#i wish her powers were less nonsensical so i could enjoy her more but yeah that was so sjskjssfd😭

[homielander]

on homelander and ryan

well first let me just say that the confrontation with bonnie and adam filled me with unspeakable dread. exploitation of inequitable power dynamics in the workplace at the expense of a female subordinate... yeah, surely that won't come up later! 😃 but i tried to ignore that context so i could enjoy them sipping sinisterly on their chocolate milkshakes which was very fun

anyway. i really enjoyed the homelander and ryan scenes in this episode because it finally felt like we were watching two people who had been living together for a few months... there was a real ease and familiarity to their interactions. (their scenes from eps 1-3 were a bit expository for my taste, i guess.) and i loved that there was no dramatic acknowledgement of homelander's breakdown in their last scene together (even though an apology would have been warranted on homelander's end) because sometimes that's just the way things go. their conspiratorial rapport during the bonnie and adam bit was also kind of adorable, sorry. homelander is being as corny as ever and ryan actually entertains it because he loves his lame dad!!!

i was so gratified seeing homelander ask ryan what he wants... everyone jumped on him for saying "i've given you everything that i ever wanted!" in 4.03 but if you were horrifically abused as a child and then had to care for a child of your own, ensuring said child has everything you longed for is a pretty important consideration (which extends to the freedom to make one's own choices, as we see here. we just needed to give him a minute he was literally working on it!)

the other element to asking ryan what he wants is that homelander doesn't know what to do with this newfound freedom either. yes, he did say at the onset of the season that his goal is to leave behind a world that is "pure" and "cleansed" (supe-led) for ryan, so that ryan never feels the need to bend to public opinion or corporate interests. but what does homelander want for himself now that he's free from the constraints of seeking public adoration??? he has no idea, so he gets his son to choose for him instead. and in a very real sense, "cleansing" the world for ryan is healing for him too, because they are one entity... i love codependence

that doesn't mean homelander doesn't put his own disturbing twist on ryan's wish to "help people". ryan's enjoyment admittedly felt pretty jarring but my take on it is that bonnie's immediate readiness to slap that director made him feel as if he was empowering someone. that's what he wants! while homelander is just glad that a human (it helps that it's the annoying guy who works for him) is experiencing pain. homelander is no longer motivated by winning anyone's approval either so there's even less overlap with ryan's genuine desire to save others. i imagine that this disconnect will come to a head soon... excited to see where things go next!

[hazbininlove]

Hopelessly Devoted

Lucifer x OC

Summary: When the Divine created his angels, it was no secret that Lucifer, his Morning Star, was one of his favorites. It also was no secret that Lucifer was lonely. And so he crafted another, a half, crafted in the light of that same star. This was Esther, the Evening Star. They were two halves of a whole, balancing and completing each other perfectly. They were a pair always seen together.

Until they weren’t.

Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates, known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light: Angels that worshiped good, and shielded all from evil.

Lucifer was one of these angels. He was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation, but he was seen as a troublemaker by the elders of Heaven. For they felt his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world. So he watched as the angels began to expand the universe in their ways.

What most versions of the Story of Hell fail to mention was another angel, created together with Lucifer. She was Esther. Where Lucifer brought light upon the angels, she signaled the dark. Together, they balanced each other. They were created for each other! Esther loved to listen to his ideas, even encouraged them, but also grounded them and helped tame the more nonsensical. When they were together, he seemed like less of a troublemaker, and she seemed brighter and more approachable.

From the dust of Earth, angels created Adam and Lilith: equals as the first of mankind. They were crafted in the idea of Lucifer and Esther, wanting mankind to begin with a couple properly balanced. Where they failed was in not knowing that personalities could not be easily recreated. Adam demanded control and Lilith refused to submit to his will. She fled the garden.

Drawn in by her fierce independence, much like his other half’s, Lucifer found her.

Here again, the true story of Hell differs, changed over time by Hell’s denizens who only knew what they saw. Lucifer and Lilith found a friendship forged from rebellion and dreams. They talked about their hopes for this new world, and together, they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the fruit of knowledge to Adam’s new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted.

But this gift came with a curse, for with this single act of disobedience, evil finally found its way into Earth. With it, a new realm of darkness and sin, and the order Heaven had worked to maintain was shattered. As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his friend into the dark pit he had created, never allowing him to see the good that came from humanity, only the cruel and the wicked.

Ashamed, Lucifer lost his will to dream, but Lilith thrived, empowering demonkind with her voice and her songs. And left alone back in Heaven without her light-bearer was Esther…

And as the numbers of hell grew, so did its power. Threatened by this, Heaven made a truly heartless decision; that every year, they would send down an army and extermination to ensure hell and its sinners could never rise against them.

But Lilith’s hope remained, and her dream was passed down to her’s and Lucifer’s precious daughter, the Princess of Hell.

“Charlie?”

”Oh, shit! Did you hear all that?” Charlie asks awkwardly, looking back to see her girlfriend Vaggie.

”Uh, yeah, I was right there.”

“Sorry, I get pretty worked up after an extermination happens. This story helps.”

”I know. Don’t worry, I enjoy your theatrics. Are you okay?” Vaggie asks, a soft reassuring smile on her lips as she moves to sit across from her girlfriend.

”I’m fine, just thinking about, you know, family stuff… Did you know my parents never really married? Mom never really found anyone she truly loved and Dad well… he lost his. They were friends! Still are, I think. They had me hoping maybe love would spark between them but it just never clicked, I guess. But I mean, love doesn’t always have to be romantic! And-“

“Charlie,” Vaggie starts, cutting off her rambling. “I get it. You don’t have to justify anything to me.”

“I know, I just…” Charlie sighs, leaning her shoulder against Vaggie’s. “I love my parents, and I know they love me! And I know they loved each other in their own way! I don’t know, part of me wishes that they’d loved each other a little more, or married someone they truly loved! Except now Mom’s been gone for seven years and if Dad hasn’t been able to move on from someone who he was with before the Earth and Hell were even created, I don’t think he’ll ever be able to! I mean, he gave up on his dreams but not on her?! Talk about devotion!”

“It’s kind of nice though, isn’t it? Or bittersweet, I guess, to know that you can love someone so unconditionally, even after centuries apart?” Vaggie asks, trying to lift the mood.

Charlie looks up at her from her spot on her shoulder and smiles back, feeling a warmth fill her chest as she looks into her love’s eyes.

”Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

——————————————————-

Just the prologue!! I promise this won’t just be a rewrite. I just wanted to use the story Charlie tells in the beginning to highlight the background of this plot.

This is NOT a cheating plot. I am not a fan of those, nor of making Lilith or Lucifer the bad guy in this situation (ironic, I know considering they’re the king and queen of Hell). Also I do what to eventually write a story about Lilith and Lucifer with a third but that’s not this story.

Lilith and Lucifer’s relationship in this story is strictly platonic. They love each other, but as friends, and they both acknowledge that. Idk but after watching the show, I know it’s implied that Lilith left 7 years ago but it feels like their relationship was already on the decline even in Charlie’s childhood and it felt like having her was almost like a way to try and salvage their relationship, which ultimately failed.

Anyway this idea came from that, and the fact that the Morningstar refers to the planet Venus, which is ALSO called the Eveningstar. And the same way Lucifer is means “the shining one” or another name for the morning star, Esther also means “Star”.

And well, as a libra ruled by the planet Venus, representing love and balance, this felt very fitting.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Never a Gull Moment

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 3523

For @yavannie, who wanted Sam to either gain new powers or carry Bucky through the air. Spoiler, I went with both. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Sam’s had an intense first week as Captain America. The perfect opportunity for a break arises when Joaquín contacts him, offering new programming for his suit. All he needs to test the tech are the beach, birds, and one uncooperative bonehead Sam didn’t manage to leave behind in New York.

If there’s one skill Sam’s hoping to adopt from his predecessor—Steve, not Walker (sweet Jesus, not Walker)—it’s the ability to end a conversation with a humble handwave before it can even begin. Steve always had that in the bag. Leading with the wrist in a flick of the hand that came across as both sheepish and respectful. Like he’d love to stop and talk with that fan or this journalist but he was just too busy. And not rude busy, busy with a quiet nobility. Anyway, it all came across in the wave.

Sam hasn’t nailed the wave.

Four days after the GRC vote-that-wasn’t, he’s still in New York, bouncing between TV appearances; everybody wants a piece of the new Cap. Sam wishes they asked a little more about his opinions on compassion for the displaced, as well as those who survived the Snap to form new, functional communities, and less about the look of his new suit, but isn’t it always a battle between style and substance? At least people are listening. To everything except the look Sam knows he has in his eyes, the one that says this debut has been a lot and he’s longing for home.

He knows he has to nail this aspect of being Captain America too. Unfortunately, chuckling amiably with morning show hosts isn’t doing a hell of a lot to distract him from what it took to get him here. There are seconds where his attention wavers—he’ll be nodding along to whatever someone’s saying, or letting his gaze follow a bike courier down the street instead of staying trained on the camera the roving reporter has set up on the sidewalk—and that’s when Karli hurtles into his mind. He feels her desperate blows vibrating the shield, the weight of her body in his arms, in her death.

He can’t keep sitting behind desks or posing impressively and trying to answer the hard questions (on the rare occasion they’re asked) after he’s told people he’s not the expert. When Torres calls up, it’s the close-enough-to-official reason Sam’s been waiting for to step back and do something that actually feels useful.

Bucky, who’s been skulking behind the scenes, somehow never pulled into interviews (if he knows the deferring wave and he’s been doing it just outside Sam’s sightline all week, Sam’s gonna kill him), sticks with him. They head south to meet Torres, and at least that feels like the right direction. Homeward bound. Of course, they stop a handful of states before Louisiana and hug the east coast, but it’s an improvement. They meet Torres at… the beach.

He’s got his foot propped in the open doorframe of a Humvee, giving Sam and Bucky a big, eager, whole-arm wave as they pull up. Not like they’re gonna miss him; Torres is in the only vehicle parked halfway down an unpaved road. Sand dunes climb steep and high just feet from his front bumper, an informal path cutting between the dunes and leading to the water, though Sam can’t see that from this vantage.

Torres’s hand is somehow already grasping Sam’s in a pumping, congratulatory shake before he’s fully out of the car. Sam hears Bucky’s soft snort of suppressed laughter and shoots him a look across the seats. Bucky raises his palms, but Sam spots his smirk before they’re both slamming their doors and stretching their legs after the drive.

“Traffic?” Torres asks brightly.

“Nah,” Bucky answers, coming around the back of their ride. “Sam just drives slower than my grandmother and she—”

“Died on the Titanic?” Sam guesses dryly.

Bucky’s flat stare could be saying a lot of things, or nothing. Sam feels as if he’s been a student of the language of Bucky’s stare for a while now, but his comprehension is still rudimentary. Pop that asshole in a sanctuary for rehabilitated brain-washees, have somebody study his behaviour like Jane Goodall studies chimpanzees, and they might get some answers. The idea starts as something funny Sam almost shares, but then he imagines handfeeding Bucky a banana and it gets weird. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Or she got the cryo treatment too and she’s kickin’ around someplace, speakin’ Russian and makin’ headshots.”

“Come on, man, Hydra jokes about your own grandmother?” Sam scoffs. “That’s not even a little bit funny.”

Torres’s expression is like a kid watching a wrestling match on TV—awed, alarmed, reluctant to question what’s real because he’s just enjoying the show.

Bucky cracks a slow smile and Sam rolls his eyes, slapping Torres’s shoulder to get him to head towards the Humvee and the reason they’re here.

“Nana woulda thought it was funny,” Bucky assures them.

“Nana?”

“Lemme guess… You called your aunt ‘TT,’ so your grandmother’s probably… ‘GG,’ am I right?”

Sam glares at him (because his guess is correct and he’s a pain in the ass) and turns fully to Torres as he opens the back, revealing a large case.

“You were vague on the phone,” Sam recalls, watching Torres tug the case close before undoing the clasps. Bucky leans against the vehicle as he observes, dark pants picking up a swipe of road dust from the dirty taillight. “Something about an update for the suit?”

“Right,” Torres agrees.

He throws the case open to reveal the wings Sam gifted him. They’ve been repaired and Sam automatically strokes a hand over the gleaming, extended metal. If Torres did this himself, he sure worked fast.

“That duffle bag wasn’t good enough for you?” Sam asks jokingly, remembering his gear broken and jumbled, fit to be dragged out with the trash.

“They’re kind my prized possession,” Torres admits. “I thought they deserved to be kept nice.”

“You might even wanna put ’em on sometime.”

“I’m working up to that.” Torres laughs. “I wanted to make sure they were in working order before I jumped off a building.”

“Or out of the back of a plane without a parachute, right, Buck?” Sam asks, smacking the back of his hand into Bucky’s chest.

“I was fine,” Bucky insists.

“Sure you were. We can watch the footage again. I’m up for that.”

“Just let the man finish.”

Torres grants Bucky a wide smile in thanks.

“Yeah,” he picks up, “so I was fixing them, working on the wiring, and when I got the electronics running smoothly again, I started thinking about Redwing—”

“May he rest in pieces,” Bucky contributes.

“Uncalled for,” Sam complains.

“I replaced it, didn’t I?”

“The Wakandans replaced it.”

“As a favour to me.”

Torres’s gaze dances between them until Sam motions for him to continue.

“About Redwing,” Torres goes on enthusiastically. “The sophistication of the relationship between you, how intuitive the tech was. How Redwing understood not just simply-stated commands, but a more conversational approach, interpreting your intentions.”

“Finally, a little Redwing appreciation,” Sam says. He crosses his arms and gives Bucky a meaningful look.

“But what if it was a real bird?” Torres blurts.

Most of a minute passes as Sam stares at Torres’s excited expression.

“I think I might get where Torres is going with this,” Bucky says.

Sam holds up a hand to pause him. He could make a guess at it too, but there’s no need for that. They have the source of whatever alterations have been made right here.

“In your own words, Joaquín,” Sam encourages.

“Well,” he begins, one palm braced in the bed of the Humvee as he leans over the case with unconscious protectiveness, “you know I’ve kinda been itching to get my hands on the wings for a long time.”

“Yeah.” Sam laughs, remembering having to practically slap Torres’s hands away from the jetpack in Tunisia.

“Since you gave them to me a couple weeks ago, I’ve been tinkering, like I said, and I had this idea. Now,” he warns, raising both hands in caution, “this might be either really obvious or really disrespectful to the whole concept of the Falcon, but I started wondering if it’d be possible for the person wearing the wings to talk to nearby birds. Use them like a resource, like with Redwing.”

“Black Panther dresses like a cat with Vibranium claws.”

“Spider-Man has webs,” Bucky adds.

“Right,” Sam agrees, nodding to him before looking back to Torres. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful to lean into the gimmick if it’s amplifying your abilities.”

“Awesome,” Torres pronounces.

“I assume you went further than just wondering about it?”

Torres gives them a modest shrug.

“I know a guy who knows an ornithologist.”

“Bird scientist,” Bucky translates.

Turning his head, Sam glances at Bucky with a no shit look.

“Thanks,” he says insincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

“Long story short,” Torres pipes up, “she got me access to a catalogue of bird calls and the scientific consensus on what they all mean. I patched that info into the suit and, hopefully, it’s something that could be used, uh, on the fly. Sorry, I was trying to think of another way to say that.”

“So my suit would be able to communicate with birds?” Sam checks. “Automatically?”

“Yeah, it would assess your surroundings the same way Redwing does already, but scanning for birds, identifying what kind they are, and having the interpretation of their calls at the ready if needed.”

“What sort of information would I be gaining with this tech?”

“Stuff like… are they feeling threatened or disturbed? Does something feel off about their environment that has something to do with somebody you’re maybe chasing?”

“Mating rituals,” Bucky says.

“How is being able to recognize mating rituals going to help me?” Sam demands.

“You never know.”

“You brought your suit, right?” Torres wants to know. Apparently, he’s not going to bother engaging with Bucky’s nonsense. “It won’t take long for me to install the new software.”

“It’s in the back,” Sam assures him, jerking a thumb towards the other vehicle.

“Great!”

“But just the bird calls. This suit is brand new. No tinkering.”

“No tinkering,” Torres swears.

He sets up his impromptu workshop in the back seat, next to the suit. Sam has to admit to himself that Torres’s reverential expression as he handles the Captain America suit is pretty flattering. He watches the progress until Torres sits back, stating it’ll just be a few minutes for the new programming to be assimilated.

“Why the beach?” Sam asks while they wait.

“I was inspired by some shaky, far-away footage of you in New York. You did, uh, kind of a nosedive into the river there, so I thought maybe you’d be interested in testing your suit’s maneuverability in water at the same time as we did a trial with the bird calls.”

“Are we running a drill or something?” Bucky wonders.

“That’s a good idea,” Torres says immediately. “A scenario to use both the calls and the water.”

“You got something in mind?”

Sam isn’t the one who asks because he can see from Torres’s face that he does. Fortunately, he is the one who gets to laugh when the Lieutenant squints consideringly at Bucky and asks, “How long can you hold your breath?”

—

The last Sam sees of Bucky, he’s taking off his shirt.

“Oh, entire jacket this time?” Torres asked when Bucky took that off first.

After that, it was his shoes and socks, then his t-shirt, and this whole Bucky stripping thing isn’t so much a last look as something that Sam has to stand there witnessing for a while. He’s already in the Cap suit and, seriously, Bucky could’ve changed at the same time. Then, he would’ve been ready to go without making Sam and Torres wait around. But Sam wouldn’t have gotten to see him undress.

“Hurry it up, man.” His voice is a little off because, at the same time, he’s thinking, Please don’t take your pants off.

“If you’re making me play a drowning victim, I can at least not be getting weighed down,” Bucky argues. “This is to help you, right? Quit complaining.”

Finally, he stalks away, mounting the dune in black jeans and a half-assed scowl and disappearing over the top. The plan is for him to swim out, then duck under the water when Torres tells him to (the guy’s brought along waterproof earpieces for the purpose). Next, Sam will fly up and search for the ‘victim,’ relying solely on input from the seagulls wheeling lazily overhead. It’s a good exercise Torres has cooked up.

Sam hands the shield off to Torres for safekeeping before the Lieutenant heads to the beach. The shield won’t be necessary for this and there’s no way in hell Sam’s leaving it in the car. Besides, it’s kinda funny how wide Torres’s eyes go when Sam offers it up. Even bigger reaction than leaving him the wings, though this he doesn’t get to keep.

“On my signal,” Torres restates.

Sam gives him a sharp nod.

Once he’s alone, he paces between the vehicles, eager to kick off the ground. He hasn’t had an opportunity to just enjoy himself in the new suit yet. Leading up to the confrontation with the Flag-Smashers (and Georges Batroc, that fists-of-steel bastard), he was in training mode, focused and determined. In the media-heavy days that followed, he conceded to a few stunts for the camera. Those hadn’t been purely fun though; they were actually something Sam had to think quick and hard about, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t just performing on command but rather giving the public a lighthearted look at their new Captain America. Testing new tech with Bucky, Torres, and a bunch of seagulls? That seems like it’ll actually be a good time.

The instant Torres’s voice in Sam’s ear says, “Bucky’s under,” he unfurls the wings and sails up over the crest of the dune.

It’s not the warmest day and the greenish-blue water’s choppy near the shore, but there is a surprising smattering of people along a quarter mile of beach. Must be locals, Sam guesses, trekking down to the water from nearby houses. That would explain the lack of other cars where he parked. The people aren’t that close or that bothered by his sudden appearance overhead. Startled, sure, but after they’ve identified him (he sees a few hands lifted to foreheads to block out the sun so they can get a good look), he gets to return a couple big waves. Besides that, nobody’s getting to their feet to pound sand and swarm Torres, who’s conspicuously there with Sam—he is holding the shield, after all. Pretty typical. The bigger the crowd, the greater the chance of people scrambling for his attention and/or whipping out their phones to film him. This group seems satisfied with watching Captain America hanging out at their beach on his downtime and Sam appreciates them for that.

“No scanning the water,” Torres says in his ear. Sam laughs.

“I’m not, just assessing our audience here.”

“Is this a bad spot? I didn’t think anybody’d be around when I sent you my location, but—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Did anybody ask you what was up when Bucky waded out into the water?”

“Nah. If they were wondering, they probably aren’t anymore.”

“Glad I won’t have to compete with a lifeguard to rescue him,” Sam jokes.

He hears Torres’s short laugh of agreement before focusing. Not on the water at all, but the birds. Those down on the sand are squawking for food, comfortable enough with these people to complain loudly in the hopes of being fed.

Sam’s sudden swoops scatter the gulls in the air, so he tries easier circles, mimicking their movements to hover high above the beach. Soon enough—these guys either have bad short-term memories or no patience—they start communicating with each other. The new programming Torres has uploaded to his suit signals to Sam that the birds are aware of a disturbance in the water. He gets a target on his goggles’ imaging and dives.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam crashes into the murky water no more than a hundred yards out. The drop-off is dramatic enough for him to not complete a faceplant into a shallow bottom. Bucky’s treading water a couple body-lengths down, but he wrecks his form to offer Sam a raised middle finger in greeting. Sam’s wings retract as he grabs Bucky’s wrist to haul him to the surface.

They breathe, bobbing in place.

“Thought you’d be faster,” Bucky says.

“You didn’t drown, did you?” Sam points out. “Come on.”

He catches hold of Bucky��s hand and shoots out of the water, wings opening in the air to carry him once the thruster’s done its work. But Bucky squirms below him, their wet grip twisting precariously. Water runs from his sopping jeans.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asks.

“I don’t want to be carried to shore!”

“Why?”

“Because dangling this high above the ground feels a little weird to me! Not all of us do this every day!”

“I guess we could run the exercise again.”

“Fine. Let’s do that. Just drop me.”

Sam rewards Bucky’s melodrama by abruptly releasing his grip. Hey, that’s what the idiot asked for, and if he can fall out of a plane to the forest floor, he can plunge into water. It’s not like Sam’s up at aircraft cruising altitude, just high enough to make Torres look like a little action figure army man, standing on the sand in his fatigues.

“Running it again?” Torres wants to know.

“Yep,” Sam tells him, accelerating away from the shore. “Just giving that dumbass time to swim to a new spot.”

“Even though he can’t reply while he’s underwater… you know he can hear you in the comms, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

When Torres lets him know that Bucky’s gone under a second time, they start the drill again. Once more, Sam does a gliding approach to the seagulls. Once more, they go quiet before filling the air with their screaming, overlapping calls. Once more, Sam finds Bucky. He knows he’s quicker this time, so he’s expecting an acknowledgement of that when he contracts the wings, straightens his body, and plummets into the water feetfirst next to where Bucky’s floating below the surface.

Instead of an appreciative nod, an outstretched hand, or even a thumbs up, Bucky darts away from him. Is he trying not to get rescued? Now he’s just fucking up the exercise. Only, Sam can’t even berate him, because he’s still under too, holding his breath as he swims after Bucky. He uses the jetpack for assistance, but Bucky’s a fast swimmer, legs kicking just ahead of Sam. Goddamn human shark.

Because he is not an idiot, Sam surfaces to catch his breath, leaving Bucky somewhere below.

“There a problem?” Torres asks.

“Only with Bucky’s idea of teamwork.”

“Get him like a bird would!”

“Is that a real suggestion?” Sam asks, rising and falling as a small wave swells under him, rolling towards the shore.

“Really, Sam! You know, like how birds hunt fish.” Back on the beach, he makes a sharp, downward gesture with his arm that has Sam chuckling. He gets what Torres means though.

“Alright.”

Sam goes from water to air, then, alerted by a trio of seagulls taking annoyed flight from the surface of the water, goes into a steep dive. Nabbing the swimmer from above is the trick, he learns, when the swimmer is being intentionally uncooperative with the rescue attempt. Bucky might be quick when he knows Sam’s behind him, but when he drops down on him, there’s nowhere Bucky can go. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s bare chest from behind and lugs him up for air.

The first thing Bucky says is, “You took even longer that time.”

Frustrated, Sam splashes the back of his head, but when Bucky strokes his arms out, rotating to face him, he’s smiling.

“You messed it up,” Sam accuses. He rubs a hand across his goggles to smear the water droplets off.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.”

Sam narrows his eyes before a laugh bursts out of him. He can’t help it; it’s the pressure he’s been under, so much internal conflict, suddenly drawn out with the current. Yeah, Bucky was slightly uncooperative, but that’s nothing unusual. Swimming ahead like he was going for a gold medal or forcing Sam to plunge deep after him, the two of them suspended like the goddamn Shape of Water before Sam towed him to the surface—either way, Bucky definitely gave him distinct scenarios to work with. Sam can’t say he doesn’t feel more comfortable now that he’s had some practice. More comfortable with his wings in the water, with working with his feathered allies. With Bucky.

“Still don’t want a lift?” Sam checks.

Bucky’s expression hardens and Sam backs off with a laugh.

“See you on the shore,” Bucky states firmly.

“Alright. Get doggy-paddlin’, White Wolf.”

Sam feels Bucky’s hand shoot out to seize his ankle in retaliation as he launches out of the water, but he’s too slow. Sam’s wings fan wide as he flies up, up, up with the birds.

[doodledrawsthings]

Her Aim Was Getting Better

(Ahit ““““““Coffee Shop AU”““““““ rp log)

This is part of an RP between @displacedentities and myself detailing the meet-up between Luka and Vanessa, when she spikes his coffee with the curse. We did this a while back to get a feel for the characters and how that scene would go down, and they nailed it with how they wrote Vanessa. So I asked them if I could post it. Some of the stuff here was written before we had other things established, so some things like Hatties’s age and how long ago they split might be inconsistent with other posts I’ve made, but Enjoy!

(also forgive me for the way i write my parts, I’m not as practiced at writing rip)

(MysticDoodles) Despite the warm paper cup in her hands, Vanessa couldn't deny the chill in her bones. It had yet to go away since that day in court, biting at her skin and hovering just at the base of her brain stem. It always seemed to grow colder whenever she thought about how she got here... the things she'd said. What she almost did to that poor briefcase jockey in the courthouse.

But it didn't matter, anymore. If anything, her mom was happy she lost that case. Losing her husband and... child had stripped away all excuses she had not to throw herself into her work, and her mother was happy. 

Vanessa was not happy. 

In fact, she was seething. 

Luka took everything from her, that day. Her love, her place in their home. His adorable smile, his laugh... they weren't hers anymore. He only gave them to that- little gremlin. The parasite that took his love away from her, her precious nickname given to their daughter. 

Nobody got to be Luka's princess except Vanessa herself. Never again.

She lost the custody battle and her efforts to take Luka's obsession away from him, but she was going to make sure he lost so much more.

Vanessa waited in the autumn breeze, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the coffee cup. Chestnut-infused Columbian. His favorite. A sister cup sat opposite the table, waiting for him. If he was brave enough to show his face. .

(DeusExMakena)  He could see her from his car as he pulled into the parking space, sitting at a table by the large window at the front of the coffee shop. How long had it been now? Around five years, right? Hattie was barely a year old when they split.

He used to get so excited about meeting her, being in her presence, making her smile... and now the very thought of just getting out of his car and making eye contact with her left a pit in his stomach. As much as he'd loved this woman in the past, the way she treated their newborn daughter.... he had to stop thinking about it. Starting this meeting out in an angry mood wouldn't be a good idea.

With a sigh he finally willed himself to leave the vehicle, and just as he looked up their eyes met. The pit in his stomach deepened as he walked up to the cafe doors.

(MysticDoodles) The ice crept up her neck again. Vanessa forced it down, and put up a smile. No reason to start this off as cold as the ice in her veins. 

 Luka can see from her attire that she's doing rather well- financially, anyway. A thick coat against the autumn chill- or maybe from her heart, so closed off- and a scarf stuffed into her bookbag. Her mother must have improved her stipend, now that they split. What a beastly woman. It's pointless to ponder what-ifs at this point, but maybe if Vanessa's mother had been someone else... no. No point.

 With one hand, she gestures to the chair opposite her. Empty and waiting. "Hello, Luka. I got your favorite. You're doing well?" 

 ...the tenor isn't as friendly as it sounds, and feels more plastic than her smile appears.

(DeusExMakena) He hesitates, looking around the venue at the other tennants before wordlessly taking the seat across from her, mostly staring at the coffee cup in front of him.

Why is he having such a hard time looking at her?

"I'm... fine," he manages to force out as he takes the cup in both hands. Come on, man just get this over with and you can go home. "So uh, what brings you here?"

He wishes he could kick himself in the face for how out of place he feels, right now. What do you even say to someone you haven't seen in years, when the last time you saw them had been after an intense battle over the custody rights of the child you fought so hard to protect?

At least the warmth of the cup in his hands provides him with some reassurance.

(MysticDoodles) Something in Vanessa's smile twitches, but it's gone before he can really tell what it was.

"Oh- I just wanted to chat, catch up on old times, you know? I'm guessing the bar exam went well?"

...

Awkward silence, as Vanessa turns her smile away. She lifts her own coffee cup to her lips and takes a long drink, looking at the pavement.When she sets it down, there's a brief moment where her fingertips looked blue. It soon fades back into perfectly trimmed nails.

"...you know why I called you here, Luka. Don't make me lie to you." Her voice grows quiet, though pensive or frustrated is difficult to parse. "You were always better at lying, anyway."

(DeusExMakena) He squints slightly at that last remark and has to do enrything in his power to hold his tongue.

"I dont, actually. With the way things ended the last time we saw eachother, I was almost sure that would be it." he says, probably with a bit more venom in his tone than he should have used, but he was here for less than 10 minutes, now, and he could already feel his patience waning.

"But if you're really just here to reconnect, you'll have to forgive me" he takes a moment to swirl the cup in front of him before lifting it towards his mouth "I'm not very good at small-talk."

Chestnut-infused Columbean bean. Cream and Sugar. So nice to know that she never forgot.

(MysticDoodles) Vanessa smiles as he takes a drink. It's gone by the time he removes the cup again.

"...sorry," she says. Her stony expression shifts into a frown. This wasn't how she expected this conversation to go- but really, she had been expecting nothing, so no pain or gain thus far. "I'm not being very polite, am I? I guess I just- missed you, Luka. It's very different, going back to my mother's apartment after-... well. Being with you."

...

Another quiet sip. Vanessa runs her finger on the plastic cap.

"...do you miss the nights after we studied, when we'd just sit on the couch together and watch garbage movies?"

Before Harriet came along, she didn't say aloud.

(DeusExMakena) Of course he did, he loved her. And as much as he'd love to revisit those moments, to relive the sense of elation he felt when he got her to laugh over awkward acting and nonsensical writing... He just couldn't forgive her for what she did.

He sighs, opting to indulge in her to see where she's going with this.

"Yeah," He takes another sip, looking back down at the table "Sometimes I still wonder why that had to stop."

(MysticDoodles) There's no way he misses the way her fingers tighten on the paper coffee cup. Especially since it's accompanied by an audible pop of paper crumpling in a half inch, and liquid sloshing within.

"They did stop, Luka."

How could he be so blind?

"They stopped when you stopped spending them with me. You spent all your time with our daughter, and not with the loving wife who gave her to you. Don't you see how unfair that is? I deserved your time, too."

Vanessa sighs, her words almost chastising. It reminded of the times she shifted into 'disappointed mother' mode around Harriet. Their one year old, at the time, who didn't understand consequences for things like dropping a toy in the sink. She even had the nerve to sound hurt as she speaks those words.

(DeusExMakena) He is absolutely apalled.

"I-" he doesnt know why he cant find the words to respond. His eyes wide and his eyebrows furrow as he glares directly at her. He shouldnt be surprised by this, really, he saw this coming. Five years, and some things will just never change.

Luka pinches the bridge of his nose, he MARRIED this woman.

"I'm sorry, are we- are we really doing this again?" He sets his coffee cup on the table with a little more force than he wanted to, "You do realize you're getting jealous over a literal one-year old that we both agreed that we wanted to have. I'm her father, I'm sorry, again, for doing my job and raising our child."

(MysticDoodles) Vanessa's long-suffering expression hardens back into stone, pouting out her lip as once more, Luka shows no signs of budging on his stance. How very lawyerlike of him. To the bitter end, he would fight for his side of the case against the opposition. She wished they didn't have to be on opposite sides, anymore, yet here she was for the second time.

"Is it so wrong that I wanted to spend more time with my husband? All toddlers need to learn to share, anyway." Vanessa shrugs, as if this were no big deal. "You never spent evenings with me, anymore, Luka. Every night that you came back from graduate classes and networking with firms, you would go right to her. The honeyed words for me didn't come until dinner, if they came at all. And don't talk to me like I wasn't a good mother- I kept her out of trouble during the day, whenever I was out of rotation."

...

"How is my little Harriet doing? It's been so long since you've squirreled her away."

(DeusExMakena) No. No, no, no, he's not doing this again

"You..." He tries to hold his tongue, but peck, he doesnt want to deal with this right now. He feels his hands ball into fists "No. I'm sorry, no, you don't get to ask how my daughter is doing. You had every opportunity to join us, no one was stopping you from being happy but yourself! You wanna talk about sharing? Then why are you throwing a fit over a over a child spending time with her father?"

 ...

"She wanted a relationship with you, you know. It's... really hard having to explain to a five-year-old that she doesnt get to see her mother because she was too immature to realize 'oh hey! I could hang out with both my daughter AND my husband at the same time!'" He says that last bit in a mocking tone as he picks up his coffee and goes in for another sip, glaring straight at his ex-wife with pure exasperation.

(MysticDoodles) There he goes again. His daughter.

This time, Vanessa doesn't look away as she returns the glare. The medical graduate holds unflinching eye contact as she lifts her own cup and downs half the contents. Trying to make a statement, maybe? She always did have issues with competition.

"...so where does that leave us, then? You drink the coffee I got you, and walk away? Are you really so set on burning this bridge, Luka? Things can go back to the way they were, if you really want it that way. My stipend will get us through the rest of exams, and then we can live a good life together - high paying jobs, a comfortable apartment, as many dates and trashy movie nights as we want. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

...she didn't say a word about five-year-old Harriet.

(DeusExMakena) Luka takes a moment to stare at her, eyes half-lidded and tired.

He picks up the cup and downs the rest of his coffee, before placing it back on the table and standing up from his seat, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Allow me to light the match for you."

With that, he turns towards the door, ready to leave. Why would he feel bad about burning a bridge that leads nowhere?

(MysticDoodles) Luka can hear the squeal of the metal chair legs as Vanessa stands abruptly from her seat. There's no click of heels on riverstone, but he knows she's got her fists clenched at her sides, watching him. She always did that when she was angry. Maybe this time she'd have some ice on her wrists, now that her abilities were public. She'd put less effort into hiding it after the court case, anyway.

"YOU'RE MAKING A MISTAKE!" Vanessa yells after him as he continues, stride unbroken. "You'll regret this! You won that case, but you'll always be my prince, and I'll always be your princess!"

But legally, she couldn't touch him, now. Luka and Harriet were no longer family. He knew that, and she knew he did.

...

Oh well.

The door closes with a crnk-ling of the bell, and the background noise of the cafe starts to fade back into her awareness. Or lack thereof. Everyone nearby was staring, not that she cared.

Stiffening her upper lip, Vanessa grabs her bag and loops it back over one shoulder. She pats the side, removing the scarf off the copy of 'Ancient Botanicals & You' she'd found at the antique bookshop, and tying the garment back around her neck. With one hand she picks up Luka's cup, and looks inside.

Empty.

A smile traces her lips as she takes it along with her own, and tosses them both into the trash can.

Now all she had to do was wait and see.

[brinconvenient]

Green Egg and Fam

You know what? I'm just gonna go ahead and do this...

So a few years back, I was talking to another trans woman who is very familiar with the DC Universe and we were trying to figure out who is Actually An Egg, and after a few suggestions back and forth, I galaxy-brained the answer. She heartily agreed and we talked about it a bit: 1. Artsy 2. Serial Monogamist who is a Relationship Disaster (Big "Do I want to Be With Her, or Be Her?" energy) 3. Becomes best friends with every ex-girlfriend 4. Noted Respecter of Women in Very Terrible and Awkward Ways 5. Chronically allergic to self-reflection and introspection, but also addicted to it in much the same way lactose intolerant people talk about how they can't give up cheese. 6. Just a complete and Utter Messy Agent of Chaos. 7. All too willing to adopt Other People's Expectations and internalize them as a Sacred Duty. 8. Just constantly Marked By Tragedy - both external and self-created.

It's Kyle Rayner, kids.

Torchbearer,

Honor Lantern,

Erstwhile Ion/avatar of the power of will

Kyle "I will be the Last of the Green Lanterns and yet keep trying to ressurect this entire Corps of Space Cops that I didn't even know existed until some Blue Dude showed up to give me jewelry and I guess marry me into the Corps? Because I guess that's just my job now and that will become my whole personality" Rayner.

After the conversation, this - the only fanfic I have literally ever written popped out of my head fully formed. It's intended to really be Chapter 1 of Several which are basically conversations between Kyle and one Ex-Girlfriend per chapter as Kyle finally accepts herself and transitions.

Eventually she reveals that the name "Ion" comes from her real name "ImOgeN" because she read Nevada and Was Impacted and she's just that extra.

But, honestly, despite getting started on the Alex chapter ages ago, I never have drawn the energy to go back and finish and/or write more, so I'm just gonna share the first chapter of what I am calling:

"Green Egg and Fam"

Putting the actual content behind the Read More because I've already rambled too long.

“It’s just exhausting, you know? Every few years it seems like I have to pick up the pieces of my life, my memory, my self and figure out who the hell I am! Every time I get a handle on things, someone or something comes along and shakes up the snow globe,y’know? I’ve tried to talk to Diana about it and, like, she’s compassionate and cares and offers sympathy, but most of the time, my whole relationship with her is just one more flake in the globe and I never know who we’re going to be to each other. Somehow, though, you’re always my favorite ex-boyfriend. It’s weird, right?”

Kyle patted Donna’s arm reassuringly. He glanced from Donna’s face to the view over Lake Michigan. There was no more beautiful view of the lakeshore than the roof of the John Hancock Building. He could just about make out the lights of the small shore towns across the lake in Michigan, and he could see the industrial Indiana towns along the round tip of the lake.

“I’m not positive I like that descriptor of our relationship, but I am happy to be some kind of constant for you,” he said with a rueful smile. “Donna, you are one of my dearest friends and I always want to be here for you. I know you didn’t need my help with Dr. Psycho here, but I’m glad I was Earthside to help you out anyway.”

They’d taken the diminutive psychic menace to the Chicago Special Crimes Unit, who had training and facilities for telepaths and telekinetics. They found this perch when Donna said she just needed a little bit to settle down before heading back to the Titans Tower in New York.

“No, I had him just about handled - a Lasso of Persuasion is pretty useful, after all - but I’m glad you swung through, all the same,” Donna said. “I’m glad to have a friend here. Psycho was really messing with my head this time. He kept dredging through my memory, pulling out bits and pieces of lives lived and people lost. He made me relive the loss of Terry and Robert and Jenny, over and over, replayed the tortures of Dark Angel, dragged me through that whole mess with the Titans of Myth, and I’m actually not sure which of any of those actually happened in this reality anymore.”

Donna’s breath was getting ragged and tears were falling down her face, twinkling in the moonlight.

“You told me about Terry and the kids when we were dating, so since I still remember them, they must still have existed and they still loved you and you still got to love them. I’m a little fuzzy on the Titans of Myth, so I can’t be sure about that stuff. But you’re here now and that’s what’s important right now. Just take a sec to enjoy this moment, this view, this night and see how you feel, ok?” he said.

They sat in the quiet, next to each other, watching the waves reflect and distort the moonbeams. Donna’s breathing calmed down and she straightened her back, half a head taller than Kyle even while sitting.

“Thank you, Kyle. I’ll be ok now, I think. I appreciate you listening. You have a good heart. If you’d only learn to actually fight without that ring, you’d make a pretty decent Amazon. Well … if you weren’t a man, of course.”

Kyle coughed and thanked the stars that Donna couldn’t see him blush. Suddenly Kyle felt like there was lava beneath his skin and he couldn’t sit comfortably.

He didn’t want Donna to catch on, so he stifled his squirming and whipped up a quick construct of a miniature green Kyle in an Amazonian uniform, breastplate, Spartan skirt and calf boots. For added effect he made sure to widen his shoulders and used Hal Jordan as a reference for a jaw far more square than Kyle’s real life chin.

“I’m not sure I can pull off the uniform. Guess I’ll stick with green and black for now. Ha!” he said. He hoped it didn't sound as forced as it felt.

“Oh I don’t know. You’ve got great legs, Kyle! Maybe you should start wearing shorts when in uniform. Besides, you had those over-the-knee boots for the longest time. I think you’d be just fine!” Donna said, laughing.

“Give me a hug, Dick just texted me to meet him in Blüdhaven. Take care and fly safe back to Oa!” she said.

After a quick, warm embrace, she turned eastward and flew off over the lake. Kyle watched her fly out of sight. He looked down and saw little Amazon Kyle, slowly spinning in the air. He drew the construct up to eye level and returned the shoulders and jaw back to his more slender and softer reality. It didn’t look that bad actually.

He’d been trying to make Donna smile, and deflect from … something before, so he exaggerated those features to highlight the incongruence, but he didn’t hate this more realistic image.

He continue to finesse the construct’s features. Like most artists, he never really considered a piece finished, he just stopped working on it. He smoothed the musculature, narrowed the shoulders a little further, pulled the hips out just a bit more, and left the waist alone. The ersatz Kyle’s face got softer still, the brow less pronounced, the nose narrower, the chin just a bit more rounded. He watched the chest muscles soften and breasts form to fill out the breastplate better.

Finally, he lengthened the construct’s hair to shoulder length, adding some wave and curls like Donna’s somehow-always-perfect hair.

And there she was. The woman who’d been haunting Kyle’s dreams as long as he could remember. Slowly spinning in the air was a woman who could easily have been Kyle’s sister, wearing Amazonian garb (or at least what he remembered from seeing Donna’s while they were dating so many years ago).

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he started fiddling with the image, and he didn’t know how long he’d spent staring at the final form. Sister. Yeah, right.

With an angry wave he flashed his hand through the construct, dissolving and dispersing the light particles that he’d given form. He hastily looked around the roof to make sure no one had seen him or, specifically, seen the construct. The burning sensation of shame returned instantly and he immediately flew into the sky until the buildings looked like so many light-speckled building blocks.

He took himself through a calming exercise he learned from Kilowog to help him center himself and sling his ring “like he wasn’t a complete Poozer and deserved to wear it.” Kilowog had no appreciation for just how hard it was for other people to feel calm when he was around. Still, Kyle found it helped when the pink giant wasn’t breathing down his neck.

“My will is strong enough to carry the torch for the entire Green Lantern Corps, I can stop these feelings. I can make all of these thoughts go away. I can stop this. I’ve got too much responsibility to keep indulging this … this nonsense” he thought, trying to ignore the sting of the tears fighting their way free to fall down his face, ignore the pain in his heart.

“I don’t want to lose my friends - what would Donna say? Would she think I was a pervert, or making fun of her somehow? I definitely don’t want to lose Hal’s and the guys’ respect. I don’t want to lose my whole life just because I’m some kind of freak. Get it together, Rayner. No one else is feeling sorry for themselves because they don’t fit in.”

He pulled a hand down his face and pointed his right fist with it’s gaudy, shining green ring on the middle finger toward the Milky Way and flew into space. He hoped the cold solitude of the transluminal conduits would help him regain his composure before he faced Guy, Hal, John and Kilowog for the Honor Lantern meeting. For the millionth time, he wished he could just be more like them, have just a sliver of their easy and effortless masculinity. They made it look so simple.

“Bet they don’t spend half their life trying to figure out what is wrong with them,” he thought. He tried so hard not to envy them, but it was really hard sometimes.

Especially nights like tonight where his resolve had failed him yet again and he gave in to his most hidden thoughts. He entered the transluminal conduit between Saturn and Jupiter and closed his eyes.

He traveled faster than light, but it still took time to reach Oa, so he tried to sleep and hoped that his dreams wouldn’t betray him again.

[carewyncromwell]

[HPHM] Carewyn Cromwell and Orion Amari Cinderella AU Moodboard

x~x~x~x

Once upon a time, there were two kingdoms at war -- the land of Royaume with rolling valleys and mountain ranges, and the land of Florence by the southeastern sea. Their conflict had started fifty years ago, rooted in a territory dispute that blew up in an assassination and full-scale war. Since then, the royal family of Royaume, including the young Prince Henri, was kept under very tight house-arrest. It also resulted in many families gaining status and power in the two nation’s governments through investing in war.

One of those such families in the nation of Royaume were the Cromwells, led by the cold and ruthless Lord Charles Cromwell. The Cromwells put in a lot of their own money investing in the War, and those investments only came back to them tenfold, making them incredibly wealthy and very well-regarded among Royaume’s royal court. The King of Royaume needed all of the financial assistance he could get -- especially since he’d spent a lot of money to hire a mercenary from an outside country to assassinate the Crown Prince of Florence in an attempt to end the War, only for the War to go on unabated when the King of Florence coughed up a replacement heir. And as luxurious as the Royaumanian palace and many of its country estates looked, a lot of the lower classes weren’t getting their fair share, around paying for the soldiers at war. There were rumors that Florence was better-off, since they simply used black magic to make money and food appear out of fat air, but that was widely considered to be unfounded rumors. Royaumanians were very distrustful of magic and those who practiced it, and Florence’s harboring of witches and wizards didn’t do much to endear the common man to their enemy country.

This was why, one day at the local market in Royaume’s capital, there was a lot of fuss made when one of the street vendors -- an old miser named Argus Filch --  suspected a strange man of buying ingredients for a potion.

“I’m not stupid, boy,” said Mr. Filch, looking over the stranger with suspicion. “You think those things you’ve been picking up like a crow look like anything other than some kind of black magic recipe?”

The stranger in question -- a young, tanned, black-eyed man with a beard and slightly-too-long dark hair -- responded with remarkable calm.

“I assure you, sir, black magic is certainly not my intention,” he said quietly.

“Oh yeah?” challenged Mr. Filch. “What’s all this for, then?”

“A friend,” the young man answered.

“A friend, eh? Some nasty old witch in the forest, I’m sure -- thinking of mixing up some poison potion -- ”

“Is there a problem here?”

Both men looked up, very startled.

A young lady astride a white horse had just come to a stop beside them. She was dressed in a light yellow gown with green sleeves and her ginger hair was done up in netting decked with pearls. It was a peculiar sight, to see so well-dressed a woman riding her own horse through the market rather than riding in a carriage, even if she did ride side-saddle.

The ginger-haired lady glanced at the dark-haired stranger out the side of her almond-shaped blue eye. Although her face was as stoic as a marble statue’s, there was something about her gaze that caught his attention. It was discerning, and yet...not cold. Not condescending.

The lady then turned to Mr. Filch.

“Good sir,” she said, “why do you harangue my escort?”

The dark-haired stranger blinked, but otherwise kept the surprise from his face. Mr. Filch himself blinked several times in rapid succession.

“Y-your escort?” he sputtered. “Then...you’re who he was shopping for?”

“That I am,” said the lady very coolly. “Is there a problem with my purchases?”

“W-well, yes, in fact!” Mr. Filch stammered, his suspicion returning even though he was clearly intimidated. “What could a fine lady such as yourself want with this sort of...pagan nonsense?”

The lady raised her eyebrows dryly. “‘Pagan nonsense?’”

“Yes!” said Mr. Filch, his voice becoming a bit louder in his defensiveness. “Rosemary, henbane -- ”

“I require rosemary for the kitchen staff, to season our meals,” said the lady at once. “And henbane makes for pleasant incense -- we use it to stifle the smell of cigar smoke, after large parties.”

Filch looked a bit abashed.

“...And what about the absinthe? That stuff’s pretty strong...and the catswort...”

“My uncle brews drinks with absinthe, as a palette cleanser after large meals....and surely you yourself know of how much house cats enjoy catswort? I believe I see cat fur on your coat.”

“Well, yes, but...but what about the Mandrakes?” challenged Filch. “That is pretty occult, if I’ve ever -- ”

“The Mandragora plant has some of the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen,” the lady said, and her blue eyes grew a little narrower. “Now have I satisfactorily nullified your concerns? I’m afraid I have an urgent appointment at the palace, and I know my grandfather Lord Cromwell would be very displeased if I was late for it because someone suspected his family of aligning themselves with witchcraft.”

Mr. Filch suddenly went very, very white. “L-Lord Cromwell!? Y-you’re related to -- ?!”

He abruptly prostrated himself before her. “My lady!”

The display actually seemed to make the young Lady Cromwell look incredibly uncomfortable -- as if she hadn’t intended for the threat to make the vendor react with quite so much anxiety.

“Rise, please,” she said, and her voice seemed oddly remorseful. “That’s not necessary. Just be on your way and leave this man be, please.”

“Yes, my lady!” said Mr. Filch very quickly, looking no less anxious. “O-of course, my lady...”

With that, he slunk away, back down the street toward his stall.

Lady Cromwell looked down at the dark-haired stranger again. His sparkling black eyes had not left her face for almost the entire exchange and were very difficult to read.

“Have you bought everything you need?” she asked under her breath.

The stranger inclined his head in a single nod. “Yes.”

Lady Cromwell nodded in return, a very small smile touching the corners of her red lips. “Good. Walk beside my horse for a block or so. I’ll escort you out of the market, so you can head home.”

She flicked the reins and started her horse off at a leisurely trot. The dark-haired man hesitated briefly, before adjusting the basket under his arm so that the handle hung on his shoulder and following her.

“That was some very clever thinking on your part,” he said quietly.

Lady Cromwell raised her eyebrows.

“You seem surprised,” she said dryly. “Have you never encountered a clever woman before?”

“On the contrary,” the man replied, “I’m fortunate to count several as my friends. But I must confess, I did not expect such kindness from someone in your position.”

“And pray, what ‘position’ is that?”

The man inclined his head respectfully. “A lady of the Cromwell estate, of course. After all, as you yourself said...your grandfather most assuredly would be offended if someone associated him and his family with witchcraft.”

Lady Cromwell shot a quick glance at him out the side of her eye. Then she faced forward again.

“...I suppose I...have never been that much like the rest of my family,” she said softly. “Excluding my brother.”

“The young Lord Tristan Cromwell?” asked the man.

“No -- Jacob Cromwell,” she replied. “He’s at the war front.”

The man’s dark eyes flickered with a strange, sad glint.

“I see...”

The lady brought her horse to a stop and faced the man more fully.

“Well then, this is where I leave you. I’m sorry if it requires more of a walk for you to return home, but I must be off to the castle -- I’m already running behind.”

“It’s no problem at all,” said the dark-haired stranger. “It truly is not so far of a walk for me.”

Lady Cromwell nodded politely. “Very well. Farewell, then, Mr...?”

“With respect, my lady,” said the man with a slight wry smile, “perhaps it’s best that we not share our identities.”

The red-haired lady cocked her eyebrows sardonically. “Seems rather rude of you, considering you already know mine.”

“Ah, but I don’t, truly,” said the stranger, and his black eyes sparked with something almost mischievous. “I know your family name, yes, but that’s not who you are, is it? And truthfully even who you are now isn’t really that important. I’d say who you wish to be is far more telling than who you are at the present moment.”

Lady Cromwell raised an eyebrow, intrigued a bit despite herself. “Really? And who do you wish to be, sir?”

His black eyes twinkled a bit more, making them resemble two miniature night skies with hundreds of tiny pinprick stars.

“...A free man.”

Lady Cromwell’s eyes actually softened a bit, almost sympathetically.

“...Well, I hope you achieve that dream, Mr. Freeman,” she said in an unusually kind voice.

She flicked the reins of her horse.

“Farewell!” she called behind her.

Despite himself, the dark-haired stranger felt his face breaking into a broad smile as he watched her gallop away.

“Farewell,” he murmured, “Lady Cromwell.”

Not long after she was out of sight, a familiar black carriage appeared around a corner, and the door cracked open so that one could enter it. With an airy sigh, the dark-haired man climbed into the carriage and shut the door behind him, before the carriage rode off.

Not long after, the woman who’d been called “Lady Cromwell” arrived at the Royaumanian palace. She received a lot of attention from the castle staff for her mother’s old dress and formal hair and make-up -- and when she approached the thrones of the King and Queen, she startled everyone with her greeting.

“Your Majesties,” she said lowly, her blue eyes downcast to the floor to obscure the faint nerves she felt, “my name is Carewyn. Lord Cromwell sent me, so that I may serve his Highness, the Prince.”

The King looked very startled. “Lord Cromwell? Then...”

His face suddenly burst into an incredulous smile.

“...Why then, you’re the new maidservant! Lord Cromwell’s serving girl! My, but you have cleaned up -- I never would have guessed!”

“Clearly Lord Cromwell treats his servants well, if even they look the part of a courtier,” said the Queen, and she couldn’t help but giggle behind her hand.

Carewyn successfully resisted the urge to scoff. Charles most certainly had not told her to come dressed in her mother’s old dress or doll herself up quite this much -- he wanted Carewyn to be eyes and ears for their family, not to draw attention away from her cousins vying for the Prince’s hand. But Carewyn had her own reasons for wanting to make a good first impression.

“Come nearer to me, child,” said the Queen.

Carewyn obeyed politely. She still had some trouble meeting the King and Queen’s eyes, but she kept her composure as best she could.

“Turn for me.”

Faintly confused, Carewyn nonetheless did so. The Queen looked very pleased.

“Oh, she’s just like a little china doll!” she said through a simpering smile. “Prince Henri is going to have such fun with her, wouldn’t you say, dear?”

“Yes, yes, indeed,” said the King with a chortle. “I don’t know if you’re aware, Carewyn, but my son has quite a knack for -- ”

“Father!”

Carewyn couldn’t stop herself from turning around in surprise as the man who had to be Prince Henri strode up the hall.

He certainly was dressed the part, that was for certain. He wore a doublet made of gold-trimmed purple velvet complete with a brocaded cape and a matching hat and breeches with white stockings and gold-buckled black shoes.

“Henri, how good of you to join us,” said the Queen brightly. “Carewyn -- this is Henri Lancelot-Yves Andre -- Crown Prince of Royaume.”

Carewyn curtsied politely. “It’s an honor, your Highness.”

The dark-skinned prince Henri gave a bright white grin. “Ah, then you’re the new maidservant! I think I can see why you were sent over -- your fashion is on point, despite your dress being of an older style...”

He offered a hand politely to her.

“Come -- we must get you fitted appropriately!”

With faint hesitance, Carewyn rested her hand on top of the prince’s and followed him out.

“Fitted, Your Highness?” she asked. “I thought I merely would receive a uniform, once I arrived.”

“Oh, you will,” said the Prince brightly, “but no member of the castle staff is going to wear a uniform that doesn’t fit her properly -- I’ll need to tailor it. And please...call me Andre.”

Meanwhile, the dark-haired stranger called “Freeman” was getting an earful from the man in the carriage.

“Orion, you can’t keep running off every time you’re able to sidestep your attendants,” said the blond-haired man in the carriage. His arms were crossed, and although his expression was grave, it wasn’t particularly strict or reproachful. “There’s a lot of military strategy to discuss.”

“I learn a lot more about our enemy here on the streets than I ever could in a tower, McNully,” said Orion serenely. Once he’d finished organizing his basket of herbs, he lay it down on the seat across from him. “Don’t let me forget to deliver that to Miss Haywood, for the wounded.”

“You could stand to learn about your enemy in both places,” said McNully, “and you could also stand to think a bit more critically before disguising yourself and wandering across the border. Do you know what the Royaumanians would do, if they caught you?”

Orion considered this. “Hmm...perhaps that would make a good strategy. Cleopatra herself apparently smuggled herself inside a rug, so as to parley with Julius Caesar -- ”

“Yes, but Cleopatra’s older half-brother hadn’t been killed on Caesar’s orders beforehand,” McNully cut him off a bit more forcefully.

He sighed heavily.

“Orion...I understand you never asked for any of this. I mean, of all the people I could’ve seen becoming heir to the throne of Florence, I’d have said you only had a 3% chance of being picked.”

“Much obliged,” said Orion with a rather placid smile.

His face then grew a bit more serious.

“Even so,” he said quietly, “it’s my responsibility. And so is ending this war, preferably in such a way that balance is restored.”

“Kind of hard to do, when Royaume seem more interested in killing off royal family members than negotiating,” said McNully. “At this rate, I’d say the odds are slim they’ll accept peace over all-out surrender -- 10%, tops.

Orion shook his head. “Its leaders, maybe, but not its people. There is goodness among them. Patience, tenacity, loyalty, and fire. A desire for peace and stability, in place of war and loss.”

“And an irrational hatred of us, bred out of a fear of everyone and anyone even slightly associated with magic,” McNully pointed out.

“Not all of them feel that way.”

“A good 98% do.”

Orion glanced out the window at the large wall that marked the border of Royaume and Florence. Positioned in the distance were a battalion of Royaumanian soldiers shooting their guns and yelling -- no doubt they were being distracted just long enough for their carriage to slip through unnoticed.

“However slim the number,” said Orion quietly, “there are those here who don’t fear the unknown and mysterious -- whose kindness gives them courage...”

The face of the ginger-haired lady he’d met in the market rippled over the Florentine Prince’s mind again, and his lips curled up in a small smile.

“That’s something we can count as a blessing and use to our advantage.” 

[wing-ed-thing]

Cliché (shy!Reader x Might Guy, Part II)

Hi everyone! It makes me so happy to see that others enjoy my dumb little stories. Ngl I’m fairly self-conscious about my writing style, but I like writing it and people enjoy it so I’m happy! Anyway, Tumblr isn’t letting my post show up in the tags if I have a link, so part I is on my Masterlist pinned on my blog. Apologies for the inconvenience!

“No, no… no, no, no, no… ” you muttered, head in your hands and grasping at your scalp. Your knees pulled to your chest as you sat in the hospital cot. You folded your body into a ball. You were mortified, horrified. Not only did you pass out, but your crush of a decade-long-plus carried you to the hospital. You could die. You kept repeating the words louder to yourself, “No, oh my god, oh my god...”

“It’s not so bad, (Y/N)-chan.” Kurenai reassured you in an attempt to sound nonchalant. She looked upon you in your overreacted state and moved an arm around your shoulder. She tried her best to give a reassuring smile. “You passed out from getting within a foot of Maito-Kun, so what?” Her wording only served to make you groan.

Kurenai was the only one you had ever told about your crush on Guy (not that most everyone else didn’t know already). She thought that you just should have talked to him in the academy days, but considering it took you this much time to work up the nerve, she supported your “casual walk” plan with resignation. But when she saw Guy carrying you to the hospital after “morning training”, she knew what must have happened. She sighed, luckily the training grounds were close to the hospital. She could only imagine what would have happened if you actually tried asking Might out of a date.

Now as you sit up in your hospital cot, she couldn’t help but hold back a snicker. She was of course going to be a supportive friend, even if this whole situation was ridiculous. You were passed out over Might Guy for Jashin’s sake! And to make matters worse, now you were stuck at the notoriously busy Konoha general all morning waiting for Shizune to come discharge you. You definitely reminded her of a certain student…

You raised your head, resting your chin on your knees. You sighed.

“I knew I couldn’t hold an actual conversation, but I didn’t think I’d actually pass out!” Kurenai couldn’t hold back a chuckle this time.

“It just means that you’ll do better next time for sure!” You give Kurenai a look of gratitude for her positivity, even if she was laughing a bit. The pit in your chest and burn on your cheeks wouldn’t clear up anytime soon, but the support of your friend was reassuring.

“I don’t know how the bar could be any lower,” you muttered. Kurenai looked sympathetically at you. Before she could comment, Shizune came through the door.

“I heard you overdid it training again?” she inquired in a slightly exasperated tone. You had a flashback to Guy. The hand on his chest. The toned muscle under his jumpsuit.

“Yep!” you blurted, “Just training! Nothing else!” Yeah, she didn’t believe that for a second.

“You have to take it easier,” she humored you, coming closer to check you for injury, “We can’t have you blacking out on the battlefield.”

“Yeah, I know,” you tell her, scratching your head sheepishly. You were relieved that people just thought you overworked yourself training. Unbeknownst to you, Shizune knew better. “One-time thing I promise!”

Shizune rolled her eyes before formally discharging you from Konoha General. Kurenai walked you out. The two of you chatted happily. It’s not all the time that busy shinobi like you have downtime to just shoot the breeze. However, that smile soon faded as you spotted Might Guy standing by the entrance. Great, Kurenai will have to catch you this time. You froze. He looked as if he just ran there as he stood by the gate stretching his quads. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked in the golden evening glow.

You shook the thought out of your head and tried to move behind Kurenai. Quickly sensing your nervousness, Kurenai tugged you forward by the shirt. You flinched as you walked out of the hospital.

“Ah! Kurenai-san!” Guy exclaims, running up to the pair of you, “(Y/N)-san, I came to check on you after I finished my morning training!” He came back to check on you. You were touched, but your gratitude came off only as an awkward laugh.

“Which round, the third or fourth?” you inquired, too tense for it to come off as a full joke. Guy didn’t notice though.

“Ha! You got me there, (Y/N)-san!” His laugh was jolly. You always liked his laugh, it made you smile. You always liked that about his nature. You didn’t talk to Might Guy a lot, but when you did, no matter how awkward you were he always seemed happy to see you. A small blush formed on your cheeks.

Kurenai looked at you, then at Guy. Yep, definitely reminded her of a certain two students.

“Guy, you’re right on time! Perhaps you can walk (Y/N) home because I have to-” she paused- “Check up on my team, I promised! You’ll take care of her, won’t you Guy?”

You looked at Kurenai in acute terror.

“Of course I will!” Guy proclaimed, unaware of the exchange between yourself and your friend. Kurenai patted you on the shoulder as she walked out of the gates.

“Judas!” you hissed under your breath as she left. Kurenai smiled at you innocently. You’ll thank her later. You turned back to face Guy.

“Really Guy, I don’t want to put you out more than I already have.” You gestured towards him. “I was going to go to the market for dinner anyway! You probably have more training to do.”

Guy stood by your side, chest puffed and grin on his face. You smiled at his smile.

“Nonsense! Let me help you, (Y/N)-san!” He looks off to the side, looking a little dejected. “I also want to make sure you’re okay, ” he admits. His shoulders slump a bit, his confidence replaced with sheepishness and a slight pout. An adorable pout. “I can’t help but feel responsible… overwhelming you with the power of youth and all...” Yeah, youth… that was it.

“No, not at all, Guy-san!” you squeaked.

“So you’ll let me accompany you?” It was less of a question and more of an eager statement, but how could you say no? Guy pepped up right away as he dragged you out of the gates of Konoha General in the direction of the market.

You walked down the street together. You were content to listen as Guy spoke passionately about his training today and his students. His eyes lit up the more he spoke. There’s that passion you admired. There’s someone who loves what he does. Your shoulders relaxed as you two walked along. You laughed loudly at his exaggerated gestures. People were staring as the two of you walked passed. That was something you would have normally, self consciously noticed, but not this time. What you also didn’t notice, was the pure look of happiness that swept through Guy when you smiled.

“I hope I’m not boring you. Most people don’t let me go on about training for this long!” Guy confessed. You both stood at a stall in the market as you looked over vegetables.

“I-” you paused and met his gaze. Like hearing you speak? Like your passion? Enjoy being with you? Don’t understand how someone couldn’t enjoy being with you?- “I don’t mind.” You resumed picking your vegetables. Guy insisted on holding your bag for you. He chuckled.

“Well, I’m relieved.” He gave you a wink as you placed a vine of tomatoes in the bag. You quickly looked away, expecting him to continue talking about his team, but he didn’t. It wasn’t like him to be so silent. You glanced and saw his face was pensive. The both of you continued moving along. The paper throw-away bag he carried getting more and more full. He spoke your name.

“I hope you know that you can speak your mind.” You wavered. He continued, “You seem like you have something to say or you’re thinking about something. I just want you to know that you’re welcome to share that with me.”

Shocked, you hesitated. You couldn’t recall a time when anyone invited you to openly speak your mind. He wasn’t demanding of you impatiently, but encouraging. That was definitely a new one for you.

“You make everything sound so simple. I wish I was like you. I couldn’t do what you do,” you admitted. Everything was telling you to hold back and to stop speaking, but his words rolled around in your head. “I enjoy hearing about your team and your training, please tell me more.”

You never thought you would see the day that you had a full one-on-one conversation with Guy (especially at a relatively close proximity!), but today was that day. He indulged you as you walked back to your apartment, talking about whatever it was that you asked about. After all, you were content in your listening. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all. You could definitely get used to this. It was new, but you liked it: the peace of mind his presence brought, how he never steamrolled you when you chimed in, laughing when the leaves of the celery stalks flew into his face. However, your conversation soon came to a close as you soon found yourselves in front of your front door. You thanked him for walking you home as he handed you your groceries. You felt like you should say something, but nervousness delayed you.

“Um… thank you, Guy-San,” you stammered.

“Of course! Anytime, (Y/N)-san.” he gave his signature thumbs up. You gulped, thinking about his words from the market. Was it that easy to tell how often you held back? You knew that at some point you would like to be a more open person, but fear often got in the way. You observed Guy and wanted to grow and he gave you the room. For someone so loud, not once did he interrupt you when you spoke. He was telling the truth; you’re welcome to share with him. He inspired you to be better, to reach your goals, and he didn’t even know it. So, at the risk of fainting again, you went for it.

“I enjoyed talking to you, perhaps we could do it again!” you anxiously exclaimed at a higher volume than you probably should have. Guy liked the energy, even if it was wrapped in nervousness.

“That’s a wonderful idea! Indeed we should!” he agreed.

You blanked the rest of the conversation. You didn’t even remember waving him off or stumbling into your apartment. The only thing you could think of was that you have to tell Kurenai.

[sunnydaisy1]

Flights Delayed

SAM WILSON X READER

A/N: why is this not my life??? I love Sam and this beautiful human being who sent in this request. I loved it and couldn’t wait to post this piece. Hope you like it :)

REQUEST: I saw your call for Sam Wilson requests on your arts and crafts fic, which was excellent by the way, and I thought I might send one in! How about reader as an avenger who either can’t make it home for Christmas, or doesn’t have a home to go to. And Sam stays with them at the compound and they stay up watching Christmas movies, until reader falls asleep on his shoulder. I’m a sucker for some Christmas fluff! ❣️🎄🎁 - Anon

You thanked Happy as you climbed out the car, pulling out your suitcase and shutting the door. You giddely walked towards the airport entrance, finding the right area for Terminal 2. This Christmas you were staying with your family for the first time in 2 years. You couldn't wait to arrive home and feel the familiar comfort of your childhood home and forget about the stress and panic of the world for a few days. Soon, you found the waiting area for flight 227 and sat down amongst many awaiting adults, eager to go home to see their families. You checked the flight board, smiling at the green notices saying all flights were on time and that yours left in 35 minutes. Pulling out your phone from your puffer jacket, you noticed that you had a notification from the groupchat you shared with Nat, Sam, Steve and Bucky called SPYKIDS. Sam: hope your flight is good y/n, have a nice christmas x Steve: gonna miss you at the compound :) Nat: enjoy the break lovely xx Bucky: Sam is waiting for you to reply Y/N i can see him checking his phone every 30 seconds. Sam: am not Steve: liar Sam: shut up Bucky: dont be rude sammy Sam: I hate it when you call me that and you know it 😑 Nat: not when y/n says it you don't Steve: ....exposed ☕ Sam: wish id never said anything now 🤦‍ Nat: hehe You chuckled and sent back a text Y/N: thanks guys haha, have a lovely christmas sammy x You clicked on spotify and opened some music up, putting in your headphones to pass the time. Around 10 minutes later you noticed a lot of people were starting to talk louder and there was a bit of commotion. You turned round to see where everyone was looking and your heart dropped. Snow. It was fricking snowing outside. Normally you would have been ecstatic at the sight of snow at Christmas, but right now it only meant one thing. Delayed flights. You glanced up at the flight board and saw only one flight had been delayed. Crossing your fingers and praying to any power there may be, you sat down in your chair and searched the weather on your phone. Just 10 minutes later, the airport was chaos central. Almost all flights had been delayed and the frustration of tired people was rising. You had been flicking between the glass windows which looked out over the runways and showed you the increasing precipitation to the flight board. Your flight hadn't been classified as delayed yet and you could sense everyone around you was waiting with baited breath at whether it would change to delayed. You shifted in your seat and watched with utter sadness and irritation as the letters next to your flight number switched to state DELAYED. You groaned alongside the other awaiting passengers, just hoping for a miracle so the snow would clear up soon. This frustration unfortunately didn't fade away and as the minutes passed by, you felt a christmas surrounded by family slowly drifiting away. The snow was falling heavier now and you dreaded looking at the flight board, knowing the glaring orange letters would not ease the tension in the atmosphere. You glanced down at your phone, seeing it had been over an hour since your flight was meant to have left. A sudden speaker crackled and everyone looked up in hope, "We thank everyone for waiting patiently for information on their flights. Unfortunately, the snow has not cleared and the runways are becoming increasingly dangerous. It is expected that their condition will not improve so we must regrettably inform you that all flights scheduled for today have been cancelled. Our staff will be happy to help you find temporary accommodation and we will continue to update you on flight statuses. Thankyou." At once, the airport exploded into an uproar and angry passengers stormed towards the information desks. Your heart sunk as the flight board wiped out to display all cancellations. How were you meant to arrive home in time for Christmas now? You didn't want to spend christmas eve at an airport. Tears threatened to fall from your blurry eyes as your perfect christmas slipped away. You sniffled a little and unlocked your phone, deciding that texting your mum was best. You explained the situation and you got an instant reply, stating she was incredibly sorry and that they would all miss you tomorrow. You arranged with her to fly home on the 27th so you could still spend some of the holiday with your family. Sitting back in your seat, you looked around at the mania of tired passengers and wondered what you were going to do now. You had no clue if anyone was even staying at the compound over Christmas. Racking your brain for someone to call, you decided Tony would be the best as he would know everyone's wearabouts. He picked up after the second ring: 'Hey kid, everything okay?' he asked, concern in his voice. 'Urh no not really, all flights today have been cancelled and I don't know where to go.' You replied, trying not to burst into tears. 'Oh Y/N im so sorry. I can get someone to pick you up and drive you to ours if you want, I'm sure Morgan and Pepper would love to spend Christmas with you.' You sighed at Tony's kindness but the least you wanted to do was intrude on their private time and plus, the drive would take at least 8 hours in this weather now. 'That's really sweet but the roads are jammed Tony. Is anyone staying at the compound?' 'Yeah, Sam is currently there now and Steve and Bucky are going over tomorrow.' Tony replied and you sighed in relief. 'Okay thanks, I think I'll stay there with them.' 'Okay kiddo, call me if there's anything you need.' 'Will do, merry christmas Tony." "Merry Christmas y/n." You hung up on Tony and searched for Sam's contact, clicking on it and hearing it ring a few times before his gravelly voice came through. "Y/N i thought your flight had left?" He asked and you rubbed your forehead, a headache weeding itself into your brain, "Uh no, all flights have been cancelled because of the snow." At once, you heard Sam get up and his voice fill with concern, "Love I'm so sorry, I'm coming to pick you up now." You nod and sniffle, "Okay, thanks Sammy." "No worries, I'll be there as soon as I can."He replied. You picked your stuff up, heading for the terminal exit to wait in the pick up area. You sunk down into one of the padded seats, closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall. God you hoped Sam would arrive soon. Sam walked into the pick up waiting room, scanning the huge crowd for your familiar body. He weaved in and out of people until he spotted your defeated frame, slumped in a chair. His heart sunk at your sniffling and tear-stained cheeks. "Oh love I'm here." He said as he squatted down in front of you. You opened your eyes to see his face, brows furrowed. "Sorry for being a pain." Your hoarse voice croaked out. "Nonsense. Let's get you home." Sam replied, wrapping an arm around you and carrying your bag and suitcase despite your attempts to stop him. You shivered as you exited the building into the nipping air and Sam pulled you closer, heart breaking at your shivering form. He took you over to the car and opened the passenger side, letting you slide in before shutting it and placing your luggage in the back. He climbed into the drivers side and turned the engine on, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his lap and hug you whilst you cried. But, that would cross over the boundary that clearly defined your relationship as 'Just Friends' so he had to make do with holding your hand across the console. After a while, you stopped crying and your body had relaxed into the warmth of the car, easing your throbbing head. You softly spoke to Sam, "Thankyou for coming to get me, I know this isn't how you wanted to spend your Christmas Eve." Sam chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your hand, "Its alright love, driving home a snotty girl definitely wins over watching another of Steve's movies." You laughed slightly, greatful for Sam's attempts to cheer you up. Sam beamed as he glanced at you, "how does me and you and some Christmas movies with a shit ton of food sound to cheer you up?" You smiled and looked at Sam, "that sounds lovely." When you had arrived back at the compound, Sam had told you to go and get showered and change into comfy pyjamas whilst he got some food ready and you couldn't muster the strength to disagree when that sounded perfect. You walked into your room, freshly clad in a pair of warm joggers and an oversized tshirt, feeling a lot more relaxed about the situation, knowing a Christmas spent with 3 of your favourite people would be amazing and that you would see your family very soon. Sam knocked on your door when you were finding a pair of fluffy socks, one of his hoodies in hand. "Thought you might want one of these, I know you steal my hoodies when you think I'm not looking." You felt heat rise to your face, embarassed but taking the hoodie none the less, knowing the cozy fabric and relaxing smell would calm you. "Thanks." You replied, making Sam grin. "Foods ready, where did you want to have it?" He asked, watching you tug the hoodie on. "Oh uh if you don't mind my bed is looking really inviting right now." You replied, tugging on the ends of the hoodie's arms. "Sure thing." Sam winked at you before walking in the direction of the kitchen. Your heart fluttered at the gesture and you shook the thoughts out of your head as you scooted under your bed covers and sat up against one side of the headboard. Not 5 minutes later, Sam returned, quesadillas and popcorn in hand, grinning at your swamped form in the bed. "Oh you're a godsend." You said as he handed you a plate of your favourite food. Sam chuckled and placed the popcorn on the bedside table. "Do you still want me to join you or do you want to be left alone?" He asked considerately and your stomach jumped at how sweet he could be. "No there's room for you, scoot over here Sammy." He grinned and clambered in bed next to you, his own plate of quesadillas resting on the duvet covering his lap. "So what will it be Elf or the Holiday?" You asked Sam, mouth already full of cheesy goodness. "I don't mind." He said, watching you with so much adoration on his face that if Bucky or Nat had seen him they would have shipped him off to a deserted island so they didn't throw up at the sickening love radiating off him. "the Holiday it will be then. I'm in the mood for some Jude Law." You giggled, taking another bite of quesadilla and grinning at Sam. You continued to watch the movie together, finishing your food and somehow migrating towards each other while sharing popcorn, both of you excusing it as needing to be closer to share the bowl. You were gradually growing more tired, struggling to keep your eyes open as the rollercoaster of emotions you had experienced today had wiped the energy out of you. Sam tensed when he felt your head rest on his shoulder but relaxed when he saw your dozey gaze watching the TV. His body filled with warmth at this moment you were sharing and he dared to put an arm around you, pulling you closer to him so your head was now resting on his chest. He feared he had overstepped the boundary but you made no complaint and placed your hand beside your head on his chest. A small smile flickered across your face as you snuggled into Sam, his warmth washing over you and making you even more tired. Sam watched the credits for the movie roll out and was about to speak to you when he noticed your eyes were closed and your breathing had regulated out. His heart flipped at your sleeping form and he brushed the hair out of your face, turning the TV off and moving to get up. Your hand tightened on his sweatshirt though and a soft grumble came from you, "Dont leave." You mumbled, holding onto Sam. He nodded and scooched down in the bed so you were both comfortably laying down, "Night love." He said, stroking your back soothingly, "Night Sammy." You whispered, falling back asleep. You woke up, surprisingly warm and went to stretch when you felt a hard object in your bed. Your eyelids flickered open to reveal a softly sleeping Sam sprawled out onto your bed, your legs entangled. He looked so peaceful asleep, the creases that often littered his face due to worry smoothed out and leaving him looking even more heavenly. You smiled and went to get up, suddenly feeling an arm tighten around your waist and pull you towards Sam. "Where do you think you're going love?" He murmered, voice deep and laced with sleep. Your heart pounded and you looked at Sam who still hadn't bothered to open his eyes. "It's Christmas morning Sammy." You said, laying with his arm draped over your stomach. "Exactly- Buck and Steve won't arrive for another 3 hours yet so we can cuddle for longer." Sam replied, eyes opening to look at you, a smile cheekily spreading onto his face. "What-no-" You started, not understanding Sam's reasoning at all. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on you, moving so he was closer to you as he was lying on his front. "Just shut up and cuddle me." He said, smirking as he already nuzzled into your side more. You gave up, knowing you really didn't want to pass up the free offer to cuddle your favourite avenger for a bit longer. Maybe Christmas without your family wouldn't be so bad after all.

[mrfandomgage]

Ralsei: Do you have any stories?

Me: yeah, a few. As my name may apply, most are to things I enjoy

Ralsei: Oh? Can y-

Susie: Hey, we're back!

Lancer: I'm here too!

Me: Do you wish to hear a story?

Susie: A story? Can it at least have blood?

Kris: Susie, not everything needs blood. What does your story have?

Me: Death, violence, blood

Kris: ...

Susie: Yeah!

Ralsei: uh, how bad is it?

Me: I probably can't describe it as well as normal, but it's of my favorite creation. I'll tell the origins, the original story, and revisions.

Lancer: ...

Me: yes Lancer?

Lancer: Can I have some popcorn?

Me: yes

*One popcorn break later*

Me: thanks for the microwave Jevil. Is everyone ready for the story?

All, plus Jevil: Yeah!

Me: The origin of Night Terror. Originally, she was only meant to be a Roleplay character. A character to be nothing but a puppet, for evil actions and tom foolery. However, she needed a backstory, and concept. I took from dreams and nightmares, and my little understanding of Freddy Krueger as a "Dream Demon" to kill in people's sleep.

Me: Her original story was bad. "Oh whoah is me. I've been killed to an uncountable number, and now I'm a being of pure vengeance that killed everyone in the world". So instead of dropping this character like others, I gave the ideas flesh and bone. Instead of being uncountable, it's uncounted and exaggerated. Instead of nonsense violence, I gave the violence flesh, abuse, to a point that'd break bones for one off action. Instead of being the sole reason her world died, it died around her as she got used to killing. I left the blood on her slit throat to let others know, she's already dead.

Susie: that sounds cool and all, but are you going to tell a story?

Kris, Whispering: Susie! Rude!

Me: No, I find that fair. Now one last stage to let you know her life being alive. Her true name is Frisk. She was a girl who was very, tired, in her world. I designed it to beat her down, just so she'd be willing to kill anything. Of course, it was hard for her, she was naturally a pacifist. She is a dream, a soul of positive energy. In a world of nightmares, they hated the energy she put off. Her own parents murdered her as a baby, but all they knew is that she put off less energy, when she woke up. So they devised to keep her energy low. They'd give her old hard as coal beds to keep her restless, if she was happy with a day, they'd shout at her for any tiny mistake or fault even when it wasn't hers. Those parents hated her favorite things, like vibrant yellows, and gave her only greys and traditional purples for special occasions, not that they wouldn't make those purple items irritable. Best of all for the parents, all they knew was that if they had really wanted to beat down their little girl til she bled on the carpet, not fully knowing they already have, she would be in misery for weeks. They never gave her bruises, she never had evidence when waking up again. She was bullied at school for sleeping at her desk, and when it got physical, it was something her parents could taunt her for. She had a friend, but he'd demean everything she said of herself. She tried to hang herself once, but when she woke up, all she could do was cry. One day, one the rare occasion she was forced to be out on the schoolyard, kids were talking of a legend. The kids taunted Frisk, stating what she believed herself. "Nobody wants you, you should climb into Mount Ebott, so you'll never return". That day, she confided in her friend, of her "nightmares" and the thought of Mount Ebott may ending her for good. Her friend tried to sew doubt into her mind of this plan, in the end, only making her cry, and giving her more reason to see to it that she could die. In the dead of night, she only took a flashlight and her purple clothes up with her to that mountain. She entered a cave and found a deep hole. She stepped to it, stood with her back facing the drop, and plunged herself into the underground. It took her a while, but she woke up. She woke up. She woke up. She was upset, but her friend was right. She met a giggling flower. "Ah, another human. You seem different, but does that matter? Have fun in your grave!" Frisk smiled at the thought of dying. She walked the tunnels and carved out cave to find a floor of spikes. She tried to drop herself onto them, only for them to retract from underneath her. While getting up, she notice that only sets of retracting spikes are sharp, while the ones that were out were as dull as rocks. She marched on, growing tired, and falling asleep in the halls. When she woke, she was in an old used bed, it was remarkable compared to home. Getting out of bed, she left the room, and tried to leave the house. Approaching the downstairs door, she caught flame. Her nerves screamed from end to end in torent pain, her lungs prayed for oxygen only taking in the smoke and ash of her own body, blood and flesh. She tried and tried and burned to ash, she finally found the monster burning her flesh, admitted she wished to leave. Learning that the monster didn't want her to leave. The monster ran to the exit with Frisk hot on their tail. Screaming and crying, the monster attacked her, I shouldn't have to say, but she had died multiple times. She became exhausted, and moved without thought, with her only thoughts to be to improve her movements, before falling to the cold. The snow was biting her senses, even though she just got some sleep, she was exhausted. As if she was walking for days. A loud snap reminded Frisk of her bones. She dropped to her knees in the freezing snow, and drops thinking something broken. In the first time in a while, the girl had a real friend. The friend talked to her, he convinced her that she was ok, and knew a place where she could rest... sorry, my throats getting dry

Susie: Awww... It was just a little interesting

Kris: could be better if you extended it

Me: I literally don't have enough text space or patience to do that yet. Trust me, I've wanted to make this story whole for a while.

Lancer: Can she at least be a little more happy? I mean, she is a dream and-

Me: no, she's constantly weakened by negative influences, mainly her own thoughts after what her parents did to her. Her only friendly relationship with other humans is still one that undermines her own thoughts and feelings. Her only dream, her only hope, is to not be useless.

Ralsei: it's good... but I have a question. Why was she born a dream?

Me: Dreams and Nightmares used to share a universe, and even though they started to hate eachother doesn't mean they didn't mix. After a rift of magic, the worlds split, and Dreams became a recessive trait to Nightmares and vice versa. It became extremely unlikely, but there's still a chance in one in a billion.

Kris: Why are monsters separated from humans?

Me: the amount of magical power to create that rift was only created by the power of monsters. Humans feared if war were to break, they too could be thrown into oblivion. Seven mages forfeited their souls to bind monsters and whoever entered. Monsters realized that they couldn't break the spell, due to the power of the seven souls, even with their collective power... can I please stop talking?

Jevil: How does she come back after dying?

Susie: When does she murder people?

Me: After blending her soul, Susie. She comes back because dreams were extremely persistent, practically a bunch of immortals. Nightmares knew this when they shared a universe, but as I said, they had a few generations and forgot. The only thing that can truly kill a dream is when they have no dream for themselves.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“Nobody Does it Better”

I’ve had this idea stirring in my head so I decided to plunge down into indulgent hell and actually write it. I usually write this kind of thing in 1st person so being in 3rd is a little strange for me. Anyway, Enjoy!!! Also the title is a song I’ve been listening to that has violent JuLisa vibes.

Pairing: Julius x Lisa (my OC fuck you)

Warnings: None. Just them being cute as hell as usual.

“This is going to be a disaster.”

“No it’s not!”

“A nightmare...”

“Lisa-”

“A war crime-”

“Lisa!”

Lisa was one of those people who tried her best to not be bothered by little things. As someone who stood in the top levels of power in the Kingdom, she needed to be that way. But sometimes, something would get in her head, like a raspberry seed in your teeth, and it would just stew there until she couldn’t take it any more. Lisa was good at hiding it, but not from Julius. So, when he inevitably realized something was wrong and asked, she nearly exploded.

“Julius, I should definitely stay home from this party. You know all those nobles make me nervous!” The short woman paced the floor, agitated, her shoes clicking rhythmically with each step. The two were taking a break from work (one of many so far today), and Julius watched with concern from his desk as the worries continued to mount. 

“You’ve lived here for four months, you know!” Julius reminded her in an attempt to quell her fear. “They’re all used to you by now... I think-” He gulped nervously. “But! Even if they’re not, it’s not like they’re going to do anything about it. I’ll be there too, remember?”

That’s right. Lisa nodded slowly, but his words only stirred more bitterness. Of course she would be okay if Julius was there... he was always the one who took the blame for her actions, who swooped in to deescalate problems she cause. Maybe Julius was perfectly fine with being a human shield, but for Lisa, it was a little humiliating. “Right...” She paused her pacing, her gaze turning slightly sad. “I’m sorry... I’m probably going to make you look like a fool-”

“No way!” Lisa looked up to see that Julius was already on his feet, walking over to her with that usual reassuring smile. “Lisa, you could never embarrass me. On the other hand, I think I’m the one who will embarrass you!” To his relief, Lisa’s worry instantly melted from her face and she let out a little giggle. “I mean it... you’re going to be fine.”

And somehow, Lisa believed it. At least, until later that night when the party actually started.

These opulent gatherings of royalty and nobility were quite commonplace in the castle. And since Julius was popular among them as well as the general population, he was usually expected to show up for a while. And he didn’t want to go anywhere without Lisa. However, this was by far the fanciest event Lisa had ever been to. She grew up in the common realm, in a town out in the middle of the woods, working in a tavern of all places, so this type of civilized crowd was far from her comfort zone. On top of that, there was bad blood still fresh between her and the nobility; just four months ago, the King himself worked to expel her from the Magic Knights and even attempted to execute her. No mercy came from the nobles, and Julius had to step in to save her life. It was an unjust, frustrating experience, one Lisa was now fated to carry forever, but tonight was like salt in the wound.

But Julius is right. I need to get used to this. I���m an advisor now, this is my new world, so I have to get along with nobles.

Easier said than done.

Julius went on ahead, so Lisa was alone when she finally poked her head into the crowded banquet hall. Very important looking people were everywhere, laughing, chatting, drinking, gossiping, all of it. Everyone was... glittering, almost, their outfits and appearances polished as much as possible, just another way to show how they shined in this matte world. And now, Lisa was feeling very, very matte. 

Hmm, maybe this isn’t a good idea- Her eyes darted around as she silently closed the door behind her, already feeling gazes pierce her skin. Not one of these people was someone she recognized, and Julius himself was nowhere to be seen. If he was ditching the event to look for magic, Lisa wished he took her with him. I can’t do this- Maybe I’ll tell him I had a stomach ache- or a fever- She shook her head. No, that’ll never work, I don’t get sick... Despite that fact, Lisa was getting close to feeling queasy. She couldn’t do anything but stand there awkwardly in the corner, in a dress much too fancy for her body, and wilt under the increasing glares from multiplying sources.

“... look.”

“It’s her.”

And now they were whispering, loud enough for Lisa to hear.

“Wasn’t she exiled?”

“No, just kicked out of the Magic Knights. What a disgrace.”

“For assaulting the king, correct?”

“And don’t forget, that affair with Lord Julius.”

“That affair is still going, that’s the only reason she’s here.”

“Disgusting.”

“Skank.”

“How unsightly...”

“That dress, too, who told her it was appropriate to show so much skin?”

“Whore.”

Lisa was used to being strong, but each word hit her like an arrow. She stood there and took each one, in rapid succession, and the only response was the slow but sure tightening of her fist. The memories of that day, her greatest humiliation, the day she was treated as something less than human, crashed down and started to drown her.

She was helpless.

I can’t do this... but I can’t run either...

“LISAAAAA!”

That voice cut through her thoughts, as gentle as a melody yet the strongest thing in this world. The whispers immediately ceased, and Lisa looked up to see why. Julius was basically sprinting over, a bug, dumb smile plastered on his face, along with the lingering shock of seeing her here, out of her element, and yet...

“My god-”

He finally skid to a stop, his eyes sweeping over her easily twelve times, taking in every inch of her skin and dress as he could, drinking it up like a man who hadn’t eaten in weeks even though he saw her just an hour ago. Finally, his lavender eyes met hers again, and Lisa felt her heart skip more beats than it had in a while.

“You’re easily the most lovely thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

...

Lisa wasn’t exactly sure what to say and Julius reached out and took her hand in his, the gesture as strong and sure as anything else the Wizard King did.

...how can you say that...

“Thank you...” Lisa finally responded, trying to swallow the swell of doubt that was threatening to come leaking out of her. This is what I get for being protected so much... I forget how much it hurts for people to talk to me like this. The best she could do was distract herself and try to ignore the dirty glances. Julius was here now, after all, so maybe it would be alright. “You’re looking pretty hot yourself.”

“Hot?” Julius repeated, a light blush appearing on his cheeks as he laughed off the praise. Despite dishing out compliments at every opportunity, receiving them always made him feel a bit sheepish. “That’s high praise, coming from you.”

Lisa couldn’t help but let out a little giggle, eagerly slipping her arm around his to get closer. Despite the two of them being together for more than a year at this point, being this close to him, feeling the rub of his sleeve against her skin, the way he moved under her hand...

It’s like there’s magic inside him.

“Is something wrong?”

Lisa blinked, and realized that once again she had been unresponsive. “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.” She gave Julius a bright smile to quell his worries. “But I think your praise is a bit higher than mine-”

“Oh? Why should it be?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re the Wizard King?”

“Oh, right... I suppose my word is law. Well, it should be law! I decree that Lisa Petalon is the most beautiful woman in this room-”

“Julius-”

“-hell, the whole kingdom!”

“JULIUS!”

Julius snickered mischievously as Lisa turned more and more red with each embarrassing word that left his lips. “Well-” she cleared her throat once she composed herself. More people were still staring at the pair out of the corner of their eyes, but didn’t dare say anything now that Julius was here. “Too bad I have to go back to my old outfit tomorrow.” She glanced down at her temporary finery. To be honest, she did look quite good in the dress, even though it was something she would never wear again. But if her normal clothes seemed dull in comparison-

“Nonsense. You’ll look even more beautiful tomorrow, I’m sure.”

Of course, Julius would never let her think that.

“That’s crazy,” Lisa chuckled, smiling and nodding at people who walked by. Julius waved and smiled as well, but his attention was entirely focused on the woman on his arm. “If my beauty is peaking tonight, I’ll have to come off of that peak tomorrow, right?”

“No, no, that’s not how that works,” Julius objected, as if he were the lead authority on beauty mathematics, “It doesn’t ever go down... it just gets compounded, you know? Each time I see you is the sum of all the moments before, plus more-”

“Julius, please-”

“Just saying!” Julius’s other hand came to rest on the one on his arm, that gentle, kind smile shining down on Lisa like the sun itself.

... I still don’t get it sometimes.

Julius could see it, the doubts that had been stirred tonight. But his mission, as always, was to make things right. “It’s all true. There’s no one else in this world I want by my side tonight.”

Despite the fact that everyone was watching, and would definitely have something to say, Julius leaned down, his lips pressing against Lisa’s forehead for just a moment, right beside the ancient magical mark burned into her skin. The feeling of his lips against it sent a barely-noticeable shiver down her body, a memory of something they shared together not so long ago.

... how can you smile at me like that. 

The worry was faint, just a breath, a memory of a whisper. But it was quickly buried beneath the warmth that radiated from the man beside her.

And so, the night went on as smoothly as it could. Thankfully, Augustus didn’t show up, which was the worst case scenario Lisa had dared to entertain. Eventually Julius was forced to split his attention between Lisa and the others that wanted to talk to him. He was a popular guy, after all, but he never once let go of her hand as he chatted and made idle conversation with the people around him. It was like a silent challenge, despite the lack of a malicious gleam in his sparkling eyes. A decree, if you will. This woman deserves to be here. As much as any of you. 

Unfortunately, Lisa couldn’t just smile, nod, and look pretty the entire time.

“Hey, let’s dance!”

...d-dance?!

By the time Lisa understood what he meant, it was too late; Julius was dragging her over to the floor, where many other couples were already moving gracefully. “Ah! Wait, Julius, you know I don’t know anything about dancing! Er- at least, this type of dancing!” Sure, Lisa could dance just fine in a crowded tavern or inn, or gallop around the room arm-in-arm with her drunk comrades from the Crimson Lions. Ballroom dancing was an entirely different beast. 

“Nonsense! I’ll teach you, it’s not hard.”

“Teach?! Julius, the time to teach is before you have to do it for real!” Lisa objected, her voice a hushed, severe whisper. Julius didn’t listen, just pulled her closer, one hand in hers and the other holding her waist. “I-I don’t want to embarrass you-”

“Lisa.”

The sound of her name on his lips was enough to make her fall silent.

“I told you... that’s my job. I’m not letting you steal my job!”

And just like that, everything was okay. Lisa laughed along with him, a little louder that a proper lady should, but she was nervous. “And anyway-” Julius closed his eyes as he continued to smile down at her. “We can ‘cheat’ a little.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Cheat?”

“Yeah... you know...” Julius pointed to his own forehead, to the empty spot next to his Swallowtail mark. “I was taught how to dance when I was a kid... I could probably teach you real quick.”

“...oh...”

Lisa couldn’t help but smile at the thought, her heatbeat picking up in anticipation. The ancient magic within her gave her the power to share magic with Julius, but that link, the dyad, was much more than that. For a brief moment, the two of them ceased to exist, their minds and souls united as overwhelming power was passed between the two of them. They understood each other completely... and even though Lisa couldn’t help but doubt, Julius never did. Not once.

Together... that’s all we’re meant to be. 

No other words needed to be spoken. Lisa leaned up, and Julius leaned down. But before she could press her forehead against his, to take the memory he wished to share with her, Julius dodged, and their lips met instead.

... you big sap. Fine.

Each kiss was like magic, each one more potent than the other. Maybe it worked the way Julius described earlier... each kiss the sum of every one before it, plus a little more. Or, in this case, a lot more. Because it was potent enough to melt away the rest of the room, to shield them from the disapproving eyes, the disapproving world. 

For a brief moment, nothing mattered except the two of them. Nobody. Nothing. 

Finally, with a shallow breath, Julius released her lips, his eyes flickering open at the same time as hers. “So... what was that for?” Lisa whispered, trying to hide how absolutely thrilling that kiss was. Sure, it was quick, shallow, and chaste... but still...

“Do I need a reason to kiss you?” Julius countered, his little smirk equal parts infuriating and charming. 

“...no.”

“Good.”

His forehead pressed against hers, for just a second, and Lisa’s eyes widened. It was like a small spark of electricity, yet as powerful as a supernova. All at once, Lisa felt it... she felt like she had known how to dance her entire life.

Maybe it was dangerous to take in more of him, because maybe she would end up forgetting who she was. But that wasn’t so bad. Lisa wanted to be like Julius, after all.

“Got it?”

“Yeah...” The giddy feelings bubbled up like champagne. “I’m ready.”

The two of them danced off into the night, as graceful as can be, almost like they were extensions of each other’s bodies. As the others watched, even the most disgruntled critics had to admit...

“I suppose they look pretty good together after all.” 

[0poole]

Soul

Breaking news, everyone: Pixar made another slapper.

I’m gonna get it out of the way first, but the only (and yes, only. Not like someone trying to say “only” even though they have many more nitpicks that they just don’t want to talk about) problem I had at all was that the super high realism of the settings of Earth kind of made the more cartoony faces of the people look a little more off. But, it’s kinda like the same thing people were talking about with that cat in Toy Story 4. It looks super real, which is impressive, but I feel like it was almost too real compared to the faces. Obviously it was too real compared to the supernatural settings because that was intentional, but yeah. It’s not even a big problem, it’s just the only one I can think of. I do think the realistic renderings of hair, light, water, etc at least work with cartoony stuff, but apart from that it looked almost like it could’ve been a photograph, with no exaggeration in the buildings or anything else.

I mean, I love the faces, so I definitely wish they went the extra mile showing extra personality and character in the buildings, as faces do with characters. Considering the faces matter like a bazillion times more, I still think they knocked it out of the park on the visuals. People with more investment and knowledge into the topic already said that the faces of any of the people of color felt cartoony and unique while also being true to life and respectful (My family recently stumbled onto some old animations from the 30s and lemme tell ya... We’ve come a long way), but seriously the characters that sold me on the visuals were the Picasso-esque beings who may or may not be the Gods of the universe maybe?

Spoiler boundary of course. It’s definitely worth a watch.

And that’s honestly what made the realistic world so much better. When the accountant guy went into the real world to set the count right, it was one of the most fun I’ve had just watching something. The sheer contrast between him and the world was so much fun, and it even solidified that those beings weren’t even acting in a different dimension or anything. They’re literally just beings that exist, meaning that all the other parts with the unborn souls and such are just as real as Earth. Or, even better, they’re the ones who can just casually rip a hole in dimensions. As far as depictions of Gods go, if they are even Gods at all, I think they’re one of the best I’ve ever seen. They feel like they could actually be how Gods actually exist, since all the commonalities of Gods involve supernatural power, which would suggest they’re supernatural themselves. I mean, I have a story with Gods in it too and they’re basically just that although admittedly a lot less imaginative.

With those guys being my favorite design, second place definitely goes to the lost souls, although obviously for more subjective reasons. 1) They’re purple, 2) They have one eye, 3) That eye is yellow which I always think is the best compliment to purple, 4) Tentacles, 5) Creepy in a kid’s movie. Franky, I would’ve made them a lot creepier, but even then they’re super creepy, if not visually then in their behavior. They’d just be kind of sad if they were just mumbling around, but since the first introduction to them starts charging at the main characters like a deranged monster. Considering how weird everything in that dimension is, finding something that isn’t nearly as innocent as everything else instantly invokes fear, since you have no idea what that thing can and wants to do to you. Sort of similar, I would’ve also made the “In the Zone” moments a bit more crazy and colorful, like when Joe fell through the void between the road to the Great Beyond and the You-seminar (is that how it’s spelled?), but these “I would do it differently”s might just be a fault of my design ideas or just subjective interests. I would’ve watched 2 hours of pure, nonsensical abstract worlds like the You-seminar with no explanation to how they work.

I definitely have a relief with the story, mostly entirely revolving around 22′s character. I was kind of worried she’d be too childish to really enjoy, but I feel like she was done really well. All the major historical figures’ remarks on how hopeless she were both funny and also really tied into her character “flaw” at the end as she was a lost soul. It might not be the most unique character archetype of all time, but it definitely makes sense, with all the people bringing her down implanting in her mind that she was an anomaly, and after a while was just sort of following it. Plus, she seemed genuinely interested in Joe’s weirdness, instead of being super mindlessly irreverent. And her being able to expand Joe’s understanding about his own world, like with the barber and his student, brings her up as more than a whiny, bratty child in the scope of the story. She didn’t JUST learn.

Even though I kind of expected it from the get-go, I’m also relieved that the movie didn’t shy away as much with the dark elements of death. It was kind of suggested that this wasn’t going to be a perfectly casual romp through a magical afterlife like Inside Out was with the mind because of the unborn souls unabashedly saying “Hell” in the TRAILER of the movie. I feel like that alone made the story super interesting, because it shows they’re actually going to be a bit more serious with things instead of just simplifying the unknowable complexities of the before & afterlife. Even with the dead souls going into the Great Beyond, it was a mix of being weirdly peaceful for some and super scary for others. My family thought it was peaceful for the most part, but my mom specifically though it was terrifying, and even though it’s a lot more peaceful than almost all other depictions of death, I can’t blame her. The souls were just kinda accepting it, like they’d been brainwashed or something, but still acknowledged that they were dead and were going into the afterlife. Plus, Joe, being the main character who we are supposed to sort of reflect in a way, was super freaked out by it, so that could easily suggest it’s to be afraid of and the other people are the weird ones.

I think the true message of the story being so strange was better too, because it would’ve been so boring if it fell into a super basic message we’ve heard millions of times. I feel like it has a similar sentiment to the basic messages, but is at least a more interesting way of saying it, if it is even like that in the first place, because it’s also somewhat vague in a good way. I think my brother/mother misinterpreted and simplified things a bit too much, where they thought it was sort of like a happier way of saying “accept your lot in life and don’t change it.” I could probably go on a full other rant about why I think this is wrong, but part of it is I don’t really know how they came to this conclusion in the first place, considering with that scene with that guy who threw the computers off his desk as his lost soul was cured (I guess you could call it that?), who obviously realized he wasn’t okay with his lot in life and was destined to change it. I think they sort of misinterpreted “the spark” and other things it as a 100% for-real, this-is-how-the-real-world-works sort of way, and not as much as a fictional way of saying things. Not necessarily symbolic, but I guess symbolic also? It has some of the same weird logical problems as the Cutie Marks from My Little Pony, except they’re obviously better since Cutie Marks determine your life down to your very job some of the time, while “sparks” are more vague and seemingly up to you. They’re more like when an unborn soul realizes there’s something on Earth they want to figure out, not necessarily their hobbies or jobs. For example, they kind of cited the barber character as the one who supported their point, but I think he does the complete opposite. He wanted to be a vet, but he ended up being a barber. But, they sort of assumed his “spark” was to be a barber, and that his personal interests didn’t matter because the “spark” forced him into a less favorable job. But, in reality, I feel like his “spark” is more his interest in love for the people around him, which is why he decided to get a more practical job to support his daughter (wife? one of the two) when he really needed to. Plus, he still enjoys being a barber because his devotion to love lets him connect to people as he cuts their hair. After all, he seems to be succeeding in his goal, since Joe was just like “Hey, let’s go see this guy he’s the exact guy we need!” People who don’t show love and interest for others don’t make that kind of impression in people’s minds. I feel like if we knew each story of everyone’s life down to the last detail we could fully determine what the mechanics of the world and its people are meant to say from a fictional context, but with such a limited selection I don’t think you can say something so sure. Sure, every choice in a movie is made specifically for a purpose, but I feel like if a movie tries to hard to be like “Oh but don’t worry here’s an exception” a million times it gets bogged down by its own attempt to make the message as obvious as possible.

Anyway...

There are also a lot of neat little details I loved, like how even though they did this for basically no other point in the movie, they made sure to include people from all around the world in that mess of dead souls, firmly sort of putting in the idea that the entire globe is in a sense one single entity that leads to the same place. They could’ve so easily just made everyone speak English for that throwaway scene, but I feel like including people from all around the world was very beneficial. Even the EXTRA little things, like the path to the Great Beyond looking like the neck portion of a guitar with the metal bits that separate the notes, or the facial features of the Gods blurring when they turned their heads in the other direction.

But yeah, who would’ve guessed Pixar made another good movie, right? Even then, Soul’s in the upper echelon of Pixar films. I really hope they (and Disney) realize they can go bonkers with a movie and still benefit/survive from it, since they’re so damn rich and inherently profitable. I think AAA animated movies like this that are the perfect amount of artsy are few and far between, and we need more of them. If anything, I hope they get more artsy, but I guess I’ll still never say no to a fun fantastical romp either. Basically, Pixar has looped me into watching any and everything they produce because it’s never “bad” I think. In the grand scheme of quality, even their worst work (Cars 2) is still not “terrible,” per se, even if it feels like it exists more as a cash grab than a genuine tale.

[xadoheandterra]

@redvsbluesecretsanta of 2020 for @averagejoey2000

This took longer than I like to have written, but in being perfectly honest writing Grimmons is...not something I’ve had a lot of chance to practice, so it was an exercise in focusing on Red Team. It turned...out interesting. Not really so much as being openly gay/bi. It’s really just a lot of Griff pining with supportive Sarge, but...it IS Grimmons. And uh. It’s more mushy then I usually write. Soft red team and all that. And ah, slice of life is HARD. :/ So slice of canon life? (except not?)

I write angst for a reason. Mushy stuff is...hard. Some angst might’ve crept in, but I tried to keep it light and soft. I hope you enjoy it?

Power and Pine

Griff rolled himself over and stared at the ceiling with a tired sigh. He wondered if Simmons was awake; what time even was it? Half a glance at the alarm clock--and he hated the alarm clock; it went off at ass o'clock in the morning--let him know it was 2am. Griff muffled a groan, well aware that his bunkmate was bound to rip into him if he even so much as woke up the hard-ass. Taylor didn't understand anything except regulations and rules. Hell the fucker made the kiss-ass that was Simmons look like a rebellious teenager! Griff scrubbed his hand over his face and contemplated every utter mistake that had led him to this moment, awake at 2am, in a room with a bunkmate who couldn't care less if Griff lived or died, with Simmons just down the hall but unable to even so much as go and bother the ginger haired young man.

For a moment Griff laid then, thought maybe he could roll over and slip back into slumber and pretend that his bunk was the bunk back at Blood Gulch. For a moment Griff contemplated that chance--and then he quashed it a second later as his eyes slipped closed and he could see the way Sarge sat him down, peppered hair cropped short, face helmet free and pulled down into a grimace. It was the last clear memory of the man that Griff had, set in the mess hall of Blood Gulch, in the aftermath of Agent Texas and Blue Team.

"Son," Sarge said, voice gruff but softer than Griff had heard in recent months. Griff was used to Sarge's more callous nature; the man had gruff, toxic masculinity down to a fucking art form, and while at least eighty-five percent of it was pure bullshit, there'd always been an underlaying slight sadistic glee behind most of the insane stunts Sarge liked to pull. This softer, near kind Sarge had thrown Griff for a loop the first time it happened--after the accident with the puma that had near crushed him--and it no less put Griff off-kilter now. "I want you to listen, and listen well."

"Sir?" Griff had replied, voice pitched slightly with confusion. He was in fatigues instead of armor, safe in Outpost One after the bullshit of the last week. A neutral ceasefire had been called by Church, and agreed to amazingly enough by Sarge, in the aftermath of the dropship and the Freelancer Agents. There would be no shenanigan's or chicanery or anything of the sort in the foreseeable future.

"Command is going to relocate our team," the words were blunt, but they settled into Griff like a lead weight. He knew all about being relocated. First it'd been when the UNSC had deemed him unfit to continue service, and then when his service file had been picked up by Freelancer. He'd been deemed unfit to serve a second time and relegated as worth only a grunt, something to be used as potential canon fodder in training simulations. When he'd been picked for Outpost One on Blood Gulch it seemed like a fucking godsend--until now.

Still, Griff decided to be obviously obtuse because fuck they weren't going to separate them, were they? Despite their ups and many downs, the insane trips and troubles they went through, Sarge had been the best commanding officer Griff had ever had--and a part of that Griff knew came from the fact that the man was a failed out old helljumper. Sarge understood the actual horrors that evolved out of the UNSC as much as Griff did; he knew what being relocated to Freelancer, and then relegated to grunt work, actually meant.

"Are we finally getting an upgrade then?" Griff said, and Sarge gave him this look. The man knew what he was doing, and he wanted none of it. Griff looked away.

"As much as I wish we were getting a damn good retirement package," Sarge said, "that is not the case." His words were blunt, not coated in the typical insanity Griff was used to hearing from the man. "The orders haven't come through yet, but it's looking more like we're going to be split apart."

No, Griff wanted to curse, and he spat something out under his breath, something unfavorable, even as he made his protests clear. Sarge raised a hand.

"I know, son." A pause, then softer, "Dexter." Griff swallowed heavily. "I have a request of you, if you will." For a moment Griff said nothing, and so Sarge barreled on. "I'm going to try and keep you and Simmons together. Lord knows that boy doesn't have a lick of sense if it came and bit him in the ass; he'll need you to keep him out of trouble."

Griff snorted; he'd been doing just that ever since he met the skinny ginger haired menace. Half the shit Griff had gotten up to before coming to Blood Gulch had been trying to keep Simmons' ass out of the line of fire. It was far too pretty to waste the way most troopers in Freelancer went, although Griff could hardly tell Simmons that. He hadn't known the man well enough back then. Now? Well now it was because he knew the guy too well.

"I will, Sarge," Griff said instead. "Do you...have an idea of where they might reassign us to?"

"Not a one," Sarge grumbled. "Now I gotta go and try and talk some sense into that weaselly fuck up at Command. Keep an eye on Simmons while I'm out, y'hear?"

"Aye sir."

Griff muffled a sigh and opened his eyes. Yeah he wasn't getting any more sleep tonight.

"Stocking duty?" Griff drawled as he stepped into the storage room of Rat's Nest, a slight grin curled up under the helmet of his power armor. Visor buried in an open crate to manually count each individual roll of toilet paper, one hand wrapped around the PDA inventory list, Simmons grumbled near unintelligibly. Griff leaned himself against the side of the doorway, hip cocked to the side, as he took in the other. Even with the bulky power armor Simmons' lithe form was a treat to see, especially after a hard day stuck cleaning the mess hall in a base that barely let him feel comfortable.

"Shut up, Griff," Simmons grumbled out, voice tinny behind the helmet.

"You know you can do this in your fatigues, right?" Griff said, and Simmons huffed as he pulled his head out of the box.

"Eighty four," Simmons mumbled absentmindedly and marked something off on the PDA. Then he looked up and Griff could imagine him arching his eyebrow above his remaining organic eye. "I could say the same about you. Why are you in full power armor, Griff? I thought you hated the stuff."

Griff shrugged. He didn't say anything in response; he bet Simmons already knew. It was the same reason Simmons was doing something as simple a inventory management in full power armor, after all. Neither of them felt comfortable in Rats Nest. The the way they had back at Blood Gulch with Sarge at their backs. There they could at least trust that the bullet in the back or the explosion off to the side was not truly malicious in nature. Here all they could do was wait for the other shoe to drop. For a moment neither of them said anything, then Simmons turned his head back toward the box which he tugged closed and slipped back onto the shelf.

"Have you heard from Sarge?" Simmons asked. The bitterness that once coated his voice those first few days at Rats Nest were long gone now; Griff had worked hard to get the ginger to accept that Sarge contacted him and not Simmons because it was easier and not due to any failing on Simmons part. After all Kaikaina was allowed to contact Griff since they were siblings. It was through her that Sarge contacted Griff; Rats Nest at least could care less what Griff's sister had to say aside from laughing about what recent drama she'd written about.

They never noticed that over half of the nonsense Kai sent him was just that, nonsense. Griff doubted his little sister was honestly throwing illegal rave parties and orgies in Blood Gulch, or that she was dragging Sarge into that mess by his own damn pubes, forcing pot brownies onto him to get him to chill. Kai got up to some ridiculous shit, yeah, but she knew how to bullshit even better. Griff had taught her everything he knew, after all, before he'd been drafted by the UNSC.

"Nothing new," Griff said instead. "He's been left to do as he will in Blood Gulch. I think Command finally gave up on relocating him as long as Kai's there after the mess he made of the last dropship."

Griff and Simmons had quietly had a laugh about the dropship that had 'mysteriously' crashed while attempting to transport Sarge to his next assignment. The old fucker had survived thanks to not actually being on the dropship at the time. Kai'd laughed her ass silly in the message, words peppered with loud booming rave music that drove any eavesdroppers away from the video.

"What about Donut?" Simmons asked, even as he pulled out another box.

"Some sort of diplomatic mission, it sounded like?" Griff shrugged. "I don't know how he swung that. UNSC doesn't like to touch us troopers for anything." It wasn't a lie; any trooper in Freelancer was a trooper because they weren't worth the hassle in the regular outfit. They were misfits, drop outs, failures of all kinds. Either they weren't fit for actual live combat, or had some other glaring red flag in their file. In Griff's case he knew it was the raging depression and suicidal tendencies that came from being the sole survivor of his unit.

In Sarge's case it'd been the PTSD of his helljumper days. Too good to really let go, too fucked up to keep on the payroll.

Griff couldn't parse where Donut fell on the spectrum of trooper bullshit. The man was a damn good grenadier; good enough to fuck up a Freelancer Agent. How he hadn't been snapped back up by UNSC before now Griff didn't understand. Maybe it was the fact that Donut was a walking, talking lawsuit waiting to happen. He spat out innuendo like it was going out of style--every other word from that man's mouth as filthy as one could get.

"Huh," Simmons muttered. "I thought he'd be shot by now."

"You know, me too." They lapsed into a period of silence. Griff watched Simmons move; he wondered if he could get the other out of power armor for a little a while. They both needed a damn good few moments of R'n'R between the two of them. A chance to destress from being so on alert here in Rats Nest could only do them both a world of good.

Maybe, also, Griff missed seeing Simmons face. The freckles that coated pale cheeks, or the way the mess of red curls went every which way. Hell even the metal graft that surrounded the artificial eye was a sight Griff hadn't seen in far too long. Some days he could catch a glimpse of Simmons, if he looked in the mirror and stared at the left side of his face--the place where Sarge had grafted pale skin and implanted one lone blue eye to replace the crushed and damaged brown one. Sometimes, alone in the wash room, he'd stare into the mirror with that one eye and imagine it was Simmons who stared back at him, who drank in the scars that melded the skin graft to his face, how it blended into the parts of his skin that were caused by vitiligo that he'd once been embarrassed about.

With a sigh Giff shook his head and straightened from the doorway. He came in for a mop and bucket, not to get distracted by Simmons. The base commander was bound to give him another stern talking to at this rate, for being so slow in such a simple task. He couldn't help it, though. Simmons was the only thing that felt even the slightest bit like home these days.

"Mops and buckets?" Griff said, instead of uttering any of his thoughts.

"Back left corner," Simmons replied, distracted by the task of counting inventory. Griff's comment of thanks went unacknowledged. They both returned to work without anything else said between them.

One moment they were in Rats Nest, uncomfortable and unwelcome. The next life turned into a whirlwind adventure that Griff didn't know how to name, with the crazy insanity that came from Blue Team and the AI that they tried to pass off as a human. The drama was something they could practically drown in, and really Griff could do without all the crotch shots from the other AI that had single handedly put them out on their ass. And of course Blue Team got themselves their own crazy Freelancer in the midst of it all, as if the first one hadn't been bad enough. Some days Griff wanted to bash his head into the wall and never wake up.

"Hey Griff have you seen Lopez around anywhere?" Simmons came up from behind him and it took Griff all of his willpower not to jump. His heart rate skyrocketed either way and he clutched at his chest, bare of the power armor because they were safe here even if here was full of insane would-be retiree's who didn't know the meaning of safety if it bit them in the ass. Yet Griff loved it, somehow, even that mad cow Caboose could be a riot when he really got going.

"Have you been practicing being a ninja?" Griff said as he turned around, and then felt his throat close up from another emotion. Simmons had his hair actually down. It wasn't regulation length anymore; he'd let it grow longer and Griff knew that but he hadn't actually seen Simmons with his hair in anything but tied up and out of the way. Today he apparently chose to let his hair hang loose about his shoulders, held back lightly with a tie that did nothing to stop the racing of Griff's heart.

"Griff?" Simmons asked, and waved a hand across Griff's vision. It snapped Griff back to reality and he wondered how long he stared at Simmons. "You okay?" Simmons looked at him, concerned. His eye was wide and so blue that Griff had to shake himself for a moment to get his heartrate under control and to just breathe.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the words came out more squeaked, but could you blame him? He hadn't seen Simmons this relaxed in what felt like years. Was that a smudge of oil across the man's cheek? Heaven have mercy. "Just...ate something bad, I think."

Simmons frowned and reached a hand up to feel against Griff's forehead, to which Griff fought back the urge to stare.

"Hm, a little warm. You should rest. I'll ask Sarge about soup for tonight," Simmons said.

"I'm fine," Griff grumbled. "I don't need Sarge's damn stew. Really, Simmons." Simmons lips quirked up into a little smirk and Griff had to look away.

"I'll tell him you want seconds, then," Simmons said, like a devil, and turned around and left the room. Griff stared after him, mouth agape for a second. He wasn't ashamed to admit his voice hit a pitch that was embarrassing in retrospect, but really. No one could stomach Sarge's stew, and Simmons knew that. By the time Griff got out into the hall, Simmons was long gone.

Griff was not ashamed to admit he whimpered just the slightest bit. Sarge was going to murder him.

Chaos defined their life for what seemed like years, leading all up to this very moment--this place in time. Griff scrubbed his hand along his face as he stared down at his naked lap, the haze of the past twenty-four hours finally washed away with something like regret and longing that curdled in his gut. He couldn't look at Simmons, because somehow despite the years working together and secretly pining after a face he couldn't name Simmons was still Simmons. He was Richard, or Dick, even though he could've been. Just the same Griff wasn't Dex or Dexter even though Simmons ought to know his name now with how often Kai screamed it at him either in rage or out of sheer whining because Griff refused to pay attention to her.

The only other person who used his name was Sarge, but even then it was for rare occasions when the man grew soft enough to speak it. Typically it was son if he was being affectionate, Griff if he was being authoritative, but oh so rarely was he Dexter. Griff swallowed heavily and forced himself to look over to Simmons, who leaned against overturned boxes and breathed heavily, a still somewhat dazed look across his face like he couldn't believe what just happened. Honestly neither could Griff if he were honest. What kind of hell planet had they landed on to have something like this among the civil war insanity?

"Simmons?" Griff said, and when that didn't garner a response he uttered, "Uh. Hey. Dick?"

Simmons wrinkled his nose a little at the nickname, rolled his eyes, and sat himself up with slow carefulness. He didn't say anything at first, and Griff wondered if he should just offer the out, let the man breathe and not have to worry about his sanity or his sexuality or whatever ran through Simmons mind like a herd of cats. Griff imagined what would happen if he did so--he could see how it would play out. They wouldn't talk about it. It'd become a shameful thing, hidden, secretive--and then Griff would be alone. Like always. Maybe he'd go insane. Maybe he'd jump off that deep pool of his barely clung to sanity and just turn into--into something unnamable as life churned out more crazier and crazier stunts raised to attention by Blue Team and how everyone he cared about was just dragged along for the ride.

"I wonder if Kimball knows how that system functioned," Griff heard Simmons mumble, half to himself, and felt his heart jam up in his throat. "Some sort of pheromone maybe? Like a roofie or--"

Griff choked on his spit, and then said quickly, "Dick!" to which Simmons snapped his head in Griff's direction, face flushed red even as he mumbled analytical scientific nonsense under his breath. The words paused at the name, though, which Griff hoped was a good sign until he realized Simmons had his nose scrunched up.

"Don't call me that," Simmons said shortly.

"Okay Richard--"

Simmons looked away and muttered a short, "Don't--you just--it was just--"

Griff swallowed his fear, reached out, and grabbed Simmons by the hand. "It's not...pheromones. Or whatever." Simmons stilled and Griff found within himself the courage to forage on. "I didn't--it wasn't because of whatever that misty shit was, Richard." Simmons looked at him, stared at him with a stiff spine out of the corner of his eye, cheeks as red as his hair. "You--you get that, right?"

A second, a beat, then softer, "What are you saying?"

Griff clenched his hand around Simmons and said, "I'm saying I like you."

Simmons laughed, a bit tinged hysterical. He uttered a short and sharp, "Of course you like me that's how pheromone--"

"I love you."

Silence. Griff breathed out, slowly, and took the chance to barrel on while Simmons froze and stared at him with a face that said something that Griff didn't want to interpret in case he was wrong. "I've loved you for a while honestly. I just didn't want to screw everything up when we were at Blood Gulch and you'd given me your organs. Or when we were at Rats Nest and uncomfortable with things. Then when we got to Valhalla you seemed to finally relax and I couldn't just--I couldn't break that so--I mean this didn't happen from nowhere I'm not some animal. I love you and--and yeah maybe I would've liked to tell you someway other than--I mean the mist was weird but it didn't--"

Soft, plaintive, Simmons said, "You love me?" like he couldn't believe it. Griff ducked his head. He felt like a fifteen year old school girl even as he nodded, cheeks flushed out of his own embarrassment that he just blurted things out like that. "But--"

"Is that ok?" Griff said, and he was afraid at how vulnerable he sounded.

"I--Sarge--" Simmons spluttered, eyes wide. Griff snorted. He could figure what Simmons meant; the man looked up to Sarge like a father.

"Pretty sure Sarge knows," Griff grumbled. The man did keep telling him to man up, and he wasn't subtle with all of his teen girl magazines that he tossed into Griff's face when they were alone.

"And he hasn't shot you?" Simmons hissed, surprised. Griff jerked back, equally surprised by the terror in Simmons' face. Not for the first time he wondered just where Simmons came from, how he got into the Simulation Troopers, to result in sheer terror over--what? Sexual attraction?

"No?" Griff said, voice cautious. "Why would he?"

Simmons looked around, and then hissed, "Because your gay?" and Griff jerked back.

"Bi, actually," Griff said, words shorter. He wondered if he read Simmons wrong. "And so's Sarge. I mean he's got one helluva crush on Master Chief, and then another on those old vids of some chic called Lady Gaga." Simmons jerked back, surprised. "But then you know that because he doesn't ever really shut up about it. Right?"

Simmons looked caught out, surprised. "He's...not making jokes?" Simmons said, a little more hesitant, a little more like the Simmons Griff knew. "It's not a 'man crush' thing?"

Griff let go of Simmons hand and scrubbed a hand down his face. He said softly, "No, it's not. You--you thought he was joking?"

Silence, and then a moment later Simmons asked, "Uhm. Can you--can you call me Rich?" Griff found himself smiling.

"Sure. And it's Dex," Griff said. "Dexter if your Sarge, or mad at me." He reached out, touched Simmons face, and leaned in to give him a kiss then paused. "This ok?"

Simmons blinked, murmured, "Yeah. It's ok."

They spent a few more hours in the closet together.

Two days post the mess of mist-inducing sex on the planet Chorus Sarge walked up to Simmons and Griff and patted them both on the back. He addressed Griff first with a sharp, "Attaboy. About time," and then turned to Simmons and said. "Let me know if he mistreats you son," and then without a word sauntered off with a pep in his step. Griff blinked after him.

"Damn," Griff mumbled, "Sarge got some." Simmons let out a hysterical half sort of laugh like he couldn't believe what Griff said, but Griff knew Simmons caught it just the same. "Wonder who?"

A few minutes later a cheerfully humming Emily Gray danced her way down the hall, dressed in civvies, and Griff and Simmons exchanged a glance. They promptly decided they did not want to know who. It's not like it mattered anyway.

[starlightinhumanform]

The Art of Love: Chapter 14

Fandom: She Ra (2018)

Ship: Glimadora

Summary: It’s a date! Sort of... 

Warnings (for this chapter): None (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone!! I hope you enjoy this long-overdue update! Once I have some chapters done and ready to go, I’m going to begin uploading far more regularly. Thank you for sticking with me and as always, love you all 🖤✨

Ao3    The Art of Love Masterpost    Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

Glimmer woke up feeling rested for the first time in possibly months. She felt like maybe— just maybe— things weren’t as bad as she had thought. After all, the project was going well and her grade might go up, she and her mom had spent some nice time together, Bow was sending her weird memes, and— last but not least— she and Adora were friends. Was “friends” the right word? They were more than friends? less than friends? They were Friends*

(*Stipulations May Apply).

Glimmer stretched her arms over her head, smiling as sunlight streamed through her window and splashed across her face. It was warm and golden and seemed sweet somehow— much like a certain jock she knew. Or maybe she was just projecting her crush onto the entire world, even the very sunlight.

———————

The day passed mostly uneventfully. Well, apparently a big fight broke out during one of the passing periods and the whole school was talking about it but Glimmer had been on the opposite side of the campus at the time of the event and frankly didn’t care.

She managed to make it to Chemistry early which seemed to be a surreal experience for both her and Weaver. She tried not to pay attention to the stunned look of incredulity Weaver gave her as she walked by.

Glimmer nearly sat down at her desk before deciding that— just this once— maybe taking a risk would be alright. She made her way to the counter on the side of the classroom. More specifically, the counter where Adora and Cat usually stood before class started. She lifted herself up and sat on the edge of the cool, black plastic of the slab. Now all that was left to do was wait.

Cat and Adora stalked in a few minutes later; and stalk was the correct description— their legs, obviously powerful from the years of soccer, beneath the matching running shorts they wore. Glimmer swallowed and and it seemed it stick in her throat. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

The only thing less noticeable than Cat’s bright red crop top was the glower painted across her face, “Hi, Glimmer. Can I ask you what you’re doing over here?”

“Oh uh—“ Glimmer could feel a blush rising to match the colour of Cat’s shirt.

Before she had a chance to finish, Adora lunged forward and tackled her in a hug. Even without the shock, the force of it nearly knocked her over onto her back.

“Hey Glimmer!!” Adora was beaming and Glimmer couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Hi Adora?” She didn’t mean it to sound like a question but maybe it was appropriate seeing she sure as hell didn’t know what was going on. How did Adora always manage to freeze her brain??

For once Glimmer was grateful to hear Weaver’s voice as the teacher began snapping at everyone to go to their seats.

“Oh! Bye then! See you in a few minutes!” Adora waved brightly and turned to practically jog across the room.

Glimmer slipped off of the countertop still feeling dazed. But the fog in her brain felt different than usual, like it was lighter somehow. By the time she sat down, she realized she had been smiling since Adora had hugged her.

Ms Weaver’s voice echoed meaninglessly in Glimmer’s mind. She didn’t care about the pedantic nonsense the teacher was complaining about or whatever useless information she was yelling. All Glimmer cared about was the way Adora’s arms felt wrapped around her and how happy she seemed to see Glimmer. Glimmer’s head may have been empty but her chest felt warm and filled to the brim.

Weaver clapped her hands and the sound startled Glimmer from warmth within her. Chairs began scraping against the dirty linoleum floor and students moved to work with their partners so she could do the same. Glimmer stood up, about to join the shuffling tangle of students. She was surprised that Weaver was giving them so much time in class to work on the project but if it meant more time she got to spend with Adora... well, she wasn’t complaining.

In the time it took Glimmer to stand and reach for her bag, Adora had already slipped into the desk next to her.

“Oh!” Glimmer stood still, feeling dumb as she blinked down at Adora, “I was going to walk over to you but—“

“Beat ya to it,” Adora cut her off with a wink.

Glimmer tried for a smile, “Yeah I guess so.”

It felt like her insides were clenching together in a fist. Stop making yourself look like an idiot, why do you have to be so awkward? You’re going to make her think you don’t like her. Again.

When she sat down slowly, her knees were stiff, like she had aged several decades just from the stress of trying to talk to Adora the past few days.

Adora smiled at her. Glimmer tried to smile back but she could tell she wasn’t quite accomplishing her goal. Despite the noise of chatter and crafting and the various sounds of high school students getting off track, the silence between them was glaring, nearly painfully so.

Say something, anything. Glimmer couldn’t, she didn’t know what to say, how to say it. Adora was just a girl, just a normal girl; why was she so damn hard to talk to? You’re lying to yourself. She’s not some normal girl. She’s so much more than that. You wanted this, you wanted to feel this way. Now handle it.

“Your hair looks really nice today!”

At the sound of Adora’s voice, she realized her eyes had glazed over and she tried to focus on Adora’s face.

“—Not that your hair doesn’t normally look nice I just meant that, you know, I noticed it today and—“

“Oh,” Glimmer’s face was burning. A thousand thoughts sped through her head too fast for her to make sense of any of them. One suggested that Adora could like her as more than a friend, another shot it down quickly, one was just happy that Adora had noticed her at all, a final thought suggested that her face was burning hot enough to fry an egg, “Thank you, um, yeah, thanks. Thanks so much.”

Adora’s smile widened, “You’re welcome!”

Silence spread through the space between them again. Glimmer wished she knew what to say. But what could she say? That she had never seen someone so pretty in her life? That she wanted to spend every day she had left on this planet learning every freckle on Adora’s face and every fleck of gray in her eyes? That she couldn’t stop thinking about her laugh and her voice and the dumb jokes she made. No, there was nothing Glimmer could say. She could feel Adora’s gaze on her, soft but inquisitive, looking for something or trying to memorize something she had already found. If Glimmer hadn’t been blushing already, the intensity of those eyes would have done it.

“So...” Glimmer tried to look anywhere but at Adora. She wished they were far, far apart so she could think clearly but she also wished they were so much closer. Glimmer didn’t know what she wanted, “We should probably get to work, shouldn’t we?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re right.”

Adora turned to face the desk and began gathering the materials she needed. Glimmer squirmed when Adora was looking at her but somehow not having her attention was worse. Glimmer wished she could just make up her damn mind.

“So it looks like all we need to get done is the presentation slides and then figure out who is saying what.”

Just as quickly as the blush had risen, Glimmer felt the blood drain from her face, “Wait, why does anyone need to say anything?”

“We have to present our projects, remember?” Adora was smiling at her kindly.

“Um, no, I guess—“ Glimmer looked down, the words sticking heavily in her throat, “I guess I forgot. Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright! No big deal!”

Glimmer’s hands came to life, fidgeting sporadically as she clutched them in her lap, “No, it’s not that. I’m just really bad at school presentations.”

She felt stupid but it was the truth; she liked making things and showing them to others... just from a distance. When she had to present it, had to tie herself to it, she felt like everyone was analyzing and critiquing her; not whatever she had made. It made her freeze and choke up and forget everything she had planned on saying. She didn’t want to let Adora down, didn’t want to show her how useless she could really be.

Adora had part of her mouth quirked to the side, comically deep in thought, “Would it help if we practiced presenting it a few times before hand? Just the two of us?”

“I don’t know... maybe?” It would be even worse if she didn’t try at all, right? If she just gave up and let Adora do all the work on her own? Right? For once her mind left her without its input. Great, the one time I could actually use it and now is when you decide to shut up. I’m disappointed in you, brain, disappointed but not surprised.

“It’s worth a try!” Adora scrolled through the slides she had made, obviously trying to make a decision about something, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to finish these by the end of the period; do you think we could hang out together after school today and finish it?”

“Yes!” The word was out of her mouth before Glimmer had the chance to think about it.

Adora looked happily surprised, “Ok, great! Meeting me at the soccer field at 4:00?”

Glimmer was still in stunned disbelief at what she had said, “Yeah, yeah sure. Sounds good.”

“It’s a date!” Adora face turned pink as Glimmer’s shock shifted onto her, “I— oh. I meant like, you know, a date. Not a date, just a date.”

Glimmer couldn’t help but laugh. Her head was light, like somebody had taken out her brain and replaced it with cotton candy. A date? She didn’t mean it like that, of course she didn’t. She couldn’t. She’s perfect and I’m just... me. You’re getting ahead of yourself and you’re getting hopes up far too high. When those hopes are proven wrong— and they will be proven wrong— you’re going to have a long way to fall. Don’t let yourself get hurt like this.

She took a deep breath, hoping to settle all of the ideas and questions and that word from rattling around in her head. Her anxiety was right, she was getting way too ahead of herself.

Glimmer cut in through Adora’s rambling, smiling sadly. Adora was, well, adorable when she got all awkward and lost her usual composure; but it hurt knowing that Glimmer could never get what she wanted, settling on looking from afar. A date, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Right, right of course you did, sorry,” Adora still seemed sheepish which puzzled Glimmer.

She wanted to ask why Adora was acting so weird, but she was arguably the far weirder one of them so maybe it was best to just leave good enough alone, “I guess we should probably get back to work then?”

The rest of the period went by quickly, Adora diligently gathering and typing information and Glimmer doing her best to be helpful, placing the text onto the slides.

Adora seemed caught up in her work and Glimmer didn’t want to bother her. But with her eyes focused and face grimacing, Glimmer just wanted to make her laugh or at least relax a little bit.

Glimmer tried to focus but there really wasn’t much for her to do. Besides, she couldn’t stop thinking about how close she and Adora were sitting, nearly bumping shoulders. It would be so easy to just lean over and kiss her cheek. Shut up. It’s never going to happen. Stop letting these feelings get so strong. But how could she not feel this way? She almost felt bad for not being more productive.

The bell rang and the classroom once again erupted into noise as students raced to leave Weaver’s domain.

Adora stood up and grabbed her bag in one swift movement, “4:00 at the soccer fields! Don’t forget me.”

Glimmer watched her jog out the door, melting into her seat. She couldn’t forget her if she tried.

If you would like to be added to The Art of Love taglist, please just send an ask or reply to this post!! 

~ @lunacy13 @shlikensfurlyf ~

[punkscowardschampions]

Dash & Lux

Dash: ☀️🧙🏽‍♀️🎶🥁🎸🪕🧚🏿‍♂️🌿🌼🧚🔮💃💫🔥🕺🏻🌳💗🍯🍻

Lux: That is almost exactly what the inside of my head looks like right now!!!

Lux: Is mind-reading a power that is bestowed upon you believers this eve?! 🤔😲

Dash: Right on

Dash: it’s one of many, trust

Lux: I’m ever sadder I can only be an observer now

Lux: Telepathy would be the most useful!

Dash: you gotta open your 👀 at least twice

Lux: I can 👀 at it, all of it in its splendour, just not participate

Dash: Bummer! What’s got you backing off? You don’t look like no wallflower chick to me

Lux: I got the dress code 🌻🌻🌻

Lux: Sunflowers are so strong-looking for flowers, don’t you think?

Lux: Not dainty and delicate

Lux: Well, I’m a Christian and technically this is a Pagan ritual so it’s a big 🚫🚫

Lux: I am finding it super interesting though

Dash: they don’t look strong, they are, babe 🌻🌻🌻 cleaned up Chernobyl, it’s far out what they can do

Dash: its roots, yeah, but we’re not all pagans here & we all still find something to celebrate, you could do St John the Baptist’s birthday as a christian, bonfires were big for that too

Lux: Whaaaaaaaaaat????! TELL ME MORE

Dash: about 🌻🌻🌻 or 🎂🔥🎇🎆?

Lux: 🌻🌻🌻 birthdays are contentious too

Dash: Helianthus annuus, from the Greek helios, meaning ☀️ they can remove poisonous chemicals & metals from the ground, water or air

Dash: they spread rapidly & can stabilize if not totally clear a field in 3 years, it’s 🤯

Lux: I wish I’d gone to school

Lux: Do you know any more fascinating things?

Lux: That sounds like magic

Dash: the world’s full of magic, but it wasn’t school that taught me to recognize it

Lux: Share the secret, kind sir

Dash: you’ve got the 🔑 & this here’s your kingdom, all you have to do is hang out & stay hip to what you 👀👂👃👅

Dash: 🧠➡️⬅️⬆️⬇️↗️↘️↙️↖️↪️↩️⤴️⤵️

Lux: I’ve 👅 so many wondrous tastes today

Lux: I feel full in so many senses of the word

Lux: How long have you been a member of the kingdom, stranger?

Dash: quest accepted to lay that feeling on you in every sense, then it’ll be a rad celebration

Dash: I’ve been here since I could walk, everywhere else is too big a drag to keep me

Lux: Oh, that’s so kind!

Lux: Everyone is so open and willing to teach me things

Lux: For instance, quick, when’s your birthday, wolf boy

Dash: it’s that kinda space 🦊

Dash: 20th of January 🎂 got me on the cusp ♑♒

Lux: Twins!

Lux: My birthday, which I’ve never celebrated before, is the 20th of March 😱

Lux: Someone, I’m not sure who, was just telling me about the Celtic tree signs

Lux: ‘If you were born in the month of the birch, you probably have a fresh and unusual outlook on life. People born under this Celtic tree astrology sign tend to be highly driven and are always full of zeal and ambition. They always want more and try to reach new horizons and expand their knowledge. Some of the characteristics attributed to the Birch sign are tolerance, toughness, and leadership. The Birch signs can brighten a room with their smile and quickly charm other people’

Lux: Yay or nay 🐺

Dash: you charmed so far or nah? [obviously smiling at her wherever she is as well like heyyy]

Lux: [definition of this emoji 🤭]

Dash: What’s your celtic tree sign?

Lux: ‘Those born under the Alder sign are natural pathfinders. They have the ability to move people and quickly gain followers to their cause. The Alders have a way with words, mingle easily and people love to be around them. They possess a mystic charisma, confidence and strong self-faith. Other character traits are: a good focus on goals and ideas, can’t tolerate fluff and waste.’

Lux: I am unsure but flattered 😊😊😊

Dash: I dig it

Dash: they let you know if we’re compatible? Your ♓♈ cusp makes you mad desirable to all signs

Lux: You need to see who here was born 15th April to 12th May or 2nd September to 29th September

Lux: But it says I’m compatible with you, so how does that work?! 😣

Lux: There’s so much I have to get my head ‘round

Dash: You’re gonna be 🥰💖 for me while I’m 🔍 for a 🐈 or 🐤 born on those dates?

Lux: Hey, that’s way less nice!

Lux: but I can also be looking for people born 13th May to 9th June AND 10th June to 7th July so 😋

Dash: those signs are full of it, trying to make me look uncool but don’t sweat it, I’d never cut you that low, like

Lux: If it’s not in the 💫s I can still say I’m pleased to meet you today as friends, Mowgli

Dash: Look up

Dash: if you don’t see a 🌠 I can show you a 🐺🌟 & 🦊🌟 chasing each other across the sky

Lux: [obviously literally does]

Lux: That’s very Disney 🏰✨

Dash: is that allowed?

Lux: I watched some at a friend’s house one time

Dash: & how was it?

Lux: 😭 but romantic

Dash: Anyone told you the oak king story yet?

Lux: Okay, thank Goodness

Lux: this lady with the dreads and the big back tattoo tried to tell me but I couldn’t understand her 🙊

Lux: Redeem your gentlemanly reputation and save both of us the embarrassment

Lux: Her accent was wild! 🤯

Dash: did her version start with Fadó, fadó?

Dash: wouldn’t be a wild guess

Lux: I won’t credit you with any telepathic skills this time, then

Lux: also I’d need to 👂 it again to confirm fully but yes, I think so

Dash: [send her an utterly unnecessary voice memo]

Lux: It sounds more intriguing when you say it

Dash: [obviously gotta tell her the full story in an irish voice memo purely for the #flex and the flirt cos you know damn well you’re gonna have to translate it, boy]

Lux: 🤩

Lux: Did you learn that here too?

Lux: I’ve lived so many different places and yet I only know the one language

Dash: My ma started it but when the establishment took over it was a bad scene & turned me off for time, last few years here it felt groovy again having that connection & I refound the 💚☘️

Lux: It’s really cool

Lux: it sounds old, or like elvish or something else not real

Dash: it’s a trip, you’ve gotta get someone to teach you while your fly by lasts

Lux: Oh, I live here 😊

Lux: I room with Nora, do you know her?

Dash: Beats me, what’s her deal?

Lux: Her and her brother Finley have been here for a while, but not forever like you

Lux: but there are a lot of people here so I’m not surprised you’re not sure 😅

Dash: not a clue but loads of people are too rattled to wanna get involved, could be her vibe

Dash: or she just ain’t outta sight like you

Lux: She’s totally involved, she secured like all of the sunflowers for today

Lux: well, me and Amber helped but she was definitely the most enthusiastic

Dash: 🌻👑! I do know her, but her in with Amber & instant karma means she’s not gonna mess around with me

Lux: Ooh, what did you do

Dash: jack, Amber’s hassling me cos I’m not trying to be her old man, she gets super rash & things get heavy with 0 slack

Lux: Hmm I shouldn’t have asked 🤐🙉

Dash: ask her why she’s making a move on my older bro now if not to try & lay a trip on me, babe’s lost it

Lux: Whaaaaaaa

Lux: You have a brother?!

Lux: Is he invisible?

Dash: I wish

Lux: Which one is he, point him out

Dash: [points in the direction of their house lol]

Lux: [a face of understanding like oh okay]

Lux: How does Amber know him then?

Dash: from stalking me

Lux: I don’t think she would do that

Lux: She must’ve just bumped into him or something

Dash: at my house, yeah

Lux: It’s cool, it’s not really my business

Dash: open 👀 like I said

Lux: 📖

Dash: that too 🧠💗🤲

Lux: I can agree with that sentiment

Dash: we’re groovy then

Lux: Of course 😊

Lux: enjoy your evening

Dash: back at you, golden girl ☀️🎇👸🏼

Lux: I like your outfit too

Lux: it’s very ☀️🧙🏽‍♀️🎶🥁🎸🪕🧚🏿‍♂️🌿🌼🧚🔮💃💫🔥🕺🏻🌳💗🍯🍻

Dash: [comes over and ties a chain of flowers around her wrist like it’s a friendship bracelet energy]

Lux: [clearly delighted with this]

Dash: [ask her if she wants to dance even though you know damn well she’s only observing because kind of boy you are]

Lux: [so rude lowkey when she’s struggling so hard with what she does and doesn’t believe now, we’re in enough of a dilemma without your help but there we go; thus we will go dance with you because we do want to and we can make arguments that that isn’t joining in with the rituals of it all]

Dash: [he’s lucky Amber is busy because she would fight him, but instead enjoy your dance you two]

Lux: [the audacity of your lies about her, we were so awkward like 😬 anyway, we will have a nice dance though]

Dash: [such a dickhead he can only be humbled by fire, full offense Nora because we’re ignoring you hen cos you’re clearly wise to his bs]

Lux: [there’s clearly a growing group of gals who are unimpressed by your nonsense and that will be interesting to navigate]

Dash: [Definitely, but yeah probably do slip away like a snek before any of those gals do kick your ass]

Lux: 🎃👠🐁🌠🕛

Dash: A 📘 for the 🔥

Lux: 🤔?

Dash: it’s a drag, all that heavy shit with her fam is a bummer, she gets to split but only til 🕛 that’s some 🌠

Lux: Yeah, it’s enough to get help though and then she gets saved

Dash: nah, to get shafted, she don’t get to dance with anyone else there, it’s a scam

Lux: 😅 who else does she need, she’s got the prince, silly!

Dash: someone who recognizes her next day?

Lux: Touche 😏

Lux: Being a 🤴 is a lot of work

Dash: What 🤴 told you that?

Lux: Where to begin

Lux: I’ve known several who would say as much and the 👸s would never disagree

Dash: Fadó, fadó, fadó a bhí ann…

Dash: but I’d shut it down from the beginning, they gotta be shining you on

Lux: I’m going to have to have translate open constantly, I see 😰

Lux: but very noble

Dash: I try, like you & your ☘️ it’s chill we’ve all got your back

Lux: It would be way worse if it was the only language any of you spoke

Lux: thank goodness 😅

Lux: there’s lots more that’s more pertinent for me to get a grip on

Dash: 🧝🧝🏻‍♀️🧝🏽🧝🏾‍♀️

Dash: we’ve got you on the rest too, like, goes without saying

Lux: Most everyone has been super welcoming

Dash: how long have you lived here?

Lux: Not long enough that that’s insulting 😋

Lux: but gosh, a couple of weeks? Must be

Dash: nah I meant cos I don't wanna explain to you what sorta place this is like you're fresh through the door if you've had loads of time to find your own way

Lux: Oh no, I’m a total n00b

Lux: Hazel got me here but I’ve kinda just been left to it since

Lux: Anything you wanna tell me would be appreciated

Dash: did Amber or Nora give you the tour?

Lux: Amber’s been super busy and Nora likes to stay in our room mostly

Dash: not super welcoming

Dash: but it’s no sweat, I’ll show you round, we’ll have a blast

Lux: they’ve both got their own stuff going on, I don’t expect them to drop it for me

Lux: but that would still be cool, thank you!

Dash: say when

Dash: it’ll be as electric under the ☀️ as the 🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌙

Lux: I can 👀 in the dark

Lux: You choose

Lux: find me when you’ve stopped having the MOST fun?

Dash: 🐺🐾🦊

Dash: Meet me in the orchard at midnight, ditching your shoes before

Dash: there’s an 🍏🌳🍎 you can 👀 the whole farm from the top of

Lux: And you’ll remember what I look like?

Dash: you look unreal

Dash: unforgettable

Lux: I got creative with the arts and crafts 🌟⚡️☀️

Lux: I’ve always made my own clothes

Lux: well, I made them for my sisters before

Lux: looking unforgettable was not the end goal there though

Lux: that was for secret

Dash: my nan would be hip to you, she used to make her own clothes, for her girl & her sister too when they wanted, it’s still a vibe for her

Lux: I will make her something then

Lux: what’s her style?

Dash: indescribable

Dash: I’ll show you pics

Lux: Awkward if your nan is cuter than you

Dash: at our age she totally was

Lux: Awh, you’re so sweet

Lux: I have nothing nice to say about my meemaw

Dash: keep it for mine when you meet her

Lux: You’re gonna introduce me to your nan? 😊

Dash: right on, she’ll wanna put whatever you make on for you to 👀 & it’s only a few fields over

Lux: 🏞 it’s a crazy beautiful spot to live, that’s for sure

Lux: so you live with her?

Dash: Yeah, my ma grew up there & when my parents called it quits she wanted to move back

Lux: You’re close-knit

Lux: that’s special

Dash: closer than I am to my da

Lux: Does that upset you?

Dash: I don’t let it upset my equilibrium, he’s uptight, that’s his problem not mine

Lux: I understand

Lux: I don’t agree with my dad on a lot of things

Lux: it’s still sad though

Dash: I got killer people round me, a 2nd family here accepting me for who I am, it ain’t cool he don’t, but they give me what I need

Lux: I’m happy for you

Lux: Seriously

Lux: again, that’s special, you should be really grateful

Dash: I am, believe me

Dash: you’re gonna scope out how special it is here now I’m in charge of showing you everything

Lux: I’d love to see your 🌍 how you see it

Lux: Kinda sounds like everything I need, honestly

Dash: you can, easily when we’re sharing a branch

Lux: 🧚‍♀️ you’re dainty, I trust you won’t let me fall

Dash: I’ll let you fall into something good though, new heights

Lux: Will it hurt?

Dash: no way

Lux: You aren’t pranking me, are you?

Dash: there’s no plastic on me, I’m being real with you

Lux: If you’re gonna try and jump me out in the orchard I’ll have to show you crazy and I really can’t afford to lose this place okay

Lux: so if I believe you right now and you were lying, it’ll be worse than it would’ve been, you feel me?

Dash: Hurting you isn’t my action, I’m about a gentler touch than that

Lux: and I’m not a bully, that’s not my vibe so that’s the warning out of the way

Dash: avenging 👼 I get it

Lux: My costume has you fooled, I think

Dash: Wait, so you’re pranking me?

Lux: No, I swear! 😅

Lux: I don’t feel like I’ve been anywhere near as nice to you as you have to me though

Dash: but you did dance with me & that was choice

Lux: I wanted to

Dash: me too, I wasn’t asking just to be nice

Lux: even though you’re very nice

Lux: I believe that

Dash: I think we’re getting somewhere

Lux: You understand why I’d find a boy like you being interested in me dubious at first, right

Dash: Nah, but I’m listening

Lux: Well it’s embarrassing to say

Dash: alright, listen, I think you’re the most

Dash: I’m embarrassed I’ve not met you before tonight

Lux: There are so many people to meet

Lux: and you’re like the 🤴 of this place, huh

Lux: you have to dance with all the ugly stepsisters too

Dash: if Amber said write that to bait me I’m shutting up

Lux: I think Amber left 🤔

Lux: And who’s calling her ugly, even if you guys have beef, like no way

Dash: & Nora’s gotta be back in your room cos that’s her bag, yeah?

Dash: so where are you?

Lux: I’m in the middle of [one hippie activity] and [another]

Dash: [go find her and dance with her again obvs, we can be bolder about if some of the haters are gone and it’s later so he’s clearly a bit more drunk/high by now too]

Lux: [the way you’re probably sober like how lmao, not saying you always are or will be ‘cos no but gotta have our wits about us ‘cos witchery is afoot; but yeah we all know it can shamelessly way more of a Thing™]

Dash: [at least Amber was too until her row with the bae even if she wasn’t the most present in other ways, so it wasn’t just you gal, but yeah, dispel any remaining fears she may have that you’re not into this please boy with this moment]

Lux: [we know you got your own going on, it’s good, this drama has to happen whether you like it or not babe sorryyyy, when you’re then even more into it because it’s like HELLO IS THIS ALLOWED, so new and fresh to get to remotely be this brazen]

Dash: [shouldn’t LOVE that for you but I do, we should probably let y’all go on your tour then because we’re both in a mood and there’s nobody to separate you]

Lux: [probably, but I will insist on making you wait ‘til midnight regardless]

Dash: [it is a fat mood and I did pick that time deliberately so yeah, dance the night away first hens]

Lux: [sure it’s probably near that time anyways]

Dash: [yeah absolutely]

Lux: [we can skip to the after in this if you like?]

Dash: [are we thinking am like did y’all fall asleep together or?]

Lux: [Hmm, do we go with the Cinderella and have her bounce or do we go against it and not, because then she would think he wasn’t a dick later]

Dash: [even though he’s a dick I still want all the cute I can grab with my smol hands]

Lux: [it’s not like you can’t be like I just fell asleep it’s nbd with it so yeah okay

Dash: [I also like the camber parallel of it all so]

Lux: [true true, we can do it, then you can just have breakfast as a group because duh, was it sunday or monday today?]

Dash: [I think it’s sunday aka Cosmo is having his 2nd date with Ruby tonight and then Camber breakfast dates start monday]

Lux: [okay then you will have to think of a creative way to ditch her then boy hohaha]

Dash: [at least he can just go home because Amber only stayed to angrily eat some fruit and Cosmo had a busy day ahead because I doubt the shower situation at this commune is thriving, water probably runs out always]

Lux: [what a poser lmaooo]

Dash: [and very rude not to invite her when she probably wants to shower or bathe too]

Lux: [we literally got gems stuck to our face but pop off]

Dash: [we know you’re not because your mother is there and sick of your behaviour but yes, it wouldn’t kill you to let her boy]

Lux: [no offence but run him over, anyway, some time later]

Lux: are you ⬇️🍄?

Dash: 🛹⚡️

Lux: aha, cool

Lux: good thing you didn’t invite me I’d end up 🤕 for sure

Dash: I didn’t stop you falling out of a tree last night to have you fall off a board later in the AM

Lux: Hey, you make it sound like I was 🤏 close! 😆

Dash: nah, your balance is sound

Lux: I don’t recall you stepping on my toes, either

Dash: don’t wanna have to start the day off doubting your 🍒 recall, that’d be a bad scene

Lux: I was totally sober thank you 😅

Dash: easy to claim the magic’s all you when I ain’t met you before but I’m a believer

Lux: Wait, was that a compliment or a diss?

Lux: Maybe I’m contact-wasted

Dash: contact with Nora would get you more sober, there’s a diss

Lux: Awh, don’t be mean!

Lux: She’s been really nice

Dash: chill out, I’m only playing

Lux: Hmm 😏

Lux: anyway, what are you doing later?

Dash: I said I’d hang with Yara

Lux: Oh cool, who’s that?

Dash: I’ll introduce you after

Lux: after what?

Dash: we’re done messing around

Lux: wow, alrighty then

Dash: you’ll like her, she’s a trip

Lux: I’m not totally sure she’d want you to 💬 that

Lux: or I’ll know what to 💬 now

Dash: it’s no biggie

Lux: idk, this is not the way I was raised

Lux: you say it’s not but idk, you know

Dash: you don’t have to meet her

Lux: Yeah

Dash: I think she’s rad but you gotta make up your own mind

Lux: It’s not about her

Dash: nah, you, I understand where you’re coming from, it’s a new world

Lux: Right, it seems really icky to me that you’d tell me any of this

Lux: it’s not about how rad she could be

Dash: Come on, Lux, I’m keeping this honest

Lux: I guess

Lux: Why do you need to tell me though, I don’t get it, for real?

Dash: I like you, I don’t want it to get twisted

Dash: 📖

Lux: Okay, I appreciate the sentiment then

Dash: I’ll come find you later, on my own

Lux: That’s okay

Lux: I’ve got lots of chores to catch up on

Dash: they’ll be done faster if I help you

Lux: I can’t stop you

Lux: the place is a mess after last night and the more people who pitch in the better

Dash: I don’t get why you’d wanna stop me

Lux: I don’t really wanna hang out now, not today anyway

Dash: I can’t believe you’re being like this

Lux: Being like what?

Dash: Amber

Lux: I’m not

Lux: you can’t hang out now, I can’t hang out later, how is it any different?

Dash: the way I’m travelling through today is a straight line, yours is all over the place

Lux: Good for you?

Lux: It doesn’t matter either way though

Dash: doing a u turn on me does matter

Lux: It does?

Lux: because last night you thought I was rad, so obviously this morning I wanted to hang out with you again, so I think it’s my turn to do the 180, if you think about it

Dash: I still think you are, last night was unreal & we can be again, I’m just asking you to take 5 cos I can’t split on Yara after making plans time ago

Lux: That’s fine, it’s not fine to be mad at me ‘cos I ask you to take 5 too

Lux: that makes it make no sense

Dash: I’m not mad at you, I’m trying to make sense of why you’re mad at me

Lux: I’m not mad at you, I’m upset

Lux: You only need to ask

Dash: idk I didn’t think this would go down how it is

Lux: Me either, I guess

Dash: you for real want space?

Lux: I don’t know

Lux: Can I get back to you on that?

Dash: yeah

Lux: I wanted to see you again

Lux: I thought you’d want to see me too

Dash: I do, you read me right last night, why are you gonna start disbelieving yourself today?

Lux: You want to see Yara more

Dash: I wanna see her too

Lux: Okay, have fun then

Dash: we cool?

Lux: I don’t know

Dash: idk what's turned you different, you were laying it on me like you got it, how I'm

like royalty & everyone wants a piece of my time

Lux: Oh my Gosh

Lux: I wasn’t being serious and I didn’t think you were

Lux: do you honestly think that, like what?

Dash: It's a touch plastic saying I'm like 👑 but still close to how it is

Lux: Um, you don’t even live here

Lux: you have a whole house and family

Dash: I'm here with my chosen family as much as I can be

Lux: Yeah, but what do you

actually do for this place, or anyone here?

Lux: The audacity to act like it’s your kingdom, that’s laughable and gross all at once

Dash: back off babe, I do whatever they need me to do

Lux: Babe-ing me right now isn’t a good look

Lux: manual labour at best makes you help, not visiting royalty

Lux: are you crazy, like, who do you think you are, seriously I’m so curious

Dash: Who are you? Thinking you can lay this trip on me about what I can & can't do

Lux: I’m not telling you you can or can’t do anything

Lux: I asked you not to call me babe, which is basic politeness

Dash: nah, you're telling me I don't belong to this place

Dash: questioning how I do like

it's up to you

Lux: I said you don’t live here, and you don’t

Lux: and I’ve never seen you contribute, maybe you were super busy before I got here, then I’ll apologize for that

Dash: you're doing a census, yeah? Hold up [everyone currently who doesn't live her like the petty prince he is]

Dash: I've got family here, they all keep me busy

Lux: Cool? Thanks for telling me who else is a tourist ???

Lux: You’re just being defensive, there’s no need if you’re secure in that and your place here

Dash: quit trying to rattle me

Lux: I’m truly not

Lux: but no, we’re not cool now

Dash: I made it known from the top where I live

Lux: Where you live isn’t the issue

Dash: what's your issue? I'm loved & welcomed here, that's all I said

Lux: That’s nice

Lux: I don’t really want to discuss my issue with you, with you, right now, if that’s okay

Dash: later then

Lux: See you around, Dash

Dash: I can't believe you think I'm a flake, this has me totally unglued, you know

Lux: I don’t feel great about it either

Dash: how can I make you feel less bummed out?

Dash: your tour was the most far out I've ever given

Lux: I don’t think you can, it’s done now

Lux: I just need some time to change what I thought this was, or was gonna be, in my head

Lux: but thanks, for offering

Dash: take your time to 👀 what we can be & how you wanna evolve

Lux: Maybe we can be friends later on

Dash: I’d dig it

Lux: I liked talking to you last night

Dash: I felt more connected to you than I usually do

Lux: I don’t think you’re an awful person, FYI

Lux: I just think you could’ve been clearer, and accept that you hurt me without getting way defensive, you know?

Lux: I can accept you didn’t mean to

Dash: I thought I was being clear

Lux: Yeah, I know

Lux: I’m from a very different background and place, it just didn’t translate well, clearly

Dash: yeah

Lux: but I thought I’d put that across well enough that you got that too

Dash: I do get you, but I can’t 180 myself to fit

Lux: No, I’m not asking you to fit my understanding, it’s fine you don’t

Dash: What are you asking?

Lux: Nothing, honestly, I’m trying to explain why I’m upset

Lux: Just like you can’t 180, I can’t change how I see and feel about it immediately, even if some of the ways I were raised are outdated or potentially bad, you know

Lux: You don’t need to do anything

Lux: From my perspective, it felt like a 180 and hurtful to tell me about hooking up with someone else the morning after

Lux: I know how you think and operate is totally different, but that’s it

Dash: but I wanna do something, to help you

Lux: You are nice…

Lux: I don’t know though, what would help?

Dash: I meant what I said last night about showing you this place, making it feel more like a home, how it is for me

Lux: Maybe you could come back and help with the chores

Lux: I shouldn’t have said you NEVER help out, I’ve not been here long enough to make that observation

Dash: maybe it looks like I don’t, cos with family you take liberties sometimes, that kid who’s naughty at home & don’t say shit at school, comfortable to play up

Lux: I have 8 brothers, I understand 😅

Dash: you can have that too, should

Lux: I did, as much as any of us did

Lux: I was a boy, remember

Dash: with 0 limits though, people trying to control & change what you do is for outside of here, I don’t have to think in my dad’s 🟥🟧🟨🟩🟦🟪⬛️⬜️🟫 way or do what my ma reckons is righteous

Lux: Sounds idyllic, Dash

Dash: it is

Lux: You have to understand my experience of people doing exactly what they want means someone is being exploited or abused for that person’s privilege

Lux: my parents had their utopia at the price of the things we wanted, needed

Dash: that’s why you need this new experience

Lux: Okay

Lux: I do want new experiences

Dash: the farm has the magic to grant you whatever you’re here for, no wish is the wrong size

Lux: You really seem to believe it so I will try too 😊

Dash: I’m about to 🛹⚡️ back if you wanna clean the opposite end or hide from me in the 🍏🌳🍎

Lux: That’s cool

Lux: but thanks for the warning 💗

Dash: don’t let how out of this world you look distract me then

Lux: I so don’t so that won’t be an issue 😌

Dash: It's an accident, huh? I feel you, it must be my fault I can’t look away

Lux: You’re way too smooth for your own good

Lux: but I wouldn’t say that’s a fault, necessarily 🤭

Dash: Hey, I didn’t manifest you into being, even if last night did feel like it had to be cosmically devined somehow

Lux: I felt it too

Lux: no one has ever

Lux: not like that anyway

Dash: you’re like a song I can’t get out of my head, I don’t want it to turn sad

Dash: I’m sorry I got you unglued too

Lux: It’s a lot more complicated than just you

Lux: it’s a whole thing

Dash: You’re gonna find people to share how heavy it is

Lux: 🤞

Dash: they’ll carry you through & even if it’s Amber I won’t let it bug me

Lux: I’m sure that’s a misunderstanding

Lux: I could talk to her? Subtly, of course

Dash: yeah, her misunderstanding me, you’ve got your reasons, she’s not new to any of this

Dash: her problem is she thinks she’s the most & everyone else should think she’s choice no matter what

Lux: Do you think she likes your brother?

Dash: no way, unless she’s got a football obsession now too

Lux: 🧲 maybe

Dash: idk

Lux: Me either

Lux: it just seems a bit crazy otherwise

Dash: he’s as uptight as my da, she’s never gonna get nowhere trying to mess around with him, whatever she’s doing it for

Lux: She won’t have any problem finding someone new

Lux: you said he’s older, right?

Dash: not loads, but he’s gonna be done with school in a sec

Lux: I see

Lux: so you’re the 👶

Dash: til my dad’s new lady puts her demands in

Dash: how many sisters you got to go with your 8 bros?

Lux: you don’t like her at all, huh

Lux: and 5, so they had a tough job being outnumbered

Dash: you heard of a WAG? That’s her whole deal

Dash: whoa, so you had a full time secret sewing job

Lux: yes, we lived in England for a while, that’s how I ended up here

Lux: like a Kardashian, I can see you not having a lot to bond over

Lux: exactly 😂

Dash: you gotta teach me, my nan would be jazzed

Lux: I’d love to!

Lux: there’s a surplus of old clothes to practice on

Dash: still a chore, we get to skip cleaning, yeah?

Lux: Mending isn’t as fun as creating but you’ve got to start somewhere so, I think so 😊

Dash: 😁

Dash: we’ll have a blast cos I gotta start somewhere on earning your forgiveness too

Lux: You’re sweet, Dash

Dash: I’m being for real

Lux: I know you are

Lux: I don’t know what to say though because I’m awkward 😳

Dash: it’s a hands on kinda task & you already know what you’re doing with it, it’ll be me feeling 😳

Lux: No flirting, only crafting

Dash: 🧷📏🧵✂️🧶📍✨

Lux: That’s a very impressive emoji selection

Dash: missing 😍💞🥰💓😘💘 but it’s chill

Lux: Idiot 😏

Dash: 💟 is the compromise

Lux: Okay, that’s adorable

Lux: allowed 🤭

Dash: [show up and take her hand to lead her off to sew, we know you weren’t far away bitch]

Lux: [the way you just melt when he shows, oh gal]

Dash: [I’m upset about it]

Lux: [we know you really like him, for better and worse rn]

Dash: [thank god he does actually like you and it’s not a straight up Drew and Ro situation happening]

Lux: [we can only do that ‘cos they both lowkey suck so we aren’t sad lmao]

Dash: [I like this gal too much to be that evil]

Lux: [it’s drama enough without it being entirely one-sided like no lol]

Dash: [I hope some sewing does take place amidst the blatant flirting because learn a useful skill for once in your life dickhead]

Lux: [we aren’t gonna just roll over immediately ‘cos actually did upset us so you will have to]

Dash: [yay]

Lux: [so that’s probably the vibe for today ‘cos yeah we absolutely won’t even though it’s clear we still like you like that too, so you’ll just have to hang out platonically]

Dash: [it’s gotta be the vibe for a while, sucks to suck boy, but obviously hang out until that girl comes to find you because you clearly do also wanna hang out with her platonically it’s not just like that vine where he breaks the skateboard]

Lux: [a quality vine]

Dash: [do we wanna leave this here?]

Lux: [I think we can]

[datawyrms]

Thief

Dannymay 202 Day 29: Heat

It had been a gradual thing. Keeping away and avoiding too much physical contact only made sense if you had a nasty habit of vanishing limbs and passing into already occupied spaces. It had been the right thing to do, the safest way to act. It wasn’t weird for a teenager to start being a bit more insistent on less physical affection from their parents as they figured themselves out, as Jazz put it. Setting boundaries, or something like that. Now, though? He had a grip on those unnatural powers, it wasn’t really a risk. He shouldn’t shy away from friendly contact anymore, honestly. Yet he did. Hugs and holding meant heat and warmth and the quiet reminder of how cold he was.

Being like this was way better than being dead. He couldn’t really imagine just being human again either. So why did the natural heat of warm blooded creatures get him jealous? It was stupid, he was still alive. He still had a heartbeat and warmth in his body, just not as much. Just a little bit colder, not so much that anyone would notice if they weren’t looking for it.

Not that it mattered that he knew all this. The reaction didn’t care about logic or being reasonable. It was like a little monster scrabbling in his chest, long seeking claws straining from behind his rib cage, desperately trying to reach out and steal the warmth and life of whoever had more than a hand on him. Like if it could only reach he’d stop being cold and be whole again. The feeling wasn’t his, it shouldn’t be his, but it couldn’t be from anything else.

He couldn’t tell anyone about it. He’d sound like a monster. A freak at the very least. It was easier to just avoid contact, he had practically perfected dodging straying arms. The disappointed looks were easier to ignore. He got those for lots of reasons nowadays anyway. Dash, bully that he was continued to be a nuisance, but if he could avoid getting pinned to the lockers or otherwise grabbed it wasn’t a big deal. It would be so easy to retaliate. He could take over his body with a thought, freeze an arm solid and shatter it on a whim and just listen to the bully scream and wail as the life giving blood left the body to cool.

He’d never do that. Yet he could. Easily. The scrabbling always reminded him of that. You’re cold and wrong, not like them. You don’t belong. The more it shrieked for the contact, the warmth, the love and attention, the harder he shoved any of it away. It was wrong, you don’t deserve it, can’t you feel how you’re stealing from them? It isn’t meant for a ghost in a human skin. Not for a leech.

The fact sweltering weather was a suffocating weight only proved it. Goths might simmer, but apparently ghosts just slumped. He’d been more on Tucker’s side before, enjoying the hot summer days, but the very idea of the tropics now made him want to make a pile of ice and sleep on it. Why couldn’t he even be consistent? If he wanted warmth, why did getting it because it was the height of summer exhaust him? Mom and Dad probably had some scientific reason for that. Some other ghosts might even know. Or they might not, half ghosts weren’t exactly common. He probably cared too much, was thinking about it too much. So what if some preferences changed? Lots of people didn’t like heat waves.

Why couldn’t he kid himself into ignoring the small changes? It wasn’t a big deal. Yet warmth had somehow tangled itself with his perception of life, and he couldn’t manage to get them separate again. It was nonsensical, he knew that. Of course the summers were more taxing, he had ice powers. Ice powers that had almost managed to deep freeze him before figuring them out. It didn’t mean there was more life in the world than a dead thing like him could stand. He knew that. He KNEW that.

Maybe Spectra had been more right than he thought. Who’d care for a thing like you indeed. You don’t even make sense to yourself.

He grew colder. More noticeable. Which only caused worry and concern and warmth from his friends again that he had to struggle to fend off. He was fine. Of course he was colder, his powers kept growing. They were worrying over nothing. Yet still they insisted with the worry and care and the thing under his ribs just wanted it so badly that he had to flee. It would steal from them, it would hurt them, couldn’t they feel how it wanted to latch on to them and steal that warmth for himself?

“So, do you think all ghosts are evil?”

She’d cornered him in the kitchen to ask that? “No. That’s Mom and Dad, Jazz” he muttered, trying to figure out a way to get past her without walking through walls.

“Really? We’ve all noticed you’re avoiding us,” she reached out a hand to touch his shoulder and he flinched backwards, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t touch me.”

“See, like that! You don’t need to hide from us, but you’re doing it anyway.”

“Yeah. It’s called brothers not wanting their nosy sister touching them. I’m not seven anymore,” he crossed his arms, wondering if he kept them folded that it would keep the scrabbling thing trapped.

“You look scared, not annoyed. What are you afraid of?” her eyes were searching for something in his face. Why did she have to be so nosy? Why couldn’t she just shrug and give up like Mom and Dad?

“You’re seeing things,”. The counter was cool against his back. Maybe he should just slip through it, get away from the heat in front of him.

“No I’m not. Are you going to tell me or should we all just keep asking until we guess?”

“You can waste your time if you want.” It was hard to ignore how her worry, concern and affection tainted the air, how it awoke the cold thing inside him. How it delighted in having someone suffer on his account. He should leave.

Jazz frowned at him, edging closer despite his efforts to gain more distance, “You know the cold doesn’t bother us, you don’t need to be ashamed or anything.”

Easy for her to say. She didn’t hear or feel the starving refrain of want. Of course it was bad, of course he had to make sure it didn’t hurt anyone. That he didn’t hurt anyone. “I’m not. Are we done yet?”

The scowl was expected. Considering how much she harped on boundaries, the hug was not. Heat and safety, worry propelled by love and it was for him and he could take it. It would be so easy to just stay there, or hug back. He couldn't, that was stealing, it would hurt, these cravings and thoughts were ghostly and wrong and he wouldn’t hurt them. That gave him enough sense to phase free of her, eyes wild.

“I said don’t touch me!”

“Are you afraid of us?” She looked a little hurt, but he could feel the worry coming like waves. Still caring too much about how he felt when she’d been in danger.

“Now you’re just making stuff up. I don’t like being hugged, okay?” Lying had become almost second nature by now, but judging by her eyes she wasn’t buying it.

“You seemed to pretty okay with it until you panicked.” He felt strangely like a specimen trapped on a tray as she pondered, watching him. Why did she have to keep digging and pushing? “You’re afraid of yourself?”

He snorted. “Really? No. There’s nothing wrong, you’re just being nosy.”

“So if I grabbed your hand right now, you wouldn’t try pulling it away with that panicked look on your face.”

Shoot. How could he squirm out of this, she’d just keep pressing and pushing and caring and the thing in him might finally snap his ribcage if it was constantly tasting the heat in the air. Slow your thoughts down. Yet he couldn’t. “No. It’s stealing.”

Something in that only seemed to strengthen Jazz’s resolve. “What do you think you’re stealing?”

“The heat. I’m cold. I can’t-” he tried to keep his voice low, holding his head in his hands. He shouldn’t be admitting this, shouldn’t let her know how much of a freak he was.

Being hugged again was startling. “Danny. You’re not stealing if we’re giving it to you.” Her voice was firm and would not take any argument, the warmth in it almost stronger than the emotions he felt and craved and wanted so very badly. Surely this hurt her, to have some half human thing clinging back. His emotions weren’t warm like life, not healthy and needed, she wouldn’t want them.

Yet she didn’t seem any colder even after letting go. Even as his insides purred and muscles relaxed from feeling wanted, safe and important.

“Are-are you sure?”

“We’ve always been sharing how we feel Danny. You’re just a little more sensitive to it now. You aren’t stealing, you dork.” she ruffled his hair and the warmth only reinforced the contented hum instead of awakening the starving scrabbling.

He wished he could know for sure. Yet this did feel better for now, at least.

[fae-fucker]

Review: Death Wind by Tara Grayce

Essie should be planning her happily ever after, not planning a war. Although they once were enemies, the humans of Escarland and the elves of Tarenhiel have allied to fight the trolls from the far north. But alliances are tricky things even in the best of times, and with Farrendel, the elves’ foremost warrior and Essie’s husband, captured by the trolls, the circumstances appear dire indeed. But Essie won’t give up, and she will make her two peoples work together to fight this war if it’s the last thing she does. One way or another, she will get Farrendel back, no matter what it takes.

Gonna be honest, didn't expect much given my lukewarm reaction to the previous two books, but this one? This one actually held my attention for genuine reasons rather than just being a light read. Because the plot involves a lot of conflict (arguably the biggest conflict possible, war), the pacing is steady, and two of the three POV characters are mostly suffering and/or being tortured, there's actually tension for once. It's a welcome change, and proves that the author is very much capable of writing it but just chooses not to in favor of boring and conflict-free family interactions.

With Melantha introduced as a POV character, we're offered a pretty buckwild concept for this series: a character that makes mistakes and has to live with the consequences. I actually found myself liking Melantha, not because I thought she was a compelling character (she wasn't) or because I felt bad for her (I didn't), but because she had what Essie didn't: flaws. There's even a point in the book where Melantha thinks about how much she dislikes Essie because Essie is so sugary perfect and everything Melantha wishes she could be, and I think it's supposed to show us how bitter and insecure Melantha is? Except she's 100% correct, Essie is literally too perfect to be a real person and I just sat there going "yeah, you're right, and don't feel bad for being shitty because literally nobody can actually be like Essie."

However, Melantha suffers from Stupid Bitch Syndrome, which doesn't exactly make for a good protagonist/POV character. She's not intended to be dumb, the book expects us to think she was simply misguided and bitter and not, like, a complete idiot who should've known better. But her instant remorse feels less like character development and more like her suddenly realizing she’s actually a huge idiot who fell for the enemy’s nonsense, which she is. She's supposed to be an older elf, a grown woman, yet she makes such an obvious mistake and immediately regrets it and folds like a wet blanket the moment shit hits the fan. It's honestly a bit pathetic. The only reason I preferred her over Essie was because she introduced some much-needed depth to the character roster, but that depth was still about the size of a teacup, compared to Farrendel's thimble and Essie's singular water molecule. Her relationship with the troll prince was actually ... interesting? It was all mostly unspoken, which I think made it stronger than the overly telegraphed thing Essie and Farrendel have going on, and I’m sure it’ll be flattened out and become boring in the next book, so enjoy this potential before it’s wasted.

Farrendel spends the entire book being tortured and thinking about how he's being tortured. I can't blame him, but it doesn't make for good reading. I honestly think his POV could've been left out altogether and it wouldn't have changed much. Melantha is already there with him letting the reader know he’s suffering, we don’t need two POVs telling us the same thing. Oh uh, except for the part where he ... puts his magic in a soul-bond pocket. I'd mark this as spoilers but it's literally on the cover. I guess if his POV was removed then we'd never know how Essie learned to blast his power in battle at that one convenient moment, but it barely affects the plot afterward so um, yeah. I'm having a hard time justifying his POV at all. I'm still not over that part btw, how Farrendel just ... makes a "mental fist" (no, really), grabs his magic in one and his soul bond with Essie in the other and just puts them together like he's connecting two cables to an adapter. And he knew to do this ... how? It's not like we've seen him experiment with his magic before, in fact he's been shown to hate it and only use it when necessary, but apparently this tortured and exhausted man has the presence of mind to try something as vague and theoretical as ... putting his magic in a soul pocket. He spends a few pages going “I wonder if I can do this” and then it works on the first try. He does consider whether it’ll hurt Essie and decides not to try it, but as I said, he does it soon after anyway so like ... I don’t think it’s supposed to be funny or show how little of a shit he gives about Essie, but that’s sort of the implication and I thought it was funny as hell. 

Anyway, the magic pocket is about as much worldbuilding/lore as we get from this series entry, aside from the trolls having their own political intricacies and tensions, which I’m assuming the next book will expand upon. The writing itself in this book was pretty bad at times. The repetition of certain words and names was really glaring in some parts and felt amateurish. Take a shot every time the word “magic” appears and you’ll be in the grave before the book ends. Prince Rharreth and King Charvod are almost always referred to with their full titles and names for some reason? A few editing rounds would’ve helped this a lot, methinks.

The plot is mostly moved along in Essie’s POV, which is slightly less insufferable than usual because she’s the one observing the movement of the two armies and there are actually action scenes in there that, while don’t exactly made me worried about her (there’s no way this perfect idiot will ever die), still provided some tension. But it’s honestly not much, the “war” lasted two entire weeks (and that’s including the strategy, logistics, and mobilizing) and with how fast the armies travel and how little resistance they face (and how Deus Ex Farrendel-d the final battle was, the guy is apparently full of godlike destructive power despite being starved and tortured, go off king), it all felt very unrealistic and easy. Like, we have two armies marching in the middle of a mountain chain during magical snow storms, all while being regularly assaulted by the defending army, and they still get there no problem, without a single mention of soldiers struggling not to die of exposure. Aight. I guess these elves and humans are just very resistant to the cold, for some reason.

I have a sneaking suspicion that the reason it goes over so fast in-universe is because the author wanted Farrendel to be horribly tortured throughout his captivity, but also knew that if that lasts too long, the damage will be too severe to easily resolve in the next book. But instead of easing off the hardcore torture, because then we’d lose out on that drama and those High Stakes, she decided to speed up the whole war thing, because hey, who cares about that, anyway? We just want Farrendel back, right? Riiiight? Better hurry up guys! Don’t want Farrendel to be too tortured to fix with some strawberry-flavored medicine and vague counseling in the next book!

So yeah, the plot moves on speedily, but at what cost? Mainly depth. Again. And once again, Essie suffers the most from being a bland caricature of a person and dragging the whole thing down. The author’s GR bio says she writes “spunky and tough” leading ladies, and I guess having no other things in your brain except sparkly kitten gifs is a certain kind of toughness in an “immovable object” sort of way, but “spunk” implies a of counter-culture edge that sweet widdle Essie simply does not have.

There was one small section where Essie felt bad over how the human and elven warriors were going to die, how many mothers and sisters and daughters would suffer just so she didn’t have to, but then we don’t find out the death count, the casualties are never even mentioned, and Essie moves on from this without even a single thought questioning the morality of a monarchy or her own position of power. Now, I get that that’s not the focus of this series, but it just adds to how Essie’s worries are always surface-level and never justified by the plot, how she never has to do any introspection and is never allowed to not always be annoyingly positive. Whenever she even begins to think something negative, she instantly, almost compulsively changes trajectory and just decides not to worry about it, and then it never comes up again anyway. This would’ve been like, an interesting take on toxic positivity and how Essie represses her own emotions, but no, the book never goes there, she’s just that perfect and wee and optimistic, even during a war and when her husband’s being tortured to near-death. It’s kind of insulting to read, honestly.

Oh yeah, that’s another thing that annoyed me. Even when she loses Farrendel, she takes it surprisingly well and focuses mostly on keeping a positive attitude for his sake, so he doesn’t feel her sadness through their “heart bond.” I never really felt her loss, her love for him, when she so easily could just decide not to feel bad “for his sake.” I want her to feel bad, I want her to miss him and to ache at his absence and to fear for what they’re doing to him. But no. That would just upset him more and hurt him more. So Essie doesn’t get to experience any negative feelings because it might upset her husband. Essie doesn’t get angry and determined to fight, she just keeps being her cheery little Stepford Wife self because being nice will keep everyone’s spirits up and make them hope and fight harder to preserve that hope!! :)

It just comes off as really flat and moralistic yet dishonest at the same time, because nobody would fucking react like this IRL. Essie might be a good person in-universe, but she drags the entire series down just by being perfect, cheery, and never, ever challenged or even allowed to challenge anything herself. Essie isn’t allowed to have any negative feelings because it might affect her husband, and yet we’re supposed to find this empowering somehow? We’re supposed to believe she’s spunky and confident and a sweet little firecracker of a redhead?

Eugh.

At least Melantha is an idiot, I guess. One whole female character gets to have a flaw, and she’s the almost-villain who needs to be fixed with love.

Idk man. The sexism in this series is like a constant undercurrent that grows stronger with each installment as our “understanding” of this world expands. All of Essie’s brothers, including the king, are at the front lines because they are manly men “have to” be there, while the women who aren’t Essie or Jalissa stay behind to be mothers and caretakers. It’s never expanded upon and just sort of accepted as part of both human and elven society and the narrative treats it like this obvious thing that even Essie doesn’t really bother noting how unfair and/or weird it is. There’s not even a single comment on it. Essie is in the war not because she can fight but because Farrendel needs her, and Jalissa is there because ... Um. Because ... she. Uh. She needs to be there when they confront Melantha? She’s Farrendel’s sister? Idk. Jalissa’s main point in this series so far seems to be the ship tease between her and Edmund that feels awkward and one-sided as fuck.

So yeah. The pacing and plot flowed along really well, but the characters and the writing and worldbuilding are all just really undercooked, which, at three books into the series, feels more glaring than ever.

But hey, at least it was a quick read!