#or an actor lying in like a box with only their head poking out

[iridescentis]

question

has it ever happened in an rtc production where the character who sings dream of life isn't jane doe? like does it have to be her?

because i have a thought, that is kind of morbid and gross but could be done with projections and/or special effects i think

what if it was penny's decapitated head singing

[jaskierswolf]

Prompt: Geraskier modern au. Jaskier bringing Geralt home on holiday. They’re pretending to date so Jaskier’s parents won’t bombard him asking when he’ll find someone and when they’ll have grandkids. Maybe even a fake engagement? They’re both pining without even realizing and maybe a mistletoe kiss on Christmas Eve will open their eyes. (geraskier-trashh)

Dani <3 I always seem to vibe with your prompts! Once again this is 2.3k. I didn’t get the mistletoe in but... well. I’m pretty happy with it. Fake dating at Christmas!! 💖

Warnings: Some hurt/comfort feels, I’m pretty sure everyone cries at one point or another, lots of pining. ______________

Jaskier and Geralt stood in the doorway to Jaskier’s old childhood room. One single bed was pushed up against the wall, posters of Jaskier’s old favourite bands plastered around the room. Jaskier was gripping Geralt’s hand too tightly, having not let go from when he’d dragged Geralt upstairs to get away from the interrogation of his family. Geralt let out a long sigh and pulled them both into the room, dumping his rucksack on the ground in the corner.

“Ah, I. umm…. I seem to have miscalculated,” Jaskier stammered.

“No shit.”

“I thought, you know. Huge mansion!” He flung his arms out as if to make a point. “I didn’t expect that we’d have to… you know.”

“It didn’t occur to you that it might look strange if we don’t share?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier huffed and put his hands on his hips, tossing his fringe from his eyes. Geralt was moving around the tiny room, his banged up bass case finding space next to Jaskier’s violin, his black hoody thrown over the old desk chair in the corner. Jaskier felt a tug at his heartstrings as he watched Geralt carve out a space for himself in Jaskier’s old bedroom, just like he’d carved out a Geralt sized space in Jaskier’s hearts oh so many years ago. Jaskier flexed his fingers and pulled his necklace pendant into his mouth, this was such a bad idea. What had he been thinking?

It was own bloody fault for lying to his parents for years behind Geralt’s back. It had just been so hard with their constant pressure to find a partner whilst he was pining helplessly over his best friend, so he’d lied and for five years he’d managed to find excuses for avoiding the family Christmas meet up. This year his luck had run out and he’d had to come clean to his friend. He’d thought Geralt was going to murder him at first, his face had gone bright red with rage and he’d not said a bloody word, which was just Geralt all over. Over a tense dinner of instant noodles and boxed wine, Geralt had muttered that he’d do it… and so, here they were.

“Yeah, well, I forgot.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You forgot? That you’d told your parents that we’ve been dating for five years?”

“Six years… Our anniversary was two weeks ago,” Jaskier muttered, shuffling awkwardly on his feet and giving Geralt a sheepish smile.

“Our anniversary? For fuck’s sake, Jask.”

“I’m sorry! I meant to tell them we’d broken up but—”

“But what?”

“—but they always seemed so happy that I wasn’t alone, and to be honest it was nice.”

Geralt scoffed. “Nice?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I. I didn’t feel so alone.”

Geralt sighed and pulled him into a hug. Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s chest and whined. “You’re my best friend, Jask.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, grateful that Geralt couldn’t see his face. He could feel the lump in his throat, a dull never-ending ache in his chest. Best friend. That’s what they were, he should be thankful that Geralt allowed him that much, but fuck he loved him so damn much. No matter how much Jaskier flirted with Geralt, called him cute little nicknames, and practically admitted his love for his friend on a daily basis… Geralt never saw him as anything more than a friend, but god he drove Jaskier mad. He was always so damned thoughtful all the time, cooking dinner when Jaskier was at work even though Jaskier could never return the favour, hence the instant noodles for dinner, or letting Jaskier choose the film when he’d had a bad anxiety day, which happened more often than he liked to admit.

Geralt was his best friend, he was the bestest friend that anyone could ask for so really Jaskier couldn’t complain. He was just… hopelessly in love.

He laughed and pulled back from the hug. “Don’t you mean boyfriend?” He waggled his eyebrows and bopped Geralt’s nose.

“Hmm, fine, but we have got to break up by next year.”

Jaskier’s hand flew to his heart, gasping as he totally pretended to be completely heartbroken. There wasn’t an ounce of reality in the way his heart literally felt like it was shattering in a million pieces. He scoffed, covering up the way his hands were shaking by tugging at the edge of his jumper. “Fine, but I get to dump you.”

“Nope, it’s your mess. I’m breaking up with you,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and glared at Geralt. “As if you would break up with this arse!” He laughed and turned to wiggle his butt at Geralt.

“I’ve seen better.”

Jaskier gasped and turned to poke Geralt in the chest. “Take that back!”

“Not going to happen.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier flung himself dramatically into Geralt’s arms, Geralt caught him as he always did, and Jaskier pouted up at him. “You’re mean.”

“Are you boys fighting already?”

Jaskier squeaked as Geralt dropped him to the floor. His mother was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed in front of her chest, a smirk on her face. “No. No no no. Of course not, nope. Geralt?”

“No, Mrs Pankratz.” Geralt pulled him to his feet and Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist, placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“All good here, mother!”

“Dinner’s ready, hurry up.”

“We’ll be there in just a jiffy!” Jaskier sang as he leant into Geralt’s side. As his mother’s footsteps faded off down the hall he reached up to whisper in Geralt’s ear, “Showtime, darling.”

Geralt groaned. “Fuck.” ________________

Dinner wasn’t going too badly. Luckily Geralt and Jaskier had been best friends for most of their lives so there wasn’t much they didn’t know about each other. Honestly the only thing really missing from their friendship to make it more of a traditionally romantic one was the snogging. They went out of friend dates all the time, they lived together, and in all honesty they loved each other. Jaskier just made sure to double the use of pet names in front of his family, and he allowed himself to touch Geralt as much as he wanted, which was pretty much always. They held hands on top of the table, awkwardly eating one handed. Jaskier brought Geralt’s knuckles to his lips in between main and dessert, winking at his friend. It was so fucking easy to believe this was real. For two days he was getting everything he ever wanted. He was going to be heartbroken when this was over.

Geralt flushed and growled under his breath before kissing Jaskier’s cheek, much to delight of Jaskier’s parents.

“Julian, you know we won’t be offended if you want to kiss your boyfriend properly?”

Jaskier’s heart sank and he gripped Geralt’s hand tighter. They hadn’t discussed this. They really should have discussed this, but Jaskier had assumed two days without kissing in front of his parents would have been fine. Of course, his mother would decide to be cool. “Mother, really?” He groaned and hid his face in Geralt’s arm.

“You’ve been dating for six years, Julian. Your father had proposed by then when we were dating,” his mother sighed and smiled ever so sweetly at his father. “Don’t be shy, honey.”

“Mother!” Jaskier whined.

Geralt cleared his throat and Jaskier gazed up at his friend. There was a mischievous glint in Geralt’s eyes that Jaskier did not like the look of. He shook his head slowly at Geralt but it was too late. “Actually, Mrs Pankratz. I umm… I did have something to ask Jaskier,”

“Geralt…”

“The umm… well I wrapped it, but I guess now is as good as ever,” Geralt stood up and pulled Jaskier into the living room, ignoring his protests. Geralt pulled a small wrapped box from the tree, kneeling at Jaskier’s feet as he hand him the box.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide… what the actual fuck was happening? Jaskier thought back to his Christmas list. It was mostly nerdy shit and stuff for his instruments… nerdy shit. “Oh bollocks!” He yelled as he remembered a very specific piece of costume jewellery he’d asked for.

Was Geralt about to fake propose using the ring… like… the ring…  from Lord of the Rings? Oh god, he was going to die from embarrassment. Jaskier’s hands shook as he tore at the wrapping paper. The velvety box fell into his hands, the familiar Elvish inscription was pressed into the black velvet. He hid a laugh behind his hand as Geralt gently took the box and opened it. Jaskier barely heard the shrieks from his mother as Geralt winked at him.

“Jask, the last,” Geralt paused and scowled “six years of my life have been the happiest of my life.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, his heart thumping in his chest despite the fact he knew it wasn’t real.

“I’m thankful that I finally stopped being afraid of what I felt, feel, for you, and umm, well asked you out,” Geralt licked his lips, he actually seemed nervous, which was utterly ridiculous. He was a better actor than Jaskier had anticipated. “Can’t imagine how different today would have been if I hadn’t made the choice that day, the choice to be brave instead of a coward.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but reach forward to cup Geralt’s cheek, his hand moving on its own accord. “You’re the bravest man I know.”

Geralt laughed bitterly. “Not always, but ah fuck, you distracted me.”

“Sorry?” Jaskier giggled. “Would it help if I said yes?”

“Yes,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier knelt down opposite Geralt. “Yes.”

And then they were kissing, because that was what you did when you got engaged, wasn’t it? Only they weren’t really engaged, they weren’t even dating. Tears streamed down Jaskier’s cheeks as he kissed his friend with all the feelings that he could never admit, holding Geralt’s face in his hands. They were both panting by the time they pulled apart. “I love you, dear heart.”

Geralt, to Jaskier’s surprise, was also crying. He smiled sadly back at Jaskier as he brushed the tears from Jaskier’s cheek. “I love you too, Jask.” And then he slipped the ring onto Jaskier’s finger.

Jaskier swallowed and bit back a sob. “Fuck.”

Geralt tilted his head and glanced towards the ceiling. Jaskier nodded, hugging his arms around his chest. “I think we need a moment alone,” Geralt muttered and scooped Jaskier up into his arms.

Jaskier mother, also crying because apparently Christmas Eve dinner was a disaster, nodded. “Take all the time you need, darlings."

Geralt nodded and Jaskier hummed pressing his face into Geralt’s neck, desperately trying not to lose his grip on reality. They weren’t engaged. The mantra ran through his head obsessively. One more day, they would exchange presents, maybe a standard kiss under the mistletoe and then by next year’s Christmas Geralt would have broken up with him, and Jaskier’s parents would be none the wiser that it had all been a ruse.

A ruse, an pretence, an act.

Only it wasn’t an act, not for him.

“Fucking shit balls,” He mumbled into Geralt’s shirt as his bedroom door was kicked open. Jaskier practically leapt from Geralt’s arms and into the mess of bedsheets, hiding from the love of his life and pseudo fiancé.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry. I took it too far.” Geralt mumbled, sitting down on the bed next to where Jaskier was curled into a ball.

“No,” Jaskier mumbled. “I just overreacted, I… ah fuck it. I wanted it to be real. I’m sorry!”

“You,” Geralt stammered. “You wanted it to be real?”

Jaskier laughed haughtily and threw off the covers, wiping his eyes and glaring at Geralt. “Of course I fucking did. I told my parents we were dating… for six fucking years!”

“And you never once mentioned any of this to me?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Because I couldn’t lose you!”

“I didn’t want to lose you either.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide as he gaped at Geralt. “Hang on what? What does that mean? Geralt? Please do not tell me that means what I think it means!”

“I love you,” Geralt whispered “always have.”

“No, no no no!” Jaskier whined as his head hit the headboard. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.”

Jaskier laughed, the disbelief and sheer happiness in his heart overwhelming him. “Oh my fucking god, Geralt!” Geralt growled and stood up but Jaskier caught his hand. “Don’t you see?”

“No, care to let me into the joke?”

“We could have been dating for years!” Jaskier cried and then slapped a hand over his mouth, not wanting his parents to hear their argument. “This,” he waved his left hand at Geralt. “could have been real?”

Geralt frowned, his gaze flickering between Jaskier’s hand and his eyes. He sighed and a faint smiled graced his lips. “Maybe we should try dating first? Proposing on the first date is a bit much.”

Jaskier laughed and pulled Geralt into another kiss, his tears ones of happiness this time. He stroked Geralt’s cheek as they pulled apart. “What about the second date?”

“Jask,” Geralt groaned.

“Ok, the third date,” He laughed and Geralt shut him up with another quick kiss.”

“Your turn to propose,” Geralt mumbled against his lips as Jaskier slipped his hand up Geralt’s shirt.

“I don’t think I can beat proposing with the ring, dearest,” He giggled as Geralt pushed him back against the mattress, his nose running along Jaskier’s jaw.

“You’ll think of something.”

Jaskier grinned as Geralt’s lips crashed against his. He would think of something, something spectacular, but for now he was too busy kissing his boyfriend, grand marriage proposals would have to wait until next Christmas. They could make it a tradition. ________________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @ohheytheremiss @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi @llamasdumpsterfire @skai6

[larkace]

Robber Claws

hi guys! i've read a bunch of your fics and got inspired so i wrote a thing! enjoy ;) also, it's pretty long so...buckle up! love yall <3

The criminals lurk in the mist, invisible, but Sofiya Pavlichenkov knows they’re there.

She’s perched in the Lookout’s nest of her Warship in Fourth Harbour, pretending to read the documents her first mate, Kastor, has just handed to her. But her blue coat is flapping in the wind and her papers keep jostling and she’s being watched, all of which is rather uncomfortable.

Idly, Sofiya wonders what the criminals might want. A smuggling, perhaps? Out and away from stinking, crawling, loathsome Ketterdam?

Sofiya hates this city. His city. She misses Ravka, her homeland- the Little Palace.

I miss my bloody Kefta, Sofiya thinks darkly as another bought of wind spirals harshly through the Harbour. The blue coat she wears is a subtle nod to her Tidemaker status, but it’s a sad, thin piece of cloth compared to the grandeur of the Fabrikator-made Keftas. But Sofiya can’t wear her Kefta, not if she wants to blend in in Kerch- a lesson she learned long ago…

Old enemies, Sofiya. Old enemies, but not withered grudges.

Huffing out a sigh that would make Zoya Nazyalensky proud, Sofiya rises gracefully to her feet.

They’re coming. She can feel it; they’re making their way towards the ship. They don’t have to be rowdy to intimidate, that’s for sure - or to make a crowd of Merchants and Thieves part like the sea almost immediately.

Sofiya reaches up behind her head and loops her hand around a piece of knotted rope; takes a deep, steadying breath.

And she steps off the platform into the open air.

For a moment, she catches on the air as if a Squaller has caught her on a buffering breeze, but sure enough, gravity kicks in.

Sofiya welcomes the feeling of her stomach in her throat as the fall takes hold, zipping her past the sails. It's good preparation, anyway, for the three dark figures moving up the docks towards her.

As they near and Sofiya lands lightly on the deck, she confirms what she already knew: these were criminals. Her criminals.

The trio stops in front of her. They're all wearing black and gold - not a uniform exactly, but it’s a solid way to show your allegiance. None of their hands were visible, but if they were, Sofiya would find the Robber Claws emblem branded cleanly onto the backs of their knuckles. Their hoods are drawn up over their faces, but Sofiya can tell from their posture who she’s dealing with.

"Ah, Iseut," Sofiya says serenely, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The girl in the middle pulls down her hood, revealing shining blond hair, dark eyes, full lips. She doesn’t smile.

"Where have you been, Sofiya?" Iseut asks coolly.

"The Wandering Isle," Sofiya answers immediately, "I stopped at Os Kervo on my return to pick up some supplies. I'm only three days late, Is. Cut me some slack."

Iseut sighs, and suddenly looks less the badass, fake-waitress man-killer, and more the tired mother of a delinquent child. Sofiya feels a flicker of guilt.

She had stopped at Os Kervo for more than one reason. The "supplies" were crates upon crates of commandeered Fjerdan weapons and traps, intercepted by the First Army on their way to the Front Line. Sofiya had paid nothing to take them off the hands of the Ravkan soldiers, who honestly had no clue where to send them. What good were jerky Fjerdan guns to a sophisticated, well-oiled Second Army legion?

Sofiya could picture Zoya's face at the sight of the sad little weapons. Disgust and disdain, unshakable beauty - and perhaps just a little bit of pride that her friend had been the one to collect the Fjerdan cargo. Sofiya would work on selling it all later. She'd dump the Grisha traps in the ocean, though. Drown them like they deserved to be drowned.

"I am sorry, Iseut," Sofiya says, and her words aren’t mistruths.

"Don't apologise to me," Iseut says dismissively, "It’s your friends that were barely able to sleep the past few nights. You should talk to -"

"Destry," Sofiya's words mist the air like a fine rain, "I know."

One of the tall figures stood behind Iseut lowers her own hood. Lyra. Ly.

It made sense that the Robber Claws would send their best Bruisers to Fourth Harbour. Sofiya knew by the other Robber's posture that beneath the hood, she would find the face of Winter. But Winter wouldn't lower her hood in front of so many people, so Sofiya was content with what she could get.

"You really had Destry worried, Sof," Ly says, chastising.

"Destry can handle me being gone for weeks on end," Sofiya crosses her arms. She will not be guilt-tripped, "This job was half a week, and I was only a few days off schedule. I did tell Cherry that I'd be late." The words come out as a question.

None of them say anything.

Another flash of worry courses through Sofiya. Cherry Vlasova is a Heartrender, and one of Sofiya's closest friends. The message that Sofiya had forwarded was simple and concise: I'll be a few days late. Stopping at Os Kervo. Don't worry, no Fjerdans. Tell Destry -S.P

Had something happened to Cherry? She was an avid gossiper; her post box was always full of tip-offs (a useful source of information for the Robber Claws) but Sofiya was reliably informed that her letters were always placed on the top of the pile. Marked "URGENT."

"What happened? Is Cherry alright?" Sofiya demands.

Iseut holds up her palms, and they are callused and grease-marked. Sometimes Iseut is so well put together that Sofiya forgets she's a barmaid.

"Cherry is fine. But all our Grisha are shaken. Whilst you were away, there was an attack on the East Stave."

Sofiya's heart stops and restarts and stops again.

An attack. On the Grisha. And she wasn’t there to - to help, to defend-

"Destry," Sofiya breathes, "And Cherry - and Adali, Roza, Linnea, Yan, Anya- oh, Saints, was it the Fjerdans?"

There are many Grisha members of the Robber Claws. It was one of the reasons that Sofiya wanted to join them in the first place. If the Fjerdans had attacked -

"Everybody is fine," Ly says lowly, "We had Freya and May fixing people up as soon as we heard- and Lita, of course, but behind the scenes."

Freya and May- and even Lita, whose powers most of the gang didn't even know of. Grisha Healers. So people had been hurt.

"What. Happened." Sofiya growls, and Ly glares at her challengingly, fists clenching. The water beneath the decking froths and bubbles as Sofiya brings her own fists together, power surging pleasantly up her arms. If Ly wants a fight, she can have one.

"Calm down, both of you," Winter's smooth voice projects from under her hood. Despite the heavy fabric, her voice is clear and commanding. Sofiya takes a breath to compose herself.

"To answer your previous question: no. It wasn't the Fjerdans." Iseut says, "We don’t know what they were."

Sofiya's brow creases at the chime of fear in Iseut's voice. She's never seen the golden-haired barmaid afraid before.

It begins to rain softly, the pattering of droplets quiet against the wooden decking of the docks.

"We should go back to the Queen’s Head, Iseut," Ly suggests, referencing Iseut’s place of work. Iseut nods once, swiftly, and glances over Sofiya's shoulder at her warship.

"Do you need to...?"

"Yes."

"Go on, then."

"KASTOR! IM GOING FOR A ROUND OF DAY-DRINKING!" Sofiya yells over the shoulder of her rain-splattered coat. She hears Ly chuckle as Kastor's scruffy head pokes out from a window.

He nods at Sofiya when he spots her, and she waves, assenting. Kastor would keep everything safe whilst she was gone. It was their unspoken agreement, unchanging and unwavering since the day they'd become crewmates.

Sofiya turns back to Iseut, Ly and Winter.

"Let's be on our way," she says, and lets her fellow criminals lead the way along the Harbour, her warship disappearing into the mist behind her.

~~~~

The mid-day slump of customers meant that the Robber Claws had the Queen’s Head pub all to themselves.

Iseut- who did not own the pub, but had put more work into it than the real owners ever did- had immediately trekked behind the bar and poured herself a whisky.

"Want anything?" She asks, directing the question directly at Sofiya despite the equal presence of Ly- and Winter (who had lowered her hood slightly now that she was back on familiar ground, with familiar faces.) Bruisers didn’t drink on the job. It slowed reflexes.

"The story," says Sofiya firmly, "It a joke about the day-drinking. What happened?"

Iseut pours herself another whiskey and the quartet take a seat at a shady little circular table in a quiet corner. The murmurs of other Robber Claws members is enough to shelter their conversation from the group- despite Sofiya being sure she was the only one unaware of what had transpired the days she’d been gone.

As Iseut begins her story, with Winter and Ly regularly interjecting with additions, Sofiya feels horror and fear clamp down on her heart like a Fjerdan Grisha trap.

Iseut’s alluring voice weaves a tale of Komedie Brute actors in bloody masks, rose-painted rubble from an impossible explosion, and worst of all: Grisha. Dead Grisha, killed by creatures with screeching metal wings.

“Only a few of our Grisha were hurt,” Iseut sips her drink solemnly, “We took your advice of keeping them anonymous and undercover. We have Erin and our other spies out searching for answers at the embassies. I’m sure you’re just as eager to find out about the winged creatures as we are.”

Sofiya nods, “I am. Thank you for filling me in, Is, really. And to you, Ly, Winter. I know you don’t like going to far from the West Stave.”

The last comment was directed purely at Winter. It’s not a lie. Winter runs a dojo for training Kerch’s women to protect themselves from Barrel bosses and scum alike; she didn’t want her clients finding out about her… Robber side. Being a criminal wasn’t the most unintimidating, friendly persona to have when speaking with vulnerable women.

Sofiya respected Winter and her clean profession. It was hard to be so kind in the Barrel. And men were rarely kind to women at all.

Sofiya knew that first hand.

Shoving away the memories- blue eyes, dark hair, gorgeous smile, charming words and sharper wounds- Sofiya stands in one fluid movement.

“I’m going to find Destry,” she says. Iseut stands, Ly and Winter falling back to flank her again, and smiles. She’s beautiful, that is undoubtful, but the attacks- the sleazy men at the Queen’s Head, the strain of the city- it’s all gotten to her. Sofiya can see it.

This city is poison, thinks Sofiya as Iseut takes her hand and shakes it. Poison and rot.

“Destry will be in her rooms,” Ly supplies, and Sofiya nods at her once.

Sofiya grins brightly, hoping it covers her own weariness, and recites, “Fair winds.”

“Bright stars,” chorus her friends. Sofiya waves over her shoulder as she slips out of the bar and down an alley. Above her, a storm brews in the clouds.

Perhaps the stars would be out that night. It didn’t matter. Nobody in Kerch saw the stars anymore.

~~~~

On her way to Destry’s apartments, Sofiya ran into more members of the Robber Claws.

Malcolm and Firefly, who lived together in shared housing in the Anvil, were shopping for new blacksmiths’ equipment. They each provided invaluable services to the Robber Claws, crafting flawless weapons second only to that of Fabrikators. They greeted her with a wink each. Sofiya moved on swiftly after trading them a Wandering Isle-crafted staff for twenty Kruge.

She picked up some baked goods on the way. She would need them. Destry- who had been her closest friend since she arrived in Kerch- was an Inferni. Fire-bringer; with an even fierier temperament. Rumour had it- and Sofiya knew the rumours were true- that Destry had been attending the University of Ketterdam when she’d heard a boy make a lude comment during an exam and lit the paper on fire with her mind. And that paper had been thrown. At the boy’s face. Ouch.

Sofiya had been nursing a whiskey in a tavern when she’d first heard the story recounted. She’d leapt up from her seat, slithered into an alley and held the recounter at knifepoint until he’d told her Destry’s name.

They’d become fast friends upon meeting. Sofiya had been in awe of someone so rebellious, so brave as to set fire to an exam paper, and Destry- well. Destry had laughed for hours when Sofiya had told her how she’d first come across her name.

But now, staring up at the ornate windows of Destry’s apartment, Sofiya feels unsure. She didn’t mean to worry her friend. Iseut had explained that her letter must have gotten lost during the riots. Sofiya cursed the post offices. So there was a deadly storm- your motto is still “We always deliver.”

Despite her trepidation, Sofiya’s feet were swift on the stairs. She had a key to the apartment, and didn’t hesitate to unlock the door and slip inside without a sound, content to watch Destry whilst she worked; even if only for a moment.

Leaning against the wall, Sofiya’s brow creases as she surveys her friend. Destry’s hair is plaited carefully into two loops at the nape of her neck, hazel strands freeing themselves gently against her light brown skin. She’s stood facing away from Sofiya, arms circled in rings of fire. The shirt she wears is Fabrikator-made; the flames don’t take to the papery material.

Sofiya takes a step forward, and pointedly drops her bag of confectionary on the floor. It lands with an audible thump.

Destry whirls, the fire at her wrists whirling into an inferno ready to strike- until Destry sees who is at her door.

“Shouldn’t have hesitated, Des,” Sofiya said weakly, “I could have put a knife in your back.”

The shock on Destry’s face dissolves. Her face splinters down the middle. Licks of fire at her fingertips wilt into ash in a pile at her boot-clad feet.

“You would have put out the flames with your water, I’m sure,” Destry says, and then flies across the room towards Sofiya, wrapping her in a tight, smoke-smelling embrace.

Sofiya would normally pull back. “Don’t be too open with your heart, Des,” she’d say, “People use your loves against you here.” But Sofiya couldn’t bring herself to say those things. The weight of the week comes crashing down on her head like a tsunami.

Fjerdan traps on my boat, attacks on my gang, tensions in Ravka boiling over… where’s safe anymore, except here?

Destry pulls back slightly to scan Sofiya’s face. She has a smear of oil on her cheek. Destry’s eyes are filled with fire, burning like an ember beneath onyx waters.

“Where. Have. You. Been.”

“Destry-”

“Don’t you make excuses with me, Pavlichenkov,” Destry snarls, “You didn’t warn us you were late! I couldn’t sleep- neither could Cherry!”

“I-”

“We thought you’d been caught, Sofi,” Destry cries, “We thought the Fjerdans had got you! I thought you died.”

The word is ugly and big in the room, choking Sofiya’s response. Death. Dying. Dead. And by Fjerdan hands. It wasn’t so rare for travelling Grisha to be caught and sent to the pyres.

“I’m sorry,” Sofiya says, because it’s the only thing there is, “I wrote- I really did, don’t look at me like that- according to Lyra, there was a storm in the True Sea. The letter sunk with the ship.”

“You’re a Tidemaker,” Destry huffs.

“Yes, which means I manipulate water,” Sofiya says, “Not stop it from overturning ships with important letters on them. Destry, I’m sorry. I brought waffles.” She offers the last sentence like a defendant on trial with the Stadwatch; one final piece of evidence to prove her innocence.

Destry brightens immediately, “Well, in that case.”

The pair of them set to work, shoulders just brushing in the cramped kitchenette. Sofiya’s array of pasties are laid out over two plates, which they lay on their laps. Destry’s job for the Robber Claws is, in few words, that of the logician. Papers are scattered all over her apartment, covered in detailed blueprints and scale drawings of buildings all over Ketterdam, Fjerda and even- rarely- Shu Han. There were no drawings of Ravka.

If Iseut had ever commissioned a robbery in Ravka, Sofiya didn’t know about it. It would be…unwise to hit out at the Ravkans, with so many Grisha in the gang.

But Destry’s job was essential, so Sofiya couldn’t complain about the lack of trays to put their plates on. Such things were useless for such an incredible mind as Destry’s.

“So,” says Destry conversationally as she lights the fireplace with a casual flick of her wrist, “How were the Wandering Isles?”

Sofiya says nothing, massaging her temples lightly. Destry manages a laugh.

“Your silence is telling, Sofi,” she warns.

Sighing quietly, suddenly feeling very tired, Sofiya says, “It was crawling with our Fjerdan friends from the North. ‘Peaceful’ Fjerdans.”

Destry spins, and she is outlined with the fire. We’re opposites, Sofiya thinks. Fire and Water.

“You didn’t-” Destry begins, horrified.

Silently, solemnly, Sofiya raised her palms to face the ceiling. Destry reaches out.

Her gentle fingers trace the scars there. Deep and painful and barely healed, the scars run red against Sofiya’s pale flesh.

“Sofiya…” Destry breathes.

“It was the only way to push my power down,” Sofiya whispers. She’s rarely so emotive, but Destry is someone she trusts with everything. It was a weakness, some would say, but they were each powerful Grisha. They were Gods in a world of men. And they would not kneel “If I hadn’t, I would’ve been caught. It was a price to pay.”

Grisha shone like lighthouses around people. In Kerch, in Ketterdam, it was safer for them- especially ones loyal to a gang, as Destry and Sofiya were. But in the Wandering Isles; where Fjerdans passed through on their way to Novyi Zem, where gang affiliations mattered less than the colour of your eyes… Sofiya tells herself she had no choice.

“Sofiya, you’ve opened up old wounds here,” Destry says, tracing the marred skin of her palms again, “You need a healer. Freya, Lita, May-”

“Wouldn’t understand,” Sofiya finished, pulling her hands out of Destry’s and placing them carefully in her lap, obscuring them with her coat, “They’re healers, Des, not warriors- they’d go to Iseut.”

Iseut. Their unofficial leader, the founder, the lighthouse in raging seas. All of the Robber Claws seemed to be caught in her gravity. She was their sun. And Sofiya… well, Sofiya was the moon. Iseut would send her to a healer, one who would stop her travels. One who would commandeer her Warship, and Kastor… health of the mind was important to Iseut.

But Sofiya was not damaged, as they would tell her. She was not broken. Her mind was sound.

I did what I had to do, to survive.

But Destry can see through it all. Through the mask, through her eyes, right to her bones. Through to her lying, treacherous heart. We’re all broken in the end.

But.

Oh, Destry, Destry, please…

“I won’t tell her,” Destry promises, “But I’d like you to know that I think you should. Tell her, that is- Iseut. She might help.”

“She might ship me back to Ravka,” Sofiya grumbles, biting into a toasty croissant.

“Oh, she wouldn’t.”

“You never know.”

“She’ll want you to heal, that’s all.”

“Yes,” Sofiya rolls her eyes, “But these wounds are of the flesh. The scars on my heart will never heal, not in this life Perhaps there will be mercy in the next, even for my rotten soul.”

“You sound like you’re auditioning for the Komedie Brute,” Destry laughs.

“Mother, Father, pay the rent!” Sofiya crows.

“I can’t my dear, the money’s spent,” Destry choruses instinctively.

Sofiya wipes away an invisible tear, “Gorgeous! We’ll make an actress out of you, yet, Destry Clements.”

“Oh, you most certainly will not,” Destry huffs.

Their laughter fills the air, and Sofiya thinks that maybe there is hope for her rotten soul, after all.

~~~~

The man returns late from the pub wearing only one shoe.

A bottle drained halfway of mauve liquid dangles limply from his pale fingers. The veins in his foot are blue in the half-moon’s light.

He slurs a broken melody. She catches a few words as he passes below her on the street.

“Hmm… perish… light… air… fire… hell… hmmm…”

The man’s name is Danyl Harrop. And he is going to die tonight.

“Hmm… shadow… devil… rot… earth… sun… burn… lose….”

Harrop continues down the road, heedless of the mud on his bare foot. He'd be blackout drunk in the morning if he survived.

He wouldn’t.

Silent as a breeze, steps as soft as downy feathers, she leaps from the streetlight where she was perched.

She strikes.

She is ash and shadow. She is a storm of fire. She is vengeance.

She is death.

Harrop yelps as she pins him against the tree. His face is as white as the moon, with eyes like black craters.

“What’re you doi-” he slurs dazedly, but she silences him with a wave of her hand. He blubbers like a fish on land as he tries to shout for help.

“For King and Country,” says the girl. Stepping away from Harrop, she lets her power hold him against the tree, keeping his muscles upright. She surveys him like an artist would their unfinished masterpiece.

The girl whispers, “Sleep tight, Danyl.”

Flicking her wrist, she snaps his neck. He’s still alive, barely, so she latches on to what little of his mind there is left and strips it like an onion. For a man who is out so late, so drunk, on what the girl remembers as a work-day, he knows too much.

Secrets. They feed this girl, nourish her. There is a skip in her step as she turns away from Harrop; without her supporting his muscles, he collapses against the tree. She leaves his mind just as it goes dark.

There is no need to hide in the treetops upon her return to the city. It gleams just half a mile away, most of which is roiling seawater. As the girl wanders along the road back to Ketterdam, she finds Danyl Harrop’s shoe in a puddle of mud. The girl laughs at the sky. She flips a coin into the shoe, whispers a heartless prayer to her Saints, and moves on.

Back to Ketterdam. Back home.

~~~~

Ok, so that's that! I left it on a bit of a cliffhanger... I may have created a whole plot... so there might be some more coming soon!

all these excellent characters (save Sofiya, Danyl, Kastor and the girl at the end who kills Danyl- who has no name... yet *wink*) belong to the following:

Iseut is @littlegirldorothea's

Destry is @finnick-annie's (I may have made them besties👀👀)

Cherry is @brekkercookie's (they are ALSO besties👀👀 we have a trio omg)

Winter is @cressjacquine's

Lyra is @no-mourners-at-my-funeral's

Malcom is @blackpheonix’s

Firefly is @ask-shadowbon’s

Erin is @lightningboytytonjesper’s

Adali is @apple-bottom-jeansx’s

Roza is @vampire-rights’s

Linnea is @alonlyfangirl's

Yan is @lucentcorrigan’s

Anya is @queenlilith43’s

Freya is @smol-evil-gremlin’s

Lita is @the-whispers-of-moonlight’s

May is @saltyfortunes

and the "Fair winds, bright stars" motto as created by @spicy-tomato-sauce's

oh and the whole Grishaverse is the wonderful @lbardugo's <3

if I missed anyone or you want to tag anyone go ahead!

[staylavendertea]

music, ya know

this is a complete impulse of lying in bed middle of the night thoughts that i don’t even know if anyone’s gonna see that have been stemmed off the experiences of the past couple days, topic of 1:41 am mind boggle:

music and it’s aesthetic and importance in literal every sense cause it’s just that important to me

first experience of realizing this, i’ve always loved film scores and listening to music and the orchestral pieces from movies and shows, but it really seemed to hit me recently, like the fact that this week’s new LOKI episode, no spoilers, has the most badass score and a badass scene with such a perfect mix and musical atmosphere. i literally had one of my best friends over, who has a very small interest in comics, cinema, marvel in general, especially a show about a norse comic god that they know nothing about, and whilst they sat there for my own regard, watching the show like a normal human being would, i sat there clinching their hand, watching in awe as our music is louder than actors talking tv speakers spurted out the most spine tightening world building story and just wandered “jesus that was good” and whilst i will always think about the superior acting, cgi, the amount of different people that just went into those few scenes and like what was physical set and what was computer image and what the hell did i just watch that has my brain running olympic marathon circles right now?

the thought that said brain kept going back to was that fucking score. it was literally tearing apart of every corner of my head and why was it doing that?

second experience, another marvel one, but i digress. black widow (no spoilers i promise), thursday night, movie theater for the first time in i can’t even remember how long now and we set through so many previews just for fucking boss baby to start playing and the reaction of the theater to make me burst out laughing.

however whatever works in that little projection box, gets fixed and the movie is pushed to just a little before it starts, a nice small pepsi ad, the regal rollercoaster intro (if you go to regal movie theaters ya know what i’m talking about), and then i hear it - the marvel studios logo - something so musically engraved into my head that my ass that can’t sing for anything, can harmonize with the sound and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up around movie theater surround sound. but i can’t think of that now, i’m here to watch black widow, a movie on hiatus with the rest of the world for so long now, a character i didn’t know much about it or truly, didn’t have the most connection with in the first place. yet through that one movie, i seemed to build one of those.

ofc though scarlett johansson’s beautiful acting and world building, but it isn’t until the end of the movie that i even realize why. it was the fucking score again. when i think about it, the beginning of the movie felt like all of black widows scenes in the avengers movies for me, kinda just, there. not really emotionally tugging, not bad ofc either, but just, there. in the present, watching something cool in motion. but then it hits, what i can only describe as a theme that somehow tells the entire black widow movie in one singular composition. something so badass, story telling, but also just singularly black widow-esk. i can tell you that i walked out the movie theater rambling about the composition and looking up composers.

third experience, the most recent as it was literally like 20 minutes ago and sprung one train rail of a thought process that immediately tugged me into typing this brain vomit into a tumblr post. i have playlists. for everything. and when i say everything, i fucking mean everything. i’m a writer and a reader, i have playlists mostly for the young avengers, my most utter comfort characters, and their stories i’m writing. i also have playlists/genre/specific song for about every book i read.

when i read red white and royal blue when that came out, i noticed i listened to one of the drunks by panic at the disco the entirety of the ending of the book and the words and music fit together like puzzle pieces, not only did it make the reading experience better, but i was so fucking emerged in my over hyper-imagitive brain that when i finally actually finished the book, i still never left. rewind present day to the beginning of this past june, one last stop comes out, ofc i get it the day it comes out with my anticipation building like wildfire. i start reading that night and i put on my recents on my liked songs playlist (true to true spotify user) and i slowly over the next day as i read and finish the book, windle down to the genre, then the band, to the album, to the exact song that feels like the carbon copy of the words i’m reading. that song was only ones who know by the arctic monkeys. now go back to this past week, anyone who reads the carry on series knows, anyway the wind blows came out this past tuesday. i waited till wednesday to buy the ✨pretty special addition barnes and nobles copy✨ so that the dear friend that indulged me by watching loki that same day could buy it at the same time and make a cute book date or whateva. i started reading that night and something just felt ,,, off. i didn’t know what it was, but i was living off the pure joy that simon and co give me so i ignored the feeling. until i realized why it felt off this morning. i wasn’t listening to any fucking music, literally nothing, not even queen. motherfucking. queen.

i looked for the snowbaz playlist i made when i read carry on for the first time back in 2016/2017 when i was still a freshman in high school just to remember i deleted that literally forever ago. so i made a new one. like an hour and a half ago. very inspired on how i made the playlists for the young avengers and all their stories. letting the music talk.

the fact that all these rambling thoughts have led to this conclusion makes my head hurt, but for me at least in my own experiences. music talks. a two way conversation. a radio broadcast, turning the peg until you match the same frequency thats being put out and you can hear it and understand it. it’s like when you see comedians on stages or actors on panels, they talk, you have reactions, you talk back, and so forth the loop continues until the last voice, last note, rings out. music and songs and orchestral pieces and bands and composers and lyric writers are telling you the stories in reverse. they don’t know their doing it, obviously they meant something entirely different in their creations, but it’s like literature and any work of words and storytelling. interpretation. to me, the notes, pianos, violins, guitars, drums, singers, cellos, and anything that can make sound you can think of, is telling you something. whispering in your ear as you watch or read. facial features, emotions the characters dont say out loud, outfits, they way their standing or talking or moving or interacting with anything and everything.

when i just made that carry on playlist, i played it, decided to try read some good almost 2 am fan fic as you do, my hanging on by a thread sleep brain telling me words aren’t recognizable right now, and tighten myself into a blanket to see if i can sleep at all. the playlist still plays and my never shuts up head thinks it’s own daydreams, stresses out about anything it can, that is until the song plays. the one that just speaks the carry on trilogy language. the one that i found whilst i was reading wayward son and then would play whenever i re read carry on. the one that started this whole way too long ass post in the first place. cant be alone tonight by atlas. i heard just the first sound and i saw them, as if i were in the same room, like i never even put the book down in the first damn place because i’m actually terrified of finishing it. i could see simon in his oversized hoodies, baz in an outfit that was way too good just to be sitting inside, agatha looking as pleasantly pretty as ever, penelope poking fun at shepherd, and shepherd poking fun right back; bickering, laughing, saying the dialogues i try to remember so i can write them later, existing.

in a way music doesn’t just talk, but it lives. it lives and breaths. a three way conversation you could say. characters, stories, plot, and settings talk to the music, then the music delivers us listeners the message, so that we can send one back. this literally took me over an hour to write and i should point the important note that i do have synesthesia where colors and sounds and colors and words do the association so this entire thing might be me being entirely biased, but alas, i love sound so much and if there is anyone else that feels the same ways as i do as just a simple good film score and song makes anything ten times better, feel free to talk, i will totally be awkward, but i need some music freaks like myself around so feel free to hit me up, also if you love movies and cinema also feel free to hit me up as i need movie buddies and now it’s 3 am and i will be going to bed - peace out 🛸

[aion-rsa]

Safe House and Watching Ryan Reynolds Before He Was Deadpool

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There’s a scene midway through Safe House, the 2012 thriller which stars Denzel Washington and Ryan Reynolds, that hits entirely differently in 2021. As with any number of films starring these leading men, the stars are cultivating an oil and water relationship in the sequence, one built on mutual distrust and loathing as they drive across a countryside. But in the case of Reynolds, it plays differently than how modern audiences likely expect. When Washington begins trying to get under the younger guy’s skin—poking at his insecurities like he’s Ethan Hawke in Training Day or pretty much the entire cast of Man on Fire—Reynolds is visibly shaken. He then folds like a cheap suit.

“Go ahead, you’re not going to get in my head,” Reynolds’ Matt Weston protests as he seemingly holds power over Washington’s Frost character. “I’m already in your head,” Washington smiles back. “I’m going to isolate you, Matt.” And by watching both actors, you believe him.

The sequence is boilerplate thriller dialogue, a generic sequence in a generic movie (at least in the 2000s and early ‘10s). But to see Reynolds play it so straight and so differently from what his star persona would later become is slightly jarring. For the first time in ages, it feels like you’re watching the actor play a character who isn’t Deadpool.

This thought occurred to me while revisiting Safe House this week, particularly in lieu of the film trending so high on Netflix. While the picture was a modest success in 2012, earning $208 million worldwide off an $85 million budget, it’s easy to assume many audiences are discovering the film for the first time due to the globe’s most popular streaming service. And they’re seeing Reynolds in a way unlike any part he’s played in the last five years.

That’s by design, of course. After being unfairly tarred by the cruelest parts of the entertainment press as “box office poison,” the actor who spent close to a decade fighting to get Deadpool made has embraced the Merc with a Mouth persona audiences love. It’s why his version of Pikachu in Detective Pikachu feels both earnest, yet glibly aware of his cuteness; it’s how Reynolds’ Michael Bryce can be as acerbic in his wiseacre sensibility in the Hitman’s Bodyguard films as Wade Wilson; and it’s why his steady post-pandemic hit, Free Guy (which has grossed $302 million as of press time despite the Delta variant), can have Reynolds be both completely earnest and self-aware since he is literally the only character in his world who knows he’s a video game NPC.

While Reynolds only fully breaks the fourth wall when he actually is in his red and black undies, all of these roles are in the same wheelhouse as Wade, as is the actor’s social media image, which has even created a joking alter-ego named “Brother Gordon,” Ryan’s alleged twin brother who sells Aviation Gin, a liquor the actor maintains an ownership interest in.

Which is why Safe House is suddenly so fresh now. Bittersweet, even. On its own, it’s a fairly standard (some might even say substandard) thriller wherein frantic editing and shaky handheld camerawork attempts to evoke a sense of real-world tension and espionage. Washington’s played characters like Tobin Frost before, and in better films, but Reynolds hasn’t played a straight man, or a character with a dawning sense of despair, in a long, long time. What’s more, he’s actually quite good in scenes where his Weston character—a low-level CIA employee that winds up having to both capture and team-up with Frost—is driven to cynical horror at his boss’ realpolitik manipulation, or where he must tell the woman he loves that he’s been lying to her for months and now must ghost her.

This is diametrically opposed to his character in The Hitman’s Bodyguard who has a similar frenemy camaraderie with Samuel L. Jackson on multiple road trips, and yet that guy remains perpetually nonplussed about the constant stream of shootouts and chases he’s in. He even has time to crack wise with Jackson about their rivaling badassery.

The first Hitman’s Bodyguard is a better film than Safe House, but that earlier movie is a reminder that Reynolds is more than just one persona. It’s easy to imagine Safe House is not one of the actor’s favorite films. It’s from that awkward period in his career directly after the notorious box office flop Green Lantern in 2011. Indeed, much of the recurring meta-textual humor in both Deadpool movies is Reynolds having a laugh at Green Lantern’s expense, mocking what it did to his career… including by making it that much harder for Reynolds to get Deadpool off the ground.

Ironically, Reynolds had kind of played Wade Wilson before Green Lantern or Safe House, but in such a bastardized form during X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009) that 20th Century Fox became skeptical toward the idea there was a large audience out there for Reynolds to have his spinoff. Meanwhile, for every forgettable success like Safe House he was in, Reynolds was only getting mainstream roles in other troubled productions like R.I.P.D. (2013) and The Change-Up (2011).

The irony is, however, that Reynolds was also doing some of his best and most diverse work during this period. Likely a contributing reason to him getting to play Hal Jordan was the box office success he had opposite Sandra Bullock in 2009 with The Proposal. But while that romantic comedy saw Reynolds dabble in the sarcastic wit which marks his earliest breakout success in the sitcom Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place (1998-2001) and his current run of hits since Deadpool, his character in The Proposal is not a smartass. He’s a put-upon employee who is driven by completely earnest and embittered estrangement from his father.

Meanwhile, outside of his would-be blockbuster fare which came after that hit, Reynolds was doing genuinely impressive dramatic work on the indie circuit. His one-man turn in Buried (2010), in which he plays a military contractor who realizes he’s been buried alive in Iraq and has only only a cellphone and 90 minutes before his oxygen runs out, is claustrophobic and viscerally terrifying stuff. Conversely, his depiction of a mentally ill man who begins hearing conflicting advice from “the voices” of his dog and cat in Marjane Satrapi’s The Voices (2014) is arguably the best work Reynolds has done in his whole career. In that dark comedy, he plays both sad sack Jerry with sincere pathos while also truly disguising his speech patterns by inhabiting the sinister voice as his cat Mr. Whiskers and his sagacious dog, Bosco.

Neither of those films were box office hits, obviously, and none of them earned Reynolds the kind of universal love that Deadpool did. As bleakly amusing as Mr. Whiskers is, that’s not a character who can sell bottles of gin. But being reminded of that more diverse talent now, even while watching something as pedestrian as Safe House, is somewhat nice. He’s gone on to much better mainstream entertainment since 2012, but Reynolds is still more than Wade Wilson. That’s worth remembering.

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[cami-chats]

The New Assistant

Fandom: Marvel, Jurassic World

Pairing: Claire Dearing/Tony Stark

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping and attempted murder in keeping with Iron Man 1

Written for @periwinklepromise. Also on AO3

"This is Claire," Pepper said.

"What did you do, clone yourself?" Tony asked, looking at Claire. From the straightened and perfectly cut red hair, down to her low heels and pristine dress suit, she looked very similar to Pepper. Not to mention the no-nonsense look on her face. "Seriously Pep, she could be your sister. Wait, is she your sister? Please say yes; it would make me very happy."

Instead of asking why it would make him happy-- because Pepper was a spoilsport-- she said, "She's your new assistant. She has excellent management skills, and god knows she'll need it do deal with you." Pepper turned to Claire and handed her a tablet with a window already pulled up. "This is Tony's schedule for the day. I'll be in my office looking over paperwork, so I'll be available if you need me."

Claire dipped her head in acknowledgement, taking the tablet from her. Her eyes flitted over the screen as Pepper walked away, and a moment later, she looked up at Tony with a polite smile. "You have a meeting with Mr. Kenjiro Fujikawa in thirty minutes. Where would you like to be briefed for your meeting?"

So she wasn't fucking around. Tony's assistants before Pepper had always thought they were being serious, but there had been no getting around the fact that he was their boss, and as a personal assistant, they were supposed to do things the way he wanted. He should've known to expect more from a person that Pepper had hand-picked, but everyone made mistakes-- even Pepper. "Here's fine," he said, because they were already in his office, and there was no point in picking a fight with Claire now, when he did need to prepare for that meeting. He'd had a lot of assistants that didn't even know he had to prepare for big meetings, and it had always been a pain in the ass.

By the time Claire's first day of work was done, Tony was suitably impressed. He hadn't gone out of his way to make things difficult, but he also wasn't a kid anymore. It was more important for him to get his shit done than it was to see if she could handle him on his worst day; it's not like he'd been at his worst in quite a while, so hopefully she would never be put to the test. Claire had been able to keep up, and she was able to adjust to the way Tony wanted things.

"So," Pepper said, first thing when Tony answered his phone, "what do you think?"

"I'm keeping her."

Pepper's voice was expectedly smug as she replied, "Good to hear. Does that mean I don't have to check in on you tomorrow to make sure your entire schedule hasn't collapsed?"

"Don't go crazy, now," Tony said. "There's always the chance for things to collapse around here."

"Still, I think I'll take my chances. This is what you get for promoting me."

"Yes, and I'm sure I'll constantly regret it."

"Claire really is good at what she does," Pepper said.

"And what exactly is it that she does? I took a peek at her resume, and there was nothing about being an assistant on there."

"If you read her resume, surely you could figure it out."

"I skimmed it," Tony said. Mostly, he'd been looking to see who else she'd been an assistant for, and he'd found no one. He hadn't looked further than that.

"She used to do administrative work," Pepper said, since she knew that Tony was more likely to pester her for an answer than he was to go back to her resume and look for himself.

"Then what's she doing here?"

"The last charity she helped turned out to be less than kosher. She wants a break."

"Ah." Tony could understand that. He'd taken some time off from the company when he felt like everything he'd done had been a colossal failure. Granted it hadn't been what SI needed at the time, but he understood needing a break all the same. That being said, he hoped she stayed longer than just a 'break'. Good assistants were hard to come by. "I'm still not convinced you didn't clone her so you could be in two places at once."

"If I could clone myself, one of me would be resting at all times," Pepper said, which was a good point, but Tony couldn't relate. If he had two of himself, he'd be able to get so much more work done.

*

"Mister Stark, there’s a flight you have to be on in half an hour."

"It's my plane, isn't it? Can't it just leave whenever I show up?"

"Would you like to personally explain to flight control why your schedule is more important than the hundred other planes in the area?" Claire asked, reaching for her phone.

Tony knew that she wasn't bluffing. He'd thought she was bluffing the first half dozen times they'd done this, but he'd finally learned his lesson. "No, no, that's fine," he said, hurriedly saving the document that was up and tossing tools back in the closest box-- DUM-E would fix it if it was the wrong one. "Look at me, I'm closing everything down. I'm practically out the door."

Claire put her phone back in her pocket. "Your bag is already packed and on the plane," she said, pulling her tablet up and tapping at it. "Would you like to continue expanding your modern art collection?"

"The Pollock, right?"

"Yes."

"What do you think?"

"It's overpriced, and you already have some of his work. I think your collection would be perfectly fine without it."

Tony was tempted to say that he wanted it anyways. "Eh, pass on it, then."

"When you get back, you have a presentation you need to work on, and you're supposed to do a walkthrough of the R&D labs in Manhattan."

"Ugh, can't we do one miserable job at a time?"

"You like the walkthroughs," Claire said, her voice devoid of any frustration, but he knew her well enough by now to see the spark in her eyes.

"I meant the presentation, but sure, we can talk about the walkthroughs," Tony said with a shrug. He walked to the door, and Claire followed. "There's nothing good about New York. The weather's horrible; I think it's effected all of their brains. Seriously, you should see some of the designs they've come up with lately."

"I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a good design and a bad one," she reminded him.

"I think you'd be able to tell the difference anyways," he muttered.

Claire didn't let him take a seperate car the way he wanted to, and he understood why when she continued briefing him on the upcoming weapon's demonstration and what he'd be doing when he got back.

When they stopped, she gave a friendly wave to Jim and told Tony, "Try to come back on time. I have a feeling we'll both be annoyed if I have to rework it if you miss your flight."

*

Funnily enough, it was one of the things Tony thought about when he woke up in the cave. Not the first time. The first time, he was in pain and trying to figure out where the hell he was and what the fuck had happened. The second or third day though, before he knew what he was going to do, he thought about Claire saying that, and he laughed.

Yinsen looked at him and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Something my assistant said before I left," he said, shaking his head.

*

When he got back to the States, Pepper and Claire were both waiting as he walked down the ramp. Pepper, he had expected. He was surprised to see Claire, though. He'd thought that she would've moved on to a different job, since being his assistant had been a temporary position for her.

He exchanged a few words with Pepper that amounted to 'I care about you and that scared me out of my wits'. Then he turned to Claire. Her eyes were similarly red-rimmed, as Pepper's had been, and she'd pulled her hair back instead of straightening it like she usually did.

"So, is my schedule in complete disarray?" he asked.

"You have no idea. I did um, clear any personal appearances for the next six months."

"I'm not that injured."

"There's a lot to catch up on after you're back to work. Personal appearances are not a priority."

Tony would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to get out of personal appearances-- they were easily his least favorite part of what he did for the company.

"I agree," Pepper said, coming back with Happy by her side. "The most important thing right now is to make sure you're okay. Happy's going to take us to the hospital."

"No."

"What?" Claire said, frowning at him-- and she wasn't the only one.

"Tony, you have to go to the hospital. Jim passed along your medical report from the military doctors, and he made it clear that you need another visit."

"Medical files are confidential, so you're both guessing that I need another visit," Tony said, even though he knew that Rhodey had looked at the details. He didn't want anyone poking around the arc reactor in his chest, and that included doctors.

Claire's frown deepened, like she knew he was hiding something.

Pepper and Happy started in on him about how he had to go to the hospital, and if he tried to refuse, they were going to drag him there. Tony knew that it was an empty threat, but he also knew that they would do their level best to force him. If it got bad enough, they'd probably hire someone to come to his house, which he was even less a fan of.

Claire being exactly who she was, put it in Tony's schedule, along with a visit to a therapist. It was someone who usually only worked with actors and musicians, but it meant that they were trustworthy to not spill any secrets.

Tony negotiated yes to the doctor, and no to the therapist. Claire nodded, and then scheduled a different therapist for two weeks later. When Tony got upset with her, she glared at him. Claire had never glared at him before, and then she said, "What part of 'kidnapped' has gone over your head? It's a little thing we like to call 'trauma'. Even if you go once and he says you're fine, you need to go."

"If I agree to go to that appointment, will you go with me to the benefit tomorrow?"

"Deal."

"Deal," Tony echoed with a grin. Pepper had said she'd go to the benefit on his behalf, but since she'd gotten her own invitation, he didn't think that would work. She wouldn't be there on his behalf; she'd just be there.

*

Claire dealt with the discovery of the armor pretty well-- a lot better than Pepper did, when she ended up finding out-- which surprised Tony. He'd thought that she'd freak out. What surprised Tony more was when she hauled off and punched Stane in the face. The man was in a massive metal suit, and Claire punched him. It didn't solve the situation and Tony still had to go repulsor to repulsor with him so that he was incapacitated when Shield got there to arrest him, but it was beautiful to behold.

"I can't believe you punched him," Tony said, trying to ignore all the feelings that wanted to send him into hiding. He'd known Stane his entire life, and... god, he didn't know what he was going to do. Claire had talked about investigations and lost inventory, and Tony was just trying to hold himself together.

"It didn't do much good," Claire said. She shifted the ice pack on her knuckles to a more comfortable position.

"Still, it was nice to see." Tony loved Pepper, but she didn't really do violence. Claire, on the other hand, hadn't hesitated. Tony had one hundred percent not expecting it. Claire had squared up like she was always ready for an eventuality like this. "You know, we never had that drink."

"I considered the attack on terrorists that night to be a good replacement for talking over drinks," she said, slanting a smile at him.

"You've got a weird idea about dates."

"Is that what you getting me a drink was supposed to be? A date?"

"Well technically, you going to the benefit with me was a date. The drink was to make it better."

"And since we left the drinks behind so you could give the armor a test drive, I think it counts as a continuation of the date," Claire said.

*

"You realize I have to quit now, right?" Claire said.

"What? No, absolutely not."

She rolled her eyes at him, but the fact that she was spending a lazy morning after in his bed took off the sting. "I am not going to be in a relationship with my boss."

"Aw, c'mon, you went on a date with your boss, and we both know that this isn't a matter of sexual favors and preferential treatment. What does it matter if you keep working for me?"

"I'm either going to date you or be your assistant. I'm not doing both."

"But you're so good at being my assistant," Tony whined.

Claire snorted. "In between your Iron Man duties and the company, you need two assistants. I'm not qualified to be two people. Besides, I found a charity I'm willing to work with, and I have an interview next week."

"When were you going to tell me that you were quitting?" Tony asked, failing to not sound offended.

"Last night. You distracted me."

"I think you have to give two weeks notice for this sort of thing." Having never been employed by someone other than his own company, he wasn't sure, but he'd heard about it enough times that he thought it was true.

"I told both Pepper and Human Resources, and they are looking for a new assistant fo you as we speak. Well, HR is. Pepper's probably busy with her own work, since it's not her job to find you an assistant."

Tony frowned. "She found you."

"We're friends, and I told her when I quit my last job. She didn't act as a head hunter and seek me out."

"Huh." He hadn't known about that, and he felt like he should have. "You're friends?"

"From college." She pushed herself up and stretched her arms.

Tony tugged her back down, grinning at the exasperated look she gave him. "Since I'm still your boss, I can say that our work day hasn't started yet."

"My day always starts before yours, otherwise you-" she tapped his chest pointedly "-wouldn't be anywhere on time."

"Fine, I won't get up until noon. That gives you until eleven or something, right? Right. So we can stay in bed until then, and-"

"You are ridiculous," Claire said, then she kissed him. "And I'm getting up, work or no work."

"I can't believe I signed up for this," Tony groaned. 

[the-tragic-hero-and-you]

Let’s make a secret

A/N: I’m just being an idiot. Let me have this. Anyways, a little Actor!Mark x Y/N for those of you who like rats. Angst and drunken seduction in this chapter. Also, Ethan get's fired for being an idiot butler.

Story: You and Mark use to be fast friend, but these days you barely talk to him anymore. Now with the Divorce approaching, Damien is worried for his dear friend and sends you to Markiplier Manor to keep him company. Mark doesn’t want to talk about life, preferring to just drink his troubled away with you. . .

The elections went well for Damien. Not only did he get the vast majority of the minority votes, but from others as well. It seemed to be quite a land slide of a victory for him, and you were proud to see how far he had come since the two of you met back in University. It was just him and another candidate now. If things go well, it looks like Damien will have another term to keep his Mayor title.

There was still a few months though, so you had to be at the top of your game to make sure he claims this victory as well. It’s what friends do. Sure, there was the controversy still going around since the last election, about how the two of you were using Damien to climb up in the ranks by giving him ‘special offers’. So many speculations arose, drugs, illegal trafficking, seduction. But no matter how ‘damnable’ the evidence was, It all fell flat and proven false in the end. Now people are just saying you both are secretly a couple. Granted, Damien is a handsome bastard. You can’t help but stare at him sometimes and smile. But he wasn’t your type. You and Damien preferred that the two of you stayed as fast friends til the end of your days, no matter what trials come before you. Nothing would shattered the bond you have.

It was another Sunday.

Or was it a Tuesday?

Doesn’t matter.

You were in your office, shuffling through some paper work when there was a light tapping on your door. listing your head up you noticed Damien peeking his head in. wit ha smile, you motioned him to come in, setting the papers to the side and giving him your full attention. You immediately knew something was wrong due to the look on his face, his gaze to the ground and his footing slower than usual. Damien was never forward when there was an incident that he had to address you about.

“Sorry, old friend. I certainly hope I’m not interrupting anything too critical towards your work.”

You shook your head, reassuring him that  whatever was on his mind was far more important. This seemed to relive him by a small portion as he forced a smile and approached your desk.

“Good, good. That’s good to hear. Uhh, look, the reason I’m asking, and the reason why I’m here is because. . . Well . . .I need to ask a favor of you. It’s important.”

He had your attention before. But with that tone and those words? All your plans for the rest of the day can wait. you leaned forward form your seat a little, resting your hands on your desk as you waited for Damien to continue. He didn’t say anything at first, his gaze off to the side as the man went through his thoughts, possibly rethinking what he was going to request of you. Eventually he shook his head, returning his attention towards you and finally spoke.

“It’s Mark.” He muttered, now nervously fiddling with his cane in hand. “He’s going through a rather rough patch right now. I’d love to go see him, but. . .I’m not sure if I’m the right person he wants to see right now. I figured that maybe a familiar face and trouble maker might lighten up his spirits right now.”

Ah yes, Mark. How on earth could you forget such an egotistical man? You did appreciate the actor coming to Damien’s defense about the whole ‘Sex scandal’ incident. Possibly had enough of people spreading rumors about his childhood friend. Nice to know there was still some decency in him ever since he became a big shot actor.

Honestly, you were on the fence about this. But is was Damien asking for this huge favor. The man was far too kind. No matter how big the asshole was, Damien treated him like a brother.

Well, a brother-in-law at one point. . .

You started organizing your things and put them away, indicating to the Mayor that you would do this for him.

“Thank you, my friend’“ He breathed with relief, his smile sincere as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure he needs the distraction right about now. Who knows, maybe reminiscing about your shenanigans will lighten his spirits. Just don’t get him into trouble. The ban against you two at the Cafe la Ritz is still holding strong.”

You still don’t regret that night either.

After you left work and freshened up a little at home, you make your way to Markiplier Manor. You tried to recall the location and roads to take in your head as you turned your headlights on, realizing how dark it was becoming. you’ve only ever been to that house once. Even then, you didn’t exactly go inside, rather you just dropped Damien and Mark off at the place. They offered for you to come inside, but something didn’t feel right as you looked at the place. Anything that seemed like it was pulling you in was something you avoided greatly. But at this point, you didn’t have a choice. It’s not like you were going to force Mark to hang out with you outside for the rest of the evening.

You did miss him though. Very much. You might not have known him since childhood like Damien, but the two of you were like Partners in crime, always getting into trouble back in your University days. You were surprised that neither of you got expelled after the gun powder indecent at the museum. Maybe because it didn’t ignite. So many close calls and late nights just causing trouble, sometimes sober, sometimes intoxicated. Honestly, Mark really helped you forget about the crushing stress of life. After graduation though, things seemed to drift between the two of you. There would be the occasional call here and there, but eventually things went quiet. Life just got too busy. You were in law, he was in Hollywood and in between was Damien trying to hold something together.

Eventually even Damien stopped talking about Mark and just focused on running the city.

Finally you pulled up to your destination.

You sat in your car for a moment, looking up at the extravagant house. That uneasy feeling never left, that pulling sensation sent shivers down your spine. It felt like looking at a casket for yourself. Taking in a deep breath, you get out of your car and make your way towards the entrance, each step feeling as though it wasn’t your own as you draw closer to the house. The door was intimidating somehow, it wasn’t that big in your opinion, but you were too uneasy to knock. non the less, you brought your hand up, bringing it into a light fist and gave a knock. Almost instantly the door opened as you were greeted by a rather pencil neck looking butler with glasses. He looked like the kind of guy who would drown you in a tub or poke a hold in a cardboard box while you’re in it.

“Bonjour!” He greeted with a smile, “Do you have an appointment?”

you probably should have asked Damien if he called ahead and let them know you were coming. You shook your head a little, just in case arrangements were not made and you didn’t wanna be caught lying.

“AWW! I’m so sorry. . . Whatever it is you are. But the master is not to be disturbed with non appointed guests.” He said in an obnoxious and overly fake accent.

Just then you heard a familiar tone, a bitter one as well coming from the room behind the butler, the voice getting louder as the person walked up to the door. 

“Look, I don’t want to deal with any donations, salesmen or journalists right now! I just want to be left the fuck alon-!”

He caught glimpse of you just as you did of him. The raging voice that rang out seconds before halt the moment he recognized you, stepping closer before opening the door a little wider to get a better look at you. The man standing before you looked nothing like he did when you two last encountered. His eyes and cheeks were silken in a little, his hair unkempt, facial hair developing into nearly a beard and seemed to have lost some weight. As for his choice of clothes? Just as poor. Nothing more but a wrinkled red robe that’s barely tied on. His eyes scanned you just as much as you were him before he finally spoke.

“My God. You haven’t aged a day, you asshole.” Mark muttered, finally giving you a weak smile before gesturing you inside. “Come in, come in!” He enthusiastically offered. At least he was happy to see you, which was a relief. Walking in, the butler took your coat as you slipped out of it, looking around the rather nice layout before you. 

The balcony over head strangely caught your eye. . .

“So! Wow. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Mark spoke, snapping you out of your hazy thoughts and instantly towards him. You gave a nod and a warm smile as you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and a shake to greet him more properly. “Ah, God, that was. . . 4 years ago, wasn’t it? Man, how time flies when you’re going through so much to what life chucks at ya, huh?” He spoke while guiding you towards one of the visitation rooms, “Sorry I’ve been so out of touch. You know how it is. You going the opposite direction of how we use to be in our youth, and me just making matters worse. Personally, I think I make it more interesting.” You couldn’t help but shake your head to this comment. Mark has always been the one to justify his actions, being rather narcissistic as ever. You didn't look down on him about, not this time. The way he was walking and forcing a smile to stay on his face, it was clear he was trying to hide away whatever emotional pain was eating away at him.

You only knew what you've read in the papers about it all. How the upcoming divorce was effecting his acting and all that. You still felt terrible about missing the wedding, though now it seemed kinda pointless to have such regret now that it didn't work out.

He leads you into one of the front rooms in this place (The man has about 5 possibly, just like his ovens), offering you have a seat on the couch the moment he sits as well. “Sorry about being such a mess. A call ahead of time would have been nice, BUT since it's you, I can forgive it this one time. I mean, how often do you even come by anymore? Just give a little heads up next time, alright?” You gave a nod in agreement and apology, not really needing to voice how you didn't mean to be an inconvenience with an unannounced visit. That was something you liked about him, he seemed to know what you were meaning to tell him with just simple little gestures, both him and Damien in fact. It's as if just looking into your eyes tells them everything that's on your mind, which was very helpful since you didn't like to speak up very often, only when greatly needed.

“Well, since you're here, we can catch up more properly and forget about life for a change. Would you like a drink? Ha! Stupid question. Of course you would! BUTLER!”

“BoNJoUR!” The rather obnoxious butler said, suddenly popping up from behind the sofa the two of you were sitting in.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and get us a bottle of wine. Be snappy about it!”

“Bonjoooooooooour~!” He said as he slides his way out of the room.

You and Mark sit there for a moment, watching the heapass of a mean leave before tuning your attention back to one another.

“Anyways. . . It's so good to see you again, face to face.” Mark expressed in a sincere tone, taking your hand into his own and gave it a little pat. “Things have been pretty insane lately, so it's nice to have an old, non back stabbing friend in my midst.” That last part in his statement brought worry to grow in your chest, recalling how Damien assumed that Mark didn't want to see right now. Maybe there's been a bitter feud that occurred that you were not aware of.

Best to not let Mark known that this was Damien's idea.

You reassured Mark by giving his hand a gentle squeeze and a smile, scooting yourself a little closer to show you're comfort for being around him, despite the complete train wreck he was. Honestly, you've seen him look worse, like that time when the both of you got into a fight with a hand full of jocks. Those bruises stayed around for what felt like forever.

“BONjour!” The Butler finally arrived, shuffling his feet along the carpet s he approached the two of you, handing mark the bottle of wine as requested. The man looked at the bottle before looking back up to the butler with a look of grimace.

'. . . And GLASSES! Are we suppose to drink this with our god damn hands or what!?”

“OOF! Bonjour!” He spoke before dashing off in a rather odd manner.

You were rather taken back a bit by the sudden outburst from Mark. Normally he was level headed and was sly with his insults, doing such critical stabbing with his words with a smirk on his face. Not once have you witnessed him being so furious before. It was rather concerning, almost terrifying.

Mark noticed how uneasy you had become, seeming a little frantic as he placed the bottle of wine on the table and held your hand a little tighter. “Sorry! Sorry. It's difficult to deal with incompetent people these days. It's been nearly unbearable lately, you know.” You took note of this, how he became worried about scaring you away.

Mark was truly going through so much, wasn't he?

You tried to play it off like it was no big deal, giving a shrug and nod of understanding just as the butler returned with the glasses, setting them down on the table next to the wine bottle. With one last irritating 'Bonjour', the butler took his leave, allowing you and Mark to finally be alone.

The man reached over and popped open the bottle, pouring you a drink and handing the crystal glass to you. Graciously to took it from him, taking in the scent of the rich red drink before noticing how much more he was pouring into his own. Bringing your free hand forward, you tried to take tilt the bottle away from his glass. Mark pulled away from your hand and shook his head, not looking at you as he spoke. “Look. . . I know you're worried about me about the whole ordeal, and I appreciate you being here for me. But please, I don't want to talk or even think about it right now.” Saying this, Mark looked to you with pleading eyes, having another sober moment during this crisis was becoming far too much for him. As much as you didn't approve of heavy drinking with a broken heart, you couldn't help but feel a voice nipping a the back of your mind.

'He needs this. You're here after all. It's fine. . . I͍t᷾'s f̧ȋn̈e᷃.'

He's right. You both need to unwind anyways. You relaxed your posture as you raised your glass to him, Mark responding with a weary smile and tinked his glass against your before the both of you took a drink.

One glass of wine before two, three, four? Did the last one even count as a glass of wine since you never finished it and had more poured in? It should count as the same glass, right? The counting didn't matter as the night started to become a blur, a second bottle of wine being brought in and finished as well. Or was it a third bottle? You were not sure anymore, nor did you even care.

'Nothing wrong with letting go with an old friend. . .'

The night continued as the two of you became more rambunctious. Pointless jokes made and laughed at, tossing random items in the fire just to see how it would burn, flipping the table over, watching Mark fire the butler, you flipping him off after he drinks from your glass. Mark throwing an empty bottle of wine across the room, him with his arms wrapped around your neck as he sobs against your shoulder, you trying to stay up on the sofa only to collapse on the floor, another bottle of wine was ordered, both of you forgot that the butler was fired. Even on the floor the room continued to spin, vaguely seeing the actor crawling towards you and resting his head on your chest.

Everything felt warm, possibly from the fireplace, possibly from the body heat from the man who's weight pinned you to the floor, maybe it was the taste of wine that was still on your lips you tasted, maybe the taste was from his kiss, the firm hands that began to trail down your waist didn't hurt at all.

'See? It's not that bad. . . Not. That. B̠a̞d̅.̖ .ͅ "̂

(To be continued)

[samwilsonshandsandass]

So, I’m completely in love with @keanureevesisbae fanfic “Mr. Cavill your dog is kinda fat” and that’s why I just had to read it again (although it’s not finished yet and from the looks of it and her masterlist, she writes longer things) and this time I also needed to take all my fav bits and write something on some of them when they really hit home or touched me even more than all these bits do at minimum. And for context, I’m an outspoken childfree woman and at the very most I have auntie fever, baby fever doesn’t exist for me. So, here goes:

 1

I sit up straight, looking at the drawing she made me today in school. She always makes drawings for me, but they are always the same. She draws a house, with me in it and herself. And outside she draws a dog and a man, with suitcases and moving boxes next to them. ‘Because,’ she explains every single time, ‘one day you meet a nice man who has a dog and he can become my new daddy. A daddy that does want me.’

You broke and mended my heart with this in one paragraph!

2

His mind keeps racing, constantly racing. The terrible reviews of his latest movie, the way how women kept saying how they want to have his kids, but none of them is good enough. He wants to fall in love with someone, someone who understands him, who loves him for who he is. A woman that he has an instant connection with. A woman where he can be himself.

This is so vulnerable omg

 ‘Hi Vanessa,’ Henry says in a soft voice, before holding onto her hand, that nearly disappears in his. ‘My name is Henry Cavill and this is Kal.’ Doctor Tran looks up from the bag of vomit. ‘Henry Cavill?’ she asks. ‘Isn’t there an actor whose name is Henry Cavill?’ ‘Yeah, there is.’ Henry chuckles, feeling a bit awkward, but also amused that she doesn’t recognize him. It’s nice to be unrecognizable, even if it’s for a short amount of time. ‘That actor would be me.’ Her eyes widen. ‘Oh,’ she says, but she can’t seem to find the right words to say. ‘Mommy, is this man famous?’ Vanessa asks, while not breaking eye contact with Henry. The little girl blinks her eyes, almost in disbelieve that someone famous is standing next to her. Doctor Tran pulls herself together. ‘Yes, sweetheart, he plays in some movies. He even played Superman.’ Vanessa widens her eyes as well and yet again she looks just like her mother. ‘Wow, Superman is here.’ She starts to giggle, a sound that Henry already adores. ‘So, if you are Superman, you are really strong.’ ‘He is,’ doctor Tran says, placing the vomit samples aside. ‘He carried his dog inside.’ Henry can’t help but beam with pride as he takes in the compliment from the doctor. ‘Wow,’ Vanessa says again. She holds out her arms and asks him if he can lift her up. Henry looks over at the doctor, who smiles and simply nods, a non verbal sign of consent. Henry lifts the little girl up in his arms and she wraps an arm around his neck. ‘I can’t wait to tell miss Sue that I met Superman.’

…

‘Doggy Herb,’ he answers, while Vanessa is tugging his curls, pulling on one strand until it’s straight, before letting it go and watching it curl together again. ‘Why?’

I wanna tug in his curls, probably everyone wants to tug on his curls

 He shouldn’t feel this desperate need to impress the doctor. However, he can’t help but flex his muscles a little bit, as he carries the dog to the corner of the examination room.

 Vanessa starts to frown and she takes a step to the side, so she’s standing in the doorway. ‘Mommy, can I tell Superman he is lying and that you’re not supposed to lie?’ He can hear doctor Tran laughing. ‘You can tell Superman that, sweetheart.’ Henry feels a little finger poking his thigh. ‘Superman, you are lying and you’re not supposed to lie. My mommy says that you should tell the truth, especially about your feelings.’

 ‘My mommy is also a superhero,’ Vanessa says. ‘Not like Superman of course, but she always saves animals.’ ‘Well,’ Henry says, unintentionally loud enough for doctor Tran to hear it, ‘your mom is an even better hero than Superman.’ That confuses her, because she frowns. ‘Why?’ ‘Because I play Superman. It’s pretending. Your mom is not pretending.’

 Her mouth falls open. ‘Well, my mommy doesn’t have a husband. I’ve always wanted a daddy,’ she admits with bitter sweet honesty. ‘But my real daddy didn’t want me.’

Again, you broke my heart

 ‘Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat.’ She could’ve slapped in across his cheek and he wouldn’t be as surprised as he is now. Kal is fat? ‘Excuse me,’ he says in a defensive tone, crossing his arms in front of his buffed out chest. ‘My dog isn’t fat.’ Doctor Tran doesn’t seem impressed by his facade at all. ‘He is,’ she tells him. ‘An average American Akita weights between the forty and sixty kilos. Your dog weighs seventy kilos, while he should be between the fifty and sixty kilos.’ ‘It’s muscle.’ Geez, he never thought he could get this defensive.

I mean, same

 Kal is finally feeling better and Vanessa has woken up again. She is hanging around Kal’s neck, giving him tons of kisses. Kal doesn’t seem to mind, because he continues to lick Vanessa’s face when he gets the chance. Henry knew that his loyal dog was good with children, but this is on another level.

 3

 I want to think about something else, but I can’t. I simply can’t stop thinking about Henry Cavill and his strong arms. I’m convinced I was hallucinating when I thought he was flexing his arm muscles, when he carried Kal.

 I prepare myself for the well known drawing, that I can dream by now, but all the air is knocked out of my lungs when I see what she drew me today. I stop in the middle of the curb, earning me some annoyed groans from two old ladies who were apparently walking behind me, but I don’t care. I really couldn’t care less at the moment. Oh my God, what is it with this kid and desperately wanting a father? Okay, now I get that she wants a dad, I do, but did she honestly have to draw a Superman and a dog (where she wrote underneath KAL) inside of our house? Superman stands next to me and she tried to make it look like Superman and I are holding hands.

Excuse me while I’ll be screaming

 A bark pulls me out of my thoughts and I look over my shoulder. I not only see the chubby American Akita, but also his owner. Henry looked handsome Saturday morning, but he looks even hotter today. He wears a dark blue jeans that shows the world how thick his thighs really are and a cosy sweater, but not a coat, since men are apparently too cool to wear coats in the beginnings of autumn.

Where is the lie?

 ‘I believe you,’ he laughs. ‘You just tell owners their pets are fat.’ I involuntarily let out a laugh. ‘You are the first one in two months with a fat pet, so I just save it for the famous actors with who can’t say no to their chubby dogs.’ Henry licks his lips, before he sinks in this top teeth in his bottom lip. Goodness gracious. Next time I run into Henry Cavill, I should bring some extra pair of panties.

This could be said in a church as a religious truth!

 I want to tell her that she can’t just expect him to carry her, simply because he is strong and he is Superman, but without any difficulties he lifts her up with only one arm. If I tried that, I’d dislocate my shoulder, but obviously it’s a piece of cake for him. I spend my fair share on Pinterest and YouTube, admiring his arms. And that clip of him building that PC? That was the hottest thing on earth and is nearly illegal.

You’re preaching

 ‘He still believes in the Tooth Fairy.’ I bite my lips, to prevent myself from laughing out loud. ‘I think you should tell him.’ She nods and wraps an arm around Henry’s neck. ‘Mister Henry,’ she says, ‘the Tooth Fairy doesn’t exist. Mommy just gives me money when I lose another tooth.’ Henry looks at me, also visibly holding in a laugh. ‘The Tooth Fairy doesn’t exist?’ he ask in almost believable disbelieve, but then I remember: this man is an actor. ‘Are you serious?’ ‘Mhm.’ ‘I need to call my mother, to ask her why she lied to me all those years?’ Vanessa shakes her head. ‘Well, lots of kids still believe in the Tooth Fairy, so it’s okay that you did too.’ ‘It was just time for you to know the truth,’ I add. ‘Well, thank you, miss Vanessa,’ Henry says. ‘Thank you for being honest with me.’

How cute can this be?!

 I decide that I’m not ready for a head tilt by the one and only Henry Cavill. ‘Her biological father didn’t want her,’ I say. ‘He broke up with me and disappeared out of my life, if that’s what you wanted to know.’

No one is ever ready for the Henry-Cavill-Head-Tilt

 I don’t think I can ever understand those kind men. Did he honestly just say that? My entire body temporarily forgot how to function. Henry Cavill out there trying to steal my heart and with the rate he is going at, I’m willing to hand it over to him without putting up a fight. Her biological father doesn’t know what he is missing out on. That one went straight to my soul.

 4

 ‘I do have to tell you, he isn’t the greatest with needles,’ Henry warns her. She nods. ‘Aren’t you projecting your own fears on your dog?’ she jokingly asks him.

…

Olivia glances at him, before she sticks the needle into Kal’s thigh. He doesn’t even whine, but Henry rubs his own face. ‘Are you okay, Henry?’ she asks, but he doesn’t hear what she says anymore, because he passes out.

 He tries to remember where he is and when he looks around, he sees he is at the animal clinic. The examination table, his own dog sitting next to doctor Olivia Tran, who walks up to him and crouches down in front of him. ‘You’re up,’ she says with a chuckle. ‘For such a big guy, I never assumed you’d pass out like that, simply because I was giving your dog a shot.’

…

‘No need to, it was kind of funny, especially when I had to drag you around this examination room and had to explain to the assistant that the loud thud she heard, was the owner that collapsed and not the overweight dog,’ she laughs, handing him a paper cup filled with some water. ‘Here, drink this.’

I was torn between laughing at that image of dragging Henry around but also, kinda, same?

 ‘Okay, mommy,’ Vanessa says. ‘Can Kal sleep in my room tonight?’ ‘He can,’ Olivia says. The little girl smiles and looks up at Henry. ‘Is that okay with you too, mister Henry?’ she asks. ‘Kal is your dog.’ ‘He can sleep in your room,’ Henry says, touched by the fact that she actually thought she should ask him about this. Olivia is raising such a lovely and polite girl. He truly admires her.

 5

Henry gently holds my wrist. His hand nearly engulfs my wrist, only adding fuel to the fact that Henry is a lot bigger than me fact.

Size kink activated

 Henry brings a hand to his lips, to suppress some laughter, but he fails miserably. ‘And yet you agreed on going on a date with me.’ ‘Guess I have a thing for handsome men with chubby dogs.’ He lets out a chuckle. ‘Good thing I have a thing for veterinarians who drag me across the examination room after I passed out.’

 It’s impossible for me to keep my mouth shut now. ‘And you want to start a family of your own, right?’ His eyes widen. ‘How do you know about that?’ ‘You’re famous, Henry and I’m curious. Go figure.’

 I walk back to the kitchen when the cries have turned a bit softer, to see Henry chopping up onions into tiny pieces. ‘How is she?’ Henry asks, blinking his eyes fast, because of the onions.

There’s no cuter mental image

 ‘I can look after her,’ he says. Excuse me, what? ‘Excuse me, what?’ I say out loud. ‘I can look after her,’ he repeats. ‘I have nothing to do, so you can go to sleep and then tomorrow, you’ll go to work.’ I blink away some tears in my eyes, that start to collect there at an admirably fast speed. ‘Henry, I can’t ask that from you.’ ‘Good thing I’m offering,’ he says with a soft smile. ‘Really, I don’t want you to get in trouble and besides, I don’t want to leave Vanessa when she’s feeling like this.’

 He smiles. ‘Come here,’ he whispers, pulling me against his broad chest and when I feel his massive arms engulfing me in a hug, tension in my body that has been building up there for God knows how long, slowly seems to fade away. I wrap my arms around his waist and he places his chin on top of my head. Was a hug something I needed for all those years? Is that it?

Size kink activated and this also really hit home, because I also build up emotions/tears

 6

 ‘What is that?’ Olivia asks. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Is that a carseat?’ He blushes, but realizes that she would find out about it sooner or later. Henry clears his throat, before he admits: ‘Yes, I bought it this morning. Figured if we’re going to make a habit out of this, I should be able to take Vanessa safely with me.’

…

‘Henry, really?’ she asks and he doesn’t know if it’s from disbelieve, gratefulness or annoyance. ‘You bought her a carseat…’ She places a hand on his arm. ‘That is so sweet, you keep amazing me, you know that?’ His blush is intensifying at an alarming speed. ‘It’s nothing, really.’

Excuse me while I scream

 ‘Don’t say something like that,’ she tells him. ‘It’s not nothing, this is everything. You are honestly the greatest guy to come across my path. In these past week you’ve done more for her than her real dad or family for that matter. This is really quite something.’

My desire to punch Wesley just got even stronger

 ‘Olivia,’ he says and she looks up. ‘Why are these women staring at us?’ She glances over her shoulder and growls something under her breath. ‘Those are the perfect housewives, with their perfect kids and perfect husbands,’ she says, her brows furrowing. ‘They are probably in shock that I brought some male company with me.’ Henry can’t help but chuckle, as he looks at the feisty woman next to him. He gently places a hand on her shoulder, maybe because he feels like he needs to physically restrain her, maybe because he wants those women to be extra jealous of her.

 Henry sits behind the wheel and Vanessa says: ‘I made two drawings today. One for you and one for Henry.’ Henry waits with starting the car and just like Olivia, he turns around in his seat, so he can look at Vanessa. She hands them both a drawing and when the two of them look at the pieces of paper, it’s evident that she drew the exact same thing: All four of them, Henry, Olivia, Kal and Vanessa in one house. Olivia told him about the same drawings she has been making for such a long time and how after they met Henry, she drew Superman and Kal with them. Now he is not in Superman clothes, but in normal clothes. Now he is Henry.

This is like the “Being known is being loved post” but even better and more heart shattering in a good way

 ‘In that cafe, can I sit with Henry?’ Olivia smiles. ‘Of course.’ ‘You won’t jealous then?’ He notices out of the corners of his eyes that Olivia frowns. ‘Why would I be jealous?’ ‘Because he is your boyfriend.’

This kid I swear

 ‘You have baby pictures of Henry?’ Vanessa asks. They all start to laugh. ‘We have,’ his father says. ‘But be prepared, Henry was an ugly kid.’ Vanessa pulls her mother a little down and whisper shouts: ‘Is this a joke or is he serious?’ Olivia chuckles. ‘It’s a joke, sweetheart.’ ‘Good, because even if mister Colin is his dad, he shouldn’t be so mean to him, right?’ Henry pulls on one of her pigtails and she looks up at him. ‘Thank you, sunshine, for looking after me.’ She smiles. ‘No one should be mean to each other and if he does it more often, you should say something about him.’

Vanessa is the best and the cutest and just ahhhhhhhhhhh

 Vanessa tilts her head. ‘Mommy, I think you should give Henry a kiss.’ ‘Why is that, sweetheart?’ Olivia asks. ‘He seems like he needs it. Your kisses always help.’ Olivia chuckles, before she leans in and presses a kiss on his cheek. And Vanessa was right, he did need that.

 7

This is a question that I do understand. It happens all the time: man wants the woman, but not the kid and Vanessa is not stupid. She knows that stuff like that happens all the time. ‘Then I’m going to leave Henry,’ I say to her, before he can say something. ‘Because if that is the case, he is not the man I thought he would be. I don’t want someone who doesn’t want you, because you are my number one and you will always be my girl.’

This hits kinda home, because for my best friend it was the opposite. Man meets woman with daughter, man and daughter detest each other, woman still chooses (to this day) the man. And can and could see what that did with my best friend.

 ‘Mommy, are you okay?’ I hear Vanessa ask, nearly causing me to yelp. I quickly dry my tears. ‘I’m fine, sweetheart.’ She frowns. ‘You’re crying.’ ‘I’m not crying,’ I tell her, but lying to her feels so wrong. ‘Okay, I was, but—’ ‘Superman, mommy is crying,’ Vanessa yells and it takes about a second before Henry is in the kitchen. Maybe he really is Superman, moving around like lightening speed. ‘What’s wrong, love?’

…

‘They are. I kept thinking about how lucky I am to not only have the cutest daughter in the world, but that Superman is here as well.’

Catch me screaming again

 I feel like I can handle a few nosey brothers, but hearing how he knows that Vanessa will be overwhelmed, nearly changes me into a puddle. We are important to him… I squeeze his hand. ‘You are the biggest sweetheart I have ever met.’

 I see Henry send a picture of the four of us on the couch. He desperately wanted to take a picture of us in our matching pajamas and the fact that he decided that this would be the best one to share with his family, warms my heart.

[betterin365days]

My Roommate is a Detective (2020) 民国奇探

Overall 7.0

Story 7.5

As a romance fan, I do not like shows based in the Chinese Republican era as they rarely have a happy ending, knowing that there will be a war coming.  However, I’m a fan of detective shows and I liked the cast so I gave episode 1 a shot. The show was giving me Sherlock Holme vibes and I decided to carry on watching it whenever I run out of other dramas to follow. The casts were met with new cases in every/every other episode (23 cases in 36 eps), some of them are quite interesting. Actually, the cases and the bromance are what’s keeping me from dropping the show as the chemistry for the romance between the FL & ML due to their character set is kinda meh. More on that below.

Acting/Cast 8.0

I have seen many comments about the Bai You Ning, the female lead played by Shane Yan being annoying for the viewers. Her actions are sometimes confusing but not to the point of annoying. BYN is a rich man’s only daughter who studied overseas. For someone of her background and resources to turn out rebellious. I’m glad her actions only inconveniences the detectives and is less of a hindrance than she could have been. To me, she is a likable character since her nature is good and she stands by her beliefs. Only because it's her, the ML gets his freedom. Also because it's her, their relationship stood up to his father. Her actions in the show are quite understandable and the constant bickering with the male lead is a common start of a love-hate relationship in Rom-Coms (i.e. I can understand it being a scripted part of the drama).

Hu Yitian played Lu Yao, the male lead. The character is portrayed as a guy who is very materialistic and has loose moral boundaries, where he likes to colour outside the box. He plays a consultant of sorts to the detective but only assists in cases if he gets paid or has something to gain. He has a wide range of interests, appreciates antiques, art, and music and loves collecting novelty items. He steals from one of the suspects (for the item’s monetary value), showing the character’s warped sense of morality, which is a known part of his character that the detective Qiao Chusheng played by Leon Zhang and BYN at one point or another warns him against it. Since he is a very smart character that does not give in to social norms, his action keeps me guessing what is he up to (very much like Sherlock in "Elementary"). 

Qiao Chusheng played by Leon Zhang is a character that seems to have a complicated background.  I have a very vague understanding of the power play (due to my disinterest) and his role in it as a detective who takes orders from BYN’s father. The show has him showing mostly his detective activities which he contributes by using his connections to gather intel and I enjoy the bromance vibes between him and LY.  

[QC comes off as a character who I feel would have better suit BYN with his big brother vibes that is protective over her. In my own imaginary world, he would protect her and she would be her bratty self with LY being a smart sidekick. the chemistry might have been better]  

Despite the lead actors and actress's good job portraying what I believe is how the character is scripted, the relationship development in the story is less than subtle. 

In terms of romance, I can hardly feel the chemistry. LY jokes around with the BYN too much and I can’t take him seriously. Also, because Hu Yitian has played several characters that act kinda cool and doesn’t show much emotion so I feel like he is kind of stuck in that frame. Even when he is showing his affection for BYN, the jump from his goofy character is very stiff.  The relationship between the characters needs a deeper level of analysis to understand. 

SPOILER[ (scroll beyond this paragraph to avoid):

There was a scene where BYN brought up getting married to keep LY in shanghai which has been an on-going topic brought up from time to time in several episodes with both LY and BYN poking the nest and running away.  Due to the pressing situation, BYN suggested they might have to resort to actually getting married and LY says, "If you don't like me, I can marry you." which I see it as him not wanting to lead BYN on. If he doesn't believe that BYN likes him, he could have just agreed, which means at this point he already senses BYN's feelings despite her saying that she doesn't like him. That being said, he just wants to keep things neutral until he can confirm his own feelings.

The rom-com preferring side of me is screaming in pain when I watch the show. The story would probably have suited a platonic relationship structure better but then rom-com lovers would not have watched the show. I couldn't really feel the chemistry between BYN and LY, so the coupling feels quite forced and I am really dissatisfied in this aspect. The pick of actors and actresses were quite fitting for the characters, the playful & strong-headed BYN, suave & loyal QC, smart & egoistic LY. I'd give 8 for that.

Music 7.5

The music, the outfits, and setting are pretty fitting for the era that the drama is set in. Nothing too amazing but it’s a fairly well done. Totally love the opening music though.

Rewatch Value 5.0

The story in respect of the detective genre is interesting but not that impressive and the chemistry for the romance is pretty lacking so I don’t recommend watching it a second time unless you like to analyze their relationships.

[spn-ficfanatic]

Halo- Chapter 2

SPN-FICFANATIC MASTERLIST

“HALO” MASTERLIST - CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER THREE

Fic Summary: You’ve lived next door to Jensen and Jared for a year and have had a somewhat strained relationship. After a recent and massive change in your life your paths cross again and they discover the cause of that, and bridges start to mend in unexpected ways.

Characters: Jensen x Reader, Jared x Platonic!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2989

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Quick but Sweet Smut

Warnings: Very short NSFW (no GIFS), my first attempt at smut (which is a warning in itself), swearing again

Trigger Warning: Descriptions of domestic violence.

A/N: I wasn’t planning to post this so soon but I’ve been blown away by its popularity, and everyone has been so kind, so I wanted to post this quickly as a thank you xx

—————————————————————————

A few hours later you had successfully proved to Jensen that he was indeed a suck shot, and that there was only one Queen of Halo in the World. He couldn’t help but steal glances at you from time to time, your smile as you gamed was intoxicating and he didn’t feel like he could ever get enough. This Y/N was a stark contrast to the one from only a few hours prior, it was like you were a new person the second you stepped into his apartment.

“Dude, you’re looking at me again,” you said bluntly as you stared at the screen with your controller right at your chest, concentrating on the shot. You felt Jensen shift next to you nervously and you giggled.

“Sorry, it’s just nice. To see you smiling,” he replied blushing.

“I hope to do THAT more often,” you replied, hitting pause and turning to grin at him. Your eyes caught movement behind the curtain and Jensen saw a flash of fear across your face before you realised it was Jared returning home. You relaxed as he opened the door, and he looked at you in surprise.

“Y/N! Hey, it’s good to see you! I see you took Jay up on his offer to hang out?” he said with a smile.

“Yer but you didn’t tell me how bad he is at this game. A little warning next time Jared,” you scoffed.

“OK OK, enough with the beat down. I’m a good shot and you can’t convince me otherwise,” he told you, taking a sip of his beer.

“Um Y/N? A taxi pulled up to your driveway as I came in. Are you expecting someone?” Jared asked, putting his bag down. You looked at him with wide eyes.

“Oh shit, I forgot I had a doctor’s appointment!” you gasped, standing up quickly holding your side to avoiding jostling your stomach around. Jensen made to help you stand but you brushed him off. “I gotta run, thanks for the game Jay!”

“Do you need me to go with you?” he asked concerned. Jared flashed him a confused glance while you smiled back.

“It’s ok, thank you though. Gotta get used to this independence thing. Catch you later though?”

“Absolutely, come over whenever you get back.”

You waved at them both as you walked out the door and closed it behind you, and once Jared was sure you were in the taxi he spoke up.

“Dude, I’ve been gone for 5 hours and suddenly you’re offering to take her to doctors’ appointments?” Jared asked incredulously. Jensen sighed and threw him a beer from the fridge.

“Sit down, I’ll catch you up.”

2 hours later you stepped gingerly out of the taxi, holding your side as you walked to your apartment. After having your wound poked and prodded you were feeling a bit sore and sorry for yourself, and looking forward to lying on your couch with something binge-worthy. As you unlocked your door you heard your neighbours’ door open, and were surprised to turn and see Jared standing there and not Jensen as you expected.

“Hey Jared, how’s it going?” you asked tiredly, holding onto the door handle for support.

“Yer fine, I just wanted to make sure you were ok. Jay filled me in while you were gone,” he replied, looking downcast. You nodded with a frown.

“I’m ok. Well, I’m not like fabulous or anything but I’m doing fine, and I know you guys are right next door which feels nice. The paper-thin walls I hated so much over the last year are suddenly making me feel so much safer,” you laughed half-heartedly. “Anyway, I’m gonna head inside and watch something trashy, see ya.”

“Well actually, speaking of trashy, that was the other reason I came over,” he said, handing a box set over to you. You raised an eyebrow as you saw the front cover, and grinned when his face stared back at you.

“Season One of Supernatural? This is brilliant,” you laughed. “And not at all trashy.”

“Have you seen it? I just thought, with Michael being like he was…”

“No no, I haven’t. I mean, I knew you guys did the show because I’ve seen the ads… I always thought it looked pretty awesome. And you’re right, I’d never get to watch this in a million years before.”

“Well, maybe you can now,” he said with a smile. You looked up into his eyes and were suddenly overcome with a strange urge. Pushing yourself forward, you reached out and wrapped your arms around his waist and rest your head against his chest, experiencing your first genuine hug in about a year. He happily returned it, being careful not to hurt you by squeezing too hard.

“Thanks Jare, really,” you told him, feeling a little emotional over the contact.

“Anytime. Consider it part of my penance for being a crappy neighbour,” he replied, to receive a slap on the arm.

“Don’t be daft. You have nothing to feel bad about, either of you,” you told him firmly, and he put his palms up in surrender.

“OK OK, don’t take my arm off,” he replied jokingly. You started to go inside when a thought occurred to you.

“Hey, if you want to watch yourselves killing bad guys come on over, my couch is big enough for three,” you told him with a wink. He laughed and waved you off, letting you go instead and get comfortable with your new favourite TV show.

For the next couple of days the guys would listen to their voices floating through the walls. You really knew how to binge they thought impressed, and pretty soon you were halfway through the season. They opted not to watch it with you, giving you a bit of space and allowing you to watch without the running commentary from them that they knew they’d have trouble biting back. A couple of times you came by for a beer and to ask questions. Another time they were interrupted by pounding on the wall followed with “You’re not gonna die, right Jay? Sam’s gonna fix ya… RIGHT?” to which all they could respond with was laughter.

Your scream of “WHAT!!!” signalled the end of the season, and they prepared a beer for your entrance. Two seconds later you bolted through the door looking dishevelled.

“How could they leave it there? You get hit by a damn truck? You survive right? Well, I guess you must, you’re still going to work but what about John? Gah! I hate this show,” you complained, catching the drink as it was thrown to you and taking a swig.

“And of course, by hate you mean you want to marry it and have little Supernatural babies right?” Jensen asked with a smirk. You glowered at him before swearing.

“You know me too well Ackles.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Months passed and you seemed to be doing well. You and the guys had developed a real lasting friendship, though you definitely had a greater connection with Jensen. To say you had a little crush was an understatement but being certain he’d never feel the same about you you pushed those feelings down to the deepest depths of your soul. The day your mother turned up at your doorstep however threatened to change everything.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” you asked meekly. She was always a powerful woman, which you surmised was probably why you’d fallen in with Michael in the first place.

“I’m here to bring you home Y/N,” she announced, barging in and standing in the middle of your living room. You closed the door, silently praying no-one was home next door to hear this exchange.

“Enough is enough, you’ve been living on your own now for months without a job, without a husband, without support of any kind and I’ve had enough. I can only take so many phone calls listening to your pathetic lies about those horrid actors before coming down here and straightening you out myself. I mean honestly Y/N, you’ve burrowed yourself into a little hole here and made up this ridiculous fantasy life filled with Hollywood heartthrobs and I’m tired of it. This is Vancouver for goodness sake, not California. Now Michael wasn’t perfect but at least he was real and he provided for you. You’re coming home and I’m getting you some help. NOW!”

You cowered at her tone, unable to help yourself. With the help of the guys you had come completely out of your shell but her behaviour was giving you flashbacks to your previous life. You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and before you could nod your head in acceptance you heard your door knock. There was literally only one of two people this could be, and with a resigned sigh you opened the door a couple of inches.

“Get rid of them Y/N, we have work to do,” your Mother stated firmly from behind you as she started to inspect the living room.

You looked up to see Jensen’s angry face looking back at you. “Now’s not a good time Jay,” you told him, moving to shut the door. He put his foot in the way however and reached out to take your hand.

“Play along alright?” he whispered, low enough for only you to hear, before pushing the door open wide and entering. “Sweetheart, you didn’t mention your mother was coming to visit!” He exclaimed loudly, grabbing the attention of your mother who was currently throwing your Dean and Sam bobbleheads in the bin. She stared at him with her mouth open wide, before holding out her hand to offer a handshake.

“Hello, and you are?” she replied, taking in his height and appearance. “You just called my daughter ‘sweetheart’, however she’s yet to mention to me that she has a partner.”

She retreated her hand at this point, noting with disdain his refusal to shake it.

“Are you sure about that? Because I’m almost certain I overheard you say just now that you HAD heard of those ‘horrid actors’.”

The colour drained from your mother’s face at this point as realisation hit that you’d been telling her the truth this entire time, though she kept her composure. Standing as tall as she could she clutched her bag to her side, simply for something to hold onto.

“So, you ARE real. I would have expected any actor with the brains to rise to star in his own television show to be smart enough to know when he’s too good for my daughter. So, you’ll have to excuse my disbelief at Y/N’s wild stories.”

You looked to the ground, tears falling quietly at her words. They cut deep because you knew they were true, and you felt Jensen’s grip tighten around your hand.

“Now you listen here. Y/N is an intelligent, funny and incredibly generous human being. Meeting you I have to wonder where on God’s green Earth she picked that up because she certainly didn’t learn them from you. But, however it happened, I am eternally grateful to call her my fiancée. I am supporting her in every way possible and will be sure to cross you off the guest list, because we’ll only be inviting friends and family to our wedding. Hollywood weddings and all; I’m sure you understand.”

You had barely heard anything after the word fiancée, but based on your mother’s expression it can’t have been good. You held Jensen’s hand tighter as you watched her face go from a bright red to a light purple, and without a word she stomped out of your apartment and slammed the door behind her. You were shaking and you felt Jensen’s arms wrap around you tightly.

“It’s ok, you’re safe I promise,” he told you gently, stroking your hair. You burrowed your face into his chest and let the tears come, not even caring that you were sobbing by this point. He carefully pulled you toward the couch and sat you down next to him as you wept.

10 minutes later you felt you had cried all the tears you could. To his credit he hadn’t moved an inch the entire time, stroking your hair and muttering the odd word of affection here and there.

“How’re you doing?” he asked concerned as you pulled away. You wiped your wet cheeks with the palm of your hand and huffed out a laugh.

“Dude, you essentially told my mother to fuck off. I’m better than I’ve been in ages.”

“Are you sure?” he asked with a frown. “I’m so sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have but hearing her speak to you like that just made me so angry and I couldn’t-“

“Shush,” you told him sternly. “That woman... she may have given birth to me but she was never a mother. I could never stand up to her but you did it for me and I’m beyond grateful. I can’t even begin to think what might have happened to me if I’d gone with her. Jay... I’m pretty sure you just saved my life.”

You looked up into his eyes so he could see the sincerity in them, and he too stared back at you before his gaze fell to your lips. You noticed his breathing quicken as he leaned forward, and before you realised what was happening his lips were on yours. You sharply inhaled through your nose in surprise, and quickly returned the kiss with a low moan at the back of your throat. He lifted you from your place on the couch so you were sitting in his lap, while you ran your hands through his hair as your pace quickened, your tongues sliding in and out of each other’s mouths without hesitation. You could feel the bulge in his jeans growing, which in turn caused your own tingles in places you didn’t know could do that anymore. With one swift motion you unbuttoned your top to expose your bare chest, and Jensen pulled back unexpectedly.

“Y/N,” he panted, wetting his lips as he took you in. A look of concern flashed across his face and he opened his mouth to speak but you quickly placed your palm against his mouth and looked into his eyes with a smile.

“Yes, I want this. Yes, I’m on the pill. No, I don’t care about what I’ve been through anymore. All I want is to feel you pressed up against my naked body... preferably in the bedroom as the couch is quite sma-“

You let out a happy squeal as Jensen immediately stood and held you straddled on his hips, supporting you by holding his hands under your ass. You started sucking his neck as he carried you, and he let out a low groan of approval before you felt yourself being gently thrown onto the bed. He ripped off his top, and you giggled as you heard a few buttons tinkle as they hit your bedroom wall and floor. He shrugged with a grin before throwing himself on top of you, straddling each leg on either side of yours as he grinded himself against you. Your lips found each other and you proceeded to unbutton his pants and slide them down his legs with your feet. The skirt you were wearing had now ridden up so far it was on your belly, giving Jensen easy access to reach down and touch your now wet clit. It took you by surprise and the moan that escaped your lips was almost animalistic, as your back arched off the mattress unconsciously.

“Please,” you begged quietly. “Jay, I need you inside me. It’s been so long...”

You felt your underwear being pushed aside, and his tip pressed against you before you sensed his hesitation. You looked to find him watching for your reaction, and when you leaned up to kiss him harder before pulling him back down onto the mattress with you, he slid himself in. You let out a little gasp, and he whipped his head up to look at you concerned.

“Y/N? Are you ok?”

You nodded with a smile as a tear escaped from the corner of your eye. Jensen didn’t look at all convinced, and pulled himself up on his arms to see you properly.

“I swear Jay, I promise I’m fine. It’s just... this is the first time in a long time that it hasn’t hurt. This is incredible,” you whispered, running your hand through his hair and smiling as a grin spread across his face.

“I’m going to make you feel so good babe, I swear it,” he replied, leaning back down to kiss your neck as he started to pull himself back and forth inside you. Your bodies rocked together on the bed as you quickly neared climax, the unspoken understanding between you that while the feeling was sensational, this wasn’t the right time to draw it out. You could feel the pressure building inside you and your cries became louder and closer together. He thrust harder and faster, his eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“Cum for me baby, I’m right there, fuck,” he swore, and as you felt yourself tip over the edge his body shuddered as he came inside you. You swore loudly as he continued to thrust and pulled yourself closer against his body as you rode out the waves which felt never-ending. When they finally did Jensen pulled out and laid himself across your body with a content sigh. You lay underneath him, not giving an ounce of care to the sheets on the bed as you chose to just snuggle in his embrace rather than jump straight into the shower like you used to. It was a foreign concept to you and you quickly fell asleep with a smile on your face, comforted by the knowledge that your old life was now officially 100% behind you.

Chapter Three (final) coming soon

SPN-FICFANATIC MASTERLIST

"HALO” MASTERLIST - CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER THREE

Tag Lists (Open) Halo Series taglist: @ocean-waves-that-misbehave, @flamencodiva @krys198478, @lostnnot2befound, @deansyahtzee, @gloriousartisanfancreator, @anathewierdo , @darkswanordie , @ravenesque, @mirandaaustin93 , @thekatherinewinchester (won’t tag *SOB*), @letmebeyoursforever “Dean/Jensen” taglist: @lilydarcy (won’t tag *SOB*) “Everything” taglist: @angelsandwinchesters, @grace-for-sale, @growningupgeek, @iamnotsaneatall, @nanie5, @waywardasfudge, @ronja-uebrick, @im-dead-inside05, @julzdec, @adoptdontshoppets, @meghanbeinghappy, @sleepylunarwolf , @sammysgirl1997 

[ralfstrashcan]

Hey @intezaarlily​​, I’m answering this way since I know how the character limit in the reply box and my rambling mix XD

“1) 'Playing creeper house' is both hilarious and the best description of Jonathan's behavior that I've seen.”

Thank you XD I’m happy you were amused by this! And I’ve been thinking about this a lot actually. I might be biased since the first occasion I saw Will Tudor was Humans and he plays a character there that you just have to love, but I think he just has a very approachable and, like, soft face? So Jonathan as Sebastian Verlac had it easy to impersonate an average human (nephilim) being, socially speaking. But Luke Baines, Jonathan’s original face, is so different. His resting expression looks vaguely menacing, and honestly, his facial expressions are those of someone who can’t emote well. This sounds confusing, ugh, I don’t mean that the actor can’t act, I mean the opposite: He portrays Jonathan’s inability to emote really really well. And this has an enormous impact on how the viewer (and Clary) perceives some of his lines, like that “No one will ever find you” one. I think he means it 100% genuinely, but it comes across as evil and threatening and I think that’s 70% due to the way he looks while saying it. So basically my heart goes out to Jonathan once again, because even at his most genuine, when he’s finally free to choose for himself what he wants to be, people still have a really hard time reading him right, and mostly read him wrong.

“2) I think Alec's advisement line is because he knows there's no use confronting Jia without a solid way to get her, especially since she hates them. Izzy tried it and was waved off, and I think he already knew they needed solid proof / more info. Hopefully he and Izzy will work on that in future eps!”

I hadn’t thought of that, and this makes so much sense, especially with how Izzy and Alec share a look at the end after Jia goes away. But then I realllly don’t get why Alec didn’t just say this to Izzy. Why didn’t he tell her they’d need evidence before they accuse the Guard (basically their prison institution where surely lots of high ranking Shadowhunters work) of breaking the Law? In this case Izzy would have known she has his support, and probably wouldn’t have confronted Jia in this way which only served to tip Jia off that the Lightwoods are now gonna start poking into this matter. I mean, we all agree that Jia knows about the torture and was lying to their faces, right? So strategically speaking, this was extremely stupid.

“3) Definitely agree about the whole Sizzy thing. I really don't like the way they're treating Maia, and making both Simon & Izzy worse versions of them so this ship can happen is definitely not the way to make me want Sizzy.”

Yeah.... I mean, I was actually impressed they presented us with an explanation that made sense about why Maia won’t go with Simon into the sewer (because let me tell you I was getting ready to scream my head off about this when I saw it in the sneak peek) but yeah.. I’m not buying Sizzy as a romantic couple. I want to say yet, but honestly I’m not sure I’ll ever buy it. I love Saia, and I LOVE Simon&Izzy friendship and just, why do you have to change two good things slapdash when there’s only 12 episodes left and this probably won’t be enough time to transition from one relationship to the other in a satisfying way?

“(Sorry for the many replies, I was going to reblog but forgot what I was responding to because the post is long 🤣)”

No need to apologize, I’m always happy to engage XD

Also, to anyone confused by this, this was all in relation to my 3x11 Reaction Post.

[ficsideblogbecauseanxiety]

Starlings (Finished Vers.)

A few months ago I posted a WIP drabble that, at the time, I couldn’t be bothered to finish. Well, tonight I had a writing date with my girlfriend, so I did! To repeat, this is vaguely based off of a personal experience with the song Starlings by Elbow (sudden volume shift warning if you decide to search it; which I recommend as it’s a great song, and also this fic won’t really make sense without it).

Pairing: LawLu Rating: T, for cursing Setting: Modern AU Wordcount: 2023 words

The streetlights passed overhead one by one, each in an orange blur, as Law drove closer and closer to home. He knew they'd cross the outer limits of his hometown any minute now, and once they did it would only be a little while after that before they made it to his parents' house. He glanced over at Luffy in the passenger seat; he wasn't one for long car journeys with few stops, so he'd settled in for a nap a couple of hours ago. Law knew he'd have to wake him up soon. He grinned mischievously. 

As he braked at the next stoplight, he grabbed his phone from the dashboard, plugged it into the front console and selected a track before replacing back in its windshield stand. The song began quietly and calmly with soft, music box-esque tones, and it slowly grew to include muted percussion, dulcet vocals, and a gentle piano, until...

BARAAG!!

"Daah!! What the fuck!!!" Luffy shot awake at the sudden noise of an enthusiastic horn section blasting from the car speakers, his arms flailing about him and kicking his legs out in front of him. He grabbed his chair and sat up, eyes wide and breathing heavy with shock. He turned an angry glare on Law, who was desperately holding back laughter next to him.

Law swallowed his laughter and pressed a switch on his steering wheel to pause the song before it got to the second loud trumpeting. He breathed a satisfied sigh, turned his head briefly to look at Luffy and said, "Oh, Luffy, you're awake. Good, we're almost there."

"You son of a bitch." Luffy sat up properly in his chair again. He could hear Law snickering and give him a sideways glare. "I'm gonna tell your mom you did that."

"Please," Law scoffed, "She's my mother. She both birthed and raised me. She knows I'm an asshole." Stopping at another light, he leant forward and flicked back to his travel playlist. "Not that she would say as much, mind, but trust me. She knows."

Luffy's eyes were still narrowed at him from across the car. "Even if she didn't know, it wouldn't come as much of a surprise." With this Luffy crossed his arms and flung himself back against the seat, huffing. 

Law rolled his eyes and pulled away as the lights changed.

The rest of the drive to Law's childhood home was largely uneventful and deathly silent, save for the sound of the car engine. Damn if Luffy didn't hold a grudge when he was in a mood. Law felt maybe they were too alike on that front, but that's love for you. You can't just pick and choose. Not really.

They drove past retail parks and through many long suburban streets before pulling in front of what Luffy could only ever describe as a "big fucking house". It truly was a big fucking house; not quite what one would call a mansion, but still quite a sight to behold. Bigger than anywhere Luffy had ever lived, at least.

"Coming?" Law prompted, opening his car door, "Or are you just going to sulk in the car all weekend?"

Luffy withdrew eye contact with a huff and got out, making exaggerated movements as he stood up and slammed the door. He carried his own bag, thank you very much, and went ahead of Law to wait on the doorstep, pointedly facing the door. He leant away from Law's attempt to peck him on the head. Damn, he was being stubborn about this.

Law rang the bell and, predictably, as his mother came to answer it Luffy lit up again. Most people would say that Luffy was a terrible liar, and for the most part, they were right, but they were the people who had no clue about his mental health. Law knew better. Luffy was a shitty liar when it came to getting caught out for things he had done, sure, but he was an expert at covering up his low moods with a big, cheesy fake smile. He'd had a lifetime of practice with it, after all.

After exchanging the usual pleasantries with Law's parents they made their way upstairs to set their bags in his old room. The second he was over the threshold Luffy's smile dropped into a frown again; like an actor finishing a scene. He flung his bag down he lay back on the navy bedsheets and glared up at the ceiling.

Law watched him from the doorway and sighed. Sometimes he could just be so difficult. He started humming absentmindedly as he set down his own bag and closed the door behind him. He set to work getting the room ready for a proper stay - fixing the curtains and fishing the tv remote out of one of the multitudes of drawers in his admittedly inconvenient dresser - and as he did so he began to sing softly to himself. Perhaps subconsciously trying to lighten the mood.

"How dare the premier ignore my invitations-" He finally found the remote in the tenth drawer he checked - his dad liked to hide it between visits. "He'll have to go."

"Don't."

Law turned around at the sudden harsh utterance. "Hm?"

"It's that song from before. Don't."

Was it? Oh, yes, of course, it was. He hadn't realised. Law briefly considered cutting it out so as not to anger the beast further, but then he remembered that sometimes you've just got to turn into the spin.

"But you like my singing voice, usually." He smirked, turning back to the dresser to dig through the drawers for the remote for the DVD player.

"If you were singing anything else, it'd be okay. Just not that." Luffy's voice was still thick with stubborn annoyance.

"But it's a nice song, and I want to sing it." Playing 'poke the bear' with Luffy was a dangerous game, but Law would be lying if he said he didn't have a secret love for high stakes gambling.

He heard Luffy huff and turn over on the bed behind him. The gamble had paid off. For now. Law took this as a signal to continue with the song.

"So, too, the bunchy luncheons with its second on my list of things to do." His accent didn't fit especially well to the original Mancunian pronunciations, but he hoped the weird way it sounded would help lift Luffy's mood.

He made his way across the room to his bag, unzipping it and rooting around inside for his pyjamas.

"At the top is stopping by your place of work and acting like I haven't dreamed of you and I, and marriage in an orange grove."

He found them and made his way back across the room to set them down on the pillow on his side of the bed. He looked up at Luffy's figure, lying with his back to him, arms still crossed in front of him. He was all tensed up and rigid. Law smiled.

"You are the only thing in any room you're ever in." He sat himself down on the bed, too, facing towards the covered windows and away from Luffy for dramatic effect. "I'm stubborn, selfish, and too old."

"It's not gonna work."

Another utterance Law wasn't expecting. Luffy usually stuck to his guns more when it came to giving the silent treatment. Which meant that, actually, it must be working.

"I sat you down and told you how the truest love that's ever found-" He looked back at him out of the corner of his eye. "Is for oneself."

Luffy tightened the curl he was working himself into, and in his glance Law could see him clenching his shirt sleeves. He was pissing him off for sure, but it wouldn't be much longer now until it came full circle. He faced his eyes forward again for the next line.

"You pulled apart my theory with a weary and disinterested sigh."

At this point in the song when he had sung it to Luffy prior, he would sigh dramatically before chuckling to himself and revelling in his genius comedic timing. It never failed to make Law smile. Sometimes he would even laugh. Luffy was so, so good at making him laugh when he otherwise didn't feel like it.

Law thought he heard a sigh behind him, but if he did it was definitely not the usual jokey one. More of a real one, heavied with real irritation. Law let out a sigh himself and soldiered on. Not long now.

"So, yes, I guess I'm asking you to back a horse that's good for glue-" He stood up, stretching his back and turning around. "And nothing else."

Luffy's mass on the bed was curled up even more, now, but did seem to be softening a bit. Law folded his arms across his chest.

"But find a man that's truer than, find a man that needs you more than I."

Memories shone in his head of the expressions he had seen of Luffy's when he had previously sung this song. Soft eyes, soft smiles. His whole face radiating warmth and love. Law had sung feeling into these lines more than most songs he would croon around the apartment. It's one of the few songs he would serenade him with. Law was much pickier with those sorts of songs than Luffy was.

Law began making his way around the bed, fingers dragging lightly across the sheets.

"Sit with me a while and let me listen to you talk about-" He perched on Luffy's side of the bed, lightly tickling the soles of his feet, which he quickly retracted out of Law's reach with an annoyed grunt. "-Your dreams and your obsessions, I'll be quiet and confessional." 

He was projecting louder as the original song did, leaning over Luffy's huddled up form that was becoming ever more tightly coiled so as to avoid his touch. 

"The violets explode inside me when I meet your eyes-" He reached out towards Luffy's hair-cloaked face, nearly shouting the words at this point. "-Then I'm spinning and I'm diving like a cloud of starlings."

He gently moved the hair from across Luffy's eyes and as the music dissipated in his head he saw Luffy's averted gaze and deep blush spreading from his cheeks across his nose, as it always did when Law did cheesy stuff like this, though it was usually accompanied by a smile. The picture before him was too perfect as it was, though. He felt his heart quicken in his chest and a smile uncontrollably tugged at his lips.

"Darling is this love?"

The words fell, soft and low and sweet from his mouth. Luffy finally looked at him and pouted. He really was so irresistibly sweet when he was angry and flustered at the same ti-

"BWAAAAAARN!!"

Law toppled backwards, falling off the bed and nearly cracking his head of the big wooden bed knob. He sat there on the floor for several seconds in a state of mild shock as Luffy erupted with laughter on the bed above him. He shook it off and smiled up at him.

"You son of a bitch," Law chuckled, pulling himself off the floor, "That scared me half to death!"

"Well, you deserve it!" Luffy had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. He had thrown himself right back onto the bed and was gripping his sides as he choked out his words through the throes of laughter. "Now we're even!!"

They both continued to laugh it off as Law pulled himself up onto the bed. He crawled his way over to his now incandescent boyfriend and as the mirth began to peter out they both lay beholding each other, breathing heavily and smiling wide. 

Law breathed an "I love you" and Luffy beamed in response before returning it.

Luffy was happy again, and all was right with the world.

But Law would be damned if he wasn't ever going to do it again. The reaction is always just too priceless, and Law was never one for learning lessons the easy way.

[trans-shuichisaihara]

fake it till (we) make it - Scene 1

the celebrity fake dating oumota au I started last month or smth and finally picked up again. I really love this au so uhh hopefully y’all do too! coughs bc it’s probably a slow burn and i have too many of those

(read on AO3)

Kaito Momota, up-and-coming actor newly known for his roles in various sci-fi films, has a problem. Said problem comes in the form of his frequent costar ringing insistently on his door at 2am.

“What the fuck,” is all his tired mind can create to greet him with. If Kokichi minds, he doesn’t show it, a wild grin filling his face.

“Good morning, Kaito!”

“It’s the middle of the night, this better be real fuckin’ important.” A headache is already starting to form right behind his eyes, so he really isn’t in the mood for-

“I’m bored; you should be a good host and entertain me!”

Three seconds later, Kaito slams the door in his face.

“Hey! Kaito! C’mooon!” The relief from his voice being muffled only lasts a matter of seconds, as Kokichi goes back to ringing the doorbell rapidly.

“Fine,” he groans, throwing the door back open, “Get in here before I call someone to get rid of you.”

He wastes no time obeying, hurrying past Kaito and straight to the living room, vaulting over and onto the couch.

He sighs, closing the door and massaging his aching head. “You could at least take off your shoes, asshole.”

“I’m good,” he cheekily replies, resting said shoes on the arm of the couch, “Come sit over here.” He pats the seat next to him. Kaito shakes his head and opts to sit on the opposite end.

“Are you gonna explain why the hell you’re awake at 2 in the morning or should I just assume you’re going out of your way to bother me?”

He hums in response, before his expression changes to a pout. “My manager wants me to change my sleep schedule so we can get some night scenes out of the way. But no one else is ever awake at this time of night unless they’re completely smashed.”

Kaito pinches his nose; what was Kokichi starring in again? He himself isn’t doing anything currently, waiting for preparations for the next film to wrap up. “Why don’t you go bother Miu then? She supposedly never sleeps.”

“She sleeps weird hours, but she’s in France with Kaede right now.”

Oh, yeah, that’s right. “Ugh, call her or text her or something then; it’s like normal morning hours there.”

“No thanks,” Kokichi declines, kicking off his shoes, “I don’t want to interrupt her honeymoon.”

He furrows his brows at his word choice; they’re there for Kaede’s piano concerts, right? Well, whatever. “Why don’t you go bother-” Fuck, who could he send Kokichi off to? He couldn’t bother Shuichi or Maki with him, and all their other mutual friends either expressed annoyance with him or didn’t stand up to him when he was being like this. Dammit. “... Fine, whatever, guess you can be my problem for tonight.”

It has to be illegal for him to look so happy at being the source of someone’s sleep deprivation. “Aw, I knew you’d come around. No one can resist me.” Fucking spoiled brat.

“Just find some way to entertain yourself; I got plenty of shit lying around. I'm goin' back to sleep.” He stands, waving him off, but doesn’t get far before Kokichi lunges forward and grabs his wrist.

“I have a huge Lego Star Destroyer in my car and if you don’t help me build it I’ll egg your house.”

... Well, how could he say no to that? “Dude, you act as if building that would be a bad thing.”

He hums in response, releasing Kaito and tossing his keys up to him without warning. He catches it midair, nearly missing the sly smirk that crosses Kokichi’s face. “You’ll see~!”

The box isn’t that big, but it’s heavier than he expected it to be. Not anything he can’t handle, but it still causes him some trouble getting it through the door, determined to be as difficult as its owner. He becomes very familiar with information on the side of the box as he’s bringing it in; 3152 pieces, recommended for ages 16 and up.

Looks like Kokichi would have to sit out, haha.

Relaying that joke to him when he finally sets it down in the living room earns him a huff and an annoyed shout reminding him that they’re the same age. Geez, it isn't Kaito’s fault he looks nothing like a 23 year old. He doesn't look a day over 15, and that's just a fact.

“So, why do you even have this? Don't tell me you bought it just to bribe me,” he asks as they pull out the bags of pieces from the box, Kokichi flipping through the first few pages.

“No way, it's just something I impulse bought last Christmas and never got around to building. I remembered it while I was sitting around bored and hey, you're the residential space freak.” He grabs the baggie labeled “1” from Kaito’s pile, tearing it open with more force than necessary.

“Hey, careful! You’ll lose pieces like that!”

“Relax, it's the first bag, and your house is surprisingly clean. Seriously, do you even live here?”

Kaito feels a bit offended at that. “What does that mean?! You think I live like a slob or somethin’?!”

“Uh, yeah? Your dressing room is always a mess.” He pauses. “Do you keep the mess in your bedroom then?” He gives him a teasing wink as he begins snapping pieces together.

“My room’s clean too, asshole. It's not hard to keep a clean house.”

“I bet it is, when you own literally nothing.” He shakes his head. “I was expecting collectables and spaceship models everywhere.”

Well... He does have those, but they're in his study where he can see them while he works out. “What, so are you saying you own a bunch of junk then?” He did say that he impulsively bought this.

Kokichi's face goes flat for a moment, before snapping back into a grin. “Yep! You caught me, I'm a huuuuge hoarder!” And a huge liar; anyone who works with him for even five minutes knows that.

“Yeah, sure.” Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. He can't judge a house he's never seen. Which begs the question- “Where the hell do you even live?”

“I wonder,” he answers with a non-answer, flipping to the next page. Kaito shakes his head, unsurprised.

After he grabs one of the other instruction booklets and his own bag of pieces - pushing Kokichi’s scattered pieces towards him to prevent mixing - the two of them work in silence for a long while. Kaito starts to yawn as he flips through the seemingly endless instructions, blurry vision causing him to keep misreading the pictures and forcing him to frequently tear apart sections of his progress.

“You're really bad at this,” Kokichi comments as he finally finishes his booklet, standing up and stretching.

“Fuck you, I'm doing my best on three hours of sleep.”

“Hmm, should've gone to bed earlier. Besides, I only got four and I'm perfectly fine.” Despite his words, the next sound to leave his mouth is a poorly disguised yawn. “Anyway, I'm gonna raid your pantry as punishment for being so slow.”

Ughhh. “Good luck finding anything, I haven't gone grocery shopping recently.”

There's a long pause as Kokichi inspects the food situation for himself. He returns a minute later with a tupperware container. “How are you alive?”

“Meal prep and tons of leftovers.” He hauls himself up with a low groan, before walking over and taking the container from him. “Don't eat this; it's my lunch for tomorrow.”

Kokichi sticks his tongue out at him. “Whatever, I didn't want your gross... whatever that is.” He huffs, turning back into the kitchen to poke around.

Kaito sighs. “Want me to order a pizza?” That's a better option than him getting into the little food that remains.

He perks up, closing the barren freezer. “I supposeee,” he drawls, pretending to be disinterested.

“What toppings?” He pulls up a list of nearby pizza places, hoping one of them would deliver at almost 3:30am. Closes at 3am, closes at 2am, midnight... Damn.

“None pizza with left beef, obviously.”

“C’mon Kokichi, a serious answer please.”

“Fine, pineapple with anchovies.”

“Alright, no take backs,” he answers, still squinting at his phone to find a place.

Kokichi sighs after a minute of unsuccessful searching. “Gimme that, I know a place.” Before he can object, his phone is in his hands and the pizza is ordered, along with some mystery combo items.

Afterwards, the phone is returned to him unharmed, thankfully. “It’s gonna be 34 dollars, spaceman.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah yeah, lemme go find my wallet.” He shakes his head and makes the mistake of leaving Kokichi alone unattended downstairs.

By the time he digs his wallet out of his nightstand and takes a quick piss, the doorbell rings. He splashes some water on his face to help keep himself awake, hurrying down the stairs as Kokichi’s opening the door.

“Thank you very much! Sorry, no autographs, but you can get one from Kaito if you want.” He hurries past Kaito and away from the delivery girl, a pile of boxed food in his arms.

Kaito sighs as he pulls a 50 out of his wallet. “Need me to sign anything? And keep the change, it’s fuck o’clock in the morning, I know.” Once he’s signed in three separate places aside from the receipt, she finally leaves, letting him turn his attention back to Kokichi.

“Hey, what’s your Netflix password?” He immediately asks once the door’s closed. “I tried a bunch of stupid space references but it’s not working.”

“Like hell I’ll tell you that, use your own.” He plopped himself back down at the abandoned Legos, trying to regain focus.

“I don’t have oneeee,” he whines in response, dropping the controller down onto the floor as he flops onto his side. Kaito resists sighing again and picks it up, turning the console off, ignoring Kokichi’s continued mumbled whines.

They sit in silence for a few long moments before Kaito realizes that something’s off with the Legos. “Hey, where the hell’d all my small gray pieces go?”

He shoots Kokichi a look, and he receives a toothy smile in response. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll step on them at some point!”

He scowls - like hell he will. “Seriously, do you want us to build this or not? If we lose a shit ton of pieces right off the bat, that’s not happening.”

“I mean...” Kokichi sat up, observing his nails for a moment before turning to the pizza box next to him and opening it. “I’m pretty bored with it now. I’m trying to think of a better game to play, since Netflix and chill is out of the question.”

He coughs. “Shuddit. Fuck, you’re such a pain.” He shakes his head and starts to pick up the pieces, taking the complete piece and the almost finished one to the empty bookshelf he’s been meaning to fill in the corner of the room. Once he’s finished, Kokichi beckons him back over, shoving a paper plate with a slice on it into his hands. He eats it, only because he paid for it and he’s hungry from sleep deprivation.

It’s not too bad, honestly.

“Hmmm, I wanna take a selfie...” Kokichi thinks aloud, leaning his full body weight of literally nothing against Kaito as he pulls out his phone and opens the camera app.

“Seriously?! I’m trying to eat!”

“Just one, promise! Say pineapple!” The circular button takes their picture silently, unlike paparazzi cameras. He lets Kaito approve of it before returning to his previous position.

“Satisfied? Will you let me sleep and not make a mess if I go back to bed?” Kaito asks after the pizza and half the breadsticks are gone, yawning again.

“Only if you answer my question.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Shoot.”

“What do you think about fake dating? Specifically, me ‘n’ you?”

His question is answered by him coughing to avoid choking on his own spit.

[adobe-outdesign]

The Liar

Alice Angel knows better than anyone that things change over time. Sammy Lawrence, however, will always be a liar.

Warnings: Canon body horror, a brief scene of some ink-based gore

Other: Contains some (pre-Ink Machine) Samsie if you squint

Alice had, over time, gotten used to seeing unknown and horrifying things in Joey Drew Studios. She had been there for years; it was inevitable that eventually she would become numb to seeing new victims of the Ink Machine, new examples of twisted limbs and half-formed bodies.

And yet, somehow, this still manages to catch her off guard.

She creeps forward cautiously, holding the syringe in one hand as she surveys what she's found. It looks like a Searcher, in a sense, and for a moment she thinks it’s one of the swollen ones due to its lack of movement. But even in its half-melted state, she can still tell it’s normal sized, thin even. Something is strapped around its head, and she can see the white color of clothing poking through the ink dripping from the thing’s body. It's flawed, completely imperfect, but perhaps some part of it would prove to be useful.

She raises the syringe up and hears it speak.

“I pray that you will hear me, my savior. I know that you and no other can help me. I ask you to lend me your strength, my Lord, and in return I will complete the task you have bestowed upon me...”

Susie nearly drops the syringe in shock, and the word slips from her mouth before she can stop it.

“Sammy?”

The figure jerks upward, and the grinning face of the Ink Demon meets hers. The effect is thoroughly uncanny, but the mask doesn’t matter - she doesn’t need to recognize the thing’s face, not after she’s heard that unforgettable voice coming from it.

“Susie?” he asks in shock, and it’s suddenly like it was years ago, and she had just walked into the recording booth, song in hand, and he had been standing there with her, recording her lines and her song...

Alice takes a deep breath and speaks calmly, staying in control, even though she wants nothing more than to tear into her old coworker until there's nothing left but an inky puddle. "Well, well. Looks like I have a new plaything. It’s rare that I see a familiar face down here.” She circles around to his side, eying the inky mess behind the mask where his face should have been. “Or perhaps... not.”

“There is just one itty-bitty thing I want to know before I rip you to shreds. Why have you come all the way down here, deeper into the darkness? Certainly not sightseeing, I assume. Or perhaps you were looking for a date? Sorry, but I can safely say I’m not interested.” Susie’s voice slips out as she moves to his other side, seeing that he hadn’t come unarmed. The axe was only lying near him, but there was still the possibility that he could grab it now that she had lost the element of surprise. And, of course, there was always the chance that he could touch her...

“It’s quite simple, my sheep. My Lord called to me, and I did what I must to please him. He will set us free, if we only do what he asks of us.“ Sammy pays little attention to the angel, instead casting his gaze upward, and suddenly Alice realizes that he hadn’t collapsed at random as she had thought. Rather, he had carefully positioned himself directly under a Bendy statue, centered so he was framed within its shadow. “...He asked me to paint his star over his images in this area. Unfortunately, this feeble, worthless body I’m trapped in could not hold up long enough to complete the task!...” His previously resentful tone trails off mid sentence, and he suddenly seems disoriented, almost confused. “...What was I saying?”

“You honestly think there’s someone in this place that will free you? It would almost be cute, if it wasn’t so pathetic to see you groveling.” Alice had been creeping forward bit by bit as he spoke, and was now only a few steps away, almost close enough to strike. She holds the syringe at chest height, eyeing a spot near his torso that hadn’t yet completely melted. Wait for it. Patience was always key for these type of things.

“You... do not believe?” Sammy turns his attention back towards her, sounding genuinely surprised. “The Ink Demon knows all, he understands our plight... he will bring salvation, if one is only willing make sacrifices!”

Alice almost drops the tool in shock.

She laughs.

It’s not a happy sound, but rather a harsh, mocking, disbelieving noise that rings sharp against the walls. She steps forward so she’s standing over him, anger masking her fear of being dragged back by his corrupted ink. “This is some sort of sick joke, right? You can’t honestly think the Ink Demon will help you! Bendy doesn't care about your suffering! He attacks at random and pulls back anyone who’s foolish enough to get in his way!” Anger gradually gives way to sadness as Susie regains control, and the syringe drops to the floor.

“...No matter how perfect she was.” She runs a hand along the left side of her face, well aware of the deformities still remaining.

“I am sorry you feel that way, my sheep.” Sammy’s voice is calm as he pushes himself upright, ink seeping onto the floor. “But if you must have proof of our Lord’s kindness... I suppose I can provide some.”

The prophet grabs at the floorboards and pulls himself forward with a sharp gasp of pain. Slowly, bit by bit, the puddle starts to reduce in size, gradually thickening, melding back to the rest of his body. It solidifies into something that looks like a parody of a lower body, a vague approximation of what must have once been human legs, and suddenly he’s standing again, shaking slightly from pain and exhaustion. “Do you understand now, my sheep? I asked our savior for strength, and he... he was kind enough to grant it to me.”

“You and I both know that isn’t true, Sammy,” Susie whispers, feeling a stab of pity for him, wondering how long he had been trapped in the puddles, wondering how much of his mind had been left there for him to be in this state. A sharp pang of emotion hits her as she once again remembers how he used to be, the way he reacted when she showed up that day to record, like she wasn’t supposed to be there, like it was shocking that she’d even dare to show up after she had been replaced. She clenches her fists.“Then again, you’ve always been good at lying, haven’t you?“

“I... I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about!“ Her voices doubles up in anger and frustration as she squeezes her eyes shut, fighting back tears. “You told me that my singing was beautiful! You said I was talented, that I was too good to work in a place like this! But then you turned around and replaced me with that, that Allison-!” Her voice breaks off, and she covers her mouth with her hand as black tears start to run down her face. Damn it damn it damn it, why did he have to see her like this? “I’m Alice now, aren’t I?! I’ve always been Alice, not her! I’m Alice Angel!”

“Is that what this is about, Susie?” There’s something about Sammy’s voice and mannerisms that suddenly seem more grounded, more like himself. He moves closer to the weeping figure. “Listen, it wasn’t my choice to change voice actors. I’m in charge of the music, but the rest of the sound department’s out of my control. I even argued on your behalf to Joey, saying that you were a perfect Alice... but he wouldn’t listen. Something about the merchandise not selling well, I think.” He sets a hand on her shoulder, and Susie lets out another sob as she takes in a deep, shaky breath.

“You’re lying again. I’m not a perfect Alice. Not... quite... yet.”

Alice Angel knocks the axe out of his hand and slams him up against the base of the statue, hard enough to send ink splattering over the stone demon’s face. Sammy lets out a cry of pain and attempts to push back against her hands, but she only sinks them deeper into his torso, pushing her way through the thickened molasses-like ink.

“If you want to worship that demon so badly, then the least you can do is pay for what he did to me!” she screeches, voice distorting in rage. Sammy lets out a choking noise as the ink making up his body thins and runs down her arms. “Do you understand?! I need your insides so I can fix what he destroyed! I have to keep myself together so I DON’T END UP LIKE YOU!” Her arm presses deeper into him, and she swears she can feel something moving, beating...

She’s is suddenly far too aware of her own heartbeat.

She can feel her adrenaline pick up, and slowly she comes to her senses. She looks around the room.

The walls are black.

The ceiling is black.

And there, at the end of the hallway-

Alice abruptly pulls her hands from the prophet with a sicking squelching noise, letting him limply collapse onto the floor. The ink spreads closer, darkening the wooden floorboards like some sort of terrible disease.

Run.

She immediately takes off in the opposite direction, not bothering to take her prey with her. There’s a Miracle Station two hallways down, but the ink seems to be spreading faster than she can move, and she curses the fact that Bendy hadn’t chosen to go after the incapacitated music director instead of her as she nearly stumbles over a loose board. She nearly throws herself into the Station, praying he won’t find her, that he can’t hear the noise of her heartbeat. She doesn’t dare breathe as the view of the world outside of the box goes black.

Slowly, little by little, Bendy comes into view. He pauses outside of the box, turning his head blindly, looking for her. All she can see from her hiding spot is that smile, that same smile he wore as he reached towards her, putting a gloved hand over her throat, still smiling as her body fell apart and her mind shattered-

He’s gone.

Alice doesn’t dare move for quite a while after he’s left, even after the walls have returned to their normal color and her heartbeat has slowed down to a reasonable rate. She eventually stands and pulls the door open, numbness spreading through her legs as the shock and adrenaline wears off. She presses her hand against the door frame for support. He was so close.

Gradually she makes her way back to the statue, stopping on occasion to make sure Bendy wasn’t lurking in the darkness, waiting for her to make a wrong move. She spots her syringe on the ground and picks it up, tapping her finger against the end to make sure it hadn’t been damaged in the fall.

“Do you see, my little sheep?” Sammy’s voice echoes through the hall and she whips around, still tense from her near-death encounter. He’s standing once again, axe in hand, the wounds on his torso closing up as the thick black ink gradually fills the holes. She can’t tell his expression with the mask on, but he sounds pleased. “I called to our Lord to save me, and he did so. I would not be standing here if it wasn’t for his good grace. If only he had noticed me-!“

Of course he didn’t, Alice realizes, clenching her fists. You were lying silently on the ground while I was fleeing. It’s only natural he pursued the one making the most noise. In fact, it was probably our little dispute that called him here in the first place. As much as she wanted to tear him open again, the risk of drawing the demon back was too great. She was sick of the prophet’s preaching, sick of looking at that grinning demon’s face, and sick of being reminded of what things were like before.

“Tell you what. I’ll make a deal, seeing as I’m such a reasonable little angel.” She takes a step towards him and he takes a step back, clearly making sure to give her a wide berth lest she lunge at him again. “I’ll let you live, as long as you take those atrocious cutouts back to your department. It’s said that he can see through them, a hundred eyes to survey everything in the studio. However, I think you can understand that I appreciate my privacy.” Her gaze lands on the pie-cut eyes of his mask, and she suddenly realizes it wasn’t the noise that alerted him to her presence.

“...Very well. I must say, our Lord will be most pleased with this arrangement.” Sammy casts his gaze back to the ink-covered statue, placing a hand on his chest. “I hope you can find it in your heart to believe, so he may free you one day. It has been a long wait, but the day will come soon. Yes... I look very much forward to that day.”

He turns and moves slowly across the floor, the remains of his legs oozing and sticking to the boards as he walks, leaving dark stains behind. He approaches the cutout against the far wall and clasps his hands in a prayer before picking it up. He turns to the door, then pauses, looking back to Alice.

“For what it’s worth, Susie... I always thought you had a truly heavenly voice.” He turns the corner and is suddenly gone, the crack on the wall dripping with fresh ink. Alice presses her fingertips against the dark band around her throat, smiling bitterly.

“Liar,” she whispers.

[freshwater--mermaid]

Ersatz Ch 22: Tempus

“You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not." Sam declared for the dozenth time. "Casper High is about to find out what a real haunted house is like!"

Tucker and Danny exchanged a tired expression. Sam had very proudly volunteered to manage the creation of the school's haunted house, which was run every year by a student. Yet another money-saving scheme, the student in charge was not given any help or funding from the school.

Sam's confidant walk through the halls of Casper High was interrupted by a tall blond figure. Dash stood in her path, his fellow football friends clustered close behind.

"With you in charge of the spook house this year, maybe it'll actually be scary for once."

His comment could have been perceived as a compliment, if it weren't for the mocking tone and cruel smirk sliding across Dash's face.

Sam glared up at him as his group snickered among themselves.

"Hey, what're you gonna do, Manson?" Kwan spoke up. "Stand behind the front door and show people your face?"

The moronic comment stirred up a chorus of laughs.

With a heavy sigh, Sam stomped past them. Danny and Tucker followed, the former drifting off in his own thoughts. Dash saw this, and capitalized on the opportunity as the shorter boy passed him.

A long leg sticking out suddenly sent Danny crashing hard onto the tiled floor.

His chin stinging, Danny pushed himself up, roarous laughs buzzing around his head. Dash's voice rose above the rest, offering some blithering comment Danny couldn't bother listening to. He was too busy thinking rather vicious thoughts about the blond, mentally recalling a time when he'd had this big oaf under his control, scared and drooling.

Danny looked up at Dash, hate in his eyes and tingling energy running through his hands.

Dash's expression froze, then faltered. He took a step back, away from Danny, staring down at him with wide eyes.

Sam and Tucker looked on in surprise, before Sam snapped quickly into action. She strode forward, grabbing Danny by the arm and pulling him up.

Danny stood, coming back to himself as he realised who it was that had a hold of him. He blinked his eyes, feeling odd as the energy drained out of him.

He didn't get a chance to look back at Dash, as Sam immediately dragged him down the hall. He did pick up the voices of Dash's friends asking the silent football star what had happened.

"Jesus, dude." Tucker said lowly as they reached the end of the hall, rounding a corner.

"Do you want Dash to figure you out?" Sam frowned heavily.

"Oh please," Danny replied, pulling his arm free of her grip. "Dash barely has the brain capacity needed to breathe and talk at the same time. He won't figure anything out."

His friends both graced him with skeptical expressions.

"And besides," Danny continued, taking the lead and walking further down the empty hallway. "Dash could use a little fear."

"What?" Sam asked, startled.

Danny shrugged. "All I'm saying is a little humility would do the guy some good. And help get him off our backs."

Behind him, Sam and Tucker exchanged looks, glancing at each other with worry in their eyes.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

And so it was another afternoon saw Danny walking the stairway down into his parents' lab. He wasn't sure what had made this into a daily habit; curiosity of the goings on of the laboratory, or a desire to gaze upon the portal.

'Maybe a bit of both.' Danny thought, walking over to his mom and tilting his head down at the sample of green she poked and stared at.

"I was right." the woman declared in a happy tone. "See?"

She pointed down toward the glowing sludge, which lay in a small puddle in the centre of a glass tray.

Danny raised an eyebrow in silent question, and Maddie was quick to elaborate.

"I was right in assuming that a ghost's body parts would lose their structure once separated from their host."

"Maybe it's just a weak one." Jack piped up hopefully from where he sat hunched over his desk. "Maybe a stronger specimen could hold its structure, or even grow into a whole new ghost!"

Maddie sighed. "Jack, that's highly doubtful, and here's the proof."

Jack frowned and turned back to his own work.

"So, where are you keeping the...uh, ghost lady? When she's not in that glass box, I mean." Danny couldn't help but voice a question he'd been holding onto for a while.

"Oh, we keep her in an extra Fenton thermos." Maddie answered, observing the ectoplasm sample as she spoke. "It's the most secure method for holding a ghost that we have, for now."

"For now?" Danny asked.

"Oh yeah!" Jack exclaimed with a grin, turning to wave a hand at the clear containment unit in the corner. "I plan on fixing that baby up to be ten times as secure! Soon we'll be able to cram a dozen ghosts in there at once and not worry about them getting away."

"What are you working on now?" Danny questioned, leaving his mother's side and moving to stand behind his dad.

Jack smiled and held up a mostly rebuilt ecto gun.

"I'm giving it a bit more kick." he said. "The blast it gives was good enough for those little blobs, but but these big ghosts we've been seeing lately require more energy to take 'em out."

Danny stored the knowledge away, making a mental note to do better at avoiding his parents' line of fire next time he found himself facing off against them.

'Next time...' Danny thought, recalling the sight of them chasing him and Ember down not so long ago. It had been terrifying, and he would do his best to avoid a future encounter.

Seeing his son's face drop into a morose expression, Jack guessed at the reason behind it, slapping a hand on Danny's shoulder and startling the boy.

"Don't worry, Danny!" he said with another big smile. "It'll only stun 'em, not blow them up completely. After all, we need more subjects, not just ol' one-o."

"O-one." Maddie corrected from across the room.

Jack went back to his work, and Danny watched him in silence, wondering what a blast from the improved gun would feel like. The last time it had burned away skin and left him dazed and in pain. He didn't want to contemplate an even worse injury.

Having his fill of information for the afternoon, Danny ascended the stairs and headed for his bedroom. Part of him wished that Vlad were still around, but after the Packers game marathon that weekend, of which Danny did not partake, the elder man was off with assurances that he'd be keeping an eye on things. Danny assumed that meant he would be making sure Danny could handle any spikes in ghost activity on his own.

Danny had enjoyed their adventure into the depths of the Ghost Zone, remembering the feeling of disappointment when they had returned to the portal. The living world felt almost crushing after being weightless for so long. He hadn't told the details to his friends yet, and they never asked.

'They're probably still mad that I missed out on Sam's craft project.' the teen figured. 'At least she has a new project to work on now.'

Danny's mind drifted to the topic of the annual haunted house, held at the high school. It was never very scary, with only teenagers being the ones in charge. But Sam was sure to see it as a challenge, and that meant that Dash's words may prove true. Sam would make that year's haunted house a true scare.

'Well, she definitely has the budget to get whatever she wants for it.' Danny thought, lying back on his bed aimlessly.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

"What!" Sam exclaimed in outrage.

"You heard me, young lady." Pamela wagged a manicured finger at her daughter. "You're not about to use our money to turn your school into some kind of horror show."

"But Mom, it's a haunted house; it's supposed to be a horror show!" Sam protested.

"Don't raise your voice at me, Samantha." her mother replied calmly, smoothing away imaginary wrinkles from her evening gown.

"I'm sure you can come up with some neat ideas without needing money, pumpkin." Jeremy said, straightening his tie. "If you made some nice festive banners and hung a few little bats, I'm positive people would enjoy it far more than some blood-soaked massacre room."

Pamela shuddered at the mental image, clutching her tiny purse tight as she looked down at her frowning daughter.

"The matter is closed." she said with finality. "Now, your father and I won't be back for several hours, so don't answer the door for anyone, and be in bed by ten."

With that, the two Manson adults glided out of the room and down the hall. Sam managed to wait until they were out the front door before letting loose the frustrated groan that had been building within her. She couldn't believe they were being so unreasonable. It wasn't like she was asking for holograms or hired actors. Just some props and fake blood. Now her idea was ruined.

Sulking, Sam returned to her room, pulling out her latest purchase, a book on medieval castles. She'd been poring over the subject ever since Danny's discovery in the Ghost Zone. This was the fifth book she'd bought, the entire concept fascinating her endlessly. A place forever frozen in time. She half-wished that there had been inhabitants for Danny to talk to, but fear for her friend's safety kept the wish from blooming in full.

Minutes passed in silence as Sam idly turned pages, unable to fully focus on the images and words. Until one image in particular had her thoughts halting. Illustrated on the page before her was a castle that looked very much like the one from the Ghost Zone. It did not float in an endless space, but instead rest upon an expanse of green land. The resemblance was so uncanny that Sam abruptly stood, book gripped tight as she stared down at it.

She searched the page for the name of the castle, and then practically ran to her computer.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

"Danny!" Sam yelled, causing the black-haired boy to jump.

"That castle was real!" she continued, coming to stand before her locker.

"What castle?" Danny asked.

"That one from your little adventure." Tucker added, having heard all about Sam's discovery on their walk to the school.

Danny's eyes widened momentarily, before he gave Sam an annoyed look.

"That's what you shouted at me for? Of course it was real, I was there." he said, closing his locker.

"That's not what I mean." Sam rolled her eyes, stuffing her books into her own locker. "I mean that I found out that it was a real, actual castle that existed centuries ago, in Europe. Now it's just a bunch of ruins, but back then it was the centre of a powerful empire."

"Okay," Danny replied. "So what does this have to do with anything?"

Sam's expression became excited once more. "Well, according to legend the king dabbled in demon and spirit summonings, and kept several artifacts hidden in a vault inside the castle."

"So?" Danny was already predicting where this was going, but hoped he was wrong.

"So, what if some of those artifacts made it into the Ghost Zone? I mean, the whole castle made it, so why not other things, especially if they were connected with spirits."

"Sam, are you asking what I think you're asking."

"All you've got to do is go back there, explore around a little more, find the vault and see if anything is still there."

"Why?" Danny asked. "Just buy some cool looking medieval stuff for your haunted house."

Sam's face fell once more.

"Her parents cut her off." Tucker replied, not bothering to look up from his PDA.

Sam scoffed. "They don't want me 'wasting their money' on Halloween stuff."

"Well that sucks." Danny said, "But that still doesn't mean I'm going dungeon diving so you can have a centre piece for your haunted house."

"Come on-" Sam began.

"Look, guys." Danny interrupted, looking over his shoulder at the few students down the hall to make sure no one was listening. "Mr Masters said that place was bad news."

"I didn't realise Mr Masters was in charge of your actions." Sam sniped.

Danny glared at her briefly before turning and walking down the hall, the other two following behind.

"I know you don't like him, but sometimes you just have to have common sense. And common sense says to listen to the guy who knows what he's talking about."

"What is so bad about the place, anyway? Did he say?" Sam asked.

"He didn't give specific details, he just said it was really dangerous, and that I was lucky the first time I went there."

"Maybe he knew about the castle's origins." Sam thought aloud. "Maybe there's some kind of powerful device in there, and he wants to use it."

Danny didn't reply to the idea, instead sending Sam a dubious look.

"It's likely!" Sam insisted, before sighing heavily, crossing her arms.

"Fine, just don't help." she conceded. "I'll figure something else out."

Danny felt guilty, but not enough to go back to the castle. It had given him the creeps last time, and Vlad's warning only proved that something was off about that place.

He waved goodbye to his friends and entered his classroom, not noticing that it was empty. The other students and teacher would not arrive until around fifteen minutes later, most barely giving the teen a glance.

Danny paid no mind right back, the day's lesson passing right over his head as his eyes drifted repeatedly to the windows.

It was a bright, clear day out, and Danny couldn't help but long to be flying free in that blue sky. Instead, he was trapped in this drab cycle, day after day. Danny just couldn't see the point in wasting his time at school, and the only things that made him show up were the fact that his friends were here, and his parents would surely find out if he began skipping regularly.

Danny stifled the urge to get up and leave the classroom, the droning voice of Lancer scraping at his nerves. Trying to relax, he slouched low in his chair and stared unseeing at the whiteboard, letting his mind drift further.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

Deep within a remote corner of the Ghost Zone, where few spirits dared to tread, a presence was slowly awakening.

A familiar sense of foreboding began permeating out across the area, causing the few ghosts nearby to flee in fear, searching for a safe hiding place before it was too late.

A cluster of tiny glowing animals raced from door to door, using them for cover as they went, all too convinced that the source of their fear was somehow watching them.

In the distance, they spotted a large structure, and upon reaching it, discovered that it was empty.

Here they felt safe, and so they stayed, drawing the attention of similar little ghosts that also sought shelter. And soon enough a small hoard of various blobs and animals were amassed inside the lone-standing house.

It was definitely a welcomed new addition to that area, the spirits all agreed. They soon became bold enough to begin exploring their new home, splitting off into groups as they floated throughout the rooms.

A few flew to the upper level, where nothing of real interest was found, save for a strange find in a small dark space. It was a large dark object, and the spirits could not make sense of it. It was definitely not of the Ghost Zone, and the little ghosts swirled around it curiously. It did not move, or emit sound of any kind, and one ghost became brave enough to poke the object. When nothing happened, they all quickly grew bored, and left.

Another group had ventured below, to the deeper level. Here they felt they could be even safer, tucked away from prying eyes. Instead, the ghosts were greeted by a large eye.

A single green, glowing eye stared at them from across the large room, and the group startled and instinctively turned invisible.

They quickly realised, however, that it was no eye, but a swirling mass instead. It hypnotized them, drawing them closer.

As moths to a flame, they gathered around the portal, and few by few began to enter the glowing gateway.

Upstairs, the remaining cluster noticed the group's absence, and soon became curious enough to investigate.

[polarishq]

Meet BEATRICE SMITH. They are TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY TWO years old and hail from LANCASHIRE, UK. Beatrice embodies the constellation, CASSIOPEIA. They use she/her pronouns. Their faceclaim is JENNA COLEMAN.

Cassiopeia reminds me of red lipstick on a pressed white collar, decadent desserts, secret admirers, three mirrored vanities, the satisfaction of knowing you’re right, soaking in a tub until your fingers prune, short skirts and high heels, all the world’s a stage, champagne chutes, a box full of old love letters.

BIOGRAPHY

[Trigger for suggestion of some dub con]

Bea only has vague memories of her childhood – stories she’d written ages ago when she realized how finite memory can be when you live as long as she has – but it’s her understanding that it was pretty happy, one. though that’s assuming she hasn’t lied to herself so she’s able to look back on her youth fondly. Lying to herself has become an unfortunate habit she’s acquired over the years, built of self-preservation. but there are a few things about herself she knows for certain – her father was an actor, she was named for his favourite play, she has had to work very hard for everything she has, and the day her mark appeared.  

Bea’s always been known for her beauty, which is why it came as no surprise to anyone who knew her that cassiopeia would choose to sponsor her. even before her powers came in, bea was turning down proposals and capturing the attention of young eligible bachelors, and though bea could never settle on a prospect for long she sure did love every bit of the attention.

As life dragged on, and those she loved aged and died around her, being adored would become something of an addiction for bea. one her to which her magic would lend well. the ability to manipulate someone’s wants and desires – like a human love potion, she could compel others to act on emotions and desires they might have otherwise suppressed. she justified this by telling herself she was freeing them of their societal or moral chains. magic is only so powerful, she could never force someone to do something they didn’t want on some level, right? so she was doing them a kindness. but, as her list of ex-lovers and those she’d left broken-hearted grew she was left with a gnawing feeling of if her logic was really all that sound.

It isn’t until the late 20th century when she is forced to deal with the consequences of her actions head-on when she runs into an ex – now old, miserable, alone and blaming her for his misfortunes. you see, while she thought she was freeing him from a loveless marriage what she’d really done was destroy his life. after the confrontation, she doesn’t know how to sit with that knowledge and is left to wonder how many lovers she looks back on fondly she’s destroyed.

After years of spiralling in her guilt and shame, trying to fill the void inside herself with lovers and being left to wonder if any of it was real (and if she’d even deserve it if it were), she sought guidance from the ursas. they agreed to dampen her powers if she agreed to attend polaris to learn how to control her magic. and bea agreed because it felt like a fresh start.

over her life bea has had many professions including but not limited to – royal dresser, nanny, war nurse, and an actor.

INCLINATION

Cassiopeia is gifted with immense beauty and charm. her ability to manipulate or persuade others to act out their innermost desires and fantasies is a double-edged sword and can leave the cassiopeia feeling alone and isolated if she is driven by her ego and vanity. the cassiopeia is also skilled in glamour magic and can be empathetic if she doesn’t let her hubris get in the way.

CONNECTIONS

Filling the role of Julian Moore’s war days past

Got A Long Lisr of Ex Lovers: that it. that’s the connection. i’m pretty open, my only requirement is that they were together before she came to polaris. they can feel whatever type of way about her, she will likely avoid them at all costs because she is a coward.

Best Friend: this person is a good bean, and bea would 100% die for this person but they wouldn’t ask her too. idk it’s a cute friendship, she pokes them out of their comfort zone, they make her a better person, we stan.

Flirtationship: listen, bea is trying very hard to be a good person right now but she is still human and studying can be so very dull. it’s just friendly flirtation, something silly and fun to pass the time, but it’s a lovely distraction she looks forward to every day.

Penned by Dee ★