart. Her father was away on a business deal, and the hired help only came by on a routine. The nights were the worst of all. An empty house save her, with only the ghosts of lives past haunting it’s walls. Lucy might as well be an orphan.

What good was she really? To keep existing as what, her father’s doll? Lucy knew he expected her to marry someone to his specifications and while she was to be of both good breeding and intellect, her place was in the shadows, silent and unheard. And no matter how much she loathed this design, she never fought back against it. ‘I’m really useless…’ What was the point of living knowing that she’d end up in a gilded cage? Too weak to stand up for herself. Foolish enough to be taken advantage of. Death would be a relief.

And even that scared her into staying silent. Lucy didn’t want to die she just didn’t want to live like this anymore. Was that too much to ask for?  

Worthless creature.

Go ahead and cry some more, her subconscious taunts back. Cry for the girl you could be and of the woman you never will become. She was caught in an endless loop of sadness and shame, with no light at the end of the tunnel.

The cell phone pings with a message, so she sweeps her eyes over the screen without moving her head.

“Goodnight Lucy :)”

It was a final message from the boy who needed help tomorrow. How polite of him.

“Goodnight Natsu”

She replies back out of courtesy, fingers hovering for a few seconds in hesitation. There was a strong pull to reach out for help too… but Lucy just couldn’t do it. Ugh! She silences the phones ringer.

Useless idiot.

There were three options Lucy could think of. End her life and become another statistic. Just give in and accept her life will never be her own. Or give up this façade and tell the truth. To be possibly disowned by her father and thrown out on the streets with nothing. Or stay quiet and obedient but with a roof over her head. Her father knew a lot of people and what’s to say if she did open up to someone, that it wouldn’t get back to him somehow? The man had never laid a hand on her, but she feared him greatly.

But she didn’t know how much longer she could keep up this façade. It was destroying her, literally and figuratively. If her life were a story book, her character would be the one who dies because they stupid enough to listen without thinking for themselves. ‘I hate myself and what I’ve turned into. I’ll never be worth anything, just a Heartfilia to carry on the legacy. To be used and exploited until there is no need for me anymore. Argh! I hate myself and yet I don’t even know who the hell that is! Why do I have to feel this way…’

If there were a way to turn off her emotions, Lucy would snap it up in a heartbeat. Just make her completely numb to everything. Truly become a doll who speaks with pre-programmed phrases. A robot who felt no love or sadness and only knew how to be a servant like in a sci-fi movie. She thought that by walling off her heart it would shield her from the pain, but it only caused a deeper one to take root. And frankly, even if she tried now to fix it, how do you erase 14 years of misery?

It would take years of therapy, hundreds of hours and dollars to do just that. Not to mention having to re-live all the painful experiences that drove her to become the way she did. So much for any chance of a solid relationship. She couldn’t subject anyone else to this, that would only make her feel worse.

An utter burden.

To ask someone to bear some of her weight upon their shoulders would be unfair, and if she truly believed this, how could she ever bring herself to open up to anyone, especially if she cared about them. Yet, she wanted to do it. At least a small part of her screaming from the depths of her mind, pleading selfishly to just tell someone! Screw it all! Who cares if they dump you as a friend afterward. Stop worrying about the what if’s because she can’t predict the future.

If only it were so easy.

A few minutes pass by as she sits there in silence, when the light from her phone illuminates the room for just a moment.

“Are you okay?”

Her breathing hitches, stopping short in her throat. Why would Natsu ask that question?! The screen goes black again bathing her in darkness, but the words had dealt their blow. Histories of conversations and interactions are replayed in her mind as Lucy searches for any justification for that message. Had she done something, said something to lead him to believe she wasn’t okay? Oh, no! She’d forgotten to add a happy face emoji or a blush emoji to her response. Is that what made him pick up on a problem.

“I’m fine, really *blush emoji*”

Okay, that should do it, right? Her response was simple yet positive, nothing to indicate the opposite turmoil festering in her mind. Ugh, she shouldn’t have let herself slip into a depressed state tonight. Perhaps her subliminal consciousness tripped up her perfect record of hiding things in plain sight because deep down she wanted to be caught.

“*frown face* I don’t believe that Lucy, somethings wrong I can feel it.”

More tears rise to the surface from the realization that her perfect house of cards were about to come crashing down over a text message of all things. Lucy could continue to lie. Should she continue to lie? Really, I’m fine just tired. Don’t worry about me. I was distracted with homework. All valid responses she could use to justify the slip up.

“Lucy? You know you can talk to me, right?”

Her chest constricts further as she chokes down a sob. How?! How does she know that to be true?! What if he laughs or ridicules her? What if? What if? What if?! ‘Stop it!’ Lucy screams in her head. Heaven help her, she couldn’t take it anymore! Natsu was her friend and in her heart of hearts, he would never knowingly hurt her.

Instead of answering the text, Lucy clicks the call button instead.

“Lucy?”

“Natsu… You’re right. I-I’m not okay…”

[itsclydebitches]

Welcome back, everyone!

A quick note before we begin: after the previous recap a couple of lovely friends and anons explained to me some discrepancies in my work, mainly about how Fox's semblance functions and how much info we’ve gotten on that previously. They're worth a read if (like me) you haven't read After the Fall and would like a more accurate picture of this whole project. However, I have to admit that sadly past!me didn’t think through the usefulness of those posts and tag them appropriately... so they’re just somewhere in the mess that is the “rwby” and “mymetas” tags. Still, I wanted to acknowledge their existence, both for your potential use and as another disclaimer along the lines of, “I’m reading what amounts to a sequel and recapping as I go. Prepare for a bumpy ride.” 

We're on chapter five now (of twenty-two! Holy god I’m slow!!) and truth be told I actually enjoyed this opening. We're in Yatsuhashi's head this time around and he's likewise enjoying Vacuo's Meeting Spot, an "artificial oasis" that reminds him of his mother's healing gardens. I wonder what "healing" means in this particular context. A generalized benefit to your body, mind, and spirit in the form of meditation? Or a more literal, magic-based healing with its roots in aura use? In a world with RWBY's possibilities, a healing garden that someone like Ozpin might run—let's take time to settle ourselves and reflect—vs. one that someone like Jaune would create—let me use my semblance to literally heal your wounds—are rather different things. I'd be interested to know which category (or another) Yatsuhashi's mother falls under.

Regardless, it's a satisfyingly quiet scene. Yatsuhashi comments on both the beauty of the oasis as well as how that beauty, in turn, raises the desert in his eyes. Nothing like not having to deal with a hard landscape to make that landscape seem more bearable, alluring even, and this moment managed to capture that feeling rather well. The only downside is that, in a recurring theme, I once again got whiplash upon realizing that Yatsuhashi is not standing alone in the peace of the early morning, like the description had led me to believe. Apparently Velvet is there. As well as the whole freaking student body! Myers* has this strange habit of writing one kind of scene only to suddenly reveal that the scene is actually radically different from what his writing had encouraged you to imagine. Yatsuhashi is going on about healing, natural beauty, and the peace of an early morning. What's peaceful about dozens of students speculating beside him? Have you ever met a school of sleep deprived young adults dealing with a surprise announcement before breakfast? That’s as far from peaceful as humanly possible. 

Mood, kid. 

(*Also yes, we're working to write Myers' name correctly this chapter. If I'm going to drag his work so much the least I can do is not add an additional 'e' to his name lol.)

Along with the entirety of Shade Academy to break the peace, Yatsuhashi tells us about dromedons and mole crabs. The former, according to the wiki, is a "camel-like Grimm that can spit acidic venom" and also sports an armored hump. Fun! The latter, according to Yatsuhashi, is a "horrifying" creature that "slept just below the sand and could cut a person in two with their massive claws." And they're the normal, non-grimm animals! Screw Salem. Humanity needs huntsmen just to keep people safe from the everyday wildlife. Crabs cut people in two, Zwei is capable of being set on fire and launched at a mech... it's a miracle that anyone ever steps outside their home. 

I do write this with full knowledge that Australia exists, but still.

As Yatsuhashi moves away from thoughts of killer crabs, we begin what is easily the strangest bit of repetition this chapter. Yatsuhashi's shoulder is sore from having tried to break down the hideout door and I'm going, "Wait no, you used your sword” and frantically flipping back through my PDF. To Myers' credit, there is a detail that suggests Yatsuhashi uh... rammed the door? I think? Last chapter he "Stepped forward and Fox heard him grunt with exertion." That's the only thing I can think of that would explain his shoulder unexpectedly being sore hours later: if he'd charged it instead of doing something insane like, oh, I don't know, trying the doorknob first. Odd choice of continuity, but okay. What's super weird though is that Myers repeats the detail again:

Yatsuhashi crossed his arms, then grimaced as a fresh pain shot through his shoulder. Come on, Aura, he thought. Do your thing.

I'm sorry, how badly did you hurt your shoulder? Why does a supposedly intelligent student immediately resort to what is apparently somewhat serious self-harm when faced with a closed door? Why is Myers choosing this of all things to tell us about? Is this incredibly random shoulder injury going to hinder Yatsuhashi during the test? Spoilers: I don't think it does considering that I searched for "shoulder" in my PDF and there's just a lot of hands on shoulders coming up, but nothing that, at first glance, seems to make this kind of set up necessary. So I say again: weird.

Meanwhile, weirdness doesn’t even acknowledge the continued inconsistencies with aura. Jaune heals a cut on his cheek instantaneously, but hours later Yatsuhashi needs to gripe at his aura to hop-to already? So either Jaune’s aura is far more powerful than the average person’s (never established outside of Pyrrha’s “You have a lot of it” comment), or Yatsuhashi really hurt his shoulder that badly. Hard enough that with the rest of the night and early morning to heal him, his aura is still working overtime. 

Alrighty then. 

So the whole student body is just kind of hanging out, striking up casual conversations. Velvet asks how Yatsuhashi is doing and he says he's fine, "Thanks to you." Wait... what did Velvet do? I mean yeah, she was there last night and she's here now, but so is the rest of the team. I don't really recall her helping Yatsuhashi in any specific way. As is the norm now, I remain mildly, endlessly confused by this novel.

But we don’t have time to delve into the gratitude attached to events I’m not actually sure happened. There’s more chit chat going on as everyone tries to figure out why they've been summoned so early in the morning. "It's not always about us," Velvet says and I nod along in agreement even though I know, as a reader, that it's absolutely about them. "As I'm often reminding Coco."

Coco fires back with how it "could be about us," noting that it would be pretty coincidental if something else was going on right now, plus Rumpole may have realized they were out last night. (Remember, Yatsuhashi wasn't subtle about trying to break down that door). This is one of those moments where I agree wholeheartedly with Coco's logic, but kind of hate to encourage the 'It's all about us' attitude. Velvet might be smiling, but as previously established this is an ongoing theme within RWBY's characterization that it could really stand to do without.

Yatsuhashi then offers some "unsolicited advice" about how Rumpole could afford to slow down some and "let things come at their own pace," to which I respond, "Huh?" Where in the world did this come from? Previously the whole group—including Yatsuhashi, considering he didn't speak out against it—was concerned that Rumpole wasn't doing enough to track down the Crown. That is, do more, move faster, get it done already. You haven’t gotten it done? Okay, we’ll do it instead. Now he's providing this subtle criticism in response to a meeting, as if that's an inherently odd or bad thing for a headmistress to do. You want the woman to do extra work faster but slow down when it comes to her actual job? 

It reads to me like Myers is trying to put a lot of wise-sounding dialogue into Yatsuhashi's mouth—you know, the Asian character who keeps bringing up things like meditation and mindfulness—but hasn't bothered to think about whether that dialogue makes any sense. Of course, we then immediately backtrack to reveal that his comment was really about Coco not pushing the team too hard, but... that's not what he said? And Coco clearly didn't get the message. And the hidden meaning of the words didn't come across too well if your reader is squinting at what was said until the author has to straight up go, 'This is what Yatsuhashi actually meant.' Maybe just... have him say that? Give us some significant looks towards Coco, at the very least. Something to clue us in here that Yatsuhashi is (weirdly) blaming Rumpole for Coco's flaw.

Then he just ruins the whole scene further by mentally commenting that if all this extra work was hard on them, "what would it do to SSSN?" Ugh, look. I don't even like SSSN very much. I didn't shed a tear when they left the main series and would shrug if they ever came back, so you know the story is ragging on them too much when I'm standing up for the group at the bottom of my Character Adoration list. The duality of 'SSSN is so incompetent I don't even know how they're alive' and 'That, in comparison, makes us the best team ever' got old forty pages ago, yet I have the distinct feeling it won't be letting up any time soon.

Headmaster Theodore finally arrives to break up this thrilling conversation and the students erupt into thunderous applause. "It was what [he] expected. It was what he inspired whenever he appeared." That... is absolutely hilarious. This guy is so much of a showman, so insanely over the top, that he expects people to treat his everyday appearance as a spectacle worthy of praise and they agree. You know who he reminds me of?

The king himself, Alex Louis Armstrong. I'm digging this already. It's absurd and I will forever question RWBY's ability to balance comedy with its darker tones... but I'm counting this one as a win so far. There's got to be something to praise about this book.

Just as important, we get a description of Theodore's positively insane outfit. I immediately googled to see if someone had drawn him and the fandom did not disappoint. I'm not going to include the image here in case the artist, Edisu, doesn't want their work reposted like that, but I highly recommend you check out the link and get a visual.

The only thing left to say about this fashion monstrosity is that he has a "flowing gray-blue cape, the color of a stormy sky." I'll let our favorite textile engineer make my point for me:

Honestly, between Ruby's cape and Weiss' hair someone is going to end up in trouble one of these days.

In this world free of horrific cape tragedies, we've segued into a flashback which is, frankly, kind of boring compared to the others we’ve gotten. It's just the group meeting Theodore, information and characterization that could have easily been distributed to the audience in the present. It's starting to feel like the structure of including a flashback each chapter is hindering Myers somewhat, just because every chapter doesn’t necessarily need one, but that’s far from the biggest issue to tackle. 

We learn that Theodore (really Rumpole) did a bunch of research on all the students involved in the Vytal Festival and they're very pleased that Team CFVY has joined them now, despite the horrific circumstances. We again hear about how judgmental Coco can be, that her judgements are rarely wrong... but if they are wrong she's the last to admit it. So really that's less of a 'This character has good instincts about other people' and more 'This character is just, as said, judgmental and then stubborn about it when she’s wrong.' Theodore, however, seems like a cool dude:

“Ah, she speaks!” Theodore strode toward Velvet. His voice softened. “You didn’t fail, my dear. You fought. You stayed, far longer than anyone would have asked or expected of a student. And now you’re here. Do you want to be here? Will you fight for Shade the way you did for Beacon, Velvet Scarlatina?”

This is great. This is the kind of reassurance I would expect from a headmaster who, thus far, has received a fair amount of praise. Unlike his students, Theodore understands the risks Beacon students took and when it was time for them to make a life-saving retreat. He's inspiring while also being empathetic and honestly? That's the most I've had that 'You're a good person' sense from RWBY in a very long time.

Now watch Theodore turn out to be evil lol.

He cuts the tension of the serious conversation by proclaiming that if any of them doubt whether they should be here, they should take it up with him via a fight. Theodore announces this while striking a pose. I say again:

We then get some more reflection on how Theodore compares to Ozpin: 

Ozpin had believed in you before you did, almost like he knew your true potential, despite what your transcripts or fighting abilities looked like. Theodore believed you had potential, but you had to earn it and prove yourself to him first.

I agree with that and I'm pleased to see that this time the comparison didn't involve criticizing Ozpin in an effort to build Theodore up. It’s likewise a useful description and I think it provides us with at least one interpretation of why the RWBYJNR group has discarded Ozpin so thoroughly. The addition "despite what your transcripts or fighting abilities looked like" implies that Ozpin sees potential in everyone. It doesn't matter how presumably flawed you might be—in physical strength, like Jaune; in morals, like Lionheart— Ozpin will see the good in you and give that good a fighting chance. That's why he's the one tasked with doing something as crazy as uniting the whole world because he's the one person capable of seeing that potential in literally everyone. That much is true. But the flipside of this is that, unlike when in interacting with someone like Theodore, no one expects to have to work for Ozpin's faith, his praise... his trust. With Theodore you have to "earn" the respect he gives you right from the start. With Ozpin it's free! So surely that means such faith extends to every possible situation, right? 

Which is when you run into trouble. When the situation is no longer "I'll give you a chance in my school" but something much more serious like "I'm risking the whole world on your character." Ozpin is an optimist, but he's also cautious as hell (with good reason), so though he sees the potential in everyone he knows he can't let his own hope for humanity blind him to reality. That person might betray you. They might turn on you. They might give up and hurt you in the process... even if you want to believe that people are simply better than that. Wanting doesn’t make it so. 

If someone who had as little interaction with Ozpin as Team CFVY did nevertheless developed such a strong sense of, "Yeah, he believes in everyone!" then it seems likely that Team RWBY, already sporting a special connection with him, thought they were shoe-ins for every possible secret and task they might ask of him. Their time at Beacon was defined largely by both intentional favoritism and coincidences that could arguably be read as such. Ruby gets to go to Beacon two years early. She gets to be team leader. The sisters stay together despite teams supposedly being random. Team RWBY goes on missions not meant for first years. Team RWBY is given a nudge-nudge-wink-wink about The White Fang so that they can do what they’re able to help. Team RWBY was friends with Pyrrha, next in line for the Maiden powers. They got used to Ozpin simultaneously solving all the real problems that showed up and letting them play at being important, all while the rest of the school had to follow normal rules. They’re special. But then Beacon falls, the game is over, and they're blindsided by having to earn trust and privileges in the real world. Playing at huntresses in the safety of your headmaster’s school is over and Ruby in particular never got that there was a massive difference between that and a real war where the fate of the world hangs on your trustworthiness and ability to keep it together. It’s why she announces to the Argus guards that she is a huntress while attacking the people she’s meant to protect. 

Which would be a fantastic arc to give them if the show ever had someone sit the group down and tell them how childish and selfish they're being. Instead, they're still being handed that trust and privilege—you can go into Atlas despite stealing from the military, you get your licenses years early, you get to carry an incalculably valuable relic around—while likewise still getting mad that the adults around them don't give them more. This comparison here, though realistically just a throwaway passage in a novel rather iffily connected to its original series, starts to highlight the excellent situation RT set up... and then didn't do anything with.

But I've gone on about this long enough. There are just two other things I'd like to point out about this flashback. The first is that it may help us get a handle on Ozpin's age (if we're willing to accept these books as canon, despite their other inconsistencies). Earlier we're told that "Headmaster Theodore’s whole style should have been ridiculous for a man likely in his forties, maybe older" and here, in describing their different approaches, we get "Headmaster Ozpin, who had been younger but seemed much older." So that could potentially put Ozpin his his late 30s if he's noticeably younger than Theodore in his 40s. Or, in his 40s if the "maybe older" part is right and Theodore is in his 50s. I can’t imagine that Theodore is in his 60s. Not much to go on, admittedly, but I'll take whatever I can get. The interesting thing is that if Ozpin really is that young and Qrow is now (presumably) in his early 40s, wouldn't that have made them basically the same age during his Beacon days? Perhaps even giving us an Ozpin who was younger than his oldest students? I don't know. It's really less of a definitive piece of information and more messy speculation to add to the pile—which is par the course for RWBY nowadays. 

The second detail I wanted to point out was that despite all their supposed differences, Headmaster Theodore and Professor Rumpole have a very Ozpin-Glynda relationship going on. For all the cosmetic changes it boils down to the same dynamic. Both headmasters are powerful, quirky men who at first glance appear to be rather useless at their jobs, requiring the confident headmistress to swoop in and manage the daily running of a school. Those two do the heavy lifting while their bosses work wonders from behind the scenes (a la The Wizard). When I read Rumpole chastising Theodore for claiming he investigated the students, or when she reminds him that there isn't time to have an impromptu duel with his students, I couldn't help but think about Glynda reluctantly letting Ozpin invite Ruby to Beacon early, or cleaning up the cafeteria while he shrugs off the mess. To be clear, I don't necessarily mean this as a criticism, just an observation. In truth I'm not sure how I feel about it, but it adds to the overall sense that Shade is just Beacon with a slightly different coat of paint. As I've mentioned previously, for all the text's insistence that Shade isn't like the other schools, the story hasn't done a good job of demonstrating that cultural difference in any meaningful way and similarities like this only add to the feeling that this isn't really a unique Kingdom—or at least not one with a firm enough identity to be persuasively unique. Same rule breaking team sneaking out on their own mission. Same secondary team who’s talented, but not as special as the protagonists. Same strange man with his responsible woman running the school. The details differ, obviously, but the structure feels largely the same. 

As mentioned above, once the flashback ends Theodore tries to spar with one of the students but is quickly shut down by Rumpole because, you know, they have a meeting to hold. Apparently there have been complaints lately from the local security about Shade students interfering with official huntsmen business.

“I told you it was about us,” Coco muttered.

Coco, when you hear that people are pissed that you, an unlicensed student, are disrupting the careers of professionals every night the takeaway should not be, 'Aha! I knew it was all about me.'

Yatsuhashi at least provides a more nuanced perspective. "This wasn’t right, though. If they hadn’t interfered, those Huntsmen would have kidnapped an innocent person." He's right. They did help someone, but what they've failed to learn is that an individual good deed does not excuse the unlawful steps they took in getting there. If Team CFVY had just been out on the town and happened to spot some shady characters pulling shit, then put a stop to their kidnapping, that's fine. That's heroic. What is not heroic is them going out with the express purpose of fixing a situation that trained professionals told them they should not be trying to fix—key word being “trying,” given that they all understand Rumpole’s worry that they’ll make things worse. It was enough to send them back home last night... after Yatsuhashi failed to break into the hideout. The problem is not the "I helped someone who needed it" part but rather the "I'm arrogant enough to think that my presence is necessary" bit. 

If having students conducting investigations was wanted or necessary, it would be a part of the curriculum: acknowledged or otherwise. AKA yes, Ruby. It would be very helpful if you'd head on off to Mountain Glenn, under the observation of a seasoned huntsmen, and report back if there's any dubious activity going on over there. Ozpin said, 'Yes please' to the extra (highly controlled) help while these professionals are saying, 'No thanks.' The fact that Team CFVY acts is if they're justified in continuing this investigation—and worse, that the story keeps validating those feelings—undermines their otherwise heroic actions. RWBY really is a series that struggles with giving its protagonists compelling reasons for getting involved in the fight. ‘Because I want to help’ might be a noble motivation, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you should. The Mountain Glenn mission was like a chef allowing a talented, aspiring teen to help them with a dish, all of it done under their tutelage. Team CFVY’s investigation is like the teen sneaking into the kitchen after dark to doctor all the prep for the next day’s cooking under the assumption that they’ll make it even better. Hell, maybe they will! But that’s not the point. Your help was not invited — explicitly denied, actually —and there’s a very good chance you’ll mess something up.

So because this group of eight continually insists that they know best, the whole school is required to stay on campus after nightfall. Huzzah! 

It’s just too bad these consequences hurt others just as much as Team CFVY. The other students are pissed about this. I would be too! Team CFVY remains adamant though that they did the right thing, no guilt here, relying on the reader inaccurately comparing ‘saving lives’ with ‘losing free time off campus’ in order to come out on Team CFVY's side. They still fail to understand that helping people is not the reason they’re being punished. 

Theodore and Rumpole reiterate that they are working on a solution and that no one else should be getting involved. Team CVFY is no more persuaded by this speech than they were the previous ones. The announcement then segues into discussion of the former Haven students which produces... boos from the audience?? My god, what is wrong with this school? I mean I get it, school is brutal—both in real life and fiction—especially when the social dynamics of your school are written much more like a high school than a college, but usually if characters are going to drag new students it's in the semi-privacy of a bathroom or an empty hall. Groaning over the existence of war survivors in front of your headmaster is a level of confident cruelty I didn't expect.

Then again, RWBY is the show that gave us Cardin pulling on Velvet's ears in the middle of the cafeteria, so perhaps I shouldn't be surprised.

Theodore quickly bypasses the whole 'A decent number of my students hate these other students' issue and instead acknowledges that it is "difficult to adjust to a new school, an entirely new group of classmates, and most of all to life in Vacuo. Yet some of you have been separated from your original training teams.” Which is a nice way of saying that a good number of these teammates are dead. So what's the solution here?

Reinitiation Ceremony!

I'm sarcastic, but in all honesty I don't hate this idea. Far from it. Partly because I have a strong love of competitions in shonen-esque stories. Tests, trials, the obligatory tournament arc... they've always been some of my favorite parts of a series, largely because they allow the author to develop whacky and creative challenges that show off important characterization. See: Killua using a skateboard during the tunnel run before deciding that if Gon can manage running it, he can too; or Izuku using the mines and a piece of scrap to blast himself ahead of Bakugo and Todoroki. The structure of such tests forces characters to demonstrate creativity and critical thinking skills alongside strength, and that in turn reminds us of why they're our heroes. RWBY managed this a little bit with the Vytal Festival, but overall I don’t think the teams did anything particularly impressive to win. Team RWBY worked together, Nora hit people really hard with her hammer, Weiss' injury pissed off Yang enough to tap into more power... it was all stuff we had seen before and very little of it required planning or creativity. The Vytal Festival functioned more to set up the plot developments of Volume 3, which is fine, though for a while I had hoped that we would get a huntsmen license exam to do this sort of work... which obviously didn’t happen. Disappointing, but we’re at least getting something like that here. 

So I love the concept. I even love the general reasoning behind holding the ceremony at all. Anyone who had spent five minutes on this blog knows that I think the groups need to learn to play well with others. Yet I also can't deny that the team dynamics provide stability for these characters, even if they've come to rely on that stability to an unhealthy degree. We've got students whose teams were presented to them not just as a professional tool, but their primary support system. You live with these people, attend all the same classes, spend your free time together, and survive life-threatening situations on a fairly regular basis. It's work, family, and friendship all rolled into one, so if the headmaster suddenly says that you get a new team, that's a whole lot more devastating than just learning that you've got a new project group to deal with. It shouldn't have come to that—a school looking to teach a profession that requires working with a wide variety of individuals should never have told four students to rely one each other and each other alone—but now that we're here you can't just break them apart with no notice. Especially with a traumatic war going on. It's hard to come to a new school, meet new people, learn a new culture... so let me rip away the one piece of familiarity you have left.

Of course, I don't really think that the teams will be broken up irrevocably, if at all. Rather, I simply want to acknowledge that despite my appreciation for these kinds of stories and despite my desire that the teams get some distance... it shouldn't be done like this. Even more-so when it’s abundantly clear—to us if not the instructors—that this little stunt is causing their students to re-live a whole bucket load of trauma. Yatsuhashi thinks about how this feels like an “out of body experience” and “It reminded [him] uncomfortably of the evacuation of Beacon Academy… He felt his breath catch in his throat.” Coco’s order to stick together “[brought] him back to the moment,” re-emphasizing that he was lost in the past for a while there. He’s clearly struggling. 

Now, to be fair, this could all fall under the category of flawed characters. Meaning, anytime something awful happens in fiction we can interpret that as a skill on the part of the author: they wanted to write a scenario where the teachers are screwing up and unintentionally hurting their students. Or they know they’re hurting their students and consider that to be an acceptable sacrifice under the justification of ‘They have to get over Beacon at some point!’ There are lots of ways to paint this as Myers/RT writing complex, human characters who make ambiguous choices—a testament to their ability to write “realistically.” But to be frank I don’t really buy it. Simply because I’ve had a lot of experience now with how RWBY handles subjects like trauma and it’s only rarely been written respectfully and engagingly. I could be proven wrong as the novel continues, but it seems more likely that Myers wrote the instructors coming up with this test, wrote Yatsuhashi panicking over it, and intends to continually imply that these two things are separate plot points. Bringing both together in a narratively useful way would require acknowledging the instructors’ motivations—Why this test? Why now? Do they realize the harm they’re causing? If so, do they think it’s worth it?—and then coming to some sort of resolution, either via some recovery on CFVY’s part due to the instructors’ choices (this test did help us move past Beacon), or the instructors learning something about empathy and trauma via CFVY’s reaction (we never should have done this). I highly doubt we’ll get either.  

Thus, everyone is (justifiably) horrified. The teams are gone and either the shock of that made Team CFVY prioritize feelings of safety over strategy, or they're just not going to demonstrate any of the intelligence I look for in this kind of arc, because they immediately start obsessing over staying together. 

He needed to keep his team close to him. Especially Velvet. If they weren’t separated, they couldn’t be assigned to different teams.

Yatsuhashi, that is not at all what Rumpole told you:

“It’s already begun,” Rumpole said. “Everything you do from this moment forward will factor into your evaluations for new teams.”

Where in the world did you get the idea that you wouldn't be assigned a new team so long as you stuck with your old one? If I were one of the instructors here that choice would make me more likely to separate them. "Everything you do from this moment," Rumpole says, meaning that how they respond to this information is a part of the test. The team that panics and refuses to separate is the team that either can't function without one another, or at the very least believes that they can't. They're not willing to work with others and thus they're precisely the type that needs to learn this skillset. You're the ones they'll want to give new teammates to.

Of course, fate has different ideas about how things should go down. And by "fate" I mean "A completely ridiculous plot device." Team CFVY is separated because... the crowd is large I guess? It’s ridiculous. Four fighters already standing beside one another and who are now hyper-focused on staying together are not going to get swept away by a Shade size crowd who probably also want to stick with their own teammates. There are far better, far more convincing ways to keep them apart. Ozpin shot students one-by-one into the forest! Literally anything other than what we got, really.  

Still, that’s what we wound up with. Yatsuhashi and Coco both try to keep the team together only for the immense power of other people existing putting a stop to their plan. Alrighty then. Before they’re dramatically swept away on different ships, however, we do get two other noteworthy bits of information that I'd like to end on. The first is Rumpole’s announcement that “When you reach your destination, your goal will be to locate a gold figurine and bring it back to the school” to which Fox replies, “Great. Glad this is fair for everyone. Who can see.” And you know what? He's right. Maybe Fox and I will both be proven wrong (I feel like I'm writing that a lot this chapter...) but unless there's some miscommunication here or a surprise in store, a goal of "locat[ing] a gold figurine" is indeed a sight based challenge and, when placed in a test that is deliberately separating Fox from his team, puts him at a severe disadvantage.

The second is simply that the year levels of the students will not be a factor in the creation of new teams. “What year we are? Yatsu thought. This can’t be right. How could a first-year keep up with fourth-years?” to which I respond, "Um... that's the entire show?" The webseries RWBY is about how Team RWBY, starting out as first years, has surpassed everyone around them, to the point where they're now beating the best team in Atlas. Time-wise they're still second years—far as I can figure out, anyway—so if second years can beat elite military operations, a first year can stand toe-to-toe with second, third, and fourth years. More crucial to Yatsuhashi's thought process—because as an in-world character he doesn't necessarily know what Team RWBY has been up to post-Volume 3—he's still seen how well first years did at Beacon. Ruby was let in two years early. Pyrrha is such a phenomenally talented fighter her face is on their cereal boxes. A first year, Yang, went on to compete in the Vytal Tournament final (even if it was rigged. Yatsuhashi doesn't know that), and Team CFVY fought beside a number of first years at the Battle of Beacon. Now, you all know that I think education and experience are damn important. I'm not saying Yatsuhashi is flat-out wrong to question whether there would be any issues attached to slamming, say, a first year, two second years, and a fourth year into one team (especially when you consider practical questions like going to classes), but the general takeaway of "How could they keep up?" seems a tad strange. You know first years can keep up. You watched it happen, both in your former school's curriculum—first years get to go on an upper-level mission—and in real life battle. This knee-jerk response reads as even worse after five chapters of looking down on Team SSSN. Team CFVY really thinks highly of themselves, huh. 

Honestly, it feels like our authors didn't pay a whole lot of attention to the implications of the dialogue/thoughts they’re giving to the characters which is, again, par for the course at this point. Like the questions attached to the test, this feels less like giving Yatsuhashi a flaw (he, as an in-world character, hasn't bothered to think through whether his knee-jerk assumption about first years is supported by his experiences) and more like a flaw of the creators. That sounds like a legitimate concern—in the same way that Yatsuhashi's advice to Rumpole sounds generically wise—but poke at it a bit and you start finding a number of cracks. An author who is well aware of the world they've built and strives to adhere to it might have had Yatsuhashi acknowledge some of the amazing things he's seen first years do and still conclude that there are problems with this decision. That's legit. As it stands, Yatsuhashi just sounds ignorant and (again) overly confident, which I don't trust to be a moment of character insight as opposed to an authorial blip.

Which is about where we end. The team is split on different airships, no one is happy about it, and we're left with this somewhat unsettling image:

Headmaster Theodore was waving and whooping, like it was all some terrific game, while Professor Rumpole watched silently, her hair whipping around in the wind and an unsettling grin on her face.

This gives me some hope that the story will treat the problems attached to this test respectfully. The description of Theodore acting "like it was all some terrific game" is a mark against his character and Rumpole straight up has an "unsettling grin on her face." Is she one of the baddies? Potentially. Will I ever again get adult characters who aren't depicted as inept, traitorous, or just so flawed that they unwittingly cause great damage to their students? Probably not. These two desires remain constantly at war with one another. RWBY introduces issues that the story should tackle, but the only issues it acknowledges are those attached to the adults. So we have everyone doing a range of iffy things, but only the elders are likely to be punished or (better yet) learn something over the course of the tale. The double standard remains so strong across the franchise that at this point I just want to raise a THE ADULTS DID NOTHING WRONG banner and call it a day. Not because they're actually free of mistakes or even, at times, downright cruelty, but because if our protagonists constantly get that free pass I'm not sure why everyone else can't too.

Anyone for a spot of denial? 

But I've now written nearly twice as much as the actual chapter in question. It's time to stop! At this rate I’ll have written the equivalent of five Before the Dawns in my attempt to recap just one. #yikes

Until Chapter Six 💜

[justalilnovice]

Cayde-6 X Destiny OC (Echo-5)

‘  why  are  you  bleeding?  ’

‘  can  you  stop  moving?  ’

He was always portrayed as small and humble, weak and simply not meant for a fight. Being chosen as a Guardian, well he really had no choice in the say. Echo wasn’t exactly a big fan of it, being committed to something he never paid attention to during his time; he was a carefree soul, outgoing and couldn’t sit in one place. 

He craved adventure and barely sat still long enough to receive a mission from the Vanguard, or bounties. Blood thirsty isn’t the right word for how he felt about what he was doing, but perhaps a hobby. 

The lost sectors were his most favored thing to do while out until he was called in for duty. Banshee always needed supplies to trade for mods and Echo was more than happy to collect them for a new mod for his guns. 

The young exo knew how some people viewed him, and some days he believed them. Some days he felt weak, unable to complete what he was set out to do and just talking down on himself. Physically he was built differently, but his intellect and knowledge of his surroundings and weaponry made up for it. 

Today however, was a different story.

With his ship settled at the hangar, he and his ghost depart the dock of his ship and set foot for the medical bay. And he’s trying his best to keep his wounds hidden -- of course the bloody rags didn’t help nor the limping. Those stairs seemed so far away.

“Why are you bleeding?”

His legs stop moving as he’s frozen there in his spot. The voice was familiar to him and made his heart stop a moment; there was curiosity in the tone as well, along with worry. Boots make way over to him on the metal walkway, and when Echo turns to see Cayde he tenses up even more, hands fisting.

“Tell me that’s not your blood,” the other exo says. Echo shifts awkwardly in his spot, looking down at the ground for a moment.

“....Not all of it.” 

As Cayde walks over to Echo, PJ (Echo’s ghost) emerges out of his guardian’s bag, spinning to greet Cayde. 

“Echo here decided he was going to delve into a Hive den,” the little ghost spits. He’s still a bit annoyed at the fact Echo barged in without any precaution. However it was expected anyways. A scoff comes from Echo as his hand goes to hold the bleeding cut on his arm.

“Hey, I’m alive aren’t I?” he states, and his ghost proceeds to boop into his helmet angrily. 

“A lot of that blood could have been prevented if you were more careful.”

A hand gently taps PJ as he twirls around after, seeing Cayde lower his hand. The exo is chuckling to himself, and in the meanwhile taking Echo’s hand to lead him over to his little corner in the hangar.

“He’s like me little guy,” Cayde states, “the rougher it is the more fun the adventure.”

If Echo wasn’t trying to get over the increasing pain from his wounds he would have squealed at that sentence. His young mind made it sound. . .  completely different than what it was originally meant to be like. He decides to suppress a sound escaping his throat. 

Instead he sits where Cayde wants him to while watching the other exo dig through some drawers and take some things from crates. He brings over some medical supplies, ranging from bandages, small hooks designed for Exo medical procedures, and other small things to get Echo back up and running and cleaned up.

“Let me see that arm, kid,” Cayde says, taking the other man’s arm in his hand. He lays it on the table in front of him to being the cleaning process.

Blue eyes watch as the older exo begins his treatment, very focused on not trying to hurt the poor guy.  It was odd to see Cayde so focused and quiet.

Echo hums as he watches, catching the attention of Cayde as he side eyes him.

“Seem to know what you’re doing,” Echo comments, making Cayde stifle a laugh.

“Don’t trust anyone to patch me up beside me,” he says. “Ikora maybe. Well. . .  no, not Ikora. You know about any of this?”

“You’d trust me to patch you up?” Echo chuckles. “You’re crazier than I thought.”

If Exos could smile Cayde would be wearing a big one. He moves to the wound up to Echo’s shoulder then, having to get little closer to him. To say Echo was a heated mess was an understatement. If you listened close enough you could have sworn you’d hear fans buzzing. 

Over time this little crush grew and grew on Cayde; honestly who didn’t have one on him. 

The more Cayed worked and moved closer, the more intimate it became, Echo kept fidgeting in his seat. Eventually a hand settles on his chest plate, making him snap out of his daze and look up at the other exo, who’s only a few feet away from him.

“Can you stop moving?” Cayde says playfully. Echo notices a thumb rub gently on his armor. “Us Exos are more difficult to patch up so I don’t wanna screw this over.”

As much as he loved being this close to Cayde, he wished he would hurry up so he could function; it was hard to sit still like this with the exo standing between his legs. 

It felt like hours Cayde was standing there and Echo was becoming more and more restless -- not just because of the other exo but he genuinely could never sit that long anyway. Eventually however the last wound was cleaned and taken care of.

“There,” Cayde says happily and inspecting his work, “us Exos usually patch up easier than most, given we can just find a few spare parts laying around.”

Echo chuckles and looks up at him as he gently rubs his arm where one of his wounds are. “I’ll be sure to come to you next time I get banged up.”

Cayde then puts a hand on Echo’s shoulder and squeezes it gently to not hurt him, and then pats his cheek playfully as well. Echo wanted so desperately to take it in his; curse this stupid crushing thing. Why couldn’t it have stuck with human traditions and leave the Exo alone?

“Wanna grab a drink?” Cayde asks, gently taking Echo’s hand to pull him up to his feet. “Could use one after this.”

Not like he was gonna refuse. Echo chuckles and nods his head.

“Sure, Cayde,” he breathes. The Exo began to turn to lead Cayde to the ramen shop but a hand at the back of his head made him freeze; he wasn’t expecting Cayde to rest his forehead against Echo’s.

“Glad you’re home, kid,” the other man says softly. If it were possible to see Echo would have fumes coming from his ears. His chest stops moving a moment or two before he eventually form words.

Echo tries his best to relax as he speaks. “Me too,” he simply says, getting a laugh from Cayde. Pretty soon the older Exo takes Echo’s hand and drags him along up the stairs.

Both hunters didn’t like to stay in one place for too long, but here was somewhere they would always come back to.

[bowieandqueen11]

Tell Me The Odds / Han Solo Imagine

Request: Could I please request a young Han Solo x reader where the reader gets hurt badly and Han freaks out about it and as she is loosing blood and getting weaker, she admits that she loves him and starts to list off everything she loves about him? And he gets all upset and begs her to stay awake but she ends up passing out? They soon get her to safety and she wakes up to Han talking about How much he loves her without knowing she’s awake? Plus Chewy. Just fluff and angst. Thanks and love you!💙 

I love you too this is so cute! <3

My blog is really dead at the moment so every interaction (reblog/comment/request) you’re able to give is seriously appreciated and tells me people want me to keep writing!

Han feels like there’s a hurricane inside of him as the lights in the dim Death Star corridor flickers between the oncoming Stormtroopers marching down the hallway and the body that lies writhing in pain on the floor. Before he even realises it, he’s sliding across the floor on his hands and knees, reaching up to cradle your head in his lap with a lone tear pricking at the corner of his eyes.

Chewie let out a grunt as Han looked around, his eyes wide and afraid.

‘Yes, shoot them, I can’t do everything you know!’

He barely hears the blasters ring off the metal walls, or the cries of the troops of the Empire as they hit the ground one by one.

Han held his hand to the wound, but no matter the pressure he applied the blood had still gushed between his fingers and oozed under his hand. It had spread into his jacket, the bright red quickly darkening, taking on a brownish hue. Those moments he spent pleading with you to look at him, to stay with him, feeling the very fluid of your life drain away over his cold hands, were the worst of his life. Time itself had become irrelevant; the seconds could have been hours, or hours mere seconds. It was as if the galaxy had disappeared in the split of a second.

‘I have to say something... if this is it.’

‘You shut your mouth now.’

‘Han, Han it’s alright.’

You slap your red stained fingers against his cheek, not noticing the cloudiness in his eyes as it drops again to his wobbling chin, leaving streaks of blood behind.

‘I love you, I always have, even if you were too stupid to see it.’

Han locked his eyes onto yours and cradled you tight against his chest, each of you bathed in your blood, not even hearing any other sound than the feeble breaths that shake your lungs. Not even the firing that grows louder in the distant, the blinking red illuminating his face in a harsh glow that made you wince against his fingertips, but he didn’t care. Your hair tumbled over your face and so he swept it back, feeling the coldness of your skin, before gently kissing your forehead.

‘You can tell me that again, once we get out of here. Screw the Resistance, all I care about is you, and right now, we need to go.’

‘It’s your eyes, you know. I could just look into them forever.’

‘Stop.’

‘The way you’re so sure of yourself, the little tufts in your hair that you try to smooth back, your selflessness and kindness for your friends you pretend isn’t there but so clearly is... plus, you give really good hugs.’

‘Y/n, stop, I need- I need to get you out of here-’

‘I love you.’

‘I know, but I need you to walk with me, okay, we can talk about this later. Because there will be a later.’

‘The Millennium…’ he trailed off, waving over Chewie.

~

When you got inside, Han carefully laid you down in the medbay as Chewie fired up the cockpit.

The instant the Falcon came to rest and powered down, stillness and silence finally settled in its corridors for the first time in weeks. Han couldn’t move from your side, wouldn’t do it. He barely even noticed Chewie enter the room until he felt his furry hand on his shoulder, but even the gesture from his closest friend couldn’t keep his leg from shaking.

All he could do was wait.

‘Look, it’s hard to say sometimes, but I need you. You’re irreplaceable, Y/n, so could you please wake up now. Stop laughing, fuzzball, or you can go live with the Ewoks.’

He was angry, that much Chewie, could see, angry at himself from not being able to save you.

‘I need you. I want you. Here. I want you to try to make me laugh when I’m so angry all I can see is red. I want you to try and take the wheel from me even though you know it drives me crazy. I want you to talk back to me, to not take me seriously, to tell people embarrassing stories of what we’ve been through on Corellia. Because I love you too, Y/n.’

‘Nerfherder.’

His eyes flick over your face with unbridled fear and exhilaration. 

‘Who said that?’

‘Someone who loves you.’

‘I thought you were dead.’ 

‘Who said you could get rid of me that easily. Plus, I needed to hear that incredible speech of yours. It was a masterpiece, by the way.’

His hand found your cheek and pulled you to him, crashing your lips onto his.

Unexpectedly, his hand drifts to your hip. It settled there as you pull him closer against your sore torso, moaning slightly into his mouth. You splay your hand against his leather jacket, his head angling slightly to the side as he presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, as you grant your access, delves inside your mouth.

He lowered his face to yours again and your lips met. As you parted, you saw his eyes sparkle and lips curve up into a grin you wanted to see day after day for all eternity.

‘Took you long enough.’ 

[thelioncourts]

title: the mannequin gallery fandom: captive prince pairing: damen/laurent rating: (eventually) explicit words: 4695 for chapter one (1/?)

story summary: If things would have gone the way they were supposed to, Damen and Laurent would have never met. But things didn't go the way they were supposed to, not at all, and their meeting ended up being the equivalent of skydiving with a malfunctioning parachute. Damen tried not to complain. After all, he was now living his dream; he was travelling with his best friend without having to make sure their "I"s were dotted and their "T"s crossed. And, sure, Laurent was difficult to work with, to work for, but he was also great to look at and they made it work well as long as they were anywhere but in Paris. But when Laurent's past begins to cause present-day problems, Damen finds out those difficulties Laurent constantly displays were a bit more warranted than he could have ever imagined. And Laurent? Laurent finds out the truth -- and finds out how to smile.

chapter one note: hi, guys! so -- this fic is my baby. i've been fiddling with the idea a bit over a year now and i'm finally debuting it in all its mistakes and all my love for it. before i ramble too long about anything else i feel like i should put a disclaimer here in saying that: this is by no means near finished. i have a plot and major plot points written out in detail and i have the first three chapters completed (prologue doesn't count as a chapter), but that is it. i know how a lot of people feel about WIPs (i feel that way in many cases with WIPs too) and i just want to get that out there for anyone who does want to wait until it's a finished product.now! i fear the summary makes this sound really lighthearted and, while it is and will be (i hope!) it is also going to delve into some darkness, namely in canonical captive prince fashion of pedophilia and rape and molestation. i'm not sure it that will be mentioned or if it will be described or anything, but i feel like that needs to be said for anyone looking for a fluff-fest.

Damen knew what people thought about him. Damen knew that people thought he wasn’t living up to his full potential. Damen knew that people thought he was relying too much on his ‘fifteen minutes of fame.’ Damen knew that people thought he’d be left with nothing in five years. Hell, he had heard it enough from his own father, from his brother, from his ex-girlfriend who was now his brother’s fiancé. Nik had heard it all too.

But Damen knew a lot of other things too. Damen knew that ‘lucky’ didn’t even begin to describe his current life and Damen knew that one wasn’t meant to look a gift horse, or lucky horse, in the mouth. Damen knew, after all his experience, how to cultivate fleeting moments into events to be remembered. Damen knew, after all his experience, that networking was by far the most useful career tool. Most importantly, Damen knew he’d never be happy sitting at the head of a boardroom table or behind a desk in an office eight hours a day. And since the opportunity to do what he did had landed in his lap, he knew he would have been a fool to not take it and run with it. Even knowing what people thought, Damen didn’t regret it, not once.

Still, despite what Damen knew, it didn’t make his brain stop replaying every argument he’d had with his family in the past or, in this instance, about an hour ago via phone call. It didn’t matter how many times Nik told him every harsh word out of their mouths was all out of worry on his father’s part, all out of jealousy on his brother Kastor’s part, all out of regret and envy on Kastor’s fiancé’s part. Each argument always left Damen’s head spinning.

It took the chill of the mountain air rushing against his face to pull him back to reality. He and Nik had been in Cortina d’Ampezzo, a ski town in northern Italy, for just over a week. Today was their last day and they were using it to actually enjoy themselves as opposed to creating content. It’s why they were hitting their favorite ski slopes one last time and why there was cold wind ruddying Damen’s cheeks and why specks of snow were hitting his goggles, leaving them streaked with condensation.

Finally where the ground began to level out, Damen turned his legs, shifting them to just the right angle, before he allowed himself to slide and slow down to a gentle stop. Everything felt wobbly under his feet.

“Quit thinking about it.”

Damen looked up to see Nik who had been right behind him on the course. Nik was already pulling at his goggles, at his hat, and he shook his hair free of both bindings. His nose was red. Giving Damen a pointed look to back up his words, he waited a beat before moving to unbuckle his feet from the skis.

“I’m not thinking about it,” Damen said, copying Nik’s movements.

“Yes, you are. You almost veered off course back there.”

“But I didn’t.”

[Continue on AO3]

“You should really let me photograph you when you’re like this,” Nik said. “We can do a whole thing, call it ‘The Real Damen.’ Let everyone know you’re not always big smiles and no shirts, that sometimes you’re a pouty loser.”

“I’m not a pouty loser,” Damen argued, face screwing up with the insult.

“See,” Nik started quickly, snapping and pointing. “That face. Let me take a picture of that face and we’ll show off the human side of you.”

“You’re a dick,” Damen said. “And what do you mean ‘human side’ of me?”

Their feet crunched across the snow as they made their way back to the ski lodge they’d grown fond of in their week here. They’d grown so fond of it that they made sure to take plenty of pictures outside and inside of the place, of the food and drink offered, of the cute-as-a-button ski instructor who had freaked out upon seeing Damen the first time and who had shown them all the tricks to having a successful ski-filled week.

Just before walking in, Nik clapped Damen on the shoulder and said, “You know what I was thinking about while we were skiing? I was thinking about how you’re going to be lucky to even get a pity invite to your own brother’s wedding.”

“You’re a dick,” Damen repeated, but he was laughing. That was something they were both glad about.

Beyond their dinner reservations that night, Damen and Nik had no other plans for their last day in Cortina and so they spent it wandering aimlessly as opposed to how they wandered about the other seven days, like men on a mission. There wasn’t an urgent need to get content out given how their system worked. They were almost always two weeks ahead, minus the times that they needed to post in real time, though whether that came from posting on Damen’s Instagram story or from carefully, but quickly, edited shots Nik completed in double-time depended entirely on the ‘what’ and the ‘who.’

For the next few hours, they meandered around the streets doing the fun things that inspired them to do just this all those years ago. They ran inside local shops, seeing things that weren’t found in every store across the globe, they took in the talented musicians all along the streets – even in the snow – singing heart-pulling melodies, plucking at echoing strings, pounding on drums that were felt in one’s soul, and they ate so much finger food, making themselves nearly sick. Around them were the Dolomites, larger than life and covered in snow, and sometimes Damen looked up at them and remembered how cold it had been up there, how thin the air was. He also looked up and thought about how awesome those pictures were going to look once Nik got around to editing this stop.

By seven o’clock they were back at their hotel, the Hotel Miramonti, which was made famous for being in a James Bond film (For Your Eyes Only (1981) starring Roger Moore). For their final night, final photos, and for that once-in-a-lifetime thing that had been the inspiration for two teenagers’ bucket list, they decided to dress up for dinner in the best suits they could find in such a town and live it like they were James Bond...because you could do that when you were them.

“Do I look like I’m ready to fight international crime?” Damen asked, stepping out while artfully checking his cufflinks.

“You look like a tool,” Nik deadpanned.

“That’s at least the fifth time you’ve been mean to me today” Damen said. He swiped their room card, tucking it into his black leather wallet, and elbowed Nik as they exited the room. It was cold outside in the mountains in January and Damen was grateful for the coat he’d gotten here as well. He shoved his hands into his pockets, watching as air left from his mouth and rose to form clouds in front of his face.

“Only the fifth time? I’m slacking then,” Nik said. They walked in silence, letting the feeling of being in this place wash over them. Cortina was lively at night. Its restaurants and shops were full of laughter and song, people warming their hands near fires and their blood with alcohol, and Damen wondered how many of these people came here every year and how many were first time visitors, equally as awed by the beauty as he was.

Nik was a step behind him, had been a step behind him all day really, and Damen tried not to dwell on it; but, given how his own conversation with his family had gone, he couldn’t help but think about Nik’s own. He was definitely acting like something was wrong, but he hadn’t said a word about any of it.

“Did your dad give you a hard time again?” Damen finally asked.

Nik huffed out a laugh, that familiar one that said everything he didn’t have to. Still, he said “Not as hard a time as your own gave you.”

A car full of young women drove by them and three of the girls had gloved hands extended out the windows, braving the cold for a ‘hello’ at two well-dressed strangers on the street and Damen, ever the charmer, yelled his own ‘hello’ back at them. They laughed as though he said something awfully funny.

There was a small bar just up the road that was clearly the place to be in Cortina on a Thursday evening. The line, careening out the door, was bubbling with impatience, excitement, and the desire for a packed room of body heat to fight the cold. Damen and Nik both watched as a couple talked animatedly to one another before she moved in, pressing what was clearly an ice-cold hand on her boyfriend’s forearm, making him jump. She laughed and he laughed and the guy behind them mocked them both.

“If this place we’re going to ends up being like that one restaurant back home, we should stop by here afterward and get something good,” Damen said.

“I still maintain that one place is lying about their Michelin star,” Nik said as agreement.

“When you’re a Michelin star restaurant with a three-star Yelp rating, something’s up,” Damen said. “Maybe we should change up everything and talk about food instead. We get real heated about food, I think it’d be great.”

Nik hummed and Damen turned, just so, to look at him. He had his phone in hand, eyes scanning the screen like a teenager waiting for someone to text them back. Damen hit him with an elbow, watching as Nik fumbled once to keep his phone from landing on the snow-wet ground.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Nik said, pocketing his phone.

Damen shushed him. “You’ve been weird all day.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Yeah, you have.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nik,” Damen huffed.

Nik sighed deeply, his chest rising high underneath the fitted suit jacket, and he looked up to the sky, watching the cold air moved by the disturbance of warmth.

“Look,” he said after a moment’s pause. “I have something I want to talk to you about. It’s something I should have talked to you about weeks ago, but no time seemed right.”

Damen stopped right in the middle of the walkway they were on, but the few people anywhere behind them just walked on by as though not bothered by the brief interruption in their own journeys. “Spill.”

“No, it can wait until we’re on our way to –” Nik trailed.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about at dinner. But let’s talk about this first,” Damen said.

“We need to get on the same page for where we’re going next,” Nik argued. “You know we’re a mess if we don’t have at least ideas in place before we get somewhere.”

“I know, but if whatever this is has you stressed, we should talk about it now.”

“Damen, come on, this is the first dinner we’ve had in seven days that’s not going to be cold by the time we eat it. Let’s just enjoy this, figure out our plans for –”

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Right. And then we’ll talk.”

The doors were opened for them because it was that kind of place and they were greeted by a too-gorgeous hostess and an equally stunning coat check attendant who both smiled at them in the dim lighting of the restaurant. They were led to their seats, the way between tables spacious, and just as they were about to sit, Damen put a hand on Nik’s forearm.

“Hang on,” he started. “You’re not bailing on me anytime soon, are you?”

Nik, with his lifetime of patience, didn’t roll his eyes, but the desire to do so was there.

“I knew it,” Damen said with the confidence of someone acting like they had it all figured out.

They ordered wine because they were in Italy and how could they not, and every item on the menu was so tempting Damen spent a good twenty minutes struggling to decide on just one. He decided to voice that fact out loud.

“I know that, at this rate, we’re going to be until the sun rises, but I could genuinely eat everything.”

“Well, choose one of the everything you could eat and get on with telling me about our next destination,” Nik said, having long decided on a nice risotto.

Taking Nik’s words to heart, Damen spent another minute or so finalizing a decision before landing on a bollito misto to pair well with the Barbera wine they had already drained a bottle of.

“Alright. I know we’ve been talking about exploring the more eastern parts of Europe, but given that I’d actually like to have the time to research it and to also not go there in the endings of winter, I’ve decided on a new place in a familiar country,” Damen explained. “Berlin.”

“Berlin?”

“Yes. We’ve spent time in Frankfurt and did that tour of Rothenburg a few years back, but it’s been some time since we’ve been to Germany and Berlin is full of things to do. I could also really do with some of that schnitzel we had that one time.”

“You don’t even remember the schnitzel,” Nik reminded him. “You were so drunk because we were there during Oktoberfest and you were competing against veteran Germans at their own holiday. I told you the schnitzel was good.”

“Well,” Damen started with a laugh, “then I’d like to try the schnitzel and remember it this time!”

They were about to start a meaningless bit of banter, something they always did, like brothers who couldn’t keep their mouths closed and their thoughts to themselves, when Nik’s phone rang, causing a few glances from other patrons in the restaurant. It wasn’t uncommon for them both to get a slew of phone calls throughout the day. They had plenty of family, friends, and acquaintances all around the world to keep them busy, and none of those categories included the times they got called for interviews or received offers from brands to advertise in their posts. When they were out like this though, they were both pretty good at giving their eyes and brains a rest from social media so Damen was surprised to see Nik’s hand jump to his phone as though it was a lifeline, or a ransom.

“I’ve got to take this,” he said after remembering to breathe, and he didn’t wait to get a ‘No problem!’ or ‘What’s going on?’ from Damen. Instead he quickly and politely stood from the table and excused himself out the door that led to the currently empty outdoor sitting area.

Damen couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward in his seat like a nosy ya-ya watching the neighbors from her open kitchen window. It was dark out and the lighting of the outdoor seating area was minimal given nobody was going to brave the cold just for dinner and a view; it made it hard to see Nik who was swathed in an already-dark suit. Still, Damen watched, hoping to see something akin to relief or peace or excitement or something good take over his best friend’s face and replace the anxiety that had been there as they had talked on their walk to the restaurant.

For the first few minutes, Damen, continuously sipping on his wine and munching on the bread sitting on the table, could just see him through the throng of people between their table and the door, through the smaller windows of the door itself, through the decorative greenery falling into perfect place just beyond the entrance. Nik was standing there, back to the window, with one arm up and holding the phone to his ear and the other crossed over his chest, hand clenching at the fabric of his newly rented suit. In the time it took Damen to order another drink and wait for its arrival, Nik moved, his walk and talk taking him out of Damen’s eyesight. So, Damen continued to sip on his drink, waiting.

And waiting. And waiting. And ordering another drink. And waiting. And waiting.

It was safe to say Damen’s head was appropriately fuzzy when Nik came back, goosebumps on the exposed skin of his wrists. Damen watched him carefully, looking for familiar signs of something good, but the only thing Damen could recognize was a thrumming anxiety he hadn’t seen since Nik hit the decline button on his acceptance to university all those years ago.

“What was that about?” Damen asked. The words felt heavy – no, furry – on his tongue.

When Nik finally looked up at him and took in the almost-emptied wine glass, he physically shook his head no, as though telling himself instead of Damen. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Are you sure?” Damen asked. The tablecloth was moving with the shaking of Nik’s leg.

“Yeah, it can wait.”

Even though Nik said it could wait, it clearly couldn’t. The remainder of dinner was tense. It felt weighed down by the phone call that had Nik all discombobulated. Damen had tried for conversation, had tried explaining plans for a stopover in Germany, but he was drunk, and things were coming out jumbled and Nik was only responding with disinterested sounding hums, so Damen stopped trying. He opted for more wine instead.

The walk back to the hotel was even worse than the remainder of dinner. Nik seemed to do everything he could to keep with the day’s pattern of staying one step behind Damen at all times and Damen was so focused on walking in a straight line that he couldn’t keep the energy about him to care, not until they were back at the hotel and attempting a climb up the staircase to their room. 407.

Damen tried swiping the room card once, twice, and he was too uncoordinated having exhausted all the energy on walking. Nik gently pried the card from Damen’s hands and, once inside, beelined straight for the bathroom, hands pulling at the suit that felt sweltering in northern Italy’s chilly January weather, and Damen sat down on one of the beds, fingers fumbling with the fine laces of his shoes. It seemed like an eternity until Nik came back out, the whole scene nearly identical to the one at dinner, but Damen had had time to come up with something to say this time, even if his brain was still fuzzy – furry? – with Barbera wine.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, the laugh in his voice unavoidable with the wording, but the honest fear behind the words tangible.

“What?” Nik asked, incredulously. He looked a lot more comfortable, dressed as they usually did in shorts and a thin t-shirt. It was his old football tee from school, the number on the back almost completely faded and the lion of their team name not near as ferocious as it had once been.

“Did your family finally get to you? Did you finally get a real job? Are you going to be a salary man now? Are you going to wear a suit like the one tonight all the time?”

There was a beat, then two, and then Nik was laughing, the sound so wonderful after hours of strained silence. And it was such an infectious laugh – though whether that was because the situation was actually funny, because it was late in the evening, or because Damen was still drunk, he wasn’t sure – that Damen started to laugh too. They laughed so loud and so long that someone in a room next to them banged twice on the wall, shouting something indiscernibly Italian through their laughter.

“You really think I could give up all of this for a desk job back home?” Nik asked, though they both knew the question was rhetorical. They had talked about it enough in their travels for it to be too familiar a topic. “I’m not going anywhere. But you might after I tell you about that phone call.”

“Try me.”

Nik sat down across from him on the other bed, leg shaking like it had been at the restaurant. He looked like a man standing at the gallows, allowing himself to be subjected to his fate. And Damen was quite confused and continued to be confused even as Nik started to speak.

“Do you remember three months ago when we were in Morocco and I woke you up at three in the morning and dragged you out to take pictures until after the sun had risen?”

“I definitely remember that because I was not happy. You didn’t even let me get coffee.”

“Do you remember how you told me that that whole thing was really weird and the day after you said it was even weirder that I spent over twelve hours going through all the photos and getting them edited the way they needed to be?”

Damen hummed. “Yeah, you’re not usually that anal about it all.” Nik sighed heavily at him.

“I was finishing my portfolio to send to,” Nik sighted again, “well, a lot of places. Places in Paris. For Paris Fashion Week.”

The raising of Damen’s eyebrow said everything he didn’t have to and Nik put his hands out in an almost defensive manner, face mimicking Damen’s own of surprise, as though he was surprised by himself for saying it, for doing it.

“I know I’ve never shown interest in photographing the fashion world, but the opportunity can’t be overlooked. Especially if I want to stand out from the thousands, or millions, of social media photographers out there. I saw Lazar, that French photographer we ran into last year, talking about it and the impulsivity hit me.”

“You’re never impulsive,” Damen said.

“But I was.” Nik stood and moved to the window, eyes searching the barely illuminated night of Cortina. “I spent a day thinking about how I was submitting my type of work to a bunch of snobs in the fashion industry who don’t care about anything we do. Then I forgot about it. We were busy enough and it wasn’t the most important thing to be focused on, so it fell to the back of my mind. It wasn’t until I saw Lazar say Dior had called him that I started to try and brush it off as a lost opportunity, but two days later I got an email from a man named Estienne asking if I would be available for a phone call. A phone call from Etoile whose owner called at dinner and offered me an opportunity to come shoot for them.”

“Wait, which brand is Etoile?” Damen asked.

“You’ve seen them before. They were big in the news about two years ago for a floral design they did for their fall collection. They’re also the only all-male modeling and clothing agency in Paris,” Nik said.

“And they called you? They want you to come to Paris and photograph their models and their clothes during the,” Damen struggled for a moment to find a good comparison, “fashion Olympics?”

“Calm down,” Nik said, but he was smiling; he couldn’t help smiling. “Because this time is such a big deal for all the brands and because they get so many applications, they’ve called ten photographers back. They want us all to come to Paris early and attend a few photoshoots with their runway models. They want us to get to know them, to familiarize ourselves with the models and the fabrics. The owner says he believes photography is best when the subjects are familiar. After that, they’re going to choose four photographers to stay for fashion week.”

“Nik,” Damen said once. “Nik! This is amazing, this is –” he got up, coming up next to Nik at the window, and smacked him hard in the arm. “Why they hell didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you want to tell me tonight?”

“I didn’t want to tell you when I was putting it together because I didn’t want it to be a thing. You get intense about anything that could remotely be viewed as a competition and I didn’t want you getting caught up in something that, honestly, I thought had little opportunity to be a success. And then tonight I was just nervous for the call and then it happened, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You didn’t know how to tell me you got offered the opportunity of a lifetime?” Damen asked incredulously.

“No, I didn’t know how to tell you that I’m going to be in Paris for at least a whole month,” Nik said. “I know you can do some of your own stuff, but also most of your ‘stuff’ is you doing shirtless workouts on your story. And while that keeps your followers, you’re a shit photographer and a whole month without new content might be too long. I was going to wait until I could contact a few people who could maybe meet up with you in a few places and be temporary fill-ins for me.”

“Dude,” Damen said, starting to laugh again. He smacked Nik’s shoulder even harder this time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about because I’m not going anywhere without you anytime soon.”

Nik’s eyebrows furrowed close together, wrinkling his forehead and squinting his eyes, and he looked ridiculous. “But it’s going to be an entire month, Damen. I don’t think you’ve stayed in the same place longer than a week since you came down with the flu while we were in Wales.”

“I’ve never had a reason to stay in one place longer than a week. But to miss out on seeing you around a bunch of highbrow models and their high maintenance lives? I’d regret that the rest of my life.”

It was Nik’s turn to smack Damen in the shoulder. His hit was harder than any of Damen’s had been, but Damen didn’t even flinch. He smiled, the smile of a proud brother that just watched his own kin graduate or a father having taught his child to ride a bicycle, and it made Nik turn away from him to hide his own smile.

“Besides, I think Paris has plenty to offer us for a month. I’m all about once in a lifetime opportunities and front row seats at Paris Fashion Week seems like one of those, even if I don’t quite get it. And who knows, Nik,” Damen said, getting Nik’s attention back on him. “It’s the city of lights, the city of love.” He waggled his brows. “Maybe we’ll finally get you a girlfriend and you can stop saying photography is your only love.”

Nik smacked him again.

Surprisingly, Nik fell asleep first just an hour later. It gave Damen time to come down from the wine, to let the chill from the room sober him up, and he laid there, letting his mind wander freely and his eyes get heavy when two far too sobering thoughts hit him at the same time.

Reaching under his own head, Damen pulled at the pillow and flung it with perfect precision so it hit Nik in the face with a resounding thwack, making Nik yelp and snuffle with a startle.

“Wha—?”

“Are we going to Berlin tomorrow or not?” Damen asked. “We never decided.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Nik said, definitely half-asleep and thinking of nothing but falling back to complete-sleep.

“Hey.” Damen threw another pillow with the exact same perfect precision.

“Damen, I swear to god,” Nik grumbled into the pillow that was now on top of his face.

“I’m mad at you.”

“About?”

“You’re doing something our families would consider worthwhile now,” Damen said. “This goes way beyond social media. Now my dad’s going to call me going ‘Why can’t you be more like Nik? Why don’t you have any skills beyond standing for pictures? Why do you insist on shaming the family name?’”

Nik was laughing. “Go to sleep, Damen.”

Damen was laughing too.

[mychemicalficrecs]

Hiya! Not sure if you do this, but would you be able to suggest some non-ao3 finished frerard fics? It seems I've read ao3's entire collection 😅 Thank you so much, you're honestly my favourite blog on here xx

Thanks for your kind words, Nonny! And... congratz on reading the entire ao3 tag, there are a lot of works there :D

Frank/Gerard is such a popular ship that I was actually able to find quite a lot from outside ao3.

Non-AO3 Frank/Gerard

Thing-Thing by sinsense, 43k, NC-17. When Gerard signed the admissions paperwork for the Fordhaven School for Boys, he knew he was signing up for four years of sexual frustration. No one was gay at Fordhaven. Gerard was all-too-aware that he would be a virgin until he graduated. In his senior year, though, this stupid gay freshman disproves Fordhaven's straightness, and throws Gerard's entire world off-kilter. Now, in between drawing, avoiding bullies, running an incredibly serious tabletop RP game, failing out of math, and hanging out with friends, Gerard is also busy kind of falling for this asshole who's way too young for him. It's not what he planned on, but it's what's happening. In conclusion: high school sucks.

I Think I Thought (I Saw You Try) by thatsfinewithus, ~3,000, NC-17. Welcome to some weird AU world in which Gee only does awesome comics and Frank is a vampire.

They Came From Outer Jersey! by thatsfinewithus, 25k, R. New London Fire is an elite fringe government force assigned the task of protecting the earth from some of its more interesting threats: those from beyond the atmosphere or even the universe. They've handled dangerous cases before, but they've never seen anything like...ZOMBIES FROM SPACE. Vampires, long hunted in lore and legend, are now the earth's only saviors. There is little information as to who sent the creatures until Mikey Way, head of the NLF, finds out more by being abducted. Is it too late for him? Is it too late for the earth? Find out how six vampires, one government general, and one frustrated comic book artist save the earth in...THEY CAME FROM OUTER JERSEY!!

I never told you what I do for a living. by not0_fuckin_kay, 60k+, PG-13 to NC-17. Frank Iero, male nurse at Pete Wentz's private hospital and possibly more to one new patient he can't keep his eyes off of. When a new pateint is brought in with amnesia, just days before Christmas, and with nothing but the clothes on his back and a strange drawing, it's left to Frank to find out who he is and what happened to him. When he does, it changes Frank's life forever, as he's thrust into love and health scares he never thought would complicate his life. This is the story of how he tries to make it through, juggling his job and his love-life and just trying to make things better. With Patrick the doctor, Bob the ward supervisor, Travis the unlikely therapist, and Mikey, the sometimes wannabe homicidal geek.

Of All The Hidden Corners by moneyes, ~44K, PG-13. An epic, adventurous tale filled with alternate universes, lords, mischief, magical powers, snark, boyfriends, and luck of the bad kind.

All We Are by lightisbreaking, 21k, R. Set in the future, where humans are on the brink of evolution. For the select few born with a special awareness of their own minds - an awareness which gives them abilities beyond the norm, life is suddenly a very dangerous thing. Frightened of what this could mean, the government set out to make this new race of humans extinct, telling the public that these people are mentally unstable defectives and must be kept under observation for the safety of the public. All of this brings together a rather odd troupe of people, hiding from the government and eventually having to protect one of their own when he's taken into custody. Superpowers AU!

Tell Us a Story by bexless, imogenedisease, 32k, NC-17. The world as these kids know it is ending, and Gabe Saporta is throwing the party. High school AU based on the movie Can't Hardly Wait.

Stay Right Here by idktbh, swagneto, 28k, R. Frank is involved in an accident which renders him paralyzed from the waist down. When Frank begins to withdraw into himself, his relationship with Gerard crumbles and the band faces the hardest decision they'll ever make: whether to continue playing or not. This is a story about how MCR copes with the biggest obstacle of their career so far.

Return to Spirit Lake by inpurity, 22k, R. Gerard Way has left Spirit Lake when he was eighteen to study to become a veterinary surgeon, and with no intention of ever coming back. Twelve years later he is back, carrying secrets of a life spent away from his family and friends, and the weight of a dark, painful sorrow. His old home town has not changed, but his life, and the lives of the people he will meet along the way, will never be the same.

These Friday Night Lights by faux-disco-sins, 21k, PG-13. Gerard is the head cheerleader and wears the cheer skirt, Frank is on the football team, Pete is the school mascot, Ryan is the school’s hobo journalist, Jon does photography for the yearbook, Spencer and Patrick are in the marching band, Gabe and Ray are AV techs who do a ESPN spin-off for the school, Bob is the big scary lineman, and Mikey tries to fit in while ignoring the fact that his older brother is wearing a skirt in public.

Of Love And Superpowers by mcrnut, 20k, NC-17. Seventeen year old Frank Iero is in his last year at Mutant High. He has a couple of good friends, is doing okay in school and even though he has some issues with his Mother, life is pretty great. That is, until one day, when he overhears some of the professors talking about the well-known Anti-Mutant organization HSA and how they have already broken into two Mutant Academies and are heading their way. Frank and his friends have to stick their heads together and try to solve the mystery, and as if Frank didn't have enough to think about already, he finds himself falling for his friend's older brother, Gerard.

Cypress Grove by slashxyouxup, 24k+, NC17. My Chemical Romance fight off a town of sperm hoarding, men hating, PMSing maniac women in order to save themselves from certain doom! Also, Frank and Gerard get closer than close while pretending to not be completely in love with each other. Mikeyway is not amused.

Sleepwalker by lyrical_tragedy, 73k, NC-17. Frank Iero is one of the best cops in New Jersey so it’s only natural that his boss dumps a seemingly unsolvable case on him and his colleague Bob Bryar. With no leads whatsoever Frank enlists the help of Gerard Way, a reclusive young man who experiences strong visions and dreams of events from the past and visions of the future. However, none of them could ever begin to expect the terrifying chain of events that come into play once they delve deeper into the unknown, questioning Frank’s very beliefs on what the world actually holds. A story of visions, sacrifices, over protective brothers and love all in the midst of the attempted destruction of the world. The devil’s got your number and he will come calling, until it’s nothing more than hell on earth.

Patience Is A Virtue (You Might Be Good Looking, But You Can’t Sleep With Yourself Tonight) by eflorentino, 22k, NC-17. Frank Iero’s biggest hero is Gerard Way; the outspoken, obnoxious lead singer of the multi-platinum selling band My Chemical Romance. His world changes completely when he finds himself suddenly shoved into the limelight, playing sell-out shows every night and earning more than his usual $6 an hour. However, the infamously homophobic frontman isn’t what Frank expects, and after mixed signals and unsolved revelations he learns that, with Gerard Way, things are never simple.

But Nobody Cares If You're Losing Yourself by red_ones_fly, 16k, NC-17. It took me a while to work out that there was something wrong with Gerard, he kept it hidden well and, really, he didn’t even know something was wrong with him. To him it seemed like normal, everyday stuff. He never found any of his behaviour out of the ordinary. To him it was just reality.’ After Gerard's grandma passes away his behaviour becomes strange. He becomes less outgoing and more paranoid. As Frank tries to work out what’s going on with his friend/love interest, between school, learning psychology and dealing with the jocks, he doesn’t realise just how bad it is.

Parks and Recreation by vinvy, 35k+, PG-13. Gerard Way is an art school drop out with no prospects, student loans to pay off, and a dead end job. His mother works too hard and his little brother Mikey is keeping secrets. His boss runs shady contracts and smiles too much. It's nothing special and he tells himself that he'll learn to make peace with that- in the meantime he's got to carve out a living that doesn't involve artwork. Really, he's going to be okay. Then a crazy homeless kid comes along and screws up Gerard's Adventures in Normal Employment with his hippie magic and soulless eyes. Gerard can't shake the feeling that this guy "isn't quite right" but he's too busy fending off the freak accidents that are following him around to worry about that particular winged freak.

Empire Boys by noctecaelum, 30k, NC-17. In the city that never sleeps, it's tough to get your foot in the door. While Gabe Saporta may find it easy to blend into the socialite scene; Gerard Way spends his day blending eyeshadow at Bloomingdales. As newcomer Frank triumphs in Women's Lingerie, Gerard sparks a bitter rivalry in the vicinity of Lexington and 59th; but there's no use crying over spilt coffee because things are about to fire up. Meanwhile, on the Upper East Side, Gabe Saporta is none too pleased to read a socialite-bashing article, but when confronting the writer, he doesn't expect to meet fresh faced, pretty-boy William Beckett, who turns out to be the biggest tease this side of the Downtown Dunkin' Donuts.

The Evolution Index by theficisalie, 32k, NC-17. In a world where superpowers are just another thing that can get you sent to boarding school, Frank Iero and his friends know what it's like to operate under heavy levels of stress. After all, they did spend their formative years under the wings of the United States Government's most widespread and successful initiatives; a program that was created to protect and train young Americans with superpowers to become functioning members of society. And, as a side-benefit, the government realized that not only were telepaths great at taking drink orders, but they could also be trained to be highly successful secret agents. Under the guidance of Frank's volatile and (literally) power-hungry boyfriend Gerard Way; Frank, Mikey Way, and Ray Toro are an accomplished team of super spies. When a handful of people from Frank's sordid past crop up during an investigation of rash Superhuman disappearances across the country, the team finds themselves challenged both on and off the field as they fight to solve the mysteries plaguing their beloved nation. Frank knows all too much about uncovering things that he'd rather keep hidden, but can he and his team unravel the intricate web of crime and kidnapping surrounding Chicago without losing themselves in the process?

A Good Ocean Gone Wrong by xoxxblitz7, 32k, NC-17. Titanic AU - The Way's are one of the richest families in America and sometimes being an artist requires the need to travel. On the doomed maiden voyage of Titanic old friends are found, new love is formed and put to the test and the most luxurious crossing of the Atlantic ocean becomes a fight for survival.

A Fanfiction (In Which Gerard Has A Secret Stash of Star Wars Fanfiction) by sparklefap, 10k, R. Frank finds Gerard's bizarrely erotic Star Wars fanfiction, and is both disturbed and aroused by it. Those feelings won't do for Frank. He seeks revenge.

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Birthday prompt #6

Read on Ao3 Birthday prompts masterlist

@phenixy-dunnhart​

[Sinon, j'adore l'amitié juste excellent entre Rios et Raffi, si tu veux une variation (Cris qui se sacrifie pour protéger Raffi) -> Cris getting hurt protecting Raffi] 

Some time after leaving Coppelius to gallivant around the cosmos with their motley crew, Raffi collapsed in the ops seat next to Seven and Cris and loudly announced that they had to go out for drinks, and not replicated ones. They had to find a suitably shady Space Station, go out, find a bar, and get absolutely smashed.

“We’re tired, we have time on our hands, and your replicators can’t get Romulan ale right for some reason,” she told Cris as an explanation.

(It was true, he’d messed that up the one time he had drunkenly tried to disable the Hospitality Hologram’s ability to talk.)

The dark circles under her eyes alone would have convinced him anyway. The last week had been tiring. They had spent it avoiding uncharted asteroid belts that really had no business being so large (seriously, what the hell), fixing navigation issues that Enoch swore had nothing to do with the corrupted 23rd century holos he’d helped Soji illegally download for Elnor, and chasing around the four neutered tribble-rabbit hybrids the kids had smuggled aboard.

“Why just the three of us?” Seven asked with a raised eyebrow, legs propped up on the console and disinclined to move, even for drinks.

Raffi snorted.

“Well I wasn’t going to invite JL, obviously.”

That got Seven and Cris to roll their eyes in concert. Yeah, obviously. Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, retired, was too posh and too old to have any concept of fun – or, more specifically, to be able to understand the appeal of marinating your liver in real alcohol and crawl your way back to your quarters to pass out for a day straight.

“But what about Agnes and the kids?” Cris inquired, gracelessly sprawled on the Captain’s seat with a cigar in one hand and a book in another, feeling just as lazy as Seven.

“I asked, she offered to babysit,” Raffi replied. “I don’t want to be responsible for Elnor and Soji’s first hangover.”

“Not to mention that we’d have to keep an eye out for them,” Seven agreed with a nod. “Fair enough. Let’s go to DS 11.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whoever had deemed synthehol an adequate substitute to good old ethanol was a complete fool with appalling taste. That was Raffi’s professional opinion, and she told Cris and Seven just that as she finished her third glass of that vibrant blue liquor that made green sparks when you shook it.

(What was it again? A Bajoran jungle beer?)

Cris snorted in his own glass, full of plain Earth liquor. Seven smirked as she gulped her cocktail down, an unholy mix that was part Klingon mead, part Romulan ale and part cranberry juice. The stuff of nightmares, honestly.

“I get drunk faster on synthehol,” Seven commented idly. “Don’t produce enough of the enzyme that breaks it down into smaller molecules. Hate the taste, though.”

“Yeah, because taste is clearly of capital importance to you,” Cris snorted again. “What’s in your glass right now? That’s toxic waste, that’s not a beverage.”

“Pssht,” she slurred. “First time I got drunk, it was after one flute of champagne. Forgive me for having learned to handle my drink.”

Raffi hazily smiled at her and got herself another drink, letting her head fall on Cris’ shoulder as she leaned against him for balance. She didn’t think she could sit up straight on her own anymore. Seven studied her intently, blinking in surprise when Cris showed no sign of discomfort and even shifted his posture so she’d be more comfortable. Noticing Seven’s stare, he gave her a wry look but made no complaint about his demotion to human pillow.

Seven was getting a bit intoxicated, so she watched them for a few more seconds and returned to her drink.

“You guys are cute,” she chuckled.

“Hmm,” Raffi mumbled in turn. “Cris is very sweet. Very very sweet. He’s the best.”

Rios was silently laughing, still nursing his aguardiente. “She gets sentimental,” he mouthed without making any actual sound, a smile in his normally dark eyes. Seven smiled too, because she was getting quite intoxicated. And also, they were very cute.

“Hey, how’d you two meet?”

The question had been on her mind for a while now, but aboard la Sirena, you didn’t ask about anyone’s past. They volunteered finite amounts of information, and you had to be content with that. But Cristóbal and Raffi had always felt like kindred spirits, despite knowing them for such a short time, far more than any of the others. Picard was an xB like her, sure, and he was also a damn idealist with a Messiah complex who understood very little about her. Soji had trouble with her humanity, yes, but she was also a kid and a synth, and she had siblings, and she was ultimately nothing like Seven. Agnes was tiny and mousy and probably no good in a fistfight, with just enough teeth to not get eaten, and eyes full of stars and a bleeding heart that hadn’t learned to put on a shell. Elnor was young and innocent and very dangerous, reminding her of the ‘Annika of old,’ someone long dead and buried.

But Raffi and Rios…

They were older, they were more jaded, they were disillusioned with a fleet, a Federation and a galaxy that had completely screwed them over – and they coped with it by helping, by drinking like idiots and smoking nasty stuff, and helping some more. They were both broken and aware of it, not like the shiny kids, and they never offered empty words of comfort or grand and hollow speeches about hope and love.

(And they were badass.)

(Like her.)

(Seven was getting very intoxicated.)

So she watched Raffi drunkenly lean on Rios and she asked, because while their friendship seemed self-evident, she wanted to know how they’d found each other. How it was that they each made the other a better person instead of dragging each other down. It tugged at her own soul, brought about some memories of Icheb, and Voyager, and of the Rangers before Bjayzl.

It made her smile.

Rios and Raffi exchanged puzzled glances. They were both too drunk to delve into her reasons for asking the question, and Raffi just pursed her lips, assuming that it came from finding their interactions cute.

“Don’t think I remember,” she told Seven blearily, still nestled against Cris. “It was a while ago. S- six? Seven? Six or seven years?”

“Eight,” Cris corrected. “I don’t really remember either. We must have met in a bar.”

Seven frowned, dimly disappointed. The feeling was too fuzzy to dwell on, but she still sniffed sadly.

“You don’t remember?” She asked mournfully. “I’d remember meeting my best friend.”

“We don’t,” Cris said, carefully shrugging the one shoulder that wasn’t supporting half of Raffi’s weight. “She hired me for a job or two, I think. Then we were mostly drinking buddies. It wasn’t spectacular or anything.”

“But something must have happened,” Seven pressed.

People didn’t just casually adopt each other. (Didn’t they? She wasn’t sure. She’d kind of casually adopted them, when she thought about it. Were giant galactic conspiracies, reclaimed broken Borg cubes and synthetic apocalypses casual? Seven was completely intoxicated.)

“Oh yeah,” Raffi mumbled. “Saved my life one time.”

“We were already friends though,” Cris elaborated, adding to Seven’s ever growing list of questions. “Got upgraded to honey and babe after that.”

“An’ you called me hermana,” Raffi sighed contently.

Seven looked back and forth between them.

“Okay, you have to tell me that story.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Raf,” Cris complained as she ordered her eighth drink of the night, “slow down on the drinks. You said you wouldn’t need to spend the night on my ship.”

“Piss off,” Raffi grumbled. “Don’t need your stupid ship. Don’t need your stupid hovering.”

Cris, because he was wise, never argued with Raffi. He didn’t try this time either. Muttering Spanish profanities under his breath, he got up and paced a bit, before throwing a credit chip at the bartender.

“If she spends it all, the rest is on her,” he told the Andorian.

The guy gave a noncommittal grunt, and Cris made his way to the exit. He was two steps from the door when he head a crash, the sound of a glass being smashed to the ground. He whirled around out of instinct, his hand going for his phaser. His eyes widened as he realized where the sound had come from.

Raffi was staring down at a Nausicaan twice her size (how?), the guy who’d been sprawled on of one of the corner sofas with his buddies up until a few moments ago. She was snapping at him – about what, Cris didn’t know, didn’t care – and the man looked ready to turn her into Raffi juice.

Cris ran to them without a second’s hesitation, heart seizing painfully as frozen sludge trudged through his veins instead of blood. There were ice spikes in his throat too.

“Hey,” he yelled, getting the Nausicaan’s attention, but not Raf’s, “hey! What’s going on here?”

“Get lost,” the man growled.

“No no no,” Cris refused, words tumbling out without him even knowing whether he was speaking Standard or Spanish. “Not doing that.”

“She you friend?” The Nausicaan asked as two of his own buddies slowly got up and walked to them, ready for a fight.

Raffi finally registered that Cris had come back and blinked in surprise.

“Yeah,” Cris gritted out, looking straight into the man’s eyes. “Yeah, she’s my friend. What’s the problem?”

“She needs to learn some manners.”

“Old news,” Cris muttered under his breath, but his gaze hardened and his hand went for his phaser again. “It’s fine, we’re leaving.”

“No, you’re not,” the second Nausicaan snorted, and the third one crossed his arms and smiled with that messed-up mouth of his.

“Your friend here should apologize to ours,” he leered. “And considering how rude she was, it’d better be a nice apology.”

“I’m not kissing his freak face,” Raffi spluttered. “I already told him!”

Cris would have facepalmed, except there really wasn’t time. Grabbing Raffi by the arm, he threw her behind him and pointed his phaser at the first Nausicaan.

“It’s not on stun,” he warned.

The man snorted derisively.

“I don’t much care,” he said, tapping a finger to his thick skin and metal plated clothing. And then he cracked his knuckles. “If you want to leave, you’ll have to make me allow it.”

Cris considered the mountain of muscles, the two goons behind it and the drunk Raffi behind him.

“Yeah, fuck that,” he muttered.

Whipping around, he snatched Raffi, threw her bony frame on his shoulder despite her vehement protests, and dashed for the exit. The Nausicaans were slower to react, but Cris’ superior speed wasn’t much of an advantage in a crowded bar where nobody cared enough to pay attention to the fight or help in any way. They had almost caught up with his by the time he reached the entrance.

So naturally, Cris did the only reasonable thing he could think of. He tossed Raffi out of the bar – the bar that was shielded against transporters for security reasons, like most of the buildings in the planet’s capital city – and barked an order into his communicator for Ian. The holo had been online dealing with an issue in the antimatter ignition chamber. As luck would have it, he hadn’t powered off yet, and Cris was gratified to see Raffi dissolve away.

And then he was pulled back and forced to turned around, and he was met with three very angry Nausicaans and the naked blades of their sword-sized daggers.

“Mierda,” Cris sighed.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” one of the men growled, and Cris had no idea if he was the first, the second or the third Nausicaan, because they all looked so damn alike. “You’re toast.”

Two of them had his arm in a duranium grip, making any escape attempt impossible.

“I told you, she’s my friend,” he said with defiant glare. “Go ahead.”

He didn’t care. They could drag it out, make it painful, make it frightening, but at the end of the day death was just the one comfort he’d been desperately awaiting for over a year now. He wouldn’t dream anymore if they pummeled him to death, and that was quite a reward for saving the life of his only friend.

(Maybe she’s miss him though. He didn’t think so. He hoped not. Raffi was too messed up on her own to add him to it.)

(Would she care? Please, let her not care.)

(He’d cared.)

(He’d cared that he had P— that he had somebody’s death on his head.)

(Please let Raffi not care.)

(She would care.)

Mierda, I can’t die.

The first kick slammed the air out of his lungs, snapping two of his ribs like twigs under a standard issue boot. It felt like he’d blacked out, but he couldn’t have – he hadn’t seen any bloody bulkheads.

The second kick caught him in the stomach and made him retch.

The third kick never came, because the transporter beam got him first. It took just long enough spiriting him away for one of the Nausicaan to throw one of his daggers though, leaving a bloody slash across Cris’ shoulder.

Cris materialized on la Sirena’s transporter pad, hurt and very confused, and was greeted by Raffi’s panicked face.

“Cris!” She yelped, falling to her knees next to him. “Are you alright?”

He groaned and tried to sit up, but his ribs wouldn’t allow so much moving around.

“Activate EMH,” he sighed.

It really fucking hurt.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You didn’t say when you called her hermana,” Seven pointed out as Cris finished his slightly slurred tale. “Or when she called you honey.”

Raffi was half-asleep by that point, but she still somehow managed to retain enough coherence to mumble an answer. Cris heard it, and smiled at Seven.

“It was after. She was so upset over the whole thing that we both slept in her quarters. She got very fussy. Didn’t ever stop fussing after that.”

“And you called her hermana,” Seven insisted, because it was the best part.

“I was too tired to remember other words,” Cris said, sounding amused. “I think I was trying to say friend, or something like that. Y’know, to explain why I’d done it. But my Standard was all messed up.”

“You ever found out if she was the one who started the fight or if it was the horny Nausicaan?” Seven asked.

“Never,” he replied, finishing his last drink. “She couldn’t remember. I did bump into the same guy once after that. Used three phasers to stun his ass into a nice nap and dumped him at the local authorities’ doorstep for weapon trafficking.”

Seven smirked and raised her glass to that, the smirk turning into a fond look when Cris turned around to gather Raffi in his arms and gently lift her up her seat. As he carried her like that, Raffi’s head resting against his chest trustingly, Seven noticed how alike they looked.

“Space siblings,” she giggled.

(Seven was smashed.)

[harleenfleck]

“The Joker and the Harlequin”

Joker/Arthur Fleck x Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinzel Fic

Summary: 

"You may not understand, but when you see the Joker laughing, I see him crying"

Harleen Quinzel is the new Intern in the Arkham Asylum, place where she meets the distinguished criminal Arthur Fleck, mostly known as the Joker. She fears of him, until for a meaningless revenge and corruption inside the psychiatric hospital, the Joker becomes his patient. In every psychiatric consultation they will have, Harleen will gradually feel a connection to Arthur, a fatal connection that will lead to her lethal destiny.

Will it be at least reciprocal?

Warnings of the story in general: Violence, gender-based violence, obscene language, sexual content, possible drug addiction and possible NSFW.

Notes: Well, after thinking about them a lot, I've decided to translate my first fanfic from “Joker” into English, what an emotion! I hope the translation be decent hehe. Anyway I'm sorry if I make some mistakes grammatical or writing mistakes :3 

I hope you like this first chapter, I'll put warnings and notes on all the chapters, and some lyrics of songs too. 

I also want to explain that Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinzel will be one of the characters that will have the most changes, oh no, don't worry, believe me, only the character will adapt. At first it would seem like it's OoC, but trust me, Harleen Quinzel will have a different yet similar development to become Harley Quinn.

And also clarify another thing about Harley: I'm frequently asked, "What actress should I imagine in Harley Quinn, In Margot Robbie or another woman?" The truth is, you imagine the actress you want for Harley, you're free to do it. Honestly, I don't have any actress in particular, sometimes I think on Margot Robbie but on other occasions I think on actresses like Elizabeth Olsen, Emily Browning, Esther Povitsky, and even Natalie Portman. Don't limit yourself! Imagine your own Harley Quinn for Arthur!

By the way! If you speaks in Spanish and want to read the whole story to where I have stayed, it left you the links of Fanfiction.net and Wattpad :3 (Don’t make spoilers!)

I think with nothing more to say or clarify, I will leave you with the first chapter, I hope you like this story! It will be a sad and dramatic thing, but because I like the sad and dramatic, hehe, enjoy it!

Warning of this chapter: No one. Just this one it’s short. 

...

Chapter 1

"Good morning, citizens of Gotham City, we hope you're all right from wherever you're watching us. Today is a tremendously sad day for all of us... Today 10 years ago was the Tragedy of Gotham City..."

The day was painted gray. For many people, they hoped the day would end soon.

But for her, the day just starting.

She thought about it while picking up her dark brown hair and making a bun with this one. She had to be completely prepared.

She looked her nails, making sure were free of polish and short. It wasn't like her nails always going to wear nail polish, she just wanted to make sure.

The truth is she was very anxious, and of the same anxiety, she had eaten her nails. It had to be a perfect day for her.

She looked in the mirror, feared that her makeup would be outrageous, fortunately for her it was actually subtle. She did not use many products on her face, however, she considered it perfect for the occasion.  The only thing missing was the most basic thing, the essential, what could not be missed by anything in the world in a makeup: The lipstick.

She looked at her collection of lipsticks, a collection made up for only five lipsticks. Of all, she chosen and had among her fingers one of her favorites, a red lipstick.

She uncovered it and looked it. Yes, it could be the ideal color, the one indicated for the occasion, because from the first time she was fortunate to try it on, it was the type of lipstick that made her feel more confident and self-assured.

"If you're gonna start use this kind of makeup, that would be no problem if you start helping me with the rent of the apartment, just pick a good corner, where the police don't notice you, but the customers do"

Remembering her mother's words when she discovered that lipstick in her collection, she made her keep it immediately. Ashamed, she preferred to use an opaque rose lipstick.

She looked one more time in the mirror of her dressing table: Makeup ready, hairstyle ready, clothes too. Everything was ready in her.

It was her first day of the Internship, her first day as a psychiatrist, and even though she loved her career as a doctor and the approach she decided to give it, she did not like the idea of where she would develop professionally. Well, she didn't deserve to be there.

She was one of the best students (Probably the best) of her generation in the specialty of Psychiatry. She wanted to escape from Gotham City, because that city, also being one of the worst cities in the country, brought her terrible memories. So, putting all his knowledge to work, she managed to present an excellent thesis that dealt with how criminal comportment was born in the society.

Of course, it was a pretty flattered job, one of the best in decades. However, the teachers in charge of graduating the psychiatrist, knowing that, despite the woman's attitude, they could see she was someone very beautiful, and they did not want to miss the opportunity.

The teachers told to the girl that for the excellent investigation they gave her approval and honors, but if she really wanted that, she must "met with them in their offices from 8:00 PM" or see them in the “Mermaid Motel” on the outskirts of the city at 9 p.m.

She, remembering fears of the past, rejected to be alone with any of those teachers who had made sexual insinuations to her, and even she exhibited them. They, in revenge, decided to take away her right to choose their Internship place and send it to the worst place where she could do it:

In the Arkham Asylum

She felt like a kick in her stomach when the rest of her classmates escaped to better places in the country. But she had no choice but to prepare and fulfill what the destiny told her to do.

Once ready, with her hand bag, her rounded glasses over her nose and her doctor’s coat under her arm, the young woman walked once more to her mirror.

“... It's your first day... It's your first day Harleen... Don't screw it up... Don't do it”

She left her room, ready for everything.

“Mom, I’m leaving”

Harleen looked that her mother ignored her, while she sat watching the news on TV. Without saying anything else, she left her apartment.

Not much happened when on the subway, Harleen delve into her thoughts and occasionally looked at people. She read from afar the newspaper headline of an older man who was focused on his reading.

"The Dark Knight stops a bank robbery"

Harleen knew who they referred to in the city as The Dark Knight, some are agreed with him and defended him, others hated him and wanted him to be arrested as soon as possible.

Harleen didn't care if that vigilante was doing the right thing or not, what surprised her was that someone outside the authorities did their job.

Leaving aside that subject in her mind she concentrated again on her thoughts.

Despite being at Arkham, she was enthusiastic.

When she was a teenager, she had always been fascinated by psychiatry: The study of mental illness.

What she could wait from that day?

“Hey little lady, give me your wallet”

“Eh?”

Oh yes, the bad luck lady always accompanied her everywhere.

Harleen's blue eyes rose, a guy with bad loos was pointing her with a knife. Her eyes became small when she noticed the assaulter's intentions.

She looked everywhere, waiting for help. People acted like what was going on in front of her was a passing vision. Something that wasn't really going on.

In a fearful and shy voice, she spoke to the criminal.

“No... Please... It’s, it’s my first day in…”

“Give me the fucking wallet if you don't want to die!”

Scared, she pulled her wallet out of her bag and took out the money, handed it over to the assailant.

20 bucks.

“That’s all, bitch?”

“It's, it's all I've got, I don't have more...”

Frightened, she hoped it would be enough for the robber, but she just felt something damp on her cheek, it was a spit, he spit on her.

“Fucking poor”

When the thief leaves, she looked everywhere again, the subway wasn't so full, but if there were enough people to get up to defend her, it was just a knife.

But she at once thought that not everyone would give her life for a stranger.

Disappointed that her day will not start as she wanted, she looked out the subway window as she wiped herself with a tissue she pulled out of her bag.

A tear ran down the cheek cleaned, dried that drop quickly. She didn't want to ruin her makeup.

When she finished to clean her face, she breathed.

She was hoping it wasn't a bad day.

She was expecting that with all the hopes she had left.

...

“Nobody knows, nobody cares if I'm lonesome

Nobody sighs, nobody cries if I'm blue

It seems that night after night

I sit alone and twiddle my thumbs

But still I keep right on hoping, keep the door open

But nobody comes”

Annette Hanshaw - " Nobody Cares If I'm Blue"

[avatarconner]

About Kindred and The Order

With seeing my last post to you, with seeing how things are, with how Kindred and the Order are presented,do you still believe that it’s actually the holy grail as you abd webweilding try to claim it is? I mean, throughout the series, Kindred never even did much before his reveal. Beside a few of the things you’ve mentioned last time, Nick Spencer never bothered to make Kindres anything interesting. Nothing involving his character, his traits, his psychological issues,nothing that made the guy anything interesting. Nothing that could’ve expanded his story a bit before the reveal. All throughout he history kept saying how he’s gonna plan on something big and how he’s gonna do his things to Peter. But, he never did. Both you and webweilding say that he’s the best mystery since Hobgoblin but, he really isn’t. He never did anything that put him as interesting or mysterious as he should be. In fact, he wasn’t even subtle about his mystery the moment the absolute Carnage tie in happened. And after Kindred’s reveal, Nick Spencer revealed that he actually gave up on trying to put in a mystery the moment people guessed who he was. And with that, with how it’s presented, that’s just a Really unprofessional thing to do. And with how the latest issue turned out, it just played that we all don’t know who he is for some reason. 

I also like to talk about the Order Of The Web. Since their appearance, they claim to serve some importance to Peter. But, the thing is, they never did anything interesting. I mean, Miles, Gwen, and Julia are fine. But, the rest never did anything. Nothing that would serve any importance throughout. The best way this would’ve turned out better for them was if they brought in Kaine and Ben into this. But, for some reason, despite sharing the same issues as Peter and The Order,they never appeared. Not one appearance they made. I mean,you would think the two important Spiders of whok Norman caused trouble with would appear. But, they didn’t. Abd with them around, the dynamics between the Order would’ve been a lot more interested had Ben and Kaine argue with their morality and just delve into their psychology. Throughout, the story never gave us a reason for their absence in this. And throughout they should given us an explanation or something with them. 

For all the Stuff you said about Nick Spencer as well as other previous writers, you guys sure don’t seem to find anything here with Kindredabd the other two Spiders. 

Honestly? yes. 

Look I won’t pretend that the mystery is perfect, it’s not even the best mystery in fiction I’ve seen for Spider-Man (Spectacular’s Goblin twists are top for me) but I still think it has a good buildup. 

First thing we know is that Kindred knows Peter’s secret identity, meaning that only a few people alive could be him. In fact when Charlee Cooper appeared she was a suspect since she knew that Peter was Spidey and possibly could use tech like mysterio to simulate powers. Not to mention that her re-introduction is a parallel to Kindred’s introduction with his first words being off pannel, and her meeting MJ are shown off pannel.

It also works since, because it’s a comic, for the longest time Kindred could have been a SHE. 

Moving along we see that Kindred has a certain view of Peter when he reconciles with Felicia. He’s angry because Peter’s pulled another person into the insane life that peter leads, endangering someone else (that comes into play later). I also want to point out a little something here, when we see all the photos of Kindred’ targets in his tomb, Superior Spider-Man is there....clearly Spencer was either uninformed, or Gage just didn’t bother to tell anyone, that Superior Spider-Man would be wrapped up in his own book (Thank god). 

After this the next big appearance is in Hunted, while Peter has a feaver dream of someone killing MJ, Kindred is in her home watching over her. Peter senses something is wrong and rushes home to find MJ fine, Kindred tells him that he’ll never hurt MJ or the people he loves, because Peter will do that himself. 

This is where Kindred’s motivation and dislike for Spider-Man becomes clear, he believes that Peter endangers those around him by being Spider-Man and needs to be stopped.

The next thing we learn is huge since its from Mysterio, a character who Died (not in Spider-Man but Guadian Devil by Kevin Smith) and came back to life in Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man by Peter David when Pete’s ID was out and the second Mysterio (surprisingly another Kevin Smith creation) targeted the school he worked at. He’s asked the big question that no one ever bothered to answer. How did Mysterio come back to life?

Beck explains that he went to hell and there he was tutored by a Demon and eventually brought back to life to do as the demon said. This is the biggest clue since this means that Kindred is someone who is dead, knows who Peter is, and cares about the people around him. This narrows the pool of suspects down considerably.

Then we get to absolute Carnage tie in, which for a moment I want to just praise spencer for making a fucking Tie in to an event that he had no writing control in both engaging for that event and tie into his own story in Spider-Man. Tie ins suck for the most part and he managed to make his relate to the story he was telling, that’s clever.

Anyway in Absolute Carnage, we learn that kindred has ties to Norman Osborn based on the talk they have with each other, and Norman knows who knidred is. We also learn that both Kindred and Peter were present at a welcome home party for Harry Osborn which had a bunch of old Spidey friends in attendance including Gwen, Flash, Randy, and others.

And then we get to Sins Rising, where he summons Sin Eater back from the dead so that he can set things in motion while Peter is at a low point with MJ being gone.

We later larnthat the goal of Sin Eater was to gather the Sins of Spider-Man’s villains and use them to turn the Order of the Web into monsters, which Peter feels resposnible for and offers up his own life in exchange for theirs, because of course he would. And Kindred knows this.

Kindred is thoughtful, minipulative, and knows Peter. So it absolutely makes sense why it’s Harry.

Before Harry died in SPSM 200, he made Peter’s life hell because he thought he was responsible for all the suffering in their lives, his dad dying, Gwen, her dad, and he just dogged Peter as much as he could. Your considering that Kindred is a brand new character when he’s the evolution of another character we know, Harry Osborn. That’s his History, there’s all his psychological issues. That’s the mystery, which character could Kindred Be? You figure out everything once you figure that out.

He kept saying he had a plan and he does! We’re in the middle of it! The endgame is still unclear but you can’t say you hate a story until it’s finished. 

What made Harry’s reveal so shocking was that....well, Harry’s alive! He has been since OMD. And he’s been a good guy! I’ll be honest I thought Kindred was going to be Flash Thompson since he ticks off a lot of boxes except for going to hell, he was hero but I figured that maybe someone (mehpesto) wanted to screw with him? But no, Harry Makes complete and total sense.

As for the Order of the Web, I’M ACTUALLY TOTALLY WITH YOU ON THAT!!!! 

Anya, Jessica, and Julia have nothing to do with Spider-Man, and all they really do is dilute the brand. Gwen should honestly stay in her own universe where she came from but Marvel took the wrong lesson from Spiderverse and such again so now she’s going to college at ESU......on earth 616....despite having an entire world of her own which SHE FUCKING LIVES ON. She’s trying to be like Miles is now, but can’t be because Gwen being dead is one of those things you don’t touch.

Silk also.......I feel bad, people like her but fucking Slott made her just so Peter could have no strings attached sex with an attractive young woman. I’m glad she’s getting her own series again and focusing on her heritage from what I understand. 

Ben and Kaine have way more right to be here than any of them, hell I’d love to see Kaine again. Ben i understand since last time Peter saw him, Dan Slott made him the Jackal for no fucking reason and completely ruined his character. 

And I think maybe tonally it might not work, Sins Rising is ultimately a prelude for Last Remains, and that kicks off with all the people Peter feels he’s inspired (Which admittedly is true) become monsters, Kaine’s entire series is him dealing with the fact that he sees himself as a Monster, and Ben’s is......actually I didn’t read his unfortunately, but he was more like Kaine than Peter. So they’ve already dealt with the idea of their own sins, Peter hasn’t, at least not recently I think.

But I honestly thing this Order of the Web should be torn down. Peter, Miles, Jessica (whose doing her own thing and doesn’t even have a passing relation to Spider-Man outside her name), Ben, Kaine, and MAYBE Madam Webb. Gwen should just stay in her own dimension and Silk I think is actually moving to china or something? 

I really hope we get something with Ben and Kaine soon, if Pete and MJ get married I’d love to see the three of them patch things up and Have Ben be Peter’s best man since....you know Flash is dead and Harry’s an asshole.

[holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight]

The Bodyguard - Chapter 7

Summary: Magnus is a dancing popstar sensation whose popularity continues to climb. Alec, an ex-Secret Service agent, is hired on as a professional bodyguard in charge of Mr. Bane’s personal security by insistence of Magnus’ manager. Despite their initial differences, Magnus finds himself falling for Alec the more time they spend getting to know each other and relies on him for more than physical security as his safety gets threatened. Loosely based on the 1992 film The Bodyguard.

Rating: M

Genre: AU, Everyone is Human AU, Celebrity!Magnus, Bodyguard!Alec, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining

Author: holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight

A/N:You all are so kind and lovely - thank you so much for sticking with me and this story! I adore each of you and appreciate your support more than I can say. We are almost at the 'official' Malec, my friends! Hang in there! 

Click here to read on AO3.

Previous chapters on tumblr: Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6

Alec thought it was strange that, for all the anxious texts he got overnight from both of his siblings, they weren't so responsive once he got back to them.

He knew they lived busy lives, like any young adult trying to make it in the world, but he tried not to feel slighted that they weren't as eager to talk to him now that the drama had passed.

He probably wouldn't have noticed so much, if he wasn't holed up alone in his room trying to entertain himself. He didn't want to invade Magnus' time with Catarina, as he knew, if anyone, she would be the one he opened up to about his trauma the night before. They hadn't seen each other since before the tour started, and Alec knew himself how tough being away from family could be.

Still, crappy hotel TV could only amuse him for so long.

A rapid knock sounded on the door and Alec heaved himself out of his bed to go tell off yet another member of Magnus' team.

"I think that's for you." Magnus called from his spot on the couch, him and Cat having relocated to the main living space.

Alec's face screwed up in confusion. Who the hell would be asking for him specifically? And how would Magnus know?

Shaking his head, figuring he wouldn't know until he answered, he opened the door.

His jaw dropped at the sight before him.

"Surprise!" Izzy squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

He squeezed her back on reflex, barely registering the motion as he stared in shock at the two people before him.

"Hey, man. Nice perks you get these days, huh?" Jace teased, pulling him into a hug once Izzy released him.

"What… how… what are you guys doing here?" Alec finally managed to ask, releasing Jace to look back and forth between them for answers.

"The 'how' would be my doing." Magnus' teasing voice came, and the siblings all turned to look at him as he made his way over to the trio. "After chatting with your sister so much lately, and the fact that we had a planned few days off between dates, I figured you could use some family time. And I had to meet the famous Isabelle."

Izzy went over and hugged him just as tightly as she had hugged her brother. "It's amazing to meet you, Magnus. Thank you for doing this."

"My pleasure." he promised, moving to greet Jace.

Alec was shaking his head in disbelief. "Magnus. You didn't have to do this."

Magnus moved to his side. "Alexander, I rarely do things I don't want to do." he said, patting his chest affectionately while smiling up at him.

Alec couldn't help but return it warmly, his heart swelling in appreciation and a little something else.

"And they're only here for 24 hours… so let's go make them count, shall we?" Magnus headed back towards the living area. "Cat? You coming?"

Jace turned to Alec and mouthed 'Alexander?'.

Alec pointedly ignored him.

Magnus took the group to an intimate restaurant with an extensive bar where they all shared a booth.

They ordered drinks and appetizers to share and fell into easy conversation.

Magnus and Izzy were chatting animatedly about the outfit she was sporting, to no one's surprise. Catarina excused herself to the ladies' room after the food was cleared away, so Jace took the distractions as an opportunity to turn to Alec, a sly smirk forming on his face.

"Don't start." Alec said before he could even open his mouth, and Jace laughed.

"Don't start what, Alexander?" Jace teased.

Alec rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I tried to convince him otherwise, but the argument got old. The more I corrected him, the more he did it, so I finally gave up."

"Fair enough. How did your talk about last night go?"

"Well, we really didn't delve into too much. Ended up doing other stuff."

"Other stuff?" Jace said, eyebrows in his hairline, and Alec glanced at Magnus and Izzy, who were entirely unaware there was anyone else at the table.

"Not that. Get your mind out of the gutter. We just watched ridiculous YouTube videos and talked about lighter stuff." Alec explained.

Jace let his eyes flicker over to Magnus before settling back on his brother. "So, are you planning on telling him you're in love with him?"

"Jace!" Alec hissed, kicking him under the table, eyes wild as he checked to make sure the other two hadn't overheard even though they were speaking quietly and the other two were very clearly invested in discussion about Izzy's accessories.

"What? It's a valid question. I'm your best friend and brother, Alec. I know you. I see the way you look at him."

"Look, it's not… Just, drop it, please?"

Before Jace could argue, Catarina returned to the table.

She took a long drink from her glass and grimaced. "Ugh. Anyone else's drink weak as hell?"

"Now, Catarina, we don't want to get sloppy this early in the night, do we?" Magnus said, finally pulling himself out of his conversation with Izzy.

"Speak for yourself." she replied with a grin.

He chuckled. "Our drunken adventures are always something to remember… or not remember."

"I'm up for hearing about the ones you do remember." Jace interjected, taking a swig of his beer.

"I second that." Izzy said.

"Don't you two go getting ideas." Alec groaned. "I am too old to be your chaperone anymore."

"You literally get paid to be a chaperone for a living!" Jace teased.

"Touché." he grumbled in return. "Does that mean you two will finally pay me for my services?"

"Not if it means I have to give you up. I'm not very good at sharing." Magnus said, locking eyes with Alec as he smirked slyly.

Alec chewed his tongue, trying to contain the smile threatening to cover his face. He didn't want to give Magnus the satisfaction of seeing his amusement.

"I'm sure there's enough of me to go around."

"Oh I don't doubt it. You certainly appear sizeable to me."

Alec rubbed his forehead. "Magnus…"

"Don't worry, Alec. I'm used to him." Catarina said supportively, patting his hand.

"Well these two aren't." Alec said, jerking his head to indicate his siblings.

Magnus laughed. "I'll admit – I'm an acquired taste."

"Alec seems to like the taste of you just fine." Izzy piped up with a devilish grin, and Alec nearly slammed his head on the table.

"Isabelle."

"You should've known getting the two of them together would be dangerous." Jace added helpfully.

"But oh so much fun for us." Magnus teased, clinking his glass with Izzy's as Alec silently begged the floor to swallow him whole.

Magnus managed to convince Catarina to go dance with him by the stereo system, despite no one else getting up or there being an actual designated dance floor. It was an attest to Magnus' power of persuasion that she followed his lead and danced alongside him.

Alec was happy to see him enjoying himself with his best friend, but the immediate mischievous look in his sister's big eyes made him regret their departure.

"So Alec…"

Alec sighed. "Not you too, Iz."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I should be automatically given a pass to tease when you kept it under wraps that you had feelings for him. I asked you before if you did and you said no!"

"No, you asked me if there was anything going on and I said no, because there wasn't. Isn't." he corrected quickly.

"But you want there to be?" Jace prodded.

"I… Look, he's my client. No matter what I feel, I can't go there. Plus he's a famous celebrity – I doubt he wants to slum it with me."

"Alec."

"No, I mean it. He can have anybody he wants. People throw themselves at his feet on a regular basis. He has much better options, trust me. We may be becoming friends but he's not going to see me that way."

Izzy reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "Alec, I think he already does. He talks to me about you all the time, and I don't think it's just because you're common ground between us. You don't see the way he looks at you when you're not paying attention."

"You're seeing things."

Before the pair of siblings could continue trying to convince his denial away, the other two came back over.

Magnus slid into the seat next to Alec. "I just ordered a double round of shots, so get ready. Time to make some new memories."

"What happened to not wanting to get sloppy?" Jace asked amusedly.

"I have to catch the red eye tonight and I don't want to be anywhere near sober for that. I hate flying. I wish I could teleport." Catarina said.

"Our flight isn't until morning but I'm good with sleeping a hangover off on the plane." Izzy said, accepting the shot glass from the tray as the server came around.

"Alec, don't be shy." Magnus said, passing him one when he didn't immediately reach for the drink.

Alec took it from him and knocked back the liquid in one gulp. It didn't burn like he expected it to – it was actually quite smooth.

"I love a man who swallows." Magnus flirted without missing a beat.

Alec flushed, wishing it was warmer in the restaurant so he could blame it on that, while Magnus laughed and rubbed his back comfortingly.

"I'd say I'm only teasing, but, to be fair, it was a true statement. But I do promise I'm not trying to embarrass you." Magnus told him quietly.

Alec unconsciously leaned into his touch, and Magnus left his hand rubbing circles at the bottom of his spine.

"If it wasn't you, it'd be Izzy. I'm fine." he promised.

"Good. Are you having a good time?" Magnus asked while the others got lost in their own conversation about terrible flight stories.

"Definitely. What about you? After everything last night—"

Magnus put a hand up to stop him. "It's just what I need. A positive distraction. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. I had planned this with Izzy weeks ago, knowing this would be a proper day off after the benefit was done, but I hadn't had any clue then that last night would turn out the way it did."

"And you kept your plans from me all that time?"

Magnus smiled smugly, obviously pleased with himself for his power of secret keeping. "Well, I figured I owed you. About time I did something for you."

"Magnus, you do not owe me for doing my job. I'm only doing what I was hired to do." Alec reminded him.

"You know you've gone above and beyond for me, especially the last few days alone. I know I put up a fuss at first, but I do feel much safer knowing I have you."

Alec smiled, reaching over to squeeze Magnus' hand. "I was so reluctant to take this job in the beginning but now, well, there's nowhere I'd rather be."

Magnus' brilliant returning smile made his stomach flip.

Magnus looked away for a moment to grab another two shots off the table, and he passed one to Alec.

"To overcoming adversities?" Alec prompted, holding his glass out.

Magnus clinked his against it. "To us." he corrected before tossing it back.

Alec could barely contain a smile as he followed suit and swallowed the drink in full.

Magnus' eyes scanned the room and widened in excitement.

"Alexander. Fancy a game of pool?"

Alec glanced at his siblings but they were engrossed in Catarina's retelling of ridiculous horror stories from the ER, so he felt they wouldn't be missed.

"Let's do it."

Magnus led the way, passing Alec a pool cue then racking up the balls in the center of the table.

"Do you want to break?"

Alec chalked up the end of his cue.

"Nah, you go ahead."

Magnus clacked the balls together with a good level of strength, sending them apart in various directions.

He lined up his cue and knocked two solids into holes before getting one just shy of a corner pocket. He nodded to Alec to indicate it was his turn.

Alec stepped up to the table and proceeded to pocket four balls in succession without batting an eye.

Magnus' jaw dropped. "Alec, are you hustling me?"

Alec grinned, shrugging innocently.

Jace walked by at that point, heading to the bar for a refill, and snickered at the incredulous look on Magnus' face.

"I see Alec failed to mention he used to make money playing pool."

"Oddly, yes." Magnus said, shooting daggers at Alec while he laughed and lined up another shot.

Jace chuckled. "A way of making extra cash in college. He's always been good at angles and precision. He probably never told you he's a national champion at archery. Started in boarding school. Got first in every competition then took it further until he was winning trophies left and right."

"Okay, Jace, that's enough of a history lesson." Alec told him.

Jace grinned at him. "Gotta share my brotherly pride with anyone who will listen."

Alec shoved him playfully on his way, grinning at him in return, before turning back to their game.

Magnus sunk two more balls during his turn and grumbled when he missed the third.

"You're good, you know. Not as good as me but…" Alec said teasingly, knowing full well how competitive Magnus was.

Sure enough, he took the bait immediately.

"If you're so talented, why don't you come over here and show me how it's done?" Magnus asked, fire in his eyes.

Alec swallowed and came around to his side of the table. He was competitive too—he wasn't going to back down from a direct challenge.

"Line up your shot. Try to think ahead of what exact path you want the ball to follow, keeping in mind that where the second set of balls hit together should be equal in strength to if you were hitting it with your cue alone." Alec told him, his voice huskier than he planned.

Magnus seemed to notice, if the darkening of his eyes was any indicator.

Alec moved behind him, draping his body over his in order to mirror Magnus' position. He placed a hand on Magnus' hip and his other arm slid to cover his up to his wrist. He adjusted the angle of his arm slightly, slipping back to change the cue's position, and pressed his front flat against Magnus' back in order to see his line of sight to the best of his ability.

"Now. Not too hard. You want to pull back but pour your strength into the jab at the end, not the full motion." Alec instructed, breath hitting the back of his ear as he whispered. He imitated the motion, always stopping right before the cue made contact, and it forced him to press even closer to see the stretched position through.

Magnus shivered in his hold, and Alec tried not to feel triumphant.

He finally moved Magnus' cue with him, cracking the ball against the stick with measured strength and it bounced off one and then another, both rolling into their designated holes.

"Perfect." Alec murmured, finally releasing him and stepping back.

Magnus turned to look at him, licking his lips. "You're a good teacher."

Alec noted his voice was lower too.

His eyes watched Magnus' tongue's movement, wishing it was his own getting to explore the softness.

"We should… we should get back to the others." Alec finally said, knowing if they didn't get themselves around witnesses soon, he was going to do something stupid like pin Magnus to the table and kiss the breath from his mouth.

"Good idea." Magnus said, his playful gaze indicating he knew exactly where Alec's mind went.

Alec followed him back to the table, hoping his indecent thoughts were at least hidden from their company.

The rest of the night went well, ending much later than Alec had originally anticipated.

He was definitely the soberest of the four as they walked through downtown LA. Catarina had to leave earlier than the rest to catch her flight, and all of them had been sad to see her go.

Naturally, Magnus was the drunkest even when Catarina was in the running, so Alec had his arm around his waist to keep him walking in as straight of a line as an attached duo could move.

"Alexander, will you carry me like you did the other night? I'm so tired." Magnus whined.

Alec pointedly ignored his siblings' gazes as he scooped Magnus up bridal-style without a word.

Magnus immediately clung to him, snuggling into his chest. "You smell so good."

Alec could hear Jace and Izzy giggling to themselves a few paces back, and he knew from many years of experience that it was at his expense. He wasn't helping dispute their delusions about Magnus' feelings for him by having the drunk man in his arms in such a traditionally romantic way.

"Boys, I have an idea. Rather than waste money on an extra room when we get back to the hotel… you two have a double bedroom in your suite, right? There's no reason we can't all take advantage of the beautiful suite you have."

"But Iz, how would we divide up the beds? All three of us can't fit in one." Jace asked in painfully fake curiosity, and if Magnus wasn't super drunk, Alec knew he would've been able to read the extremely poor acting on his brother's part for pretending like that thought had just occurred to him.

"Well, I figure you and I can share… and Alec and Magnus! After all, the closer Alec is to Magnus, the better. For safety." Izzy said mischievously.

Alec glared at her over his shoulder.

"Sounds perfect to me." Magnus mumbled. "I like sleeping in your arms."

Alec felt his skin redden for the second time that night, and he tried not to panic at how Magnus would know that. Was the reason he was instinctively searching for Magnus in bed that morning because they somehow ended up spooning? Did his heart rule his body when he was sleeping?

He was grateful that Magnus spoke softly enough that the other two hadn't overheard that last bit.

Once they got to the hotel, Alec shifted Magnus in his arms to hit the elevator button.

"Is he asleep?" Jace asked amusedly.

Alec looked down and saw that Magnus' eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling in even breaths.

A tender smile slipped out without him meaning to.

"So it seems. He's never this quiet otherwise."

Izzy was smiling knowingly at him when he looked up, and he rolled his eyes at her in response. He was not going to bite at her teasing for her satisfaction.

They got back to their hotel suite and separated so Jace and Izzy could grab their luggage from the living room and Alec could place Magnus on the bed.

He came back out to make sure the other two didn't need anything further.

"Smart – taking the bigger bed. You might need that extra space." Izzy teased, ruffling Alec's hair before slipping into the bedroom that usually would be Alec's. "Jace, I know I signed up for this, but you better have cut your toenails this time!"

"Hey! You better keep your kicks to yourself or you're sleeping on the floor!" Jace argued back.

He chanced a glance at Alec and then moved to close the door until it was just about shut.

"Hey. If this is too much, I can sleep on the couch and you can share with Izzy."

Alec forced a smile. "Thanks, Jace. It's all right. We're just going to sleep."

"All right. You know where I am if you change your mind." Jace said, clapping him on the shoulder before heading into his assigned room.

Alec slipped into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. Seeing Magnus' makeup wipes, he sighed and gathered what he needed before returning to his now-shared room with Magnus.

Magnus was still sleeping, hugging a pillow to his chest now, and Alec felt bad waking him. But he knew that Magnus would regret not taking his makeup off in the morning.

He nudged Magnus gently, pulling the pillow away, and Magnus grumbled.

"I'm sleepy." he pouted.

"I know. But I need to get your makeup off. Can you just tilt your face up for me? Please?"

Magnus acquiesced, blinking up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Alec got to work wiping away the colours, Magnus closing his eyes so he could take off his eyeliner and shadow. Thankfully, it only took a couple minutes and then he was clean.

"I know you're tired, but do you want to go to the bathroom or anything before sleeping?"

"Mm… maybe."

Alec chuckled. "All right. Come on. Let's go."

He guided Magnus to the bathroom, arm wound around his waist, and left him to do his thing. The bathroom was en-suite so if Magnus needed him, all he had to do was shout.

Alec undressed until he was in just his boxers and a t-shirt and he jumped in surprise when he turned around to find Magnus standing there staring at him.

"You're so hot."

Alec's usual porcelain skin flushed a bright red once again, and he cursed his reactive blood vessels.

"Uh, are-are you ready for bed?"

"Mm, yeah. Just gotta change."

"Okay, should I—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Magnus had started unbuttoning his pants and kicked them off his legs. He tried to undo his dress shirt but the buttons were too numerous and complicated for his uncoordinated fingers so Alec crossed the room to help him.

Magnus' eyes never left Alec's deft fingers as they unlooped the buttons from their fabric prisons.

Once unbuttoned, Alec pushed the fabric off of his shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

He had to swallow. Magnus was currently wearing very little clothing and was standing very close to him.

Magnus reached up to stroke a hand down Alec's chest, watching its movement. "Thank you for your help, Alexander."

Alec nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He took Magnus' wandering hand and led him to bed, helping him climb under the covers on his side before moving to his own and climbing in.

Magnus immediately scooted over and cuddled up to his side, tucking his head into Alec's shoulder and throwing a leg over Alec's thigh to slip between his.

"Uh, what are you… is this comfortable for you?" Alec asked instead.

Magnus sighed happily, nuzzling his cheek against Alec's pec. "Very. This okay?"

"Uh, yeah, yes. All good."

Alec felt Magnus' smile against his skin, and his hand automatically moved to stroke through his hair. He expected to be met with a lot of product but it was actually quite soft and flitted through his fingers easily.

Magnus fell back to sleep quickly, but Alec lay awake, wondering if he wasn't wrong to hope his siblings were right about the two of them. Because one thing was for sure—Alec was falling hard and fast for Magnus Bane.

* * * * *

Continue to Chapter 8

[jollyreginaldrancher]

Subtle changes that would have saved certain shitty story arcs in Pretty Little Liars

Not gonna lie, this show isn’t great and shittiness is true to its form, and while the A reveals are -at the very least- memorable, there was a lot of crap writing in between that just ruined certain hold-over storylines that were supposed to pretty much be filler until the next big thing. Here’s some subtle changes that would have vastly improved some of those storylines.

1. Talia: Talia swooped in when Emily was extremely vulnerable after the dissolution of her longest running, and most serious relationship. She had the potential to help poor Emily but instead just left her more damaged. And honestly we have seen enough of Emily getting screwed, especially in the romantic department (not that way though) and getting kicked when she was down was the last thing she needed. 

How this should’ve gone: Emily needed an Obi Wan, not an Ezra. In a brief span she lost swimming, Paige and Stanford. She was directionless and had no ambition. Talia (or maybe one of the moms. Ideally her own) should have taken her under her wing and helped her find a new passion. Through her tutelage, Emily should have finished her college arc and gotten into her dream school in California and for the first time in this goddamn show, had a relationship with a female character that didn’t eventually devolve into a romance. 

2. Hanna returning to Caleb after he came back from Ravenswood. It was cringy and fanservicey and just horrible regression on Hanna’s part. She had a great guy (Travis) who didn’t deserve to just get tossed like that, and as a slap in the face, insta-replaced by her ex, who just ditched her and left town for a while and moved on with his soulmate or whatever the heck, and just aloofly enabled her rebellious streak when he came back.

What should’ve happened: Her identity crisis should’ve ended with her realizing she was regressing to the ideals Alison instilled in her in order to control her, (ie that self worth was tied to how much people wanted you and needing to have a boyfriend and be wanted in order to feel validated) and that being near her was messing with her head so she should have cut ties with her, in the interest of self care, even if it meant cutting ties with the other girls as well. and she should’ve picked Lucas and Mona over Alison and low-key sided with them in the fifth season’s MonAlison war.

3. Spoby: What should have happened with them is a slow burn romance that was cut short in the third season with the reveal that he was on the A team. Spencer is cautious and finds it extremely hard to trust people so she shouldn’t have jumped into a relationship with him so quickly, especially considering she spent half of season one accusing him of murder. There’s no way she would get so deep with him in like, half a season alone, let alone have that on and off relationship and yet act like they were together all along in season three. It was just a mess. What should have happened is a really slow burn with them not really coming together until season three, just before the betrayal, in order to make it sting that much more.

And ultimately, she should’ve been left jaded by his betrayal and not been so quick to trust him or anyone else, and take him back. She’s Spencer, for god’s sake, not Aria! As it stands, all he did was sook a bit in order to win her back. Dude should have grovelled for a chance with her and ultimately worked up a tentative friendship with her by the end of the show, by being consistently loyal. Show should have left off in an optimistic ‘maybe they will get back together, maybe not’ manner and not straight up "yeah, I know my twin raped him but we’re banging again and I think we might be back together”.

4. Ezria. Just Ezria. There is no way that should have lasted after HIS betrayal. Not even sorry. He should have followed them to NY, got shot, and while trying to help him, the girls should have found a notepad, pen, and a voice recorder on his person. Livid, Aria should have written a message telling him never to contact her again, and not to even think about writing that book on them, otherwise she’ll go to the police and accuse him of rape, and then crushed his recording device, and starting out a dark!Aria arc. Cut to Ezra reading the message in a hospital room and angrily chucking it across the room before a familiar figure approaches (A) and draws his attention.

5. There should have been more focus on mental health, especially after critical meltdown points for the characters. Instead of just “Yup, went to the doctor and I’m fine now” they should have delved deeper into these traumas. Emily KILLED a person. Spencer blacked out in the woods out of grief. Paige was clearly suicidal! Mona’s mental state is so vague and someone should have diagnosed Alison with narcissism at the very least, years ago. The dollhouse should essentially have been followed up by at least half a season where they’re desperately trying to recover but failing because they’re rushing or just not dealing with what’s wrong up there. Radley should have played a more prominent role then, and maybe some or all girls should have been moved there for their own protection from that point on.

6. Alex Drake should not have been Spencer’s twin. At the very least it should’ve been Alison’s twin. Maybe passed it off as Spencer after extensive surgery OR by utilising those damn masks that have been showing up since about season three or four for no goddamn reason.

7. Alison trying to whitewash her story and play the victim, and Sara Harvey trying to do the same should’ve sent alarm bells shooting off in Emily’s head. She honestly should not have trusted her, and especially after all the crap she pulled, she should NOT have trusted Alison. It should have been a clue that she was A all along because her having feelings for Emily was just never on the table and they did not do the groundwork to set up an Emishit endgame at all. Alison wasn’t a love interest and she wasn’t a liar and she wasn’t a relative or a friend either so the only reason to show her as much as they did was if she was A herself, so they HAD to go that way OR kill her off. That’s literally the only way to rule her out at this point because of how they handled her in general.

8. Ezra should have come back as a villain who’s mad he didn’t get to finish his story, and not stayed on as Aria’s romantic interest indefinitely. That was ridiculous. He should’ve teamed up and provided surveilance and become obsessed with Aria and the girls and finding ways to cross them and ultimately he should have been killed off in an ironic way that involves a lot of cameras or something along those lines.

9. There were too many creeps and too many cops and too many creepy cops in Rosewood and honestly Garrett was just pretty superfluous. And the whole ‘Spencer should not make assumptions and jump the gun all the time’ message they tried to send with Ian being killed off didn’t really stick because of his involvement in the NAT club so I think instead someone else should have been responsible for those tapes like Jason perhaps, or Garret, and Ian’s name should’ve been cleared when he died, because it rings differently when an innocent man dies because of a misunderstanding than when a creep does. A lot of people tried to justify it with “yeah but he kissed Spencer” and maybe if he had an excuse like that he was blackmailed or threatened by Alison then his death would have been more dramatic. Jason for example, kept showing up but being a red herring and being generally irrelevant for the most part and this would have tied him in a bit better. It could have been a revenge thing or a ‘expose the town’s evil’ thing. He was an angry, disenfranchised young man who had substance abuse issues. It’s less of a stretch honestly for him to try to do a project where he tries to name and shame people around town for looking down on him for being a stoner, especially his sister. And he had those creepy ass pictures of Aria which hint at him stalking her, which he tried to explain away as Alison’s doing. It could be that he took them as well as the video of the girls changing, because he had the hots for her and just didn’t have the guts to tell her because she was younger and his sister’s friend.

10. Nate St Germain. Killing Maya off was bad enough but hinting at it being tied to the rest of the mystery through “Maya knew” and then coping out of it was just terrible. Maya should’ve just taken the greyhound out of town after waiting for Emily, and leaving her a ‘goodbye’ note that subtly revealed she was being stalked but didn’t leave enough information to find her or her stalker, and Nate should’ve come to town pretending he’s her cousin, and looking for her BEFORE her ‘death’. In fact her death should’ve alltogether been avoided, with Emily eventually managing to get in touch with her and finding out she’s hiding in that lighthouse and bringing Paige and Nate with her to find her and bring her home, but being led there by A in a failed attempt to get her away from him in order to warn her, by pretending to be Maya and that she wants to talk to her alone. Her recklessness should’ve caused Paige to get stabbed defending her and Nate being taken out by a cop while Maya thanked her and Paige and apologised for getting them involved, and explained that her family was moving back home and she was going with them, and her and Emily cutting things off but remaining friends, while Emily realises what a champ Paige is and how low her self esteem that she would take a knife for her, and forcing her to promise to never do anything like that again. Paige and Emily should have been trying their best at being friends at this point and working overtime to deny their chemistry, and with this scene where Maya and Emily finally end things for good, should have given Emily the closure she needed and finally enabled her to be honest and open with Paige and start something new again with her. 

More will probably follow.