#my cousin dyed her tips blue

[sili-a]

I dyed my bangs magenta yesterday and immediately thought, "Omg Poppy!"

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 This city’s dying by the day, and you know it always will 🎶

Antoine kept his head dipped and his face hidden as he neared the spot where Giorgio had asked him to meet. The secrecy in Gio’s note had been absurd: Meet me at the docks facing the cathedral at eight. And come alone. As he approached, the rhythmic ringing of the church bells told him that he was just on time.

Antoine’s steps crossed from the cracked pavers onto the wooden dock, the hollow sound alerting Giorgio to his presence. He jumped to his feet and nervously took a drag off his cigarette, smoothing down his hair behind each ear. Antoine rounded the crates that he was hidden behind and narrowed his eyes, “Christ, Gio, what’s going on? What’s with all this fanfare and secrecy?”

“Antoine, thank god. To tell you the truth, it’s Jo. She never takes my ideas seriously and I’m sure she’d tell me I’m operating on false information. Plus I don’t want to create a stir, tip off my contacts that I’m sharing this information with anyone on the outside. Sit, please. I think you might need to.”

Giorgio sat back onto the crate next to Antoine, looking over each shoulder before he began, “I’ve got cousins, Antoine, cousins with real business interests up in New York. There’s serious talk that this whole bubble we’ve been riding, it can’t last forever, and the whole economy is gunna tank.”

Antoine shook his head in disbelief, but Gio went on, “I’m telling you, it’s true! Some of them are already pulling out stocks. Your sister will think I’m just as crazy, but I sure as hell don’t wanna be in any city when shit hits the fan. Especially this city. You see, I know I said one job, but once they get their teeth into you, once they know where you are, they don’t let you stop…”

Gio stopped for a moment to let the implication of he and Antoine’s entanglement with the city’s mafia dissipate in the twilight air, “Now I’ve heard talk of riches out west. Railroads or highways being built right through your property and being paid in handfuls. Plus land is cheap, real cheap. I found a plot through some connections with the farm house built. I’ve still got that money from the deal we made, so I can purchase it myself, but if you’re holding onto that cash we can split it equal, go in as co-owners.”

Gio’s proposal made Antoine’s head spin. Leave his home? To go West, of all places? What the hell did he know about the West? About a land he had only heard tales and hyperboles of, a land that seemed unreal, one that still seemed to promise some semblance of the American Dream…

As Antoine tried to focus, to force himself see his choices clearly, a series of images flashed through his head in immediate succession.

First, he saw himself atop a horse, the sun beating down on his his face as the arid breeze whistled through the brush and the blue sky blended into the yellow of the mountaintops. Around him was nothing but land: vast, empty expanses of land without a single rule or expectation to impose upon him.

Then he saw Zelda in a tiny chapel, bedecked in a white wedding dress and her finest pearls. She had a wide smile on her face and a delicate hand extended toward him, beckoning him to the altar at the end of the aisle. Through the windows the desert sun streamed in around them, finally free to walk in the streets however they pleased, finally married, finally his wife…

But with almost an almost visceral sense of vertigo he was transported back to New Orleans, back to the club with Violette, who was now grown as she sang along to the notes he played on the piano he had owned all his life. Her laughter told him that she had always loved it there, just as much as he did, and she would only grow to love it more, to be just as inspired and connected to the only home he had ever known.

Finally, his mind drifted back to Zelda, this time in their kitchen cooking a recipe that his aunt had taught him. He stood behind her in the same place where they had some of their happiest memories, their most intimate moments.

As he pulled her closer to him, he could hear people yelling in French through the doors open to the street below. Their accents sounded just like his own, just like his mother and his aunt, perhaps just like his daughter’s would one day. The sound of their voices drifted into the kitchen, mingling with the scents of cooking and the feeling of Zelda in his arms, telling him that he was already home.

In the seemingly suspended year of 1928, Antoine buried his head in his hands. None of the visions or the dreams mattered anyway; the choice had already been made. The money was gone, long gone. He had spent it paying bills for the club and buying food for his family, just trying to keep the club afloat while the bribes grew larger by the month.

Antoine finally looked back to Gio, making sure the tears in his eyes had dried enough so that they wouldn’t betray his words, “I’m sorry Gio, but it sounds like nothing but a pipe dream to me. Why would I leave when there’s nothing to go on but your word? I’ve got the club, my family, my city; I won’t throw that all away for a rumor.”

Giorgio visibly flinched, as though Antoine’s words had come directly from Josephine herself. Then he swallowed the dismissal, knowing that it was only a taste of what waited for him at home. He shrugged his shoulders and looked back out over the Mississippi River, “Suit yourself then, old sport. I hope it doesn’t come to all this, but I have a feeling it might.”

[sorrowandsonnets]

quick write for class <333

“I have scars on my hands from touching certain people.” She says. Her hand, riddled with scars just as she said they were, sits curled around her mug. Steam rises in the air, curling in on itself before vanishing. The scars themselves aren’t big, the largest of them being the size of a dime, but it’s the sheer amount of them that’s eye-catching.

            They cover her hand, crescents and cuts filling the expanse of her skin. They cover her thin fingers, line the back of her hand, and dot her palm. Placing her cup down, she offers a hand. Not even looking up, she begins to speak, tracing a finger across a scar as she does. The hand she’s using the point is covered, only the very tip of her nail peeking out.

            “This one is from when I shook a woman’s hand. A nasty woman, to be exact. She was cruel, crude, and unpleasant to be around. She had those fancy nails, with the gemstones and fun colours. I normally love them, but she gave me a grudge against them, I swear to God. Her nail managed to cut me along my thumb, just deep enough that it scarred.” She laughed a smoker’s laugh: raspy and sharp.

            “This one’s from my cousin. He was,” She paused, contemplating, “Demanding. Always had to have his way. When I was young, younger than you, he grabbed my hand, and his fingers dug down enough to bleed. Then my aunt, Loretta, tore him off me. I wouldn’t stop crying.” She smirked, her eyes alight with a mocking glee. Not of her aunt, nor her cousin, but herself.

            This continues for a couple of minutes. She details story after story, rasping out tidbits of her life, one after the other. After a while, she falls quiet. The only sound in the room is that of the windchimes clanking together. It forms a rhythm that she absently joins, tapping her fingers against the table.

            “I think my worst scar, though, is on my other hand.” She claims. Her eyes, electric blue and bright with a sort of cruelty that is gained through years of suffering. Her hair, shoddily dyed and uneven. Her hands. One on display, scars riddling the limb, and the other hidden. In a practiced, fluid movement, she pulls back her sleeve, revealing her hand.

            She’s missing two fingers. The ones that remain- her middle finger, index finger, and her thumb- have waxy and discolored skin. Her entire hand is slightly off, like a picture of someone with a key feature missing; wrong. Not because of her lack of fingers, but more so despite it. It was the skin itself that meddled with it.

            It’s hard to tell what the scars are from. It looks like a burn for a moment, and then a long barely healed gash. Others, it’s like you’re watching it through an old film, bits burnt away and the rest hazy. Sometimes, only for a moment, there’s blood. Lots of it. Covers her arm up to just above her elbow, soaking her in red.

            It does wonders for her complexion, in all honesty. It seems almost natural, which is odd because you-

            You.

You don’t know how long you’ve been a part of this. You don’t know this woman; you don’t know why she’s telling you this.

Except, you do. You should. Why? You can’t, for the life of you, remember why. Why is she telling you this?

“Because you did this to me.” She says.

You did. You did this to her, you touched her hand and ruined her life and oh dear god why? Why is she back?

“Don’t worry,” She tells you, “It will all be over soon.”

[victorian-vampir]

I did it. These boys are half fire elemental, I hate that Jackson's design lacks any implications of that. I get it, haha him and Heath are cousins what a shock!, but the boy is HALF fire elemental. Make it more obvious. So I changed his hair and made it ginger, I also gave him and Holt blue dyed tips instead of Jacksons yellow, ya know like flames are sometimes, I imagine that when their hair goes firey the tips of it are blue too. I made Jackson's style more sporty, dropped his glasses (his hair and glasses are two things I think look the worst on all his dolls. I imagine a doll of this design would use the same hair style as Jackson's beach doll.) I don't love the nerdy kid archetype especially considering Jackson is notably sporty and friends with some of the more popular kids in school. I wanted him to look like someone G1 Deuce would actually be friends with, also he's on the casketball team and is pretty good at it, so he got a sportier look to fit. He's still kinda hunched in on himself, he's still more shy and quiet but he's not a snivvling dweeb, that archetype isn't really fun. He gets to keep his cross body bag though and his sneakers (kinda).

I took away holts blue skin (I think that designs dumb and random) and the weird black mark Around his eye (whatever it is, I assume it's drawn on with eye liner but I'm ignoring how it's just on his face each time he transforms) They keep their eyebrow piercing but I also gave them a nose stud. Holt is shorter than Jackson (like Hyde in the book) but overall I kept a kinda twin vibe considering Jackson and Holt were seemingly born with this transformation thing and it wasn't something developed later on in life. I changed holts design to be more "alt kid" at least on terms of what Monster High would do for a male doll. I think he could use a little more work in that area but I was happy with this first pass at his outfit, I don't think I want to add a bunch of accessories and items since in the books and diary entries their clothes dont change when they switch, and Jackson's already wearing three shirts.

I imagine while he's still popular he's a little overly intense sometimes which can be off putting. Also with his shorter stature the transformation still causes them pain, even if there's less to physically change about their bodies.

BONUS FRANKIE BELOW CUT

"His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! — Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth is a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same color as the sun white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion, and straight black lips."

Is the first description we are given of the creature in Frankenstein. So I decided to go with that. Giving Frankie a more yellowy skin tone, stark black hair, visible veins on her skin and yellow eyes. I personally don't really like the depiction of Frankenstein with green skin, he never had green skin, his actor was painted green for the black and white movie because green appeared pale in black and white but he wasn't actually meant to be green. Just like how the house in the black and white Addams family show was actually pink but we all know the Addams living room isn't actually a vibrant shade of bubble gum. I actually really really love gen 3 Frankie, as a fem nonbinary they're one of my favorite dolls, and I do love gen 1 Frankie but.. neither are good Frankenstein characters.. if you're going off the book at least.

One of these days I'll draw some redesigns for Jackson and Holt.

[honeyxmonkey]

Claire studied the teens. They certainly didn't look dead. They looked... boringly normal.

The blond one was lean and tall. He wore a green hoodie and regular blue jeans with black converse. A stone pendant hung around his neck. The only thing that tipped her off was the viking shield slung across his back like he was going for a Thor and Captain America fusion cosplay. Well, it was the shield and his eyes. They were stormy gray, sharp and calculating. They had a haunted look, like he'd seen too much. She recognized that look every time she saw her face in the mirror. He was also tense, like he was ready to spring into action at a moments notice.

The shorter teen was harder to figure out. With her tan skin, and mismatched eyes, the girl looked like mischief personified. She had a green and pink sweater vest over a white t-shirt, rose pink skinny jeans, and green and pink high tops. Her hair was short and curled slightly, dark brown peaking out at the roots of her hair. The rest of her head was dyed green, aside from a single strand at the front of her head that was dyed a bright pink. She was definitely a fashion icon. Gold pottery garrote wires wrapped around her waist and Claire could only wonder why that particular oddity amongst the rest of the weirdness that was this girl's wardrobe.

"Magnus Chase, I assume." Douxie asked, his voice uneasy and weary. He obviously was still recovering from the run-in with the giants.

Meg hid behind Douxie, staring at the two teens with wide eyes. "Chase? As in Amnabeth Chase?"

The boy tipped his head to the side, putting a hand on his hip in a curious stance. He was trying to play off a relaxed look, but Claire could see him studying them, his eyes flitting from person to person with terrifying intelligence. He was running the numbers in his head. He was trying to calculate their odds against the group if any of them attacked.

"That's me. Annabeth is my cousin." He said after a moment, looking back at Douxie. His eyes narrowed slightly. "And you are...?"

"Hisirdoux Casperan." Douxie tried for a smile. "We have a mutual friend."

"Who?" The girl asked, hand subtly resting by the pottery wires around her waist.

"Samirah al-Abbas." Douxie nodded at Magnus' wide eyed look. "We... have alot to discuss."

[sintreaties]

mary writes a letter to her first year high school self

Picked this out of the six I had started because this felt like the one I'd finish the most quickly. I liked it quite a bit tbh — and it mostly served its purpose. Wish I had more time to refine certain things, but for a short prompt this will do.

Dear Mary,

Already messed up. Fantastic. The assignment was clear about it. Who are you writing to? Your cousin in Okinawa? Are you contacting the head of the vending machine’s customer service? Come on, guys.

How many Mary are there in this fucking country anyway?

Whatever. Scratch that.

Dear past Mary,

Saotome wrote those three words and drove the nails of her free hand in her forehead. For the umpteenth time, she found herself thinking about Mrs. Saito, her gym teacher. Or rather, Mrs. Saito’s mother. Mary imagined her to be the kind of woman you’d find standing alone under a lamppost, in the middle of the night, wearing skimpy clothes.

Dear past Mary,

Mrs. Saito was kind of a hippy. Scratch the kind of. One look at her rounded glasses and you just knew she smoked pot in her office. With all probabilities, she had stopped wiping her ass fifteen years ago, because the trees are our lungs and water is the blood of Father Earth and Father Earth is dying.

Saotome tapped her pen on the table. You had to be some kind of weirdo to give this kind of assignment, of course. Since when do gym teachers care about the mental health of their students? Let us run our mile once a week. That’ll make us even.

Dear past Mary,

Mrs. Saito — your mom is such a…

Saotome huffed. Suzui was done with this thing with a week of advance. Stupid loser.

What are you supposed to say to your past self? Mrs. Saito made it look like there are always two people. Like it’s completely normal and acceptable to write something to yourself when you can’t even read it at the right time.

Stupid bitch. Go hug a tree or something. Stop wasting my time.

Dear past Mary,

You were an idiot.

The frustration must have written that. Mary had considered drawing phallic shapes all over the page. They’d probably be the first ones Mrs. Saito saw since Woodstock ‘69.

Saotome was ready to bet Mrs. Saito wasn’t even going to read what they wrote. Mary could fill the page with dicks. That was the kind of shit Ikishima would find hilarious and that was the only thing that changed Saotome’s mind. She let the pen work on its own, feeling the annoyance swell within her fingers.

You were more than an idiot, actually. Even an idiot would know better than to enroll in a school like this. I’m glad I’m not you anymore.

You walked in here with ham over your eyes. The way you let others take advantage of you, the way they managed to swindle you so easily, makes me wonder if you hit your head as a kid and Mom simply refused to tell you.

A part of me believes you deserved everything that happened to you. The people you chose as frien

A blotch of ink appeared where Mary pressed the pen’s tip with too much strength. She frowned.

The people you chose as friends back then weren’t meant to stick around. Even then you should have known better. Not that I was dealt better cards recently — but I’m still better off than you ever were.

You were so naïve. You were surprised when your friends gave up. On themselves and most importantly on you. You didn’t have the strength to keep them around.

You couldn’t understand me now. You faded and left, like everyone else. You didn’t last long enough to see who was waiting for you on the other side.

Mary raised her eyes.

Sitting in front of her at the table, Ririka had removed her mask, resting it on her lips. Her eyes were particularly blue when she was wrapped up in her thoughts like that. She was so quiet. Mary had almost forgotten about her.

When she noticed Mary’s gaze, Ririka raised a brow. Saotome shook her head and went back to writing.

I must thank you for that. I’m not sure I’d be willing to share what I have now with someone like you.

You wouldn’t be able to understand this either.

Saotome reread those last lines. She felt… kind of weird. Like she wanted to get up and pace the room, out of nowhere.

She glanced at Ririka again, at the absorbed air with which she had been patiently waiting for her to be done. They were supposed to go home together.

Mary reread the letter.

“Perhaps… I should thank you,” she mumbled.

Ririka frowned, unable to hear her. “Mh?”

“I said you’re ugly,” said Saotome. “And your breath stinks too.”

Ririka looked at her, blushing and confused as she covered her mouth.

Saotome sighed. She collected her pen, her bag, the letter. She got up.

“Done?” asked Ririka, imitating her.

“I think I am, yes. Let’s go home.”

Ririka didn’t inquire as Saotome crumpled the letter in her hand. As she dropped it in the garbage can and kept the door open for Ririka, Mary’s cheeks were hurting from holding back a grin.

[mah-gah-lee]

be stuck with you - owen patrick joyner x (reader)

Word Count: 2303

Request: YES, from that sweet @idontcare011​, hope you’ll like it ! 

Summary:  you were late and a random boy comes into the elevator at the last minute. By some incredible force of fate (or pretty crappy weather) you find yourself stuck with the young man in this narrow cabin.

Warnings: panic attack and i think it’s all

disclaimer: I don't know Owen personally or what his life is like. All you will read in this "x reader" is from my imagination. My point is not to invade Owen's privacy. I don't want to offend him or offend anybody else in his life (family, potential girlfriend…I heard maybe he has one, so I don’t know but I don’t want to offend her).  All of this is not the reality

Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @standingtalllove​ @lukeys-giggle​ 

---

Thanks God, the quarantine was over and everyone could travel again. However, this stupid virus was not completely gone. Since the health crisis, you have adopted new habits, such as taking the stairs instead of the elevator. But today, you were in a hurry, so you entered the cabin eagerly. The conference you were due to attend was starting in no less than twenty minutes, and your itinerary had said it would take you 15 to get to your planned location. But with the weather conditions creeping in out there, you were sure you would need a lot longer than advertised. The automatic door was closing when a hand stepped in the way. A young blond man appeared and slipped into the elevator. You grumbled at the action, making you fall a few more seconds behind.

 "Sorry" the boy said through his mask.

 But you didn't answer.

 You had almost ten floors to go down together. You looked in your bag for a while to make sure you had your recorder when you felt an uncontrolled jerk. Your body no longer held you in balance but you caught yourself on a side of the elevator as the young man accompanying you tended to stabilize you. The lights flashed for a while and then went out. Your eyes widened as your heart pounded.

 "oh no no no no no no no. Anything except that, please!" you said, frantically pressing a random button.

 “I think we stuck…”

  "Oh yeah, what makes you think that?" The fact that we weren't moving or that the lights went out? "

 The boy threw up his hands in defense, eyes wide with so much animosity.

 "Hey, I'm in the same situation. You don't have to be aggressive."

You groaned before leaning against one of the elevator walls, peering into the face of your elevator failure companion. He had blond hair; his tips reached the base of his neck. But his expressive blue eyes - seeming constantly anxious - reminded you of someone, but you didn't know who. You have pushed the alarm button to warn the staff that there was someone in the lift.

 “Sorry, it’s seems to be a bad day. I’m late and now I’m stuck in an elevator with a perfect stranger”

 “I’m Owen…Not a stranger anymore”

 “I’m y/n, but yes, you still are”

 Owen laughed at your outspokenness and you gave him a polite smile before you were silent for several minutes.

 After what seemed like forever - when it was only ten minutes - you looked at your phone. No networks. For no obvious reason, when everything seemed to be going well, your heart started to beat faster. The thought of being stuck here forever crossed your mind and ached in your chest. The boy in front of you seemed so calm, which made you even more anxious.

 "How the hell can you stay so calm"

 "Oh ... I'm dying inside, just trying to play it cool"

 You can help with giving him an amused smile, he had been so frank. But this little interaction did not bring you back down from your state. You were breathing harder and harder, your chest was heaving quickly, it was nearly out of control. Owen seemed to notice that and give you a concerned look.

 "Panic attack?"

 You nodded briskly and Owen approached you cautiously. You saw his hands move towards you and your gaze expressed fear but you were paralyzed to do anything.

 "I'm going to take that damn mask off you already."

 Gently, he grabbed the fabric mask and pulled a little on it to lower it, he reproduced the gesture with his own mask.

 "Look at me, just me. There's nothing around us. Take a deep breath. I'll count to 3 and then you'll breathe out. Okay?"

 you nodded and when he shook his to urge you to breathe you took a deep breath, like he told you to.

 "1..2..3"

 You sighed, keeping your gaze on him. You started once more and when the blonde asked you if it was better, you were shaking your head negatively.

 "We're starting over but… take my hands and squeeze them as much as you need. Don't worry about grinding them."

 You grabbed his hands and restarted each step over, crushing his hands. But the contact with matter, your breath and Owen's comforting eyes, help you gently. A soothing silence has settled between you. Owen had helped you through this panic attack when you didn't even know each other. But you could feel deep inside that this man was good. Things seemed to calm down for you and you thanked Owen with a genuine smile.

 “You know how to deal with it ... Thanks for that.”

 “I also suffer from anxiety and panic attack. But the elevator is big enough here that it doesn't cause me one. Although I am a little anxious ...”

 “hey, breathe Owen.” You replied with a smirk

 Owen laughed and shook his head as if to say "that's a good one!" You look at the young man again, staring at him intently. It was very rude but you couldn't put a name on his face anymore. You were sure you knew him. Was he a distant cousin? A neighbor? A guy you knew in high school? Or just a guy you saw in an ad? Maybe the ad for these new cereals!

 “Excuse me but ... I've seen you somewhere before, haven't I?”

 “In an elevator, yeah!” he joked

 You laughed he was funny

 “No, I mean ... I feel like I've seen you before but I really can't remember where.”

 he sighed, as if a little tired of the question. You were surprised at his reaction but Owen answers you anyway

 “Yeah, I don't usually talk about that when I first meet a girl, especially when I'm stuck in an elevator with her but ... I'm an actor. I played some stuff on Nickelodeon and now I'm supposed to shoot season two of Julie and the phantoms, it's a Netflix series.”

 You watched him chattering, you nodded then wide your eyes. This is where you saw it! You had been relentlessly browsing the Netflix catalog and seeing the trailer for the series he told you about, but you had avoided it, the show seemed too childish for you. You first reaction was to make fun of him

 "Again, don't forget to breath Owen. But the way, I didn’t want to bother you with that question."

 He laughed lightly then smiled politely at you. You didn't seem to be a hysteric or a weird person. He had a deep feeling that you were a good person, which is why Owen seemed to relax.

 "It's just ... for a while, I thought you were a fan and I didn't want things to be weird all suddenly "

 "Oh don't worry I haven't seen any of your shows.” you said nonchalantly

 Owen burst into laughter. Once again, it was bafflingly sincere and he was really starting to enjoy being stuck in an elevator with you. You smiled, the energy in the cabin was positive that you almost forgot you were stuck with this young man for almost half an hour. You didn't know when you were going to be able to get out of here but you didn't really care anymore for the sole reason that you wanted to get to know this man. You tilted your head back, resting it against the elevator wall before sighing loudly. Seconds later, your gaze turned to Owen again.

 “So tell me about this series that you’re filming. What is it about?”

 "It's a pretty cool show actually. It's directed by Kenny Ortega, I don't know if you see who he is."

 "Hell yeah ... he's the choreographer of Dirty Dancing"

 "Himself ... So what about the storyboard ... It's about ..."

 And then, you listened to him to tell you about the series. Something like a '90s band dying of food poisoning from a bad hotdog and returning twenty-five years later as ghosts to help a super talented young girl to make music after her mom passed away. It made you laugh; it was probably the dumbest death on TV after Marion Cotillard's in Batman. He couldn't even stop anymore so that he sometimes swapped over a few anecdotes from the set. You even got a little exclusive on season two before Owen stopped in the middle of a sentence.

 "Sorry, I got a little carried away. But when you like your job, it's pretty easy to talk about it."

 You smiled at him and Owen started asking you questions, about your work, your life, your passions and you were giving him back. The conversation was fluid, natural You learned that he was German, that his mother tongue was German until he was about four years old, that he had a sister and had lived with his parents until that year when he moved into his own apartment. Getting to know Owen was really nice and you could feel your stomach twist every time he smiled. He was a boy full of humor but also sarcasm.

 You've been stuck with Owen for an hour and a half now. You ended up sitting on the floor of the elevator. Boredom was really starting to take hold of you. You rummaged through your bag for something, anything. An idea crossed your mind when you saw the small block of post-it notes.

 "Owen"

 "hmm?"

 "How would you like to play a game?"

 "What kind of game do you want to play here?"

 "Who am I?"

 "Obviously you are y/n" he tells you with a smirk.

 You laughed before pulling out your notepad and a pencil to show it to the blonde. He claimed to have understood your intention, which made you smile even more. Of course, Owen knew the game you wanted to play. He nodded, and you'd write a celebrity's name on a sticky note before sticking it on your new friend's forehead. He did the same for you. Fortunately, your two post-its are well stuck. Owen spoke

 "I start: am I a man?"

 "Obviously" you say with a smirk, responding to the blonde's previous joke.

 Owen laughed, catching the tone of your voice.

 “But how funny she is! Is my character a man?” He continued.

 You did several parts. You even teased him when he made you guess Julie and the phantoms, because the game didn't stop only with characters, celebrities but also series, movies, musicals. You were laughing when there was another shake, stronger than the first, the lights came back on and you couldn't help but be disappointed. You looked at Owen and he seemed to have the same gaze as yours. The doors barely opened and you found the hotel staff, patiently waiting to ask if you needed medical assistance, while also offering you a bottle of water. You left the elevator car, hurriedly stuffing the many post-its into your bag. You didn't really know how to act with the blond guy next to you. You had formed a little bubble in that enclosed space and now it seemed to have burst. For some strange reason, it made you sad. Now is the time to part ways with your new friend.

 “well, good-goodbye, it was nice to meet you.”

 you rushed into the hotel lobby a little more, but Owen seemed to catch up with you, his long legs only having to take a few strides.

 "wait, y/n!"

 You turned to him, you could see the embarrassment on his cheeks, asking with a frown what was the cause.

 "I think you let that go"

 "No, I don't"

 You looked at the crumpled white paper. It even looked like a piece of chewing gum. And at first glance, Owen's perfectly white teeth were chewing one.

 "I think you did."

 He handed you the paper with a determination that convinces you. You bite your lip as you look at the series of numbers on the packaging: a phone number. His telephone number. Owen swallowed hard as he looked at you. His eyes never leaving your lips.

 "It's pretty spontaneous of me but ... I won't start filming until next week. I hope you're still here the day after tomorrow ... because I would really like to ask you to come have a drink with me ... "

 Your cheeks turned red, did he really just ask you for a date? You did not know what to answer. The urge to say yes was so present but you were afraid to rush. Perhaps humor was your only defense

 "it depends"

 "about what?"

 "Does this appointment include a blocking session in an elevator? This is the only way it works"

 Owen laughed before giving you a genuine smile, showing his perfectly aligned white teeth. God, what a beautiful man.

 "I can try to fix this and find a faulty elevator."

 "So expect a text from me"

 You smiled back at him and gave him a wink before turning on your heels. Owen's heart skipped a beat and he when he arrived several hours late in the hairdressing section of the set, Charlie laughed at him saying that he had never seen him so happy to have a haircut. hair. But in reality, the blond was only waiting for one thing, and that was to receive a message from you, which arrived in a second.

 (y/n) text : "After being stuck in an elevator, here I am stuck in traffic ... Are you sure you want a date with me, you might just end up stuck with me?"

 Owen couldn't help but smile broadly.

 Owen text : "I'm sure. I'd love to even be stuck with you (again).”

(y/n) text : “Fine, ghost boy. See you soon”

[mostly-delusional]

A Kanej diwali fic

"That's the third time you've tugged on your sleeve in the same minute and it's setting me on edge for no particular reason."

Kaz halted his movements, his right hand hanging in mid-air as he was about to fiddle with his sleeve, unrolling and rolling it again. He glanced at Jesper standing beside him and raised his eyebrows.

Jesper continued, "Honestly, Kaz, it's only been a month since you last saw her. It shouldn't be that hard. Besides, you're going to need a lung transplant soon enough if you keep panting like a dog."

Kaz was thoroughly annoyed. He had been occupying the same spot for what felt like hours with Jesper's continuous babble ringing in his ears. The black leather gloves that usually covered his hands were safely tucked away into the pocket of his jacket. Without them, he felt as if he was stripped naked, all his scars put on display for people to gawk at. His clothes were different from what he preferred wearing. The regular white shirt had been replaced by a plain black kurta with a pathan jacket resting above it, the collar of which prickled his neck. The cane's head felt cold under his palm. Everything felt too foreign, too loud and too wrong.

The glittering lights, lavish rugs and sophisticated folk of Ravka were far cry from the sordid streets of Ketterdam, where crimes were committed as effortlessly as breathing. Everything about the land Kaz stood on screamed of elegance and culture. It made him want to hop on a ship and dive back into the mayhem the Barrel had to offer.

Crossing the true see and visiting the land of Grisha hadn't been a choice. Two weeks ago, Kaz had entered his office in the crow club only to be greeted by an envelope sealed with the double eagle of Ravkan royalty. He had contemplated tossing it among the pile of documents he deemed unnecessary, but a blue geranium placed beside it had changed his original course of action. There had been no whispers of the Wraith being in Ketterdam, but it was not a surprise. Inej was like a phantom passing from one world to another, keeping away from notice.

Although, why she had been the one to deliver a message from the king of Ravka was still a mystery to him.

Kaz did not know what he had expected to be in the letter but it definitely wasn't what he had found upon opening it. Apparently, things were getting a little too boring for his royal highness and he felt the need to organise a little "get-together" for all those who had dedicated the previous months in fighting against the Darkling. As it turned out, nothing about the occasion was little.

A multitude of people occupied the halls of the Little Palace for what everyone around him kept calling Diwali. Kaz remembered Inej talking about how she celebrated the festival with her parents and cousins as a child. But that was all he could recall from the day because he'd been too busy trying to count the moles on her neck as she had sat on the window of his office, her head tipped back against the wall. The setting sun had casted a glow around her and Kaz had been unable to look away.

"Where's Wylan?" Kaz asked in hopes of avoiding another rant from Jesper about how exquisite the palace looked or how much money even a single gem from the chandelier hanging above would cost. "Why don't you go and trail after him like a lost puppy, as you usually do?"

Jesper puckered his face into a scowl, his lips forming a pout that made Kaz want to smack his face repeatedly. "You shouldn't be the one to talk about puppies seeing that you almost drool at the sight of Inej. Speaking of which, where is she?"

"If both of you would stop bickering like an old couple, you would have noticed that she entered the room five minutes ago."

Every single muscle in Kaz's body seemed to tense at Nina's words. His eyes scoured the crowd in desperate attempts of catching a glimpse of the one person he'd been dying to set his sight on.

"Let's give the old man some privacy to collect himself or he might drop dead any second." Kaz could practically feel the identical smirks playing on their lips as Nina dragged Jesper away by his arm.

But none of it seemed to matter because as soon as he saw Inej, it felt like someone pumped a gallon of blood through his heart all at once. The voices around him were muffled, separated by an invisible wall, casting him in a shell of peaceful silence as he looked at the girl who raged a storm in his heart ever since she had entered his life.

There, amidst the cacophony of colours formed by the crowd, Inej looked like a diamond shimmering among shards of glasses in a kaleidoscope. Her hair was like waves of pure earth. Half of it was braided over her head like a crown, the rest openly flowed down her back, softly reflecting the light from the chandelier above. His fingers itched to touch them.

She wore a long skirt which was a red as deep as the most luscious wines found only in the highest scale shops of the Lid. It pleated in a million different folds sure to hold a dozen knives, and fell from her waist in a cascading waterfall that brushed her ankles. The pleats danced along her legs as she waded through the sea of guests, occasionally nodding at those she recognised. It appeared as if she hadn’t yet noticed him standing at the border of the hall.

His heart screamed at him to call her name, to make her look at him, but walking under the glittering lights, it looked as if she had just stepped out of a children's storybook about Saints. Regardless of how ridiculous it sounded, he felt that she would disappear if he got close enough. Her eyes were set on her destination— Jesper, Nina and Wylan standing near a table piled with a variety of delicacies. A soft smile played on her lips as she looked at Jesper arguing with Nina about what was better— waffles or the sweets layed out in front of them.

Kaz wanted nothing more than to shield her from the rest of the world and reserve that smile solely for himself.

Stupid Jesper. Stupid Nina. “Let’s give him some privacy.” What was the point of leaving him alone when Inej didn’t even spare him a single glance?

A part of him wanted to march right up to their little group and place himself in the middle, but his stubborn mind willed him to stay put. He watched as they exchanged hugs and smiled at each other. He watched as Inej asked Jesper something and he spinned around to point right at Kaz’s face. He averted his eyes right in time and hurled curses at Jesper under his breath.

Every passing second seemed to escalate his heartbeat, as if both were trying to outdo each other. His heart hammered against it’s cage, threatening to break free from the restraints and bounce off onto the floor. Kaz could sense Inej’s firm gaze on him as the distance between them shortened with every step she took.

"Hello, Kaz."

Inej had come to stand right in the line of his sight so that he had nowhere else to look apart from her. And saints did he want to keep looking at her.

Kaz let his eyes take in every detail of her face. Her bronze skin had become an even deeper shade after all the time spent at the sea and he wanted nothing more than to cup her face in his hands, caress her cheeks and make sure she was real. Her eyes were lined with kohl and some kind of golden powder covered her lids.

In those brown eyes was the warmth of an everlasting hearth, the laughter of childhood memories, the pride for what she had accomplished in the last few months alone, and there was affection. The way she looked at him made him feel like a broken vase being mended by that gaze alone.

He knew he was supposed to say something to her. Tell her that she looked beautiful. That ever since she had stepped foot in this room—in his life— he had hardly been able to breathe. That if she had willed it, Kaz would have gladly gotten down on his knees and swore his devotion to the saints she now looked so alike. But his mouth and mind never seemed to coordinate.

"Didn't expect I'd see you here." A lie. The only reason Kaz had even considered being a part of the celebration was that he knew Inej was staying in Os Alta to spend some quality time with Nina and Matthias.

From the smile on her face, Kaz suspected she knew he was lying but to his immense relief, she decided to change the subject.

"The aarti is about to begin, let's go." She nodded towards the huge double doors opening into the sweeping grounds and the groups of people leaving through them.

"To my best knowledge, there isn't a temple in or around the Little Palace."

"There wasn't. King Nikolai got one built after Zoya insisted." Inej adjusted the golden dupatta pinned to the shoulder of her blouse so that it covered her palm. With her hand safely enveloped, she grabbed hold of Kaz's wrist and started heading towards where the temple was situated.

The warmth emanating from her palm seeped through the thin fabric and sent shivers up his arm. The water was at bay and the ringing in his ears did not echo as usual. He could do this.

They walked through the doors and out into the open air. Kaz took in a deep breath to calm his nerves. A few paces ahead, the rest of the crows were chattering amongst themselves. Jesper's arms were flailing around as he babbled on about something. Beside him, Wylan was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation and trying not to get hit. Nina and Matthias walked arm in arm, the latter jerking his head in every direction, trying to catch a glimpse of all the decor layed out all around. Every few seconds he would point at something and whisper to Nina who would launch into an explanation of whatever he had asked.

"How is Matthias adjusting to all of this?" Kaz shifted his gaze back to the path he was walking on. Inej's hand felt heavy around his wrist, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted her to let go or hold on tighter.

"Not as bad as you'd think. He kind of isolated himself during the first week and avoided all the grishas, except Nina, of course. But it didn't take him long in warming up to Tolya." Inej explained. "However, he still refuses to be in the same room as Zoya, says it'll take him longer to get used to her."

"I can agree on that," Kaz muttered bitterly under his breath. His mind reeled back to the time when he had to work alongside her in order to help Alina destroy the fold.

Inej snorted on hearing his grumbling. "She's not that bad! Once you gain her trust she can be charming."

"I have no intentions of finding that out."

••••••

The temple was built amid the towering trees past the lake, it's white marble glowing amber due to the countless diyas lit all around it. It sprawled among the woods in its beauty, as if the gods themselves had decided to take a day off and stroll among their mortal devotees.

Walking up the steps to the main praying area was almost peaceful and Kaz was struck by the sudden realisation that he wouldn't mind spending an hour or two sitting right here in solitude.

A soft melody drifted from a group of musicians seated beside the huge altar where statues of gods carved out of marble stood. Bells crafted out of bronze hung from the ceiling and the entire interior was lit with hundreds of glowing candles and iron lanterns. Garlands of marigold wreathed around the circular pillars. A priest took his spot at the front of the room as people piled inside.

As the aarti began, Kaz's attention shifted to the girl beside him. Inej had let go of his hand now, her own raised in front of her chest as she joined her plams together to pray. His wrist felt cold without her warmth and he wanted nothing more than to slide closer to her.

His attention was snatched away from her by the beginning of the aarti, but he did not intend to pay any attention to it, not with Inej standing with him. Not with her being the only person he felt like worshipping.

But Inej seemed to have an objection to his plans because she reached out to lift his hands up and join his palms together.

"I know this is the last place you'd like to be in, but it won't take long, I promise."

And how could he resist when she smiled at him like that? Like his mere presence at this occasion was the only source of her joy. So his own beliefs be damned. He would stand here with his hands joined, listening to the priest begin the aarti. He would stand here until his legs started shaking, until he couldn't bear to be upright anymore, as long as it made Inej happy.

Soon, the prayer came to a close and Inej whispered to him, "Close your eyes and make a wish."

"Wh—"

"Just do it."

He couldn't understand how his wishes would come true simply by closing his eyes and muttering what he wanted in his mind. That was not how things worked. But he did what was asked of him regardless of how ridiculous he found it.

Sounds of explosion began ringing from outside and Kaz froze in his spot, his mind automatically shifting into defence. He felt a hand grabbing hold of his arm.

"Relax, it's just the fireworks." Kaz opened his eyes only to find Inej looking at him in amusement, her eyes glinting with delight. With her hand still resting on his, she dragged him outside, her steps hurried and excited.

The sky was littered with colourful specks of gold and green and blue and colors he couldn't be bothered to name. Everyone gathered in the grounds, their heads tilted upwards as something rocketed towards the heavens, soon bursting into a myriad of sparks, casting tiny star-like dots in the open.

Once again, his eyes found her. Kaz's heart skipped a beat as he looked at Inej, her eyes reflecting the stars above. Strands of hair had gotten lose from the crown atop her head and were now swaying with the breeze. He reached out to tuck them behind her ear, his movements catching her attention.

They were close enough that he could see the deep brown of her eyes along with the twinkle of the fireworks reflecting in those orbs. Close enough to see the mole on the right side of her upper lip. Close enough to feel her breath on his face.

"Back in the temple, what did you wish for?" Inej asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twisted up to form a teasing smile. "To bury under a pile of millions of kruge."

Another lie, of course.

What he had wished was for Jesper to find a solution to his gambling addiction and learn to accept his grisha powers. For Wylan to restore his relationship with his mother and build a bright future for himself. For Nina to find peace with her new abilities, because he knew she was struggling. For Matthias to find a way to forgive himself for the actions of his past. For him to build a new life with Nina.

But most of all, he wished for Inej to make a place for herself in the world. For her to live a life where she didn't have to worry about the likes of Tante Heleen anymore. And for him to be worthy enough to be a part of that life.

Kaz was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not see Inej raising her dupatta and covering the lower half of his face. He didn't realise he had zoned out until he felt the warm press of her lips against his cheek. His mind became void of thoughts as he felt his stomach somersault in response. The water was still at bay and whispers of Jordie in his head were silenced.

He pressed his forehead to hers as they stood under the glittering night sky. They were enveloped in each other's presence, the rest of the world frozen in time as Inej tethered Kaz to reality.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Emp-Ire “The King.”

“I am starting to think that the oracle was screwing with us.”

“Silence!” One of the men barked, clapping Ramirez across the back of the head with an open palm. Ramirez jerked forward with a grunt of pain, and seeing that, Adam was having the sudden, sneaking suspicion that…. Everything wasn’t what it seemed to be.

At first, the whole thing had screamed of elaborate tourism. Let the tourists show up and think they are going on some cool quest, and then make them overpay to meet with some lady who was just super high, but the way these men were acting…

Adam was beginning to agree with Ramirez.

If their adventure as Sheriff’s deputies had been real then wasn’t there all the likelihood that this was real as well? Just because you show up to someplace exotic doesn't mean it was designed like that to amuse you. He wouldn’t take a hop and a skip over to Japan and just assume that the different customs there were an elaborate ploy to get money off of tourists….

Well maybe on Earth that sort of thing could totally happen, but looking at these men…. Their physiques, their clothing,their weapons, and the very real, point of their spears, he was becoming aware that maybe they had stumbled on something a lot more serious than they had first thought.

Shit.

He seemed to have a habit of doing things like that.

He glanced around at the small contingent of men who walked with them. As he had noticed before each and every one of them was absolutely shredded, not necessarily in the bodybuilder kind of way, but in a way that made it clear these guys never skipped leg day, arm, day or cardio. 

Adam and Ramirez were no slouches; by comparison, both of them hitting the gym at least five times a week for an hour at least, but in comparison?

And of course they didn’t hide it either. 

Each of the men carried a massive circular shield and spears taller than they were. They had on sandals with greaves and simple leather wraps, most of them were bare chested, though their commanding officer wore a breastplate, all of them wore helmets.

“Laconia!” 

His sudden exclamation startled the man as well as Ramirez, 

“Shit, I just realized why that sounded familiar.”

One of the men turned to look at his commanding officer, “I do not think they are Athenians, sir.” He glanced back at Adam, “Too dumb.”

The other men laughed at his expense. Adam frowned, “Sorry my knowledge of ancient greek geographical locations isn’t up to snuff.”

He was silenced with another slap to the head, and with his ears ringing and one eye fuzzy, he finally accepted that this was, in fact, not a joke. Somehow, for some reason that dumbass oracle had sent them out to get potentially sacrificed by a group of Neospartans, and he doubted they were going to be able to sue for damages.

It took almost the whole day to make it to “Sparta” itself, though he became aware of their approaching closeness when small dwellings began appearing on the edge of fields. It was only when he figured out that Spartans needed to eat too that he realized not ALL of them were going to be big buff badasses. Of course, that was until he saw the farmer pulling the plow, who was in fact Hercules’s cousin on his father Zeus’s side.

Okay so maybe things were a bit different.

He was under the impression back during the age of real Sparta, a lot of spartan citizens were just normal people and it was only a select few who were turned into warriors. Women, while they had some rights than in other places, were still expected to stay home and take care of things while the men were off at war. She had to be strong, but that was only because she was expected to raise spartan sons, or something like that. He couldn’t remember exactly how that sort of thing worked, he wasn’t a historian. For all he knew Spartan women were just as shredded as the men.

A truth that seemed apparent for thee spartans because, as they made it to the next little farming house, a woman turned to look at them and damn it was like the Amazons met the spartans. She wasn’t particularly tall by anyone’s standards, but she looked like did mixed martial arts for a living.

He had no doubt she could probably kick his ass.

Ramirez had gone rather silent as he looked around  nodding to himself every so often as they were dragged through the outlying villages and farms, and eventually up a set of stone steps leading into a city which was surrounded by lush medeteranian hills and grasslands on either side.

The city itself was no slouch either. It wasn’t as artistically expressive as New Athens had been, ut there was no shortage of statues, and interesting architecture. Walking down the street, everyone they met was shredded or well on their way to becoming so. The men, the women, everyone but the children.

He noticed a few differences from ancient histories, including but not limited to the fact that the women were just as armored as the men, the many races and ethnicities, and the strange assortment of modern day dogs that roamed the place, which he thought was a strange addition.

A line of marching soldiers passed by wearing their red and gold, and as they went Ramirez turned his head to follow them, “Welp, I am pretty sure I had a dream like this once.”

“Did you dream include us dying horribly?”

“Does being crushed between someone's thighs count?”

Adam sighed and rolled his eyes to the heavens, “how can you be thinking like that at a time like this?”

“How can you not, I am scared and way turned on and it is the most confusing feeling I have ever had in my life…. Aren't you just a little?”

Adam frowned and was surprised to find that, “No, he didn’t think so. He was JEALOUS of plenty of these men, but none of the men or women caught his eye in that way, at least he didn't think so.”

Ramirez stared at him and shook his head sadly.

“What?”

“Still thinking about your breakup huh?”

“No I’m not.”

“Quiet.” One of the men hissed raising a hand to backhand one of them, though he stopped as a voice called out from before them.

“Captain NIcos, you have returned from your patrol.”

It was a woman’s voice this time, and as they looked up an armored figure stepped down from the steps to the columned temple. She wore a bright golden breastplate, knee length red skirt and golden greaves and bracers. An attendant at her shoulder carried her Helm, though she kept hold of her spear and circular shield. She was at least six feet tall and had a body like the she hulk though her face was exceptionally beautiful as well, with large brown eyes and full lips. 

The man raised his spear to her, “Queen Xanthia.”

The man around them raised their spears as well.

She stepped forward over the stone, “What have you found here.” She used the tip of her spear to reach under Ramirez’s chin and tilt his head back, “Athenians?’

“They say they are ‘from Athens, but not “Athenian.” Captain Nicos said shoving Adam forward so he tripped and fell to his knees on the hard stone.

She grunted and turned her attention to him, tilting his head back to look at her, “Is this true, not-an-Athenian.”

He crinched away from the blade of her spear, “I’m Mericandian actually, Terran, Earthling.”

There were a couple grunts of surprise from around the group.

“Tourists.” Ramirez piped in.

Xanthia frowned, raising her chin, “And how did you end up on Laconia. We don’t encourage tourists here.” 

“Would you believe it if I said that asshole of an oracle sent us here.” He raised his hands, “We meant no disrespect of course, we just came here to see the sights and then leave.”

Ramirez nodded.

There was another muttering from the crowd. She had an eyebrow raised, “The oracle you say?”

The two of them nodded again, not sure where this was going.

She turned her head to Captain Nicos, “Keep a close eye on them, I will speak with the king”

She turned on her heels and walked off, passing through the double doors with a swish of her red cloak, leaving the two of them still kneeling on the rough stone.

They turned to look at each other in nervous confusion, not entirely sure where this was going. Overhead the sky had dimmed to a dull blue and torches were being lit all up the city streets. The young man who was doing the lighting had the look of a classic greek hero with tight curly hair and a body borrowed from a demigod.

The two of them didn’t say anything until the doors opened and the queen walked back out, “The king wishes to see the intruders.”

Two guards held the doors opened as they were forced to their feet and up the steps. The interior of the room was bare and blunt, no more than stone pillars and a single uncomfortable throne carved out of sharp marble blocks, on which sat the manliest man he had likely ever seen. Xanthia walked over and sat in the identical throne next to him, and together it seemed as if they were being pulled before the throne of the very gods themselves.

This man was godlike, but not the kind of overly muscled where he can't even touch his own head. This was probably what peak human performance looked like with a neatly shaved beard and thick dark hair. Adam glanced over at Ramirez again, to see the other man was nodding in great approval of this development. He turned his head back to the man who stood very slowly, his armor clinking. He wore a short sword on one hip and carried a spear in one hand, and when he moved, he moved with the grace of someone who knew exactly what he was doing, and where his body was at all times.

He walked down the steps and looked the two of them over with steely golden eyes, like those of a wolf.

His gaze fell on Adam for a long hard moment, “I see we have been graced by the presence of a foreign general.” He said turning back and stepping up the stone steps.

There was a murmuring in the room around them.

Adam blinked in surprise, “You know who I am.”

The Spartan king stood before his seat, but did not sit down, “Well of course.”

He held up his arm so Adam could see the scrolling holographic image across his wrist, “Just because I live like a spartan doesn’t mean I subjugate my life to not knowing what goes on in the universe. In fact as King it is my duty to know what important developments are being made in this galaxy.”

He turned his head to look at Adam ,”I am loyal to this galaxy and the ideals upon which humanity has befriended aliens.” He walked across the stone, “And you Admiral Vir  are an important linchpin in that model.”

He turned to wave a hand at Ramirez, “And of course I know a Marine when I see one.”

Another muttering from around the room.

So, this is sort of not what he expected. The Spartan king was well versed in intergalactic politics, and was no slouch intellectually either.

“So, you’ll let us go then.”

The man did not smile, but the way his eyes twinkled, almost menacingly did not give Adam much hope.

“Oh I never said that.” He turned and paced back in the other direction, “You see, Admiral, I have become aware of an unfortunate pattern in humanity’s political history, and this includes the fall of empires due to poor or weak leaders.” he turned on the spot, “I had given up hope in being able to influence the intergalactic stage, but finding you here has…. Given me an idea.”

Oh no.

“I want to see just what kind of men are being tasked with keeping this galaxy together. I want to know if you can do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done. I want to make sure that my people are in good hands, when their good is out of mine.”

“What are you talking about.”

“I want to make sure you are a brave leader, and that you can fight when is necessary.”

He made a motion with his hands and Ramirez was dragged off to the side.

A group of Spartans stepped up and grabbed Adam around the arms hauling him to his feet.

“Bring him to the training field.” The king said, and the group of men dragged him forward and out the doors.

Adam tried to protest but he was silenced as he was dragged from the doors, down the walkway and into a large lit arena with a sandy dirt floor. A large group of men were practicing here with their spears and shields, but cleared off as soon as an order was barked.

“What are you doing!” Adam demanded

“Consider this your greek trial, Admiral.” The king said taking his own spear and tossing it to Adam, who caught it in one hand, “Fight, and let’s see what you can do.” “But I-”

He was handed a shield, and then the group began to pull back.

The king stepped up onto the arena wall and paced down it’s length, “Lets see if you can beat one of my men first, and we will go from there.”

He motioned a hand and ordered one of the younger men forward. He couldn’t have been that old and was not nearly as well put together as the others, but he held his spear and shield with some confidence.

Ok…. this was going to get interesting.

He knew there was nothing he could do to stop them, so Adam dropped into a crouch.

The shield felt awkward and heavy on his arm, but the spear was a familiar weight. They circled for a short time before the boy came charging at him. He could see what the king was doing. This boy was young and had probably trained repeatedly in drills but had never sued weapons in practice..

He was meant to be easy to beat.

Adam stepped to the side and caught the boy’s foot sending him staggering away. Adam used the shield to knock him further off balance and sent him plowing into the dirt.

No one made a sound.

It wasn’t that impressive. That was SUPPOSED to be easy.

“So at least you have SOME training.” The king called. Overhead a shooting star crossed over the heavens. A crowd trickled onto the stands of the arena.

He motioned someone else forward. She too was young, but the set of her face and a scar down her right cheek showed that she had at least SEEN combat at some point. The way she eyed Adam told him that she knew what she was doing.

Her problem?

She was likely to set i nher fighting abilities, not creative enough. He traded a couple of strikes with her, gaging her ability before making his move. He used his shield as a distraction to cover some of his movement so she couldn't see, and then sent a lightning fast jab. He struck a hit hard on the side of her helmet sending her plowing to the Arena floor.

Still no one made a sound.

The king nodded slowly and motioned someone else forward.

This man was an actual soldier, though likely no great shakes, but at least he knew what he was doing. Adam ended up in a sharp flurry of contact before the shield got in his way and he almost took a hard blow to the shoulder , even so he ended up with a delicate cut along the side of his cheek. It was only by way of quick thinking that he was able to duck under one of the swipes and kick the man hard in the sternum. He went flailing back into the dirt, and Adam couldn’t help but whisper to himself.

“And this is sparta bitch.”

The kind paced around him in a wide circle, “So, someone has trained you in the use of the spear.”

Adam growled, “I was trained to fight aliens with four arms, so you are going to have to try harder.”

The king smiled, “Confidence…. Always a good sign. But the shield, I think you have not been trained to use one of those.”

Adam paused nodded, and then threw the shield to the ground kicking it away.

He took the spear up in two hands, in a distinctly different style from the spartans, “Well, come on then.”

WIth the shield gone and his switch back to using a spear like he had been trained he defeated the next three challenges with relative impunity. It was only when the king stared adding extra fighters did Adam struggle.

They clashed hard, Adam ducking dodging and sometimes jumping over swings from his opponents. He dived into the dirt, rolled onto his back and caught two spears as they hurtled down at him. He kicked one in the side of the knee and he went down. Adam lunged for the hit, spun on the spot and caught the second spear as it came down for him again. He brought the but of his spear up and hit the woman in the face before spinning back in the other direction, dodging an oncoming jab and slammed his spear into the back of his opponent’s head sending them sprawling to the ground.

He was breathing heavily now but he could see and hear some of the men and women muttering in surprise.

The king nodded, “This is heartening, I must say. It seems as if our leaders CAN fight.”

Someone was motioned forward and he was handed a rag to wipe his face and a canteen of water. He drank greedy wiping his mouth and tossing the leather skin back to the young woman who had brought it to him.

“But I think I do see one deficiency.”

He took a waiting spear from one of his followers, waved off a shield and stepped into the ring.

Men and women all around the circle leaned forward in anticipation. Adam readied himself.

The king stepped forward.

Adam could already tell this wasn;t going to be easy.

He was already tired, the kind was fresh.

But still he was ready, the two men circled and then Adam lunged forward in the way the Drev had taught him, The king batted it away and they made an exchange. The man didn’t try to attack him, but seemed content on seeing what Adam could do. Their engagement must have lasted for thirty minutes as they clashed, the king slowly escalating over that time. The longer they went the more energized the other man became. Adam thought if he could just hold out until the other man grew tired as well, then maybe he would have an upper hand.

But it never happened.

Adam gasped for air.

Even after what must have been thirty minutes of continual engagement, the other man only seemed to be breathing steadier and more deeply. All together they had been fighting longer and harder than all of the other previous engagements put together, and still the man was not tired. Adam watched as the man specifically did not take openings that should have killed Adam.

He knew he was trying to make some sort of point.

Adam was breathing in ragged gasps now. He had never been so tired in all his life, he came in for a lunge he knew was sloppy, and his spear was kicked from his hand. A sandals foot hit him in the chest and he went down choking. The king stood over him nodding, “I am impressed by your skill” He turned and waved to the crowd, “You could match any man or woman here hand to hand in a fair fight, but you do have one deficiency.”

Adam gulped and panted.

The king crouched next to him, “No stamina.”

He stood again, “You train with my men tomorrow, and so does your marine. We will make Spartan’s out of you yet!”

Adam gasped coming to his knees, “Wait… but I-”

“You came here for vacation, and I am sorry to inform you that will not be so. You will not be leaving until I am satisfied our galaxy is in the Best hands.”

Adam stood crawling to his feet with great effort.

The king even smiled at him this time, which seemed strange to him somehow. He held out a hand and Adam took it, “A pleasure to fight with you Admiral, I am James king of the Spartans.”

Adam frowned, “James?’ Not Kyros or something?”

“I was born in the northern provinces of Mericanda, of course I don’t have a greek name.”

He clapped Adam on the shoulder and then walked off joined by his queen and their entourage as he shouted orders vanishing into the night.

Adam stared after him.

So, the king of Sparta was Canadian? 

[lallyloo]

It’s Complicated

(This was just supposed to be a short little thing but it kind of got away from me..)

By the time the 3pm video call happened, Spencer had already talked to his parents. They were old hippies who didn’t know how to Zoom, so they just called from their landline. Brady stayed on his bunk while the phone call happened, trying to mind his own business, but he heard enough to know that Spencer’s parents really wanted him to come home, quarantine be damned, and they spent most of the call arguing. Spencer tried to tell them that even if he could come home it was too late to travel, and it was safer for him to just stay at school anyway.

The call ended quickly and Spencer suggested drinking after that.

They did a few shots before connecting to Brady’s aunt’s Zoom call, and when they did introductions he called Spencer his roommate. It was technically true, but it felt like there should’ve been another word for it – and Brady wasn’t sure yet what the word might be.

They fooled around a lot. Got naked together. Jerked off. Sometimes if they got too drunk they spent a lot of time kissing. Brady liked that a lot. Sometimes they’d wake up cuddled together on the same bunk and Spencer would slick himself up and fuck Brady nice and slow.

Sometimes Brady felt like he loved him.

They never really talked about it, and Brady wouldn’t say Spencer was his boyfriend, but he also wouldn’t say he wasn’t. He didn’t like to think about it too much. It was complicated.

So ‘roommate’ was the word he went with.

They’d put their masks on earlier in the day and managed to socially distance their way across campus to a little convenience store. Brady had been searching the freezer when Spencer came up beside him with his arms full of snacks.

“Dude,” Spencer held up a box of Ding Dongs, with his hand over the word ding. “Check it out – dongs!”

Brady laughed and high-fived him. It was stupid, but sometimes Brady liked stupid.

They bought the snacks and Ding Dongs, along with some frozen TV dinners and a tub of ice cream. They’d both been hoping for pie, but they knew it was a pipe dream when they were getting their Thanksgiving supplies at a campus convenience store.

When they got back to their dorm room, Spencer tried his best to shove the ice cream in the frost-coated freezer of their mini fridge, while Brady read the instructions on their tv dinners so he’d know when to start cooking them.

Spencer’s phone call happened shortly after, and then Brady was breaking out the vodka and trying to distract Spencer with a drinking game. Spencer suggested the Thanksgiving theme and they did a couple shots before the Zoom call, just to get themselves loosened up a little.

When the inflection in Spencer’s voice changed and he went a little nasally, Brady knew the alcohol was kicking in.

Just before three, Brady went down to the common area and put their dinners in the microwave so they’d be ready in time to join the family. He was a bit nervous about bringing Spencer to dinner, but a bit excited too.

When he got back to the room Spencer was wearing a dress shirt and his fake leather jacket.

“Dude, you dressed up?”

Spencer glanced down at his outfit. “Gotta make a good impression, man!”

“You obviously haven’t met my family.”

“I’ve seen your mom on your computer.”

“Yeah, so you know she’s nuts.”

Spencer shrugged. “She’s still your mom. I gotta make a good impression.”

Brady wasn’t sure if Spencer was forgetting the shot glasses and the fact that they planned to get completely shitfaced over dinner, but he didn’t have much time to think about it because the clock in the room said 3:01 and they were already late.

Brady set the TV dinners aside and quickly joined the video call. Spencer sat down a few seconds later, sliding in beside him in his pleather jacket, and they ended up having a great time. Brady’s family was ridiculous enough to encourage several more shots, and they got good and drunk while they ate some hot food. It was nice. The food wasn’t much different from their terrible cafeteria food, but somehow eating it together at a family dinner made it taste better.

Brady was feeling a little sappy by the end of it, and he was sad to miss out on his mom’s pumpkin pie, but watching Spencer smile at him from beneath an ice cream mustache seemed like an okay trade-off.

When Brady finally logged off and closed his laptop, they were both drunk and full and happy.

“You wanna lie down?” Spencer was looking at him with heavy eyes.

Brady nodded. “Yeah, dude.”

Spencer slipped off his jacket as they made their way to his bunk, and as soon as he was lying down Brady crawled in beside him.

They spent a good long while reliving the Zoom dinner and laughing about it.

“My Uncle Gary with that stupid turkey hat..”

“Turkey! Drink!” Spencer raised his hand as if he was still holding a shot glass but quickly remembered they were done drinking.

“It was turkey noises, drink.”

Spencer just waved him off with a smile. “Whatever dude.”

They talked about his Uncle Philip and Aunt Diane and Brady told a story about his younger cousins and how one Christmas they nearly set his grandma’s tree on fire.

The mention of Brady’s grandma suddenly had Spencer in hysterics. “Oh man, she was talking about her dookie!”

“Dude. Sick.” Brady grimaced. “Let’s not talk about it.”

When Spencer’s laughter died down he swiped his hand over his forehead, trying to get the hair out of his face. Then he looked over at Brady and smiled.

Brady smiled back at him.

He really liked Spencer but Brady secretly thought that his hair was pretty bad. It was too long, and cut weirdly, and dyed an inky black color which seemed to clash with his reddish beard. Brady didn’t even acknowledge the blue tips. It was just a weird combination over all.

He would never want to tell Spencer what to do or how to cut it, but the alcohol seemed to be making him brave. Or making him an asshole? Brady couldn’t really decide.

“Dude, you ever get tired of your long hair?”

Spencer seemed to consider the question for a moment before replying, “yeah maybe sometimes, like when I’m eating, and when I’m trying to watch tv, and when I’m sleeping.”

“You think–”

“And when I’m in class and the prof is writing stuff on the board.”

“Do you think– ”

“And when I need to brush it.”

“Dude.”

“And when– ”

“Dude.”

“Yeah dude?”

“What if.. like.. what if I cut it?”

Spencer didn’t respond so Brady continued.

“I’m good at cutting hair, I cut my hair all the time.”

When Spencer still didn’t reply, panic started to hit Brady a little. He wasn’t aiming to hurt Spencer’s feelings, but he was suddenly afraid that maybe he had. He silently cursed the stupid alcohol making him say stupid things.

“But if you don’t wanna” Brady stammered, “that’s cool too.”

“Yeah, dude.”

“Like, yeah that’s cool?” Brady asked carefully.

“I mean, like, yeah you can cut it.”

“Are you serious?”

“For sure,” Spencer nodded, pushing hair off his forehead again. “But we gotta wait until we’re not drunk. You got those shaky hands, bro.”

Brady raised a hand up to take a look at it. Spencer was right – his hands always trembled a little but it was worse when he’d been drinking.

He lowered his hand and looked over at Spencer. “Tomorrow?”

“Sure dude, in the morning.”

Brady smiled. “Awesome.”

He convinced Spencer to get up with him and they walked to the communal bathroom together to pee and brush their teeth. It was still pretty early, but Brady knew with the alcohol in their systems and the Thanksgiving dinner they’d both be passed out long before midnight.

When they got back to their dorm room Brady pulled his shirt over his head and Spencer unbuttoned his dress shirt and tossed it on the floor.

“You wanna kiss or something?”

“Yeah, man.”

Brady followed Spencer back to the bunk, and kissed him until he was too tired to keep his eyes open.

Brady woke to the feeling of Spencer’s hand on him, smoothing over his back, and when he opened his eyes the room was bright with morning light.

“You awake?” Spencer asked and Brady nodded into his pillow.

He secretly liked their early mornings together. The inflection in Spencer’s voice was different, softer and calmer, with less of the nasal twang he always had when they drank. Most mornings Spencer’s hands would be on him and they’d touch a bit and fuck, and Brady would happily go along with everything. It was in those moments he thought maybe he was in love. Maybe Spencer was his boyfriend.

But as the day went on Brady would push those ideas away. They were roommates.

It was complicated.

Brady thought back to the conversation from the night before and he really wanted to ask Spencer about his hair, but being sober made it a little more difficult and he definitely didn’t want to risk hurting Spencer’s feelings. So Brady kept quiet and just rolled over to look at him.

Spencer’s hair was pure chaos, a messy black and blue mop on his head, and maybe Brady gave himself away by staring at it, but Spencer was soon grinning at him.

“You wanna get the scissors?”

“Only if you want to, man.”

“Yeah, dude,” Spencer ran his hand through his hair, giving it a shake, “go get them.”

Brady jumped out of bed and searched his desk drawer for the scissors he always used on his own hair. He grabbed a towel from the closet, and a comb, and then pointed to his desk chair.

“Sit there.”

Spencer did as he was told, and Brady draped the towel over his shoulders and pulled it closed over his chest.

For such a chaotic pile of hair, it was surprisingly free of tats. Brady combed through it, brushing it down over Spencer’s face, completely covering his eyes. He needed to see where to cut and how much, and when Brady felt like he was ready he paused to look at Spencer.

“You ready?”

He could see Spencer’s mouth form into a grin beneath the smooth black hair. “Yeah, man, go for it.”

Brady went for the blue tips first, happily lopping them off, and then he surveyed Spencer’s head again. The loss of the blue tips left him with some sort of bowl cut and Brady considered it for a minute before moving around Spencer and snipping away at the sides and back.

Black hair continued to fall as Brady cut, and Spencer sat quietly, and if he was worried about his hair he didn’t say so.

Brady managed to cut the sides short, uncovering Spencer’s ears which he was pretty sure he’d never seen before. He stood in front of Spencer and looked back and forth, trying to make sure he’d cut everything evenly.

Then he nudged Spencer’s knee, pushing his legs apart, and he stepped between them.

“Time for the front,” Brady said, taking a deep breath. “Hopefully I don’t wreck it.”

“You won’t, man.” Spencer placed his hands on Brady’s bare hips and left them there as Brady started cutting.

It didn’t take long, just a few cuts, but Brady went slowly – holding out pieces and trying to cut things a bit jagged so Spencer wasn’t left with a blunt cut straight across his forehead. When he felt like he was done, Brady ran his hand through Spencer’s hair, trying to force it into some sort of style.

“If you put some wax in it I think it’ll look pretty good,” he said as he removed the towel from Spencer’s shoulders.

“Do you have any?”

Spencer glanced up, and Brady’s only response was to stare at the green eyes looking back at him. He’d seen Spencer’s eyes before, of course, but never so clearly.

“Dude, you’ve got nice eyes.”

“So do you,” Spencer smiled. “They’re so blue.”

“Yours are green.”

“I know, man.”

Brady leaned in to kiss him.

It was the first time they’d kissed without being drunk first.

Spencer’s hands strengthened their grip on Brady’s hips, and Brady couldn’t keep himself from touching Spencer’s face. His beard was still wild and scratchy, and it still clashed with his black hair, but it didn’t really bother Brady.

His hands moved lower, sliding down to Spencer’s shoulders and touching over him and when Spencer sighed against his mouth, Brady slid down onto his knees and unzipped Spencer’s jeans.

Brady had seen his dick before, usually when they jerked off or after Spencer fucked him, but they generally didn’t touch each other that way. But Brady knew what Spencer looked like, how long he was, and that he was uncut. Brady liked the way Spencer’s cockhead hid sometimes. He’d always been interested in it, wanting to explore because it was different from his own dick, but they never did that kind of thing, with his face in Spencer’s lap and Spencer watching him.

Brady thought maybe they should start.

He paused before reaching beyond Spencer’s zipper.

“Is this okay, man?”

Spencer just nodded slowly, “oh yeah, dude..”

Brady was slow about it, wanting to touch and look, and he watched the way Spencer thickened in his hand and the slit of his dick peeked out a bit as the hooded skin uncovered it. Brady gripped a little tighter, sliding Spencer’s foreskin down to uncover the wet cockhead underneath. He tried it again a few times, sliding the skin up and over the head of Spencer’s dick and then back down, pulling it taut as Spencer’s cock strained and leaked.

Spencer was sighing above him, “ahh Brady, please..” so Brady leaned forward and took him into his mouth.

Spencer’s dick was slick and salty and Brady licked over him, thinking about the way he liked his own dick sucked and trying to emulate it. Brady took him as deep as he could before realising it made him gag and he didn’t like that much, so he focused on licking and sucking on the end, using his hand to jack Spencer’s foreskin a bit. Spencer was writhing above him, making soft little whining sounds as he gripped the arms of the desk chair.

“Oh god, dude,” he gasped, “oh Brady, please, please keep going.”

So Brady did. He licked and sucked until Spencer was whining and coming down his throat. Brady had tasted his own jizz before and Spencer’s wasn’t much different, and it didn’t make him gag like the deep throating did. He moved his mouth over Spencer one last time, leaving him wet and licked clean, and Spencer leaned down to hold Brady’s face and kiss him.

“Oh man, you taste like me.”

“Obviously,” Brady grinned, “you just jizzed in my mouth.”

“I sure did,” Spencer smiled back, and then he slid down from the chair and joined Brady on the floor.

Spencer gave him a soft push, “lie down.”

Brady laid back and watched as Spencer knelt over him and loosened the ties on his joggers. His dick was tenting the fabric and Spencer looked at it before looking up at him.

“Can I suck you, dude?”

Brady’s eyes went wide. “God, dude, YES.”

He watched as Spencer pulled his joggers down and his dick sprung free, and then Spencer’s mouth was on him, wet and warm. Brady wanted to buck his hips up because it felt so good, and maybe Spencer knew it, because his hands moved to hold Brady’s bare hips again, pressing him to the floor as he took Brady’s cock as deep as he could. Spencer nearly gagged on it, and then he pulled his mouth back and completely away to watch the trail of spit and precum stretch between his lips and Brady’s cockhead.

“Spencer,” Brady gasped, wanting his mouth back, and Spencer moved down again, sucking over him nice and slow.

He’d had his dick sucked before, plenty of times, but Spencer’s mouth on him felt different. Sweet almost, and it gave Brady an odd feeling in his chest. He reached down to touch Spencer’s head, running his fingers through the fresh haircut, and Spencer glanced up at him, his green eyes soft and wanting as he smiled around Brady’s dick.

Brady watched him a little longer, enjoying the way Spencer’s lips moved over him, sucking him a little deeper each time. And when Brady felt himself teetering on the edge, he tipped his head back and pushed his hips against Spencer’s hands as he pulsed inside Spencer’s mouth. Those wet lips stayed tight around him, sucking every bit of jizz out of him until Brady was spent and unable to move another muscle.

Spencer flopped down next to him and after a moment he felt Spencer’s hand reach for his and they entwined their fingers.

“We should do that all the time.”

“Yeah, man.”

“Like, every day.”

“Yeah.”

Brady looked over and smiled at Spencer, and Spencer grinned back at him as he leaned in for another kiss.

It wasn’t really that complicated.

Brady was pretty sure he was in love. And Spencer was definitely his boyfriend.

[jemej3m]

hi i love love love your writing! sorry if people have been asking this but ive been looking for a part three of your lawyer!andrew and neil is on trial for killing his father and I wasnt sure if I missed it or if you haven’t continued it. Just wondering thank you ❤️

well GUEsS WHAT MY FRIEND 

its here!!!

(p1 / p2)

*

Andrew didn’t like to drag things out, but the prosecution did. They always did. It was their only joy in life, especially in appeals: tease every possible fraying strand of a case till they were three weeks into the trial and the jury was dead on their feet. 

And yet, here he was, on the second day of his closing. He’d never made it to a second day: once he’d finished a closing in five minutes. 

Neil had grown progressively more antsy over the three weeks, desperate for a resolution. Every time he was scanned into court, Andrew took his favourite key and slipped it into his pocket. Every time he left to be escorted back to his temporary holding cell in Baltimore’s central policing station, he gave it back for safekeeping. Andrew would hold it, the metal still warm to the touch, the teeth of the key worn with how many times Neil would run the tips of his fingers over it. 

Professionalism, Betsy had warned him. 

But damn it all to hell: Andrew was gone. 

“Mr Minyard, if you would continue where we left off last night?” the judge drawled. Andrew could read people better than books: it wasn’t looking good. This was his last chance.

He stood up, shoved down the strange anger that had simmered beneath his skin every time the prosecution slid their pompous gazes over him, and closed his laptop. His briefcase. Put away his notes and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his slacks. 

“Your honour,” he said, with as much grace as his perpetually bored tone allowed. “This case is beyond that of my client. That much we can all agree upon.”

He waited for an answer. 

The judge cocked her head. “Yes, Minyard.” 

“It is a gruesome story of a luckless, loveless marriage, made for the sakes of alliances and blood money. Mary Wesninski paid that price with her life, when her husband took his favourite weapon - a cleaver - to her throat. My client was 17 when that happened. He was a minor. A child.” 

He turned to the jury. “Over and over, I have rebutted the prosecution’s solitary and feeble argument that my client is Nathan Wesninski’s son. The very Nathan Wesninski who earned his name, the Butcher, through bloody campaigns and fearmongering. That Nathaniel Wesninski was destined to follow his father’s path and continue his legacy.” 

“If it weren’t for his mother, perhaps he would have,” Andrew said, rocking back on his heels. “Without intervention, there’s no doubt that Nathaniel Wesninski would have been a carbon copy of his predecessor, and just as bloodthirsty. But that man -” he pointed at Neil. “That man is not Nathaniel Wesninski. Not in the way his father wanted him to be.”

“We’ve seen the pictures of my client’s torso. The bullet wounds and gruesome knifings that he earned whilst clawing desperately to free himself from his father’s iron grasp. Worse still: we’ve seen the proof of a tormented childhood, skin torn off by a hot iron, stitches from misplaced butter knives at the dinner table when Junior, seven years old, didn’t sit still enough. A crooked nose, broken three times before he managed to escape.”

He looked to the one woman who he knew would recognise this pain, this trauma. 

“You should have no doubt in your minds that this man here, my client,” Andrew said, voice lowered down. “This man was simply fighting for his life. He was running from his worst nightmare, clawing desperately for freedom when all he’d known was pain, chains and despair. He fought against what his father wished for him, every step of the way. In self-defence, he rid the world a serial killer. A rapist. A man who had committed every atrocity known to humankind. If anything, we should be thanking him.”

The room had gone deathly quiet. 

“Ask yourselves,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Is purging the world of a monster that monstrous of a thing to do?”

He turned back to the judge. 

“My client has served his time. He’s done twice as long as he should have for manslaughter, which is the true nature of this crime. Repeatedly, my client has expressed his willingness to comply with parole measures and prove himself a functioning member of our society. If you have any humanity left within you,” 

He looked over his shoulder at Neil. The man held his gaze, blue eyes so intense that Andrew nearly lost his train of thought. 

“Any humanity at all,” he continued. The judge looked down at him, face blank. “You would grant his mother her dying wish, and finally let this injustice rest.�� 

He returned to his desk. “That’s all, your honour.” 

It took her a few moments to clear her throat and call: “Court adjourned.”

Two policemen came and cuffed Neil’s hands behind his back. Andrew had done everything he could: it was out of his hands now. He mightn’t ever see Neil again, if by the afternoon the jury had decided Neil’s pleas were worthless and had him sent him right back to maximum security. 

“Thank you,” the man said, just before he was turned away. “You were amazing.” 

Andrew remained very still until the courtroom was empty. 

Now all he could do was wait.

*

“The ‘dying wish’ thing was intense,” Matt commented around a mouthful of falafel. Dan flicked a crumb off his tie, looking at him with an irritated fondness. Both of them -  Wymack too - had sat in for both days of his closing. Dan because she pretended she had any sense of authority over Andrew, Wymack because he was Andrew’s boss, and Matt because he was fatally friendly and had never missed a closing of any of his coworkers, even Andrew. 

“The whole thing was intense,” Dan grumbled. 

“I bet the sexual tension was off the charts,” Allison called out, kicked up her feet onto her desk as she ignored Renee’s unsubtle shushing. 

Andrew ignored them all. 

“We’re just waiting for the verdict?”

“We’ll be called in when the jury’s ready.” 

“It’s been two days. They’ve dragged this on long enough.” 

The phone on his desk started ringing. He shoved it against his ear and said “What.”

“Mr Minyard? This is Amy Johnston from the Post, I was just wondering if you wanted to comment on the outcome of your most recent case -”

He slammed the phone back down onto the receiver, jolting his coworkers out of their idle chatter. He was going to kill Nicky for letting the press through. His cousin was useless, and the press were even worse: there was no outcome. The jury had been silent for 2 days, and at this rate, it’d probably go into three. 

Wymack texted him. I know you’re still at the office. Go home. 

 Andrew didn’t need to be told twice. 

He careened his ludicrously expensive car into the driveway of his small home. Being a lawyer did have its perks, even if his fellows were curious busybodies and he got attached to impossible cases. He’d crack a better whisky tonight and herald in the news of him impending failure half drunk. 

He was never taking a case like this again. Of course, there was no case quite like Nathaniel Wesninski’s, but the point still remained.  

He unlocked his front door, stepped inside, and immediately stilled. 

The heater was on. 

His briefcase, blazer and tie came off, thrown haphazardly in the general direction of Andrew’s study. When he entered his kitchen, he skidded to a stop. 

“Hi,” Neil said, skin far more bronze without the gaudy orange jumpsuit. Andrew just stared. The man ducked his head down, lacing his fingers behind his back. “I - uh, I got Wymack to call you in sick for the verdict. Wanted to surprise you.” 

“You knew,” Andrew said. “You knew the outcome?”

“Of course,” Neil snorted. “Had to do something with the bloodmoney. Don’t worry, it was only two of them. The rest you had hooked.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Andrew said flatly. Neil’s grin flashed, but he was clearly way out of his depth here. Free and nervous about it. Here, because he thought that Andrew would be the only one that cared. 

And he did. For the first time, he did. 

The man gestured at his ankle. “18 months parole. It’s a bit heavy but I’ll get used to it with time, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck, curls bouncing. “Gotta find somewhere to live, I suppose. Figure out how normal life works. I’m applying for a name change: the first random name generator on Google gave me Josten, so that’s probably what I’ll go with.”

“You’re a disaster,” Andrew managed, fighting every urge not to reach out and comb his fingers through the man’s hair. 

“What else is new?” Neil joked. 

“You said you’d go to law school.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You’re holding me to that?” 

Andrew shrugged. “It’s your life.”

“I suppose you’ll regret taking me on when I end up stealing your cases,” Neil teased, leaning a little closer. 

Andrew reached up and tugged on Neil’s collar. “I don’t believe in regret. But I sure as hell will give you the challenge.”

Neil’s lips quirked up at the side, warping his scars and making Andrew’s chest ache.

“Stay,” Andrew said, softer than he intended. 

And, now that he could choose to, Neil Josten, freshly minted and definitely real, whispered: “Okay.”

*

wow only months later did i finally figure out what i wanted from this 

srry its so short!!

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

Because Disney can pry the Finn Skywalker headcanon from my cold, dead, fingers. And because Disney can’t stop me from reworking their movies if I darn well please.

Most of the fortress had been picked over by scavengers years ago. Any Imperial memorabilia had long since been looted and either auctioned off or confiscated by the First Order. Really, that was the only reason the scout team had considered it as a potential base at all. It had already been gutted, and was pretty well beneath the notice of Kylo Ren unless he was up for sentimental tours.

The general didn’t find that very likely.

Mustafar was far from a hospitable world for most species, but the heat shielding of the fortress was still highly efficient. The scouts had set up a base camp in what looked like it had once been some kind of audience chamber. Nobody had felt like exploring alone. The whole castle just felt...off. 

The young leader of the scouts sat on a pile of rubble, head tilted like he was listening for something. He frowned and glanced down at his team.

“What, Trache?” he asked.

The Twi’lek raised his brows at Finn. “I didn’t say anything.”

Finn seemed confused. “You sure? I could’ve sworn-”

Finn?

Finn looked up again. "Rose, you heard Trache call me just now, right?"

Rose Tico set down a power lamp and plugged it into their Artoo unit, then shook her head. “Sorry Finn,” she said, “All I heard was Artoo.”

Finn.

He whirled, squinting into the darkness of the derelict fortress. “There! You guys heard it that time, right?”

Rose fidgeted awkwardly. "Finn...I didn't hear anything."

Finn.

Finn turned again. He felt as though someone had tied a string around his soul and was pulling. As if under some other power than his own, the boy began to stumble into the shadows.

"W- what are you doing?" Trache hissed.

"Gotta check something out," Finn mumbled. He could just make out what looked like a figure, standing at the end of the corridor. "It's...it's okay. I think it's the Force."

His scout team's protests faded into static behind him. There was nothing but the voice.

Finn. Come to me.

Finn slowly reached down and loosened his blaster in its holster. There was a possibility that he was hearing this voice in his mind. And that had to mean enemies.

"Where are you?" he asked, tensed and ready to fight.

The shadowy figure he had glimpsed before reappeared, further away. It stood, as if waiting. Then it raised one arm, beckoning.

Finn didn't sense anything particularly hostile about the stranger, but he was wary nonetheless. He eased forward, following the dark shape into another chamber. The closer he got, the more he realized that it wasn't made of pure shadow after all. A faint flicker of blue light outlined the person, if a person it was, slowly illuminating more details. A black tabard. A heavy gauntlet. A cape that fell to the floor and seemed to swallow all light that touched it.

The rhythmic hiss that Finn had taken for some kind of machinery in the fortress took on a new volume.

It sounded like breathing.

Finn stopped dead in his tracks. He had seen that shape before. In the First Order barracks, as a little boy, he had seen that shape in the propaganda forced down the children's throats. 

"Aren't you dead?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. 

The giant inclined his head -- or, well, his helmet -- regally and turned. He gestured to one side.

"Walk with me."

The authoritative voice brooked no argument. 

Finn knew he should have been running. That was Darth Kriffing Vader, or his ghost, or a clone, or something. But...he didn't sense the kind of painful storm he'd always experienced around Kylo Ren. There was no hatred, filling the air with danger. Just a strange echo of regret.

With one hand firmly on the butt of his blaster, he gritted his teeth and stepped closer. 

"The Force is with you, young one," the late Sith Lord remarked, "but you are not a Jedi yet."

That rankled a little bit. Finn knew he couldn't do all the things Rey could yet. The General had told him that his connection to the Force was more like hers than Rey's, but he still didn't know what that meant. That didn't mean he wasn't learning. He was just going at his own pace.

"Maybe I'm not," he said, "But I will be."

Will I be?

Darth Vader began to walk. Hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back, steps slow and measured. Relentless. What did he want? And why was he even here?

Reluctantly, Finn followed a half step behind. 

"I'm not hallucinating this, right? Because my team can't see you." Getting lured into the depths of the castle by the ghost of a Sith probably wasn't a good thing. "Why'd you call me?"

"I have been expecting you for some time," Vader said, tipping his helmet down as if observing Finn. "It was inevitable that you would find me here."

His footsteps echoed on the stone, but did not disturb so much as a single mote of dust. The hair on the back of Finn's neck rose when he looked down and saw only one set of footprints behind them.

"You know who I am." It was not a question. 

Swallowing hard, Finn nodded. His mouth was dry, and despite himself, his fingers trembled. Like a death sentence the name fell from his lips.

"Darth Vader."

Abruptly, the man turned on his heel. His cape flared out around him as he raised a finger almost in warning.

"That name no longer has any meaning for me," he said sternly.

"Then..." Finn wrinkled his brow and tried to remember the legend. "You're um, you're a Skywalker-?"

His companion nodded. "I suspected that if I had chosen my true form, you would not have known me."

He raised his helmet as the chamber emptied out into another set of corridors. "Come. There is something I must show you."

Well. This was going to make an interesting story to tell the General later. Finn pulled the collar of his jacket up and shivered.

"Dar- I mean, uh...Master Skywalker? You didn't answer my question before. Aren't you dead?"

Anakin did not slow his steps. "The Force, young one, is a pathway to many abilities that some may consider to be...unnatural."

A wry chuckle wrenched itself from Finn's lips. He shook his head and took a jogging half step to keep up with the ghostly warrior. "You're telling me."

Anakin glanced down at him again. Finn wasn't sure how he knew the ghost's eyes were on him, but somehow he could guess where to look.

"You show remarkably little trepidation in the face of the impossible," he commented.

It was strange, but Finn was almost beginning to feel comfortable with the conversation. He shrugged. "Nobody ever told me how the Force was supposed to work. How am I supposed to know what's possible and what's not?"

He jumped when Anakin tipped back his helmet and laughed. It was a deep, rolling sound, utterly at odds with the mechanical whoosh of his respirator. 

"Indeed! Do not lose your open mind, Finn. It will serve you well."

"Did anybody ever tell you," Finn huffed, "That you make even compliments sound ominous?"

Another low chuckle. "Yes. Your father did."

His father?!

What was the ghost talking about?

Finn scowled at him. "Whoa, hold on. How do you know my father? I don't even know my father!"

Under his breath he added, "I don't even know what I'm doing here."

Abruptly, he began to sense a complicated tangle of emotions from the ghost of Anakin Skywalker. Regret, anger, concern.

"You remember nothing, child?"

Sometimes Finn thought he did remember. But they were just images. Feelings. A woman's voice and strong arms. A man's smile. Sometimes he heard snatches of a song in his dreams, always just out of reach by the time he opened his eyes.

Other times, the dreams were not so kind. Flashes of an old man, reaching for him even as he was shot in the back. His own tiny hands reaching desperately for an old woman screaming a name he couldn't hear. He wondered sometimes if they had been his grandparents. 

The Resistance was his family now. Rey and Chewie were his family. Poe and BB-8 were his family. The General was his family. But in his heart, Finn still wanted closure. To at least know where he had come from. 

"I...remember my grandfather dying." Finn said haltingly. 

"Not your grandfather," Anakin corrected him. "Your mother's cousin. Your grandfather died long before your birth."

He quickened his pace before Finn could insist on an answer. Through stone galleries and ominous archways he continued with a single-minded determination. He did not stop until he had reached what had once been an impressively secure door, long since reduced to ruin by looters. Inside sat a strange dome-like structure that reminded Finn of an egg.

"Did you see that in my head? Is that like a thing you can do?" Finn demanded. He was determined to get the truth. Maybe he could "sense" it somehow. "How did you see it if I can't?"

Anakin did not immediately answer. He waved his hand over the dome, and with a rumbling groan it separated neatly into two halves. It was an old-fashioned hyperbaric chamber. A few lights still flickered dimly inside. Anakin reached down to touch one small screen, and a hologram sprang up. A young man in Rebellion era fatigues smiled up at them from the hologram. Old though it was, the holo was still recognizable. 

"What the- That's Luke Skywalker!" Finn realized.

Anakin nodded. "He was no older than you are now when my spies brought me this image." He seemed almost lost in nostalgia for a moment. "Truly, I would have torn the very fabric of the universe apart to find him."

Finn watched the ghost, noting that he cupped the hologram in his hands as though he held something infinitely precious. 

"You...kept a holo of him in your chamber?" Seemed a little odd for a Sith.

He was pretty sure Ren didn't keep holos of his parents.

"Of course." Anakin did not look away from the tiny, grinning face of Luke. "He is my son."

Finn sat down carefully on the seat within the chamber. His feet didn't even touch the floor. "Hey...Master Skywalker?" he asked, "How did you know my grandfather died before I was born? If it was before I was born, I wouldn't have had any memory of that. Buried or no. Did you...meet him in the afterlife or something? Do all ghosts know each other?"

He sensed hesitation as Anakin answered, "No, I...I was...there."

That could mean a lot of things. "Did you kill him?" Finn guessed, "Like, was he a Rebel? Or a Jedi?"

He heard the creaking of leather as Anakin's hands tightened into fists.

"He was a rogue and peasant Sith. A knave who chased after power at the cost of his kin," Anakin snarled. 

Finn jolted back. A Sith?

A horrible thought slid into the back of his mind. What if his family had given him willingly to the First Order? What if they expected him to follow in his grandfather's footsteps?

"So...what does that make me?" he rasped. 

The tension drained quickly from Anakin's shoulders. He turned away from the hologram of his son and raised a spectral hand to rest against Finn's cheek. It did not pass through him, as he had expected it to. Instead, it lingered, like the brush of a curtain. 

"You are," Anakin said, almost reverently, "A valiant son of a worthy father. And the beloved grandchild of a grandmother who deserved a better life than she was given."

The Force was almost screaming at him that the answers to his questions were at last before him, but Finn was afraid to believe it. Afraid to get his hopes up and be wrong. If, after all this, his growing suspicion was wrong, he wasn't sure he could bear it. 

"Master Skywalker, please," he begged, "I don't know why I'm here, I don't know what you want from me. Just tell me the truth? Did you know my grandfather?"

The other glove rose, and Finn found his face being gently cradled by an ex-Sith Lord.

“No,” Anakin answered, quiet and inevitable. “I am your grandfather.”

[headinthe-fridge]

My Grandfather’s Lawyer (pt. 1)

⁂ – Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader –  ⁂

warning: nsfw, swearing

Summary: Your grandfather, Washijo Tanji, disowned your mother when she was pregnant with you and her hatred towards him was passed on to you. Now, your estranged grandfather wants you to leave your life in Tokyo and come live with him in his estate in the Miyagi Prefecture.

You took a day off and a 6-hour trip, intending to give him a piece of your mind before disappearing from their lives forever. You didn’t expect to see an ailing and fragile old man. Your day trip stretched into weeks and soon, you patched things up with your estranged family and warmed up to everyone -except to one: Ushijima Wakatoshi -your grandfather’s lawyer.

He thinks you have ulterior motives in reuniting with your grandfather.

You weren’t suppose to care what he thinks of you. His opinion didn’t matter.

But it did.

MASTERLIST

AN:  So, here’s part 1 and it’s going to be a little fast-paced, with like 5 parts. tops.  Lemme know if you wanna get tagged.

⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ –

"If you need anything, I'm only a call away."

You recalled Kiyoko's words earlier this morning. She was the one who dropped you off at the bus station for your six-hour trip from Tokyo to Miyagi prefecture. You and Kiyoko were childhood friends and since the death of your parents, she had been living with you in the house that your parents left you. You knew each other's life stories so it wasn't news to her the hatred and animosity that you harbored for your estranged grandfather.

She was worried at first and voiced out her concern, thinking that maybe your emotions were getting the best of you. But you reassured her, saying that you can handle yourself. And so, you two parted ways with her advice at the forefront of your mind.

You regretted your rash decision, not because you're worried about how your grandfather would react to finally seeing you but because of the long, exhausting, and dusty road that you have been trudging for the past hour.

The nearest train station is one hour away from the Washijo estate -which is located in the Katta District (which has a population density of 77 people per square kilometer). It was a ghost town compared to Tokyo, you thought. The train conductor informed you that from here on, the road is Washijo's property and that you would be very very lucky if a stray cab passed by.

You would've appreciated the scenic view before you, lush green forest by the roadside, mountain ranges stretched in the far distance, clear blue skies plus the unnaturally mild summer wind, if it weren't for the pile of dust and dirt clinging to your skin as you trudge along the damned road.

The hatred within you flared. This is all your grandfather's fault, you seethed. He disowned your mother when she was pregnant with you, he refused your family when your father begged him to help with your mother treatments, and he didn't even come to her own daughter's funeral when she died.

A lone tear escaped your eye at the bitter memory. You have one goal today; and that is to say to your grandfather's face that he's a worthless piece of shit. And that if it weren't for him, your parents would still be alive. After this, you will go back to your life in Tokyo and forget the Washijo name until your dying day. You will remember it only to curse it once more.

A loud honk made you jump, pulling you from your dark thoughts. You turned around with a scowl on your face, because who the hell does that in a deserted road?

A sleek black car pulled over behind you and seconds later, a man boarded off the driver's side. He had spiky black hair swept to the side, his cat-like eyes looked at you curiously.

"Are you y/n?"

You nodded, apprehensive.

The man breathed out a sigh of relief. His whole body relaxed. "Ah, thank god, I was just in time."

"Excuse me, but who are you?" You raised a brow.

"Oh, my bad. I'm Kuroo, your cousin. The one who kept calling you on the phone?"

"Ah..." You tipped your head in acknowledgment. "How did you know I was here."

"I tried calling your phone but I can't reach you, so I called your home phone and your friend, Shimizu, said you were on your way here. I must've missed you at the station."

"I see."

"Come, I'll give you a ride." he gestured towards the passenger seat.

You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure if you should believe his words. For all you know, this might be a human trafficking scheme.

He must've have sensed your hesitation. "I know it's weird, we haven't met each other before but here," he pulled out his wallet, took out an id card and showed it to you.

Washijo Kuroo

"You can hold onto my phone if you want, and have 110 on speed dial if you think you're in danger." He offered you his phone.

You took it after a few seconds of hesitation but in the end, you let yourself be guided towards the car. You also wouldn't want to triple the amount of dust and dirt that already clung to your skin so you welcomed the airconditioned vehicle and the comfortable seat that it offered.

"Ji-ji would be thrilled to see you. I thought you would keep on rejecting his request to come live with us, what made you change your mind?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble but I don't intend to live with any of you." You spat.

"Ooh, is that hatred I sense in your voice?" He teased, despite your hostility. "It seems our cousins are wrong about your reasons for coming here."

"Wrong about what?"

"Nothing, don't mind it, my little cousin. Can I call you that?"

"No, you may not." Your cousin chuckled and that annoyed you. "What's so funny?"

"Did you know that your mother, was closest to my father, out of all her brothers? Oto-san was really heartbroken when Oba-san cut off her ties with everyone. Oto-san would say you have her spirit if he was still alive."

His words confused you. All this time, you thought everyone in the family hated your mother. But what did he say? Your uncle was heartbroken?

"I don't understand, if what you say is true then why didn't, uhm.. uncle reached out? Why did no one come to mama's funeral?"

"We didn't know. Your father kept it from us. Ji-ji almost swept the whole of Tokyo to be able to see her daughter one last time but he wasn’t ableto find her."

"Then how were you able to contact me? How did you get my number?"

"That was an accident. You know Lev Haiba, right?"

Your ears perked up at the familiar name. He was a regular at the cafe where you worked. "Yes. He's a customer."

"Yeah, well he wouldn't shut up about his huge crush on you, we were classmates in high school by the way. One day, he sent a picture of you two in our group chat, and then I recognized you."

You raised a brow. "We haven't met before, how would you recognize me?"

"Oh that, I'll let Ji-ji explain. But yeah, that's how we found you, after that, Ji-ji wouldn't stop gushing about your coming here. I really thought you wouldn't give in."

"Well, I wouldn't be staying long so there's no need to make this a big deal. And whatever your cousins think about me, I really don't care, I mean if that's the kind of people that I'll be living with then no thanks, I'm good with my small apartment back in Tokyo."

"Man, the hatred runs deep, huh? Don't worry, they wouldn't dare do anything against you while Ji-ji's around. Plus, I'll be right behind you. I feel like we would get along well."

You decided not to respond to that and opted to watch the road before you throughout the whole ride.

You knew that your grandfather is a wealthy man. But the moment you stepped foot inside the Washijo Minka, it only dawned on you what wealthy really meant. The house was ornately decorated. The ranma panels that let the daylight in are carved with intricate details of dragons, the tatami floors are spotless, the zabutons are wrapped in silken cloth (what glorious ass wouldn't seat on silken pillows?), and the fusuma slides' designs are hand-painted.

Every object in this house screamed at whoever was in it that the owner is wealthy. So why? Your family only asked for a small amount for your mother's treatment compared to the luxuries that surround you now. Your jaw clenched as your hatred towards your grandfather resurfaced.

"Look who's here y/n, it seems your cousin couldn't wait to finally meet you," Kuroo remarked.

You heard someone scoff and you turned to the person with a piercing look.

"Can't I welcome the new member of the Washijo family? I wanted to meet Noriko's child, too."

The way your mother's name rolled off on the woman's tongue didn't sit well with you. Your eyes swept her form from head to toe, she was tall and beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact, if it weren't for her attitude. You decided she wasn't worth your time. You didn't waste this day to bandy crooked words with her. You're here for your grandfather.

"What, cat got your tongue?" She goaded.

"Stop it, Hoshina-chan. If Ji-ji catches you starting a fight, you wouldn't like it." Kuroo warned.

The one called Hoshina just harrumphed in response. She threw you one last look before stomping off to god knows where. You don't care, actually, you don't have time to deal with brats.

"By the way, here comes Atsumu and Osamu. They're also our cousins." Kuroo informed.

The newcomers made a beeline towards you and Kuroo and you barely had time to compose yourself when they were already shaking your -both- hands and welcoming you in unison.

"N-nice to meet you too, Atsumu-san and Osamu-san."

"Please don't forget that the better Washijo twin is me," the blonde pointed towards himself while the other just scoffed.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips and you were about to reply when someone behind you cleared his throat.

Part 2

Tagging all you lovelies: @thegrumpyhag​ @sushij1ma​ @valoryess​ @yakus-yakult​

@ly-nia​

[miraculous786]

dumb/stupid, and fun idea! What if, during a trip to gotham mari/ladybug ends up using her magic for some reason and it turns Harley into a young version of herself. Before she is turned into a teen she sees the way the class treat Mari. Now that she is a kid she enrolls into DuPont and becomes Mari's bodyguard/big sis.

Note: I haven’t been in a writing mood recently but this definitely helped to get me back into it.

Masterlist

My Cousin

"You two are officially my Kittens."

Adrien purred, nudging into Selina's hand as she scratched his locks. Marinette giggled, embracing the woman and her boyfriend in an abrupt movement with a beam gracing her features.

"Thank you, Mom," she whispered, tilting her head up to meet her gaze. "For everything. I love you."

Cat Woman smiled, before leaning forward to place kisses on the cheeks of the teenagers in her presence. Adrien rumbled louder at the action, causing two sets of chuckles to start up on his sides.

"And I love the both of you too," she spoke sincerely. "But don't think that means I'll let you off for sneaking out this morning."

Marinette pouted. "Pleeeeeaaase? We went to see Alfred to ask him about stuff involving the miraculous."

"Is that true, Kitten?" Selina quizzed, glancing down to the boy in her hug. He looked up with enlarged pupils, that shimmered with innocence as he nodded in agreement.

She sighed. "Fine, but don't let me catch you out by yourselves again, okay?" At their voiced compliance, a grin stretched across her face. "So...what information did you get?"

~*~*~

Magic swirled around Marinette's fingertips - the colour of it a deep red as it began to travel to her elbows and arms. Green from the male beside her coiled with the power, starting from their intertwined hands and creating vines of energy that extended to their hearts.

Warmth flooded hers and Adrien's senses as they inhaled in unison. Ripples of creation and destruction levelled their skin, spreading until it wormed deep into their souls.

Silence thickened the atmosphere.

All of a sudden, there was a slam nearby. They snapped their eyes open, focus broken and instead on Harley Quinn, who had strolled in with shopping bags in her grip.

"Hey, Cuties! Whatcha doing?" she queried out of curiosity.

Two pairs of eyes flared white, as something shot out to the centre of the jester's chest.

~*~*~

"Girl, no way! This is your aunt?"

Marinette chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck in a gesture of nervousness while nodding. Alya sucked in a breath, before scanning over the teenager at her side.

She had strawberry blonde locks tied into two pigtails - that matched her friend's - except for the fact that their tips were dyed crimson and blue. Plastered on her face was a mischievous grin, displaying her emotion to any watching.

"Wow..." the reporter awed. "This is awesome, really, but how did it happen in the first place?"

Adrien lifted a finger, speaking up with, "Uhh...I think I may have an explanation for that. You see, we were trying to cast a de-aging spell so that we could have guardianship over the Miracle Box for longer, but it backfired. Harley was the one hit with our magic and was de-aged to how old we are now."

"Yikes..." Alya said, wincing. "Does Selina know?"

"Nope!" Harley piped up, sporting a bright smirk. "And I plan to keep it that way! Lord knows what she'd do if she found out about ya stupid class."

Marinette grimaced. Her bluebell eyes wandered over to where the students of Miss Bustier's class were. They were all huddled around who she guessed to be Lila - interest on their expressions as she babbled away.

A sigh escaped her lips, making Adrien wrap an arm around her body and pull her in for a tight hug. She beamed, nestling into it with a blush invading her cheeks.

Harley jumped up a few times at the sight, then gestured for Alya to snap a photo. The reporter did so, giggling as the couple soon snapped apart and glared at them.

"I can't believe you guys!" someone shouted out of nowhere, causing everyone in the vicinity to turn their attention to the person. It was Alix, with her arms folded and a scowl marring her features.

"...What?"

"Hanging out with Harley Quinn's daughter?" Ivan scoffed, shaking his head. "No wonder you're working with Hawk Moth, Marinette. You probably want an excuse to fit in with a loser like her."

Adrien grit his teeth, readying himself to defend her, when a firm pat on his back halted his attempt. He frowned, gazing down as the jester in his presence strolled forward with hands on her hips.

The sheer confidence she radiated made many in the class reconsider their arguments, but most chose to remain standing tall. Nino gained a deadpan look, sharing a roll of the eyes with his girlfriend when watching said thing happen.

"What did you just say, Skull Boy?" she questioned, tone edging at a growl as a glint of danger shone in her pupils. "'Cause I'll have you know that my neic- cousin here needs no excuse whatsoever to hang out with me. You, on the other hand, do I'm afraid - along with Sausage-Hair over there."

She pointed to Lila, who reared back and forced several tears to well up in her eyes. Mylene rushed to comfort her, along with Rose and Juleka.

"Wait, 'cousin'?" Kim quizzed, glancing back and forth between the two with furrowed brows as if the answer would come to him.

"Yeah. Marinette here, daughter of my aunt Cat Woman and my cousin, is worthy of hanging out with me, and so are her friends. That excludes you children, so feel free to scatter before I make ya."

Marinette opened her mouth to talk, yet was stopped by Adrien's gentle grip on her shoulder and the shaking of his head. She pursed her lips, staying still as her classmates clearly weren't perturbed by the blonde girl's words.

"She's not the daughter of Cat Woman!" Lila sobbed, while fat streams of water mixed with mascara gushed down her cheeks. "I'm her honorary niece! She even stole a diamond necklace as a birthday gift since she adores me so much!"

The baker blinked in surprise, not noticing the grin that lit up Harley's face as she lifted a hand up and clicked her fingers, commanding, "Bud, Lou!"

There were yelps from nearby, that were followed by two large cats suddenly jumping into the hotel lobby with their fangs bared. Lou lunged for an orange bag on a coffee table to the side, soon sinking her teeth in and tearing through cheap fabric.

The other ran over to Adrien, who didn't so much as flinch as he began to pet Bud's fur. She drooled, leaning closer as Marinette also reached out to do the same as her boyfriend.

Harley laughed, opening her arms wide to allow Lou to charge in for a huge embrace. She licked her face, leaving trails of saliva that the clown didn't even bother to wipe off.

Lila shrieked, stumbling onto the floor as the students around her crouched behind pieces of furniture in an attempt to hide. Alya simply held her phone up, recording the scene with a small smile.

Behind a pane of glass on a higher level, a female in black attire chuckled. The goggles she usually wore were settled atop her head.

At her shoulder, a cat kwami sat, cackling at the pure chaos that emanated from within the building.

~*~*~

@northernbluetongue @moonystars14 @soupfilledboots @vixen-uchiha @starsshineandgivehope @professionalfangirl1738 @queen-in-a-flower-crown @pale-lady-dreamer 

[corruption-exe]

My OCs, Lily and Lloyd

Hi! I decided to share my OCs to the whole world. Please be nice. I worked so hard on their personalities and development.

Keefe has two cousins. One boy and one girl. They’re both his age (yes, twins)

The boy’s name is Lloyd and the girl’s name is Lily. Lloyd is in the same Foxfire level as Keefe (and Fitz) and he knows the others.

Their Dad died when they were 5 and their mother died because of a light-leaping accident a year before. Lord Cactus took custody of Lloyd, forgetting that he had a niece. Their grandfather and aunt, Elijah and Eva Vixen, took Lily in.

She’s trained in goblin martial arts and knows how to tend to plants, due to growing up around gnomes and her father and grandfather’s jobs being negotiators, usually working around goblins. 

She secretly manifested as an Empath when she and Lloyd were 12, but kept to herself about it. Even her aunt and grandfather didn’t know about it at first.

She locked herself up in the library and her room to keep others from knowing. She learned Empathy through some very specific books and knows how to do things that Foxfire mentors don’t.

Eventually, they (her grandfather and aunt) found out and kept it a secret for her since it was her decision to do so.

She makes savage comebacks that can hurt and she could roast you quicker than a steak in a human neighborhood cookout. Underneath all that, she’s a good person and is kind, but she doesn’t express affection much.

Lloyd is like Sokka from Avatar. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that he can make elaborate plans, but he could be pretty stupid.

Also, he could make pretty good comebacks and can bake some stuff. That’s all I could say about his personality traits.

Lily has pale ivory skin, ice blue eyes(they look like ice. when she's mad or sad, it looks like cracking ice, when she's happy or excited, it looks like thick ice), heart shaped lips, wavy, dyed blond hair (so that people didn't confuse her for her mom. she eventually dyes it back to its natural black, and adds purple tips), high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and dimples (yes, i overobsess about appearances).

Lloyd, erm, looks like Keefe with sky blue eyes? Look, I don't pay much attention to Lloyd. I only really thought of him when I realized Lily was too lonely.

Anyways, I'll post the first chapter soon!

[alexthegamingboy]

Toonami Weekly Recap 9/18/2021

Fena: Pirate Princess EP#05 - The Burning Sea: Abel describes to Fena that the portrait of her mother was made by him and is lacking some colors to make it complete. As the Bonito II surfaces, the crew all decide to chase after Yukimaru and rescue Fena with him. Meanwhile, the Rumble Rose begins its attack run on the Blue Giant. Abel decides to test the "Wellington Cannon" that was supposed to be used during a siege on them, blowing up the entire pirate ship and its crew in one shot. Fena suffers from shellshock, the burning wreckage and the British sailors reminding her of the attack on her father's ship ten years ago which the British Royal Army was also involved in. As the Captain of the Blue Giant demands she be thrown in the brig, Fena cries out for Yukimaru who arrives in time to start attacking the sailors, but he is shot twice by Abel's tri-barrel gun. Yukimaru recognizes Abel from the attack on Franz's ship as he collapses from his wounds. Suddenly, the rest of the Goblin Knights arrive and manage to escape the Blue Giant with Fena and Yukimaru, but both are unconscious as the group retreats to the Bonito II.

Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon EP#12 - Night of the New Moon and the Black-haired Towa: Konton tasks Nikosen, a sage-turned-apparition demon, of annihilating the Half-Demon Princesses and attaining their Rainbow Pearls. At the village, Towa and Setsuna accepts the mission of slaying Nikosen from Kohaku while Moroha helps local villagers in destroying the demon for his bounty. Towa and Setsuna come to join her but are attacked by Nikosen who demands the rainbow pearls they possess. Towa attempts to join her twin sister and cousin in battle, but her light blue energy blade does not form, which concerns her and puzzles Setsuna, as she can hear her heartbeat louder than she should. Moroha tries to use her Kurikaramaru but is unable to slice through Nikosen. In retaliation, Nikosen sends forth a stream of poison that affects and weakens Towa. Setsuna gives her a poison-shielding mask and tells Moroha to take care of Towa while she fights the demon. As Moroha helps an unconscious Towa across a bridge, she notices the change in Towa's hair color and length but is blocked by Nikosen's torso. In midair on Kiara, Setsuna attacks an illusion of Nioksen's head which is undo by the assistance of Hisui and his fellow Demon-Slayers. Finding shelter in a cave, Moroha is surprised that she smells the sent of human on Towa and learns from Myoga that Towa's predicament is because of the new moon which is different for every half-demon, with the exception of the late Naraku who was capable of choosing a night of his own free will. Towa is concerned that Setsuna has experienced the exact same transformation and wants to go find her. With Myoga's aid, Moroha infuses her spiritual powers into sutras to erect a blue sacred barrier to protect Towa. As Setsuna retains her full abilities, Moroha deduces that because her memories were taken from her by the Dream Butterfly, the laws of the new moon no longer apply to her. Taking advantage of this fact, Setsuna manages to hold off Nikosen who hopes to eat her and gain strength from her. Fortunately, daybreak comes and restores Towa's dog-demon abilities, ending in her using her charged sword to wipe him out completely. Having witnessed the whole battle in fire he created, Konton states how good a show it was and smiles in satisfaction, now aware of their weakness.

My Hero Academia Season 5 (My Villain Academia: Paranormal Liberation War Arc) EP#108 (20): My Villain Academia: Two months earlier, Gigantomachia appears before the League of Villains, declaring Shigaraki unworthy of being All For One’s successor. During the attack, the League is teleported to the lab of Doctor Ujiko, All For One’s assistant. The doctor intends to help Shigaraki in his goal of destroying everything that irritates him, but before Shigaraki can be granted power, he must defeat Gigantomachia. The League returns to Machia, while Dr. Ujiko asks Dabi to help him test out a High-End Nomu. A month and a half later, the League of Villains have made no progress in defeating Machia, but Shigaraki's strength and skill has been increasing. Intending to talk to the Giran, Twice is alarmed to find out that the League's Broker has been captured and tortured by Re-Destro, leader of the Meta Liberation Army. Re-Destro invites the League of Villains to Deika City to face an ultimatum. Shigaraki accepts, smiling at the prospect of Machia crushing his challenger’s forces.

Food Wars: The Fourth Plate (Promotion Exams Arc) EP#66 (05) - You're Done For, Fool: The judges find that Megumi hid an apple confiture in the center of her dorayaki. Despite this, the judges vote 2-1 in favor of Momo, citing that the bitter taste of the confiture overpowered the apple butter. However, Momo acknowledges Megumi's skill and potential. Meanwhile, Takumi decides to cook a pizza with shigureni beef. However, when Takumi puts his pizza in the oven, Eizan reveals his dish is a roast beef with cream sauce incorporating artichokes. He points out the cynarine in the artichokes will cause the judges' taste buds to react more violently to sweet flavors, which will ruin the taste of Takumi's pizza, as shigureni is naturally sweet. After the judges taste Eizan's roast beef, Takumi presents his pizza, which is separated into two halves; one side is purely cheese, and the other has shigureni. Takumi reveals that he predicted Eizan would try to neutralize the taste of his shigureni, so he adjusted his sauce to be more bitter to compensate. The cheese half of the pizza is made of a mix of four cheeses—mozzarella, parmigiano, gorgonzola, and ricotta—which further complements the taste of the shigureni. Impressed with Takumi's ability to make three different dishes complement each other, the judges unanimously declare Takumi the winner.

Black Clover: The Spade Kingdom and the Dark Triad Arc EP#166 - Captain: Yami Sukehiro: Megicula takes over Vanica’s body, shatters the eternal prison and captures Secre. Loropechika is overcome with fear when she realises Megicula has also cursed Undine, and her proximity to Megicula activates her own curse, crippling her with pain. Vanica decides to kill her but Noelle manages to fight back and stab Vanica through the chest. Vanica at first is able to withstand the attack and strike Noelle down but is actually injured from Noelle’s attack. Vanica is impressed and asks Noelle’s name, Noelle replying she is a Clover royal and a Black Bull. Yami and Dante continue their battle, with Dante explaining if they manage to open the tree of Qliphoth he will have access to all Lucifero’s powers, though he is unsure if the same applies to Asta who uses anti-magic. Yami is crushed under a giant boulder but survives and, deciding he must once again surpass his limits, condenses his entire mana zone to just the tip of his sword and creates Death Thrust, which obliterates Dante’s entire torso. Dante’s own Body Magic, boosted by Lucifero’s power, regenerates him in seconds and he reveals makes him incapable of dying. Asta struggles to stand, but to his surprise, Yami announces he cannot win without Asta’s help, and Asta finds the strength to stand beside Yami and they battle Dante together, as equals.

Slightly Damned Page 1025: https://www.sdamned.com/comic/1025