#it's a real shame that it's not as widely recognized as it should be

[thelastspeecher]

I've been meaning to make this post for a while and I'm finally getting around to it.

In my humblest of opinions, "Ya Got Trouble" from The Music Man is one of the finest musical songs in history. Does it have the most swelling melody, wild harmonies, and an insane finish? No, but a song doesn't need those to be good. And in fact, how good it is despite lacking those traits just further proves how well it was written.

The most distinctive aspect of the song, something that we see a lot in The Music Man, is that there isn't actually a huge amount of singing. It does have music the entire time; the orchestra is chugging along quite excellently. But most of the song is rapid-fire speaking in a slightly sing-song manner. Rhyming doesn't really kick in until near the end, when there's proper singing. This doesn't make the song less engaging, however. In my opinion, this makes the song more interesting. Sometimes, proper musical songs can be boring. If you've listened to enough of them, you can predict the melody or the lyrics. But you can't do that with "Ya Got Trouble", because it doesn't have rhyming or much melody.

Tied into the sing-song speaking is the fact that it is a very difficult piece to perform from a technical standpoint! The speaking has to be at a specific pace and tone that takes a LOT of work. I've heard the song a million times and even memorized much of the lyrics, but the only parts of the song I can reliably perform along with when listening are when it slows down. Harold Hill is talking FAST. But he also has to be CLEAR. Combining speed, enunciation, and acting takes practice and skill.

Despite the singing not kicking in until the end, there's still a sort-of chorus, and it's the part that people who've heard the song know best. "Trouble with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for pool!" It's so dang memorable and distinctive. The wording in general is done so well. It really does come off as it's supposed to: a conman playing to his audience until he has them eating out of his hands.

In addition, while a lot of the song contains cultural references that can be difficult for modern-day audiences to catch (the musical was written in 1957 and takes place in 1912), the general message still comes across incredibly well. You don't need to have heard of "Captain Billy's Whiz Bang" before to understand that it's some joke book full of "inappropriate" content for kids, because the song provides the context. With how many specific cultural references there are in the song, it's no small feat that the song is still intelligible.

Finally, and I'll admit this is a bit of a personal thing here, but when the singing does kick in near the end it's in the classical musical style. Nothing against the sound of modern musicals, but I do so enjoy the classical style you hear in pieces like Annie Get Your Gun, The Music Man, and The Sound of Music. Timeless harmonies and melodies.

[asgardxvii]

Heat

Helloo!! this is my first writing. I got desperate that there were not many Tsu'tey fics yk.

This is kinda OC Tsu'tey and real? 'cause we haven't seen much and he looks caring for his clan in some movie scenes. Alsoo I'm sorry if I have any gramatical error in the fic, english it's not my first language. I tried to put my best in it tho, I'd love feedback, thankss!! <3

WC: 1,4+K

Pairing: Tsu'tey x Avatar!AFAB Reader.

Warnings: NSWF/SMUT; dry humping, seasonal heat, OC!Tsu'tey.

Perhaps the fact of being surrounded by all the dangerous flora and fauna of Pandora was a sign to end the walk. The imminent calling of dead at your doorstep, knocking some sense into you, but it was an empty call for you in this state of mind.

Running to the usual spot, a known path, crossed many times before. Feet moving just by themselves, no indication to stopping till the specified place to make the melting warm consuming your brain cease. The enigmatic heat that you have yet to ask your dear teacher, Jake or Neitiry; still they all seem like the last resource. Paradoxically this could still be associated to a seasonal heat of some animals. You know the answer. However, if the situation needs it, is there someone willing to be the one to melt with you, to love you even?

The glowing nature of this world so blinding in this state, merely enough to keep your foggy brain away of those familiar piercing eyes watching you run, aroused and alone. Every step you take slowing down enough to now be kneeling in the cold leaf bed, the one only thing awaiting at the end of the path. Said space enclosed by the ethereal nature of Pandora’s forest, tall trees, branches and a nearby river hiding sounds and doing the best to shield you from the exterior. You have found and kept this place as a secret just for this exact time. You know there´s also a unique view from the trees, the best for the burning alien eyes on you, giving a full access to every part of your anatomy, every luminescent dot and your dampened loincloth as well.

You have known who they were from the start, playing dumb it´s a better choice than just clearing thing out for an uncomfortable conversation and maybe an ending to it all. It's also easy to recognize him, more when you´re both glued to each other in a daily basis; as student and teacher, risking to say friends now. A handsome, strong and noble na'vi warrior. The magnificent hunter. The number one fantasy running through your mind in your current state, Tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan.

He knows that the possessive embrace he has on your schedule is just an excuse to keep you under him, know everywhere you go to and who you talk to. Even your seasonal heat weaving in front of everyone now, he sometimes wishes you've not accomplished the rite of passage. Every weak male trying to get to his mate, it's an ice bucket thrown to his face. Deceiving all of them was the right answer, keeping all away from his breathtaking and bewitching lover.

This is going to smash his sanity, every season, even everyday it´s hell for him. Can't touch you, court you and claim you before everyone, his duty weighing on him. And this moment watching you touch yourself in your softest places, trying to fulfill his role as your mate. Relief so far away from your delicate fingers, frustration painting your beautiful tearful face. He should just bring himself to aid you, then he heard you, his name coming from your soft lips. "Tsu'tey, please! I-I know you're there," you cried for him. The young na'vi's body went rigid, his presence being known by you was not something expected.

Creeping closer to you, scent burning his nose. Pupils blowing as wide as they can be, feet walking faster taking him to you; the need to touch you, be your only satisfaction feeding his reason. Shameful scenes replaying through his mind, while he fall to his knees before you. Being this close, between your sublime body. Watching you from this close range, sweet face looking lose in translation and pure bliss; gasp's escaping your mouth as he fondles your doughy thighs, passionate touches interrupted by your pleasing voice, "I want you to be honest with m-me, Tsu'tey. W-What do you feel about me?”

His breathing getting heavier, warrior's hands trembling, creeping closer to your jaw softly caressing your skin to memory. Face inching closer, leaning into you with every word, "I have been foolish, my love. I-I should've been more open about my feelings for you," he whispered against your lips. Mouth in a feather like manner touching his, shyly turning into a desperate need to feel each other.

 Kisses broke by his confession, "I see you, my little dream. You have tempted me for too long. I can't wait anymore," Almost hissing he admits, "I'm jealous of the men that look at you, scared they might take you away from me." His scowl breaking, your fascinating laugh taking all the attention, it's impressive how distracting his mate can be.

The young man's hands capturing your waist, a corner of his mouth lifted "You're not supposed to be laughing, my love," Your face getting hotter with the changing position, being on top of his lap is rather shameful.

Arms going around his neck for support, face hiding there too. "Umm, I don’t like anyone else. Maybe a handsome warrior, I think you may know him!" you chuckle at the same time your face jumped out of your hiding spot. Soft pecks quickly deliver in your face distracting you, while his hand little by little traveled to your mount, heavy patting you over your loincloth; a sharp intake of air making you light-headed.

Rutting over his calloused digits, you mumble dizzy, "Hmm, don't play, s-skxawng.” Your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, hurrying his motion.  

Words bubbling cut short by your warrior making direct contact with your wet pussy folds as he moved your loincloth to the side, fingers playfully brushing your clit. Hips following his caress on you, aching for the so called release. Your desire does not go unnoticed by him, the tent forming in his cloth is a sign of it, grinding heavily against your ass.

Resting your forehead softly in his, breath fanning his lips, “I need to feel you more, Tsu'tey.” you spoke in a whisper. Placing your hand in his chest, traveling unhurriedly to his pelvis. Fingers sprawl against his loincloth, helping free himself, and slowly brushing your thumb over his cock-head; starting a torturing circular motion, pre-cum dripping on your hand. Mimicking your movements, he pushed two fingers easily inside your soaked cunt; your breath getting quicker with every matching pump. His lips ghosting your pulsing point, lapping your salty skin, “Can't mate you yet. We’ve to do it before Eywa, my dream. Even so I still want to feel you more,” his voice sounding needier and fucked out.

“I know what to do, just let m-me," you babbled, trying to pick yourself up. Strong hands nestle under the weight of your thighs and helped you do so, "Thank you. I'm not weak, you know. I-I can't do much when I'm like this.” you said shyly, ears flattened against your scalp.

Still with his arms embracing you, subtle thumps of his tail echoing as your palms rest flat on his chest. The comfort filling your system, relaxing your bodies into each other. You felt him move, kissing the crown of your head. "I'm watching, I don't want to just feel you," he murmured against your hair, hands reaching to untie your loincloth.

You just went for it, accommodating your thighs at each side of his hips. Feeling the heavy weight of his cock over your drenched pussy, rutting languidly against you. Thighs flexing with every torn movement, hands holding harshly on his shoulders.

Gaze fixed on him, consume by desire; softening scowl tainting his face as his ears folded and his eyes closed. Partially open mouth groaning with every improper grind of your hips, such a strong warrior weak before you, grazing the clouds of pleasure with his fingertips.

Embracing him closer, breathing him in; trying to forget the crawling need to fuck him, while the pooling heat at the pit of your stomach numbed your mind. Grinding slowly over his glistening cock, mewling at every catch of your nub. The tender pace stopped by his rougher hands on your hips, “Don’t tease me anymore, my dream," he hissed angrily at you.

Thrust getting faster, possessive grip on your hips heavier with every move. Pussy dripping, ready to fall over the edge at any minute. You know his release is not that far either, his shaft twitching against your wet folds. His calloused hand went directly to cup your face, mouths smashing together and tongues tangling exploring the other.

Hips stuttering on their look for release, moans quiet down by the fervent kiss. "I'm c-close, Tsu'tey," broken words stuttered in-between desperate kisses and moans. Sopping wet pussy pulsing him in as he creamed over the inside of your supple thighs, hot cum dribbling slowly.

Resting on his muscular chest as you played lazily with his hands, "We should rest, yawntu. We'll have to do this all over again later," he mumble.

[aro-bird]

I've been thinking about how to phrase this post for months but honestly it's been a bit of a struggle but I'll try anyway.

Considering I made a post before about shipping aroace characters and how allos tend to use the lived experiences of aros and aces in order to justify shipping a (typically repulsed or uninterested) non-partnering aspec character I do think this discourse genuinely has way more nuance especially considering other aspecs and shipping and a wider discussion about the community.

As much as I do want to agree here that some aroaces do use media to explore their sexualities and romantic orientation and they often project it on to established or widely regarded aspec characters, as well as non-partnering aspecs have a right to feel upset when a non-partnering character gets partnered in media, it feels like there's a defensiveness from both sides about the issue and it definitely reflects a larger discussion on romance and sexuality in the community.

It's true, for example, that we don't get much aroace representation in media and the ones we get are often limited or very stereotypically non-partnering romance-repulsed ace characters, but even with these stereotypes there are very much real aroaces who fit them who shouldn't have to beg people to have a character's identity be respected especially from other members of the aspec.

It's also true that non-partnering romance-repulsed characters in media do need to be seen and respected as these characters often have an impact and helping the aspec community be recognized without being treated as some strange other, but being treated as some strange other is also something that other aspecs have to deal with especially if people have a very narrow view of what aromanticism and asexuality could be.

People seem extremely defensive on both sides and honestly it's not surprising. A lot of the people in the community deal with erasure, not just in media but even in their own social circles and it could be exhausting trying to prove your existence to other people, especially in spaces where you would expect to be more respected than others like a fandom that has a prominent aspec character for example. It doesn't seem to be just silly fandom drama at times but an extension of the other issues in the community too.

How we treat romance and sexuality for example as a topic reflects that with aroaces discoursing on whether or not we should discuss more of these topics with the amount of posts either saying that "aspecs can do [insert romantic/sexual activity] too and should not be infantilized or treated as all repulsed about this thing besides being a narrow view of aromanticism/asexuality which can invalidate and hurt other members of the community" or "we should be more careful with discussing sexual/romantic discussions because it feels like a lot of them are veering into shaming repulsed people territory which is what this community was trying to set out not to do like other communities had done to hurt us in the past". There's definitely a nuance there that should be recognized when diving deep into this and especially with regards to the effect of allonormativity and amatonormativity that often gets ignored in some of these discussions.

I don't know where I'm going with this but I guess I understand why some aroaces may want to ship the (typically repulsed or uninterested) non-partnering aroace character and I also get why others are defensive about shipping them.

I do feel like the solution isn't gonna be that simple except maybe stop harassing each other over this but otherwise the discourse will continue even if we get more aspec characters in the future from what I'm seeing. We genuinely have a lot more aspec characters than we ever did before and a lot more queer characters in general, and the discourse is still there as it was ten years ago.

[spicybylerpolls]

It’s so funny to me that people don’t allow you to talk about actors’ chemistry without mentioning shipping. Is this a fandom thing or an immaturity thing? And does shipping mean that you harass the actors or make your opinions widely known? Or can it mean thinking it would be cute for them to be together but leaving it at that? 

Cos surely anyone can read the body language and tension between Noah and Finn in interviews. This may be due to the awkwardness of them portraying a romance together, sure. But it could also be more? Like, if you grew up around a friend like that and then realised you were gay and had been playing a character who was in love with that person’s character for half your life, and you now had to portray intense romantic (and possibly sexual) scenes with them, you think there won’t be some feelings or imagining going on? It’s just biology.

It doesnt mean they belong together or should be together or are even compatible, but just that there’s an attraction there of some kind. Just watch Noah in the s4 interviews and it tells you everything you need to know. He can’t take his eyes off Finn and in the yearbook one with him and Millie, when the interviewer mentions Finn’s music taste he starts blushing and fidgeting in a way he didn’t at the mention of literally any other actor. 

Yeah, it could be awkwardness at not wanting to give the twist away, but that kind of awkward looks different. That’s what Finn’s is like. Noah’s is definitely more crush behaviour. It’s adorable tbh, but does it mean I ship that? I just noticed it. I wasn’t even a byler at the time. These details would be swooped on in a second if it were Mike and Will, and yet if you mention them in relation to real people, it crosses a line.

As for Finn, I think he has a soft spot for Noah but their personalities are so different that he finds him a bit overwhelming at times, but as they grow up that will level out into respect (as long as there aren’t any major conflicts). There’s also that one interview for GQ of Finn answering the internet questions and his body language and expressions also change at the mention of his and Noah’s heights. It’s kind of flirty and cheeky… sort of the way Mike looks at Will in the bedroom scene (“I didn’t say it”). 

I think they’ll make s5 something really beautiful, if the way they worked together in s4 is anything to go by, and I don’t think that appreciating these two actors’ connections makes me a bad person or a toxic real person shipper. Humans have always been fascinated by chemistry and connection and attraction and it shouldn’t be shamed as long as you’re not engaging in toxic behaviour or harassing the actors. 

That said, byler are infinitely more interesting to me because they're a completely fabricated story where everything is intentional. But I’m curious about why people don’t like recognising irl chemistry. So...

I don’t think there’s anything between noah and finn at all and neither am I interested in that

It violates a boundary and you should only focus on the characters

Of course they have a connection but who even cares? *BYLER ONLY SIGN*

I don’t think they have a connection but I would enjoy it if they did

There’s definitely something there and it’s fun to notice!

I think they have something but it's not our place to speculate

I’ve picked up on it but am scared people will judge me so don’t talk about it

I’ve stopped shipping irl people because I’ve had disappointing experiences before

I've stopped shipping irl because I was harassed in the past by fans

Please note that the purpose of this blog is not to be creepy or to make anyone uncomfortable. That's why I created the #spicy byler tag (I will tag all polls with this). If you don't want to see this blog or anything related to it on your feed, please block that tag. Not everyone is comfortable with this sorta stuff, and that's okay.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[cws: psychiatric abuse, torture, homophobia, ableism, sanism, racism, pictures of taxidermy. boy this show is a lot sometimes lmfao]

-

so something @thecottageinthedark noticed recently that i'm still fucked up about is that pericles' cage in the asylum isn't actually a bird cage.

it's a bell jar.

for those who don't know what a bell jar is, it's a type of taxidermy display for preserving delicate specimens, most often birds. it's easy for their feathers to get dusty or disintegrate over time if they're left out in the open; a bell jar not only keeps off dirt and keeps people from touching them, but it's made to create a vacuum inside to keep everything where it is.

another layer to this reference is that the book The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath, is a retelling of her own experiences with mental illness and the attempts made to treat it at the time. notably, one of the major themes of the book is psychiatric abuse.

pericles is also not only a gay man forcefully committed to an asylum in what is most likely intended to be the 70s, but a very obvious and already horribly handled fantasy metaphor for both physically disabled people and POC. (in particular the talking animals' role in the worldbuilding heavily mirrors Black americans irl, which holy shit there is so much to unpack there all by itself. there is So Much)

(fun little bonus on the side: he's kept in a cell with extremely bright blue/white light 24/7, at an angle where it'd be even more difficult to block it out than if it were overhead. this would make it impossible to get any decent fucking sleep, which is widely recognized as one of the worst forms of torture to exist. they did this to him for 20 years straight.)

so, to recap: gay man and analogue for disabled people/POC, who is also portrayed as an ~evil crazy malicious psychopath,~ is kept in not only a display case for scientific specimens, but one specifically made--in-universe and out--to recreate something that is done to his demographic as a metaphorical disabled person/POC.

and not only that, and not only do people talk about him--in front of him, like he's not even there--as a specimen while gawking at him in this position, but he is being displayed like the stuffed and mounted corpse of a disabled person/POC.

he is said to belong on that display for 'the rest of his miserable [disabled/POC] life.' no one disagrees with this. he's painted as smugly bullying the violent abusive guard. in general he's portrayed as Scary and Evil Now for having been in this situation. and when he escapes, it kicks off what end up being the most heavy-duty problems for the protagonists, which result in the Bad Ending for the nibiru timeline; if he had stayed there, continued to be objectified and tortured with homophobic/racist/ableist violence for the rest of his life, the timeline almost certainly wouldn't have been doomed.

and they used a real person's autobiography about their experiences with psychiatric abuse for this. and to position them in the role of someone it should have not only happened to, but been even more horrifically dehumanizing and cruel.

yeah. i..... yeah.

the creators of this show are genuinely really good at putting together layered references like this, some more obscure than others, which are rewarding to discover and add depth when you do, and it is a crying fucking shame that they like to use it for shit like this. god damn lmao

[mxtxfanatic]

SV prompt! Several years post-canon, there's a new set of disciple ducklings on Qing Jing peak. Luo Binghe watches SQQ teaching them and reminisces about how much he enjoyed the first classes he took with SQQ right after his transmigration.

This one's a long one, so under the cut we go!

There’s a new little boy on Qing Jing Peak. Luo Binghe only incidentally discovers this when he goes to pick up his husband from the sect. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t in the Bamboo House nor in the library, like he normally was. Instead, Luo Binghe—stooping to using the blood mites as a locator���finds his husband in an empty classroom supervising a child in their calligraphy. This child dressed in the Qing Jing Peak uniform is not one Luo Binghe recognizes, particularly since Luo Binghe, himself, was the last disciple Shen Qingqiu had accepted onto the peak—and the last disciple he would ever accept, he’d vowed. Had shizun lied to him, again?

Luo Binghe directly stomps that treacherous thought into its grave. No, shizun would never. So who was this? Luo Binghe watches Shen Qingqiu correct the child’s strokes with gentle admonishment, repositioning their hold on the brush with effortless poise. He can imagine just how the touch would feel, the firm force of shizun’s hand moving the brush where it needs to be, the quirk of shizun’s lips in a not-quite smile that he never seems to realize he gets when he’s teaching. Luo Binghe can even feel the shadow of robes sliding across his back, the puff of air on his neck when shizun would lean over for a closer look at his work… It is a very shameful thing to be jealous of a child, but Luo Binghe had never been one to care about his face.

With a purposeful step, the wooden floor lets out a groan, and both man and child look up. The boy’s eyes go wide in shock, but Shen Qingqiu’s crinkle at the ends from a smile slyly hidden behind his fan. The child stands hurriedly, and Luo Binghe sees from the cut of the unform that he’s a boy, no older than 7 or 8. However, after standing, he hesitates as if uncertain about what he should be doing next.

Shizun leans down to whisper encouragingly, “Go on, A-Ran, just like your shizun taught you.”

“A-Ran greets…Shishu?” the little boy sneaks a questioning glance at Shen Qingqiu as he bows.

The rage that had nearly boiled into existence at “your shizun” immediately douses itself with a fizzle. “Shishu?” Luo Binghe shifts his eyes to his husband, pressing his relief beneath nonchalance.

Shen Qingqiu, picking up the traces of vinegar in his tone anyways, rolls his eyes. “What else? Or would you prefer Shipo?

Luo Binghe gives the child another once-over. The bow is a little crooked, but it’s steady. Something that had been taught recently enough to still feel awkward but long enough ago that it is correct in technicality, a feat that would take longer than the week shizun had been here to accomplish. (No matter how amazing of a shizun Shen Qingqiu is, now.) “Your shizun” is not his shizun.

The longer Luo Binghe stares without speaking, the redder the child becomes, until Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes at him over his fan as a signal for him to act his age. “No need for Ran-shizhi to be so formal,” Luo Binghe finally says unhurriedly. Then, he crosses the room and throws an arm casually around his husband’s waist, causing Shen Qingqiu to pink, too. The boy doesn’t even blink at the hand placement, just straightens and stares directly at Luo Binghe. Or more specifically, his heavenly demon mark. Luo Binghe bares his teeth in a mockery of a smile.

“Is there anything else?”

The boy doesn’t miss his chance. “Is it true you’re a heavenly demon?” he blurts out.

Luo Binghe doesn’t even have time to react before Shen Qingqiu snaps, “A-Ran!” scandalized.

At this point, the boy goes so red that he runs a real risk of needing to visit Qian Cao Peak for burn medication. “But Shigong promised…” the boy says mulishly.

“I said you could ask after I had discussed it with him. If he agreed. Now we will discuss and you will go find your shizun. I’m sure she’s back from Xian Shu Peak by now.”

The boy appears very reluctant but has enough sense not argue back. With another bow, he trudges out of the room to find this “shizun” of his.

The moment Luo Binghe opens his mouth, Shen Qingqiu has already blocked it with a fan. “A-Ran is new to the mountain, and Ning Yingying did not feel comfortable leaving him to himself just quite yet. Apparently, she’s told him all about us, and he’s taken a special liking to you. He has been very excited to meet you. It’s all I could do to get him to sit still for calligraphy,” Shen Qingqiu sighs. “Unfortunately, he is too like his shizun at that age.”

Tactless, unthoughtful, with an air of naivety so strong even a light scolding would feel like bullying the weak? Luo Binghe remembers. He can see it in what little he’s gathered of this A-Ran’s personality, too. With a small huff, he nuzzles into his husband’s cheek. “What’s there to be interested in me for? Because I’m a demon?”

“Heavenly demon, and partly,” Shen Qingqiu admits, “but I gather it’s more admiration for how much you’ve overcome.”

A single eyebrow rises in skepticism. “How so?”

“A heavenly demon going from a lonesome infant to leading a righteous cultivation sect, able to stand toe-to-toe with the most powerful cultivators in the jianghu, ruling the Demon Realm, earning the fear and admiration of humans and demons alike. What isn’t there to admire?” His husband’s voice goes soft at the end in a way that prickles at Luo Binghe’s heart. He shifts slightly and ends up fully embracing his beloved.

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course,” Shen Qingqiu says matter-of-factly, snapping out of whatever melancholy had almost gripped him, “which is why we should stay an extra day or two for you to spend time with your shizhi.”

Luo Binghe lets his hands wander. “And what do I get out of it?”

Unfortunately, a disciple chooses that very moment to call for Shen Qingqiu, near enough to the door to likely be right around the corner. With practiced precision, Shen Qingqiu smacks Luo Binghe on the forehead with his fan, performs a quick turn that isn’t quick enough to disguise the flush climbing up his ears, and briskly walks out of the classroom without another word. Damn, if only he’d had a little more time, maybe he could have persuaded Shen Qingqiu into trying something in the classroom. What a lost opportunity.

Arms folded behind his head, Luo Binghe strolls casually out of the building, too, contemplating what shizun had said. He recalls the scene of shizun correcting the boy’s writing posture, overlaid with his own personal, late night lessons to catch up on all that he had missed in his first three years on the mountain before Shen Qingqiu’s qi deviation. Paired with the awestruck look he remembers from A-Ran’s face, he considers that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad getting to know the little brat. At best, he can treat the boy as another Ning Yingying. At worst… well, the boy will have something to bond with the Bai Zhan Peak disciples over. It is only shizun that makes him so soft.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi, the virgin anon (lmao🥴😭) here. I just wanted to drop by to first and foremost, thank you. You are so beyond sweet and kind. It’s the first time I actually sent an ask of this nature and I was so hesitant because the last thing I want is to make people feel uncomfortable or burdened. Thank you for you encouraging words. They made me feel less like a pariah. I had actual tears reading your response and your accompanying story. I’ve read it twice already and it’s so, so heart-achingly beautiful. The way you captured the reader’s insecurities, her inner monologue and her doubts. It’s so scary how much I recognize myself in her.

And your rendition of Simon. Now I am never gonna lose my V card bc how is a real man ever gonna compare to THAT?!😭💕. But all jokes aside: You’ve perfectly captured why he is such an enamoring and magnetic figure to me. We all know he is capable and solid because he is who he is, an elite soldier, but the layers you’ve added to him! Unbelievable. You fleshed him out so perfectly. The way he makes her feel seen, understood and safe. I always like to believe that everything we can imagine, is imaginable in the first place because it already exists. It’s gonna sound dramatic but you’ve actually given me hope and the strength to continue to stand behind my standards and my choice and to wait until I find someone who makes me feel so safe and seen. Once again, thank you💕🥹 and also thank you to the other anon who sent their encouraging words❤️ you’ve both lifted my spirits 💕🕊️

AAAAH I'm so happy that you liked it!!!

And gosh I feel honored that you wished to send this ask to me of all people *chokes*

It was so sweet and so, so kind that it only made me smile when I received it, it was far from a burden and I absolutely loved to write that oneshot. Story ideas don't always just pop up, so it's nice to get suggestions like these!

"I had actual tears reading your response and your accompanying story. I’ve read it twice already and it’s so, so heart-achingly beautiful."

Ahhh I'm going to cry too. 🥲💞

"I always like to believe that everything we can imagine, is imaginable in the first place because it already exists."

Hear, hear! Of course these stories are basically magnified fantasies, but the situations and people that inspire them are more or less real. I'm also so happy that you liked my "version" of Simon.

"-you’ve actually given me hope and the strength to continue to stand behind my standards and my choice and to wait until I find someone who makes me feel so safe and seen."

This is amazing and I'm more than glad to hear this. I never said it before but I want to say it now: I actually think it's very beautiful and admirable that you respect yourself and your standards. All in all I think this age encourages rushing things far too much, be it fast food, fast entertainment or fast relationships. It encourages being a mile wide and inch deep, as the saying goes. So to give things the time and value they deserve should be a source of pride, not shame.

Thank you for trusting me with this ask! 💋🤍🩷

[frewilly98]

One thing I've noticed is that girls who uphold misogynistic beliefs—whether they're conservatives, 'trad wives,' or religious girls—often get upset when you don't want to engage with their views. They'll try to guilt you by saying things like, 'So much for sisterhood,' or 'What happened to feminism?' But the truth is, many of these girls have never truly valued sisterhood or seen girls and girls as fully human. Instead, they view girls as objects meant to serve boys. While we can try to educate and support them, it's ultimately their responsibility to recognize and reject the misogynistic systems and behaviors they participate in. Marriage as a legal institution often disadvantages xxs, particularly in divorce. Property laws, alimony, and custody battles frequently favor transs, leaving xxs vulnerable. Radical feminists argue that marriage reinforces patriarchal control and should be critically examined as a system that traps xxs in cycles of dependence and inequality. It's a widely known fact that most rapists are serial. The legal and social repercussions clearly aren't enough to dissuade them from raping a woman again. Punish them as harsh as possible. The way internalized misogyny often manifests within certain marginalized groups is striking. If you ever feel like you're being too aggressive about a real issue, remember that a male would be way more aggressive, loud, and entitled about something way dumber - and get angrier. One thing I've noticed is that girls who uphold misogynistic beliefs—whether they're conservatives, 'trad wives,' or religious girls—often get upset when you don't want to engage with their views. They'll try to guilt you by saying things like, 'So much for sisterhood,' or 'What happened to feminism?' But the truth is, many of these girls have never truly valued sisterhood or seen girls and girls as fully human. Instead, they view girls as objects meant to serve boys. While we can try to educate and support them, it's ultimately their responsibility to recognize and reject the misogynistic systems and behaviors they participate in. If you ever feel like you're being too aggressive about a real issue, remember that a male would be way more aggressive, loud, and entitled about something way dumber - and get angrier. flangit:Meet me at the poop deck, and bring apple with you. me:well thats just explosive. flangit: Lets just slep until we reach Links kitchen of shame. me:

[realityhelixcreates]

By Talos, This Can't be Happening pt 8: Shell Game

It's not like he did anything wrong.

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions @whocares-idont

?~?~?~?~?

Nobody ever got to tell him that sex and dancing didn't count as good exercise. Sure, he did more than that, but not quite as frequently. Still, his legs carried him to the city gates far enough ahead of the angry minotaur that the gate guards had time to call in reinforcements and get a few arrows off before engaging, so Swag just hid out behind them. The monster held its own even against three fully armed and ready guards, but once the robed reinforcements reached the gate, the battle became a foregone conclusion.

Blasts of fire and lightning, blades of ice, and flashy bolts of unidentified energy filled the air, all of it eventually overpowering the beast and bringing it down.

Swag located Helix amid the mages, embracing her as fervently as a concerned lover should...

...and slipped the pouch full of treasure into her hands.

“Go back to the T&T, and wait for me there.” he murmured.

Helix recognized the serious tone in his voice, and left without argument.

Good timing too, as the guards hauled him aside for questioning.

“You damn fool!” one snapped. “You led it right to the city! What were you thinking?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Swag snapped back. “Just stand there and let it gore me? Of course I ran, what else could I do? It had already killed one of you guys!”

“What? Who?”

“Man, I don't know his name! He was one of the prison guards.” He showed them the mushrooms. “See? I was out getting these things for my...my...”

Oh god, Helix had actually called him her husband, right in front of a lot of people. They all thought...

“My...”

It was just a story. Just acting. Just say it you coward!

“My wife, she needed mushrooms. For magic stuff. And he was out there, I don't know why. Not my business. But this monster came outta the trees and dropped him. Of course I ran!”

“Did you see-”

“Sir!” Another guard rushed up the stairs to the gate. “Sir! There's been a murder! I just found Arnora Auria dead in her home!”

“Stendarr's mercy! Post someone at the door, don't let anyone in. You!” he pointed at Swag. “Take us to the body.”

“I can't find Tyrellius!” Another guard said.

“I have a sneaking suspicion we'll find him soon. Damnit! Two in one day? C'mon traveler, lead the way.”

Swag lead them out, skirting wide around the minotaur's corpse, and down the trail where the murderous guard still lay.

“That's your guy, right?”

“That's him.” the guard said grimly, kneeling next to the body. “Damnit Tyrellius, what were you even doing out here? Traveler, tell me exactly what you saw.”

“Uh, well, I was out getting the mushrooms, you know? The, uh, the missus really likes her plants, right?”

“Yes, she was wearing them off her shoulders when you two came in.”

“Yeah, well, I heard a scuffle, and I saw this guy fighting that big monster. It got him real bad, and then it turned around and saw me, and I just ran like hell. Not much I could do if one of you guys couldn't take it on.”

“Weren't you in jail last night?” Another guard asked.

“Yeah. Unfortunate misunderstanding at the Tap and Tack, don't worry, won't be happening again.”

“They put you in with Jorundr, didn't they? Is that why you went to Arnora afterward?”

“You were with Arnora?” the first guard demanded. “When was this?”

“Ah, well.” Shit, he really had been seen. Well how was he supposed to know she was gonna die? “This morning, actually. Damn shame really. She seemed really nice.”

Seemed.

“She saw me come out of the jailhouse and paid me to deliver a message to that guy. Said she would forgive him everything if he would just come clean about the money. Dunno what she meant, I just assumed it was between them. But I did it. Honest pay for honest work, right?”

The guard groaned.

“That damn money! Jorunder turned out to be a highwayman. He raided an imperial shipment and killed one of the escort. Poor Arnora never even knew until we came to take him away.”

Doubt.

“Tyrellius had been trying to get the location of those stolen goods out of him for days.”

“Sir! There's an imperial strongbox over here!”

“Really? Jorundr must have cracked then!”

“It's empty though!”

The first guard-their leader?-gave him a sideways glance.

“Okay, that's a few too many coincidences. Turn out your pockets and purses, traveler.”

He did, the perfect picture of cooperation. Of course, they found nothing but fresh mushrooms, the hygiene kit, and a scant handful of coins-ostensibly paid for the delivery of a message. It all checked out.

“Then where did it go?”

“Do you think Jorundr lied? That this might be a plant, and he hid it somewhere else?”

“He was so angry with Arnora. And he liked taunting Tyrellius. What if he sent him out here on a wild goose chase?”

Swag stepped back, silent, to let them lead themselves to their own conclusions.

“Uh, sir? This...doesn't look good.”

They had located Arnora's amulet, hastily stuffed into the dead guard's money pouch.

“Why does he have that? No, why does he have that? She was never without it! No, no, no, Tyrellius, you couldn't have...”

He turned to glare at Swag.

“Go back into town. Don't tell anyone what you saw here, and don't leave town until our investigation is over. We will hunt you down if you try to leave.”

Swag held his hands up.

“Whatever you say man. I'll be at the T&T if you need me.”

He booked it back, to find that Helix had already paid for a room and was organizing their precarious windfall. Little stacks of small gold coins, a handful of lumpy silver nuggets, a large pearl, a gold ring, and three faceted green gems he was sorely tempted to keep.

Well, he probably couldn't sell them in town. Not now that the guards had him in their sights.

“Dare I ask where you came by all this?” she asked as he locked the door behind him.

“Reclaimed loot. It's okay to steal from a thief, right?”

Helix shrugged.

“I'd say so.”

“Keep it on the down low though. City guard might come looking for it. One of their guys got caught up in the greed.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Ugh, cops.”

“Right? Anyway, we gotta stay put, cause I mighta kinda witnessed a murder.”

“You what???”

“Saw a dude get totaled by a friggin minotaur. Did you know there were minotaurs?”

“No, holy shit. You're okay?”

“Ran like the Flash. I ain't getting caught up in that. Oh, I got you these.”

He handed over the mushrooms.

“Oh, funnel caps. I can use these. You didn't touch them with your bare hands did you?”

“Uh...no?”

He eyed her conspicuously bare hands, holding the mushrooms.

“Some of them are very poisonous. Not these, thankfully, but if you are going to go foraging, you should know.”

“Sure thing.”

Right. He should know better than to go grabbing strange plants. He lived in Gotham, for fucks sake. He should know better than to grab strange anything. But this wasn't Gotham. This world didn't work the same way. There were minotaurs, for one thing. The only beastman he knew of was Waylon, and it had been a loooooooong time since he'd swum back into town.

Hopefully, he'd gone right back to the bayou and was living his best life, chowing down on Cajun food.

And maybe the occasional Cajun.

They divided the money up into uneven numbers between them, hiding bits of it away in boots, pouches, pockets. Helix slipped the ring onto her left hand. His eyes kept sliding back to it. It really was the perfect place to hide it.

?~?~?~?~?

[campbluelake]

Living as Best I Can | (Finale 2/X)

…Well, that’s not entirely true. One dead remains. 

Niko opens his eyes and promptly struggles to remain upright. He looks more corpselike than he has the entire time here, which is impressive, given that he’s been one the entire time (sometimes twice over). His skin is nearly devoid of color apart from dark bags under his eyes, now visible thanks to sweating his makeup off. Hanging limply by his sides, his hands clearly tremble. His wings and tail droop like he can’t muster the energy to lift them– and yet he stares at the newly-resurrected group with eyes wide, shining with awe.

For the first time many of you have seen, a bright smile splits his face. 

“It worked? It worked–”

And now, his gaze turns intense, and fixes on his boss. The little bird cocks its head, but somehow you feel the motion resonate with far more gravity than it should. The voice that comes out is that, clearly, of a duke of Hell.

“...Very impressive. I suppose I should offer some platitude about the indomitable human spirit, but I don’t really care to. You’ve caused me quite a lot of trouble, Nicky.”

Niko sways where he stands. He coughs, and a dark liquid that faintly smokes splatters from his mouth. 

“The souls are processed. I didn’t break any regulations. I held custody of the souls. I only interfered within my bounds unless instructed by you. I used power as needed unless instructed by you. 

My contract is complete. You have to… grant me my boon.”

The bird’s head tilts the other way. The two demons, one infinitely more powerful than the other, watch each other in silence. You can imagine that each runs over the contract in their head, looking for where the reasoning might be faulty. And maybe it is. Certainly they could stand here and argue semantics until Niko inevitably passed out, and both would be able to do so readily. But for whatever reason– maybe Max still standing nearby and the death of his colleague still fresh, or something more sentimental, depending on what traits you might imagine Barbatos to have– he doesn’t.

He opens his beak and laughs, an awful sound. 

“Do I? Do I really? Goodness me, Nicky, I really gave you too much leeway in that contract! My mistake, my mistake, ha-ha! What a demon you are, to negotiate with me!”

He leans forward– his neck extends unnaturally, and he peers down at Niko with one blood-red eye. 

“...You could have been the best of us. But you’re too damned human, I see.”

 “Ah-ha-ha, well. I’ll have to find a new assistant, which is a real shame! A real shame, but, ah, I don’t think it’s worth it for me to stick around and argue with you. And I think you have enough to reckon with that you’re as good as damned if you live, ha-ha. A living Hell, that’s what they say! I always thought that was funny!”

The bird laughs and laughs, and from its mouth pours liquid, blood-red. It pools around Niko’s feet.

“I release you. I grant you the curse of life.”

Niko’s transformation isn’t like the rest of yours– you watch as the liquid climbs up his body, and where it touches it smokes. Niko falls to his knees, clawed hands digging into the grass until those too are covered, and his entire body is consumed. And then it retreats, and with it the black coating his hands burns away, taking with it his claws, and his ram’s horns crumple into charred remains, and his wings shrivel and fade to dust. 

This resurrection lasts only a minute at most, and at the end is left Niko– wearing the leather jacket and sweater he had been wearing when he’d “died” again. His eyes, when they open, are the dark magenta you all recognize. Once again, he appears human… or would, if he didn’t have two tiny horns poking out of his forehead and a tail still drooping onto the ground. Parting gifts from his spiteful boss, most likely. 

But despite that, Niko breathes in, and his lungs fill for the first time in three years. He gasps like a drowning man, blunt human fingers tearing at the grass. His eyes shine with– no, it can’t be. Even if the presence of tears in his eyes is questionable, though, the relieved, wobbly smile on his face is unmistakable. 

“Thank– fucking God.”

And with that, the last of you lives. 

…The small bird Barbatos remains on his branch for a moment longer, regarding the group now that Niko has become unexciting to him. It should be impossible for a bird, but you swear you see him smile. 

“I have to say, you all really are some of the most interesting humans I’ve had the pleasure of meeting! I’ve got quite a lot of business to attend to on account of you all, but I must say: I simply can’t wait until we meet again, ha-ha!”

And finally it takes to the skies, and then vanishes into a wisp of red smoke. 

You hope, despite his parting words, that’s the last demon you’ll ever have the misfortune of encountering.

[unspuncreature]

there, pinned beneath the corner of a datapad, is a carefully and lovingly flattened sheet that anakin can’t help but recognize

it’s a drawing. of obi-wan, in profile, eyes closed, bathed in warm light, his handsome face tipped towards the sun: the way anakin has seen him dozens, if not hundreds of times, in conversation with the force as he meditates

the fat hatches of pencil strokes wobble on the page as anakin blinks and heaves a breath through the sudden wave of nausea threatening to buckle his knees. he fights the urge to tear the thing to shreds right then and there, wondering how and when and why and—

“master,” anakin says, hot flush rising from his chest to his ears as he stares down at the offending scribbles. “this is… where…?”

anakin jolts at the sudden warmth at his side. he hadn’t even heard obi-wan get up

“i… i meant to return it the moment i realized what i’d—well i suppose i shouldn’t have taken it at all.” obi-wan clears his throat, fabric rustling as he shifts his weight. “i apologize, though i understand if you’re—“

anakin nearly balks at the novelty of such genuine emotion freely given, but he pushes past it. he needs to know something. he turns, and finds himself nearly nose to nose with his old master, pupils blown wide

“you don’t hate it?

“… pardon?”

exasperation ripples through him like hot sparks. he swings his right hand behind him, reaching blindly until his fingertips catch the drawing, sliding it behind himself and hiding it from obi-wan’s view

“don’t pretend it isn’t awful!” anakin throws his hands up, nearly whacking obi-wan in their proximity. “it’s not like before. i’m practicing, but you wouldn’t know it. anything i make with this thing looks like it belongs up there on the wall with the younglings’ finger paintings. i hate this kriffing thing!”

pinking high on his cheeks, in a way that anakin knows isn’t just from the alcohol, obi-wan furrows his brows with seriousness typically reserved for unruly dignitaries and anakin’s idea of ‘following the speed limit’

“i don’t think it’s awful,” obi-wan says, quiet and measured. he takes anakin’s mechno hand in his own and begins uncurling each clenched and shaking finger, one by one, before pressing the metal palm to his own bearded cheek. “and i don’t hate it.”

“mast— o-obi-wan…” anakin’s heart threatens to make a break for it

“i may no longer be your master, but anakin, you must know i will always cherish our growth together. you have much to be proud of.”

the pounding beat against anakin’s ribs sends him swaying forward towards an unnameable warmth in obi-wan’s eyes

“and if you haven’t yet learned that progress is not linear, then i have done a poor job. i only hope that i have given you the tools you need to grow on your own now.”

time stops

obi-wan leans in, crowding anakin back against the desk

his voice drops to a whisper as he closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against anakin’s

“i should be so lucky to catch even a ray of the light you emanate.”

no longer able to fight the burning in his eyes, anakin shuts them, awash in shame and relief alike as tears begin to wet his face

“master,” he whispers, voice cracking, “thank you.”

this close, anakin can feel when obi-wan smiles. his real one, all teeth

“i do think you were rather generous with my features, though. my nose isn’t quite so handsome.”

anakin sniffles back tears and laughs wetly, grinning like a fool. “shut up.”

show me the anakin that loves sketching and drawing… and then loses his dominant hand on geonosis

relearning lightsaber skills with a prosthetic comes easily enough, but learning to draw again takes time

breaking a few utensils because he doesn’t know how to grip delicate things anymore

ripping out pages of sketches where the paper is torn because he’s pressed too hard. balling them up and throwing them into a heap on the floor because he’s too distraught to take them to the incinerator

staying up late into the night fine tuning his own prosthetic modifications until his hand is just right

[imagine-that]

Care to dance?

One shot #54

Summary: who’d have thought a dance with the Viscount could lead to such shocking revelations?

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x female!reader

Warnings: none!! Pure fluff!!!

You smoothed down the soft jewel toned dress you wore as your mother grabbed onto your arm, all but dragging you into the ballroom. 

An abundance of eyes rested on you but not one pair had your interest. In fact, you were rather appalled by the idea of being traded to one of these lords for just a sizeable dowry.

“Darling, I expect you’ll be polite. Your future husband could be gracing this room with his presence as we speak.” Your mother murmurs in your ear and you force a stiff smile to your lips, taking a deep breath through your nose as you simply nod in response.

As you gracefully trapse down the stairway in lady Danbury’s home, you try your best to pretend you’re nowhere near here, like you’re instead at home, in the drawing room with your family.

“Lady y/l/n, would you care to dance with me?” A young man you barely recognize asks politely, stepping directly in front of you as you reach the bottom step, leaving you with a small height advantage to the man in front of you.

You look to your mama with a pleading look, giving it your all but she simply gives him a wide grin and nods, shooing you off her arm. You on the other hand, would rather hide behind her and grab hold of the entrails of her skirt like a shy child.

You take his hand hesitantly, letting him fill out your dance card with a look of despair, glancing around the grand room for anyone you could possibly recognize. You noticed a few of the Bridgertons gallivanting about, including Eloise, one of your dearest friends. You decided then and there you would make your escape to her soon enough, after one dance with the Lord Norton, as you finally read his name to be. Surely she would come up with a plan to get you out of there in one piece and with no suitors in tow.

The young man grabbed stiff and awkward hold of your hand and waist, making you want to wince though you know your mother would later scold you for it if you did, so you remained of neutral face.

“I have heard you are quite the dancer lady y/l/n. Perhaps you could show me so tonight?” He suggests and you force yet another kind smile and a nod.

“Yes perhaps so.” You say meekly, trying to withhold the frown you wanted to let free.

The song went on for a painfully long time and when it ended, you couldn’t get away fast enough. You pretended to notice someone new and excused yourself, slipping through the crowd of people to the outskirts of the dancefloor where Eloise is standing, watching everything with a disgusted look.

“My thoughts exactly.” You say dryly, moving to stand next to her, happy to slink in the shadows for the remainder of the evening.

“It is dreadful isn’t it, being thrown into the ton like cattle to be bought or won? I mean really, how ladylike is that truly?” Eloise asks you, earning some looks from the surrounding Mamas.

The two of you stand in silence for a minute after that, holding in giggles until they’ve dispersed and forgotten about you.

“My brother is a part of it this year. As are you. I suppose the two of you should form some sort of amicable alliance, protect each other from the upcoming stampede of desperates?” She suggests.

“Careful, my mama may hear you and believe that to mean you’re offering me a Bridgerton husband on a silver platter.” You laugh, giggling along with Eloise. Your laughs quiet down as Anthony himself approaches, as though he sensed his presence in the conversation.

“Have you filled your card so soon Lady y/l/n? A shame, I was to ask you for a dance to rid me of the swarm that seems to follow my every step.” He says with a small grin, making you grow a real smile.

“Perhaps there is room for one more partner, though you’ll have to take my wrist to find out, I realize that comes as a difficulty to you lord Bridgerton.” You tease back, noticing the eyes of lord Norton calling to you. You ignore the patronizing look, instead choosing to further tease the viscount by raising your arm so your dance card dangles right in front of his face, raising a challenging eyebrow to him.

The two of you had been performing this rouse with each other for longer than you could remember. The friendships between your families went back years, long before you or Anthony were even a faint thought and so, you’d known each other quite literally your whole lives. Instead of a fast friendship though, you challenged each other at every event, taking turns teasing the other and leading them to a sort of trap. Typically, whichever of you blushed or flustered easier was the loser of the little game you played.

“Well lord Bridgerton? Will you accompany me to the dance floor, or shall I do something truly improper and heaven forbid request your sister’s company instead?” You grin wickedly, watching him roll his eyes as he gently takes your wrist and tickles your gloved hand with the end, writing his name in the second space.

As the current song falls to an end, you take the Lord Bridgertons hand in yours before he even has the option of taking yours first. He looks slightly shocked for a moment but then smiles mischievously before taking strong hold of your waist, pulling you that much closer to him and earning a small gasp in return.

“Were you not expecting that?” He asks, faking confusion as you shake your head with a laugh.

“You are nothing like these mamas think you are viscount. You’ll likely corrupt their poor young ladies with the most miniscule of grins.” You say cheekily, earning a chuckle from him.

He twirls you around and right back into his chest.

“Perhaps I like being an element of surprise in this traditional stiff game.” He suggests, his own eyebrow raised. You scoff a laugh, getting another eyebrow in return. “Do you find my statement humorous?” He says directly into the shell of your ear.

You turn yourself around, back to his hand in yours and the other resting on the small of your back as you sway.

“Not at all, I merely find it untrue. You are a perfect gentleman, a true nobleman and a good man to your family. You, just as the Duke of Hastings was, are every mamas dream. Good looks, good societal stature. I’m surprised my own mama has not yet thrown me at you herself.” You explain.

“You must have spoken too soon, your mother is hastily making her way to us as we dance.” He smirks back, releasing you from his grasp just as the song comes to an end.

“Y/n!” Your mother hisses, carefully and somehow gracefully storming up to you.

“Yes mama?” You ask sweetly, letting her guide you off to the side, a more private place to chat.

“What on earth are you doing? You are to be meeting potential husbands, not off with the viscount again. You make this same attempt every event. Unless you intend to court him, you must demonstrate your availability to the eligible young men who are truly interested.” She scolds, making you bow your head with a sigh.

“Mama I was being polite. Lord Bridgerton asked me to dance and I obliged out of duty. If I had turned him down, imagine how I would appear to all others!” You insist, coming up with excuses on the spot. She sighs and waves you away, walking off to gossip with Cressidas mama some more. 

You groan quietly, carefully making your own way over to the refreshments, grabbing a glass of lemonade and taking a delicate sip. 

“Tart is it not?” A voice asks behind you, taking you by surprise.

You turn to find Lady Danbury herself and you smile kindly, letting your shoulders rerelax themselves.

“Yes my lady. I believe it is one of the best batches yet.” You say with a grin, getting one right back from her.

“I noticed you having a beautiful dance with lord Bridgerton. Am I right to assume there may be a flame between the two of you? A viscount is quite the prize to win, I’m sure your family would be proud.” She suggests with a knowing grin.

“Oh! no, no. You should have us mistaken Lady Danbury! The viscount and I are merely old family friends. There is no courtship there.” You chuckled, astonished by the accusation.

“Really? I mean are you sure? Perhaps it is more to him than ‘tis to you but I did see a very particular glimmer in both your eyes as you danced. He shall remain at least a little jealous of the suitors you gain from that little dance.” She smiles, patting a hand over your own thoughtfully. 

You, too stunned to speak, simply nod politely and excuse yourself, turning to make your leave and instead bumping right into Anthony Bridgerton himself.

“My apologies.” You mumble, your face flushed as you rush the other way, completely puzzling the man.

You practically all but ran outside, gathering your billowing skirt and making your way through the maze of a garden. Your head felt fuzzy and full, you didn’t know what to think.

“Lady y/l/n!” A familiar voice cries after you.

“Leave me to my thoughts Mr. Bridgerton!” You plead, running a hand over your face.

“Perhaps I may help? Come please... y/n we’ve known each other too long for you to dismiss me in such a manner. What troubles you? Is it the lord Norton, because if it was, I shall have a word with him.” He says, suddenly very protective of your integrity.

You snort again lightly. “Lord Bridgerton it is nothing of the sort! In fact, it is the affections of another that leave me so perplexed.” You sigh, shaking your head as you let out a breath.

“I see... and which gentleman may that be?” He asks, hiding the smidge of jealousy that dares to ring in his voice.

“It is not my place to say. Perhaps he could tell you himself, he is standing in this very garden after all.” You joke, a frown taking its place on your lips.

You laugh stiffly as he turns his head every which way, looking for the man in question.

“Lady y/l/n, there is no other man around... or is it too dark for me to possibly notice him?” Anthony asks, clearly completely clueless to what you’re explaining.

“You! I am referring to you Lord Bridgerton!” You decree, turning round swiftly to meet his wide eyes with your own troubled ones.

He remains silent, staring back at you, mouth agape. Anthony was used to such proclamations from random young women in town however you were no ordinary young woman. You were lady y/l/n. You were the lady he had so admired, so come to love. Since the moment the two of you reached an age where you developed feelings for the other gender, he was enamored by you. There was no other who smiled, laughed, joked or looked at him in such a way as you did and that held his affections more strongly than anything else could.

His inability to speak left you with a deep frown of your own, your lip quivering slightly as you bow your head in embarrassment.

“Very well, I see I was led astray. No need to fret, plenty of suitors anyway so no matter.” You say, your cheeks once again flushed.

He quickly recovers from his own daze at the sight of you turning away from him once again, carefully grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.

“Anthony we should not even be out on our own, with no chaperone in sight... it is improper, you know this.” You say, trying to find any possible way to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d started.

“Just as improper as dropping the formalities before so much as the suggestion of courtship?” He challenges, making you go silent.

“Y/n I have never once denied an attraction to you. Do you truly believe me to be such a fool that I would not see your exquisite beauty?” He asks thoughtfully, catching your attention once again, your lips parted in complete surprise at his words. Your face is crimson without the need for the rouge on your cheeks, and you laugh out of sheer confusion. 

“Honestly? Yes, I believed that perhaps your affections are captured by another young lady from the town. Possibly the young opera singer...” You suggest, laughing at your own joke.

“Sienna is... she is important to me yes but I’ve only been with her because I believed you to be promised to another, though I now see your hand is not yet taken.” He hums, smiling lightly at you.

“Lord Bridgerton... I do not have words that could respond to your advances... it seems highly inappropriate.” You say, going to turn away again, breaking the remaining hold his hand has over the cuff of your gloves.

“Y/n please drop the title. I see it as meant for those who do not truly know me however we are both very aware of the fact that you and I know each other perfectly well.” He says, gently lifting your chin to make eye contact with him once again.

“Very well, Anthony. This is highly unlike you. I’ve never seen you lose your proper language and tone before, not at public events anyway.” You state, fully aware of your close proximity to the viscount.

“On the contrary I do like to play the wildcard from time to time. And I regard you in too high a manner to pretend we are nothing less than the normal.” He says, moving in closer to you, taking your breath away.

He continues his approach, making you bite your lip with the widest of eyes, unable to speak.

A moment later you return to your senses, blinking out of your fairytale moment.

“We cannot go any further... not unless you’re prepared to propose.” You say, backing up to build distance.

He continued to stare you down, trying to convince you to return his affections with only a look.

“You should like to paint a picture.” You joke in attempts to lighten the mood.

“Y/n if that is all it takes, I shall marry you in a few months time.” He announces, pulling you into his arms and swinging you around with joy.

“What a very romantic proposal, I may just swoon.” You say sarcastically, laughing as he puts you down with his own perplexed look.

“Whatever do you mean y/n? You asked for a proposal and i obliged.” He says, making you let out a snort.

“You obliged?! As though proposing to take my hand is some sort of duty you are ‘obliged’ to do. When I said proposal I meant a truly proper one. You must ask my father for permission to propose, you must bring flowers and be in the drawing room when we announce it as official.” You explain. “I am shocked you did not think of it, you were so very insistent upon it when it came to your own sister last season.” You scoff.

“If you should truly mean what you are asking, you shall be at y/l/n house tomorrow morning to treat me as the lady I am rather than a common whore you wish to trick. Understood?” You ask before he gets the chance to object your ultimatum.

He gulps and then nods rapidly, afraid to speak in case of offending you or further entangling the web of your relationship, watching you smile back at him and walk away, back to the party and away from him.

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

The next morning...

The very next morning, all of the eligible ladies of the ton are eagerly waiting for their dukes and viscounts and gentlemen to come calling. The center of London is bustling with activity of carriages, footmen and of course their gentlemen calling on the women they seek.

You are among those not so patiently waiting. Since you’d woken, you were in the drawing room, pretending to be distracted by books and needlepoint but in reality, being completely anxious for the day to come.

After you’d left Anthony and returned indoors, the night was somewhat of a blur. Your thoughts remained on Anthony but your physical presence was there, on the floor, where another gentleman, though much older than the others who seemed to fancy you, had asked for your third dance. You agreed, not wanting to be impolite or for your mother to have reason to invoke her rath.

So, you danced with the lord Gillington, and it was all fine but you held no interest in him, nor in Lord Newton, who apparently was to stop by today as well.

When the third dance ended you faked a headache and feigned fatigue to your mother, who reluctantly agreed. There were other eyes on you and she would have preferred you have at least one more dance but you had done as she asked and that was all she could hope for.

You arrived home early but that wasn’t to say you slept well. You were restless, worrying over the possibilities for the next day. Surely Anthony would never lead you on in a way such as this for your silly little game but there was no certainty there. Still you took comfort in knowing that he was typically a man of his word.

But now, as you sat twiddling with your thumbs, you weren’t so certain. He was as he liked to put it now ‘a wildcard’ when it came to romance and you had never actually attempted such a thing in your relationship.

You ignored your nerves and smoothed down your silky day dress and took yet another deep breath, getting ready to settle back in when one of your staff enter the room. Quickly you rise to your feet.

“A gentleman is here for ms. Y/l/n.” He announces and you smile wide at your mother.

“Send him in then!” She urges, just as excitedly.

He obliges and a minute later a man enters but your face falls as you see its not who you’d hoped.

“Lord Newton.” You greet, pasting as much of a smile as you can muster on your face, taking the delicate bouquet he holds into your own hands and giving them a polite smell.

“Lady y/l/n. You look beautiful, as always.” He greets back, lightly kissing your hand. Your mother looks ecstatic but you couldn’t be less so.

You knew it best to keep your options open but it wasn’t your nature. You were interested in one man and one man alone and it was all his own fault.

“Thank you lord Newton, that’s very kind of you. Would you like to sit?” You ask, sitting back down on the chaise, patting it lightly for him.

He graciously accepts, sitting next to you. 

“I have come to ask if you should like to court, lady y/l/n? I do not wish to be too forward however I am quite taken with you my lady.” He states, smiling back at you and you don’t even have to look at your mother to know she’s likely bouncing with joy.

“I-” You start but he is quick to interrupt, something you don’t take kindly to.

“You need not make haste with your decision, I’m aware you will have more suitors throughout the day. I only wish to make my intentions known.” He says, once again kissing your hand. “I shall take my leave. Lady y/l/n. Lady y/l/n.” He says, bowing before walking out the door.

“Oh dearest! That is practically your first proposal! Of many I am certain.” Your mother cheers, hugging you tightly, laughing with joy.

You nod meekly, trying to stay somewhat happy for your mothers sake.

Throughout the day, callers come and go, bearing gifts and kind words nonstop. The room is a festival of colours and chatter and the sweet fragrance of florals everywhere. And yet, no Bridgerton caller had arrived thus far. 

“Perhaps Lady Whistledown shall write bright things about our home this week! You are getting plenty of attention from the best of the gentlemen.” Your mama says as the latest of the male callers take their leave.

“Yes perhaps this is true mama.” You say with another smile.

As you take a seat, another caller arrives and you stand yet again with a weak smile, tired of the anticipation of the days end drawing near.

“Lord Ambrose for you my lady.” The staff announces and you smile as you dismiss him.

“Lord Ambrose how delightful to see you.” You greet, taking a seat with him. In that moment, your youngest sister runs into the room, chased by your younger brother.

“Children!” Your mother warns, trying to toss them out of the room.

“It is no bother mama, they may stay. That is if it does not displease you Lord Ambrose?” You ask, turning to him for answer.

“Certainly not, I do love children, it is not a bother at all.” He replies, smiling more at you.

The two of you make chitchat for a while, watching the younger y/l/n children play together happily, passing time surprisingly pleasantly.

“I shall leave, I have had a wonderful afternoon with you my lady. I do hope you’ll consider perhaps courting me this season?” He asks and you feel your smile slipping at yet another sort of proposal.

“Perhaps yes, I shall need some time to consider.” You reply, watching as he accepts the excuse, kisses your hand and leaves.

Your smile falls, watching out the window as the sun falling slowly.

Your eyes dart to the ground when another carriage arrives and you’re quick to sit back down, your mama and your papa, who had just come in from his study, both giving you looks of confusion.

“Another caller I think. We shall see who it is in a moments time.” You grin, hope still heavy in your heart.

Your sister runs over to you and takes a seat next to you, playing with your skirt but you ignore it, watching the doorway intently. 

��The viscount Bridgerton is here for you my lady.” He says and your grin grows all the bigger.

“Send him in!” You say with as much eager energy in your voice as your mother had early on.

And so, in walks Anthony, with a large and stunning bouquet of his own and a smile you couldn’t compare to any of the other gifts you’d received today because if you even tried, the rest would never hold a chance.

“My Lord.” You smile, bowing low to him. “I do believe I said this morning.” You tease as you rise, speaking low so your parents cannot hear.

He smiles wider at your cheeky tone. “Yes, I do apologize for the late hour, I had difficulty getting anything appropriate from the florist, so many desperate suitors looking for their own and of course I needed one that could compare to your on beauty though I realize that to be nearly impossible.” He explains and you purse your lips as though thinking whether to believe him or not.

“Lord Bridgerton.” Your mother greets him, bringing your attention to the fact that you are not alone.

“Lady y/l/n, a pleasure. And lord y/l/n, it is an honor to see you again.” Anthony greets both your parents, making your glee spread that much more.

“You as well lord Bridgerton.” Your father says, standing to shake his hand.

“I actually have some matters I’d like to discuss with you my lord. Shall we excuse ourselves?” Anthony asks and your father nods. The men take their leave to the study, your little brother chasing after them, eager to listen in. Your mother tries to stop him but he ignores her and she’s clearly too tired to try anymore.

“Might I ask dearest, what it is that prompted the Viscounts call?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow.

“I believe it was Lady Danbury’s revelations after we shared a dance last night. It would seem his mother and her ladyship have noticed something that myself and Lord Bridgerton have not. Until now that is.” You smile, keeping the true reason a secret for Anthony and yourself to hold tight.

“I see...” She hums unsurely, still going back to her needlepointing rather than investigate any longer.

You remain playing with your younger sister, waiting eagerly for the men to finish their business, wishing nothing more than to be a part of the discussion.

In your own frustration and excitement, you barely notice Anthony’s returned to the room. Instead of telling you, he is mesmerized by watching you and your sister, smiling fully at the sight of you with a child. He had seen you interact with them before of course, but with the chance to finally have you for himself, Anthony couldn’t help picturing you as a mother and he couldn’t be more pleased with the idea.

Settling down was never something that had been on his mind, especially with romance actually taking part in it. He had always pictured a loveless marriage with many kids and his duties to keep both him and his wife occupied. But never in those images did he picture you as his wife. He pictured you with a prince or someone more worthy of your love, never himself. But the idea wasn’t unpleasant to him, instead it was a great joy to picture.

“Lady y/l/n, might I have a moment?” He asks and you gasp, jumping to your feet out of surprise. 

“Yes of course lord Bridgerton.” You smile, your face once again flushed, causing him to stifle a chuckle.

The two of you enter the corridor, where he takes your hand in his. Your breath hitches and your heart is pounding in your chest.

“I have done as you asked. I have made myself look a bit of a fool in your honor, I have done the thing I never once imagined myself doing, and I have fallen in love with you. Love in a marriage has always been a great virtue but I never pictured it for myself until last night. I can see us starting a family, I can see us happy together. Lady y/l/n, y/n, would you allow me to ask for your hand? Your papa has agreed so long as it is in your wishes. I’m sure your mama would agree as well. There would be no greater honor for me.” He finally asks, making you giggle with excitement, real excitement this time.

“Anthony, you are the only man who causes me true and real joy. I know you to be a good and kind man. Yes I will marry you.” You smile, giggling as he hugs you tightly, trying hard to stick to your honor.

“That is good because I did see Lord Ambrose leaving earlier and I must tell you, he is something of a cheat. Cannot be trusted.” He says jealously and you scoff, giggling again.

“I believe I am the one who has you flustered this time, by the way.” He murmurs as you walk back into the drawing room to announce the news to your family.

“I believe that both of us have that challenge covered this time my lord.” You challenge quietly just before you declare your engagement to your family, leaving him both in want of you and puzzled by you all at once, just as both of you know you’ll likely do your whole marriage.

[lunar-writes-things]

Hi, I have a request! Could you write a Mumbo x reader oneshot where the reader is some sort of moon god? Maybe one where they share their first kiss ir go on a date? Just lots of fluff + flustered, blushy Mumbo and shy reader :))

Kiss me under the Moon and Stars

Pairing: C! Mumbo Jumbo x Reader

Summary: In which you find a mortal who notices you in the dark of night

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1.8K

Extra notes: I miss Mumbo- and also- moon deity Y/n <3 Thank you dear anon <3 This takes place in season 8 (Can you tell I love season 8???)

Content warnings (If any): Just a sun god (That isn't Bdubs) trying to hit on you, He gets shut down real quick,

Eons of watching

it gets boring after a few hours

Millennia of watching and shining on people who don't recognize your brilliance

Millennia of pushing and pulling the tides for those same people and still not being told thank you

At least, not until you began to become angry, one day you snapped as the sun god taunted you once again

"Oh Y/n," He sighs, voice slathered with honey and oil making it smooth and sweet "Aren't you tired of not being recognized? For being outcasted and shamed? Don't you want to be praised? Noticed?"

"And end up like you Sol?" You snort at his offer "No thanks. I appreciate being the object of your affection but egotistical isn't my type."

"Come on love," Sol saddled on up next to you and gripped your shoulders "With me you'll be famous, A classic trope, something people will treasure for eons. Without me, no one will ever notice you." 

CRACK

Soon, Sol wound up on the ground clutching his nose as crimson red dripped and the metallic smell of blood wafted through the air 

 "WHAT THE HELL?!" He yelped and frantically scrambled away from you as you stepped closer and grabbed him by the collar of his robes 

"I dont need you," You scowled "if I wanted recognition I would do the extremes." 

You soon dropped him and shrunk down to a human size of 12'5 (365.75 cm) and walked off the clouds of where the gods resided while flipping off Sol as you fell into a part of your domain

The water enveloped you without so much as a splash and you changed into more modern clothing so as to not scare the current locals of the human realm 

"I'll show him," You grumbled as you walked out of the water and the moon rose just as you sat on a manmade mountain within a small village 

What perfect timing

Now, moving the moon isn't some grand feat

but taking it out of its orbit was difficult to even for a deity like you 

Being the moons protector and guardian was a challenge that sol had no idea

Taking care of the tides, pushing and pulling constantly

raising it and making sure it sets on time

even making sure the stars twinkle was a difficult thing

and no one notices

You'll show them 

It takes them a few months to notice. 

But one day, a man in a suit stood next to an avian with a red sweater and asked, "Hey Grian, Is the moon getting bigger?" 

This 'Grian' shrugged it off but his friend stared at the moon, at you, before turning and joining his friend 

Him

You needed to meet him 

So that night you entered his home and blessed his dreams with Visions of you and your instructions. 

If he should follow them, Great!

should he not? There will be no repercussions other than nightmares... and possibly the world ending

The next few months passed in a blur until you finally felt your power surge and when you visited the town, you saw a beautiful shrine with a moon and offerings. 

He did it

He did it 

You have to reward him 

Before he enters his home, you step in front of him and he almost crashes into your legs. He looks up with wide eyes before dipping into a deep bow and saying "o-oh! My holiness!" 

"Please," you say softly and kneel down next to him, a gentle finger caressing his cheek "No need for the formalities. Call me Y/n. Can you please get up and get ready? I want to reward you for the shrine. I don't have many followers, and those I do have aren't that devoted enough to put up a shrine. Please, let me reward you and take care of you." 

he just flushed a red and nodded before scurrying inside and getting dressed in his suit while you waited outside.  

"Just the slacks and button-up will do," You say "It's nothing fancy. Just a walk. Think of it as a date." 

There was a crash and mumbo rushed out with his shirt half-buttoned up and flushed a bright red before stammering out "a- a Date!?" 

"Oh! is that the wrong terminology?" Y/n asked "oooh- what was it? No... Oh! A hook-up!"

Mumbo looked like he would malfunction if he were a machine. His mouth opened and closed but no words came out and he avoided your gaze. 

"No- No- That was- No that was the right word." He explained and covered his face with his hands out of embarrassment "I just- oh my- I just wasn't expecting you to say that." 

a single cold finger touched Mumbo's warm cheek gently and when he looked up you had an amused look on your face. 

Goodness, you had forgotten how funny humans could be 

"Why? A date doesn't have to be inherently romantic... not unless you want it to be?" You asked a smile playing on your lips 

"I- I would- I would love it to be a date! A romantic one at least!" He exclaimed and ran a hand through his hair making it messed up 

"Okay, Give me a second." You murmured and shrunk yourself until you were just barely taller than him "This should be less threatening, and we can hold hands!" 

You carefully intertwine your hand with his and smiled softly, unaware on how he would react. To your surprise, he only gulped and swung your intertwined hands. 

"Perfect," You muttered and began walking toward an empty space under the moon "So Tell me Mumbo, what is it that you humans do? I see you everytime but never interact." 

"Oh!" He exclaimed "We do everything. We have to survive so we grow our own food, we build our home ad we make machines so things are easy for us." 

"That sounds... difficult." You scrunched up your face at the amount of work "Thats that's because I'm so used to have everything served to me." 

"It's simple actually," Mumbo said and You rolled your eyes "Well, its also a lot of work pulling the moon over our horizon and pushing it back down too. I can't imagine doing all that only for everyone to just... not see the beauty of it.' 

"Yes!" You exclaim and for the first time in centuries, it felt like someone finally understood you and all your hard work "Thank you. The moon is a stubborn old thing but its so beautiful. Albeit it only shines because pf the sun, but still its ever so beautiful and the stars shine brighter with the moon glowing around it. Oh! We're here by the way." 

You had led Mumbo to a small clearing in the nearby dark oak woods with beautiful flowers and a simple light blue blanket laid on the floor with pillows all around. 

"Sit, Sit," You said and sat down, patting the spot next to you "It's not much but I hope it can suffice?" 

Now that you actually weren't in a rush to please him, you took your first look at him. Slicked back black hair, eyes as dark as the night sky with stars in them, and a mustache that can enchant anyone. His eyes were kind, and he was very... fidgety, but he was very open. He was tall, even at the height of 7'4, Mumbo stood tall at 7'2. His voice was soft and very British sounding but comforting and reassuring. 

"You know, Gods can't fall in love with humans." You mentioned and leaned closer to him "But I'm one of the major gods of the universe, think they'll make an exception?" 

"Wh- What?" He stammered over his words and flushed a bright red "Wh- Who- What- What do you mean?" 

"I may be coming off as a little strong and maybe this is too soon, But I would love to take you on as my partner." You replied "You are kind, smart, and very adorable... but only if you would like that. I won't push too hard and I want to respect you." 

"I'd have to think about it," he said after a moment of hesitance "For now, can we just hang out?" 

"Absolutely," You grinned back 

Perfect

He passed 

usually, people would jump at the chance to date a god, they think it will give them power, money, and riches. 

They were all greedy and you hated those types of people. 

He was different. 

Time passed and soon the dawn began to break, you knew you should leave before sol saw you but you were having too much fun to care. Mumbo was smart, funny, and passionate and you had never laughed this hard in all the centuries you lived and suddenly a mortal had been able too. 

"I must take you back home," You whisper and lean against him "As the sun rises, sol comes out. He will be angry if he sees you with me. You see, I am the object of his affections but He is not mine." 

"Oh..." Mumbo looked sad to part and you wanted to comfort him but unless the stars align perfectly-

Your thoughts were cut off as he shyly asked "Can I have a goodbye kiss then?" 

When you looked at him with wide eyes he flushed a deeper red. He was flustered and he made you want to hide your face in your hands. 

"Are you sure?" You asked him and cupped his face gently

He leaned in close, you could feel his breath mingle with yours and his eyes flutter shut and he moved his hand behind your head before whispering

"Yes"

You leaned in the rest of the amount and sparks flew when you kissed him

legitimately- 

Red sparks flew from his lips as he kissed you but it didn't stop you as you kissed him harder, not wanting to forget the feel, taste, and touch of Mumbo. 

Unfortunately, you had to breathe and so did he so you pulled apart from each other and leaned your foreheads on each other when catching your breath.

"I would love to be your partner, y/n." He said softly and looked up at you through his lashes

"I will treat you to everything I can give you and everything that you would ever want or need." You replied 

Now- now you had to figure out how to put the moon back and stop it from crashing into the earth though. 

[kitmoas]

Knight in Shining Collar

Summary: Kate protects what she cares about most

Pairing: WandaNat x reader x Kate

Word Count: 3.6k ish

Warning: weapon use, some headspace play , a bit of foreplay and the beginnings of smut

Let me know if I missed anything

A/N: thank @maximotts for this one 😂 she sent me the inspiration that made me wanna write this

Training Grounds Master List

***Minors DNI*** ***18+***

Being at S.H.I.E.L.D conventions was always weird to you, having avoided them for years now, but you not only had family involved but also partners. Looking around there was always a wide variety of reactions, some pity while others were disgusted by you, and they always made you want to hide somewhere. Before you can really make your escape an arm is thrown around your neck, and you’re pulled closer to your best friend. Right, you had a Yelena involved with this stupid place too. 

“C’mon Y/N Y/L/N, come sit next to the best agent in the world.” She smirks at you as she leads you over to her table. She lets you sit down, messing up your hair as she mumbles that she’ll be right back. You were preoccupied looking at the menu laid out on the table that you didn’t notice a couple people walking up to the table, but they caught your attention as the group sat down across from you. 

You go to open your mouth but the bigger man holds his hand up, an unimpressed look on his face. “You don’t get to speak. Agent Z is one of the best out there and I can’t believe his fake daughter had the guts to show her face here. Running from the family business is pretty shameful, but then again you must take after your real father; useless and weak.” The group laughs, but you can’t breathe. Your heart stopped the moment the word fake dripped out of his mouth, but the second your father came up your brain short circuited. Angry hot tears well up in your eyes, and you’re trying to be strong and not show them that they got to you but it doesn’t matter. A single tear falls from your eyes when you hear someone clear their throat. 

Whipping your head around you come to see Kate’s plum suit, the buttons open to show off her white shirt and shiny belt buckle. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb immediately wiping away the tear. She looks down at you, eyes softening momentarily as she searches your face. 

You’ve never seen her eyes harden like they do, clear ocean blue turning almost pitch black. “Would you like to explain yourself before I beat your ass?” The group all silence, but you can tell they don’t quite take her seriously. “Love the good answers, see you guys went to a great school. My guess is you don’t recognize me, right?” Her voice is bright and light, but the smile on her face is sarcastic. 

The big guy chuckles nervously, but puts his hand out in an attempt to calm the situation. “Look kid, Y/N gets what she has coming. She knew that coming here. Some new agent like you can’t scare us. We’re veterans.” His confidence is building again, and he starts laughing with his friends. A few joking jabs are thrown between them, but they don’t expect Kate to start laughing. 

“It’s okay, you guys don’t need to recognize me. I get it, I’m new and I did do my hair differently today.” She has a cocky smirk on her face now, staring dangerously at the big guy. “Let me introduce myself then. My name’s Kate Bishop, also known as Hawkeye or should I just drop the Avenger title now so that you dumbasses will understand?” She’s walked away from you by now, walking around the table to stand behind the group. Their heads turn to continue to watch her but by the time she comes to a stop behind the big guy, her smirk has dropped from her face. The man starts sputtering, realizing that he just crossed a line, but it doesn’t matter because seconds later the archer’s fist connects with his face. 

The other agents at the table stand quickly, positioning themselves for a fight. Kate just straightens her tie, buttons her jacket, and smiles brightly at them. Reaching to grab a glass from a passing waiter, she lifts it in a silent cheers. “If you guys want we can fight this one out but I can promise it won’t end well for you, or you can pick your friend up here and walk away.” One of the younger guys opens his mouth up to say something, but the archer just shushes him. “I wouldn’t argue with me, I happen to have a lot of very powerful friends who would back me without a second thought. I also happen to have deadly aim, before you even reach for the gun that you have strapped to your left thigh or the knife that is taped to your lower back,  towards the right, I will have thrown an arrow head straight through your eye.” Sipping at her drink, her eyes twinkle dangerously as she watches them. The group quickly drags away the big guy, and you can’t help but watch in awe as she quickly comes back to your side. 

She kneels down so she’s closer to you, and she scans your face. Her face hardens some when she notices the unshed tears, and she curses under her breath. “I’m sorry princess, I should have gotten Wanda or someone to completely obliterate them. I sh—“ You wrap your arms around her neck and bury your face in her hair, pulling her as close as possible. 

The feeling of her arms wrapping around you makes you giggle, sniffling as the shock and sadness finally starts to disappear. By the time she finally pulls away to question you, your giggles are shaking your body and you can barely breath. The smile she has on her face as she watches you silences you immediately, your heart skipping a beat and your brain turns to mush. “I love you so much Pups. My protective Puppy.” She’s blushing under your attention, a timid smile gracing her face that makes you fall in love even more. 

She looks down at her feet bashfully, playing with the loose fabric on your shirt. “Well I couldn’t let them speak to you like that, no matter the consequences. You don’t deserve it and I will go down punching until everyone agrees. ” You’re smiling down at her, playing with the baby hair on the back of her neck when someone clears their throat. 

You look up to see Steve, standing with his arms crossed and a firm look on his face, looking at the two of you.“Kate, you need to come with me now.” 

Your girlfriend sighs, letting her head fall to your knee. “Yes fossil, I’m coming now.” She nips playfully at your thigh before she stands. Leaning in the two of you share a quick kiss, you mumble something about letting Natasha know so she doesn’t get into too much trouble before you send her to follow the Captain. 

Typing out a quick text to the oldest widow, it’s ironic that the younger one finally comes back. She laughing to herself as she settles into the seat next to you. The blonde as already leaned over to read your text, laughing even louder. “Oh your spit fire girlfriend really did a number on that jackass, but don’t worry as soon as he came to I punched him again. Dumb ass kid thought that the best agent in the organization wouldn’t protect her best friend.” Yelena pulls out a flask, taking a quick drink before offering you a drink. The two of you laughing as you finally relax. 

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

Half asleep in a web that Peter made for you, you can barely see the boy hanging upside down through your sleep heavy eyes. The two of you were waiting in the common area of the compound on the rest of the team to come back from a training stimulator. You were just about asleep when the elevator dings and out steps Wanda. Perking up slightly at this, you try to fight through your sleepiness to grab her attention but you notice Vision trailing closely behind her. His presence makes you grumpy so you slump back into the web. 

It’s relatively quiet for a few minutes, the only sound is your mommy pulling out some pots and you can hear a box shake. It sounds like pasta and you wiggle happily because it usually means that she’s making you spaghetti. You can’t quite hear what they are saying but you can feel the annoyance radiating off of the Sokovian as the two begin to have a conversation. A soft whimper comes from the back of your throat and you attempt to sit up in the soft web, but you just sink farther down. Grumpily you rub your eyes, desperately trying to wake up more. 

Before you can get too far in your attempt the elevator dings again, and out storms an angry Kate. Once again the hardened look shocks you, and in your sleepy nature you slide back down into the web; looking over the edge sneakily to watch what would happen. 

Wanda is moving quickly over to Kate, leaving the pasta to boil, in an attempt to calm the girl. “Now is not the time Stray, he’s fine.” The wild look in the young archer’s eyes lets the older woman know that it’s a futile effort, and sighs. “Just…just stay a little quiet. Princess is sleeping over there.” The two glance over at you, where you look like you’re laying down. 

The younger brunette just nods, walking directly up to Vision. She smiling at him, an incredibly mocking curve of her lips. “You really are a dense computer. Not quite updated yet? Daddy didn’t get you the latest software yet?” Her eyes are dark and twinkling as she watches the confusion flood his system. She’s stalking towards him now, forcing him to take steps backwards until he trips and lands on a chair. She stares down at him, smile gone. Her face is dark and lacking her usual brightness, “Listen here toaster boy, she said no to you over four years ago. She has said no to you every single time you even speak to her, so what makes you think that Wanda even wants you to look at her?” 

Kate is staring down at Vision as his mouth opens and closes, her eyebrow arching as she watches him try to phase through the furniture. “Ms. Bishop, I think it would be best if you let Wanda speak for herself. It isn’t like you are anything that is entirely important to her.” The end of his sentence barely makes it out of his mouth when the archer has a knife pulled, the tip leaning against his throat. 

The look in your girlfriend’s eyes scares you some, never having seen her quite like this. She’s twisting the tip now, anger searing through her body. “You try to take advantage of Wanda constantly. Using her grief and her emotions as a way to weasel yourself into her life, but all you are is a hollow body with wires and coding. You can never be something tha-“ The magic that wraps around Kate’s wrist, drawing the knife away from the android's throat, makes the archer stop talking. She takes a deep breath, letting the knife fall from her fingers. “Leave. Now Vision. Don’t let me catch you trying to make another move on Wanda again. It won’t end pretty if you do.” 

She watches as he stumbles his way to the elevator, her body tense until she hears the dings as he moves floors away. Trusting her gut feeling she sags, letting her body fall backwards, to where she collides with Wanda. “C’mon Бродить, let’s get you in that web with toy and you two can cuddle while I finish dinner.” The witch’s arms are wrapped around Kate, leaving gentle kisses in her hair as the two shuffle towards you. The older woman helps your girlfriend into the web, settling her softly, as she whispers some praise to her. 

Your eyes are shut tightly, have been since you realized they were walking towards you. Kate buries her face in your neck, pulling you closer to her. She nips at your neck before sucking gently. “I know you’re awake babygirl.” Her voice is muffled, but it makes you chuckle. You pull her closer and settle with the warmth of her on top of you, a whisper of your love in her hair as you kiss her head. The sounds of Wanda humming and making dinner lulling the two of you to sleep, the archer calming down after her moment of protectiveness. 

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

The guilt was dripping from Kate, just as the sweat was from her forehead, as she helped Natasha limp onto the quinjet. The widow wasn’t hurt too badly, but the younger girl couldn’t help but feel as though her injury was her fault. She had run into the middle of a group of men, wanting to save a dog, which caused the ginger to have to save both her and the dog. 

Natasha was carefully watching Kate’s face, worry as she notices the young girl’s tense body. The two settle into their seats, the rescued dog curled up across the room. Steve walks over, hands resting on his belt, with a casual smile. “Ah Romanoff, can’t seem to stay safe on these things anymore—“. The moment that the Captain takes a step within the widow’s personal, the young Avenger is standing in front of the ginger. 

Kate’s face is hardened, her muscles tense and she’s pulled an arrow and a dagger out. The dagger lays on the soldier’s throat and the arrow is close to Kate’s body, ready to stab into him. “Back up Rogers.” Even the injured dog in the corner is now standing, growling lowly at Steve. 

The man chuckles, hands going up to show that he isn’t trying to be threatening, as he backs up slowly. “Okay okay, we’ll let you two calm down from the action of the day.” 

For the next three hours, the team would try to come and talk to the two women but each time Kate would threaten them in some way. Natasha let it happen, thinking it was funny to see the rest of the team get annoyed, but she noticed that even as everyone was leaving the jet the young archer was still pushing people away. 

Dr. Cho rushes up to Natasha, used to seeing the usual strong widow striding out of a mission, but she’s immediately shoved into a wall. Kate’s eyes are black as she stares down at her, an arrow head held tightly against Cho’s jugular. The doctor stares with wide eyes, unsure what to do in this situation as she had never seen the usually bubbly excitable archer so angry. 

The ginger lets her hand fall onto the young girl’s hip, and gently wraps her fingers around the hand tightly holding the arrow head. “Kate, let the big scary doctor go. She just wants to look at my leg and my torso.” The archer’s form wavers and the ginger takes that moment to swipe the arrowhead, and pin the girl to the wall. The Russian looks directly into the almost black unfocused eyes, “Little Mutt, you’re done. Yes?” She’s stroking the back of Kate’s neck now, pulling lightly on the baby hairs she finds there. “Let’s let the doctor look at my injuries and you practice sitting all pretty for me. Be a good mutt for me, pretty girl.” 

The two slowly walk backwards, Natasha keeping her eyes locked with the young archer’s. Kate trips some as the older woman settles on the examination table, but the loud sharp snap makes her drop to her knees immediately. 

A few doctors and nurses come in, all walking swiftly around the room, setting to work to take care of an Avenger. The ginger sees Kate’s jaw tighten so she reaches out, fingers running through the dark hair. “Here, now.” Directing the archer to curl herself around the non-injured leg, she smiles down at her. “There you go my girl, lay your head on my leg just like that.” 

Kate nuzzles into Natasha’s thigh, rubbing her face slightly into the smooth leather. A grumpy whine comes tumbling out of the brunette’s mouth when she notices the ginger flinch at one of the nurse’s movements. The young girl’s movements are slow, reaching for a knife strapped to her thigh. 

A deep throaty chuckle breaks the archer’s lazy anger as the older woman shushes her, shoving a couple fingers into her mouth. Natasha clicks her tongue, prompting Kate to start sucking on her fingers. “Such a good Little Mutt, protecting your хозяин. You’re so strong and so so scary. My guard dog.” 

The name makes Kate’s mind swirl, a fog settling behind her eyes as she pushes herself closer to Natasha’s leg. A heavy hand pushes her head back to lean on her thigh, “My fearless hero, always protecting me and our girls. Your хозяин is so proud of you, proud of you on the Avengers and in your training. You're mine and you constantly continue to break my expectations. My gorgeous little mutt.” 

Kate relished in the attention she was receiving, half asleep barely awake as the rest of the doctors stitched the widow up. The archer is leisurely sucking at the fingers, eyes heavy and unfocused as her entire body leans against the ginger. She’s mumbling some, once in a while, around the digits in her mouth anytime her heavy eyes catch sight of some shoes. 

Natasha shushes her every time, a small smile spreading across her face with each grumpy mumble. The ginger nods her thanks as the medical professionals take their leave, making sure that the young girl has enough silence to fully fall asleep. 

That’s where Wanda and you find them hours later, Natasha playing on her phone with Kate wrapped around her legs passed out. You skip over happily to the widow, giving her a quick kiss as you wrap your arms around her neck. “Hi, Daddy. Are you okay? Mommy said that you’re okay, but I think I should still get to play doctor later tonight.” The mischievous smile that spreads across your face makes her snicker, rolling her eyes teasingly. 

The Sokovian is kneeling down now, whispering in the younger brunette’s ear to wake her up. Gentle praise is the first thing Kate hears as she wakes up, stretching as she tries to loosen her tense tight muscles. The moment that she fully pulls away from Natasha’s leg, you’re on her. Pouncing on top of her, giggles erupting as the two of you fall backwards. “We have scary dog privileges now!” Rolling around together, Wanda takes her spot on Natasha’s lap. 

You end up straddling Kate’s lap as she holds you, nipping at your neck. Voice cracking as you whimper out, “Puppy, please.” She forces your hips down, letting you grind against her. 

Natasha and Wanda let their hands rubbing against you two as they near you, smirking at the needy way you roll your hips looking for pressure. “I think it’s time that we get your Stray to bed, don’t ya Little One? Let her play with you, a reward for her being so good.” 

The two watch as Kate’s hands slip under your shirt, letting her nails drag down your back. Her mouth harshly sucking marks into your neck before biting at your pulse point. “My needy little chew toy wants Puppy to make sure everyone knows who owns her?” The vigorous nod makes her chuckle, breathless against your neck. Standing as she lets you fall out of her lap, the three stare down at you. “Don’t worry you pathetic chew toy, you’re gonna get to make all the noise you want tonight. Off to your owner's room, now.” The arousal that takes over your body is intense, flooding your system, as you scamper away. 

The three of your partners share a look before Natasha wraps her hand around Kate’s neck. “Better chase after her Little Mutt, find your collar and leash.” The widow tightens her hold on her throat as she pulls her in for a rough kiss. As she lets her go, she points at the ground beaming with pride when Kate automatically begins to crawl towards their room. 

Wanda pulls at Natasha hips, letting her head fall on her shoulder. “We did pretty good for ourselves, didn’t we Tash?” There is a subtle smile in her voice as the witch nuzzles her face into her shirt. 

The widow kisses the younger woman’s head as she starts slowly walking towards the two towards their room, a smile plastered on her face. “Yea I think we really did well, but you know Little Witch without you none of this would have happened. You, my love, are the best type of instigator.” The two chuckle fondly as they finally enter their room, catching sight of you holding Kate’s leash as you kneel before her on the bed. The archer smirks down at you, looking over when she hears the other two enter. 

“Shall we begin, Stray?” 

Tag list: @simpfornatasharomanoff @simplysimping999 @8bitscarlet @yourtaletotell @s1ut4nat @simpforflorencepugh1 @theperfectlovestory @katebishop-ladyarrow @widowbitessting @caroldantops

[cjsmalley]

Ghost with the Most Meets the Ghost King (Or the two Mortal Brides):

A/N THIS IS A NON-CANON ONESHOT. I REPEAT NON-CANON TO THE WISHED AWAY SERIES!

“Are you sure, Bette?” Carrie asked.

“Yeah! Grandpa Danny’s just being stupid,” Bette adjusted the ornate mirror; she had made sure it was just a fancy mirror. No spells or enchantments.

“I don’t think he’s being stupid,” Shippo defended even as he lit candles.

“I still think this’s a bad idea,” Carrie argued from her place by the light-switch, “what if he’s real?”

“He’s not real,” Bette huffed, “and we’re gonna prove it. Carrie, the light?”

Carrie sighed but killed the light and joined her cousins in front of the mirror.

“Ready?” Bette prompted.

“Yeah…” Shippo didn’t sound particularly enthused.

Carrie sighed again but nodded.

“Okay, together then. One…two…three…”

Together they chanted the name, “Betelgeuse. Betelgeuse. Betelgeuse!”

For a moment, maybe two, nothing happened.

Bette was about to crow triumphantly when two white hands came from the mirror to grip the frame.

The infamous, apparently not fictional, specter dragged himself from the mirror, flopping to the floor in a disgraceful fashion.

“Babe, you didn’t have to—” he groaned before finally catching sight of the room, the set-up, and his summoners, “you’re not Lydia…how the fuck did you summon me?!”

The kids started screaming.

Their guards charged in; thankfully they were more modern ghosts so they recognized him and could guess what happened.

The summoned ghost gave a name they could use, BJ, and the grouping was carefully escorted to the King, Queen, and Sir Foley.

BJ made it clear he was only behaving because he knew he wasn’t in Kansas anymore and just wanted to home. Everyone who knew of him just accepted that that was the best he was going to be.

“Wha—” said Danny for the trio once the kids admitted what they had done; he looked to BJ with wide eyes.

“That was very dangerous!” Sam scolded her grandchildren, “What if you had gotten something else?”

The children looked ashamed.

“Yeah, yeah,” BJ interrupted, “scold the brats later. Where the fuck am I?”

Tucker took the question, “Well, BJ. You’ve been summoned to the Infinite Realms—”

“No shit? Thought that was just a drunk’s tale,” BJ exclaimed, looking around, “fancy place you got here. Who’re you?”

Danny stood up, “I am Danny Phantom, King of Ghosts. Sam is my wife, Queen of Ghosts. Tucker is a friend, you may call him Sir Foley. The children who summoned you are mine and Sam’s grandkids. Likely, they were trying to prove me wrong.”

“Prove you wrong, huh?” BJ conjured a lollipop which he stuck in his cheek, noticing the odd looks, “hey, I had to quit smoking, Got half-alive kids and a living wife.”

Everyone looked skeeved out with Danny voicing, “How…old is your wife?”

“Thirty-two, why?”

There were sighs of relief before Danny explained that BJ’s life, or rather afterlife, was fictional to them.

“Fuck,” BJ said, “yeah, yeah, we married when she was sixteen. Then she sent me back to the Netherworld. Didn’t get back together ‘til she was thirty. Swear I didn’t touch her ‘til then. I may be an old pervert but not that way. Got remarried when she was thirty. Little ceremony. Trying to turn me human again. Little lady wasn’t a maiden anymore though, so it didn’t work. I still wanna know how your grand-spawn managed to summon me—apparently though dimensions—only Lydia should be able to.”

“That’s a good question,” Sam agreed, looking over her grandchildren again, they ducked their heads in shy shame.

“Could it be because Bette’s of our blood?” Danny offered, “She’s a Princess, granddaughter of the Ghost King. Calling for a ghost. Besides, Shippo has access to his youkai magics and we all know Gothamites are wired differently.”

“Youkai?” BJ interrupted, looking over the little boy, just then noticing the fox tail and paws, “Heard of those, never had one try summoning me.”

“Shippo’s a kitsune,” Tucker replied, “and he’s gonna grow up to be very powerful, we think.”

The kid flushed.

“I’m so sorry, Betel—BJ,” Danny spoke, “we’ll try to get you home fast…if you behave. If you cause trouble, we’ll throw you into a nightmare dimension.”

Before BJ could respond, with something along the lines of he’d behave but he wasn’t promising shit, a ripping sound sounded.

A portal was torn open some ways away from all of them; a gothic woman stomped out.

“Babe!” BJ called brightly.

Lydia Geuse stomped her way to her husband, “What. Happened. You were—”

“Some kids summoned me,” BJ cradled her to him, “all Bloody Mary like. Candles and everything. Still dunno how but apparently—” and he brought her up to speed.

“Oh my god,” Lydia bowed to the monarchs and the Lord, “I’m so sorry—”

“No worries,” Sam said, “if my husband suddenly disappeared…”

“Oh,” Lydia blinked, “oh, you’re Mortal?”

“Yeah,” Sam grinned, “one of my…less acceptable nicknames is the ‘Mortal Bride’.”

Lydia laughed, “I’ve never met another Mortal Bride.”

“Babe, the kids?” BJ interrupted.

His wife waved him down, “With their grandparents—both sets. They’re covered. Speaking of kids…”

She turned to the trio of children, dark eyes taking them in and she didn’t even question the fox features Shippo showed as she said, “That was very dangerous; summoning a ghost of Beej’s caliber.”

“We thought it was all fake!” Bette protested, “That he wasn’t real! Grandpa Danny said—”

“I said be cautious,” Danny interjected, “the Realms connect every dimension. I didn’t know if Betel—if BJ was real or not somewhere and I didn’t want to unleash a demon or something!”

“Demon?! Now see here,” BJ began, “I may be bad, even evil! But I’m not demonic!”

“How were we supposed to know?!” Danny shot back, raising an eyebrow, “The fictional you was described as both a ghost and a demon at different times! Besides, even if you’re just a ghost you’re a powerful one! Maybe too powerful to be unleashed on the multiverse!”

Before he could open his mouth, Lydia had elbowed BJ and shot him a look, saying to the children, “That just makes the situation worse, kids. You could’ve summoned a demon for all you knew.”

The three children paled impressively, especially in Carrie’s case as she was already chalk-white; they hadn’t thought of that.

“I do hope you’ll be talking to their parents, Your Majesties, Your Highness,” Lydia said to the adults.

“You can be sure we will be,” Danny gave his grandchildren a disappointed look, “not only did they disobey direct instructions not to say that name, not only did they endanger the Realms and all inhabitants, but they endangered themselves. Their parents will be very disappointed and they will have a very long lecture on Summoning the unknown.”

“Good,” Lydia nodded curtly, arm around BJ’s arm and tugging him back to the portal, “It was great meeting you! But we have to get home before the kids follow! Say bye, Beej!”

Her husband didn’t get the chance as she dragged him through the portal. Which snapped shut behind them.

“Grandpa Danny…” Shippo said slowly, “how did she portal into the palace?”

“I…don’t know…”

Wished Away 9

Tylers meet Phantoms:

“Christ, Mum,” Rose said as she took in how Jackie, Pete, and Tony were dressed, “we’re just meetin’—”

“Royalty!” Jackie squeaked. They were all done up like they were meeting the Queen at Buckingham Palace itself!

“Honestly, Mum, they don’t care,” Rose rolled her eyes, grabbing her mother’s wrist and tugging her through the console room and to the wardrobe room, “I told ya ta dress casually. Let’s just hope the Ol’ Girl has clothes fer ya.”

It took about an hour to get everyone redressed, in things much more casual but still nice, before Rose led them back to the console room.

Jackie was clearly anxious, “Are ya—”

“’m sure, Mum. Danny an’ Sam don’t do formal unless they have ta. Unless you’re an annoying subject or someone threatenin’ war, ya don’t even have ta call ‘em by their titles. They’re just Danny an’ Sam ta family.”

“Lookie what I found,” Jenny bounded from the innards of the TARDIS, holding a tiny bike helmet.

She went to her toddler uncle and put it on him, making sure it fit right, “Landings in the Realms are worse than normal ones. The TARDIS does Her best but the Realms give her…nausea? A headache? She just doesn’t do good.”

“Oh, goody,” Jackie said lowly, hugging a strut for dear life already.

“Let me protect Anthony,” Bad Wolf came out, holding out her arms; without hesitation, Pete handed his son over.

Bad Wolf settled Tony in her arms, against her chest and shoulder, and then spread her feet and crouched slightly, clearly bracing for impact; she stayed steady even as the TARDIS began Her flight.

Everyone else was thrown about the console room, the Doctor and Jenny barely holding on to work the console, but Bad Wolf and Tony did not move an inch.

The landing was rough, just as Jenny said it would be, throwing even the Time Lords to the grated floor before the TARDIS stopped quaking.

Jenny recovered first and stood up, rubbing her shoulder, to peek out the doors, “We’re in the Palace. Uncle Danny and Aunt Sam are waiting…”

Slowly, everyone picked themselves up and Rose reemerged, straightening with some popping from her knees.

Jenny led the procession out, racing to hug a man and a woman, “Uncle Danny, Aunt Sam! How’re you?”

Danny and Sam chuckled and hugged her as one, “Good, doing good. You?”

“Perfect!”

She let go of them to drag Jackie, who was hesitant, forward, “This’s my Gran, Jackie. Mum’s side, duh. Completely human. He’s my step-granddad, Pete, and Mum’s holding my uncle, Tony.”

“Yer Majesties,” Jackie tried to curtsy even though she was in trousers, “an honor ta—”

“Oh, enough,” Sam chuckled, “didn’t they tell you? We don’t do formalities with family.”

“Family?” Jackie’s eyes were wide, “I know Rose said—but—”

“We count Clockwork as family,” Danny explained, “and he’s claimed the Doctor as family. The Doctor and Jenny. Rose’s basically married in by this point. Common-law, you understand. That makes her family our family. Welcome to the Palace, your home in the Infinite Realms.”

“My god,” Pete muttered, somewhat disbelieving.

“Not a god, not yet anyways,” Danny winked.

“Where’s Dani?” Jenny burst out, “Is she still in school?”

Sam grinned, “With Anakin, in the nursery. We let her stay home today.”

“Oh, Gran! Can I introduce Tony to Anakin? Please!” Jenny nearly begged.

“Anakin’s our youngest,” Danny explained kindly, “around Tony’s age, actually. We also have a nanny looking after them, Nanny Clara. He’d be perfectly safe.”

“Well…” Jackie looked to her husband, who nodded, “if you’re sure.”

Jenny cheered and took Tony from Rose, dashing off with him deeper into the Palace.

“Jenny knows the Palace as well as anyone,” Sam assured, “and if she gets lost, she can flag down a servant for help. She’s heading directly for the nursery. It’s the most defensible part of the Palace.

Danny stood up, helping Sam, “C’mon, we can talk over food; stay close, Tylers. Doctor?”

“Rose and I can bring up the rear,” the Doctor agreed, taking Rose’s hand as they began walking.

The Palace was a gothic masterpiece, in a very literal sense, though even Sam had wearied of all the gloom and had sought artists and artwork to fill the halls, soft, plush carpets and tapestries to keep the warmth, glassworks to fill the once barred windows. Statues and busts dotted the hallways, some classical, some avant garde

Masters had given their masterpieces, their magnum opuses; they were paid handsomely of course, in either coin or material.

Oils, watercolors, acrylics, textiles, glass, all created for Her Majesty the Ghost Queen. For His Majesty the Ghost King.

It wasn’t yet a riot of color, nor would it ever be, but it was more alive.

Jackie gasped and the group stopped, turning as one to see what had captured her attention.

“When they said the family was huge…”

Ah, it was the most recent family portrait; all the children were gathered around Danny and Sam, all in formal wear.

“We…sometimes people sell the souls of children to me,” Danny started, causing her and Pete to whip around to him in horror, “I know, it’s horrible, isn’t it? But anyways, we adopt the kids. Only Dani—Danielle—isn’t adopted.”

He pointed out each child and gave their backstory.

“Good Lord, you were young!” Pete said at Damian’s story.

“Old enough to be king,” Danny shrugged helplessly, “it…it wasn’t easy, we had help, so much help, and we made mistakes…”

“All parents do,” Jackie told him softly.

“So we’ve been told,” Sam smiled just as softly, “and we’ve learned and made new ones with each kid.”

Danny coughed and continued to point out kids and tell stories, until all had been covered and then they moved on.

As they neared the dining room, Danielle and Jenny joined them with each holding a toddler.

“Oh my,” Jackie said, taking in the Anakin Skywalker; she knew who he grew up to be, or would have if he had not been adopted.

“We’re hungry, Dad,” Danielle said.

Danny waved them into the dining room where the smaller table was already set for a meal; there were two chairs with booster seats and Jenny and Danielle put Tony and Anakin in them before sitting beside them and helping them get food.

The group chatted over the meal, Jackie and Pete slowly relaxing at how easy going the Royals were, and generally had good cheer.

After the meal was done, Jenny asked, “Do we put their photo up on the family wall now? I know you’ve got me, Dad, and Mum…”

Danny chuckled, “We can, if they’re okay with it.”

“Family wall?” Pete questioned.

“We keep walls of pictures of the extended family,” Sam explained easily, “you know, like Rose, the Doctor, and Jenny. Harry’s and Neville’s parents. Damian’s paternal birth-family. The Royal Portrait is just the immediate royal family. The walls are for everyone and everything else.”

Danny and Sam led the group out of the dining room and down another hallway; the walls were plastered with photographs. Some were professional, most were candid and amateur.

A common camera sat on a small round table; a high-end camera but nothing too expensive or professional.

Danny picked it up, saying, “If Jackie, Pete, and Tony don’t mind—”

Jackie decided it would be a family photograph and dragged the Doctor in; Rose and Jenny came without complaint.

Danny took a set of pictures.

After that was done, it was decided it was time for the Tylers to leave, taking pity on the still disgruntled TARDIS.

They were, however, invited to the next family gathering.

[lostcontrolfreak]

Marketing Pitch

The art department felt very pleased with themselves as they reviewed their drafts for the Bud Max ad campaign. Everyone in the room – indeed, most of the agency – was female, and they couldn’t help but snicker at the thought of how much differently the images would be viewed by male consumers.

From the outset, the creative meetings had emphasized that men are more impulsive and less perceptive, and that the campaign should exploit that difference in order to convey two different brand messages. To most men, the print ads would actually look pretty generic, but the image of happy, attractive women in a party atmosphere would be more than enough to appeal to their base instincts – as beer advertisements always have.

The research department had confidently declared that only female consumers would recognize the campaign’s emphasis on the real defining features of the beverage: its powerful diuretic effect and capacity to partially paralyze the muscles involved in bladder control. That was difficult for the art department to believe. Throughout the creation process, it had felt as if they were making the message obvious. And their final check seemed to confirm that. It was right there in each image.

At a glance, one image depicted a mixed-gender group of twenty-somethings enjoying a poker game together. But if someone were to look just a tiny bit closer, they’d see that the women all looked triumphant and eager to complete the game, while the men were looking nervous and distracted, their chip stacks dwindling.

Look closer still, and you’d notice that only those men were actually drinking the signature product and that the one whose glass was most empty also happened to be looking not toward his companions or toward the viewer, but rather straight down at his lap, with a distinct redness showing in his cheeks.

And as if that didn’t make it sufficiently obvious what was happening under the table, a woman in the foreground laughed while holding what viewers could see was clearly a winning hand – a flush.

Another image in the series showed a group of women at a bar, drinking and having a good time as one would expect, while barely hidden in the background there was a man pushing his way into the restroom, leaving behind a trail of liquid that one might have assumed was spilled beer, if not for the look of shame on his face and the dark stain that was just visible, snaking around from the front of his pants.

Meanwhile, one of the female revelers was pulling another, somewhat sheepish-looking man in from the edge of the frame, gesturing toward a freshly opened bottle of Bud Max and inviting him to join the party.

And then there was the draft ad that everyone agreed was the best of the series – the one that would surely cap off their Sarah’s presentation that afternoon when she set about convincing the client that there really was marketing potential for products made with Fountainol. It showed a trio of beautiful women in bikinis, with a picturesque beach scene stretching out behind them. One woman filled the center of the frame while her friends leand out from either side of her, effectively boxing in the viewer.

All three were laughing uproariously, but there was no sign of what they were laughing about… unless one looked closely at the central woman’s sunglasses. It was subtle but unmistakable once a person knew what to look for: the reflection of a wide-eyed, wincing man standing in a puddle on the boardwalk, with urine still streaming off of his trunks.

The male subject was reflected in such a way as to make it clear that the rest of the image was seen from his perspective. In focus groups, when this hidden detail was pointed out, the male participants tended to experience an instinctual, sympathetic response, and several ended up trying in vain to cover wet spots on their crotches when they were dismissed from the room – no Fountainol required.

Some of the female participants fell into fits of laughter over that, and sessions were paused so they could collect themselves. The researchers noted that some of them took a suspiciously long time to regain their composure and then emerged from the restroom looking just a little breathless and unsteady on their feet. Although they didn’t mention it in their notes, some of the researchers took similar advantage of the delays and then returned to work with a renewed sense of commitment to the campaign, the product, and its potential to bring sadistic pleasure to so many women.

Realizing that dream, however, would ultimately depend upon Sarah’s presentation.

In the boardroom, surrounded by female executives, she laid it all out very neatly, recapping the trials that had been conducted and the silent switch to Bud Max at certain college venues where the male population could mostly be counted upon to drink whatever was placed before them. All the women involved in product development had had great fun with its rollout, but few of them could imagine it getting traction in grocery stores and bars. Then again, imagining its place in the market wasn’t part of their job description.

To the extent that men were buying Bud Max, they seemed to assume it referred to a stronger flavor profile or higher alcohol content. A glance at the label would have proven the latter assumption dead wrong, but that didn’t stop consumers from blaming their wet trousers on excessive drunkenness the morning after they enjoyed a can or a case. Of course, it rarely took more than three or four “accidents” for most consumers to make the connection between their particular choice of beverage and their greater-than-normal lack of control.

Naturally, men tended to stop buying it then, although there was a minority who actually began buying more, viewing it as a challenge to overcome the product’s unusual effects. There was an element of competition to that, and it prompted the advertisers to sketch out a separate campaign to market the beverage as adding higher stakes to college drinking games.

But the emerging campaign was much more focused on capturing the female demographic that was too often neglected in alcohol sales. But that wasn’t to say they were planning on convincing women to make it their own beverage of choice. Instead, they sought to promote it as women’s beverage of choice for men.

“Say a woman has been at the bar for a while, drinking one of your other delightful products,” Sarah instructed the clients, getting to the heart of her pitch. “And say a man sidles up and starts bothering her, as men do. Normally she might indulge him in small talk and try to convey her disinterest in a friendly manner. But why should his lack of impulse control dampen her evening… instead of his?”

The clients chuckled knowingly, and Sarah went on: “The beauty of your new product is that it provides female patrons with the perfect tool to not only deflect men’s advances but have a hell of a lot of fun doing it.”

She paused to highlight the art department’s mock-ups, and began to elaborate on how they were intended as the first phase in a multi-stage campaign that could transform how women think of the brand.

“The campaign that we’re presenting to you today is primarily designed to get women’s attention and to secure them as a captive audience. Afterwards, we’ll start putting out more narrowly focused communications, teaching women how they can quietly order a Fountainol-enriched beverage for their male companions, at participating bars. ‘Bud Max’ might set off alarm bells, but when bartenders have been trained, it will just a matter of dropping an ‘e’ from your brand name. Order a man a “Bud-whizzer” and in almost every instance either he won’t notice, or he’ll correct your pronunciation and prove that he truly deserves to be humiliated in public.”

One of the clients gestured to get Sarah’s attention. “That’s all well and good,” she said, “but what if the man in this scenario refuses the drink that’s offered for him? Regardless of whether he knows about Bud Max, what if he just prefers Coors?”

“Believe it or not, our research shows that that rarely happens,” Sarah replied. “Most men – when they’ve been getting a cold reception from a woman they’re trying to hit on – are just so thrilled by the attention that they’ll accept any drink that’s offered to them. Many of them are also intimidated by that kind of assertiveness, which they’re not used to seeing from women other than their wives and girlfriends.”

“Do we know which bars will be participating?” another client asked.

“Good question. There’s a growing number of women-owned establishments that are affiliated with the Maternal Order for Monitoring Male Indiscretion, Defiance, and Offenses to Morality. They will be only too happy to stock your product and train their staff on its effects. Some are already equipped with changing rooms, while others don’t even offer restrooms for men, so it’s not as if they aren’t accustomed to cleaning up puddles. If we get your product into their hands, MOMMIDOM will probably find ways of using it that we haven’t even dreamt of yet.”

“Oh, I’m vaguely aware of that organization,” the client said with interest. “I didn’t realize they’d developed such a presence.”

“Well that’s strange,” Sarah said. “Now I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but they’re a client of ours, as well. I guess we need to do a better job of spreading their message to high-powered women like yourselves. And what better place to start than right here? I think that every woman in this room could be a real asset to their mission.”