#no offense of you like either of them but i couldn’t find one appealing thing about their personalities

[project1939]

Day 40- Film: Flesh and Fury 

Release date: June 26th, 1952. 

Studio: Universal 

Genre: Sports drama 

Director: Joseph Pevney 

Producer: Leonard Goldstein 

Actors: Tony Curtis, Jan Sterling, Mona Freeman 

Plot Summary: Paul is a deaf-mute boxer whose professional career is really starting. He meets Sonya, who helps him find a big-time manager. Soon Paul and Sonya are engaged, and he is training for the welterweight title. One day a reporter named Ann, whose father was deaf, comes to cover his story. The two of them have a powerful connection, and she brings him to a deaf school where he starts learning to speak. But what about Sonya? And can he actually get an operation to restore some of his hearing? 

My Rating (out of five stars): *** 

If not for the all-around good acting in this, I might not give it three stars. Some of it stretched believability, and some of it veered a little too far into Melodrama City, but overall, it’s not a bad film. 

The Good: 

Tony Curtis. Man, was he pretty when he was young! I can see why girls went crazy for him. All of my movie magazines have had ample coverage of him. But he was also captivating to watch in a way that went beyond his beauty. There’s a vulnerability and a sensitivity with him that is appealing. I was pretty impressed with his acting as well. Having to spend 2/3 of the film without talking was a feat he handled well. 

Jan Sterling. I’ve never seen her in anything before that I’m aware of, but I loved her. When she made her first appearance in the film, I thought for sure she must be the co-star/romantic lead of the picture. She looks amazing and her personality pops off the screen. Unfortunately, the script really let her down in the end. 

Mona Freeman. I didn’t find her as sparkling as Jan Sterling, but I liked the way her character forcefully stood up to anyone who showed prejudice to deaf or mute people. She was clearly painted as the good and wholesome girl, but her character was very educated and intelligent. She wasn't boring. 

The treatment of deafness in the film. Deaf people were treated with respect and as full human beings with qualities besides their deafness. People did kind of baby him a little, but that behavior didn’t seem to be totally condoned. At one point Sonya referred to Paul as “a dummy,” and Ann, whose father was a very successful architect, responded with fury: “This house was built by a dummy! The things in it were acquired by a dummy. The women in it were loved by a dummy.” I found it incredibly moving because not only did she put Sonya in her place and make it clear that word was offensive, but she expressed how much she loved and adored her father.

The Bad: 

I hate boxing. I don’t understand why anyone either fights or watches it. I don’t judge anyone for liking it, it’s just something that holds no appeal for me at all. So I don’t really enjoy boxing films! 

The whole operation thing. It seemed pretty convenient that he was able to regain a significant amount of hearing with one surgery. He also seemed to recover pretty quickly too! 

The way he learned to speak so well and so fast. I know it’s a movie, and Hollywood wouldn’t want a romantic hero to be stumbling badly with words and making awkward imprecise sounds. But it still felt distractingly unbelievable. 

The way Sonya did a 180 near the end. Yes, we knew from the beginning that Sonya wasn’t the most perfect person with the most pure motives, but come on! All of the sudden she just turned into a monster! You couldn’t have created a character with a bigger “villain” sign on her! It made me really angry at the movie, because I liked some of her moral ambiguity before. All of the sudden the movie flipped a crazy switch on her, and I hated it. 

The title. Clearly they just picked a title that sounded sexy and dramatic. There was no logical reason within the story to pick that title. But “flesh” is a big buzzword for sex, so put it in there! And "fury" has a feeling of passion as well, along with some helpful alliteration! That’ll bring in the teenage girls, won’t it? 

[sixofbabycrows]

probably a hot take but i don’t understand how in shadow and bone literally any side character you take is more interesting than alina or mal. like how did leigh manage to come up such cool characters like nikolai or genya or even the darkling but decided to focus the story on a basic teenage girl and her basic teenage boyfriend

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Oh man I was scrambling trough tumblr tag and I saw this LB quote about Aleksander: "The Darkling is beautiful, I wanted to create a leader who was charismatic, appealing, a dictator you could imagine yourself following, an antagonist you couldn't just dismiss. [...] The Darkling is beautiful and broken and had a rough childhood, but he's also a brutal, manipulative monster with no regard for human life. He's dangerous because he's seductive, because he evokes sympathy.

…I just don’t even know when to start with this? Can she come off as anymore ignorant and offensive by trying to sound so woke. I mean “beautiful and broken”?! Are you kidding me?!

(Book Spoilers. Trigger Warning: Trauma and Mental Health)

Hmm well I'm not sure you could really sum it up as a 'rough childhood' more like a rough life filled with alot of trauma that has left him isolated and struggling to form human connections. Also I'm not sure I like the term monster for someone who is made the way they are through trauma and also the line about him having no regard for human life is just false he has lines he wont cross which is why he didn't harm the grisha children in book 3 and he was never going to because he values their lives. To be honest though I had some issues with the way LB dealt with trauma and mental health in the books. Not just with Aleks either but with Sergei too, actually I found the way she treated Sergei and his mental health in the last book rather appalling. Sergei is established as being severely traumatised by losing Marie to the point where he struggles to function properly. I think out of all the characters in the trilogy he's depicted as having the worst trauma, all the other characters have bad dreams and what not but Sergei really does find it debilitating and he struggles with day to day tasks like eating, sleeping and even just walking/travelling takes its toll on him. But Alina's attitude towards Sergei at times was troubling. To be clear though I'm not blaming the character for this as it was just the way she was written but she seems to consider Sergei weak and his mental health a hindrance. Here are some extracts from R&R the first is right after Sergei accidently revealed Genya's real name to Nikolai:

I shot to my feet. “What happened?”

“Sergei let her real name slip. He seems to be taking to heights about as well as he took to caves.” I released a growl of frustration. Genya had played a key role in the Darkling’s plot to depose the King. I’d tried to be patient with Sergei, but now he’d put her in danger and jeopardised our position with Nikolai.

Sergei was nowhere to be found. Probably a good thing, since I didn’t have time to give him the pummelling he deserved.

And like I understand that this must have been a frustrating situation but Alina knows that Sergei is struggling with his trauma and that he didn't mean to cause anyone any harm. I can understand her frustration but I really don't like the line about the 'pummelling he deserves'. I just don't like the suggestion that a person who is clearly suffering from a mental health issue deserves to be punished for making a mistake because of his trauma. Here's another instance where Alina is annoyed at Sergei:

Sergei had slowed us during our fight with the militia. He was unstable. I could apologise, offer useless words, but I didn’t know how to help him, and it didn’t change the fact that we were at war. Sergei had become a liability.

Again I get the frustration but again I have issues with the suggestion that because they are at war Sergei should just pull it together. Or even this image that's being painted that people who have mental health issues are just a burden on those around them. People in real life who suffer with similar mental health issues like depression and anxiety often worry about feeling like a burden to their loved ones so this could be really triggering for them. Then there is this from Baghra:

“We came to find you. What’s the matter with that boy?”

“He’s had a hard time of it,” I said, leading them away from the tank room.

“Who hasn’t?”

“He saw the girl he loved gutted by your son and held her while she died.”

“Suffering is cheap as clay and twice as common. What matters is what each man makes of it."

This one really troubled me because its like LB is saying that you can control your own trauma or decide how the trauma is going to effect you. It's again this suggestion that Sergei is weak because he struggled with his trauma more than others did. But the part that actually kind of disgusted me when I read it and I actually had to stop reading the book for a bit because of how much it upset me is how the characters talk about Sergei after his death. Alina had sent Sergei away because she felt he had become a liability and he then went back to the darkling and told them all the information he had on Alina and co. This move was obviously one born of his trauma and was made out of desperation. On several occasions Sergei has said he is struggling with feeling safe and no matter how hard he tries he never feels safe. Alina even tells us that Sergei had gone back to the darkling looking for reassurance and safety which really makes sense, this man grew up at the LP the one place where grisha could be safe, he grew up under the protection of the darkling. Then he chose to stand with Alina and went through the trauma and grief of losing the woman he loved horrifically in an attack against the LP which was his original safe place. He then never feels safe again so it would make sense for him to go back to what previously had made him feel safe, the LP and the Darkling. But this is what the other characters say about Sergei after he is killed by the darkling:

I sat beside him, unsure what to say. I remembered sitting like this with Sergei in the tank room, searching for words of comfort and failing. Had he been scheming then, manipulating me? His fear had certainly seemed real.

Abruptly, Zoya said, “I should have known Sergei couldn’t be trusted. He was always a weakling.”

Though that seemed unfair, I let it pass.

“Oncat never liked him,” Harshaw added.

Genya fed a branch to the fire. “Do you think he was planning it all along?”

“I’ve been wondering that,” I admitted. “I thought he’d be better once we got out of the White Cathedral and the tunnels, but he almost seemed worse, more anxious.”

Abruptly, Adrik snarled, “I’m glad Sergei’s dead. I’m just sorry I didn’t get to wring his neck myself.”

Steel is earned. Adrik had that steel, and so did Nadia. She’d proven it again in our flight from the Elbjen. A part of me had wondered what Tamar saw in her. But Nadia had been in some of the worst fighting at the Little Palace. She’d lost her best friend and the life she’d always known. Yet she hadn’t fallen apart like Sergei or chosen life underground like Maxim. Through all of it, she’d stayed steady.

And yes again I understand why they feel betrayed but they knew that Sergei was struggling and instead of understanding that Alina is accusing him of manipulating her and Zoya is saying he couldn't be trusted and that he was a weakling. To be honest it kind of reminds me of the way people talk about the darkling. Instead of recognising their trauma and trying to understand they jump straight to well they were a bad, untrustworthy person who was manipulating me.

Then there is the last part where Alina is thinking about how Adrik and Nadia are strong because although they faced trauma they were able to keep going and keep fighting but not Sergei, Sergei was crippled by his grief and his trauma and this means he was weak. Maybe its because I have struggled with crippling mental health issues myself where I couldn't even get out of bed let alone do anything else but I just found this implication that Sergei was weak really offensive to those who do struggle that way. People deal with trauma in different ways and whilst some people can fight through it and will just have a keep calm and carry on attitude others can't, others just fall apart, but that doesn't make them weak. I also don't think this 'just carry on and push through it' attitude towards mental health issues is necessarily a healthy message. If you need help then you should ask for it and be able to have access to it. LB could have used this as an opportunity to show a character who is severely traumatised getting support and help to work through his trauma and heal. But I feel like nobody really helped Sergei and any comfort or support he got seemed to be grudgingly given and there was more of an attitude of I'll try to help you because your issues are a hindrance to me than because any of the characters actually cared about him and wanted to help him.

Sergei and the Darkling were both characters that were 'beautiful and broken' but neither one of them was given the support or help they needed. Instead they were painted as either weak or as a monster. So what kind of message does this send to readers who also struggle with trauma and mental health conditions?

[thebadchoicemachine]

Petting Party (pt 1)

Rundown of dimensions AU: Quackity’s from 1920s dimension called Prowa, Schlatt and Charlie are his business partners *cough found family cough* and they run a casino/speakeasy. Sapnap is a knight from a fantasy dimension called Quarry. Karl is like Dr.Who. 

tw - Mentions of guns and alcohol (1920s mobster dimension)

 This is really just the fluffiest full I have ever written. 

•••

@thecatchat

•••

•••

Quackity walked through his rooms, digging around drawers for his keys. He squawked a little in frustration as he rummaged. He felt so paranoid, like he was already short on time even though he was about half an hour early and it’s not like Sapnap or Karl would mind waiting. He just wanted this to go perfectly. They’d had dates in his world before, they’d even had proper ones where they weren’t running from cops or mobsters or some other guns/knife/bat-wielding foes. Heh, foes. He was starting to think like Sapnap… and he was starting to feel like Karl— where was his damn key? Karl had literal worlds full of stuff to keep track of, it only made sense he got turned around and mixed up, what was Quackity’s excuse? 

Finally, a glint caught his eye and he snatched up the silver piece of metal, stuffing it into his sleeve and practically skipping to the front. Their home was really just the back half of the casino so he just walked through into the back room. Schlatt and Charlie were sitting at a table, various game pieces scattered across the top, counting cards, chips, and cash. Charlie seemed to be in the middle of a failed game of solitaire and was stacking up a house of cards while Schlatt was just old-fashioned sorting, looking rather bored. It was a quiet night for them. Probably a few drinks and catching up till bed after they double-check the games for cheating. Quackity would usually join them but it wasn’t strange for him not to show. He gave them a wave as he walked past, motion enough for them to look up and acknowledge him. 

Schlatt only glanced up before returning to his work. “What’s with the getup?” 

“I told youse, I’m going out tonight.” 

“Doesn’t answer my question.” 

“I’m going out to meet my partners.” Quackity struck a joking pose. “No harm in good impressions.” 

“Hey,” Charlie frowned childishly, “aren’t we your partners?” 

Quackity chuckled, rolling his eyes, “Of course. My new partners, then. Actually, lemme see a cut of that doe, I wanna butter ‘em up tonight.” He snatched a few bills from the table and turned to make his exit. 

“Wait,” Schlatt commanded, still barely looking up from his work. “Partners like you’re out for coffee to discuss getting new tables?” He took a sharp bite of his apple, eyes lazily growing dark. “Or do youse mean partners like I outta trail behind... y’know, keep you from gettin’ lead poisoning.” 

“Uh...” Quackity blinked. “Partners like I’m off to a petting party.”  

Schlatt choked. Charlie laughed while he coughed, moving to pat his back and smiled at Quackity. “Well, good luck.” 

Quackity narrowed his eyes as he was almost certain he caught a ‘all knows you need it’ under Charlie’s breath. He played it cool and simply snapped, “Hey, I don’t need no luck. Certainly not from you.” 

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to offend.” Charlie held his hands up, grin still plastering his face. “Was just wishing you the best.” 

“Yeah... yeah,” Schlatt nodded, coming out of his state but still red-faced. Whether it was from embarrassment or lack of air Quackity couldn’t tell. He rolled his eyes again, smiling but waving goodbye without giving them a chance to drag him onto another conversation.

He stepped into the front, waiting patiently by the front of the door. Karl had said they’d meet him at the Vidrio, but should he wait inside or out? He paced, routinely adjusting his feathered headband and combing the actual feathers on his wings. He still worried he was overdressing a little but when he tried to lessen his look he panicked about underdressing. He wanted to look good for his boyfriends, a bit of makeup wouldn’t hurt that... would it? In the end, he’d settled on a simple pale blue dress, eyeliner, and a small headband. Nothing too gaudy but he still looked good. He looked good in everything, of course, he had absolutely nothing to worry about. So why was he all jittery? What, was he suddenly a dud? It didn’t matter. It was probably just because of the surprise factor. 

He’d assumed they would come and get outfits at his place (no offense to them, they just really couldn’t go the way they usually dressed) but Karl had insisted they pick him up like a “proper date.” He didn’t know what Karl knew about proper dates or when he’d started to care about them, most of their dates involved some form of running for their lives. Quackity wasn’t complaining but he’d be lying if he said the idea of just being a snuggle pup for a change wasn’t wildly appealing, especially if it meant getting to have Sapnap and Karl got to hang out in his world and not just flee and sneak. There were some nice things here he felt he never got to show them. 

He sunk into himself, suddenly feeling ashamed. It was bad manners, it was. Combining his work and love life to the point he may as well have made chumps out of his own boyfriends. He knew they didn’t mind, it was all new and fun for them and he was pretty sure Sapnap did the same thing. (He wasn’t entirely sure what his job was, like a knight sure but where was the line between work and just regular old Quarrian life?) Still. He should take them dancing more or something. Technically, that’s what he was doing here but he’d like to make a better habit of it, it really sounded like the bees- 

A bright, impossible, but familiar, swirl interrupted his thoughts. He straightened himself, quickly fixing his headband one last time. His heart was pounding out of his chest— but not because he was nervous, because he was excited. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling like a giddy sap as out from the portal stepped Karl and Sapnap. His breath was caught in his throat as he got a good look at them. He wasn’t sure what he expected, nothing bad, but he mentally made a note to give them an apology for being SO wrong. Whatever he’d imagined, they looked a million times better. 

Sapnap was in a white dress shirt. He had on a maroon vest and black tie he clearly didn’t know how to wear but wore well nonetheless. He had his hair slicked back, completely showing his pretty silvery, misty, eyes. Quackity noted the headband he usually wore in his hair was tied in a ribbon around his neck. Sapnap just couldn’t be without it, he warmly mused. 

Karl had on something with colors in patterns like Quackity had never seen before, not in his world at least, which— of course, it was Karl. Beautiful, strange, mysterious, adorable Karl. The top of the pantsuit was made of several pale shades of green. They washed over it like waves of seafoam, a strip of pale purple lace swirled around it, almost mimicking a deconstructed form of his usual crazy attire. A herringbone cap was pulled over his head, shaping brown curls. 

Quackity stared, absolutely gobsmacked, until his brain caught up to his eyes. Sapnap was saying something and waving his hand a little. Quackity blinked, shaking himself out of it. Egad, he was goofy for them. Luckily, Karl and Sapnap didn’t seem to mind his zoning out. In fact, Karl seemed to find it tickling, he clearly held in a giggle as Quackity snapped to. Quackity guessed this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself stunned. It certainly wouldn’t be the last either. 

“Hey, jackpot,” Sapnap gently flicked his forehead. “I asked how you think we look.”  

“You... good. You look good. Mmhmm,” he managed to squeak out, finally remembering to close his mouth. Slick. He was slick. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Karl chuckled. “I know you don’t really trust me to dress myself for nice places in Prowa.” 

“Hey, I never said I didn’t trust you!”

“You never said it, no.”

Quackity gave Karl a small punch in the shoulder. He flinched way more than was warranted, stumbling dramatically, but a broad smile settled on both their faces. 

“Aw, sugar! Did I hurt you?” 

“Yes!” 

“Hey, hey! Sir,” Sapnap stepped between them, also joking. “What is wrong with you, daring to assault my beloved in front of me?”  He threateningly toward over Quackity, grabbing his shoulders and backing him up against the wall. His eyes flickered with playful malice. He leaned in close, expression caught between a smirk and a snarl, completely aware of the growing blush on Quackity’s face. “I’ve half a mind to challenge you, and another half to crush you right here for your audacity.” 

“Aw, my knight in shining armor,” Karl sarcastically patted Sapnap’s shoulder, thoroughly less impressed by the display than Quackity. “Whatever would I do without you here to defend me from this sweet, cuddly, small, duckling?”

“Hey!” Quackity snapped defensively. “I could fuck you up if I-“ 

“Ey, Q! Have you seen-“ Schlatt stopped upon seeing the scene, turning on his heel and walking right back into the back. “Nevermind. Not my business. None of my business. Absolutely not my business…” 

“I-“ Sapnap dropped his boyfriend (who crumpled onto the floor in laughter), instantly turning a shade twelve times redder than Quackity had been. “I am so sorry.” 

“Ah- Schlatt?” Karl called over Quackity’s wheezing. “Schlatt, it’s fine-“

“NONE OF MY BUSINESS!” A shout came from the backroom. 

Quackity dropped his face into his hands, his chortling turned to full hysterics as he sat curled up against the wall. His dress, which he had been so unreasonable nervous about moments before, creased and probably picked up some grime from the floor. He didn’t care at all. Now that his boyfriends were actually beside him he could care less if he was painted green and orange. He had no one to impress, at least no one who would let anything bad happen over a stupid look. “Oh,” he snickered, the burst dying down. “Oh wow.” He wiped his eyes as jubilant tears stung, apathetic as he’d become he hoped his makeup didn’t run. It wasn’t necessary but he’d still like to look nice for the occasion. He pulled himself to his feet, brushing off his outfit and sighing. “Ah. He’s got a point though, really should be saving that for the party.”

“Speaking of which—“ Karl snapped his fingers in a jazzy rhythm. “Are we ready to go?” 

“Yes, let’s!” Sapnap turned with Karl as all three of them began to speed out the door.

Quackity made sure to bump in front of them before they made it out, he was not letting Karl anywhere near the wheel.  

The car ride was bright and lively although quiet. Quackity couldn’t help but grin just being next to these goons, one could practically feel Karl vibrating with excitement in the back, even Sapnap seemed to be enjoying the drive (he’d never quite gotten over the time Karl had offered to drive... Quackity could barely blame him for remaining he cautious and paranoid around automobiles). The blanched twilight hummed overhead as they made their way through the streets. It was relatively empty this time of night, too late for errands but just before everything started to swing. They pulled into the end of the road and all stepped out.

“It’s a bit of a walk the rest of the way,” Quackity explained. “Especially cause ‘s considered… ‘impolite’ to pull attention.” 

“Hmm…” Sapnap nodded, glancing behind them.

“What’s up?” Karl put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Nothing.” 

“You sure?” 

“It’s fine, I just-“ 

“Just what?” 

“Uh, maybewecouldgoseeSchlattandCharlie?”

“Huh?” Karl blinked. 

“Is… Schlatt and Charlie coming? Could we go get them?”

“N-no?” Quackity stammered, surprised to say the least. “This— uh- ain’t exactly the kind of party you bring your family to. Not ‘less they got dates of their own... and you know Charlie ain’t keen on that stuff.”

“Okay, well, maybe we could spend some time with them for a while at the casino? Before we commit here. The night is young!”

“I means, I’m pumped for your sudden urge to hang out with them and all, but I kind of wanted to spend time with the two of you.”

“Ah-“ Sapnap shrunk into himself. “Of course, I- me as well, I’m so sorry to imply otherwise. I was just thinking Charlie may like to hear about the slimes...” He trailed off, fiddling with the headband around his neck, just the slightest hint of panic on his face. He was very good at hiding it but Quackity and Karl knew him better than that. They shared a glance, this had nothing to do with Charlie. 

“Spice, are youse nervous?” 

“N-no!” 

“You sure? We don’t gots to do nothing you don’t wanna.” 

“Yeah, it’s just-“ 

“Chivalry and all that?” Karl chimed in, sympathetic. “I know our courting isn’t exactly conventional.” 

“No. Well, not exactly. Ah... think I’m merely... flustered?” 

“Flustered?” They spoke at once. 

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… romance in my world is so different. Much more complicated. It involves a lot of the other’s family and specific sets or roles for meetings, it changes depending on how long you’ve been together and what kingdoms you hail from, so such and so forth. I’ve never been a martinet for the rules but, the way you describe these kinds of parties, I- I- find myself… lost.” 

Karl blinked. “So, you’re used to having a bunch of guidelines and, while you don’t miss them, are floundering without the stencil?” Sapnap nodded at the ground. He took a breath and shook his head, clearing his mind before bowing slightly. He held his left arm over his chest, middle knuckle up with his pinky and thumb slightly out, keeping the rest of his hand balled in a fist. Quackity recognized the symbol by now as something like a salute of the Nether kingdom. It was used to show respect while speaking. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes, remembering the formality was only habit. 

“I apologize for my trepidation,” Sapnap held a bashful tone. “I am just not used to courti-“ he paused, searching for the word, “dates being so… open. I don’t mean that as an insult to your world! I only-.” 

“Okay, buddy,” Quackity pushed Sapnap upright by his shoulders. He seemed confused but obliged. “I get it’s polite and nice for you but, if you really love me, please never do this again.” 

“Do... what?” 

“You have a habit of getting all formal when you’re worried you’re messing up with us.” Karl shrugged. 

“I do?” 

“I don’t know.” Quackity tapped his chin. “Let’s see.” Without warning, he grabbed Sapnap by the shoulders and takes him downward, planting a firm kiss right on his lips. He tensed a little as he felt a sudden wave of hotness wash over him (that was to be expected from surprising a demon) but stayed in the moment. As he pulled away, Sapnap blinked a few times, stunned although the faintest hint of a smile shone through. His gelled hair fell just a little messy.

“What the fuck, Quackity?” 

“There we go! Back to normal! You see the difference?”

“I- I guess so!” He nodded, a look of mild surprise mixing his comprehension as if he’d just realized what color his own eyes were. 

“Now, did youse like that?”

“Yes?”

“You want more?” 

“Yes...”

“You wanna go inside?” 

“Yeah.” Sapnap energetically nodded, slamming the car door shut, slicking back his hair again, and holding out his arms. “Yes, I do.”

Karl jumped between them, linking arms on his side before Quackity had the chance, and holding out his own instead. Quackity shot him a look but took it, joined by Sapnap in confusion at the sudden demand to be in the middle. Karl only smiled as they made their way down the street, nearly skipping at the attention until he lowly murmured, “So��� do I get a kiss?” Quackity opened his mouth, smiling, but was cut off by Sapnap swiftly swooping in and planting one on Karl’s cheek.

“Oh- you-!” Quackity squawked, envy and agitation peaking his tone. “I was gonna-!” 

“Well, I did.” 

“Boys, boys, I do have two hands… and two cheeks,” Karl half-sang, leaning over to Quackity awaiting his kiss. 

“Oh, no. Fuck you. You’re gonna have to wait for it now,” Quackity pouted. Sapnap let out a taunting laugh as Karl gasped in mock offense. Well, probably mock. Regardless, Quackity only smirked and turned to face a door in the wall next to them. “Besides, we’re here!” He unlinked his arm, rattling out a little pattern into the door. It opened slowly, revealing a dapperly dressed serpentine blocking the view inside. He smiled wildly as the warm smells and colors hit him regardless, it had been a while since he’d been to one of these, long before he ever met them and certainly not while they were dating, but he missed them. 

He couldn’t wait to share this.

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 1

-no hate (this is merely my humble opinion) but i strongly dislike tom hughes as tom riddle, and here’s why-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

Just personally, this fancast induces a lot of cognitive dissonance for me, but this is the first time I’ve been able to sit down and articulate properly why it always throws me for a loop.

Now, does he fit the visual/aesthetic archetype?

Yes. I understand completely why people like this fancast. We know that he is studious, intellectual, and (at the time people generally fancast him for) involved in the criminal underground, and he more-or-less fits the physical description.

And, to be clear, it’s not that I don’t think Tom Hughes could play Tom Riddle, it’s that I don’t think the character he plays in the fancasts is a close enough approximation of Tom Riddle.

For me, herein lies the issue.

Tom Riddle’s character is all about the emotions bubbling under the surface. He’s a disaster waiting to happen -- he’s angry, he’s lonely, he wants revenge, he feels empty and hopeless and desperate, he’s irrational...

Not sure what movie/show the Tom Hughes clips come from, but the character he plays isn’t that at all. the character he plays is very self-possessed, poised, self-aware. Reflective. Remorseful (there are clips of him crying when/after he shoots someone). Introspective. 

That, to me, is not Tom Riddle at all. 

Yes, he does deal with moral conflict, but it’s never at the forefront of his mind. It’s not something he’s constantly grappling with. He doesn’t really... brood in this Hamlet-esque way.

Tom doesn’t think. Sure, he plans, he ruminates, he rationalizes a posteriori. But he’s very unaware of himself (in fact, it’s one of his fatal flaws). It’s not that he doesn’t have emotions; just that his internal state is a mystery most of the time.

He doesn’t connect with his own emotions; he is completely estranged from them. Tom cannot tell you whether he is happy or sad (not just because of his pride). He keeps his emotions and moral compass (which are highly uncomfortable things), in a locked little box, swallows the key, and disregards them. And yet, this character connects so deeply with his emotions that even the audience can see exactly what he’s going through. 

(There’s an openness -- an ease of vulnerability -- that Tom Riddle doesn’t have)

The thing about Tom, is that he hates himself just as much as he hates everyone around him. Creating Horcruxes to save himself from death is not an act of self-love, or even narcissism to the extreme; instead, forcibly ripping your own soul seven times is the most literally and metaphorically self-destructive thing a person could possibly do.

"Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction —"

If we go all the way back to Book 1, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, you’ll remember that the eponymous material (first described in the Epic of Gilgamesh) is capable of producing the Elixir of Life, a magical substance that makes its drinker immortal, as long as you have a steady supply. Not only that, but according to the beliefs of historical alchemists (such as Nicholas Flamel), it was capable of curing any disease. In the alchemical tradition, it symbolized perfection, enlightenment, and heavenly bliss.

If all Tom Riddle was concerned about was prolonging his life, this is the obvious (and better) option.

Here’s the alchemical symbol of the Philosopher’s Stone. Looks kind of like the Deathly Hallows symbol, right? It represents the interplay of the (at the time, believed) four elements of matter -- a sort of periodic table, if you will.

The mature Philosopher’s Stone was believed to be a red stone (for making gold), and the immature one a white stone (for making silver). Rubeus Hagrid and Albus Dumbledore, anyone??

"So he's made himself impossible to kill by murdering other people?" said Harry. "Why couldn't he make a Sorcerer's Stone, or steal one, if he was so interested in immortality?"

And Dumbledore responds:

"But there are several reasons why, I think, a Sorcerer's Stone would appeal less than Horcruxes to Lord Voldemort.”

"While the Elixir of Life does indeed extend life, it must be drunk regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker is to maintain the immortality. Therefore, Voldemort would be entirely dependent on the Elixir, and if it ran out, or was contaminated, or if the Stone was stolen, he would die just like any other man. Voldemort likes to operate alone, remember. I believe that he would have found the thought of being dependent, even on the Elixir, intolerable...”

And while, yes, he did try to steal it rather than make it, I am sure that in the time it took Tom to make all of his Horcruxes, he could have learned enough alchemy to produce it for himself (or wheedled the information out of Nicholas Flamel). While Dumbledore hypothesizes that it’s because Tom hates feeling dependent, this must be irony, because he spends the first book as a literal parasite, the next three as a virtually helpless creature, and the remainder still reliant on his Horcruxes.

"Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

But, like me, Dumbledore is making guesses at Tom Riddle’s internal state, and in this case, I think, he’s made an oversight. Horcruxes make him equally as dependent as the Philosopher’s Stone would have. It’s been established in canon that you cannot make yourself immortal without help; either you rely on the continued existence of your Horcruxes or your supply of the Elixir.

And while the Elixir represents the positive aspects of eternal life, like renewal, rebirth, and the cyclical nature of the universe (see above the ouroboros of Cleopatra the Alchemist, one of the four women who knew how to make the philosopher's stone), a Horcrux is antithetical to life. It represents disorder, and once the creator of Horcruxes dies, they are unable to move on from Limbo -- shut out of the cycle. Harry describes Tom’s mangled soul as looking like a flayed and mutilated baby -- permanently immature and stagnant.

This theme of destruction is furthered by the Golden Trio’s discussion on how to reverse the process:

Ron: "Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?"

Hermione: "Yes, but it would be excruciatingly painful."

Harry: "Why? How do you do it?"

Hermione: "Remorse. You've got to really feel what you've done. There’s a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can’t see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

With this in mind, we can surmise that Tom is either (a) impatient, which we know he is not (b) there was some deeper reason for favouring Horcruxes -- so, yes, I believe that either metaphorically or literally, this was self-harming behaviour.

He takes on the name of Lord Voldemort because he hates himself, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He hates the Muggle part of himself so much that he’s willing to tear apart his entire being. 

"Voldemort, is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..."

If that isn’t renouncement of himself, I don’t know what is. He was clearly not born Voldemort.

While of course, this does NOT excuse ANY of his actions, I find it vastly implausible that the likes of Malfoy, Mulciber, Carrow, etc... would have been welcoming in any way, shape or form to an assumed ‘Mudblood’ in scruffy secondhand robes from a London orphanage, and as such, indoctrinated him into his fanatic belief in blood-purity via antagonizing him. 

(Imagine Hermione, but poor and without parents, in the 1930s/40s. She would not have been treated well in Slytherin, either.)

Children are more vicious than you think. And while Tom probably gave as good as he got at Wool’s Orphanage (and was possibly an active aggressor himself), Hogwarts wouldn’t have been a level playing-field. (I’ll talk a bit about this and the significance of the Gaunt Ring in Part 2).

In other terms, I think Tom was bullied for having dubious origins. That’s often the swiftest way to radicalize someone, and would have left Tom with a crippling sense of self-hatred that I don’t think he would have even picked up from the orphanage.

(And it’s possibly this early experience with relational aggression that results in his constant need to be on the offensive/defensive, distrust of others, and fear of vulnerability. To me, this is an archetypal response of someone who was a past victim of bullying.)

Why else would an extremely powerful half-blood subscribe so strongly to those beliefs? (Rather than discriminating via amount of raw power or something -- because what Tom is immensely proud of when Dumbledore meets him is his ability, not his parentage). But I digress.

Now, Tom Riddle is never, ever quietly menacing like this. The mask is either completely on or completely off. We never see this character angry. Tom Riddle, when the mask slips off, is fury incarnate. Anger is the one emotion he doesn’t find weak; the one emotion he’s completely and utterly honest with.

Besides, that brings me to my next point. Tom’s not quite so austere. In fact, he’s quite witty, and often quite pleased with himself.

Just look at the difference in their body language. Tom has much more fluidity (he’s circling Harry, the head-tilt, the eyebrows move and he smiles a bit) than the other character, who has so much tension. Yes, they’re both menacing, but in completely different ways. Tom is comfortable with his actions, no matter how shitty they are. This other guy doesn’t like doing what he’s doing, but he’s going to do it, anyway.

Contrasted with the above, Tom’s unawareness of himself is such that we end up with a character who has a bizarre mix of extreme self-hatred and high self-esteem -- he always believes he is in the right -- in this case, doing Salazar Slytherin’s noble work -- while going to extreme, self-destructive lengths, such as tearing himself in half at the mere age of sixteen.

So, sorry... I kind of get the appeal, but... I don’t like the fancast. 

(More unpopular opinions coming at 5:30 PM EDT tomorrow!)

[enigma-im]

Something About Her

Rating: General Relationship: Alien x F!Human Warning: Meet-cute, Stowaway on a ship, Confessing feelings, fluff

Word Count: 2756

Little stowaway endears herself to the ship's captain via botched escape attempts

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

The captain is far too busy. Working upon a freighter has never left room for idle joys. Every second is spent working for this poor man. Even conversations from his workers are sorted by category: important and not. If it can be handled without his help then he can't bother to remember it. Like his head of security informing him of a stowaway found in one of the unused rooms near the storage is. Once he said that it would be dealt with then he mentally threw it into the 'finished' bin.

Sorting through messages as he walks down the hall he barely pays anything a thought besides the tablet before him. Reaching a fork in the hall he looks up faintly hearing the pitter-patter of bare feet rushing towards him. Looking ahead he catches eyes with someone he doesn't know. The two freeze mid-action, looking to one another confused and cautious.

A woman stands before him, looking outlandish in her ragged clothing on such a prestige ship. She seems well into her age, around 30 if he had to guess based on his limited knowledge of humans. Her hair is wild and untamed like she has just woken. The captain would argue it still looked appealing though unkept. She was all-around attractive to the captain's surprise.

"Hello," he greets conflicted on what to do. A smile tweaks her lips for a moment before voices call from down the hall. The woman jumps into action, running away out of sight down the hall. The captain watches amused as his men run after the female, calling out to her in frantic attempts to cease her escape.

With a snort of a chuckle, the captain eagerly follows the crowd.

ouououo

The next time he meets the strange woman is in his office, a place he assumed was impenetrable to unwanted visitors. He is working at his desk like every day, growing strained at the hours of uninterrupted focus. He is startled by a loud thud by the corner of his room. A thin vent by the wall catches his attention, the noises seemingly coming from there. A critter couldn't have possibly gotten into the walls, right? They haven't been planetside in months, there is no way one founds its way on the ship.

The grate pops out from the floor, a hand following it as it claws at the floor. Another hand soon follows and then a head. The woman gasps as she rests her cheek on the ground, panting from the experience.

"You do know I have a door," the captain joked, smiling to himself. The woman snaps her head up, looking at him frightened. He chuckles, amused beyond belief on how this human managed to crawl through such a small hole. The way her shoulders are pinched strangely tells the captain that it was no easy feat.

After a moment of staring does the woman attempts to crawl back through the vent, shimming frantically. The captain jumps up out of his chair, reaching down and grabbing her arm.

"Now there is no reason to kill yourself going back down there," he scolds. She fights him till her hips tug on the walls of the vent. With a sigh she crawls out, standing before the captain with a stubborn amount of determination. He snickers to himself, adoring her more and more.

"Relax, take a seat," he walks back to his desk, pointing towards the chairs in the room. Confused, the woman looks around for some sort of trap before sitting. The captain plops into his seat, looking to her with an unrestrained smile.

"We haven't been properly introduced," he starts," I am Captain Reebok of the eighth division freighter."

She snorts, "reebok?" He can't help but grin when she says his name.

"That is me," he bows slightly.

"Your name is a shoe brand," she chuckles. He tries to take offense but her laughter numbs that feeling. He lets it pass, resting his head on his fist as he admires her.

"And who might you be," he asks. She stiffens, eyeing him skeptically. He can see the urge for her to run, it's written all over her tense shoulders.

"Monica," she spits out.

"It's lovely to meet you, Monica," he smiles.

uwuwuwuwu

The little human has made herself quite the menace on the ship despite everyone's constant reassurance of her safety. Her denial to speak with everyone has gotten them nowhere in figuring out where she is trying to go, or if she does intend to get somewhere. Though the captain and she have a tendency to cross paths. Those moments seem to be the only time she sits still, talking with him for a while before the crew comes to find her.

With a last-ditch effort, the crew keeps her in a heavily guarded room. No means of escape possible according to the security officer. The arrogant man is so confident in himself with this proclamation.

The captain makes his way down towards Monica's new room, eager to speak with her again. He meets up with the officer on the way, listening to him praise himself for keeping the sneaky human still for days now. The captain hears a bell of foreshadowing ringing every time the officer gloats about his measures.

The officer unlocks the door, smug as he walks in. The captain can almost hear a bell go off again as the officer walks out confused and angry.

The officer looks to his workers," where is she?" The captain bites back a snicker. The two guards look in the room, confused above all else. The three begin arguing, frantically looking for her while the captain takes a leisure stroll down the hall.

He looks to the ceiling, grinning like a fool as he stops. The officer quits his yelling to watch the captain reach up towards the ceiling. He hits a panel, knocking it off with a loud clang. Quickly he jumps up and grabs something, a startled squeak echoing through the hall.

The three security workers watched dumbfounded as the captain cradles the human in his arms, laughing as she huffs in defeat.

"Hello again, miss Monica," he sets her down," I can't wait to hear how you managed to get out this time."

"Wasn't hard, just tedious," she grumbles as she dusts off her shirt. Reebok shakes his head amused before waving her with him as he walks back down the hall.

"Come, I have lunch awaiting us," he says as she trots up beside him.

"Did you get those little cookies," she asks eagerly.

The three security guards watch completely bewildered as the duo walk ahead. They chat amicably like she wasn't just caught trying to escape once again. The officer sighs, this girl is going to be the death of him.

Ououou

"So why are you making my crew run around like a bunch of fools," Reebok finally asks. Monica expected the question at some point, surprised he was more interested in talking about other things first.

Monica lounges back on the couch, looking at reebok upside-down. "At first because I was scared. Stowaways aren't treated well, in my experience. Now, it's for fun," she says as she hangs her arms over the edge to touch the ground.

"I'll admit, watching my head of security get all red-faced is nearly the highlight of my week," he smirks. He fiddles with some work, having not intended to entertain this evening. Though she is currently hiding from the crew, what was he to do but take her in?

"What is the highlight of your week then, if not officer grouchy," she asks. Monica twists onto her stomach, watching him. He works on his tablet, looking as if he isn't paying attention.

"Catching you mid escape. I always adore the conversation after when you explain what happened," he nods to himself," it's not like there is a lot that goes on here besides work. I think the crew secretly enjoys chasing you around, gives them something to do besides stand about."

Monica smiles wide. It's nice to feel wanted for once.

"Is it honestly so boring around here that my company is wanted, even delighted in," she jokes but truly asking.

He shrugs," I don't think it's the sole reason. Speaking for myself here when I say that having you around has been a treat and if offered any other company I'd choose you every time."

"Flirt," she flusters, turning on her back to look at the ceiling. The captain finally sets down his tablet, admiring the woman. He didn't intend to sound flirtatious, it was the truth. He enjoys having her around, even thinking about offering her a job here instead of dropping her off at the next station. Yet, does his feeling go farther than casual feelings? Did he accidentally flirt with her? He hasn't done that in years.

He ponders this well after she sneaks off.

Ououou

It's a good few days of silence that unnerves the captain. He hasn't seen hide nor hair of miss Monica and it's starting to grate on him. It seems that the crew hasn't seen much of her lately either. The revelation that Monica is truly missing shakes the whole crew.

The day they realize she is gone is the day they drop all their work and look for her. The security workers ask everyone the last time they caught her snooping around. A lot of 'he said she said' tells that Monica was last seen a day ago, but only just barely. The captain looks high and low for her, meeting up with the head of security for updates. He is truly worried, feeling panicked at the idea of her hurt somewhere on his ship.

It's late in the day cycle when he finally finds her. He nearly misses her, walking past a room he previously scoped out. Doing a double-take he finds her in a low storage room sitting on the table that rests in the center of the room. She is holding her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knee. The captain sighs, releasing the tension for just a moment.

"Monica," he says, entering the room. She snaps her head up, meeting his worried gaze.

"oh, hey," she fidgets, unclasping her legs in favor of sitting cross-legged. It picks at Reebok that she is looking towards the floor now, not smiling like she usually does. He stops near the table, giving her a once over in hopes of observing what's wrong.

"We've been looking everywhere for you, no one has seen you for a few days," he explains smoothly, keeping his tone low. The timber comforts Monica.

"Sorry," she grumbles," I just wanted some time alone." he nods. The captain understands wanting to be left alone, it's what a lot of his workers crave when crammed together on this ship for months on end. Yet, this is different.

"Is something wrong," he asks.

She shrugs," kind of?"

He ducks down to meet her eyes," do you wanna talk about it?"

She shrugs again, shifting on the table to make room. Reebok catches on, climbing onto the table. He feels a bit ridiculous sitting up there instead of in one of the chairs littering the room but he can't bring himself to care. Instead, he waits patiently for her to speak.

"I'm worried," she starts," I've been here far longer than I meant to. I barely noticed till shortly after leaving the first waystation. It sort of just hit me then. I have never been on a ship this long. Hell, I haven't been caught in so long. Being a stowaway has become easy, jumping from ship to station and back again. That was my life. Now… now it's different. You guys don't treat me like a parasite stealing your food and using you for free rides. Despite the rocky start, you guys are nice. I like it here…"

"And that scares you," he finishes for her.

"yea," she sighs, dropping her shoulders," I like the crew and the mischief they get into. I like the security guys who run around like idiots all day trying to keep up with me. I also like you."

"because I hide you from the idiots trying to keep up with you," he jokes. He manages to get a smile from her, warming his heart.

"No, I just like you," she answers, looking to him," I really like you and I think that's the scariest thing of all."

Reebok is truly caught off guard at this moment. He stares dumbfounded at her, his heart running like a racehorse. So awestruck that he can't even figure what to do. The absents of a reaction rips at Monica, making her curl into herself.

"But that's ok if you don't have those feelings, I just wanted to get it out there. I was planning on leaving at the next station, which I heard is where you guys unload all this stuff. Was kind of funny actually, getting rid of storage while getting rid of the stowaway," she rambles on. Reebok would find this adorable if it wasn't so alarming. Hearing her admit her feelings is euphoric, but hearing her plans of leaving is like a cold shower.

Reebok reaches over and grabs Monica, spreading his legs to tug her between them. He hugs her, cradling her to his body. Her little hands press against his chest, feeling his heart pulse quickly against her palm. He presses a little kiss to her hair, gaining some courage before speaking.

"I don't want you to go," he starts," I've had more fun with you here these past few weeks than my whole time serving for this ship. I want nothing more than for you to stay, work for me, and be a part of my life. I like you, Monica, more than I'm willing to admit right now."

She stiffens, shoulder bunching and fist clenching, as he speaks. The words sounding like a melody to her ears.

"You like me," she asks with glee. Reebok pulls her away to look at her, smiling with a gleam in his eyes.

He presses a kiss to her cheek," of course I do, I'd be a fool otherwise."

Monica flusters, reacting with giddy as she grabs him and kisses him. He grunts, startled before overjoyed. He kisses her back, holding her dear while trying to fight back a wide smile.

"I want you to stay," he parts long enough to say," will you work for me?"

She chuckles, resting her head against his," what a weird proposal." he flounders at that, sputtering on his words. She stops him with a kiss," I'll work for you."

They sit amicably on the table, Reebok holding her as she drifts off to sleep. It seems this problem has weighed heavily on her shoulders for a while now, keeping her up. Though he rather she slept in an actual bed he can't deny wanting her in his arms more.

Steps echo from down the hall, bursting the private bubble they made here. Reebok looking over to the door catches sight of his head of security followed by two guards. He walks through the door, ready to speak before Reebok shushes him. The guards look from him to her, softening as they watch her sleep.

"Glad you found her," the head of security whispers," I'll let the crew know."

Reebok nods," can you also get some employment papers set up?"

He smiles," of course. Glad to have her aboard."

Reebok waves them out before scooting off the table, holding her as he walks out the room. He walks her towards his quarters, letting her rest in his bed for the time till her room can be arranged. Setting her down he tucks her in. He takes a moment to admire her, feeling calm at the view. With a sigh he turns away, thinking about all the neglected work piling up. A hand stops his retreat.

"Don't go," Monica grumbles half asleep. Her hands drop as she fully fades back into slumber, leaving reebok with a choice. He looks to the door then back to her, sighing in clear defeat as he kicks off his shoes.

Reebok crawls into bed behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and falling lax into the bed. Monica clenches his hand in hers, holding it close to her chest with a satisfied hum.

"Night," he kisses her shoulder.

"Night," she mumbles back.

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

Taking next weekend off for posting, be my first weekend this year I won’t post original content. I’m taking the time to finish up the ‘12 tropes for christmas’ stories. I so far have 7 out of 12 done and i’m excited to get them out on Dec. 14th - 25th.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

[masterjedilenawrites]

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 2

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Plan

Pairing: None...yet...

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

The rest of the week saw the three of you using every bit of free time outside your classes and studies to gather information for Thrawn to build a solid plan.

Eli tailed his pesky classmate Arden everywhere, even skipping a class one day to break into his dorm, trying to learn anything about the guy that could be useful to get him involved in the plot. Thrawn analyzed the simulation software and protocols that would be used to administer the tests, mapping out every possible way Commander Burdick could hijack it. And you were the one spying on the Burdick himself. Since the commander didn't seem too interested in your grades, you were able to shadow him without suspicion, and had been able to slip a bug into his offices to eavesdrop on any potential conversations about his plans for sabotage.

Your classmates and the staff were none the wiser. That was the advantage of being social outcasts. Half of them avoided you all like the plague, and the other half already thought you were weird people doing weird things. So it wasn't long before you'd all gotten enough intel to work with.

It was late in the evening at the end of the week. You found yourself in Thrawn and Eli's shared dorm, which looked identical to your own in the opposite wing, because the Empire couldn't bother with things like individuality or comfort. Eli sat on the edge of his top bunk, his legs swinging casually, and his coat unbuttoned to reveal a wrinkled undershirt you knew he hadn't bothered to wash all week. Thrawn paced about in the middle of the room, his long strides only allowing him about four good steps before he had to turn around. He still had his uniform on, boots and badges and all.

You leaned against the railing of the bed, watching Thrawn as he went back and forth. Sometimes he sat still when he was scheming, with his fingers steepled and his gaze seemingly reaching into some unknown dimension beyond your comprehension. That usually happened when he was running through variables that didn't concern you, at least from his perspective. You and Eli had accepted long ago there would always be parts of his plans he would never share with you. He was kind of a control freak like that.

But tonight, he seemed to be more welcoming of collaboration, hence his steady rhythm of pacing in front of you.

"Only one variable remains, as I see it," he was saying. "We understand how the commander will manipulate the system to cause a redundancy in the simulation, thus rendering the test impossible to finish successfully."

You and Eli shared a glance; the only person who truly understood how that was going to happen was Thrawn. He'd tried explaining numerous times but when it came to codes and tech, the two of you weren't able to fully keep up.

"We also know through your investigating," Thrawn motioned to you with what you thought was an impressed look, causing you to feel a little pride, "that the commander plans to only sabotage my test, believing it will be too suspicious if Eli also fails. He will also manipulate his false code to originate from the computer of his former lover Eva Carroway, who currently works in HR. So if an investigation does ensue, it will be traced to her and not him."

You and Eli chuckled under your breaths. It had been a little amusing when you'd discovered Commander Burdick was using this plan to not only undermine Thrawn, but also get revenge on his ex-girlfriend. But even more hilarious was how awkward Thrawn treated the subject. He had been quite perplexed to learn people could be so vindictive after a break-up. And any time he explained that detail of the plan, like he was doing now, he hesitated over his word choice. You couldn't tell if he only pretended to be confused about romantic relations, or if that was truly an area he found himself lost in.

If Thrawn noticed your snickering, he didn't respond to it, only continued to recap the plan. "We have also determined how we will expose the altered code naturally, so it does not cast suspicion on us... What was the word you used?"

"Backfire," said Eli.

"Yes. It would not due to have anyone suspect that we altered the test ourselves, or to have our concerns disregarded altogether. Thus, arranging for the maintenance crew to get a mild case of food poisoning so their performance checks are postponed to occur right before the tests will take care of that variable. At the least, they will fix the altered code and I will take the test as normal. At the most, they will report it and the commander faces expulsion."

"So..." said Eli through a yawn as he stretched. "What's left to work out, then?"

Now it was time for you and Thrawn to share a look.

"Were you not interested in involving your classmate, Arden Fey?" asked Thrawn in his soft, contemplative voice.

Eli shrugged. "Yeah. But Burdick's already got his scapegoat, his ex. So it'll be easier to keep him out of it. Whatever."

You could tell he was trying to be nonchalant. But just this morning, he had spent the entire walk between classes ranting about some new insults Arden had come up with, and how badly he wanted to show the guy up once and for all. You knew your friend wasn't feeling "whatever" about it.

"It's not a matter of ease or difficulty," Thrawn stated plainly. He had stopped pacing and was standing with hands behind his back, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders and the height of his stance. His presence seemed to fill up the whole room, and not for the first time, you were glad to be his friend and not his enemy.

"Yeah," you added in encouragement. "We just have to get creative. Find a way to make Arden a more appealing scapegoat than Burdick's ex. In fact...."

You trailed off as an idea occurred to you. You darted out of the room, surely leaving your two friends perplexed, but you would only be a second. You sprinted down the corridor toward the lifts, where a bulletin hung against the wall with fliers and pamphlets. One notice was a bit larger than the others, a promotion of an upcoming gala event to celebrate the Academy's anniversary. You ripped it off and went racing back to the boys' dorm room.

Eli had come down from the bunk and held a concerned look, probably prepared to follow you if you hadn't returned so quickly. Thrawn was still standing composed, but there was a curiosity in his eyes that made you smile.

You held up the poster in front of your chest. "What do you think the likelihood is of us playing successful matchmakers this week?"

Thrawn understood your idea almost immediately, looking down on you with a pleased smirk. It made you flush a little, to know the Chiss was impressed. You rarely had a chance to contribute good ideas when his mind worked so much faster than yours.

Eli caught on next, and he started to grin, the happiest you'd seen him in a while. His smile was infectious and you grinned back. Happy looked good on him.

"We know Eva's not shy with younger guys," you explained. "Before Burdick, she was fooling around with some intern in the med bay."

"And Arden's vain enough," added Eli. "If he thinks anyone's interested, he'll go for 'em."

"So we get him to ask her to the gala as his date...." you said.

"Burdick sees the two of them together...." said Eli.

"And realizes he can get back at his lover in another way, by pinning the sabotage on another student...." joined Thrawn.

The three of you stood together, proud and satisfied that yet another plan had finally worked out. It was almost worth the stressful studying and petty bullying and all the other unpleasant things you had to endure at this god-forsaken school, just to have fun moments like this with trusted friends.

"We should attend this gala as well," Thrawn said eventually, holding out a hand for the poster. He inspected it thoughtfully. "It is only a few days before the tests, so I hadn't planned to pay it any mind. But now...."

"Yeah, we should make sure Burdick's as jealous as we want 'im," nodded Eli.

You were secretly pleased. The plan was already a win-win, but now you would be able to go to the event yourself, too. You hadn't mentioned your desire to go to either of them before, figuring they weren't interested and not wanting to sound silly if you suggested it. But you did love dancing, and it was so very rare you got a chance to wear something other than your Imperial uniform.

"It's a dance," you noted, in case they couldn't tell by the details on the poster. "We'll need to go in pairs."

"I suppose it would make the most sense for you and Eli to go together," said Thrawn quietly.

You looked between the two, realizing both of them were flushed slightly. Eli's cheeks were dotted with pink, standing out amongst his dark brown features, while Thrawn had more of a purple tint to his face now, a color you'd never seen there before. You could feel yourself growing warm and uncomfortable as well. It was only a dance... only a way for you to enact a much more important plan... but it was the first time your trio had had to engage in anything other than platonic friendship. The balance of your group seemed to be shifting ever so slightly in this moment, and you had no way of knowing if it was for good or ill.

You cleared your throat, pushing away any feelings that might have been brewing in your chest, and instead calling focus back to the mission at hand.

"Actually, I think I'd better go with Thrawn. Whoever doesn't go with me would have to find their own date, and no offense Thrawn, but I think Eli has the better chance of asking someone else."

You hoped they hadn't noticed how hollow your voice sounded, how hard you were trying to keep yourself emotionless.

Eli was pinker than ever. "Uh, I highly doubt that..."

"You're not completely hated around here, you know," you said quickly. "Definitely not with the girls. You're not bad looking, you can be charming if you try, and you're... you know, human." You glanced at Thrawn and added again quietly, "No offense."

Thrawn shook his head. His color and demeanor had already slipped back into his usual neutral self. "No, I agree. Those are the dynamics of our peers and we must work with it. I will take you to the gala, Eli will find his own date, and all three of us will push Arden and Eva together as well. It's a good plan."

You all nodded in agreement. But there was a knot in your stomach, a nervousness you didn't quite understand. You cared very much for both Thrawn and Eli. They were your best friends, your only friends. As a group, you were bonded by your ostracism, protecting and supporting each other on your journey out of this hell-hole.

And separately, you had something special with each, too. You and Eli came from similar backgrounds, and had the same need to disconnect from your surroundings and just have a bit of fun every once in a while. The two of you had spent many late nights together, either hopping between bars, exploring the city, making each other laugh uncontrollably, or quietly sharing the honest thoughts you both buried far too deeply inside. Some nights you'd done all of the above, and returned to your dorm feeling both exhausted and renewed.

But Eli didn't always appreciate the finer things in life, and that's where you connected with Thrawn. He wasn't necessarily an optimist, but he had this way of noticing the beauty that existed everywhere around you, even in the most simple or mundane of moments. Everything had the potential to be interesting. His calm but strong presence had kept you grounded and sane throughout your studies here so far. Sometimes you would talk, other times you would simply be in the same space. And either way, you felt better about life.

You didn't exactly want your relationship with them to change. But you couldn't help but feel this gala would do just that....

Next Chapter: The Preparation >

Blueberry Path | Thrawn x reader

Cowboy Path | Eli x reader

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 34!! @brightlotusmoon @errorfreak88 @digitl-art-monstr @selfindulgenz @yarchurr @dakotafinely @yarchurr @sententiously-sarcastic @sprinklestheditty

“This is fucking stupid.” Raph was pacing anxiously, his frustrations coming out in the form of heavy breaths.

“I totally agree.” Donnie agreed, “But you know Leo. He’d not gonna let this go.”

“He he fucking ought to! We ain’t got time for this shit!”

The Leo’s were both separately getting ready for the spar, but with such an open space it was nearly impossible for them to get out of each other's line of sight. This resulted in what could only be described as a heated staring content between the both of them as they sharpened their katana and odachi almost passive-aggressively. The brothers and sister of both proud ninja were intermingled in a group together— their brothers’ antics weren’t enough to drive them apart completely, but it was enough for a wedge to be stuck between them.

“Is Leo gonna be okay?” Michelangelo appealed to Donatello, grabbing a hold of the older teens arm.

“I don’t know Michael.” Donatello sighed, sticking his nose in the air in his frustration, “Leon’s always getting himself in this kind of trouble! It’s gonna catch up to him eventually!”

“Hopefully not today.” Michelangelo said, looking to Leo. “Other Leo is very large. He’s jumbo sized!”

“Sadly, his brain didn't get the memo.”

Mikey was looking between both of the Leo’s with no small amount of guilt. Donnie had given him the clear after he had calmed slightly and the pain in his chest wasn’t so bad, but now the pain had been replaced with an intense sadness. Michelangelo nudged his brother and pointed to the sad box turtle, and then both brothers nodded at each other with similar intent as they marched over and each took a seat beside Mikey. 

“Why the long face?” Michelangelo pouted.

“I dunno, Mike, seems kinda… oblong to me.” Donatello motioned vageuly to Mikey’s face.

Mikey gave the slightest chuckle before he started to cry softly. Michelangelo frowned and looked to Donatello, who quickly pulled a tissue from out of his battle shell and offered it to Mikey. Mikey accepted it and, after a moments thought, said,

“You just carry tissues around wherever?”

“I never know when I’ll have to break out the dramatics~!” Donatello struck a pose.

“Are you okay?” Michelangelo gave Mikey a gentle stroke on the shoulder. “You look sad.”

“I’m just… useless.” Mikey hung his head.

That statement caused both Hamato brothers to erupt in loud, overlaying denial as they practically swarmed Mikey trying to convince him otherwise.

“You’re not!”

“You’re really not.”

“You’re incredible!”

“I once tried nunchucks for a day. Hit myself in the head, cried in a corner, slept in said corner. Very traumatizing.”

“You can do lots of things!”

“Except fight, apparently…” Mikey pouted, crossing his arms. “I just watched my dad and your dad get taken and I did nothing!”

“You’re not the only one who did nothing!” Donatello offered.

Michelangelo swatted Donatello and scowled at him a second before turning back to Mikey. “You panicked— that’s nothing to be ashamed of!”

“We were there! We— we could’ve helped stop them! We—“

“What could we have done…?” Michelangelo asked softly, laying a hand on Mikey’s knee.

Mikey gave a long, tired sigh reminiscent of someone far older with many more years of life bearing down on his shoulders. “Nothing.”

“Exactly.” Michelangelo said, “But what we could’ve done is gotten hurt! He took out all your brothers in one swing! All we would’ve ended up doing is getting taken out with them.”

“But don’t you think—“

“Come on.” Mikey’s words were interrupted by his Leo, who had lost what little patience remained as he strutted forward with the confidence of gods. “Let’s get this over with.”

Leo was the first in the dojo and he stood there as if he was still challenging Leonardo to back down at the cost of his honor. Leonardo didn't move from his place where he was still polishing his odachi.

“Well?” Leo prompted, “Come on! You challenged me to this, remember! Don’t you want to defend your honor?”

Leonardo thought for a second, and then shrugged. “Eh, never really had much of that to begin with. And I have all the time in the world baby!”

Despite his words, Leonardo seemed to accept his counterpart's challenge and stood from his seated position, giving his odachi a few experimental swipes before he came to join Leo in the dojo.

“This ain’t gonna end good...” April shook her head. Her face was painted to match Leonardo’s markings and she brandished a blue flag in support. Upon seeing Leonardo entering the dojo, however, she promptly cheered, “WHOOP WHOOP! YOU GOT THIS LEON!”

The rest of the gathered mutants— all except Raphael, who was still sleeping off his exhaustion— gathered in a tight group to watch as the scene unfolded. Donnie split from the group one last time in an attempt to appeal to his brother.

“Leo, this is crazy!” Donnie said, but it was like talking to a wall, “You can’t fight him!”

“Why not?” Leo asked calmly without dignifying Donnie’s concern with even a glance.

“Well, one, he's a child.” Donnie deadpanned, “And two, we need to be focusing on finding Master Splinter.”

“Trust me Don, this isn’t gonna take very long.”

“What you gonna do, punt the fifteen year old?!”

“He’s the one who picked a fight.” Leo growled.

“Yeah. Oh course he did.” Donnie leaned closer to his brother and spoke slowly, as if Leo were dense, “He’s. A. Teenager. A dumb, confident teenager!”

“So are we.”

“We’re gonna be twenty next month— I hardly think it counts!”

Leo didn't respond. He stared forward with a determined look and simply walked away from Donnie, leaving his younger brother staring after him with a frustrated disbelief.

Leo faced his counterpart. “Do you know the duel rights?”

Leonardo shrugged almost cartoonishly.

“Of course not.” Leo sighed, then carried on, “Rule number one: The offending party has the right to an apology and, if it is accepted by the offended party, then the duel will not carry to term.”

“Okay, so you gonna apologize them?” Leonardo asked, almost hopefully.

Leo narrowed his eyes and gave no answer. “If there is no apology met, then the next rule of order is to choose a second. The seconds are the judges— they try to reach a peace, and if a peace is unable to be met, then we move onto phase three. My second is my brother Raphael.” 

Raph grunted softly and split off from the group to hesitantly come to Leo’s side. 

“Don, you feeling up to it?” Leonardo looked to his brother.

Donatello gave it a moment's thought before shrugging and sauntering off almost in a bored fashion to Leonardo’s side.

“How do we win?” Leonardo asked.

“To win, you must knock down your opponent and hold your blade to their throat. Rule number three! The seconds try to negotiate a peace.” Leo gave a nod, and Raph lumbered forward to meet Donatello in the middle. The two of them quickly fell to a hushed discussion.

“Hello.” Donatello said, his eyes half-lidded and his voice dull.

“Hey— can’t you just try and get your Leo to apologize?” Raph almost pleaded, “You know this ain’t exactly a fair fight.”

“I know.” Donatello replied with little enthusiasm. “Your Leo’s gonna get knocked flat on his Gluteus Maximus. That’s science terms for buttocks. Aka: ass.”

Raph gave a half-amused snort. “No offense, pancake, but I think we both know that ain’t right.”

“Oh wowwwwww, so original.” Donatello slumped, “I’m so hurt. Then again you do have a good point.

Raph smiled, thinning himself victorious until Donatello added,

“I mean, there’s nothing Maximus about his Gluteus.” Donatello motioned to Leo with his thumb.

“No—” Raph growled and forced a smile as he addressed Donatello with slow words, “What I meant was that your brother is gonna end up with the same fate as a firework on Fourth of July.” He made an explosion motion and added his own sound effects, “I mean— come on! It’s like a dodge against a semi-truck— your bro stands no chance!”

“I think we can stand to disagree on that.” Donatello defended his brother calmly.

Raph fixed Donatello with a deadpan expression. “You’re not gonna back down are you?”

“Negatory.” Donatello finally smiled— little more than a slight curve of his lips, but still a smile. “Or way— would that be an affirmative? Eh. Doesn’t matter. Either way I believe we are done here.”

Without another word, he spun on his heels and carried himself confidently over to his brother’s side. Raph grumbled as he often did before taking his leave a few seconds after. There was a minute of stressful silence as both seconds reported to their brothers before Leo stepped forward again.

“Rule four. Draw your weapon only once there is a medic on sight with his back turned.”

Leonardo whistled. “I mean, not that I couldn’t beat you with my back turned, but seriously?”

“Not you.” Leo growled, “Donnie will be our medic on standby.” Leo motioned the tech genius to turn around, and Donnie hesitantly obeyed. This left only the Mikey’s watching. Once Leo was satisfied, he went on, “Rule five would usually include dueling at dawn, but I hardly think it matters down here.”

Leonardo looked up at the high ceiling and then down at Leo. 

“Rules six and seven are also moot given our particular circumstances. Unless you have a god you pray to…?”

“Eh, some may describe me as a God, but I think I forgive myself for my sins~”

It took everything Leo had to keep his cool. “Rule number eight. Your last chance to set the record straight.”

“Hey! That rhymed! Good for you!”

“Wait are you just getting these from the Hamilton Musical?” Donatello started to ask, but was interrupted; even as Leo spoke over him, he still continued to talk until he finished the sentence.

“Rule number nine! Look your enemy in the eye.” He and Leonardo locked gazes, “Meet your enemy in the middle…”

Leonardo and Leo took four paces each until they were directly in front of each other.

“Summon your courage in any way necessary.” Leo said cooly, giving a bow that Leonardo returned, “Take a minute to breathe, then take ten paces back.”

The Leo’s were almost in perfect sync as they took their paces backward, now several paces behind their seconds while still facing each other.

“Ready your sword…”

Twin katana and a single odachi were held at the ready.

“Take one final breath…”

No one in the room breathed.

“And count to ten. One… two… three… four...”

“...five...six…seven… eight... nine...”

“Ten.”

[forbidding-souda]

Hey, mod of @danganronpa-x-reader here and thanks so much for your shout out and kind words. I wanted to make a request! If you can’t do it (I have adhd so even when I read blog rules I always miss something) then ignore my request and just take this as a thank you post! But here’s my request Imagines of the V3 boys first time (nsfw) with a virgin female reader that’s nervous about it (I’m a sucker for these types of stories.

DRV3 boys with virgin fem S/O (NSFW)

I got ya! I’m not too experienced in being a virgin female but I’ll try my best bahaha so I only did the moment that the virginity is taken.

Ryoma isn’t included because no.

-Mod Souda

Rantarou Amami

He is cunning. He licks up and down your body, keeping that smug look on his face as he does.

He sucks on your chest, hard, and leaves red hickeys all over your body.

Anything to make you wet. He knows how this whole sex thing works, textbook wise, of course.

He’s pretty book smart. His good looks add to it, of course.

Especially when he lays you down, putting his hand down your underwear before taking them off.

You gasp. His hands are cold, making them more apparent once they enter you. 

Your breathing quickens. He just hums to himself, amused at how flustered you are getting.

Curses fall under your breathe once he curls his fingers, and you find your legs spreading unconsciously.

Pulling his fingers out, he finally pulls down your underwear.

And the nervousness you started with comes back.

��I’m a little nervous,” you state bluntly. It makes him pause for a second and he peers up at you with his puppy dog eyes. But a smile returns to his face as he continues on with positioning himself.

“If you ever want me to stop, just tell me, okay.”

You just nod, settling back into your relaxed position and taking a breath.

When he goes inside of you, he leans forward and rest his body on-top of yours to kiss your neck. 

“Please,” you beg, “Rantarou, please start moving!”

Kaito Momota 

His energy seems to joyful that you can’t find yourself being too worried.

He giggles as he kisses you, his mouth moving around your body, planting compliments.

Your fingers pull through his hair, too, especially when he kisses your neck.

“You don’t have to be scared.” He coos against you, his strong arms holding your naked body. He had a smug smile though, almost as always.

Stubbornly you deny his words. “I’m not scared.”

“It’s fine if you are.” 

He leans close to you, pressing his lips against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, and you can feel your breathe quicken when he pulls down his underwear.

Kaito places one hand on your thigh, lifting your leg so it goes on his shoulder.

His skin, warm and pressed against you, is rough, but his presence is calming when he touches you.

“Are you ready?”

All you can is nod, scared that if you talk your voice will sound not as ready as you feel.

But you are ready. You’re excited, almost, to know how it feels. 

He’s such a dork. He makes you smile and laugh. And you love him.

When he finally inserts himself inside of you, you squeal a bit. It’s an unusual feeling, something you’re unfamiliar with.

But once he starts moving, you understand the appeal to sex. 

Korekiyo Shinguuji

He lays under you, maskless and at a loss for breath. His hands glide up your thighs, holding you in place. He doesn’t speak, letting you take the control.

The feeling of anticipation carries you more than anything, you’re almost excited to know what it feels like.

Korekiyo is the perfect man to try with. 

“Are you okay, Kiyo?” You ask him. He rolls his neck, smiling.

“You shouldn’t be asking about me, my love. Are you the one that is okay?”

His voice soothes you more than anything. It’s nice. It’s kind. You want to put a strong face on for him. He can’t know how nervous you are.

All you can do is give him a toothy smile while you slowly start to settle yourself down onto him, his hips twitching in satisfaction.

It makes you hot, feeling him inside of it, and it’s nothing like the books say or the movies portray it as. 

Plus, the sight of him shirtless from under you is the most satisfying thing about it all.

“You’re gorgeous, Korekiyo.”

In response, he bucks his hips, smiling to himself at your loud reaction. The longer you sit on top of him, the longer he teases you with his sudden touches or dirty words.

Gonta Gokuhara

He’s definitely as nervous as you, if not even more. His big hands aren’t sure where to go and his soft lips don’t know what words to say.

You flip him, so his back is on the bed and you climb on top of him, kissing his softly. 

We are in this together, you almost want to say. 

You run one of your hands up and down his chest while the other pulls down his pants just enough to show you his dick. 

Close. You’re just so close to him. Nothing in the way the two of you met predicted that this is how your year would end.

Your heart beats at a crazy speed, and it’s all you can hear. 

You don’t know how it will feel, you don’t know what it will be like. Will you even like it? Will he?

Without another word, you let him inside of you, sitting on him with his hips against your own. You can easily feel him fill you up completely. It’s almost uncomfortable.

You have to take a breath before you can move.

He whimpers, his cheeks a deep red color. “Oh, S/O, please move,” he moans out. 

Kokichi Ouma

The two of you are sitting on the couch, you on his lap, letting his hands roam your chest.

You don’t have any underwear from under your skirt, and all he has to do is take off his pants. But he doesn’t want to rush anything. He knows it’s your first time, so he takes a while to make you feel good, getting you wet and open for him.

The noises you make get louder the more he touches you until you are practically begging for him to pull down his pants.

“Please,” you sit up, fingers intertwining with his roots. “Please, I’m ready. I’m ready.”

The unmoving swirl of nervousness still remains in your stomach, no matter how sure you of how you want this evening to end.

He pulls down his pants, the smile never leaving his face. He couldn’t help but let his fingers travel up your thighs and letting his kind touch align you with him.

So when you push down, you can feel him enter you, and the decision is definitely worth it. 

Your head leans against his shoulder, and you couldn’t help but whisper out, “Thank you.”

Kiibo

His metal body is cold, but you like touching it anyways.

And the day before, Iruma had approached you, telling you about his request and then drooling when she added the fact that he could last forever.

Knowing her, it made you a bit scared of what size she made it. 

Kiibo’s kisses seemed to distract you from the thought, though, until he moment his cold hand seemed to fall down into your pants, dragging them down along with your underwear.

You exhale, your cheeks puffing up as you do. It’s not like he’s more experienced than you. What are you even scared of?

“Be careful, okay, Kiibo.” You coo, advertising your gaze.

He tilts his head back a bit before rolling his neck, his form of expressing the slight offense he took to your statement.

“I would never hurt you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you say while laughing a bit. “I’m a bit sensitive, Kiibo, that’s all I meant by it.”

He draws close to you, resting his forehead against yours as he spreads your legs. “Then I will be careful, as you put it.”

You know that you can tell him if you feel uncomfortable, or if he is going too fast or slow, and he will accommodate himself to you. 

And you will accommodate yourself to him, whatever makes him comfortable, as he is as new to this as you.

Feeling anxious just seems silly. But it still bites at you.

You can tell, by the hard flush on his face, that he feels the same way.

In the midst of your thoughts, you let out a small moan when you feel him, warm, inside of you. 

Warm? Did Iruma put in a heater? Silly woman.

He opens his mouth, letting out a moan just at the contact, and the feeling of your walls pulsating against him. 

He can feel your heartbeat. That’s probably his favorite part.

Shuichi Saihara

If it’s even possible, you’re more of a blushing mess than he is.

Your body is sensitive to every single one of his touches. You whimper as his lips close over one of your nipples and his fingers drag down your pants. 

A part of you wants to squirm against his touch. Another part of you just wants him inside of you already, to know how it feels. To know what to expect.

“Shuichi, you’re driving me crazy!” You say with a small laugh. His saliva drips down your breast.

“Do you not like it?” He asks with a hint of shyness in his voice.

“I love it too much, it’s so overwhelming.”

His kisses trail back up to your mouth. “Does that mean you’re ready?”

“I... I am ready, are you ready, too?”

A small smile falls onto his face. He nods as he puts his fingers on his own waistband, pulling his pants down with a slow hesitance.

His movements are calm, though his hands have a slight tremble to them.

“Are you ready too, I asked.” You repeat with a bit more force, your thighs pressing together. “Please don’t force yourself.”

A smooth breath escapes his lips. Seeing your concern for him seems to calm him down. You care. He knows you care. 

“It’s my first time, too. I just don’t want to mess it up.”

“Don’t worry about messing up. It’ll just add to the experience, right, Shuichi?”

Your wide smile encourages him. But there’s a slight tremble to your hands, as well. Maybe he isn’t so alone. The thought is pleasant.

Both of his hands find their place on either side of your head as he pushes inside of you. 

“Aah- yes,” you moan out, your hands gripping his sides.

His head dips, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth to hide his quick whimper.

[hetacon]

Prom Queen: Chapter 4

First || Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,800

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: Swearing, small food mention, let me know if there’s anything I missed!

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Summary: “Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

(Make sure to read all the way to the end if you want my thoughts so far! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, my art, or writing! Enjoy the chapter!)

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Virgil started to spend more time with the popular kids after they got back to school, something he never thought would be happening. They were gossipy and didn’t really appeal to Virgil as overall people but Roman was their friend so he started to get to know them for the sake of his best friend. He didn’t even really know them honestly, they almost never talked about themselves or their interests or anything in terms of personal information, the conversations almost consistently focused on the drama going around the school that day. There was something new every time they went over. For a solid month, he and Roman would go chat for a minute or two before going off to find Patton and Logan.

That was actually what they were just doing that day when one of Roman’s friends got Virgil’s attention.

“Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

Virgil looked over to Madison if he remembered correctly, trying to hide most of his shock at the fact that she even addressed him. Not many of Roman’s friends acknowledged him much when they would go over but Virgil guessed they’d taken some interest in him. He had been coming over with Roman for quite a good while now, it figures they’d notice his presence at some point. He had to respond quick though, this chance couldn’t go to waste. “Uh, ok, what do you want to know?”

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Well, an odd question to start off with.

Virgil shrugged a bit. “Eh, just what everyone else listens to, you know? Not really anything in particular. It’s not like I really look for songs to listen to by anyone specific.”

Roman nudged him with a snort. “Since when has this ever been the case? If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re emo through and through,” he said, a certain fondness to his look. Virgil bumped his shoulder with a laugh back, fixing him with a playful glare.

“And what if I can like things that you don’t expect of me, huh?” Virgil asked with a slight tease. Roman simply raised an eyebrow but shrugged, letting the argument go without much more of a struggle. Roman wasn’t wrong though, he still listened to everything that he had before, none of it had changed despite what he said. Definitely none of what people usually listened to. He was never one to follow trends with music or otherwise and Roman unfortunately knew that.

“Do you do anything interesting?” one of the people joining the conversation asked.

“Things here and there, not exactly much. School is a drag, takes up way too much of my time to actually let me focus on anything even remotely interesting,” Virgil said calmly, trying to look casual. He hoped it was working, he felt like a nervous wreck. With a few laughs and a “Fuck yeah it is!” he mustered up the courage to add in, “I draw if that counts for anything.”

“Oh yeah? Mind if we take a look?”

Virgil nodded and rummaged through his bag, finding a leather bound book. This one happened to be his more serious one, he had another that was far more personal stashed away. Only Roman, Patton, and Logan ever saw that one, and not even in its full entirety. The personal one had gotten a lot more use than the one currently in his hands. Virgil slid the book over the table and he watched as it was opened to a page of really messy scribbles in the shape of a distraught person’s face. He’d remembered drawing that one, he was in the middle of history sophomore year having a panic attack but was too nervous to ask to step outside.

“Woah, this is cool man,” Tyler said as he looked over it, others nodding in agreement. They proceeded to flip through the pages for a bit while they took turns asking him more questions.

With so much talk, Virgil noticed Roman jump up suddenly, tugging at Virgil’s sleeve frantically. “Pat and Specs!” he explained before packing up his things frantically. “So sorry guys, I need to talk to them before we have to go to class! I’ll catch up with you tomorrow!” he shouted out as he started speed walking, Virgil in tow. Virgil barely managed to collect up his stuff before he was at Roman’s side, seeing the slightest crease between Roman’s eyebrows. As relieved as Virgil was to be away from all of the questions and potential judgement, he noticed Roman was in a big rush. He couldn’t really place why.

“Hey, you uh.. You ok? What’s up?” Virgil asked, relieved as Roman slowed down a little as they turned a corner.

“I just want to get to Pat and Specs, they’re our friends you know?” Roman asked with a bit of an edge before sighing. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to uh.. Hit it off so much with them, I usually just say a quick hello really,” he explained.

“Really? You think so?” Virgil really hoped he was impressing the popular kids, they were Roman’s friends after all. If he was having luck with them, he wasn’t going to lose Roman that easily. He couldn’t possibly do that, not when he’d already put so much at risk.

“Yeah but anyone who doesn’t like you how you are is insane,” Roman said lowly. Virgil thought he saw Roman’s jaw clench for a second but he quickly looked ahead of them as Roman glanced over.

Virgil was tackled in a hug by Patton, causing him to smile as he hugged back. He didn’t smile for long though as the bell rang, causing Roman to sigh. He looked over, laughing a little awkwardly. “Ha, sorry Ro, didn’t mean to make us so late.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s ok, just means we’ll have to get here as soon as possible tomorrow!” With that, he and Logan started to talk as they headed to class together.

Virgil watched as Roman walked away from him and Patton and he frowned slightly before Patton was nudging his shoulder and nodding his head to the direction of their classes.

Virgil nodded back and started walking, burying his hands deep into his pockets. He really wished he had his usual hoodie to pull over his head and hide from the world. His bangs would have to do, giving him a good look at the sickeningly sweet pink he’d decided on a month prior. Who let him do that again?

“Hey, you ok?” Patton asked, silently offering Virgil a cookie. Snickerdoodle today, Virgil would’ve usually loved it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil told him. “I’m not hungry, thanks though.”

Patton looked at him with a worried look for a second before sighing, taking a bite of the cookie himself. “Alright Virge, if you say so. Who knows, maybe some rest is all you need, make sure you go easy on yourself!”

Virgil agreed, looking ahead of them.

He went home that day and went through the motions in a haze, glad when he finally got out of his disgustingly bright outfit. He stared blankly at the wall when he got a text from Roman.

“Hey, sorry I was so tense where we left things off.. I promise you didn’t do anything, that was all me.”

“What was up with that?” Virgil texted back.

Roman’s response took a minute before it popped up on Virgil’s screen. “I don’t know, I just didn’t expect them to really take such an interest in you. They can be a bit... Stuffy. Like, all the time, I much prefer hanging out with you, Pat, and Specs.”

“I mean, they’re your friends right? They asked me questions, I answered.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Some of your answers surprised me though lol, you are truly a dark and stormy knight after all!”

“Hey, I’m allowed to expand my tastes, aren’t I? You got me into some of your dumb musicals after all.”

“They are not dumb, take that back you jerk!”

Virgil snorted, hugging his pillow to his chest as he typed out another message. “Oh yeah? Make me, you pompous thespian drama queen.”

“I just might!”

Before Virgil could respond, Roman shot him a quick text reading “Shit, GTG, I need to run a few scenes before I sleep! Until tomorrow~!”

“Go chase your dreams of ‘professional make believe’ as Logan would say, night.”

As an afterthought, Virgil tacked on a red heart before blushing harshly, cursing into his hands. He really did that, no taking that one back now was there?

Either way, check in time. Roman was still his friend, they just had a normal conversation like two human beings ought to be able to have. While he seemed a little off-put by some of the changes Virgil was talking about, he didn’t seem to take it as a serious offense so a plus there. The clothes were horrible, Virgil still hated his hair, but he was doing this for Roman so he’d suck it up. Roman’s friends were starting to like him, they liked his art so that was good. Luckily they latched on to something he couldn’t lie about.

Just as Virgil was about to go to bed, another notification popped up on his phone, this time from an unknown number. Virgil stared at it for moment, his brow furrowed. He opened it though and read it.

“Hey Virgil, this is Madison! Got ur number from Roman’s phone lol, hope u don’t mind sweetie!”

Well, he kind of did mind but putting that aside-

“Hi, did you need anything?”

“Not rn but I might! Just wanted to have ur number just in case. Anyways, I’m going to bed, see u tomorrow!”

Virgil nodded to himself before he got one more text.

“BTW loveeeee ur artwork, keep up the good work bby!”

This was certainly... Bizarre. He didn’t expect to ever have the number of a popular girl in his phone but he never knew high school would be this insane. He’d survive this though, for Roman if nothing else. And if not, he just might lose Roman forever and never be able to forget about it for as long as he lives! Ok, breathe Virgil, breathe...

Things would work out, Virgil was going to make sure they did or die trying. Nobody, Roman included, could think to stop him now.

______________________________

More Prom Queen content huh? Anyways hey hey hey guys! How’d you like the newest chapter?

To be honest, I’m not sure how to feel about this one. I feel like all of my writings sound like they’re in an echo chamber. Like as if the events are completely isolated and don’t fit into an expansive narrative and existence. I have no idea if that makes a bit of sense, it might just be my depression tbh? It’s been kicking my butt more than usual.

But Virgil is finally getting noticed by the popular kids, woohoo! This obviously can’t go wrong! We shall see what Virgil will be getting up to with time!

As always, feel free to leave comments or send me asks and whatnot if you want to talk with me about the story! I’d love to hear from you guys!

______________________________

Taglist: @artissijules, @virgils-paranoia, @its-the-cat-queen, @myyoutubecorner, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @tssidesfamily, @shapa-likes-art, @isabelle-stars, @falsemood, @katlikethesword

[marril96]

Out of the Woods

Chapter 5: The Cure

Characters: reader, Rowena

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: An explosive argument leads to you running away and puts Rowena in danger.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian​

*****

Rowena was okay.

Mentally, that was. Physically, she was wounded, badly so; body littered with injuries, clothes drenched in dried blood.

But she was okay. Despite everything she'd been through, she still had it in her to tease and smile all throughout the drive home. Sam and Dean were kind enough to offer it, and there was no way either of you could refuse. Traveling back by bus or taxi would lead to questions you couldn't answer and comments you didn't have the energy to retort to.

So the Winchesters it was.

Sam helped you walk Rowena inside while Dean carried your bags, leaving them in the living room as you'd instructed him to. They offered further help, anything you needed, but Rowena was adamant that you were fine. You were big girls, and this wasn't the first time one of you had gotten hurt. You would be fine.

It wasn't a lie. You would be fine. But, as you walked Sam and Dean out and the three of you said your goodbyes, your mind kept flashing back to that horrid day in May three years ago. The day that had started out alright. That, just like today, featured a fight and you running off.

The day you'd returned, having cooled off enough, to a messed up hotel room. Furniture upturned. Blood sprayed everywhere. Rowena's charred body lying amidst the destruction.

For a moment, you could feel the putrid smell of burning flesh, and you were back there, and your heart was racing just as helplessly, just as fearfully as it had back then.

Rowena hadn't been hurt badly since then. Her injuries now couldn't compare to what Lucifer had put her through, but you hadn't had to take care of her to this extent, hadn't had to nurse her back to health, since that day.

She waited for you in the living room as you'd left her, seemingly bored out of her mind, looking through her purse absent-mindedly. She perked up as you walked in, lips grazed by a smile. Clearly happy to see you. Satisfied to have you all to herself, for as long as she wanted.

You shared the sentiment. Just like years ago, you never wanted to part from her again. Never wanted to leave her side. No matter how angry you were, how frustrated. It didn't matter anymore; nothing mattered except that she was here, she was safe, and she was yours. And she trusted you in ways she never trusted anyone in her life.

It was a privilege you took pride in.

"Okay," you said, looking her over. "Let's take your shirt off. I need to know what I'm dealing with."

Rowena raised a teasing eyebrow. "My, my. Thirsty, are we? I missed you, too, love."

"Yeah, you covered in blood is such a turn on," you deadpanned.

"You know I'd never kink-shame."

Because some of the shit she was into was too much even for the likes of you.

"I'm so blessed." It was only half sarcasm; you truly were blessed. Even with all her flaws, you wouldn't give her up for the world.

You helped her remove her blouse, slowly, patiently, taking care not to cause her unnecessary pain. Rowena let out a few hisses, but for the most part she took it as a champ. She knew it was necessary for you to get a better look at her injuries, and, though her pride surely protested it, she cooperated to the best of her ability.

To think mere years ago she would have pushed you away and insisted on handling everything herself. You were glad she knew she could count on you, that she didn't fear betrayal. She trusted you, immensely, with everything she had, and you swore to never do anything to break that trust.

Her chest and arms, thankfully, looked better than her face. There were blooming bruises, especially around her wrists, and a stray cut here and there, but nothing too extreme. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with a potion and a few days rest. And some cuddles, because whenever one of you was in need of care, emotional or physical, there was no better comfort than cuddles.

"What did he do to you?" you asked, carefully tapping around one of the cuts with a wet cloth to clean it of dried blood.

Rowena stiffened. "Horrible things."

"Such as?"

You cut tell he'd cut her. But what else had he done? Had he slapped her? Punched her? Hit her with a different sort of weapon?

From the little you'd seen before Sam and Dean had doused the cabin in gasoline and set it on fire with his body inside of it, the man had accumulated quite a little torture set. Various instruments had lined the walls. Some were strewn over a small table by the wall. A couple on the floor. All caked in rusty blood.

Clearly used on his victims.

Had he had time to try some out on Rowena?

"I'd rather not." Her voice was low when she responded. Quiet. As weak as earlier in the cabin.

You looked her in the eyes. Heart shattered with sympathy at the hurt in them, with pain, with guilt. If you hadn't started the fight, none of this would have happened.

This was the second time you'd left her, pissed to high heavens, only to find her in peril.

"Of course." You squeezed her hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about."

You took care of the rest of her injuries in silence. Rowena remained compliant, never once complaining. Other than a few hisses and moans when you dabbed at a bruise too hard, she behaved, which earned her smiles and kisses.

"Good girl," you would say each time you would be done with a particularly bad wound. And she would smile because praise was her drug and she could never get enough.

Once you were done, you looked her over one more time, just to be sure, and helped her into a nightgown — picking it out, you were going for soft, comfortable, but you couldn't help finding her appealing in the black cloth that hugged her every curve just perfectly. Not even bruises and bandages could mar her beauty.

You suggested taking her to bed, but Rowena insisted on staying where she was while you worked on the potion for her. She loved watching you work. Loved observing you flipping through a spellbook and picking out ingredients, double checking the recipe to make sure you got everything right. No words left her mouth, but the proud smile she displayed said more than enough.

It was always like that. She drew immense pleasure from watching you do magic, a sense of pride. She'd passed on the knowledge, and you were using it with the same confidence she bore. The confidence she'd gained as a young witch herself, learning the ways of magic, growing the power that bloomed within her, surpassing that of the greats who'd taught her.

Your power could never match hers, but what you had was more than enough. You had skill. You weren't perfect, but you were a damn good student. Great in your own way. Better than most, because you'd been tutored by the best. No matter how in love she was with you, she wouldn't lie about something like that.

"Here you go," you said, handing her the concoction in her favorite mug.

Rowena took it with shaky hands. She inhaled, then took a sip, a small one, exploring the taste. "Mm."

"Good?"

"Excellent." Her lips widened into a smile. "I've expected nothing less from my girl."

You couldn't help a grin, cheeks flushing. Her praise was one of your greatest weaknesses.

She finished the potion in a few gulps. You left the empty mug in the sink, to be washed later, and took her to bed. You considered a shower, but given Rowena's state, you didn't want to leave her alone for long, so you just threw your clothes off and pulled on your nightwear; a shower could wait until morning.

She instantly curled against you as you laid down. Your standard position, particularly when she needed comfort. You wrapped an arm around her, careful not to hurt her. She was a fragile little thing. No matter how tough she played, she was still a person. She still hurt and bled and suffered like everyone else.

"You're the best, too," she said after a moment of deafening silence, startling you from your thoughts.

"What?"

She swallowed. Sucked in a breath, deep and steady, as if she were preparing for a marathon. "I was wrong."

That wasn't something you heard every day.

Rowena rarely, if ever, admitted she was wrong. She didn't express regret so openly. Didn't apologize for her pride was too great to allow her to lower herself to that level.

And yet…

"You're enough." Her voice trembled. "More than enough."

Oh, right. The argument. The thing that led to all this mess.

"We were both so angry," you said. Understatement of the century.

Rowena shrugged. "You were right. I do go out of my way to help the Winchesters."

Was that guilt in her voice? Regret?

Your heart jumped. "I don't think helping people is wrong. I just… I'm worried."

"Because of Samuel."

"Yeah."

As much as you disliked him, you didn't think the hunter would hurt her on purpose. But accidents happened all the time. Being around him was dangerous.

"I trust him," Rowena said.

"And I trust you," you told her. "I just…"

"I know. Anything could happen."

"Exactly."

For once she understood. You were on the same page. No shouting. No arguments. Just a conversation, one you should have had ages ago.

She squeezed your hand. "I promise you I won't die. Not permanently, at least. Samuel and I will change our fate."

Tears stung at your eyes. "That's what you keep saying, but—"

"But nothing. We will do it. I'm in no hurry to die. And I'm pretty sure he likes me enough to want me to stick around."

"It's because he doesn't live with you," you joked.

"Oi!" she said, feigning offense. Then she grew serious again. "I won't go to them as often, but I will help from time to time."

You pondered on it for a moment, weighed the pros and cons. It wasn't ideal, but it seemed like a good compromise.

As dangerous as it was, you couldn't forbid her from doing it. The last thing you wanted was to be that kind of girlfriend. You just wanted her to be safe.

"I need to do some good."

"You don't owe anyone anything."

She'd done plenty of bad in her life, but she didn't have to make up for it for the rest of her days. She didn't have to put herself in danger.

"I know," Rowena said. "But I want to do it."

"Okay." So long as it was her wish. So long as she didn't feel pressured. "But after you're all healed up, alright? I don't want you doing anything in this condition."

"I like it when you’re in charge," she teased.

"Shut up," you said, flustered.

"It's sexy."

"You're horrible."

"You love me."

"I do." Your biggest weakness. "Sometimes I wish I didn't."

"I find that hard to believe," Rowena said.

Because it was a lie. Loving her was the best thing you'd ever done.

"As if you don't love me," you retorted.

"Never said I don't."

You never tired of hearing it.

Pressing a soft kiss to her scalp, you closed your eyes and sank into peaceful sleep, the woman you loved safe in your arms. Cherished and cared for.

As lucky, you hoped, as you were to be by her side.

*****

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[dherzogblog]

The Birth of The Daily Show: 25 Years of Fake News and Moments of Zen

It was July of 1995 and I had left MTV to become President of Comedy Central. It was the basic cable equivalent of going from the NY Yankees to an expansion team. I was on the job just two weeks when I received a call from Brillstein Grey the high powered managers of Bill Maher, host of one of the networks few original programs, "Politically Incorrect". We were informed Bill and his show would leave the network when his contract expired in 12 months. It was a done deal. Bill wanted to take his show to the "big leagues" at ABC where he would follow Night Line. Comedy Central was left jilted. Terrible news for a network still trying to establish itself. We had a year to figure out how to replace him and the clock was ticking. So began the path to The Daily Show.

It was very much a fledgling Comedy Central I joined, available in barely 35 million homes, desperately seeking an identity and an audience. It was just over three years old, born into a shot gun wedding that joined two struggling and competing comedy networks, HBO’s Comedy Channel and Viacom’s HA!, Watching them both stumble out of the gate, the cable operators forced them to merge, telling them: "We only need one comedy channel, you guys figure it out”. After some contentious negotiations the new channel was born and the red headed step child of MTV and HBO set out to find the pop culture zeitgeist its parents had already expertly navigated. The network had yet to define itself. The programming consisted mainly of old stand up specials from the likes of Gallagher (never underestimate the appeal of a man smashing watermelons), a hodgepodge of licensed movies (“The God’s Must be Crazy and The Cheech and Chong trilogy were mainstays) and Benny Hill reruns. The networks biggest hit by far was the UK import “Absolutely Fabulous”, better know as “AbFab”. Comedy Central boasted a handful of original shows, including the wonderfully sublime "SquiggleVision" of “Dr. Katz”, the sketch comedy "Exit 57" (starring the then unknown Amy Sedaris and Stephen Colbert) and of course Maher’s "Politically Incorrect". In retrospect I don’t think Bill got enough credit for pioneering the idea of political comedy on mainstream TV. Back then he was the only one doing it.

Politically Incorrect performed just fine, but got more critical attention than ratings. It was a panel show, and I had something a bit different in mind to replace it. I knew we needed a flagship, a network home base, something akin to ESPN's Sports Center where viewers could go at the end of a the day for our comedic take on everything that happened in the last 24 hours….."a daily show". I had broad idea for it in my head. I would describe it as part "Weekend Update", part Howard Stern, with a dash of "The Today Show" on drugs complete with a bare boned format to keep costs low so we could actually afford to produce it. We could open with the headlines covering the day's events (our version of a monologue), followed by a guest segment (we wouldn't need to write jokes...only questions!), and finish with a taped piece. Simple, right? We just needed someone to help flesh out our vision.

Comedy Central was a a second tier cable channel then and considered a bit of a joke (no pun intended). It had minuscule ratings, no heat and even less money to spend. Producers were not lining up to work with there. Eileen Katz ran programming for the channel and the two of us began pitching this idea to every producer who would listen. One of the first people we approached was Madeleine Smithberg, an ex Letterman producer and had overseen "The Jon Stewart Show" for us at MTV. We thought she was perfect for the role. “You can’t do this, you can’t afford this, you don't have the stomach for this, it will never work ” Madeliene said when we met with her. We could not convince her to take the gig. Ok then....we moved on. The problem was we heard that same refrain from everybody. No one wanted the job. So after weeks being turned down by literally EVERYONE, I said to Eileen: “We have to go back to Madeleine and convince her to do this with us"!

Part our pitch to her was we would go directly to series. There would be no pilot. The show was guaranteed to go on air. We had decided this show was our to be our destiny and we had to figure it out come hell or high water. As a 24 hour comedy channel, if we couldn't figure out a way to be funny and fresh every day...what good were we? We told Madeliene we were committed to putting the show on the air and keeping it there till we got it right (for at least a year anyway). That, plus some gentle arm twisting got her to sign on. Shortly after that, Lizz Winstead did too.

Madleiene and Lizz very quickly landed on their inspired notion of developing the show and format as a news parody. It brought an immediate focus and a point of view to the process . All of the sudden things started to take shape and coming to life. Great ideas started flowing fast and furious while an amazing collection of funny and talented began to come on board. Madeliene and Lizz were off to the races. Now all we needed was a host.

The prime time version of ESPN's Sports Center was hosted by Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann back then and it was must see cable TV. But I had recently started to notice another guy hosting the show's late night edition. He was funny, with a snarky delivery reminiscent of Dennis Miller. His name was Craig Kilborn. On the phone with CAA agent Jeff Jacobs one day, I asked if he knew happened to know who repped him? “I do" he said. "We just signed him”. Within days he was in my office along with Madeleine, Lizz, and Eileen who were all a bit skeptical about the tall blond guy with the frat boy vibes sitting across from them. After opening the meeting with a few off color comments that would probably get him cancelled today (an early warning sign fo sure), Craig ultimately won them over and we had our host.

FUN FAC#1: Minutes after the news of Craig's hiring went public, Keith Olberman's agent called me directly to ask why we hadn't considered hiring him?

Ok, we had a host and producers...but what to call it? After sifting through dozens of ideas for a title, Madeleine called me one day and said, "I think we should just call it what we've been calling it all along...."The Daily Show". As we approached our launch date we taped practice shows and took them out to focus groups to get real life feedback. The groups hated it.... I mean with a red hot hate. They hated Craig, the format, the jokes, everything. We were crushed and dejectedly looked around at the room at one another. "Now what?" “Either they’re wrong, or we are". I said I think they are...but it doesn’t matter, we're doing this!" We never looked back.

The show took off quickly garnering some quick buzz and attention, we felt like we had crashed the party. Well, sort of. We had no shortage of fun, growing pains and drama along the way. The Daily Show version 1.0 was about to unravel. In a December 1997 magazine interview Craig made some truly offensive and inappropriate remarks about Lizz and female members of the staff. Whether it was poor attempt at humor or just plain misogynist (or both) is beyond the point. It was all wrong, very wrong. Craig was suspended for a week without pay. Lizz left the show. In the moment I chose to protect the show and its talent more so than Lizz. That was wrong too. It's more than cringe worthy looking back now, and I regret not making some better decisions then. My loyalty to our host was later "rewarded" when in the Spring of 1998 Kilborn's team, a la Bill Maher, unceremoniously informed us he had signed a deal to follow Letterman on CBS when his contract expired at the end of the year. No discussion, a done deal. Comedy Central jilted again. Like Maher, Kilborn wanted his shot at the network big leagues and we had a little over six months to figure out how to replace him. We all know how that chapter ended. That search would eventually reunite us with Jon Stewart who along with The Daily Show took Comedy Central and basic cable to the "the big leagues" on their own terms, redefining late night comedy in the process The rest, as they say, is "Fake News" history.

Fun Fact #2: before approaching Jon (who I did not originally think would be interested) I initially offered the job to a chunkier, largely unknown Jimmy Kimmel, fresh off his co hosting duties on "Win Ben Stein's Money" ...only to have him turn us down.

My fascination with late night began as a kid. I remember how exciting it was to stay up to sneak a peek at the Carson monologue and watch him do spit takes with his chummy Hollywood guests. Later on I also loved the heady adult conversation Dick Cavett would have with everyone from Sly Stone to Groucho Marx. But it was the comedic revolution of Saturday night Live in 1975, followed by Letterman's game changing show in 1981 that truly established late night as the coolest place on the television landscape. I could only dream of one day being part of it.

25 years on, I couldn’t be more proud of The Daily Show and its legacy. Those days helping build it alongside Madeleine, Lizz, Eileen and the team were among the most satisfying (and fun) experiences I have ever had. It was thrilling to take a shot at the late night landscape and try and make our mark, especially when no one thought we could.

I am prouder still of what Trevor Noah and his staff have achieved since they took the hand off from Jon, evolving and growing the show through a new voice and lens. I think my personal "Moment Of Zen" will last as long as Trevor remains behind the desk, allowing me to selfishly boast of having hired every host this award winning and culture defining franchise has ever had.

25 years later. it remains as relevant as ever, a bona fide late night institution, standing shoulder to shoulder with all the great shows that inspired us to start.

[dimitribelikov]

The Belikov Chronicles: The Tasha Conundrum Pt.1

✶ I was curious about Dimitri’s past with Tasha, so here’s a rewritten scene from Frostbite in his POV, but with added background of how those two met. ✶ notes : All dialogue between Dimitri, Rose, and Adrian are straight from Frostbite, chapter 13. The rest is mine, based on characters written by Richelle Mead. ✶ warnings : mild language ✶ ships : romitri, hints of Dimitri/Tasha ✶ more one-shots featuring my version of Dimitri can be found here

                                                                 ✶✶✶

      Everything was chaos. Complete and utter disarray. Strigoi attacks like this were unheard of. I wasn’t sure what was more infuriating though, the attacks themselves or the way the Moroi would rather talk out of their asses and argue for hours instead of actually doing something about it. The meeting was going in circles and I could feel my frustration steadily growing with every new, outlandish proposal made. It wasn’t until Tasha flipped the script with her little display that I actually felt a bit of hope. No way would people get on board with her stance of fighting quickly, but it was a step in the right direction. Watching her talk with such passion, the heat of the argument alight in her eyes, it was overwhelming. She was beautiful and the kind of leader that these aimless, rich, assholes needed.

My friend was pretty amazing, I had to admit. Though despite the heated climate around me, I could help but wonder for a moment if she was my friend. Did that term still apply? Since she’d come back into my life, she’d been not-so-subtly pushing for something more. It could be easy to go along with, but something still held me back. A something that I suspected was sitting next to me at that very moment.

Thankfully, I didn’t have much time to ponder my upside down love life. Fire lit up in the audience and with it, panic erupted. I stood to my feet immediately, ready to jump into action if the arguments turned physical. It was a worry in vain, though, seeing as the entire point of the argument was the Moroi’s refusal of fighting with their fists and magic. Surveying the scene only irritated me further. No decisions were going to be made and I wanted to get away from the crowd to see if any more insights were made from the attacks. “You might as well leave. Nothing useful’s going to happen now,” I told Rose and Mason who had stood with me.

As I started to leave, I realized that my only companion was Rose. Mason was too fascinated by the scandal, apparently. As I fell in step with her, letting the sounds of the arguments die away, I realized how strange it felt to suddenly be alone with her. I last saw her at Tasha’s Christmas gathering, but that was a strained time. The memory of our kiss was still fresh and I was doing everything I could to ignore the effect it had on me. Since then, she’d been downright cold towards me. I wasn’t entirely sure why. I suppose because I canceled the rest of our lessons? It didn’t really make much sense to me, though.

Almost as if she could read my mind, Rose provided the answer herself. “Should’t you be in there protecting Tasha? Before the mob gets her? She’s going to get into big trouble for using magic like that.”

I arched an eyebrow at her, picking up instantly on the tone of her voice. Rose actually sounded jealous. Of Tasha. I had been spending a lot of time with the Moroi, but I couldn’t quite place where this newfound vehemence was coming from. “She can take care of herself,” I commented. I found myself wanting to pick at this wound more, to find out exactly what was going on inside her head. Yet at the same time, I was definitely afraid of what I might find.

“Yeah, yeah, because she’s a badass karate magic user,” Rose continued on, letting her emotions lead the conversation. “I get all that. I just figured since you’re going to be her guardian and all . . .”

That brought me to a halt. I knew gossip at the Academy traveled like wildfire, yet somehow, I always felt like I was exempt since I was a guardian. Apparently not. This was exactly what I didn’t want. I still hadn’t given Tasha my answer but it was already dictating my life. Was this the reason Rose had been so cold? Had been avoiding me like the plague? Had been all over Mason? I quickly pushed the last thought out of my head the moment it had sprung up. Mason was a good guy. I knew better than to make this about me. And if Rose had a chance for some happiness with someone deserving of her, then I wouldn’t stand in the way.

But me and Tasha . . .  That was an entirely different matter. I didn’t really know how I felt about the woman still defending her political views in ballroom. We first met when I had just turned nineteen. A bunch of the royals were on a winter getaway in Aspen, Colorado. Snowmass, to be exact. It was a small enough town that made it easier to guard. Plus, there’s a Moroi run ski resort in the mountains there, just like the one in Idaho. My charge, Ivan, had a few friends going for what was sure to be a rowdy, fun packed weekend. I was working, of course, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t have a bit of fun, too.

The first night there was a small gathering in the suite belonging to a Drozdov. Tasha had been invited, though I can’t really remember why. She was clearly an outcast, not quite fitting in. I’d heard the stories, and saw the truth of them in the scar that marred her otherwise flawless complexion. Just because she wasn’t popular, didn’t mean she shied away from the conversations. She was a bit older than me, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward around her. Such beauty and strength wrapped up in a “I don’t give a shit” attitude had caught my attention right away.

The topic of fighting was brought up. One of the Drozdov guys was boasting about “easy” it was to be a guardian. He’d had more than his fair share of vodka shots at that point, which made it hard to actually take offense. He balled up his fist and punched the air for emphasis.

Tasha laughed, bringing everyone’s attention on her. She set down the vodka bottle and stood up. “You’d break your fist instantly, Nik. You have to wrap your thumb like this.” She demonstrated and threw a punch to the air. This was met with whoops from the group, encouraging more. It was every bit as taboo a subject to talk about Moroi fighting then as it is now. There was something scandalous about the conversation topic and the drunken Moroi wanted to encourage more of it. I exchanged a glance with a fellow guardian. We hadn’t been drinking and I could tell that he was as amused as I was.

"You couldn’t break through a sheet of paper with that punch,” Nik laughed.

Rolling her eyes, Tasha responded, “So I don’t have the strength you do in my stick arms, but at least my bones will stay in tact.”

“The power doesn’t come from your arm.” It was me who had spoken, moving away from the wall as I approached her. I tried to push the awkwardness aside, wanting to seem “cool” in her eyes. I’d always had something of a show-off nature and couldn’t help but join in with the taboo conversation. “It’s your hips,” I told her. By now, the entire crowd had fallen to a hush, watching a very unprecedented display with rapt fascination. I got into a fight stance and slowly showed her how to rotate the hips. “Turn like this, use your back foot to put all your weight into the punch, and that’s where you get your strength. The hips. And your hips look more than capable to me.”

The loud cackle I heard belonged to my friend. “Oh Dimka! Beware ladies, he slays more than just Strigoi!”

I dropped my hands and shot Ivan a look. It was Tasha who had pulled my attention again. “Dimka?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as she studied me with curiosity.

“Just a nickname,” I answered with a little shrug.

“I like it.”

Her smile was infectious and I soon found myself forgetting about Ivan’s teasing. We dropped all notions of fighting after that, but Tasha remained at my side the rest of the party. The next evening, we even found time to sneak off together and talk the whole night away in front of a large fireplace in one of the common rooms. There was nothing illicit about it, though. She was pretty and I admired her spirit, but the more we talked and got to know one another, I found something more valuable than a vacation romance. She was someone I could be myself around. Ivan was really only other person I’d ever felt that way about. She even liked my outdated taste of music. We could talk about everything from superficial, amusing topics, to the more serious things such as Moroi politics and even her darkened past. There wasn’t an ounce of judgement from either of us. Even though we’d only known each other three days, at the end of the vacation, it felt as though I’d known her my whole life.

Tasha was a true friend, through and through. We’d kept in contact over the years, but our relationship never seemed anything more than friendly. It wasn’t until she’d showed up at the Academy for her nephew, Christian, that she started hinting at wanting more. Did I want more? The first time we had kissed had been Christmas night, after her party. It was nice, enjoyable. We know each other so well already that there was no fear, no apprehension. Kissing her was comforting, and safe.

But what was safety what I wanted? Or was it danger that always appealed to me more. When her lips had met mine, I couldn’t help but think of Rose’s kiss in the gym just days before. Every part of it was wrong, but there was no denying the passion of that kiss. While under the effects of Victor’s lust charm months before, I had grown a new appreciation for her. Of course the feel of her half naked body underneath mine would light up my dreams for years to come, but it couldn’t compare to that kiss.

There was no charm or spell to dictate us. It was driven solely by Rose’s passion . . . and as much as I don’t want to admit it, mine as well. It had set a fire inside me, making my mind beg for more. Rose was unpredictable, even by my standards, and not knowing what she’d do next thrilled me. Of course my logic had caught up and I put an end to it at once, but the truth was still there. Rose’s kiss had left far more an impression than Tasha’s ever could.

Yet my old friend had offered the perfect solution. Rose could never be, no matter how much my heart yearned for her. Tasha, however, was proposing an ending that would not only keep Rose and Lissa safe and happy, but allow me to live a dream that most dhampirs were never given. Surely I could learn to love Tasha without any difficulty, right?

Either way, I still hadn’t come up with an answer, which made it all the more frustrating to hear the topic from straight from Rose’s mouth. “Where did you hear that?” I asked her.

“I have my sources,” she replied enigmatically. “You’ve decided to, right? I mean, it sounds like a good deal, seeing as she’s going to give you fringe benefits. . . .”

My patience had just run out. I didn’t even know what was going on between myself and Tasha, and I didn’t want to have to explain it to anyone else. Least of the very girl who had tormented my mind into making this such a difficult matter to begin with. I set her with a stern gaze, hoping that she got the message that the topic was off limits. “What happens between her and me is none of your business.” I couldn’t have this conversation with Rose. Not yet. I wasn’t ready. Yet she pushed on in typical Rose fashion. She really was going to be the death of me, I was certain of that.

“Well, I’m sure you guys’ll be happy together. She’s just your type, too –– I know how much you like women who aren’t your own age. I mean, she’s what, six years older than you? Seven? And I’m four years younger than you.”

If I had wondered whether or not Rose was jealous, all doubt was instantly removed. Yes, there was a selfish part of me that took pleasure in knowing that I could get her attention like that, but I quickly pushed it aside. Rose was intoxicating, but we could never be. She’s still only seventeen, I’m her mentor, we’re both set to be assigned Lissa’s guardians. I wasn’t a total asshole and refused to mess up her life with my own selfishness. Reason upon reason stacked up against us, and I felt my control starting to slip as frustration began to seep in. That frustration only doubled when I realized it was exactly the point Rose had made in the gym. My control was always a battle for me.

"Yes,” I finally answered. “You are. And every second this conversation goes on, you only prove how young you really are.”

Shit. Ok, that was a hell of a lot more harsh than I wanted it to be. The problem was, I was feeling cornered. What I wanted was right in front of me but I couldn’t have her. I was mad at the situation, not her. Unfortunately, the more she pushed, the more she became the target of that anger.

My heart raced as I realized what I had done. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe I could still take it back and––

“Little dhampir,” a new voice interrupted. When I looked up and saw Adrian Ivashkov approach, I felt my moody emotions return. Though I wondered if I was only annoyed because he’d interrupted me, I quickly realized that wasn’t the case at all. It was lascivious look in his eyes as they swept over Rose’s body. It was gross, and I wanted nothing more than to smack the smug grin from his face. I did my best to control my expression, but judging by Adrian’s greeting as he continued to talk to Rose, I had a feeling my disgust was pretty obvious.

Was I being a hypocrite, I wondered. I was pissed off that Rose had acted all jealous over Tasha, yet here I was, wanting to explode because she was talking to Adrian of all people. No, that wasn’t it, I quickly realized. Mason was good. I would have been happier if it was him that she was walking away with. Rose deserved someone who could treat her with respect and compassion. I wished it was me, but such wasn’t in the cards. As it were, I silently seethed as I watched her leave with the slimeball, confident that she had no idea who Adrian really was.

With no where else to go, I went in search of Tasha to see if she was free yet. Though part of me suspected there was a more petty reason for suddenly wanting her company . . .

[blu-joons]

BTS Reaction: You Love Musical Theatre

Jin:

He handed you the envelope he’d held onto for weeks, a huge smile was on his face as you opened the seal, pulling out two tickets to the theatre show that had just begun.

“Are you serious right now?” You giggled, looking at both the tickets to see where you’d be sat, right at the front of the stalls.

“I wanted to do something nice seeing as you’ve been so busy recently,” he smiled, feeling your arms wrap around him.

Your lips pressed to his cheeks, “this is the best gift you could have ever given me, thank you so much Jin, I really wanted to go and watch this one as well.”

He nodded, “I knew you did; it took a lot to get tickets, but eventually I managed to get some, we’ll head down there in a couple of weeks.”

“Those two weeks cannot come soon enough,” you laughed, cupping either side of his face, “you’re amazing, I don’t deserve your kind heart sometimes.” “Yes you do,” he assured you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, “you’ve worked hard, and you need some time off to relax and enjoy yourself.”

“This will definitely do just that.”

Yoongi:

When he handed you control of the music in the car, he knew he was in for a long trip, when he watched you place the Hairspray soundtrack DVD into the player.

“How’s this one for you?” You asked him as Good Morning Baltimore began to play, sniggering as his eyes rolled, turning to face you.

“It’s not the worst one, there could be worse,” he chuckled, smirking as you began to sing along with all the lyrics out of the window.

He couldn’t believe how invested you were into it, screaming out loud, “whenever you want to join in, just slide into the song Yoongi, I know you love it really.”

His eyes rolled, “I like it, but I don’t know the lyrics, you’ll have to teach me them all one day when we’ve got a bit of time on our hands to sit and listen.”

“You’re joking, but I love it that much I can teach you all of the lyrics if you want to,” you assured him, resting your hand across onto his arm.

“Perhaps that wasn’t such a good suggestion,” he groaned, leaning back in his seat, “you just enjoy it for yourself for now, I’ll learn to love it one day.”

“You’ll be obsessed soon enough.”

Hoseok:

The two of you were in stitches as you danced around to Hamilton in the living room, neither of you could control yourselves, falling onto the sofa on top of each other.

“We’d never get a job at the theatre,” you laughed, trying to push Hobi off of the top of you whilst he tried to stop himself laughing.

“I was made for the stage,” he challenged, throwing his arms into the air, “musical theatre is perfect for me, I’m dramatic enough to be a star.” Your head nodded,” you’re not wrong, you’d be perfect for theatre, only you’d probably start giggling halfway through your lines and mess things up.”

He refused to agree with you, “could you imagine me in Les Mis, when the deaths happen, I could do all the gasping, sound effects would be where I’m good.”

“You’d be perfect for sound effects, they’d hire you in an instance,” you assured him, as your laughter began to die down, the two of you realised what was going on.

“I have no idea what just happened,” he sighed, rolling off your body, laying down on the floor as he tried to catch his breath.

“It’s all musical theatre fun.”

Namjoon:

As the music of the Phantom of the Opera played behind you as you cooked, Namjoon’s ears focussed on the music, the lyrics particularly caught his attention.

“Musical theatre certainly has some incredible songs,” he mumbled, watching as you sorted everything out in the kitchen.

“It’s all part of the appeal, that’s why I fell in love with it,” you replied. You could tell as you watched him, he was in deep thought about things.

He nodded lightly, “I’d love to write for musical theatre one day, that would be so cool, they’re the kind of songs that people remember for such a long time.”

You smiled across at him, watching as he began to type into his phone, “I think that you could one day, you’ve got the skills to write for it, a proper love song would be perfect.”

“I could never write as good as these songs though, they’re something else, now I see why you tried to get me to listen to it for so long,” he chuckled.

“Because I knew you’d like it,” you reminded him, poking out your tongue, “you should have listened to me from the start when I told you about it.”

“Yeah, maybe you were right.”

Jimin:

You could barely contain yourself as you walked down the aisle to find your seats at the theatre, Jimin loved seeing you so happy, sitting himself down beside you.

“Excited?” He asked, to which you quickly nodded your head. “Did I do a good job bringing you here? I thought you’d like it.”

“You did an amazing job, any show would have been great, but Rock of Ages is a personal favourite of mine,” you encouraged, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He smiled widely, “do you want to know a secret? This is my first ever musical theatre show? I don’t really know what to expect from this.”

You rested your hand over his, “I promise you will really enjoy it; it won’t take long for you to start singing and dancing, it’ll be like a BTS concert.”

“I like the sound of that,” he chuckled, taking a good look around, “although, not to brag, we definitely play to slightly bigger crowds than this.”

“That’s definitely bragging,” you whispered into his ear, as his eyes rolled, “but I guess being such a worldwide superstar, you’re allowed to say that.”

“I definitely am.”

Taehyung:

He couldn’t hide his smile when the We Will Rock You soundtrack began to play out as you prepared yourself for date night, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“Enjoying yourself?” You asked him as he began to lip sync along, acting out every word as if it were him on the stage performing, making you smile.

“Don’t you think I’d be good in theatre? I’m ready for my calling.” He told you, remaining in character, glancing only briefly at the smile on your face.

Your head shook, “I don’t even know what to say to you right now, I’m just enjoying the moment,” you chuckled, grabbing onto your phone to try and record his performance.

His hand came across, snatching it from you, “I’m an actor, you don’t record actors at the theatre, so why would you film me? It’s not fair to just film me.”

“Perhaps because we’re in our bedroom, not the theatre, without a crowd” you teased, trying to fight him for your phone back.

“One day I’ll be on the stage and you’ll regret saying that, trying to take photos of me to show how big a star I am.”

“You can dream Tae.”

Jungkook:

Your hands tapped onto the steering wheel along to the music, Jungkook looked across at you, watching you get into the music of The Lion King that played.

“Why don’t you be Nala, and I’ll be Simba?” Jungkook suggested, smiling as your eyes glanced over at him, your head shook in response.

“Nala barely has any lines, you’ll be doing most of the singing,” you groaned, watching his shoulders shrug, and his smirk grow.

He blew a kiss across to you, “technically I am the singer in this relationship, you can be Pumba if you want to be, I reckon you could do a good job of that.”

Your head continued to shake, “you’re horrible to me, don’t ruin The Lion King for me now too, I’ve already dealt with that when we listened to Hairspray the other day.”

“I thought that suggesting you be Amber was a great idea, it’s not my fault you said no,” he reminded you, he loved seeing you get so wound up.

“You said that Namjoon should be Tracy, you thought Namjoon would be a better Tracy than me, it’s offensive,” you scolded, turning away from him.

“It’s alright, Amber’s the pretty one.”

---

Masterlist

[bucketofcowboys]

2 Idiots At 2 AM

Thank you to RachelSnow on AO3 for beta reading this fic for me! I really appreciate it!

Relationship: Kazuma Kiryu & Akira Nishikiyama (NOT SHIP)

Warning: Underage Smoking, Smoking, a lil bit of angst, no spoilers for the games tho

Words: 2,044

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684367

--------

Everything felt hazy, and the first thing Kiryu realized was that someone was holding his hand. The second thing he realized was that the hand was guiding him forwards, and his legs went with it like it was the natural flow of things. He didn't know who it was, nor did he know where he was going, all he knew was that for some reason he was completely at peace with it. He felt lax, like he was floating atop calm waters. It lapped at his skin in tranquil waves.

When he finally raised his head up to meet the gaze of the person that was holding his hand, he realized that they had no features. Instead they were smudged, like the scribbles of a pencil streaked against paper. Even with the terrifying lack of a face, he proceeded like nothing was out of place. Though he could not properly get a look at her, for some reason naturally in his mind, he identified the person guiding him as his mother. Her hands were soft and warm. Her voice was gentle, though he couldn't process what she was saying.

They approached a building that looked very familiar to him. It almost looked like Sunflower, but the signs were gone and it looked empty. He mindlessly labeled it as 'home'. He felt like he had lived there for years with his mom, though he couldn't pinpoint any specific memories that proved it. In front of the building stood another person with the same smudged looking face as her. He identified him as father. He smiled as they stepped in front of him. He had no face, so there was no way he could actually smile, but Kiryu felt it. He felt him smile at them, all cordial and bright and sunny.

"Kazuma!" Kiryu heard someone shout, and in an instant that warm calm feeling shattered like sheets of ice against the pavement. He turned around and he saw Nishiki on the ground. He was crying, broken. Knees torn open in great gashes. He turned back towards his parents, wanting to ask for help, but they were gone. Dissipated like dust in the wind.

"Kazuma! Wake up!" He opened his eyes and found himself laying on the wooden floor of he and Nishiki's shared room. He pulled his pressure numb arm out from under him, which he had been using as a pillow, and blinked a few times as he regained consciousness. Nishiki was squatting above him, flicking his forehead. They both were in the doorway of their room, and Kiryu had no idea how either of them got there. 

"Stop it!" He swatted the hand away from his face and pushed himself to sit up, "What happened?" He was still phased out of reality after that dream. Dreams about his parents always made him feel a bit disconnected once he woke up. Nishiki rolled his eyes.

"You fell asleep when I told you to be on the lookout for me, you dumbass." Nishiki flicked his head once more, and Kiryu groaned in disapproval. 

"They didn't catch you though, so I did my job." Kiryu pointed out, "Did you get it?" 

Nishiki rolled his eyes as if he was annoyed by his lack of confidence in him. 

"Yeah, of course I did." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of hi-lights. He popped open the top to show off the fact that it still had a few cigs in it. Kiryu raised his eyebrows, impressed. 

"Well give me one--" Kiryu impatiently grabbed at the package, and Nishiki immediately pulled back and held the cigarettes up and as far away as he could from him. Kiryu was taller, and could easily reach over him and grab them if he wanted to, but he didn't. He just sat there pouting. 

"Are you stupid? We can't smoke in here! What about my sister, dumbass!" He went to knock Kiryu on his head, but he quickly blocked it with his arm and threw Nishiki off of him. "We gotta smoke outside."

Kiryu shivered at the idea. It had been freezing the past few days, and he doubted just because two rebellious teens wanted to smoke that the temperature would magically spike up. But, Nishiki was right. Yuko definitely wouldn't fare well if she inhaled a bunch of smoke in her sleep, and smoking inside the building was banned anyways. If they smoked in there he was sure everyone would recognize the smell and they'd be in big trouble. He sighed, and got up to grab his jacket.

Once he arrived back at the doorway, Nishiki was already tiptoeing his way down the hall. Kiryu quickly made his way to follow, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could manage. If someone woke up and saw their door wide open, they were sure to become suspicious. He cautiously avoided the especially squeaky floor boards as he walked down the corridor, passing by Yumi and Yuko's own room with a flinch. If either of them found out what they were sneaking out to do they'd probably kill him and Nishiki. 

They finally entered the main area, and peered around the corner of the wall before they even attempted to get close to the front door. Scanning the darkened room, they saw no one occupying it. The usually full and bustling orphanage was disturbingly quiet during the night, many of the younger kids in a dead sleep after hours of play, the older ones confined in their rooms doing homework with only a flimsy book light to keep them company. He chased after Nishiki as he dashed towards the door, almost falling as his socks slid on the slick hardwood. Nishiki flipped the lock on the brass knob and it gave a click of approval, then he opened the door, as slowly as he possibly could to prevent any creaking.

Cool air rushed in and brushed past the both of them, causing a conjoined shiver. Kiryu tugged his jacket on tighter and regretted not putting anything over his tank top before deciding to do this. Eventually the door slid open to where the both of them could squeeze their body through, and then they spent a good couple minutes slowly closing it just in case. Outside, little flakes of snow had begun to fall from the dark gray sky. Under the cover of the night and winter, the white specks could be ash from a volcano and neither of them would notice a thing. Cool winds blew past, and the only things that illuminated their faces were the half moon in the sky, and the nearby porch light that lit up the wooden Sunflower sign. 

Nishiki quickly made his way to hide over at the side of the building, thinking they were less likely to be caught if they weren't directly in the front. Once they were under cover, they squatted down against the siding and Nishiki pulled out the pack of cigs again. He opened it and pulled out two of the white sticks and handed one to Kiryu while keeping the other for himself. Kiryu eyed at the object for a second, quickly realizing that the side with the blue lines was the side you were meant to smoke from, judging by the white foam filter he could see. The other side was jammed packed with dried tobacco. He sniffed at the odd end and flinched at the offending smell. 

"Shit, did you grab something to light it with?" Kiryu said when he finally realized that they had no way to actually smoke them. Nishiki waved him off. Kiryu noticed that he had already placed the cigarette between his lips, and he copied him. 

"Yeah of course, I'm not stupid." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a suspiciously familiar lighter. 

"Wait... that's-- Akira! Kazama-san’s already going to be pissed off when he finds that his smokes are missing, but you stole his lighter too?!" Nishiki shrugged, already flicking his thumb against the gear to try and light it. 

"Everyone else lights his cigarettes for him, he won't notice." He finally got the thing to spark hard enough that it lit, and he quickly moved the flame over to the tip of his cigarette. Kiryu watched as the fire slowly caught on the paper, and smoke began to plume at the end. He then reached over and brought the lighter closer to Kiryu. He leaned forwards and aimed the tip at the flame. He went cross eyed trying to get a glimpse of it as it lit up.

Nishiki shoved the lighter back into his pocket and took his first smooth drag from his cig, so Kiryu tried to follow suit. When he huffed the smoke in, he immediately began to choke. The taste was downright offensive, and his throat and lungs burned furiously. After trying to stifle his cough, he looked back up and saw that Nishiki seemed totally unaffected and blew his puff out with no problem. He furrowed his brows. 

"Have you done this before?" Kiryu asked, still gasping. 

"What? No!" Nishiki held the cigarette between his index and middle finger and gestured with it with mock experience, "I'm just cooler than you Kazuma." He added smugly. He took another drag, and this time Kiryu took notice that he had to stifle a cough. He smirked, but didn't point it out. 

They sat there for a while, quietly nursing their cigarettes, stifling coughs and chokes and accidently burning their nostrils as they let the smoke go through the wrong pipes. Their hearts pounded heavy in their chests and adrenaline pumped through their veins, knowing what they were doing was against so many rules and if they were caught they probably wouldn't be allowed outside of the orphanage for a week. But that was the appeal of it, wasn't it? The thrill.

As Kiryu kept smoking, a feeling of nausea fell over him. People always talked about how cigarettes were calming, and he thought that the more and more he inhaled the more relaxed he would get. Instead it was the opposite. He felt sick to his stomach and everything burned. He had no idea why adults smoked so often. All it seemed to do was hurt. He couldn't even finish his cigarette before he stubbed it out on the ground. 

"What's wrong?" Nishiki asked, Kiryu looked up at him pale faced and big eyed. 

"I feel sick, ototo-kun." He said honestly. He felt like he was going to throw up. Nishiki gave him a look of concern. 

"You wanna go inside?" Kiryu quickly nodded. Nishiki stubbed his cigarette on the side of the building and left a petty burn mark against the siding, a reminder of what they did here, then grabbed Kiryu and led him by the arm back into the building. They tip-toed their way back to their room, and Kiryu curled up on his bed with the sickening taste of tobacco and nicotine sinking in his stomach. By the time morning came around, the sickness had passed and he felt much better, but they soon came to regret their decision later in the day when Kazama came to visit. 

It turns out that he had, indeed, noticed the lighter Nishiki stole was missing, and he lined all the kids up and asked for whoever stole them to come clean. When no one stepped forward, he made his rounds and after only a few seconds he figured out it was he and Nishiki just by the smell of tobacco that still clung to their breath. He forced the two of them to fess up and apologize in front of the whole orphanage (Kiryu wouldn't have been so embarrassed about it if Yumi wasn't angrily eyeing him the entire time), then he sent them off to their room and grounded them for a couple of weeks. What Kiryu remembered the most was that he was less pissed off about the smoking, and more pissed off about Nishiki stealing, and getting away with it.

About a year later, when they both had turned fifteen, they tried the same thing all over again.

It went about as well as the first time.

[bi-the-way-i-love-bunnies]

(And they were roommates au)

Drarry drabble ~ 10/21

“What the fuck?” 

Harry glanced at the paper in his hand before checking the room number again. Yep, this was it. No mistaking it then. An equally confused Malfoy looked up from where he was unpacking before scowling at him. 

“Potter,” he acknowledged, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?” 

“You’re Drew Black?” Harry couldn’t help but blurt out. 

Drew Black, a student majoring in psychology, just like him. At least that’s what his form had told him. He’d also be Harry’s roommate for the next school year. Crap. 

“Yes Potter,” Malfoy rolled his eyes, “That’s my alias.” 

“But this is a muggle university?” Harry couldn’t help but question. 

Malfoy scoffed and turned back to the box he was dealing with earlier, “I have the same right to be here as you, you know.” 

“But you hate muggles!” 

At that, Harry saw Malfoy grimace a little. “Yeah, well, the war could change many perspectives on things.” 

Once the war was over, the first thing Harry did was try enrolling in the Auror program. It sounded good at the time. It was his dream career as a teen, Ron would be there, and it would give him something to keep him busy. However, after a month or so of training, it proved to be a fatal decision. 

He didn’t account for how exhausted he’d be after everything was done. And hunting down remaining death eaters and bad guys didn’t benefit his mental health at all. Not to mention there was constant pressure for being the boy who lived twice, all mighty savior of the wizarding world. Not taking his final year of newts was really starting to show, but all his colleagues were pretty patient and assured it was fine. It wasn’t. 

When Harry voiced all his complaints to Ron and Hermione one night, he was leant a sympathetic ear. 

“Oh god! I’m so glad I’m not the only one,” Ron revealed as he flopped back onto the couch after grabbing another butterbeer. “No offense mate, but if you didn’t say anything I would’ve told you I was quitting next week or something.” 

“Yeah?” Harry gave a wry smile, “Was it all getting to you too?” 

Ron thought about it for a moment before answering. “Not as much as you have, I don’t think. I mean, I’m not the one for killed Voldemort so there’s less pressure on me, but it feels too similar to-”

“Being on the run. War memories. Trauma?” Harry voiced. 

“Exactly,” the two shared a smile. They just got each other like that. 

“While it’s lovely you two found out you didn’t want to be an Auror anymore, what are you guys going to do now?” Hermione, the voice of reason, spoke up. 

The two men remained silent as they thought about it. Actually, now that Harry wasn’t planning to continue with training, what was he going to do now? 

“I don’t exactly know yet,” Ron spoke up first. “Whatever it is though, I’m planning on staying close to home. Mom and the rest of them really need the support right now you know?” 

Hermione nodded, “That makes sense.” None were willing to bring up Fred’s death right now. 

“What about you Harry?” Hermione turned back to him. 

Harry shrugged. “Same answer as Ron I guess. It’s not that I don’t want to stay close to home or finish my Hogwarts year like you, but maybe I’d like to get a hobby or learn stuff away from the press.”

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before offering a suggestion. “Well after Hogwarts, I was planning to attend a muggle university to expand my education. You could do the same, and you don’t have to worry about coming back or staying close to us. There’s quite a lot of muggle options and I’m sure McGonagall would love to help with writing up all the documents you need.” 

“You think going back to school would help me?” School didn’t particularly appeal to him, but Hermione’s suggestion sounded better than what he first assumed. 

“There’s a lot of variety when it comes to Muggle studies, Harry. Who knows, maybe you’ll find something right for you.” 

“Yeah mate,” Ron agreed, “It could do you some good. And if you ever get sick of it you could always come find me and we could be awkward veteran dropouts together.” 

Harry let out a small laugh. “You’re not going back to school then.” 

Ron shrugged. “Maybe not now. But whatever I do, I’ll figure it out.” 

And so the next few days Harry hung out at Ron and Hermione’s, the former helping him sort through colleges he could apply to with the new papers freshly acquired from McGonagall. 

“Best of luck to you Mr. Potter,” she gave him a warm smile when she handed off the papers the day prior. James Evans, it read, his new alias a bold crisp print at the top. 

And so with Hermione’s help and Ron keeping him grounded every time Harry felt like quitting and turning back, he eventually settled upon majoring in psychology at a university in New York. It was an ocean away from home, but he felt that it was the right choice. And Hermione and Ron promised to owl whenever they could and try visiting him every other week. 

The day they left for the portkey station was one of the hardest moments of his life. Even with the war, at least he still had Ron and Hermione. 

“Remember we’re only a portkey away,” Hermione hugged him, “And remember to write all the time!” 

Harry laughed, “Yeah I searched up the closest owl station to the school. Only a 20 minute walk from campus.” 

Ron and Hermione shared a glance between the two of them, one that Harry couldn’t decipher. 

“Actually Harry,” Ron disappeared for a second before coming back with a drape covered object. 

“Go ahead and lift it mate,” he encouraged, so Harry did. When he lifted the veil he wasn’t expected to find a light brown and white barred owl staring back at him.

“Oh,” Harry marveled quietly, taking in the creature before him.

“I know you’ve really missed Hedwig,” Hermione bit her lip, “But we figured you might want a companion with you.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, “And she’s really well behaved! The seller said that she liked delivering letters a lot, this way you’ll be able to reach us anytime.”

Harry looked between his two friends and his new owl before engulfing the pair in a giant hug, “She’s perfect guys!” He pulled back to give them a fond look, his two friends mirroring his expression. Eventually, he turned to face his new pet, “Does she have a name?” 

“Oh uhm. The shop named her Nessarose.” 

Nessarose. It seemed very fitting for the pretty owl. 

“I think I’ll nickname her Nessie,” Harry decided after a while. Nessie gave a small hoot in agreement. 

From there, the trio said their final goodbyes and Harry was whisked into New York. 

Upon arrival, the school gave him all the papers he needed after registering. An hour or so later on campus, he wandered around the area and found a local owl hotel of some sort, which Nessie was sure to enjoy. She was free to leave and come out of her room whenever she wanted via the skylight of her room. Before he left, the people at the hotel showed him the incantation of a spell to contact them in case he needed Nessie to deliver an owl, or if he just wanted his companion’s company in general. Once that was settled, he was back on his way to settling in, checking all the forms for school, including his dorm room and dorm mate. At the time he didn’t think much of it. Now he was sort of regretting not looking at the name closer. Drew Black? It was obvious the more he thought of it, watching his roommate unfolding what looked to be silk bed sheets. 

“Right,” Harry sighed, “I think I’m going to ask for a change of dorms.” 

“Why Potter! I didn’t know you hated me that much,” Malfoy gave him a condescending look. 

Harry scoffed. “Shove off Malfoy. I just don’t think we’d room well together that’s all. We’ll drive each other up the walls before next week.”

“Your funeral,” Malfoy didn’t look up. Harry frowned but moved past the doorway. There were two beds and separate desks, a small living space complete with a mini coffee table, and a tiny kitchen. A window was present at the back wall, acting as a sort of divider between the two sides, perfect for owls. He glanced over at Malfoy again. Maybe he’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he testified at the git’s trial for a reason. Besides, they had a week to settle in before school officially started. How bad could it be? 

Three days later and Harry was regretting everything. Right now the two sat in tense silence, Malfoy at his desk, and Harry working at their small kitchen table. They just finished an argument about eating whose food, as stupid as it was.  

“Seriously Potter! That was my last packet of instant noodles!” 

“I didn’t touch your damn noodles Malfoy! I bought my own, you paranoid prat!” 

Later on, it turned out that Malfoy’s instant noodles were in the pantry. How anyone could mistake the fridge for a pantry was beyond him, but it happened anyway. Also, it turned out Harry did lie earlier. He was the one that moved the noodles in the first place, he just didn’t remember until after their argument. This resulted in another row between the pair after Malfoy found out. 

Harry rolled his eyes. These petty arguments were slowly driving him crazy. And lately, Malfoy has gotten more snappy with him, like it’s Harry’s fault that Malfoy can’t adjust to muggle life. If they were going to keep this up, Harry’s going to quit school before it even starts. 

A sudden thud made Harry jump in his seat, causing him to look up to see Malfoy standing up after taking out his frustrations on his textbooks. “That’s it. I can’t do this anymore. I thought I could stand you but clearly, I was wrong.” 

“Well, you think I could stand you either? You don’t exactly make living with you easy!” Harry resorted back.

“I could say the same for you,” Malfoy glared before letting out a loud sigh, “Whatever Potter. Let’s just get moving and hopefully by tomorrow I’ll never have to see you again.”

“Likewise.”

They headed over to talk to their resident advisor to request their change of roommates, however when asked, the RA shook his head and gave them sympathetic glances. 

“If you could find someone to swap with you, it might work. However, the last of the dorm rooms got filled out about 2 or 3 days ago. If you came, earlier it might’ve worked, but for now, you guys are stuck with each other.” 

They left after they were assured quite a handful of times by the RA that there really wasn’t much that he could do. So the pair left, the walk to their door room filled with heated words. 

“I told you I should’ve just swapped roommates when given the chance!”

“No need for the I told you so’s Potter. If you’ve taken your own advice we wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“I thought we were past hating each other and arguing. It’s called giving the benefit of the doubt Malfoy! It’s what decent people do!” 

Their bickering continued even once they entered their dorms. They only stopped when their neighbor started banging on their door telling them to shut up. 

Eventually, they settled on an uneasy truth to just ignore one another. Can’t find your instant noodle pack? Bottle it up and just go to the local grocery store. Complaining about your roommate’s messy side of the dorm? Shove over their stupid pile of piled up laundry back to their side and ignore them. Tripped on your roommates textbook which they placed on the floor yet again? Simmer quietly and pick it up and place it back onto their desk. All in all, the tension in the room really piled up. 

Harry couldn’t really wait until the weekend Ron and Hermione visited, so he opted to write them an owl. He cast the summoning spell for Nessie and waited as he dug around his desk looking for a piece of parchment. 

Nessie hooted a greeting at their open window just as Harry found a small piece of parchment a few minutes later. 

“Hey, Nessie,” he invited her in. At the corner of his eyes, he noticed Draco staring at them, but chose not to comment. “I don’t have any owl treats since I forgot to go buy them, but I’m pretty sure we have some spare crackers in the pantry.” 

Nessie gave a small hoot of delight as Harry left to raid the pantry. By the time he found what he needed and got back, he was surprised to see Draco softly petting Nessie’s wings. 

“Uh, Malfoy?” Harry prompted as he held out a cracker for Nessie, which she gladly accepted. 

“I didn’t know you’ve gotten a new bird Potter.” 

Harry shrugged, “Nessie’s a gift from Ron and Hermione before I left for the states.” 

“How typical for the three of you,” Malfoy commented, continuing to give his attention towards Nessie, “I dread to think of who named her. It sounds so...plebeian.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, “Well I thought it was a good name. Nessie’s short for Nessarose.”

“You poor dear,” Malfoy cooed, and wasn’t that weird to think about. Malfoy showing affection, much less to Harry’s owl. 

“Nessarose,” Malfoy started, “Do you mind if I use you to deliver a letter too? I think mother is missing me quite terribly and it’s a tad too late to head to the local owlery. I’m sure Potter doesn’t mind sending out one more letter alongside his.” 

Nessie let out a tiny hoot of agreement while Harry huffed behind him. The git didn’t even bother to ask him, yet Harry didn’t deny him the request. 

He watched as Malfoy headed back to his side of the room, already starting on his letter. Harry did the same as he addressed the letter to his friends. 

Dear Ron and Hermione, Harry began. 

I miss you both terribly and I’m sorry for not sending an owl sooner. Anyway, let me sum up my experience at uni so far. The biggest thing is that I hate my roommate (yay how fun!) I’m pretty sure the school has made a terrible mistake in rooming us together. 

He paused and spared a glance at Malfoy, who was deeply concentrated on his letter to his mother. 

I don’t see how they thought we could ever live well together, Harry resumed, I think those surveys for the perfect roommate must be flawed. Hermione, I’m sure you’d love to come here and fix the current curriculum they’re using. If it was working properly, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. The git even used Nessie without my permission! Not that I mind all that much. Nessie seemed happy to help. I’m just pissed he didn’t ask me directly. And to answer your question across the ocean, Hermione, yes, my roommate’s a wizard. It sounds like a good thing, but trust me it’s not. On another note, he refuses to call her Nessie. So he’s taken to using Nessarose in stride. Prat.

Anyway, Nessie is doing well so far! I found a local owl hotel and the workers informed me that she goes out daily. It’s fascinating how their system works, really. I’ll tell you guys more in detail on your next visit since I can’t be arsed to write it all down on parchment. So far they said that Nessie has been catching fresh mice every day, so I’m glad she’s happy. I think she’s really taken with New York because of that. 

Back to my roommate problem, you’d be shocked to find out who it is. I knew I was. And what are the odds we’d be rooming together? Out of all the universities he could’ve gone to, and of all the people he could’ve been roomed with. I’m really starting to think Ron’s theory of how I have a cursed life is correct. Well, lemme just say to the universe fuck you guys for messing with my life. 

You see, my roommate is -

“Potter!” Malfoy interrupted loudly, smirking when Harry jumped causing his quill to leave a horrible streak of ink on the paper along with several ink blots. 

“What, Malfoy!” Harry bit out and glared at him, making the prat smirk wider. 

“Just wanted to comment on how awfully slow you are at writing letters. Couldn’t think of much to write with that brain of yours, could you? I didn’t even know that the school accepted such stupidly incompetent people.”

“Looking at you, I was wondering the same thing,” Harry resorted back angrily before looking at where he left off. You see, my roommate is- ...

A blonde self absorbed prat who wouldn’t know the difference between an obnoxious snob and himself unless it actually hit him in the face, Harry angrily finished writing before handing off his letter to Nessie. Nessie, bless her, just took it happily and flew away, Malfoy’s letter already in hand. 

Well, at least one of them was in a good mood. Ron and Hermione would just have to excuse his hastily finished letter, no thanks to the prat. 

He turned around only to find Malfoy’s smug face looking back at him. Maybe Harry should’ve done some running or something during the week when he had a chance, because now all he had was built up frustration, and if Malfoy didn’t step back, all that frustration was going to go straight into his perfectly posh face. 

“I’m heading out,” Harry growled, grabbing his wand, moving quickly to the door. The Slytherin wasn’t fazed.

“Aww, but we were just starting to get along!” Malfoy teased. 

Harry couldn’t resist casting a minor stinging hex at the git, taking small satisfaction in his yelp. In a second, Malfoy was back to scowling at him again. Good. 

“Be back later,” Harry left the dorm in a strop. He really needed to clear his head.