#ironic considering my actual thoughts about this and general uh. point of view about it.

[septembersghost]

I saw a comment on reddit that said they love taylor swift the musician and artist, they care about and respect what they know about taylor the person, but they really, really dislike Taylor Swift the Celebrity and that's where I'm at. I can't stand the attention whoring and the pap walks and the constant headlines and her feeding into it on purpose with her dating life and her friends and everything again after years of growth and privacy. it's exhausting. I love her artistry and when we get to see her true self, but I don't like the PR machine and wish she'd give it a rest. She's already the most popular, successful pop star right now. She doesn't have to do this much.

oh this is such an interesting topic, and there's more to unpack in this than i can probably address properly, but the first thing i will say is: you don't have to like the celebrity® stuff to love and enjoy her music, appreciate her artistry, and respect the parts of her true human self that we're aware of (ie: what she has shared herself, what fellow artists/collaborators have said, how she treats others, like workers, her documented kindness to fans, her generosity, her humor, etc).

it's a tricky thing because taylor the artist, taylor the woman, and taylor swift™ the brand are all intertwined, but they're not the same, and the brand aspect - the marketing, the planned photos and arranged articles, the business savvy, the vinyl variants (idc about this but i know some do), is far further away from the real person than the music itself is, which is a much more intimate, vulnerable extension of her. yet they have to exist in tandem, because you cannot gain the massive success she has without selling that, without playing that game and being calculated in the media. this is true of any very famous musician, they have to craft that and market it.

i know i have quoted this a lot by now, but: "the image is one thing and the human being is another. it's very hard to live up to an image."

the celebrity aspect is often uncomfortable, because by nature of its glitz and hugeness (the monster on the hill), it is more devoid of the personhood. (this is actually one of my stumbling blocks with midnights, because it's very much an album of taylor regarding celebrity and fame, as she was clearly grappling with that and how to engage with it, but it's a less accessible topic and generally leaves me feeling that distinct barrier.) the wealth, play-by-plays of her dinners, constant coverage of where she is (when she's not performing or doing something publicly related to her art, it's not actually our business), news outlets using her for clicks, other brands using her for clout, the pap walks, the general fame aura of the whole thing, it is exhausting. i love her, i respect and admire her talent/creativity/dedication/work ethic, i don't need to see her in every news app, and i don't think it's healthy.

taylor the human has certainly made mistakes, because that's the nature of living and having human flaws, but some of those have been in service to the celebrity (a condition which we know has hurt her in the past). taylor the celebrity attends events and plays to the camera, taylor the celebrity knows when to deal with the paparazzi, taylor the celebrity can have google create puzzles to serve taylor the artist and let the fans have fun. taylor the person has given introspective, honest interviews, taylor the person lays herself into those lyrics and the artistry, but that and the image blur together because it's her constant state of existence. lyrics are poetry set to music, so while hers are often diaristic, they also condense, and alter, and take poetic license to turn those experiences into song.

but taylor the very real human being, who wakes up in the morning and brushes her hair and makes her coffee - we do not know her. we do not ever see her, the moment she steps into public view, that shift has to happen. we do not ever interact with her. and she is not for us. she is not our friend, nor our personal property. we have no right to any aspect of her life. taylor who stands onstage and shares her meaningful connection with us and talks about our shared relationship and love, that's the artist, and there is nothing wrong with caring about her and being excited about her and following her work and discussing its content. however, she does not go home in the night to us in her living room, and that's how it's supposed to be! we are not a replacement for her inner circle of loved ones. we cannot provide her support or company in her quiet moments, in the private times when she leans on the people around her. "yas queen"ing her success or her genius strategies or her street style is not real interaction, it's being a fan. that's fine! i certainly do that and it's great! i enjoy seeing her succeed. i will analyze and discuss her music and what it tells us, i will talk anytime about how much her music means to me and how it's helped save me and how dearly close i hold it and how i love her for that, and it's a real form of love, we are perfectly capable of loving someone we don't know and that remaining healthy. don't cross boundaries of idolization, obsession, stalking, it's all good. if we use the dreaded word - parasocial - there are studies about those bonds being positive things and helpful for people! it's not only a negative term, it's all about boundaries and recognition of reality. if we could know the real person, our dynamic towards her would immediately change.

the problem i think you're struggling with (if it's okay for me to say so) is dissonance because we have not experienced this level of bombardment with the celebrity for many years, and it feels a little jarring, even a little false, regardless of intent. she had successfully been much more private for a while (and lessened some of the worse aspects of the media intrusion and fans' invasive bad behavior, which sadly has all ramped up again), and now she's chosen to change that strategy. that's her prerogative, it comes with its benefits and its downsides. hopefully she's finding a new sense of balance and safety with it. my suggestion is to ignore the aspects that are bothering you and prioritize what you love and what feels enriching. you do not have to engage with all facets of the fandom at all times. it's not required, there's no test here in being a fan. you love the music? that's enough. you need to block out gossip and tabloid fodder for a while? that's completely fine. you find yourself annoyed at stuff happening in the fandom? (same. the lack of perspective, media literacy, boundaries, the cruel, immature commentary towards others, i'm over it and disappointed in a lot of people on my dash tbh.) utilize your filters and prioritize whatever you need. those interactions are always up to you.

hang in there, we've got an incredible october coming up with the eras film and 1989 tv. anything else is noise. the art and the music is beautiful and exciting, and we're so lucky to be spoiled with that like we are. look forward to the positive things, i promise that's worth it.

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

Poked my head into some of @mysticdragon3md3′s thoughts regarding popularity with DimiClaude fanon and am happy to say I’m here to Talk (tee em).

I also saw the post from the user saying why they were falling out of love for the ship, and... yeah. The people they’re talking about, the generalized group of people who do certain things, definitely bother me as well.

I love that you pointed out Claude is not flirty and is just playful. It’s not the DimiClaude fandom alone unfortunately with that though - it’s the entire fanbase that views him as a flirt. And, according to Twitter, a slut. Yeah. Yeah. I know what they... “mean”... but it is still not him.

Them being annoyed with each other is also fanon and a very strange one. Never in Houses did Dimitri come across as being annoyed or bothered by him. In fact, they have friendly banter! Dimitri doesn’t get specifically exasperated at Claude, but that’s just more so how he is as a person and he sometimes doesn’t understand playfulness. That said, he does not berate Claude the way he berates others. There’s one instance I can think of where he berated Claude and that was in the DLC when they were talking to Aelfric for the first time.

In Hopes, same deal in AG. In fact, he’s quite fond of Claude in AG. GW itself was a well discussed mess in a lot of ways, and even then as a ship they didn’t have a lot of negativity. If nothing else it was an odd opposite, because even as enemies when Claude admitted he couldn’t defeat Dimitri alone, Dimitri just basically laughed, smirked and walked away. That’s like... the worst of their relationship in GW and it’s extremely mellow.

I think part of the problem some dmcl fans are facing are the fanon version of the ship rather than what they’re like in canon. It is definitely true that part of the dmcl fandom has absolutely warped the ship into being something it really isn’t and never was in canon. There’s also this whole thing about Dimitri being the dominant, feisty one with Claude being the uwu blushy one and it’s just... not them. Not as a pair canonically, and not individually. When Dimitri gets “dominant”, he’s, uh, not in a good mental state. It’s a mental illness that makes him like that and personally I’ve never appreciated seeing people use it for a kink for a ship. Normally I’d say people can like what they want, but I get the feeling a lot of dmcl fans have absolutely pushed their views onto others and driven fans away.

I will also say have absolutely, 150% come across those kinds of fans. The ones who refuse to listen to anyone else, but if your headcanons don't vibe with them then you’re just completely “wrong”. Not only do they portray the canon characterization poorly if portraying it at all, but they tend to also bring it down a racist route, which is... beyond ironic considering they should be the last ship that deals with that based on their characters and stories.

Engage kinda went wonky with a good few things regarding the previous lords, so I don’t see Dimitri being like that as some kind of definite canon. Actually, even in Heroes their interactions are friendly and calm. The “worst” banter they had was their swim alts, while on the opposite end we have the brave alts who apparently hang out together outside of the castlegrounds, and for so long that they can’t be of any help in a search for someone (which like lol how long you gotta be gone to have no idea and can’t help at all lmao).

I think people see outside-Houses canon scenes like those and just... decide it’s their actual canon. Dimitri is not, in any way, actually mean to Claude in canon. That is unfortunately a very popular fanon. In Houses especially, when Dimitri doesn’t know Claude well in the mock battle he’s more like ummm hey Claude your defenses are open what are you even doing, more than being like ugh Claude you’re so annoying. In the real version of that mock battle though, a good few months had passed and their battle quotes are significantly more approachable and they clearly have respect for each other. Dimitri knows Claude likes to fuck around and be goofy sometimes, and he picked up on that and played along with it in the JP version (in the English version he simply picks up on it, but there’s no anger whatsoever and it’s just more oh okay I get it).

As far as Engage goes, ultimately I just see it more as an extremely condensed version of their mannerisms, and yes, they for some reason, especially in the localized versions, try to keep up the whole rival shtick when Dimitri never even felt that way about Claude, and he never gets truly annoyed at Claude. Ffs, in canon Dimitri literally drops everything after retaking his home from the Empire/TWS, and runs to go save Claude. Literally. The next day. While Claude is a little tsun about it (!), Dimitri is just “come on let’s go hurry hurry no slowing down pick up the pace we are saving Claude”, and that’s basically him the entire chapter except with the Arundel specific stuff. When he talks to Claude one on one, there is literally not a single shred whatsoever in any plausible way or in any damn universe any tension from Dimitri to Claude. He just wants to know he’s okay and relaxes once he knows Claude isn’t hurt. I mean literally, no, like... that’s them, in canon, in their Natural Habitat together and I have no fucking clue how the portrayal of them in fanon got so insanely warped beyond recognition.

Also, Engage kinda dropped the ball with a lot of stuff with the other lords. Hell, they’ve been unable to keep Ike’s character consistent throughout all of his non-canon appearances (Awakening didn’t seem too bad, but Fates was pretty awful for example. They can’t seem to really understand the character they’re writing anymore, and idk if it’s just because the writers have changed and such/aren’t the same as Tellius’ games had, or they just don’t care to keep him consistent).

They also try to make Sigurd sound wise and super helpful in every single solitary iteration of him outside of FE4 which is honestly just obnoxious as fuck lmao. Sigurd was naive, foolish, overly trusting, and far too kind and gentle for his own good. It ultimately was what led to him following orders blindly, having blind faith that his king was righteous and would give him the right orders (without realizing the court was very much in disarray during his absence and with several other prominent court figures away because of the war). Sigurd was too quick to believe in the good in humanity and that things would work out, and it led to him not realizing how wrong he was until it was way too late and he had to take shelter in a foreign country to avoid having to fight the same people’s armies who had the court’s ear.

Basically Sigurd is nothing like they write him to be in every. single. solitary. iteration. outside of FE4. 

(SPOILER here just in case you care lol. Or anyone who is reading this. Or if you’re someone who somehow does not know about the biggest known spoiler in the whole game) He has one little section of potential dialogue (i.e. it’s triggered by a very specific condition) that shows somehow ghosty Sigurd has grown more wise and understanding ??? while being dead ??? and somehow learned while being dead that the world do be full of grief and Stuff. (END SPOILER)

So they pretty much took like, two lines of dialogue from FE4 and made it Sigurd’s entire fucking character forever in every single game he’s been in since. If nothing else, let that be your insight on never to trust content you see outside of a character’s original game. At that point it’s simply fanservice because they don’t even know their own characters. If they wanted to write even a semblance of Actual In Game Sigurd’s Personality And Not Two Lines Of Dialogue That Are Completely Optional And Quite Honestly HIDDEN, it would be very easy and reasonable to do so. They choose not to, and then we get what they did with Houses’ lords.

Another portrayal I see too often is that Dimitri and Claude... argue??? I won’t lie, their Heroes summer alts was the very first time they even seemed to “argue”, and it was mostly just goofy nonsense that means nothing because they’re literally alts in swimsuits, and it wasn’t really them being vicious at each other. Meanwhile in canon, they’re always very calm and able to talk through their problems - even in fucking Hopes in the GW route. Even in the worst possible circumstances for them to be in, that is, as enemies, they were still able to talk it through. Barring Claude’s written in idiocy so he could be a mouthpiece for Edelgard and do her bidding by invading the Kingdom (which was literally nothing but plot convenience because Actual Claude would’ve reasoned his way out of doing that), even in the worst possible situation, they still called a truce and still worked things out verbally, calmly and peacefully.

Point being, this whole cat fight dmcl portrayal isn’t even remotely close to their canon selves, and normally I’d say, you know, like what you want and enjoy your ships how you want... but it’s pretty much almost entirely the people who view the ship that way that uh, attack people who don’t agree with them or insult them/laugh at them for seeing the ship differently. These are the people who make you feel bad, for enjoying a fictional ship of two pixelated characters kissing, because you don’t like the concepts in their head more than the way you’ve interpreted the canonical characters.

To be totally frank, I have a visceral hatred for the fanon portrayal of dmcl because it makes Dimitri out to be terrible and makes Claude some kind of punching bag for Dimitri in various forms. There comes a point where it’s like, you ship something and then there’s the point where you ship two characters you made up in your head, who aren’t the same characters you first started to ship, because you’ve warped them so extensively that they became nothing but a person’s OCs with their faces and some similar backstory elements at best.

[wordswithkittywitch]

Fuck it, I'm just going to write a one-shot.

Maggie took a long sip of her latte, less to get caffeine into her body and more to block her view of Alfreda. It wasn't that anything she was telling her was beyond the pale, part of Maggie had always suspected or at least hoped that there was more to this world than getting passive-aggressive post-it notes from her boss and buying overpriced lattes, although, if she had to choose, she didn't think she would have picked other... species? Races? Living hidden among humans. It's not that she had a problem with the idea of elves or whatever, it was more that if she was going to be told by her "concerned" manager that her natural hair was "unprofessional" and "not the image the company wants", Maggie didn't even want to know how he'd react to pointy ears.

"Okay." said Maggie, lowering the cup. "How many... other types of people are there?"

"You can say 'species', if that's easier for you." Alfreda offered. "Most of the time, the only people who take offence are the ones who are really uptight anyway."

Alfreda smiled, and Maggie wished one more time that the person explaining this to her looked a little less... like she worked in a head shop at one point. Somewhere between "witchy goth" and "hippy", this woman looked very open and happy and Maggie knew she wasn't actually on drugs, but it was easy to assume that, especially given the conversation.

"Right, so. How many species are there?" Maggie asked again.

"Well... uh, you've got your fairies, obviously, and the elves, you don't see that many gnomes, especially in the cities, but goblins are all over places like this." Alfreda looked around the coffee shop with a faint smile. "I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few in the vents right now, they love places like this. Busy, a fair amount of tech, and a decent chance of someone forgetting an umbrella or phone at their table." Alfreda looked very serious for a moment. "And before you say anything, it's only abandoned things. Salvage. The stereotype of a 'thieving goblin' is considered culturally insensitive."

"Noted." Maggie replied dryly. This wasn't the first time someone only a few shades darker than the whipped cream on their coffee tried to 'educate' her on racial sensitivity, but at least this time it wasn't about something Maggie had said about herself. The phrase, "Some of my best friends are goblins!" came to mind, but getting Alfreda defensive at this point would just cause trouble.

"But, yeah. Fairies, elves, goblins, orcs, gnomes... I'm not one hundred per cent sure on the dwarves. No one is, really."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there definitely used to be dwarves." Alfreda explained "But when everybody decided hiding from the humans was a great idea, the fairies and the elves built their spaceships, the hobs went invisible, and the dwarves... well, the dwarves did what dwarves do. They dug. Straight down. I mean, in history class they say the idea was that they were going to build a society about eleven kilometres down, but science class said that's where the mantle starts and I don't think even dwarves can handle that kind of heat. Anyway, no one's seen a dwarf in, like, I don't know, five hundred years? Six? It's not like fairies, who still like to fuck with humans by abducting them for fun, put them down and let them decide anything in a spaceship must be an alien."

"So what's the difference between an elf and a fairy? Is it wings, or height, or..." Maggie asked.

"That's actually an interesting point." Alfreda stuck her straw back in her frozen coffee and stirred it. "An elf... or an orc, for that matter, they... they generally aren't born. They're made."

"Made?" Maggie repeated, wide-eyed.

"Yeah. Basically, both fairies and goblins thought, 'Humans can deal with all this iron hanging about, what if we tried to make a human out of... us?' " Alfreda explained. "Don't ask me which side thought of it first, historians do not agree on that point. But the processes are... I was going to say similar, but it's only as similar as you can get if you're thinking like a fairy or thinking like a goblin."

"And that's okay to say?" Maggie asked sceptically. Alfreda waved her hand dismissively.

"Not really, but it usually gets a pass anyway," Alfreda admitted. "Even fairies and goblins admit that fairies and goblins have different priorities. But, the point is, elves and orcs both run between five and seven feet, though your average orc is gonna be taller than your average elf. A long time ago, they sort of... served their creators? Not like slaves so much as peasants, but still pretty bad and we don't do that anymore." Alfreda grimaced as she spoke, and Maggie tried to figure out what sort of creature Alfreda was. She looked pretty human, so maybe she was an orc or an elf, but that was only based on the fact that Maggie now knew both of those were trying to look human. She still had no idea if they actually looked like how they did in Lord of the Rings, but if they did, it would be a lot easier for Alfreda to hide pointy ears in all that hair than it would be for her to hide tusks. Then again, she did say "we" and had some pretty strong feelings about goblin stereotypes... Maggie suddenly realised that Alfreda was still talking.

"It's like... it's like Mac and PC. They both do basically the same thing, but one of them put way more time and money than was needed into looking pretty." Alfreda finished. "And getting the two of them to work together is a giant pain in the ass."

"And one of them costs three times as much to work five percent better?" Maggie smirked. Alfreda barked a short laugh, almost spilling frozen coffee all over the table.

"Are you sure you've never met an elf?"

I just thought of a really good gag for an urban fantasy set anytime after 1980. And better after 1995.

Sadly, the next four books I'm writing are steampunk set in 1875-1899. The worst part is it fits the lore and the tone, but no one would make that reference in that setting.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Rough Night

Bucky Barnes x (f)werewolf reader

Summary: Your life is already so weird, thankfully Bucky loves you through it all.

Warning: fluff, reader being a sass master w/ no filter

side note: couldn’t think of any cool avenger powers and then brain went werewolf so here we are

Masterlist

If you had a dollar for every time you’d ended up in the woods with ripped clothes and no shoes, well, let’s just say you could probably afford a real nice two bedroom apartment in some real pleasantly fancy building with a great view and all. Too bad green doesn’t just rain down from the sky every time the full moon comes round to knock you back into another world of blurry confusion.

You won’t lie to yourself, being what you are is strange and not very common in the slightest, obviously. It’s even weirder that you weren’t bitten one night and turned just like that, oh no, all passed down through the bloodline of other strange relatives. So you’re gifted with the curse, forced to inevitably change into a furry beast every single full moon, so what you’re still a mostly pleasant individual.

Well luckily for you, being born with the gift does happen to have its perks which do come in handy. For instance, you’re incredibly strong, quick on your feet, and have heightened senses, plus the ability to shift on command. It’s not all bad, well......most of the time.

Honestly you truly thought life couldn’t get much stranger for you and your whole hidden secretive situation, until low and behold some random red head found your little hideaway in a remote mountain side village far off in the Himalayas.

Everything was completely fine and under control and then BAM, she showed up with some important documents and something called an Avengers initiative and well shit, guess some time spent with the real world couldn’t hurt. I mean come on, some more friends seemed like a nice idea and uh, somehow they knew who you were so too late to run and hide.

Also at the time, considering you lived like a recluse on the edge of the village and of course for good reason, but damn if the red head didn’t just hand you an open invitation for some real adventure. Who were you to say no?

Fortunately for you, all seemed to go in your favor and fantastically enough, they had a nice big strong cell for you on nights when the wolf was inevitably bound to come out. A fridge full of plentiful snacks, a training room to lay off some steam, and a big safe and secure room all your own. It was perfect. Only problem was, there happened to be a very attractive and very wary of you super soldier who undoubtedly caught your attention.

How could you not, he smelled divine, muscles for days, thick thighs that could make a girl swoon, and he just seemed like the best goddamn hugger alive. Okay listen, maybe you were touch starved and deprived of human affection but dammit if your little monster heart didn’t skip a beat every time he was near you.

And yes, the few months it took to get him to crack was just down right torturous. But with some coaxing from Steve and encouragement from Sam, the winter soldier at long last did talk to you. Turned out he thought you were scared of him all along, how hilariously ironic you thought when he told you that.

But as time progressed and you both opened up more and more, a blossoming relationship sprouted forth, eventually evolving and manifesting into a big beautiful flower called love. Cheesy yes, but you couldn’t have dreamed of anything better.

And seriously, he wasn’t freaked out about your whole hidden hush hush secretive gift that usually either goes in your favor or ends up causing you major legal trouble. The man himself, Bucky Barnes, thought you were a marvel to behold, so odd and fantastic that he couldn’t stay away even if he tried.

And for that you could love him forever, especially now after a full moon while you’re out in the middle of nowhere. Hoping that the team will send your hundred year old boyfriend out to find you in the brisk dark morning after a grand unrememberable adventure. Which would be very nice of course, considering you have not a damn clue what you’ve done.....or where you are.

Cracking your back, you stretch your hands up to the dawning sky as a tired yawn escapes you. It’s been a long night and you look like a wild woman with your hear a fluffy nest and your clothes ripped in various unrevealing places thankfully.

Your surroundings are simply trees and small scraggly bushes, green grass underneath your bare feet and a small stream flowing in the near distance. With a second to listen, you can hear a highway a couple miles away to the east, guess that’s a start.

Rubbing your eyes you set out in that direction for about twenty minutes before a blue and gold Mercedes comes into view from the side of a country back road, it stops when you guess the driver spotted you from the tree line. Keeping a wary eye on the fancy sports car, you keep walking towards it until a figure gets out and leans against the passengers side door all cool and casual, then on further inspection you realize the driver is Bucky.

Yes! My knight in shining armor is here!

Trudging through the grassy field in the dewy morning light, he watches your every move, eyes crinkling in amusement as you come to stand a couple feet in front of him. Undoubtedly looking a bit wild, and very tired as you fold your arms underneath each other, giving your dark haired lover a shy almost fangy smile.

“I know I look like a hot mess.” You mutter with a shrug, biting your lip as you dart your eyes to the fields behind him, slightly embarrassed of the current disheveled state you’re in.

Bucky smirks before pushing himself off the car and engulfing you into a big Bucky bear hug to your pleasant surprise, “Y/N I’m just glad you’re okay and nothing bad happened to you.” He mumbles into your shoulder as you press yourself closer to him, letting yourself have this wonderful moment to relax and feel at ease.

Slowly pulling back to look up at him, you smile, “Aww Buck you were worried about me?”

He returns the grin, leaning down to press his head flush against yours, “We all were, me more then anyone else of course...and maybe for the general civilians nearby.”

You laugh nervously, “Oh right, yeah. Well hey, I didn’t destroy anyone's car this time. I think I’ve made progress.”

He pauses for a brief moment indicating he’s not sure if he should tell you something and this does make you nervous before Bucky finally lets out a little laugh, “You ate a whole cow Y/N.”

Snorting in surprise you quickly pull your head from Bucky’s, “What? Did I? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Yeah, uh I wish.” He admits with a casual reassuring squeeze to your arm, “We tracked you with Sam’s suit tech, yunno Red Wing, and uh....you seemed to be having fun.”

Mentally and just about physically cringing at yourself, you purse your lips together in slight embarrassment, “Shit. Was it gross?” You ask, making a face that causes him to chuckle.

“A little.” Adds Bucky with another casual shrug to make you feel less terrible.

“Is the farmer going to see everything, I mean shit they’re gonna be so pissed.” You worry, biting your lip anxiously as you break eye contact from him. “Why am I like this.”

“Uh, that’s not going to be a problem.” Inquires Bucky causing you to find his blue eyes once again.

Eying him up suspiciously you raise a brow, “And why’s that.....Bucky what did I do?”

Taking a breath he gives you a small apprehensive smile, “Y/N...you uh, kind of ate......everything.”

“I what?” I did not! No way, right?

Giving you a quick kiss on the cheek he smiles affectionately, “I’m going to be honest with you here it looked like a kid with a piece of cake who has no impulse control, and loves cake....like a lot.....Rodney almost puked.”

Rolling your eyes you fake glare at him, “Oh god who all watched my little horror show?”

“Mostly everyone.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s like a car crash Y/N, we don’t want to watch but we can’t look away. Sorry doll.” He confesses apprehensively, though honest and sincere knowing you do feel bad for what you do when out of it.

“No.” You say honestly, pausing for a moment, “It’s fine. Seriously Buck, I’m just relieved you guys keep taps on me while I’m out, god knows I can’t help what I do and where I go. It’s nice to have people making sure I don’t injure any innocent bystander.”

“Yeah I guess so huh...alright Y/N/N,” Chirps Bucky with a beaming grin as he attempts to shift the mood to a less dull one, “let’s get out of here, I mean unless you want to sniff around the place for awhile...it is a nice forest over there and all but I guess we can stay and I’ll let you...”

“Alright Barnes, can-it or maybe I’ll bite you.” You tease with a playful squeeze of his bicep before breaking out of his strong grasp.

“Depends on the context maybe I’d enjoy it.” Adds Bucky sarcastically, side eying you with a half smile as you move to open the car door.

Shaking your head in playful disapproval you lightly shove him aside, “Believe me you wouldn’t.”

——

The ride back to the Avengers base or headquarters or facility, who the hell knows at this point, was actually quite smooth and peaceful. Then again you fell asleep as soon as Bucky made it onto the highway, and continued to catch a much needed nap for the next hour ride home.

No one ever said you were easy alright, but let’s be real, Bucky would let you put him through anything and he’d be happy about it.

After parking and walking down the sidewalk past some early morning trainees catching a run, the two of you made it into the Avengers official HQ where all your rooms and other luxury’s are located. But of course not before walking past the facilities giant living space and huge kitchen.

Just keep looking forward, keep walking, walk faster you idiot!

“Y/N!” Shouts Sam in that stupidly peppy obnoxious early morning voice of his, no doubt gaining the attentions of Steve and Natasha who are seated at the kitchens bar talking about some mission report.

Pausing in the large doorway that’s not giving you or Bucky a whole lot of hiding space, you take a deep breath before turning to acknowledge him, “You’d think people would be sleeping considering it’s only six in the morning.”

Chuckling, Sam raises his protein shake, “Weird,” He says while giving you a knowing smirk, “we missed you during training this morning.”

Nat and Steve conceal their amusement as you simply roll your eyes, “Yeah well it was a long night.” You mutter unenthusiastically, earning the tiniest laugh from Bucky which causes you to throw him a glare. Knocking that smile right off of his handsome stubbly face.

“Well we got all these shakes here if you two love birds want one. Hate to have em go to waste.” Adds the smiling man with a nod, if he doesn’t just love seeing you looking like shit. No Sam I do not accept this invitation for you to tell me how crazy I look.

Sam means well of course, but damn he loves teasing you in front of Bucky for a fun reaction out of him. And it’s kind of working, but not on Bucky.

“It’s fine Y/N, you don’t have to have one if you don’t want to.” Calls Natasha before taking a sip from her mug. “Just ignore Sam, he’s been annoying since the gym.”

Before Sam’s even able to speak you quickly narrow your eyes at him, holding up a finger before making hasty steps across the room. Stopping right in front of him, “Give it.” You deadpan.

Brows raised in surprise he glances from a confused Bucky, then back to you again, “Listen I only made so much, Y/N this is my breakfast okay you can’t just...”

Ignoring his rushed rambling you pull out the whole glass blender full of protein shake before taking a step back as the whole room goes quiet, then never breaking eye contact you heartily drink up the whole entirety of its cold contents without missing a beat. Yeah, definitely needed that.

After you’re finished you lick your lips in satisfaction, taking a step closer towards a speechless Sam as you set the blender back in its place. Giving him a satisfied smirk before walking back over to Bucky where you tug on his jacket to follow you down the hall and away from everyone else.

Sometimes you can’t help but be a little dramatic.

——

Laying sprawled out on yours and Bucky’s giant mattress, you stare up at the ceiling as he folds your clean and freshly scented laundry, your mind swirling with thoughts of what duties you have to be apart of today. Blah, work.

Sighing gently you glance at Bucky to see if he heard you, not getting anything from him you sigh again with more grandeur this time. Nothing. Rolling your eyes you suck in a deep breath before practically soft yelling out your exhale like the dramatic little beast you are.

Glancing over to Bucky, you watch as he turns around to put some of your pants away in a drawer. Okay then, that’s how it’s gonna be. Quickly sitting up, you smirk a devilish grin before silently reaching over to pick up a small pillow, once in hand you don’t think twice before launching it at full speed directly headed for the back of his head.

But before your decently soft projectile can smack his precious flowing locks does a metal arm swiftly reach up to catch it mid flight. Oh, shit. Bucky’s head turns to you, brow raised at you before tucking the pillow underneath his arm, and going back to his usual domestic duties for the day.

Okay, killer of fun Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frustrated from lack of a reaction out of him, you stand up on the bed like a warrior about to give a great battle cry. Eyeing his cute butt up for a moment, you smirk once again before launching a sneak attack pillow right for his head. It sails magnificently across the room before a metal hand stops it in its place. 

Well, shit.

This time he gives you a proper look, full of mischief and a new profound playfulness that sends an excited thrill throughout your entire being. As fast as one of Thor’s lightening bolts does the pillow soar in your direction, but conveniently for you he’s forgotten just how quick you can really be. This is just what you wanted.

Dodging to the left you watch in almost slow motion as the fluffy cloth just misses your face, instead opting to smack against the back wall with a loud thud. Snapping your attention back to Bucky he narrows his blue eyes at you suspiciously while you let out an admittedly scary villainous chuckle.

Let’s party my love.

He hands you a smirk right before shifting his body to the right, arm cocked back and thrust forward just as quickly, launching his second pillow attack without an ounce of mercy. You see it coming a mile away and as graceful as a dancer do you flip off the bed, landing perfectly on the carpeted floor just as the pillow smacks hard against the door. Thwack!

Slowly standing, eyeing him up like a lioness to her prey, you give him a satisfied smile, “Missed.” You tease.

Letting out a breathy laugh, Bucky takes a cautious step in your direction as he tests the waters, “Y/N what are you doing?”

“Getting your attention you ass.”

Chuckling he takes another step forward, “Was I ignoring you?” Duh, that’s why I, oh wait he’s playing you.

“Well you certainly weren’t doing anything interesting.” You sass as he steps again closer, this time about an arms length away.

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, “Okay that’s fair, but was the pillow really necessary?” He asks, though his tone is still humorous.

Not falling for his alluring charm you tilt your head to the side, a knowing smile breaking out across your face as he tries to register what your true intentions are. “Yes, and so is this.” You quip before dropping to the floor for a side sweep of his legs, in an instant he’s on the ground and looking wide eyed up at you.

God he looks beautiful. No, focus.

“Y/N!” He whines breathlessly, brows furrowed as he holds himself up by his elbows, “Now you’re gonna get it!”

Taking a quick step back you snort, “Oh really now?”

And he’s fallen for the plan.

“Yes, and when I get you, you won’t be laughing anymore.” He grumbles, trying to keep himself from laughing as well.

“Alright then hot stuff try and bring me down.” You snap back playfully as he rises to his feet, “First one pinned has to run with Sam later, and we both know how much fun he is to run with.”

Bringing his arms up into a defensive position he readies himself for an attack, “Yeah, I’d rather not be his jogging buddy today. I mean it is raining outside, but I know you’d look real nice after a wet run.” Teases Bucky with a smirk.

“Touché you smartass.” His lips twitch into a grin as you ready your own stance. “Now let’s dance.”

[hopeaterart]

Evil Ozpin AU: Dinner with a bird

Context: Ozpin and Salem more or less swap place, it's a bit complicated. This fic is here to explain how it happened by way of Ozpin monologuing to a (still on Salem's side at the time) Qrow. There's some hints of Ozqrow in there. Like, you're definitely supposed get Vibes. For those unaware: here's my Evil/Swap!Ozpin.

"So... You're Salem's latest pawn." Qrow scowled, eyes narrowing at the monster sitting from across him. How he'd ended up sitting at the same table as Ozpin, also widely known as 'the Wizard', was a blur in his memory, and granted, not that great a story.

Went on a mission for Salem to find his base of operation, with the only info being that it was somewhere in the forests of Sanus. Had to go alone because Tai and Raven had their hands full with Yang and a pregnant Summer. Got caught by Ozpin's latest apprentice- a blond woman about his age with the ironic name of 'Goodwitch'. Letting himself be captured in order to get taken to Ozpin.

One trip to an old monastery latter, he was now separated from Harbringer, had Aura-suppressing manacles on his wrists (thankfully with no chains), and was sitting in front of the Wizard himself. They were on some kind of balcony with only a small table between themselves, and there was a plate on the table with bread on it that neither were touching.

"And you're the guy who's trying to burn down Remnant." He bit back. Ozpin sighed, silver eyelashes fluttering as he narrowed his eyes.

"Is that what my traitorous ex-wife told you?" Ozpin asks, smiling like a predator about to eat it's prey when Qrow's eyes widened in confusion. "I mean- she's not wrong, but Salem isn't exactly the hero of our tale."

"Wh- your ex-wife!?" Qrow exclaimed, before gritting his teeth. "You're lying." He accused Ozpin, who didn't even flinch at the accusation.

"So she didn't tell you." He observed. "Oh, what am I talking about? Of course she'd keep that hidden, that self-righteous hag." Ozpin hissed as he took one of the small bread. "Doesn't want to acknowledge me being a thing is her fault, after all." He opened his mouth, momentarily exposing too-sharp canines as he bit the bread in half. He stared in Qrow's eyes as he chewed, before swallowing. "It's garlic bread. An entrée before the main dish, if you will. I'm not going to poison you, erm... Qrow Branwen, is it?"

Qrow grit his teeth. "And I should believe you, because?"

"Sheer pragmatism on my part, really. We're eating the same food, and I am not interested in poisoning myself." Ozpin explained, shrugging as he finished eating the bread he had in hand. "'Poison damage' is not really the kind of pain I like."

Qrow raised an eyebrow at that. He'd heard stories of Ozpin letting anything and everything hurt him with ecstasy written all over his face, but hearing what seemed like confirmation was a bit... much. "Uh... so what's the deal? Why are you having me eat here with you instead of- oh, I dunno, locking me in some kind of torture dungeon?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty bird?" Qrow averts his eyes at that, his gaze landing on the plate of bread as his cheeks warm up. He hesitantly took one of the bread, shoving it in his mouth and chewing quickly.

He took another one, eating slower and actually savoring it this time as Ozpin turns to look at the scenery. The forest stretches beyond the horizon, any traces of Grimm hidden from sight. Qrow's not fooled, he knows the monastery probably hides a few nasty surprises. The marble-skinned weirdo in front of him is proof enough.

Credit where credit is due, whoever cooked this is a damn good cook. "Who made this?" He asks as he takes another bread. "Didn't expect you to have a five-star chief."

It was Ozpin's turn to be caught off-guard. "I'm... glad you like my cooking." What. Qrow stared at his third half-eaten bread. "Oh, don't be a baby. I have literal centuries of experience behind me, and my cycle of immortality is different from Salem's. Since I need sustenance, might as well be good at it."

"Still not entirely convinced you're not poisoning me." Qrow noted.

Ozpin groaned in exasperation. "If I wanted to kill you, there's a myriad of ways that would be easier and less-headache inducing than this." Ozpin snapped as he got up and started walking away. Qrow turned to look at him as he went behind his chair, before going rigid as cold fingers dug into his shoulders. "Stay there. I'm getting the side and main courses."

Ozpin left the balcony in a puff of smoke, and Qrow let out a breath he didn't knew he was holding. He reached inside his jacket, relieved to see his Scroll was still there. Only for his mood to immediately crash when he realized that this part of Vale didn't get reception.

"Trying to call for help, are you?" Qrow whirled around, scowling when he saw Goodwitch. "I'm telling you now, it's not gonna work. Ozpin has taken precautions."

"What, precautions against modern tech!?" Qrow snapped, getting up as his chair rattled. He didn't care if Goodwitch had one of the most powerful Semblances he'd ever seen while he couldn't even activate his Aura right now. He brought misfortune wherever he went, made sense his shit Semblance would turn against him one day. "Does the guy think we still live in the Dark Ages?"

Goodwitch bristled. "Why, you insufferable- Ozpin is trying to offer you a chance to redeem yourself from working with Salem, and you're squandering it for-"

"Glynda." Both stilled as Ozpin came into view. There was a disappointed frown on his face. "That's no way to treat guests."

"But sir-"

"No buts, young lady." Ozpin reprimanded, waving his fingers as floating plates, glasses and a bottle of something came into view. "Help me with putting on the table, will you?" He asked Glynda, who nodded and took the two plates with food on them to put on the table. "Sit back down, Qrow."

"Don't call me that." The huntsman hissed even as he sat back down. He glared at his plate, which had fish and some kind of salad and... something else in it. He raised his head slightly as the bottle landed on the table, Ozpin dismissing Glynda with a 'thank you' before sitting back down. He pointed at the weird stuff. "What is that?"

"Oysters." Ozpin told him. "I opened them earlier, they're all good. Do you know how to eat them?" Qrow shook his head. "Alright, so first you need to loosen them up..." Qrow followed Ozpin's instructions, pulling a face after eating his first one. Ozpin frowned. "Don't like it?"

"Texture's weird." Ozpin hummed, before taking the bottle and popping the cork off and pouring Qrow a glass.

"It's champagne. Laurent-Poirier. Goes well with oysters, use it to wash them down." Qrow nodded, taking the flute and taking a small sip. "Not a fan of alcohol?"

"Opposite, actually." He started, remembering how his father got after too many bears. "Runs in the family." Ozpin thankfully didn't push the subject, simply turning toward his own plate and taking a bite of his salad.

The two ate in silence for a while. Ozpin opened his mouth again as Qrow tried his second oyster. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Does it matter if I say no?"

"No, but you don't have to answer it." Qrow nodded. "How did you end up working for Salem? I thought the Branwen were a bandit tribe from Mistral?"

Qrow hissed in between his teeth. "I... me and Raven, we... Our parents, they- urgh. Look, all that matters is: we're not going back, and we're never going back."

"Raven..." Ozpin seemed deep in thoughts, as if he was trying to remember something. "That's your sister, right?"

"Yeah." Something occurred to Qrow. "Say, the whole reincarnating wizard thing. You used to be, like, a regular, not-Grimm person, right?"

"That's one way of putting it, but yes." Ozpin answered. "I used to be mortal."

"Did you have siblings? Before the whole..." Qrow made a vague gesture in the other's general direction. Ozpin stilled at that, a faraway look on his face.

"No, none by blood. I grew up in the mountains with only my parents before obtaining my powers." He answered. "I... did have someone I considered my sister, but I was already well into becoming what I am now when I met her." The look on Ozpin's face was absolutely miserable. "Salem killing her pushed me over the edge."

"... Ah." Qrow took a sip of his champagne. "That sucks. Sorry for your loss."

Ozpin waved a hand. "I- it's fine. You're not the one who blasted her with magic for the crime of trying to help me stay me." He quickly ate an oyster, seemingly cheering up. "Anyway, my turn to ask you a question!"

Qrow snorted despite himself. "What is this, 21 questions?"

"My crush is no one, if you're wondering." Ozpin joked, before straightening in his chair. "What did Salem tell you about me?"

Qrow shrugged as he cut some of his fish. "You want to burn down Remnant. You can do magic. Whoever you reincarnate in dies the moment you come into the picture. You started the whole thing with Salem. And she doesn't know how to stop your cycle."

Ozpin hummed. "I see. Your turn."

"How... much of what I told you do you agree with?" Between the ex-wife comment and the very real grief he had when talking about his sister, it was clear had a different version of the events. Besides, the monster Salem had described to him wouldn't simply sit him down to talk.

Ozpin hummed, a piece of fish on his fork as he waved it in the air. "I do want to do some burning, but it's more 'everything Salem ever worked for' than Remnant. Come on, Qrow, I live here. And I'm stuck here." He ate his fish. "If I really wanted to destroy Remnant, I'd simply use the Relics."

He hummed. "Yeah, that's fair- wait. You know where the Relics are!?" The amount of people that were on wild goose chases to find them... And this whole time, Salem's sworn enemy could get to them the moment he decided to stop playing around.

"Of course I know where they are. I'm the one who hid them in the first place." Ozpin noted. "Can't have Salem blowing up my body with the Sword again... urgh, retrieving it and the Lamp was such a pain!" Qrow numbly nodded. "Anyway, you wanted to know about my magic?"

"Uh-" Ozpin snapped his fingers, whisps of green and gold rising from them as pitch black eyes burst into green flames. Like a Maiden's. "Oh shit!"

Ozpin smiled as the magic faded, Qrow numbly realizing there were brown irises somewhere in those pools of tar. "I can. And unlike Salem, I'm willing to share."

"You- you're the guy who created the Maidens!?" The fairytale explaining their origin spoke of an old, cruel magician, who took four sisters under his wing and taught them how to use magic.

"Ah, yes." Ozpin spoke with fondness. "The first Maidens. They reminded me of the first daughters I had, and they were so very loyal to me... loyalty deserves to be rewarded, don't you think?"

Qrow frowned. "Is that why they keep turning against Salem when she finds them first? Something to do with your magic?"

"What- no!" Ozpin exclaimed, clearly offended. He then frowned in confusion. "I think. If it is a thing, then it wasn't intentional." A pause as Ozpin downs his flute, before pouring himself more champagne. "Anyway, my reincarnations..."

Qrow raised an eyebrow as Ozpin downed more champagne. "Sensitive point?"

"More angry about Salem being right on this one. Or..." He chuckled. "Was right. I proved her wrong, in this life. Ozma isn't in control anymore."

"There's literally nothing in what you just said that's reassuring." Qrow noted, Ozpin smiling at him as he finished his salad. "Who's Ozma?"

"The name of the first soul in the cycle." Ozpin told him. "He used to absorb whoever he reincarnated in into himself the moment he was in their bodies, but his soul weakened over time, and it took more and more time and efforts to absorb them. By the time he reached me, it him almost twenty years for our souls to fuse, and then..."

"... you're the one who absorbed him." Qrow finished. He frowned. If Ozma's soul was driven by anger at being betrayed by the woman he loved, then... "Holy shit, what did Salem do for you to hate her that much!?"

"What would you do," Ozpin started. "If you wanted to live, but someone wanted you dead? Because you know of something you couldn't care less about that could destroy her life? What would you think if someone thought of you as nothing less than the latest stain on her self-inflated ego? Proof that she's just human, if not worse than that?"

Qrow frowned at that. Was that how Ozpin saw the conflict? But nevertheless, he knew the answer to that question. It wasn't one he was happy with, but... "I'd kill her before she killed me."

"Good answer. And the answer to who started our conflict: as far as I'm concerned, it's all. Her. Fault." The two finished their plates in silence after that, Ozpin first and spending the next few minutes watching Qrow.

They stared at each other for a while. "Uh. All that fancy stuff, and no dessert?" Qrow joked. The tiniest bit of relief struck him as the corners of Ozpin's eyes crinkled.

"Now, you're speaking my language!" The pale-skinned man clapped his hand, and Qrow nearly jumped out of his skin when a Grimm came out of the shadows.

It was unlike any Qrow had seen before. A glossy sphere with bone shards on it's lower half, floating with an array of thin tentacles trailing under it. There was an ominous light coming from into the sphere, even if it wasn't really visible in this light.

It was also green instead of red, which meant Ozpin had created the fucking thing. Black smoke rose up from under the plates at a wave of the Wizard's hands, handing them to the Grimm. "Bring these to the kitchen, and bring back the dessert. It's on the pastry cart." The Grimm simply took the pile of plates and floated back in the darkness of the inside.

Qrow inhaled sharply. "What the fuck was that-"

"Seer Grimm. I've put enchantments all over the place so we don't end up getting detected by the CCT, but I need a way to communicate with my followers when they're away." Ozpin explained with a shrug of his shoulders as he poured himself yet another glass of champagne. Qrow stared at him. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm pretty sure most of my bodily fluids have been replaced by Grimm sludge, it takes an insane amount of alcohol for me to get drunk."

"Yikes." That word alone could describe at least half of what Qrow had learned about Ozpin today.

"Want a refill?" Qrow looked at what Ozpin was pointing at. His own flute, now empty. He nodded, letting the wizard pour him a second glass. Ozpin got up from the table after that, his glass in hand as he leaned on the balcony, back to the Huntsman. "Anyway, there's still one part of your question I haven't answered yet."

Qrow frowned, before remembering. "Is there a way to stop your cycle of reincarnation?"

If he had seen the manic smile on Ozpin's face, Qrow would've been scared for life. "Nope~. There was, but Salem would've had to die, and she was unwilling to. And now, the only way to get rid of me has been made useless."

"What do you mean by that...?"

Before Qrow could get his answer, the Seer Grimm was back, pushing a tray with a plate that had a mountain of what looked like chocolate truffles on it. Ozpin turned around, snapping his fingers as he did so. The Seer rotated, floating toward Ozpin as the wizard reached a hand out, caressing the smooth surface. He looked at the Grimm warmly, before turning those same eyes on Qrow, making something in his chest flutter. "Slit my throat open."

One of the Grimm's tentacle morphed into a blade, and faster than Qrow could see, Ozpin's throat was opened with a gush of tar-like blood. Ozpin gurgled, more of the black sludge coming out of his mouth as he took a few steps back, before falling backwards over the edge of the balcony. Qrow's better nature took the better of him as he rushed out of his chair, rushing to try and catch the wizard. "OZPIN!"

... Only for the man to raise into the air, eyes ablaze as a gentle breeze carried him. Ozpin laughed awkwardly as the other man stared at him in shock. "Were you scared for me?" Qrow took a step back as what he realized was a nothing less than a living god touched down on the balustrade. "Don't worry, there's no need to! I know it's always a bit scary when I take risks like that, but I assure you: there's no need to, since I-"

"Can't die." Qrow finished, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. "You can't die."

Ozpin frowned sympathetically at him as he sat down on the balustrade, looking up at Qrow. "She didn't tell you, did she?"

His answer came in the way Qrow crumpled to the ground, breathing harshly as if he was trying to refrain himself from crying. "No one wanted me-" He started in between gasps, Ozpin frowning as he came to kneel down next to him. "I gave my life to her because she gave me a place where- where I belonged-" He continued, letting the other man manhandle him into a hug. "I thought I was finally- finally-"

"Doing some good?" Ozpin finished for him. That opened the floodgates, Qrow burying his face in Ozpin's chest as he sobbed. Ozpin gently carded a hand through his hair, resting is lips on the top of his head. "You poor thing..." He muttered. "I'm afraid meeting Salem was the worst luck of your life."

Qrow continued crying, not noticing Ozpin manhandling him further until he was sitting in Ozpin's former chair. The wizard had his back turned to him, taking the plate with the truffles. "What are you...?"

Ozpin turned toward him, a kind smile on his face. "After everything you learned today, you must be exhausted. I just want to make you feel a bit better, is all." He came to sit on the table, plate next to him. He picked the truffle at the top, bringing it to Qrow's mouth. "Open."

Qrow nodded, opening his mouth and letting Ozpin handfeed him sweets, the wizard occasionally cradling his face or petting his hair. Ozpin smiled, picking up Qrow's discarded glass of champagne and sipping on it as the other leaned in his hand.

I win this time, dear~

[liannyeong]

Crimson (Chapter 3)

Summary: Jaebeom tours Yujin around the mansion, and the start of the wedding preparations.

Word count: 2463

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): None

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

A/N: Phew! Managed to get this done in time! And it’s a longer chapter too :D Do support my works by buying me a coffee! Follow me on Twitter for updates ~ See you next week! ^^

Jaebeom takes Yujin to the garden first. Standing a few steps away from the garden arch, pink flowers decorating the iron base. The vibrant petals contrast against the surrounding plain green hedges. Jaebeom doesn't bring her into the garden though. Instead, he briefly explains that it's more of a maze instead of an actual garden.

"What's in the middle of the maze then?" Yujin asks, looking beyond the arch. Interestingly, the sun is bright overhead, but the garden pathway is rather dark, and there seems to be a kind of fog clouding it, giving a mysterious aura.

"Oh, nothing much. Just a water fountain, that's all," Jaebeom responds, bringing her attention to the mansion instead. Yujin slightly frowns. Why does the fae seem rather dismissive?

"The mansion has an east wing and a west wing," Jaebeom gestures to the rectangular blocks that emerge from the centre of the mansion. "And there are three floors. The first floor is a common area, where the kitchen and the dining hall are located in the west wing. The east wing is where the servants' quarters are located."

"The second floor is made up of sleeping quarters for the rest of the household. That one, however," Jaebeom points out at the balcony just above the front door to the mansion, "is the ballroom. The third floor is the library in its entirety."

Next, Jaebeom brings her back inside the mansion. They step into the kitchen first, where Chan -- the one who served them earlier -- is focused on cooking a dish. There are two other faes busily moving about in the kitchen. None of them seem to be affected by their presence. Yujin catches the greenish glint in their eyes.

"Does your household employ different elemental faes?" Yujin asks when they exit the kitchen.

"Elemental faes prefer to stick to their own kind. But here, it's different. We don't follow the general notion."

"What about Jinyoung? He's your brother but he's not a Fire fae."

Jaebeom smiles ruefully.  "That's because he's my half-brother."

Yujin expects him to go on, but he doesn't. He leaves the conversation as it is. The next room over is the dining hall, but having been there during breakfast, Jaebeom skips to the servants' quarters.

"This is where the servants stay. If you need anything, you can approach them. Preferably, you should approach me though," Jaebeom murmurs the last sentence to himself but the silence in the house makes it loud and clear to Yujin's ears.

They head up the stairs, to the second floor. Jaebeom shows Yujin the ballroom, pushing open the large wooden door. It's basically empty, the daylight streaming into the room through the glass doors, casting a glow onto the marble-tiled floor. Beyond the doors is the balcony that she saw from the garden arch.

"We shall hold our wedding here," Jaebeom suddenly says, a huge grin on his face. In an instant, Yujin feels her heart drop. The tour has made her temporarily forget the reason she was brought here.

"Well, let's continue on." The fae walks out of the room, Yujin trailing behind.

He goes past the stairs and to the start of the hallway of the west wing, pausing there. "At the very end is where my room is located," Jaebeom states. "If you ever need anything, you can find me there."

Then they go up to the third floor, where the library is. The stairs form a bridge-like structure that splits into two pathways. The library appears taller than the other two floors, thanks to the roof that is shaped like a dome. It is made of entirely glass, allowing for the steady stream of sunlight. With the vast space -- a result of the merging of the two wings into one -- Yujin guesses there could be thousands of books in total: there are aisles of books, and every wall is turned into a bookshelf too!

"All the books in the library are my personal collection," Jaebeom gestures at the aisles. “But you’re more than welcome to read them.”

Yujin stares at Jaebeom, mouth gaping at him. She has always wanted to read new books but never had the chance, considering the financial situation of her family. They only have enough to sustain their survival, rarely anything more to purchase new things. Only once did her father gift her a novel that she has read multiple times throughout the years.

"Thank you, I’d like that a lot," Yujin can’t help but return a smile, genuinely grateful and happy. This seems to please the fae, for he looks at her as if she’s never smiled before.

"Well, uh--" Jaebeom clears his throat, “Come this way.”

Moving past rows of bookshelves, right at the very end, there is an arched glass window, with cushioned seats lined on the windowsill. Looking out, Yujin gets a bird's eye view of the mansion grounds, including the garden maze. She spots a fountain in the center, true to what Jaebeom said.

“It's nice, isn't it?” Jaebeom comments.

Definitely, Yujin thinks to herself.

“Well, that’s all there is in this mansion,” Jaebeom concludes. "I hope you’re more comfortable and familiar here."

“Yes, thank you for showing me around."

“Anything for you,” Jaebeom replies, eyes rather fond. "Ah yes, you’ll be fitted for your dress today, in the late afternoon. Yeri will remind you again."

“I shall leave you to yourself then,” he says, bowing politely and making his way out.

Yujin redirects her attention to the view outside. How advantageous is this, she realizes. Having a view from this angle will allow her to monitor the movements around the mansion.

She might have just arrived here and so far, no one has tried to harm her. Still, she can't get complacent. She can't let her guard down. There's a lot of things she doesn't know, questions that remain unanswered. But it's better she doesn't delve too much into it, she muses. The fae are skilled in deluding people, she reminds herself. It's better that she focuses on finding a way out of this place. She shouldn’t stay here any longer than necessary.

---

Yujin is woken by a shake on her shoulder, her eyes still heavy. She peeks an eye, the sun already casting slanted shadows through the windows. Yeri is standing next to the bed, reminding her of the dress fitting. Yujin quickly freshens herself up before following the servant lady to a guest room situated in the west wing of the mansion.

“Why couldn’t we do the fitting in my own room?” Yujin wonders aloud.

“It’s Master Im’s orders, Lady Shin,” Yeri responds as calm and dignified as usual. Then, she comes a little closer, and whispers, “Master Im doesn’t want anyone near or in your room.” She lets out a small giggle.

Yujin frowns. In an instant, the fae immediately reverts back to her composed self, as if she's done something wrong. Her sudden shift in mood has Yujin letting out a small laugh. Yeri smiles at her sheepishly.

The guestroom is as large as her room in the east wing. Seeing no one else in the room, Yujin decides to take her place at the loveseat. She’s rather thankful to have borrowed a book from the library and brought it along. She was reading it to pass time, but accidentally fell asleep until Yeri came. Basking in the silence of the room, Yujin flips open the book and continues on the page she left off.

She didn’t keep track of the time. She was nose deep into the novel when the door swings open and a commotion follows. Looking up, Yujin sees a male fae entering the room in the longest strides she has ever seen. He stands in the middle of the room, leaning his weight onto one foot. His legs are long, Yujin notices, and his cheekbones are visible beneath his slightly tanned skin. The next thing Yujin notices is the fae’s blue-colored eyes -- a sign that he is a Water fae. Yujin slowly rises to her feet.

“You must be the Shin Yujin,” the fae says with a subtle accent, looking her up and down. Perhaps elemental faes have different cultures and slightly different languages, much like human races.

“I’m Bam, your couturier,” he introduces himself. Before Yujin can even respond, he waves his hand and a mannequin appears in front of him, at the empty space between the guest bed and the loveseat. Bam steps forward, moving his right arm in a fluid motion and a measuring tape slides smoothly down his arm and into his hand. If Yujin had blinked, she might not have even noticed it.

“Measure her, please,” the male instructs and it’s like the measuring tape comes to life. Similar to water, the tape flows from the fae’s hand and slithers its way towards Yujin. It coils around her ankle, then spreads to her hip before covering her entire body like a tight-fit suit. It measures the littlest of details, leaving no skin untouched. Once done, it flows back down to the floor, creeping up to the mannequin. The mannequin morphs to be an exact replica of Yujin’s body.

“Alright, let’s see,” Bam goes. He crosses his arms, fingers underneath his chin, brows furrowed in thought. He tilts his head to the side, humming to himself. Then in the next moment, he suggests, “Perhaps a basic dress?”

Bam snaps his fingers and what appears to be snowflakes starts falling above the mannequin, to reveal a long simple dress. It is plain white, no design apart from the lace on the cap sleeves. The material hugs at the waist and tapers to her thighs, accentuating the Yujin’s curves. The tail fans out at the bottom, forming a smooth circle on the floor.

“What do you think?” the fae asks, glancing at Yujin. She doesn’t even get a chance to form her opinion, let alone open her mouth as Bam waves his hand, shaking his head. “On second thought, never mind. Let’s try another… I think… You’ll go better with an off-shoulder dress.”

Another snap and the basic dress moulds itself into an off-shoulder dress. The sleeves are long and tight to skin. There’s a dip in the middle, towards the cleavage but it’s not too low that it is racy. Around the waist is a rose gold embroidery, and the skirt flows loosely, multiple layers of light chiffon.

“What do you think?” Bam asks again, looking rather proud at his design. This time, Yujin has the time to step forward and feel the material.

The dress is beautiful, Yujin must admit, though she wonders if it suits her.

Just then, Jaebeom barges in, door slamming against the wall, his expression sour. “Bam!” he bellows.

“Oh, hello, Jaebeom,” the Water fae greets. “I think I’m just about done here--”

“How dare you make my bride wait!” Jaebeom raises his voice at the other, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Is this how you treat your clientele? Showing up late?”

Bam cowers. Yujin feels the temperature plummet. Watching the scene warily, she notices the candles around the room dimmed low, almost extinguished.

“I chose you as our couturier and yet, you treat my bride like a fool?”

“I’m sorry, Jaebeom, I had other business to attend to--”

“Excuses!” the Fire fae roars.

“Jaebeom--” Yujin intervenes, though her voice is small. Her own heart pounds in her ears. She definitely doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of Jaebeom’s wrath, but she feels the urge to defend Bam. The Water fae has his head hung low, avoiding any form of eye contact with the other fae. Yujin doesn’t know where she got the courage to move forward, such that she touches Jaebeom’s elbow. “It’s fine. It wasn’t a long wait -- not with a book to keep me company.”

Jaebeom looks over his shoulder. His anger seems to dissipate almost instantly. Out of the corner of her eye, Yujin notices the fires are back to normal. “Are you sure? I can punish him, if you’d like.”

“That won’t be ideal, would it? We need his service for our wedding,” she placates the male.

Jaebeom exhales steadily. Then he turns back to Bam, who is still looking down at his feet. Jaebeom jabs his finger into his chest once more, and spits, “You should be thankful to the mercy of my bride. Else, you’d be dead by now.”

The Fire fae faces Yujin once more, gently tapping her shoulder, a smile on his lips. His hand slides down her arm to hold her hand up between them. “If there’s anything you are displeased with, don’t hesitate to call me.” He brings up the hand higher, pressing his lips to her knuckles. Gently letting her go, Jaebeom turns on his heels and leaves the room. Yujin can’t help but notice how Bam immediately relaxes.

“Thank you for saving my life,” the couturier expresses his gratitude with a slight bow, a relieved expression on his face.

Yujin offers a kind smile. “I don’t think I did anything but you’re welcome.”

“Such amazing ability, you have,” Bam says. “I can’t believe that it’s true.”

Yujin cocks her head to the side. “What is?”

“Well,” Bam starts rather hesitantly. “Jaebeom has always been a hot-headed person, much worse than what you saw earlier. But his temper has mostly died down ever since he moved to this mansion, you see. Occasionally, he does get angry when it comes to important matters. But the fact that he was furious at me for being late and that you calmed him real quick… You really have Jaebeom wrapped around your finger.”

Yujin got reminded of Jinyoung, who said the same words. She shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe he doesn’t like truancy.”

Bam shakes his head. “I’ve known him all my life. And I’ve never seen him like this.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You must mean a lot to him, considering that he’s protective of you.”

Yujin doubts so. There must be another reason for Jaebeom to behave in such a manner. Even if he is protective of me, it's because he needs me for something. But I wonder what...

“Ah!” Bam’s face suddenly lights up. He whips around and snaps his fingers at the mannequin. The sleeves are gone, and thin straps are added instead. Then, just slightly above the chest, a gold jewelry wraps around the mannequin. Magic flows downward, constructing a long chiffon cape that drapes all the way down, almost touching the floor.

“How do you find this?” Bam presents it to Yujin, his blue eyes gleam with pride.

“It’s-- Majestic.” Yujin finds herself amazed by the elegance it holds.

Bam grins wide. “Perfect for the bride of the Im house.”

[wafflewarriors]

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 11—Bugs (Part 2)

The Winchesters had been generous compared to this guy. If you had been cramped before, this was suffocating. You were in the passenger seat, with a gag pulling tight on your lips.

To even consider fighting against him was a joke.

Your nose flared as you breathed heavily—as it was taking all your focus not to puke all over yourself and the van (considering you had a gag in your mouth—gross). 

You grimaced, tteeth grinding against the wet rag. Your headache was killer, and even though this was supposed to be a traumatizing event, you could feel yourself on the verge of passing out. 

You sure put the nap in 'kidnapped'.

The Winchesters had probably found your little crime scene already. They both were as quick as a whip, so it wouldn't be long until they figured it all out and came for you. That is, if you were important enough to look for.

You'd like to believe you were a little more valuable than a map to find John, now. You had planted your little hints—little bits of the future for them to digest. That had to be enough to intrigue anyone. Especially the Winchesters.

It would be stupid on their end to just let you go.

The van lurched to a stop and you threw your eyes open, not even realizing they'd drifted shut.

You were so tired.

Your vision was fuzzy and it hurt your head to squint into the night. You were miserable. But you watched as the demon left, and you did a double take as he walked over to a familiar vehicle, instead.

That's my car.

It was enough to get you to press your face closer to the window. A figure emerged from behind the car. 

Meg.

You watched, dumbfounded, as she approached the demon. Didn’t she first appear in Scarecrow? That was at least a few episodes away.

You tensed as she pointed in your direction. The other demon nodded, approaching the van again.

What are they saying about me? 

When he threw open the car door, you fell with it, falling down onto the gravel without any way to break your fall.

“Well,” Meg scoffed, kicking at you, "this is disappointing. This is supposed to be 'the one'? She’s a twig.”

Other Demon™ wrenched you upward—seriously, could we please stop with all the sudden movements?—and ripped the gag from your mouth. It left a line of saliva down your chin, but you were too miserable to care. 

You snorted. “Angels tell you that? Because they never lie.”

Other threw your back into the van, and your vision grayed out.

Shit.

You blacked out—only long enough for your knees to buckle, and for you to choke under Other's iron hold—and then you were back. You were barely able to shuffle back on your feet, sputtering.

The ringing in your ears was gradually drowned out by a buzzing, and everyone paused. 

“You,” you coughed wetly, “hear that too?”

Everyone turned to watch as a great swarm blocked out the moon and stars, and you barely had enough conscience to feel fear.

Bugs.

You slid down the side of the van, alone.

Light swam over the area. The buzzing faded.

Was it them?

Shouting. Shouting and light.

Had they come for you?

You felt your eyelids flutter.

You shuddered, sobbing into the dirt when you couldn’t move.

Your panic attack still crushed your lungs as you were forcefully shaken, and, terrified, you gawked into the green eyes of a cross Dean Winchester.

You tried to push him away, but he just pinned you down, scowling and shouting some more.

“—drove—?”

"—what else—?—is there—"

“—her—all we know—”

"—did you—left—should have—"

They were talking about you, but you couldn’t give a damn.

You were so so tired.

"—concuss—"

"—don't let—"

"—know!"

"—dead?"

"—!—"

Without warning, the light around you brightened to become one blindingly white abyss. When you blinked, Dean's face was all but gone, replaced by Castiel.

"Where am I?" you asked. There was no pain. Where had your pain gone?

"Heaven," he said. He left you no time for questions before his hand reached up, caressing—

You woke abruptly to a hard slap on your face.

You gasped—you could breathe!—and your eyes shot open. 

Your headache had melted away, your aches were no more, and the rings of torn flesh around your wrists were gone, as well as your handcuffs.

You were healed.

You blinked, feeling weirdly refreshed as you looked past Dean, as if to catch a glimpse of Castiel behind him. But there was nothing. Meg was gone. Other was gone. There was just a wash of light over gravel where they had all been.

“Whatcha' looking at?”

You looked him dead in the eyes and answered, “A bitch.”

Dean frowned. “Funny,” he said, wrenching you up by the arm and pulling you away from the van. “Thought you were dead for a good minute there." 

“Not dead,” you replied, "but that was horrible."

“I don’t know, it looked like fun.”

You rolled your eyes. Asshole.

Dean still had you by the arm, pulling you toward Sam, who emerged from behind your car.

"Entire car was invested," said Sam as he approached, your bag in his hands. "Got us some weapons, though."

Sam dropped the bag and out rolled the jar of peanut butter and your loaf of bread, which was crawling with bugs.

The last of my food.

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Peanut butter and bread? You live like this?" He kicked the bag away like it was repulsive.

Well, screw you too, Dean.

"Also…" Sam trailed off as he grabbed a weapon. The angel blade. "What is this?"

"It's a knife," you said innocently.

Sam's expression pinched. "Yeah, I can see that," he said. "I mean, what does it do? What is it made of? And can it kill you?"

How ironic, considering you'd died a minute ago (or… you were pretty sure, anyway). It clearly didn't take much to kill you, and that blade wouldn't be an exception.

But they didn't need to know that.

"We could always just see for ourselves." Dean shrugged when you didn't reply.

You snapped at him, "If you wanted to, you'd have done it already. You need me alive." Man, you were beginning to sound like the typical monster. That was depressing. "And it's just a fancy knife. I stole it, okay?"

"You stole our gun too," Sam said as he pulled out their gun from your backpack. "And our dad's journal. You’re quite the thief."

You scoffed. "You're one to talk, Mr.CreditCardFraud. You both love to judge me for everything you guys do daily."

Sam's expression hardened. "Oh, right, because we kill innocents and work with demons."

You gaped at him. "Are you kidding me? You thought that entire kidnapping was me working with them?!" You were on the verge of hysteria. "And I'm sure you thought all those restraints were just funhousing, right? Good times with my demonic pals?"

"Not sure what you're talking about."

You frowned. "I mean just now. Big, burly guy? Ring any bells?" You didn't feel like mentioning Meg.

"Uh… no. Nobody was here but you."

You blinked.

What.

You glanced between the two of them. “But… there was sulfur left behind, wasn’t there?”

“Doesn’t mean anything," Dean denied.

"Because you think I'm a demon. Then why haven't you tested me with holy water yet?"

"We did. Earlier. When I knocked you out. But just because it didn't burn you, doesn't mean you're not something else."

"Either I left the sulfur, or I didn't. You can't simultaneously believe I'm a demon and something else," you said, exasperated.

"Watch me."

"The van, then. The demon drove the van.”

"You hotwired it," he said easily. "See, you left a ton of blood behind—definitely enough to kill a person, mind you. When we found you, you still had blood pooling out of your stomach. And then, magically, you healed. Not a scratch on you."

Blood pooling from your..? What were they talking about? He was exaggerating, probably.

You could see where he was going. And it wasn't helping your case. "Do a blood test, then. That blood on the sidewalk won’t match with mine."

Dean leaned back, tilting his head in consideration before nodding to Sam. "Fine." 

Sam reached over, slammed the handcuffs back on your wrists, and lifted you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. 

“Kinky," you wheezed.

Sam ignored you.

You couldn’t deny that you kinda had a good view of that booty though… and his toned back and broad shoulders.

Not the time, brain. Shut up. 

Sam threw you in the Impala, and it was deja vu. Back at square one.

Slumping into the seat, you took some time to reflect.

Had you hallucinated Meg and Other?

No, you couldn't have. How else could you explain finding your car? How else could you explain the hallucinations, other than from the brain damage you got from Other repeatedly bashing your poor head on walls and sidewalks?

Your memories were a garbled mess. Like a dream confused with reality.

Then there was the whole heaven thing. Had he interfered? Was the light—instead of headlights—actually Heaven saving you? You lingered on the idea. That meant Castiel was looking out for you, at least.

There were so many things you couldn't explain yourself, much less to the Winchesters.

And Sam… Sam was going to be a hassle.

Older Sam would have tried to understand you by now. He was more level-headed. Monsters weren't all black and white in his eyes—mostly because he knew what being the monster was like.

But this Sam? He was so freaking young. Naive, grieving, and angry. Not to mention, he blamed you for the death of his girlfriend, which was setting him back on his ability to empathize with you. He absolutely hated you.

After all, instead of evidence to prove your innocence, the Winchesters instead kept finding the complete opposite. Every good deed you did was tainted by either the heaven's bloodthirsty intervention, or just your own naiveté. 

Your guilt was climbing so high that you were beginning to agree with the Winchesters. You were the monster—I mean, look at all the times I'd screwed up!

Your presence was killing people. Whether it was your intention or not.

You sighed.

Sam was twirling the angel blade in the car, getting a feel for the weapon. He said, “You know, when I said you were 'working with demons', I actually meant the one from a few weeks ago—the Bloody Mary case."

"You mean the demon I killed? Because that totally sounds like I was scheming with demons.”

Sam paused. "You killed it with this knife, right?"

You went quiet. Damn.

He twirled it again. "Thought so. So it is more than a 'fancy knife'. Makes me wonder what else you're lying about."

"As if you wouldn't be lying your head off if you were in my position. I forgot how honest you two are." You snorted. "You two have no problem lying to each other. Like, seriously? Dean, you lied to Sam about the demon knowing about Jessica's death. On your, what, fourth hunt with him since he'd gone to college?"

Hypocrites. Both of them.

The statement made Sam squint. "How the hell would you ever know?"

"Uh, I was with you? On the plane?" Anxiety pooled in your stomach.

"No, you vanished into thin air before that conversation ever happened," Dean accused. "Another reason to believe you aren't human."

"I have my sources." Sources. Right. What sources?

"And what the hell are your sources?"

Supernatural, you wanted to say, the television show that ruined my life. But how could you tell them that?

You couldn't tell them you were a demon, either. Not only because you weren't—but that would just spell out a whole lot of trouble for you. Not to mention they now possessed your angel blade.

And you most definitely couldn't tell them the truth.

So you did the insane.

"I'm psychic."

///

Tags: @megamindsdespondentcousin​ @depressedunicorn43​ , @rosaren2498​ , @pillowjj​ , @busy-bee-angel-misska​ , @elliotts-world​ , @dagnylokisdottir​ , @omg-we-really-doo​ , @millieccino​ , @regainedworld , @badgal-jackie​ , @postcardsfromliterallynowhere​ , @super-calithehamm​ , @teresa-67​ , @ofthedewthesunlight​ , @dream-believe-and-love​ 

[emmys-grimoire]

Cosmology blurb

Mulling over ideas for a fanfic series set in the Celestial Realm and realizing I may need to make some educated guesses about how things work. I figure I’d share my observations. Spoilers ahead.

I’m thinking the realms aren’t sandwiched/stratified on top of each other but are arranged more like this...

... if Lilith didn’t have to fall through the human realm to get to the Devildom and if the heavenly gates are accessible from the Devildom (implied when MC is transported there from the Devildom). There are obviously Celestial-Human and Devildom-Human access points in the story, too.

Traditionally, Heaven is upstairs and Hell is downstairs. But, while clearly inspired by these places, the Devildom is not actually Hell and the Celestial Realm is not actually Heaven. I mean, they’re not even named that.

They each have their own seperate skies with different constellations/celestial bodies (Devildom doesn’t have a sun and the other two realms do, and they have Belphie’s/Beel’s stars). Clearly the act of falling from the Celestial Realm to the Devildom is at least a metaphorical thing, but it’s implied to be literal, too.

I don’t think it matters a whole heckuvalot, but it’s interesting to think about.

Angel versus Devil society

Looking at what small details we have, the way these two realms have evolved and currently function is also very interesting.

The Devildom is a monarchy while the Celestial Realm may be an autocracy with a caste system (I think the Devildom probably does, too, just by the nature of feudalism but it may not be officially acknowledged). Previous Demon Kings have lived and died (there’s a tomb and a line of succession) while the Celestial Realm presumably remained ruled by the same entity throughout time. 

That’s pretty interesting, too. Demon Kings are not immortal. Diavolo, however, is likely stronger than Lucifer -- it makes sense that he has to be if he’s actually meant to replace his father.

The Celestial Realm’s caste system has Luke at the lowest rank, some kind of middle or multiple ranks, and Michael at the top rank. Lucifer used to occupy the same rank alongside him.

Christian angelology has multiple very detailed and convoluted hierarchies regarding angels, and for that reason it's probably much more simplified in the game. It already deviates from the typical choir arrangement by having archangels be the top rank when they're normally near the bottom, and giving them the six wings of the seraphim (the top choir).

We're not given much insight as to whether or not angels are born into these ranks or if they ascend them through good works and valor in battle or something. Lucifer being so utterly flawless seems to suggest he was born with it, but Luke complaining about being in the lowest rank suggests that there may be some way for him to change that arrangement and it may simply be a consequence of his (lack of) age and experience. Simeon also mentioning Michael may be of higher rank but he's still "a normal angel" may also allude to that. It could be a variation, where everyone starts at the same level but Lucifer and Michael were specifically given a greater share of angelic power so they were meant to get to the top and that inevitably happened. Or maybe angels gain xp and levels in fights with the demons and they managed to become head and shoulders above the rest by being better gamers.

Also, the legion of angels. 

A legion is a military or semimilitary unit. That is an interesting term to call what may also double as your governing body outside of daddy. The game mentions Michael was in charge of Mammon’s “training” before he was handed over to Lucifer, and well...

Michael is usually depicted and referred to as a protector and the leader of the army of God against the forces of evil, and it seems he reprises that role in this universe. Lucifer once did, too.

A fundamental part of “angel training” may revolve around warfare and training for it. We know the angels and demons have had a long, bloody history, but fighting doesn’t seem to be a part of RAD’s curriculum. The Celestial Realm may have changed it’s course now that they’ve entered a period of relative peace, but I’m not entirely sure.

So far the only in-game lore detail we have related to the actual fighting is the colosseum being destroyed in a battle before the creation of RAD, but it’s proof that the angels have invaded the Devildom at some point. It might have went vice-versa, too, and we simply haven’t observed it because we haven’t been in the Celestial Realm for more than two minutes. 

In spite of all this, it doesn’t seem like angel society is wholly bad. It’s likely rigid and hierarchical, but it is also strangely communal. The brothers have all fostered close bonds with each other within the Celestial Realm -- not the Devildom -- and the angels in the story seem to maintain their positive opinion of Lucifer and his brothers in spite of him sparking a civil war and them now being demons. How the angels treat each other is also noteworthy: Simeon and Luke clearly love each other and have a healthy relationship, by all accounts Michael wholeheartedly supports Luke and gives him positive feedback, and in spite of Luke’s obvious (though changing) prejudice towards all things demon they’re comparatively even-keeled. They generally operate on the assumption that they should help each other and others and that’s a good thing.

They also seem to be onboard with the intent behind exchange program. Luke isn’t sent there to be a spy like Simeon probably was, because he’s pretty terrible at subterfuge. 

A tacit admission that Luke’s perspective is one commonly held by the denizens of the Celestial Realm. Simeon points out that it’s not entirely bad, and I’m inclined to agree.

And also an acknowledgement that the thinking is flawed and they’re willing to make an effort to expand their horizons (considered a good thing). So something has changed, and it’s probably connected to... well... Lucifer and his brothers falling. Or the Celestial Realm just isn’t a monolith and there’s competing viewpoints even with how their society is structured. It’d be interesting to hear what the brothers thought about demons before they became demons themselves, and how they adjusted to that transformation (we get insight on how Lucifer viewed them via Glory Days, but that’s it.)

The Devildom, in contrast, uh... still has problems in this area outside of Diavolo.

This is disregarding all the soul devouring, torture, and casual murder that goes on between demons -- including the brothers. Diavolo is well regarded, but he’s also been unofficially in charge for quite awhile and it doesn’t appear he thinks this is a problem, even though he himself doesn’t treat his subjects poorly (as far as I know, anyway).

Which brings me to this...

There’s a reason he doesn’t really have any close bonds beyond Barbatos and Lucifer, in spite of being universally beloved. And I’m not sure how well he knows Barbatos, honestly. He’s isolated, and it’s not entirely related to his position; Lucifer has been in a high status position in both realms and doesn’t have this problem and never really did in spite of being prickly and anal-retentive af. There’s been quite a bit of commentary in these lessons about how he’s changed and may be reverting back to his angelic tendencies, with Barbatos implying that while it may be good for him and his family, it may not be what’s best for the Devildom... and I think that’s a mindset carried over from his tenure serving under Diavolo’s dad and helping enforce the current state of the Devildom for a specific purpose. MC somehow turning Lucifer and his brothers back into good people (or better people, at least), and Diavolo being envious of their closeness, may interfere with that: the demons around them may start getting ideas, and Diavolo may make more changes.

So not all is well in the Devildom, either, and Diavolo may not be cognizant of how or why. While the Celestial Realm may be a militant society with authoritarian impulses and bigotry, the Devildom sounds like a corrupt monarchy with a dog-eat-dog world underneath that makes trust and love liabilities to survival and keeps the peasants where they are forever. It’s simply another brand of dysfunction.

Hoomans and MC

The Human Realm is probably meant to be some kind of middleground in the dark/bad - light/good spectrum, with its inhabitants having no impulses skewed one way or the other and thus possessing the ability to slide back and forth. 

Demons interact with the human world via being summoned, pacts, or simply travelling there. Manipulating them and preying on them involves magical speechcraft. The angels aren’t allowed to reveal their angel forms to humans, travel there without permission (though it seems the punishment for this wasn’t enough to deter Belphie/Beel/Lilith/Mammon), or magically extend their lifespans -- it seems they prefer to meddle in their affairs indirectly, and revolves around shepherding them towards certain (presumably good) decisions. Ironically enough, Michael himself seems to violate these tenets with Solomon, who is evidently aware of who gave him the demon-controlling ring and was invited to chill with him in the Celestial Realm. It’s do as I say but not as I do, apparently.  

The game seems to imply that it’s possible that MC inherited Lilith’s angelic tendencies/abilities/memories/whatever after the big reveal, which makes me think she may not have turned into a demon before she was reborn. There’s no reason to think she would have retained her angelic abilities as a demon when her brothers haven’t -- she presumably would have lost them before being reborn, if she was turned into a demon first. Diavolo might have just skipped that step altogether for simplicity’s sake.

But she did technically fall, so ???? Maybe it’s just literally falling from the sky.

tl;dr version: they’re all fucked up and the exchange program is a good way for them to try to get their shit together. And I like how it’s set up.

[faith-in-dean]

A Study of Love - Chapter Three

Summary: Changes were often difficult to manage. In your case, it was a blessing sent from heaven. Sure, you had to master some difficulties but in the end, you would not have decided differently.

Words: 1362

Pairing: Professor!Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: mild angst

A/N: Please leave some feedback! It encourages me to keep writing this!

Masterpost

What met you surprised you pleasantly. The lab was gigantic and filled with all kinds of technologies. You were speechless. How was this all possible?

“What is this?” You managed to ask as you glanced around.

“It's more of a private lab for Dr. Banner and me. This is where we test our own projects. Ultimately because we don't want to end up homeless at a failed attempt,” Mr. Stark chuckled some. Sure, you had heard about him and his projects. You just had never expected to be face to face with them.

“Just recently Tony and I had come upon a problem neither one of us can seem to solve,” Dr. Banner came into the view, meeting the two of you, “perhaps you could help us.”

The two scientists lead you over to a metal suit. It was about Tony's size and was linked to many technologies. You reached out to touch the metal, checking how every little piece was put perfectly together.

“This is a model of an iron suit. Don't ask me why I would need something like that. But we can't happen to install my software and calibrate it so it's not going crazy when someone tries to use it,” Tony… Mr. Stark told you.

“Perhaps you can see what we can't,” Dr. Banner gave you a nervous smile before you nodded.

You dropped your bag and began to check out the program called F.R.I.D.A.Y. before checking the suit and how it could possibly be linked. It didn't take long until you were completely lost in the task, studying everything you needed to know to move forward with your investigation. You programmed and switched multiple components of the system. All of that happened while Professor Stark and Dr. Banner watched you closely.

“I've told you she's gifted,” Tony whispered to Bruce while they kept an eye on her.

“I've never doubted that! It's just that she doesn't seem to put a lot of effort into her studies,” Bruce sighed in return.

“About that. I've talked to her about this matter,” Tony started, “she's taking care of her sick grandmother all on her own. That's why she's always so tired around here.”

“But that's her decision, isn't it?”

“It might be. But we should help her, find a better solution for her. She is meant for this,” Tony insisted, looking at his friend with pleading eyes.

“What should we do about it? And why is it so important to you to get her through this?” Bruce questioned the brown-haired man, already knowing he was going to give in either way.

“We could find help for her grandmother. Professional help so Y/N can focus on her studies. And I care because she's got a talent we can't let slide,” Tony pointed out though he knew there was some sort of personal bond he felt towards her. But he just couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Before the two men could continue their talk, you turned your attention back to them.

“I think I found the general source of the problem. I've got everything I need to know written down but I'll need a little more time to think and work this through,” you told them with a smile on your face.

Tony had returned your smile while Dr. Banner remained with an uncertain glance.

“You can report to me after our next class,” Mr. Stark told you, making you nod in excitement. This had actually turned out to be something you were extremely interested in. And if two well-known scientists couldn't figure the problem out but you could, your ego would experience a little boost in confidence.

“I will. Thanks, professor,” you gave him a smile before picking up your bag and heading to leave.

But instead of you getting more sleep, you had been working on the matter non-stop, sleeping even less than you had before. And instead of it just taking a couple of days, it took you a couple of weeks. Professor Stark had been checking the status every now and then, nodding his approval. But at the same time, you couldn't help but notice his worried behavior whenever he saw just how long and how much time you had put in this. He even showed some signs of guilt.

About a week into the project, Professor Stark pulled you aside after class again.

“May I talk to you for a second?” he asked you, concern in his eyes.

“Uh, sure. Is everything alright?” you questioned your professor.

“I had a talk with Dr. Banner about your current living situation and we came to a conclusion that we want to help you,” Mr. Stark’s eyes met yours.

“Oh?” quirking a brow, you looked up at him. Why would they talk about your living situation?

“I've made it my task to look for a place that could take care of your grandmother, professionally. I know you didn't want that for her but I'd hate to see you keep going like this,” Tony told you, a soft sigh on his lips, “I've looked for the best place I could find and visited it in my free time. Your grandmother will be doing good there.”

It took you a few moments to progress everything your professor had told you. He was so worried he actually looked into changing your living situation? And more so he got Dr. Banner to help too?

“But I can't even afford to live in that house all by myself,” the thought of not having to work more every time you returned from uni was like a dream. But your grandmother was the one making it possible for you to live there as well.

“You could live on the campus. Dr. Banner has already looked into a potential roommate for you. I'm going to sponsor you as long as you promise to take care of yourself,” the words hit you in shock once again. But through all this, there was one question you couldn't stop thinking about.

“Why do you care so much? Why would you do all that for me?” Your voice came through harsher than you had anticipated.

Tony's mouth opened as he wanted to reply but closed again. He looked like he truly had to consider what he was saying.

“Please just accept the offer. You have the chance of becoming the best student this university had in over 20 years,” he finally sighed, though it didn't seem like that was what he wanted to say. Maybe the smallest part of you had hoped he would say something else.

“I'll- I'll think about it, Mr. Stark,” you nodded at him, turning to leave. As you made your way to the door, you could hear your professor mutter under his breath before he called you back.

“Y/N?”

“I care because I see so much in you because you have so much worth. You are really something special and it's taking all I have to keep calm about you,” he told you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you against him while you were still in shock over his confession.

“I’m gonna regret this,’ Tony sighed before his lips crashed against yours, kissing you deeply. You were taken aback by his actions and didn't know how to react at first. Though after a moment of hesitation your feelings had gotten the upper hand and you returned the kiss longingly. Your bag dropped to the ground as Tony pulled you closer, pressing himself against you.

You couldn't deny yourself that with all the care your professor presented to you and how strongly he believed in you, you had developed feelings for him. The fact that he was very pleasing to look at, didn't help either.

It was only when Tony pressed his leg between yours when you remembered how little you had taken care of yourself and how unpresentable you were. Despite your mind telling you to keep going, you pushed Tony away from yourself and picked up your bag.

“I- sorry,” you mumbled before quickly taking off to your next class, leaving your professor almost dumbfounded.

@feelmyroarrrr   @cameronmonaghantrashaf    @backoffmyhusband    @llittle-bird    @supernaturallymarvellous     @crazysocklovingfangirl    @fairlightswiftly @sassysupernaturalsweetheart     @dark-night-sky-99    @emma641     @clairese1980 @aseasyasdeanspie    @river-alice-wolf    @ivvitm1109  @i-have-a-wonky-eye-too @gabbie7-11

[idiopath-fic-smile]

have you ever put any thought into what's going on with the ABC gang in WAR a decade on? like, a lot of high school aus that use homophobia as a plot point are deliberately set in the 70s or the 80s, so it gets a little depressing because they'll have to wait decades for things to really get better - but you set WAR in 2006, which is *so cool* because in less than 10 years it goes from, well, 2006, to obergefell v. hodges.

this question is a bit complicated by the fact that i’m still working on adapting WAR into a novel, and the characters are a little different (i combined a lot of people, and also made most of them female) so this is specifically for the Les Mis fanfic version. 

also, this is more just my overall headcanon for the epilogue of WAR. take it with a grain of salt, none of this is True Canon, death of the author, etc

-it is my cherished secret headcanon that the members of the ABC gradually realize (in some cases, YEARS later) that actually none of them were straight, cis, and allo, with the possible exception of combeferre. 

ex) high school jehan ID’s as gay, but once they’re in the place to have more vocabulary for it, they come out as trans, nonbinary but femme-leaning (while continuing to be mostly into dudes). i think that eponine is bi (and also realizes pretty late that she’s nonbinary.) joly and bossuet are both bi. cosette is a lesbian. marius is ace. (their relationship worked in part because neither ever pressured the other, for anything. it was kind of more like playing house.) bahorel ID’s as straight for the longest time, but there’s a couple of male celebrities he jokes about as his “exceptions” until he realizes one day, hmm not really a joke. courfeyrac in high school considers himself gay, but after jehan comes out, realizes in retrospect he doesn’t fall perfectly on one end of the kinsey scale, either.

-molly keeps the ABC alive once the others graduate. gavroche joins when he becomes a freshman, and by his senior year, the club is double its original size. (he jokes it’s because he made LGBTQ rights cool, but really, a tide is turning.)

-enjolras stays politically active and does a lot of nonprofit and organizing work all throughout college. in ‘08, he joins one of those groups that goes door to door registering voters (so does jehan, who attends the same university). enjolras’s experiences with other people, people NOT from affluent suburbs, open his eyes in a good way and make him a little less intense about his own point of view.

-most of the ABC kids are swept up in the excitement of the first obama campaign. combeferre actually gets emotional, talking about it; he writes some very eloquent op-eds in the school paper about what obama means to him, and how fucked-up all the racist scrutiny really is. joly, musichetta, and bossuet phone bank. eponine starts taking photos at rallies, one of which becomes kind of well-known and helps launch her interest in pursuing photography for real. courfeyrac organizes theatrical productions to raise money for the campaign, which are a weird and wild success. bahorel is a minor social media star, and he leverages his dubious fame to try to help get out the young people vote.

-(eponine is gavroche’s legal guardian, and she balances work with community college. she was honestly more of a hillary girl, but obama wins her over eventually.)

-grantaire and enjolras stayed together post-high school, and after a year of attending a nearby community college, grantaire has the grades to transfer to the same university as enjolras. 

grantire spends most of his early college years bouncing from one major to another; he likes art but more as a release than as an area of academic focus. like, getting a bad grade on an art project is fucking devastating. they start fighting a lot that first september in the same school because enjolras is so sure of his path and grantaire feels guilty and defensive for not knowing where to go with his life. it makes grantaire feel like a worthless burnout again (which is frustrating because he thought he’d WORKED THROUGH IT, dammit), but he also resents enjolras’s attempts to help him, which eventually makes enjolras pull away in hurt, which terrifies grantaire so much that he pulls away too, and they break up very early sophomore year of college.

-the night obama wins the election in ‘08, even despite the blow of prop 8 passing, all the old ABC members are calling each other, yelling into their phones with delight. combeferre is literally crying.enjolras is jubilant, but grantaire, who had never seriously thought that obama had a chance, honestly feels like he’s high again.

enjolras and grantaire wind up at the same celebratory party and, under the influence of all that victory, they hook up. holy shit have they missed each other. they briefly get back together, but it’s not like it was in high school, before they knew quite how badly they could hurt each other. when enjolras does study abroad for a semester, they break up again, amicably, rather than do the long distance thing. they drift apart even when he gets back. it’s nobody’s fault.

-jehan switches to they/them pronouns and puts out a chapbook of poetry about feeling connected to the words of dead authors. bahorel becomes a college radio DJ, and is so good, his show gets picked up by local stations and he eventually starts working as the “bad boy of NPR”. courfeyrac realizes that more than acting, his real joy is stage managing. musichetta goes into business, advocating for greater diversity. 

-grantaire winds up at the last minute, majoring in psychology. studying this stuff in an actual class makes him realize just how dysfunctional his family dynamics have really been, and how little of it had to do with him. it’s both freeing and terrifying. he makes friends in his advanced psych courses (mostly idealistic young feminist women), and dates one for a while. ironically, she’s also bi. he has more of a chance to unpack all the stigma he’s been carrying around for years, how frustrating it was to be seen as “the gay kid” in high school when that wasn’t really true.

-combeferre decides to get dreadlocks after graduating undergrad and becomes “that hot World Lit TA with the dreadlocks”

-grantaire starts kind of considering going into counseling. the members of the ABC he’s still in touch with keep urging him to write Mr. Myriel a letter, and grantaire keeps dragging his feet, but one night he’s in town to visit Eponine, and runs into Mr. Myriel at the grocery store, and basically word-vomits all this gratitude, and the two become penpals. Mr. Myriel eventually writes one of the recommendation letters that gets grantaire into a sociology master’s program.

-combeferre gets fed up with the ivory tower of academia and joins a startup that teaches coding to kids, particularly girls in low-income areas. (He’d long been interested in coding, but more as a fun side hobby.)

-grantaire moves to the city (uh, let’s say chicago) to get his master’s, where he also reconnects with bossuet, who by then is a hippie engineer and just a solid, low-stress friend to have. they become super close in a platonic bros way, and grantaire may actually be the one to say, “oh btw, did you have a crush on joly, or did you guys both just like musichetta?” (answer: YES and YES). grantaire rents a bedroom in bossuet’s apartment (bossuet has more space than anticipated because he just had a rough breakup) and in his starving student days, grantaire pays some of his rent to bossuet by cooking him dinner and stuff. in this time, grantaire actually learns how to cook, beyond just fucking up the occasional frozen pizza.

-kind of to his surprise, grantaire winds up really enjoying counseling (or at least, finding it rewarding; talking to people with such intense problems be rough) and particularly working with youths. they never expect his sense of humor, which turns out to be a pretty useful tool in connecting with them.

-bossuet sometimes, long-distance, donates his time to combeferre’s coding project. grantaire hears through bossuet, through combeferre, that enjolras is moving to chicago for law school.

-at first, grantaire and enjolras are awkward around each other, but the weird thing is, their positions are kind of reversed because grantaire by now feels pretty confident in his role as a counselor, and is doing good work, while enjolras is under a ton of stress in law school and still not always 100% sure it’s the right move. grantaire is living alone by now, and he misses hanging with bossuet (who is in a complex poly triad now, and has a lot less free time) (part of me feels it’d be way too big of a coincidence if it’s joly and musichetta, part of me yearns for it, so you decide for yourself i suppose). so grantaire starts coming over to cook dinner at enjolras’s apartment as enjolras studies. this is partly because grantaire’s own kitchen in his studio is really insufficient, but mostly an excuse for them to hang out in a low-cost, low-pressure way. they eat and watch Parks and Rec.

-in theory this is a great system, and in practice it’s the same kind of agonizing romantic tension from high school. enjolras is really into this more confident, happier, more balanced grantaire. grantaire appreciates that enjolras has gotten  a little less overbearing, a little lighter even as he’s also so clearly fraying at the seams. grantaire just wants to, like, give him a massage, but whoa boundaries. they sit on the same couch and SOMETIMES THEIR ARMS BRUSH.

-enjolras decides first that he wants to get back together, that they’ve grown enough in the time they were apart that they could build something healthy and balanced now. he’s not totally sure how to make his case to grantaire, and he feels a little weird being the less stable one of the pair. 

-enjolras decides that he’s gonna make grantaire dinner. grantaire doesn’t really get why; enjolras generally does the dishes so it’s not like anything’s really owed here??? enjolras slips into way overachiever mode and prepares like a whole three-course spread of painstakingly researched recipes. grantaire is VERY confused. “I thought I was hot shit, dude, where did you learn to cook like this?” enjolras has to shamefacedly confess he taught it to himself for this night. “Damn, are you proposing or something?” grantaire blurts in an ill-considered joke, and enjolras’s ears turn red. they get together again. it’s really good this time.

-in 2013, when the supreme court rules that gay marriage is legal in all 50 states, enjolras actually finds out because grantaire texts him the minute the news breaks with simply, “Holy fuck, you were right all along!!!!!” and then some hearts.

-they’re married a year later. one of their wedding photos is them kissing, both raising a middle finger to the imagined haters, like “bring it on, assholes” you’d think this would’ve been grantaire’s idea, but nope, enjolras. it’s framed over their mantle.

-by november 2016, enjolras is a lawyer for the ACLU, and grantaire is a counselor at an organization that primarily works with LGBTQA youth. after the election, enjolras doesn’t get out of bed all day. then he’s a whirlwind of activity. trump-era enjolras is a hybrid of the wisdom and confidence of obama-era enjolras, and the “fuck these motherfuckers” pinpoint focused ferocity of bush jr-era enjolras. grantaire’s work is frequently draining as hell, but he’s drawing again (making a webcomic with joly, actually), and they’re getting by.

-sometimes, at low moments, they remember how it felt at their wedding reception, when bahorel cued up Ted Leo’s “Shake the Sheets” and all those friends and loved ones danced their brains out (enjolras’s parents have some MOVES as it turns out), and grantaire got super choked up, and then enjolras leaned over while they were dancing and whispered in his ear, “Probably better that he didn’t go with our prom song,” (which, as you’ll remember, is Fifty Cent’s “Candy Shop”) and they both burst out laughing in the middle of the dance floor. If they survived high school, they can survive anything.

-bossuet, grantaire, joly, eponine, musichetta and sometimes enjolras have a long-distance D&D game wherein a ragtag crew of outcasts battles the odds as they attempt to take down an evil totalitarian kingdom. (joly’s already got notes for the graphic novel version.)

[choric]

( park jimin - demimale, he/they ) — did you see noeul han walking down the street? the twenty-three year old has lived here for three weeks. i heard they’re an aspiring painter & a part-time barista now, time sure flies. gooey by glass animals always did remind of them, maybe it’s because they’re so audacious & charitable. though i did hear they can also be commanding & capricious if you catch them on a bad day.

hey babes drum-roll it’s admin fany here to welcome yall~ with some random info about me I guess uh so I’m 26, living in northern europe, most of the time dying bc I’m not made for these hot ass summers, other times just being distracted twelve times outta ten jsyk I’m not ignoring anyone my attention span is just in the negatives. or I’m playing overwatch. or subnautica when I’m feeling particularly masochistic.  would drop dead without tea. ye. that’s all for today folks

anyway here’s Noeul’s profile if you wanna peep also a very messy plot page aaaand I’m gonna ramble about him now uwu

tw: emotional abuse, tw: assault ( kinda brief mentions, esp the assault, I tried keeping it safe )

born in Seoul but his family moved to USA when he was barely 6. they moved around a l o t since then but stayed within the borders. save for one weird year in France back in 2010

he haTED it. all the constant moving around and starting at new schools with new people trying to get new friends and find new hobbies and leaving pretty much everything behind so often just stressed the hell out of his young self and he was in a perpetual state of over-emotional about the whole ordeal and angry and bitter and yeah. not having a good time

over the years he managed to find ways to cope with it, drawing and painting being a major thing as it was one of very few things he could just continue without any special arrangements made or it feeling different. putting all that bent up negativity on paper was helpful in itself so he stuck with it without much thought then, clinging into a lifeline of one constant in a sea of variables

later on it morphed from being less of a therapeutic activity and more one of him being able just flow with creativity, paint with a less personal agenda and enjoy it way more too ( not to say he doesn't still use it as a form of escapism too )

reading was another thing he found enjoyment in, especially during his early teenage years. that is something he doesn't engage that often in anymore however

his parents didn’t really care about what hobbies he took on ( even with painting carrying throughout the years he ended up trying a whole slew of other things too ) until it became apparent he was actually considering art as a legit career path. neither agreed it being a good idea but they didn’t flat out deny him either.. just were very patronising about it for months and by that time he had come to actual decision of going through with it out of pettiness alone lmao. which of course served nothing but to legit piss them off and led to a number of arguments they still have to this day yikes

his parents entire view on life seemed to be there was no point getting attached to anything, sentimentality was a flaw and you could just buy everything you needed again without much care for what was left behind. especially his mom had a lot of emotionally abusive ways to steer his life in the direction she wanted, but giving just enough freedom for him to think he had a say in anything. not to say she wasn’t supportive and encouraging too but he honest to god can’t tell now how much of it was genuine. she was especially fond of using subtle blackmail in form of referring to her own feelings and how his actions will upset her, occasionally bursting into a loud tirade which was then quickly pushed to the side without any apologies for making him in turn upset so boy was always just on edge. this still happens but he pretty much only communicates with her through calls anymore so, Noeul just hangs up when she starts acting up. his dad was more the type to not involve himself into his hobbies and likes or anything at all he only cared about academic plans.

that all messed him up big time in his younger years bc he was inherently just very attached to everything and everyone but now.. it’s almost the complete opposite, enough repetition and shit will stick I guess cause he has next to no sentimental feelings towards anything, in turn actually loves travelling and meeting new people now. partially also cause he doesn’t feel obligated to uphold anything or allow himself being chained down, he treats everything like it’s fleeting, but not without care– don’t assume he doesn’t care when that’s something he does in abundance actually. he just.. accepts nothing lasts forever. ironic enough he’s adopted far too many of his parent’s habits to count now but has grown more tender with the experiences rather than cold. probably a miracle in itself. hella guarded about his feelings tho

so yeah he moved to LA ( parents were at the time both living in NYC ) for art school and got that bachelor of fine arts degree, graduating just spring last year and has no desire to further those studies cause screw school he’s done with institutions for a decade

also his parents filed for divorce while he was at it. before he was even done with freshman year. wasn’t all too surprising nor did he have anything to really say about it, except the times mom called him whilst drunk and essentially blamed it on him being a bad son :/// his dad’s fucked off somewhere he hasn’t heard whole lot from him in last three years beside birthday texts and money transfers to his bank account. and subtle messages through mom about how he expects him to clean up one of these days. meanwhile mom mostly contacts just to check he’s alive & doing well financially while slipping in vague ‘if you would have just listened to me‘s and ‘when will you come to your senses’s >_>

forgot to mention his dad’s a CEO of a small airline company. don’t ask me what his mom does idk prob some manager of a huge ass successful online shop?? something along those lines

will not speak about them if asked tbh don't expect anything other than "they're alive."

does not like announcing his ( their ) wealth to the world either and tries not to make decisions that could reflect that but something always has to give in the end. like he’s just way too happy to blow money on other people no matter how subtle he tries to be about it and often like his parents buys new stuff instead of finding ways to bring his old along, some of his clothes are also a dead giveaway it’s not so much that he specifically purchases anything cause it’s designer but if it looks nice he doesn’t see it as any different buying from any other store around. smells awfully lot like privilege but he’s unapologetic in getting exactly what he wants, it’s not his problem if someone takes offence to that

kind of also hates that he’s so dependant on parent’s money still but has made peace with it by giving away and works twice as hard for his own stuff, regardless if it yields anything cause he’s not doing this whole painting thing as a means to gain money ( would like to, but alas, it’s a tricky career path ) more from pure passion for the art

and noeul def is not gonna tell them to stop sending him cash he'll just have fun spending it in all the shit they'd hate-- even if they've basically set conditions but weird enough haven't cut him off yet.  guess that really is the only thing they can give him and they know it too :)) 

so. doesn’t actually like sitting idle even tho he all but could, yet cannot happily place himself in an establishment with very strict 9 to 5 shifts and such, so if and when he takes on extra work occasionally it’s always part-time, and for own personal gratification

in the case of him recently taking on a spot as a part-time barista here in acarike ( started like, two days ago or something ) was also bc of keeping up appearances ( surely he would run out of money eventually? no, but no one needs to know that ) and getting to know some of the people around since his group of road-tripping friends have seriously decided to settle in

if anyone was wondering yes he has experience working in cafes, among other places. his parents abhorred him taking on such jobs at all cause “what was the point? are we not providing enough?” first of all did he ask?

I guess he is currently residing in the stardust motel?? but is looking for a place

for him travelling in the past few years has been sorta cathartic, inspiring if I dare say both in personal growth and in his work since he can decide on everything by himself, where he wants to go, for how long, for why etc

sometimes likes when he has company for that, other times he just needs to make a trip in solitary. altogether prefers meeting random people along the way

is a kind of odd friend, loyal, compassionate and all that but puts himself before anyone else. or rather puts his emotional and other needs before everything else. if he feels you’re the one getting more out of it than he is it’s not worth it sorry. very generous tho and sees it as his duty to help others in any way if it doesn’t inconvenience him. not unreliable but available only when it suits him. so unless it’s life threatening or emotional distress he will not drop everything for even a friend’s sake you can wait an hour or two. can make friends as quick as he drops them

might get a little inappropriately affectionate with friends. especially so when intoxicated

is an even weirder lover. he loves the idea and feeling of being in love and the emotional thrill of it. relationships are fun yeah but commitment?? not in his. vocabulary. to elaborate he lives for the push and pull and the suspense of it all and needs things to stay stimulating on all levels across the board when deepening relationships further while also being able to maintain a sense of own freedom. he craves the sort of emotional security and gratification it all brings but refuses to become dependant on it ( he knows how that will go ), furthermore does not like all the limitations it brings nor everything being perfect to the point of feeling fake??

tries to make it clear that he’s NOT looking for anything long term but even then people haven’t taken it well when he out of the blue announces they should stop whatever it is they’re doing. he always feels bad about it and tries to part in good terms but yeah :// many hearts have been broken. it’s probably even worse for the other person cause Noeul himself seems to have absolutely no problem continuing his life like nothing happened. all this has made him into a bit of a serial dater??

in whole he takes everything as they are, nothing is everlasting and he doesn’t try to make it so, doesn’t necessarily want to. values experiences but doesn’t get too hung up on letting go of them. including relationships. this is something a lot of people in his life wont understand and it’s frustrating for everyone involved sometimes but you gotta do what you gotta do. might be scared of opening up to people. of that attachment. maybe he’s actually just picky and is waiting for something out of the world magical who knows

repels all negativity as if his life depended on it like. add begone thot meme here

but can also be very confrontational so???

is actually in constant war with himself over positive and negative emotions but filters that out pretty handily. most of the time. cause uh absolutely will turn vicious and loud when angry. sensitive to criticism and personal attacks but gets over it quick enough. does hold grudges but mainly towards people whose opinion he cares about. strangers rarely phase him. has random emotion™ bursts but tbh only cries when being shouted at and/or being target of someone’s wrath-- OR when noeul's angry himself?? also lowkey dramatic but most of the time he’s just sorta chill and cheery, occasionally sarcastic but in a good-natured way he doesn’t mean ill with it. has very strong opinions on some things but doesn’t care if someone else sees it differently. as long as they’re not saying their way is the only right way. or if their reasoning is utter bullshit which he will call out then :))

negative people just make him laugh. will not take your ass seriously at all if you’re being a douche. used to take offence to these kinds of people all the time but he’s grown out of it and learned to simply ignore people who don’t deserve the time of his day. at least outwardly.

similarly used to be very.. well. lets say prone to letting people control and push him around cause that’s what he had learned to accept but whoo boy when he finally figured it out and took the reigns into own hands no one could stop him try it bitch

likes doing things in own terms in general, need for control has kinda taken off so will not take kindly to being ordered around in any manner. tries not to impose on other people or be pushy himself but cannot stand indecisiveness so. it happens. for better or for worse

in tune with his surroundings and current community of people if something’s off he can sense it and it will bug him to no end before it’s fixed. this could be anything from his room being in disarray to something going on in the city in whole

I ain’t saying he’s a psychic but actually stupid intuitive most cases WILL see through your bullshit don’t even try

…ok but lowkey into supernatural stuff and spirituality all that jazz he’s gone through it all while trying to find himself– which is a whole another can of worms we ain’t opening here

did I forget to mention noeul and co ( minho & jae ) rolled into town in this shiny big rv. he's def looking to buy a smaller car to drive around

not too keen on giving rides to strangers since this one time two summers ago that went south real fast when a guy pulled a knife on him. has a pretty big scar to show for it on his right side? tummy?? there’s a pic in the profile page if you’re curious. he jokes about it now "it adds character" but is actually terrified of that happening again so perpetually jumpy minho blames himself for it cause he's dumb

you can prob hear him coming 5 miles away with the amount of jewellery he adorns

don’t get me started on his wardrobe it’s a mixed bag and then some. gender norms belong into the fiery pits of a volcano

is equal parts a tea & coffee enthusiast basically lives off that stuff. i'm probably not even exaggerating here boy forgets to eat when he gets focused on something and just wolfs down a pot of coffee.

obsessed with watermelon flavoured lollipops probably has one on him at all times somehow magically pulls them outta thin air??

you can prob find him painting outside in the randomest places when the weather's nice

likes painting on people probably as much as painting them

it’s not an intimacy thing I swear. but. can be?? probably accidentally turns that way that’s just how he is

prefers either to focus on faces ( eyes specifically ) or nude models in general fcking @ him

this. is so long already I’m sorry omg

and that’s all I got my brains’ fried over this all but yo come plot with me pls also check my plots maybe orrr if you want me to check your plots ( I’d love to!! ) come poke me ay ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[imagine-loki]

Our Little Secrets - Chapter 2

TITLE: Our Little Secrets CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 2 AUTHOR:  a7xing-forever ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine having a close enough friendship with Loki that you can share literally any secret without fear of judgement or of trust being broken.

Imagine Loki replacing all the coffee in Stark Tower with decaf. (This scenario is set in the Avengers Compound instead) RATING: T+ (Mild Language) NOTES/WARNINGS: No warnings for this chapter. 

I’m so sorry for not updating this sooner. I was stuck for the longest time, not knowing what to do with this story, but I think I got it. I’ve linked the first chapter below if you would like to re-read and refresh your memory or if you’re a first time reader and this fic has piqued your interest. Enjoy!

Read it on AO3 here | Chapter 1

~ 

A week had passed since your little encounter with the trickster.

You sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal while mindlessly browsing through your various social media apps on your phone until Tony came in. He was dressed in his usual workshop outfit: A white tank top that had slightly greyed from years of use with patches of oil stains here and there along with a pair of denim jeans that were faded and torn from numerous workshop accidents. While grumbling and vigorously rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers, he strode over to the coffee machine and pressed the espresso button with enough force to break it.

“You seem stressed.” You stated calmly while turning in your seat to watch him continue to assault the machine.

“Don’t even.” He responded curtly, shooting you an irritated look. 

“Not countering a sarcastic comment with one of your own? Are you dying?” You said in a half-assed attempt to sound alarmed.

“And leave pretty boy macho man in charge of this place? I don’t think so.” He replied, his underlying envy towards Steve making a brief appearance. “I’ve just got a headache from hell and no matter how much coffee and aspirin I down, I can’t get it to fuck off.”

It didn’t take long for you to realise that Loki had gone through with your idea of switching out the coffee with decaf. Feeling a smile starting creep up onto your face, you turned back to your bowl to avoid giving yourself and the mischievous god away.

While Tony was waiting for his coffee to brew, Rhodey entered dressed in casual attire instead of his usual uniform.

“Damn it. Hurry up, man, I really need a kick up the ass or I’m gonna fall asleep.” He said sounding rather irritated  

“Uh, who do you think paid for this machine and everything else on this property? Besides, I was here first so I’m gonna take as long as I damn well please.” Tony replied imprudently. Realising an argument was brewing along with the decaffeinated drink, you decided to turn and watch the current situation continue to unfold.

“Fine. I’ll use the one in the conference room.” Rhodey responded curtly and turned to exit before Tony rushed forward and kicked Rhodey’s rear as if it were the scoring kick on a soccer ball. Rhodey yelped out in pain and turned back to face Tony. It took every fiber of your being to suppress the laugh that threatened to escape your lips. 

“There. Now you don’t need to.” Tony said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Why don’t we suit up so you can try that again.” Rhodey said, now sounding serious.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why? You scared you’re gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Well to be fair, I did just kick yours so…” Tony trailed off, not having to finish the sentence to get his point across. Rhodey gave him an angry glare before deciding to let it go instead of pursuing an argument that would end up breaking something again, so he left for the conference room. Tony just brushed it off, turned his attention back to the machine and began to become noticeably angry. He started to shake it slightly as if it would speed up the process.

“Maybe you should consider actually sleeping instead of relying on caffeine highs all the time.” You said.

“Yeah well maybe you should…shut up.” Tony replied, slightly hesitating as if struggling to come up with a creative retort. You just giggled in response and took your now empty bowl to the dishwasher.

“Seriously though. You should try to sleep it off.” You said, starting to sound concerned. 

“Nah, I’ve survived worse on less sleep. Besides, it seems to have died down now. Maybe kicking Rhodey square in the ass was the cure all along.” He replied with a smirk.

Suddenly Steve came sprinting in, clearly in distress.

“Tony, we got a situation.” He said between heavy breaths, urgency audible in his tone.

“Oh, never mind, it’s back.” Tony stated out loud to make sure Steve heard. Steve just slightly rolled his eyes knowing that a joke was made at his expense.

“This is serious. Banner hulked out in the science labs leaving them in shambles.”

“What th- How the hell did this happen? What did you do??” Tony exclaimed.

“I didn’t! Barton started fighting with him over the pronunciation of ‘gif’ after-”

“Woah woah woah, wait.” Tony said quickly, interrupting Steve. “What did you just say?”

“I said they’re arguing over how you say 'gif’.” Steve stated pronouncing 'gif’ with a hard 'g’. You could see that he was starting to get antsy knowing that Bruce was somewhere on the property destroying everything in sight. Tony just pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep sigh in response to this preposterous predicament. 

“Okay, lemme grab the Hulk Buster. (Y/N), stay on this part of the property while we get this under control.” Tony said calmly while looking at you.

“Ah shit, and here I was hoping for a front row seat.” You said jokingly. Tony just shot you a knowing glance in response to your sarcasm and turned back to Steve.

“And for the record, it’s pronounced 'jif’.” Tony said to the Captain before breaking into a sprint out of the kitchen.

“What?” Steve remarked before following and leaving you laughing at the interaction along with Tony’s incompetence to treat an emergency situation seriously, but you were quickly distracted by the view outside of the kitchen window.

It had started to snow, and the light dusting already beginning to coat the lawn indicated that it had started at some point during all the kitchen drama. You walked up to the large window to fully take in the sight.

“What’s with all the commotion?” Loki inquired as he strolled into the room. This time he was wearing a black top with cropped sleeves and denim jeans that were skinny but not constricting (unlike Tony’s jean collection).

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you wearing such casual clothing.” You commented, taking in his appearance. Loki simply chuckled in response.

“Well this realm is my home now. Might as well adopt the style.” He said while looking down at his outfit.

“That’s true I suppose. Anyway, to answer your question, the Hulk decided to show up. Nothing that those guys haven’t dealt with before.” You explained nonchalantly and looked up at Loki to find that his eyes had widened slightly.

“Um, so, uh, shouldn’t we be taking shelter?” He said, tripping over his words slightly, all the while trying to stay composed.

“Calm down, darling. This property is huge and the Hulk is on the other side of it right now with Tony who is no doubt distracting him with the Hulk Buster and the Iron Legion. A lot of time and money went into designing and building this place, there’s no way Tony would let anyone let alone the Hulk destroy it.” You said while looking at the God who seemed to relax from your words of assurance.

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it, my dear.” He said with a small smirk returning to his lips. 

You turned your attention from him back to what was becoming a winter wonderland outside with Loki’s attention following suit.

“Ah, snowfall. one of nature’s greatest wonders. Beautiful isn’t it?” He said, looking back to you. You averted your gaze from the window to face him.

“To many people, it’s quite the opposite. An inconvenience even. It prevents people from being productive. They can’t get to work, drop their kids off at school or even just go out in general 'cause it makes everything so icy and dangerous. Sometimes it’s even enough to cancel international flights." 

"But what do you think, my dear?” Loki asked, more interested in your own thoughts rather than ones of others. 

“Honestly? It’s angelic. Angels are religious symbols in this realm. God’s perfect creation that reside in heaven amongst the clouds. They’re viewed by us as being pure, beautiful and elegant.” You looked out out the window again towards the snow still floating from the sky. “To me, snow is just the same.”

“It’s quite poetic, isn’t it?” Loki stated more than asked and copied your action of looking back outside. “That something so graceful and beautiful that descends from the heavens can cause so much destruction.”

“I guess so, I mean, the same can be said about you, right?” You said with a smirk. Having gotten closer with the Trickster recently, flirtatious banter was something you had begun to shamelessly indulge in. Loki didn’t seem to mind as he chuckled in response.

“Yes, but from what I’ve gathered from your description, I can assure you, I’m no angel, my love.” Loki replied.

“No one is, though,” you said, looking him in the eye. “And if you and your brother are any indiction, Gods aren’t exactly exempt from that statement either." 

You both fell into the familiar comfort of silence just standing an arms width apart watching the snow continue to fall.

"I have an idea.” Loki said, suddenly breaking the silence.

“If it’s something to do with you little plan to get multiple people to hand Tony things at once, I want no part of it.” You said sternly, earning a chuckle from the grinning god.

“No, but you have to admit, it’s a devilish plan.” He retorted proudly.

“I’m willing to give credit where it’s due. So, what’s this idea?” You asked, starting to grow curious.

“Come with me.” He replied and took your hand in his as he lead you out of the kitchen and through the halls of the compound, each inquiry from you being met with a “Be patient, pet. You’ll see.” But it didn’t take much longer to figure out where he was taking you.

As you both approached the doors to the liquor room, Loki stopped you just outside. 

“What are we doing back here?” You asked, now extremely curious as to what this was all about.

“See for yourself.” Loki replied and pushed open one of the doors to reveal the room within.

~ ~ ~

A/N: At this point, The Avengers sounds more like a TV drama than the world’s mightiest heroes, especially with Loki and Tony being the biggest drama queens ever. I like to think they’d make the top two in RuPaul’s Drag Race.

I got inspired and finally decided where I want this series to go…kinda…ok I’m winging it, but I’m really proud of this chapter and I hope you all liked it too. Stay tuned, I’ll have the next chapter up next week for you lovelies. Let me know if you would like to be tagged as soon as the next chapter is posted on this blog <3

[bryanastar]

How I (Accidentally) Write About Dark Subject Matter: Rough & Tumble Ramblings (Bonus Post)

I don’t like writing content warnings, not because I’m one of those losers that think they aren’t needed (because, believe me, they definitely are) but because it means I have to step back from my work and think about what the hell I just wrote. Now, in my teen writer eyes, there is nothing more embarrassing than thinking back to what you wrote and realizing that you need five different content warnings to fully prepare the reader for your work, and also remembering that you’re barely a rising Junior in high school. I end up having an out of body experience where I see myself and my work as a long and beleaguered r/I’m14andthisisdeep post, and it can make it hard to read back over my work to edit and submit.

Not that there’s anything wrong with darker subject matter. In fact, some of my favorite work to read contains some particular dark and disturbing content. But when you’re a young writer trying to submit your stuff, it can feel… a bit embarrassing. You feel like the stereotypical edgelord teen writing about edgy stuff for the sake of making the adults cry with your edgy edge.

The thing is, I don’t even intend to write about dark subject material ninety-nine percent of the time. It’s just a natural consequence of my intuitive (and rather impulsive) writing process.

I feel that—when it comes to writing about heavier content as a teen writer—there are two types of people: the ones who write about dark content on purpose, and the ones who write it by accident.

I think @shaelinwrites said it best when she wrote in a blog post that teens are often attracted to darker subject matter due to being at the age where we realize that the world is a far darker and scarier place than what we saw as children. Writing, therefore, is the safest way to explore this newfound knowledge and come to terms with it. This is why young writers who write dark subject matter on purpose do it.

But some, like me, do it on accident.

Let me explain. So I’m rather sheltered, as I suspect a lot of teen writers are. I’m not exactly the most world-weary person, despite knowing that the world is, objectively, pretty screwed up. Due to this, I can often add, on accident, some pretty screwed up material just for not thinking it through deeply enough.

For example, here was was my general thought process for my short story “Judith was Never Adopted”, a story that is, objectively, a about a young teenage girl getting left behind in the foster care system due to going through puberty and not being “adorable” any more, getting sexualized while in puberty, getting forcibly married to an older guy who sees her as an object, all the while desperately trying to reclaim the childhood she’s lost and feeling lied to by all the media that claimed that she’d have a lovely and charmed life after being adopted by rich and happy parents (also, spoilers):

“Gee, isn’t it funny that orphan girls in children’s books are often adopted by nice, rich families and get whole musicals dedicated to them, while orphans in YA and Wattpad books are often paired up with the older, assholic, ‘bad boy’ and probably have their lives ruined?”

“Wait… that’s a cool idea for a story!”

“How do I make the villain as awful as possible…? I know! He’s a twenty year-old gangster who has no scruples when it comes to hitting on teenagers, and he also has no problem with busting the kneecaps of literal orphans! That’ll really emphasize how crappy he is!”

“Why did the main character never come back for Judith? Uh… he was in the Iraq War? But why would he willingly join that conflict? Oh right! To pay for college! And he loses an arm, because the war has to have some consequence.”

“But why doesn’t he go to find her when he gets back? Well, uh, his foster mother is dead and his foster siblings are gone, so he has bigger crap to worry about first cause now he’s homeless. Also, the gangster left the city anyway and took Judith with him, and nobody really knows where they went.”

“There! Now to look over the draft! Wait… what the fuck have I written?!”

If this all sounds thoughtless… it’s because it is. To be fair to me, I usually realize pretty quickly that what I’m writing is dark and messed up (by, like, the second paragraph of this story, I really thought long and hard about it’s concept and went “oh shit”).

From there, I usually try my best to do right by the themes and concepts I accidentally introduced, mostly because it’s content that usually gets glossed over in other books that include it, or that is otherwise even romanticized! In fact, it’s anger at these storylines and characters not being treated well that usually inspires me to write the story in the first place!

I’d actually say I did a pretty decent job with this story considering that the first magazine I submitted it to accepted it a day later and praised the piece for its “insights into the psyches and circumstances of foster children.” And this was an adult-run magazine too—with adult contributors with MFAs in creative writing that should be able to write circles around me and my story ideas! They had no reason to be more forgiving of my piece just because I was a young writer! They had plenty of adult ones to pick from!

So yeah, I can be pretty blind to my own story’s content until it’s time to write, at which point I usually stubbornly try to stick with it. Part this is, again, just because I’m sheltered, but I think another reason I do this is because, like I mentioned earlier, I write about stuff that is usually conveniently ignored or downplayed in other works—especially children’s stories.

To give an example, let’s look at one of my favorite childhood movies: Matilda. Objectively, the plot of Matilda is about a severely neglected and abused kindergartener overcoming her abusive family with her equally abused and traumatized teacher, all the while forming a tiny found family with said teacher and moving on from their dark pasts together. Remove the magic and this isn’t a children’s movie; it’s a litfic novel that I know at least one person on this goddamn hell site it writing (not that that’s a bad thing).

Part of the, I guess, novelty of the work that I write is that I enjoy writing about tropes commonly found in children’s stories and contrasting them with I see as toxic or harmful tropes found in works for older teens. As a person who basically went straight from reading children’s literature to adult litfic, I’m fascinated (and somewhat horrified) by the difference in themes and ideas presented to children versus older teens—especially since those same themes and tropes seen in children’s fiction seem to bizarrely reappear in work aimed toward adults (A Man Called Ove is basically UP but without the magic—change my mind). The main difference between how adult fiction treats these subjects and how children’s fiction treats them is that adult fiction fully shines a light on how messed up these subjects are, while you can get away with writing about literal Nazis and genocide in children’s fiction (*cough* Avatar the Last Airbender *cough*) and have no one think it’s too dark or try to tone it down.

Due to this, I think I’ve already been conditioned to not see these subjects to be as bad as they really are, until I sit down to write about them and start to think about them more deeply! Looking back, I’m sure I could’ve written about the subjects outlined in my short story in a way that’s conducive to children’s fiction. Heck, you already have some of the base tropes: over-the-top villain, sad wittle orphans, and deep childhood friendships. Written in another way, I could’ve been the next Roald Dahl!

I’d also like to point out that I have nothing against these themes being explored in literature for younger audiences—in fact I think it’s necessary to teach children about these issues early. But I do think how we perceive certain media to be “kid-friendly” can cause us to forget how deep and nuanced the content in this “kid-friendly” media usually is, mostly due to much of the content having to be toned down as to not scar younger audiences (which is also important). The problem isn’t that this media is included; the problem is that we can sometimes forget how important these issues really are because they’re such common tropes in children’s fiction, which is a great disservice both to these issues and to the stories that include them!

This is also an issue present in YA media, but in a different way as some of toned down issues present in YA are executed in such a way that is actively harmful to teenagers (from the abusive and controlling “bad boy”, to the toxic “not like other girls” character that disparages femininity and promotes competition rather than support among girls). These are my favorite tropes to explore and tear apart in my own work because, when not viewed through a glorified or romanticized lens, they can actually form extremely compelling fiction due to the fallout caused to surrounding characters who have to deal with the bull these tropes and characters cause.

Of course, playing these tropes for what they are tends to lead to darker fiction by consequence, but, due to so many of these tropes being ironically extremely present in children’s and YA literature, many teens that aren’t myself also end writing about them because, really, they’re just writing what they know. This is how an entire generation of teen writers, including myself, ends up writing about content far darker than they realize by accident. We’ve been reading about these subjects for a long time, and now we’re just copying from the masters.

Wow, that was a long rant. Was any of it sensical? I don’t really know, but I still enjoyed writing it!

That’s all for now! See you next Tuesday for your regularly scheduled writing update!

[rwbyremnants]

THIS CHAPTER: Fingering, facials, fellatio. Also body image issues.

=Chapter 12

"Trip’s been going great, sis. We stopped off for waffles last night at about… one in the morning? I was dead by the time we got back."

In the clogged traffic of the city, Yang was taking that opportunity to catch up with her dad and Ruby again. Though with her father, it was the more general “I’m doing fine, the job is weird” type of conversation; coming out to him had been a pretty rocky event, and even though he was accepting now it did put a little distance between them. She told her sister about meeting with Blake in Chicago, how they were now best of friends and remaining in contact; Ruby was glad to hear that, as she had liked Blake a lot the few times they met.

Obviously, she left out a few details for Weiss's benefit, such as the fact they were now an item. Not that she was afraid of what her sister would say about her, but more about what would possibly end up on her blog later.

As her boss emerged from the bedroom after finishing her makeup and hair for the day, Yang adjusted her position and the phone's angle so the camera had them both in clear shot. "Aaaaand here she is! The motorcyclist herself."

Ruby's digital face lit up at the sight of her idol. "OH! Hi, Weiss! Remember me?!"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly, of course I remember! How are you, Ruby?" The inflection on her name was clearly meant to prove to the young student that she hadn't somehow forgotten her existence in the past couple of weeks. Yang laughed at the two of them, quickly pulling a chair outward to let Weiss possibly sit next to her as well, should she desire.

"She can ride pretty well. Only ran a few red lights and killed three people."

"She- WHAT?!" Ruby burst out, leaning closer to her camera. Apparently, she was on a laptop instead of a phone, if the static position of the shot was any indication. "NO WAY, Weiss would never hurt anyone or anything!"

"Yang, don't be mean to your sister," Weiss sighed, nudging her with her elbow as she sat down.

"Assault! Assault and battery!" Yang right away called out. Once they were sat side by side she did her best to copy Ruby's tactic, resting the phone on the table in her hand. "You home for Easter, Rubes? You seem more chill than usual."

"Well, I am… in A home for Easter," she told her evasively, stifling a little giggle.

"In… A home?" The confusion was pretty clear on Yang's face from the other end.

That seemed to be the planned signal for another party to pop into view – slightly taller ginger-haired girl with curly yet well managed hair, a pink bow somewhat visible on the back of her head. She threw her arms around Ruby, grinning. "Salutations!"

"Penny?" The blonde was taken back, eyes fully widening as the cogs were beginning to turn in her head. "Shouldn't she be… Doesn't she live in New Yo- Ruby, are you in New York?!"

"Yup!" The girl laughed, returning Penny's embrace with a grin. "Well, it's Spring Break, right? Time to cut loose!" Then she ducked her head. "Not that I'm very good at cutting loose - in fact, I don't normally cut anything, I'm very careful with scissors and knives…"

"Oh, you're really in New York?" Weiss asked with a slight smile. "That's so funny, so are we! Or… did you come here because you knew it was my next stop?"

Waving a hand with a snort, Ruby said, "No, no. Well… okay, it influenced my decision, but I swear I wanted to come meet Penny's parents anyway!"

"Holy fuckin' shit, I can't believe you're actually in New York City! I don't have to wait till summer break to see you again!" Yang's grin more or less went off her face. Yet again a surprise visit to her sister, more than once in the same tour. And she had expected her job would make it harder to see her.

Penny was laughing nervously as she finally released her guest. "Speaking of which, p-please keep the swearing down a bit? Father doesn't like swearing very much and both of them are rather strict."

"Something we have in common," Weiss said with a sigh as she turned her gaze slightly to Ruby's freckled companion. "It's nice to meet you, Penny."

"Wonderful to meet you, too, Weiss! I'm afraid I hadn't really heard of you before Ruby introduced me to your music, but it's truly an honour!"

"Oh, stop," Weiss said with practiced celebrity modesty. "I'm just a person. You and Ruby seem close; I'm glad you found a roommate who can be a friend, too."

Glancing over at Penny, Ruby grinned and said, "Me, too! Oh man, she's like a BFF and we've only known each other for a few months, you know?! It's INCREDIBLE!"

"Y-Yes! A B-F-F! Absolutely!" Penny was growing increasingly more and more flustered, that much was obvious by the redness appearing on her freckled face.

Yang, taking it simply as shyness from being complimented so much, just nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I knew you guys were close, but not an entire Spring Break together close! Speaking of which, did you guys wanna grab lunch when we're in the city, maybe?"

"Hey, yeah! We GOTTA!" Ruby turned her silver eyes nervously back in Weiss's direction. "Um… I mean, if that's okay! You're super busy, I know you're busy, so you don't have to!"

"We'd love to," Weiss laughed. "In fact, I have some errands to run tomorrow before the concert, but why don't you meet up with your sister for lunch then? Then we can all reconvene together afterward."

"You… sure?" Yang questioned, looking down to Weiss. She hadn't left Weiss completely on her own since the attack on that very first night – not for a long period of time, at least. In truth, she was far too worried to, especially now. Anything could happen.

"I'll wear a big hat," Weiss assured Yang, having caught the dubious look on her face. "And, if it will make you feel better, we can have one of the other security guards accompany me in the taxi."

"Definitely. And uh, text me? Just to keep me in the loop."

The ginger haired girl was clapping her hands in excitement. "Oh, it's so nice to see you taking your job so seriously, Yang! Ruby had always said you were caring of everyone and I've been so dearly looking forward to meeting you!" It seemed the obviously worried look on Yang's face completely flew right by her. That or she was thinking too far ahead. "Depending on your funds, there's all kinds of places for dinner! I can recommend the correct Ray’s Pizza, according to my Dad, and there’s Hard Rock Café, and pricier establishments if you want to have a nice evening out…"

"Hard Rock Café sounds like your sort of place," Weiss told Yang with a smirk.

"GREAT!" Ruby burst out, bouncing up and down in her chair. "Then let's do it, okay guys?! Let's make it happen!"

"Yeah, definitely! And… then we'll do something after as the four of us, right? Since Penny hasn’t met you yet." It was more the worry of leaving Weiss alone that compelled her bodyguard to ask. At least if they made plans for after, there was a definite time they could be together again. A pointless worry, perhaps, but one that made Yang feel at ease.

"Yes, of course," Weiss told her patiently, patting her arm. "I'm all yours after that. Perhaps dinner, over at Penny's?"

Ruby turned to look at Penny with a shrug. "What do you think? I mean, I don't know your dads as well as you do."

"Oh, well… I mean, I'd have to ask them…" She held her chin in thought, tapping it as she formed a plan. "We'd need to get extra ingredients for dinner if we're suddenly having extra guests, but if we do all that ourselves I don't think they'll mind! Dad always manages to talk Father around even if things differ from the usual schedule."

"Huh… It'll certainly be an interesting night. Especially for you, Weiss." She began to smirk. Perhaps Weiss hadn't quite caught on, or assumed Yang was simply considering Weiss's status. By that point, of course, the diva's brow had started to furrow the slightest amount. She was mulling over those last few words from Penny in her mind.

"Dad talks to Father? But then… what's- oh." Both of her baby blue eyes flew wide. "OH! Wait, are you saying you have two fathers?!"

"O-Oh… Yes! Two wonderful fathers! I just tend to call one ‘Dad’ so they know whom I am addressing. Dad being the more relaxed of the two, of course. And Father is… Well, he's very stern…"

"Weiss's dad has some kind of iron rod shoved up his ass, too,” Yang chuckled. “So we'll be able to cope with either one. Still, dinnertime conversation will be delightful, huh?"

The diva folded her arms. "That man with the 'rod up his ass' hired you, didn't he? A little gratitude might be in order! After all, without him, you and I wouldn't be…"

Her voice trailed off as her eyes looked back toward the screen, slightly wider and more anxious than they had been moments before. Not that Ruby and Penny would probably be able to spot the difference. "Wouldn't… be… enjoying this beneficial arrangement of ours! Now, um, what time shall we expect dinner to be, Penny?"

"Um… so piano practice is at five thirty… my free time begins at six… Six-thirty? Is that a good enough time?"

Yang could see Weiss's slight worry, so she put arm around her, bringing her into her side to squeeze lightly. "Ooof course it is, Freckles! Long as it's cool with your dads."

"Yes, please clear it with them first," Weiss laughed nervously. "And Yang has my number if plans should change, but she'll be seeing you in person tomorrow!"

A squeal loosed from Ruby as she clapped her hands. "This is so AWESOME! Okay, I'm gonna go help Penny ask them for permission and everything - talk to you later, sis!"

"Not if I talk to you first!" And with the click of a button, the call was ended. All Yang could do was squeeze Weiss even tighter toward her for a moment, before eventually releasing. "Are you absolutely sure about being out by yourself? It's been a while since that jerkface tried something, and we got him, but… I'm still worried about you."

"Don't worry so much," she reassured Yang. "You are supposed to be my bodyguard, yes, but not absolutely one hundred percent of the time! Another of our company's security can go with me, and then I'll just stay in my bus until you get back to take me to this Penny's house. It's not a problem."

"Yeah, but… now I have extra reasons to worry. Not just professional ones." She backed away for a moment, looking into the orbs of blue she had grown to adore over the past week. But even despite her worries, she had a smile to offer. "But I know you'll be fine. I'm not about to turn into some overbearing prick who bans you from going outside without me."

That notion did make Weiss smirk at the blonde. Glancing at the phone, just to make entirely sure the call had ended, she slid her hands around Yang's waist, nails scratching lightly at her abs through her shirt. "Ooh, are you sure? Doesn't the big strong Amazon want to chain up the princess in her dungeon?"

Said Amazonian woman could only growl in response, back arcing away from the fingers at first as she sat herself upright, deliberately trying to make herself seem as tall as possible to impress her 'princess'. Taking a quick glance at the clock, she then looked back and smirked. "We got time."

With an expression of giddy glee, Weiss dashed to the back of the bus, wailing, "Nooo, the Amazon will chain me up in her Tower of Terror! Whatever shall I dooooo?"

"C'mere, princess!" Yang smirked, dashing after her and toward the bedroom. But not before taking one thing that would serve into Weiss's request for their time. Her orange scarf. Weiss wanted to be chained up, she would have her request.

But when Yang got to the door, Weiss was on the other side, leaning against it. "Stay away, you brute! Or I'll unleash my magic powers on you!" The giggling sounded like that of a five-year-old, but clearly Weiss was enjoying herself.

"Magic powe- I swear if you sing 'Let it Go' or any of that Disney shit, I am coming for you twice as hard!" When she tried the door, it was stuck. And so she tried again, pushing at it from the other side. "You can't hide forever you know!"

"KEEP AWAY, YOU BRUTE!" she cackled as Yang slowly began to budge Weiss; she knew that between the two of them, there was no way she would ever win, and wasn't putting up a terribly hard fight in the first place. After a few more pushes, the door creaked open enough for her to reach through the gap, able to grasp her wrist. Even though she was giggling like a child, she still had a role to play.

"Got'cha!"

The squeal that leapt from Weiss's throat was so high-pitched that you almost couldn't tell it came from a person. She tried to pull away - which, of course, was a mistake, because it released the pressure from her side of the door, letting Yang inside. Bursting into the room, she grinned evilly as she used it to pull her in toward her, moving her hands to her hips instead. Repeating the action she did when they very first met, she hauled her up and onto her shoulder, carrying her over to the bed with ease.

"Think you can get away that easy, huh? I'll have to teach you a li’l lesson."

"A lesson?! But I am only a princess - I don't have to learn lessons! Put me down!" Her legs flailed and tried to kick Yang, but from that position it wasn't quite possible.

"Oh I think you'll wanna learn these. Lesson one!" Lifting her from her shoulders, she then threw Weiss down onto the plush surface of the bed. From there, she quickly climbed on top of her, straddling her hips to keep her pinned down. As Weiss looked up at her, she smirked right back, holding up the scarf and dangling it back and forth above her to tease her. "How to prepare your victim."

Weiss didn't have the slightest idea what might be in store for her next, but her curiosity had been piqued. What did Yang mean to do with that scarf? So vanilla were her fantasies that she couldn't think of a single thing; for her sheltered mind, it was already the height of decadence that she was sleeping with a woman at all.

"Prepare? Wh… what are you going to do?"

Yang had always felt this temptation to corrupt Weiss, to bring to light deeper and darker new ideas. Why was the idea of that so much fun? But either way, she managed to grasp one of Weiss's wrists, quickly wrapping the scarf around it and tying it into place.

"Make damn sure your hands don't leave that bed post."

"Wh-WHAT?!" she gasped out, genuinely shocked for a moment. But then she realized the scarf couldn't truly trap her if she struggled hard enough - just that it would hold her temporarily. "I m-mean, um… what do you plan on doing to me, you fiend?"

"This!" Looping the longer piece of the scarf around the post, she grasped Weiss's other wrist and pushed it upward to the same place, tying that to the same post to keep her down. Once satisfied with the binding, she leant back to marvel at her work, eyes raking her helpless form. A deep thrill was settling in as she watched Weiss test the binds, and struggle against them. She would be unable to stop her, unable to dictate her movements. She was in full control.

The pale cheeks were definitely flushed from their struggles, and from the knowledge of her current situation. Caught like a fly in a spider's web. Her hips shifted back and forth, her heart pounding in her throat. What would Yang do to her, now that she was completely powerless?

"I… I am yours, Amazon," she breathed, as if thinking this admission might get her to go easier on her.

"You're damn right," she whispered. To think, Weiss had only just done her hair when she first came out the bedroom, and now Yang was about to completely mess it up again. That and more. Her hands were quick to move to their goal, straight to the buttons on her low cut shirt. Even if she would be unable to remove it completely with her arms now tied, it would be enough to get her a better look of what was beneath.

Although, before she threw it open, she looked back up to the blue eyes. Yang was yet to see her body unclothed. In her underwear, sure, but not this much. Not yet. And perhaps Weiss wanted to keep it that way for longer.

"The safe word is ‘Half Caff Latté’, got it?"

The pop star's entire body had been tensed for her chest to be revealed to Yang for the first time, so shy had she been about putting herself on display up until this point. It wasn’t Yang; it was anyone. That wasn’t the kind of celebrity she had ever wanted to be, and still didn’t want to be; she had stayed away from anything risqué throughout her entire life. Therefore, the phrase was entirely lost on her.

"If I w… wait, what? Latte?"

Unable to help herself, Yang's Amazonian character broke, leaving her chuckling to herself for a brief moment while Weiss focused again. "'Half Caff Latté'. That's all you have to say if you get antsy, or uh, don’t like something I’m doing. Y’know, if our little game gets out of control and you need a break?"

"Oh." Her eyebrows were still knit in confusion, but eventually she repeated, "Half Caff Latte, okay." The poor girl had never even heard of "safe words", didn't know a thing about how that worked. But the concept made sense to her.

"Alright. Now back to business…" Straight back to the role again, she threw Weiss's shirt open. And what a sight she was greeted with indeed…

Weiss's skin was flawless. She clearly looked after it, given how fair it was all over. No marks, blemishes or scars to be seen; just creamy, supple flesh. The petite breasts were still hidden by her bra, but their size was clear now that she was half naked. Unable to help herself, she ran a hand down her cleavage, slowly down to the flat stomach.

"You're so fucking hot."

Shivering, Weiss turned her head aside, unable to meet Yang's eyes as she breathed, "Am I?" That seemed to be all she could say; too much of her attention was focused on ignoring the spike of fear, the nervousness.

"Yes," she reaffirmed, backing herself down from straddling Weiss's hips so she could lie on top of her properly, and kiss her collarbone over and over. It wasn't anything she knew would give the woman pleasure, but she hoped Weiss would feel it for what it was. Body worship. "This Amazon loves her princess…"

The shaky breath outward seemed to confirm that she was at least able to breathe again. Her hands came up to clutch Yang's body to her own-

And were held fast by her bonds. This impromptu game of theirs turned out to be so cruel! Only the light kisses kept her from shrieking when she was reminded again that she was tied up; Yang wanted to tease, not to frighten. Keeping that in mind helped.

But for Yang it was only making her chuckle even more. She was delighting in her seemingly cruel ways. Lower and lower her hands were sinking over Weiss's body, until they got to the waistband of her skirt. In the past week, this is where she struggled to get further. One way or another, Weiss protested, or made an excuse. And while Yang understood and obeyed, she never understood why. As she began to lower it slightly, she waited for Weiss's reaction.

The skirt being lowered did have an effect. Weiss began to squirm more, to seem more nervous. Nothing vastly more pronounced than prior to that, but just enough that it was noticeable. She raised her hindquarters to allow Yang to remove the skirt, but when she lowered them again, her thighs were very tightly clamped together – so much so that the muscles were visible in strong relief against her skin.

As she pushed the skirt away entirely, throwing it aside to the ground, Yang was beginning to notice just how clamped shut her legs were. Although she knew Weiss was nervous, she never suspected it would be this bad. Not to the point of straining to keep Yang from looking. And her underwear hadn't even come off just yet.

"What's wrong?" she asked in character, toying with the waistband of her underwear. "Don't you want your Amazon to ravage you?"

"Don't know wh-why she'd want to," Weiss managed to breathe shakily. The finger inside the waistband of her underwear was too much, apparently; too far past her comfort zone. She wasn't trying to dissuade Yang, or saying the café-related phrase that would bring everything to a halt.

But one look at her face showed that she was seconds from a panic attack. True, she wasn't allowing it to interfere with their play, but that didn't reduce or eliminate her reaction. All it took was one glance upward for Yang to know. Where she expected to see playfulness or lust in her eyes, she saw fear and sadness. She was tense all over, to a point when it was visible on her body. Perhaps she was only hanging on for Yang's benefit, but she wouldn't allow that to make her panic. And so, releasing the waistband, she backed herself off, sitting down to one side.

"Do you want me to untie you?"

"No," Weiss breathed unconvincingly. "I mean, um… yes?" Trying to recover their game had come out only sounding like she was finished with it, so she deflated again. "I don't know… I'm sorry."

But such uncertainty was enough to tell Yang the answer. Instead of continuing, she leant up to untie one of Weiss's wrists. "C'mon, you can tell me." Yang was now speaking genuinely, keeping her gaze to her upper half rather than down below. "You've been really tense when we've tried this. Not that I care! No rush, seriously! I just… you know you can tell me anything, right? I don't want you to be scared of me."

"You don't scare me." That came out sounding a lot more petulant than she meant for it to, so she sighed and tried again. "You don't. It's not that, it's… I'm… I just have never been comfortable letting anyone see my body. Especially not… th-that part of me."

The words tugged at Yang's very being. She knew that feeling all too well, although it was mainly in fear of what they would think rather than self-hatred. This seemed like the latter of the two. Not that she understood why particularly.

"Why? I mean you're beautiful, I'm sure yo-" Biting her tongue, she stopped herself rambling on. Forcing her to explain would only make things worse. "I-I mean… You don't have to explain if you don't want to. There’s lots of other stuff we could do."

"You don't want to see it, trust me," Weiss breathed. Then her head raised up to gaze directly across at Yang, blue eyes shining with unshed tears. "Well… you probably understand better than anyone else would. Wanting to hide your body from other people. But you don't want to hear this from me – not when my problems are so stupid compared to what you've had to deal with."

To show she wasn't about to give in, Yang crossed her arms and legs as she sat by her side. "Try me."

For a long moment, Weiss rubbed her wrists and thought. This wasn't something she wanted to discuss. Ever. But Yang was willing to listen, whereas no one else ever had been even slightly interested – or someone she would really want to discuss this with in the first place. This actually affected Yang and their budding relationship, and she had a right to know.

"Well… like I said, I know it's not the same. I do know that. But… when I saw that you have what you have, and when you told me about having surgeries, and all that? Because your body wasn't born the way you wanted it to look… or, um, however you'd say that. There was a little part of me that already knew what you meant. It's not the same, but it did help me understand where you were coming from a little better than I might have otherwise."

"So wait… what are we talking about here? Because if you’re about to tell me you have a dick, I think I’m gonna faint."

“You already know I don’t,” she chuckled weakly. “You’d have felt it the way I felt yours. Because you’re so sexy, and laying on top of me like you do...” Her eyes dropped again. “No, I just don’t really like… certain things about my body. Little things.”

Things were starting to make a lot more sense. Yang had suffered with her self image, of course, but in a different way. Weiss seemed to be telling her that she hated how a part of her own body looked. And judging by the unshed tears, a lot.

"Is that why you were asking me about who I went to for my rack?"

"Who you went to? For… your boobs? OH! Oh, no no no, not my boobs!" She laughed a little with relief – it was good for her, from the look of things. "Though they are barely worth being called that, I'm fine with my pathetic cup size. All the tabloids demanding to know if I’m ever getting implants are wasting their time. It's…" Her voice got quiet again, though it was less fearful than it had been before. Her hands folded tightly in her lap. "It's somewhere else that I dislike."

Spying downward to where Weiss's hands had ended up, and seeing how tight Weiss's legs were still crossed, she could guess. "Right." But after a while, she finally took a step of bravery. "If you don't mind me asking… how come? Like, what’s the problem?"

"You wouldn't understand. I mean… you'd understand the whole idea of being dissatisfied, obviously! Like you said! But this will… UGH, I feel so nit-picky!"

"Weiss, it's not a contest," she reassured her, placing her hand on her thigh, far lower than she had before. Just enough so she'd be able to see it was reassuring rather than to continue their play. "I'm sure whatever it is, you probably see it as far worse than it actually is. But it's one hundred percent not going to matter to me, okay? No matter what, I’m not going anywhere, and I’m still gonna think you’re… so perfect."

There was a long pause as Weiss weighed that offer. The pros and cons, her own feelings. Her hand fell to Yang's and squeezed it hard - harder than she usually did just from holding hands.

"I'm… it's… lopsided."

Yang tilted her head. In regards to that area, she didn't really know what to expect from that comment. At least, not something that would make someone feel such a dislike for their own anatomy. "Huh? Lopsided?"

"Very." Her other hand came up to rub at her eyes, hard. "Ever since puberty, I've noticed that, and… and I don't know what to do about it, I know there’s a minor surgery to fix this, but I would have to admit that it's real to a DOCTOR to get it fixed! And it's just a stupid cosmetic surgery, and my father would be so disappointed with me for having anything like that done, and… and I don't know what to do besides live with it!"

Yang was confused. "Why the hell would your father have any say? It's a part of you, it's got nothing to do with anyone else!"

"Oh, it's just how he's always felt about things like this. Body image, sexuality – I did ask him if I could get my boobs done once, not even completely certain I wanted to go through with it, and he shouted at me for almost an hour. Definitely shot that idea down."

Yang was trying to understand. Truly trying. But she simply couldn't grasp it. Her own father had always been so supportive of her, once the initial shock wore off and they had talked things through — even offering to help pay for her top surgery until Yang insisted otherwise. The very thought of any father shouting at his daughter over that simply made Yang's blood boil.

"That's… That's bullshit! How fucking dare he!"

Weiss was a little startled at this reaction from Yang. Not afraid, but puzzled. "Well… our bodies are a temple, aren't they? Father just sees them as being sacred. Changing them to suit the earthly standards of beauty is not only a waste of money, but in defiance of God." Then she shrugged and slumped down a little more. "Or that's what he believes, anyway. Not sure what I believe anymore."

All Yang could do was continue to stare out into space. She assumed her father had at least guessed about her condition, given that she had listed qualifications on her CV that were under her previous name. And yet if this is what he truly believed, he obviously didn't – else he wouldn't have hired her.

"Temples have to be built though, right?" She was trying to bring things into perspective, to try and explain in a way Weiss would understand. "And they're always being improved how people want them. Not to how any god or whatever wants them to be. Your body is your temple. And your father should get no say whatsoever in how you want it."

Then her hand went to Weiss's once again, giving it a small squeeze. "And if you want to get anything done, if you really feel like it'll help you, then you do it. Fuck what anyone else thinks."

"Yeah," she breathed quietly. She had been listening, but it all flew in the face of everything she'd ever known and was therefore a lot more difficult to take in. "But… it's… I don't know, it's not like with your chest, where it didn't match what you felt it should be. I already have the body I want, except f-for…" Wiping her eyes again, she added in a whisper of pure agony, "It's so ugly."

For a moment, Yang fell silent. It wasn't her right to dictate what was and wasn't ugly on the diva’s body, even if she'd had more than enough experience with such feelings. All she could do was listen, understand, be there for her. But perhaps she was in the unique position to offer more.

"Then what about a second opinion?"

"A second opinion? Where would I get one of-" Then Weiss smiled, though it was a tight, knowing smile. "You just want to get into my panties, you big lesbo."

Giving back a humoured smile, she tilted her head. "Got me. But seriously, I can pop the hood and take a look, if you wanted."

Weiss hesitated. Truly hesitated, looking up at Yang as if trying to tell if she was messing with her. "No. I mean… do you really want to? No, I can't ask you to do that. Or I could - but you don't want to stare at my weird vagina, it's… icky, and unpleasant."

"I put up with you when you thought I was weird and unpleasant, right?" That part was a joke. But the offer was not. That much was obvious when Yang placed her hands on her thighs, rubbing them slowly. "No part of you is ‘icky’, I can tell you that right now. Pinky swear if you want."

Weiss's blue eyes flew open, fingertips reaching for Yang's shirt. "You… you do?"

"I do. And I can tell you that even without seeing it. Because it's you." She then waited patiently for Weiss's next move. Whether that was to allow her to see or not, it didn't matter. Yang meant every word. Even in such a short amount of time, she adored Weiss. Far more than she could put into words.

And then, almost so slowly one could count the passage of time by minutes instead of seconds, Weiss's thighs began to part. She still didn't open them very wide or act as if she were looking forward to what came next, but she was at least amenable.

"You… may proceed. But if you agree with me that it’s weird-looking, I want your honest opinion – don't sugar-coat anything."

"Do I ever sugar-coat anything?" But before she could allow her to answer that, she did as she promised. Hands returning to the waistband of her panties, she began to pull them downward. Slowly, gradually… Until she slid them off her legs completely, and left them with her skirt. Her hands then returned to her thighs, and she looked back up to the tears in Weiss's eyes as she allowed her legs to part. It wasn't quick, but it also wasn't as slow as before; it seemed now that she had made the decision, there was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

As she had indicated, Weiss's labia were indeed slightly uneven; the one on Yang's right was perhaps half an inch longer than the other, and more wrinkled. Everything was quite pink, almost vividly so, and as she was open and on display, the hood over the top couldn't quite conceal her clit; that was also very nominally larger than was typical. Other than those minor notes, Weiss was entirely average.

Hands remaining firmly on her thighs, Yang did as she was told. Looking down toward it to gather a second opinion, her breath rustling the sparse, untrimmed white-blonde hair above. As she predicted, she didn't find it ugly at all. It was a part of Weiss, just as unique as the rest of her, and quite lovely to her viewpoint. Somehow it was more fitting that way, for her to be slightly different, to have a small quirk.

"It's just as beautiful as the rest of you, ya dork."

"No, it's not!" she burst out, voice full of tears even if she wasn't crying yet. "It looks stupid! Not that I r-really like how vaginas normally look in the first place, but come on, how can you not think I'm a freak of nature?!"

For a moment, Yang looked back toward her, raising one eyebrow. Even without words, the message was obvious, that talking about freaks of nature to Yang was somewhat ironic considering how much she differed from 'normal'. But when she looked back down at her, and the larger-then-average clit, she couldn't help but smile again.

"It's not stupid. And I think your little button is really cute."

"A BUTTON!?" she demanded, curling to sit up and get a decent look down at herself. Once she figured out what Yang meant, she tutted and said, "No, no- I meant the lips! The lips are weird! Does it really look like a button?!"

So that was what Weiss found unacceptable, the thing that made her so frightened of revealing herself to Yang – or to even look at for herself before now. But for her partner, she hadn't even noticed – not until Weiss pointed it out. She tilted her head again, brushing one of her hands slowly inward toward it along her inner thigh.

"Weiss, your body is beautiful. It's not perfect, but I promise you… nobody cares whether or not any girl’s snatch looks like it belongs on a mannequin or something. I really like you exactly like this."

The exposed singer seemed to be unable to speak now. Yang was going to touch it. Going to touch her shame, touch it and say that it was beautiful. This couldn't be happening – she felt a compulsion to run away, to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming. But the hand was coming closer and closer, and all she could do was clutch at the sheets and squeeze both eyes shut.

When she saw her eyes were closed, Yang stopped her movements. She didn't believe anyone wanted to do this, truly thought she considered it ugly despite saying otherwise. There was only one way she could think of to show her she wasn't. She shuffled herself over on the bed, moving her position to between her thighs. Then laying on her front, head facing it, she held her legs open, leaning in to give the very shame Weiss thought she had… A kiss.

An anguished, strained cry loosed from deep in Weiss's throat. Pure alarm, and confusion, and a dozen other emotions she couldn't specify. Her eyes swivelled down to see the blonde hair poking up from between her legs.

"Wh… what?!" she was able to squeak. It only seemed to earn her another kiss. And another, and another – each one delivered to the lips themselves. Every part that Weiss disliked, she made sure to spoil, in the hope that she would understand how Yang felt. That she truly didn't think it was ugly.

"You… I can't believe you're touching that!" Weiss whispered, no longer so shrill and distressed. Now she was confounded beyond all reason. Yang was not only touching it, but touching it with her mouth. That was insane!

Add into that how it felt… but Weiss couldn't focus on that yet, she didn't have the mental fortitude. She knew she liked it, but beyond that, there was no examining the sensation.

But Yang didn't give her too long to focus on what the kiss felt like. Soon enough she was sitting herself back upright between her legs, staring down at the beautiful woman lying on the bed, still dumbfounded by her girlfriend's actions. Where her lips were pressed, a hand was brushing against the folds again, pressing inward slightly.

"Girl, it is the best I’ve ever had."

A familiar moan escaped the diva as she laid back on the bed. This time, however, there was a touch of uncertainty in it, even more so than the first time Yang pleasured her through the fabric of her shorts. At least it had been concealed – now she was open, exposed! And Yang could actually feel how strange the shape of her sex was!

"You… are you sure?" she finally managed to pant a minute later. "It's not… you're n-not just saying that?"

"I'm sure." She further underscored her affinity for Weiss's body by pressing her hand firmer up against it, brushing up and down again to test how she felt about being touched there. Judging by the moan, she liked it a lot. "Amazon is all about her princess."

"R-really? You are?" Tears were rolling down the diva’s cheeks, leaking at last, but they seemed to be involuntary. Weiss herself was arching her back, clutching the sheets as the sensations assailed her – and far stronger than the last time they had fooled around. If she had known it felt this good to tease them directly, she would have simply thrust Yang's hand down the front of her panties, the risk of her feeling her abnormality be damned!

As it was… she couldn't express the joy she felt at knowing Yang liked her body. Her silly, almost-perfect body with its jarring flaw. Until now, it had been one she could hide easily enough, but Yang wanting to treat all of her body with love and tenderness had blown past that defence. Now, there was nothing between the two of them.

"Yeah. It's so soft… It just feels so nice to touch, like the rest of you." Yang was about to lean back up to kiss her lips, but remembering where they had just been, she turned aside, pressing her lips against her collarbone instead. Never did her hand leave the exquisite flesh, making delicate movements over and over again – building to stronger ones.

Such actions – and hearing the reactions from Weiss – were causing her own “abnormality” beginning to throb against the fabric of her shorts and panties. And why wouldn't it? When something felt this good to touch alone, how good would it be to feel Weiss wrapped around herself?

"Oh… o-OH, Yang!" Little by little, Weiss widened her legs to allow Yang better access, relaxing into their new activity. Her back began to arch as her head fell back, and she knew she was loving this, that her reservations about being seen and touched directly had just gone up in smoke – at least when it came to one specific bodyguard. "How are you so good at this? NNhhh, yeah!"

"Practice," she muttered against her neck, continuing to press her lips against it over and over again, kneading against the sweet skin. Maybe she wasn't going to tie Weiss back up again after all, but that didn't mean she was going to let their character roles completely slip away.

After a minute of simply toying, she leant upward to her ear, whispering in a low, gruff voice, "So how about it?" She punctuated her words by pressing her fingertips near her entrance. "How about your ‘amazon’ truly takes her princess?"

"Wh-what does that even MEAN?!" she demanded weakly, clutching at Yang's upper arm with the left half of her perfectly-manicured nails. Seemed some innuendo still went directly over the sheltered girl's head.Staying by her ear, the bodyguard’s finger began to circle slowly so she could give her an idea. Weiss was so wet! Completely soaked and ready for this physically. But mentally, perhaps that was another story.

"Me, inside you, claiming your body. Making it feel good. Is that what you want?"

"You ins- WITH YOUR-" Weiss's eyes shot wide, and all those nails dug into the flesh much harder than before. "B-but that's… that would be…"

And the reality of their situation hit her. Sex. They were going to do more than just fool around, they were going to have actual penetrative sex – her first time. Virginity, impregnation… Her legs clamped together on the hand, not allowing it to leave but also not allowing it as much free reign as it had moments ago.

"Yang, I- is that what you want? To really, um, sleep together?"

Yang remained completely still for a moment longer. The hand hadn't given her enough of a clue yet it seemed. Or had it? She leant up to look into her eyes. She needed to be sure she understood everything before continuing at all. "Weiss, I mean with my fingers, not with my… y’know. The other thing. But this isn't about what I want, it's about what you want.”

The relief in Weiss’s eyes was complete and obvious. A few seconds later, her thighs relaxed and she let go of Yang's bicep. "Oh… well, I… we've never tried that, I don't know…" Perhaps this still wasn't something she had been expecting to try today, but at least it wasn't as unexpected as losing her virginity!

"Sure, it’s new, but it's something to try if you wanted. And I mean, I’ve never owned a vagina, but from what I hear, it’s… different." She gently pressed a fingertip up against the entrance properly, not enough to enter at all, but just enough to have her feel its presence, for her to grasp if she wanted more.

"Ooh… th-that's different, alright!" Gulping, the inexperienced girl pet up and down Yang's arm, almost as if trying to reassure herself as much as her partner. "Um… w-will it hurt? If you go inside, I mean…"

"Judging by how you feel down here…" Rotating her fingers around the area, Yang attempted to moisten her fingers as much as possible with Weiss's juices. She really was ready… "Pretty sure it won’t. But I'll go slow. Just let me know how it feels."

There was a long pause as Weiss considered her options. She could either refuse, continue to be afraid of anything below the waist for a few more months… or she could take the plunge. Find out just how incredible Yang could make her body feel with those strong, confident hands of hers. So far, she had already made her feel whole new vistas of pleasure with them. Might as well reach for the stars.

"Slow is good," she finally admitted as her thighs began to relax. "So… so we can try, I think."

"Okay. Then let's just…" Like the first time she and Weiss had tried this, she pressed her lips against Weiss's collar bone, continuing to kiss it over and over again as some form of distraction, something to keep her grounded. It was all she could do seeing as she probably wouldn't allow Yang to kiss her lips just yet.

And slowly, two of Yang's fingertips began to guide themselves down, entering the wet and wonderful warmth that was her girlfriend. Her diva. All she could do was continue to push deeper, and listen for her reactions.

"Wow!" she breathed, eyes flying wide as she felt something entering her for the first time. "This… it feels like so MUCH! Are you… using three fingers?! I thought you said you would go slow!"

"Just two," she reassured her between kisses, pressing more of them again and again as she pushed in further, and further. Once she thought she was deep enough for a first attempt, she began to draw them back out again.

And Weiss was appreciative. Even if she didn't know how to show it properly, having her inner walls stroked was an experience unlike any she had ever felt – it wasn't as strong as when Yang really got going stroking her through the shorts, but far stronger than merely caressing her outer lips a moment ago. Was this what women felt all over the world when being pleasured? How she had been missing out!

Each time Yang plunged her fingers back in, she reached a little deeper than before. And then she'd draw back out, then back in, over and over again in a slow pace to help her get used to the sensation. This was Weiss's first taste of what sex would be like. Only more was to come later in their relationship, but for now, Yang was going to help Weiss discover this. They both would together.

The fingers sparked an awakening within Weiss’s body. Up until that point, it had all been new, and gratifying, and beautiful. But something about this particular action… there was a "rightness" to it. Deep down in her rational mind, she knew it was a genetic need to be deflowered, to provide children into the world which made the actions associated with procreation pleasurable, but it seemed like more than that. Having Yang inside of her was the most satisfying experience of her entire life – moreso than a steaming latte, or a spa day, or singing in front of a crowd onstage.

Well… maybe not that last one.

"You're so warm…" It was all she could think about as she continued to push herself inside, gradually increasing her speed. Everything about her beloved girlfriend, Yang found flawless. The small squeaks she made as her body twitched, the feeling of softness that between her legs had, even if it was what she was ashamed of from the start. Everything only fuelled her own need. And as she lay by Weiss's side and kept kissing her neck, she couldn't help but begin to push her hips forward, grinding against her thigh. Her subconscious would do anything to try and satisfy the burning heat.

Against all expectations from either of them, Weiss felt the hardness up against her leg… and she laughed. It was a nervous laugh, but she couldn't help it; the very idea that eventually, that might be inside her… that was the most ludicrous thing in the world in that moment.

On the other end of the spectrum lay Yang's efforts to bring her to orgasm. Those fingers were most certainly anything but ludicrous. She loved them, she loved feeling her girlfriend up against her body, the lips on her collar… the fullness inside of her. Everything was magic.

Yang could feel a twitch from within the diva's body around her fingers which told her what she needed. That soon she would be at her end. To ensure that, she sped her fingers up even more, starting to curl them upward. She had fond memories of that working with Blake before, maybe Weiss was the same.

As it turned out, she was. Very much so.

"OOOHH!! Yang, that's- oh my GOD, what are you doing to me?! It's so much, it's- WHOOOOHAH!"

"That's it… Come for me, my princess." It was her last ditch effort to help Weiss finish, whispering into her ear in that same low-toned voice while she continued to push in and out of her at a higher speed. For her first time, Weiss really was weathering such treatment well. It only made her own thrusting against Weiss's leg begin to intensify. She could only begin to imagine their future, when their bodies would unite as one.

The squeals got louder and sharper as Weiss continued to let the fingers punish her insides, to tease this newly discovered spot that seemed to be made out of pure fire and emotion. Sparks blazed out from every fingertip and every toe as she writhed under her, mouth hanging open and panting with the effort of trying not to lose her mind.

"Yang! Yang, it's- it's happening! I'm going t-to- tooooOOOAAHHHH! YES! Yeah, more!"

"More? Alright!"

In her last ditch effort to push her to orgasm, Yang had increased the speed of her fingers as fast as she could against that spot. Instead of kissing more, she instead bit down against Weiss's neck, sucking at the flesh she had captured in her lips to mark her. The ultimate sign that she belonged to her.

One single bite was enough. Between the attention already being paid to her sensitive spot inside, the knowledge that it was Yang, and the unexpected flash of dull pain along her neck, the peak of her pleasure burst and rushed over her amidst a flurry of high-pitched squealing, limbs jerking and shivering. It was ten times more glorious than she had been expecting, and she loved every minute.

Savouring every moment, Yang delivered a few more firm thrusts with her fingers, allowing Weiss to ride out her orgasm right to the very end. Seeing her at the peak of her orgasm was the most wonderful thing she had experienced in a long, long time. The fact that she got to see it more than once in her lifetime was nothing less than majestic.

Finally, her hand came to a stop as her mouth released the side of her neck. She curled around her side, taking a moment to catch her own breath. "Good enough for you?"

The panting pop star could only nod as she lay there, blinking over at Yang with hazy blue eyes full of affection and appreciation. However, it didn't stop her hand from reaching down to caress Yang through her shorts. Only weakly, and only teasing, but enough to let her know that the thrusting against her thigh did not go entirely unnoticed.

"Hnnhh…" A rather sharp hum of pleasure sounded from Yang as her own sex got its turn to enjoy some attention. It was already at full length, and she hadn't even taken any of her clothes off. She had to change that. Suddenly she was rushing to fiddle with her jacket zipper, quickly pulling it down and tossing it aside, then immediately throwing her top along with it. She allowed Weiss to handle her lower half, knowing how much she enjoyed it.

This time, however, it seemed Weiss was feeling a bit more playful. A vague smile played across her face as she slithered a hand down Yang's shorts, the fingers gently surrounding the top side of her length and sliding up and down along it.

"Oh! W-Weiss?!" Was she going to get her off this way instead? And allow her to mess up her shorts and panties? Apparently so. Not that she would protest. Instead, she rolled over onto her back, allowing Weiss to have her way with her entirely, raising her arms above her head to show it.

"Mmmhh," Weiss sighed as she enjoyed the feeling beneath her fingers. One thing was for sure within her mind: she definitely wasn't "fully lesbian" if she enjoyed teasing a cock as much as she seemed to. And Yang's was even better, since it wasn't attached to some creepy guy. Win-win!

Eventually, Weiss regained her energy enough to roll over and begin stroking her in earnest, other hand tracing its way up and down her side. As she did so, listening to her girlfriend get closer and closer, a desire began to take shape in her mind. Something that had happened spontaneously once before, but not since… and the accompanying shame of the thought made her begin to blush and look away.

But as she managed to look up at last in the middle of her pleasure, she spotted such a blush, and such a nervous look. That wasn't from their current activity, Yang could tell that much. No… it seemed the diva had other plans for her. Just ones she was too nervous to speak of out loud.

"W-what'cha thi- AH! What'cha thinking about?" she prompted in the middle of her pleasure, only just managing to hold on.

"Well… I was kind of- no, never mind," she cut herself off hastily as she fondled Yang, biting her lip to keep from speaking anymore. Though she saw Yang was still watching and waiting for her to talk. She had told her that her misshapen sex was beautiful, after all. Maybe there was nothing to fear. "I wanted… you to… do what you did that first time. Again."

"Do what I… Huh?" Yang hesitantly laid a hand on Weiss's to stop her pumping any further. If she did, she would finish before Weiss could even explain properly. "What thing was that?"

Obviously, Weiss was still extremely embarrassed about her request, but she closed her eyes and forced herself to whisper it anyway. "Finish on m-my face?" Then she waited, stomach clenched, for summary judgment. To be told she was a freak.

"Oh…" Just like that, Yang’s blush matched her partner’s, releasing Weiss's hand so she could continue again if she wanted to. Weiss wanted her on her face yet again, to mark her with her own juices. It seemed degrading to do it to her, and yet the thought was making her heat only spike.

Nodding to accept such a request, she went to unbutton her shorts, pulling them, and her underwear down and off to give Weiss ease of access. And Weiss kept jerking, albeit at a slightly slower pace so as not to drive Yang over the edge too soon. At the same time, she was also crawling backward off the bed with a slow and steady pace. Seemed she was headed for the floor.

All the while, Yang grasped at the sheets instead, leaning her head back against the pillows in an effort to try and hold on. If she came too soon, it wouldn't be satisfying enough. Not to mention it wouldn't land where her girlfriend wanted it. But Weiss's hand was too good for her to do that for too long!

But by that point, Weiss was literally pulling Yang toward the edge of the bed by the appendage in her hand. The choices were to follow, or to have it pulled at in a way that was less than enjoyable, so she followed. Then she was sitting on the edge of the bed, Weiss kneeling before her.

"You… you ready, baby?" she panted, licking her lips, clearly more excited than even she herself had anticipated.

Now sat on the edge of the bed, Yang found her breath coming quicker and more shaky, her end getting closer and closer. The knotting in her stomach got worse with each pump of that delicate hand, her mouth hanging open as she tried not to blow too soon.

"Y-Yeah!" she called out, grasping the sheets once more. "K-Keep going, Weiss! You're so… so fucking good!"

Being told she was "good" only made Weiss want to stroke the hot length faster, to kiss the tip of it – she didn't dare take it inside her mouth again, for fear Yang would finish that way. Not when she had already expressed her desire for something else.

"Yeah, Yang! Make me dirty for you!" Where were these words coming from?! They completely baffled her when she heard them escaping her own lips, but they also seemed to make a certain kind of sense. Not that they should have. Not that she understood why.

And so she rolled her hips with Weiss's movements, pushing herself against the relentless hand to get herself over the limit. Until at last, she called out loudly, grasping the sheets below as tightly as possible for when she felt the pleasure sear through her body. Muscles tightening, she felt her length throb in Weiss's hand as she got her wish. Yet again her seed was expelled, the tight grip causing it to spurt hard against Weiss’s face… just as she had requested. Some on her cheeks, some on her chin. It was far more this time compared to the amount that accidentally landed before.

Of course, Weiss had been expecting to flinch and turn away, despite her earlier enjoyment of this – and her own want for a repeat performance. Maybe it had been a fluke that she liked it last time. An empowered woman like her, one who was an international household name, couldn't want to be a mere canvas for sperm!

Dead wrong. Each and every place the warm wetness splashed against her face felt like it was crackling with electricity. Again, Yang was marking her – as she had with her neck in a different way. A moan escaped her, almost like she was being pleasured directly. There was so much, and she wanted more! Wanted Yang to cover her completely in it!

But alas, after a few more pumps, Yang had no more to give. She found herself having to hold Weiss's hand again to stop her rubbing her raw. God she was desperate for this! Never had she met anyone who actually wanted to be drenched in her juices, not to mention craved it enough that she'd try to force more of it out of her.

Finally allowed to come down from her high, she panted with pleasure, looking down to admire her work on Weiss's face. Which forced her to blush all the way to her blonde roots. "H-Holy… crap…"

Seemingly unable to help herself, the painted princess wrapped her lips around the head to devour what she couldn't wear. As muted and thick as ever it was, and still she didn't mind it – but she forced herself not to keep stroking. Yang had told her before that sometimes, keeping it up after it was “done” hurt more than it felt good.

This was amazing. Yes, it was beginning to become too much, it was starting to overstimulate her senses and wander into the painful territory; but the sight was amazing. Seeing this precious person in her life, a woman unanimously voted one of the most beautiful rising stars in North America, so dedicated to worshipping the dirtiest part of her body to the point that she was licking up the remains off her head… it was a sight she didn't want to forget.

"God," Yang moaned, tensing her muscles once again. "Y-You have… no idea how hot you look."

What she was doing looked good? Yang wouldn't have said so if she didn't mean every word. So Weiss slowed right down, the tongue moving in an almost lazy fashion as it swirled around the head. Maybe at this speed, it would be less torturous and more of a spectacle for her girlfriend.

It really was. Yet again, Weiss had gone above and beyond to make this a show for her. All while her face was still covered. "Fuck. I wish-" Swallowing, she placed a hand on Weiss’s where it lay on her thigh to signal to her to pause for a moment. "O-Okay, uh, this is gonna be such a weird request…"

Pulling her mouth back for the moment, Weiss actually laughed – a weak, nervous laugh, but a laugh all the same. "Weirder than the one I just made?! This I have to hear!"

Perhaps it was weirder. Considering once Weiss was finished, she could pretend it never happened, no one would be any the wiser… unless she relented. Reaching toward her shorts and into the pocket, she held her phone up. "Can I… take a pic?"

That did pull Weiss up fast. She froze entirely, looking between the phone and her girlfriend's face. "Oh. Um… wh-why? I mean, uh, I haven't thought ab- about…"

Weiss couldn’t handle the idea of this the same way an ordinary girl could. All she could think about was that one picture getting out, and what the fanbase would say if it did. Or social media platforms, or talk show hosts. Scandal couldn't even begin to describe the situation! Of course Yang would never post it anywhere, she trusted her… but what if her phone got hacked? Or lost?

"Well… you… have to promise me you'll be careful with it if you do," she finally finished meekly.

"Completely," Yang agreed, holding the phone back into her lap to take a decent aim for her and snapping one of her coated face, pouty lips slightly open. She obviously couldn’t hear any of Weiss’s internal worries, so all she could do was guarantee her own fortitude. Truly, Yang wasn't thinking of the implications. To her, Weiss was another person. Her girlfriend. Of course, she respected that she was well known, but it wasn't an issue Yang thought of. She was just going to treat her how she would treat any other if she loved them the same way. "It's just for me, or us. I promise."

The idea of it excited the confused diva, even as it terrified her. Yang having this small thing… maybe it was depraved of her, but she couldn't help but love the idea that Yang had something with which to blackmail her, should she ever treat her poorly. Why was that? It was more than a little messed up to like that idea.

Then it hit her: because Weiss was her boss. That was the truth of it, and it hit her with the force of a sledgehammer: all along, sleeping with someone who was technically an employee – even if it was of her father and not her directly – had bothered her slightly. That power imbalance. She was the star, she had all the “relationship capital” in her possession. This was a very unconventional way to balance those scales. Yang probably wasn't thinking about anything of the kind whatsoever, but for her, that was somehow very, very important.

"Do you…" Swallowing down her fears, her manicured fingernails repositioned themselves around Yang as her mouth formed words she never thought it would. "Do you want me with your cock in my mouth, or… l-licking it?"

"Whatever you want… you’re the one in the pic." She smirked as Weiss got into position, adding, "And if you want any pictures of me doing similar things… you only have to ask."

She couldn't help herself. "Actually, if you can take a picture of you licking your own cock, that would be… pretty unbelievable, and worth money in some way or another, I'm sure!"

Rolling her eyes, Yang giggled. "I can always give it a try if you wanna pay for the back surgery afterward." She raised the camera up to get the best angle, she waited for Weiss to get back into position. Why was this so enjoyable? Never before did she want a photo this degrading of a loved one, not of them covered in her semen at least. But she wanted it with Weiss.

And with a click of the shutter, she had it. "Perfect."

Reeling her tongue back into her mouth, Weiss whispered, "Take another," as she wrapped her lips around the girth of Yang's phallus again. It was exciting, taboo… everything was.

Yang's eyes snapped wide open. When she thought the diva couldn't surprise her anymore, she did it again. Weiss, who before Yang came along was abysmally Christian and would have probably never envisioned doing this in her wildest dreams, was offering not just one pic but a full spread. And she didn't take away that joy. Just as commanded, she took another, and one more when Weiss slid slightly more of her into her mouth.

After hearing the two more shutter clicks, Weiss did let go at last and patted Yang's leg as she stood up – and her legs seemed to not want to support her. "Whoa… okay, n-note to self; sex makes it hard to walk sometimes!"

"You're telling me! First time I was the bottom I couldn't walk for a couple of hours…" Yang seemed to pass that off as no big deal at all. Of course to her, it was completely normal to talk about, since Weiss knew she'd been with men and women. But maybe she hadn't thought about that aspect.

Filing away the information about Yang not being able to walk at all - and why that might have been the case – to be examined later, Weiss glanced over at Yang. "Um… c-can I see the pictures?"

Yang did as Weiss asked, bringing up the few photos she'd taken as she moved to one side so she could sit with her.

And the subject of the pictures felt very strange. Partly sick, partly turned on… but partly like she was having some out-of-body experience. That girl on the screen couldn't be her, covered in cum and choking down such a massive member. But it was. Almost as if to drive home the point to herself, her hand reached up to touch a corresponding drip of essence to where it was on the screen… and sure enough, there it was. Now that it had been in the open air so long, it was cool to the touch, and felt almost icy on her cheeks and chin. Against her finger, it just felt as it always did: like fluids.

"And it won't leave this phone. You can slam my dick in a bear trap if it does; swear to God, Weiss."

But upon seeing Weiss touch her face, and touch where her juices still were, she couldn't help but blush again. She'd pumped as much as she could out of her, yet was still keeping it on her face. Something about that bought a sick feeling of power over the diva she had never felt for anyone before.

But alas, fantasy had to end. Thankfully, she had her shorts to hand, due for a wash anyway. "Want me to get that?"

"What?" she breathed numbly as Yang laid her phone aside. "Oh… oh, yeah, I guess." Her hand dropped away as she stared into the distance, lost in thought.

Shuffling closer, Yang began to dab away at Weiss's cheeks, wiping up every drop off of her face. Once finished, she tossed the shorts into the washing basket, but then noticed Weiss's thousand-yard stare. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Then she shook herself a bit, turning to look at Yang. "Seriously, I'm just… everything is changing so fast. My whole life. Things I thought I would never do are happening, sometimes two or three at a time. Which… it's not a bad thing, but it's unexpected." Her shoulders shrugged modestly, and she was suddenly aware of how naked she was. "You… you don't think I'm turning into a… a bad person, do you?"

Yang wrapped an arm around her back, bringing her into her just to give her a gentle squeeze. "No. Discovering yourself and doing what makes you happy doesn't make you bad. Screw what anyone else would think."

After a few seconds, Weiss's body slowly began to relax. "I know you're right – I feel it, not just that I believe you, but it feels right to me. But all I can hear is my father in my head, telling me that girls who do stuff like we just did are ‘sinning’ and going to Hell, and it's- and I d-don't…" Sighing, she made herself shut up and just hug Yang back. Her words were only going to keep going around in circles if she didn't stop now.

Yet again, Yang held her close and pet over her hair softly. Everything was so alien to her. She knew Weiss's dad was strict, considering how much he insisted from the start that Weiss needed a guard, but to this level? And that was what Weiss had to deal with all her life, being told that doing what she wanted was sinful. To the point that she even hated a part of her own body…

"The way I see it," Yang began, "as long as you're a good person to everyone else, like you treat people well, don't deliberately hurt anybody, don't steal, all that crap… I can't honestly see how an all loving god can punish you for just having fun with a friend. That’s dumb."

"Yeah… yeah, that sounds like the truth to me. Just don't know if I believe that, or what my father does." However, she finally sagged against Yang tiredly, gratefully. "But… I'm leaning in your direction. Figuratively, and for real."

"Good. Cause it's my way or the highway." Again, she pressed a kiss against the top of Weiss's head. This whole relationship was an adventure of self-discovery for both of them. Even if Yang had been with women prior, she still hadn't been with any since she transitioned. And of course for Weiss, it was all entirely new.

But one thing the bodyguard was positive of was that she didn't want it to stop anytime soon.

[finiarels]

The Beat of Her Heart - PART 2

End of the year’s holiday special. The story consists of 5 parts + 1 epilogue.

Update every Wednesday and Sunday

Main Pairing: Shiraishi Mai X Wakatsuki Yumi

[read on JPH!P]

Wakatsuki Yumi. She hadn’t even met her until last year, yet she was already familiar with the name for four years. From the time Fukagawa Mai helped her to disclose a classified hospital record, that name has claimed a permanent place in her brain. It wasn’t that hard for the latter to get her hands on the records considering the Fukagawa ownership of the hospital. Back then, just like how Shiraishi was, Fukagawa also believed that maybe knowing the names will help her to move on as losing her best friend was also giving her a difficult time. Well, those names might really give Fukagawa a sense of closure, however, knowing the names didn’t work out that well for Shiraishi. Most of the times, Shiraishi Mai ponders upon how ironic a fate is. How she was betrothed to another girl from she was young, not knowing what the future holds for the girl. How she would be the reason for the girl’s death a decade after that. Some of her peers which also has been promised to another person since they were young are not even in love but somehow- they are still in a lasting relationship up until this point. Yet she- who had fallen head over heels with her fiancé lost her completely. Isn’t that unfair? Scratch that. There are some parts of Sakurai Reika left in this world. Among the many pieces the girl so generously donated, the most important one is left in Wakatsuki Yumi. Shiraishi looks up only to meet Wakatsuki’s face, her eyes are unreadable behind the snow google, her hand held out to Shiraishi as an offer to help. Shiraishi grasp the hand with both of hers, letting the smaller girl pull her up. As she stands up, she leaned as close as possible to the helper. That is her purpose, her goal for the day, to hear the heartbeat of her past lover. To her dismay, Wakatsuki took a step back even though her fingers holding Shiraishi’s arm gently to make sure she doesn’t fall down again. “Thanks,” Shiraishi said, purposely lifting her google so the other girl could recognise her. “S- Shiraishi-san? It’s me- Wakatsuki Yumi,” the girl lifts her snow google as well. “I never thought I will see you here.” Shiraishi raised her gloved hand to her mouth as if she’s not expecting to see the other girl as well, “What a surprise! It’s really nice to see you. Well, my friend is the owner of the Hashimoto ski-resort and she invites me to come over for a couple of nights. How about you?” “My family has a lodge just right below the resort so I am staying there. I’m basically alone though, my sister will come to join me the day after tomorrow, but the rest of my family is basically busy. You are welcome to visit.” “I would love to,” Shiraishi excitedly took the offer, grasping the girl’s hand with hers. “For you to come alone for a ski trip, you must really like the snow, don’t you?” “Ah- that might be because I used to be too ill to play this kind of sports. But ever since I have gotten much better I tried a lot of things that I couldn’t do before, including the snowboard.” Shiraishi smiled a little, seeing Wakatsuki happily talked about something have that effect on her. She’s glad that the donation lands on someone who deserves it. “How about ski? Do you know anything about this?” “Well, I did take a ski lesson so I could give you a view pointer. The way you’re standing now it’s already perfect, just make sure to keep your legs from spreading apart when you’re sliding down and watch your speed. I think the main reason you fell is that you were too fast.” “I admit I was really enjoying the speed rush before,” Shiraishi laughed, somehow that earned a dazed look from Wakatsuki. Shiraishi tilted her head a bit, “Wakatsuki-san?” “Yes, uh- sorry, I was just out of it. By the way, no need to be so polite, calling me with the family name makes me feel like you are talking to my father instead of me.” “Yumi-san then? Or would Yumi-chan works better?” “E-either way is good,” she replied, looking bashful out of the sudden. “Well, I will call you Yumi-chan, then. You also don’t need to use my family name to call me, just so we are even.” Wakatsuki smiled, “Okay, Mai-chan, shall we finish the remaining of this track now? I will help you up if you ever fall again.” Shiraishi was stunned, she didn’t realise that it’s been a long time since someone called her like that. Her friends call her ‘Maiyan’ and her parents always ditch any kind of honorific to call her. She hadn’t noticed it before but Sakurai Reika was the only one who calls her like that. Hearing those words coming out from another mouth that is not hers with a voice that is completely different is bittersweet. She thought of asking the girl to call her something else instead, but somehow, she likes the sounds of Wakatsuki saying that. “Let’s go,” Shiraishi said, snapping out of her train of thought and averted her focus to the ski track ahead of them. About a few meters from where they had started to slide down the slope side by side, Shiraishi felt a bit of pain, she might have splintered her foot a little when she slipped. However, that should be fine, since Wakatsuki is moving in a decent and harmless speed. “Is your foot okay?” She somehow guessed correctly. “It’s fine. We are not going at full speed anyway,” Shiraishi assured her. Wakatsuki nodded, “I sort of fell in a similar way last year. My foot was splintered badly, but that might be because of the ski lesson’s cheap ski boots.” Shiraishi laughed, imagining the non-flexible boots that most of the ski rental offers, “I can imagine.” The two girls move in silence for a moment. Calculating her next move, Shiraishi stole a quick glance at the girl beside her, contemplating whether she should try to achieve her main objective or not. Noticing a bit of a curve ahead of them, she realised that her second chance is coming. She closes her eyes and let her footing shambles, making sure that she lands in the most comfortable way as she does so, letting out a little yelp when she finally hit the ground. Wakatsuki stopped, holding out a hand to help her stand up just like how she did it before. However, this time instead of letting the girl pull her up, Shiraishi pulled down the girl that’s holding her. Furthermore, when the girl loses a little bit of her balance, Shiraishi’s foot plays their part to purposely tripped the girl down. Just like that, Wakatsuki Yumi fell right on top of her. Shiraishi lay still, trying to make out the beat of the girl’s heart, however, their thick jackets prevent that. Sighing, she realised that this petty trick won’t do. Shiraishi turns her head, her eyes meeting Wakatsuki that is looking at her with her eyes widened, totally wasn’t expecting the sudden turn of event. Shiraishi smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry.” It took Wakatsuki a couple of seconds to pull herself together and rolled off Shiraishi’s body, expression unreadable, “don’t mind it.” This time, Shiraishi helped herself up instead of waiting for the girl, thinking that she had done enough to trouble her by falling. In response, Wakatsuki watches in silence as she readied herself back, only giving her a small nod before continuing the rest of their track. Shiraishi could feel the girl’s eyes checking up on her every now and then as if to make sure that she didn’t hurt herself even more by that second fall. They already did more than half of the track and Shiraishi realised if she still wants to have a chat with the girl furthermore she might need to say something soon.  She remembered requesting a dinner to Hashimoto and took her chance, “Yumi-chan, would you like to join me for dinner tonight? My treat. Consider it my way to pay you back for your help.” Wakatsuki’s movement slowed down, “no need to trouble yourself.” “It’s totally fine, I insist.” Wakatsuki looks at her for a moment, before averting her gaze back to the track. There’s something that bugs her mind for a while and she thinks that this is the right time to find out the truth, “Mai-chan, when you slipped right in front of me. Was it truly an accident?” “What are you talking about? Y-you saw it happened,” Shiraishi tried to defend herself. “From the time where we talked in our first meeting, a lot of people have warned me about you. I decided to brush it off, thinking that there is no way that nice girl who is willing to listen to my boring story instead meeting the other more important people in the gala would do that to me,” Wakatsuki sighed. “Still, I feel the need to make myself clear. Maybe you don’t care about your reputation for sleeping around with different person each night, but I do care. So, if the actual reason for that dinner is so that you can add me to your long list of ‘girl I’ve slept with’. I’m sorry but I can’t and I won’t.” That wasn’t the first time she had been turned down by someone, she had gotten that response a lot especially since her name isn’t exactly untarnished when it comes to love affairs. Somehow, she had built a wall to protect her from hurting from rejection, reminding herself that there are plenty other fishes in the sea. However, this time, for the first time in years, Shiraishi Mai felt like her heart was crushed. “I was a fool to think that you would treat me differently because of the heart that’s beating in you. Well, it was still nice to hang out with you. Have a good day, Yumi-chan.” ~ To Be Continued ~

[archerazzure]

The Rock by the Sea

Poe was never one for love poems, Louisa always felt differently.

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Length: 2,268 words

Pairing: Louisa May Alcott/Edgar Allen Poe

AO3 Link

Written for BSD Rarepair Week Day 5

“I’m just saying it would have been less predictable if they hadn’t made the red herring so obvious.” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, the performance hall vanishing into the distance behind them and the green of the nearby park and waters of the bay stretched out in front of them.

Alcott walked beside him, looking rather striking in her red dress. “Well I didn’t see it coming.”

He turned to look at her curiously, his annoyance suddenly forgotten. “Really?”

Alcott nodded. “Perhaps you’re just more familiar with the genre. This is the sort of thing you write yes?”

“Mhm.” Running his hand through his hair, Poe paused, his gaze drifting out towards the bay, but not focusing on anything in particular. “Yes I suppose.” Maybe she had a point. He was familiar with the genre, it’s possible he read right through the story. But if that was the case then it wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the story; it was just overshadowed by his knowledge of already knowing where it was going. Which meant that it actually fit the form quite well! He scrambled for the notebook in his bag; he needed to write this down.

Plopping down against the brick wall, behind him he furiously started scribbling. He needed to make note of everything while it was still fresh in his mind; the murder, the motive, that red herring he’d hated so much just a moment ago. He was writing so furiously that he didn’t notice Alcott leaning over until her breath was warm on his ear.

Losing his grip on his pencil and jumping with a start, he slammed his head against the bricks, and doubled over as the pain spread. “Ow! Ah that hurt.”

She recoiled quickly, “I’m sorry!”

Clutching his head he sat up, waving vigorously at her to come back as she moved further away, “No. No you’re fine. You just startled me.”

“You’re sure?” He nodded with a grimace and very slowly she inched back over. This time she carefully took a seat on the brick wall, her legs dangling down next to him. “Sorry.”

He ran his hand through the hair at the back of his head, feeling for any sort of bump or cut, but found nothing. It seemed pain was all he’d gotten from that encounter. “You’re fine.” Leaning back again, he sighed in relief as the pain seemed to dull.

“Is that a poem?” He followed her gaze and went rigid; sometime during the chaos his notebook must have flipped to a different page. Quickly he slammed it shut.

“No!” He hoped his face wasn’t turning as red as it felt like it was. Or if it was, he hoped it wasn’t as noticeable under his hair.

“Are you sure?”

“Perfectly!”

“Alright then.” She turned her gaze out towards the harbor while Poe cautiously looked up at her. The wind pulled on her hair and carried it back towards the trees behind them, showing off the full shape and contour of her face. He had to admit she looked rather striking in the moonlight.

Averting his gaze again he bit his lip. “You… uh… do you like poems?”

She smiled, “Oh yes. Especially…” She paused and cut herself off, earning a frown from Poe.

“Especially what?”

Burying her head in her hands she muttered something that he couldn’t make out.

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Love poems.” She peered at him through the gaps in her fingers, her cheeks brushed slightly in pink.

“Love… poe… oh.” His own face went pink and he looked away; that would explain those books he always found on the living room tables then. The ones that earned those soft smiles he caught from the corner of his eye when he passed by the sitting room and she didn’t notice. Once or twice when she wasn’t aware, he’d sneak peaks at the books that lay discarded on table while she retreated to her room to write plans. He’d never realized just how much they seemed to mean to her until now. So sweet and romantic. So, so… well, nothing like he’d ever write. “You probably wouldn’t like mine then.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’re darker.” He stared out at the water. “Madness, inner demons, that sort of thing. Certainly nothing like love poems.”

“I see.”

He could hear the sounds of her shifting, and after a moment she plopped down next to him, adjusting the fabric of her skirt around her knees. “Have you ever thought about writing one?”

“Love poems?” He snorted. “No. Those sorts of things are silly.”

“I don’t think so.”

He rolled his eyes. “True love doesn’t exist. And love in general is just a mess no matter how you look at it. It’s never as simple as those poems make them. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows and anyone who writes it as such is just silly.”

“Maybe sometimes we need silly things then.” She shifted so her hand rested over his. “Just give it a chance sometime. Maybe you’ll like it.”

Flinching, Poe pulled away, burying his hands deep in his coat pockets. “Not right now. I have a story to write. I must have it ready for when I face him again.”

He didn’t miss the way her face fell at those words. “Of course.” She was averting her gaze now. “That story would be most important right now.”

Biting the inside of his cheek he sighed; this wasn’t supposed to be how the night ended. The one night they’d had off was for them to have a good time. And now he’d messed it up. “I- I’ll consider writing one. But no promises. And it probably won’t be any good. You’ve been warned.”

She smiled and looked back over. “Until you do, can I read the ones you have?”

He sighed. “Fine, but not here.”

“Fair enough.” She stood up, staring out at the water for a moment before offering him her hand.

He glanced up at her with a concealed raised eyebrow and a frown but she persisted. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

Sighing, he stood up and allowed her to lead him down to the waterfront. The water lapped against the stones of the artificial riverbank and he watched her carefully remove her shoes before stepping into the water.

“I am not getting my feet wet.”

“Please?”

Scowling he pulled off his socks and stuffed them into his shoes. Two months. Two months and he would be facing off against his rival in Japan and getting his revenge. But for now he was splashing around in a river. Ranpo would probably laugh if he could see him now. Stepping out he cringed as the cold water soaked the bottom of his pants and they stuck to his legs. Lovely.

Nonetheless he trudged out after her, feeling the smooth stones against the bottom of his feet. Alright, maybe this wasn’t quite so bad.

Alcott stood further out, as far as she could go before the rock barrier gave way to the deeper water of the bay itself. The wind was playing with her hair again, pulling it back away from her face, but this time the moonlight glinted off her glasses and obscured her eyes from his view.

“So what did you bring me out here for?”

“This.” She gestured out at the water in front of them, and as Poe looked closer he felt the cold harsh wind blow against him and take his breath away.

The full moon glowed overhead, but the water captured its shape almost perfectly below. Except for a single brown rock that stood at the far end of the reflection.

And while the second moon seemed to shimmer with the movement of the waves the rock remained where it was, the waves crashing and breaking around it. The rest of the dark water seemed to sparkle and it took Poe a moment to realize that the night was also reflecting the stars. He crossed the distance between them and stopped next to Alcott, neither of them speaking, just staring silently out at the scene.

Another cold breeze blew through and Alcott shivered, the sudden motion catching Poe’s attention. “Are you alright?”

She smiled, rubbing the goosebumps on her arms. “Just a little cold.”

Quickly Poe pulled off his jacket and offered it to her.

“Oh no! I couldn’t-”

“You’ll catch a cold otherwise.” She hesitated another moment, then turned and allowed Poe to drape it around her shoulders. Though shivering a bit himself, she seemed much warmer after the next gust of wind, much to Poe’s satisfaction. “We should head back.”

Nodding, Alcott followed him to shore where they grabbed their shoes, but instead of heading back towards the hall Poe took a seat in the grass. It was warmer back on land and he wasn’t quite ready to let go of that view yet.

Louisa seemed to share his thoughts as she sat down beside him, the pleasant silence between them returning. Time passed and he suddenly realized she had moved closer, and half asleep, her head was now resting on his shoulder.

Part of him wanted to pull away suddenly, but at the same time she looked so peaceful. Well maybe she was fine there for a bit. Instead he turned his attention back out towards the sea, listening to the water lapping against the rocks. Thinking about it, if he was ever going to find the inspiration for a love poem this moment probably would be it. Carefully he pulled out his notebook, receiving an ironic welcome by the pages of notes about his novel. Without another word he put it away.

He sat up on the roof of the agency building, listening to the chaotic noises of the office below mixed with the softer sounds of the night. The agency had taken a tough case and they were working late to make headway, or at least trying.

Normally if Ranpo worked later, Poe would have just headed home at their normal time and let someone else help the detective with the trains, but he hadn’t been in any hurry tonight, and the others would be worn out. He and Ranpo went to the same stop anyways, and it didn’t hurt him to stick around a little longer. So instead he’d sat around the office for the past few hours working on his latest book, but things had gotten too noisy and he’d retreated to the roof in an attempt to muffle out the arguments below. It wasn’t a complete fix, but it was better than listening to Kunikida or Yosano yell at the others at full volume.

Stretching out across the shingles, he could feel Karl pressed against his side, already deep asleep. It was late, as indicated by the full moon overhead in the sky. It was a clear night, the light of the moon round and bright and casting everything in an eerie, otherworldly glow.

Sighing he sat up, careful not to disturb Karl, and quietly reached for the small notebook that had been cast to the side. Flipping through the pages, he smiled. It was a testament to years of his work; scattered notes from many of his stories that were later translated into documents and pages on his computer, and then back to pages once more in the form of published books. But somewhere in the middle, it would have been about two years ago now, the poems had started again.

He used to write them when he was younger, but gave up the hobby when he began his fixation on Ranpo. They weren’t anything special really; many of the first ones were darker, and yet all read at request of a certain person. She’d hoped for something lighter, but Poe had never been very good with soft, much less the sappiness that came with a love poem.

He’d tried. He’d tried many times since his loss here in Japan, since all his other drive and desire had seemed to fade, but just like all his other things he couldn’t seem to find his muse.

Flipping through more of the pages, he paused on one of the poems, suddenly aware of a delicately hand scrawled note at the bottom of the page. Flipping to the next one, he noticed another. Pages turned as he suddenly took in all the little notes that he’d never noticed before. Notes of praise. Notes of criticism. Sometimes both. Then on the last one, the page before all his story notes had taken over, on the only real light poem he’d ever attempted, the note was longer.

An urge for him to keep writing, praising all the color and imagery in his words, and praise for this one that at the time he’d considered his greatest mistake. She’d asked him for more, urged him to keep going and get better even if it was just one now and then. And he’d never seen it until now.

Staring over the rooftops, he could make out the water sparkling in the distance, the white reflection of the moon on the water. He smiled and turned to the first blank page, ignoring all the notes that separated the sections.

Who knew when he might see her again. Maybe never. But he’d write them. For her. For himself. He was going to fill this notebook with poems.

And maybe. Maybe one day he’d work up the courage to write a love poem. And perhaps that’d be the day he saw her again.