#if he was bitchy enough. I don’t think she’d have been above it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nah-she-didnt · 3 years ago

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Inheritance

Knitting may be a less physically painful hobby than sewing, Lily thought bitterly as she unraveled her work for the third time in an hour, but it was no less frustrating. True, her fingers bled less while knitting than they did during her needlepoint phase. She’d jabbed herself more times than she could count last time she tried to embroidered a sad-looking flower onto the corner of her least favorite pillowcase. No, knitting certainly yielded less bloodshed than sewing, but it didn’t come without a price.

“Ouch!” Lily cried as she poked her humungous stomach once again with the end of the long, metal knitting needle. She could never get used to her belly, which seemed to swell more and more every day. “Damn- stupid-” She growled with frustration, crumpled up the ruined baby jumper, and hurled the bundle of yarn and needles across the room.

Lily watched the bundle soar through the air as her chest heaved slightly from her outburst. She rubbed absentmindedly at the spot where she’d impaled herself on the needle. Couldn’t break the skin, she reminded herself, but she still bruised like a peach. Little purple bruises all over your stomach weren’t typically a comforting sight in the ninth month of pregnancy.

Eight months. She shuddered a bit at the thought. Eight months of being sick, of stretching and expanding, of reminding herself that she was not a selfish cow for bringing a child into the world in the middle of a war.

For bringing this child into the world.

She groaned as she leaned forward to brace herself to stand. With a huge effort, she was able to push to her feet and shuffle over to retrieve her knitting. Won’t be long now, she thought to herself as she settled back into her spot on the couch to finish her work, stop messing around and get this done before he gets here or you'll never finish.

He.

Her heart sunk at the thought. It had been difficult to hide her disappointment when she’d heard her baby was male. She remembered how James had smiled softly at the scan and squeezed her hand. “A boy,” he’d whispered to her, “a little boy.”

She’d smiled and squeezed his hand right back. A boy.

Lily remembered the moment perfectly, how she’d fallen deep into that all-consuming fog. It was official, at least part of the prophecy was true after all. A boy, born at the end of July...

Three days. That’s all she needed. Three days until the sticky summer days of August. She would distract herself with this horrid jumper for three whole days, and then the baby could come whenever he pleased.

“Having fun?”

Lily jumped in surprise, causing her once again to drop a stitch. “Git,” she grumbled as she squinted down at the yarn, trying desperately to recover her mistake, “can’t you make a noise once in a while? You’ll startle me into early labor.”

James grinned and hopped over the back of the couch, landing next to her with a soft thwump.

“Whatcha got there? Is it a…” he regarded her lumpy, misshapen jumper, “a bib?”

“Very funny,” she snapped, refusing to look at him as she knitted, then purled, then knitted again.

“I’m sorry,” he grinned, clearly trying not to laugh, “I know it’s a jumper. Why the mad rush to finish, anyway?”

“I want it to be ready in time,” she said through teeth gritted in concentration, “he’s going to be here soon.”

“Right.”

Lily waited. She’d known James long enough to know when he was holding back. She turned her head slowly and fixed him with a glare. “What? Go on, spit it out.”

James had long grown used to Lily’s hormonal bitchiness. Nevertheless, he looked unsure of how to proceed without getting his head ripped off. “Well,” he sighed, eyeing the jumper hesitantly, “it’s just that, the jumper’s a bit small, don’t you think? I mean, won’t he be a bit big by the time it’s cold enough outside to wear?”

Lily felt the heat rise in her cheeks. This was absolutely the last thing she needed to hear right now. “I don’t think so. He’s a baby, how big can they be?”

“Well,” James said carefully, “let’s see. It’ll get chilly enough for jumpers by, I dunno, October? So he’ll be three months? He might have some meat on him by then if he’s anything like me when I was a baby.”

“No,” Lily shook her head and returned to her work. Knit. Purl. Knit. Purl. Purl again. “He’d be two months. Two.”

James sighed. “Lil-”

“If he’s born in August he’ll be two months in October.”

“We have to be prepared for the wo-”

“No.” Lily said the word quietly, but with a danger she hadn’t realized she possessed.

James held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. Ignore me. I didn’t mean-”

“He’ll be tiny,” Lily said into her hands. Knit. Purl. Dropped stitch. Damn. “Tiny enough to fit into this sweater. And he’ll be perfect. And safe and healthy and loved.” Another stitch dropped. It was getting hard to see her work through her tears.

“Lily,” James said softly as he reached for her hands. He brought the needles slowly down from her face and tucked his hand over hers in her lap. “Let’s take a break for a moment, alright?”

She nodded. She could have wrestled her hand from under his to wipe the tears from her cheek, but she let them fall freely. James wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled him into her chest.

They stayed that way for a while, Lily crying silently into James’ chest. After a while, she became aware of his own warm tears on her hair. She wondered dully if he was thinking what she was thinking. What have we done?

“Why the knitting?” James murmured as he ran a hand up and down her arm comfortingly, “why the rush?”

Lily sniffed. She hadn’t expected the question, and she suddenly found she didn’t have an answer. Knitting just seemed like a thing to do for your baby. “I just want him to have something of mine. Something to...remember me by.”

It was a mark of the bond between them that James did not protest at her words. He knew more than anyone how their stories could end. How little time they might have with their son.

“He’s going to love it. But you know,” James nudged her chin gently with his forefinger so that she looked up into his face. His cheeks were still blotchy from his tears, but a real smile shone on his lips. “You know he’s going to have your eyes. How could he not? That’s something he could never get from anyone else.”

Lily smiled too. She tried to picture her own green eyes looking back up at her from a bundle of blankets in her arms. Her eyes, maybe James’ hair. It was a lovely picture.

“Three days,” she leaned up and kissed James gently on the lips, “let’s get through the next three days. We’ll have plenty to worry about when he arrives and I won’t have time to finish this stupid jumper.”

James laughed. He stood from the couch, stretching his arms above his head as he went. “He’s going to love the sweater, Lil. Who knows, maybe he’ll give it to his own baby someday.”

“Oh, god,” Lily murmured as she resumed her work with a renewed intensity, “don’t say that. He’ll need something nicer than this for his own kids, this one’s shite.”

---

“I can’t believe you didn’t let me at the baby boxes first,” Ginny grumbled as she poured through a trunk of useless artifacts from her and her brothers’ infancies. A torn sweater here, a lone bootie there. A Babbity Rabbity book that was so worn from years of use that it tore at the binding. Ten years and seven children later, even the hardiest hand-me-downs could fall apart. “Bill got all the good stuff for Vic.”

“Well, dear,” her mother sighed as she levitated yet another trunk onto the kitchen table, “he was the first in the family to have children, after all.”

“It’s not like Fluer lets her kids wear any of our old jumpers,” Ginny muttered bitterly, “it isn’t from Paris, so of course it’s all rubbish.”

“What about this, Ginny?” Hermione called from her spot across the table. She’d spotted a dusty, but beautiful, mobile made up of stars and whirling planets folded up in the corner of a trunk. Small silver chimes hung from the top of the mobile which could almost certainly be charmed to play softly as the baby slept below. “This is lovely, isn’t it?”

Ginny, despite her determination to be a grumpy, hormone-filled nightmare today, eyed the mobile with interest. “It is nice.”

“Hmm,” her mother hummed as she dug through a bag of old baby socks, looking for a matching pair, “I suppose I didn’t let all the good stuff go to your brother after all, then?”

Ginny huffed as she accepted the mobile from Hermione and gingerly placed it into her bag. “Fine. Maybe not. But he’s still always been your favorite child.”

“What about me, then?” Ron called as he strode into the room, Harry at his side.

Ginny threw a faded plush snitch at his head, which he caught easily. “Not you, git. Bill.”

“Oh, true,” Ron shrugged as he leaned down to kiss Hermione on the cheek. By the time they got married and had kids of their own, Ginny thought savagely, there would surely be nothing usable left in the trunks. This was her only consolation.

“Gin, it’s alright. We don’t need anything from here,” Harry said reasonably as he peered into the trunk with interest. “Of course, Molly, it’s all lovely. But we’re buying loads of stuff for the baby, he’ll be just fine.”

“But still!” Ginny protested as she dug further into the trunk, “I want the memories, you know? I want to pass something down to my kids. Something like...like this.”

At the very bottom of the trunk lay a tiny, perfectly folded Gryffindor jumper. No years of wear-and-tear, no moth holes or loose strings hanging from the sleeves. Her mother had even added a tiny lion to the front in perfect golden stitches against the crimson background. Ginny pulled the jumper gingerly from the trunk and ran the tips of her fingers along the ridiculously soft wool.

“Oh, Molly,” Hermione murmured in awe as she stared at the jumper in Ginny’s hands. “It’s beautiful.”

Her mother smiled softly. “I knit that jumper when I was pregnant with you, Ginny.” Her voice had grown hoarse, as if she was trying her best to keep the emotion at bay. “I wanted you to have something of your very own. You only wore it a few times before you got too big. It was silly, really, to spend so much time making something that you’d grow right out of, but I couldn’t help it.”

“No wonder we were all in Gryffindor,” Ron grinned, as he eyed the jumper, “you and dad have been priming us since birth.”

“Oh, hush,” her mother snapped at Ron, “you know we didn’t care, not really. After all, I was almost sure Percy would be in Ravenclaw when he first went to school, but then-”

“Harry?”

Hermione’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it stopped mum’s story at once.

Harry’s eyes were on the jumper in her hands, and they were wet. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he stared at the bundle of red and gold. He didn’t give any indication that he’d heard Hermione say his name.

Ginny felt her heart sink into her stomach. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“What?” Harry shook himself a bit as if coming out of a dream. He glanced around at all the eyes fixed on him. “Oh, sorry. I just thought- never mind. Being silly.” He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly, his chest still heaving slightly. The legs of his chair scraped loudly across the kitchen floor as he stood suddenly.

“Got to get some fresh air, excuse me,” and Harry practically bolted through the kitchen and through the back door.

Her mother gazed sadly after him. “Oh dear, I should have thought before bringing all this out. I hope he’s not too upset.”

“It’s alright mum,” Ginny patted her mother’s arm gently, “he’ll be fine. I’ll go talk to him.”

Ginny crossed over to the back door and eased her way through it. How on earth had her mother, a woman who had been pregnant at least seven times, been able to live in a house with such tiny doorways? She waddled down the porch and into the back garden towards her husband’s form.

It was difficult to see him in the early evening light, but she did not like the look of the way his shoulders slumped forward where he stood.

“Hey,” she breathed as she reached Harry. She could tell he’d been crying by the way his breath caught in his throat with each inhale. The sound made her feel faintly sick. “What happened in there?”

Harry shook his head sharply. “Nothing. Being stupid, that’s all.”

“It’s not stupid,” she took his hand in hers and gripped it tight. “Having a baby is scary. I get it. I don’t have any less faith in you for being scared.”

“It’s not that,” he whipped around to look at her, his eyes alight with adrenaline. “I’m not scared. I’m going to protect our baby with every breath I have left in me, I promise you that, Ginny.”

She smiled patted his hand gently. He had these moments every now and then, the wild sense of panic that always preceded a fight. She couldn’t blame him exactly, given everything he’d lost, but she was worried for him. “I know you will. I will, too.”

Harry nodded vigorously and turned back to the garden. She could feel his body relaxing slightly, could sense some of the panic recede from his muscles and release through his exhale.

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Harry breathed as he brought their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, “it was that damned tiny jumper. It was unnaturally small. I don’t remember Teddy being that small, do you?”

Ginny laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. The sun was really setting now, casting the entire yard in a soft orange glow. Somewhere in the distance, a family of gnomes grumbled to each other as they dug through her mother’s tomato patch. “He was never that small, though I suppose Teddy was a bit of a fat baby.”

Harry snorted. “I’m telling him you said that.”

“Don’t!” Ginny swatted at him playfully, “don’t you dare!”

He just laughed again and pulled her close against his chest, the back of her head resting comfortably against him.

“It is nice, though,” he sighed, “the idea of passing something down to your kids. Giving them a little part of you. I wish I’d had more of my parents’ things.”

Ginny nodded slowly. She couldn’t imagine a childhood without hand-me-downs. A little bit of history in every toy, every piece of clothing. “Perhaps we can make up for it. Create some new traditions.”

“Yeah?” She could hear him grinning through the word. “How would we do that?”

Ginny sighed, a little horrified with herself at what she was about to say.

“Well, we could always ask my mother to give us knitting lessons.”

Really. Married, pregnant, and finally letting her mother teach her to knit after years of protestation. What had her life come to?

#nina writes #oh look!#another hurt/comfort parallel jily and hinny drabble #I've certainly never done THAT before #I'm too lazy to post on ao3 tonight so if you don't like reading on tumblr #please read it anyway lmao

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screechthemighty · 3 years ago

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An Essay About Resident Evil: Village That No One Asked For But I’m Posting It Anyways

So, the Beneviento House is my favorite part of Village for two reasons. One: it’s the scariest part of the game, don’t @ me. Two: On a second play through, it actually reveals a lot about the issues in Ethan and Mia’s marriage. There’s a lot to unpack here with that, but the tl;dr of it is this: I believe what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento is trip into Ethan’s psyche rather than an actual, physical event, and this trip confirms that his arguments with Mia were made worse by a) him worrying about Rose more than he worries about himself, and b) him assuming that Mia is worried about the same things he is; thus, his hallucinations of her are more a reflection of himself than they are of reality.

All of my logic and evidence is under the cut. Fair warning, it’s very long, I am so sorry, I really am. Aso, please note this is NOT a Mia-bashing post. We do not engage in Mia-bashing on this blog. Please go to someone else’s blog if you want to engage in Mia-bashing. Thank you.

There’s two important things to establish here. First: I think that 99% of what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento isn’t real, and is at least partially a manifestation of Ethan’s inner psyche. The evidence is as follows:

It makes no sense that Ethan would lose his entire inventory within the space of 0.5 seconds after the lights shut off. It makes much more sense that mind control made him think he no longer had a gun.

Several of the items and information used in the puzzles are things that Donna, logically, shouldn’t have access to. The music box was still in their home when Chris arrived (which wasn’t that long ago, keep in mind), I doubt Miranda cared enough to find out Rose’s preferred toys and the identity of who gifted them the music box, and there’s no way Donna would be able to get that picture of “Mia’s” dead body. Mia’s wedding ring is tentatively on this list, too; Donna would have access to it, since Mia was being held captive at the time, but I can’t remember if Mia is still wearing it when Chris saves her, so put that one down as a “maybe.”

You stab Angie (or, more properly, stab Donna) for the final time in the back room by the elevator. However, right after stabbing and killing her, you are suddenly by the front door again, the main part of the house is in shambles in a way that suggests a struggle, and you’re not holding the scissors anymore. If you try to backtrack to check the elevator, the door leading to that part of the house is locked (presumably From The Other Side, as they often are in RE).

Additionally, your entire inventory is spontaneously back in your pockets. In Biohazard, if you had inventory taken off of you, it had to be retrieved from a box later. Not this time (though, granted, this game doesn’t HAVE inventory boxes, but it’s an interesting detail when combined with everything else).

All of this, to me, points to Ethan having probably never left the main foyer throughout the majority of that mind trip. As for the hallucinations being fueled mostly by his psyche, a diary entry from the gardener mentions that the plants made him hallucinate his deceased wife, and as mentioned above, a lot of the puzzle relates to things specific and personal to Ethan. While I don’t doubt that Donna could and probably did influence the hallucination a bit (she is a puppet master after all), the building blocks were all there in Ethan’s head.

Second Important Thing to Establish: Ethan was completely missing the point during his arguments with Mia in the lead up to Village.

I’m of the opinion that the fights Ethan mentions in his diary were not a constant thing. I think they only started, at the earliest, while Mia was pregnant, but for sure after Rose was born. This is because pretty much all the canon evidence we see about their fights circles back to Rose. The diary entry where Ethan describes the fight they had is dated four days before Ethan’s death; meanwhile, the flashback fight (which is most likely of that very fight) is triggered by a conversation about Rose’s doctor’s visit and uses language that implies a lot of their talks (and presumably arguments) about “staying positive” have to do specifically with Rose and the move.

It’s also worth keeping in mind how much of Ethan’s thoughts about Dulvey and moving past it are related to Rose. Like, yeah, I’m sure he wants Mia to heal for her own good and he’d like to heal for his own good. That’s to be expected. But whenever he talks about moving to Europe and healing from Dulvey, it’s also about doing it for Rose and for her benefit (“so we can live our lives with Rose without it hanging over our heads” in the diary, “We moved here so that she wouldn’t have to deal with any of that” in the argument with “Mia” at the start). Additionally, in the flashback he says, “[Rose]’s going to be fine, I just know it. What else matters?” Rose is Ethan’s #1 priority and much of his concern is focused on her.

But—and this is the important thing here—not all of Mia’s is. The end of the game reveals that Mia knew, most likely as a result of her pregnancy with Rose, that Ethan was a megamycete hybrid. In the flashback fight, she says, “I keep telling you, it’s not Rose that I’m worried about”, and the one moment when she truly explodes on him is after he implies that the only thing that matters is Rose’s safety. “We matter, Ethan! YOU matter! You just won’t-” Her exact words. We never find out what the won’t is, but I have a feeling what she’s getting at is that Ethan is unwilling to look past his worries about Rose and always circles the argument back to her. Now, we don’t see this directly, as we’re only privy to one real argument of theirs (Miranda being bitchy doesn’t count), but there’s past evidence to suggest this was probably the case.

The thing about Ethan is that he can be single-minded in his protective instinct, and we’ve known this since the last game. There’s a little throwaway moment in Biohazard where Mia thanks Ethan for choosing to save her over Zoe. He responds “Who the hell else was I going to choose?” with like, zero hesitation, and she seems taken aback by the response. Now, of course, Mia being his choice makes sense, she’s the whole reason he came here, But Zoe did still help him out, and she is still a victim in all of this. She deserved to get out of there as much as Mia did. But Ethan chose Mia without any hesitation, would have chosen her every time, and while he did promise (and keep said promise) to help Zoe, Mia was his top priority. He lost a limb (or two, depending) and dragged himself through hell for Mia—and keep in mind, this is despite him being on some level aware of the fact that she was involved in all that mess (he POINT BLANK ASKS, “You had something to do with all of this, didn’t you?”) and after she’d behaved aggressively towards him (granted, that was while she was under mind control, but that would definitely give some people pause).

Ethan cares about other people in his life first and foremost. Ethan barely cares about himself. He focuses on saving Mia at the expense of his own safety and someone else’s, and when things start getting bad again after Dulvey, his sole focus is on how it could affect Rose. I have a feeling a big part of the reasons the disagreements happened, in addition to Mia keeping information from him, was Ethan focusing on Rose’s safety, as if it’s the only thing that they could have to be worried about, and how frustrating that must have been for the woman who has seen first hand what Ethan is like and how much trouble his intense protectiveness can get him in. (Note: this does not excuse Mia from not just like. Telling him the truth, but I have my own theories about that, so we’ll leave it at “they were both talking past each other in a big way and that wasn’t helping the marriage any” because my analysis of Mia as a character is WAY beyond the scope of this post.)

Now, you’d think, you’d think with Mia having repeatedly telegraphed that Rose isn’t the problem here, that Ethan would on some level be aware of the fact that something else is going on. But he isn’t, or at least, he isn’t aware of the right things, and Beneviento House proves it.

So, Ethan is having a hell of a bad trip based off of his own insecurities and fears: his unresolved issues with Mia and his daughter’s safety. We have established above that Ethan has completely been misreading his arguments, and with that in mind, everything that Hallucination!Mia says from the second you see her gets really interesting. Starting with:

“Rose feels different. Ethan, you have to fix her” and “That’s a kick. […] She’s so energetic, it’s crazy.” Mia most likely caught on during the pregnancy that something was different about Rose. They were already ordering medical reports, including fungal pathogen testing by the BSAA, and her health was a definite source of anxiety for Ethan (his response to reading her medical file being a relieved sigh). Mia notices something is different about Rose, probably works it out, and realizes what the wider implications are for the family. Ethan is just plain worried about his daughter’s health, assumes Mia’s worries match his own, and that assumption is reflected in both the memories that come to the surface and the words his psyche put in Mia’s mouth.

“I can’t tell Ethan anything about this”, “Everyone leaves me, even Rose. I don’t want to be alone” and “I didn’t want to keep it from you. I didn’t want to lose you again. I didn’t want to destroy this family. I love you both so much. I had to. I had to do it.” Now, I don’t think the last two are anything Mia has directly said, but they all could be Ethan’s interpretation of her recent behavior. As mentioned above, he’s already aware that she’s kept at least one secret from him, and seems to know something is going on with Rose. If Mia’s not telling me, it’s because she’s worried about both of us, and doesn’t want to break up the family.

This one is a bit of conjecture and my own personal interpretation of Mia, but you’ve come this far, so hear me out: through these hallucinations, Ethan reads the aggressive secret-keeping as an attempt to keep the family together so that Mia won’t be abandoned again. I think he’s probably at least partially correct in that assumption. However, I think it’s also partially a projection of his own desires and motivations (keeping his family together at any costs). On top of that, he’s definitely missing the fact that Mia knows something is up with him as well. Telling Ethan doesn’t just potentially mean wrecking the family; it could wreck him on a personal level, and put him in a lot of danger. So while Ethan assumes it’s just about the family, there’s a lot more on Mia’s mind. That a lot more just isn’t reflected because Ethan doesn’t know.

The final bits of audio you hear are Mia crying for Rose, then repeating to herself that everything is going to be fine. Again, we know that Mia was worried about more than Rose. Ethan doesn’t. Ethan is worried about Rose first and foremost, has misread Mia due to his singular focus and lack of vital information, and in misreading Mia has created this version of events where Rose is the one who’s really in danger. Despite Mia indicating there’s more to it, he still reads what’s going on as being Rose-centered, and the fact that Rose is now genuinely in serious danger doesn’t help with that.

At the end, when Ethan says “Mia. I’ll make things right”, he’s talking about the wrong thing. He’s saying he’ll protect Rose, he’ll save her, he’ll keep her safe in a way he hadn’t been able to with Mia.

What he’s missing is the fact that, while he might’ve been just worried about Rose, Mia never was. That’s one part he can’t make right. Mia would’ve had to; she just never got the chance.

(Sidebar no one asked for, but I personally think she would have, either of her own accord or because the BSAA fungal reports (which seem to be the test results the doctor wanted to talk to them about if I’m understanding the timeline right) would’ve blown the whole thing wide open for her. It was basically inevitable. Doesn’t excuse all the secret keeping up until that point, but I like to think she would’ve come clean. Freaking MIRANDA JUST HAD TO GO AND RUIN IT THOUGH - )

#resident evil #resident evil village #ethan winters #mia winters #if you read all of this you're an MVP for real #fandom meta

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softkuna · 4 years ago

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Yuuji Itadori | Sukuna || Interest || Fic

Everyone always says that they would absolutely enjoy and accept Sukuna taking over Yuji in heated moments. But what if someone didn't? What if they pushed him away, wanting and waiting for Yuji to come back?

Content ║ Yuuji Itadori x Insert x Sukuna. The curse within startled, chin lifting from clawed fingers. The brat had an interesting question. For someone so idiotic, his emotional competency was a fascination. Had Sukuna been too blatant in his emotions? Had he let thoughts escape into the nether that was their shared mind space? He had protected his own realm with his domain… surely Yuuji couldn’t have snuck his way into it without Sukuna noticing. The inner dwellings of his mind had ceased as her crystalline voice graced ears that weren’t entirely his.

Count ║ 1,660 words.

Consider ║ Pole Dance. Part 2-ish of Dancer. Mention of sex work. Mentions of sexual assault (not explicit but as a topic). Fem insert. Third Person (she/her).

Creator ║ Aight let me express real quick that this inspired me to continue part of that dancer fic so if it’s a little confusing please. I’ve also decided that the dancer series will probably be disjointed stories revolving around the same insert. I won’t put in names and shell retain she/her and third person. Hope you don’t mind! Also, this fic in particular doesn’t wholly answer this ask, but spoiler it will come. I was just naturally going with the flow here. I really hope you don’t mind.

She stood off to the side of the pole, hand pressing to her mouth as Yuuji climbed the beast. It was quite impressive. He used pure arm and grip strength. It didn’t take him long to realize that he couldn’t get any leverage when it came to jeans. His hand gripped at the rafter connecting to the pole, humbly showing off as he did a single pull up before completely dropping to a crouch on the ground, “Did I do it?!” the puppy-like excitement teetering in his words was beautifully accompanied by the toothy grin.

“Ah, sure,” She pressed her lips to the side, swallowing back laughter as he pouted, face scrunching into some sort of a scowl, “What?”

“C’mon! What didn’t I do?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes!”

With false exasperation, she whined, “Fine,” She approached the pole, both hands gripping the steel, “for one thing, you didn’t climb it pretty enough. Sure, you climbed it, but it’s got a different vibe.” Lean arms pulled her up in a seemingly effortless motion, core tightened to maintain her posture, legs together. Forearms braced the leverage on the pole, “Lifting like-whoo” she dropped back to the ground with an exhale, “that, is different from a climb like this,” Her right arm reached up so that the pole made one leg of an ‘x’ with her forearm, “Your fist should be just above your line of sight.” Her bare shin of the left leg made a similar ‘x’ with the pole, “Your opposite leg should be raised so it makes a 90 degree angle with your hips.”

Yuuji watched, enraptured by the instruction. She spoke so clearly and was so well versed in ~the ways of the pole~ that its general sexual context was nearly gone. Then again, she did say that it was more than just ‘erotic’. He watched as her right leg came so that the ankles compressed the pole between them, “Is this why strippers wear underwear?” It was a revelation! The light bulb went off!

She shot him with an incredulous bullet from her position. It was something like a squat, weight distributed between the leverage of her leg while her grip kept her from leaning back, “It’s not underwear, you neandrathal! It’s costume. Although some girls wear lingerie for their shows…” Her expression fell flat, “You know what, that’s not important right now.” Her hand lifted from the pole, waving off the debate topic for another time, “you wanna learn how to climb this or what?”

The pinkette nodded, taking a seat and criss-cross apple-saucing his legs. She continued, telling him the importance of a pointed toe. Much of it was more than he’d ever thought about before. It took a lot of skill and concentration. He even learned that there’s more than one division of pole dance: Exotic (the sexy shit), Flow (the spinny shit), and Strength (self explanatory shit). For competitions, there were levels. So much of it was so far above his head, he’d need to climb to even reach it.

As she continued, there was a languid fluidity to her limbs. Something that he only half took note of amidst the awkward staring during her first performance that he saw. He recalled an odd sense of déjà vu and the bizarre way in which Sukuna had acted. While they didn’t wholly share thoughts, the entanglement of their beings bled through from time to time. The King of Curse’s indifference often led to nothing, but when it came to her, he seemed to be ready for anything. It created an unease in the pit of Yuuji’s stomach.

“Hey…” His voice trailed, a hand coming to clasp the back of his neck, “You know I’m Sukuna’s Vessel, yeah?”

“Uh-huh, what about it?” She pulled her body close to the pole, right arm now by her chest, legs straight. Left arm now crossed the pole. Both legs swapped their previous position, creating an elegant illusion of ribbon unfurling. She continued to climb.

“Have you been around one of his fingers before?”

The curse within startled, chin lifting from clawed fingers. The brat had an interesting question. For someone so idiotic, his emotional competency was a fascination. Had Sukuna been too blatant in his emotions? Had he let thoughts escape into the nether that was their shared mind space? He had protected his own realm with his domain… surely Yuuji couldn’t have snuck his way into it without Sukuna noticing. The inner dwellings of his mind had ceased as her crystalline voice graced ears that weren’t entirely his.

“Don’t think so, why?” Muscles worked as she placed a hand under the coccyx of her tailbone, thumb pointed down. Her legs straightened horizontally to sit along the pole, as though it were nothing but a lounge chair.

Yuuji scratched his cheek, “I dunno. I get a feeling that he knows you. Or maybe I saw you walking down the street? Sometimes I feel that déjà vu feeling when I’m with you.” He didn’t bring up the awkward bodily response he got that surely wasn’t his own like the melancholic heart ache.

Sukuna was silent, awaiting a response. He knew he could speak for himself, but he felt no need to. This situation was new and he needed to acclimate to it. This vessel was experiencing him second hand. The swirl of memories and emotions this woman brought to the forefront of the now-curse’s contemplations leaked out to the vessel. A pot to hold ashes. Would she be able to feel the connection behind the ceramic?

The woman tipped so that she rest along the pole upside down, hair flowing with the weight of gravity pulling it down. A pink flush came to her cheeks as blood followed the same course, “Honestly, you reminded me of an ex.”

Sukuna’s eyes flickered open. Ex? Was that like the English letter Yuuji had to study? There were so many modern words he was unfamiliar with. He closed his eyes, focusing purely on her words, “The thing is, I didn’t date anyone,” there was a somber lick to the tone, “I saw you and felt… *something*. You know when you watch a movie and you know something bad is going to happen? Like that.”

Yuuji’s head tilted one direction before flipping to another. His expression was contemplative. For someone who seemed so filled with unbridled energy, it caught her off guard whenever he showed this side. It hadn’t been all that long since she joined Jujutsu Technical College, but her blossoming relationship with Yuuji came about as naturally as bees made honey. The kid was about as sweet as it, too.

Her attitude had been bitchy after the first full day. During work, she chat him up – was saccharine sweet. It was her go-to. Maybe I can get a buck out of him, she had thought. When she couldn’t and when they left, she caked herself in the mud that was her bitchy personality. She didn’t particularly enjoy being the way she was, but it was necessary protection. Despite this, Yuuji still dug through the dirt to get at her core.

“Hey, can you do that flagpole thing?”

“Yeah. It’s called a western flag.”

“Show me! Please. You know… if you have time.”

Men always made her cautious. She like the attention of it all, the lustful looks she’d get during a performance, the way men would try and literally buy her time when she play-flirted. She was a top performer both in talent and in business. People requested her, savored slots of solo shows. In her line of work, while she didn’t partake in the more lewd activities herself, it was still assumed that was her position, especially when they paid well.

“Sorry bucko. No private showings.”

“No no! Not like that. I really want to learn how to do that! I wanna see Megumi’s face when I show him that I did it first!”

Her brows scrunched up, lips pressing into a suspicious perch. If the guy were a dog, it didn’t entirely seem like he was barking up her tree that same disgusting way. His genuine interest was so whole heartedly pure.

“Fine.”

“Haha! Yes!”

After a moment of silence, Yuuji rose, placing his calloused hands along either side of her cheeks. His dashing smile riled up squeeze in her chest, gaze averting his. He pressed his forehead to hers, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” His voice was soft, whispered almost, “His interest… I just want to be careful.” While she couldn’t see, she knew that his lips would be pressed into a line, eyes probably trained on a shoe scuff on the hardwood.

“Don’t worry. I have no interest in a murderer.”

Sukuna saw through Yuuji’s cheerfully slit gaze, the gorgeous expression of the woman he once knew. Proud. Independent. She always did throw caution to the wind, even when he would say her life was on the line. Even so, his chest ached. Not with sorrow or desire, but knowing those were the words she had said to him when she was brought to his shrine. Said in the same way, with the same disinterested glint in her eyes.

Bonus:

Yuuji’s lips connected with hers, gently pecking and barely touching. As he pulled back, the remnants of his prior expression melted into a smile, “Need to get down, Mary-Jane. I’m getting dizzy hanging like this.”

He barked a laugh, hand grasping the pole as he bent at a 90 degree so that his back exposed to her. She used her core strength to pull her legs away from the pole, minding her shoulder’s ability to rotate. As hand released their grasp, she landed on his back, legs wrapping around him. Yuuji came to a stand, his new-found partner wrapped at his shoulders and waist, “Does that mean you’re spiderman?”

“I shoot white stuff and get a spicy kiss? Hell yeah it does!”

Taglist:

@auroria @wasabito @juliansbby @missalexbaskerville @3rdgymbros

#⛩.fic #⛩#🍺.fic #🍺#sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #itadori yuuji #yuuji #yuuji itadori #☄️.fic #☄️#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuji x reader

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years ago

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dirtbags // 1: Charlotte

Summary: Motley Crue High School AU with The Pack (Lola, Charlotte, Peach, & Eileen); Winter, 1984. Charlotte’s halfway through her Junior year of High School when Lola arrives in town, and becomes a part of Charlotte’s life almost by accident.

Tommy seems to fall for any girl he hasn’t grown up with, Nikki and Charlotte are in agreement that their friendship becoming public knowledge would be social suicide for them both, Vince is a tool, and Eileen is still mad at him for what happened over Summer.

A/N: 8829 words. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @misscharlottelee this has literally been in the works for what’s felt like a year, but i decided that i can’t keep putting it off forever, so here. part 1. i think im going to try and put these out weekly?? maybe sooner?? but i adore you and i of course absolutely adore @josaphinebaker so i’m glad to finally let you all enjoy the long-awaited, multi-part HS AU (me, not posting writing for months: AND WHAT’S THIS? THE HS AU WITH A STEEL CHAIR --) ft. a softer world quotes

who said life can’t be an adventure? because whoever said that is probably the villain.

There’s a place for everything, and everything has it’s place. That’s they way the world works, at least, that’s the motto the rest of the cheerleading team seems to adhere to almost religiously. Charlotte, who’s been on the team for almost a full year and a half, since the start of her Sophmore year, can’t see the world so black and white. It’s not that she signed up to be a Cheerleader to fulfil some bitchy, blonde stereotype, it’s more that she had free time to fill and thought it would be fun. It took her a few months to find her footing once she’d been offered a place on the team, and was quickly thrust into her school’s the social spotlight, but she managed in the end, and had been managing ever since, mostly.

“Charlie, you’re so lucky,” Tommy, her cousin, lamented to her, driving her home after cheer practice, and marching band, had finished for the day. He was still in his uniform, as was Charlotte, and she gave him a sidelong glance, picking at the nail polish on her thumb. She doesn’t even give him an answer; ever since she’d joined the team, he had felt the need to wax poetic about the other cheerleaders and their uniforms. It’s so familiar that she doesn’t even need to prompt him into mooning over seeing Pamela in the cafeteria that day.

“She’s never going to date you if you don’t talk to her,” Charlotte’s smile is sly as her gaze slides back to the road, and the sun drifting towards the horizon.

“If Pam ever found out I’d looked at her, she’d probably just spit on me, call me pathetic or some shit,” Tommy’s eyeroll is implied by the flatness of his tone, but Charlotte can’t help but laugh.

“Oh Tommy, everyone looks at Pam,” she reminds him, and Tommy lets out an annoyed whine.

“I know,” he groans, clearly not cheered by that fact, feeling ever the more hopeless, and they fall into silence. Charlotte reaches down beside her seat and lifts a lever, pushing the seat back so she could comfortably rest her feet on his dashboard.

“Did you hear someone finally bought the MacCready burger joint? Dad was talking about it yesterday,” Tommy says mildly, making a left-hand turn onto their street. Charlotte raises her eyebrows, intrigued, but doesn’t speak. Tommy knows her well enough to take her silence as an invitation to go on, “Mrs Mac is going into hospice care and apparently some guy bought it and moved into town.”

“Oh shit, poor Mrs Mac,” Charlotte muses, and crosses her ankles on the dash, “hopefully their food is edible now.”

“Their burgers were great!” Tommy protested loudly.

“Their burgers were trash, Tommy! You’re just a rat -!”

“I’m not a rat!” He argues back, pulling into the gas station around the corner from their house. Tommy pulls up beside one of the pumps, and Charlotte gets out to browse the various snacks on offer inside the service station.

“Afternoon, Mick,” Charlotte calls out to the gas station attendant, the guy who’s been working here since he was fourteen, who’s currently got an electrical apprenticeship every other day. Charlotte realizes she might know too much about him considering he barely communicates in grunts most of the time. It’s not that he can’t speak, it’s just that he has a well documented dislike of her over exuberant cousin.

As expected, Mick doesn’t look up from his copy of Rolling Stone behind the counter, but makes a noise of acknowledgement.

Before Tommy has finished filling the tank, an unfamiliar figure enters the gas station, breezing past Charlotte and snatching up a packet of pork rinds, moving to the drinks fridge and taking a can of lemonade. The person is a young woman, though Charlotte doesn’t get a good look at her face; she’s got silky, black hair down to the small of her back, beneath a backwards baseball cap, and she’s the most notable of her clothes are her scuffed, black boots, and her oversized, black denim jacket littered with patches and pins.

When she puts her items on the counter in front of Mick, she pauses, frowning at the display, and Tommy enters the shop with an oblivious smile, asking if Charlotte had decided on anything.

“Can I help you?” Mick asks flatly, and the girl holds up a single finger, the universal signal for wait, and Mick huffs, but remains quiet. The girl adds a packet of gum to her haul, and leans her elbows on the counter.

“And a pack of Marlboros.”

Mick scowls.

“How old are you?”

“Are you being paid enough to care?” She responds, voice a low, challenging alto, and after a moment of deliberation, Mick actually shrugs, and turns to the cigarette display, picking out a pack for her as she pulled a few bills from her back pocket. After everything’s paid for, and the various food and drink had been stashed in the numerous pockets of her jacket, the girl is quick to open the cigarettes.

“They’re for my dad,” she explains, taking one out and putting it between her lips, grinning, “mostly.”

She passes a bewildered Tommy and Charlotte on the way out, giving them a flat look over, eyebrow raising minutely at the sight of Charlotte’s cheerleading uniform, but she’s quickly out the door. Tommy, flabbergasted at her display of confidence, marches straight up to counter and leans on it like he’d seen the woman do.

“A pack of -”

“Fuck off,” Mick tells him, before Tommy even finishes his sentence. Charlotte snorts a laugh, approaching the counter with a bottle of diet coke.

“Fifteen bucks on pump three,” Tommy sighs, pulling out his wallet, “and Charlie’s drink.”

“Do you know her, Mick?” Charlotte asks, still smiling, mind playing over the interaction.

“Do I look like I know her?” Mick grumbles, counting the handful of quarters Tommy had passed him with a ten dollar bill. Tommy, however, has never in his life taken Mick’s constant foul mood to heart, even when he probably should.

“He loves me, secretly, I know he does,” Tommy grinned when they were back in the car, heading to Charlotte’s house to drop her off, “we’ve known each other for five years, we’ll be friends any day now.”

“Tommy, he’s three days away from just decking you when you go to pay.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw me in front of traffic,” Tommy, ever the optimistic dumbass, chooses to look on the bright side. Tommy wears his affection on his sleeve, and seems to find himself trying to befriend anyone who would sooner fight him, if his hero-worship of local punk Nikki Sixx is anything to go by. It’s with a painful clarity that Charlotte realizes if he ever meets the girl from the gas station, he’s going to fall in love with her almost immediately.

Which makes Charlotte’s accidental and secret friendship with Nikki Sixx awkward.

“Oh Miss Lee,” Nikki whistles at her the following morning, wearing a grin that’s all teeth, “you know just what a guy likes to see on a Thursday morning.” He’s leering at her, leaning on the mesh of the fence, fingers hooked into the metal as he presses himself against it, his gaze trained on the pleat of her cheer uniform split upon her thigh over her tights.

“Every time you speak, I consider vehicular homicide,” Charlotte tells him with a sigh, straightening out her skirt, already resigned to the fact the rest of her free period was about to be co-opted.

“Then I’m glad you can’t drive,” Nikki’s still grinning, throwing his bag over the fence, into the garden Charlotte had thought was peaceful enough to study in.

“It’s the only thing keeping you alive,” she says, plastering a fake, sweet smile on her face, closing her biology textbook as Nikki vaults the fence a few feet away from her. She pulls her jacket a little tighter around herself, in an attempt to ward off the slight chill of the end of semester air.

Never in Charlotte’s life would she have intentionally tried to befriend Nikki Sixx. How was she supposed to know that two of her free periods coincided with when he liked to show up to school? And that the secluded garden area out behind the library where she liked to study in said free periods was the easiest place to sneak in?

She’s threatened to turn him in more times than he can remember, and he spits back that she should just find a new place to study, but she keeps showing up, and she never turns him in, and by now most of Nikki’s flirting is harmless.

They were both very much of the opinion that having a public friendship would be bad for the both of them; Nikki’s got more than a reputation of his own, both because his name technically isn’t Nikki, but he fights anyone who calls him Frank, and because he’s kind of a slut. Also there’s still an unconfirmed rumour about him being expelled from his first high school back in Seattle, since he’d joined their school a semester in Freshman year. Everyone’s too afraid to ask. Charlotte knows the cheerleaders aren’t above making hell for one of their own if they were caught fraternizing with someone like him.

That being said, Nikki had made it very clear that he’d rather saw off his arm than admit that they were even acquaintances, scoffing about how he’d lose any and all street cred he’d ever had if his friends found out he was hanging around Miss Everyone’s Best Friend Charlotte Lee. At the time, she’d taken offence to his tone, but she quickly came to learn that that’s just how Nikki is sometimes.

He offers her a cigarette from the pack in his pocket like he always does, sitting opposite her on the picnic bench instead of going to class, his bag still on the grass where he’d thrown it. Like always, Charlotte turns it down, but it does remind her-

“Saw a girl yesterday at Mick’s gas station that reminded me of you,” Charlotte flips to the back page of her notebook, which was already littered with little drawings, and starts scribbling idly.

“She hot?”

“I guess?” Charlotte says after a moment of consideration, “didn’t get to see her long enough to really be able to tell.” Nikki hums thoughtfully, and Charlotte, without looking up, “she asked Mick for cigarettes and he was like ‘how old are you?’ and she was like ‘are you being paid enough to care?’“

Nikki takes a long draft from his own cigarette, and kindly turns to the side to blow smoke into the wind, instead of directly into Charlotte’s face, as he used to do, or like he does when he’s annoyed.

“Mick would have mad respect for a move like that,” Nikki snorts, and when Charlotte looks up from her notebook, she sees him looking off into the distance, giving a genuine smile at the mental image. Maybe this is why she puts up with him, these rare genuine moments. He raises the cigarette to his lips again, and looks back at her, eyebrows raised, as if prompting her to go on. Charlotte looks back at her notebook.

“It inspired Tommy to try and buy smokes too, but Mick shut him down fast; I swear, if we show up when he’s clocking off, he’s going to K.O Tommy the first chance he gets.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw him in front of traffic,” Nikki notes, and Charlotte pauses, frowning. She hadn’t realised her hyperbolic threats on Mick’s behalf were a standard unit of measurement for how much he did or didn’t like her cousin. They were bullshit! Why did anyone take them seriously? Charlotte’s often astounded at her own credibility, and how much people tend to take her at her word without question.

“What’s she look like?” Nikki asks, flicking his ash into the grass, bringing Charlotte out of her thoughts.

“Who?”

“The girl from the gas station.”

“Oh,” Charlotte pauses, thinking, finally settling on, “she was wearing heaps of dark shit, had black hair, maybe that’s why I thought of you. I don’t know who she is though, didn’t recognize her from anywhere.” She adds, and Nikki hums thoughtfully, nodding. With his free hand, he snatches her pen out of her grip, despite her yelp of protest, and begins doodling pentagrams on the back cover of her notebook.

“You free tomorrow night?”

“I’d rather die than date you.”

“Charlie, you’re not my type -”

“Nikki, your type is tits and a heartbeat.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d fuck you, but I’d rather be castrated than date you,” Nikki responds flatly, and Charlotte quickly shuts up, scowling, “but my band has a gig at a place that doesn’t card, so if you and that overgrown Labrador you call a cousin can sneak away from mommy and daddy for the night, you’re more than welcome to come party with the big kids.” He smirked, flicking Charlotte’s pen back at her. Charlotte’s annoyance has simmered down at his offer, considering his words.

“Nikki Sixx inviting me to see his band,” she mused, sly smile curling at the corners of her lips, mischief glinting in her eyes, “you like me, don’t you? You like Miss Everyone’s Best Friend. Soon I’m going to be your best friend too!” At least she was self aware enough about her people-pleasing tendencies to poke fun at his scorn.

“I like that you’re cousin’s obsessed with me, so bring him too,” Nikki’s quick to correct, but his heart’s not fully in it, if the smile he’s failing to repress is anything to go by, “I’m just in it for the ego trip, sweetheart.”

Charlotte gags at the pet name; the bell rings.

“She smells like an ash tray,” is the first thing Charlotte hears when she sits herself with the rest of the cheer squad at lunch, and she’s terrified for a moment that Heather, the Vice Captain of the squad, is talking about her. Discretely, Charlotte sniffs at her hair, worried that the perfume she’d spritzed to hide any of Nikki’s lingering smoke had worn off quickly. Heather’s not even looking at her, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to the other gathered girls.

“Heather, half the people at this school smell like smoke,” Eileen cuts in as the voice of reason, taking a dainty bite of her food to punctuate her point. Heather’s expression sours.

“Yeah, but she’s pretty, why would she smoke?”

“Heather, you smoke,” Eileen rolls her eyes, and Heather sits back, crossing her arms, long, dainty fingers resting on her perfectly tanned and toned biceps.

“Yeah, but at least I have the decency not to smell like the bottom of an ashtray,” Heather raises an eyebrow, as if offering some form of challenge, and Charlotte watches Eileen bite back on a scathing retort, simply offering a withering smile, and continuing on with her lunch, “anyway,” Heather rolls her eyes, and starts up a new conversation with the girls on her other side, who were hanging onto her every word like it was gospel.

It’s quite possible that the tensions between Heather and Eileen may never actually die down, Charlotte considers, fiddling with the plastic-wrapped straw of her juice box. The thing is that Heather had only scored the position of Vice Captain of the cheerleading squad after Eileen, practically a shoe-in after two years on the squad and a pretty impressive acrobatic repertoire, publicly turned down the offer, quit, and joined the swim team the very next day, refusing to give a reason for any of her actions. A vicious joke circled the school about Heather being sloppy seconds, and despite Eileen never actually contributing to the joke in any way, or even acknowledging it, part of Heather still obviously resented her. The fact that Eileen still chose to sit with the cheerleaders despite not being one anymore, might also play into that, like she’s rubbing it in Heather’s face, even though she never would intend to do that.

Charlotte’s known Eileen for what feels like forever, since Summer camp in Grade School, living close enough to maintain a friendship, but not close enough that they were in the same district for Grade or Middle School. Both academically and socially minded young women, they’d found themselves in a number of clubs in those years that brought them face to face at meet or competitions, and thankfully, their local high school drew from a wider range of districts, finally bringing them together as allies, rather than competitors.

“Who were they talking about?” Charlotte asks quietly, stabbing her straw into her juice box, trying to keep their conversation discrete.

“A girl transferred into our grade -”

“On a Thursday?” Charlotte scoffs a little, “with three weeks left to go before Winter break?” And Eileen makes a noise in the back of her throat, an I know, it’s weird, right? Without saying any actual words.

“Something Fields; we just had French with her,” Eileen nods to where Heather’s now happily chattering with the other cheerleaders, earlier disagreement seemingly forgotten.

“Something?” Charlotte asked wryly, and Eileen gave her an amused look.

“Madame Laurent’s accent would butcher the name Sally, I’m surprised I managed to understand Fields,” and okay, she has a point, Madame Laurent’s French accent was half the reason any of the students studied the language, if only to understand her, because her English, while technically good, was sometimes incomprehensible.

“The girl didn’t correct her?”

“Nah, just kept quiet, embarrassed, I think,” Eileen mused, and Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, “though she did sit herself right next to Heather; bold move, I’ll applaud her for that.”

“Bet Heather didn’t like that,” Charlotte snickered quietly, and Eileen’s smile stretched into a full grin.

“She straight up moved the moment the girl put her bag down.”

“The poor girl,” Charlotte shook her head with a sigh, before clarifying, “not Heather, obviously.” Eileen snorted a laugh.

“What’s the new girl like?” Charlotte finds herself asking, intrigued.

“Quiet,” is Eileen’s immediate answer, “couldn’t get a good read on her, but she knows a decent amount of French.” But she deliberates for a moment, “looks kind of mean.” And for the barest moment, Charlotte frowns, mind flashing to the girl she’d seen at the gas station yesterday... it couldn’t be.

“Black hair?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I saw a girl at the gas station yesterday, black hair, kind of mean looking, Mick didn’t know her,” that was the big tip; Mick seemed to know all the gas station regulars, so she must be new. Eileen catalogued this information in her mind, but had no comment on it beyond a shrug, before reminding Charlotte that they had debate after school, and asking if Tommy would be sticking around to give her a lift home.

“He will be, he’s got practice until four too,” Charlotte said with a half smile, “and yes, he can give you a lift home too... Will Peach be needing one too?” She asked, referring to Eileen’s younger sister, but Eileen shook her head.

“She’s staying back until five every day this week to finish her science fair project, mom’s happy to pick her up - something about magnets this year - but I don’t want to wait around.”

“Wait, how long until the science fair?” Last year, Eileen, Charlotte, Tommy, and Vince Neil, who they’d still considered something of a friend at the time, had all come to support Peach in both her first year of high school, and her first science fair. Peach had come third, with a rather impressive display about which various household liquids killed plants fastest, and all three had cheered when she’d been given her ribbon, and Tommy and Vince spent the entire ride in the back of Peach and Eileen’s mom’s station wagon ranting about how she should have won, and scheming about how to best put a dead houseplant in their science teacher’s bed, like some low budget, home depot Scarface. Tommy may have become their friends via his place as a constant fixture in Charlotte’s life, and Vince simply because he had grown up as something of her neighbour and Tommy’s close friend, but their loyalty was absolute. Well, almost absolute. Vince was noticeably absent from their current roster of friends however, the then-four of them how vowed to make it a habit, and they could all tell Peach had been touched by the gesture, and Eileen, Charlotte, and Tommy were, at the very least, going to uphold that promise. A small smile plays on Eileen’s face.

“Next Tuesday, she’s so excited.”

if you put your mind to it, you can do anything. but you won’t.

So according to Eileen, Vince Neil is throwing a party on Saturday, and seeing as Charlotte’s parents still think the world of Vince after he’d been so kind of her after everything happened with her ex at the start of the year, she’s allowed to go. They went to middle school together, though he was always a year younger than her, in Tommy’s grade, and their parents were passive-aggressive PTA friends for a few years there, and, as mentioned before, he’d been genuinely sweet when she was at her lowest. Her parents don’t know that a week and a half into Summer break, right after he’d taken her to prom and promised to key her ex’s car if she asked, he started surfing, starting hanging out at the beach with the rest of the pretty, mean jocks spending their Summer in the sun, and had turned into a vain asshole. Or, well, more of a vain asshole than he already was.

Vince’s family was well off, and his parties were legendary, which is what made her parents agreeing to let her go so strange.

What they didn’t, and would never agree to, was letting her go to Nikki’s gig, so she didn’t even bother to ask. Instead, she asked to spend the weekend with Tommy and Athena. Her mother calls to confirm that that would be okay, Charlotte packs a duffle bag with outfits for the weekend, and her mother reminds her to take care of herself at the party the following night, kissing her on both cheeks when Tommy turns up in his beat up Vista Cruiser.

“Why are you hanging out with us tonight?” Tommy asks, frowning, still in the clothes he’d worn to school. Charlotte’s grip tightens on her duffle bag.

“Because we’re going out tonight.”

Immediately, Tommy’s posture straightens, and his expression lights up; he was delightfully easy to excite. Suddenly he was brimming with questions as he drove, fighting to keep his eyes on the road, and Charlotte let herself relax a little, glad to see he was onboard.

“Nikki Sixx’s band -”

“- is playing tonight!” Tommy finishes her sentence, his voice breaking on the last word out of excitement, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t comment, and it doesn’t stop Tommy’s eyes from sparkling, “he wrote it in sharpie in pretty much every bathroom in the school; you want to go?” Yeah, that sounds about par for the course for Nikki Sixx’s brand of advertising.

“You’re half in love with the guy,” Charlotte ignored Tommy’s spluttered protests, “so I wanna see what the hype is about,” she lied easily. She wasn’t a fan of lying to Tommy, he deserved better than that, but he also might crash if he knows that Nikki had personally invited them.

Tommy begs his mom to let them go, promising to be safe and be back by midnight, and the moment Charlotte vouches for him, his mother’s concern melts into agreement, and Athena complains that she’s never allowed to go anywhere. Tommy sticks his tongue out at her, and she kicks him in the shins, scowling, until Charlotte asks her to help her get ready, and Athena brightens considerably.

“Charlie you look like a badass!” Tommy delights when he steps out of the bathroom, hair all teased up, eyeliner expertly applied his waterline, wearing an outrageous outfit. He was going to fit in easily.

“Holy shit, dude, so do you -”

“Tommy! That’s my shirt!” Athena accused, storming over to him, trying to pull the tight, black tank top with the hot pink diamante lightning bolt off of him, despite his jacket over it, while he tried to slap her away.

“It looks better on me!” Tommy snapped, escaping her grasp and trying to hide in the bathroom.

“Dude, she’s thirteen, give her the shirt back, you can borrow one of mine,” Charlotte sighed, standing back from it all.

“Never!”

His mother called out if everything’s okay, and while Athena yelled that Tommy was stealing from her, Charlotte called back that she’d take care of it.

“Charlie, please,” Athena sulked, leaning against the closed bathroom door, while Tommy told his sister to piss off. Charlotte sighed, before giving the young girl an evaluative look.

“Would you let him wear it for five bucks?”

Athena squinted at her, seriously considering the offer; if Tommy had made it, there would be no way she would have accepted, but she knew Charlotte was good for it.

“Fine, but if he stretches it, I’m telling mom about his stash of Playboys,” she threatened, to which both Tommy and Charlotte made noises of surprise, Charlotte because she hadn’t known about that, and Tommy because he clearly didn’t think Athena knew about it either.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tommy hisses, wrenching the door open. Athena turns arms crossed, smile smug, and gives him her best try me look. Tommy wrinkles his nose, but stalks into his room, grabbing a five ones from his wallet and giving them to Athena, who Charlotte had never seen so pleased before.

“I hate her,” Tommy seethed, and Charlotte petted his shoulder in solidarity.

“I know,” and then, “aren’t you going to be cold?”

“I’ve got another jacket.”

The pub, Kings’ Hotel, sits on the border between suburbia and the CBD, and Charlotte’s been past it a million times, has spent a considerable amount of time idly staring out the window of MacCready’s Diner across the road, but never actually been inside. Speaking of MacCready’s, there’s a ton of scaffolding around it that Charlotte definitely doesn’t remember, and the sign’s been taken down, so it appears Tommy’s gossip about it being under new management was true.

There’s no bouncer, but high schoolers and music were already spilling from the building by the time Charlotte and Tommy showed up. The music is decent, if a little heavy, but Charlotte knows she could definitely get into it if she wanted to. When she approaches the building, she notices a gaggle of vaguely recognizable people all in a cluster, huddle together while they smoked to keep warm in the cold night air.

“Hi Heather,” Tommy calls out to one, putting on his most winning smile, and when Charlotte gets a proper look, yeah she can see Heather with her hair sprayed up and lipstick shiny, give her cousin a sceptical look. She does, however, notice Charlotte, and her expression shifts to something faux sweet and coy, a show of being amicable to someone obviously associated with a fellow cheerleader, and she gives them both a wave.

“I thought you had a thing for Pam,” Charlotte asks quietly as they push their way into the pub.

“Charlie, I’m into any and every cheerleader I’m not related to, why should I deprive any of the other lovely young ladies by only focusing on one girl?”

“Gross,” was Charlotte’s only comment. Tommy ignored her.

It was kind of overwhelming at first, between the loud music, the crush of people she half-knew, the fact that the bartender didn’t even blink when Tommy ordered a beer, or the fact that Nikki Sixx was on stage in skin tight leather pants, playing bass like it was his God given mission in life.

Her ex and his best friend had also been kind of obsessed with Nikki and his band, and she was coming to understand the hype. Between the swirling lights, the people on the dancefloor, and the heat of the crowd, it was almost hypnotizing to be a part of.

“You should get a drink,” Tommy urges, and Charlotte hesitates. She’s had spiked punch before, half a glass of wine at a family get together when her mom had been tipsy and feeling indulgent, and a couple of sips of beer that her ex had offered her when they’d gone to parties together, but she’d never really...

“I don’t know what to order,” she admits, hesitant, but still raising her voice over the music. Tommy offers her his beer to taste, but Charlotte was already well aware of the fact that beer tasted like piss, and she turns him down. She tries to think back to what people order in TV shows and movies, and tentatively approaches the bar.

“Could I get a jack and coke?” She asks, just thankful that her voice doesn’t shake. The bartender looks her up and down, checking her out without a hint of subtlety, and Charlotte fights the urge to pull her jacket tighter around herself.

“Of course, honey, that’ll be five-fifty,” the bartender smirks, and Charlotte gives an uncertain smile back, thanking him and passing over a ten dollar note. He gives her a five change, along with her drink and a wink. Gross.

“What’d you get?” Tommy asks, when she finds him again, standing against the opposite wall, already halfway through his drink. Charlotte’s holding hers in her fingertips, nervous, taking a sip and scrunching up her whole face at the taste.

“Jack and coke,” she hisses as the alcohol burns. Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up at her bold choice, and asks if he can try it. She offers it easily, and he too makes a face as he drinks, but pretends like it’s great.

They see more people they recognize, people confused but glad to see them out. They’re almost immediately accosted by Keanu, yet another face Charlotte hadn’t been expecting to see, and he wraps them both up in a hug; he’s all dark hair and wide, easy smiles, somehow everyone’s friend in a way that’s so different from how Charlotte seems to be everybody’s friend, but he and Tommy get on like a house on fire. There’s a resilience they both seem to have, and a shared enthusiasm, despite the fact that Keanu was a Senior, a year above Charlotte, and a full two above Tommy, but his good nature seemed to override these boundaries; the moment Tommy mentions he’d been thinking of heading to the dancefloor, Keanu’s more than happy to join him.

Immediately Tommy gulps down the last mouthful and beer and the pair of boys see fit to start cutting shapes on the dance floor with wild abandon, and so Charlotte finds herself at a table at the back of the room with Heather, a few other cheerleaders and their boyfriends, and surprisingly, Vince. He’s in white leather pants, and they look cool as hell, but also it’s Vince, and Charlotte’s fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Charlotte Lee, you’re looking fine tonight,” Vince slide into the space beside her, and Charlotte doesn’t roll her eyes, or make a comment about how he looks like a greasy snowman, no matter how much she wants to.

“Surprised to see you here, Vince, where’s all your popular little surfer pals?” She asks sweetly, and Vince raises his eyebrows at her, a retort on the tip of his tongue.

“I forgot you two knew each other,” Heather says, and she pauses, clearly deliberating, something dangerous in her eyes, “didn’t you used to date?”

“No,” Charlotte blurts quickly, though Vince is just as quick to deny it, “we’re friends- we were friends; not anymore. We went to prom together, yes, but we never dated.” She clarifies quickly, body language all tight and uncomfortable, which manages to go all the way over Vince’s head, and his hand comes to rest on his heart, expression reading betrayal.

“How long have been known each other, Charlie, for you to say we’re not even friends -”

And maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the alcohol, but Charlotte snapped.

“We were friends for years, Vinny, then six months ago you decided to spend all your time with a bunch of tools and bragged about taking me to prom because I was a cheerleader, and also - oh yeah, remember this? - made one of your best friends cry,” Charlotte hissed venomously, shoulders still tense, fingers gripping the edge of the table. Vince scowled.

“Peach wasn’t-” the words spill from him automatically, but there’s a flicker of something that may just be shame in his eyes, so he drops his gaze and starts again; “my friends are not tools -”

“The Vince who was my friend wouldn’t skip school three days a week to get high and fuck on the beach!”

“It sounds like you two have a lot to work out...” Heather seems genuinely surprised, and while she’d been fishing for gossip, this was too much, and she graciously backed out of the conversation, pulling one of her friends over to the bar. Charlotte was suddenly aware of how hot it was in the bar, how sweaty and oppressive it all felt.

“People can fucking change, Charlotte,” Vince scowled.

“You didn’t change for the better, Vince, whatever the opposite of character growth is, it’s what happened to you.” Charlotte spat, and turned on her heel before he can respond. She didn’t want to stand on the side side of the road out the front, so she heads for the door labelled Beer Garden, and steps into the cool night air.

Once outside, she realises how quiet it is, and when she sees Nikki Sixx at one of the tables with a blonde girl giggling in his lap, she comes to the conclusion that the band must be on break. The Beer Garden is mostly populated by smokers, the people around Nikki being the cool, intimidating, stoner punk rockers that she’d figured would be here, but that she can’t bring herself to approach. It’s nice to take a moment to be alone, she finds, breathing in the crisp night air, head feeling clearer for it, looking up at the stars glittering overhead.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Vince is a fucking tool. He’d made Peach cry the week they got back to school, and Charlotte had vowed to never forgive him for it.

After a few minutes, Charlotte takes the time to really look at the people milling around, wondering if she actually recognised anyone. Much to her surprise, in the back corner of the courtyard area, she did.

Side by side, Mick from the gas station, and the mysterious girl who’d bought cigarettes from him, sitting on the edge of a planter full of dead shrubs, both smoking, neither speaking, reading one magazine between the two of them.

Charlotte’s not quite sure who’s more likely to stab her, between Mick and the girl, and Nikki’s band of misfits, but she hedges her bets and heads to the pair at the back.

“Having a good night, Mick?” Charlotte asks tentatively, before giving pause. They’re reading a ratty old copy of Hustler. Mick looks up, and lets go of his side of the magazine, letting the girl take it, to keep flipping idly through.

“The band’s okay,” Mick muses, and seems to realise that his cigarette has gone out when he tries to take a drag on it, and he pulls out a lighter and relights it, “how’s your night been?”

“It’s been alright, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Charlotte gives an awkward laugh, looking to the magazine, which Mick seems to either have forgotten about, or not realise that he’s reading porn in public, but finally the girl looks up.

“Someone cut out all the tits,” she’s got an accent Charlotte hadn’t noticed back at the gas station, and still can’t quite place, but that’s not the part she focuses on.

“What?”

The girl flips the magazine around to show a Farrah Fawcett look-alike posing suggestively, with her entire torso cut from the magazine, just leaving a hole where the cologne ad on the next page can be seen.

“Found it on the side of the road on the way here,” Mick says, like it suffices for an entire explanation. Instead of elaborating, he offers Charlotte a cigarette.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” an awkward silence follows, Charlotte with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, while the girl close the magazine with a resounding slap and threw it over her shoulder into the dead shrubs, “I’m Charlotte.” Charlotte offers her hand. The girl looks at it, then to Charlotte’s face.

“From the gas station, the cheerleader” she says, tone unreadable, giving Charlotte a scrutinizing look, like she’s waiting for the blonde to shirk under it’s intensity. Charlotte doesn’t back down, and the girl finally gives her a firm handshake, “Lola.”

Silence followers, chatter filters over from the various other groups, Nikki’s laugh, loud and clear, above the rest. Neither Mick nor Lola makes room for Charlotte, so she sways idly from side to side, people watching the rest of the courtyard.

“Didn’t pick you for this type of scene,” Mick muses finally, crossing his ankles and fixing Charlotte with a strangely neutral expression, cigarette almost burned down to the butt where it’s poised between his lips, “that over-eager cousin of yours, sure, but this doesn’t seem like it’s your style.”

“Oh, Tommy is here,” Charlotte’s quick to clarify, looking around as if he were about to jump out of the bushes and irritate the rarely amicable Mick, “but, I don’t know,” she shrugged like coming out tonight wasn’t her idea, “I’m more than happy to give anything a go at least once; people at my school are kind of weirdly obsessed with the bass player, so I guess I wanted to see what the hype was about.”

Mick finished his cigarette as he considered her words, giving a pensive look to the bass player himself, still surrounded by a gaggle of fans, and eventually stubbed the last of the ash out against the edge of the planter he was sitting on, letting the butt fall, crumpled, to the ground.

“He’s the only one with any ounce of talent,” voice gruff, Mick’s approval comes as a surprise to both Charlotte, who’s eyes go wide at the statement, and Lola, who barks an unexpected laugh, that ends with her choking on the smoke in her lungs. Mick thumps her on the back, and she roughly when her breathing clears, tears watering in her eyes.

“Whoever writes their songs is half decent,” Lola points out, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, after which she dropped her own mostly burnt-out cigarette, crushing it under the heel of her boot. Yes, she has a point, but Charlotte’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“Can I ask...?” At her tentative tone, Lola immediately tenses, growing defensive, “are you Lola Fields?”

“Why?” Lola immediately snaps, and Charlotte raises her hands in surrender. Mick’s arms are crossed, looking with interest between the two girls.

“I think you go to my school,” Charlotte quickly clarifies, but Lola’s scowl deepens, as if wondering how she knew that, “do you take AP French with a tall, ginger girl?”

“I don’t really know who else is in the class,” Lola slowly tells her, but it’s not a no, which is all that matters. Charlotte nods, but doesn’t press the subject, “it’s weird that you know that much about me.” Lola adds.

“It’s barely anything,” Charlotte points out, baffled at the sudden defensiveness.

“You know my last name and that I do AP French,” Lola says, and her gaze shifts from Charlotte to the gaggle of fans surrounding Nikki, as they all started to head inside.

“Well,” Charlotte doesn’t let her resolve falter, smiling, “my name’s Charlotte Lee, and --”

“Oi, Cheerleader, you coming inside? We’ve got another set to go!” Nikki Sixx’s voice rings out through the courtyard area, and Charlotte visibly cringes at the sound of it, turning slowly on her heel, still wincing when she faces him.

And yes, he was talking to her, his hands are still cupped around his mouth like a megaphone, a tunnel showing off his smug and toothy grin. She hadn’t realised he’d even noticed her, but he had, and he needed her to know he had.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” she calls back, irritated. Nikki lowers his hands, and even from this distance she can see him raising his eyebrows.

“But you’re here, aren’t you?” He leaves the because I invited to you as an implication only she would hear, knowing she would hear it nonetheless. Charlotte sighs deeply, shoulders sagging with resignation, and Nikki, feeling as though he’d won, turns sharply on his heel and marches inside.

“I hate him,” Charlotte groaned.

“You know him?” Mick seems rather surprised, enough that the emotion could be heard in his voice. Charlotte turns back, not quite sure what to expect when she faced them. Mick is watching Charlotte with actual interest. Lola was watching the spot where Nikki had been, expression carefully blank.

“He’s a pain,” Charlotte says, defeated, and Lola’s gaze flicks to her, expression turning amused, but before she can get a word in -

“There you are!” The door to the now mostly-empty beer garden bursts open, and Tommy makes himself known. He’s left Keanu somewhere inside, apparently, now that he was on the hunt for his cousin. Mick sighs so heavily that it’s all he can do to lean back into the planter, arms crossed over his chest like a vampire, as if the very sight of the kid exhausts him. From this position, the packet of cigarettes in his pocket is exposed, and Lola steals one.

“I’ll owe you,” is all she says, as Tommy approaches, in less of a beeline, and more of an unsteady wave, more than a little tipsy. Christ, his mom is gonna kill them both.

“I was looking everywhere for you,” his wide eyes betrayed his concern, despite his current state, but his concern turns to joy, upon seeing her company, “hi, Mick!” Mick does not answer, laying with his eyes closed, in the shrubs.

“He’s dead,” Lola supplies without missing a beat, pulling out her lighter and lighting the stolen cigarette, and Tommy’s expression falls.

“We should help him -”

“I can help him, don’t worry,” Lola assures, with faux seriousness, before her tone shifts to something light, easily distracting the tipsy boy, “you were in the gas station the other day with this one, weren’t you?” She gestures with her lighter towards Charlotte; Tommy looks to his cousin before looking to Lola.

“I- yeah, oh, shit, you’re- hi,” suddenly flustered as he finally remembered where he knew her from, he offers his hand, “Tommy.”

“Lola,” there’s a new edge to her smile, sparkling in her eyes as she taking in Tommy and his whole look, which has something strangely protective flare up in Charlotte’s chest. But then Lola catches the slight frown on Charlotte’s face, and it’s like she knows exactly what she’s thinking, because she lets go of Tommy’s hand and her expression betrays on the faintest hint of amusement.

“Lola,” Tommy nods very seriously, as if committing the name to his memory in his current state was quite the task, but he persisted nonetheless. After a moment, however, he seemed to remember his original mission, “Vince thought you’d headed home -”

“Fuck Vince,” Charlotte spits automatically, venomously, a knee-jerk response, and Tommy’s stunned into silence.

“Do you want to go home?” Tommy’s far too earnest and concerned for his current state, and Charlotte feels momentarily guilty for her outburst, hanging her head and letting herself breathe for a moment.

“No, the music’s good, we just got into a fight -”

“You guys used to actually be good friends,” Tommy hesitates, confused, and Charlotte gives him a rueful smile when she looks back at him.

“Then he decided that being nice to the people who have been friends with him for years was lame.”

“He’s nice to me,” Tommy says, sounding a little put out, and Charlotte shrugged, crossing her arms.

“And he’s still nice to me, doesn’t mean he’s not a tool; I’m a cheerleader, and you’re a guy, of course he’s still going to be nice to us.”

Tommy still doesn’t get it, but Charlotte decides to head back into the pub with him, throwing over her shoulder that it was nice to meet Lola. She could almost swear she heard a muttered ‘fuckin’ teenagers’ from Mick, all of nineteen years old himself, which just has Charlotte rolling her eyes. Mick taps Lola’s arm when Charlotte glances over her shoulder, while the rest of him still lays flat in the dirt, and Lola passes him the cigarette obligingly, crossing one leg over the other and smirking at him.

it doesn’t matter if the glass is half full or half empty. i am gonna drink it through this crazy straw!

“Vince is on the warpath,” Eileen’s always been able to remain composed while unreasonably drunk better than any person Charlotte’s ever known, and the following night, while Vince’s house party rages around them in the living room of his house, is no exception. She won’t say how many vodka sodas she’s had, or who supplied her with the vodka, but the way she was unable to suppress the amused twist of her lips was a dead giveaway that she was a little more than tipsy.

“Oh?” Charlotte’s eyes were roaming from face to face at the party, never sticking to just one, hands clutching a red solo cup full of cheap wine.

“Someone told him the person who keyed his car was here,” Eileen’s close to laughter, and Charlotte’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Does he -”

“No,” Eileen shakes her head, taking another delicate sip of her own drink, “he thinks it’s one of Duff’s friends.” She says, before her eyes going wide, and she slaps her free hand over her mouth - “sorry.” Charlotte, who’s too tipsy to care about the mention of her ex, is more confused than anything else.

“Because of me?” She actually snorts, skeptical, “as if Duff or any of his friends cared about who took me to prom after everything happened, enough to key Vince’s car.” It’s been long enough now that she can laugh at it, and the warped logic of it all, knowing full well that the girl sitting beside her was the real vandal of Vince’s shiny, red car.

“Can you believe Vince asked me to invite Peach? After all that shit he pulled on her after Summer? I almost clocked him in the middle of the carpark!” Eileen’s movements were relaxed and uncomplicated, so unlike her usual demeanour, so easy-going, so honest, sometimes drunk-Eileen’s openness caught Charlotte by surprise, “told him to invite her himself if he wanted her there so bad.”

“I’m in awe of your restraint,” Charlotte mused, leaning into Eileen, letting her eyes fall closed in an attempt to keep the room from spinning in her vision, “he’s such an ass; I’m surprised you’re even here.”

“The nerve on him, acting like he’s too good to be seen with her because he’s got new friends,” Eileen shook her head, wrapping her free arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, securing her, still people watching, “I should have keyed him,” for a moment, she hiccups, and when Charlotte cracks her eye open for a moment to guage her friend’s current state, she sees Eileen glaring into her mostly-empty cup.

“I’m still deciding if I should pee on something he cares about,” Eileen says, tone so serious that Charlotte can’t help but dissolve into giggles.

“What?”

“‘s why I’m here,” Eileen was so earnest in her declaration that Charlotte was a little nervous, if only because drunk-Eileen would absolutely do something as undignified as pee on something of Vince’s in an act of revenge.

“Would you key Duff’s car for me?” Charlotte asked to change the topic, all soft and teasing, and she can hear rare, unrestrained the smile in Eileen’s voice when she assured Charlotte she would in a heartbeat, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Despite it still being early in the night, Charlotte knew that if she seemed drunk when she got back to Tommy’s house, her Aunt would tell her mom, and that’s the exact opposite of what she needs. Tommy can get legless if he wants, he only has to face the wrath of his weirdly supportive parents; if Charlotte comes home obviously drunk, she won’t be allowed out of the house until college. So she decides to get water.

There’s bodies everywhere, and Charlotte’s struggling to move through them, even with Eileen guiding her to the kitchen.

Charlotte’s been in and around this house so many times, it should be second nature to her; she and Tommy had spent what felt like half their childhoods in this house, within it’s pristine, white walls, and expensive, leather furniture, playing pretend trying to imagine what their future would turn out to be. None of them would have pictured this, of Charlotte, of Charlotte hating Vince and still stumbling, drunk through his house, nor had they seen Vince, playing pretend with popularity, tossing them all aside for a set of conceited fair-weather friends. Tommy’s never been able to predict his own future, too willing to go with the flow to be too certain of anything.

Away from the living room, and the record player, the music is muffled, and the chatter is quieter, as people are here for drinks, or snacks, while most were choosing to dance in the crush in the living room, or making regrettable, teenage decision upstairs.

Eileen tops up her drink with obviously spiked punch. Half vodka and soda, half spiked fruit punch. Gross. Charlotte looks on in disgust as she sips water, and Eileen acts like there’s no difference between taste, but she interrupts her own performance of stoicism when her eyes widen.

“Fields.”

“What?” Charlotte asks, confused as all hell, following Eileen’s gaze to where the kitchen opens up onto the patio, only to see Lola, in a full face of makeup, hair sprayed to high heavens, wearing all sorts of black, ripped, mesh and denim layers, looking like an intimidating cross between glam rock and crust punk. She was straddling someone’s lap, looking at them intently, what looked to be a black, eyeliner pencil in her hand.

“That’s the girl from my French class,” Eileen sounds a little surprised to see her, and Charlotte smiles a little.

“Her name’s Lola -” but her mouth drops open when Lola, in the dim light spilling from the kitchen, leans in and kisses whoever she’s sitting on. After a beat, both Charlotte and Eileen burst in fits of unsubtle laughter, not having anticipated this turn of events. They’re holding each other for support in their drunken amusement, laughing like this is somehow the funniest thing they’ve ever encountered, thankfully aware enough to set aside their cups.

“I- we’re intruding right? This is- we should leave-” they’re not even the only ones in the kitchen when Charlotte says this, gasping for breaths between her laughs, but they seem to be the only ones who have noticed what’s happening, or at least the only ones who halfway care.

Until there comes a shout of ‘yeah, get some, Tommy!’ from the bonfire about thirty yards from the patio, and Charlotte very clearly and distinctly thinks ‘oh no’.

Vince is silhouetted by the fire, bleach blonde hair catching the light, but Charlotte can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shut up, Vince!” Lola’s partner, who is now unmistakably Tommy, calls back, flustered, as Lola hides her grin against his shoulder. Vince and his cronies, none of whom Charlotte knows by name, jeer in response. Then Lola’s leaning back and saying something that Charlotte doesn’t catch, but suddenly Tommy looks inside, his expression turning from flustered and pleased to horrified as his gaze locks with Charlotte’s and they both know that she knows.

Eileen is wheezing with laughter beside her.

Charlotte sees Tommy’s now lipstick-stained mouth mutter ‘shit’. Lola follows his gaze, and waves awkwardly at Charlotte. Charlotte also mutters ‘shit’.

Charlotte tips out her water and gets herself another cup of wine from the back of Vince’s refrigerator. A lot has happened in thirty seconds, she thinks she deserves one more drink for the night.

#mick mars #tommy lee #vince neil #nikki sixx #motley crue #the pack #charlotte & lola #lola&charlotte #the angry lizard writes

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dreaming-of-assclass · 4 years ago

Note

CURSED MINDS THINK ALIKE BAHDJSNSKS

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before!” Feat Okajima suddenly Discovering he likes Hayami because of her personality and not bcz of her appearance or whatever

While accepting she won’t like him back and... angst lmao? Or no angst you decide haha :eyes:

If anyone is confused, this came from both me and Nao thinking of a Valentine’s prompt for Hayami/Okajima 😂 aka the ship we love in a serious way and a crack way lmao.

This turned out be more of an introspective character study lol, but I hope I did it justice, bestie <3

Word Count: 1,694 words

In all fairness, Okajima mused to himself, it’s not like any part of this year went like planned.

Getting sent to Class E was a punch in the gut, for sure. There was no denying that, not after the laughter from his former classmates or the yelling he had to hear from his mom once he broke the news to her.

He’d been expecting a year of slacking, if he was going to be truly honest. He’d already reached rock bottom, no use in wasting his time and energy trying to get back into the main campus. Not when he was an average student, at best.

Fooling around during lessons, being labelled the class clown, hanging out with his friends, admiring his female classmates, overall having a good time. That was what he believed would await him in the dingy old building of 3-E.

Instead, their teacher was replaced by a giant yellow octopus who moved at Mach 20 and was gonna destroy the world, and it was up to him and his 25 classmates to save it.

Yeah. Big change of plans.

Okajima found himself actually being motivated to work, more and more everyday. He felt...excited to go to school everyday and feel better about himself, and his academic capabilities. He loved contributing to assassinations and proving himself a valuable member of the class.

But there was one part of him that didn’t quite go away for a while.

He sighed. His inexplicable love of female anatomy. That was the...polite way to put it. His classmates would phrase it as “his insufferable pervertedness.” Which was totally fair.

It was really shameful how he’d acted for a long time. His defining trait had been born from a life of being raised by his father, as well as the tiny voice in himself screaming for attention. To get noticed in some way, even if it earned him ire and scorn.

For a while, Okajima wasn’t sure how to interact with others beyond showing his perverted nature.

And looking back now, that was such a cowardly excuse he used. It had taken him way too long to realize that.

Okajima hated how he used to be, and his eyes were awakened after the girls in his class explained to him what was wrong. How his actions made them feel insulted and uncomfortable.

He painfully recalled the sharp sensation in his chest that formed to a lump in his throat at hearing their words.

It was never his intention to hurt them.

Okajima vowed to change that part of himself, and it was much easier than he thought it’d be. Looking back, it seemed like most of his problems in general came from overthinking.

The year was almost to an end now, and it was early February. Okajima had made a lot of progress, and he was happy to know how much he’s changed. How he had better, more honest relationships with his classmates now.

Well...there was still a bit of an issue...

Hayami.

The issue was Hayami.

Of course, not in a literal sense. Okajima could never think of her as that...not with the way she pushed back her bangs while reading, when he’d catch her watching cat videos in class, or the occasional times she’d laugh at his jokes...

He groaned to himself. I really do have it bad, don’t I?

As shocking as it sounded, he’d never had a crush before. Not on a girl, at least. Since there was that one boy in sixth grade who he-

Back to the topic, lusting after girls didn’t count as crushes, he realized belatedly. All of the objects of his admiration were solely for their looks, really.

But...somehow Hayami was different.

Like yeah, she had a banger body in his opinion, the perfect dancer build. But even before he’d had a change of character, that didn’t quite catch his attention as much as it usually would.

His favorite part of Hayami would always be the core of who she was. How she didn’t take bullshit from anyone. How she worked so hard, more diligent than anyone he’d ever known. How she kept a cool head all the time and was so reliable.

He just loved that she was tough and unapologetic for it.

The first time she’d responded to one of his stupid comments with a sharp, fierce glare, Okajima felt a thrill run through him. Partly out of fear, of course, but mostly out of...curiosity.

She was so different, so mysterious. He wanted to know more about her. And since they were seatmates for the year, that gave him some opportunities.

He was the first to know of her love for cats. He’d caught her looking wistfully at pictures of them on her phone, and he wisely kept that observation to himself. And a few days later, he gifted her with a cute cat-themed stationary set, claiming that his mom mistakenly bought it.

The way Hayami’s eyes lit up as her lips curved up in a small smile, a whisper of “thank you” falling off them was extraordinary and made Okajima’s heart leap.

Hayami’s other quirks soon added to his feelings towards her. He loved seeing her fidget with her pigtails absentmindedly. How she doodled pictures of cats on the side of her notebook. The way her feet created a small rhythm against the wooden floor, counting to a beat. How she looked like a complete badass during P.E class, loading her gun and shooting with it effortlessly.

Okajima sighed, his arms falling atop his face as he lay in bed. These new...romantic feelings were overwhelming, to say the least. He felt like voicing his thoughts, just so someone- anyone could give him advice. His dad and brother were absolutely out of the picture, though. So the most trusted people were...

He reached over and grabbed his phone, dialing a familiar number.

“Alright, dude. You said you were going through a crisis.” Mimura leaned back into his beanbag seat, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “What’s up?”

Okajima leaned down slightly, his forearms resting onto his knees. “Well...it’s not really a crisis. It’s just...something new that I’m not used to.”

Sugaya raised an eyebrow from his spot on his bed, glancing up from his pencil in his hand he’d been observing. “I swear, if this is puberty-related-”

“It’s not! It’s more like, my feelings towards something has changed and I’m not sure why.”

“Shoot.”

Okajima took a breath then released everything in one go.

“I have a crush on Hayami and it’s not just for her appearance. I really like her personality. I think she’s a total badass who can step on me and I’d love it. But I also think she’s adorable and I wish I could get closer to her. But I know there’s no way in hell she’d ever like me back, so I’m just accepting that and...yeah.”

His friends’ eyes widened simultaneously, as Sugaya dropped his pencil and Mimura paused, holding his candy mid-air. The look they exchanged was almost comical, so Okajima let out a shaky laugh. “Uh...guys?”

Mimura snapped back to reality. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just...surprised.”

The artist hummed. “Yeah...I mean, don’t get me wrong. I knew you’d fall in love or whatever someday. But your crush is what surprises me...”

“Yeah, why Hayami?” Mimura chimed in.

Okajima frowned slightly. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean...she’s pretty scary,” Sugaya replied.

“And emotionally unavailable,” Mimura added.

“She’s super reserved.”

“Kind of...bitchy on her worst days-”

“Okay!” Okajima raised his voice, irritably. “Are you two done? Did you even hear what I said earlier?”

“No because you said it all really fast in one breath.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, smartass, there’s so much more to her that I really adore. And I don’t think it’s right to...when you like someone, you accept every part of who they are. You shouldn’t pick and choose what you like about them.”

His friends glanced at each other again. “I guess you have a point,” Sugaya admitted.

Okajima sat back with a sigh. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Like...all I wanna do is see her smile and be happy. I wanna make her laugh. Seeing her every morning is enough to make my day. I know it sounds dramatic but...”

Mimura frowned at him. “Would you ever confess? Maybe there’s a chance that she-”

The photographer cut him off. “There isn’t.”

“Dude, you don’t-”

“Even if she did, I wouldn’t want us to be together,” Okajima replied. He gave his friends a thin smile.

“She deserves so much better than someone like me.”

Okajima stopped in front of the door, his hand hovering above the knob. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the thundering sound of his own heartbeat.

It was just another typical day. Or, as typical as a day could be given the circumstances of their class.

And yet, voicing his ambivalent feelings last night gave way to a heaviness that settled deep into his chest. It weighed him down and brought a crushing sensation to his throat as well, like it was hard to breath.

“It’s just in my head,” he muttered to himself, finally turning the doorknob.

Stepping into the classroom almost felt like a dream. He stood briefly as if in a daze, holding his bag. A second passed and he moved mechanically towards his seat.

All around him, his classmates were getting ready for the day. Setting up their desks, gathering around to chat, some were eating a quick breakfast. It didn’t matter: everything just blurred around him anyways.

He set his bag down and began pulling out his supplies. The words fell from his lips in an excited greeting, a grin automatically forming on his lips.

“Good morning, Hayami!”

She turned in his direction, her hand resting elegantly under her chin. Her lips quirked up into a small smile as she returned his greeting. Her tone was casual yet genuine and it sent electricity through him.

“Morning, Okajima.”

Yeah. She deserved only the best.

And it wasn’t him.

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aesthbaby · 4 years ago

Text

You’re going to be okay pt. 2

Summary: Reader and Emily meet as ghosts in a hospital after a case

Pairings: Reader x Emily Prentiss (not pronoun specific)

Prompt: Reader and Emily as ghosts haunting the same place (School, hospital, house, whatever). Reader has been dead for a few years and helps Emily deal. They end up liking each other and maybe have ghost fun all over the place. ;)

Warnings: Cursing | sexual references | death

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

Part One

"Mmm, I don't think this is the best idea Em." You hum while chewing on your thumb, a nasty habit you picked up in Elementary school.

"Come on it'll be fun. Let loose a bit Angel." A nickname Emily gave you, it started as more of a joke but over time it stuck. She hardly ever calls you by your actual name. In reality, you're actually okay with the name, it shows that she feels comfortable around you and you think it's flattering. Its as if your her savior or something, but not in a cult leader-god complex fashion. You took care of her for months while also teaching her everything and anything you can about the spirit world. Emily is suspiciously good at her job, she takes the kids and elderly, you take everything in between. There's something poetic about being good with both elders and babies, the beginning of life, and the end. You're better with teens because you died younger than Emily did and can relate to the trauma of an early, unfinished death. Adults can usually figure it out on their own but it's nice to have a hand to hold as someone to fill in the blanks.

Emily had never seen someone go into the darkness until a few weeks ago; you always managed to keep her away from it. You were making sure a man who sold laced drugs to teens got to the place he was meant to be. At first, he seemed to have a kind heart so when he confessed his crimes you were shocked, to say the least. He'd mix different over the counters and cheap street knockoffs in order to make more for less. Then he would sell them to the local high school kids but use the money to take care of his mom, grandma, and the local community center. Its an ethical gray area, that's for sure, but I guess you could say he meant well. Luckily none of the teens who bought drugs from him died, but that doesn't excuse what he did. During this whole fiasco, Emily was supposed to be taking an older woman to the garden before her transitioning; unknowingly to you she was around the corner listening in. When you were taking him you didn't notice her until he was gone. There was more curiosity on her face than fear so you tried to give her the bare minimum amount of information. The Agent was damn stubborn, she'd never let you off the hook with something unless you gave her information in exchange. Your arrangement was beneficial to both of you, in a way you liked teasing Emily and she liked pulling the information out of you. It reminded her of her work in the FBI. It also kept you from having to tell her everything you knew and kept things interesting between you two.

"No Emily." You tell her, you hate saying 'no' to her because she looks absolutely adorable when she fakes a pout.

"Emily Prentiss does not pout." Even while saying that she looks like she's pouting. She defends herself after being told 'no' when she asked you to teach her Thermokinesis. (To control the temperature of the physical world.) Gotta love her.

Though eventually, you did teach her, that is beside the point. Wait no let's go back to that, why didn't anyone warn me about how convincing this woman can be? She can talk me into almost anything and I'd comply happily. If she wasn't so drop-dead gorgeous maybe I could resist her. I bet unsubs were scared shitless of her. Your thoughts are interrupted by a nudge at your side. Oh not this again... "Emily I swear to-" you can't even get the words out through her incessant tickling. "Stop!" you laugh loudly while she continues her ministrations. "Okay- Em- okay we can do it!" She lets you go but you both continue laughing. "Only if you promise not to get carried away."

She puts her hand on her heart and says sincerely, "I promise." Then her seriousness switches back to playfulness. "Now come on," she grabs your hand and starts dragging you to roof. "I understand your reasoning behind not letting me do this very often but I wanted to show you what I've taught myself."

When you get to the roof there’s an empty space with X’s on the everywhere made out of pens and pencils. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“As you may know, I’m not very good at Object Manipulation. Yet!” She stands between a blue pen and a red one while you sit on a random electrical box. You immediately jump up when you feel a jilt underneath. Gotta stop sitting near that stuff. I’m the person who helps the dead, not the one that kills them. Emily used to make the mistake of getting too close to patient monitors, making them flat line or speed up. It freaked the new nurses out but they checked on the patients and chopped it up to being outdated. When a ghost is present, nearby electronics tend to act up. I guess Emily didn’t get the memo in Ghost School. To be fair I am not the most qualified teacher. “Are you okay?” she goes to check on you but you wave her off.

“I’m fine, just uncomfortable,” you say while rubbing her backside.

“Come here,” she beacons “I can make it feel better.” Her devious smile comes out to play, easily drawing you towards her. She wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you flush against her. Her hands slowly trail down your back but before they can reach your ass she’s gone. The warmth and tingly feeling is gone. “Miss me already?” you whip around to see her standing on one of the Exes. Her smile is cocky as hell to say the least.“That was impressive, I’ll admit.” you stride to her but she teleports again. “Oh come on Angel, you walked right into that one.” She says from above you. Now she’s standing on top of the entrance, a level above where you’re standing.

“Very amusing Agent,” You flash right in front of her, startling her in the process. You quickly wrap an arm around her so she doesn’t fall. “But I can do better.” She stares into your eyes like she wants to say something.

“Prove it.” She challenges. You lean down to barely graze her lips, before you meet in the middle you flash behind her; gripping her hips possessively.

You lean into her ear, “Who do you answer to?” A light shiver runs down her spine.

She turns around so she can peer into your eyes. She trails an index finger across your bottom lip. “I belong to no one.”

“Not even me?” you ask with a punctuating grip to her hip.

“No.” she whispers while inching closer to your lips. “Not even you, Angel.” You’re so close it feels like you’re breathing in the same air with no regard to anything around you. “Would you like to kiss me?”

You take her to the library, its small but there’s hardly anyone here so it’ll do. When you arrive you have Emily bent over a table with her ass flushed to your front. “I want to see you writhe underneath me.” You pure into her ear.

She flashes so quickly you couldn’t stop her. Now you’re the one bent over a fucking table. “You first.” she growls while pinning your hip down. She leans in so close to your ear you can feel her cool breath.

“What are you going to do, Agent?” Calling her by the title has always been a tease, its amazing that in all the time she’s been here you’ve never...you know.

“Whatever I want with you.” You roll your hips back on to her and feel her knead your ass in return. “If I had a strap I’d fuck you with it.” She growls in your ear; her animalistic tone is the biggest turn on. Just the sound of her voice alone makes you squirm underneath her.

But of course you can’t let her win that easily so you focus your energy on the top of the bookshelf. “You can’t always get what you want, Agent.” You’re sitting on top of the wood shelf with your legs crossed; as regal as you were when you were alive. Emily looks baffled but entertained by the empty space in front of her. “Enough of your teasing, we have things to do.” You say as you hop down from the shelf and begin to walk out. You turn to see that she’s not following you so you call out to her. “Come along Prentiss.”

There was once a time where you would call her ‘Princess’ instead of Prentiss because of the way she’d demand to know everything and anything like she was royalty. Her attitude came off as a bit standoffish and bitchy in the beginning but that was just you being territorial. As you both settled into your routine and got to know each other you realized she’s a very closed off person and wouldn’t talk about her life from before. She’s uber smart and remains professional yet empathetic with all of the ghosts she encounters. She’s such a calm person that it shocked you by how upset the nickname made her. She didn’t flat out yell at you but it was evident that it upset her so you reasonably left the situation alone. She felt bad so she explained that one of her teammates used to call her that, she later let it slip that the guy was her partner. You obviously felt bad so now you just call her- “Agent!” You look over your shoulder to see Emily dragging her feet. “Get a move on, we don’t have time!”

“Ghosts always have time.” She mumbles while speeding up. “Can’t we just, I don’t know? Flash there?”

“No.” You slow down to let her catch up. “You need to learn to walk before you run and I don’t need you accidentally flashin’ into the nurse’s lockerooms again.”

She rolls her eyes. “That was one time.”

“And the time you ended up in the kitchen. You need to walk around and see the place for yourself before you keep ‘flashin’ between different places.”

“Right,” she mumbles “Hey where are we going anyway?”

“To meet someone.” You casually say but notice she’s stopped, promptly.

“To meet someone?” she repeats, a little shocked. “Meet who?”

“Nope,” you pull her by the arm “No stopping, we’re crunched for time.” Before she can stop again or argue, you link your arms.”This is not the time to pout or second doubt me, Emily.”

She scuffs, “I do not pout.”

“Okay, fine, you don’t pout in the traditional children sense. Happy?”

“No. Not until I know where we’re going or who we’re meeting.” She stops again, reeling you back in the process.

You turn to her and say, “A friend.”

“Is this one of your angelic friends?” She asks as you practically drag her along.

“Angelic frie- Never mind we’re here.” You have her standing in the back of the ICU, the quietest of all the wings. “I only know like two, three angels tops.”

She laughs a little at that, “Angel...” she trails “Who is that?”

You turn to where she’s looking and see a beautiful darkened figure with their back to you. “Mazikeen!” You shout with excitement me when she turns around. You run to her and she automatically catches you. Hey sharp fanged smile is just as stunning as the last time you saw it.

“How’s my favorite human?” The brunette asks with her sultry South American accent.

“Good! How’s my favorite demon?” She just smiles even wider at your excitement until her eyes fall on Emily.

“Who’s the hottie?”

“Maze,” You tilt your head in disapproval. “Play nice.” She sets you down and struts over to Emily. Em looks confused yet curious so you don’t interrupt the demon from doing whatever she’s doing.

“Oh I always play nice with the pretty ones.”

She examines Emily with shear interest, when she moves to touch her hair Emily steps back. “Y/n...is there something you’d care to explain?”

“Emily, meet my friend Mazikeen,”

“But you can call me Maze.” She winks.

“Maze, this is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss.”

“Is she,” she covers the side of her mouth and points to Em. “Dead?”

You mimic her ridiculous gesture and whisper, “Very.” You walk to them and give your demon another hug. “I missed you, Maze.”

“I missed you too y/n/n. Why didn’t you introduce me to her sooner? We could’ve had a thre-”

“Maze!”

“Right...well, mom says hi and I’m not going to be here very long. I just gotta grab a few people and I’ll be out but of course...” She wraps her arms around your waist, “I wanted to stop by and say hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper. “You know I love you but...” You look over to Em.

“You’ve found another...” She strokes your left cheek with the back of her cold hand. “Its okay, I’m not mad. We both knew I was never made for love.” She takes a glance over her shoulder to an intrigued Emily. “She’s pretty, brave, and smart. You’ve outdone yourself little human.” She makes a full 180 to look at the agent. “Take care of Casper for me.”

“Uhm do I look like a friendly ghost to you?” You gesture down to your perfect silhouette.

Maze grins at that before turning back to Em. “Hurt them and there will be hell to pay.” She snarls but Emily doesn’t faultier.

“I’m not the one that left.” She replies and the demon laughs at that.

“Left?” She looks back to me and bursts into a cackle with her fangs out. “Whatever you say. I have work to do anyway, so do you.” She starts to walk down the hall of the ICU and says, “Goodbye human, you still look as good as ever.” She blows a kiss at you before rounding the corner. You’re stuck in your spot because shit that kind of hurt.

You feel Emily’s hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Its fine.” You turn to her. “She was never meant for relationships anyway.” At her expressionless face you continue. “Maze is a sex demon, we met a little while after I died. I kept seeing her in the hall but only in flashes. At first I thought she was a Wanderer or something but then I confronted her and she reluctantly told me who she was. We used to have fun together.” She just nods with an understanding expression and really, her silent facial expression speaks volumes. “Ghosts can’t feel a lot of things but sexual gratification is one of the exceptions.” This is where you shed a tear despite what you just said. Emily pulls you in for one of her gentle, yet meaningful hug. “Emily, I’m so sorry.”

She pulls you back to look into your eyes. “Why? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I should’ve told you about her sooner. I wanted you two to meet because I thought you were alike in many ways but I wasn’t expecting the jealous attitude. She’s never been like that before.”

‘Maybe its because she sees us having something she can’t have with you. Is what Emily wants to say but instead she says, “You didn’t have to tell me if you didn’t want to. I know I pressure you into revealing a lot of information to me but if I had know it negatively affects you I would-”

You interrupt her rambling with a soft kiss to her lips. You pull back to see her neutral facial expression. Shit. Sensing your internal panic she quickly explains, “No no I’m not upset, just surprised. That’s all.” There’s that wicked smile. “I always thought I’d be the one making the first move.” She takes a big step forward and captures your lip between her’s. Her hand reaches around the back of your head and pulls you closer so you put your arm around her waist and do the same. It felt different that what you and maze used to have, spiritual perception of emotions isn’t the same and humans but that doesn’t mean you’re as numb as people think. And with Emily, you actually feel something for once. Something true. ‘Alive’ isn’t the proper word for it but it feels close enough. It feels so fucking good to the point where you don’t want to come up for air but ultimately you have to. “Breathe.” She laughs.

You press your forehead to her’s, “Why, when all I need is you?”

She laughs at that, something she didn’t do much of when you first met. “You are unbelievably cliche.”

After this movie like exchange you end up laying in the middle of the Green Yard; Emily on the bottom and you wrapped in her arms. Since you can’t exactly ‘nap’ you just lay there and take in the good feeling Emily’s arms provide you. Whenever Francis is around you’ll have to ask him about this feeling because you know good and well ghosts can’t feel love. Then what the hell do I call this wonderful feeling?

“Y/n?” Em looks up from a book I gave her. Its taken her a while to learn how to hold anything over an ounce.

“Hmm?” You turn your attention to her, she looks as beautiful as always.

“What do ghosts feel?”

“What do you mean, Em?” You take a seat across from her.

“Do we have emotions or feelings?”

“Well, what do you feel?” You ask softly.

“I don’t know?”

“Remember the time I banned you from leaving the inpatient wing?”

“Yeah...it completely sucked.” She huffs.

“And how did that make you feel?” You trail.

“Mildly irritated.” She immediately answers without realizing so you politely stare until it finally dawns on her. Her eyes widen and her mouth opens into an o-shape.

“Exactly.”

You look up at the goddess that’s holding you captive. “Emily?” You call from under her arm.

“Hmm?”

“What are you feeling?” You ask softly.

“What do you mean, Angel?”

“Emotionally I mean.” You explain with an eerie feeling of deja vu.

“Remember the first time I showed you I could transport? I did it without any help and I surprisingly did it correctly.” She jokes.

“Yeah I remember.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“Happy.” You smile at the cute memory.

“That’s how I’m feeling right now. As happy as you were that day, if not more.”

You twist so you can look at her. “I really like you Emily Prentiss.” You lean up to give her a chaste kiss on her sharp jawline.

“I like you too y/n.” She presses a dominating kiss to your lips that makes yours look like child’s play.

sorry for any typos. I hate proof reading

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inkstaineddove · 4 years ago

Text

Asystole

Ships: AusHun

Characters: Hungary, Austria; mentioned Prussia

Summary: His empire failing, Austria is desperate enough to make anything work. His empire failing, Hungary is desperate enough to finally break free. One of them must give.

Vienna, 1867.

Erzsébet padded across the hallway, spine stiff and shoulders rolled back. A minute before, some poor servant had been tasked to play the messenger, urging her to head to the office straightaway. Ordinarily, this sort of urgency would’ve shocked her; today, it was expected. All people talked, from the lowliest maid to the richest of emperors, and word of their machinations never seemed to escape her. Plus – if she allowed herself a moment of honesty, instead of falsely praising her cunning – her politicians had told her everything. There truly were no surprises.

Her first sight upon entering was that of Austria, scowling down at whatever papers were before him. She wondered when she had last seen him smile – and not the fake one he flashed at diplomats and hangers’ on, but the real one. It couldn’t have been years, could it? It seemed true enough, but for his sake she hoped she was wrong.

“Are you intending to get your face frozen like that or do you just enjoy tempting fate?” Hungary slid into her seat as she spoke. Her voice lilted up in a way that would sound like gentle teasing to the untrained ear.

Fortunately, his was trained perfectly to her pitch. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, looking as if he was in no mood to be messed with. He’d been looking like that a lot recently. It disappointed her, only because it put a damper on her fun. There was little joy in kicking a dog while it was down, even one prone to biting.

“Would you prefer I pretend to sit here, giddy about all my misfortunes? If you wanted that, you should’ve convinced your boyfriend his time and resources would’ve been better off warring with a different enemy of the hour.” Austria attempted to keep his tone dispassionate, though it didn’t work. Try as he might, it never did.

She sniffed, scrunching up her nose. “Do you have to call him my ‘boyfriend?’ That sounds so…juvenile.” It was a minor thing to pick a fight over, but she certainly wasn’t going to over whether Prussia’s war had been legitimate. There was no need when they both agreed.

“I feel I have to because, if I didn’t and forgot my restraint, I’d be tempted to call him something awful like your little bitch, but I would never. I’m above that.” Austria smiled, all teeth and hostility, and Hungary wondered how nice they would look knocked out on the floor.

She flicked her wrist dismissively. No reason to get herself worked up over something so petty. There was business to discuss and deals to be made. She leaned her weight onto the arm of her chair. “Can you just tell me what you want? You know how it is, so many rebellions to plan and so little time.”

A quirk of an eyebrow was enough to show his displeasure. “Not like you to play the fool. There’s no reason for you to pretend to be so unaware.”

“If I didn’t pretend, you might get curious on my methods. If I reveal my hand, there goes whatever illusory personal freedoms I have. You want me even more miserable than I am?” His silence was the answer she wanted. She smiled, resting her cheek on her hand. “So, tell me. What does Hofburg have in store for me?”

“You’ll be thrilled to know that for a change, it’s an offer instead of an edict. I don’t see any point in attempting to sweeten reality to you – you live here and you’re not an idiot, after all. The empire, my empire, is in an increasingly bleak situation. You would think this would endear me into the hearts of all my subjects, but I suppose I underestimated how deep nationalism’s poison infected their bloodstreams,” Austria rolled his eyes at his own foolishness. “Yours being the most infected – and, as you love to remind me – being the most likely to one day succeed, a deal needs to be made to quell their bloodlust.”

That certainly was one way to put it. Hungary couldn’t stop herself from laughing, unable to look at Austria’s overly serious expression or risk breaking into hysterics. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, though still with a noticeable smirk. “Bloodlust? Really, Roderich? They want independence, not the death of every Austrian. Who has the time for that kind of petty revenge?”

He scoffed, clearly insulted. “As if they’d be capable of that. If I had to sacrifice a few peasants here and there to keep them peaceful, I wouldn’t bat an eye. My kingdom for a commoner is a trifle. No, the blood they want is mine. They want to see what I’ve built up over the centuries diminished in months, in days. I’ve jumped into wars for less, you know as much. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’d fare well if an army were sent in and the backlash for such a heavy-handed move doesn’t make it worth the trouble.” He shook his head, clearing his mind of useless plans.

Hungary pitied him. Look how desperate he was to hold onto something so ephemeral, so meaningless. Empires came and went like the seasons. Here was a man who thought himself wise, yet he couldn’t grasp such a basic tenet of their existence. She had learnt it; so had Poland and Lithuania and every other plaything these so-called ‘powers’ sought. It was a lunacy, one that infected all of them the same. Now his was crumbling all around him and instead of attempting to move on, he would drag out the process. It was predictable and entirely disappointing. Despite having no reason to, she expected better of him.

She sighed and turned her gaze away from him. If she stared at him any longer, she’d feel nauseous. “What do you want from me?”

Relieved to be back on track, Austria’s body became less rigid. “Nothing, really. My offer is quite favorable to you. Our marriage, partnership, whatever descriptor you prefer becomes one of equals. Complete control of your lands returns to you. You’ll have the privilege or the torture to pore over the minutiae of whatever half-formed, barely coherent policy is cooked up by your own hacks in Budapest. Christ, am I normally this cynical?” He shook off the self-awareness. That could be dealt with later or, preferably, never. “Really, everything you’ve ever harassed me and all my various rulers about is now yours. You lose nothing in this arrangement.”

“Everything, bar the most important thing. Just because it’s been roughly twenty years hasn’t changed what the people want. You’re not giving me anything you view as important. Ruling my people has become an inconvenience, so you’ll hand it off to me. Ten years ago, you would’ve been insulted at the prospect. And now the insulted party will be us.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Why is conceding so difficult for your lot to do? Clinging onto everything will only make the inevitable that much harder.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared her down. “Nothing is inevitable. We’re in a difficult spot, but we’ve been through those before. As long as I bide my time and there’s no more incidents, everything will be back on track and no one will make anymore of their bitchy little comments.” The way he sneered as he said that last part, she was willing to bet that bothered him more than anything else. He tried smiling at her, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve conceded a lot to you with this. Fine, you’re not quite independent, but it’s just as good. In some ways, I’m doing you a favor. Foreign policy is such a nuisance. All of them are sharks, all of them would be circling you, sniffing out fresh blood. Europe isn’t how you remember it.”

Hungary grinded her teeth together. Patronizing, always patronizing. Even desperate for her assistance, he couldn’t view her as a peer. And then he wondered why she behaved the way she did? Why, sometimes, she can’t even stand to be near him? He was dumber than he had any right to be.

“Do you think I’ve been completely isolated from the world? I know how they all act, how they all think. The only ones I’d have to worry about fighting off would be you and Russia, and without me, what army do you have?” She smiled, enjoying how that blow landed. How could he argue against it? He’d said as much to her – sometimes with pride, sometimes with fear – many times throughout the years. “And believe me, I would love to strike out on my own and form my own alliances. I can think of a few who’d be more than happy to spurn you with a treaty or two.”

He folded his arms over his chest, staring at her with derision. “Insulting me won’t get you what you want, Liebchen.” He practically snarled out the nickname. Pet names had always been their favorite weapons. “This is the only deal you have. I don’t get all your bitching either. We negotiated with two of your most darling heroes. There’s no need for you to be putting up this much of a fight. Will you ever be satisfied with anything I do for you, or should I learn to accept your eternal disdain?”

She took shaky breaths through her nose. That was hardly enough to constrain her. “Perhaps I’d be more accepting of the terms if you’d bother to invite me to negotiations! I appreciate,” she roared the word out, her fury overtaking her, “that you were oh-so-fucking considerate enough to know who I would’ve chosen to be my representative. And here I thought you only paid attention to my lands to slaughter innocents! But you have never, will never, respect me enough to listen to me on what my own goddamn people want! Deák and Andrássy are good men, but they know nothing compared to me! How many times must I scream this at you until you get it? If I’m not allowed to have any free will in this life, then so be it! That’s my curse, but at least let me speak on their behalf! Give me the chance, the fucking chance, to win them the freedoms it appears I’ll never have!”

She only realized she was leaning over his desk when she was done. Her rage, built up over the centuries, was causing her to tremble. Staring into Roderich’s eyes, she swore she could kill him. She swore she could and it would be the last time, the most permanent of his deaths. It was so vivid in her mind that, for a moment, she believed it to be reality.

What brought her back to the present was how utterly bored he appeared at her antics. Here was the same song and dance they performed for each other. Here it was, meant to play out for eternity. Why would he fear her? What could she do to him that was permanent? Nothing. The one thing she could, he locked it away in some deal she wasn’t allowed to be apart of.

“Don’t you ever get tired of carrying on like that? So sanctimonious. As if your cause is the most just. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to be bound to you?” He shook his head. “I’m convinced that if you ever tried to shut up, it would kill you. Though, honestly, I’d be grateful for the silence.” As she sat down, he smiled with an unrivaled arrogance. “There. Now, please, Erzsébet, try to be reasonable for a change. There’s no use in becoming so hysterical over this. Everything doesn’t have to be such a battle. Fighting like this, you haven’t taken a break in centuries. Aren’t you tired?”

She would not be baited. She refused to tell him what he wanted to hear, refused even if it were partially true. “The only thing I’m tired of is being brushed aside, but I know not to expect change from you.” She looked outside the window and sighed. “The ink is already dried, isn’t it? I can’t stop what’s been put in motion.”

“For the most part. All it needs is ratification. Though, we’ve been assured that that won’t be an issue.” Once more, he relaxed against the back of his chair. His relief was clear across his face. “I’m glad you’ve calmed yourself of those delusions. While I can commend your…dedication, you’ll have much more important things to busy yourself with.”

Hungary smiled, pleased with his false sense of security. “You’re right, there will be. I understand that, at this point, I can’t prevent anything. But, when news travels around, most will not be happy. This flies in the face of everything they’ve worked so hard to achieve over these last few years. They’ve been sold out, and I’m inclined to believe them.” She licked her lips, savoring the moment. “So, when the people take to the streets, when they demand what they know is owed to them, I won’t try to smooth things over. Never again. I will be right beside them, doing whatever I can to rile them up. Whatever they choose to do, however they decide to handle this, I will support them with every fiber of my being. And if that creates problems for you?” She stood up, smirking and curtseying. “Solve them yourself. I’m no propaganda piece.”

Head held high, she began striving out of the room. It was the only card she had left, the only thing she could think of. With every step she took, she prayed he’d be as weak as she knew he was. He had said it himself, there was nothing he could do to fight anything. Today did not come about out of a position of strength for him.

“Wait, Erzsébet! Please, don’t do this.” She heard him rise, heard the soft steps of his feet. “If you do that, neither of us will walk away from this looking good.” A soft intake of breath from him. “For once, I’m not too proud to admit that I need you. But, please, don’t throw it all away over nothing.” His voice was gentle, as if he were pleading with a lioness and not a woman.

When he reached out, she allowed him to touch her and spin her around. When had his hands last been that soft? Cornered, he was like a new man. “All you have to offer me is insults. What should I stay around for? I have more to gain away from you than besides you. I always have.”

“I know, dammit I know!” She watched his Adam’s apple shift as he swallowed. Roderich’s eyes were wide, all too aware that he was on the precipice. “Not now, though. You’re right, you’re my equal. I’ll give you whatever I can, within reason, to prevent that. Anything to prevent you from ruining me.”

The urge to scowl at his self-preservation was there. What else should she have expected? He was still Roderich; nothing could change the core of a man. Still, this was further than she’d ever gotten before. “You know me well enough to know what I want.”

“I assumed I did when making the last deal and look where it got me. Forgive me for wanting you to spell it out.” The beginning of a smile appeared on his face.

Erzsébet didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. Feeling off-kilter, she settled for sitting on the sofa. “Not even you could mess this one up. I’m tired of sneaking around your back to leave the home. I’m not a young girl and you’re certainly not my father and you will stop treating me as such. If it’s that important to you, there’s only three places I’d be anyway, and you know them all. More importantly, start treating me like a person! You want your life to be less miserable? Then do yourself a favor and at least treat me with indifference, I’d rather that than constant disgust.” Her eyes met his and held them, challenging him to deny her. “And, whenever some big decision comes up, you better discuss it with me and actually give some consideration to my thoughts. You’re not any smarter than me and I’m as aware on everything as you are. If this is going to be both our futures, for whatever time you just bought yourself, then I’m not going to do anything to sabotage it.”

“That’s the very least of what I can do.” If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she a flash of shame in his eyes. It couldn’t have been. She doubted that he could feel such things, so high were the walls he’d built.

She studied him skeptically. That had been far too easy. There must’ve been something he’d want in return. He couldn’t just have thought what he’d taken was enough. “Don’t you have anything you want from me? There’s no terms?”

Roderich paused, deciding his best course of action. He shrugged, apparently not finding any trap in her words. “Two. The first: cut off the affair. It can be anyone else, but not him. On a personal level, this will make me look like an even bigger cuckold than we all know I am.”

Erzsébet’s eyes hardened and she leaned away from him. “No, that’s out of the question.”

He frowned when she offered no further explanation. “Really? You could do so much better. Don’t tell me you actually love him.”

“You have no right to my personal life.”

“Right. I thought that was the case.” She couldn’t quite distinguish the exact emotions in his voice beyond disappointment and resignation. There was a layer to it that wasn’t simple to place.

He snapped her out of her thoughts when he spoke again. “Now, the emperor wants this sealed with some sort of formal wedding between us. I begged him to do anything but this. Unfortunately for the both of us, he thought it would make such a lovely story for the masses.” He gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m also not exactly asking for you to do this, since there became a gentleman’s agreement on it, but something that means much more to me.” He grew serious again at whiplashing speed. “Let me break the news to Gilbert. Give me the satisfaction.”

Erzsébet could imagine how it’d go. How the scene played out in her mind, it was horrid. Her stomach wrenched. “You’d wreck him.”

“That’s the point,” Roderich wore a cruel smile. He’d been imagining it as well.

“Why do you think I’d ever let you do that?”

He shrugged in an effort to appear nonchalant and failed. “Simple, really. If you tell him yourself, do you think he’ll believe you can’t just stop it? God, he’ll have every moronic scheme to prevent it and act all wounded when you tell him it can’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he were just your little plaything all along. Even though I have ‘no right to your personal life,’ as you so kindly put it, I’m no fool. What’s the point in risking it and being stuck with me?” He smiled at her, warm in a way she was unfamiliar with. His tone attempted to strike a friendliness that didn’t fit him. “If I do it, he hates me, comes sobbing to you about it, and you can both continue to curse my very existence. The status quo is maintained. It’s an obvious choice to me.”

She wandered if he’d prepared that speech just for now. It was tempting to ask him, but the knowing would be worse. Ignorance could, indeed, be a bliss. Erzsébet knew there was an ulterior motive for his words, there always was with him. He wasn’t Feliks, who she wouldn’t feel such guilt over listening to. Still, there was a human part of her that needed outside validation regardless of the source. “Do you think I’m a coward?” Her voice was so soft, she wondered if he’d even heard her.

“No, because I can understand it. Sometimes it’s braver to manipulate.” There was an understanding in his voice. She wouldn’t be surprised if this were coming from experience.

“Fine, but don’t be crueler than you have to. Try to have some compassion if you can.” There was a feeling of hollowness Erzsébet forced herself to ignore. Her life would be livable, that was what was most important. No one would have done it differently.

“He’ll get what he deserves,” Roderich bit back his irritation. They both knew who it was really for. Instead, he nodded his head and offered her his arm. “I’m sure you don’t want to spend the rest of the day watching me work. Allow me to walk you to the door.”

She politely took his arm. They walked in silence to the door, too busy was her mind for idle chatter. Anyways, hadn’t they said enough? Only on her way out did she smile at him and offer him her thanks.

He smiled at her. “Thank you. I promise I’ll make this worthwhile.”

#aushun #aph aushun #hws hungary #aph hungary #hws austria #aph austria #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #historical hetalia #im back on my bullshit - at least for a moment

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ateezmakemeweep · 5 years ago

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richboy!seonghwa (part 22)

word count: 4k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 21) (series masterlist)

you had thought that after a few weeks, you and yeosang were gonna start to have hiccups. that your old banter and fighting and animosity towards one another would somehow rise to the surface, push past the sexual tension and attraction and show it's true colors again.

but your two-month anniversary was only a few weeks away and you two were still going strong. still exploring each other's likes and dislikes, annoying habits and quirks and finding out more and more that the unique magnetic pull between you two seems to be something very real.

if you guys weren't out on a date, walking through the park or trying out a new cafe, you were at his house, giggling and kissing one another before the night inevitability turned hot and heavy.

"you know, i don't think... we've ever finished a movie here," you tell yeosang breathily, the boy's strong hands on your waist as he kisses down your neck.

you had been testing him all night, curling yourself on his lap and wiggling with just a little too much purpose. wrapping your arms around his shoulders and ghosting your lips over his. running your fingers through his hair and letting your nails lightly scratch his scalp.

because you just love his reactions, love watching him smirk and try to ignore you until he eventually snaps. but he only hums against your skin, grounding you down more on his hardening groin causing you to let out a shaky gasp.

"maybe because you can't keep your hands to yourself," he says before pushing you down on your back, pressing his body against yours and taking your wrists in his hand.

you smirk at the sight of his red, puffy lips and messy hair; this is what you've been waiting for. his grip on your wrists as your arms stretch above your head, his ticking jaw and dark eyes shooting a jolt of excitement and warmth through you.

"you play with me on purpose, don't think i haven't caught on."

you lick your lips before pressing them into a firm line, attempting to show a look of indifference as you shake your head innocently. "i don't know what you're talking abo-"

his lips crash down on yours and you smile against them, arching your back in his hold before wrapping your legs around his waist. his hand tightens around your wrists ever so slightly at the new position, his tongue peeking out to invade your mouth.

you guys hadn't gone that whole way regarding sex but you've definitely done more than make out. because the amount of times his fingers have slipped inside your thong on this couch, your chest pushed flush against the fabric of the couch as you kneel between his legs and take his length in your mouth, was just a little embarrassing to think about. it had gotten to the point where he immediately invested in a set of blinds for the glass door.

and your teasing proves to be a success because, with your wrists still in hand, he's quick to pull down on your leggings and underwear with the other and circle around your clit. you moan out his name and it only spurs him on to apply more pressure before his pinky finger slides in your wet entrance.

"yeosang," you whine. because he knows that's not enough even though he already has your legs shaking.

"shut up," he growls, something hot and tingly burning deep in your stomach; it's incredibly ironic (and actually a little shameful) how quickly you listen to his harsh commands when you're under him opposed to in your normal day-to-day life.

"you do this to yourself every time, baby," yeosang mumbles, awarding you another finger when you do indeed shut up, before bringing his face to yours and placing a kiss on your mouth. "now you're gonna sit through the punishment."

"a punishment you say?" yunho says, throwing his arm around you as he guides you to your 4th period class that following monday. "and what exactly did that entail?"

"wouldn't you like to know," you tease, bumping into him playfully before squinting your eyes at him. "i'm sure mingi could show you it firsthand though."

you were 99% sure the boys were about to start dating and was 100% sure they both had crushes on each other.

because it was so sickeningly obvious, their banter and touches and gazes that always look far too sweet and loving for them to claim they're best friends. you had always noticed it but it became increasingly obvious after the day at the amusement park, when mingi had come back with seonghwa.

his gaze never left the boy, his rare hint of smile only appearing when yunho looked his way or said something funny.

"him giving me a punishment?" yunho laughs out, "i'd love to see him try."

"why?" you squeak, poking him in the side as you wiggle your eyebrows up at him. "because you have a crush on him?"

"no, my love," the boy says simply, humor in his tone as he watches you lean against the wall outside your classroom. he looks side to side, making sure the boy didn't somehow just appear, before he leans down to whisper in your ear. "because he's the biggest bottom i've ever seen."

a loud laugh erupts from you as you hit your friend in the arm, "yunho!"

"what! i'm just saying, y/n."

"so you've thought about it, then?" you ask, brewing with excitement at the budding romance between your two best friends. but he only rolls his eyes and shakes his head, insisting it was as easy to pick up on as the sky being blue.

"but...i couldn't tell that," you say, eyebrows pulled together in confusion and then even more when yunho throws his head back in laughter. "what is so funny!" you whine.

"nothing," he teases, biting his lip before a familiar looking face catches his eye. seonghwa passes the both of you quickly, your eyes meeting as he greets you both with a small smile and wave before he disappears into the classroom.

"yikes," the boy says under his breath. "and how's that going?"

you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders because that's the only way you can describe it. your relationship will probably never be the way it was before, just talking about anything and laughing with one another carelessly; because now you're lucky if you get more than ten words out of him when it's just you and him together.

"he'll say hi and stuff, ask how my weekend was and if i'm doing okay with my work," you tell him, "but apart from that...eh."

yunho quirks his lip to the side in dismay, frowning at the sight of you dejected. "it's still hard for him, i guess."

"i guess," you sigh, "but i should go in. i don't want you to be late." he smiles softly at you, tucking a piece of hair that fell out from your ponytail before nodding. "i'll see you at lunch."

you nod your head quickly before walking into the room, taking your usual seat in the back and passing seonghwa who never did move back to the empty one in front of you. you sit down and take your books out, ready again to look at the board and ignore the sight of the back of the boy's head mocking you.

but if you thought that was mocking, your teacher's words ten-minutes later completely rendered you a speechless fool.

you had known about the presentation due the day before christmas break and you had known that it would be with a partner - but you didn't know that she'd be picking them and you certainly didn't know you'd end up with no other than:

"park seonghwa," you hear right after your name is announced. your eyes widen as your teeth sink into your lower lip before you notice the boy two seats ahead of you stiffen immediately. you know this is probably the last thing he wants and that he has every right to be uncomfortable but the reaction still hurts your feelings.

you hear the girl next to you let out an annoyed scoff, turning your head to see her eyes narrowed at you with a fire you were once so used to building behind them. it's been quite some time since you got bullied, everyone deeming you harmless and not worth their time for which you were grateful; you had even almost forgotten everyone and their mother thinks you're a poor beggar.

but perhaps that's because now they've switched up their material.

the teacher dismisses the class five minutes early, sharing far too much about the amount of drinks she had this morning and her weak bladder, leaving all the students free to chat and pack their things up before the bell.

and that's when the girl and her minion take their chance, sit on their desks and spin themselves around as they cross their legs in a lousy attempt to box you in.

"you must be pretty happy about your partner," one of them says, tone and smile sweet as candy but you know these antics far too well by now to think she's being genuine.

"and why's that?" you ask, not about to beat around the bush or entertain her juvenile behavior.

and apparently it pisses her off that you didn't go all doe-eyed and feign innocence the way you used to, hit her with a naive 'of course i am, seonghwa's one of the top students.'

"because isn't it time to bounce back to him now?"

your eyebrow raises at the comment in surprise, turning your head to the side in confusion. "what?"

the girls look at each other and share a snide laugh. "really? you were up his ass the first month and a half of school," the other girl chimes in, her eyes ghosting over seonghwa who's talking to the boy in front of him. "and then all the sudden you drop him and start dating yeosang, his best friend nonetheless?"

"i wasn't up his ass, we were just..we're friends."

but the sinister, bitchy smirks on their faces don't care to hear that.

"we were just innocent little friends," the girl mocks with a laugh before a hard, serious look crosses her face. "like you weren't a second away from dating him before another boy looked your way."

"sounds like you're a whore to me," the peanut gallery chimes in again.

"a total whore," the girl says, smirking as she looks at you with tears brimming your eyes as anger and hurt stir in your stomach. "it was very distasteful, y/n, playing the two of them like that. you could've ruined a friendship."

"i wasn't dating, seonghwa," you say quietly, the same way your mind has repeated that statement to you over and over and over again these past few months.

"but you would've," she's quick to add, "because everyone knew how much he liked you." the girl's eyes again graze over to seonghwa who's head is turned straight in his friend's direction. "but you really messed up with your whoring around, huh? since he's not over here defending you."

"how sad," the girl says, "but if he did, i'm sure she'd be with him next week."

"they share her. gotta making herself money somehow."

and that's when you've had enough, wiping a tear that's rolled down your cheek before your chair scrapes on the floor and you quickly make your way out the door. you text mingi and yunho, praying that one of them can get out so you don't have to have this breakdown alone.

and it's a breakdown seonghwa knows you're gonna have which is why he immediately jumps up from his chair and over to the girls, the look on his face so angry and full of rage they almost regret messing with you.

"how many times do i have to tell you bitches to leave her alone?"

their faces drop at seonghwa's profanity, looking to one another in shock that seonghwa can only roll his eyes to.

"we were just trying to stick up for y-"

"just shut the fuck up, how 'bout that?" the boy growls, "you two don't know shit."

the girl's look at him in fear, getting more and more nervous at the anger directed at them; but it does nothing to simmer the boy.

"she's been through enough from all of you and she doesn't need anymore. so just stop. fucking. talking to her."

the girls can only blankly stare at him, the rest of the class sensing drama and falling silent.

"do you understand me?"

the girls swallow nervously, not sure if seonghwa even noticed how much he got in their face.

"forgot how to talk?" his loud, harsh voice growls out.

and lucky for them, they remember how to and quickly rush out swears that they won't talk to you anymore. but he only rolls his eyes and sneers at them, plopping back down in his seat as his foot jerks anxiously in hopes to get out of this room.

and lucky for you, mingi gets out of his class immediately. he ushers you into the nurse's office where you spend the next period crying and venting to the boy. asking him if those girls were right and if you were using both of them during that time. because you've even thought to yourself how you were once so sure about liking seonghwa and convinced you'd want to be with him.

"you were allowed to be confused, y/n," mingi tells you softly, "you had one hot guy and another..cute-ish guy after you." you pout and hit him playfully when even during a pep talk, he still finds time to make a dig at yeosang. "and you hadn't even be here that long and they were both coming on strong. it was exciting and there was no right way to handle it."

you let out a tiny sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder as he pats your back in awkward but comforting mingi fashion. "you hadn't given yourself to either of them, you weren't indebted to be with seonghwa just because he was nice to you."

and deep down, you know that, you've known that. but it hurt hearing it from an outside source. which mingi is quick to clarify that they didn't know what they were talking about, that they only said those things to hurt you and that you shouldn't let it work.

"besides..." the boy says after a few minutes, after you've smiled and wiped your tears. "it's not like you kissed both of them or something."

your face falls when you see the shit eating grin on mingi's face, who's quick to take your face in his hand and squeezing your cheeks teasingly. "that was mean," you mumble out, words morphed by his hold on your jaw before you rip your face away.

"it was kind of funny," the boy says despite the smile not dropping from his face. you both hear the bell ring for next period and you watch mingi's eyes light up at the sound. "c'mon, are you hungry? i'll willingly share my food with you."

"fine," you grumble out, eyes narrowing at him as you pick up your things. "but like i'll get a chance, yunho eats all the fruit in two seconds."

a scoff leaves the redhead as he nods his head, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you both make your way to the library.

and in a sick, twisted fate, the two girls who attacked you in class pass you by. they're quick to look at mingi, his harsh glare and lip curled in disgust causing them to advert their gaze to his hand on your shoulder before looking you dead in the face.

"great, that's just great," you whine to the boy next to you, "and my body count raises to three. i can't wait for the shit they're about to say tomorrow, probably gonna tell the whole class i have an std or something."

a snort leaves mingi as he shakes his head and tightens his hold on you. "i love you but i don't know if i'd ever kiss you."

a sarcastic laugh leaves your mouth as you shake your head, being sure to look right at him when you say "that's because you're a bottom!"

he stops in his tracks and his arm falls from your shoulders when the words leave your mouth, a mix of shock, embarrassment and amusement on his face. "what..what did you just say to me?"

"don't think i don't know these things," you say to him, "it's as obvious as the sky being-"

"y/n."

the deep voice immediately causes you to turn around; you haven't heard him say your name like that in months. seonghwa's looking at you and mingi almost apprehensively, an unsure look on his face probably due to the fact he heard people ream into you about being a whore and using him...but who's to know really.

"hi, seonghwa."

the two of you hold each other's gaze amidst the busy, bustling hallway, the both of you waiting on the other to respond or say anything else. but mingi's quick to break the tension, despite his own confusion about being called out less than a second ago, telling you he'll give you two a minute and will see you in the library.

you and seonghwa both nod before walking off to the side, out of harms way from bustling students and oversized backpacks smacking into you. he's leaned against the wall, teeth between his lip as he watches you look at the floor and play with your hands nervously.

"are you okay?" he asks and the scene is so familiar, it brings the slightest pang of pain to his chest.

his eyes move further down, brows knitting as his stomach sinks because just the mention of this party has you nervous, has your hands folded into one another and fingers fiddling nervously; he feels the familiar feeling of guilt start to creep in his veins at that moment.

"come with me?" he mumbles suddenly, placing his warm hand over the both of yours and rubbing them calmingly before taking one in his grasp.

"are you gonna be okay tonight?" he asks quietly, taking a step closer to you and causing you to bite the inside of your cheek nervously, "i...we can do something else if you want."

a shy smile makes its way on your face, you heart warming at the gesture and the sincerity in his eyes. because it's so thoughtful and sweet and your heart continually melts when he shows time and time again how considerate he is.

but you don't wanna ruin the fun nor do you want that event to taint any other experience you might and will have. it appears though that even with your positive and strong thoughts, it doesn't translate to your body's natural nervous reaction. doesn't stop your stomach from feeling queasy or your mind start to race with the hazy memories.

you're suddenly very interested in the pictures on the wall behind him, eyes darting to take in the drawings and snapshots of the ski lodge throughout the years. the picturesque town, an overview shot from the ski lift at sunset, snow-covered tree, the-

his warm hand on your jaw moves your face ever so slightly so your eyes immediately fall back on him, your tongue darting out to lick your lips nervously and you don't miss the way his eyes follow it.

"y/n?" he hums, head cocked to the side as he looks at you, his gaze gentle and patient.

"no, i can...we can go, i'll be okay," you stutter out, your head turning to look at the table of excited boys throwing crumbs at each other.

"are you sure?" he asks, noticing where your gaze shifts and letting out a sigh, "they won't mind, you know."

"thank you," you say softly, turning back to him face, "but i promise it's okay, i...i think it'll be fun. we can dance."

a soft smile makes its way on his face and he has to suppress a laugh thinking about the kind of dancing you think is appropriate at a party.

"you're two left feet say otherwise," he quips, letting out a laugh when you smack his chest lightly.

"shut up!"

"yeah," you say quietly, ripping him from his memories as he finally notices your eyes on him. "i'm just...i'm sorry you had to hear that. it was embarrassing."

"they're just stupid," he says to you, the angry growl seeping back into his voice. "and they don't even know what they're talking about."

you swallow down the lump making its way in your throat as you nod at him, feeling grateful he's not standing here and yelling at you that they were, instead, absolutely correct. there's a few moments of a slightly awkward silence before a strangled giggle leaves your mouth.

"hey, at least they stopped calling me your poor maid."

and to both your surprises, he lets out a laugh as he shakes his head to the side. "i forgot you were my maid."

"hm guess i've been doing a shitty job, then."

another chuckle leaves his mouth and your eyes meet again, the guarded glint in his eye making you falter ever so slightly. but it only lasts for a few seconds, him quickly moving his gaze to the library before he mentions you guys being partners for the project.

"oh...yeah," you say, your voice dragging out at the end because you don't wanna say the wrong thing and make him feel weird. because is he gonna suggest asking the teacher to make a switch? or be completely fine and start talking about topic ideas and meeting places?

you don't wanna presume anything but then you're pleasantly surprised to find out it's the latter, him telling you it'll probably be best to meet in the library after school one day.

because he doesn't think it'll be...appropriate to have you back over his house or in his bedroom. and he also doesn't hate himself enough to try and put his weepy, fragile heart through that.

"so we'll start meeting next week after school?" you confirm, your bright smile causing his heart to constrict.

"yeah," he says, meeting your smile with one of his own and for a split second, you remember why your stomach and heart used to flutter to a dangerous degree.

you send him one last smile and take a few steps before he calls out your name again. you quickly spin back around to see his tooth in his lip, his hand on the back of his neck that you remember is a nervous tick.

"i'm not mad about anything," he tells you, "i know i've been awkward and distant lately but i...just need you to know i'm not mad at you, okay?"

you feel stupid tears sting behind your eyes, his soft voice and softer words causing you to smile and nod at him. and because you don't think you can get any other words out, you can only get out "okay."

"okay?" your voice confirms sweetly and a smile of his own finally makes it's way on his face. it's small but it's there and your stomach is fluttering at the sight of it.

"okay."

a tiny giggle suddenly bubbles out of you and he looks at you strangely, eyebrows furrowed but eyes holding a certain fondness at hearing you laugh after such an intense few minutes.

"did you see that movie?"

his eyebrow raises, eyes looking at you questioningly as he removes his hand from your face and a gasp falls from your lips.

"hazel and augustus? terminal cancer? the anne frank house?"

his look of confusion only deepens, looking at you as if you've spoken another language.

"i wish i had any idea what you were talking about," he says, sarcasm dripping in his tone and a scoff leaves your mouth as you roll your eyes.

"ugh and the stupid rich boy is back," you tease sarcastically, eyebrows shooting up playfully as you poke his chest daringly.

he smirks thinking back to you muttering to yourself in class with your flushed cheeks and babbling and he can't help but scoot a little bit closer to you in the bed.

you know the memory smacks you both in the face when your eye contact breaks, you taking a few steps back and him shaking his head as his gaze hits the floor. "see you tomorrow," he says gruffly and then before you can even respond, he's gone and around the corner.

you walk into the library with a sigh, plopping down in your usual seat and running your hands through your hair until yunho's bubbly voice pierces your ears.

"you told mingi he was a bottom? where did you ever get that idea?"

(part 23)

#this timeline is a literal mess #lets just ignore that ladies and gents #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #yeosang #yeosang angst #yeosang fluff #yeosang smut #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff

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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Beyond the Corona Walls Part 2

Part two is here, so let’s get on with the rest of the stupid shall we...

You can find part 1 here - https://rachelbethhines.tumblr.com/post/624977559380213760/tangled-salt-marathon-beyond-the-corona-walls

Summary: Rapunzel and the group return to Vardaros to find Eugene, only to learn about his engagement to Stalyan, leaving Rapunzel heartbroken and regretting her decision on rejecting Eugene's marriage proposal. However, after being encouraged by Cassandra, Rapunzel returns to Vardaros and stops the wedding between Eugene and Stalyan. Meanwhile, Adria gives Raps another piece of the scroll and an ominous hint to her future.

So Why is the Baron Still Operating If Both Raps and Eugene Know Who He Is?

Keep in mind this guy still has a house in Corona that they know about, he’s still a crime boss who’s criminal actions still affect their kingdom, and they both have the ear of the man who is in charge of running things and who has had a vested interest in cracking down on crime for the past 19 years. So why hasn’t Frederic gone after this dude? You can’t say it’s because he’s hiding out here, when he has a base of operations and living quarters in the kingdom itself. And if it’s because he has money, then that’s just further proof that Frederic is corrupt.

The Writers Undermine Themselves When They Try to Make Conflicts Lopsided

So the writers are trying to have their cake and eat it too in this episode. They want to make Stalyan just unlikeable enough so that the audience won’t hold Eugene accountable for his past actions, but not so unlikable that she’s irremediable later. Hence the excuse that the blackmail is her dad’s idea and that she still believes that Eugene is really in love with her and is just playing hard to get.

The problem is, by having Stalyan still aware of the situation and complacent in this plan instead of fighting against it, the audience isn’t inclined to see things her way and less inclined to give her a second chance when they try to pull her redemption later.

Moreover, this also undermines Eugene’s character arc as well, because him learning to be more responsible has to include acknowledgement of his past wrongs. Instead all he does is make excuses or look vaguely guilty over shit that’s only implied not stated. There’s no outright admittance of wrong nor apology for the way he treated her.

Staylan can’t be sympathetic later on if don't show things from her perspective in the now and Eugene can’t grow as a character if he doesn’t realize what he’s done wrong specifically.

Context Is Key

Yeah, that’s a lot of screenshots, I know, but you need to hear/read the line in full. Because there’s not enough context within the episode to make this line work.

What does ‘someone like you’ mean? What was his relationship with Stalyan like before the break up? When did the break up happen? Why did he leave her at the altar? Why is she still trying to be with him after such a thing? Why wouldn’t Stalyan believe him when he says he’s really in love with Raps? And why, oh why, are we going with this ‘marriage is a prison’ metaphor when the person saying it wants to get married herself? To the very person she’s saying ‘don't get married’ to, no less!

Now we get hints to answer some of those questions, but none of those hints are in the actual episode itself. Hence the main failing of the episode. That’s because the writers still don’t want to admit fault in their mains. Because, at the end of the day, for all of their talk about how ‘it’s not a kids show’, they can’t or won’t tackle actual mature topics like ‘relationships are hard and failed ones can be the fault of both parties or neither party’.

‘Contrived Misunderstanding’ Is Literally the Dumbest Plot Point Ever

Unless you are the Bard of Avon risen from the unholy grave himself, don’t fucking do this. Even then I still criticize Shakespeare heavily for bullcrap like this. It’s lazy and more over it’s not fun.

We already know what the ending outcome is going to be so there’s no tension to be had here. It’s just a cheap way to have conflict between the mains without having them actually address shit or grow as people. Instead of having believable conflicts where people have competing needs or desires, they just throw Stalyan in here to be a scapegoat; and then throw the Baron in here on top of that to be her scapegoat.

So Let’s Talk About Staylan’s Thought Process Here

Okay, if we’re to make any sense of Staylan’s actions here, we have to answer some of those above questions.

What does ‘someone like you’ mean? What was his relationship with Stalyan like before the break up?

We honestly don’t know what their relationship was like. We never see them before the break up, only afterwards, and that’s not a good indicator of anything really. All we know are five things;

Eugene wasn’t a very good person during his Flynn Rider days

He is hinted to be a former womanizer in both the movie and during certain points in season one (the threesome joke in TRoS comes most to mind)

He left Staylan at the altar instead of being the bigger person and breaking things off with her respectfully

He’s known Staylan since they were both teenagers (he’s had a crush on her since they were 15/16) and they’ve been in some sort of long term relationship for some undetermined amount of time

They use to pull jobs together, with Staylan sometimes goating him on, possibly taking charge most of the time.

That’s it. That’s all we got. You can’t really judge Stalyan based off that information alone. All we get from this is that she’s sometimes bossy and probably a little spoiled, but so is Rapunzel honestly, and neither of those things mean that they’re abusive on their own. If anything, knowing those things actually puts Eugene in more of a bad light, but he’s pulling the woobie card here; so you’re not meant to think about those things in the moment which is manipulative writing.

When did the break up happen? Why did he leave her at the altar?

Now here’s the million dollar question, because honestly the show doesn’t give us a consistent time frame of events and contradicts itself all the time. Some have argued that the break up happened eight years ago when the Baron screwed Eugene and Lance over during that robbery flashback in TRoS. Yet in Flynnpostor the Baron says that he had hired Eugene to steal the crown in the movie indicating that they were still working together all the way up until he met Rapunzel.

So which is it? Cause either answer drastically changes the context of his relationship with Staylan, their subsequent break up, and informs the motivation behind Stalyan’s words and actions.

Why is she still trying to be with him after such a thing? Why wouldn’t Stalyan believe him when he says he’s really in love with Raps?

Here’s what I think went down, and what I think the writers are trying to poorly imply here.

Eugene and Staylan had a tremulous on again/off again relationship for several years; where she’d be bratty and controlling and he’d cheat on her and/or leave, only, for whatever reason, to come crawling back and she’d ultimately ‘forgive’ him and they start at square one. The ‘leave her at the altar’ can’t be a one and done thing otherwise she wouldn’t be conditioned to take him back so readily, nor believe his relationship with Raps isn’t serious.

In fact, if we take ‘stealing the crown for the Baron’ thing at face value then it implies he stood Stalyan up just to be with Rapunzel. Which makes sense as no self respecting woman would wait around for 8 flipping years. One year is already pushing things as is, but if Eugene has a history of con artistry and cheating then, yeah, she could convince herself that Eugene is pulling a scam and still loves her instead.

To Staylan’s mind, she’s just trying to convince Eugene to give up his cushy life of royalty to live with her in a less comfortable but ultimately ‘truer’ way of life. She doesn’t see it as asking him to choose between her and Rapunzel cause she doesn’t see that what he has with Rapunzel as love. She thinks he’s faking it, like always. She thinks that ‘Eugene’ is his latest con and that Flynn Rider is his true identity.

And why, oh why, are we going with this ‘marriage is a prison’ metaphor when the person saying it wants to get married herself? To the very person she’s saying ‘don't get married’ to, no less!

Well the real reason is cause the writers have really messed up ideas about marriage, but the in universe reason is that Staylan sees ‘love’ as ‘unconditional acceptance’. Eugene, or ‘Flynn’, doesn’t have to pretend with her. She knows every awful thing about him, been hurt by him, and she still takes him back, and vise versa. Their on again/off again relationship has convinced her that putting up with mistreatment means that you must really love that person. She doesn’t understand that people can change and grow and that being in a healthy relationship requires both of those things.

That’s the only interpretation of their relationship that actually makes sense of Stalyan’s actions to my mind. Feel free to interpret it another way if you’d like, because we really have no clue. Just don’t try to pass off you’re interpretation as fact. And if you still see Staylan as the only person in the wrong here; I have to ask you to ask yourself why? Is it the manipulative writing, is it cause she’s not conventionally ‘nice’ like Rapunzel, or is just cause you see her as a threat to New Dream? Because holding her actually accountable for her actions is one thing, calling her ‘a child abuser’ (fandom’s words not mine) just cause she’s a bitchy and bitter ex is another thing entirely. (also they’re the same freaking age what the hell tumblr)

This Song Would Hold More Weight If They Gave Us an Actual Real Interpersonal Conflict

I’m just going to split ball a few ideas here, just to show what we potentially missed out on..

Stalyan is blissfuly unaware of the Baron’s plot, meaning Eugene now has to wrestle with admitting the truth of his past actions to her, along with keeping Lance safe, and trying to figure out a way to save his relationship with Rapunzel

There’s is no Baron involvement, Stalyan is his ex, but he comes to realize that they have more in common than he and Raps does. Meaning that the narrative has to actually address his and Rapunzel’s relationship issues; like their lack of communication and their seemingly conflicting life goals

Once again, no Baron involvement and Stalyan is his ex, but she’s just a victim Eugene screwed over when he was still Flynn Rider. She warns Rapunzel of what he use to be like and she has to confront the fact that she rushed into a relationship with someone she barely knows while he has to confront the fact that simply giving up his ways isn’t always enough and other people are still hurt by his actions

Dump the ‘ex’ plot altogether and have Rapunzel meet someone new instead. Have her question if a committed relationship is what she wants, and if Eugene really is the person for her. Address the fact that she has no experiences to in which to judge their relationship by.

What makes these options stronger is that there’s no clean cut bad guy (except for the Baron). There’s no right or wrong answer to the problem; no easy solution. The less sure an outcome the more tension you can add to the conflict, and these conflicts can go any number of ways; from a temporary break up to a reaffirmation of love.

That’s mature. That’s complex. That’s not reaching for the easy low hanging fruit. The creators seem to think thing dark, edgy, and shocking is ’deep’ but it’s actually quite shallow, especially when you constantly present one sided conflicts like today’s episode.

Your Name Literally Means ‘Lettuce’, Rapunzel

Unlike some fans, I don’t mind Rapunzel being jealous and hypocritical. As I said before, I like my heroines to have actual flaws. The problem is that the show goes out of its way to justify her bitchiness instead of calling it for what it is.

I Don’t Usually Bring Shipping Into These Reviews But,

Eugene and Lance have the healthiest relationship in the show. Like there is zero competition, here. Outside of a few ‘not-so-serious’ crack pairings, like Pete/Stan/Willow or Caine/Trevor, I don't really have any other ‘canon’ ships. I’m like 90% of the time shipping crossover pairings and 90% of those are Varian ships.

But this is still a flaw because it’s not intentional. The writers genuinely think that New Dream is a healthy romantic pairing and that Cass and Raps are a genuinely good friendship/sibling relationship, but they aren’t. And before you say anything, Casspunzel, isn’t the intent of the creators; regardless if you or some of the non-writing staff ship them. Like, it’s okay to ship them, but they aren’t intentionally written to be romantic any more than Lance and Eugene.

My point in bringing up all this up is this: A bunch of male writers only knew how to portray a male friendship well; not a female friendship, not a sister relationship, not a mother and child relationship, not a father and child relationship, not a gay romance, not even a het romance. That tells me that the creators on this show have an extremely limited world view. Which you need to expand upon if you have any inspirations as a creative writer.

You’ll Have an Ice Sculpture of Shorty at Your Wedding, Raps.

You don’t get to judge, woman.

I Usually Love the Art Direction on the Show, but, Not Gonna Lie, I’m Disappointed We Didn’t Get an Actual Wedding Dress for Stalyan

This is animated in what? Toonboom? Flash? Would it really have been that time consuming just to make a palette swap of her regular dress here? I mean you made a bunch of new character designs and gave Raps a new outfit just for this episode so clicking a few new swatches on an already existing model doesn’t sound that hard.

But yes, I’m nitpicking here. That’s cause I hate where all this is going, and I’m trying to put off the inevitable.

Deactivating the Rocks Was a Mistake

Like I said, making the rocks no longer a threat means that our heroine no longer has a reason for her quest. You’ve just ended your main conflict and now we’re going to have to sit through a whole season of watching the creators spin their wheels trying to find a new one. While also invalidating both the previous and future conflicts cause all she had to do was touch a rock and that’s it. That’s what this whole story amounts to.

Also you’re telling me that the main hero was just now willing to risk the life of a bunch of innocent bystanders just cause she be jelly?

Lack of Remorse Undermines Stalyan’s Future Appearances

If you want to pawn off the blackmail stuff onto her dad then you need to have her stand up to her dad on screen. Because we get no indication that she learns anything from these events in this episode, we have no reason to root for her redemption later. I mean she’s literally declaring revenge here.

Say it with me; It’s a lack of setup and resolve.

Nothing Is Resolved

Rapunzel tries to hold an honest conversation for once and Eugene just shuts her down. Yet, this is presented as a form of positive growth for him? The whole point of their relationship problems is their lack of communication and Rapunzel not being assertive about what she wants. But sure, let's have them still not communicate and have Eugene actively talk over her in order to drag out this plot point that doesn’t need to be dragged out.

Stop Treating Marriage as a Trap

Okay, first off, she was about to ask you to marry her, you dolt, so stop assuming. Second off, this a really bad lesson and the fact that Rapunzel now feels pressured to lie through her teeth about what she really wants contradicts this whole ‘Rapunzel needs to choose for herself thing’ the story’s got going on.

I want to make it clear that the writers threw in this ‘forced marriage’ plot not teach Eugene responsibility, you know the thing he actually needs to learn, but to teach him that ‘marriage is bad’. Even though respectfully asking the person you're already in a committed relationship with to marry you is not in any way, shape, or form the same as a bitchy ex blackmailing you into doing something you don’t wanna do.

Marriage is Not a Trap; Stop Treating It As Such.

Oh Look, Now It’s Eugene’s Turn To Have His Feeling Ignored

Yes, how dare Eugene have an opinion that different from Raps.

Remind me again which relationship was the toxic one?

‘Destiny’ Is Not a Reason

Like ‘destiny’ in a narrative sense means that there’s either an unavoidable consequence for not fulfilling it, a fate that can’t be avoid no matter how hard you try, or a prophecy to help show the characters what needs to be done. It’s a tool to create tension and foreshadowing. It’s not a goal in of itself. But the series never expands upon this ‘destiny’ stuff. It’s treated like an end all and be all for the characters actions, but that’s not how its supposed to work.

So, What Was the Point?

You’ll hear me ask this question a lot during season two. But for this episode specifically there’s barely anything worthwhile to the ongoing narrative here.

None of the mains learn anything, none of the side characters learn anything, the Baron and Stalyan wind up not adding anything to the overall narrative, and Vardaros and its inhabitants never come back into play after this season. So what was the point?

The only reason why I don’t recommend skipping the episode altogether is because of Adria’s introduction, the DK flashback, and the scroll pecice. But all of that is so divorced from the episode’s A plot that it might as well not have been here.You could have taken nearly all of Adria’s scenes and fitted them into another episode. Meaning, you could have easily cut all of Vardaros, the Baron, and Stalyan out of the show and it wouldn’t have made a difference to the story arc.

Conclusion

I’ll give the opening this much. It lets you know what your in for for the rest of season; lots of filler, a disconnected arc, and no Varian (or other main threat) to be seen. Ugh!

#tangled #anti-tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #stalyan #eugene #rapunzel

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dilfdoctordoom · 4 years ago

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👀 give me all your thoughts I know you have them

Bette Kane

How I feel about this character: She is my everything. I love nobody as much as I love her. I am at all times thinking about Bette Kane

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Dawn, Hank, Charley, Barbara, Helena, Artemis, Donna & I think she & Luke Fox dated for a little bit in high school before deciding to be just friends

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Gar!!! Her & Gar are best friends & they shouldn’t be romantic

My unpopular opinion about this character: Don’t know if she’s known enough to have any unpopular opinions, but bitchy Bette Kane should be brought back. They defanged her a lot & I don’t like it, let her be the worst it was really funny

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I really wish that in the N52 Batwoman series, the Kate&Bette dynamic was changed so while Kate had all her military training & was older, Bette had more vigilante experience & they had to learn to work together & learn from each other

my OTP: Hank/Dawn/Bette has a special place in my heart, I’m an eternal sucker for ArtyBette, but when it comes down to it... Bettenelli is simply superior

my cross over ship: *looking pointedly at my drafts* well gee I guess I think her & Danny Rand would have a fun dynamic. Also, Betty Brant for that good ole hero/reporter dynamic

a headcanon fact: she’s bisexual, she is, it’s a fact

Danny Rand

How I feel about this character: I’ve only recently gotten into Iron Fist comics but listen. LISTEN. He’s the love of my life, okay? Got it? I would die for this dumbass idiot disaster man

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Luke, Luke&Jess, Misty, Brenda because I thought they were just funny, Matt, I read a surprisingly good Peter fic so hm. Something there

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Colleen. I know they’re the main romance of the Netflix series, I know they had a thing for a little bit in the comics, but shut up, she’s his exhausted best friend

My unpopular opinion about this character: He’s not annoying. After Netflix, I think that’s an unpopular opinion

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish his TV show didn’t suck balls. I wish that The Living Weapon wasn’t canon (but Pei & Brenda stick around). I wish Marvel would pull the trigger & admit that he & Luke are in love

my OTP: Danny/Misty because they’re cute okay shut up Danny really loves her!!! & obviously Jess/Luke/Danny but in that specific order. Jess & Danny are both dating Luke but they aren’t dating each other, they’re just bffs

my cross over ship: The one mentioned above but also, in whatever universe where DC & Marvel are co-existing, I think he had a fling with Oliver Queen before Ollie went to the island

a headcanon fact: He’s Asian-American. Fuck Marvel

Felicia Hardy

How I feel about this character: My mean wife. I would let her murder me without any hesitation she’s so pretty

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Peter, MJ & Cindy. Matt is allowed but only if it’s a disaster. Danny Rand has a crush on her which she thinks is adorable

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Johnny!!!! They’re funny little shits & they should be allowed to get in more hijinks together. All the Marvel Divas, I like Felicia having friends

My unpopular opinion about this character: Plot twist assholes she was in love with Peter Parker the entire goddamn time re: everyone who keeps trying to insist that Felicia has only ever loved Spider-Man. Shut up, they’re the same goddamn person & Felicia loves him

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish Dan Slott had never come anywhere near her

my OTP: PeterFelicia is cute, okay. SilkCat is where it’s at though. Cindy & Felicia... soulmates

my cross over ship: Jessica Cruz or Dick Grayson because she likes dorks but only if they’re pretty

a headcanon fact: I was gonna put that she’s bi, but that is canon & Marvel has just ignored it so. Hm. Dan Slott never happened to her, this lady was never the queen pin of crime

MJ Watson

How I feel about this character: I love her so much... angel... sweetie... darling...

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Peter, Felicia & Gwen, some goddamn respect

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Harry

My unpopular opinion about this character: All opinions about MJ are inherently unpopular (as she would want) but Marvel should stop moving her away from the arts re: her being a reporter in PS4, that weird nightclub thing, etc. I’d say TAMJ was a step in the right direction except I hate that book so :/

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish she was still married to Peter. Also, that she’d get her own MJ-As-Spider-Woman AU. Or MJ as a superhero in general

my OTP: GwenMJ & PeterMJ & especially PeterGwenMJ

my cross over ship: MJ Waston date Koriand’r challenge

a headcanon fact: She is not straight. Or cis, for that matter

Peter Parker

How I feel about this character: Look at the little bastard man off to do his little bastard things... will he make good choices? No! Will I continue to support him regardless? Yes!

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Okay, here we go, damn: Johnny, MJ, Gwen, Harry, Flash, Ned in the MCU shut up we all know why it isn’t popular (see: racism), he’s definitely at least made out with Bobby, more that I can’t think of right now, Felicia Hardy

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Matt Murdock. No, shut up, their friendship is important to me specifically, they just love each other a lot, okay? And it’s unconditional &nstupid & they’re dumb & I love them. Jessica Jones, too, because I think the idea of her having a crush on him in high school & local hoe Peter Parker not noticing is funny

My unpopular opinion about this character: The only consistently good Spider-Man series in the past, like, decade is FNSM

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: In a very specific thing, I wish that Peter had picked up the phone & called Matt in the Sins Rising arc because Daredevil was such an important part of that original arc & I dunno, it just doesn’t work & it would’ve been really interesting to put Matt back in the role he played in the original story especially with where Matt is in her own series, ya know?

my OTP: SpideyTorch & PeterMJ

my cross over ship: okay, concept here: Kyle Rayner & Peter Parker

a headcanon fact: bider-man, bider-man, does whatever a bi spider can...

Elektra Natchios

How I feel about this character: Murder wife, has never done anything wrong in her entire life

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Matt & Nat

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Logan!!! They’re best friends

My unpopular opinion about this character: @ Daredevil tv series fans please just say you’re racist & leave

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish she never met Frank Castle. I wish she had female friends for a change

my OTP: Nat/Elektra. Love Matt but he & Elektra aren’t endgame even though it kills me violently to admit that

my cross over ship: Talia Al Ghul. I will not elaborate

a headcanon fact: aside from the obvious ‘she’s bi’, I think Elektra has a dog

Matt Murdock

How I feel about this character: Himbo idiot love of my life make a good decision I love you

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Elektra, Foggy, Danny, Luke, Kirsten & Mila

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Peter (see: above), Luke, Nat, Jessica, I think it’s very funny when you put him in the same room as Moon Knight & Felicia

My unpopular opinion about this character: He’s disabled, you idiots, that actually does affect his day-to-day life

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish he’d go to therapy, no, Matthew, confession does not count

my OTP: Matt/Elektra, Matt/Foggy & Matt/Kirsten

my cross over ship: I wanna say Hal Jordan... specifically after the Spectre I think that’d be funny, if Hal just casually drops that literal, actual god was basically his boss for a while

a headcanon fact: he gets mistaken for Scott Summers a lot

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chanel-blossom · 4 years ago

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Chapter 1 (Act 1, Ayato)

(TW: Violence and mentioned alcohol)

A child’s face is a drowned face:

Her parents stare down at her asleep

Estranged from her by a sea:

She is under the sea

And they are above the sea:

If she looked up she would see them

As if locked out of their own home,

Their mouths open,

Their foreheads furrowed –

Pursed-up orifices of fearful fish –

Their big ears are fins behind glass,

And in her sleep she is calling out to them

Father, Father

Mother, Mother

But they cannot hear her:

She is inside the sea

And they are outside the sea.

Through the night, stranded, they stare

At the drowned, drowned face of their child.

- Paul Durcan

Icy blue eyes re-read the poem, the one they have read many times, to the point all the words are known off by heart. The young girl added another note to all the other notes she had about this poem, it was her favorite by far. No matter how many times she read it, she always discovered another angle to the poem. It truly was a work of art with so many meanings to it.

Putting the printout and the notes she had away safely, she opened the door to her room. “No entry if the door is closed” was her only rule. She had only lived in the mansion for a week, but the brothers didn’t like the door rule, so she was pleasantly surprised that they were respecting it.

Speaking of the devil, one of the boys was outside of her room, a handsome redhead with mesmerizing green eyes, Ayato. The white haired girl stepped aside allowing the redhead to enter. He walked into the room with confidence and went straight for her bed. “What’s with all the plants?” His eyes scanned the room, it was simple enough, but the young girl had a very peculiar way of decorating it, she had one shelf in the room, it had a few books on it, separated by plants and some plants on top of other books. Most of her book collection was on the ground however, books were placed near tall plants that couldn't go on shelfs, they reached to knee-length heights. Some stacks were taller than others with small plants on top. Chanel had a balcony attached to her room. The bed he was on was a king size decorated white, with many pillows and blankets, making the bed very soft and almost nest like. There was a desk in her room, it was very simple, nothing on it but a few stationary items. She had a wardrobe, but it was far too small for all the clothes she had, she ended up putting most of her clothes in the empty room next to her. All her furniture was white, the floors matched the rest of the house, with the exception of a soft white rug. The walls were white, It was the brightest room in the house, despite it being night time. Chanel had her own bathroom attached to the room, It wasn’t decorated at all, except for the counter which was littered with beauty products. In summary, the room was an organized chaos. Chanel rolled her eyes at the comment and sat at her study desk, brushing her hair.

“Hey answer me, you’ve been here for a week and I haven’t heard you say a single word, you mute or something?” She looked at him with one eyebrow raised, as if he was the dumbest person in the world, she made it pretty clear she was mute on the night she arrived, guess he had selective hearing. hesitantly she nodded her head, she wasn’t sure if he was joking and wanting to tease her or if he genuinely didn’t know.

Her question was answered when his eyes widened, in disbelief, it lasted for a split second before he burst into laughter. While he was doing that, The white haired teen passed him a simple, white hardback notebook. He took it, occasionally chuckling and looked through the many pages of one sided conversations written in very neat and eligible handwriting. “Holy fuck, you actually are! Right, how does it work? Like can you moan and shit?? What about when you’re in pain? Can you scream?” He sat up, it looked like he was genuinely curious, she found it quite endearing, sticking out her hand to ask for the notebook back.

“To put it simply, I can make noises, I just can’t form words. Now that doesn’t mean I will make noise, I’m not a moaner or a screamer, usually.” Was what Ayato read when the notebook was passed back to him. A smirk fell on his lips after reading the words. “That sounds like a challenge to me, don’t worry, Ore-sama will have you screaming my name in no time.” She lightly smiled at him as he lied back down on the bed.

Chanel walks over to him in an attempt to get the copy from him. Instead, he grabs her wrist and pulls her into the bed with a smirk. “Who said you’re allowed to talk?” He teased her. He was looking down at her, his emerald eyes taking in her appearance, it was very perfect and polished, too perfect, of course she had flaws if you look close enough, but it was obvious to him that she tries very hard to make sure everything is prefect. Chanel on the other hand was very surprised when she felt his hand around her wrist, it was ice cold, and not a cold after you've been handling ice sort of thing, but like a cold that doesn’t seem to warm up against her warm skin. She just gets up and makes her way to her bathroom, leaving a rather confused Ayato. “Hey! Where do you think your going? Ore-sama didn’t give you permission to leave.” He swiftly got up once again to see the girl grin, sign something to him and close the bathroom door.

In the bathroom, the smile her red lips bared quickly vanishes and was replaced by a rather bitchy frown. The white haired female made her way to her vanity and tied her hair in a low ponytail. She gripped the counter with an iron grip and looked at her face in the mirror, she was fuming. She needed to relax, but this guy had a way of getting under her skin, he was extremely cocky and confident, Chanel hated it. When her father presented the offer to her, she of course jumped at the opportunity to live with 6 hot boys, but she didn’t think it would be like this! The ivory haired girl needed a drink.

Chanel had been looking for a good private school to attend, she hadn’t found one to her liking, that was until her fathers old friend talked about a school his sons attended. Chanel’s father, Silver, had a partner back when he was starting off in law. They were good friends and carried out their friendship for many years. One day, they met up for coffee where Silver talked about his daughters struggles to find a school she likes. There, the friend talked about the school his sons attended and even offered to allow her to live in their mansion that is rather close to the school. Silver wasn’t too keen on his 17 year old daughter living with 6 teenage boys, but after seeing the school, Chanel was in love with it. They met the brothers and a young girl named Yui. Chanel was very exited about the preposition and eventually convinced her parents to let her stay there.

Turns out that the god-like brothers all had shit personalities, of course there would be a catch. Most of them were paying attention to Yui and when they did talk to her, it was mostly insults or rude comments. So far, this had been the only conversation she had that has been a positive one.

Once Chanel calmed down, she left the bathroom to find her room empty. Taking a quick shot of hidden liquor, she decided to find the kitchen and make herself a snack. Hiding the spirit bottle under her mattress, she grabbed her notebook and pen, making her way into the hallways.

The mansion was huge, too big for its own good, full of many twists and turns, after living there for a week, Chanel still had no idea where to go. She’d usually asked one of the workers for help, but lately everyone, including them have ignored her, usually workers were pretty easy to spot, but now they haven't been seen around the halls, she was hoping to run into one of the assholes, that would hopefully point the way out to her.

Speaking of assholes, a purple one has been spotted, walking in the hall, clutching his teddy bear and searing off into space. Hearing her approach, he snaps his head her way, making the female tense. It was just her luck to run into the one who made her most uncomfortable, something about him was off, not that she was one to judge. Most of the brothers were rude to here, but he was the only one who she attempted to avoid, on her first night, she saw Kanato spilling hot coffee on Yui, and he tripped Chanel a couple of times, giving her carpet burn.

Cautiously, she approached him, opening her notebook on a pre-written page that simply said “Kitchen?” Kanato read the words, hugging teddy tighter to himself, clearly debating if he should help her or not. “What will I get in return?” He inquired, staring into the girls eyes. They held eye-contact for a couple of seconds, Chanel being the one to break it, in order to write in her notebook “What would you like?” He gave her a sinister smile “a cake, I’d like for you to bake me a cake!” When Chanel nodded, in agreement, the purple haired boy showed her the way to the kitchen. She hesitantly followed him through the mansion, doing her best to commit it to memory, which she previously failed to do.

Arriving at the kitchen, Kanato took a seat, and kept his eyes fixed on the white haired female. From washing her hands, turning on the oven, to measuring out the ingredients and mixing them, he watched it all, Chanel was convinced he didn’t blink. He was watching her like a predator would watch it's pray, carefully and with malicious intent. Waiting for any mistakes, waiting for any operunity to strike and lash out. The ding for the oven finally went off, making the girl jump in surprise, signaling it to be preheated, Kanato got up with her to see what’s going on, opening the oven Chanel stuck her hand in it to see if it’s a good temperature. Kanato was watching her very carefully, her heart was racing. In a split second, Kanato took the opportunity to press the girls hand to the bottom of the oven.

Chanel ripped her hand away and ran straight to the sink, putting her hand under cold water. She was breathing heavily and her face was contorted in pain. There was something off about Kanato, and the way he looked at her should have been a red flag, but she chose to ignore it, already, she was regretting her decisions. Meanwhile, Kanato was furious, she gave barely any reaction to that, no scream, no tears. Watching her act like nothing happened frustrated him even more. Tears welled up in his eyes as he started screeching at the top of his lungs. He grabbed her by her ponytail and ripped her away from the water, letting out more screams and kicking her. She was used to being harmed, but not like this, she felt her hair rip from her scalp, and every single kick was aimed at a bone to make it even more painful.

Luck seemed to be on Chanel’s side this time, Ayato was nearby and heard the commotion, he was able to pry Kanato away from the girl in an instant. As soon as her hair was free she ran for her life, but not outside back further into the house. Ayato's actions made Kanato even more frustrated “LET ME GO!! How dare you take away our fun?!” Kanato was full on crying now. “Yeah, well I can’t enjoy my takoyaki with you screeching, what the fuck did she do anyways?” At this point Chanel was long gone from the kitchen. She couldn’t find her room in her haste and just sat in a random corner, assessing her condition. What had she agreed to do when she decided to stay in the Sakamaki household?

“You’re telling me this whole thing is because she wouldn’t give you a vocal reaction? You do realize she’s mute, she can’t scream, even if she wanted to.” Ayato let out a “tch” as he rolled his eyes and left his brother in the kitchen after the mini lecture.

One of the servants found Chanel, helped her back to her room and treated her wounds, she came prepared with a first aid kit, as if she knew what was going on. Luckily for Chanel, the oven wasn’t hot enough to cause permanent damage. After thanking the lady, Chanel closed her door and got ready for bed. She didn’t know how to feel, she knows what she should be feeling, but a part of her enjoyed it, and that’s what made her feel all the worse. It confused her to her no end, until she eventually fell asleep with all these thoughts running through her head.

#Diabolik Lovers #ayato #ayato sakamaki #kanato #kanato sakamaki #Act 1 #chapter 1 #Chanel's story #violence #alcohol mentioned #strong language

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eyesofsteelandsky · 4 years ago

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Too Good To Pass Up

First in a series of story posts related to an on-going effort to restore Brem’s eye. Includes violence and blood. Future stories will have a LOT more of both.

The crunch of sand under the heavy, pacing bootfalls had almost withered its way into being as much white noise as the occasional lapping of the mild tide in the long stretch of waiting. Several well-worn lines and circular trails around the heavy crate she had been watching over marked Brem’s impatient path. Even with the more frequent visits and having been in the area for the better part of a week now, the East’s winds and seas didn’t bring that same feeling of home as the sandy beaches of La Noscea. As she was settling into the internal debate if they were the comforts of a stranger, or simply she was the stranger in someone else’s comforts, a familiar pudgy figure called out from the tunnel into the small cove.

“Miss Abylnpfefwyb! I’m so glad to see you learned punctuality since our first meeting! And I do see you came alone as well. Were it that everyone in our business that could take instruction so well.” The bespeckled Hingashi hyur made his way forward from that cave passage, waving at those behind him to start filtering in. An entourage including a handful of muscle, some set with swords on their hips and others with long rifles. The last threw were a pair escorting a thinly, if particularly tall woman in cuffs. Though the woman’s long hair hung over most of her face, there were still clearly a few bruises over the visible portions of her cheeks. “I do believe you’ll find that the merchandise is exactly what you asked for. I do hope my.. adjustment in payment wasn’t too demanding.”

“I wouldn’t want you walking away from this thinking I didn’t respect you, Kubo. Like the obvious respect your rather extensive negotiation assistants clearly represents for me.” One of the sea wolf’s gloved hands grips the front of the crate she had been pacing around for so long, letting it crash forward firmly enough to erase much of her trail from the sand. A faint blue glow illuminates the machinery with, as well as the pair of tanks at the back end. “One Garlean magitek engine and enough ceruleum to get any prospective magitek business’s R&D going. Though as far as I can tell what you’ve brought is a tall woman with a black eye..” The Hingan man’s smile stretched so broad it threatened to chase his hairline even further into retreat as he snapped his fingers to have the captive brought forward. Once the muscled pair had her close enough to present they forced her to hunch forward so Kubo could raise his hand to push her hair up and out of the way, revealing the Garlean third eye in her forehead. “I believe you’ll find she has two entirely untouched eyes, even if the one looks more like a clam spit it into her head. “May I present Fulcinia lux Protus. Or is the ‘lux’ reserved for those who aren’t traitors to the empire? Ijin naming habits are so hard to keep track of..” The woman in question turns the eye that isn’t swollen shut or in the middle of her forehead out Brem’s way, but it’s clear any desire to resist had already been beaten out of her.

“Looks like short of tossing an Allagan puzzle for her to solve at your feet, I’ll have to take your word on it. I -am- rather disappointed that you’re asking full price for damaged goods.” Several heavy strides draw her pointedly away from the crated engine, with one hand waved back towards the man’s payment. “Though seeing as I can’t imagine paying with most of an engine is going to work, perhaps you’ll consider a friendly discount the next time we do business?”

“Oh, of course, of course. We’ll take a bit right off the top next time, as a show of good faith. The man’s smile lingers on as he snaps his fingers again and the Garlean woman was drug over Brem’s way, with one of the burly xaela men escorting her offering the chains of the woman’s cuffs forward. “Though there is one thing I should mention, I suppose..”

“While I do so greatly appreciate the business you’ve brought me today, Miss Abylnpfefwyb, you do have to know the value of what we have here in this bay. A woman who’s made a fortune blowing Garleans out of the sky, here with a traitor and and a salvaged ship engine. Do you have any idea how much that trio of treasure would be worth, even to a fractured empire?” Kubo raised his hands and gave a loud clap, leading to several fully armored Garlean soldiers to pour through the cave tunnel into the cove, as well as the magitek whirr of several armors, predators, and vanguards activating and stepping up from the rocky ridge, and several of the true constructs walking up out of the hiding places within the waters behind the sea wolf. “And I’m afraid if I have to choose between long term business partners with an army, or a bitchy sky pirate with a superiority complex, it’s not so hard a choice. Now then, you can come peacefully or we these fine imperials can take home the obsidian we can blast you into. Your choice.”

Her fingers curl around the chain she was holding, drawing that single teal eye up from the woman she was here for to the shit-eating grin being beamed down at her by the triumphant hyur. “It’s a good trap, well sprung Kubo. Even I know better to take on everything you’ve brought with you by myself. So there’s not really any choice is there? Though I must say..” The warm leather her hand was bound in subtly tightens it’s grips over Fulcinia’s bindings once more. “There’s an important talent in our kind of negotiations. The ability to recognize the look in someone’s eye when they’ve decided to piss on a good thing. And you, Kubo, don’t hide that look well.”

Though his expression soured briefly as she spoke, eventually a laugh burst from the Hingan’s chest, waving both arms out at the overwhelming force he’d brought along with him. “And what good has that ‘talent’ brought you, pirate cunt? You’ll leave here chained like her and I’ll be spending my imperial coin before the day is done!”

“The thing is, those who don’t hide it well usually don’t know to look for it themselves.” A swift yank sent the bound Garlean flying past her to land face-first into the sand as aether went ripping around the pale pirate’s other hand, eventually forming a spear that went flying towards the engine and it’s crate, landing in a pipe that fed the ceruleum tanks into the engine. Immediately after she flung herself on top of Fulcinia and immediately forcing the aether around her into plate after plate to drop onto the pair.

A few stray rounds from Kubo’s riflemen made it past the initial defense, one even tore into the roegadyn’s shoulder, but as she’s finishing the cocoon of protection the magical spear she’d flung erupts into flame, rushing into the pair of tanks. There’s a brief hiss of build up before the engine and its fuel supply violently burst, catching the swordsmen rushing forward in the explosion while the concussive wave slams into the rest of the crowd within the enclosed cove, knocking a few unconscious outright while others are simply sent flying backwards onto the ground.

With the signal sent and received, the roar of an airship’s engine announces the presence of the pirate’s vessel only moments before it rose into view from its hiding place among several several sea vessels. The First Mate was already shouting the command to fire as the heavy Garlean machinery on the ridge tries to whip around and chase the mobile arial target, catching each in a steady stream of cannon fire. Shouts of retreat from both Kobu’s men and their Garlean cohorts sounded almost immediately, though it wasn’t slowing the fire from the ship above.

Though the heavy aether around them distorted the sound, the shift in the battle, it was enough to get Brem to drop the spell and yank the chained Garlean up with her. “You want out of this alive? You come with me.” The intensity of her rushed words, half of a metal face, and the battle raging yalms away was enough to get a bobbly-headed nod from the shell-shocked woman as the pair rushed past the burning wreckage of the engine crate. With one arm wrapped around Fulcinia’s core as best she could manage, the roegadyn flung the other upward with another ripple of aether, launching the familiar shape of a frog tongue up to an anchor built onto the side of her ship. As soon as the magical shape tried to pull back, the anchor itself whirred to life and instead yanked back with equal force so that the sea wolf and her ‘cargo’ were hauled rapidly skyward, tumbling out onto the main deck of her airship.

“Welcome aboard, Cap’n! Orders?” The bright faced First Mate flashed that energetic and occasionally frustrating grin down to the bleeding pile of roegadyn.

There’s a snarl as she hauled herself up to her feet, motioning down to Fulcinia. “Get her below deck, keep someone with her and get that eye looked at.” Stalking over to the weapon rack on a nearby wall she yanked a long rifle free, stepping to the edge of the deck to raise it. Aiming one-eyed always had it’s challenges, but hours of practice and a burning pit of fury in her stomach steadied her hand. One loud crack of gunpowder and the paunchiest of the figure’s fleeing the beach collapsed just short of the tunnel out, blood flowing readily from the freshly formed hole in his throat. “Get us the fuck out of her. Once she’s cleaned up, me and my ‘guest’ are takin’ the ‘cutter. You need to get the ship back to home port before the Garleans start swarmin’.”

#Brem #ffxiv roleplay #Air Pirate shenanigans #Eye Plot

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shotgun--rider · 5 years ago

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Fake It Till You Make It - Two

A Sam x Reader Series

PART TWO

Y/N knows it’s a bad idea to try telling her family that she’s dating Sam Winchester. But it’s just for the week of her sister’s wedding, and it’s all fake anyway. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 4100

Warnings: plus size! Reader, fatphobic, & diet comments, Y/N’s family are demons, allusions to drug use

A/N: Significantly more fluffity fluff than I intended this part to have. So enjoy it!

Aunt Abaddon’s garden, like the rest of the house, was oversized and vaguely vintage-designed and expertly manicured by underpaid grounds staff. It was less of a garden and more of a courtyard-esque mingling space, really, and it was currently filled with all of the people you would have been perfectly content to never see again.

Involuntarily, your hand tightened around Sam’s, and he responded immediately with a reassuring swipe of his thumb over the inside of your wrist. You tugged nervously at your sundress with your free hand for a moment, trying to scope out the least disastrous location to aim for, and winced as your mother immediately came barrelling toward you.

You dropped Sam’s hand just in time to catch her as she squeezed you (too hard) in an over-the-top hug, squealing in your ear at some kind of bat-radio frequency. “Oh, thank god you’re here. We were beginning to worry, weren’t we, honey?” She beckoned to your father, who sidled up with an awkward grimace and an untouched glass of something very pink in his hand.

Her hands came up to frame your face, squeezing your cheeks, and she tilted her head critically. “You look...pale. Doesn’t she look pale?” Her eyes rolled impatiently. “You’re not sticking to the keto, are you?”

You exhaled heavily, pulling your face back out of her grip and suddenly feeling very small. “No, Mom.” You had a whole speech you’d delivered many times to other people about how diet culture was all bullshit anyway, but your mother always had a way of making you feel like your words would be wasted if you bothered to speak.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Y/N? Your life could be so much better--you could look like Ruby, you know, if you put a little effort in. She’s tiny, and now she’s getting married.”

“That’s because she survived on crack in college, Mom,”

Your mother rolled her eyes, waving it off. “Well everybody has to have something,”

Your mouth tightened into a thin line, her words needling into you the way they always did. “Okay, Mom,” you said tiredly. “Whatever you say,”

She hmmed at you like she didn’t believe you, but let go and turned her attention over your shoulder. “Who is this?” Her eyebrows were making an escape toward her hairline and you couldn’t deny that it was a little bit satisfying watching her tilt her head up trying to look at Sam.

“Mom, this is my boyfriend, Sam.” The lie came out smoother than it had the last time you tried it, but the words still felt like they wanted to stick in your throat.

“Mrs. L/N,” Sam extended his hand toward her, but she didn’t take it.

“Y/N, how did this happen?” she asked dismissively, waving at Sam on the word ‘this’ like he was something inanimate.

Sam offered her a polite laugh, his hand coming to slide around your waist and tug you into his side, warm through the thin material of your dress. “Uh, the usual way?”

Your mother sniffed, crossing her arms as she looked between the two of you. “The house is all her aunt’s, you know; Y/N doesn’t have money.”

Right. Because the only way you could bring home a good-looking boyfriend (or any boyfriend at all, apparently) was if he was looking for money. You cleared your throat, your hands twisting together anxiously. “He’s a lawyer, Mom, he doesn’t need money,”

You weren’t actually sure if Sam had all that much money, given that Dean was always talking about all the pro bono cases he took on, but it would hopefully shut your mother up.

“A lawyer? But--”

“Yes,” Sam cut in roughly, “and I consider myself very lucky to be with her.” He dropped a kiss to the top of your hair, selling your relationship with more ease than you’d expected, and you focused on reminding yourself that was what it was--two friends selling a lie.

Your mother sputtered indignantly, unable to come up with any further response, and you took the opportunity to slide off to the side, aiming for the shock of blonde hair you were fairly certain belonged to your most tolerable cousin, Meg. To your surprise, Sam followed without letting go of your waist, though you weren’t really sure what you had expected. You were trying to look like a couple, after all. You just had to remember not to get used to it.

“Sup?” Meg half-slurred when you reached her, immediately holding out a glass of what was probably very alcoholic punch. You took it from her hastily, mostly to keep her from spilling it on herself, and sighed.

“It’s barely three o’clock, Meg,”

“That’s almost five,” she returned cheerfully. “You didn’t think I was gonna do this shit show sober, did you?”

“I don’t blame you,” you mumbled, cautiously sniffing the glass. It smelled overpoweringly of alcohol, and you figured someone--possibly Meg--had spiked it well beyond the original content.

“So, who’s the hottie?” Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at Sam. “And where do I get one?”

Sam could tell she was harmless, and he laughed easier this time, letting the most-of-the-way-drunk woman tease him. It was kind of sweet to watch, if in a mildly alarming way. Meg had been your only solace growing up, but she’d lived too far away to be more than a buffer at big family gatherings. Still, you knew how she could be, and you weren’t too confident in leaving him alone with her.

Unfortunately, it didn’t look like you were going to have much choice. A claw-like hand was suddenly digging into your upper arm, and you turned to meet your sister’s cold eyes. “You need to come with me,” she announced, leaving you barely enough time to set the glass you’d been holding down on a table before she was physically hauling you out of the conversation. Sam shot you a slightly concerned glance, but Meg immediately demanded his attention back, and you allowed your surprisingly strong sister to pull you back toward the house.

“What do you want, Ruby?”

The expression on her face was equal parts annoyed and vindictive. “You missed the fitting for your dress. I figured I had better make you do this now,” she sighed, “in case we have to alter it again. Not like you seem to care,” she muttered.

“Ruby, I already told you I couldn’t get off work--”

“Whatever,” she cut you off. “It’s whatever. I just thought maybe my maid of honor would put in a little effort, you know?”

You gritted your teeth in silence, knowing nothing you could say would change her mind. Everything in Ruby’s life that went wrong, from the time she was a child, was always someone else’s fault. Somehow, neither of your parents had thought to correct that assumption before she grew up and took it into the world with her, but, given the way your entire family was, it shouldn’t have surprised you.

Following her reluctantly into a sitting room on the second floor, you watched Ruby sift through a standing rack of silvery-gray dresses. None of them were particularly flattering, and you had no doubt that whatever she’d picked for you would be especially ugly, in her passive-aggressive way. It wasn’t like you’d expected a pretty bridesmaid’s dress, because, really, weren’t ugly dresses the stereotype anyway? Still, it was the same kind of thing she’d done to you since you were kids, and it left a sour taste in your mouth.

Ruby handed you a mass of slippery fabric, and you held it up hesitantly, a cautious sensation of relief in your chest as you realized that it didn’t seem overtly horrible at first glance.

“Hurry up,” your sister was waving at you, “put it on!”

You huffed, walking behind the conveniently located changing screen with a still-nervous pit in your stomach. You hated trying on clothes, from the time you were a teenager shopping with your mother, and she’d made comments about how the clothes you’d picked would look better in a smaller size. Even now, shopping alone, it was still frustrating and embarrassing to look in the changing room mirror and realize that you looked nothing like what you’d hoped you would when you were picking items off the rack.

“I’m not wearing the right bra for this,” you warned Ruby, noting that the dress had a plunging back.

“I figured, it’s whatever for now,” she said carelessly, then, “So how long have you and Sam been together? He’s new, right?”

“Three months,” you returned automatically, recalling the date you’d agreed on in the car as you shimmied your hips into the slinky fabric. It was a bit too clingy for your tastes, but that was what you’d packed extra shapewear for.

“Huh,” Ruby mused from somewhere beyond the changing screen. You could hear her feet pacing softly, and you didn’t have to see her to know she had her hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips. “That’s like a new record for you. What’d you do, anyway?”

“Do what?” you grunted, twisting your arms behind you like the world’s most painful pretzel trying to grab the zipper.

“Keep his attention. I mean, come on, Y/N, he’s gorgeous,”

“Why do you care?” you shot back. “You’re getting married,”

You could almost hear Ruby’s too-casual shrug. “I was just curious. I know he’s not staying for the sex. Dick said you never fucked him,”

“You talked about me?” you practically shrieked. It wasn’t enough that your bitchy, entitled sister was marrying your god awful ex, they had to bring you back into it too?

“Duh,” Ruby giggled. “Wait, are you still a virgin? I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me--”

Finally wrestling the zipper into submission, you lifted the hem above your bare feet and stormed out from behind the changing screen. “No,” you snapped out. “Do you like it or not?”

“God, Y/N, I was just kidding,” Ruby rolled her eyes. “You need to calm down. And, yeah, the dress is fine. Just try not to eat anything before Saturday,”

You just stared at her, the brief anger flaming through your chest dying as hurt welled up instead. “Every time,” you whispered. “You do this every time,”

“Oh, quit being so sensitive.” Ruby waved you off. “Hey, remember you’re picking up the cake and the flowers tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, no problem,” you returned hollowly, watching her bounce out into the hallway, leaving you standing there in an ugly bridesmaid dress, defeated expertly in the way she always knew how.

And you had promised yourself that you weren’t going to let them make you cry, but your eyes were stinging and your chest felt tight. For what felt like the millionth time, you wondered what it would take for any one of them to actually act like they cared about you.

You stripped off the dress mechanically, hanging it carefully back up to avoid Ruby throwing a fit, noticing as you did that every other dress on the rack was tailored to accommodate tiny women with tiny waists. The rest of the bridesmaids were Ruby’s crowd of friends, and you knew you were only part of this because it would have looked bad to not include her sister.

Blowing out your breath, you put your own clothes back on and shook your head. This was a standard day in your house. Last Thanksgiving had definitely been worse. So why are you still letting them get to you? You snapped at yourself. Get over it, Y/N.

You knew that you should be going back outside to Ruby’s little pre-wedding garden party to rescue Sam, who was probably in well over his head by now, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of dealing with any more of it right now. Before you could change your mind, your feet were pointing toward the third floor staircase, and you were making a beeline for your bedroom.

“There she is!”

You stopped in your tracks at the sound of his voice, swearing a blue streak inside your head. What on earth had you done in your life to deserve this kind of brutal cosmic karma, anyway? Turning slowly, you let out a resigned sigh. “Dick,”

Your stupid ex-boyfriend was smiling with all of his perfect white teeth, hands slid into the pockets of a pair of very nice dress slacks as he meandered down the hallway toward you. “It’s been a long time, Y/N,”

“Best two years of my life,” you confirmed with a nod, well past the point of being nice, even if you knew your entire family would inevitably end up hearing about you sassing the groom.

He laughed as though you’d just told the funniest joke. “Charming as ever, dearest. You know, I still have a few days before I’m married. What do you say?”

“Ruby would kill you,” you tried, taking a step backward.

Dick arched an arrogant brow. “Hardly, I’m sure she’d encourage it.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” you said flatly, your skin crawling at the mere thought of him. “Please go somewhere far away from me now,”

“It’s a public hallway,”

“Just leave me alone,” you sighed, turning away resolutely to resume marching toward the stairs.

“Alright, alright!” Dick muttered. “Damn, I’m glad I chose the other one,”

His words shouldn’t have mattered, but they cut into you anyway. You slammed your bedroom door behind you with tears welling up in your eyes, kicking your shoes off across the room and marching to the bathroom halfway between misery and rage. See? Even slimy Dick fucking Roman doesn’t want you.

You stared down your reflection in the bathroom mirror, all anxious bitten lips and red, teary eyes. You looked, in your personal opinion, a little bit deranged, and huffed out a breath, trying to control yourself before you went into full-blown ugly sobbing. That would just make you look like a mess for dinner.

You weren’t sure how long you’d just been leaning on the sink, staring blankly at the outdated gold faucet, when you heard the door in the bedroom open. You swallowed hard, thankful you’d shut the bathroom door behind you, and debated between silently trying to pretend you weren’t there at all and just shouting for Ruby to get lost.

“Y/N?”

No, that was Sam’s voice, and that sent a whole new wave of panic through your body. This wasn’t Sam’s mess to clean up, this was so not what he had signed up for, hell, he’d barely signed up at all. What was any halfway decent person supposed to say when Dean and Charlie started ganging up on them?

A soft tap sounded on the bathroom door, and your voice came out slightly strangled as you bargained for time. “Yeah, be out in a sec!” You swiped your hands under your eyes hastily, blinking in the mirror like that was somehow supposed to make you look less emotionally flattened.

Sam, evidently, wasn’t buying it. “Y/N, can I come in?”

Your emotions had been all over the place for the past week in the anxiety of having to come here and deal with this, and, apparently, just the sound of Sam’s concerned voice was enough to have tears welling up in your eyes again. Damn it. You pressed your quivering lips together, staring up at the ceiling like that was going to convince the tears to drain back into your eyeballs.

The bathroom door opened behind you, and you opened your mouth on a gasping breath to say something just as you felt Sam wrap his arms around you from behind, pulling you back against him carefully without choking your neck against his forearms. The contact and gentle support broke the last thread on your tenuous control and you let your head fall forward as a sob wracked your body.

“Whoa, hey, what happened?” Sam sounded surprised at your sudden reaction, but he didn’t let go, just tucked you more firmly into his embrace and held on as your body shook with the sudden pain you hadn’t even acknowledged in your chest until now. “I got you,” he whispered just above your hair. “I got you, Y/N,”

You followed pure instinct, wiggling around in the circle of his arms until you could bury your face in his chest instead, and Sam let you, automatically adjusting to make sure you stayed tucked against him. He was warm and solid and safe, and he felt like home in a way you’d never experienced before, a physical barrier between you and the world.

That thought jarred you out of your mini-breakdown, because you couldn’t afford to think like that. This wasn’t a rom-com and just because you had a stupid crush on Sam before this whole thing started didn’t mean you could let it go to your head. You pulled back from him slightly, wincing as you noticed the damp spot you’d left on his shirt. Your nose wrinkled, and you grimaced as you ducked out of his arms to grab several of the Kleenex on the back of the toilet tank. “Sorry,”

Sam had that look of adorably genuine puzzlement on his face again as he watched you blow your nose, unfazed like he couldn’t figure out why you were saying what you were saying.

You gestured vaguely with one hand at yourself, at the bathroom. “This shouldn’t be your problem, Sam,”

“Y/N,” he frowned, catching you in the web of those hazel eyes that somehow never failed to take your breath away. “I’m right where I want to be. I told you I had your back, remember?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head wearily as embarrassment and frustration began to sink in. “This is so stupid,” you whispered turning your body away from him more than you really needed to toss the tissue from your crumpled fist into the trash can.

“If it makes you upset, it’s not stupid, Y/N,” Sam argued softly. “You don’t deserve that from people,”

You paused at that, staring at him awkwardly as you tried to come up with a response. Finally, you settled on the truth. “I’m pretty sure no one has ever said that to me,”

“I’ll say it more often,” Sam reached out to you, his hand landing on your upper arm to gently pull you out of the bathroom. The sun was starting to set through the big west-facing window, and you let yourself fall back onto the bed with a groan as you remembered that the night wasn’t over yet.

Sam walked over to peer down at you on the mattress, standing over you with an expression on his face that almost made you burst out laughing. “What?”

“Dinner,” you huffed, throwing an arm over your eyes for a brief moment. “I forgot they were going to expect us for dinner,”

“Do you want to go?” Sam raised an eyebrow, and you almost shot into a sitting position at the question.

“What? No. Why are you even asking me?”

Sam shrugged, sitting down next to you easily and lacing his fingers together in his lap. “If you don’t want to go, then let’s not go,”

Turning to look at him with a smirk, you propped your head up on one hand. “Sam Winchester, are you suggesting we play hooky?”

His face split into a wide grin, his eyes dancing as if to say why not? “I’ll tell them I missed my girlfriend, and we can stay up here and leave them all downstairs to be jealous of our functional relationship,”

“Our functional relationship that’s so functional it’s fake?” You were laughing up at him now, and Sam Winchester was going down in your book as the only other person besides Charlie who could completely change your mood in under five minutes.

Sam pouted at you, some of the light dimming from his face. “Exactly,” he cleared his throat.

“There is one flaw in this plan, though,”

Sam turned, flopping down on his stomach on the mattress beside you and making you bounce slightly. “Hm?”

You batted your eyelashes exaggeratedly at him, making your best puppy face. “I’m hungry.”

Which was how you found yourself creeping down the stairs in your bare feet with your hand in Sam’s even though nobody was watching, on a mission to raid the fridge. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Mr. Big-shot Lawyer,” you teased, peering briefly down the hallway to check that it was empty before continuing.

Sam shot you a mock-hurt look. “I’m in human rights law!”

You stifled a fit of giggles, cursing yourself for turning into a girlish idiot around him. “If Aunt Abi catches me down here, she will actually kill me,” you said instead, your voice conversationally sarcastic.

“I think she’s still fighting with your uncle,” Sam shrugged, following you into the thankfully empty kitchen. “What do you want?”

“Ooh, did Uncle Fergus show up high again? And there should be a bunch of crap in there, just grab whatever.”

Sam blinked at you, holding open the fridge. “Why do you sound happy about that?”

You opened the pantry, lifting out a bag of chips. “Because, a, unlike my sister, he doesn’t try to force other people into drug abuse, and b, the fact that everyone hates him more than me is probably the only reason I’m still alive. Oh, grab the brownies!” you added, peering around him into the fridge.

Sam just shook his head at you, studying you with an expression you weren’t sure how to identify.

“What? I like brownies,”

He shook his head, hair sliding into his face with the motion, and pulled out both the pan of brownies and a bowl of tossed salad. “Nothing. I’ve just, uh, never met anyone like you before.”

“What, surprisingly well-adjusted?” you asked sarcastically.

Sam held your gaze over the dishes in his hands. “I was going to say strong,”

You swallowed, glancing down, not sure how to answer. “Okay. Uh, we should probably get out of here. This is enough,”

Thankfully, he let it go, leading the way back upstairs and smiling at the way you burst out laughing as soon as the door was closed and locked behind you. Then, you watched him pull a spare bed sheet out of the bathroom and throw it down on the floor, sitting cross-legged and waiting for you to join him. “Dean used to do this for me,” he said quietly, sticking a fork into the salad bowl. “Sometimes Dad would leave us in motel rooms and Dean would try to make it like a picnic.” He winced. “Couldn’t cook, though. He was eight.”

You laughed softly, reaching out with a fork to pull a mouthful of lettuce from the other side of the salad bowl, your eyes soft as you looked at him. “Tell me more,”

You let Sam keep talking while you both munched on snacks and sprawled out on the floor, listening to the random stories of his childhood and, occasionally, something from law school. His voice was soothing, and you hadn’t realized you were tired until you were suddenly blinking back awake, the room pitch-dark and the thin carpet making your spine complain.

Still half-asleep and fuzzy headed, you started to sit up, reaching for your phone, and noticed suddenly that something was holding you down. Your thumb grazed the home button, lighting up your phone’s screen enough to see, and you blinked in surprise as you realized that Sam was asleep beside you with his arm slung over your waist.

A small smile crept on your lips as you studied his sleeping face in the dim blue light, completely at peace. Waking him seemed like a crime you weren’t willing to commit, and if part of you was unwilling to make him let go of you, well, who would ever know? You turned slightly, pillowing your head on one arm, and let your phone turn itself back off as you felt Sam try to pull you closer to him. Your decision made, you told your spine to shove its complaining. You could totally manage one night on the floor.

tags: @vicmc624, @thebookisbtr

#supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam x reader #x reader #reader insert #supernatural #spn #series

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