#like you could never in a million years predict things would go down like that lmao

[pricegouge]

In Your Web

part two - masterlist

nikolai x f!reader

cw: stalking, mention of alcohol, male masturbation MDNI

By all accounts, you need a return address to ship to Latvia.

Rather, you need a return address to ensure your package doesn't get opened by customs, where agents will laugh at best, or steal your panties at worst. Maybe even steal your DNA? To what end, anyway? No! Worse than that - what if they used their connections to trace the package back even without your address and -?

One is predictably unsympathetic. 

» Then send it with one.

It doesn't surprise you that he thinks you're that dumb. 

You toy with the idea of leaving a random address in the return spot and cringe when you imagine a surly Russian man accosting some random family four states over. It's a mental image you carry with you over the next week, playing it on repeat every time you get cut off in traffic, or you find a coworker has pissed on the toilet seat without cleaning it up. Once, you even catch yourself thinking of it when a particularly annoying regular dominates your feed during a regularly scheduled live performance.

But One is not your knight in shining fiber optic cable. Neither do you actually wish to inflict him on anyone.

So you send it without a return address, watch the shipping updates closely, and feel your stomach slowly boil when it sits for five business days at an importing station. Evidently, One watches it as well.

» You did not do as I asked.

He's uninterested in your offer to refund his money - half now, half later. All you can manage.

» If I wanted my money back I would simply cancel my subscription and request a chargeback from the service.

» I want what I purchased.

Talk of chargebacks makes you flighty. There are only two things you know about One, those being that he is very wealthy, and very rude. The bane of all customer service operators. You don't think it's likely the service would honor a reimbursement for a tip issued over a week ago, but it's not something you want to risk seeing as, unlike your plan to split his reimbursement, OnlyFans would reach into your bank account with the cold unfeeling hand of a multi-million dollar company and steal it back all at once, a prospect you simply can't afford at this time, as embarrassed as you are to admit. Long ago you'd made a promise to yourself that any and all large tips received from this side gig would go immediately toward paying off debts - student loans, ill advised credit cards you'd taken out while still living off said loans. It was a decision that had done you nothing but good up until this very moment, when his money was already spent and you were staring down the barrel of having to pay him back using your own funds.

Or, barring that, he could cancel his subscription and not only get a chargeback for the remainder of his pay period (probably the year, knowing him - you'd have to check) but you'd also stand to lose your best customer. One you're not entirely sure how you managed to land in the first place and one whose income you'd likely never manage to replace. Already, One's singlehandedly paid off an entire card for you, and until now he's showed no signs of stopping.

« i'll fix it

It's a bold promise to make when you have no recourse, but one you don't see your way out of making.

» No, I will.

—

For as much as the line had made you nervous at the time, One does not make any overt moves to follow up on it that you can see. Lapses into an uncharacteristic sort of radio silence for a time. He even skips the next few liveshows, something that strikes you as very unlike him. One does not seem the type of man to let a service he's already paid for go unused. The first night it's kind of nice, seeing as he has an annoying little habit of just paying the target price within the first ten minutes because he 'doesn't have time for this' (funny, how he always has enough time to request a private cam after) but then it's three shows later and you've barely raised anything because, apparently, all your other customers are used to sitting back and reaping the benefits of One's impatience. Something you'll have to address. He stays out of your DMs, too. Offers no tips in exchange for personal requests.

You'd be lying if you said it doesn't light a fire under your ass, gets you chatting with other creators searching for ideas on how you can fix the situation. People much smarter than you say to cut your losses and just refund him. Be done with it. But mostly it just leaves you with a large level of concern. You know these people aren't dumb, but you can't imagine the level of trust they've placed in some of their own favorite customers. Maybe it's because they're lucky enough to have attracted nice people, or at least people with enough social aptitude to know how to pretend to be nice. Something to be said for One, he's never once let you forget he's not the sort of man you should trust with your personal information.

Finally, inspiration strikes in the form of another stupid suggestion, one creator admitting they've put their work address in the return slot. They do not comment on whether or not they used their legal name, but given their stage name contains the word anal, you have to assume.

No desire to let One know where you work, or even the town you're from, you begin to think about other nameless faceless organizations you can use as a fall back instead, finally settling on a random Walmart two states over. You use your stage name and post it, sending One the new tracking number along with a free vid of you getting the replacement pair all messy in hopes that he returns immediately to his normal spending.

Of course, he doesn't so much as thank you. When another two pass with no contact, you begin to grow concerned. You triple check your account to make sure he hasn't unsubbed, but he's still right there at the top - even with no tips given in over a week.

He's disappeared for a few days in the past, but this is different. You think. Or maybe it's not. You wouldn't know seeing as you don't know him. Seeing as he's never given an excuse for his absences. Not that you'd ever asked… It's normal to be worried for someone you talk with nearly every day, right? You don't know him, sure, but you'd be a bit worried if your favorite barista from the shop you frequent just up and left one day. And your income doesn't even depend on her.

Perhaps that's why you break character when he finally resurfaces, the joy on your face when you see his handle pop into chat the next night genuine. Your giddiness is infectious, even. At least one other regular bothering to welcome him back when you stop your stream dead just to say hi. Foam falls around you, slips over your bare skin down to the tarp laid over the floor where already a good foot of it has accumulated like a blanket of snow. It was an idea you'd been quite proud of, always a fan of a simple dance party. The foam machine was a small expense given the high engagement you've received so far, your subscribers happy enough to watch you shake your ass while covered in soap bubbles and glow sticks. The machine had already paid for itself, but now that One was back, you couldn't help the building hope that you'd even meet your goal for the night, which could make for a pleasant weekend full of meeting friends for drinks.

"Glad to see you're alive. Was getting a little worried about you," you grin, settling back into your roll easily. You pinch your tits between your arms as you mime snapping on a pair of gloves. "Got thinking maybe it was time for a visit from your favorite nurse."

But One is not feeling very playful tonight, if he ever is.

» Check your phone.

You huff and kick some foam at the camera obnoxiously, pleased when it falls short and hits the TV it's mounted on top of instead. You don't need to kill the mood even further by stopping to clean your lens. You eye it now, pretend you're staring up at him defiantly when you refuse, tell him you're in the middle of something with one hand snaking down your belly. On the TV below, large enough you can read even from the middle of the floor, you watch the feed as they would see it: yourself on the left while the chat bubbles in excitement on the right, egging you on. You nod at them, a silent promise, check to make sure your position looks good and that you've got a smattering of foam on you, at least enough to keep some mystery for them to unravel as the show continues -

» Now.

Irritation doesn't sell well, but sometimes you can package it as chastisement. "Play nice," you caution, voice whistling through clenched teeth. It's not One's thing specifically, but there are other regulars who you know will eat it up. "Gotta learn to share."

But One goes above and beyond simply not liking being nagged at.

He waits until your fingers are just barely tracing your thatch of curls, movement from your laptop screen catching your eye. You drop pretenses entirely when a new window opens, your private chat with One maximized so you cannot possibly miss it. Carving a path through the accumulated foam, you slink out of the field of view of the mounted camera, show long forgotten as you approach your laptop, mounting fear confirmed as you watch your mouse move across the screen of it's own accord to hit play on the video he'd evidently sent you while you were otherwise occupied.

You know what it will be based on the thumbnail, but it shocks you anyway. The panties he holds look like nothing more than candy floss in his thick fist, wrapped around a fat cock so tightly the lace is stretched. Distorted. It's weird, the things you notice when adrenaline bends time. The camera work isn't great, doesn't let you see his the root of his cock or even his belly. Its focus shifts a few times, undecided if it wants to settle on the display before it or the dark hardwood below. He wears a watch, a simple leather band nestled in a pelt of dark hair. His knuckles are dusted too, hiding the glint of a thick gold band on his pinky. Uncut, thick. He grunts the next time his foreskin pulls back enough to reveal his glistening head and your breath stutters with his when the lace catches, synthetic fibers relaxing back into a recognizable pattern as he eases them off, untangles it from his grasp to flatten against the table, flimsy gusset laughably small framed between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand.

His native tongue spills from him like his seed, molten and thick. Language, even if you can't understand it, is enough to tug at you and you yelp, your brief moment of shock fracturing enough to compel you into movement.

Nik likes the way the suds paint her, the rainbow foam a nice contrast with her skin. It slides down the valleys of her body naturally, highlighting recesses he'd previously been unaware of. Pesky self consciousness, always framing herself so carefully to hide away the bits she think he won't like. They won't like, he supposes.

He's never minded sharing. Nature of the beast, paying for it. But he doesn't see why he should have to suffer the same experience as these others, not when he gives so much more.

It was one of the first issues that had lead him to this little perversion, the impersonal uniformity. The self-editing. He pays to see her body, not the careful curation of videos and stills which she deems tasteful enough. So he settles in behind the wrong camera most nights, his field of view lower. Off center. Only watches the proper stream - the one he actually pays for - when she looks dead at the camera to talk to him, ring light glowing eerily in her irises.

Close enough, for now.

He's logged into a burner account while he works himself up, watching as she bounces around her room to an obnoxious beat. Her audio mixing is off tonight, the club music she plays just a hair too loud. He likes to watch from alternate accounts sometimes, likes to see how well she fights her dismay when these other viewers struggle to collectively pay her bills. She's more likely to grant him special requests the longer he waits to show up, he's learned. Off the menu orders, she calls them. Cute, but not what he's looking for tonight.

Her thong hangs from the corner of his screen. He hates to have already ruined it, but consoles himself with the knowledge she'd been sweet enough to send him another pair. They won't smell as good, he's sure. Another censure she'll have placed on herself. None of the sweat from having been worn all day. But she tried. Wanted to please him. Desperate thing.

It's laughable, thinking Latvian customs would be able to stop him from acquiring what's his, but it's not like she would know that. It's why he prefers small, no-name performers like her. So unsuspecting. Passably genuine, smile growing on her face when he switches to his regular account, the one she has memorized. It makes his cock twitch, excitement growing when she showers him in attention, singles him out in the middle of her show. Forgets to keep dancing, even. As she should. He wonders if he paid for her new toy, the noisy machine currently leaving soap scum on her walls. Wonders if she'll let him pay for it again or if she'll have him summarily blocked within minutes. It won't matter, of course, but he's excited to see how she'll unfold. Another off-menu order. One more bridge too far.

What she gets, taking so much of his money yet never offering more. He just wants to see sides of her no one else has.

It's hard to control himself when she starts to get catty, shows her teeth. He'd imagined stretching this moment out a bit more, thoroughly ruining the mood for all other viewers. But when she looks right at her camera and tells him to behave, his breath goes ragged, and he has to let go of his cock to show the little bitch better - taking over her laptop to bring up the video he'd sent, a low grumble building in his chest like a warning when she slinks closer, as if proximity will give her a better understanding.

Three monitors, one for every angle of his omniscience. On the right, the chat in her official feed grows annoyed as she walks out of frame, a few of them even accusing him of foul play. Hero-types. He's going to enjoy watching them try to comfort her if she doesn't delete her account entirely after tonight - after he mouses over the video displayed on his middle screen, the mirror of her own laptop. On his left, she looms closer, expression open and honest in a way he's not seen it yet. Painted in the blue light of her monitor, it contrasts garishly with the heavy makeup she'd applied for the show, all warm-toned to match her pink neons; catches on the tiny pockets of popped soap bubbles which fleck over her cheek. It's not a good look, one she'd likely touch up before even taking a selfie for her Instagram account, a post-show teaser meant to make potential viewers feel like they'd missed out. And now that he's seen it, he knows how much he's been missing out, fist working over his cock with renewed vigor as he imagines all the ways he wants to see her now, all the ways he can, even if -

He fights the cursor when she tries to take control, but she's clever enough to know some keyboard commands. His right monitor blinks back to her profile when she cuts the feed, the middle one slowly returning to her home screen as she closes out of each window. She pulls away quickly after, palms clamped over her jaw as she breathes through the panic, soft belly caving with each pant. Foam still spews from the machine, dye having run out. It catches in her hair, paints her skin milky. He has half a mind to open a word doc on her computer, tell her she should skip the dye next time, the white more suggestive.

Doesn't get a chance. Cums when she scrambles back to the desk, his left monitor dropping the feed when she smartens up and rips the battery out of her laptop.

Left languid and lazy, he tracks her movements across her socials from his bed, thumbing through his phone. Detached, he watches her accounts blink out one after the other. A small city going dark under the approach of his hele. She deletes some outright, settles for blocking him on others. Even issues an apology to her viewers from a site she doesn't know he even has an account on. It's vague, boring. Doesn't mention him. He gets an email around midnight, her time, telling him to expect a refund for the remaining term of his payment, but is pleased to find her account still in place when he checks from a burner. The save of her live show is taken down shortly after, but he's not worried. Had it saved locally.

Can't rely on strangers from the Internet to behave, after all

[tonyboneysblog]

MOTHER HEN: PART EIGHT

parings: hawks x mother!reader

wordcount: 3.4k

warnings: descriptions of panic attack

note: I was laughing maliciously while writing this I hope yall know

summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.

two weeks.

two weeks without a single word from hawks.

whatever, no time to think about him.

not when poor Fumikage has exams, sweet thing needs help!

“Fumikage, twelve times nine- cmon…”

Fumikage stared blankly at the paper, he may not look it but..he does not know his times tables.

“I-I don’t know.” He continues to stare at the paper filled with different questions you’ve written down

“Twelve times nine.”

“You repeating it isn’t going to help me, mother.” His eyes flickering towards you and the paper.

“Just guess!” You exclaim.

“110!” He exclaims back quickly.

You smack his head gently, “so close- so far…”

Fumikages head whips up, “I was wrong?!”

“By like two numbers, it’s 108.” You pat his head gently.

Fumikages head droops slowly in defeat, “I’m failing.”

You chuckle softly and Fumikages small bit of depression, truly you doubt the entire times table will be on the exam.

You tap Fumikages chin, “keep your head up, you’re not failing anything.”

Fumikages head drops into your lap, signifying that he’s waving the white flag on studying for today.

You pet his feathers gently, your son’s been through a villain attack so you suppose he can rest!

Fumikage did mention a training camp if he passed both exams, thought he wasn’t able to tell you the location since he himself didn’t even know.

You personally wanted to bring him some food when he got home sick- Fumikage could never go over to the houses his few friends were at.

he missed his mama too much, that’s what he said.

Thought your heart was it dismay, you could feel like something was off but you couldn’t quite place it? it was deep in your gut.

if you focused too much on it then it would become nauseating.

But it was just a feeling, not truly affecting your daily life!

If you remembered correctly, Fumikages exams were tomorrow- then the training camp?

well you were quite prepared, you already predicted that Fumikage would pass with flying colors- which he did- so you gave him the most delicious meal your could think of.

With a mouth watering apple pie for dessert.

Sometimes Fumikage confused you, and bird liking apples feels wrong..but Fumikage is also just human with a bird for a face.

Your son’s confusing.

Fumikage is obsessed with apples, when he used to sleep in your bedroom you could swear it smelled like a tangy, ripe apple.

then we he left, so did the smell.

and the apple scented products didn’t help, kids said he smelled fruity so he went for more woodsy scents.

never got the apple out though.

You can take the apple out of the boy but not the boy out of the apple you suppose?

You watch joyfully as Fumikage huffs down all the food you prepared, mostly for him but it could feed a family of three or four.

Fumikages a growing boy- you’re not judging!

“You excited for camp?” You ask with excitement lining your words.

Fumikage muffled out a quick “very” almost choking on his food.

“Don’t talk while eating, you’ll choke.” You point at him.

Fumikage glares at you softly, but fixed his little attitude quickly. Whipping mouth, then pointing towards the pie.

You chuckle softly, cutting the pie dutifully into a thick piece of warm apple pie.

Fumikage holds the plate like it’s a million dollar vase, like it’s valuable.

Then he basically eats it in three bites, damned bird beak.

You can tell on his face he enjoyed it, reminded you of his father but only for a second.

He always said that your cooking made his heart swell.

well he’s not here and hasn’t been for 16 years, no point dwelling on the past.

Which is what hawks is doing at the moment, with Mirko more specifically.

Mirko rests her head the bench, arms behind her head while kicking her legs lazily to a slow tempo.

Hawks is hunched over, his hand covering his mouth while mumbling.

Mirko sighs, “you know I can’t hear you right? Stop covering your mouth.”

Hawks straightens up, leaning back on the bench with a huff.

“I mean- why would I get angry at her for kissing mean?!” His voice growing louder.

Mirkos head whips over to look at hawks, “she what..?”

“Relax, it was only on the forehead.”

Mirko deflates, pouting.

“So, let me get this straight before I yell at you.” Mirko starts slow and calculated.

“You wake up from your little nightmare in her house, then she comforts you like a “baby” in your opinion- kissss your forehead, you yell at her for confusing your small brain and then storm out?”

Hawks stays silent for a moment, staring at Mirko.

“M-my brain isn’t small.” He stutters out.

Mirko shrugs her shoulders, “don’t into that stuttering habit again, commission hates it.”

Hawks sighs softly, nodding.

“Still- my brain isn’t small, I was just confused.” Hawks retorts.

Mirko sighs heavily, agitated that she has to spend her dinner break listening to hawks, “Why are you confused..?”

Hawks plucks out a loose feather from his wings, twirling it in his fingers gently.

“I don’t know..I wanted her to do that but I still got angry.”

Hawks relaxes into the bench, staring up at the stars.

“I didn’t expect her to do it I guess? I worked so hard on trying to get her to like me and when she did that- I didn’t know what to think. Kinda like I reached my goal, but I didn’t reach it the way I wanted to.”

Mirko hums, her feet tapping softly to a faster tempo than before.

“So, your just upset cause you didn’t get the kiss you wanted?”

Hawks closes his eyes tightly, “it’s not that..i guess I didn’t want it?”

Mirko kicks his leg, “You did want it- you practically vent to me everyday on how you want to pounce and kiss on her.”

Hawks scoots farther away from Mirko, “I don’t know then, I dont even now why she kissed me anyways.”

Mirko knocks his ankle again, “She has a whole kid, her motherly instincts probably just kicked in when she saw a sad little birdy.”

Hawks hums, placing his hand over his face blocking the moonlight from seeping in.

Even though hawks was devastated on the fact that the both of you have basically cut contact, Fumikage was ecstatic.

And he even gets to go to a training camp to make his quirk better, with all his friends?

he’s living the absolute dream at the moment.

Until you rudely throw a remote at him.

You hop over and onto the couch, “Your pick.”

Fumikage relaxes into the blankets you threw onto him, what’s with you and throwing things.

Fumikage always enjoyed picking out the movie, always finding gems in the dirt.

Fumikage continues to scroll through all the options, sadly not finding anything that caught his eye.

He huffs, “there’s nothing good.”

“Not true, you just have terrible taste.”

Fumikage slowly looks over towards you with a “are you serious” face, which only makes you burst into a fit of giggles.

“You’re not funny.”

You gasp dramatically, “you’d say that to your own mother?!”

You kick his arm playfully, your laughter dying down at his hardcore facial expression that he’s sporting at the moment.

Almost like he’s planning something in that head of his..

“What’s on your mind Fumi?”

“Where’s that weighted blanket?” He cocks his head to the side, which is not a thing he does usually.

You play dumb, “What blanket?”

“The one you got me so I’d stop sleeping in your room.”

Truthfully, you have no idea where Fumikage is even going with this.

“Sold it.”

“Liar.” He retorts.

you gasp again, “don’t call me a liar!”

Fumikage hums, all you do is just confirm his suspicions.

Next time he sees hawks he’s getting that blanket back.

Hawks doesn’t need any piece of you, plus Fumikage actually did in-fact use that blanket..

Only when he went to his friends though.

And maybe when you worked nights.

not his fault he always put it back where he left it, he has manners unlike another bird he knows.

What should you even do in this situation?

change the subject obviously.

“You going to that training camp tomorrow aren’t ya?”

Fumikage nods, pride swelling into his chest.

“It’s quite exciting.” He responds monotone.

“Yea I can tell by your voice.”

Fumikages face droops slightly, “if I remember, it’s starts early in the morning.”

“Your trying to get out of hanging out with me?”

Fumikages eyes shoot wide open, “no- I-i just meant that I’d have to be there early!”

You hum, “then go to bed, don’t want you all groggy and mean to your classmates.”

“Is that what your co-workers say about you?”

“Bed, now.” You point towards his bedroom door.

Fumikage chuckles out a small “fine”, making his way to the bedroom.

“Night mom.” He calls from the bedroom.

You hum, “Night Fumi.”

You didn’t give me his nightly ruffle and kiss, you doubt Fumikage would notice though.

You wouldn’t be able to see him in the morning either, work starts just an hour before Fumikage would wake up.

You also try your hand at finding a decent movie, though your efforts were for nothing.

The feeling in your stomach wouldn’t settle.

it just got worse until it made you sick from doing nothing.

You stand up, walking over to the bathroom, trying to find some medicine that would deafen the effects.

Probably just an upset stomach, you thought.

The feeling settled, slowly may you add, as you walked over to your nest.

Letting yourself fall into the mess of blankets and small plush’s, including that damned hawks one.

your hands felt- sweaty? clammy more like, you felt nervous for something but it never came.

Reluctantly, you grab onto the soft plush.

It was nice to occupy your hands.

the feeling didn’t leave, only softened.

That’s all you needed though.

After you woke up and left for work Fumikage texted you, just checking on you of course.

He inherited your anxiousness.

Though you continue to work through the day, hoping that Fumikage had fun on his small little trip.

You got less texts and phone calls but the explanation was that they were wringing him dry.

intense U.A…that could be an email.

On the third day of Fumikages training camp, you got not texts or calls.

And when you got home from work, maybe around 11:30? The nausea came back full force.

It was a gut feeling, you tried to calm yourself down but you ended up texting Fumikage a quick message to see if he was okay.

He didn’t respond.

he was probably asleep! That was the logical way of thinking.

most logical.

you turn on the news, mostly to distract your brain from Turing to the worst possibility’s.

Fumikage was fine, no one knows where he is.

neither do you.

You sit down onto the couch, nervously biting your nails.

It doesn’t say anything about U.A. which Is a good sign.

Only says something about a spotted forest fire that they’re trying to deal with, weird that the flames are blue though.

Even more news stations can be seen in the background, they never care about forest fires? It’s not like All Might of Endeavour will be there either, so why do they care so much?

The longer you watch the news, the more information released, it seems like the aftermath of an attack but it apparently has the possibility to still be continuing.

Fumikage still hasn’t texted.

You heart doesn’t drop until they say “U.A.” And “villain attack” in the same sentence.

It’s a fucking fire, and there’s students.

is Fumikage okay?

did something happen to him?

is that why he hasn’t responded?

you can feel your breath quicken, bringing too much air yet none at all at the same time.

The scream that comes from you is guttural.

Your neighbors probably think you’re being murdered, you can’t stop though.

Imagine if you didn’t get off of work.

Would you had to see Fumikages body on the stretcher?

The nausea comes back again, you can feel yourself getting lightheaded.

And sudden knock on the door knocks you from your thoughts, only for a moment.

Quickly, you walk over to the door.

It’s police. They came to tell you Fumikages dead because U.A. Is an incompetent school-

“Y/N” hawks voice calls gently.

You don’t know what to feel, why is he here?”

“W-why-“ “I heard on the news.”

You look terrible, horror is written all over your face.

Hawks holds your shoulders, “He’s okay.”

good thing for that, you practically fall into him.

Sobs rack your throat, you can’t stop crying even though you finally know Fumikage is fine.

Hawks closes the door behind him, slowly pushing you towards the couch.

trying to make you comfortable.

He holds onto you as you cry your heart out, he can feel his ache.

He was notified on the radio before the news was, villains attacked the secret training camp.

He flew like a bat out of hell to make it to your house, he thought about going through your balcony but that would’ve scared you.

He holds onto you, rubbing your back and trying to tell you to just breathe.

You hold onto him tightly, until your knuckles are white.

He brushes your hair gently, taking off his gloves beforehand.

“Y/N, calm down.” His voice is stern but gentle.

You only respond with more sobs.

“Everything’s okay, I promise you.” His voice almost sounds like he’s begging you to feel better.

To feel like it’s not your fault.

You take a big breath, trying to control yourself.

“W-where is he?” You ask slowly through hiccups and sniffles.

Hawks continues to hold you, “most likely at the hospital getting checked for any injuries.”

He can feel your breathing speed up, “he’s fine, he’s a strong kid.”

You push your head farther into him, trying to find comfort in him.

“Why’d you come.”

“…I don’t know.” His voice tender.

You hit his stomach, “I’m not forgiving you for ignoring me.”

He chuckles nervously, “I know.”

“I despise you.”

Hawks sighs, “..I know.”

You hug onto him a little tighter than before, exhaustion coming down onto your body.

You can’t drive to the hospital like this.

“Hawks.” You mumble out from his soft jacket.

“Yeah?”

“Please go get my son.” You beg him.

Hawks nods softly, placing his gloves back on and gently settling your back onto the soft pillows.

“I was planning on it.” He sends you a small goofy smile.

you can’t return it, only just a huff of amusement leaves you.

Hawks makes his way out the door and over to the a hospital that Fumikage would most likely be at.

Hawks guess was correct since he was able to Fumikage next to the vending machines.

Fumikage glances over to hawks, then realizing that it’s hawks he stares dead at him.

“Hi Tokoyami.” Hawks calls cheerfully.

Fumikage tilts his head up, “Why are you here?”

“Your momma asked me to come and get you.”

“Liar, you just gonna kidnap me and bargain my mother for her love to ensure my safe return.” Fumikage says with an 100% serious face.

Is this what you have to deal with everyday?

Hawks smiles, “No, quite the imagination you got.”

Fumikage doesn’t return it, only grimacing.

hawks sighs, “look, your moms worried sick- just let me take you home.”

The vending machine makes a soft clutter as Fumikage speaks, “How’d she find out?”

“The news?”

Fumikage makes a small tsking noise, then dropping to the opening of the vending machine.

“Get me my drink, then you can take me home.”

Hawks laughs, clutching his stomach softly.

This kid is seriously trying to make some trade deal.

Hawks walks over to the vending machine, hitting it in the middle then shaking it.

A loud clunk comes from the opening, fumikage reaches his hand into it only to have two drinks.

He grabs both, a free drink is a free drink.

Then looking at the second one, “my mother, she’s okay?”

“Slightly disturbed, but alright.”

Fumikages words suddenly quiet down, “dkd she cry?”

He talks his foot nervously as hawks nods, then Fumikage hands him the second drink.

Hawks raises his eyebrows in surprise, “what’s this for?”

Fumikage looks away, “I’m aware that your…infatuated with my mother, and I’m assuming that you comforted her when I was unable to. This is a token of my gratitude, Hawks.”

Hawks smiles, snapping open the drinks.

Two birds with one stone, Mirko. He got to technically get good with you and your son!

Fumikage doesn’t make eye contact with hawks again, maybe it hurt his pride to thank someone he apparently despises so much.

Hawks walks out of the hospital with Fumikage, who really only had scratches apparently.

A lot of the other kids had a lot worse, one even being kidnapped.

Hawks wrap his arms around Fumikages waist, lifting the two of them into the air and making their way back to your home.

The flight was quiet, not awkward like last time.

It was enjoyable in hawks opinion.

Walking through the door, Fumikage stops just to stare at you.

Your lips wobble as you open your arms up to him, inviting him into your warm embrace.

Fumikage runs into your arms, shaking.

Hawks didn’t even notice Fumikage was affected by the attack.

Your holding Fumikage so tightly, it makes hawks heart feel..empty?

Seeing something he wished he had, not you holding onto him but his own mother.

Fumikage starts to stutter, trying to not let the tears affect his speech, “mother- im so sorry!”

You mumble to Fumikage that he did everything he could’ve possibly done, that he has nothing to apologize for.

“I-i let dark shadow out of control.”

you hug him tighter, you don’t really understand how it feels to be Fumikage, how it feels to have someone else attached to you.

You can only whisper reassurance into him ears, kissing his forehead softly.

You look over to see hawks standing there awkwardly, so out of place.

The only place you know where to put him is with you.

You reach out your hand to him, he grabs it.

You whisper quietly, “thank you.”

Hawks only tightens his grip on your hand, wanting to feel the pressure of your bare hand against his but he’s unable to due to the thick gloves he wears.

Fumikages cries grow softer until it’s quiet, seemingly fallen asleep.

You smile, happy that he’s home.

But you have another business to attend to so you shift out of his hold, laying him down onto the couch.

You look at hawks, “We should talk.”

He nods sheepishly, following you to wherever you’re heading.

You open the door, sitting on the steps and patting the spot next to you.

He sits down next to you, letting out a small breath he’d been holding in.

He speaks first, “I’m sorry for being angry with you.”

You hum, almost like you’re urging him to continue speaking.

“You confuse me, and I regret..w-walking out like that..” he stutters.

His wings flutter softly, ears growing red as he covers the lower half of his face.

he mumbles something incoherent.

You giggle softly, “What did you say?”

“I-i said I enjoyed…your a-affection.”

You hum, “thank you for the apology, and compliments.”

hawks nods, his ears growing redder.

You pinch his ears softly, “Fumikage wants his blanket back.”

“It’s mine now.” Hawks says sternly.

You laugh and stand up, waiting for hawks to do the same.

“You should get some rest at home.”

Hawks nods, standing up and making his way down the stairs.

Until you grab his shoulder softly, “hold on.”

Hawks looks over to look confused slightly.

You push up his visor towards his forehead, kissing the space between his eyebrows gently.

Hawks wings puff up and almost spread to their full length before he stops them.

“There, your reward.” You say nervously.

Hawks nods, seemingly speechless by your actions.

Then making his way quickly down the stairs, bolting out of there like a mad man.

Taking off into flight, only slightly off balance and almost tripping.

Hawks quickly flies home, shedding himself of his clothes and throwing himself onto bed.

Grabbing your blanket and holding it close.

He starts to giggle and kick his feet like some school girl.

If only Mirko could see him now.

Actually- he can’t wait to tell Mirko.

TAG LIST: comment to be tagged!💕

@lost-in-horrorland @boopjuice @validveenus @qardasngan @arminsarlerts @star-the-rabid-dog @bunni-teeth81 @lightsgore @portgasdbruh @camejlo-35 @marsbars09 @tharae514 @yoongiwantsme @kimahrii @pink-jello-fish @l1vvvvv @miy-svz @bumblebeebutter @lacunaanonymoused @emmmeoo

AUTHORS NOTE:

I am genuinely so sorry that I can’t tag some of you guys, tumblr won’t even let me and I feel like I going crazy😭 I hope the people who I could tag were able to see this next part part and again I’m really sorry! But you better love me again after all that fluff😒

[pazziville]

Can I Be Him — A Pazzi Fic

Wherein Paige Bueckers, UConn’s prolific point guard, has been in love with Azzi Fudd, her longtime best friend and current teammate for the longest time. The persistence in scouting the girl to the huskies was not for nothing. But of course, Paige kept this fact to herself. Yet, even after all these years, behind the basketball star’s confident and cocky-like attitude, lies insecurities for seemingly not being enough for Azzi.  Azzi constantly reminding Paige of the reality that she may never have feelings for the girl the same way the girl has for her when she repeatedly talks to Paige about her boy problems, deflates the latter’s self-esteem, while Azzi remains unaware. With the next season around the corner and Paige’s newfound courage to move on from Azzi, what would become of their relationship?

CHAPTER 1.

word count: 1,523

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Paige knows this feeling all too well by now. The feeling of her heart being squeezed a million times over as she attends practice to try and get her mind off a certain girl but then having to witness the girl talk to and play with the guy she’s head over heels for on the other half of the court. It’s not even an official team workout day and yet Azzi went to workout with her and decided to invite her crush. Isn’t this just great. Paige thought. “Still at it, Paigey?” Nika enters the gym with a coffee and juice on hand, per Paige’s request when she texted the girl to come save her from suffering alone at the eye sore she was having to face. Azzi and her company, Parker, notices Nika’s arrival and give her a welcoming wave before resuming what they were previously doing. Nika gives them a wave back and proceeds to join Paige in her practice run. Nika notices Paige was completely locked in, not even aware of the fact she had already arrived, causing her to block Paige’s mid-range shot attempt to get her attention. “Sorry.” Paige couldn’t even bring herself to be annoyed at what Nika did. She realized she spaced out in her thoughts and brought her arms down from shooting motion weakly. “King of the Court to get your mind off her?” Nika proposes to which Paige agrees, not even protesting. She’s quite literally willing to try anything to get her mind off of Azzi at this point.

“Who’s winning?” Parker asks Azzi, who was currently hyper focused on the King of the Court game Paige and Nika was having. Azzi didn’t answer, eyes still intensely on the game, making Parker repeat himself, “Azzi, who do you think is winning?”

The girl snaps out from her trance, “Sorry, I got a little too focused there.” Azzi takes a sip of water before she gives her answer, “Nika, probably.” “You think so?” Parker gives her a questionable look as Nika was currently down by 8.

Azzi plays with her arm, a mannerism she developed throughout the years when talking about things that she cared about and that affected her, “Paige has a soft spot for Nika. From that alone, she’s already won.”

“Oh.” Parker could only utter. Silence overruled the two of them as they sat on the bleachers and Azzi’s mind realized the bulk of what she just said. “I meant… Since Paige has a soft spot for Nika, she has the chance to use that to her advantage and catch Paige off guard and win it.” Azzi squeezed her arm, not entirely sure she was being truthful to herself.

The game went on longer than expected, Azzi’s prediction being somewhat right. Nika catching up to Paige’s score because the girl undoubtedly had a soft spot for her close friend and teammate. Not until Paige’s last possession. Nika watches as the girl does her lazy crossovers, anticipating that the girl was going to do a step back three, a move Paige loved doing during pickup games. But much to Nika’s surprise, Paige does the anticipated explosive crossover before ultimately driving to the basket. A move that caused Nika to fall hard from the unexpected contact.

Azzi, seeing this, stands up as she grows concerned for her teammate who was currently on the ground, clearly in pain. She was about to approach Nika until Paige steps in her peripheral vision, lowering herself to Nika’s level and checking up on the girl, which causes her to freeze. Suddenly, Azzi feels a pang in her chest. 

“Is Nika alright?” Parker asks, but as usual, gets ignored by Azzi, who was too occupied in watching Paige and Nika on the court. Paige went from asking Nika if she was alright, to touching the girl's knee, which got scratched from the impact to the floor after Paige charged at her. 

Azzi was smart. Hell, her professors, parents, friends, and classmates would never fail to mention this fact to her, because she truly was, academically and generally. But what she said after seeing how Paige cared for Nika right after her fall was a long shot of being smart. 

“Care enough to not be reckless and stupid before the season, Paige?” Paige stops in her tracks. Establishing eye contact with Azzi who was within a distance from her, caught off guard with what the girl told her.

The eye contact with Paige was enough for Azzi’s mind to backtrack, knowing what came out of her mouth went below the belt. “I-I’m sorry.” “No, it’s alright. You’re right. I’m sorry Nika, I should’ve been more careful.” Paige guiltily admits her fault, making Azzi more guilty in the process.

“Dumbass, shit happens, it’s alright. Now carry my ass to the clinic, this knee is kinda killing me right now.” Paige breaks her eye contact with Azzi to offer her shoulders for Nika as support to get her up.

Seeing the two girls’ backs as they walked out of the door together with Nika’s arm on Paige’s shoulder and Paige’s hand around Nika’s waist shouldn’t have affected Azzi the way it did. But, it did. The sheer physical contact Paige and Azzi shared bothered her. Yet, the girl convinced herself it was out of concern for Nika. It was a week before the new season. The team could not afford an injured player. Most especially not a player as valuable to the team as Nika. She offered elite defense the team needed and above average offense the team could use when the squad’s scorers such as Paige and herself were benched.

It’s definitely because of those reasons. Nothing more. Azzi talked herself out of what she was feeling. A feeling so seemingly foreign to her. Or so she thought.

“Not gonna talk about what happened back there?” Nika asks Paige, who has been sitting on the clinic chair with her eyes completely glued to the white walls and not uttering a single word for the last 10 minutes, clearly still affected by Azzi’s words.

The question was enough for Paige to look Nika in the eyes instead of the walls, “There’s nothing to talk about. She was right.” Nika plops down from her seat, making the nurse and Paige flinch at her sudden movement, “Girl, she called you reckless and stupid all in one sentence. Are you really just gonna let that slide without communicating the fact you were hurt by that?” Paige sighs, knowing Nika has a point, but is too much of a coward to confront Azzi. Not when her romantic feelings for the girl were involved.

Silence engulfs the room. Nika, disappointed, shakes her alongside a deep sigh and sits back on the chair she previously sat on which delighted the nurse, “Do that again and I’m going to tie you up to this clinic chair.”

Nika nervously laughs, “Sorry, Nicole.” The nurse quickly gives her a daggered stare for the first name basis.

Nika clears her throat and straightens her posture, “I meant, Nurse Nicole.”

Paige laughed at the altercation and had seemed to forget what went down minutes ago. But of course the universe had different plans for the girl. As she was enjoying the small talk the nurse was having with her and Nika, the clinic door suddenly opened, revealing a concerned looking Azzi.

The girl spared Paige a look but nothing more before fully entering the room, her attention fully fixated on Nika and her current condition, even talking to the nurse for her evaluations.

Paige silently observed Azzi from her seat, not being able to stop her chest from hurting. Azzi had more care for Nika than she’ll ever have for me. She managed to convince herself. As the conversation went on, Paige felt out of place, feeling as if she no longer needed to stay.

She got up from her seat, prepared to leave, “Paige, where are you going?” Nika asks, stopping her from her tracks. There was a part of her that wished that question came from Azzi. But how dare she wish that, Azzi would never care enough to ask. She thought.

“I’m gonna get back to practice… If that’s alright with you guys.” Azzi had her back facing Paige, yet the girl could not get to not include her in the conversation of excusing herself out the room.

“No problem, sweetheart. We’re almost done here anyway. Your girls will follow suit soon enough.” Nurse Nicole sweetly assured Paige, earning a soft smile from the girl.

Paige slowly makes her way to the door. She looks back, only to be met once again with the view of Azzi’s back. Nika sees this and realizes, deciding to smile at the girl to cheer her up a bit. It works as Paige leaves the room with a smile. Not a genuine one but it was better than not smiling at all.

Paige can’t help but chuckle at herself as she grabbed a ball from the rack to start working on her game. This may just be the extent of her and Azzi’s relationship.

a/n: suggestions and feedback are greatly appreciated. this is my first time uploading a piece of work to tumblr, so please bare with me. would you guys want me to post this story on wattpad and ao3 as well? thought of doing so for easy accessibility purposes since i don't think tumblr has bookmarks or something alike. thank you very much for reading! much love. <3

[daydreamingyuta]

hiii, could I request for a jaehyun x reader, like a reader fell first but jaehyun fell harder? Hehe ❤️❤️

Blind Date | Jaehyun

summary: fluff, when your bestfriend, Johnny, sets you up on a blind date with Jaehyun you fall for him fast. When he says he wants to take things slow, you agree, but little do you know Jaehyun was going to fall for you even harder. word count: 2,597 a/n: thank you for requesting! I hope you like it <3

Moving to New York city was the single best decision you’ve ever made. The chaos that it brought into your life was comforting. You didn’t like it when things got too quiet or when life got too predictable. So, when your best friend, Johnny, had suggested setting you up on a blind date, you immediately said yes. Even if nothing came from the date, you still would get a new experience out of it.

Since it was a blind date, you had no idea who Johnny could be setting you up with. However, you knew two things about your best friend Johnny Suh. He loved you very much so he would never set you up with someone who was terrible, and he had great taste. These facts alone were making you more and more excited as you got ready for the date. 

Of course, Johnny had set everything up for the both of you. He decided on your favorite Italian restaurant, which is only a couple blocks away from your apartment. While you were getting ready, you decided to call Johnny to ask him questions about meeting up with your blind date. 

“So, how will I know it’s him?” You ask, while putting on your outfit. 

“He said he’s wearing a button down and he’ll be waiting for you outside the restaurant.” Johnny says. 

“Ok, perfect. What’s his name?”

“Jaehyun.” 

You smile to yourself when Johnny says his name. You’ve never met Jaehyun before, but Johnny has mentioned him quite a bit, and from what you’ve heard, he seems like a great guy. 

“Ok, I think I’m ready.” You say as you finish putting on your shoes. You decided to wear a dress which was a little out of your comfort zone, but it made you feel pretty. “Wish me luck!” 

“Have fun! and I’m right down the street if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Thanks Johnny. Love you!”

“Love you too.” 

⸻

As soon as the restaurant was in view, you spotted Jaehyun. You weren’t sure if it was him just yet, but he was wearing a button down and acting like he was looking for someone. As you get closer to the restaurant, you both make eye contact and you’re sure he’s the person Johnny set you up with.

“Jaehyun?” You ask him. When you say his name, a smile lights up on his face. 

“Y/n?” He asks and you nod your head. “It’s really nice to meet you, I’ve already gotten us a table, if you’re ready.”

“Perfect!” You say with a little edge of nervousness in your voice. Johnny failed to mention just how handsome Jaehyun is. Not that you were complaining, you just weren’t expecting it. You follow Jaehyun into the restaurant, where a server takes you both to your table. 

“I have to ask you, did Johnny tell you anything about me? Because he told me nothing about you.” You say.

“The only thing Johnny told me was that this is your favorite restaurant, which is a coincidence because it’s my favorite too.” Jaehyun says.

 “Wait really! That is a coincidence because there’s like a million Italian restaurants in this city.”

“Yeah, but nobody makes pasta carbonara like they do here.” 

“I know! It’s such a simple dish, but it’s so easy to mess up. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Johnny set us up on this date solely for that fact alone.”

“No, that wouldn’t surprise me either.” Jaehyun says, his smile making your heart beat faster. 

It doesn’t take too long before the waitress comes out with your food. The restaurant never fails at making the best food, so everything tastes delicious. You and Jaehyun get lost in conversation while you eat, and you’re surprised at how easy it is to talk to him. There was something so comfortable about him, like you’ve known him for years. 

“Can I ask you something?” You ask, setting down your drink. “What made you say yes to a blind date?”

“To be honest, I don’t really know. I ended things with my ex almost a year ago and haven’t put myself out there at all since. But I don’t know, something in me felt like I should come.”

“Well, I’m glad you did decide to come.” You say, shyly.

“Me too, but I have to be completely up front with you. I don’t think that I’m fully ready for anything serious. I’m not saying that I don’t want to see you again, because I do, but taking things slow would probably be best for me.” Jaehyun tells you.

“I totally get that, slow is best for me too.” You say, which was a half truth. The full truth was that you think that you’ve already developed feelings for this man that you met only two hours ago, but you knew that nothing good comes rushed.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Jaehyun says with a relieved look on his face. 

⸻

You flop down on your mattress, tired but happy, thinking about your evening with Jaehyun. You hear a ding from your phone, so you picked it up to see who it was from. You unlock your phone and see that it's from him. He had asked for your number before you left the restaurant, but considering that he said he wanted to take things slow, you weren’t expecting a text from him tonight.

Jaehyun: I had a nice time with you tonight :)

Honestly, you were shocked at yourself for how much a little text from him was making you smile. You really did have a good time with him. You weren’t the type to develop feelings super fast, but there was something about him.

Y/n: Me too :)

⸻

Throughout the week, you and Jaehyun have been texting back and forth every so often. Nothing too much or anything, but it was nice to be in contact with him. You were on your way home from work when you saw that Jaehyun had texted you for the first time today. 

Jaehyun: “Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to see each other again this weekend? There’s a new vinyl store that just opened nearby and I would love to go there with you!”

Y/n: “Yeah, that would be fun! What day?”

Jaehyun: “I was thinking Saturday, but what day would work for you?”

Y/n: “Saturday’s perfect!”

You couldn’t help but smile the rest of the way home in anticipation of seeing Jaehyun again. Once you got to your apartment, you started planning an outfit for the date even though you still had a few days to prepare. 

⸻

Jaehyun had texted you asking you for your address so that he could pick you up for your date. The vinyl store was only a few blocks away and the weather was nice, so you two were going to walk there. You decided to wear jeans, a loose fitting t-shirt, and some sneakers so that you could be comfortable. 

Once you were ready, it wasn’t long until Jaehyun was at your door. You take a quick moment to make sure you look good in the mirror, and then you open the door. 

“You got me flowers, you really didn’t have too! They're so pretty.”

“Of course I did.” He says as he hands you the flowers and gives you a hug. “How are you?”

“I’m good, excited to go to the vinyl store. I can’t believe I didn’t know they were opening one so close.” You say, quickly placing your flowers into a vase.

You grab your purse and start to head out the door. “I know, when I heard about it I thought that you would be the perfect person to go with.” he says, with his irresistible smile.

The weather was nice and cool which made your walk to the store so much better. You loved the city during this time of year. You were almost a little sad when you got to the store, wanting to walk with Jaehyun some more. However, that sadness was quickly replaced with joy when you saw a record that you have been wanting for the longest time and you could hardly believe your eyes.

“Is that…?” You say, entering the store and going straight to it. “Jaehyun! I’ve been wanting this forever, I’ve never seen it for a reasonable price until now.” At this point, you're all but jumping for joy. 

“I love that album too! I literally paid $300 for mine.”

“$300?” You say shocked but also not surprised, that's about how much they usually sell for since it's an older album, no longer in production. “This one’s only $40, I actually cannot believe this is real.”

You’re too busy clutching your precious album to notice the way that Jaehyun’s looking at you right now. If you were born with the ability to read minds, his thoughts would be making you blush right now. There was something about seeing you this excited about something, that made Jaehyun really see you. Not that he wasn’t into you before, but in that moment he realized just how gorgeous you are. He could almost kick himself for not paying close enough attention on your first date. 

Jaehyun is taken away from his thoughts by a gasp from you. You had spotted another album that you’ve been wanting. “I think this place is actually heaven, Jaehyun.”

The rest of the date was spent looking at every single album the store had, and making comments about how you felt about each one. By the end, you realized just how much in common you had with him in regards to music taste. 

Once you both had done significant damage to your bank accounts, it was time to leave the store. You had spent so much time there that the sun had set, leaving the city lit up by the street lamps and headlights of the cars passing by.

You weren’t prepared for the cold that the nighttime brought, so you shivered a little bit. Jaehyun noticed and immediately took off his coat to give to you. You tried to refuse at first, but he was adamant.

“If you don’t want to take my coat, we can huddle together like penguins to warm you up.” He says, so of course you took it. Although being that close to Jaehyun didn’t sound like such a bad idea. 

⸻

“I really had fun today, y/n.” Jaehyun says, as you arrive at your apartment. 

“Me too, thanks for taking me out Jaehyun.” You say, as you accept a hug goodbye from him. You watch him leave before entering your apartment, genuinely so happy from spending the day with him.

Not even two hours go by before you get a text from him, while you’re in the middle of your skincare.

Jaehyun: “Hey, I just wanted to say that I really had a good time with you and I can’t wait to see you again.” 

You honestly had to read his text again about three times to make sure you were reading it right. Jaehyun had said that he wanted to take things slow. Maybe your definition of slow was different from his, but this didn’t seem like slow to you. You really weren’t complaining though, you really did have feelings for him already.

What you didn’t know though was that, as soon as Jaehyun dropped you off at your apartment, his thoughts were filled by you and only you. His thoughts of you seized for a moment though, when he heard his phone ring and saw that Johnny was calling him. 

“Wait, so you guys went out on another date?” Johnny asks and Jaehyun could practically see the smug look on his face. 

“Yes, and listen. The first date was good, I really did have a good time. But something was different this time that I saw her, Johnny.”

“Different how?”

“Like, I was content with taking things slow and seeing if anything could happen between us after the first date. But now… why do I feel like if I don’t get to hold her hand in mine the next time I see her, I might die? Seriously Johnny, I know you're laughing right now but I mean it and I feel like I’m going crazy because you’re not supposed to feel this way after only two dates.”

“Oh, I’m definitely putting ‘match-maker’ on my resume.”

“Johnny, you’re not being helpful.”

“There’s nothing to help you with, you should text her. I mean, maybe not all of that, but tell her a little bit about how you feel.”

That’s how Jaehyun came to sending you that text. He waits in anticipation for you to text back. When he finally does hear his phone buzz, he can feel his heart beat get faster. 

Y/n: “I had a good time as well :) I would love to see you again too!”

Jaehyun: “Is tomorrow too soon?”

Yes. Tomorrow was too soon if it was under any normal circumstance, but Jaehyun has never felt like this before so he hoped that you would excuse his impatience.

Y/n: “I’m not doing anything tomorrow afternoon!”

⸻

Jaehyun’s mind went blank, in the middle of your third date together, when you started to laugh. He had said something funny which made you react this way, but for the life of him, he can’t remember what he said. All that fills his mind is the pretty sound of the most perfect laugh he’s ever heard in his entire life. 

“Should we cross the street here?” You ask, bringing Jaehyun back to reality. You two had decided to get ice cream for your third date, and were walking there. 

“Yeah.” Jaehyun says, but when he sees your hand extended out, waiting for him to take it, his heart constricts. He takes your hand and you two cross the street. He can’t help but think about how right this feels. 

You two reach the other side of the street and you try to let go of his hand, but he’s still holding on. You turn to look at him and you can see that he’s lost in his thoughts. 

“Jaehyun?” 

He hears you, but just needs a moment to process his emotions. He feels a pit of regret in his stomach. Regret that he ever told you he needed to take things slow, because the truth is, all he wanted to do right now is kiss you. 

“...I don’t want to take things slow y/n.” 

“Oh? Is there something that changed your mind?”

“I just can’t get you out of my mind. I think about you so much y/n. It’s actually quite distracting.”

“Oh, well then I apologize.” You say with a smile on your face.

“No, don’t apologize. Just tell me if you think I’m totally crazy for being this into you, this quickly.”

“You’re not crazy Jaehyun.” You say, taking a step closer to you.

Jaehyun relaxes when he hears you say that. “Is it too soon to kiss you?”

You shake your head at him and before you know it, his lips are on yours.  He kisses you softly, but with urgency, like he’s been waiting for this kiss his whole life. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on yours. “I really like you, y/n.” 

“I feel the same way, Jaehyun.” Both of your faces light up with the brightest smiles as you two stand there, surrounded by the city, but lost in each other.

[captainsophiestark]

The Hard Call

Azriel x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Requeted by Anon! Nonnie, thank you for enabling me to write about Az and Flynn, I absolutely love you for it ❤️ Feel free to drop by any time you want to talk anything SJM-related! Hope you like this, and good news, I have a Flynn fic coming in the next couple days too!

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: Azriel made the hard call when he had to, but he's feeling pretty guilty about it.

Word Count: 1,610

Category: Angst, Fluff

WARNING: House of Flame and Shadow spoilers below the cut!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I swore under my breath as Nesta jammed Ataraxia into the back of the Daglan, the Asteri, whatever it was called. Black blood spurted out of its mouth, but a moment later, the thing—Vesperus—pushed back against the tip of the blade and removed it from her chest. It shouldn't have been possible for something to survive a direct hit like that from Nesta and that sword, but a lot of things from the past few days shouldn't have been possible.

When a fae female had landed in a heap on the River House lawn in front of my mate, I knew we were in for some strange new challenges. But never in a million years could I have predicted the journey she'd led us on through tunnels apparently running all under the Night Court, straight into the heart of the Prison. And now we were facing down one of the most dangerous creatures in the universe, just me, Az, and Nesta, with the female Bryce as an unreliable additional ally.

I tightened my grip on my sword and tried to calm my racing heart as I stood shoulder to shoulder with Azriel. We'd gotten through countless life and death situations together before, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn't sure we'd be able to get out of this one.

Vesperus gave Nesta a horrifying smile as the wound in her chest quickly healed. I glanced to Az, but he kept his eyes locked on the monster before us.

"Ataraxia didn't work," Nesta breathed. "The Trove-"

"Do not summon the Trove," barked my mate. Based on what we knew about this thing before us, I immediately agreed. "Don't bring it near her."

"But-"

"Not even for our lives," he snarled, leaving no room for argument. The same harsh resolve solidified itself in my mind, and I braced myself for the possibility of a last stand. At least if we went down, it would be fighting side by side with my mate.

A flicker of shadows floating softly over my shoulders was the only indication that my mate felt the same. The Daglan grinned, and I got ready to pounce.

****************

Hours later, I sat slumped in my favorite chair in the Velaris townhouse, trying to recover from everything that had happened under the prison. We'd managed to kill the Daglan-Asteri, despite Bryce trying to question it, no matter the risk to our world. But she had gotten away in an impressive display of power, which meant her world's Asteri might have a chance at using her to find us.

Needless to say, when Az, Nesta, and I had made it out of the Prison, we'd had a lot to debrief about with the rest of the Inner Circle.

Nobody was happy about the situation we now found ourselves in, but for the time being, there was also nothing we could do about it. So once we made a basic plan to try to gather information and prepare in case something from that other world came back, we all split off for our separate tasks. Az still had a few things to go over with Rhys, but I was free for the time being, so I'd come to my favorite cozy spot in Velaris to try to come down from the insane adrenaline that had been pumping since Bryce got here.

One perk of Rhys and Feyre building the River House and Nesta keeping Cassian at the House of Wind more often was that the townhouse, my personal favorite location, was often free for Az and I to use as our own. I closed my eyes in my favorite armchair by the fire, still in my fighting leathers, and focused on taking deep breaths to try to get the tension out of my shoulders.

I'd actually almost managed to drift off to sleep when I heard the front door open and shut heavily. I didn't need to look to know Az had just arrived, so with a deep sigh to drag me back from the edge of sleep, I raised my head and turned to look at my mate.

"Everything figured out with Rhys?" I asked. He nodded once, moving into the room with a face like stone. I frowned, sitting up and paying a little better attention as he took a seat on the couch, his gorgeous hazel eyes never leaving mine. "What's wrong?"

A muscle in Az's jaw ticked, and I knew he was mustering a response to my words. Despite his reputation as the unreadable spymaster, all our time together as friends and then as mates had given me a leg up on everyone else who tried to read his expressions.

I stood from my seat in the armchair and moved to sit before Az on the couch instead, taking his hands in mine. His eyes searched my face, and I let a small smile work its way through the exhaustion, trying to put him at ease. He could take however long he needed to, and I'd be ready to listen when he wanted to talk.

"I'm... sorry."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

That muscle in his jaw was working over time, the rest of his face the same inscrutable mask he'd worked so hard to perfect.

"For what happened in the Prison. For... being willing to let you die down there, rather than risk Nesta summoning the Trove. You deserve a better mate than that."

My jaw dropped, shock preventing me from responding for a few small moments. Az just kept staring at me, and even though his face didn't show it, I could feel the guilt eating him up at his core.

"Az, you have nothing to apologize for!" I finally managed. One of his eyebrows quirked up and he frowned, expressing doubt at my words without speaking one of his own. I huffed and squeezed his hands tighter.

"Listen to me, Azriel. The reason you are my mate is because you made that decision in the Prison. We both know that letting something like that into the world with a weapon like the Mask is an unacceptable option, as long as there is anything in this world we can do to prevent it. If the Daglan or the Asteri or whatever she was had gotten her hands on the mask, it probably would've cost the lives of everyone we've ever cared about, and the rest of this world along with it. Nothing is worth allowing that to happen."

Az ground his jaw, his gaze softening and his eyebrows furrowing as he continued to scan my face.

"Are you... sure? Cassian and Rhys... I think they'd tear the world to shreds for their mates."

I just shrugged. "For what? If the world is gone, if the cost of that choice is absolutely everything else, then what's the point of saving each other in the first place? We'd have nothing left, other than the blood of the world on our hands."

Az grunted, and I shifted closer to him, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek.

"Az. I love you, so much, and a part of that love is because you're not so selfish as to risk throwing the world away for me. Especially since, more likely than not, we'd be dead anyway not long after she got that mask. Neither of us is selfish enough to make a call like that, and I love that about us. The only thing that matters is that we stand together as long as we can, and I knew damn well in the cave that if either of us was going down, we were going down side by side, fighting to our last breath. Obviously I'm happy we both made it out of there, and I'm not saying we shouldn't fight for each other, but that call you made today? I'd be pissed if you'd made a different one."

Az studied me for another second, and I let him see every truth and emotion written in my face. Finally, he sighed, the tension going out of his shoulders as he reached out and pulled me closer to him, arms around my waist. I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling my hands in his hair. We'd almost died today, and I wasn't about to take the fact that we were both still here together for granted.

"Have I mentioned lately how happy I am to have you as my mate?" Az asked, his voice a little gravelly as he leaned in closer to me. I smiled, leaning forward and letting my lips ghost over his own.

"Yeah, actually, you have. But I'll never complain about hearing it again."

Az smirked, then gently closed the last of that distance between us, his lips brushing softly against mine. I leaned into the kiss, eager for more contact, and I could feel Az's smirk widening right before I deepened the kiss. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me as tight to his body as possible, and I tangled my hands in his hair, letting myself get swept up in him.

I'd meant every word I'd said to my mate, about the choice he'd made and how I felt about it. But I was also incredibly happy it hadn't come down to the cost of our lives, and that we'd made it out of there together. And now that Official Night Court Business had been taken care of, I intended to fully celebrate and appreciate Azriel, and the fact that we were still here together. And I knew he intended to do the same.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[mismatchedtwins]

Mismatched Twins - Take Four

“Tell me again why we can’t just teleport?”

The injured turtle clutches at Donnie as he leaps from one floating rock to another, face pressed against his shoulder at the sudden changes in gravity. Like any Leonardo predictably would, he’s doing his best to pretend that each jump isn’t affecting him. Donnie knows that the ribs pressed against his carapace have to be causing some discomfort, even if they do have a solid layer of plastron.

He keeps refusing Donnie’s offers to break, so Donnie presses on.

He’s only a few pounds heavier than April, probably due to the shell, but Donnie’s spent years dragging things around the lab, so he knows his endurance can last far longer than his body believes that it can. Though, it has been driving him nuts, that something about his physique has felt oh-so-remotely off since he… arrived in this prison, but he’s doing his best to think about important things.

Not the small fire burning his ankle or the nail in his shoulder every time Leon moves his arm even lightly. Things like, getting home to the brothers that watched him… transport away at April’s hands and who have probably written him off as dead.

He has to get home. They have to know he’s okay.

“Leonardo.”

Donnie grips the rock as he gets his footing, grateful for the strange pulls of gravity between the masses that occur in Dimension X and this strange, broken dimension. He doesn’t know how long he’s been moving, but the fluid jumps ease the burden.

“Ninpo… batt’ry low.” His companion sounds tired, but he’s still conscious, and that’s really want Donnie cares about. “Can’t re…charge. Need to pre…preserve it.”

“Inconvenient.” Donnie mutters as he finally locates a good area for a pit stop. “Stay with me, Leon. Just a few more bounds.”

“Not sleeping.” Leon mumbles. “Not…asleep.”

“Keep it that way.”

Donnie hurries his pace, only stopping when he stumbles and almost loses his balance. He takes a couple breathes, ignoring the fuzz in his peripheral. Leon notices and offers his continuous, halfhearted, “Put… medown. I can w…walk.”

“Don’t see much of a point.” He states cooly as he soldiers on, “We’re practically there.”

Leon shifts, “Where..?”

“Hopefully, a safe place for you to rest.”

“I don’t need-”

“I’m one word away from dropping you.” Donnie lies as he finally crosses the distance. “You’re not the only turtle who could use a break, you know.”

No snappy reply to that one. Donnie tries not to let that worry him.

He sticks the landing and then carries Leon across the homestretch. There’s a small enclosure a couple feet away, not big enough for two, but wide enough for one of them to curl up in. Theoretically.

Donnie kneels down next to it and the weight drops from his back.

He’s grateful to see an exhausted, but conscious turtle surveying him apprehensively. He looks to the side, face scrunching.

“You don’t expect me to crawl… ‘n there, do you?”

“Once I’m done with your check-up, yeah.” Donnie offers helpfully, pressing hands on both sides of his jaw and checking his pupils in the relative dark. “Because I’m going to look around and I don’t want you to be a sitting duck.”

The turtle yawns and digs his phone from his belt. It’s one of those shiny, smooth, compact phones that can do a million more things than Donnie’s glorified walk-in-talkies can do. Donnie tries not to ogle as he taps the function for the flashlight and then offers it.

He mutters a thanks and pretends like the random burst of jealousy never happened as he confirms that Leon’s pupils are behaving appropriately. He turns it off afterward upon seeing the battery was nearly halfway dead, certain that they should preserve it.

Leo doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment. Upon it’s return, he immediately opens an app to flick through it.

Donnie turns off his phone and pockets it.

He earns an indignant squawk and baps the hand that reaches out.

“Too much exposure to screen light awakens the brain.” He recites the private factoid that he has never once told his brothers ever for his own sanity. “I’ll give it back once you rest.”

“If you wanted to ditch me this much, you coulda done it back there.” Leon’s grin doesn’t reach his eyes, too laced in pained exhaustion. “Would’ave saved you some time.”

“You need a nap.” He scolds, trying not to think about how much he sounds like his own bossy brother. Oh, Leo. “And I need to confirm that we’re not going to starve here.”

“Dehydration’ll get us first.” Leon points out as Donnie moves on. That’s a morbid thought, but entirely accurate. “Not if I can help it.”

“You gonna pull water from rocks?”

“Don’t exactly have any godly powers on my side.” Donnie states wryly. “So I’ll have to make do with what I do have.”

“Which is…?”

“Science.”

“…Science.”

“Science.”

“What does that even…” Leon shakes his head. “You know what? Don’t care. Not napping.”

“And why not?”

“Cause you like jumping off cliffs for fun.” Leon pokes his face with a smirk. Donnie knocks the invasive hand away, pressing a finger to the vein in his neck. “Someone’s gotta keep you alive.”

Donnie huffs, shoving memories down when three other turtles told him a variety of the exact same thing. “I can take care of myself.”

“You jumped off a cliff.”

“Okay, technically, I only took a few steps.”

“You walked off a cliff.”

“I was testing a reasonable hypothesis.”

“Mhmm, mhm, mhm.” Leon nods patronizingly before he drawls, “Totally get that. And that’s why I’m here. To talk you out of testing dumb theories that could kill you, don’tr-”

He blinks, abruptly, body going stiff. Donnie furrows his brow at the strange slur of words, but lets him stew in his thoughts, appreciative of the new silence that comes with it.

“Okay, nap time.” Donnie proclaims when he decides that Leon isn’t going to die if his body shuts down for a bit. “We’ll keep moving once your body has recouped.”

“You really expect me to sleep here?” He eyes the hidey-hole like he expects it to turn out to be a monster’s mouth.

“Yep.”

Leon doesn’t move. Donnie scowls irritably.

“If you do not rest, you cannot heal.”

“Can and am.” Leon preens, waving a hand down his plastron. “This fine bod was made that way. Goat man says that my body’s always getting better even as I get worse.” His face blanches, “Hey, that sounds less complement-y than I remembered…”

Donnie attempts to process past the blatant ego. “Goat man..?”

“Y’know.” Leon rolls his hand. “Draxum.”

Donnie can’t fathom why this kid thinks he should know that name. “Maybe I should double-check for a concussion.”

“You telling me you’ve never heard of Draxum?” Leon gives him a funny look. “Mad scientist? Ooze wielder? Cafeteria lady? Dad-not-dad? Big part of the Mad Dog backstory?”

“See, now you’re just spitting out words.” Donnie grumbles as he cups his cheeks and lifts his head, more to annoy him than for medical analysis. “Hold still.”

Leon only waves his arms, words mashed like his face. “He t’rew me off a wroof!”

“That’s nice.” Donnie hums with a calculated condescension, smirking when his prisoner attempts to scowl. Leon shoves against his plastron and squirms free, indignant as Donnie releases him and holds up his hands in surrender. “It was awful, actually! It was a really tall building! Really tall!”

The high and whiney tint to his voice reminds him of when Mikey is in serious need of some feeling validation. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he gives him a more solmen nod instead. “Sounds it.”

He eyes him, suspicious. “I could have died. I would have!” His voice drops dramatically. “If Raph hadn’t caught me.”

“Raph catching Leos when they fall off tall buildings is a universal constant.” Donnie notes to show that he’s being very attentive. “This Draxum, scientist, lady, goat man, is not. Got it.”

Leon continues to give him the stink eye. Mikey usually complains a lot longer than this, so Donnie isn’t sure if it’s an appropriate time to move on to what really matters or not. “So…”

“Tell me a bedtime story.”

Donnie stares at him. “Excuse me?”

“You want me to go to sleep. I want you to tell me a story.” Leon decides with a bright grin. “A really good one about these brothers that you won’t stop blabbing about.”

Donnie feels like he missed something. “…Why?”

“Limited time offer, guy. Take it or leave it.”

He hesitates. “And then you’ll sleep?”

Leo lays himself down and scoots into the mini cave. With little room left, he gets comfy on his plastron, “Bedtime story. Go!”

“Aren’t you fifteen or something…”

“Less questions, more story, aaaand go!”

“I feel kinda-”

“Guuuuy-”

“Fine!”

He smirks, chin happily settled on fist.

Donnie bites his lip.

“Here, I’ll help! Once upon a- now here’s where you start- tiiime…”

Hoping to shut the turtle up for five minutes, Donnie starts telling the least daunting, embarrassing, or traumatizing recent memory that he can recall: namely, that one time Stockman turned a bunch of bugs into mutants and started robbing banks, giving Donnie the chance to save the day with his harnesses.

Even if no one mentioned that bit.

Which wasn’t important. They all did their part.

Besides, they were really cool. Mikey reassured him of that.

“…And it turns out, Raph apparently learned some super secret phrase from Splinter to help him keep calm in the battle. It really ticked Leo off that he wouldn’t share it with him.”

He chuckles as he recalls his ‘older and maturer’ brother arriving into his lab to slam the door and pathetically snivel to him about it. “Raph was super smug about it until Splin-ter…”

He trails off and his smile fades when he catches the look on Leon’s face. It disappears as he faces away, stretching his arms with a dry smirk. “You are really good at that.”

“Oh, heh-?” Donnie rubs the back of his neck bashfully as heat crawls up it. Usually, it’s Mikey who gets attention for that sort of thing. “G-Good? At-?”

“Lying.” Any humor disappears. The heat drops down and burns in his chest. Donnie narrows his eyes. “I wasn’t lying.”

“Spoken like a true fibber.”

“You’re the one who asked me to-!” Donnie starts, hand at his chest, but Leon meets his gaze cooly. “I was waiting for you to slip up.”

“Slip UP?!”

“People usually do. Especially with a lie as detailed as this one.” He squints at him. “You’re almost as good as me.”

Donnie can’t believe the audacity. “What POINT would there be in lying to you?!”

“Make me eat up your sob story so I help you out.” Leon explains simply before he shrugs. “S’what I would do.”

“It is not a sob story, and I don’t need your help!” The blaze spreads, so he wrenches himself to his feet and stomps away. Leon calls after, “Don’t go jumping off any cliffs!”

His fists clench. “I DIDN’T JUMP!”

Donnie expects him to shout after or, shell, even transport beside him since he just admitted to being a liar, but he goes quiet. Donnie gives himself a few minutes to seethe before he drags himself back to his companion. Leon’s carapace is to the entrance, body tense.

Not sleeping. More than likely pouting.

Such a Leo move…

The sudden prodding ache reminds him of his mission.

Right. Back to worrying about important things.

He exhales and shakes off the invisible hand smashing in his chest. It gives some reprieve for him to focus, trying to dig up even the smallest facts that he knew about Mikey’s stories in Dimension X.

They had confirmed that Mikey had only been there several hours, which is good, because Donnie’d had plenty of trouble calming Leo’s irrational crisis over whether or not he was still the oldest. It was way too many hours wasted on an afternoon where he actually wanted to be sleeping. He’d never have made progress if the timeline had been expanded to months. If that had been the case, Leo would have had to fork over his big brother title, as degrading as that sounded.

Donnie can’t imagine what it would have been like to be separated from his family for that long.

Mikey had been all too eager to go into deep specifics about his time in Dimension X. Donnie forgot most of the unimportant things, but he’d estimated that Mikey’d eaten all his pizza reserves with the first hour or two there. Then he’d tried a variety of… Randomly described objects that ‘looked tasty’ before he’d settled on the Squeebles.

Supposedly, they’d had the texture of milkshakes, but not any definite flavor. They were yummy, boosted his “savageness,” and didn’t appear to have any negatives effects.

It would be good information to have if there was a single glimpse of life in this place at all. Is there even a working ecosystem?

He hasn’t even seen any boom rock trees or signs of the familiar silver bases. There didn’t seem to be much of anything. Not that he misses the Scatterpillars or elemental giants or Kraang worms.

Donnie shudders. Definitely not.

Then again, if the Kraang have access to cloaking domes, then what does that mean for these Krang?

Donnie sighs. He’s getting nowhere like this.

Mikey managed to explore and master miles of Kraang territory before they reached him. Sure, Mikey had his photographic memory, but there has to be a way to get similar results. There must be a way to replicate the kind of… Oh. Hm.

Donnie checks on Leon. He remains faced away.

Good. He stretches out his arms, cracking his knuckles. Might as well try. What does he have to lose?

….Other than every trace of his dignity and self-respect.

He exhales in a huff. Okay. Head in the game. Think Mikey.

What would Mikey do?

Or better yet, what would Savage Mikey do?

Climb anything climbable. Swing from anything swingable. Wander around touching absolutely everything that he doesn’t understand. Stick unidentified objects between his toes.

….Yeah, he’s not doing that last one.

Donnie starts walking. His first instinct is to just wander, but Mikey’s more of a moth-to-a-flame kinda of turtle. So he chooses the random piece of curved metal in the distance. He ignores the knee-jerk reaction to dismiss any action that he doesn’t understand, obeying the urge to climb up and leap-frog to the next hunk.

A hollow clang greets him on the fourth landing. Donnie lifts a hand to look at the silent print left behind, brushing away more of the grime that reveals a light pinkish color. He slides down immediately, moving to the next large structure and finding a similar hunk of charred metal. He traces the bottom, where metal merges with rock, and debates how it got there. The metal almost looks seared in by some kind of intense heat. Was it purposeful?

He peeks around it, curious eyes trailing to a high point up ahead; tall but thin metal sheet slotted sideways into the ground. He fires his grapple and launches up to it, pulling himself to a comfortable crouch. His new weight doesn’t budge it, so he stands.

There’s a massive crater taken out of the island. Whatever’s left of the missing spot must be floating in the atmosphere around it. The destruction is mesmerizing. Of course, whatever the history of this dimension was, Donnie gets the feeling that it was not pretty.

He wonders if the Krang knows what it is. Maybe those horrors are part of the reason that he was so furious Leon brought him back.

Donnie’s eyes lock on movement in the distance. His eyes widen with interest and, because it’s definitely something Mikey would look into, he slides down to the ground and takes off in a sprint.

He heads towards the landmark. It’s the only chuck of faded pink with black stripes, so it’s not hard to track. He trips at the spike of pain up his leg when he nears his destination. He ducks behind a smaller rock, down on one knee with a light hiss. He wouldn’t let Leon waste bandages on it when the bleeding had already stopped.

If only the pain would copy.

Rubbing the sore limb, he peeks around with round eyes.

There’s a… creature squeezing through the doorway. It has one foreleg and two hind legs, bright pink tentacle-looking appendages sprouting from its back. The rest of its body is also a color scheme of pinks and purples, a dull yellow eye on the leg underneath the clashing jaw. It appears stuck, wiggling and gurgling and straining to get through the minuscule opening.

Donnie lowers a hand to his belt, startled when he realizes that his t-phone is gone. He knows it’s the right pocket because of the extra padding. Only Leon’s remains. He searches every pocket, horror and fury tight over his chest. How?! When-?! Seriously!?

He’s been here all of five minutes and he’s already lost his t-phone?!

That’s what he gets for harnessing his inner Mikey.

He looks back to the creature. Its struggle is becoming weaker and weaker. It raises its head and makes a high sound, like it’s calling out.

Donnie feels a tug at his heart, but he’s not stupid. He waits until the fight leaves it and it slumps to the ground, panting and gurgling, before he stands up. The half-lided eye locks on him, tentacles turning in his direction, but he keeps a passive hand outstretched. “It’s okay, little… creepy. Alien? Thing. I’m a friend.”

The creature squirms. Donnie moves over to the metal, feeling over it, searching for a way to dislodge it from the ground. He finds a corner to stick his fingers and braces his foot against a spot that’s a different tint of metal. He tenses his posture and yanks.

He cries out as nonexistent barbwire locks down on his shoulder. His vision whites and his hands cut into the metal, but he stands his ground and it eventually gives way.

He falls down with it, heavy weight bumping against his knees before hitting the ground. He quickly runs shaky fingers over his shoulder, because with his current string of luck-

He exhales in relief. Not dislocated. Better keep it that way.

Just to confirm, Donnie rolls his shoulder. Immediate pain, but the joint feels stable and nothing is oddly tingling. He flexes his fingers, reaching his arm above his head. Again, pain, but there’s apt motion.

Positives.

He can work with this.

Donnie looks up. Behind the compact metal is a wide tunnel.

Donnie can’t tell how long it is because it descends into an impossible darkness pretty fast. The creature garners his attention when it shifts. It attempts to rise, only to crumble before it can get its footing, flickering eye shutting with a gurgle. The tentacles on its back flail with a lot more life than it seems to have, extending towards Donnie as he watches curiously.

“Oh man.” It doesn’t look hurt. Donnie stands to move closer, yet unsure if he intends to offer comfort or a medical examination.

Can he rightly complete an examination of a creature that he doesn’t grasp the biological make-up of? Would this be one of those times that Leo glares at him and warns about ‘boundaries’?

That usually has something to do with sentience. Interesting query.

How sentient is it? Only one way to find out.

“Are you okay?”

The creature doesn’t answer or even move. The tentacles continue stretching out, getting tangled in one another in futile attempts to get closer to him. It’s cute, in a grotesquely ugly kinda way.

He crouches and reaches out. “Hey, there. I-”

“NINJA SNATCH!”

It’s only Donnie training that allows him to dodge the swift grasp of this entire turtle chucked at him. He gets a glimpse of the shocked expression before he’s crashing into the wall. The turtle peels off like an old sticker and falls back in his carapace as Donnie stomps over, glaring down at him. “WHAT are you DOING here?!”

“Saving you.” He winces before pointing to Donnie’s leering figure. “And, your welcome.”

“Saving me from what?” Donnie gestures to the creature. “This half dead thing that’s in desperate need of help?”

“Yes.” Leon climbs to his feet with a grunt. “That, but say it again more heroically. And with gratitude.”

“I was perfectly fine-” Donnie indignantly turns to head back to the little guy, only to fall face-first when arms lock around his leg. He yelps as he goes down. “‘EY!”

“Don’t touch it!” Leon demands. “It’s evil!”

“It’s dying!” Donnie shoots back. “Helpless and weak and pathetic and would you let go of me!?”

“Not if you’re gonna TOUCH IT!”

If that turtle had been fifty percent less heavily injured, Donnie could have pulled a couple of unsportmanshiply moves that would have set him free. Unfortunately, he has a conscience. “If you insist, then I won’t touch it. Now will you let me go?”

Leo lets go. “No problema.”

“Big problema.” He mocks. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“We made a deal! I kept my end!”

“That does not sound like a deal I’d make, no.”

Donnie bites down a growl. How is this guy a Leo again?

“What do you say we get moving. Yes? Double yes? Oh, wow, Leo, you’re such a genius why didn’t I think of-”

“We can’t leave it.” Donnie looks at the creature. The tentacles are lying flat on its back, and Donnie can’t tell if it’s breathing. Was it breathing before? “It needs help.”

“If Krang wants his pet, he can come help him.”

“Pet?” Donnie repeats urgently. “That’s the Krang’s?”

“What did you think the tentacles were? Decoration?”

Donnie hesitates as his companion sits up. “Krang’s or not, we can’t just leave it to die.”

“What is with you?” Leon groans as if Donnie was being the unreasonable one here. “Do you want to become a mindless freak?!”

“Firstly, rude. Secondly, it’s not its fault it has different sentience!”

Leon pats his legs, expression bored. “Okay, there’s no way you don’t know about the Krang infection.”

“No! I don’t!” Donnie’s heart races. “What is a Krang infection?”

Leon narrows his eyes. “The Krang stick their tentacles in you and you transform into a zombie slave. Then those guys stick their tentacles in other people. Or rip them to shreds. They probably did it to most of New York. How did you miss that?”

“Because I wasn’t in your New York?!”

Leon only frowns at him. Donnie looks back at the creature. “So- so if I had touched that…”

“You’d be infected. And I’d probably have to kill you.”

Donnie stares at him. He doesn’t smile.

“So… Are you gonna kill it?”

Leon leans to the side to squint. “Seems kinda dead already.”

“Yeah.” Donnie admits quietly. He gets to his feet and goes over, careful to keep distance between him and the limp creature.

Leon trails after him and pulls out his sword to poke it. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t look injured.” Donnie’s hand goes to his belt again, only to come up empty. “Urgh, right, no t-phone.”

“T-phone? Is that what this is?”

Donnie’s head whips around. Leon tosses his t-phone in his hand. “What’s the T stand for?” He snickers. “Turtle?”

Donnie hurriedly swipes it back. He taps the screen, only to get greeted with a countdown. “You locked me out?!”

Leon shrugs carelessly. “I’m really bad at guessing passwords.”

“You-?!” Donnie spits out a frustration sound and spins to stomp away. He ends up inside the entrance, glaring at this surroundings. The heat fades as he approaches the wall.

Leon remains outside. “Um, guy? Where… You going?”

The wall is cool metal. The entire tunnel could very likely be man, er, Krang-made. The grim on his palms says that no one has been in there for a while. “It came out of here.”

“Sounds like a good reason to head the opposite direction.”

Leon has a point. But, would Savage Mikey head back?

The dark is making his skin crawl. Especially with the knowledge that a Krang creature came out. Could there be more?

Would Savage Mikey want to know? Maybe.

Donnie doesn’t. It’s illogical. And dangerous.

And yet. And yet.

It could be beneficial. It could be part of a base or ship. It could be something else entirely. If there’s some abandoned tech in there that could answer some of his questions... That could get him home.

Should he risk passing it up?

No. He can’t. Savage Mikey wasn’t willing to let anything stop him from reaching Leatherhead.

Donnie can’t let his uncertainty stop him from reaching his brothers.

He resumes his examination and touches the black stripe. It is, in fact, not paint. “Look at this. It’s some kind of… vine.”

Leon stays in the entrance. “I have bad experiences with vines.”

“It’s a sign of life.” Donnie looks deep into the tunnel. “I want to see where it goes.”

“Just a suggestion… What if we… Didn’t? Do that?”

“We don’t have to do anything.” Donnie moves forward, switching out the phones. “You do whatever you want. We both know it’s what you’ll do anyway.”

“Aw, come on, man. Don’t be like that!”

Donnie’s confident that he has every reason to act however he pleases. Unfortunately, common sense has him hesitating.

“…What are you so scared of?”

“I’m not scared.” Leon whines, but the way he looks at the vines, fingers scratching lightly over skin, Donnie begs to differ.

He might have believed him, one broken agreement ago, but he’s tired and pained and his patience has already worn thin.

Leon’s first mistake was admitting that he was a situational manipulator. He could easily be drafting an lie or excuse right now. It could be trick, and he was not about to get played.

He was too smart for that.

Besides, he had things to do. More important things.

“You’re welcome to wait.”

Donnie glares at him, pointedly clicking on the flashlight that’s thankfully accessible from the Lock Screen, and then starts his trek into the tunnel. Leon calls after him, but since his name is not and never will be “Guy,” Donnie confidently heads into the dark.

With a soft, “eugh boi,” Donnie hears padded steps follow him.

Previous Current Next

[mercless]

@windchaser requested I fill out a relations meme for high noon yone from talon's perspective, and I am nothing if not indulgent. and then I went and found the original post...

Attractiveness: 

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Let it be known that Talon will be the first creature to point out Yone's flaws after himself but we'll work on that but there's really nothing they can poke at with his looks, besides the undead elephant in the room. Even then though, 'lookin' good for a corpse' can easily be a backhanded compliment spun a hundred annoying ways. I'm not 100% certain on how you portray how Yone's spirit appears, but it is certainly a frightful thing to see. Demons are known to be afraid of gunslinger's, but usually not like this...

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted || egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

Drags claws down face. This son of a nice lady. Talon has seen many cowboys like Yone; Selfless, determined, stuck in their moral code like tar to a feather, standing up for what they believe is right! The other thing they all have in common is being gone well before their time, y'know. Not everyone gets to stick around past that deciding incident, and have a chance for their one-pure heart to begin rotting. It's the kind of thing to draw in the worst sorts from everywhere, to prod and poke at the soft parts to see what snaps, and what withers away faster. It's a relief Yone only keeps good company.

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

I can only picture them posing in the background of Yone's reaction to this question, a shit-eating grin and a raised brow. You're kidding, right?

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends (in denial) || good friends (huh...) || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person (and denying it in unison) || would die for them (later on- wait what?!) || true friends || my only friend

Talon hasn't had a real friend before, not ones that are or were mortal anyway. They definitely have 'friends' that can fight and most likely best them, though. All to say, they're not exactly good at this whole new thing. Best if they both keep their distance and try to get this quest of theirs over and done with as quickly as possible to go back to tormenting and threatening to kill the other, respectively. Or fail and then it's over, too.

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird (fascinated) || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them (derogatory) || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool (derogatory) || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them (derogatory!) || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Steeples my fingers evilly. Oh, that Crossroads Saloon is full of entertainment, so kind of the old barkeep to set something up tailor-made for their enjoyment. A twisted soul like his is a rare sight, even for their ancient eyes. Sorry Yone, it's just their nature to cause a little trouble. Think of it as a little taste of what's to come... afterwards.

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much (affectionate...) || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird (still fascinated) || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them (shh) || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

It's a full-time job, being a gunslinger's biggest annoyance and also a supportive shoulder for him to lean on. It seems fitting that the cursed cowboy gets a guardian angel that only fits the role on a technicality. Talon's still afraid of him and his promise before their truce. But not as much as their growing care for him.

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

Even if it's walking around, mighty strange to kiss a corpse...

A little something for the little witch;

Attractiveness: 

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Talon rarely sees young people like her, or any younger. It's like a 'oh, right!' reminder to their existence. That despite it all, life miraculously continues on. Her naivety and wide-eye reaction to new experiences are cute, plain and simple. But beyond that her looks are not at the forefront of the demon's mind, usually preoccupied with her latest question, or admiring her metalwork and wondering if they can ask their own questions about it.

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted || egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible 

As much as the thought of being asked countless questions sounds irritating, Talon just cannot find it in their black-ichor heart for Rell to be annoying with her endless quest of learning. It makes it difficult to keep things under wraps they would otherwise keep close and hidden. They like hearing her own ideas too, finding this strange place where... they choose to carry a conversation with her about their findings and theories. And although she's young and inexperienced, Rell is still very powerful with her magic and raw talent. This all makes Talon uncomfortable, in how easy it is for them to get along...

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Just no. there are better things in life Talon can waste their time doing than calculating how many times over they are older than the young witch. But please, ask them for more advice on romance, and heed it well; a blade from a place of love has a lot of mean- wait where are you going?

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends (?) || my only friend

Head in hands none of you (the two of them) will ever understand what it's like to be a thing made of evil and then care for another creature's wellbeing. This is worse than Talon's fear that one day they'll be hunted down by the powder witch and the haunted gunslinger because unlike that, this care is a new feeling. It doesn't need to be said, but Rell is the first Talon considers a real friend. They don't care to ask if the feeling is mutual.

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

First introductions could have been far smoother without someone interrupting, but regardless, the girl has a sensible, if cross, head on her shoulders. And Talon can respect it. Whether this was before or after Yone's influence, they cannot tell, but it is still there in subtle ways. She certainly takes their journey down a different path than the demon was expecting, but they're more concerned about how her inclusion makes the gunslinger even more difficult to maneuver around. They can totally be trusted to ride Sebastian, though. It's a long, rough road by foot...

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them (platonically, in a carer way...) || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

there's gotta be better ways to practice romantic techniques out on the range. But if you're ready to listen to more romantic advice-

rating meme

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Could you send me a link to your sequel to The Swineherd?

Ehhhh, I wrote that a full 10 years ago, at the end of 2014. I think I did put it up on FictionPress once, but I took it down ages ago.

You're very kind for asking and I will put the story under the read more, but...the passage of time etc. etc.

Also, it doesn't include the story that came before, so it will make more sense if you read Andersen's tale first.

What of the banished princess?

The emperors daughter, driven off by her father, abandoned in the woods, sat down sadly and bowed her head. Her cooking pot and magic rattle did not bring her joy now, she was all alone and so desperate that big tears ran down her pretty face.

She was so engrossed in her own misery that the princess did not hear at first that a set of wagons was approaching. When she finally looked up they were quite close. The wagons were laden with cloth and timber and heavy trunks and a cheerful looking couple smiled at her from the first of the two.

“Look here, look here,” said the plump woman sitting on the wagon box. “A fine lady sitting all alone on a tree stump.”

The wagons halted and the woman and man looked at her. They did not seem unfriendly, but the princess was scared nonetheless.

“Who are you then, fine lady?” the man asked cheerfully.

The princess dared not say she was the emperor's daughter. They would not believe her, and besides, she could not go back there. So perhaps she wasn’t the emperors daughter any more.

“I am an actress,” she said. “But…but I’ve been left behind by my company.” She knew actresses belonged to travelling companies, for there had been a few performances at the palace.

“Och, dearie” the woman said sympathetically. “But then you are in good company, for we are all of us performers. Your troupe must have gone on to the next town, climb up and perhaps you will still catch them.”

The princess climbed up on the wagon box and smiled weakly at the couple. “Thank you,” she said.

“They’ve had you playing the princess too long!” joked the man. “You sound right posh!” And he roared with laughter.

The woman merrily laughed along and the princess tried to look amused. The man urged his horses and called to the wagon behind and so they all set off together.

The princess listened to the happy chatting of the travelling company until they reached the town the woman had spoken of and the wagons stopped at the inn.

“There we are, girly,” the woman said. “Now, where might your company have gone?”

The princess summoned all her courage. “To be honest I had much rather stay with you, if I may,” she said. “They were never very nice to me and you are.”

The woman laughed heartily. “Life’s too short to be unpleasant to people,” she said. “But we don’t do much in the way of fine acting, girly. We do farces and tricks, things to make the folks laugh. Is there anything you can do in that line of entertainment?”

The princess wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but she thought of her playthings that she still had with her, now wrapped in her fine silk shawl.

“I can predict what people are eating all over the city,” she said. “And I have a wonderful rattle that can play every waltz and jig you’ve ever heard of.”

The woman clapped her hands. “Well that surely is a good start!” she said. “You can gather a crowd with your fortune telling and we shall see about your music for in between acts. We don’t perform any fine dancing, but every crowd likes a jig!”

Before the princess could answer the doors of the wagon opened and four children tumbled out.

“There you are, my sleepyheads!” the man called out. “Go and great girly over there.”

The children crowded around the princess and asked her who she was and where she came from and what she could do. And when she’d told them they asked to see her rattle and asked to see her predicting cooking pot and they would have asked a million things more, had their mother not told them it was time for them to go into town and advertise their presence.

So the children, clad in brightly coloured clothes, ran down the streets, yelling and laughing and jumping like acrobats.

“Come along,” the woman told the princess as the motley crew began to take the trunks off the wagon. “We’ll get us some rooms and you out of that cumbersome costume.”

So the princess changed out of her clothes of satin, silk and lace and put on borrowed clothes.

“You look just as fine as I did when I still fit that dress,” the woman laughed. And she took down the princess’ elaborate up-do and braided her hair sensibly down her back. When the princess looked at herself in a small mirror she hardly recognised herself.

“The children will be back before long and the lads will have put up the stage soon enough in this fine weather, let me see what that rattle of yours can do and see if we can’t make some music to draw a crowd.”

The princess had much rather stayed inside, but she told herself: “I am a performer now and these people are very nice to me, so I must go out and try to be entertaining.” The princess had never needed to be entertaining before, because a princess must always be entertained by others.

But she bravely went out onto the town square where the stage was being built and started to swing the rattle. Wonderful dancing music streamed through the air. Soon the children came running and started dancing and frolicking. The princess laughed and she started dancing herself. She swung the rattle high above her head and whirled round and round with the children.

Passers-by slowed down to watch them and a small crowd began to gather. The man climbed on top the still-bare stage and called out in a strong, melodic voice:

“Come one! Come all! Come for the music, stay for the comedy!”

The children darted into the crowd and took people by the hand to dance with them. Some young men led laughing girls into the clearing and soon lots of people were dancing and laughing and whirling.

The man and woman who led the theatre troupe were very pleased. They could tell the princess was not used to this kind of thing at all, but she made the most wonderful music and she was pretty and merry, and that is worth a lot in entertainment.

The play was a great favourite with the crowd and in between acts there were tumblers and jokes and juggling, and the princess cooked a stew in her magical pot until the little bells started singing and the princess mysteriously waved her fingers through the smoke and then said:

“Your wife is cooking you meatloaf, sir,” or: “The maid is letting the roast apples burn, ma’am.”

And the people all laughed and told her that they’d see about that when they came home, but they tipped her very well. After all, predicting the future was one thing, predicting what’s for dinner is quite another.

So the first performance was a great success and they could all return to the inn with high hopes for tomorrow.

The following performance was even more popular. And so many people asked to see the girl that could predict so accurately what was being cooked for dinner, that the princess stood stirring her cooking pot until the very moment the first act began.

The woman was extremely pleased. “You’re a great addition to our company,” she said. “I’m not sorry you were left behind in that forest!”

The princess was not really sorry any more either. She liked the band of actors, who were all so eager to be on stage. She liked the hustle and bustle of laughing people and wondering children. She even liked the stains on her skirt and the runs in her stockings, for that meant she needn’t be so careful all the time.

The troupe left the town and went on to another and the princess stayed with them. She laughed and sung with the children. She tried her best to help the woman with cooking and laundry and dishes, even though she was not very good at it.

In this way the princess went from town to town and as time passed she began to forget the pleasures of life at court. She cut up her silk and satin clothes to make costumes for her new companions.

The princess learned to proclaim and sing, but also to clean and cook. She learned many things and they replaced her perfect vowels, cross-legged curtsies and even the one song she could once play on the piano.

After a while the woman was less anxious to always keep the princess by her side and sometimes she rode in the wagon with the other actors, or walked behind it with one of the young actors, who was so good at fine speeches and tumbling somersaults. He was a kind, cheerful fellow and the princess liked him. He taught her how to join in the puppet show, which could perform even where there was no room for a stage. And he saved the best bedding for her whenever they were obliged to sleep on the road for a night or two.

One day the young man said: “We’ll be passing by the emperor’s palace and pa says we might try to get a gig there.”

The princess felt very strange, but she said: “Oh, I would like to play the palace. I played there once before.”

He had always thought that the pretty girl must have been a very fine actress and he asked what her part had been.

“I played the princess,” she answered. “And very convincingly too.”

“I’m sure you did!” laughed he.

The closer they got to the palace, the more nervous the princess became. She wondered if her father would recognise her and then she wondered even harder if she would want him to.

The wagons stopped in the palace courtyard and several servants and their children ran out to hear news from far away and to see if there was any novelty to be had.

The emperor heard the consternation and said: “What is all that racket?”

“A theatre troupe, your highness,” a footman said with a bow. “Actors, dancers and acrobats, come to amuse the court with your permission.”

The emperor walked to the window and looked down. He saw the wagons and besides them he saw a rag tag of cheerfully clad people. They were laughing and bowing and jumping about. Men were cracking jokes and children were playing and a merry girl sat atop one of the wagons, swinging her bare feet.

“Send them away!” the emperor ordered, turning his head from the sight of such dirt poor happiness. “I am in no mood for their antics!”

The footman bowed and hurried downstairs.

So the theatre company piled into their wagons again and left. They laughed at the grumpy emperor and waved at the cheering children that ran with them for a while.

“His loss,” laughed the young actor.

“And who needs him!” cried the princess, sitting beside him on the wagon, and she laughed with relief.

So now they laughed together, nicely side by side on the wagon box and the woman riding behind them thought they looked uncommonly well together.

The young actor must have thought so too, because a week later he brought the princess a stray kitten that he had found and asked if she’d like to go dancing with him.

The princess was delighted, she’d always wanted a kitten and she the young actor more than any other, and laughed at him for thinking she might not want to go dancing with him.

So out dancing they went, and come back laughing they did. And one fine summer day a wedding was held with bright colours and loud voices and merriment all about.

Only the bride frowned one frown, when she thought of her old father. But right at that moment a nightingale burst out into a sweet song and chased the frown away. So the bride laughed and danced and the groom leaped over the bonfire for joy.

And if the mirth at the wedding is any indication for happiness in married life, it is sure to say that neither the bride nor the groom would ever want for anything from that day on.

[thevindicativevordan]

So, overall thoughts on 2024 Superman stuff, and hopes for 2025?

Pretty good year for Superman with a few exceptions.

Obviously the biggest news on the comic side is the launch of Absolute DC, with a new incarnation of Superman as part of the first wave. DC finally does a proper "Ultimate" line and surprise, surprise, it's a success! Who could've predicted that a new line without DC's messy mainline continuity weighing things down would connect with people (me that's who)? I've loved every issue thus far, Aaron's creation of a working class Superman in the vein of both Siegel/Shuster and Morrison/Morales has been a welcome sight, and the worldbuilding done plus the changes to the usual formula has me excited to see where he intends to go. Ironic that after all the back and forth with various new Supermen meant to replace Clark as the Superman for the 21st century (Jon, Val, Kenan), the comics, film, and animation divisions ended up simply doing revamps of Clark to fill that space. Also Sandoval's art is amazing, if he stays on the title he will definitely go down as a definitive Superman artist when all is said and done.

Williamson's run dipped at the start of the year with the underwhelming conclusion to the Pharm and Graft storyline, but I enjoyed House of Brainiac and the Absolute Power tie-ins. Mora joining on art, Williamson cutting back on how many titles he was writing, and a number of genuinely surprising plot twists has reinvigorated my enthusiasm for this book. Part of why I'm so hard on Waid (more on that below) is that Williamson is doing a far superior job at what Waid is trying: mixing together the DCAU with Silver Age tone and Modern Age characterization/stakes. Current rumor is that both Superman and Batman are getting relaunched in 2025, which could mean the end of Williamson's tenure is in sight. If so I hope Williamson can deliver a satisfying resolution to the Zod and Lex storylines he's set up.

Superstars has on the whole been inferior to the best of PKJ's Action, although I can admit that the book declined steeply post Warworld for reasons I don't believe are PKJ's fault, but I did enjoy Aaron and Simone's arcs. Aaron wrote one of my favorite Bizarro arcs and Simone perfectly captured how Superman feels about fighting imo.

Downside has to be Waid's fall off. If you had asked me to pick who out of the Superstar writers would be the weakest, I would never have picked Waid, but that's what happened. His handling of the Aethyr plotline PKJ set up was dreadful, his sanitizing of Jor-El only made the character worse, to the point I actually dropped the book because of that decision. World's Finest began strong this year with the Magog arc, but has since started to feel like filler and driven me to drop that book too. Now it's just JLU (which I'm unsure if I'll continue to read) and LDoLL (which I actually do remain excited for). Waid's schtick has grown stale for me, tragic irony being is that he seems to have grown disenchanted with his own style as well per his comments on BluSky in the wake of Trump's re-election. We'll have to see if that results in any actual shakeups to his writing approach.

Already dove deep into the trailer and poster here, only thing to add is that at the time of this post, the trailer has hit 50 million views, the lifetime total of the third MoS trailer which was the most popular MoS trailer. Folks if Gunn delivers a film on par with his Guardians trilogy, I think this is going to be the breakout hit of the summer even with Jurassic World and F4 for competition

S&L S4 largely seems to have satisfied the fans of the show and as I thought, has seemingly been forgotten in the wake of marketing for Gunn's reboot beginning. Suppose that's fitting given the DC CW shows by and large always had to toil in the shadow of whatever WB was doing with the characters on the film side. Nice full circle moment that DC on the CW began and ended with a Superman show set in Smallville

MAWS S2 ruled, can't wait for S3. Wish more of you bought the tie-in comic which I thought was excellent and featured my man Bloodsport. Hopefully Gunn tosses some of that Creatures Commandos money this show's way.

SS: KTJL was a total bomb that appears to mark the end of DC pushing them. Apparently RS is haphazardly resurrecting the JL in cutscenes made on a shoestring budget but I genuinely wonder why. Conroy is dead so we probably won't get another Arkham Batman game, the WW game features a different WW, and none of the other Leaguers are ever getting their own game. I am totally fine with Arkham Superman staying dead, only NRS did a worse job handling the character, and I absolutely would not want to play a Superman game that had to try and salvage the mess RS made of Superman and his setting. In the unlikely scenario where we ever did get a new Superman game, it would probably be either off on it's own world or congruent with the Wonder Woman game anyway.

Looking Ahead to 2025

Don't feel hyperbolic in proclaiming that next year will be the most important year for Superman since 1978. This is likely the last chance we have to get WB to push Superman back up there with Batman and Spider-Man the way he was decades ago.

Obviously the biggest hope for me is that Gunn's Superman movie is a critical and commercial success. Even if I don't love it personally I would still benefit from that. If it succeeds it reaffirms to WB that Superman is a money-maker, and that would lead to more Superman projects in animation, comics, film, etc. MAWS would be more likely to get more seasons. Wonder Woman got a video game off of her first movie being a hit. Anyone who wants that for Superman has to root for this film to be a hit.

Comics wise if Williamson is leaving then I'd prefer someone other than Slott took over. Totally fine with Slott getting Action, but I'd prefer Williamson either stay or we get someone like Dan Watters handling writing duties. I cannot wrap my mind around DC potentially relaunching Superman for a past his prime Marvel creator again. But better him than Taylor I suppose, who I expect will be getting one of the books next year.

Speaking of Taylor I hope Injustice 3 is at least one more year off. It's less cancerous for the character with the movie, Absolute Superman, and MAWS in the picture but I still hate that franchise with every fiber of my seething fanboy heart. DC needs to get people to like Supes and Injustice solely exists to dump on him and Wondy while wanking Batman. Let's not remind people of childkiller fascist Muderman while trying to reintroduce Superman to the general public ok?

Can't wait for PKJ's book, with that and Absoute I will at least have two Superbooks to read no matter how things shake out with the mainline

For S3 of MAWS I am crossing my fingers for Zod in addition to Lex. I want a Superman cartoon that has the Big 3 (Lex, Brainiac, and Zod) all together, and the tease they've done about Krypton's fate has my mind scrambling over all the possibilities. Mostly I'm interested to see how they would differentiate a MAWS Zod from their Brainiac who already shares some traits in common with "classic" Zod. I'd also like a more traditional Metallo but it kinda seems like they'll be making Henshaw into Metallo based on the new opening shot of the baddies.

Seems likely Kara will get a new book, I wish it would be a team-up book with Kon. I liked their dynamic in HoB!

Would be cool if Kenan got something written by a good writer but I'm not holding my breath

[pandoa]

Hi!!! Can I request yellow pansies and anemones in a balcony theme for Jamil? Thank you!!

Yellow pansies ~ “they love me, they love me not. they love me, they love me n—” “what are you doing?” “GAH!”

Anemones ~ “just take my hand. don’t you dare second guess yourself”

~jamil viper x gender neutral reader~

the moment i saw the balcony theme and anemones prompt i immediately thought "ALADDIN A WHOLE NEW WORLD SCENE-" AND I'M JUST SDJNJVDV THE PERFECT WAY TO END THIS EVENT, THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING <3

♡shining, shimmering, splendid!♡

He was perfect. Way too perfect, actually. What kind of man was just too good at everything?

It was to the point where it drove you absolutely crazy. Every step he made caused your heart to flutter hoping each step would be an inch closer to him standing right beside you, every mention of his name made you helplessly lift your head thinking you and him were in the very same room, every word he said to you was another word you would place high on a pedestal as if it were the most enchanting sentence your ears had ever heard. He had lucid locks of hair your hands had only dreamed of running themselves through. Skin as smooth as silk that sent electrical shivers down your spine with just one simple touch of his skin on yours. His dancing lyrical, his mind intelligent, and his soul beautiful. 

You were in love with Jamil Viper. And you were nearing the verge of insanity if you did not find out if he had felt the same. 

Days would seem to pass in no time at all—mainly because you would constantly be dazed with your mental consciousness never present at all—and it regrettably began to influence, not only your emotions, but the life lived around you as well. You could no longer keep still, your mind always drifting off into never-ending daydreams, friends concerned for your health, and your heart needing a definite answer before it exploded into a million pieces. Which was why you were there now, leaning on Ramshackle’s antique balcony, pulling at the dainty petals of a flower you had picked on your way back to your dorm after class. This had to be settled once and for all. In the name of your ever-pounding heart.

“He loves me, he loves me not,” your hopeful muttering played through the trees and grassland residing at the bottom of your balcony, each petal you gently picked off gracefully gliding down to touch the greenery as it twirled and spun in the wind. Going up to Jamil and directly asking him about his own feelings was obviously not an option in these circumstances; that was simply too bold for your taste. So, you had resolved to the next best thing for determining someone's romantic emotions: using flower petals to predict your crush’s feelings. 

Plucking another petal off of the delicate flower, you sighed wistfully as a gentle breeze began to comb through your hair, “He loves me, he loves me n—”

“What are you doing?”

“GAH! J-Jamil!” Upon hearing the calm voice of the Scarabia second year, your body jumped up in surprise as you hid the flower you had been holding behind the small of your back. Lifting your gaze up to face him, however, you had noticed something off about the way Jamil’s figure had slowly risen up and down as if he were flying in mid-air. That’s odd, you curiously thought, I don’t see a magical broom with him anywhere?

“What brings you here…floating on a…” a small pause cut your sentence as you looked over the balcony’s railings only to see a familiar piece of tapestry-like cloth hovering over the air—confusion plaguing your voice as you turned to look the boy directly in the eye, “magic…carpet? What the heck, Jamil?”

Jamil, softly clearing his throat, attempted to avoid eye contact as a hesitant hand shot up to nonchalantly cover a part of his face. For whatever reason, it had seemed like he was embarrassed—for what you did not know. You were too focused on hiding a burning blush on your end to notice the also red tint creeping onto the vice housewarden’s cheeks. Trying to continue on with what he had come here for, Jamil finally gained back some of his composure and looked back at you, “I noticed that you seemed…quite stressed this past week and thought that you could use a moment to clear your head. So, I borrowed Kalim’s carpet and headed straight for Ramshackle. Apologies for scaring you, though. That, I did not plan.”

“What do you mean?” you timidly asked, heart still palpitating miles and miles each second Jamil’s gray eyes had bore into your own. 

“I’m taking you with me to relax.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” you watched as Jamil had shifted his position to get a better angle before reaching his own hand out to latch onto yours. “Here, just take my hand. Don’t you dare second guess yourself,” he said as the sun over Ramshackle’s balcony reflected onto the shining gold accents of his charms and bracelets—causing him to glimmer brighter than any star you had ever seen, “And don’t worry either.”

“You can trust me.”

a/n: and then reader and jamil ride off into the dramatic sunset singing "a whole new world" throughout the entirety of nrc until jamil finds out kalim tried to cook again and jamil's little date is interrupted because he doesn't want the housewarden to burn down their whole dorm <3

[kkinou]

sooo, nearly half of my country is under- darkness 800,000 homes of of 1.85 million, no even including hotels, apartments etc.), including myself, so i probably wont be posting for a while (this also doesnt include countys that are still being hit until 9pm tonight, so this figure is likely to increase). this is one of the first times in history that the entire country (even northern ireland, who have never had red warning before) was under red, which was pretty scary. in my county, the winds were meant to start at 4am, but our power was already out before that, and i am living in the town where if only ever had my power go once before. winds hit almost 200 over here and my county isnt even one of the ones worst hit at all. I genuinely couldnt imagine how bad people in the country must have got hit.

my dad, who is an electrician, said is was the worst wind by far he has ever heard and he doesnt even know where to start on bringing people back their electricity, there is so many people off. i think the worst part is that the wind still hasnt died down and there are still super strong wind hitting our house.

everywhere is destroyed. we had gas cylinder thrown around (we are very luck none hit our windows), our outdoor canapés we literally ripped up in our garden to bits, my dad had to get up in the middle of the night because he had to move our car as there were trees falling all over. getting around is a hazard, with roads blocked everywhere from fallen trees, power lines etc. my dogs doghouse’s lid was moved last night (that usually took two people to carry its so heavy) my dog was shaking from the fear last night and we did everything we could to console him, but i cant image what stray animals went through last night.

i think its in irish peoples blood to never believe that things are really going to be that bad (we also can be pretty dramatic 😭) so hearing that the entire country was under red, you very often heard people saying that “now the entire country is red, watch there hardly be any wind”, which i mean is probably a way to cope for some people. but i genuinely dont think anybody in the country thought it would be this bad. we have had some predictions given before that have been completely wrong so i think we are just used to not really believing it will be bad. again, irelands weather is just damp and plain everyday of the year, so when we hear that is going to change we find it quite hard to believe.

this is also not out first storm of the year, but the last left a significantly smaller number of people without power. the people i probably feel the worst for and the people who only recently got their power back after the last storm to have it gone again for definitely longer this time. my heart goes out to all of ye 💗

to the people of ireland, i hope you are all okay, and please stay indoors. the storm is still here and we shouldnt just be throwing caution to the wind because the worst gust could be over. i love you all and will pray for you 💗

sooo, this is kinda a small hiatus incoming, with this happening and soon my exams are coming up, ill be both busy and bored. i have a few things planned for when i come back, so please wait for me🙏 thank you for reading, and i wish you the best 💗💗

@deoboyznet

this is our country by the way, completely red (which incase you dont know, is literally the worst- which they were completely right about)

[noturlondonboy]

No More Excuses//Katelena

Chapter 8: Ice Skates Never Broke Any Heart

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Chapter Summary: The cuties go ice skating.

A/N: I just adore them I can’t even begin to explain how much these two traumatized kick-ass goofballs mean to me

Chapter Warnings: NA

The ice-skating rink in central park is mysteriously low on people, especially considering that it was still cold enough for the winter activity and most kids would have gotten out of school an hour or so ago. But when Kate and Yelena arrived, bundled in their long coats and breaths fogging in front of red, smiling faces, only a few parents with little ones and a small group of teenagers were on the ice.

Kate excitedly led Yelena over to the ice skates rental, relaying their shoe sizes to the girl behind the counter and paying before Yelena could even blink. Kate accepted the skates with a happy thank you, and dragged her friend to a bench to properly strap themselves in.

"Kate Bishop, why do you know my shoe size?" Yelena asked with a laugh, taking the skates and pulling off her platforms. She paused as she put them on. "These blades are excellent quality." She looked up to Kate, grinning almost mischievously. "Very sharp. They would gut a man quite nicely."

Kate blinked at her for a second before letting out a loud, disbelieving laugh and pressing forward to put her gloved hands against Yelena's smiling mouth. "Oh my god, Yelena! You can't just say stuff like that out loud!”

The blonde giggled heartily and continued to tie the laces of her skates. "Hurry up, Kate Bishopppppp, I'm going to beat you. Also, again, why do you know how big my feet are?" Her eyes turn suddenly serious, and she somehow seems to tower over the archer as she sits up straight and leans towards her. "Don't tell me you have a thing for toes."

Kate is so taken aback that before she even has time to be a little mortified at what Yelena is insinuating, the blonde's facade has already dissolved into a fit of self-righteous giggles. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

Kate would never have guessed in a million years that this was a side to Yelena that existed, much less that she would get to personally see it. She recalls a few listened in on conversations and brief explanations of Yelena and Natasha's past, but the biggest thing that stuck out to her was that Yelena was filtered into the Red Room at the tender age of six. The woman beside her had been stolen away from her childhood and mercilessly beaten down before being built right back up, stronger and smarter and faster, and so angry and deadly it was a wonder the world wasn't burning in hell.

It was a wonder that Yelena could be like this at all, truthfully. A miracle.

"You're staring."

Kate blinks, and Yelena's right. She was totally staring. The blonde just laughs and stands, so steady and sure in the skates that Kate doubts for a moment they're even on.

"I'm super bad at this, remember," Kate reminded her, bracing her hands on the bench railing and slowly standing onto her now weaponized feet. Yelena watched with amusement, but her face wasn't cruel, and she looked ready to leap forward should Kate inevitably fall.

Which she did. Of course.

And, as predicted, Yelena was there.

She grabbed Kate's wrist the moment she wobbled just a bit too much, and Yelena's stance is strong to keep them both from falling. She tugs Kate up and therefore close, their chests almost touching, breaths fogging together. Kate's cheeks are flushed from the cold and the exhilaration of being out here with the woman in front of her.

"Thanks."

Yelena gives another smile, something she seems to be handing out to Kate in droves. "I'll catch you, Kate Bishop." She keeps their hands twined together and gently tugs the both of them towards the entrance onto the ice, and Kate is transfixed by the little snow crystals on the blonde's lashes.

Kate had not been ice-skating since before her father died in the Battle for New York. She had enjoyed it at the time, but the memories stung and she lost any muscle memory she might have built up with him there to help her. She stops right before stepping out onto the slippery rink, eyeing it warily. The doubts were creeping in. She most likely would fall and crack her head open and make a fool of herself, in highly typical Kate fashion.

Yelena noticed her hesitation, and wordlessly held her hand out for her, palm up and inviting.

Kate took it, and was pulled carefully out onto the ice.

Her balance was spotty at best, but Yelena held true and guided Kate to a walker on skates of its own, where the archer latched on gratefully. Yelena smiled and led the two of them out further into the middle of the ice, moving fluidly and swiftly to the point that Kate couldn't decide if she was impressed or envious of the ease the assassin displayed.

The assassin traveled further away, taking the space to glide freely, letting her mind quiet as she sank into the smooth motion of flying over the ice. Kate watched her, entranced as she mindlessly followed in her silly bright red skate walker.

Kate gave herself about twenty minutes to get used to the feeling of ice underneath her with the walker before she let go of it slowly, carefully pushing away from it in a wobbly line. Yelena was by her side immediately, arm extended to give Kate the choice to hold on should she choose to do so.

Kate smiled softly at her, cheeks glowing from the cold as she accepted it and linked her elbow with Yelena's. They went slowly around the rink, the gentle circles lulling Kate into a feeling of security. A thin layer of snow began to fall, and they giggled together, admiring the delicate flakes.

"Want to try by yourself, Kate Bishop?" Yelena asked after a time, her smile encouraging and instilling confidence deep into Kate's soul, who nodded and let go of her friend, the momentum carrying her a bit forward.

For a couple of small moments, the archer stays steady and glides forward, her heart buoying in her chest. Her father would clap and cheer for her if he was here, dark hair wild and grizzled cheeks full with a smile. A laugh bubbles up from her stomach, light and fluffy.

But as soon as Kate thinks she might be safe, it shatters when her foot slips out from under her, and she immediately accepts that she is about to eat shit as she plummets backwards.

Except she doesn't.

"Oh, Kate Bishop, you are so hopeless," Yelena's voice groans into her ear, the assassin's body warm against her back as strong arms and gentle hands cradle the head that had been about to crack against the ice. Kate blinks up at her, looking startled and dazed. Yelena's laugh is soft, and her gloved fingertips trace over the archer's cheek, pulling strands of wavy hair out of her face. "Are you okay, Kate?"

"You're a bit upside down," Kate mutters, chest aching and out of breath. From the fall, she tells herself. From the impact on her back.

At Kate's words, something in Yelena's eyes seems to shift, akin to a pain so deep and old that Kate could drown if she even so much as touched it, but it quickly melted into a mesmerizing fondness she didn't recognize.

"I told you I would catch you, Kate Bishop."

She is breathless because the air was knocked out of her lungs. She is breathless because Yelena is beautiful and kind when she has every right to be hateful.

She is breathless because her friend was about to get hurt. She is breathless because Kate Bishop looks at her like she's worth redeeming. She is breathless because Kate Bishop looks at her the way Natasha did. She is breathless because Kate looks at her and does not seem to want to look away.

They are both breathless out on the ice in the middle of New York, and the cold does not reach them at all.

Translations: none

Kate Bishop counter: 8

This chapter's meme:

Comments/reblogs/notes make my day :)

[15depressedducks]

Thank you for 100 followers!

So for 100 followers I made a fanfic!!!

So here is the first chapter of Flowers Can Grow in Concrete!

Hope you like it!

(Feel free to criticize what I have! I really want to be better at writing!)

(Here's it on Tumblr if you want)

Chapter 1    Left Behind

The cold wind pounded against the spire, yet could never knock it down. The inhabitants made sure, for if it fell, they would perish in the boiling hot sunlight. As the sun set, the drones awoke, their wings scraping against each other making soft clicks and clanks. 

One unwrapped her tail from the ledge, falling down she flipped upright and used her metallic wings to ease her landing as she collided with the floor. She then stood up, brushing the snow off of her suit, fixed her pigtails, adjusted her yellow armband and waited for the others.

The others took some time to wake up. In that time the disassembly drone had her breakfast, discarded parts and oil from the body’s of worker drones she had brutally killed days before. Oil was the only thing that kept them cool, without it, they’d die a horribly agonizing death, being melted from the inside out. The limbs from the corpses helped too. It helped them be able to regenerate faster. 

With a few clinks and chinks it signaled to her that one of her teammates were here. 

“Finally! I was wondering if you and N were ignoring me!” The first drone spoke in a somewhat harsh and annoyed tone as she was turning around. 

“Oh no! I really care that you're mad at me J!” The second drone said, her voice being sarcastic with hints of venom. Her neon yellow eyes narrowed on J. She was wearing a dark gray short sleeved crop coat that had some fur on her collar. She also had a yellow armband and a red scarf.

“Well Unless you want to hunt with N, I'll happily stay back here V.” J said, knowing that V would back down because she mentioned her and N hunting, and frankly J wouldn't want to do that either, He’d mess up the hunt. Like she predicted, V backed down and stomped off to get some oil, a wise choice. 

J muttered under her breath “You guys were two peas in a pod, now you avoid him like the plague.” But just then N landed beside her. “Hi J! How’d you sleep?” 

N, J thought with as much hate as she could muster. She saw yellow eyes, the black coat with a belt around the waist Something he probably stole from her! And a pilot hat on top of his silvery hair.

“Go get some oil, we’re having a meeting.” 

So he ran off.

To J it felt like a million years had passed with how slow N and V ate their food. N ate his like a sane drone, right by the pile, but V, she likes to grab a portion like an arm or leg and fly back up to her nest. It was inefficient, wasted time, and wasted oil. J was infuriated and was tempted to pair them together to hunt, but decide against it. 

They all huddled together right by the entrance to the tower when J cleared her throat. “Me and V are going elsewhere to hunt. N!” She liked randomly snapping at N, it always made him straighten up and look right at her. 

“You are going to stand guard here and kill any drones who decide to toy with death, you got that?” Her tone never lightened while talking to N. 

“G-got it J!” He spoke while saluting, something that slightly peeved her. J and V  walked out further and extended their wings out and launched up, high into the sky. They were coming, and those little workers better be wary.

[likeadevils]

I trust your opinion. If you were making bets about what TS11's themes, concepts and sound would be like.. What would you like& prefer? and what would you think Taylor would do?

thank you for trusting my opinion but i am god awful at predicting what taylor is going to do next. that being said:

i think something taylor learned with all too well, anti-hero, and cruel summer is to… trust her instincts, i guess? not that she hasn’t in the past, but she’s mentioned that those songs were her favorites of their respective albums, and she didn’t expect that the general public would enjoy them as much— at least, not to the degree that they have been. but they’ve all been #1s, and more impressively to me, they’ve all broken through into wider pop culture in a way that’s super hard to do nowadays. like can you tell me what’s #1 right now because i can’t. but anyways i think she’ll be following what she wants to hear a little bit more, and trusting that her and the general public’s taste is pretty aligned at the moment. so like, to boil it down into a bingo card prediction, the lead single is going to be taylor’s favorite song on the album

also, bingo square, the color will be white. no evidence just vibes

i think another thing taylor recently learned is trusting that not only her fanbase, but the wider pop landscape would accept complex ideas delivered with a complex vocabulary. in some ways i think she was really burned by me!— she had been taught that it’s the we are never ever getting back together and shake it offs that you send to pop radio, not the all too wells. and then me! got torn apart (deservedly or not), and then the world shut down and it’s not like she needs to find a tour off her next album so what the hell, let’s take out the immediate hooks and replace it with flowery language. and it was a massive hit! twice! but it’s not the kind of music she wants to make forever. so midnights was an added gamble— can you marry the hooks with the collegiate vocabulary? and you can! anti-hero was her biggest chart success ever! so i expect more dictionary/thesaurus starter pack memes in our future, no matter what genre it’ll end up in

that being said, i think she’ll be staying in pop. i maaaaybe could see a kind of pop rock thing happening— think like, the electric guitar she adds to don’t blame me when it’s preformed live.

regardless i do think she’ll be pulling in more rep influences— i’m not super in the buisness of trying to track down when exactly she’s been re-recording, so this is coming from swiftie brain rot not timeline brain rot, but if i had to guess i would say she was mostly recording rep over the summer and with the occasional ts11 track thrown in as well. but i could be wrong maybe she has three albums recorded. idk. i am very interested in what the rep sounds like though, i think that’ll be the biggest clue to what ts11 will sound like

i’m curious how auto-biographical it’ll be. honestly, i could see taylor creating a single character to inhabit and tracking their story throughout an album, which would parallel the emotions she’s going through, but not the exact situations. but that’s me projecting what i would need to do to process the fucking year she’s been through, and taylor has consistently been saying how much she gets from having people sing back the words thought she must be alone in thinking, so like maybe it’ll be intensely About Her, who knows

as for release, i’m a big post eras tour believer. like i know it’s been said a million times but god how impossible would it be to add another set to that thing. like we might get the announcement and lead single while still on tour, but not a full album

i’m also expecting a more talk-y rollout. i would bet we’re getting a couple of print interviews— not anywhere near 1989 or lover levels, but like, you know. rolling stone, vogue, maybe another time, that kind of thing. and in front of camera stuff too— zane lowe, a bbc live longe, some late night appearances, maybe going on kelly clarkson’s show. and maaaaybe a hot wings episode. maybe. i think taylor got a bit burned by the long roll out for lover, and regardless she had other priorities when it came to the midnights release, but it’s been a while and she does like to surprise people by doing something completely predictable. but also this is totally me being like pleaseeeee give interviews they help me with timeline research so much

i predict this every time but visual album!!! if i keep saying it one day it’ll be true!!! it just makes sense she’s been getting so into directing!!!

while we’re in the realm of things that would make me specifically go insane i just think it would be funny if she got paul mccartney to feature on a song. just to be petty. imagine your ex is releasing an album and she gets one of your favorite musicians to play on it. and after the sweet nothing debacle too. oh. so ouchie. also she would have paul fucking mccartney on an album that’s insane in its own right

while we’re throwing spaghetti at the wall. two word title. let’s get crazy maybe 3+ words why not (this is by far the least serious prediction if the title is more than one word i’ll lose my mind)

maybe some religious imagery for the visuals? i’m trying to think of aesthetics taylor hasn’t thoroughly explored. what’s coming to mind is stained glass windows and like, the wild west. this is not at all influenced by me being raised catholic in the american southwest what are you talking about

so to sum up i think i want a pop rock opera with a title along the lines of “the blank of firstname lastname” about a woman in the wild west that has climatic scenes in a cathedral?? i guess that’s the shape i want?? i was not aware that’s what i wanted when i started writing this post okay

[auriel187]

The More Things Change. (S1 E8)

Word Count: 4328

Series Masterlist

A/N: If anyone doesn't like the fact that the oc is black, go away.

TW: Racial slurs.

"Ah, the 43 million man." Cory smiled happily, taking a look at the article. Shawn pulled out a chair for me and took the seat next to me. I had my hair in two low pigtails with a braid crown. He had told me that I looked like an angel, that my hair was a halo. I was proud of my hair today.

"Why do they call him that?" Minkus asked, approaching the table.

"Because that's what he's getting paid to play baseball for six years." I muttered, taking out my battered copy of Red Dragon.

"7.6 million a year?" Minkus guffawed.

"If that's what it comes out to, yeah." Shawn said, before he started reading over my shoulder.

"You could calculate the value of a baseball card and yet you can't...Oh forget it. I'll save this conversation for when I have cake?" I mumbled before I continued reading. Shawn continued reading over my head shoulder.

"He happens to be one of the top guys in baseball." Cory nodded, continuing to read the article.

"Well, I happen to think Mr. Feeny is one of the top guys in teaching and he makes about 40 thousand a year." Minkus said and that's one of the few things I've ever and will openly agree to.

"That stinks." I look over at the blue eyed boy over my shoulder. He looks back at me with wide eyes.

"Finally. Something we agree on." Minkus nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. Feeny ain't worth that kind of money." I threw my head down onto the table. I felt someone pull my chair away from the table.

"Thank you, Cory." I mumbled with my head on my lap. He ran his hand over my back while they continued their conversation.

"You thought I meant he was overpaid? I meant that Mr. Feeny is grossly and tragically underpaid." Minus said and again I nodded in agreement.

"Minkus... May I call you Minkus? Does spelling ever change? No. Does history ever change? Uh-uh. Does Feeny ever change? Never. Know why? He doesn't have to. Know why? 'Cause nothing about... teaching sixth grade ever changes."

"Yeah, instead year after year he has to deal with kids like you guys who don't listen." I kept my head down.

"Well, I think you're wrong." Minkus looks at the curly haired boy. Cory was definitely wrong.

"Well, I think l'm right. I think in about five seconds, Feeny walks in here, takes a sip from the drinking fountain, flicks his mustache, goes to the coffee machine, sees us, asks Raven-Anniya about what books she just finished before he turns to me and says, "Good morning, Mr. Matthews. "I trust you've done the homework". Every day, the same thing. He's so predictable." Cory stated just as our teacher walked into the cafeteria. We watched the older man do just as Cory described.

"Good morning, Mr. Matthews. I trust you've done the homework." He says, just as Cory said he would.

"Yes, I did, sir." The curly haired brunette said. He wasn't genuine but to the untrained eye he may've been sincere.

"But my little sister ate it." They said together before Mr. Feeny walked away saying something along the lines of "You are so predictable." I had to agree and because I knew he was so predictable I knew that this was going to end up with a lesson for them. I just wonder how much I'm going to have to pay for.

+=+=+=+=+

I had spent the better part of my day contemplating just how much of a mess this'll turn into. Cory has no clue what it took to be a teacher so how was he going to learn a lesson?

"This Week in Social Studies we'll be talking about prejudice."

"Good, 'cause I'm prejudiced against the scungy food in the cafeteria." Cory joked, which caused the class to fall into a fit of laughter.

"Then why do you keep eating it?" I asked. Nobody answered.

"We will be discussing black slavery in the American South," The kids all looked to me. "The Jews in nazi Germany and several examples of prejudice throughout history. Tonight your assignment... is to read the first pages of that book." Mr. Feeny said as he handed us the book. The Diary of Anne Frank. This book was amazing. I'd read it years ago and cried.

"Aw, man, it's a book about some girl." And there it was! Cory's definitely done it now!

"Maybe it's time to veer away from picture books Cory?" I looked over at him as he glared at me.

"Rave? I'll take your book suggestions seriously when Storm becomes Shawn's favourite X-Men character." Oh, please.

"Who's your favourite X-Men, Shawnie?"

"The one who kind of looks like your mom.She's cool." Shawn answered absentmindedly, looking over the book he'd just been given.

I turned to Cory with a smug look on my face. "If you're not going to read it because it's about a girl, that's on you. Good to know that you wouldn't want to hear about the experiences of people who don't look like you." I mumbled the last part to myself.

Just as Cory was about to respond, the bell rang and we all started packing our things. I made sure to put my copy of the book in my bag. I heard Mr. Feeny call Cory to stay back, but Shawn had already taken my hand and started pulling me out of the school.

+=+=+=+=+

"So, Sunshine," Shawn said as I took a seat on the swing. "I have something for you." He looked straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact.

"You do?" Shawn had gotten me another gift?

"Yeah. It's ummm not much but..." He pulled a little book out of his bag, but it wasn't a regular one. It looked homemade. When I opened it I came face to face with pictures of me, of us, over the years. From my first day at school together, my mom must've taken them from my dance recitals and our Halloweens. On the very last page written in Shawn's handwriting "Happy 11th Birthday, Raven-Anniya!" And just underneath it, "Shawn P. Hunter & Cory Matthews"

"Thank you, Shawnie." I rested my hand on his shoulder. "You know my birthday was over a month ago, right?" I laughed.

He chuckled. "Yeah. But I wanted to wait for Cory to finish the book before I can give it to you." He rested his head on mine.

"So...social studies is going to be hard for you. If you need me to-" Shawn started but I stopped him.

"It's okay, Shawnie. Most of the kids in our class don't know any non-white people outside of school. You remember when Cory got his hair straightened?" Shawn nodded. "Well the girls he thought were making fun of him for his curly hair, were actually making fun of Dwayne Friedrick talking about why they wouldn't invite people like him to their stupid party. Making fun of his naturally curly hair because they could." I rolled my eyes, my mood suddenly sour.

"Those girls are just dumb then." Shawn put his hand on my head.

"But there are more people like them. People who will do more than not invite me to a party." I could see the confusion flash behind his eyes but I didn't want to tell him about it. He was still young. And this was nothing he'd have to experience but I don't want him to be as ignorant as the people I was talking about.

"You'd...you'd tell me if they..." He started but he stopped. I knew what he was talking about.

"Maybe." I answered honestly. He looked kinda hurt. "Sometimes Shawnie, you can't fix things. Not things like this."

"But I want to. I want to be able to help. For you." He rested his forehead against mine.

+=+=+=+=+

"Raven!" I heard Jazmyne call me from downstairs. I went down to see her trying to balance boxes worth of school supplies in her hand. "Little help, please?" I quickly grabbed the smaller boxes.

"What's all this stuff for?" I asked, noticing half the random stuff in the box.

"I'm doing a project with my friends Linda, Tamara and Eric." She answered before unloading the boxes up in her room. "It's a multicultural thing."

"Cool."

"Yeah, so if you need me for anything, just call the Matthews house. Especially if Mom has a work thing." She concluded before she started working on the assignment.

"Okay." I nodded before going to my room. My ballet class was canceled today but my teacher said we should practice our routine. The calming music contrasted with the sharp moments, I tried to correct my movements using my shadow but it's easier to have someone else tell you what you need to fix.

+=+=+=+=+

"Good morning, class. For the rest of the week I'm going to be your Social Studies teacher." Cory said the second I walked into the classroom. I froze in the doorway.

"Mr. Feeny? What's going on?" I asked, slowly took my seat beside Shawn and now diagonal from Mr. Feeny.

"Don't ask me. He's the man in charge." Mr. Feeny pointed to Cory and I groaned. This is going to suck!

"That's right, Raven, my friend. Me. I'm your new teacher, and my name is... Hey... Dude. That all right with you... George?" He wrote on the board.

"Mi clase es su clase." Mr. Feeny said, leaning back in the seat.

"And you guys know that rule about no baseball caps in class? History!" I watched as the boys in the class excitedly put their caps on. Topanga put her hand up, causing Cory to roll his eyes. "Yeah! Yeah, Topanga."

"If we're going to eliminate the cap rule can we also discard the dress code in its entirety?" I saw Cory's eyes widen fearfully.

"Why? You're not thinking about showing up... like, naked tomorrow, are you?" He asked her suspiciously.

"No. Although I find nothing shameful about nudity. I was thinking about wearing garments from cultures more in tune with the goddess. A sari, perhaps, or a pareo." She said assertively.

"Because nothing says cultural sensitivity like a white girl dressed in cultural garb she doesn't understand." I mumble to myself.

"Yeah, fine. As long as you're covered up."

"No, not fine! She can't just come to school dressed in someone's culture." I spoke up, staring at Cory only to realize the rest of the class had turned to stare at me.

"I just want to express my appreciation for their cultural beauty." She pouted but I didn't care.

"Do you even know the names of the goddesses you're planning on emulating? If you can't name them, say who they are and why they're prayed to, you shouldn't get to play dress up with something you don't understand." I slumped in my seat.

"People, people, people. Are we going to do our Social Studies work today?" Minkus called attention to himself.

"Minkus, Minkus, Minkus. Shut up." Shawn mocked.

"OK, guys, for homework tonight... read the first pages in Whatever that book was that George assigned us yesterday."

"The Diary of Anne Frank, you doofus." I muttered.

"But that was the assignment last night."

"Minkus! Not long ago, I was a student myself and I remember that sixth-graders don't always do their homework so this way, everyone gets a second chance."

"Excuse me, Mr Hey Dude, but I did my homework and I'm sure my Raven Beauty did too." Minkus bragged. That caused Cory to snap.

"Minkus, get a life. That's your homework assignment. Get a life." Cory exclaimed before the class erupted into complete chaos. I just sat back and continued reading Red Dragon.

It was sad that nobody was taking anything seriously.

+=+=+=+=+

We were sitting in class the next day, Cory was trying desperately to get Shawn and I to help him. I wasn't listening to it. "Look, you have to help me get the class back under control."

"Hey, you're the one who let it get out of control." I looked up from my book to Shawn. He was right.

"Well, you're the one playing poker with Feeny." Cory rebutted. I rolled my eyes.

"Maybe if you took this class seriously, the class wouldn't be out of control." I continued reading. I had finished Red Dragon, so I started Silence Of The Lambs.

"Lighten up, man. You're starting to sound like a teacher." Shawn said before continuing to shuffle the cards as the bell rang. Cory walked to the front of the class as Topanga, who came to school in a sari, started moving her desk out of the way.

"Topanga, what are you doing?" Cory asked.

"Moving my desk out of the way. I've decided I'd rather sit on a traditional yoga cushion." Topanga sat on her cushion as Minkus moved his desk out of the way.

"Oh, come on, Minkus, don't tell me you want to sit on a yogurt cushion!" Cory whined.

"No. You told me to get a life. Now I'm going to be as fun as the next guy." Minkus started bouncing on a ball.

Cory let out a defeated sigh. "OK. I know things got a little loose here yesterday but we've got a test day after tomorrow and it's time to get down to business. Let's start With the roll call." Cory started doing the attendance. "Archer, Raven-Anniya." I raised my hand.

"Lawrence, Topanga." The girl was sitting in the lotus position.

"I'm channeling. I will only answer the name..." she growled. Literally.

"OK. Present, but not all here. Hunter, Shawn." Cory continued and I'm just now realizing he's not doing it in alphabetical order. "Hunter, Shawn." Again, Shawn didn't do anything. Cory was waving his hand in front of his face.

"Out of my face. I'm stacking the deck." Shawn pushed him away.

"Hey. Where's Mr. Feeny? I mean, George." Cory asked, looking for our previous teacher.

"Hey, dude. Sorry I'm late. I was chillin' with my homies." Mr. Feeny walked in dressed in a Philly's jersey. He sat in Cory's seat facing Shawn as he picked up the cards. "I'm in." He said as he started playing. He looked around the class with a depressed look on his face.

"Minkus, this is Social Studies. Stop making those paper turkeys." He tossed the book onto Minkus' desk.

"They're flamingoes, and quit calling me Minkus. You call everyone else by their first name... so start calling me Stuart." Cory whined.

+=+=+=+=+

When the bell rang after school, I was shocked to see Jazmyne by my locker. Shawn smiled her way, waving as he walked me to her. "Hi Jazmyne." He said carrying my books as I opened my locker.

"Hey, Hunter. Sorry to have to steal your little bird today but Brianna said I've got to take her to the mall with my project partners." Shawn's smile fell for a second but he nodded.

"It's okay." Shawn rested his head on my shoulder, giving me a hug. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sunshine." He pinched my cheek before he turned to his locker.

I put my books in my bag and started walking behind Jazmyne towards her classmates. I knew Eric but I didn't know anything about Linda but she was a very pretty Asian girl. I sat in the back of the bus clutching my book as I read. When we got to the mall, we went from store to store, me still reading and being careful not to walk into anyone. Eric and Linda were a bit behind Jazmyne and I when someone walked into me and stepped on my book.

"Watch it, kid." The man said, pushing past me and hitting me with his bag. Jazmyne was helping me up off the dirty floor as Eric and Linda went to confront him.

"Hey man, she's just a kid!" Eric said, pushing the jerk.

"Yeah. You didn't have to push her." Linda said. The man rolled his eyes and started walking away but Jazmyne pulled him back.

"You need to apologize. You walked into her." She said, glaring at the older man.

"I don't need to do shit." He said pushing Jazmyne off of him. Linda stopped Jazz from falling over.

"Hey!" Linda said, loudly. The jerk took a step towards the two teenage girls and Eric stepped over them protectively.

"You need to back off." He said to the jerk.

The dude scoffed. "You need to back off. Take your chink and your niggers and get the hell out of here." He pushed Eric, which caused a domino effect with the three teenagers, making them all topple onto the floor.

Linda started tearing up, Jazmyne just got quiet and I sat there with tears in my eyes. It's not something I wasn't used to but it still hurt when it happened.

"Come on, Birdie. Let's get you out of here." Eric said taking me to the bus stop. We hopped on the bus, each of us sitting in silence. Eric took my hand as tears fell over torn pages of my book. He rested my head over his shoulder. We got off the bus and walked into the Matthews' house.

"Come on, let's go sit on the couch, all right?" Eric guided all of us to the couch and I finally broke. I was sitting on the chair sobbing. Jazmyne came up, holding my book out to me. I didn't even notice that I dropped it. I opened it and pages came falling out. I started crying more as the book fell from my hand.

"Eric?" Cory asked, looking around the room at all the sad or angry people.

"I've got it, Cor." Eric consoled a crying Linda. "Everything is going to be oK, all right?"

"Eric?" Cory looked over at me, pointing at my tear stained face.

"I'll talk to you later, Cor." Eric said in a more assertive tone.

"It's getting chilly out there." Amy came in.

"Linda! Linda! What's wrong with Linda?" Morgan rounded the corner and saw Linda crying. She looked over and saw me. "What happened to Raven?" She walked over and hugged my head.

"Some jerk at the mall called us some bad names." Jazmyne said. She was sad too, but her sadness was mixed with anger too.

"Where? Our mall?" Cory asked.

"What did he call you?" Morgan turned to Jazmyne.

"It's not important, Morgan." I spoke between choked sobs.

"In our mall right here?" Cory asked again. Morgan gave Linda and I tissues.

"Thanks, Morgan." When I got the tissue.

"A boy at daycare once called me poo-poo head." Morgan tried to console us.

"That's not very nice." I replied as she handed a tissue to Linda.

"Thanks, Morgan." Linda smiled graciously.

"Mom." Eric looked over at her, pleadingly.

"Come on, Morgan. Let's make some hot cocoa for everybody." Amy grabbed a hold of the young blond. Eric held my hand.

"Man, sometimes people can be total idiots." Eric looked at his brother, not accusingly but the venom behind his eyes was evident.

"This happened today?" Cory said, disbelieving. He looked at me but I looked away.

+=+=+=+=+

The next day, I walked into class with Shawn only to see Cory in a suit and tie.

"Hey, Mr. GQ. Nice neckwear." Shawn said jokingly. He's been joking around all morning. I know he knows something is wrong but I have been denying everything. I didn't want to burden him.

"Excellent Windsor knot. Did your mom tie it?" Minkus said as I slumped in my seat. I had no motivation to do anything today.

"Minkus... Stuart, I need your help. You're the smartest kid in class... maybe if you pay attention to me some of the other kids will."

"Why should I help you? You made fun of Mr. Feeny, and said he gets paid too much." Minkus crossed his arms defiantly.

"Look, Minkus, I'm only coming to you because Raven isn't doing well today." Cory glared but the bell rang before he could say more.

Mr. Feeny walked in and looked at Cory. "Hey, dude. Ooh, that suit. It's not cool."

"Class, I'd like to talk to you today about prejudice... and how it still exists in today's world." Mr.Feeny turned to Cory as he spoke. "I didn't even know that till last night when I saw some really smart, totally cool girls... crying their eyes out because some idiot at the mall... called them bad names. My lesson for today is that when people treat other people badly... because of their skin color or their religion or where they come from...then real smart, totally cool people... can really suffer." Cory passed my desk, dropping a note between my elbow and my head.

'I'm sorry for this. I just need to get to him' as well as a quote from the book. I looked over at him, as he nodded his head towards Shawn. I then realized that aside from Mr. Feeny, I was the only one really listening.

"Hey, George, this isn't gum. These are Rolaids." Shawn said, looking at our teacher.

"Deal me out of this one, Mr. Hunter." Mr. Feeny said, giving Cory more attention.

"What? Why?" Shawn asked.

"OK. You win. I'm a crummy teacher, and I resign. Hey, Shawn, before your mother got married... what was her name again?" Cory turned to the blue eyed boy.

"Cordini." He answered.

"Cordini. So, that would make you a wop, right?" Cory said, nonchalantly.

"CORY!?" I yelled. I didn't think he was going to do that.

"What did you call me?" Shawn looked up at Cory in shock. Shook his head, festering in his anger.

"You heard what I called you." Cory spoke clearly, before he looked at me and nodded.

"Whatever, man." Shawn rolled his eyes and started playing solitaire.

"I guess I understand why you don't care. You spend your day with a monkey and her family of crows. It's astonishing how smart she is though. I honestly expected Ebonics when we first met her."

I looked up at him in fake shock. Did he really think that? No. Before I left his house last night, he asked Jazmyne what kind of things people have said to her and her family. Cory didn't even know what Ebonics is this morning. He literally held up a paper and asked me what it was this morning. I expected him to say this. What I didn't expect was for Shawn to slam him into the door.

"What did you just call her?" Shawn practically snarled, slamming Cory into the door. Nobody said anything.

"Do I need to say it again?" Cory quipped, sarcastically. He seemed unphased when Shawn slammed him to the door again.

"Say it again, I'll kill you!" Shawn screamed.

"Mr. Hunter!" Mr. Feeny intervened.

"Did you hear what he called her?" Shawn looked guffawed.

"Yes I did. And I heard what he called you. What are you going to do about it?"

"He's the teacher." Shawn looked at Mr. Feeny confusion.

"What are you going to do about it?" The older man asked. It seemed to trigger Shawn.

"I'm gonna knock his head off!" Shawn pushed Cory.

"What if you couldn't? What if you couldn't do anything about it?" Cory exclaimed, pushing Shawn back.

"What?" Shawn buffered.

"What if you lived in a country where I could kill you just because of your mom's last name?" Cory spoke loudly for the class.

"Cory, what are you talking about?" Shawn asked.

"A -year-old girl is dead! Doesn't anybody care?" Cory faced the rest of the class.

"Cory..." I sat up slightly, trying to calm him down. He looked at me for a minute before holding the book over to Shawn.

"She was like Raven, Shawn. She was real smart and totally cool. She wrote this book. Her name Was Anne Frank." He pulled his Cory up. "They say she died of typhus but they killed her... because her name Was Anne Frank. Anne Frank was a victim of antisemitism." He said incorrectly but I was so proud, I didn't think I should say anything.

"Anti-Semitism." Mr. Feeny corrected.

"Thank you, Mr. Feeny. You have to read this book... and you have to pass this test... not because of me but because when someone calls someone else a bad name... it's not good that just that one person jumps up. We all have to jump up." Cory pointed at Shawn approvingly. Cory turned back to me. "Raven-Anniya?" He nodded to the book.

"In spite of everything... I still believe that people are really good at heart." I quoted.

+=+=+=+=+

On Monday after school, Shawn and I were sitting in the park when he pulled out his test. He looked really nervous when I unfolded it. He got a B. "You got a B!" I was beaming.

"Yeah, I really wanted to do well." He nodded sheepishly.

"And you don't want to do well on all your other stuff?" I asked, jokingly poking him but he grabbed my hand.

"I wanted to do well because this was important. When it's something important I want..." he stopped before he could finish. "I wanted you to be proud of me." He answered honestly.

"I am proud of you. You defended me when nobody else did. I'd be proud of you anyway." I hugged him. He chuckled.

"You spoke up first, Sunshine." Shawn flipped my hair over my face.

We stayed in the park for a few more hours. I had spent most it reading The Diary of Anne Frank again.

[dropout-if]

80 J IN A SAME SEX RELATIONSHIP WITH MC BEFORE THEY LEAVE AND THEY ARE DATING IN SECRET I NEED-

J + 80: “Let’s run away together.”

(THIS ONE!!! I featured both Jean and Jade so if someone prefers sapphic J you can scroll down^^)

From this ask game.

Jean always said, “You’ll leave for school soon enough,” like that meant an end and not a beginning. His following phrase often changed: “So come over, have dinner— a proper dinner.”

Or: “It’s too crowded at your place.”

Or: “I’ll help you with your homework.”

They were lousy excuses to see you but they always worked. Sleepovers—you didn’t call them sleepovers even though that’s exactly what you did: you ate, you hung out with Jean’s family like you belonged in it, you sneaked into his bed and slipped out before dawn—at Jean’s were a usual enough occurrence that both your parents and his father could predict when the two of you would ask for permission. As long as it didn’t affect your grades, you were fine to do as you pleased.

And Jean’s father? He was glad his son felt comfortable enough to bring a friend over.

Because Jean and you pretended to be just friends, and by all means it was a success, a perfect act, the role of your life. Jean was nothing if not careful, cold enough in public and scorching hot when you were alone together.

But it still hurt to draw that line between the two of you, to put on an act, to listen and nod along when his father nagged him: “Son,” he said in a teasing tone “You’re always out nowadays. Did you finally get a girlfriend, or something?”

Jean rolled his eyes, barely paid attention, stirred his food around the plate with disinterest. And that was what gave it away for you: Jean was annoyed—though his father was mostly teasing him, Jean had always hated to be the butt of any joke. Your own frustration sparked, but for different reasons.

His father’s attention turned to you, “What about you, boy?”

“He’s too busy studying to date,” came Jean’s swift reply.

“And you?” he snorted. The studying excuse died for Jean last year, when he graduated and refused to keep studying.

“Me? I don’t care. About girls.”

It hurt but you understood, grinned and bore it, kissed Jean twice as hard when he locked his door behind the two of you, where nobody could see you and come up with a million reasons as to why you shouldn’t. It was one of those things that Jean and you never really talked about, always relying on silent agreements and suppositions.

There was little to assume when you had him just where you wanted him, with his hands on your waist, his short hair tangled around your fingers. Jean was right— you’d leave for college soon enough. This was one of the scarce moments in which you allowed yourself to embrace all the negativity.

Though rather than drowning, you found the oxygen and tranquility you needed in Jean’s bruising kiss.

“Sorry about him,” your boyfriend mumbled.

Your fingers trailed down the side of his face, his jaw, and then his neck—making him shiver and look at you with adoration—until they curled around the collar of his shirt.

“Jean,” you mumbled as his thumb caressed your lower lip almost absentmindedly. Jean mused a quiet ‘what?’ to which you answered “Let’s run away together.”

Taking calm and collected Jean by surprise was a shock in itself, but you doubled down.

“Please? We could— You could come with me. I don’t know. I just—” you sigh, perhaps a bit overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions that normally curse through you when Jean was this close (this close and so far away) “I can’t just hide how much I want you, you know?”

Ever the grounding force, Jean swallows all emotion like a black hole—reflects nothing, gives away nothing—and he reaches up with the calmness he’s known for, holding both your hands in his.

“You know you’re not thinking rationally, right?” Jean asked softly “That. That’s just never going to happen.”

“It won’t if we don’t try—”

“And then what?” he waits for an answer you can’t give. Looking at it in hindsight, asking Jean to abandon his family feels unfair “You want me? I’m yours. But be realistic, please.”

You catch his undertone: Jean and you always had an expiration date.

Jade always said, “You’ll leave for school soon enough,” like that meant an end and not a beginning. Her following phrase often changed: “So come over, have dinner— a proper dinner.”

Or: “It’s too crowded at your place.”

Or: “I’ll help you with your homework.”

They were lousy excuses to see you but they always worked. Sleepovers—you felt giddy like a schoolgirl when you referred to them as sleepovers, though it meant much more for both you and Jade than a platonic night with girlfriends—at Jade’s were a usual enough occurrence that both your parents and her father could predict when the two of you would ask for permission. As long as it didn’t affect your grades, you were fine to do as you pleased.

And Jade’s father? He was glad his daughter felt comfortable enough to bring a friend over.

Because Jade and you pretended to be just friends, and by all means it was a success, a perfect act, the role of your life. Jade was nothing if not careful, cold enough in public and scorching hot when you were alone together.

But it still hurt to draw that line between the two of you, to put on an act, to listen and nod along when her father nagged her: “Jay,” he said in a teasing tone “You’re always out nowadays. I don’t have to worry about you having a boyfriend, right?

Jade rolled her eyes, barely paying attention, stirred her food around the plate with disinterest. And that was what gave it away for you: Jade was annoyed—though her father was mostly teasing her, Jade had always hated any attempts of telling what she could or could not do. Your own frustration sparked, but for different reasons.

Her father’s attention turned to you, “What about you, girl?”

“She’s too busy studying to date,” came Jade’s swift reply.

“And you?” he snorted. The studying excuse died for Jade last year, when she graduated and refused to keep studying.

“Me? I don’t care. About boys.”

It hurt but you understood, grinned and bore it, kissed Jade twice as hard when she locked her door behind the two of you, where nobody could see you and come up with a million reasons as to why you shouldn’t. It was one of those things that Jade and you never really talked about, always relying on silent agreements and suppositions.

There was little to assume when you had her just where you wanted her, with her hands on your waist, the flawlessness in her hair coming undone under your fingers. Jade was right— you’d leave for college soon enough. This was one of the scarce moments in which you allowed yourself to embrace all the negativity.

Though rather than drowning, you found the oxygen and tranquility you needed in Jade’s bruising kiss.

“Sorry about him,” your girlfriend mumbled.

Your fingers trailed down the side of her face, her jaw, and then her neck—making her shiver and look at you with adoration—until they curled around the collar of her shirt.

“Jade,” you mumbled as her thumb caressed your lower lip almost absentmindedly. Jade mused a quiet ‘What?’ to which you answered: “Let’s run away together.”

Taking calm and collected Jade by surprise was a shock in itself, but you doubled down.

“Please? We could— You could come with me. I don’t know. I just—” you sigh, perhaps a bit overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions that normally curse through you when Jade was this close (this close and so far away) “I can’t just hide how much I want you, you know?”

Ever the grounding force, Jade swallows all emotion like a black hole—reflects nothing, gives away nothing—and she reaches up with the calmness she’s known for, holding both your hands in hers.

“You know you’re not thinking rationally, right?” Jade asked softly “That. That’s just never going to happen.”

“It won’t if we don’t try—”

“And then what?” she waits for an answer you can’t give. Looking at it in hindsight, asking Jade to abandon her family feels unfair “You want me? I’m yours. But be realistic, please.”

You catch her undertone: Jade and you always had an expiration date.