#just to be clear i do agree this book sucks and its evil

[gay-strawberry]

part 2 the never king shitpost ! heres part 1

vane:

winnie:

pan:

bash:

kas:

vane:

tink:

i will come back (maybe) when i read more and meet more characters | update. i did (part 3)

[duckprintspress]

Why Query Letters are Good Actually 

Part One of a Two-part series of guest posts by Alec J. Marsh.

Hello, it’s me, Alec. I’m a new editor to Duck Prints Press and the resident corporate shill sellout. I love Duck Prints Press and their ethics (and will write an opinion piece soon on why they rock and you should submit to them). I also…. love traditional publishing. 

I’m sorry! I know this makes me a trend-following sheep. I know it’s a hot take in the indie pub crowd. Traditional publishing absolutely has its flaws, and I could go on at length about them. I’m still aiming to get my novels traditionally published. I want to be able to find my book at a Barnes & Noble and be nominated for a Hugo. Sorry not sorry. 

One of the worst parts of traditional publishing is the arcane hoops you have to jump through to participate. As anyone who has poked querying with a long, tentative stick knows, there are many requirements, and every agent’s website uses slightly different phrasing, and it’s a nightmare to navigate. It’s an extra nightmare if you’re neurodivergent and desperately seeking a clear, simple list of expectations. Unfortunately, the basic requirements are there for a reason. A GOOD reason. Learning the skills required to put together a good query package will serve you well, whether you want a ten-book deal with Tor, to sell hand-stapled zines at the local convention, or anything in between. 

So let’s get into it! 

The first thing you need in any submission process is a query letter. What is a query letter? In short, it’s a 3-5 paragraph essay about your book, yourself, and why a publisher should buy your work (and therefore why an agent should agree to represent you). You need to tell the agent the genre, the plot, and why this book is special. They are excruciating to write, because yes, you need to condense your book down to 300 words, maximum, and sell it at the same time. 

But imagine, for a moment, that you’ve walked into Ye Olde Barnes & Noble. There, on the end cap, is a cool new fantasy book you’ve never heard of. The cover has a sword and a snake on it, and you like swords and snakes. But how is it different from the 20 other books with names like A Court of Swords and Snakes that have come out in the last five years? The first thing you do is pick the book up, turn to the back cover, and read. 

You know what’s on the back cover? 

Paragraph one: In a stunning tour de force, ACOSAS takes you through the glittering world of naga politics… (A teaser sentence)  

Paragraph two: Princess Arya has always wanted to be a dancer. But when the evil northerners attack her kingdom… (A paragraph about the main character and the central conflict of the book) 

Paragraph three: Alec J Marsh lives in the Pacific Northwest and has never seen a snake in the wild. (A biography of the author) 

Guess what you just read? A query letter. In many cases, what’s in the blurb is actually pretty close to the exact query letter the author originally sent to their agent. Yes, really. Sometimes a query letter makes it from agent to editor to publicist to final copy.

They’re that important. 

But Alec, I hear you say, I’m not planning to get trad published! Why do I need to do this? Well, indie and self-published people—you will need to write cover copy for your book. And you’ll almost certainly need to write it yourself. The good and the bad part of self-publishing is that you do everything yourself. Less meddling (good!), but less help (bad!). And here’s the hard truth: absolutely no one will spend a single one of their hard-earned dollars on “sex babes get pounded by space aliens” if the back cover says “lol I suck at summaries, I promise it’s good :)” It’s useless, and it’s disrespectful to the buyer’s time and money. 

And that is why query letters are good, actually, for all writers, and are worth practicing how to create!

So go out there and sell your books, and you’ll accidentally write your query along the way. 

In Installment Two…now that I’ve convinced you that you should write a query letter, I’ll go over how to actually, you know, do that. Coming soon!

[wuornosblog]

6-8-92

Dear Dawn, OK! Now comes in Arlene: Alright after I’m out of medical lock-up. (February 1st 91) Which occurred around 11:30 A.M. 2 hours later I am given a letter from her by a female guard. Now mail does not begin to be distributed until 4:00 or 5:00 in the evening. But I receive this around 2:00 P.M. . . . The letter does not seem to be “post marked”. But I do not recognize this untill weeks later . . . tyria’s letter was (also) handed to me early in the morning. With no stamp (or) post mark . . . Which led me to call her up on the phone that was tapped. All our 11 phone calls where recorded. As she worked as an Agent for the cops. To get me to confess. Why I actually did! Is because (over the phone) she threatened to kill herself. Although thoughts to turn myself in. Did come and go. Just to clear her anyway! I wasn’t in the market to do it then, though … So anyway the letter speaks about her being a “Royal Christian” . . . And may have wound up like me. If it hadn’t been for Christ turning her life over to him Also that she NEVER, EVER, reads (or) listens to the News. But while she was in the hospital visiting her Father who just had “open heart surgery done”, she noticed my picture in the paper and circumstances, and my eyes she said. Seemed to show innocents. And she feels God had her pick up the Newspaper. And reveal this to her. And for her to come to my aid and help if she could. She leaves me her phone number. To call collect. I DO … We talk a good three hours! I tell her all about the Bullshit that has been going on. I tell her about the contract. She asks me to send it to her. And she’ll get in touch with her “lawyer in Utah” And have him check it out and see if its Bogus or not. I still haven’t fired Cass and his evil ass gang! Its the 1st. I fire them verbally the 3rd. So about 3 weeks later I learn the contract is Bogus. But all along think it is by common sense the way its drawn. Anyway After re-reading it over and over! So that’s why I don’t fear firing Armstrong and Jackie too after I do Cass. Which is legally done the middle of February as well . . . Now heres the clincher Dawn . . . The envelope has no post mark . . . And how I figure this . . . got through is as such . . . Is that while Jackie was in Daytona at the Marriot for 4 days to see Russel Armstrong on contract, She also seen her ol’ friend Arlene . . . and lets her in on the money, as well, if she’d use her Christian ingenuity—and influence on me . . . (hoping) (I’d) spill my guts out about my life and history along the way to her. So Arlene wrote a letter and Jackie gave it to Russel, he got it through the Jail, probably small time pay off, And guard hands it to me! . . . Anyway it also seems strange a woman who owns 35 acres. 33 horses wealthy as hell would suddenly decide to come to my defense cause of Gods pushing . . . By the way! I feel Arlene knows I’m feeding you all this information and has refused to send me stamps! She doesn’t want you to know! . . . And I’ve got about 10 letters I need plus more to get out to you. So please send me a couple books of stamps if you can afford to. I want “YOU” to hear it “ALL”. Then you can tell the world! Someday and get rich. I’d love it. You deserve it. These scum balls don’t! . . . Anyways I feel that Arlene still came in for Jackie and pretended to act like she doesn’t know anything about the contract. Because cass [and the others] could loose their jobs over this. Working movie deals (while) being P.D.s. And Jackie also is scared (that I would learn) the contract is, “Bogus.” And would seek a lawsuit! . . . So Arlene excepts contract for me to send . . . So now that shes agreed to this. Shes really gets me on her side! But you must realize the pills had me messed up . . . I’m to furious to think coherent . . . Shit. More in next letter. Love ya Gal Lee SORRY DAWN 4 pgs SUCK I KNOW!

[diamondcitydarlin]

Not shipping related because I'd like to know why there are people that maintain Mobius was a villain. A VILLAIN??

lol so this one actually kind of get- that's not to say I agree, but if you think about the narrative solely from a perspective of 'only things that I deem are good and enjoyable can happen to my fave', as these people are, then yeah it's not difficult to get that reading particularly if you made your judgements in ep 1 and then refused to see any nuance to Mobius beyond that. It's a very common approach to media in fandom, given that so many people (esp in comic book fandoms) have long term favorite characters (like Loki) that they've latched/projected on to. A villain, by its most basic definition, is any character that works against the main hero/protagonist's motivations.

So yeah, if you're approaching Mobius with the moral barometer of whether or not he gives Loki in particular everything you deem Loki deserves, then yes. It makes sense you come up with that interpretation. It makes sense you'd ignore that Mobius is a nuanced, morally complicated character the same as Loki and that's part of what makes them get along so well. It makes sense that you'd ignore that Loki kind of latches on to Mobius for this very reason, because he's neither 'all good or all bad' as indeed Loki says.

While I tend to defend Mobius under the explanation that his working for the TVA was an act of kidnap and brainwash and I don't know how fair it is to condemn him for something he's technically never consenting to, I understand the arguments that he still, brainwashed or no, contributed to the pruning of innocent variants and took pride in it. I understand that his interrogation of Loki puts them both in a kind of horrifying position if thought about critically.

But hasn't Loki done some pretty fucked up shit too? While technically possessed? No one making these arguments wants to condemn him for those things, but they definitely want Mobius to be held accountable. Maybe it's because they feel Loki has already been punished enough, and I think that on its own is valid. I mean, all of this is valid, take away what you will.

For me though, the moral ambiguity of both characters is part of what makes their dynamic so compelling. Had they been given the proper time and arc as a duo to explore these moral complexities better, I think more people would've seen it doesn't have to be a matter of cut-and-dried 'this character is good' and 'this character is evil'. Moral ambiguity and complexity could have easily been one of the themes of the show, had they carried through with things set up in ep 1 and 2 and if they show just generally hadn't sucked ass.

I also get that this is kind of hard to grasp, given that we're talking about superhero media, the pinnacle of heroes vs villains, good vs evil, and that tends to be the basis from which all MCU discourse must come; 'who is the good guy that I like that I think deserves all the things' and 'who is the bad guy who I DISLIKE and must DIE', not really aided by the fact that tumblr has long been the place where we have to divide everyone, fictional or no, into groups of oppressor and oppressed. And sometimes it is that clear cut, but sometimes it isn't.

As with so many things the show could have done, there was potential here to explore more of a morally nuanced take on comic book/superhero media and, by extension, the complexity and imperfections of being human. We might have more clearly seen Mobius come to grips with who he was at the TVA and what that means for his own self-perception now that he knows he was complicit in something that maybe wasn't good or fair (or was fascist as some people say, which fair) and that would have been an opportunity for him and Loki to grow closer; because Loki has been given more time and opportunity to see the moral complexity of people, that no one is entirely good or entirely bad, whereas Mobius had been doing his job at the TVA without any doubt or question as to whether it was right and good. That's stuff that could have been sussed out better. Think themes and discussions they have in The Good Place and how the characters in that show are morally ambiguous as they grow and learn more about the fluidity of morals and ethics, what it means to be a 'good' person- or as much as one can be.

This got long, but it kind of ties into the feelings I have about where fandom discourse is currently at as a whole. There's still this pervasive belief that any characters worth being liked/depicted as sympathetic must also be justified in everything they do and must subscribe to real life morals and ethics regardless of who they are, where they are, and what makes sense for their personal motivations to be. It's just kind of a...pit of discussion that I wish we could move on from because it stilts so much.

So, idk, one can see Mobius as a villain if that's the takeaway they must have, but it's the very reasons they consider him one that makes him and Loki such a powerful combination. Also, it doesn't seem Loki is on the same page of 'Mobius is a villain', he actually adores and trusts him implicitly even at the end of the whole garbage fire story and at that point there's really no reason for him not to. So.

[scrawnytreedemon]

Victor Frankenstein and Frustration: a Not-Essay, because I can’t structure for shit.

Alright, I’ll try to keep it as clean and concise as I can, but at the end of the day this is a sorta-heat-in-the-moment thing I’m writing while all the ideas and motivation are in me yet. I will be jumping around alot of topics, as this covers alot of ground, but I can’t say I’ll do it with grace: for this, I apologise.

I’ve noticed a trend in online lit fandom, not just on Tumblr, to condense Victor’s character to something roughly following “arrogant, ineffectual and selfish weenie who failed horribly at parenting, who ought not to be taken seriously in any significant way, largely in-due to his constant whining“ --In other words, a right twat.

And here’s the thing: largely, I agree.

However, what I take issue with, I suppose, is largely how this is all framed.

See, fandom has a tendency to sort characters into boxes, and then pick favourites or bête noires from that selection; this is helpful for the largely memetic(as in, shareable,) nature of online spaces; but where I think this thinking falls short is that it tends to divide casts into More Good or More Evil, with little room for nuance.

I think you can see where I’m going with this.

Victor Frankenstein, by all accounts, is an incredibly frustrating character to witness; he gets way in over his head, isolates himself from his loved ones, leaving them worried, deems those ambitions failed, hides from them, then when shit starts hitting the fan, he takes initial actions to try and mitigate the consequence, hits a roadblock, either stops their or chooses an even worse option, someone else gets hurt, he whines, rinse and repeat until the final act of the book, as the stakes get higher and higher and his mental state deteriorates more, and more, and more. If you look at this entirely from an outsiders’ perspective, as you, the audience, being subjected to his moaning time and time again, it can wear on you and your sympathies-- Needless to say, I Get It™.

I think, however, it needs be remarked that Victor is also just some guy. 

What I feel is often missed, is that even before Victor goes to university, he has just suffered the loss of his mother, with little time to recover, and that all of this is being told in hindsight, on his deathbed.

When Victor took on, all by himself, at twenty-two years old, not even letting anyone else know what he was up to, the monumental task of creating life, and then finding that life horribly botched, he did not have the perspective that what he created was equivalent to a newborn child-- For all he knew, he might have animated an actual demon. It isn’t until two years later, after the death of his little brother at the hands of said demon, the he’s even remotely made aware of this.

Victor had worn himself out over the course of several months, physically and mentally, to this one task. He was not equipped to deal witht he consequences. I do not say this to downplay the weight of his actions, or the horrible mess of events that come afterwards, but to state perspective. Victor does not have the hindsight we have at the time of this act. I cannot stress this enough. As much as I enjoy Deadbeat Dad Vick jokes, I get the feeling many people actually view the story from this lens, and hold Victor up to that standard.

Then there’s the trial of Justine: a horrible, useless, unneeded and avoidable affair that ends in even more senseless death. This is where alot of people’s sympathy for Victor runs out-- For more than understandable reasons. He failed to act accordingly, to share the information he had, deeming it to be either dismissed instantly or for himself to be put under scrutiny; it’s clear he’s passionate about Justine’s innocence, but he cannot push himself past his fear and doubt, and ultimately, it ends in her death.

It is a horrible, horrible moment, and one that cements the tone of the story from there on out.

These are two key events that largely colour this image of Victor so prevelant online; and it certainly doesn’t help, what with fandom being almost aggressively left-leaning at times, that Victor comes from a place of privilege; he is almost tailor-made to push all the buttons of fandom sensitivities.

Let me elaborate.

A key feature of Victor’s character is his complete and utter inability to ask for help; no matter how dire the situation. Victor feels, that, despite and even because of his incompetence, that it is his cross and his cross alone to bear. Any inolvement from others, such as Clerval when he heads to England, is hesitant and highly discouraged, even when he wants nothing more than to partake in the company of his loved ones, after all he’s been through. While it is also heavily coloured by the anguished sentiment that borders on self-absorption so much of the time, I think it is also worthy to examine this too.

Victor’s tendency to indulge in self-pity and self-loathing is nigh, if not entirely, all-consuming; it pervades the narrative to a painful degree, particularly as it comes from his recollections; it is often exhausting to read through, and nigh unbearable if you already hold a disdane from his previous actions; but here’s the thing I think most people miss,

Victor is depressed.

I don’t mean “ooh, he’s so sad, leave him alone 🥺,“ I mean the guy is fucking depressed, stuck in a constant cycle of attempting to make do but failing, hating himself even more, letting it consume him because he at once feels like he deserves to be consumed and it’s the only thing he can do then and there to soothe to pain as shit gets worse and worse.

Victor Frankenstein’s internal monolgue is a prime example of deep-seated, far-gone depression, and I say this because I myself have experienced and do experience this. Depression is fucking soul-sucking, man; it turns you in on yourself, makes you feel entirely undeserving of love and compassion, leaves you feeling like you must, have to, deal with this entirely by yourself because it is your cross to bear.

Depression is so often self-flagellating and pointless, leaving the subject drained and often largely unable to experience the world outside their own miserable little bubble.

Victor is so wrapped up in this soul-sucking guilt, attempting to fight his own ineffectuality and in doing so only furthering his own ineffectuality, refusing to ask for help, that he ends up putting the ones he’s trying to protect in further danger as he tries to scramble a hodge-podge solution to the problem he created and couldn’t have even begun to forsee its consequences at twenty-two years old. It is a painful, painful example of how if only he reached out, if only he told someone, was honest, all of this could have been avoided, or at least mitigated.

And I think that’s the thing with Victor.

He’s a kind of banal evil-- If such continuous stumbling can even be considered so --He is an example of every day self-isolation and refusal to let anyone else in ballooning to such a degree it ends in distaster.

People are far, far more willing to forgive Adam for his transgressions-- And I say this as someone far more sympathetic to his plight, what with the absolute abandonment he faced at the hands of humanity --Despite their far more horrific consequences; in many ways, they’re attributed to Victor’s failing; which isn’t entirely untrue,

But I have to wonder, if alot of this also comes down to the fact that Victor’s wrongdoings are so human; leaving someone in your care behind; not speaking up in cases of injustice; being self-involved; again, the constant whining. In a way, it’s the sentiment that in stories a horrible person is often far more bearable than an annoying one.

That doesn’t even begin to touch on how much of the bemoaning might largely be and often is directly post-hoc regret colouring all his previous actions. This, above all else, is a cautionary tale to a fellow idealist in the hopes that Robert Walton doesn’t Fuck Up the way he did. Victor stresses his regret and his failings and his misery time and time again because he wants to protect Robert from a similar fate; a fate that ultimately ends in his death.

Victor Frankenstein is a study in frustration; in audience frustration, self-frustration, narrative frustration; it seeps into every corner of the story.

I am not trying to defend Victor Frankenstein as a person; he is flawed; and he’s meant to be flawed. Victor, at the end of the day, is a deconstruction of the Byronic hero-- Of Great and Powerful Men on the Fronteers of History™-- And most importantly, I think, a deconstruction he himself undergoes. Victor eventually alerts someone, a Genevan magistrate, is doubted just as he feared, and then runs off to take revenge into his own hands.

It takes the death of Elizabeth Lavenza to do so.

Victor is a flawed, miserable man, but not an evil one. That doesn’t mean he deserved to have his life crumble around him.

He could have done better. Should have done better.

And he knows this.

His entire arc is about how he knows this.

Victor dies knowing this.

Him being unlikable doesn’t make him a bad character. Him being unlikable is part of the character; and in a meaningful way.

God, I don’t know how to end this. I’ll probably come back and edit this many, many times.

I guess I’m just tired of people flattening characters just because they’re not particularly endearing.

[skipps-writes-for-gojo-satoru]

A short thread I found about Gojo's character that helps shine a light to how caring he is:

https://twitter.com/musikawu/status/1376984416485007363?s=19

Also, I actually just realized this recently after rewatching JJK that Gojo got super attached to Yuji really quickly. Gojo not only got very angry on his behalf but went out of his way to ask Nanami for help in caring for Yuji when he's supposed to be the strongest sorcerer. And at that time, Gojo made it clear to Nanami that he didn't ask him to do so due to Yuji's potential as a vessel. Gojo asked Nanami for this favor as an adult who wants to see the growth of a young man. Gojo was very precise in telling Nanami that he was looking not at Sukuna and Yuji's power, but at Yuji himself as not only an individual, but a child that needed nurturing and care. Before Yuji's death, Gojo had already even made preparations to have Yuta take care of Yuji cause he knew something might happen to him- even more development is that despite what Gojo says about himself, he's aware of his own flaws. What he appears to be on the outside is nothing like what he truly feels on the inside. He doesn't delude himself into narcissistic behavior that makes him unable to ask for help. He asks for help willingly and of his own accord- Yuta couldn't even fathom how the strongest sorcerer would face a problem he couldn't solve on his own, but Gojo does. Gojo is smart enough to know he needs to rely on others to move forward, and relying on someone means putting a certain amount of trust there. Gojo puts just as much faith in other people as he does himself, and the interesting part is that while it's more admirable to go out of your way to protect someone else, Gojo never brags about that. He only "brags" about things that will annoy the other person, but really he is only saying a commonly known "truth" in order to rile people up. It may sound like bragging- which it sort of is- but Gojo saying he's the strongest is not a lie. Him saying "I alone am the honoured one" is not necessarily a lie either. People don't call him the Strongest for nothing.

In fact, even more interestingly enough, besides Gojo, who includes Geto when people talk about the "strongest?" Despite being the definite "strongest," Gojo is the one who constantly says "We are the Strongest," not the other way around. He's also mature enough to recognize and point out other people's strengths, such as Mei Mei's, saying she is too strong to cry.

If Gojo truly was a narcissist, he would have mentioned everything else he's done for people, like stopping Megumi's sale to the Zenin clan and getting the Fushiguros financial aid. He could brag about being persuasive enough to save Yuji from execution or even saving Yuta from execution- Yuta becoming a special grade sorcerer soon after Gojo saved him is something you can easily brag about- but Gojo doesn't brag about his personal achievements at all- not in the way that demands respect from others, at least. Gojo only "brags" to tease others lightheartedly and to tick them off a little- and I don't think the demeaning things Gojo says to the higher ups can be used to show he's a narc because *many* people in Gojo's position would have said (and done) much, much worse things.

Also, when Yuji died, Gojo had become so emotional that even Shoko, who had been there since Gojo's youth, had commented on how unlike him it was. People irl really thought it was because Gojo couldn't use him as a weapon against the higher ups anymore, but reading how Gojo had told Nanami that he saw their relationship as an adult and a child makes me think differently. Something very important in the Light Novel is when Gojo tells Nanami that his students, because they are sorcerers, will soon have to "face the evil intentions of sh*tty humans." Not only sorcerers, but "every person has to bite into that bitterness, know what it means to give up, and pile up despairs to become an adult." People like Gojo and Nanami, Gojo had said, are capable of withstanding and releasing the "poison" that runs through the heart. However, the youngsters are more sensitive in that age, and "one poison could destroy their hearts" (I'm sure Gojo was thinking of Geto as he said this). That's why he wants to leave Yuji in the care of Nanami, "an adult who understands other people pain." Not that Gojo is unable to understand pain, but in the earlier events of the Light Novel as context, Gojo is faced with a mother who is mourning the loss of her child. While Nanami tries to gently comfort her and secretly find information on the cursed spirit at the same time using vague words, Gojo's words are straight forward and to the point, which startles the mother. It's not necessarily a bad things, however- Gojo's words had ended up allowing the mother to see her situation as it was without delusions, a tough love situation, so to speak, and the two were able to confirm their intel to be correct. It was Gojo who helped her to heal quicker by allowing her to realize her problem through his cutting words, but I'm sure Gojo realizes his "bad personality,"- which isn't really so bad in some cases- isn't for everyone. Gojo is very aware that people react negatively to his behavior, even if he is unable to understand just how deeply they despise him (*cough* Utahime) In that way, Gojo shows he cares very much for Yuji's mental growth, even in that short period of time, by entrusting his care to Nanami, who he comments would do a much better job than be could.

Therefore, I think Gojo might actually get attached to people more quickly than it might seem like. He also thinks very deeply and no matter how he acts, he's able to recognize others' strengths and acknowledge his own flaws- this is a key part of his character because he doesn't delude himself in his position as the Strongest. To those who think Gojo sees himself as a God, he is far from that behavior, and he is self aware enough to know that people need more to grow than just power and strength. Unfortunately, it seems most people either despise Gojo or are too enamoured by his looks to see past the surface of the more boisterous and childish part of his personality. That's likely the main reason he finds it hard to commit, too.

(More ranting 😭. There was this reddit post saying Gojo's narcissistic enough to be a more evil villain than Sukuna, that he would actually end up becoming the villain- like really??? And so many people really agreed that he's incapable of feeling true emotions that it's absurd. I really can't believe they even think Gojo has a God complex. Someone with a God complex, like most of the other disorders, wouldn't be able to admit their own flaws, let alone ask for help! The fact that Gojo even admits to having a "bad personality" is another tell against that. Sometimes I wonder if people are just projecting, but I also realize it's hard to differentiate between being an ENTP and being a sociopath because of how- on the surface- they seem so similar! But if you just dig a little deeper to look at their roots, they are so completely different it's a wonder how you'd get confused in the first place)

- 🤔

OH I COULDN'T AGREE MORE 🤔 anon here spitting FACTS. Yeah alot of people think gojo's a narcissist with huge ego but that ain't the case at all as explained above. I mean he was put on a pedestal since birth he gotta have some ego in that but that fact doesnt blind him. yeah sure he's the strongest but just one line "I'm the strongest" doesn't mean he's bragging it may sound like it but he's just stating facts he is indeed in fact the strongest in the jujutsu society. He knows he can't do everything on his own I mean why did he even become a teacher in the first place? Becuz he wants to make the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers stronger! No one asked him to do it he himself wanted to be a teacher even though at time he sucks at it.

He genuinely wants to do good not just for himself but for others as well. As interesting as the concept of Gojo becoming a villain it will never happen. Don't judge a damn book by it's cover even if it's a very attractive one hes just such an interesting character its shame most people don't see that.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Four

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 4 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: reference to past sexual assault (very minimal); misogyny/sexism; mention of Infinity War deaths/Endgame deaths; abusive parental relationship; canon violence; heavy drinking; reference to cocaine use

Word Count: 13,900+

~

Tony’s Cabin, 2023, 8:56pm

      “Uh…”

You and Steve stared at the little girl in front of you, bouncing up and down with excitement as she held up one of Tony’s repulsors, the safety on but pointed right at the two of you. Steve instinctively pushed you behind him, the obvious fact being that a blast would most certainly kill you and not the super soldier himself. You were having difficulty holding in your laughter, watching as the girl kept poking at the metal, awaiting its true power. 

“Can I have that, Morgan?” Steve asked, his voice raising ever so slightly to try and seem nicer to the kid. 

“Talk to her with your regular voice, Steve. She’s five, not a toddler.”

“Yeah!”

Now you laughed at Morgan’s declaration of approval, still standing behind Steve with your hands braced on his back. 

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes playfully, “Alright, Morgan. Can I please have that back? It’s not a toy.”

“But daddy left it for me!”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, but he didn’t expect you to use it so early! Wait until you’re like… ten, then you can look through his things!”

“Y/N, ten?” Steve gave you a bewildered grin, eyes bright and laughter restrained. 

“Okay, twelve.”

His shoulders sagged with a heavy laugh. He reached over and took the chance, grabbing Morgan’s wrist softly and ejecting the glove from her small hand. 

“There we go!” you cheered, stepping out from behind Steve and scooping her up in your arms. Morgan started laughing loudly, kicking her legs to try and escape your hold. “Ah, don’t kick me!”

You had offered your time to Pepper whenever she needed it. You didn’t expect that she would call so early asking for a huge favor, her husband’s funeral not even four months ago. But you didn’t hesitate and packed an overnight bag, reassuring her that nothing would explode on your watch. On your way out of the temporary safe house, Steve had caught you just in time. A quick question of your future whereabouts and he was joining you, a tiny twinge of guilt in his chest from not seeing Tony’s daughter in so long. He was one of her godparents after all, just after Happy and Rhodey, beating out the third crowned position from Bruce. 

He had been hurt by that initially, asking why he wasn’t even considered. 

‘Bruce, the first time she comes into your room and stands over your sleeping body to let you know she had a nightmare, you’d scream.’

‘I wouldn’t be angry, just scared!’

‘Okay, after Cap here, you get custody.’

‘Oh, yay. Drafted fourth.’

Steve was happy to go see her on such short notice though, racing back up to his room to gather some overnight supplies as well. But you didn’t think anything of it - it was just a godparent wanting to see his godchild. 

“Ouch, that hurt,” you laughed and placed Morgan down in her bed. “Nighty night time.”

“Daddy said he left things for everyone, not just me.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up with curiosity, a sudden interest to know what his gift was exciting him. He had already given him the shield back... but then Thanos broke it. Maybe, another shield? No, T’Challa had already offered to send him a new one.

“Ooo, that’s interesting! I wonder if he got me that pretty bracelet I saw in that department store window that one time,” you gushed, pulling the blankets over Morgan. You fluffed out her hair, smiled at her, and told her goodnight. 

“Night night!”

Both you and Steve called out from the doorway of her bedroom, “Night night!”

Several minutes had passed before you brought up the prospect of secret gifts again, knowing Steve was just as interested as you were. 

“Want to go find them?”

Steve immediately stood up, clapping his hands together and giddy with excitement. “I won’t tell if you don’t!”

“Deal.”

You searched everywhere - living room, the garage, kitchen cabinets - even racing into the master bedroom, stealthy and secret, shame rising as you carefully picked up items around the room. “This feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Steve chuckled from outside the door, “Hurry up!”

But you found nothing. There was only one more spot to look - his office. You almost didn’t want to intrude any longer, this being his most sacred space, but the mere chance of Tony giving you a gift from the afterlife made you extremely happy. So you and Steve searched, stacking and restacking random papers and pushing away gadgets and books in the bookshelf. Finally, a small opening in the third shelf alerted you of your mission success. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you cheered, reaching in and pulling boxes and clipped pieces of paper, all different colors and sizes, from the compartment. They were labeled with various names - Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, Clint, Thor, Steve, Nebula, you - and Natasha. 

Steve sucked in his breath, his gasp similar to yours. “He got these before…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, handing Steve his labeled box. It was light blue, a white ribbon delicately wrapped around it, and with a cute little red ribbon with Steve’s name on it. It wasn’t big, but it was more than enough. 

“Open it,” you said. 

Steve shook his head, “Let’s open ours together.”

You agreed to his terms, taking your folder into your hands. It was one of those same art folders you had when you bought some new planners or notebooks. It was black, custom-made it seemed, as it had your name on the front in gold, cursive writing. 

On the count of three, you both opened your presents. 

Steve pulled out two sets of dog tags from the box, the sound of them clinking together reminding him of the times he would hug his fellow soldiers on the battlefield, cheers of victory mixed in with the smell of sweat and dry blood. He read the names on the metal. 

‘Steven G. Rogers

987654320 T42 O

Brooklyn, NY. P.’

‘James B. Barnes. 

32557038 T41 42 O

R. Barnes

Shelbyville, IN. P.’

He had not known they recovered his dog tags, faintly remembering clutching them tightly as he flew the plane into the ice. But SHIELD must have kept them for the museum, and Tony had recovered them. Bucky’s, however, were lost as soon as Bucky fell from that train. They were more rusted than Steve’s, almost as if HYDRA kept them underwater or stored for the majority of Bucky’s sentence. But no matter how Tony had gotten them, he was eternally grateful. 

“Wow,” Steve said, clearing his throat. But you were too caught up in your reading. 

      ‘Target whereabouts discovered mid-May of 2017. Only T. Stark and N. Romanoff approved for mission.

      Transport at 20:00 hours. Target(s) confirmed and exterminated at exactly 0802 Pacific Standard Time.’

You choked on the sob that suddenly broke through, hand instantly reaching up to cup your mouth. Steve put his tags back into the box, shushing you to get you to calm down. “What is it? What’d he get you?”

Four pictures accompanied the short report, each face crossed out with red paint. A tiny laugh escaped and tears of joy started to flow. To say Steve was confused was an understatement. 

“He… he got me justice.”

Steve took the file from you, reading over every word to somehow understand what you meant by justice. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and he looked up at you for more explanation.

You brushed your hair back and rubbed at your cheeks, the smile on your face now straining. Whether it was a sudden change of mind or the closure of your trauma was just that satisfying, you told Steve exactly what Tony and Natasha had done for you. 

“After I joined you guys in New York, Fury sent me on a mission to infiltrate and bring back information about this dude my father was trying to literally destroy. But I had to play both sides  - the good and the bad.”

Steve set the file down, his full attention on you.

“I got the information but for some reason, it wasn’t enough for my father. I had forgotten to get the most vital piece, something he thought I would automatically know,” you scoffed, your smile faltering at the next part of the story. 

“I cost him ten million. And to teach me a lesson, he let these men do whatever they wanted to me. Anything.”

Steve’s breath hitched as he understood what you meant. And it was no longer a mystery why you had been planning to kill him ‘again’ after everyone came back from the snap.

“I returned to the compound in such bad shape. I only told Natasha. She cleaned me up, she took me to med-bay in the middle of the night, she brought me breakfast in bed,” you chuckled at the memory, hand reaching out to hold Steve’s. 

“And Tony’s gift was murdering the men that hurt me.”

Steve let a few tears slip himself, his hand gripping yours tighter. “Y/N, if I would have known-”

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know, though. I thought only Natasha knew. She promised me she would take care of it. I just didn’t think she would actually find them.”

“I think we know that Natasha could find literally anything and anyone,” Steve said. 

You agreed with his statement, a smile returning to your face. 

You jumped from your sitting position and went back to retrieve Natasha’s gift. “Hey, should we?”

Steve eyed the small, black box in your hand. He sighed as he walked over to you, eyes returning to the box. 

“It was meant for her.”

You frowned, “Yeah, and I’ll ask Pepper if we can give these to everyone else.”

You paused and shook the box near your ear. It felt heavy in your hand, and the contents gave a little jingle. 

“But this one was for Nat. I think she’d want us to at least see it.”

Steve chuckled and just nodded, awaiting the reveal. You pulled the ribbon and opened the box, surprised that Tony had given her a piece of jewelry. “Oh.”

Steve took the bracelet from the box, oblivious that the movement would unlock the charms from their heavy chests. In a matter of seconds, charms of similar size but different designs dropped to encircle the silver band. You inspected them in Steve’s hand - a red/white/and blue shield, Mjollnir, a pair of wings, two arc reactors, a singular arrow, a silver arm, a spider, an emerald heart, the letters ‘W’ and ‘V’ intertwined, a black cat, an ant - and your symbol, an intricately carved silver charm no bigger than your thumbnail, of your face. Tony knew no specific object or symbol was tied with your Avengers status, no one had ever given you one, but this was perfect. 

“Wow,” Steve whispered, examining each charm closely with a lazy smile on his face. 

“We were her family. This was an ode to that.”

“What do we do with it?” Steve asked.

You just shrugged, “Frame it? It would feel wrong just taking it for myself.”

Steve agreed. Later that night when Pepper returned home, you showed her what Morgan led you to. She let you keep your gifts and take the others, absolutely loving the idea of framing Natasha’s bracelet in the new compound being built. 

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The bright light from the open windows hadn’t hit you as suddenly as the random throw pillow that connected to your face, startling you with a quick gasp and causing you to choke on your spit. You snapped up, belly down and hair wild, eyes still half-lidded as you searched for the aggravator. And he stood there with a stupid grin on his face, already dressed in his stupid old man clothes, and stupid blond hair perfectly pushed back. 

“What the fuck was that for?” you tried to yell, voice cracking at the end and just the slightest hint of drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. 

“I ordered room service. Plus, we have to leave in an hour.”

You grabbed as many pillows as your one free hand could hold, the other still tucked into the pillowcase below your head. You flung them wildly, none actually hitting the super soldier directly. His chuckle pulled a deep groan from you, and no longer wanting to look like a fool, you stumbled out of bed and pushed passed him roughly. 

“You could have woken me up the same time you got up.”

“But you looked so peaceful.”

His sarcasm was not helping your souring mood. Steve headed over to the monitors to turn them on, already setting up the morning video chat with Bucky and Sam. “Do you always sleep like a mounted spider?”

You flicked him off, “Leave me alone so I can take my morning piss in peace!”

You slammed the door and made your way to the toilet. Now, you were no morning person. But it was simple enough for you to crawl out of bed with only minimal protest when your awakening was a peaceful one. Having a pillow thrown at your head while mid-dream was practically excruciating and no one, not even the grandest morning person in the world, could possibly awake happy from that. And to top it all off, you couldn’t even remember what you were dreaming of. Just another thing to blame Steve for. 

After you had done your morning routine and slipped into a really comfy outfit, the breakfast finally arrived. You muttered a quiet thanks to Steve for ordering your favorites and damn him for knowing you preferred waffles over pancakes and a variety of creamers to choose from, and quickly filled Bucky and Sam in on what the plan for the day was. 

You had been on missions with Steve before, but no matter how many times you regrouped in the mornings, you had never actually seen him wake up. After your rude awakening, you wondered at what point during sunrise he opened his eyes - ‘cause you’ll be standing over him with a pillow of your own. 

“Torres has the air footage scheduled for around five today, then he’ll link you to the camera for the remainder of the mission,” Sam clarified. 

“Is it possible to link earlier?” Steve asked. 

“Not unless you can get the Wi-Fi password of the estate.”

You chuckled, still funneling mouthfuls of waffle into your mouth. “So, we can hack the Pentagon whenever we feel like it, but we can’t hack into my father’s estate without the Wi-Fi password?”

Sam cleared his throat, “You are so lucky this is a secure line.”

“Wait until she finishes her breakfast and her head will be screwed back on straight,” Steve joked, taking a long sip from his tea. 

Almost immediately, your phone dinged with a new message. You angled your phone away from Steve but your smirk was enough to alert him of a side conversation happening under his nose. 

Bucky: Ouch, I wouldn’t mind if you hit him upside the head.

Y/N: he threw a pillow at me to wake me up :(

Bucky: hit him

Y/N: bet

“Stop talking about me over the phone.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve grumbled, the rough sound catching Sam’s attention as well. His eyes flashed back and forth between the two of you - Steve desperately trying to catch a quick glance at your messages, and you leaning away from him with thumbs moving at a rapid pace. 

“Y/N, how you feeling?”

You put your phone down and pretended to not notice how Steve was trying to get a glimpse of your screen. 

“A little queasy, in all honesty.”

A myriad of emotions were present and coiling in your body, each trying to sprout and bloom and gain their five seconds of fame. And for the past several years, it was easy to downplay their true power. Because the power they held wasn’t one of distressing strength, but rather one that tip-toed to the front of your anxiety driven worries. It planted itself there, up front, but ever so silent. For it to finally meet its match, to possibly be freed of such a coil - well, you were more worried about not succeeding in its erasure than its final blooming. 

“We’ve come up with a system to make sure we both don’t go overboard or to tell the other that we’re alright,” Steve said, eyes on the monitor but hands loading bullets into your trusty handguns. 

“Alright, that’s good,” Bucky spoke, finally. He typed away on his keyboard, “Give us a word we all use in case we need back-up immediately.”

“Mm, you should ask Steve. He loves his safe words.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Something Avengers related? Or something no one would ever say?”

“Pick anything you want, just don’t let it be awkward to repeat out loud,” Sam joked. 

Steve pondered for a few seconds before he settled on his chosen word, a hint of a smile forming. “Widow.”

You nodded, “That’s sweet. She’d like us using her alias for a dirty little safe word.”

You huffed suddenly, shoulder colliding with the carpet, the realization that Steve pushed you from your chair causing you to stare at him with your mouth hanging open. “Hey!”

“Steve, every single day I accept your fate from her murderous hands,” Bucky grumbled, Sam’s loud laugh causing the speaker to give a quick halt of static. 

“She’s okay- hey!”

You flew across your chair and onto him, lunging your body as your main weapon in taking him down. You both tumbled to the floor, the sofa chair you collided with scraping along and pushing the coffee table with it. A lamp shattered on the floor right when you wrapped your arm around Steve’s neck and hooked your legs from underneath him and around his waist, his back to your front, both his arms coming up to tug yours out of reflex. 

“Yield, you little shit,” you grunted, the grip of your arm remaining loose on purpose but your legs tight, heels now digging into his slim waist. 

Steve groaned, both from your pointy heels and the sudden impact his body made with the ground. “I’m letting you win.”

“You seriously got a mouth on you.”

You let him go anyway, choosing to save your strength for the mission and not waste it on a petty little fight. Besides, you could always smother him with a pillow in his sleep. 

“You two done?”

Both you and Steve stumbled getting up, faces back in your teammate’s view as you smoothed down your clothing and wiped at your foreheads.

“Now that that’s over,” Sam continued, clearing his throat. “The only task for today is to get a feel of the place, establish a legit backstory providing you some leverage, and to swipe those ID’s.”

“Got it,” you acknowledged, standing again to begin hooking your weapons in discreet locations in your clothing. 

“And we’re not responsible for that broken lamp so it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

     California really wasn’t like any other state. There was a vast difference from Northern and Southern, the difference being the amount of green fields visible. In Southern California, the mountains and desert areas took up most of the landscape, with an industrial complex here, a growing city there, and then nothing for a good ten miles. Since most of the landscape was below sea level, the atmosphere was almost always dry, modest dust storms forming only to quickly pass a freeway and disintegrate once it found the other side. It was more urban, more lively with people. But Northern California, even if it experienced the same weather patterns as the south, was mostly humid during the winter season. The mountains here were covered in lively agriculture, livestock roamed freely in the gated areas near the freeways, and the overall environment provided a rural look. 

 And the differences just stood out to you, your excitement for the livestock starting to annoy Steve as you kept pointing out every cow you drove past. He threatened to stop the car and dare you to tip one. 

“So, how did we meet?”

Steve chuckled, “We’re coworkers, Y/N. Thought that question was obvious.”

You whined, “Steve, we have to put some drama into it! How about we say we met during one of Tony’s parties after Fury assigned you to this?” 

“And what? I asked you to dance?”

You leaned over your seat and poked his arm, teasing him. “Would you have asked me to dance?”

Steve shrugged, “I mean, sure.” 

He glanced at you and then back to the road. “Can’t we just be honest? I like the way we met.”

 You pouted, “The way we met is a matter of national security.”

   “You brought that thing back to an unguarded planet?” Loki seethed, his voice still a whisper as he followed Thor through the hallways of Avengers Tower. A tower he had been prisoner of for a few weeks now, but would soon be released from once Thor decided to return home. Besides, it had been more than a year since his unfortunate attack and after thousands of apologies, brainwashing excuses (which were true!), and quite a few long labor hours equivalent to Midgardian community service, his leash was extended somewhat. 

“How am I the more level-headed one right now?”

Thor grumbled in response, now on his hands and knees as he searched for the tiny animal that had already eaten its way through the plush of the interior walls. “It couldn’t have gotten far. And how was I supposed to know the oxygen levels here would cause it to go crazy?”

“You couldn’t. In fact, I don’t know why it’s here in the first place!”

“Keep screaming, Loki. I bet that would make it come to us quicker!”

Loki was about to come up with another quick quip, but was interrupted by a quiet mumble down the hall. 

“Oh?”

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you stared at the two brothers - one sweeping the floor on all fours and the other ducked down to scream into his brother’s ear. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Now, don’t be alarmed, Agent. But I may have misplaced my dog.”

“Dog?” Loki tilted his head, hands now cupping the side of his head in disbelief. 

Your eyebrows shot up from his reaction, “Not dog?”

“It’s… an animal from Asgard.”

“Okay, what does it look like?” you asked, now more interested than ever. 

Thor cleared his throat and rose to his feet slowly, “Like a dragon.”

You stepped back, almost tripping over your left foot. An involuntary laugh escaped from your lips and you brought a hand up to try and stifle it. “You brought a dragon into the tower?”

“He brought a dragon back to Midgard,” Loki clarified as he walked over to the wall and pressed his ear against it. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s much worse,” you agreed. “Fury’s gonna shove his foot so far up your ass-”

“Yes, yes. I know what awaits me. Now, help us find it!” Thor begged. 

This wasn’t how you expected to spend your first day as an Avenger. After all the training and promoting, the paperwork and oaths, you thought you would have a pretty chill afternoon. Arrive at the conference room, get the name badge and a rundown of your new field suit, and meet the rest of the team. Freshly nineteen and energetic as ever, you accepted this as a test. Find the dragon, make a good impression. 

It only took a few more minutes before you three stumbled on an otherwise empty hallway, staring down the colorful creature as it licked one of its paws. 

Your eyes widened, “It looks like an alebrije.”

“You have these creatures on your planet?” Loki asked, surprise written over his face. 

“Nope, alebrije’s aren’t real. They’re fantasy.”

“Nevermind that, help me catch it!”

Loki began shushing his brother, hands swatting his massive shoulders in the process. You leaned down to the floor and tapped it with your fingernails, hoping the nice gesture would cause the creature to meet you halfway. 

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed. “Can you come here please?”

The creature raised its head, colorful eyes on full display. Similar to rings of fire, but face like a fox, and fur as soft as silk. It titled its head, interested for only a second, before it kicked back and rushed toward the three of you at full speed. 

“Oh, shit-!”

As he was the closest, Loki pushed Thor to the wall and lifted you from the ground. But before he could throw you out of the way too, the creature leaped. Loki shielded you with his body, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up as the creature kicked his back and sent the two of you flying through wall after wall. Loki was taking the force of it all, his chest angled in a way to protect your head. It was about ten walls you two flew through before you landed in what seemed like conference room B… or C… or A. Loki rolled you over and groaned in pain. You landed on your back, bright lights blinding you as you tried to adjust. Then a figure came into view as your blurry vision cleared. 

You blinked rapidly and stared up at your new Captain. You smiled, a bit delirious, and raised your hand up for a handshake. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, new recruit!”

Steve just stared, eyebrows scrunched, an expression resembling a scowl and bewilderment painted on his face. He took your hand in his and shook it. 

“Forgive us, Captain,” Loki spoke, coughing as he turned over. “But you might want to get that shield of yours.”

    “When did we become a couple?” you continued once you agreed on the ‘party meet-and-greet’ as your previous answer. 

Now, this was a question Steve was wondering about since before you mentioned the necessity of such answers. Although he didn’t fantasize about being your significant other, he did wonder what possible event could jumpstart it. If anything, and he would take this to the grave, he assumed a line would be crossed during a particularly tempting mission. Bucky had admitted to him that on one mission, and Steve promised to take this to the grave as well, Bucky had to kiss Wanda to keep their cover. The feelings subsided soon after the mission was over, but Bucky confessed to real feelings developing. So if Steve had to bet, a particularly tempting mission. 

“When we were searching for Bucky?”

You nodded, “That works. We can say the fall of SHIELD basically led to us to realize how weak the system was and how we could easily manipulate it.”

The road veered off to the side, now dirt and unevenly layered. You checked the directions Torres gave you just to make sure. 

“And when is my birthday?”

You didn’t expect Steve to answer so quickly, and to get it right. Perhaps he looked over your file and remembered, because you were certain only your little friend group knew it. It was Bucky, it had to be him, the little shit, he told- 

“Surprised?”

“A little. How do you know it?”

“Nat. Who do you think sends you those chocolates every year?”

You were overjoyed, really. “Wha-? Natasha said she did it.”

Steve smirked, “She covered for me.”

“Why?”

“Because for five years after the snap, you and Nat did nothing for yourselves and did everything for everyone else.” He had been witness to the two of you pulling all-nighters, washing the sheets of your fallen teammates as if they were going to return that weekend, celebrating their birthdays in secret with a small candle and a prayer. Moving from the compound and into his own apartment was hard enough, but seeing his remaining teammates wallow in cursed self-determination was worse. So, he asked Nat about your birthday to send you chocolates and a lovely handwritten note, careful to write in a font different from his natural one, and he would fold tiny paper airplanes and leave them around the compound where only Nat could find them, providing her a sense of playfulness in her busy day. Little joys to make up for such an impact.  

“If it makes you feel better, I sent gifts to Nat and Bruce, too.”

But because Bruce had no forwarding address at the time, Steve settled for quick text messages here and there. 

“And here I was thinking I was special.”

Steve laughed at your statement. He reached into the middle compartment to grab the mics you would be wearing. “By the way, make sure to hide this behind your neck. My mic will blend in as a button.”

You inspected the flat, button-like mic, awed by how intricate their design was. “They connected to Bucky’s?”

Steve clipped his onto his shoulder, the camouflage effect throwing you off. Yup, you loved science. “Yeah, they record everything and immediately send it back already transcribed.”

You unfolded the sun visor and watched how the mic picked up the color of your skin and blended naturally. “Remind me to send T’Challa and Shuri a gift basket.”

“And more.”

The estate was exactly how you remembered it. Modern and simple all at once, a brown exterior to easily blend into the surrounding forest, and massive front gate that only opened with a specific code. You leaned out the window and typed it in. There was no speaker this time, probably evidence of newly installed cameras. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve muttered, pulling into the long driveway and following the brick road. 

It truly was. Even from where you were, you could see into the mansion as the walls were all practically made from glass. The walls in the back were normal, however, as that’s where most of the business was conducted. There were no swing doors, only large and heavy double doors made from cooled lava rock. And even though your father was a very organized man, the house was littered in trinkets of all origins: professionally stuffed exotic animals, roman and oriental statues, porcelain eggs, multiple pianos, and first editions of some of the most popular books in the world. There wasn’t any set theme for this house, but it was screaming ‘money’. 

Steve parked the car away from the others, careful to leave enough room around it to ensure an easy escape if needed.

“Remember what I said - play the part. Leave the smart mouth to me, they know me. It’s what they’ve come to expect.”

Steve clicked his seatbelt and sighed heavily, “I apologize in advance.”

You gave him a small smile, “Nothing to apologize for, Steve. Like I said, this is a mission. Don’t stress about it.”

He shook his head, “Still.”

The sincere look in his eyes sent a tingle down your arms. You cleared your throat, “I feel dirty saying this, but know your place. You may be a Captain but you’re not manning this boat.”

For some reason Steve felt that he truly needed to apologize in advance. For the past several years, it wasn’t entirely real to him. He had not been directly involved. But now that he was here, parked and staring at you - the one person who had a first hand account of the horrors inside - he needed to make sure you understood he would never actually hurt you, or you him. “I trust you.”

You removed your seatbelt and opened the door, “I trust you, too.”

It was windy today, the ruffles from the trees almost disguising the labor coming from the back. You assumed they were still building the reception area. Steve jogged over to your side and hooked your arm in his, his body tenser than yours. Someone opened the heavy doors, immediately swallowing the oxygen for miles with merely their presence. You couldn’t help yourself from a small grimace, lips spreading into a straight line as you forced any other expression besides hatred. 

Seda, standing at barely six foot and a smug look plastered on his aging face that worried even Steve. This was the man that had shot you when he was on the run - the man that would most likely do it again. 

Seda quickly stepped down the stairs, “Y/N, so lovely to see you again!”

You let go of Steve to walk ahead, arms extended to match the idea of a grand entrance. “Really? Because the last time we saw each other, you shot me in the gut.”

Steve swore he saw Seda’s upper lip twitch. “You hold too many grudges. I was just following your father’s orders.”

You rolled your eyes and finally came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. “Obviously.”

“And I’ve finally got the chance to meet Captain America! You’re much larger in person.”

No matter the acting skills one must obtain for this line of work, it was still obvious Seda was speaking through clenched teeth. He scanned Steve up and down, somewhat intimidated.

It was such a sudden shift, one you obviously knew was coming, but the deepness of Steve’s voice still caused unnatural goosebumps to rise. “I get that a lot. Helps in this business, though.”

Seda let out a low chuckle, “I would think so.” He turned and instructed the two men who had followed him out to reopen the heavy doors.  “This way.”

Steve tried not to gawk at the amount of decorations and old-timey artifacts he swore should belong in a museum. So much furniture, so much history that shouldn’t mix but somehow worked. And was that… was that a stuffed polar bear?

“So, how you doing, Seda? Besides the usual,” you asked, hooking your arm back with Steve’s. 

Seda walked with his head held high, only tilting his head downward when giving a silent greeting to those who walked by. You tried to memorize faces or see if there was anyone you recognized. But your father barely kept the same team for more than a few years. They either left voluntarily and luckily, or were simply never heard from again. 

“Excited for the wedding. Jackeline has been running around nonstop on her finishing touches,” Seda responded. 

You huffed out a laugh, “I bet she has. She used to have a scrapbook that outlined six different wedding themes.”

“And I haven’t seen the end of it.”

Only a few more twists and turns and you were finally near the familiar hallway that housed your father’s darkest work. The interior design was purposeful, no windows and no cameras. Steve unhooked your arms, opting for a more formal presentation between the two of you. Seda was difficult to please, but your father was near impossible. Better to not have his hands all over his daughter during their first meeting.  

“Hey, what’s the wi-fi password? I’m expecting a few important emails today,” you asked before Seda opened your father’s office door. Steve had to restrain himself from blessing the ground you walked on. Bless you for remembering. 

“‘Guadalajara’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sending the password to Torres as quickly as you could. 

It wasn’t the grand entrance you expected, truly, but you didn’t expect to see your father simply chilling behind his desk signing a few papers. He usually paced, was in a random meeting, or on the phone. Here, he was just… strangely normal. 

He looked up, eyes locking with yours for the first time in seven years. “Now, I haven’t seen you since your little weekend trip to Jalisco!”

Yeah, since you had me shot. 

Stepping into the office, the smell of cigars was heavy. Musty and daring, enveloping you like the times it did before. But now you had Steve - sweet Steve whose warmth you could feel behind you. 

You shrugged, “I’m not traveling much outside the country these days. Too much shit going on.”

Your father stood up and let out a dry laugh, “No lie about that. Seda was telling me how loose the borders were when half the world croaked.”

“Emigration was common, yup.”

He smiled at you, walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. You did your best not to tense your muscles. “I wish I could have been there. You guys made millions those five years.”

You swore you heard Seda scoff near the corner of the room. 

“It’s about time we met! Ernesto Vega,” your father introduced himself, holding out his hand for Steve to take. 

It was instant, the change, and you found yourself pushed softly to the side as Steve stepped forward. “Steve Rogers, sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Your father was practically beaming, “Y/N isn’t giving you a hard time with all the business, aye?”

Steve chuckled, “None at all. She steps back when asked.”

Okay, maybe he was a better actor than you took him for. 

“I can’t believe you even have to ask,” your father hummed, glancing back at you with a disapproving look. 

Steve shrugged, “More like ‘ordered.’”

It was scary how easily Steve was making your father laugh. “So, she listens to you? I wonder what that’s like.”

You interrupted, scoffing quietly. “I have literally done everything you’ve asked.”

And without glancing at you this time, your father quipped. “Everything but learn how not to complain.” 

You rolled your eyes and met Seda’s stare. He always enjoyed the torment your father caused you. When he ordered you do something sketchy and you objected, Seda always had a front row seat to the slaps and harsh language spit in your face. He had a way of bringing up the abuse in almost every conversation he held with you - like it gave him some form of sick satisfaction.

“Regardless of my daughter’s inability to listen, I was still surprised when she named you as her partner.”

“The whole hero game was getting boring. I needed excitement.”

Your father agreed, “Don’t we all?” 

Before he continued, he squinted his eyes at Steve and scanned him once more. Almost like he was double checking his initial choice. 

“And you’re fine with breaking the laws of the country you’re the mascot for?”

“America has changed over the last hundred years. Trust me, I should know.”

Steve was answering exactly how you two practiced. You couldn’t help the small tinge of pride that it ignited. 

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re older than me. I mean, look at you.”

“The positives and negatives of being America’s science experiment, sir.”

“But here you are now. Working for me.” Your father stepped back to sit behind his desk again. “I’m very happy.”

“Likewise, sir,” Steve replied as he shuffled closer to you, trying to not seem so suspicious. Last time Steve wanted to crawl out of his own skin was when he was barely being introduced to the new world. Times Square really was a concrete jungle, his and Bucky’s old apartment building had been demolished in the fifties, and inflation… don’t get him started on inflation.  

“I’d like you to meet my two friends.” Your eyes widened. No, you weren’t supposed to meet them today. You hadn’t planned for this. 

“Friends and competition alike.”

You tried to keep your voice steady, “Shouldn’t you warm them up before you invite them in? They’re gonna take one look at Steve and freak.”

Your father motioned for Seda to open the door. “Then prepare your speech quickly.”

Before you or Steve could come up with a game plan, your father called out to the new arrivals. “Amigos! Me gustaría presentarles al hombre detrás de toda mi operación.”

The men summoned were completely different from the last time you saw them. Given you saw Ramirez long before the snap and White even before then, change was destined. Ramirez was skinnier, no more protruding stomach, wrinkles almost nonexistent and eyes lively. He hadn’t disappeared with half the world, but one of his daughters did - so getting her back definitely helped his overall health. White, on the other hand, aged overnight. His hair was now gray, eyelids sullen but eyes wide, and his nose was tilted awkwardly, like a surgery to counteract the powder he sniffed. You couldn’t remember if he was dusted or not.

“Tienes que agradecer a mi hija por esto.”

He did not just give you credit for this. 

“No fucking way?” Ramirez spoke, almost like he was out of breath. 

Curse your father for not preparing these two. You quickly reminded yourself where your gun was hidden in case things got out of hand. 

White stepped forward, circling you and Steve as if you were displayed in a museum. “Do we each get our own Avenger?”

“Maybe in the future. But this one’s mine.”

“I’m an Avenger, too. But okay,” you mumbled, offended by his singular statement. Steve’s lip twitched slightly but the look he threw at you let you know he wanted to smile. 

“¿Cómo lo hiciste?”

“Ya sabes cómo es... La gente simplemente sigue mi ejemplo.”

You decided to speak, anything to get White to stop inspecting you like some ancient artifact. “Steve green lights the routes and passages. He’s been a main player all along.”

White squinted at you, “And how long has this been going on?”

“For almost ten years,” you answered. 

White shook his head in surprise, eyes wider than you thought possible. His accent was more slurred than you remembered. “And you’re telling us now because-?”

Your father cut in, “The world is still in ruins. If we combine our forces like we discussed before that unfortunate disappearing act, we’ll be unstoppable.”

This seemed to catch Ramirez off guard, as if he truly didn’t remember the conversation your father brought up. You shoveled his reaction deep into your memory. Maribel would have to look into it.

Still, Ramirez played along. “And you’ll be loyal to us, too? Not just Ernesto?”

Steve nodded, his posture straightening. “I would.”

Now, the two new arrivals looked at you. You raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t look at me. I do what he says,” you admitted, nodding your head toward Steve.

They seemed to accept that answer. 

“And he’s here to help us move the shipment this Saturday?” White asked.

“That’s the plan,” your father confirmed.

It was time for Ramirez to circle you both. But he did so more casually and without the intent of kicking you in the shins, it seemed. He went to sit on the couch nearest the door, away from the crowd. You could sense Steve tensing up, so you turned your body slightly to the side so you could see Ramirez through your peripheral.

“How do we know we can trust him? What those stars and stripes have to do with us?”

“You hear that Captain?” your father asked, leaning back in his chair with that twisted smile that always made your stomach drop. “Time to prove your loyalty.”

“Are you seriously going to haze him?” you spoke, a hint of a teasing tone on your words. It was time to liven up the conversation, for both your sake, or else your father was sure to go overboard. His hand… where’s Steve’s hand?

“Does she speak for you?”

Steve stepped forward, “No, she doesn’t.”

“Prove it.”

You should really punch your chest to get your heart beating again. Was he going to make Steve try the product? Record something as blackmail? Kill someone?

“Wha-” you began, but were immediately silenced as an arm wrapped around your neck and held you in place. The coldness of the gun’s muzzle tickled just below your chin, still and steady, but nonetheless terrifying. Your father had held you in this position before - hell, most of his men did when asked. But it wasn’t any of your father’s men threatening you under orders - it was Steve.  

“Obviously, I’m not going to kill her. You need her for this whole operation to work. But a little roughing up never did any bad.”

He removed his other arm but kept the muzzle under your chin, grabbing both your arms skillfully and pinning them behind your back. 

You had never seen your father so pleased. “Why are you dating my daughter?”

Steve chuckled and clicked the safety. No, no. 

You scrambled to open your right palm and squeeze what you could reach. Steve seemed to understand right away, and he loosened his grip and placed his other shaking hand into yours. You squeezed tightly. 

“Now, that’s like asking a man why he breathes air.”

No matter the position he currently had you in, you still praised his acting skills. 

“Perhaps. But I know my daughter. Why you?”

Steve kept a firm grip. “Luck?”

“It seems so. Let her go.”

He released you immediately, clicking the safety back on. Seda was in front of him before Steve could place it back on his person, grabbing the gun and emptying it. Seven rounds tumbled and scattered to the floor. This seemed to please both men, as Steve wasn’t presenting himself with an empty threat. He really could have killed you. 

“I’m assuming Y/N has told you stories about me. About my men.”

The floor beneath you was uneven, it seemed, but once your mind stopped playing tricks on you, you settled. You shot a quick glance to Ramirez, his eyes closed and hands clasped in his lap. He seemed distant.

“Only the ones worth repeating, sir.”

“Oh? And which are those?”

“Orders and the like.”

“So, you don’t know much? Nothing interesting? Nothing that could make me seem like the bad guy?”

The room grew hot, whether it was the natural air or the bubbling anger boiling in your stomach.

“Like I said, sir. I ask her what I want to know and she tells me. Other than that, it’s your call.”

The room fell silent as they debated their other questions. 

“How much do the other Avengers know?”

You were about to respond when Steve spoke instead. “Oblivious. I’m still the stars and stripes for them.”

White scoffed, “Those symbols don’t mean shit in this new world. Ridiculous of them to still assume you’re the same man.”

Steve’s jaw tensed, “Exactly right, sir.”

This seemed to be enough for your father. He stood from his chair, walking over to shake Steve’s hand again. So righteous and personal, almost like he hadn’t just ordered the assassination of an old friend a few days ago. “I like you, Captain. You’ve boosted my business, you’ve handled my daughter, you’ve made me a lot of money.” 

He looked away from Steve to look at you now, laying eyes upon a person he hadn’t bothered to reunite with in person. You had fought so hard not to be in the same room ever again, but now you were. A small little office, holding whatever air you were forced to share, on a mission that could change everything. You hated him, absolutely detested the ground he stood on, blamed him for the fallout, the change, the hurt. 

“Seda, you trust him?”

Seda opened the office door and started ushering the other two men out. “I’m getting there.”

Your father laughed, “Always so cynical.” 

Ramirez stood from his seat behind you, already gunning to make a good impression on your Captain. He shook Steve’s hand, “Until next time.”

“Sir,” Steve returned the handshake. Ramirez only adjusted slightly, and held his hand out to you. You looked down at it, momentarily stunned from any attention, but shook it in the way you were taught. Firm, short, and ready for business. You grinned at him and he returned the same emotion. 

“Two Avengers. Wow,” he mumbled, and tilted his head in a farewell. You watched him go, a silly smile on your face. 

You went to take your leave, cautious of being left alone with your father. But as fate had it, he stopped you from leaving so simply. 

“Oh, and Y/N?” 

You turned on your heel, lips plastered in a straight line. You raised your eyebrows at him, already annoyed from the request he most certainly had, no doubt. “Meet me in a few minutes. Alone.”

You forced yourself to nod, turning quickly and leaving the room. You shuffled down the hallway, Steve hot on your trail and reaching for your hand. 

“Hey, hey. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

He tugged you back to him, but you pushed him into the corner room you were originally heading for. You shut the door softly, and allowed Steve to grip your hands in his. 

“Well, you gotta. Link our mics. You’ll hear everything.”

“Safe word?”

You chuckled lowly but retracted the teasing attitude when you saw genuine worry written on Steve’s face. “Widow, Steve.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you back there. I couldn’t think of anything else to do-”

You shushed him, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I fuck with you all the time but I would never take it that far.”

Where was this coming from? Steve looked like he was about to start hyperventilating. “I’m good. You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, see?” you placed his hand on your chest, making sure he could feel your heartbeat. “I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m good.”

Steve removed his hand and placed it over his own chest, rubbing slightly. “I’ll be right outside when he talks to you.”

“I know you’ll be. Now, stand guard, whistle low to alert me.”

“This the room? You know the code?”

It was a simple office as well, but resembled more of a library than a workspace. It was dimly lit, cluttered, smelled of the wooden cabinets and the dust collecting on the books, and lacked any windows as well. You nodded to confirm Steve’s question, heading over to the farthest bookshelf and pushed it away from the wall. The loose dust swooped from the wood surface and into the air instantly, and you had to pause to sneeze down your shirt. 

You wiped your nose, “I’m third in command. My father may have some things hidden but I have to know the codes to shit like this.”

Steve leaned his ear on the door gently, “You’re clear.”

You gave him a thumbs up and fiddled with the outside of the safe. It was built into the wall, black in color and definitely made way before you were born. It was quite rusted, the gold numbers on the lock almost faded. 

“Let’s hope he didn’t change it.” You turned the dial - seven, thirty-three, eighteen - and it clicked on the first try. “Bingo.”

“Did you have a backup plan if that didn’t work?”

You snorted quietly, “Smash?”

Steve rolled his eyes and pressed his ear back on the door. 

Everything inside had been recently rearranged. You figured your father used some of these ID’s when entering the country for the wedding and left them stacked on one another for the quick heist on Saturday.  “We’re in luck! Both my father’s and Seda’s ID’s are here, along with-”

You cooed, taking out your phone and opening the camera app. You snapped multiple pictures, with and without flash. “Stacks and stacks of cash.”

You pulled your purse in front of you and pulled out your wallet to make room, shoving it into your back pocket instead. 

“Help me put this in my purse.”

Steve left his post to help you shovel the ID’s discreetly into every pocket your purse provided, shoving things into corners so nothing protruded. 

“Damn, we gotta leave the money,” you pouted. 

Steve chuckled, “What a horrible thing.”

A sudden, boisterous laugh right outside the door caused you to rip your arm away from the safe, thankfully pulling the last of the ID’s with you. You pushed them into your purse, zipping it up. Steve reacted quickly as well, shutting the safe and rotating the dial, pushing the bookcase back into its original position. 

“It’s Ramirez and White,” Steve whispered, looking around the room for any help. “What do we do?”

“Ramirez…” you blinked, eyes wandering around the room as well. Think, think, think. The doorknob jiggled. “Trust me.”

You ripped your purse off and threw it to the nearest couch. You hooked your arms around Steve’s neck and jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Oh my-”

In any other scenario, the whimper that left your throat would have been caused by a surge of ecstasy. But you were frightened of being caught, the whimper a blatant signal to just follow your lead. 

“Slam me into the wall, Captain.”

The door flew open just as Steve did as he was told. 

“And I told him it was ridiculous - oh my…”

You lifted your head from Steve’s neck, wide eyes to accompany your surprised state. “Oh! I thought we locked the door!”

Ramirez covered his eyes bashfully, turning around and staring at the wall. “Don’t mind us, we were just looking for loose smokes.”

Opposite to his intruding partner, White laughed at the scene before him. He dipped low, hands on his knees as he joked. “Didn’t think Captain America had it in him! Been a stiff ever since the ice, huh mate?”

You could feel Steve tense against you, and he froze entirely. You drew your hand up to play with the strands of his hair, putting on your best flirty tone possible. “Oh, trust me. He’s pretty stiff right now.”

Steve seemed to calm under your touch, so he turned his head over his shoulder and gave an embarrassed smile of his own. 

“Excuse us again, Y/N. You two enjoy your time,” Ramirez apologized, pulling at White’s jacket to guide him out of the room. Once you heard the click of the door, you jumped from Steve’s grasp and immediately began patting his back. 

“I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckled, his blush rising from his shoulders to his cheeks. “It’s okay, you saved us.”

You inspected him closely, a little embarrassed with yourself. It was a bold move, but one that needed to be done. You stood in silence for a few more seconds, each of you adjusting to such a sudden change of breathing pattern. 

You shut your eyes and groaned silently, “I need to speak with him.”

“Can I wait outside the door?”

You picked up your purse and swung it around your torso, “No, you need to wait in the car. Or smother Ramirez and White, your call.”

The lines on Steve’s forehead deepened, “Y/N, I can’t leave you alone with him.”

You wanted to argue further because Steve really over exaggerated. You fought a whole army of aliens, robots, and even the infamous Winter Soldier. Sure, you lost the battle with Thanos on the first try, you lost a teammate with Ultron, and gained a collapsed lung from Bucky’s insane roundhouse kick, but you were positive you could take your father. “You’re gonna have to. I’ve been alone with him before.”

Steve placed his hands on his hips and gave you a blank stare. “He shot you last time.”

“Ehh, Seda did.”

“Y/N.”

You laughed softly, “Then wait in the living room.”

“The shield’s in the car. If you need help, I may not have enough time-”

Steve and that goddamn shield. The guy was acting like he wasn’t a super soldier. You were annoyed. Annoyed with a pinch of salt?

“You whip that shield out to save me and I swear to god-”

“Okay, okay. I’ll link our mics.”

He fumbled around on his phone for a few seconds before you heard the softest beep from below your ear. 

     The last time you had entered that room alone, you left with a bullet lodged deep in your abdomen and with the threat of having it done again. Stumbling and crashing into the walls and random trinkets, leaving your blood stains on anything you used to steady yourself. This time would be different - it had to be. Your father wouldn’t shoot you with the Captain America waiting in the other room. Then again, your father always seemed to top himself each time you were forced to interact personally. In an instant, he dropped the good guy act. Or, hyped joy. 

Now, his stare was cold and calculated, posture upright like he was awaiting your arrival. You couldn’t help but smile and roll your eyes, a tiny scoff breaking the silence as he returned it. 

“You’re one damn good actor.” 

He chuckled deeply, “We do what we have to do in front of the people who threaten our reign.” 

You kicked the leg of a nearby chair to turn it toward you. Sitting down, you retorted with a chuckle of your own. “You’re not royalty.” 

“We are... you are.”

Third in command. Daughter of the biggest drug lord south of the border? In most cases, you could be considered goddamn royalty. Did you want to be? No, because the title that seemed to fit was ‘a chess piece in the middle of a mad supremacy’. But that was too long.  

“So, what is this? You scared my Captain is gonna knock you off your feet and take your place?” 

His hands slammed the desk. His little basket of pens and pencils toppled over and spilled onto the floor. “I have waited seven, long years for you to bring that man to me. And each time you defied me. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now!” 

You remained seated, a blank stare boring into your father’s. “Uh, probably because he would avenge me. Get it?” 

He wasn’t one for jokes, though. “It would be so easy.” 

Aggravating him further was not the smartest thing to do. And Steve had the same thought as he fumbled with his own thumbs outside, hearing the conversation from afar. He almost wanted to barge in just to put your ass in time out. 

But you had seven years to make up for - a little joke here and there shouldn’t hurt much. 

“You do know I’m an Avenger, right? Trained by Natalia Romanoff herself?” 

You worded your sentence carefully, her alias need not be spoken out loud unless you needed backup. 

“Answer me.”

When his nostrils flared, you knew better than to twist the knife. 

“Steve didn’t sign the accords. He was on the run for two years before you asked me for him. This is public knowledge.”

He pointed his index finger at you, shaking it wildly. “You lie. Why you lie?”

You had to blink multiple times through your shocked state, mouth agape and involuntarily racks of laughter spilling. He couldn’t be serious. You could only repeat the same thing so many times. 

“Like I said all those years ago - He. Was. On. The. Run. No contact. I had no way of contacting him!”

He struggled to grab whatever on his desk to raise toward your face. In this case, he pointed his phone in a threatening manner. “Excuses! Remember the last time you made such a poor excuse?”

The laughing stopped, your mouth immediately shutting. You clenched your jaw to work through your murderous impulses. 

You wondered how your hands would look wrapped around his neck. Red and angry, tightening as each desperate second passes, nails forming crescents as they pressed in his skin. If there was a window, you would definitely kick him out of it. Wave goodbye as he fell dramatically. But the mansion was one story high and you couldn’t magically conjure up a window. God, this would be the absolute best time to have Wanda or Loki here to use some of that dark magic. Either way, you just wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face right now. 

“He. Was on. The run.”

“And I thought you learned your lesson.”

You stood from your seat and leaned on the desk, arms holding you up and face inches away from his. “You gonna send in your men to remind me? With my Captain a few feet away?”

His lips were trembling as much as yours were - face blotchy with silver droplets of sweat and an angry blush now reaching his forehead. For a seventy-five year old man, he still had such a rage in him that didn’t risk a heart attack. Lucky bastard. 

“He best not interfere if it’s what I choose to do.”

Outside, Steve gripped the back door handle to the point it squished in on itself, metal twisting awkwardly and splintering the paint. His free hand was balled into the meanest fist, even his stubby nails wreaking havoc on his pale palm. He was making himself bleed by the restraint. He took slow breaths, eyes closed but ears fully alert. He wouldn’t cry. Not right now. 

“I called you back alone to invite you to breakfast the day after tomorrow.”

Whether it was because he knew you were only a few seconds from lunging yourself across his desk to break his neck or because he was tired from all the energy he had just exerted, your father slumped back into his seat as he spoke. 

“The hotel has free breakfast.”

He shook his head in complete astonishment, “You’re not getting out of this. I have important business to discuss with each of you.”

You continued to stare him down, “Over coffee?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t leave the estate so close to the wedding. Your sister is flying in tomorrow and I have to make sure construction is done by then.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re the best father in the world.”

Being in the same room was suffocating, but you couldn’t help but be fascinated by the man. How unbelievably thoughtless yet calculated he could be. How unbelievably fake yet so damn real in all his hidden meanings.

“Jackeline likes to think so.”

Your sister was sweet, sure, and there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not fight one another, being the only daughters and all. But you were eight years old when she was born, already tainted by the world in which she was just born into. Forgive your lack of sisterly bond. When you were sixteen, you dipped. Now, at the sprouting ages of twenty-six and eighteen, you two couldn’t be more different. 

Actually, yes you could. If she thought your father was a good man, she was entirely ignorant of the world she lives in. 

“Good for her. Why don’t we discuss the shipment transport during the most important day of her life?”

“Nice try. That’s what the rehearsal dinner is for - rehearsal.” 

You gave your father a sad smile, “You really won’t trust me. After all these years of following your orders.”

“Now, let’s not go bringing up the past.”

You interrupted, “Why not? You’re trusting my Captain and I to help you move that shipment but won’t trust me enough to tell me where it is right now?” 

He was back to standing but he was much calmer. “Right now, I trust your Captain more than you. What kind of man would leave everything moral behind for a bunch of criminals? A bad one.”

“You’ve known him for like, two seconds.”

Your father searched his pockets for loose cigarettes. “He left everything moral behind for me. For you. And you left me behind for everything moral.”

Rolling your eyes, you backed away from his desk and headed for the door. “Sometimes you don’t make any sense. Is that it? Are we done?”

“You accept my invitation?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.” 

     The mansion seemed larger than when you entered, the hallways longer, the walls closing in, the trinkets reaching out to stop you by the wrist. The longer you stayed in this hell hole, the more likely you were probably going to unleash the rage attached to your body in the form of your favorite weapons. Bomb the hell out of this place. 

You marched to Steve’s car. He was already waiting, leaning along the passenger door like he was going to open it for you. If he did, you might kill him too. So, you repeatedly snapped your fingers at him and pointed around the car, silently but angrily motioning him to get in. He didn’t need to be told twice. In fact, he thought it might be therapeutic for you to throw the door open and slam it yourself. It was. 

Steve started the car. He didn’t need to ask, there was no reason to since he heard everything. And so did Sam. Bucky. Scott. It was being transcribed as you swerved out of the estate. God, you wanted to throw up. 

“I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

Steve choked on his breath, “Stop?” 

You rolled down the windows to breathe in the crisp cold air, teeth becoming sensitive as it passed into your lungs. “Once we get past the cameras and nearby neighborhoods.” 

“Did you need-“ 

“When I say stop, stop. Fucking damn, Steve! Listen to me for once!”

Steve didn’t know why he was challenging you. Your father had just brought up one of the most traumatic moments of your life, basically called you a hypocrite and a coward - he tried to tear you down. And here you were, holding it all together like the champ he found you to be. But he never handled your outbursts well, even if they were completely justified. 

“Don’t fucking give me orders if you won’t tell me what they’re for!”

“Stop the fucking car!”

He slammed on the breaks, instincts still kicking in during your argument and he reached his arm out to your side to hold you back from the powerful surge. His body lunged forward, however, chest hitting the steering wheel and horn. 

You scrambled out of the car and ran into the woods, feet guiding you through mud and prickly bushes until they reached a more secluded spot. Steve stumbled along after you, nearly tripping over the same rocks you had avoided masterfully. 

Before he could ask what you were doing, you pulled your gun from its hidden holster and clicked the safety. Steve’s eyes bulged out of his head just in time to see the first round sound off mid-air. He crouched down to the floor and shielded his head. You shot away from him, obviously, until all seven rounds were dislodged, aimed in the sky diagonally. 

Once the last bullet exited, you simply packed everything up. Now calm and collected, you turned around and headed back for the car.

Steve’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Seriously?”

You pushed branches away from your head as you walked, “Seriously.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is? Those bullets don’t just disappear into thin air,” Steve scolded, jogging up to speed walk beside you. 

“So fucking what? I’m keeping the rent low in this area, then.”

Steve sighed in defeat, “Talk to me.”

“Sorry, I’m shutting down.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned, tears of frustration not entirely formed, but in their beginning stages. “You already know what’s stressing me out, Steve. Do you need it in writing?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve lowered his voice. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just,” you paused, stopping to face him. You opened and closed your hands mid-air as if that would help you formulate your sentences better. “I don’t know. But when I find out, I’ll let you know.”

This Steve could accept. So he simply nodded, guiding you the rest of the way with his hand gently placed on your lower back. 

     The drive back to the hotel was fairly silent. The radio provided a calming relief from such drama. Steve would glance at you every so often to check on you, but you were always resting your eyes. This was only the first day of the mission - officially. If you were this drained from one encounter, Steve needed to rethink this whole operation. Whether it was healthy to keep you on, or if the threat was just too large. But no matter the alternatives, Steve understood that this week was going to be difficult either way, and you needed to be present. This was your mission after all. He was just your partner. 

Even with a thousand things on your mind, you were still conscious enough to check your surroundings, check-in with the agent posted behind the front desk, and reconnect your mic with the teams. 

Steve pushed open your room door and threw the car keys on one of the nearby tables. “Nap time?”

You ignored his initial question, “I didn’t think seeing them in person again would be so draining.”

Steve watched you carefully, somewhat scared that you would pull out your gun again and shatter a window. “It was pretty cramped.”

You started to disarm yourself, tearing off your sweater and holsters clumsily. “And they acted like we were all on good terms! Around you, at least. I know they’re acting for my sister’s sake and then we can go back to hating each other after, but really?”

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, eyes sorry. “I really don’t know what to say.”

You threw yourself onto your bed, burying your face into the pillows. You continued speaking, albeit muffled. “You don’t have to say anything - just let me rant.”

“You’ll tire yourself out, Y/N. C’mon, we gotta draft up this report-”

You lifted yourself up and started smoothing down your hair, “I need a drink.”

Steve pointed to the computer, “The report.”

“A drink.” 

“Y/N, it’s getting late. The sooner we draft it, the sooner-”

You grumbled out again, already opening the door and shoving your boots on. “Steve, I need a drink. You know what they do to me, what they’ve done to me, what they continue to do every single day. Now, join me or not but I am going downstairs for a drink.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking around the room hesitantly. “Can I at least take the laptop?”

You threw your head back and walked out the door, “Take the goddamn laptop, jesus fucking christ, c’mon.”

     If there’s one thing you were happy about today, it was that you booked a hotel with a mini bar on the second floor. It wasn’t an outright full bar, but it was low lit, clean and the counters were made from fine wood, and there was a variety of flavors to choose from. There were only a few hotel guests spread out and a single bartender. You and Steve took seats at the counter. 

“Whiskey sour,” you called for the bartender, trying and failing to give him the nicest smile you could. 

Steve settled in his bar stool, “Thought you wanted to drink to drink hard.”

You chuckled at him and extended your arms in a stretch, “I’m mad, not depressed.”

He grinned at your movements - as if just sitting in a bar already loosened you up. “In that case, get me a beer.”

     Natasha had called Steve for help after your fourth beer and fifth whiskey. Her coaxing proved to be pointless, each request of a safe passage home seeming to enter one ear and leave the other. And you’ll end up killing her when you were sober enough for sending unwanted reinforcements, but even she didn’t want to fight you. If you wanted to drown in liquid courage, that courage churning itself into raw despair, then she would allow it. 

Steve stared at you for a few moments. Head hanging low, a deep frown etched into your tired expression, index finger tapping your glass as if you were debating whether to down it in one go or to leave it. Steve had never seen you like this, guard destroyed and face practically pale, just begging to be left alone. And it seemed the whole bar felt the same way, as there was no music playing and everyone was wallowing in their own grief. 

“I can spot you from a mile away, you know?”

Your voice immediately pulled Steve from his own mind and he was surprised you could still form coherent sentences given the amount of empty glasses in front of you. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt.”

You scoffed, leaning away from him as he sat down in the stool beside you. “Natasha sent you. Don’t tell me otherwise.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Good.”

Steve ordered a beer for himself, and although he was driving, one beer wouldn’t impair him anyway. It wouldn’t even cause a dent in his 20/20 vision. 

“Fucking ridiculous, it’s fucking ridiculous!” 

The bar patrons seemed to wince simultaneously and the bartender simply gathered a few of your empty glasses to wash. Steve didn’t hush you, didn’t touch you, didn’t try to reassure you. If you needed to cause a scene, it was time. Your silence for the past week had been frightening, but when Tony returned last night, half dead and without the kid, it seemed to be your breaking point. 

“Wanda destroyed it. She destroyed the fucking stone and all he did was use another to bring it back.”

Steve took a sip of his beer to disguise his quivering lip, but his eyes had no curtain. His waterline swelled with fresh tears, eyes instantly reddening, an undesired sting pinching the corners. 

“Strange must have had a reason. He must’ve, but - how can that reason include the death of trillions?”

“We’re going to find a way-”

“And if we don’t?”

Steve kept his lips on the bottle, incisors biting down only slightly as he took in your rhetorical question. You continued speaking.

“He destroyed the stones.”

“Carol is looking for answers.”

You shook your head and pulled out your wallet, leaving whatever cash you had on the counter before standing up. You stumbled but Steve latched onto your arm and pulled it to hug his waist. 

“Loki?” you mumbled, raising your head to lock eyes with Steve. He didn’t know if you were calling him another name or if you were asking for the God’s whereabouts. “Bucky?”

“Hey, stop, stop.”

“Peter?”

Steve could only nod. What use was it to lie to you? Your new vertical position seemed to magnify the true extent of your intoxication as your eyes finally glazed over and limbs trembled. 

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Gripping his shirt, you apologized each time it would crumble and you would accidentally tug it downward. But Steve didn’t care. You were practically limp in his arms, heavy and without proper use of your legs. 

“You’re a good man, Steve.”

Steve sighed sadly but couldn’t help the small smile that formed as he looked down at you and found you sporting a silly one of your own. 

“A really good man. I’m happy you’re still here.”

Steve paused for a moment, taking in your words and holding back his own tears. If there was a time he wanted to be drunk off his ass, it would be now. He was somewhat jealous of the brief relief alcohol had given you, loose and not fully aware of the drama of the world. “I’m happy, too.”

“No, you’re not,” you slurred, allowing Steve to guide you to his car. You slumped against the passenger door as Steve searched his pocket for his key. “I heard you crying last night.”

Steve halted his search mid-pat, a hard crease forming between his eyebrows as he lifted his head. “I wasn’t-”

“I cry too,” you admitted, a drunken pout on your face. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Perhaps it was a dirty thing for him to do at this moment because you wouldn’t remember a single word of this conversation in the morning, but he figured there was no immediate harm. He found his key, unlocked the car, and helped you inside. Only once he entered the car himself did he take advantage of your blurry mind. 

“I cried for Sam and Bucky. Who do you cry for?”

You clicked the seatbelt on, mind clear enough for safety precautions it seemed. “Poor Wanda.”

Steve nodded and started the car. “Anything else?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time Loki asked me on a date?”

Steve immediately shut off the car and turned to you. “Huh? When?”

You grinned, small giggles bubbling from your chest. “A few months ago. He was so shy, too. I said yes.”

Steve ignored the twinge in his chest, “How was it?”

You leaned your head back and tilted it towards him, your smile faltered slightly. “Never went on it. And now he’s dead.”

The urge to lean over and wrap you in a much needed hug was there, eating away at him since you called him a good man. But he had taken advantage of this situation far too much, so he simply nodded in understanding and started the car again. 

“I’m sorry.”

You barely heard him, but you mumbled a quick response before letting the alcohol fully consume you. “Me too.”

     You thanked the bartender when they slid you your drink. “I hadn’t seen him since before the world went to shit.” You took a quick sip. “Kinda strange.”

Steve nodded, wondering if he should dive deep into the issue at hand. Instead of outright saying his outdated spiel, he eased into it. He gave you a few needed sips of your drink, at least.  “Y/N, can I ask an honest question?”

You hummed, “My toes are already tingling. You could probably ask me what my kinks are and I’d tell you.”

Steve suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, “You never could handle a sip of alcohol.”

Your eyes rounded at his reaction. Perhaps the alcohol affected him in other fun ways that he didn’t know. “Nope, I’m a lightweight.”

Steve contained himself before clearing his throat, “The question…”

“Go ahead.”

He rolled his shoulders and took a sip of his beer. Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice. “If it comes down to it, and god forbid you’re incapacitated, do you want me to kill your father?”

Your mouth opened slightly, the words stuck behind your tongue. You looked down at your drink, as if some special response was swimming in it. You knew your answer, but the way to phrase it was lost. 

“I don’t want his blood on your hands.”

“But if it was the last choice?”

You sighed, “If you pull that trigger, they’ll never stop coming after you.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together, “But if you pull it?”

You shrugged and raised the glass to your lips. “That’s my life, Steve. Let me deal with the consequences.”

“That’s just it - you don’t have to. At least, not alone.”

God, you hated how perfect Steve sounded all the time. Whenever he was annoying you, fighting you, or protecting you, his syllables were stretched in the most glorious way, dipping into every crevice of the person they were delivered to and warming inches of body slowly. You wanted him to have somewhat of an evil side for once in his life, but no matter how many times you thought he would explode, he didn’t.

Two years ago, when he dropped you from his life in an instant, you had assumed you finally caught a glimpse at this evil side. It was the only time you were truly scared of him. 

“You really are a good person.”

Steve swished his beer bottle around, “I wish everyone would stop being surprised by that.”

“I’m not surprised. I guess I just want to hate you, and I can’t.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped like crumbling mountains and you couldn’t stop thinking about how vulnerable he looked. You wanted to pull him closer and rest your head to his chest, hear his heartbeat and apologize for theorizing a possible hatred. 

“Why do you want to hate me?”

“When you wouldn’t sign the accords, part of me saw that as the mascot of America not caring if he invaded and pillaged everything in his path.”

“But I-” Steve interjected, but you stopped him by raising your hand and waving it gently. 

“I know why you didn’t. Hell, I helped you escape.”

“Why did you help if you hated me?”

Being vulnerable with Steve wasn’t anything new. You were each other’s support system for those lonely five years, but it all changed the moment you defeated Thanos. So, for the last two years you didn’t quite get along. But here, now, you could always tell when Steve was being honest and open. 

“Guess I thought that if you were willing to help me with my family, I should help you with yours.”

His therapist desperately tried to rationalize the experiences Steve would tell, instructing him to look past hard exteriors and accept help from others. That his old friends were still friends, and enemies should never be compared to those he loved. And he knew he was easily blinded when something or someone had the slightest mishap, instantly writing it off as harmful. 

He spoke of you often during his one hour sessions - stories of your blatant silliness and crude jokes; how you would poke your finger into his sandwiches when you thought he wasn’t looking; how you almost beat up a kid and his little gang for baiting Peter after his identity was exposed; and how you and Sam had gotten into a bar fight over something so trivial, so unnecessary, that it was almost unbelievable to see you innocently scoot away from the body on the floor in the police video, as if you had nothing to do with it and those few feet of distance automatically cleared you. 

His therapist would just listen. 

“Did I ever thank you?”

You smiled sadly, “You went into hiding soon after. Then we went to battle, lost everyone, went to battle again, and then…”

“And then.”

‘And then’ wasn’t really something you two liked to bring up. It was still a fresh wound, somewhat patched up, but still open. 

You spaced out for a few minutes, both of you enjoying your drinks. You were no longer drinking to get drunk, not that it was your original goal to begin with. You just sat in comfortable silence, reliving the events earlier that day and drafting an internal report. 

“What are you thinking about?”

You pursed your lips and thought, clicking your tongue when it finally dawned on you. “This was the first time I saw Marcus White sober.”

Steve sat up straighter, “Are you sure? He didn’t look it.”

“Yeah, he usually speaks quickly and he fidgets. But he was coherent this afternoon.”

“Should that be a red flag?”

You took out your phone and sent a quick text to Torres for him to monitor White closely for the next few days, just in case. “A big one. My father referred to him more often than he did Ramirez.”

Steve tackled every idea in his head quickly, speaking as a new one popped up. “They could be planning a move against Ramirez. He’s close to overthrowing your father.”

You raised your head from your phone, “And the wedding would be a perfect distraction.”

“He would kill his greatest rival on your sister’s happiest day?”

You let out a low chuckle, “This man has nothing to lose. It won’t matter who he topples along the way.”

Steve opened the laptop, silently congratulating himself for bringing it despite your insults, and began drafting the report. The two of you worked for the next hour, nursing a couple more drinks before you sent the final copy to Bucky. 

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x Reader) Chapter 18

Warnings: swearing, angst, sexual harassment? (Andreas is a creep)

Word count 2.9k

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It wasn’t a mirage, your weren’t going crazy. You couldn’t believe what your Mum was telling you.

“She just thought she killed me, I could sense you were there and I knew her true motives. Before she could strike I confused her with my magic, tricking her mind and everyone arounds minds into seeing what I made them see. In reality, I was still standing there, hidden by a vale of magic, very much alive. I’m so sorry I put you through that, but she knew you were hiding there, your reaction needed to be real or she would never had believed I was truly gone.”

You didn’t know if you were crying sad tears or happy tears, all you knew is you were relived that it was all just a cruel trick of the mind and not reality. You were exhausted and couldn’t help but yawn as you sat around the fire. Looking around you watched the withered and tired faces of your friends too, Sky, who’s hair was disheveled from the amount of times he’d ran his fingers through it, a trait he’d no doubt picked up from Silva. The other specialists, rigid and too on alert to fully relax and rest. Your Winx girls, all weary eyed and weepy from your mothers story. Sam, still rattled from his almost deadly encounter with the Burned one and then Mr Harvey, who probably had the most to worry about. His children in danger, the reappearance of his thought dead childhood friend, his missing childhood friend Silva and the fact the school is under siege. Would you ever catch a break?

Budging up and being flush, side by side next to Farah Dowling didn’t seem like a weird thing to you anymore. If anything her not so deadly death put things more into perspective for you. You would be lost without her after just finding her again. The warmth that radiated from your mother was comforting, your eyes felt heavy, but still, your mind didn’t rest. No, not without your Saul.

One by one your friends turned in, calling it a night. Now that your mother was back and had helped Ben Harvey reinforce the barrier, it might be the first night some people actually got a decent sleep. Just like old times you were sharing a room with the girls. The ‘Winx Cabin’ as Musa liked to say.

It wasn’t long before you were snuggled down under your stolen duvet, wondering about what would happen next. Surely the next step was getting Saul back, but how? Your thoughts were interrupted by your mother, approaching your bedside she dipped down. You were on the bottom bunk, Stella on top.

“I’m so proud of you, you know that. Bringing all these people to safety, finding a way to stay strong even when you thought all hope was lost. I’m sorry for what you had to see, but i’m here now and trust me, we will get Saul back.” With that she whipped the tears that fell from your eyes, kissing your forehead she whispered something you couldn’t quite make out and then before you knew it you were sleeping, for the first time in a few days.

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Saul smiled at you. The same old smile that made your heart squeeze in joy and so so so much love. You had never loved anyone or anything as much as you loved the man in front of you. You knew looking at him you would take a bullet, arrow, blast of magic, whatever it was, you would die for him.

His fingers traced the line of your jaw, calloused but at the same time soft and tender, he knew how to touch you, you were his, to him you were the most precious thing in all the worlds.

“What are you thinking about?” His rough voice made your core tingle, your nipples hardened against the light fabric of your top.

“Us, how much I love you, how i’d do anything for you.” His eyebrow raised and he couldn’t help but smile. If he felt anything like how you felt in that moment, his heart would be beating 2x faster and his emotions would be overwhelming.

“Before I met you, I didn’t really believe in Soulmates. I knew they were a thing, just like i’m a Specialist and you’re a Fairy, but part of me thought it couldn’t be real, maybe because I didn’t think I deserved someone as amazing and loving as you, but now I know, I know that all this time I’d been wrong. I love you more than you could ever know Y/N.”

Lately you were used to waking up with tears in your eyes but your pillow was soaked. You’d been crying in your sleep, your eyes were bloodshot red and your nose blocked. God, another memory. Your heart was starting to physically hurt from being away from Saul. Maybe it was a soulmate thing? You had to get him back. It had to be today, you couldn’t wait any longer.

——————————————————————————————————

“You can’t just barge in there without a plan, it’s a suicide mission!” Your friends were having none of it. You’d decided that you were travelling to wherever the hell the Royal prison was and you were going to get your man back. Your mother had seen where they had taken him, being a mind fairy had its uses.

“Well you’re more than welcome to come with me, but I need to get him back, I can’t wait any longer! God knows what he’s going through and i’m not just going to sit here and wait for someone else to swoop in and save the day. It’s not going to happen!” You looked at all of your friends, they all had people now, boyfriends, people they were getting to know, they should know how it felt, even if it was just a fraction of what you felt for Saul.

“Terra what would you do if it was Helia, or Stella, what if it was Brandon! I could go on and on but you know what i’m getting at. If it were any of you in the situation, you’d be doing the same thing!” The shouting had attracted the rest of the camp, the Specialists running over to see what all the commotion was.

“You know, I agree with Y/N.” You were certain that Sky would have your back, even though he was fighting with his emotions as well, Saul was more a father to him than Andreas, he’d been alive this whole time and instead of seeking out Sky, spent his years fathering Beatrix instead.

“But first, I think we need to get a few things.”

With that, a plan was set in motion. As all good plans went by teenagers, it was on a need to know basis, which meant the adults… didn’t need to know. They would stop you if they knew what you were planning which is exactly what you didn’t need right now.

The plan was simple. Well, it seemed simple. You, Bloom, Stella, Sky and Sam would go through one of your portals back to Alfea for the supplies that you’d need to get Saul back. It was a risky plan, but everything you needed was in your Suite. You’d be in and out before anyone knew you were there.

——————————————————————————————————

The castle seemed quiet. The whole atmosphere seemed different since you’d last been at your school. It looked darker, less vibrant, sad almost. Everyone would be in bed by now which gave you the perfect opportunity to get in and get out again. Your portal had opened right in the centre of the living room. Your heart shattered when you noticed things out of place, up turned furniture, items strewn across the room. It wasn’t as bad as you’d expected though.

Sky and Bloom stood watch at the suite door while you got to work. First you’d need a bag, luckily your man had no shortage of military grade duffle bags laying around. Next, Sauls wardrobe, you grabbed some outfits for him, packing jackets, shoes, boots, the lot, not knowing where you might have to run to next. Then it came to weapons. The vault didn’t look like it had been tampered with. You looked sheepishly at Stella and Sam when they let out a low whistle. Impressed. Wait until they saw what was inside.

The code hadn’t changed for as long as you’d known the vault to an entire bedroom war room existed. The date Saul found you crying over one of the monsters your father had created and Rosalind had used, even before you found out you harnessed ancient magical abilities. With a click, the door swung open and you listened for the sure gasp of your friends behind you.

Guns lined one wall, Knives another. You went over and clicked a button on a hidden panel and even more sections of room appeared. Multiple stacks of uniform, cash, smaller objects like tiny daggers, grenades and smoke bombs and even some tactical equipment like ear pieces and tiny cameras. Your man had everything, was he a Specialist, a spy, an evil hit man? Who knew when you looked at his haul. It was pretty impressive. Each with a bag, you started filling up with everything you could take, swords, guns, even the little things. Anything that would help you in your quest to getting back the man you loved with every fibre of your being.

After you’d cleared out the vault and heaved the bags into the centre of the room, you packed a bag for yourself, you didn’t want to have to steal again just to get clean clothes, plus, it would be nice to have some home comforts. You saw Stella eyeing up your stuff, it hit you. You suddenly felt guilty.

“If were quick me and Sam could go and grab some clothes and personal things from the Winx suit, but not a lot okay. We’ve already been here too long.” She nodded and smiled gratefully. Bringing Sam was a brilliant idea, his ability to walk through walls would no doubt prove to be useful over and over.

You met him in the dorm, your swirling black portal closing behind you with a swoosh. Nothing was out of place, un-like yours and Sauls suite. It was as if time had just stood still. You both wasted no time, as quickly as you could the packing began, clothes for each of the girls, Stella’s makeup bag, Musa’s tapes, Terras travel bag of potions and powders as she liked to call it, Blooms sketchbooks and Aisha’s books.

Looking at the time you cursed in annoyance. You wanted to get things for the Specialists, Mr Harvey and your mum too but there was just no time, you had to get back to the others. With the bags, you and Sam in the middle of the room, the portal opened around you and you were sucked into the darkness.

——————————————————————————————————

“Well, look what we have here. I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come back so soon. Theres me thinking Saul used to go for the smart girls, obviously I was mistaken.” You froze as you stepped out of the darkness. Andreas. His sword was flush against Skys neck, Bloom and Stella pinned to the wall by some of his royal guard goons.

“Drop the sword, we both know you’d never hurt your own son.” His mouth cocked to one side in an evil smirk. Your hands flexed at your sides. You were ready for a fight, lord knows you needed to take your anger out on someone.

“That’s where you’re mistaken.” To emphasise, he pressed the sword harder against his sons neck, small beads of blood pooling around the broken skin.

By now, your eyes were as black as the night sky. You could tell the sight had unnerved the guards, their hold on your friends loosening.

In a flash Stella warned you to close your eyes and her light erupted around the room stunning those who didn’t react fast enough. Luckily, you and your friends knew what she was doing and the only ones effected were the people it was intended for. It didn’t stop Andreas from charging forward though, his heavy muscled body colliding with yours, sending you flying to the floor with a hard thud. Your ears were ringing, the knock to your head making you feel like a cartoon with tweety birds flying around. With blurry eyes you could see Bloom and Sky fighting off the Royal Guards, while Sam and Stella were running to you. Andreas got to you first, landing his fist on the side of your mouth, his body coming over yours, pinning you down, straddling your waist.

“I see what Silva saw in you, pretty little thing.” His breath fanned across your face, his tongue sneaked out between his chapped lips and darted across your cheek, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Too bad, when i’m done with you, you won’t be so pretty anymore.” His fist came back again, but this time you were ready. Sauls fight training kicked in, you bucked him off you and rolled away from under him, it surprised him which you used to your advantage. Your hands thrown forward, black tendrils of your smoky magic sprung free, encasing Andreas. They wrapped around him like vines, tightening, his arms unable to lift from his sides. With one flick of your wrist, you sent his body hurtling into the wall. Then there was silence.

Bloom and Sky had taken down the Guards, Stella and Sam had gathered all of the supplies and you, you looked around at what was left of the room you once shared with your Saul. Meeting in the middle, you took Skys hand as he took one last look at his unconscious traitor of a father, before you all sank away into the abyss and back to the safety of your camp.

——————————————————————————————————

The camp was just as quiet as the school had been. There was no way they could have found you, right? You’d half expected your mum and Harvey to be screaming at you by now but the screaming didn’t come. Instead, raised voices could be heard beyond the barrier that protected you all from whatever was out there. This couldn’t be good. One knee to the ground, you were unzipping a bag with weapons, passing them out to those around you. Swords for you and Sky, a gun for Sam, Bloom opted for her magic and Stella, Stella had her badass ring, which before now you didn’t know doubled as a frikin magical sun staff? She shrugged when you looked at her.

“We will be talking about this later you secret sun ninja.” You jumped when the voices got louder. Following the direction of the heated talking, it didn’t take you long before you saw…actually, you weren’t sure what you were seeing.

A man and a woman dressed in some weird sort of black armour, face to face with your mother, the other Winx girls, the specialists and Mr Harvey. Now you as well. Your appearance attracted the gaze of the scary looking strangers. You raised your sword.

“Who are you and what the hell do you want, it’s been a long fucking night and I can’t deal with anymore shit right now.” You groaned, holding your head, a pain blooming behind your eyes, that fight with Andreas must have done more damage than you thought.

“Princess, we come in peace. We are mere messengers sent by your father, King Tenebris. You are all in danger, in 30 minutes royal troops will descend on your camp, we’ve been monitoring the situation. Rosalind deceived your father and now he wants to make amends with you. You are in danger if you stay here. Please come with us.” Information overload or what. You scoffed. These people and your father were just as bad as bloody Rosalind, why should you believe them?

“Why should we trust you, when all my father did was send the burned ones to attack my school!” The female guard took a confident step forward and held out her hand.

“An hour ago, your father ordered a specialist trained team of dark guards to extract Saul Silva from the Royal prison of Solaria. He is waiting for you at your fathers castle where you are all invited for safe housing.” Your heart felt like it skipped a few beats, how did you know it wasn’t a trick?

“He said you’d think it was a trick, he asked me to give you this.” In her hand, the dog tags Saul wore everyday. He never took them off, you touched the diamond ones around your neck. They were telling the truth. You looked to Musa and your mum, the mind fairies nodded, conforming the truth.

A booming sound ricocheted through out the forest. Time was up, it was time to go get your man.

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Heyyyyy! So, a lot went on in this chapter but I hoped you enjoyed! We get our Saul back next chapter yipeeeee <3 Bit of a longer one for you as a sorry for my lack of posting recently!

Let me know what you think in the comments, like, share and FOLLOW ME <3

CHAPTER 19 ------ CLICK HERE

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[seducing-a-vampire]

ON BEING HONEST AND WHY I THINK SIMON WILL BE THE FIRST TO SAY “I LOVE YOU”

Two things sparked this meta:

Baz yelling “you’re so beautiful” to Simon, but Simon not hearing it— the moment that lives rent-free in my head 24/7

Rainbow’s recent Fall for the Book interview, when she said that she thinks that Baz is “settling for Simon” in Wayward Son

Here’s something we all know: our guys really suck at saying nice things out loud to each other. For two people are constantly thinking nauseatingly sweet and loving things about each other, they almost never actually verbalize them. 

I ended up going through a lot of quotes and tracking some of the nice things that they actually do say to each other, and I’ll offer some very  r a m b l i n g  thoughts on what I think Simon and Baz’s respective paths indicate for AWTWB. 

I was interested in the intersection of when Simon and Baz are being honest to each other (aka saying some of the nice things that they’re always thinking) with when Simon and Baz are being honest about themselves (aka self-acceptance).

TL;DR, my prediction for their path through honesty is:

Simon’s self-acceptance (which starts at the end of WS)

Simon’s honesty to Baz re: love

Baz’s honesty to Simon re: love

Baz’s self acceptance

**Below the cut because it got super long, yikes**

Phase 1: Simon being nice/honest in CO

The first nice-ish interaction between Simon and Baz in Carry On is when Simon follows Baz up to the Mage’s office, and they find Baz’s baby photo:

“Here,” [Simon] says softly, holding it out to me. “I’m… sorry.” (204)

Simon tones down his initial hostility in this scene after he sees the photo. This moment, along with Natasha’s visitation, catalyzes a real change in how Simon views Baz, and it’s indicative of the larger shift (vulnerability → Simon seeing Baz as more than his enemy → Baz wearing jeans → oops I love him). This trajectory continues during their truce-- there are still a few moments of hostility, but honestly on the whole, Simon is pretty nice to Baz:

“You don’t want to hurt me,” I say, trying to push him back. “Isn’t that right? I’m sorry. Look at me, I’m sorry.” (210)

“I’ll help you,” he says (217)

“Baz,” I yell. “No! You’re flammable!” (238)

All of this culminates in the kisses in the forest, and Simon says a few more nice and affirming things around that point:

“They say your soul dies.”   “That’s tosh,” he says. (300)

“You’re not a monster,” I say. His face is cold as a corpse in my hand. “I was wrong. All those years. You’re a bully. And a snob. And a complete arsehold. But you’re not one of them.” (339)

“I won’t,” I say. I’ve never turned my back on you. And I’m not starting now.” (340)

Something that stood out to me after reviewing these moments is that Simon’s shift from enemies to lovers is actually pretty linear. As he learns more about Baz during their truce and they grow closer, Simon hates Baz less and consequently says nicer things to him, until he ultimately realizes he doesn’t hate Baz at all, so he kisses him and asks him to be his boyfriend. Weirdly logical behavior for someone so thick. Simon is being pretty open and honest, and this makes sense because Simon understands himself pretty well at this point. His big crisis of character comes in the next book. 

The thing is, at this point in Carry On, Baz has not said a single nice thing to Simon. The closest you could get is when he asks Simon to come to his house for Christmas, which is a great moment but is quickly muddled by their ensuing fight. 

(awesome thoughts about that moment here)

Baz has acted nicely, but he has remained sarcastic and aloof even after Simon kisses him. 

We get a few compliments of Simon’s power:

“You have to stop doing that.”  

“What?”

“Godlike displays of magic.” (348)

“You’re the most powerful magician alive-- who’s ever lived, probably.” (355)

I won’t repeat @super-duper-twelve’s brilliant meta on this, but this category of compliment is not ultimately that useful for their general communication.

Simon keeps pushing, despite the cold walls Baz tries to put up, and he asks Baz to be his “terrible boyfriend.” Honestly, it astounds me how much confidence Simon must’ve had to just shoot his shot there, because Baz was not giving him a ton of reason to think he’d go for it. Me as simon would’ve definitely been like: ok cool, nice kiss, he definitely still hates me though.

Phase 2: Baz being nice/honest

I want to be clear: it’s perfectly understandable why Baz, a flawed fictional character, is not nice to Simon. His trajectory from enemies to lovers is completely different, because he’s spent years loving Simon while acting like his enemy. He’s had great practice at that, and it’s the most relatable thing ever that he is afraid of getting hurt when he’s believed Simon to be an impossible dream for so long. This is also understandable when viewed through the lens of self-acceptance because huge facets of Baz’s identity are constantly being covered up and ignored by himself or by the people close to him (vampire, gay). He knows himself, sure, but he’s a very long way from self-acceptance.

Anyway, Baz does actually agree to be Simon’s boyfriend, and we get a couple of honest Nice Things that they say to each other during that brief period.

Unfortunately, this mutual honesty/niceness is incredibly short lived, because everything changes quickly after this: Humdrum, Mage, Ebb, etc. Simon’s world falls apart, and Baz is there to comfort him, affirm him, and (finally) be honest and nice. Their whole dynamic turns on its head. 

“You did it, didn’t you?” Baz whispers. “You defeated the Humdrum. You saved the day, you courageous fuck. You absolute nightmare.” (491)

“It’s going to be okay… it’s all right, love.” (492)

“You were the centre of my universe,” I say. “Everything else spun around you.” (506)

“Looking at you was like looking directly into the sun.” (507)

“You’re still Simon Snow. You’re still the hero of this story--” (507)

“It was brave. It was brave and selfless and clever. That’s who you are, Simon. And I’m not going to get bored with you.” (507)

“I choose you,” I say. “Simon Snow, I choose you.” (508)

To summarize and possibly oversimplify:

Up until the night of the Mage and Ebb’s death, Simon was the one pushing forward, being honest, and looking to break down the boundaries and walls between them. 

After that point, Baz finally feels ready to be all in with Simon, and Simon retreats inward. 

Phase 3: Wayward Son

We see this dynamic play out in Wayward Son, with almost no change throughout the whole book. Right from the very first chapter, Simon is thinking:

“Everything that happened with the Mage and the Hum-drum just made Baz more of who he was meant to be… He proved himself as a man and a magician. He proved himself right: The Mage really was evil! And I really was a fraud—’the worst Chosen One who’s ever been chosen,’ just like Baz used to say. He was right about me all along. “ (8)

I think it’s really notable that Simon can use his boyfriend’s words to justify his own worst self-doubts and self-loathings, because it indicates the consequences of them spending way more time insulting each other than ever being honest and affirming.

In Wayward Son, tender and honest moments between Simon and Baz are few and far between and mostly in the form of post-battle kisses. The only real communication that we see between them comes in flashbacks, wherein we see how much Simon has pulled back from Baz (the descriptions of his reaction to physical intimacy being one example of this). 

Even when Baz says nice things to Simon and affirms him, Simon’s presumed depression largely keeps him from believing and internalizing those things (through no real fault of either person. Again, very understandable ways for both of these flawed characters with traumatic pasts to behave!!!!!). Baz yells, “you’re so beautiful” to Simon, and he doesn’t even hear him (a gutting moment that I consider indicative of the general dynamic between them throughout the book).

Now, we get to Rainbow’s comments about Baz “settling for Simon.” I feel this. Simon is pushing Baz away and giving Baz basically nothing, and that is not a healthy dynamic. Baz is going through his own crap and self-doubt and self-acceptance, and Simon is not there for him apart from fits of jealous rage. As we learned in Carry On, it takes a lot for Baz to even feel remotely comfortable expressing his feelings for Simon, and with many months lacking that, it starts to wilt. 

What’s next: Prologue and AWTWB

Of course, the moment of truest communication in the second book comes at the very end:

“Why can’t you just admit that you’d be happier here?” “Why can’t you see that I wouldn't be happier anywhere without you?” (353)

I think the key to understanding what might come after this agonizing moment lies with Simon’s thoughts as he sits alone on the beach.

Before Baz arrives, Simon’s not thinking about his boyfriend. He’s thinking about himself. He’s contemplating his role in the World of Mage’s (hello, synopsis for AWTWB), and he’s taking a good, long look in the mirror. He’s starting to be honest about himself and accept himself (not perfectly, and I think this imperfect acceptance is reflected in his expressed desire to get rid of his wings, but he’s getting there). 

When Simon talks about Baz staying in America and being happy, Simon is not closing himself up and pushing Baz away, which he had done for so long and which caused so much miscommunication up to this point. Rather, this is a moment of true honesty on Simon’s part. 

Baz does need to learn more about himself and his vampirism. Simon recognizes this about Baz, just as Simon is trying to understand himself, too. In this moment, Simon is being true and vulnerable and speaking from a place of love. Baz refuses to self-reflect honestly and understand the truth in what Simon is saying, instead clinging to his love for Simon (without actually verbalizing that love). Throughout WS, Baz makes very stunted progress (see: his floral clothing as symbolism, being able to retract his fangs, meeting other vampires and learning about immortality and all that fun stuff), but in the end he doesn’t let himself actually think about that in any real way. Despite what Simon says, Baz has not yet “become more of who he was meant to be.” 

Importantly, this is in the “Prologue,” the beginning of the next phase in their healing and their relationship. As the balance shifts, this could be the beginning of real communication, but Simon needs to take the next step. At the end of WS, Baz is the one holding back. Baz isn’t able to accept himself honestly, so he won’t be able to fully let Simon in, either. 

Until Simon says “I love you,” they won’t get anywhere in their relationship. Simon needs to say it first, he needs to be vulnerable and honest in a way that he hasn’t been since before the Mage’s death, and Baz needs to understand those feelings in order to fully express his own. Then, I see Simon’s fully expressed love and support as a catalyst for Baz’s final self-acceptance. 

I think Simon will be unable to fully express his love for Baz until he has understood and accepted himself. However, Baz will continue to prioritize Simon/love over his own self-acceptance until either (A) Simon and Baz break up, or (B) Baz finally has confidence and security in their relationship because Simon has broken down the barriers of honesty and said “I love you.” Simon needing to say “I love you” first also gets at the idea of Simon needing to become someone that Baz deserves (per Rainbow’s words). 

So, I predict this as their path through honesty:

Simon’s self-acceptance (which starts at the end of WS)

Simon’s honesty to Baz re: love

Baz’s honesty to Simon re: love

Baz’s self acceptance

And then they will live happily ever after. The end.

*** Please let me know what you think and if this makes any sense!! ***

[aion-rsa]

Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist

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This article contains huge spoilers for Midnight Mass. So help me God if you read this without watching the series first…

The version of Midnight Mass that Netflix advertised still would have made for a compelling horror series. 

An isolated, insular island community? Great. A young, charismatic preacher suddenly coming to town to shake things up? Perfect. That preacher proving capable of performing minor miracles? Love it, no notes! 

Of course, as viewers who have watched at least four episodes of the seven-episode series now know, Midnight Mass has one extra supernatural twist in mind that elevates an already interesting story to true mind-blowing status. Critics were understandably asked to keep this aspect of the show a secret before it premiered. So please indulge me as I finally slay these embargo demons and get it off my chest.

Vampires. Vampires! V-A-M-P-I-R-E-S. VAMPIRES! VAMPIRES VAMPIRES VAMPIRES! Literally like Dracula. And Nosferatu. Anne Rice’s Lestat. Stephen King’s ‘Salem’s Lot. Vampires. VAMPIRES, BRO, VAMPIRES.

For creator Mike Flanagan, a filmmaker influenced by all manner of classic horror, bringing the fanged bloodsuckers to life was a long time coming.

“My favorite vampire movie is (Werner) Herzog’s Nosferatu,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to the premiere of Midnight Mass. “That film is the vampire story as high art. I also adore From Dusk Till Dawn. I read Dracula young enough for it to really burrow in for me. And I read ‘Salem’s Lot early enough to color an enormous amount of work that I’ll do for the rest of my life.”

Midnight Mass’s depiction of the mythological undead beast and how it can neatly fit into Christian dogma is one of the most satisfying horror twists in years. Now that the truth is out, let’s discuss Midnight Mass and how it conflates vampires and biblical angels. 

Mistaking a Vampire for an Angel

The interesting thing about Midnight Mass is that it clearly takes place in a universe where the average person has no knowledge of what a vampire is. Even Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), arguably the most well-read person on Crockett Island, has to do some research into “porphyria cutanea tarda” (a.k.a. the real life “vampire disease”). This is similar to The Walking Dead’s approach to zombies, in which the “z” word and George A. Romero’s name are never spoken. This strategy in Midnight Mass allows for a truly fascinating case of mistaken identity.

While viewers immediately know that the creature Monsignor John Pruitt (Hamish Linklater) encounters is a vampire, he believes it to be an angel. Given how studied Pruitt is in the Bible and Cathloic theology, it’s entirely understandable why he would think a tall, muscular, bald-headed beast with fangs and leathery wings is an angel. As it turns out, the angels of the Old Testament can be truly terrifying. 

Not all angels are soft-featured human-like creatures with fluffy white bird wings. Some, like Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones are designed to intimidate God’s enemies. In the New Testament’s Book of Luke, an angel visits Zechariah and immediately asks him to “be not afraid” because the angel can see the poor guy absolutely shaking in his boots upon his arrival. Angels being terrifying is even something of an Internet meme, with users contrasting the phrase “be not afraid” with images of truly monstrous beasts. 

Not only does Pruitt’s vampire have the vague appearance of an angel, it also apparently holds the secrets to eternal life as promised in the Bible. By merely drinking some of the “angel’s” blood, a good Christian can live forever just like God says. Does that blood-drinking sacrament sound familiar? It did to Mike Flanagan.

“In Bible school I used to say ‘if the wine turns into Jesus’s blood literally and we’re drinking it so that we can live forever … that seems like a short leap to vampiric myth.’”

Of course, drinking the angel’s fluids in the case of Midnight Mass also leads to some unwanted side effects like a thirst for blood and extreme sensitivity to sunlight. Thankfully, good ol’ Bev Keane always has a Bible quote ready to go for that. When read through the proper perspective, the Holy Bible may as well be the original vampire story. 

The Rules of Vampirism

“The thing that I love about the vampire as a cinematic tool is how malleable it is,” Flanagan says. “We all agree that there is no canon. There are no rules. In fact, part of the joy is seeing what rules people cherry pick as they approach a vampire story.”

All depictions of vampires are indeed quite different. Vampires can range from the classic Stoker-ian monster to Twilight’s nigh-invulnerable sparkle bois. Midnight Mass’s version of the vampire leans towards the classic, albeit with some tweaks. In terms of appearance, The Angel (as we will be calling Midnight Mass’s O.G. vampire for simplicity’s sake) has a more bestial look like Nosferatu rather than an aristocratic one like Count Dracula or Anne Rice’s creations. 

“We winked at (Nosferatu the Vampyr actor) Klaus Kinski a few times when we designed our guy,” Flanagan says.

Though the Angel resembles Nosferatu in appearance, its vulnerabilities owe more to Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. Religious iconography does not appear to hurt the Angel nor its thralls. Traditional human weapons like bullets or blades also do no harm (at least not mortally). These vampires are, however, tremendously susceptible to both fire and sunlight. Exposure to the latter for even a few seconds is enough to kill the Angel and his many acolytes. 

Read more

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Like in Rice’s works as well, the path to creating a new vampire is quite simple. Step 1: Drink its blood. Step 2: Die. In Dracula and ‘Salem’s Lot, the method of vampire creation is merely being bit by one, zombie-style. Rice and Flanagan’s approach is quite a bit more intentional and interesting. It also opens the door for perhaps Midnight Mass’s most ingenious storytelling quirk: communion. John Pruitt is able to get nearly the entirety of Crockett Island to become a vampire by spiking the communion wine with his buddy’s blood. Then, all that remains is for them to poison themselves to death, Jonestown-style. 

The mass “resurrection” scene in which the congregation awakes as their new vampire selves also provides some insight to just how hard it is to contain the vampire’s overwhelming hunger. Riley Flynn was able to resist it when he turned because John Pruitt babysat him like a psychedelic mushroom guide. The plan for the rest of the congregation was to have their babysitters as well but that didn’t quite work out. Still, Riley’s dad Ed makes it clear to his wife Annie, that even if it’s hard to resist the call for blood, it’s not impossible. 

“When I saw them at the church, I thought it was something they really couldn’t help. Like something impossible not to do. But it isn’t, Annie,” he says.

Maybe if more vampires were like Ed Flynn, a whole island full of vampires wouldn’t be too bad of a thing in the first place. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

How to Defeat a Vampire

While every vampire story presents its own unique take on the creature, the answer on how to defeat a vampire is usually the same: by doing it together.

“We poor humans only have so much that we can give,” Flanagan says. “We’re ill-equipped as individuals to make any kind of meaningful stand. The only way evil in the world can be brought down is through collective effort. That’s something Stoker understands inherently. It’s clearly something King understands.”

Alongside the aforementioned Bram Stoker and Stephen King, Flanagan presents a small team of humans at story’s end who will do what it takes to defeat evil, even if it means dying in the process. Erin Greene (Kate Siegel), Dr. Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), Annie Flynn (Kristin Lehman), Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney), and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are the six residents of Crockett Island brave enough to try to take down the Angel. All but two (Warren and Leeza) die. They do succeed in eliminating the immediate threat on Crockett Island but it’s possible the Angel made it away to suck blood another day, damaged wings and all.

What’s interesting about Midnight Mass’s “final crew” is that six appears to be the magic number when it comes to taking down a vampire. Stoker’s Dracula has six heroes: Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker nèe Murray, Arthur Holmwood (Lord Godalming), John Seward, Quincey Morris, and Abraham Van Helsing (of which, only poor American cowboy Quincey Morris dies). King’s ‘Salem’s Lot also has six: Ben Mears, Matt Burke, Susan Norton, Mark Petrie, Jimmy Cody, and Father Callahan (of which, decidedly more than one of them die). This strange bit of arithmancy is something we asked Flanagan about.

“The number was certainly not intentional,” he says. “Once it was clear that Riley was not going to be carrying the torch to the end it really was about asking ‘who are the characters who seem in the very beginning to be at a disadvantage and how do we empower them in the end?’ This was gonna be played out by Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan, and everyone else who would get to just give a little piece.”

Considering that Erin and company were outnumbered about 117 to six, it was a pretty good showing for Crockett Island’s last humans standing.

All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[phoenixstartedthefire]

My thoughts on the cursed child part 2: things I didn't like

I made a post before about my opinions on the cursed child. I recommend you go read that one if you haven't yet before you read this one. My other post was mostly about my positive opinions and thoughts on the addition to the harry potter universe. This one is going to be more focused on my problems with the play. Again, this won't make such sense if you haven't read it.

I cannot stress how much I hate the fact that Harry named his child after Dumbledore and Snape. I know there is something to be said of some fondness he may feel for Dumbledore. He was kind to Harry at times and was someone Harry really looked up to. I can understand why he named his child after Dumbledore. But I don't think it's right. Dumbledore left Harry in an abusive household for his entire childhood, even when McGonagall questioned his judgement, insisted on tiptoeing around the truth and being vague on purpose when all Harry wanted was answers, ignored Harry when he needed him most(ootp), and raised a child to die without him knowing. And even though what Dumbledore put Harry through was terrible, I can understand that Harry might feel a certain fondness for him. But Snape. I cannot even begin to explain how much I hate him. I may make another post about it detailing exactly why but long story short, snape literally abused harry to the point where even less than a year into knowing him, Harry was convinced that his own teacher was trying to kill him. And then, "ur mom got mad at me cus I called her a slur twenty years ago and im still sad" and he's a saint? Fuck Snape.

I didn't like the 'Scorpius might be Voldemort's son' plotline. I don't think it made any sense. And I think it's stupid that everyone just believes this stupid rumor with no evidence at all. Even Harry believed it at one point. If they thought all the time turners were destroyed, how did they think Astoria traveled back in time to get knocked up by Voldemort? Why would Voldemort agree to that? How do they explain Scorpius looking like his father? It's ridiculous and shouldn't have been included. If they wanted to keep the plotline that Scorpius was secluded and ostracized by most of his classmates, they should have just gone with the 'his dad was a death eater' route. It makes a lot more sense than some stupid rumor that in no way could be true.

I didn't like the whole "there's a dark cloud around ur son" plot. Harry has been known to repeatedly discredit divination in the books. So why does he believe the centaur so wholeheartedly without hesitation? I know that he has respect for the centaurs because they saved his life and they are oppressed for being 'half-breeds' which is not right at all. But I still think its out of character for Harry to just believe in some vision the centaur had without any question. And it shouldn't take Draco Malfoy to tell him that after he already made both of their sons lives hell.

Speaking of Harry's character, I don't think it was in character for him to split up Albus and Scorpius like that. He, out of all people, should know how important friends are at Hogwarts. He even says to Albus earlier in the play that friends are important and he didn't know what he would've done without Ron and Hermione. So why would he willingly split his son and his only friend up just because Scorpius might be evil? And honestly, if he ever even made the effort to meet Scorpius, he would know that Scorpius 'excuse me, Mr. Muggle' and 'my geekness is a-quivering' Malfoy is the least likely person ever to be evil. I suppose it isn't too unlike him to hate Scorpius at first just because he's Malfoy's son. But if he can forgive Snape for bullying him for years, he should be able to look past his rivalry with Draco for the sake of his son's safety and happiness. I mean, Harry would be downright murderous if someone tried to split up him and Ron for no good reason at Hogwarts. So why does he think it's okay for him to split up Scorpius and Albus?

Also the way he treated McGonagall was completely out of line and out of character. In the books, he (almost) always treated McGonagall with complete respect and admired her, even if he didn't quite agree with her at times. So for him to storm into her office and demand anything of her is completely out of character and just downright shitty.

Also, and I know this has been said before but the whole Cedric Diggory being a death eater thing? So stupid. Cedric is quite possibly the best person in the series. He is always nice to everyone and always makes sure things are fair. You're telling me that because of getting embarrassed when he was 17 he's gonna turn into a wizard nazi? It doesn't make any sense. I mean. So many people loved him and were absolutely destroyed when he died. Because of how much of a genuinely nice and loving person he was. Amos Diggory, over 20 years later still is trying to find ways to bring his son back. Cedric wanted a rematch in poa after the dementors made harry faint in quidditch! Because it wasn't fair! That boy deserved better.

I hate the Delphi plot. It just kind of invalidates Voldemort's whole character. The whole point of his character and why he was so evil was because he was incapable of love. The only reason he tolerates certain people is because he has a use for them. It's incredibly stupid that Voldemort would ever feel enough for Bellatrix to do...that with her. I know that one doesn't need to love someone to have sex but I don't see Voldemort ever doing that. Not only because i dont want to picture it but also because he would find the whole concept of it too human. He would never trust anyone enough to have a child with them. The only way I could ever see him having a child is maybe to clone himself? Or find some other self dependent way to have a child. And he wouldn't have a child. So that's stupid.

I didn't like the relationship they try to push between Rose and Scorpius. Rose makes it pretty clear from their first meeting that she doesn't like Scorpius and her opinion doesn't seem to change throughout the play. Rose to me just seemed like 'I know that Albus and Scorpius have chemistry throughout the entire play and would make sense to be together but...no homo'. It's one of those 'won't take no for an answer' kind of relationships that are super harmful. If a girl says no, respect it and move on. I thought the little awkward attempts at flirting with her were cute but the overall concept of Rose and Scorpius ending up together doesn't sit right with me. Especially with the amount of chemistry that he has with Albus. It doesn't make sense for him to be with Rose.

Also. I hate that Ron and Hermione don't end up together in the alternate timelines. They obviously still love each other. It wouldn't make sense for Ron to end up marrying Padma after spending one night with her at the yule ball. While the yule ball was a big factor in ron and Hermione figuring out their feelings for each other, it definitely wasn't the only moment that mattered. Just because Hermione and Ron went to the ball together doesn't mean they wouldn't end up married. Wouldn't the house elf situation in DH have still happened in the timeline where Hermione is the teacher? I just don't get it. Is there something I'm missing here?

Hey, wtf was with the whole trolley witch thing? I hated it.

That's most of my problems with the cursed child. I overall enjoyed it but there were a lot of flaws and plot holes and things that just didn't make sense. To me the whole play was just a cash grab for jkr. She wanted to keep profiting on the franchise. She did the same with the fantastic beast series. She didn't do it for her passion for the series. She did it to stay relevant and make money. She sucks. It’s nice for if you want the feels and just need something to read but not if you want to take a serious look at something. Don’t go into it with high expectations.

Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to hear my opinions on! I was thinking about making a post about Draco Malfoy and my thoughts on his character since he’s pretty controversial in the fandom. Or maybe some popular\unpopular ships?

[baodurs]

i filled out this super cool button character profile by @extraordinarymage for sabrina! thank you for making this, it was a lot of fun to fill out <3 the bulk of it is under a cut and oh boy is it long !!!

Short, Quick Reference

Name: Sabrina Wiseman

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Love Interest: Kent

Main personality trait: Confidence

Secondary personality trait: Morbidity

Relationship with Nick: Full of love, haunted by unaddressed guilt and frustration. But mostly full of love.

Nickname for Nick: Saint Nick (used sparingly)

Resentful or accepting?: Slightly resentful

Main strategy (interpersonal, insightful, innovative?): Insightful

Ethical or expedient?: Expedient

GENERAL

Name: Sabrina Larkspur Wiseman

Nickname(s): Sab, used by anyone; Sabby, only Nick and Sally; and, of course, Button for Nick.

Birthday: I think I made her an October Libra for the purpose of a template I did months ago, but I’m not sure! No concrete birthday yet, I’m always very slow to nail down details like this.

Age: 20

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hair color + style: Blonde. A little past shoulder length, sometimes wavy. Usually a middle part. For Aeon, tied back in a bun.

Eye color: Blue, entirely because of the section of Frank O’Hara’s “Meditations in an Emergency” that goes, “My eyes are vague blue, like the sky...”

Height: 5′5

Piercings: Multiple in each ear, but a couple have started to close.

Tattoos: None yet! Sab likes the idea of a tattoo but is worried about finding the perfect design, whether she’d end up hating it, that the pain might be greater than she expects and she’ll look like a baby in front of her tattoo artist. I’d like to think she eventually consults Sally and/or Glitch to come up with an idea that she falls in love with, but I haven’t come up with what that would be!

Clothing style: Mostly solid colors, not a lot of patterns. Nothing super bright, but a fairly varied mix of pastels, neutrals, dark colors, black. Partial to denim skirts and sweater tops. Ankle boots. Likes a good turtleneck. She’s bolder when it comes to formal wear, and especially loves suits. Big fan of silk and satin.

Since she has a pretty accurate face claim, I’ll link some gifsets I’ve rb’d for appearance ref if you are so inclined.

STATS

I’m always adjusting minor things and swapping scenes around, but these are from my most recent Sab run! Most scores hover somewhere around these values.

Personality:

Confidence: 53%

Humor: 5%

Morbidity: 22%

Resentful: 57% | Accepting: 43%

Strategy:

Interpersonal: 12%

Insightful: 50%

Innovative: 10%

Ethical: 43% | Expedient: 57%

KEY DECISIONS:

What is Nick’s nickname and why?: Saint Nick, used very rarely. It’s a joking reference to the time she thought Santa was an evil Ment out to ruin Christmas, and a point about Nick overdoing it with the cheer. “Saint Nick” is usually code for “I know you mean well, but please mind your own business.” Otherwise, she just calls him Nick.

What is their favorite type of cookie (and its name and why?): Salted caramel chocolate chip! No special name.

What was their initial reaction to Sally hugging them, as kids?: She just froze. That could just be me projecting adult Sabrina onto her childhood self; I don’t imagine that she was as uncomfortable around strangers or quite as cautious back then. But that’s what I’ll stick with.

How did they ace the ASE test?: The in-game option she takes is “My entire life has revolved around strategic avoidance,” but the one about being just plain smart also sounds like her. If Sab has the chance to thoroughly (over)prepare for something, she will do it. Her mind blindness also has her constantly (over)analyzing situations. So, hard work and relentless anxiety!

Did they manage to win their first assignment? How?: Yes, by having Sally block the door. I’ve headcanoned some slight differences in how it plays out, which I wrote about in-depth here. To summarize, Sab thinks of blocking the door as a desperate last resort, not a clever loophole, and she pushes back against Rosy’s praise because she wishes she could have done it the “real” way. Rosy goes from being impressed to being annoyed that she’s willfully missing the point.

What was the primary emotion Button felt during the Aeon bombing (love, gratitude, etc?): Guilt. She feels very guilty about how much Nick has given up for her in general, but I think that in the moment, it’s on a smaller scale. The fact that Nick was on the phone with her when it happened, coming to her rescue like always, becomes emblematic of their whole relationship for her, and she really fixates on that.

Who drove them home from the hospital from and why?: Glitch. Sab responds to her initial text with “Are you sure?”, and is relieved when Glitch takes that as “Yes, please.” She doesn’t relish the idea of being around someone more connected to her family or Nick at that point.

How do they feel about Nick riding around in their mind?: Worried, at first. Just because it’s so unknown and absolutely insane. After seeing Doctor Amari, she’s excited! Sab is thrilled to be a Pollard Five and intends to take full advantage of it. I am not looking forward to seeing how she reacts when that’s taken away from her.

Why did Button agree to do the undercover mission?: To prove she still deserves to be an MIV. Sabrina feels stupid and reckless for putting herself, Nick, and Aeon in this position, but she knows she’s smart, and she hasn’t worked this hard for nothing. She wants to prove what she could do with a normal Pollard Score and make herself too valuable to give up even when she’s back to Zero.

Told Glitch about your mind blindness?: Depends on the playthrough. I’m constantly going back and forth on whether Sab meets Glitch for coffee or wanders the city with Nick in her second chapter 5 slot (after trying to track down Kent). If she does meet Glitch, though, she absolutely tells her; with how touchy Sab is about privacy, she couldn’t stomach not warning Glitch that Nick could hear everything they said.

Figured out K’s secret?: Nope. She finds enough of the clues to be given the “I knew it!” option in-game, but she didn’t actually put it together. Sab is too angry and embarrassed by learning that Kent is an AMO to find any reason to interrogate it. “The random guy I met before school just happens to be a jerk” is a perfectly sound explanation to her.

Found Noh’s clues?: Not at the metro station. Sometimes she sees the Vengeance brooms in chapter 5 (again, depending on the playthrough), but that’s it.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP:

Love Interest: Kent

Why them?: Sab feels an immediate kinship with Kent after learning about the NPO program. It’s kind of funny how quickly he moves from the least sympathetic position in her eyes (Ment who got past me and read my mind without my knowledge) to the most sympathetic (non-powered child of a prominent family aiming a league above where he “belongs”). A lot of new respect for his competence. Her fate is sealed when she realizes that his kindness at the hospital wasn’t him trying to make up for some wrongdoing, but just him being very sweet. (She had scoffed over “You needed help.” But now she’s like, “Oh. He meant that?! Fuck.”)

As they spend more time together, Sab realizes how weirdly similar they are in other ways, too. And she starts to feel safe/secure around him in a way that she’s extremely not used to. Growing up surrounded by Ments, Sab has a lot of issues about being too much, too difficult, needing to “be worthy” of love. So someone like Kent who is not a Ment, who has no “obligation” to care about her, and whose judgement she trusts implicitly? Being around him and being loved by him mean a lot, and I think will go a long way towards helping her reflect on her other relationships!

What are their first impressions of each other?: Okay, there are like 3 first impressions with Kent. First: he’s tall and handsome and secretly adorable, and they have similar career goals, so she’s drafting a five-month plan to woo him and get his number. Second: he’s a lying, self-obsessed loser who owes her many explanations. Third: oh no, the first impression was true! And he’s been continually, selflessly kind to her in spite of her overt hostility. Scratch the five-month plan, because the crush was only fun when it was entirely superficial; now she really, really likes him and that just sucks.

We know that Button makes a good impression on K by stopping for their dogs, but apart from that... I mean, the “we confused each other” from chapter 7 is very apt. Sab has lots of shifting personas, and Kent sees pretty much every one within 24 hours. The prevailing impression before everything gets cleared up is probably just that she cares a lot? About everything? Her stopping for the dogs, how seriously she takes the first assignment, the way she seems so deeply affected by something he said or did that morning. It’s a rare side of her to meet first because she usually pretends to be above everything.

What feature does your Button find most attractive in their RO (ex. appearance, personality, etc.)?: Probably his composure. And his... steadfastness? The way he seems unruffled by anything, his soothing presence. She really admires that about him and finds the calm contagious.

What do they do to spend time together?: Going on drives together! Kent driving while Sab plays songs she thinks he’ll like, talking or not talking. Cuddling on the couch while reading their own separate books. Museum dates. Walking the dogs together.

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: I imagine that the first month or so of their relationship would be difficult, just because they’re both bad at expressing themselves and not used to relying on other people. Kent kind of negates a lot of Sab’s impulses to get defensive or hostile, so instead of arguments, I think there are more likely to be awkward periods where she’s just stewing in something without addressing it. Most of their fights would be, like, one of them becoming really distant for a concerning number of days until the other tries to awkwardly check in on them.

What does their future look like?: Uhh some random lore: I think eventually they do get married, despite neither of them caring that much about it. Sabrina would be excited to have something to plan, and she knows it would make the people around her happy. They have a long engagement; there’s never really an “official” proposal, just an acknowledgement that yeah, they’ll get married one day, and then eventually they get rings. The engagement is almost Sab’s favorite part, honestly. She likes planning and showing off her ring and calling Kent her fiancé, a lot of fanfare on her part for a wedding that ends up being very modest and chill.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Nick: When I first started developing Sab, I thought that with as difficult/prickly as she can be, her relationship with Nick would be worse than it is. Never bad, but certainly strained, with more jealousy/resentment on her side. However, she rejected this. She is resentful, but never towards Nick—she internalizes the negative parts of their relationship so they manifest as guilt instead. And that’s the problem, not resentment. Sab thinks he’s overprotective, but that doesn’t make her angry; it just makes her sad. She wishes things were different and he didn’t feel so responsible for her, but she also doesn’t know how she could manage without him taking on so many of her burdens. So, guilt! So much love, but always looming guilt.

Having Nick in her head has helped. It’s added a new kind of guilt (“I’m a horrible person for being so giddy that people can’t hear my thoughts even though that requires my brother to be in a coma”), but getting inside Nick’s head for once and really feeling his love for her changes things. Makes her feel way more secure, I guess? It’s easier to see her brother as human person, a friend who loves her, rather than a perfect selfless paragon who sacrificed everything to raise her, which is an important shift.

There are also Things happening with self-presentation in the fact that they’re both models, and flirts, and pretend to be shallow. And the ways that they’ve responded to vastly different expectations. And selflessness versus selfishness. But I have no idea how to talk about that yet.

Relationship with Father: Strained and distant. Sabrina doesn’t necessarily blame him for leaving, but she hates how he’s handled it. She’s incredibly frustrated that John insists on keeping them in this miserable limbo of uncomfortable visits, even though moving away was (to her) a tacit acknowledgement that she and her parents are better off without each other. He’s trying to force a relationship that Sab thinks is ultimately harmful for everyone involved. For Nick’s sake, she’s willing to grin and bear the visits, but it never works because John can obviously tell it’s an act. He pushes her, she gets defensive, and so on to infinity.

Relationship with Mother: Like with John, Sab doesn’t resent Hope for the incident itself, or for leaving afterward. It was terrifying, and the idea of being around Hope makes her panic—but she thinks of that as just another irrational anxiety symptom, and she’s trying to work through it. What she does resent Hope for is letting it get to that point at all. Sab is incredibly bitter that Hope will suffer silently to the point of almost killing her (during the incident) and potentially herself (with the BRS), while Sab has no choice but to be completely open. Especially because they’re so similar in that way—she’s almost jealous. “Oh, so your silence is allowed to almost kill me and it’s ‘nobody’s fault’ but I can’t pretend to enjoy a single lunch with Dad without him calling me out for lying?”

And even though she doesn’t hold the incident itself against her, Sab is very hung up on “Why are you never quiet? Why are you always there?” She knows, on some level, that this was not a Personal Judgement against her. But because Hope keeps so much quiet, this is the only honest expression of her mother’s feelings that she can remember! It would take a lot for Sab to believe that Hope was really, genuinely interested in reconnecting with her, rather than just pretending to love her "enough” this time because to do otherwise would reflect poorly on Hope as a mother.

Relationship with Sally: Besties <3 Sally is the only member of the Wiseman inner circle that Sab doesn’t have complicated feelings about. They both have hidden morbid streaks that they bring out in each other, and can laugh about. They both have competitive streaks that work well together because they’re always on the same team. And their wants/needs from the relationship complement each other well, I think. Sally has always felt valued because she’s useful and not because she’s loved, while Sab has always felt smothered by love/care without feeling like she genuinely adds value to other people’s lives. So it means a lot to both of them that they’re able to help each other practically, while also genuinely loving and supporting each other outside of that.

Relationship with Gray: Full of trust and genuine care, but predicated on distance. Sab loves him a lot for being so careful not to cross any boundaries, physical or emotional, with her. She’s grateful that he’s there for Nick in a way that she doesn’t feel she can be. But "I like Gray because he doesn’t push me and is good to Nick” means that any hand he extend makes her defensive, because she’ll either view him as an emissary of Nick or start to panic because their normal routine is being disrupted (she doesn’t tell him about Hope in ch 3, for example).

They get along very well in a friend-of-a-friend sort of way, and bond over being cautious counterparts to Nick. Also, Sab never had a crush on Gray, but she is not immune to tall superhero and thinks it’s fun to fake flirt with him. (You know Isabela’s “You have pretty eyes” routine from DA2? Sab does that to Gray when conversations steer towards things she’d rather not talk about.)

Relationship with Glitch: I’m really excited about these two! They click from the start, and Sabrina feels immediately comfortable around Glitch, which makes her feel distinctly uncomfortable whenever she catches herself. Externally, they have pretty different personalities, but they’re both perceptive and... socially manipulative? aware of their self-presentation?... in ways that they both pick up on right away. So it’s a lot of conversational maneuvering and trying to figure out what the other’s game is, while also genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

Relationship with Kent/Kenna: I could go truly insane here. See the romance section above instead.

Relationship with Kim: Sab wants him to like her sooooo bad. He’s one of the only people to ever really get through to her, re: my headcanon conversation after the first assignment. Authority figures tend to treat her as special, whether that’s negatively because of her mind blindness or positively because she’s such an overachiever. She had no idea how to respond to that not being the case (and didn’t handle it well at first), but chapter 6 solidifies her respect for him.

It also turns Rosy’s opinion of Sab around; he was impressed by her in class but left his office thinking she was self-absorbed and naive. But the bombing is a reality check, and her response is very measured and practical in a way that surprises him.

Relationship with Lev: She doesn’t mind the comparisons to Nick or the “maybe one day they’ll fix you” comments as much as you might think. They aren’t her favorite, but she prefers that sort of thing to the inspirational platitudes belied by coddling that she got from her family growing up. Sab has fond memories of Lev and is grateful that he’s always been kind to her, but doesn’t have any particular feelings apart from that.

Relationship with Clarence: Holds a grudge against him for causing a scene, making her late, and generally being a jerk. But she can’t fault him for being right, after what happened! Mostly she just wants to avoid him, but she’ll be thrilled to lord her success over him if/when she proves herself.

Relationship with Dean Branham: Like Rosy, another authority figure that Sab desperately wants to impress. But without the personal investment she has in Rosy’s validation, more “Oh, this person is in charge, so I should make her like me!” Despite Nick’s and Rosy’s reservations, Sabrina doesn’t really have a problem with being “strongarmed” or manipulated into cooperating; for now, she figures Branham was just doing her job and respects her tactics.

Relationship/attitude towards Ments in general: Mostly just uncomfortable and wary around them. Sab doesn’t want her mind read, and she figures that no Ment wants to be forced to read it either. So she has a pretty strict “no Ments” rule for close personal relationships (excluding Nick, Sally, and Gray, of course. But only Nick really counts because he’s the only one who can hear her thoughts whenever she’s nearby). Not out of hatred or resentment, just because she knows it will be easier for everyone in the long run.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): Not many, but yes! Sab dated around a lot in the 2 years before Aeon (more like year and a half, because she completely shut it down once she was more focused on preparing for the MIV program), but there are 2 relationships that were formative/important for her. A high school sweetheart, and someone Sab met through modeling. She doesn’t keep up with her high school ex, but the model is her best friend outside of Sally and Nick, and they still keep in touch! I’m still developing them/the relationships, and I’ll probably post more about them someday. They’re fun!

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: Confusing and contradictory. She has two main modes that confuse people who meet both (e.g., Kent). She’s either cold, stuck-up, and sometimes hostile, OR she’s charming, frivolous, and sometimes flirty. Mode 1 is tense but stoic and inexpressive; mode 2 is seemingly relaxed but very posed and insincere. Mode 1 is for when she feels uncertain or has no agenda apart from “get to point B”; mode 2 is for when she’s more comfortable or trying to manipulate someone. Her actual personality is a bit closer to the second, but she doesn’t pretend not take things seriously or hide when she’s annoyed.

Strengths: Analytical, methodical, detail-oriented. Very driven and hardworking. May not always act like it, but does have social skills/charisma; a great liar, if you can’t read her mind. Unfailingly loyal and loving to her favorite people, so so so warm and affectionate and supportive if she really loves you. Very perceptive.

Weaknesses: Way too proud. Can be petty and vindictive. Self-absorbed (she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s hard for her to see past herself sometimes). Stubborn, hates being wrong. And... emotional isn’t the word, but strong negative emotions can really cloud her judgement. It ties into her being proud, petty, and stubborn; if she’s really upset about something, she can cling to that emotion instead of re-evaluating it or moving forward.

Phobias: From this ask about the phobias that are planned to show up in-game, there are a few that I could see fitting Sab, but I want to wait to see how they’re implemented before I fully commit. Which is very metagame-y, I know (and I am very metagame-y about IF), but “fear of X” is so broad that it really does depend on when/how it manifests in the text.

That being said, agoraphobia is almost a lock; crowds do make Sab very anxious if she can’t keep track of everyone within a certain distance, and if she can’t leave when she starts feeling antsy. Claustrophobia is a maybe. The choice that triggers it (in chapter 4, about hating MRI machines) suits Sab, but I’m not sure if she hates MRI machines because she hates tight spaces, or if it’s more related to her general anxiety about hospitals, medical tests, etc. Which she definitely has!

What activities/club did they do in school?: She avoided anything group-oriented as far as possible. She took piano (maybe violin?) lessons and did recitals, but wasn’t in orchestra. The one exception was maybe National Honor Society or some equivalent, which she would have joined for her resume’s sake. And I think she would have tutored!

Where do they escape to when they need space?: A little used library corner, where she can people watch without being seen/heard.

How do they feel about/cope with their mind blindness?: Sab hates it but tries not to dwell on it. She knows that it’s no one’s fault, and she mainly just tries to... minimize it? Drown out her thoughts, limit her contact with Ments. And, least healthily, very rigidly managing herself. Because there’s so much of her that exists outside of herself, without her control, she tries to either filter or completely suppress everything else. Part of why she got into modeling, she can perform and be perfect and have total control over the final product of her body in the photographs for whatever campaign. Some Day This Will Be Better. But definitely not where she is in current canon.

How has your Button changed since the Incident with Hope?: Developed many new anxieties and disorders and syndromes :) She also became way more self-conscious, as in literally conscious of and way more tightly monitoring herself, what she’s thinking, what she’s expressing, how she’s sitting, etc. Less emotive face, more rigid posture.

If they weren’t an Aeon student, what would they be doing?: Sab would have beaten herself up forever if she “proved everyone right” by avoiding Unity/Ments entirely, so she’d want to stay in the family business somehow. She probably would have ended up doing scientific research on mental agility. Maybe even working for Mirrortech or some other biotech company, which I imagine would have been an interesting conversation to have with the family.

RANDOM FACTS:

Zodiac sign: Like I said, I assigned her Libra months ago for the sake of a template. But I don’t know enough about astrology to commit. Libra or Leo, probably.

Hobbies: Music, reading poetry, “cooking” (i.e., sitting on the counter and not helping while Nick makes dinner)

Likes: Watching other people (Nick) play video games, dressing up, taking long showers/baths, dark chocolate with caramel, back hugs

Dislikes: Being patronized, hot weather, going to the doctor, driving, doing anything she is not good at

Type of bedsheets: Bamboo.

Drink of choice: Cucumber mint lemonade! For hot drinks, some kind of caramel coffee. For alcohol, she refuses to get drunk because she’s terrified of having even less control of her mental broadcast, but at home/around people she trusts she’ll have a glass or two of wine. Doesn’t know enough to be picky, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

Favorite food: Probably some pasta dish Nick makes with asparagus and tomatoes and a lot of garlic.

Favorite color: Like a light turquoise!

Favorite music: Music to her was another mind-shielding tactic before anything else, so she tends to like upbeat-ish electronic/pop stuff. Catchy and repetitive, and/or with lots of personality to drown out her own thoughts. On the other end of the spectrum, she does have a soft spot for crackly, lo-fi, old or old-sounding slow songs—something about fuzzy recordings simulating a weak telepathic signal.

Favorite season: Hmm, spring and autumn are both good. She likes either side of winter.

Anything else you’d like to share: My heart and a long, fulfilling marriage, with anyone who reads all this 💍

[a-student-out-of-time]

There's a good and a bad way to subvert expectations. Unfortunately what's been happening a lot lately is that many works go for twists for the sake of being twists, the Star Wars Sequels being a prime example of this. Or the later sessions of Game of Thrones. There is a fine balance between being able to surprise your audience and not being extremely predictable.

//I’ve absorbed more complaints and feelings from both those series through pop-culture osmosis than I have from watching them. I’m more of a casual observer, but I do have some feelings on both these points (which I will put under here if you’re interested.)

//tl;dr version: I think we should unbiasedly judge media on its own merits and look over what works internally within the story and what doesn’t, be willing to make our own judgements rather than jump on bandwagons and tell people what they should or shouldn’t like, and not treat opinions as straight facts.

//And also that I’m honestly tired of hearing about the sequels and GoT ^^;

//I disagree with a lot of people on the Star Wars sequels (aside from 9, fuck 9), but I’d rather not start a debate about it nor their quality overall. Only that I think people really overreacted to them  and many others jumped on the hate bandwagon when emotions were running high.

//Frankly, many of the criticisms I saw about the films felt either wildly inconsistent about what they’re upset about or what they wanted it to be (7 was criticized for being too much like old Star Wars, 8 for not being enough like old Star Wars) and others felt like they came from bad faith and I can’t take them seriously.

//And yes, the last season of Game of Thrones is trash and wrecked everyone’s storylines for the sake of being shocking, but let’s also be real: GoT was never going to have a happy ending if it wanted to stick to its “realism.” Whoever got on the Iron Throne was inevitably going to have to purge all opposition to consolidate power. That’s just how real revolutions and coups work.

//To be clear, Daenerys’ turn to evil murderousness was stupidly executed, but it wasn’t necessarily unprecedented. What I frankly dislike about fantasy in general is its tendency toward the Divine Right of Kings. That only certain bloodlines have the right to rule and you just need to put the “rightful heir” on the throne. In other words, giving absolute power to a magically omnibenevolent person will fix everything. I may be an optimistic humanist, but I know that simply doesn’t happen.

//The entire point of GoT is that DRoK is stupid and royalty in general really kinda sucks. If you go back, you see most of the lords we follow, including “good king” Eddard Stark, are either totally indifferent to the masses or are completely sadistic and torture them for funsies since the legal system doesn’t protect peasants.

//The Starks are no better than the Lannisters simply by virtue of being overall “nicer” than them. Both sides start wars that get thousands of people killed. Also, everybody loved John Snow, but he also fucking hanged a kid and I’ve never heard anyone bring that up since.

//Most importantly, Daenerys was a likable character with a sympathetic backstory, but even before the last season, she was fully embracing being a Targaryen by blood and was openly murdering people who got in her way while she was conquering territory after territory.

//Yes, a lot of the people she killed were slaveholders, but let’s be real for a moment: not everyone who participates in an evil system is evil themselves. It’s easy for us as the audience to judge them for participating in a slavocracy, but living in one comes with being told slavery is okay. That doesn’t make them evil by nature, just subject to the biases of their culture.

//Also, slavery is evil but conquering people is fine? And burning people to death for opposing you is acceptable since you’re going to be better and free everyone, or because you had a sympathetic backstory? These are the kinds of things that get villains criticized for, but is treated as a necessary evil at worst for the protagonists.

//This is protagonist-centered morality. The show is framing it in a way where you’re being drawn in to see it that way, but also telling you not to see blatant hypocrisies for what they really are. Daenerys was even called as mad as her father by Tyrion. It wasn’t well-executed, but it was going to happen regardless of how much anyone liked her.

//Violence for a good cause is still violence. If you’re going to burn people for disagreeing with you, then say that other people shouldn’t and should listen to others, that’s full-on hypocrisy. That goes for most of the characters in the show, frankly, and the message is executed well for most of it.

//That being said, don’t think this means I think the last season of GoT is good, that the Star Wars sequels are perfect, or that I hate all fantasy books ever. That’s not what I’m saying. I try to enjoy what’s good about them and point out their flaws regardless.

//What I’m saying is it’s important to, when you want to be critical of media, put your feelings and biases aside and judge the media you’re criticizing on its own merits. In my opinion, the claims that the sequels only did things to subvert expectations is unfounded. They were going their own direction, which was admittedly controversial and not what many people wanted, but just because you don’t want it to happen doesn’t mean it’s a bad twist

//Just like how a character isn’t a Mary Sue just because they’re too OP or you don’t like them. That’s not what that term means and hearing people use it like that irritates me. While I do have my complaints about characters, people use that term as if it’s a form of literary criticism that has more use than is necessary.

//If a character is OP, they’re OP. If a character is flat, they’re flat. If a character is poorly written, they’re poorly written. If a character is at the center of the universe and literally everything else exists just to amplify them and their role in things, then they’re likely a Mary Sue/Gary Stu. It’s not a label to slap on  a character you don’t like or to give a critique (or complaint) more weight.

//This is why I say DR3 Chiaki isn’t a Mary Sue, she’s just not a very well written character. All Mary Sues are poorly written characters, but not all poorly written characters are Mary Sues. She’s not terrible, but she’s not explored much and her only big roles are being the person who brings Class 77-B together and her death turns them to despair.

//While her death was tragic and brutal, we didn’t really get a good look at who she was as a person beyond just being nice and opening up to her friends. If they’d expanded on that a little more, maybe it would’ve been more effective, but the way she died felt...manipulative and shock baity in a lot of ways since it banked mostly on our familiarity with her despite it being a totally different person.

//DR3 honestly had a whole host of shocky and just plain gross scenes that I really don’t think needed to be there.

//But likewise, if a story has a plot twist that you don’t like, that doesn’t automatically make it purely shock bait or subverting expectations just for the sake of doing so. There’s a difference between “this character was evil all along and there were a lot of clues and we just didn’t want to believe it” and “this character was evil all along for reasons we’re dumping on you now.”

//Just so I don’t seem like a hypocrite, while I personally don’t like what happened with Mikan in chapter 3 of SDR2, it was an effective way of foreshadowing the truth of them being the remnants of despair. It was set up that every had lost their memories and this was a sign that getting them back wasn’t necessarily going to have a good outcome.

//And I’ll be real: I can’t take a lot of the complaints about the Sequels or GoT seriously because much of it carries overtones of racism, sexism and antisemitism. For those more into Star wars, I think you know what I mean already and that’s all I’ll say. As for GoT, I’ve seen reddit posts viscerally attacking the writers directly and even saying that we should’ve expected the ending to suck since it was “written by Jews.”

//Yeah, go figure I can’t read any of that. I know not all people who hated the show’s ending or the films are like that, but it’s impossible to deny that those attitudes are very real.

//In the end, if you want to be critical of media, the worst way to do that is to just watch a video of someone complaining about it for half an hour. Yes, those video essays can be fun, but the only way to be truly critical of media you enjoy is to examine it yourself and look closely at what’s in it and how it’s presented. That goes doubly for shows you like.

//I know not everyone will do that and all opinions are ultimately subjective, but don’t let someone else tell you that you should hate something or that something is bad just because they didn’t like how it ended. Watch or read it yourself and draw your own conclusions. Don’t just follow the crowd and also be respectful of people who don’t agree with you. You can learn a lot when you talk to someone with a different opinion.

[jalopeura]

god i just had the coolest dream ever

it was a competitive escape rooom that took place inside a dream (/nightmare) and people didnt really seem to have a choice of whether theyd partake or not. everyone was playing only for themselves though there were some alliances formed. only the first person to clear the mission would be considered the winner though, and theyd get to leave BUT! theyd also get to name other people they wanted to release from the dream

the place was this huge complex, there was a giant library, small jailcells, a planetarium, SO many wide, white stone hallways, and nothing was labeled, it was like a maze

the mission was to find some objects of note, but no one knew what the objects were, exactly, just that there were 4 needed in order to win

i dont remember the beginning of the dream too well, but i know i managed to snatch a weird little charm off someone else in the competition - they obviously did not realize its importance and just thought it was some kind of decorative amulet charm or something

it was made of a silvery metal and shaped like a 4-pointed star. at the ends of 3 of the points there were small orbs of different sizes, and on the 4th point was a dangling charm, also shaped like a 4-point star

most importantly, though: it acted like a compass, always ending up in the same orientation

so. i went running.

first i went in the direction of the smallest orb, which took me to the planetarium, and i figured...maybe pluto. i went and touched pluto and i think it gave off a small glow, so. done.

the middle sized orb was a lot harder to find bc of the mazey floorplan ad hte other players clogging up hte hallways etc,, but i finally found it too - a small orangeish-brown orb on a pedestal in a prison cell made of clear plastic (a couple of touh guys had taken up the cell and didnt want to let me in, but i managedbto squeeze past them!). that was jupiter done.

while i ran through hallways and halls looking for the third orb, i sometimes had to take the compass out of my pocket to make sure i was going in the right direction, and someone spotted it and asked what it was, but i lied that it was a fidget spinner, and they seemed to buy it

the compass took me to the library, where a lot of people were reading books trying to figure out what and where we were supposed to be looking. i thought at first id have to look through books too bc the compass pointed at the giant shelf on the back wall, but no, there was a librarians' staff room in the back, and there on a shelf a weirdly shaped lamp, and the bulb in the middle of it lit up as i jumped up to touch it - the sun.

so the last thing to do was to find the end, the final point on the compass. but as i found the 3rd orb, some kind of announcement was made that someone had found all 3 things. i was running out and someone i passed by became suspicious of my speed and asked me how many id found - i lied again, saying 'two', and kept going.

the final, dangly charm on the compass led me to a large white room where some people had already gathered, not bothering to look for stuff for themselves but hoping to be spared at the end. a giant grey sofa was in the middle on the room with an old man sitting on it, and a gently rotating light purple plasticy star floated in front of them, giving off light. four pointed star. so i ran in and reached for the star and i knew i had won.

i slumped down on the sofa, out of breath and so relieved. next up was my duty to free other people. i was given a small notepad and a fancy ballpoint pen and started listing out friends that i had seen in the dream. i had to ask the man if i was ok putting in names i hadnt personally seen during this dream too just in case they were trapped somewhere else, and he agreed - but said that hed have to limit it to "this city", so if some of the people i listed were trapped in the dream but too far away, well... anyway, then i moved on to family and extended family, all the while expecting that soon id be told it was enough, too many names already.

that never came though. another thing that surprised me was that the people gathered in the room - and more and more filtered through after hearing that someone had won the game, as i was writing my list - none of the people i didnt know in there tried to beg me for release, none of them tried to grab or even approach me...most of them just seemed resigned to their fate. (im not entirely sure what that fate was. maybe continuing to play the game endlessly, one winner after another, while more and more people are abducted in through their dreams? or maybe the losers were to become some kind of food for who or whatever it was that was running the game)

my list of people i wanted to release ended up being more than one page long, and when i was done everyone else was asked to stand back, and i read out the list, seeing if the people were in the room, and almost all if them were.

all the while i had been expecting that something would screw me over. surely, right? hadnt it seemed too easy, the man on the sofa too lenient? there had to be some loophole i hadnt realized and id be forced to leave most if the people behind, or something.

just as we were preparing to be let out... i woke up.

(still taking that as a victory though. suck it,, giant evil people eating dream maze escape room, i won!)

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 25 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. xoxo!

Chapter Summary: Grease finishes its illustrious run, and we end the school year with Prom and a group trip to the movies.

TW: homophobia

Chapter 25: Hopelessly Devoted To You

Despite their opening night drama, the rest of the weekend’s performances of Grease went off without a hitch. The principal agreed to beef up security and they kept would-be protestors far away from the theatre - so after 2 days they got bored and stopped showing up.

And, possibly because of all the controversy, ticket sales soared, and they ended up getting a write-up in the Arts section of a big San Gabriel Valley newspaper.

Alyssa was so jazzed by the extra attention that she began to ham it up even more than she had during rehearsals. One night, during the drive-in scene, she hit Roy so hard one night that he had a bruise the next day.

“Where are the fucking protesters for THAT?!” Roy whined, as he got ready that night.

“I mean, you were trying to date rape her,” Courtney reasoned.

“NO I WASN’T!” Roy screeched. “My character was! Why should I get a bruise for something he does?! This is reverse sexism!”

“Awwww…” Courtney soothed, climbing into his lap. “Poor baby…”

“Reverse sexism,” Darienne chuckled to herself, “Like that’s a thing.”

“It is!” Roy insisted.

Courtney kissed his cheek, teasingly saying, “I know, it’s so hard to be a sensitive male these days.”

“It really is,” he whimpered, resting his head on her chest.

“Oh, BOO HOO!” Alyssa crowed from nearby. “Listen, you just watch out the next time Danny tries to touch my girl without consent. I’ll break your goddamn fingers!”

“Alyssa…” Darienne laughed, shaking her head. “I think you’re going off book, here.”

“I think she’s going off the fucking deep end!” Roy said. “Anyone got a straightjacket?”

Alyssa grinned devilishly at him, making some punching motions in the air.

Roy nuzzled against Courtney’s neck. “You’re still her understudy, right? Can we have her killed?”

-

ADORE: You coming to the diner?

PEARL: Yeah, I just have to finish up here first. Order me some fries?

ADORE: You got it.

Pearl tucked her phone back into her pocket, turning her attention to the backdrops. She had to stay a little longer than the cast after the show was over to help reset all the set pieces for the next night. Most of the cast and crew had left, waiting for their rides or making their way to a nearby diner for post-show bonding.

Pearl unlocked the wheels of the drive-in set, pulling the backdrop behind her as she headed to the wings, accidentally running over her own foot in the process.

“Motherfucker,” Pearl groaned, reaching down to rub her throbbing foot.

“Need some help?” Shea appeared from behind the backdrop, catching Pearl by surprise.

“Shea? Hey! Uh, yeah I could use some help,” Pearl nodded, the pain in her foot completely forgotten.

“We're gonna leave it right here,” Pearl guided, nodding to the other backdrop already tucked away.

“Here?”

“Yep, now just lock the wheel on that side. I'll do this one.” Pearl quickly locked the wheel then glanced up to see Shea bent over, face scrunched in confusion. “It’s… it’s right there.”

Pearl walked over to her and bent down, showing her how to lock the wheel.

“You just… and it’s locked,” she smiled.

“Oh,” Shea nodded, gazing up into her eyes before clearing her throat. “Easier than it looked.”

She straightened up, then followed Pearl back to the stage to grab some of the Burger Palace pieces.

“Mhm,” Pearl nodded, gesturing to the booth that they needed to move. “This one slides pretty easily.”

Shea helped her work, biting her lip every time they locked eyes.  

“The show’s been going well,” Shea said finally, looking at Pearl with earnest brown eyes.

“Yeah, people wanted to see what all the hoopla was about after the first night,” Pearl shrugged, brushing her hands off and looking around to see if anything else needed to be moved before tomorrow.

“Hoopla?” Shea brows furrowed in confusion before letting a laugh escape her.

“Yeah, you know, all the commotion, the hoopla.” Pearl’s hand swirled in the air nonchalantly, but the moment Shea burst in laughter, Pearl found herself giggling along.

“Who actually uses the word ‘hoopla' besides someone's grandpa?” Shea shook her head, following Pearl towards the exit, shoulders brushing together as they walked.

“I don't know, I don't know… I watched Spongebob the other day. Really, I've never used that word until now,” Pearl said, turning towards Shea as they approached the big double doors.

“Wow, Hoopla. I should start using that word. It's fun to say,” Shea giggled.

“It is,” Pearl chuckled, then bit down on her bottom lip, her gaze moving to Shea’s full lips.

Shea noticed, her own laughter fading off.

Pearl’s heart leaped to her throat as the silence between them filled with an energy she'd only encountered a few times before. She put one hand on the heavy door, and Shea did the same, their fingers bumping.

Eyes snapped to each other, gauging the other’s reaction. Pearl’s tongue darted across her lip as she leaned towards Shea, eyes flickering between glossed lips and wide eyes.

“Shea!”

The sound of Sasha’s voice had Shea stumbling back, right into a rack of costumes, a small gasp leaving her lips.

Pearl frowned, reaching to help her, but when her hands were swatted away, she backed up letting Shea have her space.

“Shea, you back here? Shea?” Sasha rounded the curtain, footsteps stuttering when she saw Pearl running her fingers through her thick blonde hair, looking at Shea with nervous eyes, while Shea hurriedly righted the wardrobe rack, re-hanging the pieces that had fallen off the hangers.

-

In a bizarre compromise with her mother, Darienne had been allowed to stay in the show despite the “evil pro-gay message” but not participate in any of the fun stuff, like going to the diner after the performances with the rest of the cast and crew.

Courtney had just been texting her a sympathetic message when she looked up. Bob was in the middle of an animated story, while Roy interjected with corrections and insults, as per usual. But what Courtney noticed wasn’t the boys, but how Adore sat in a booth nearby, staring into space.

She decided to take advantage of this rare moment while Raja was distracted at the jukebox with Raven, and squeezed her bestie on the shoulder to grab her attention.

“Hey...”

“What’s up?” Adore asked, giving her a half-smile, biting down on a fry.

“You were great tonight. I mean, you’re always great, but…” Courtney gave her a bright smile.

Adore swallowed. “Thanks. Um, you too.”

Courtney slid into the booth beside her, wrapping her arms around her waist and looking up at her with loving eyes.

“You’re so beautiful…”

“Alright, who gave you weed?” Adore scoffed. “Willam? Pearl?”

“Nobody! I’m totally sober. You’re just pretty, that’s all.”

“Well...thanks,” Adore bit her lip.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Courtney asked, lashes fluttering.

“Uh. Of course. You’re stunning. Gorgeous. A living doll.” Adore glanced around helplessly. Where was Raja? Where was Roy?

Courtney giggled and nuzzled her cheek.

“What’s going on over here?” Raja asked, strolling up.

Before Adore could open her mouth, Courtney piped up, “Not much, I was just molesting your girlfriend.” She smiled coyly, head still on Adore’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” Raja sat down. “Seems reasonable.”

“Courtney, knock it off!” Adore said, shrugging her off.

Raja snickered, saying, “Oh yeah, you looked like you were really suffering there.”

Adore folded her arms crossly.

“Dory, don’t be mad…” Courtney pouted.

“Yeah Dory, don’t be mad.” Raja reached over to steal a French fry, brow arched suggestively.

“Ugh, you both suck!” Adore said, getting up and stomping over to the counter.

Courtney opened her mouth, eyes wide and innocent. “What?!”

Raja laughed, shaking her head. “Just let her sulk. Have some fries.”

-

After closing night, there was a wrap party at Pearl’s house, complete with Karaoke machine, mini strobe lights, and sundae bar. Or as Willam lovingly dubbed it, “the ultimate nerd fest.”

Pearl sat on top of her kitchen counter, nodding her head to the beat of the music, watching the party around her as she sipped from her cup of punch.

“Pearl!” Sasha smiled as she entered the kitchen to get some snacks, pulling the blonde’s attention away from Shangela and Alyssa’s karaoke performance.

“Sup,” she nodded.

“What’re you doing in here by yourself?” Sasha asked, crumbling a handful of potato chips over her chocolate ice cream, then topped the whole thing with caramel sauce.

“Just chilling,” Pearl shrugged, then gestured to Sasha’s sundae. “That’s genius.”

“Salty and sweet,” Sasha nodded and the two girls went silent for a moment as she dug in.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Pearl leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

“Sure.” Sasha nodded.

“Um…I’m usually a pretty good judge of when I like, vibe with a girl. And…and I really like Shea, and sometimes it seems like she likes me back. But then…I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I’m totally barking up the wrong tree. Am I crazy?”

“Well…” Sasha took a small bite of her ice cream, head titled thoughtfully. “We haven’t talked about it. And if we had, I wouldn’t tell you, because, you know, BFF trust.”

“Of course.”

“But, just from what I’ve seen…I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The thing is…” Sasha paused. “She's not like you. I mean, she’s still probably figuring some things out.”

Pearl nodded knowingly; Shea wouldn't be the first confused (or closeted) girl she had a crush on.

“So as long as you get that she’s in a different place, and you’re careful of her feelings…I don’t think you’re barking up the wrong tree. I just think you might need to be extra patient. You know?”

“Yeah.” Pearl nodded, taking another sip of her drink. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And, in case you’re wondering, she’s out by the pool. Last I saw, she was talking to Carmen and Laganja.

“Awesome.” Pearl flashed a smile, hopping off the counter.

-

“Adore, you wanna do ‘Bidi Bidi Bom Bom,’ or ‘No Me Queda Más’?” April asked, flipping through the karaoke book.

“Uhhh…” Adore paused, eyeing Courtney and Roy on the sofa before looking back at April to suggest, “What about ‘Dreaming of You’?”

April scoffed. “Omigod, you’re so basic! That’s her whitest song, you fuckin’ gringa!”

“Well, I don’t really speak Spanish, dude, sorry!” Adore defended herself with a shrug. “You know that.”

“Okay, fine, ‘Dreaming of You.’ But will you at least try ‘No Me Queda Más’?”

“I’ll do my best.”

April nodded, writing down the track numbers and handing them to Bob, who was lording over the rented karaoke machine with an iron fist. “Sir, please?”

While Adore waited for their turn, her attention drifted back to Courtney, curled in Roy’s lap, feeding him her ice cream sundae. They’d been sickeningly sweet all night, and while Adore was trying to ignore their nauseatingly adorable antics, it was proving harder and harder.

“I have no idea why I’m eating this,” Roy murmured, licking a drip off Courtney’s finger. “I don’t even like vanilla.”

“That’s funny, ‘cause I think a vanilla sundae is the perfect metaphor for you two dweebs,” Willam called from across the room, causing Bob to snicker and high five him.

“Fuck off!” Courtney shouted back. “I put rainbow sprinkles on it. And this cherry.” She lifted the maraschino cherry out by the stem, twirling it on her tongue.

“Give me that…” Roy said.

“Oh, you want this?” Courtney teased, batting her lashes. She glanced over to see if Adore was watching, feeling a rush of adrenaline from the other girl’s eyes on her.

“Yes. Please baby, give me your cherry…”

Courtney giggled, dangling it in front of him tauntingly. “Say please again, tell me how much you want it…” she breathed.

Unable to take it anymore, Adore got up, utterly disgusted, and stalked outside.

“Adore! Come back, we’re up next!” April called.

“Raincheck,” Adore grumbled, slamming the sliding glass door behind her.

Courtney paused, holding the cherry mid-air, wondering if she’d gone too far. She wanted Adore’s attention, but not to piss her off.

“Babyyy,” Roy whimpered.

“Here,” Courtney said, shoving the cherry into his mouth and letting out a disappointed sigh.

-

Adore found Raja out on the patio with Jinkx, smoking and drinking. She went up to Raja and demanded a cigarette.

“You don’t smoke,” the older girl told her breezily.

“I do tonight,” she insisted.

Raja handed Adore her lit cigarette and lit another for herself, watching her carefully. Adore looked over at Jinkx, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels, and snatched it out of her hands, taking a long slug, then another.

“You okay there, tiger?” Jinkx asked.

Adore wiped her mouth, shrugging. Pearl and Shea were sitting on top of a retaining wall, just a few feet away. Adore looked over at them just as Shea whispered something to Pearl, both laughing softly. Adore narrowed her eyes, irritated.

“What’s with you two?” she asked hoarsely. “Are you like, fucking now?”

Shea’s eyes widened in shock.

“Adore!” Pearl cried, horrified.

“Um, I have to...I should probably get going...it’s late and I need...uh…” Shea stammered, sliding down and backing away.

“Shea, I’m sorry, you don’t have to go, you can-” Pearl protested.

“No, it’s fine, I should have left earlier anyway, but...I’ll see you around, okay?” She turned around, hurrying from the yard through the side gate.

Pearl turned towards Adore, irritated, as shrieking laughter sounded from the pool.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Pearl began.

Nearby, Raven’s voice called out, “Raja! Come here!!”

Raja looked over to the pool, where Raven was fooling around with a bunch of kids and some massive flotation devices, then back at Adore. She took Jinkx by the hand and dragged her over to the pool, leaving Adore and Pearl alone on the patio.

Adore sighed, pulling her flannel tighter around herself. Despite it being May, there was a chill in the air.

Pearl watched her for a few moments before saying, “Alright. Out with it. What’s going on?”

“What?” Adore asked defensively.

“There’s only one thing that puts you in this kind of mood, so what? They do some gross hetero promise ring bullshit? He banging her out in one of the back bedrooms? Tell me.”

Adore sighed. “No, they’re just...eating an ice cream sundae.”

“Oh yeah,” Pearl nodded. “I can see why that would send you over the edge.”

“You weren’t there.”

“True.”

“It was really...too much.” Adore sighed again, taking another drag of the cigarette.

“Have you ever considered just telling her how you feel?”

“About as much as I’ve considered putting this cigarette out in my own eye,” Adore replied.

“Gotcha.”

“This is disgusting, by the way.”

Pearl nodded. “Yeah, it’s awful. Takes years off your life, too.”

“Ugh. Fuck this whole fucking night, man.”

Pearl moved closer to her, put a hand on her shoulder.

“Listen. I’m sorry you’re having a rough night. And you know, I really love you, and I’m always here if you want to talk. But...if you ever fuck up my game again, I will punch you in the face.”

Adore laughed and covered her eyes. “Shit. Sorry.”

Pearl kissed her forehead. “It’s alright. You get one pass.”

-

Adore sat on the retaining wall, holding the empty bottle of Jack, feeling slightly dizzy and more than a little sick. Her downcast eyes were dull with regret.

“So…fun party, huh?”

She looked up to see Raja standing there, with that typical, aloof expression, and her body tensed up, tears filling her eyes.

“Raja, don’t. I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I just, I can’t, I can’t explain, I don’t-”

“Hey, hey, I’m not asking you to explain anything.” Raja stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Adore sniffled, guilt filling her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m also not asking you to apologize. We all have shitty days. It’s fine. Yesterday I kicked over a trash can and called Raven a cow.”

“Seriously?” Adore laughed, amused in spite of her shitty mood.

“It’s fine, she deserved it.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Adore wiped her eyes.

Raja smiled. “You wanna get out of here?”

“God, yes.”

“Cool.” She took her fingers and gently tilted Adore’s chin up, placing a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. “You really are so beautiful, you know that?”

Adore sighed. “Sure you’re not just looking at your own reflection in my eyeballs?”

Raja grasped both of her cheeks and looked closer at her face. “Holy shit! How have I never seen my own reflection before?”

Adore giggled.

“Hold still! Oh my god, she is stunning!”

“Stop it.”

Raja helped her down and led them towards the gate, an arm slung around Adore’s shoulders.

“Seriously, I don’t know how you manage to concentrate on anything with all this staggering beauty in front of you…”

-

Courtney stood at the stove, stirring a pot of tomato sauce, as Adore perched on the counter. They were discussing prom—or rather, Raja’s prom, which Adore was having second thoughts about attending.

“Don’t you think that she should understand how you feel? I mean you were basically hate-crimed on stage,” Courtney said.  

“Well. I think she does understand, but on the other hand…it’s her prom. And I said I’d go, like a month ago,” Adore reasoned.

“But that was a month ago,” Courtney said. “Come here, taste this.”

Adore jumped down, sighing, and walked over to her.

“I don’t know. I mean, yeah, it was a month ago. But…”

Courtney blew on the wooden spoon, cupping Adore’s chin gently in her hand. She fed her a small taste of the sauce, eyes watching her carefully.

“Do you think it’s too spicy?” she whispered.

Closing her eyes for a moment as Courtney’s fingers brushed against her cheek, a thrill rippling through her at the contact, Adore shook her head.

“No, it...it’s good.” She cleared her throat and took a few steps back. “Um, maybe a pinch more salt?”

“Thanks.” Courtney nodded and went back to the stove, humming slightly. “I think you should do whatever you feel comfortable with. She may be a little bummed if you decide not to go, but Raja doesn’t seem like the type to make a huge deal over prom anyway. Right?”

“Yeah, I...I mean that’s what I thought, but...I dunno.” Adore sighed again, sitting down heavily at the table. “I just really don’t want to make this a big fucking thing.”

Courtney sat down beside her. “So don’t.”

“But isn’t that selling out? Letting the bigots win?” Adore’s voice broke, remembering the heated conversation with Raja earlier that day.

Courtney scooted her chair closer, biting her lip, a slight guilt washing over her. She knew that if she didn’t have ambivalent feelings about Raja, about Adore’s moony-eyed puppy love, the was a chance she might be saying something slightly different. Maybe. But ulterior motives aside, she didn’t like to see her friend so torn up inside. She reached out and took Adore’s hand.

“Listen. Will you have to stand up to these kind of assholes someday? Yeah, probably. And when you do, I’ll stand up with you. But does it have to be over someone else’s prom? This week? Not unless you want. It’s still your life. You are the only one who can make that decision.”

Adore nodded. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Courtney brushed a lock of hair off of Adore’s face

-

ADORE: Well. Turns out I was being a total pissbaby drama queen. It was just a fucking dance, no one said a word.

ADORE: Like, literally, nothing happened and I feel like a complete asshole.

COURTNEY: So you had fun?

ADORE: Yeah. I mean, you know. It was a school dance. It wasn’t life-changing or anything. Lol. But sure, it was fun.

ADORE: I might just not be a school dance type. I don’t have a lot of...like...spirit.

COURTNEY: Well, yeah, duh. ;P

ADORE: lol

COURTNEY: <3

ADORE: I’m gonna sleep now but wanna hang out later?

COURTNEY: Sure. Text me when you wake up.

ADORE: Ok. XO

COURTNEY: XO

-

Adore wasn’t positive why she agreed to this. Granted, she always used to be part of the group movie night expeditions with the neighborhood crew, but ever since she’d branched off and started to hang out with Violet’s group, she’d found one excuse or another to say no. But for some reason, today, she found herself in the local multiplex with Courtney, Roy, Darienne, Thorgy, Bob, April, Alyssa, and Jamin - who she supposed was off probation now that Darienne could stand to be around him again. To make matters worse, they had collectively decided on the most basic of all basic movies - some superhero action nonsense starring Christian Bale and Joey from Dawson’s Creek, who was way less cool when stripped of her Joey vocabulary words.

Adore sighed, sipping her swimming pool sized soda. At least Roy, in a show of macho bravado, had offered to pay for her and Courtney’s snacks. So she had gigantic popcorn, 2 Kit Kat bars, Junior Mints, Twizzlers, Sour Patch Kids, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups to help her get through the experience. It cost her some side-eye, but whatever. If he was dumb enough to make that offer, then he should be prepared to handle the consequences.

It would have been nice if Raja could have made it, but as usual, she was working. It seemed like lately, the only time they had together was super late at night after CeCe’s closed down. She couldn’t blame her girlfriend - she knew that Raja was saving up to get her own place. But still, it was a little annoying to be sandwiched between April and Bob on one side (who she was pretty sure were engaging in some kind of gross hand job action under Bob’s letterman jacket), and Courtney and Roy on the other, cuddling and making Adore want to vomit, as usual.

Courtney turned towards Adore, a contented smile on her face.

“I am totally not following the plot of this movie,” she whispered, giggling.

Adore rolled her eyes. “It’s not that deep. He’s afraid of bats. He becomes a bat. Joey Potter loves him for some inexplicable reason.”

“Right. I keep thinking there must be more to it though?”

“Nope.”

Courtney inched closer to Adore.

“This theatre is freezing. Share your jacket with me.” She gazed over with a pouty face, fluttering her lashes.

Adore shrugged her off. It was one thing when they were alone, but when she pulled this kind of stuff in front of other people, it always made Adore extremely self-conscious. It was a total lose-lose for her. If she reacted too eagerly, it would be totally obvious to everyone and their mother how hard she was crushing on her best friend, but when she pushed her away, she had to deal with those hurt puppy eyes.

“Get off, bitch…”

“Please, Dory. I’ll be your best friend forever and-”

“SHHH!” Bob hissed.

“How are you not more relaxed right now?” Adore challenged, gesturing to his lap. April’s eyes went wide in embarrassment. Adore smirked and sat back in her seat.

“Babe, come here. You can wear my jacket.”

Courtney snuggled up to Roy, lovingly placing a piece of popcorn in his mouth. What was it with Courtney and feedinghim? Was that like a kink thing? Adore shook her head. Sick. She sighed again, shifting uncomfortably. It was possible that the largest size soda wasn’t the best idea.

On the screen, Joey Potter was reaching towards Christian Bale, drawing him towards her.

Courtney inhaled sharply, and reached over, instinctively grasping for Adore’s hand in the dark, holding on tight while the actors’ lips met in a slow kiss, the music soaring. Adore’s heart pounded. She knew that this was just Courtney, it didn’t really mean anything, but it didn’t change how it made her feel. How it made her palms sweat and her pulse race, to be here in the dark, fingers intertwined and slippery with fake butter.

And then, of course, she saw Roy’s eyes, just for a moment, when the screen flashed white. Glaring at her. Did he know? Was Adore that transparent? Or was he just peeved that Courtney was grabbing Adore’s hand and not his? Anxiety filled Adore’s chest and she wrenched her hand away.

Courtney, oblivious as always, leaned her head on Roy’s shoulder and continued to watch the movie while Adore gripped the arms of the seat, her knuckles turning white. She got up and bolted for the exit, muttering about the bathroom.

Courtney turned her head and watched as Adore raced up the aisle, then turned back to the screen, biting her lip. A lump formed in her throat. She was so tired of this endless loop they were in - Courtney reaching out, taking the smallest baby steps, only to have Adore push her away. Maybe it was useless. Maybe Violet was right all those months ago when she said that Adore would never like her back. She sighed.

Roy kissed the top of her head. “Bored, baby?”

“Uh, no, just...sorry, my mind wandered a little. This movie is so dark. I think I need more color to hold my attention.”

Roy laughed, pressing his lips to her temple. “You’re the fucking cutest, you know that?”

Courtney smiled up at him. “How about after the movie, you can tell me all about how cute I am?” She kissed him lightly, sliding a hand up his thigh.

“Deal.”

[libraribear]

2020 in Review

2020 is in the books. What a year. It seems a given that through life, some years will be good and some years will be bad, and for many 2020 was one of the bad ones. Globally, it feels like it was the worst year ever. Personally, I can’t go that far. So many people have it worse than I do, and I’m leery of writing this post because I don’t want to sound unsympathetic as I count my blessings (before going into the undeniably shitty, but FAR LESS shitty things than what some other people are going through).

Nonetheless, as part of a New Year’s Resolution to create more, I figured I’d polish up this blog and write more, so here’s my 2020: Good, Bad, and Ugly. This is a heckin’ long post so only read on... if you dare.

The Good

I never lost my job.

A lot of my academic colleagues did - basically everyone who had “temporary” or “adjunct” in their title was axed. By virtue of being temporary year-to-year faculty for five years, I was promoted to the tenure-track in 2019. I feel very badly for my colleagues, all who lost their job to circumstance, not merit. Six years ago I took a chance leaving a steady job with a newborn to pursue my goal of being an Academic Librarian.  The job was a one-year temporary position with no guarantee of continued employment, and I worked hard, interviewed for my job twice in five years, and managed to hang on. It’s crushing to imagine what it would have been like to survive all that and get axed because of a pandemic, and I feel very badly for my colleagues who suffered that fate.

I got to spend most of the year working from home with my kids.

Before I get into “The Bad”, namely that keeping a five and six year old on task while working a full-time job is incredibly stressful, the good was that I got to watch one-year-old girl grow and grow and grow every day whereas my two boys were in daycare at that age. I got to spend a ton more time with the boys and my wife too.

My kids live in a school district with resources.

We’ve made a lot of strides in Distance Education, but it still isn’t ideal. I feel like my kids’ school district is doing the best they can to make it work. I feel extremely fortunate to live in a district where that was an option from the start, with full distance, hybrid, and in-person options. Not wanting to expose my kids or their teachers to any risk, we’ve gone full distance the whole time. we chose this to keep our kids as safe as possible, so I hope you’ll forgive me when I go into detail under The Bad as why it sucks for everyone involved. ;)

Ms. Bear and I started Doctoral Programs

File this one under “things I’d have never done if I knew the pandemic was going to be this much of a problem in Fall”, but it’s still a good thing - and definitely not the kind of thing I would do if it wasn’t free through my university. With Ms. Bear it’s more of a life-fulfillment thing and I’m happy that I can help her realize her dream. 

The Bad

Distance Education Requires Training - Students Are Struggling

My college freshmen struggled to adapt to their first year seminar class and I attempted to make it as easy as possible for them to follow along, engage online, have second and third chances to turn in assignments... it didn’t matter. Elementary school students have it worse - my kids struggle to stay on task, and me and Ms. Bear do our best to keep them on task. I feel really bad for those kids whose parents can’t work from home or are too busy to stay on them and help them with distance education. I’m not anti-distance education by any stretch, but the pandemic forced a lot of people to switch to it relatively quickly and since distance education is by its nature very self-directed even with a good teacher/instructor, some people unused to this method really struggle.

I should note that none of this is meant as a criticism of the decision to go for distance education.  Health is most important, period, and those politicians that are like “But think of the children, send them to school” - well, hold them back a year if it’s that bad. I repeated the first grade. It’s better than dying. I worry less about the kids’ educational attainment and more for those kids from bad homes where school is a safe haven/source of food. If you’re that worried about it pass some laws to help. 

The Roof, The Roof, The Roof is leaking water

When you find a tiny leak in your roof, if you can afford it, pay the money and fix it. Don’t wait “because it’s a pandemic and we may need that money”. The money sat in my bank account until the the bedroom ceiling started to drop a few months later. Definitely the decision of 2020 I’d most like back.

2020 Was Not The Year to Reduce Stress.

I think everyone is running on fumes by the time they got to the end of this year. For my wife and I as young parents (can’t help that), full-time workers (gotta eat to live), and grad students (like I said above, if I had a do-over I’d DEFINITELY have waited until 2021, the pandemic represented the steady erosion of all the gains I made the past year. Anxiety? Back up. Overall level of physical fitness and nutrition? I was exercising and eating and feeling really healthy in March, but I eat (and feel) like crap now. 

The Ugly

Misinformation, Misinformation Everywhere... and Politics

Misinformation is nothing new for a US Presidential Election year. But as a librarian whose job it is to promote information literacy, understanding which sources are indeed trustworthy and which are not, this election year was frankly, terrifying for me. I mean, if you know a source is trustworthy because of the standards and norms that are used to govern it, but people simply roll to disbelief it’s trustworthiness... I’m not sure how in the hell you get through to them. Lest this be construed as too political a post (I did get a little political above, hee), I’m going to stress that these information discernment skills that seem to be lacking are skills people on both Team Blue Donkey and Team Red Elephant lack. Add to that the psuedoscience, lack of fact-checking, and the whole “If it doesn’t agree with my worldview, I refuse to believe it” attitude illuminated by the pandemic and I’m not going to lie, this shit is terrifying to me. I’m hoping it’s just a phase we’re going through in America, but geez. I’m not a doom and gloomer, but this year was TOUGH in the whole “Faith in humanity’s ability to reason” department. I’ll listen to anyone’s political opinion if they back it up with well-researched sources and facts, but rather than driving closer to this goal, we’re heading in the wrong direction.

I should note that to me, it’s not just Team Red Elephant that has trouble discerning information, or is duplicitous. I need to make that clear. I definitely lean left and it’s not hard to see why - I mean, I’m a heckin’ librarian for crying out loud. But lying and misinformation or misconstruing facts? Some politicians may be more egregious offenders, but most politicians do that regardless of stripe. I feel politics are more like a teeter totter constantly switching up and down. We do ourselves a disservice when we believe everyone on our team is rational and level-headed and everyone on the other team is evil, stupid, irrational. There was a time when we could have discourse, and through disagreements we could at least learn from one another. I intensely understand the desire to make and justify political beliefs, but they’re not how we progress in a country that’s run the way the US is. Maybe it’s always been this way, but as I’ve aged I notice we have a lot more tendency to anoint a politician of our political stripe as a savior. Whatever happened to the old worldview that all politicians were lying dirtbags and though you might side with them, you could never fully trust them? It seems to have been turned on its head, I’m not sure how, to “Trust my side implicitly, DO NOT TRUST THE OTHER SIDE AT ALL.” That one side could be a bastion of truth and virtue and the other a bastion of evil and ugliness is, I’m not gonna lie, extremely unlikely.

Do as I say, not as I do. I got swept up in the political fervor myself with my D&D Friends - for a time we had a “Just Politics” channel to talk politics. That was a big mistake. Though no friendships were ended, that channel alone intensified my anxiety tenfold (MY FRIEND IS WRONG ON THE INTERNET! I HAVE TO SHOW THEM THE ERROR OF THEIR WAYS!) and... yeah. The BEST decision I made in 2020 was folding and walking away from the political discussion table - but it took me a few months of arguing and stressing to get there. I’ve reverted back to trying to do good for all people in my little corner of the world and the web by treating everyone respectfully and rationally unless they give me reason to do otherwise, at which point I’m far more likely to ignore you than engage with you. I hate that I have to do that, but it is what it is. If I talk politics, it’s privately with someone I know that is sane enough to safely distance from the chaos, or someone I trust implicitly. I won’t deny that it’s a very fascinating subject to me since politics is so ingrained into human nature, but good lord, what a minefield.

UGLY Bonus Edit (I always think of the coolest things to say right after I hit post, after all)

A last thought - whenever we’re confronted with a worldview we disagree with, whatever happened to asking the person why they feel that way or what they meant before immediately labeling them scum on Earth? We don’t even bother to fact check the people we loathe when honestly at worst you’re just confirming suspicions, at best you may even cause them to question why they believe what they believe? I can’t remember the last political or heated conversation I’ve seen where that happened. When I was fighting with my friends on “Just Politics” I don’t think I bothered to ask that often enough myself.   

Anyway, I’m looking forward to making 2021 a better year than 2020. Happy New Year, everyone. Love and hope to you all.