#she is MISERABLE in the end of rebellion. girl is barely holding it together

[natasha-in-space]

Finished my rewatch of Madoka Magica + Rebellion, and God.... I am so not normal about Madohomu. The way their fates are inherently intertwined with each other, the way their actions directly influence what choices they end up making, the way they both sacrifice themselves for one another... They are in my brain constantly.

The fact that it's Homura's countless attempts at saving her and suffering for her sake, that gives Madoka the courage and motivation to make the ultimate sacrifice and become a God. Homura's sacrifice for Madoka's sake pushing her to do the same with no hesitation or fear. While she spent the entire series being too hesitant and scared to do the right thing, at least in her own perspective. But Homura gives her the resolve and strength to do what's right, no matter how scary it is. Madoka is not scared anymore, now that she knows how much terror Homura went through despite how scared and hurt she was. If Homura can do so much for her sake, she can do this for her in return.

The fact that it's Madoka's unknowing confession to how much that choice of sacrifice has cost her, that pushes Homura to reject God Madoka's wish. Homura is willing to bear any suffering, as long as her beloved Madoka is happy. She was suffering in silence for so long in this new world, having to live in a reality without Madoka as she knew her. With nothing but her memories to be her comfort and her curse. But she pushed herself to go on for Madoka. As she always did. It's only when she learns of Madoka's true feelings in her labyrinth, does she gain the resolve to rebell against it all. To reject it. To do what's right. To ensure Madoka's happiness.

All of the choices they made that moved the narrative along was... for each other. And it's so incredibly tragic, because every single action they took shows how much they do love and care for each other. Even in different timelines, with different memories, in different worlds. They are connected. But their love became their downfall.

Madoka sacrificed her own happiness and life to ensure that everyone else - especially Homura - gets the life of peace and happiness they deserve. But it's a life she cannot experience, nor remember in her god-hood. Homura ended up betraying the wishes of the one she loves, accepting the fact that Madoka will hate her one day. She's not happy in the world she created as a demon. But it's a world where she knows Madoka has everything she wants. And that's good enough for her.

CAN YOU TELL HOW INSANE I AM ABOUT THEM

Can't wait for the upcoming movie, my god

[j10kkuno]

The Sykks, the Guses, Ray, and Conan: Broken Bonds Reconnecting in Los Santos

OR: Have some family headcanons until all of these get negated by canon Nopixel because I'm a writer and these things are what I thrive on.

The most defining part of this that impacts everything like a domino effect: The Sykk family is rich rich. Like Yuno's great grandfather made some understated everyday product everyone uses. Reasons why I say this: Yuno/his parents had enough money to put him through college for several years only for him to fail and he still had enough money in his trust fund to run away to Los Santos, pay for an apartment, get settled, pay bills, etc. That's not just parents with good jobs. Also, Euno has a history in the States(Dating Conan, seems on good terms ish with Yuno, suggesting they grew up together), but according to wiki he's been in Europe but also decided to up and move to LS for reasons related to Yuno and moving back and forth and back between continents is very pricy and complicated and you have to leave people behind which is really hard so yeah. Sykk family is rich rich.

Due to that, Yuno and Euno both grew up with a list of expectations they had to live up to, Euno was meant to inherit the French branch of their company, they were both expected to be straight, rebellion was frowned upon, etc. Just everything you'd expect from people of their status and think of Yuno's personality and what Sykkuno wants to use Euno to do in game and how stifling that would be for them.

I was reading a headcanon on Yuno and Ray Mond yesterday about their parents being divorced and that's why they have different last names and I have a thought on that.

Basically, I'm thinking that Yuno's mom was having fertility issues and his dad was frustrated and like all rich men, strayed and cheated with Ms. Mond, an employee at the company's office, who got pregnant. His parents frowned and worried about reputation because they're very traditional, but when they found out Ms. Mond was pregnant with twins, they allowed him to keep the boy, but the girl had to be sent away. Ms. Mond was very unhappy, but she was paid well. Mrs. Sykk was unhappy but thankful the moment Yuno, three hours old, was placed in her arms. Yuno was never told his mom isn't biologically his mother, but she's the only mom he'll ever have, despite her expectations.

Mrs. Sykk's brother is Mr. Gus and Yuno grew up seeing Amon and Bin quite often. They were his favorite cousins. However, when they were around 8-10ish, the Gus family disappeared. Yuno cried for ages and over time, memories have faded but he has vague memories of them. In reality, the Gus parents are killed in a brutal car accident where the car is set on fire. An onlooker is barely able to save the children. All identification is burned and the children hit their heads so there's no way to identify them so because they're on vacation, they're forced into the local foster care system with only each other to cling to. Memories of their past life come and go, including of Yuno, which Bin especially can hold onto.

Ray grew up living a normal life in the midwest with a single mom. The Sykks paid off Ms. Mond handsomly, but she still worked to make ends meet so Ray could have most of that money for college/as an adult. Her life was dedicated to Ray. When Ray was 18, she stumbled across the contract, but didn't say anything until a big blow out fight a few years later and then Ms. Mond tells her everything and then Ray starts looking for Yuno, who she finds in LS. One day, she'll meet the Sykks and go off on them, but be kindest to Yuno's mom, who just wanted a child to please her husband and in law and feel like she wasn't a failure.

Yuno and Euno both felt like they didn't fit in with business and snobby rich people, both enjoying pranks and crime shows but Euno was able to pretend much better. His father was in charge of the French branch of their company, and they made sure he split his time evenly between the States and France as a child. As a young adult, he chose Columbia University in Liberty City for college(Ivy League school btw, Yuno also attended an Ivy League but the family preferred Dartmouth. Columbia was viewed as Euno's big rebellion). He wanted to get lost in the bustle of the city and find a place to be himself. And he does, in a young Conan Clarkson. He was a criminal justice major at a much less prestigious university but he captured Euno's heart easily. Conan let him joke around, let him be vulnerable when all his life Euno was told a man never lets anyone sees his vulnerabilities, and never, ever expects anything but love from him. Euno wishes their time together could last forever, but he knows eventually, he'll be expected to return to France. And he is, as soon as he graduates, and he asks Conan to come with. Conan's already been accepted to the Police Academy in Los Santos. Conan asks him to come with to Los Santos, but Euno has been prepped his entire life to take a position at the French branch and he's not strong enough to say no. It hurts like hell, but they break up. And Euno is miserable. Business isn't for him and now that he knows who he is he hates the person he has to pretend to be.

A few years later, Yuno tells him he's in Los Santos and his found family and how nice it is and the nice cops and Euno always loved hearing about Conan's major and passions so he asks more about the police program and so he and Yuno plans. And in the middle of the night, Euno leaves Paris with only as much as his suitcase will carry and catches a flight to LS. Three nights later, he runs into Conan at the pier, and well, it takes a few months, but home is where the heart is and Euno's home has been Los Santos for a lot longer than anyone knew.

Meanwhile, Yuno is overjoyed to be reunited with the Gus brothers and tells them about their past and introduces them to Ray, who is super excited to meet more family(!!!). The four feels like they were meant to meet all along and be family and now that they've met, they refuse to be parted. Yuno's family tries, and they really try with Euno, the once golden child, but neither of them are budging. They've made a home in Los Santos and they're not leaving it for anything. (Euno's little brother is very happy to suddenly be the heir of the French branch so it all works out)

[popculturebuffet]

Top 10 Thanksgiving Episodes

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody! Time to eat a ton, pass out, and watch MST3K and all that. And since I already covered most of the general stuff about how diffrent this holiday is in my Loud House Review, and to reitarate to anyone having a big, 20 or so people crammed in a room thanksgiving this year

For the rest of us like all of the big three of Holidays, thanksgivings also the time for some classic episodes of television. Granted most shows stick to one, with some exceptions like friends, roseanne and new girl, but most make their one count. Thanksgiving may not be as big as the holidays it’s sandwitched in between, to the point christmas is slowly but surely trying to swallow it whole, but it’s still a time for family, fighting, and food that brings plenty of opprotunity for greatness and even with a smaller pool, I stiill had signifigant trouble narrowing down my list to 10. But I stand by what I got it wittled down to. This is my top 10 thanksgiving episodes! And for my regular readers, there’s a suprising lack of animation but i’m more than willing ot go outside that and now’s the right time, asi’m currently having a black friday sale with reviews marked down by two bucks to just 3 dollars for an episode of any tv show. Yes it’s a shameless plug but since when have I ever had shame? So with that in mind let’s chow down, it’s my top 10 thanksgiving episodes!

10. Pangs (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) Buffy is as a show I REALLY need to revisit. While lately, what with the abuse he did that we can’t get details on when making justice league or his you know cheating on his wife on and off over a decade, I’m not at all a fan of series creator Joss Whedon, Buffy itself is still a classic in my eyes. 

The tale of a teenager given the role of the Slayer, a chosen female asskicker given moderate super powers and the duty to defend the world from vampires and other ghouls. The show dealt with the usual teen superhero stuff, ballancing asskicking with saving the world and arguably codified the genre, to the point I hold it at least partially responsible for the bigger wave of teen heroes in the 2000′s in animation and comics. The show had smart dialouge, metaphors, mythology and a rich, and vibrant cast. Sure some things haven’t aged well like an adult vampire dating a teenager or the really dated ways Willow’s sexuality were handled, as groundbreaking as it was, from barely letting her kiss her girlfriend or be shown being intimate iwth her, or just entirley shutting out the posiblity she’s bisexual. But a few age wrinkles aside the show is still good and I still need to rewatch it and that includes our number 10 pangs, one of hte most memorable and well done thanksgiving specials and one fo the shows more comedy moments.  It’s thanksgiving, and Buffys mom’s going out of town, so she decides to hold thanksgiving at Giles place to bring her slowly drifting surrogate family together. Naturally given the way things usually go for our Slayer, she has a hard time of it as Willow chafes at celebrating colonolsim, Giles dosen’t get what the big fuss is about that or the meal being british, and Spike shows up looking for protection from season big bads the initiative, a secret military unit that’s chipped him so he can’t harm humans, so he has no way to eat and spends the mal tied to a chair. Oh and of course, a vengeful native american spriti from the chumash tribe has given Xander syphilis and killed a currator as revenge for his people’s suffering, so now Buffy has to fight a ghost bear if she want sa happy thanksgiving. Also Angel is back in town and being kind of a dick, but hey it leads to a good episode of his spinoff so whatever. 

Pangs is just a fun episode, not only does it do well by not ignoring american colonalisim, but it just has a fun energy to it as Buffy desperately tries to have a good thanksgiving, Spike instnatly proves his worth as an addition to the gang both chemstiry and comedy wise, and we of course get this classic moment. 

It had to fight it’s way onto the list, but pangs is a holiday dish worthy of sinking your fangs into. 

9. The Dressing (Aqua Teen Hunger Force) Speaking of nutty fun thanksgiving episodes.. this one is simply that. I love Aqua Teen Hunger force.. even if like a lot of comedy shows it drooped in later seasons, it still has it’s classics earlier on and even later on has a few gems. But on the earlier on side we have their utterly bonkers and delightful thanksgiving episode “The Dressing”, a sequel to the Christmas Episode “The Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past from The Future”, which itself is an utter classic, but we’ll possibly get to that in december’s list. 

The Aqua Teens are having Thanksgiving with Carl, whose naturally onlyt here for the free food and staying outside. it’s also days before or after, with black colored frito pie,a t urkey, and whatever else their broke selves could scrounge up.  However, naturally, like Buffy a normal day for the Aqua Teens just isn’t complete without some weird shit happening, thanksgiving gets interrupted by the cybernetic ghost of Christmas past fromt he future, whose transformed himself into a turkey and wants to save their turkey so it can lead a rebellion in the bizzare hilarious distopian hellscape he comes from. This of course leads to him getting drunk, eating all their food and later showing up with a laser sock to murder carl after the episodes over. It’s just a fun time, a really funny episode and one of the teens more memorable outings. Not a lot to say here, it’s just really damn funny. 

8. Arnold’s Thanksgiving (Hey Arnold!)  Anoter classic I really need to revist but that more than earns his place here. Hey Arnold.. is easily one of the best animated shows ever. I say that with no hyperbole as it handled slice of life well while still getting dramatic when needed to, and is easily the gold standard for slice of life children’s cartoons to this day. And naturally it’s holiday specials were great, and I only r eally haven’t revisited them because they also hurt.. a lot. So unsuprisingly this one makes the list. 

IT’s thanksgiving and given how chaotic things are for both Arnold and Helga’s families, our heroes are miserable. Arnold would understandably like just once to have thanksgiving on thanksgiving, his family instead doing fourth of july due to his grandmother being who she is. And Helga naturally is ignored and mistrteated as usual since her sisters home and her dad and alchoholic mother ignore her as usual even when she’s not around. What i’m saying is while Arnold’s issue is understandable, helga always wins a “whose got the shitter life” contest. 

So the two flee to their teacher Mr Simmons, a character I genuinely loved and loved even more finding out he was gay as an adult, as he was a kind , supportive teacher who could be a bit softhearted but wasn’t afraid to step the fuck up when needed. But they find his thanksgiving isn’t much better, as his Mother and wont’ stop sniping at his boyfriend peter and clearly isn’t entirely comfortable with her son’s sexuality, his friend keeps snapping at peter and mooching off him, and his uncle.. well he’s just a loud asshole who wants turkey.. The kids naturally realize the meaning of the holiday, reconclie with their families who DID take genuine steps to make up for them being gone and missed them, all is well. It just shows nobody’s family is perfect, and is well done in that but also shows why thanksgiving has grown beyond it’s roots: It’s a day for families to get together and even if they may fight, recognize why they love one another. I also give the show balls for heavily imiplying a character is gay and not slapping a girlfriend on him or any of the usual bollocks: Simmons just very clearly is gay and it’s as transparent as the show could get at the time, with the show making it crystal clear years later with the revivial movie. Nice. We’ll have more servings of thanksgiving classics after the cut. 

7. Slapsgiving (How I Met Your Mother) Oh How I Met Your Mother. You started out really good but boy did that go downhill fast and land in a nuclear inferno didn’t it? But I can bitch about the How I Met Your Mother Ending some other time, and probably will. In the show’s prime before they decided to stick with an ending no one wanted anymore, it was pretty great and while season 1′s also impressive Thanksgiving outing “Belly Full of Turkey” was considered, there was ultimately one slaptastic king when it came to Thanksgiving: Slapsgiving. 

Naturally for this show Slapsgiving ties into the show’s suprisngly deep and rich lore: The season before this, Marshall and Barney made a “Slap Bet”, which is exactly what it says on the tin: A bet where the winner slaps the looser. And due to Barney prematurely slapping Marshall, Marshall got 5 penalty slaps to be dolled out whenever, one in that episode and another in a coda to another. For his next one though Marshall decided to outdo himself and set up a counter.. and it all comes down to thanskgiving.  So we get a good ten minutes of Jason Siegel making meancing slap based refrences while NPH’s barney cowers in fear before Marshall’s wife lily pumps the breaks on the bet as comissoner.. only to reconsider when Barney makes the mistake of tormenting Marshall over it, resuling in the inevitible, and in THE thanksgiving song. 

Basically it’s what happen when you give three really funny people a subplot together. Magic happens. The subplot is not bad either as a pre-totallyinsufferabledouchebag Ted hooks up with Robin again over lingering feelings and thanksgiving prep and the two have to deal with that... though it’s mostly funny for Robin’s new boyfriend, who Future Ted acknowledges is barely older than them, but admits to remembering as decrept old man, which results in a  30 something’s dialouge coming out of a very old man and me laughing very hard. A simple joke but one that really works. Overall a slaptacular good time. 

6. Two Turkeys (Brooklyn Nine-Nine)

NINE NINE BITCHES! I’m honestly shocked I haven’t talked about Brooklyn Nine Nine on here already, but it’s easily one of the best sitcoms in recent memory, if not of all time. It has one of the best ensemble casts, great jokes and timing, yet still ballances things out with a sense of realisim beneath the madness> It’s also noticable for holding it’s officers more accountable than most real world police departments, to the point all scripts that were written up for next season were thrown out post George Floyd. It’s truly a joy to watch. 

So naturally they’ve had their share of Holiday episodes, with them easily having the best crop of halloween episodes since roseanne with their annual heists, and having some pretty damn memorable christmases, opening with this:

So naturally thanksgiving is no exception, with it’s last two being the best and it being a really hard choice wether to go with season 4′s “Detective Santiago” or this one. But as good as the other ep was.. this one inched it out for good reason. 

The episode’s split into two equally good, equally hilarious plot lines. In the B-Plot, the 99′s Captain Raymond Holt, one of the best characters in sitcom history and gay icon, and his husband Kevin take their annual trip to get a pie for Holt’s families thanksgiving and come back with the well crafted pie, even if both prefer their food nice and bland. But the pie go missing and Captain Holt procedes to hilariously drill into each of the other members of the 99 and uncovering holes int their previous thanksgving stories with Rosa’s being suprisingly heartwarming (She’s going to a humilating minons on ice show with her family because they reconnected in jail.. setting up the equally awesome “Game Night” episode where she comes out.) and Boyle’s being utterly pathetic as you’d expect (Cooking his son mac and cheese because he’ll eat nothing else and declaring him a “basic bitch”). The solution however ends up being heartwarming as the culprit is actually Kevin, who hated the pie.. as did Raymond who suggests just taking the drive anyway because they enjoy the silent ride there and back every year. It may be boring to us.. but it’s preicious and really sweet all the same.. as it is hilarous when Kevin treats this as a big endugence and seems turned on by that. What i’m saying is these men are couple goals and Marc Evan Jakcson was awesome long before ducktlaes.  The main plot is also great, as Jake and Amy, now engaged after this year’s halloween episode which is also , coincidentally, the series best, try to unite their families. It just goes about as well as you’d expect as Amy’s are type a control freaks, jake’s mom is a retired hippie school teacher and his dad is a human disaster area who has to be told to put on pants, cheated on his mom constantly, somehow got her back, and in general is barely functional on a good day. The families do bond breifly but things ineveitbly break down, hilarity and severed limbs insue and family comes together. IT’s just a funny, well done 20  mintues that’s also really damn sweet, with this plot ending with Amy’s dad accepting the chaos as that’s’ts what you do with family. Also jake naturally finds out he has a ton of step siblings as his dad was and still is a man whore. Happy Thanksgiving!

5. Bart Vs Thanksgiving (The SImpsons)

Let’s face it: if you follow my reviews at all you knew this was coming. While not one I go back to due to being an emotional kidney punch, i’d be doing this list a diservice if this classic wasn’t on there.  In a nutshell, Bart starts a petty fight with Lisa over her centerpiece that ends with it in the fireplace, Bart sent to his room till he apologizes, and Bart seething insiting he did no wrong. It takes a visit to the homeless shelter after running away, and ending up on the news, to realize what an ass he’s been and one nightmarish dream sequence later, seriously why do you think I don’t revisit this one that often? This thing has traumatized me since I was a kid and unlike the slap song I will not be showing it to you, has a heartwarming reconcliation with his sister on the roof. It’s just a nice, sweet special that gets the holiday just right and i’d expect nothing less from Golden Age Simpsons.  

4. A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving (Gilmore Girls) Another show I need to talk about more, Gilmore Girls is fucking awesome. The story of a woman who ran away pregnant at age 16 and built her own life for her daughter in the quirky town of stars hollow who finds herself reconnecting with her parents in present day against her will.. is really good stuff. Funny, heartfelt and really damn well acted with one hell of a cast, the show is part of me and I make no bones about that, so it’s big thanksgiving outing naturally belongs on here.  The premise is simple: Rory and Loreli end up having to go to four diffrent thanksgivings, which even for big eaters like them is a massive task, each unique and entertaining. The main event of course is Suki’s, where everyone’s faviorite chef agreed to let her husband cook the turkey.. of course with the plan to sneak in mid cooking and add her own touches. This gets foiled when Jackson and his family decide to deep fry the thing.. probably in part because Jackson knows his wife well and knows what she was planning. Though over the night while our heroines are at their other meals, it devolves into them deepfrying everything they can get their hand son including a shoe, and Suki getting plastered to tolerate it.  While not topping it the other meals and the sheer lunacy of four thanksigvings in one day, are still memorable: There’s the natural posh one at Richards and Emilys, the dour joyless one at The Kims where Mrs Kim forces the band to play the whole time and forces our heroines to eat food as joyless as Mrs. Kim, and Lukes for a nice round of Rory grappling with having PDA with her boyfirend Jess before resolving it at the end. Also dean’s a jackass. No one is suprised. Jess isn’t one at this stage in his character which is. Also Kirk adopts a cat that slowly pushes him out of his own house which works comedically becaus Sean Gunn is a national treasure. Overall a really good episode and if you have netflix and haven’t checked the series out, this is a good one to try out. 

3. The Thanksgiving Special (Regular Show) I already talked about this one in my top 11 Regular Show episodes so i’ll try to be brief. In a nutshell Mordecai and Rigby destroy thanksgiving and genuinelly feeling bad about it, scramble to win a thanksgiving bird from a Thanksgiving Song Contest, going up against an all star super group comissioned by Donald Trump. Yes really. Meanwhile Muscle Man and High Five Ghost go to get sides and the  rest of the park staff’s attemtps to get a turkey are thwarted by a bunch of thanksgiving reinactors who go unexplained in any way shape or form which given how rare that is for regular show, which usually has some sort of explination for the madness, just makes it funnier. It ends with a REALLY touching song, a fight on a blimp with outgoing president trump, and a truly heartwarming thanksgiving meal. All in all a nice special that combines the shows madcap nature with the genuine warm fuzzies of thanksgiving. 

2. We Gather Together (Roseanne) Another series I need to talk about more.. and another series where one of the creators has turned out to be a terrible human being. Seriously Roseanne Barr is is a terible person, she deserved to be removed from her show, and while the Conner’s isn’t GREAT it’s still FAR better without her. That being said I will still stick up for the original as she wasn’t the only one involved (indeed the aformentioned Joss Whedon worked on the show breifly and Gilmore Girls creator Amy Sherman Paladino not only worked there but later adapted one of Roseanne’s insane antics, making all the writers wear caps with a number instead of referring to them by name , to Gilmore Girls.). Her being a bad person even then dosen’t change the fact that the show is sitcom gold, one of my faviorite shows, and a true classic. And this episode helps showcase WHY. 

What makes this episode special, even among Roseanne episodes is it’s structure: While there are things going on it’s mostly a free floating day in the Families life and thus feels like your there with them through thanksgiving. It feels genuine, like past thanksgivings i’ve remembered: Everyone has their own stuff going on, they all eat, and there’s naturally a big blowup.. and one that eveyrone else ignores to eat which I can relate  to. That authenticity really elevates the episode and is why I seek it out every year. 

That’s not to say nothing happens, it just flows in and out like it would in a normal thanksgiving. Roseanne deals with her parents, a pre-abuser version of her dad and her overbearing nightmare of a mother beverly, and the inevetible blow up when Bev’s needling about Jackie’s life goes too far , prompting Jackie to reveal her new job as a police officer before bursting into tears, all to Roseanne’s annoyance. Rosie also moves them to a hotel despite an attempted guilt trip from her mom. 

Speaking of Mom’s we see Dan’s for the only time before the later seasons and the utterly terrible last season, a professional career woman whose moved on well from her ex and brought her new boyfriend there. Ed, despite some comptemplation over it is firmly accepting and instead starts flirting with the Conner’s friend Crystal. Dan, being overprotective because of his Daddy Issues, but ed cals him out on it “Being lonely is a hell of a lot for two people to have in common, you woudln’t knwo anything abotu that son, and I pray to god you never do” A great caper to a fantastic episode.. one I thought was going to top the list... THOUGHT is the key word here...

1. Turkey in A Can (Bob’s Burgers) This one is. Bob’s Burgers is one of the best things to come out of the 2010′s and i’ve fallen way too far behind on it, so I can’t say if any thanksgivings after thankshoarding top this one.. what I can say is this one is the gold standard for thanksgiving episodes, and is filled with great stuffing. 

Thanksgiving is Bob’s holiday. Being a chef he loves the chance to go all out, and really flex his muscles for his families when it comes to cooking up a storm, and it’s endearing when bob gets just as nuts as his family. But this year someone keeps flushing his turkeys down the toilet despite his best efforts, so while Louise hilariously tries to solve things to proe it wasn’t her (though it’s entirely fair they thought it was her consdering.. everything), while LInda, Gene and LInda’s flighty sister Gale try to write THE thanksgiving song. And while it’s no you just got slapped, damn if they didn’t succeed. 

Sailors in your mouth indeed. It leads to plenty of great jokes the best being the guy at the Deli Counter thinking Bob’s into him and bob not being sure how to respond, but being mildly recpetive. But the climax is what makes the episode as when Bob falls asleep we find his medication has been making him sleepwalk.. and thus put the turkey s int he toilet, as Tina’s desire to be at the Grown Up Table, itslef a REALLY funny runner as you’d expect, has him panicking internally and thus reliving her potty training. The episode ends with Bob letting her come to the adults table, and a rather heartwarming thanksgiving feast. All in all an excellent episode. It also leads to the chaos seen above whic hif htat’s not thanksgiving, I don’t know what is. 

Have a happy thanksgiving and check out my black friday sale! Until then there’s always another rainbow!

[arieteis]

things you said: 15, 21, 49

she liked to think she had her life under control, quashing any unwanted emotions the moment they bubbled to the surface by hiding behind a practiced benign smile and accepting whatever was thrown her way no matter how distasteful she may have found them. anzu would have never labeled herself a pushover, if anything, she may have politely referred to herself as a people pleaser if she were ever questioned on why she never properly stood up for herself, but in either case she came out on the bottom. time and time again she found herself doing things she would never willingly choose on her own, but whether it be for work, an acquaintance or even a friend, she had a terrible time saying no. she liked to think it was her inner desire to keep everyone happy that led her to put herself last so often but even she knew it was that she lacked the courage to say no thus landing herself into an uncomfortable situation that she’d much rather avoid. though, despite knowing this, she was not bright enough to come to terms with the fact she was only making herself miserable by doing everyone’s bidding instead of just looking out for herself and doing what she yearned to.

her life, or what she could remember of it, was not particularly difficult, but there was something eating away at her nonetheless. her recurring nightmare struck her often, the screeching of tires and the sound of glass shattering haunted her often, becoming an image that not only plagued her sleep but also her waking thoughts. though she willed herself to remember, she was unable to piece together the puzzle that was the recurring dream, with time the scene had become longer and she was sure she had witnessed an accident, but she was unable to remember who had been hurt or why she had been there. anzu had clearly attested to something horrible and her lack of recollection was beginning to drive her mad but it was her own choice to keep it hidden, buried still beneath that laughable smile she always plastered on her face. it was easier that way. smile, sit pretty, and keep quiet. her aunt had told her that often, though it was typically winded in with stories of her own youth. as a teenager, instead of turning towards rebellion as many did, she simply accepted her title as a failure that her mother slapped upon her before shipping her off to another country. she was still unsure of what exactly she’d done to earn such a nasty name but she chose to never press on it. she never pressed, never questioned, just accepted.

then, leo entered, like a turbulent storm with the capability of breaking down anzu’s walls quicker than she was able to build them. she brought out the emotions anzu tried so desperately to regress, questioning her on things she’d have rather kept buried and never speak of again and it infuriated in hers she was unable to wrap her head around. anzu, as flippant and naive as she appeared, was quite keen on keeping her personal life completely to herself, but the other knew just the right buttons to press to cause anzu to slip if only for a few seconds, but no matter how much she deflected over messages, she’d mull about the conversation for hours afterword. it’d be easy to say she hated leo, but that wouldn’t exactly be the truth, as something kept drawing her back in to the other that even she was unable to place a finger on. perhaps it was some inner need of her own to be found out and draw her out of the shadows she’s cast around herself or maybe it was simply nothing more than her own foolishness. no matter the reason, it didn’t matter too much, for she found herself spending more time around the other despite the way the bickered over text and it seemed as though her run in with leo on the ground battling her own demons hand’t changed much. if anything, it may have tethered them together, despite the fact the two of them really had no reason to be communicating in the first place. 

realistically, anzu should have ran the moment leo decided to message her for the first time as she’d never been too fond of others acting too familiar with her upon meeting for the first time, but unlike those who she would have quietly ghosted, something about leo enticed her to continue messaging her back. sometimes, she thought she’d completely lost her mind reading back some of the things the other would send her, but in a way it was always exciting to speak with the other. if nothing else, she was always kept on her toes, there was truly no way to read what leo was going to do next and some small part of her enjoyed the thrill. maybe her slow descent into her own despair was chipping away at her brain, after all. she hadn’t had much to say besides deflection, easily playing the part of the innocent kitagawa anzu persona she’d built up, but despite being easily flustered, it wasn’t as though she really minded being teased. it at least reminded her she was capable of being sought after in a strange roundabout way.

all that knowledge she'd garnered of the other shouldn't have prepared her for anything besides the worst, but anzu had been imprudent and allowed herself to get swept away into the storm. still, standing before leo and that smug look she wore on her face paired with the way she had been speaking had her trepid nature melting away, replaced by clenched fists held steadfast at her sides, curled so tight her knuckles turned white. it wasn't as though she hadn't been angry before, but it was not often it was so openly directed at another person, instead it was an emotion she reserved solely for herself in the quiet comfort of her own bedroom, the emotion more often than not directed towards the white pillow perched at the head of her bed. however, this time, leo had pressed just a touch too far, the visage of her mom's disappointed look as she was dropped off at the gate of the airport as tears bubble up in her eyes at the forefront of her mind. the image is half recreated as she feels the familiar sting in her eyes, but she's not about to willingly let herself cry in front of the other. instead she stomps one foot like a petulant child, her brows knitting together as she eyes the other with slightly glassy eyes, lips turned into a grimace foreign on her face. 

"you know what?" she pauses, taking a shaky breath before she continues, her fingers curling tighter at her sides. "fuck you, leo. you don't know anything at all about me." somehow, though, she'd perhaps pieced together more about anzu in a short time than anybody had before and the fact was enough to frighten her into her defensive mode, something that usually brought out her vast amount of deflections. if there was one thing that could bring out the worst in anzu it was certainly the mention of her parents. their disapproval of her came suddenly, as from what she could piece together from her memories she'd been the model daughter until being thrown aside like nothing more than garbage. while they had been brought up during leo and anzu's messages on multiple occasions, something about having them mentioned to her face left her feeling off, but she assumed it had something to do with the way leo was so confident in her prodding. 

"you're always saying this and that about me but have you even taken a second to really get to know me? you're nothing more than an asshole who thinks she understands everything when in reality you barely know anything at all." another pause paired with another shaky breath, her body curling in on itself slightly as she takes a small step back, trembling with the force of the emotions that are right on the verge of spilling over, a thin layer of tears having now built up but not yet falling over the edge. "i feel like such an idiot for ever feeling bad for you that day. you didn't deserve it." another step back as she turns her head away, her hair falling in just a way it shields her from having to look at the other. a lone teardrop hits the floor and splatters and that's when anzu's facade falters, the girl taking a few more rapid steps back before she completely collapses in on herself, crouching down to hold her head in her hands as she attempted to keep her breathing from getting out of control, feeling overwhelmed on top of the sheer embarrassment from breaking down in front of leo of all people. 

she doesn't have the fight in her to even tell leo to leave, shaking with the force of all she was feeling it was all she could do to keep herself from completely falling onto the ground in a miserable heap so she chooses to ignore her presence, silently wishing she'd walk away and choose to not bring it up again, but she was not so ignorant to believe that would happen given the nature of their relationship to begin with. even with all the fight in her, she'd probably made a scratch in leo's smug armor, and she couldn't help but wallow in her own discomfiture right in front of the other. it was so terribly mindless of her to speak without thinking for, if nothing else, she'd just given the other more ammunition to torture her with. even so, at the end of the day, perhaps anzu deserved it. she could only hide from her troubles for so long.

[brvisedmorality]

[ TESSA THOMPSON, 37, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER ] Have you seen BENTLEY BOURDEAUX down in St. Landry again? I heard they’re one of the BOSS, for the KELLEY’s now. They’ve been so CUT THROAT & GUARDED lately, it’s no wonder. I’ll sure miss when they were CREATIVE & SENTIMENTAL. I wonder if they’re going to stop listening to HEAVEN KNOWS by THE PRETTY RECKLESS. now, or if LILY TATTOOS WRAPPING AROIND HER HEART, A GAZE THAT DEFINES IF LOOKS COULD KILL & A RUSTED WEDDING RING BURIED IN THE SWAMPS will still announce ‘em.

Violet Maheaux was born in the backwoods of the bayou as a chilling side effect of what could only be called the hate fucking exchanged by her parents. She was the kind of woman that you admired for both her inherit, natural beauty and her dreams. The dreams were always the big ones, the ones that involved making a name for herself and leaving the sleepiness of this little town behind forever.  As pretty as she was, that was all that the ancestors saw fit to give her, nothing much more. They didn’t see it important to offer the woman the tools that she needed in order to make it out of her circumstances, there was no second chance at a life unless she learned to use the one thing that she did have – her body. Violet learned at her young age that for as many dreams as she had, her parents had that many less. They could barely spell the word dream let alone live it, so there was no other choice for her to start to get creative. She managed to learn that the world would open up to you just as soon as you opened your legs. Pussy, that was the one marketable talent that she was born with and she decided to use it as such. The phrase gold digger was one that had been coined especially for her, the girl with champagne taste and beer money. Through the years she had found men here and there but she never really managed to accomplish anything great from sloppy blowjobs and quick sex until she met Weston Bordeaux.

Weston was not only the most desirable man that she had ever seen, his bank account reflected just the right amount of zeroes to make him the prime candidate to run her right out of the woods and into the penthouse. There were two dates before she found herself pinned to the backseat of his Bentley, a chorus of convincing moans and slick sheen of sweat resulting in her golden ticket, the baby that he put inside her that night. In all her glory, she managed to rope on of New Orleans’s most eligible bachelors. Weston’s parents were not about to let a bastard child be born with the prestigious Bordeaux name so he had no choice other than to marry the downgrade that he had made the mistake of impregnating. Their marriage was one that sealed fates ticket to bring the poor house to the Hamptons, so to speak. In commemorative fashion of their fuck trophy, Violet elected to name their first born child Bentley. The keep sake that lived and breathed was born shortly after they were married and there were days where she regretted even that simple, silver spoon mistake.

Bentley’s childhood was one that was filled with attention from anyone other than her parents. The people that whispered through the halls of their house, the ones that dusted ancient heirlooms and tended to the children were the ones that she knew the best. Her mother was a ghost of a woman, a woman whose only goal had been to get somewhere where she didn’t need to worry about money. She accomplished that goal on her back but now there was nothing left for Violet to aspire to. Weston on the other hand was miserable in the begging of their marriage and subsequently, while Bentley was growing up. He drank too much, worried even more and then of course eventually succumbed to his fate of loving the backwoods Barbie doll that he had been forced into marrying. The hurricane that was Bentley Mason stormed her way through the house and the grounds, never a soul to settle for too long. The wild child that her mother had been in her youth was the only trait she was thankful that she was passed down. There was no way to calm her waters or cage her desire to learn, love, hate, anything. She was as unpredictable as they came, something that her father saw as an immediate danger and attempted to cut off at the neck just as soon as possible. Weston’s suggestion for calming down their daughter was to all but sell her off to the highest bidder. Arranged marriages were a thing of the past, everyone said but what high society wanted, high society got.

The attempt to clip wings that were made for flying made Bentley more than enraged when she started coming into her teens. It was delicate age, the age where rebellion could come running into the back of your head and make its home there. It did just that, as a matter of fact. She was a wild horse that bucked the saddle they were trying to fit her with in every sense that she possibly could, but eventually daddy won out. He managed to rope her into a relationship with a man who was ten years her senior, ignoring the obvious age gaps and general inappropriate nature of their pairing, he was just happy someone would continue the prestige that was promised by the life he knew. The one thing that daddy didn’t know was that he had just pushed his darling daughter into the arms of malice, abuse, and violence all rolled into one. That was her dance with the devil, her chance to lose the wide eyed innocence that she had been born with. Her only saving grace was her sister, Delilah.

Bentley only stayed around for as long as she did because of her little sister, someone needed to be there to hold the hand of the most precious thing that shared her bloodline. Delilah Lily Bordeaux was the one thing that brought her head back down from the clouds and centered her in a way that one other hand that had ever touched her managed too. The problem with that was that Bentley was only human (as far as she knew), she could only handle so much. The straw that had broken the camel’s back was the last time that her husband to be busted her lip wide open. The copper taste of her own blood in her mouth was enough to break down the last of her defenses, leaving her with one choice at the ripe age of sixteen and that was to leave. She abandoned the family, the money, and the manufactured sense of both safety and love, making the last strike the last time that someone would ever put their hands on her without regretting the decision.

Leaving the house on the hill that she had been born in and subsequently her sister, affectionately coined as Lily, was the one thing that will constantly be a soft, untouched mistake that she still didn’t speak about. It was the reason that some nights she woke up screaming, other mornings she contemplated just ending the suffering that radiated from that hole that was left in her chest by the happenings at that house. Shortly after Bentley left home, Lily then twelve would just so happen to go missing. They searched for her for days, spending minutes, hours, days trying to find any sign of what had happened to the small girl with the sincerest of smiles. Local law enforcement combined with neighbors and friends scoured the woods, the swamps, everything that they could to find any sign of the youngest Bordeaux sister. The overly eager attempts to find the child by one neighbor in particular would be the downfall of the whole scenario, eventually finding that he had raped, brutalized and then killed the light of Bentley’s life weeks earlier, not even bothering to bury the body but instead leaving her in the basement of his oversized home right next to the Bordeaux’s house. This is what heart break feels like, this is what heartbreak sounds like, hell – this is what heartbreak looks like.

Bentley’s lines were blurred forever after that small, simple incident that came to define her own personal views on morality. She didn’t mind becoming the judge, jury and the executioner because that final kick in the balls so to speak came when they acquitted this man on a technicality that she was sure that his lawyer bought with all that money that they had to offer him. It was the law, the government that allowed him to not only kill her flesh and blood, but turned the blind eye to it. It was then that fate decided to brand itself a killer at the ripe age of sixteen. It was the first body that ever disappeared under Bentley’s name, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last one. That was the thing about blood, once you got it on your hands, those stains never did come out.

True to the saying, the first cut was the deepest, but that didn’t mean it was going to be some kind of well learned lesson. Instead, it became a means to an end. Regardless, the one mistake she’d made was getting caught. The person who caught her had a badge that she assumed would somehow steal the loyalty from her to it, but she was pleasantly surprised. The pair eventually took off together, until he’d left her in a cheap, roadside motel, to deal with the reality of her hand written tragedy. Upon coming back to town, Marie Kelley took her in. After all, she’d always known the girl, and something told Bentley, that when she looked at her? Somehow, she didn’t see the same monster that B did when she looked in the mirror. 

The Kelley family became the only family she knew and loved, aside from her sister, that she carried with her every day. That was the only reason she was allowed to climb the ranks the way she did, and it was at Marie’s dying recommendation, that she took the throne. A gift, that she hadn’t intended to waste then, and surely wouldn’t now. 

[riverboundao3ff]

Riverbound, Chapter 21

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and you can’t stop thinking of that video John showed you that one time with the human gamer yelling “CAPTAIN! LOOOOOK!” even though this is very much real life and there is a fucking enormous pirate ship barrelling right at you.

You barely have your sickles out before Vriska comes barging out of her cabin in full pirate ensemble, sword strapped to her waist and fangs bared. “Eridan, take the lead with me! Aradia, Terezi, and Karkat follow. Try not to get yourselves killed. Micah, up to the crow’s nest and see what the enemy is doing. Feferi, keep us at full clip in a circle.”

“I’m not a very good captain!” Feferi yelps as she almost snaps the wheel in half.

“Don’t worry about it, the 8rigantine’s been through some serious shit. She can take a rookie at the wheel!”

Micah zaps up to the crow’s nest with the eyepiece and trains it on the enemy ship. Despite your bloodpusher hammering away in your chest cavity, your feet carry you over to Aradia and Terezi, both grinning ear-to-ear like the maniacs they are. Both are amazing fighters, and you are… very small. Small, and not very strong.

If Crabdad could see you right now you know the old guy would shit himself on the spot.

“Why am I here,” you mutter, gripping your sickles for all they’re worth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck--”

“Shouldn’t Feferi be giving the orders?” Eridan mutters to Vriska, scowling.

Vriska sneers back at him. “My ship, my rules. If you don’t like it you can swim back to shore.”

“I’ll throw you overboard first, bitch.”

“Good to see some things never change,” Aradia snickers, but you can’t bring yourself to rib Eridan for his black crush as you watch the other ship pull right up against the 8rigantine.

“What’s it look like?” Terezi asks.

“Big. Probably one-and-a-half times the size of the 8rigantine…” You trail off as you see the hostages on board and do a quick count. “There’s about fifteen lowbloods on board. Most of them are rusts and bronzes. I see one gold.”

“A psionic?”

“Yep.”

“Dibs,” Aradia calls.

“He’s all yours,” you mumble, beginning to regret being hatched.

Well, it’s too late to back out now. Aradia lays out the plank with her telekinesis and sends a massive shockwave across to the other ship before the terrified hostages can so much as try to rally together.

“Aradia! Don’t hurt them!” Micah wails in protest.

“Sorry!”

She doesn’t look very sorry, but Vriska and Eridan are already charging across the plank together with fearsome battle cries, Terezi right behind them with swords drawn and Aradia bringing up the rear. From the crow’s nest, Micah yells something about the violetblood captain being in his cabin.

“Oh, I am so getting grounded for this,” you tell nobody in particular, and then you bound across the plank in four quick strides, ignoring the dark, churning waters below, and fling yourself into the fray.

Some bronzeblood takes a swing at you the second your feet hit the deck, but you can tell her bloodpusher really isn’t in it when she scrambles back as you knick her cheek with one of your blades. You dodge around a pair of unarmed rustbloods, sweep the feet out from underneath another bronze, and end up back-to-back with Terezi.

Not too long ago you would have been losing your mind at the thought of fighting alongside the girl you crushed on for a pretty sizable amount of your miserable existence, but at the moment you kind of want to smack her upside the head for letting Vriska drag you guys into this. “Where’s your crazy-ass moirail?”

“Looking for our target! Micah said he’s in his cabin,” she yells over a rustblood girl’s furious screeches as Terezi is able to deflect every blow.

You swipe at a boy who tries to lunge for your arm. “Well I wish she’d hurry--”

A shockwave knocks your flat on your ass before you can finish that sentence. Your ears ring, and you roll over with a groan to see Aradia and the goldblood psionic circling each other, both crackling with invisible energy.

“Back off! Back!” the psionic shrieks, blasting yellow sparks at Aradia. “He’ll kill us all if we lose the session!”

“Nobody’s dying today,” Aradia tells him calmly.

“What?!”

“Just keep fighting. We’re here to help.”

Some of the other hostages obviously overheard the whole thing, because you see several stop circling a hissing Eridan to turn and stare at her. None of them have even tried to attack him. He uses the opportunity to break free and roundhouse the psionic into the mast, knocking him out cold and sending cracks up the wood.

A nearby zap alerts you to the cavalry’s arrival. “Eridan!”

“He was attacking Aradia-!”

“Micahlookout!”

The mast splinters apart at the base and comes down through the deck, before toppling over towards your alien friend. They teleport out of the way just in time, reappearing to grab the unconscious goldblood and disappearing again.

The bronzeblood boy you’ve been swatting at scrubs furiously at his ganderbulbs. “What the-- did I just-?”

“Yeah, they do that,” you explain.

“I wanna go home.”

“Same.”

The sound of glass breaking has everybody jumping back as Vriska and the violetblood dude come tumbling out of the cabin window, screaming and clawing each other up with no mercy whatsoever. Serket’s metal arm is making progress in tearing a gash in the violetblood’s side, but he’s still way stronger than her and just as angry.

“You fucking bitch! This isn’t how you play the game!” he snarls, kneeing her in the gut so hard you hear something snap.

She spits blue blood into his face. “This isn’t a game anymore.”

He kicks her off him and springs to his feet, only for a blast of energy to carve a perfect hole through the center of his chest before he can so much as cuss her out again. There’s no blood, no bits of flesh dangling down into the gap. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eridan lower his rifle, brows drawn together in concentration.

You stare in shock as Vriska kicks the still-standing corpse overboard.

The following splash is the only sound to be heard for the next couple of moments. You and Micah make eye contact and stare at each other for a little bit. Eridan and Vriska high-five and start ushering the hostages across the plank to the 8rigantine. Aradia just shrugs and helps a bronze girl with a bad knee to her feet so they can go, guiding Terezi along with her other hand.

“Well, that was quick,” you mumble, making your way over to Micah.

They don’t show any outward signs of distress, but the way their gaze doesn’t focus on anything in particular once you both make it to the other side tells you everything you need to know. You want to throw Serket overboard as well; for fuck’s sake, she knows humans are fragile about these sort of things!

They look over at you. “Guess that’s one way to do it.”

“Yeah.” You look out at the horizon, where a pod of skywhales are surfacing to breathe. “I’ll be honest. This rebellion stuff is way less fun than I thought it was gonna be.”

“Me too. Wanna get out of here once we get the hostages back to shore?”

Oh, fuck yes. “Sure. Can we get some of your weird human food?”

“Ask Dave, my guy. I’m broke as hell.”

“Fine.”

You wait impatiently as Micah helps the others down to the beach once the 8rigantine makes it to shore, but you can’t help but feel a surge of warmth when you see the dawning realization on the former prisoners’ faces when they realize that they’ll be going home. You’re smiling as a few of the younger kids grow brave enough to give Micah hugs, which is understandable given that the alien is very soft and huggable. It’s no surprise to you that they’ve managed to land in somebody’s diamond.

“Nothing like trauma to help bring people together,” they say as you watch the group walk off together towards town. “One of them said that they’re gonna make a group chat and call it ‘Hostage Gang’.”

Everybody gets a good chuckle out of that, and most of the tension leaves as you guys head back to Vriska’s hive. Terezi and Aradia start arguing about what blood caste has the thickest skull bone, with Terezi in favor of seadwellers and Aradia insisting it’s the indigos.

Micah bumps your arm. “Ready to go?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. Lemme grab my backpack.”

They zap away and are back in the span of two seconds, backpack slung over their shoulder. You have to tell yourself not to stare, even if you’re still definitely not used to your weird alien friend’s wacky spacetime powers.

Vriska’s face falls. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna bring Karkat to Earth to hang out. I’ll be back soon,” Micah tells her.

“... Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Aw, missing your lusus already?” Eridan taunts, before hightailing it back up the path to Vriska’s hive with a furious pirate girl on his heels. Terezi takes off after them with a shriek of delight, with Feferi begging them not to start a fight and Aradia waving back at you as she pelts sand at the back of Eridan’s head.

“Good god,” you mutter.

“Love those assholes,” Micah says, every word laced with affection. They hold out their hand, and with a lot less caution than you used to, you take it.

In the blink of an eye, the both of you are outside Dave’s apartment building with the sun going down behind the skyscrapers in the west. It’s hot as fuck, even for you, and teleporting never fails to make you a little dizzy.

You look up and down the alleyway. Cool, no other humans around.

Taking a running start, you kick off the dumpster underneath the fire escape and grab on to the last rung of the rusty ladder. You pull yourself up with a grunt and start hiking on up to the top floor, concentrating on the horizon to calm down your tilting vision. A bang of boot against metal lets you know Micah is right behind you.

“Why don’t you just teleport up?” you ask.

“Do you want me to take you up?”

“No. It makes me dizzy.”

“Sorry, dude.” They yank off their hoodie with a huff. “I need the exercise.”

“Don’t let Equius hear you say anything like that. For my wriggling day last sweep he gave me an exercise regime and video-called me to personally ensure that I was doing it. It was fucking terrible. Every time I see a stretching mat my ass clenches up so hard I taste shit.”

“... Do you think he’ll come around?” they ask.

You snort. “Who knows. I like the guy, don’t get me wrong, but… he’s pretty set in his ways about the authority of the Empire and the hemospectrum. If Nepeta can’t get through to him, nobody can.”

“Eridan decided he wants to change. So did Vriska.”

You bite your tongue before you can tell Micah that they unwittingly became the lusus-figure of those two jackasses the second they waltzed into their lives. “Yeah, well. Equius is a whole other hoofbeast, pun intended.”

By the time you reach the top level, your thighs are burning, you’re out of breath, and Micah has to brace themselves on their knees while sucking in air like an upright mechanical cleaning device. The usually pale skin is flushed red, and they’re making absolutely no attempt to cover themselves.

All humans have red blood, dumbass. Get over yourself. “How come you can go for three hours straight on Just Dance but get winded going up a few flights of stairs?”

“Man, shut up. You’re breathing heavy, too,” they wheeze.

“Barely.” You pull out your palmhusk and shoot a quick text to Dave, telling him to check the fire escape. Your palmhusk is barely back inside your sweatpants pocket before the window you and Micah are under slides open.

A messy head of blonde hair pokes out, and your gastric tract does a flip when a smirk lifts up the corners of Dave’s mouth. “Two aliens, chillin’ on my fire escape, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay.”

“I regret ever letting you in on the incredible gift that awaits this world that is Vine,” Micah sighs. “All those iconic seven-second videos, all those memes that have yet to define Gen Z as a culture… and some greasy millennial Texas kid gets the first crack at it?”

“Micah. Mickey. Mickaroonie. Gen Z was born at the start of 1995. I was born in 1996. I barely made it, but I made it. Slipped right in there like the intruder through Annie’s window, RIP Michael Jackson. Vine is my birthright, same as yours.”

“It will be your birthright.”

“What the fuck is a Vine?” you demand. Stupid humans and their stupid human culture. You still have difficulty believing that their planet is divided up into thousands of different sectors, each with their own laws and languages and governments. How come they just can’t pick one thing and go with it?

“Hush up and get inside, Karkles, both of you are letting all the cold air out,” Dave drawls, backing away from the window so you and Micah can hop in.

You do so and almost immediately eat shit when you land on a pile of comic books that slip out from underneath your feet. “Fuck!”

“Keep it down, bro, the walls are thin.” Dave chucks an empty juice bottle into the trash can across the room. “Thin as a rin-tin-tin, gotta keep on silencin’, can’t let the haters in from the world that keeps on burnin’--”

“If you shut up we’ll tell you about the rebellion that’s happening on Alternia. Past Alternia, that is,” you offer.

That gets his attention. He turns to you, brows drawing tightly together. “A revolution? On your hellhole of a planet? Isn’t that, I dunno, really frickin’ risky? You’re not in danger, are you?”

“Not in my time period, dummy,” you say, crossing your arms to block out the surge of warmth inside of you that has nothing to do with the Texas heat. He cares about your safety. “It’s like, ten sweeps ago? Fifteen? I dunno, Micah’s the one who’s actually in it.”

“Yeah… I don’t know, either. Alternian measurements of time are confusing. But yeah. Me and a bunch of my friends are gonna overthrow the government,” Micah explains.

“Hell yeah, stick it to the man. But, like, be careful.”

“I will. Time shenanigans are kind of my thing.”

“Can we get food now?” you demand.

“Hell yeah we can.” Dave glances behind him, but there’s nobody there. “Yeah… let’s see, Bro’s not gonna be back until Saturday, so we’re good.”

Micah glances over at the calendar on the wall and frowns. It’s Tuesday. You’re not sure what Tuesday is in relation to Saturday, but they don’t seem happy about it.

The three of you end up sneaking around downtown Houston until you locate a McDonald’s. It’s weird, how much safer you feel on Earth in comparison to Alternia. These aren’t your people, and this isn’t your planet, and yet when a group of teenagers pass under the tree you and Micah hide in while Dave goes inside to order you don’t even flinch. It helps that the sun has gone down and you know that humans can’t see in the dark.

“So…” they say, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Do you want me to leave you guys alone? You know, city lights, fast food, two teenagers sitting together under the stars…”

FUCK. You slap at them with a furious hiss. “No! I-- what, no! Who told you? Was it Sollux? It was fucking Sollux.”

“It wasn’t Sollux. You’re pretty obvious, dude,” they remark.

You scrub your face with your hands. “I… he’s just so great, which is stupid because he pisses me off, and he’s an alien, and it’s just impossible. A-And he’s human-heterosexual!”

“Hey. Look at me.”

You look at them.

They smile at you, and your racing bloodpusher calms as you remember that this person is one of the few you can trust with your life. “No relationship is ever easy. You know this. But what you don’t know is that people always find ways to come together. My moirail is an oliveblood assassin, and she’s easily one of the top three things that’s ever happened to me.”

You can’t help it: you smile a little. “What are the other two things?”

“Rice bowls at Chipotle. Meeting you guys.”

“You’re a sappy fuck,” you tell them, even as you snort into the crook of your elbow.

“I sure am, hotshot. Oh, hey, here’s Dave--”

“--eeeeeEEEEEE here it is! Help me up,” a familiar voice announces. You look over the branch you’re stretched out on and reach down to help Dave up while Micah grabs the bags of food from him. His palm is just as warm and sweaty as yours, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once everybody is settled in and munching away on shitty, delicious human food you break out the big guns. “Micah has a moirail.”

“Which one is that?”

“They have a girlfriend. Ew, can’t believe I’m resorting to highblood slang.”

That gets his attention. “Oh, real shit? Is she hot?”

“Yes, Dave. She is hot.”

“What’s she like?”

“Kind. Shredded as all hell. Loves sappy romance novels. Lowkey murders people for a living. Gets embarrassed easily. Like, I’ll say something like ‘I’m gonna shooshpap the anxiety right out of your soul, honey-bunches’ and she absolutely loses her goddamn mind--”

You shriek and slam your hands over your ears, trying to not blush and give yourself away. “No, no, noooooooooo, Micah I’m under nine sweeps old please-!”

“I don’t get it! Why is talking about feelings so sexy?” they yell, throwing their hands up while Dave loses his mind. “Damn! I touched my friend’s cheek the other night ‘cause he was messed up about my ribs being broken and he just about exploded.”

“Slut,” you wheeze.

“Your ribs are broken?” Dave stops laughing and starts poking at the other human. “What? Are you okay? How did you even climb this tree?”

“I’m fine now, buddy, Alternian medical tech is pretty great,” they assure him, ruffling his hair as he swats at them.

“Wack. One time I was in the ER ‘cause I needed stitches and the nurse didn’t even numb me up, she just frickin’ went for it. Big-ass needle, big-ass thread, screaming six-year-old, I think I scared the whole McFrickin’ clinic half to death--”

You want to hear everything about Dave’s bravery in the face of a mediculler, but before you can ask for more details a beam of bright light hits Micah right in the face, making them reel back with an arm thrown over their face.

“What are you kids doing up there, huh?” a deep voice calls.

You look down and almost shit yourself.

Underneath the tree are four fully-grown adult males, all big and with guns strapped to their belts (seriously, why the fuck do humans run around with so many weapons on them when they’re so stupid?) and wearing blue uniforms.

Oh, shit. Dave told you to never trust the ones with the blue uniforms.

“We’re eating McDonald’s in a tree, officer,” Micah explains cheerfully.

“Can I ask why?” The one in the front glares up at you. You shrink back into the foliage as much as you can. Dave grabs your hand, squeezing tightly, and you squeeze back.

“Why not?”

“Can I see some I.D?”

“No. We’re not breaking any laws. This is public property.”

You stare in disbelief as Micah pulls out a fry and munches on it without a care in the world. Were they really not afraid? Did humans just… not fear their authority figures?

They can teleport. Of course they’re not afraid, you remind yourself.

“How many of you are up there?” another one asks.

“Three.”

“Are any of you armed?”

“No, sir.”

“Can you come down, please?”

“No, thanks. We’re fine where we are.”

“You guys want a cheeseburger? The lady who took our order gave me an extra,” Dave offers. “It’s got onions, though. Onions are nasty.”

The one farthest to the left says something into his walkie-talkie. Micah grins.

You know that grin. “What are you--”

“Hey, officers! Wanna see something cool?” they yell. “Watch this!”

They push off the branch they’re leaning on and lunge towards you and Dave. You barely have time to yelp before they’re grabbing your arm and zapping you guys out of there.

Delighted peals of laughter fills the whole apartment as you land face-first into Dave’s bed. You spit out a dirty sock that somehow ended up in your mouth and shove them off the end of the mattress, but you’re laughing too. You’ve never seen anything like that.

Dave looks over at you, gorgeous red eyes twinkling behind his shades and a big smile lighting up his respiteblock, and just for a moment, everything is perfect.

[vaultofqueenorion]

Review of The Handmaid’s Tale

This book hit me like a ton of bricks. I get a sick feeling every time I think seriously of it, and it chilled me all the way to the bone. And yet, it is such an incredible book, in all its psychological horror. I think the worst part is that I see attributes and slivers of the book in everyday life. There’s a truth to it, and it doesn’t ring hollow. 

Read the book. But read the book only if you can stomach it, because it is truly gruelling. I would never call this a good book. Interesting, observant, thought-provoking, yes. But it is not one that has ever or ever will bring me entertainment.

Trigger warnings / TW / Content warnings: the book goes into detached detail with rape, forced pregnancy, murder, hanging, angry mobs tearing apart living people, shootings, killings, massacres and total oppression. Do not read if you are sensitive to any of these subjects. 

The Title

The title befits the book in two ways; first, it is the tale of Offred (as we know her only), a handmaiden to the Commander. The Commander is likely Frederick R. Waterford, as is discussed in the epilogue of the book, but that is never confirmed. 

What is a handmaiden, you ask, if you have never seen the popular Hulu series or heard of the book. A handmaiden is a woman (girl in the book to remove agency) that is ‘bound’ to a married couple who are unable to conceive children - in the book, we hear only of the whereabouts of the handmaidens of the Commanders and their Wives. 

The handmaiden is stripped of her name, her family, her identity, and she has to serve the couple - she is forced to give them children in a twisted ritual that apparently has root in biblical texts. Basically, she is raped in the presence of the couple in order to bear children for barren women who could otherwise not do so. 

The title also refers to the name of the ‘item’ which is a series of cassettes written into a manuscript discussed at the conference of the ‘Twelfth Symposium on Gileadean Studies’ in the year 2195. 

It is a has-been; a recollection of the events recorded by the same woman from whom we read the story, and the speaker at the conference makes several jokes throughout his speech to keep the mood light and the audience entertained. 

It is a detached study in the history of America when it crumbled to a totalitarian patriarchal society that oppressed women in drastical terms and through drastic means. 

The Characters

Offred is meek yet strong-willed. Outspoken yet scared. It is as if she lives as a chameleon, never quite touching the ground of who she really is, but instead latching on to the world and society around her. 

The most remarkable thing about her is, in fact, her normality. She wonders, she becomes angry and yet she doesn’t do anything. Because what can one person do against overwhelming odds? When the other option is death, do you choose to live in submission?

The quote is one that I feel sums up her character. Instead of raging at the world like the heroes we see in stories, she tries to change the very core of her being to align with the wishes of new society. 

She does what many ordinary people would do, simply because fear is one damn powerful motivator. She feels she has no other choice. And she holds on to hope, throughout it all. Hope that she might - just might - see her daughter or her husband again. Hope that she might break free. 

We never do find out whether she finds absolution for that hope or not. 

The Commander lives a parallel life to the handmaidens. In all actuality it seems he lives a parallel life to the women of the dystopian world. He says that he wants Offred to have a pleasant or at least bearable existence, but what he does is that he gets her to indulge in things that he wants to do. He dresses her up and parades her around in secret bars where other girls are ‘working’ as if he owns her - which shows us that he kind of believes that he does. 

Even when he gives Offred something - a magazine - he doesn’t really think of how it is for her.

It is not only ignorance - it is also a lack of wanting to know. He simply doesn’t care enough about her existence to know that she cannot do so. Or he pretends to, playing the ‘good guy’ who doesn’t have anything to do with the hellscape Offred lives in. 

The thing is, this kind of ignorance is commonly participated in throughout society - just take a look at the men who say that they suddenly ‘understand how women feel’ when they pose as women online. Or the white people who ‘never knew how bad POC had it’ because they simply never bothered to look. 

It just hits a little too close to home, that’s all.

Serena Joy / the Commander’s wife is a chilling person. To be a woman, to see what is being done to other women, and yet still somehow hating them for it, as if it isn’t the higher up around her - including her own husband - who have orchestrated this. 

And then there’s this quote:

It does have several meanings to it. To Joy it means that she longs for children, that she wants them so badly that she will do anything in her power to get them. To Offred it means that if she cannot provide a strange family with children through rape, she will be shipped off to a faraway place where she will likely starve to death

Perspective, indeed.

Offred wants so desperately for her friend and the personification of the rebellion in her mind, Moira, to go out in a ball of fire. To burn the whole damn thing to the ground and either walk away, a cigarette in hand, or die trying. 

It seems that there is something in her that longs to be near her, as if Moira is the ideal that she strives towards, and when she never hears from her or sees her again, there is a melancholy and yet an emptiness to her words. 

She talks about their relationship once, before it all went to hell, and this quote is from that:

Luke. Luke, Luke, Luke. Offred misses Luke, and of course she does. He was her husband, the man she was waiting on while he cheated on his then partner, and the father of Offred’s daughter. And yet. 

I hated him so much. 

Just the mention of him sent spiders crawling down my spine, and really, the cheating was bad enough. Even worse was the small signs of misogyny - him saying that Offred losing her job was no big deal, that they would get through it together. Him joking with her about it - about how she could stay at home now, how he would have the power. 

No, I really didn’t like that casual display of superiority. 

Offred’s daughter is part of the next generation of Wives. Sent off to some lucky childless family, this eight year old girl will be groomed and bred into the oppression around her, and at some point, she will stop questioning the world. 

After all, as Aunt Lydia said to Offred:

Offred’s mother is a full-blooded feminist, which causes her to be shipped off to die early on. She’s an abortion advocate, and one of her most telling quotes is:

As a reply to when Offred in the past says that Luke’s teasings are nothing. But the mother understands. Understands the work that it has taken to get this far, and the work that needs to be done, lest they slip back into oppression.

And you know what? People languished in their complacency at the time of the coup, and the totalitarian society crept into the shadows, settling more and more and consuming the light as time passed by.

The Plot

The plot is really not the remarkable part of this story. Yes, Offred goes to town, befriends a fellow handmaid (this one is part of the resistance, peeps!), attends the ceremony, is taken to the Commander’s office, then later to the forbidden bar. 

The places aren’t so much important as what Offred observes. The small injustices, the doctors and scientists handing from the Wall, the Particicution in which the handmaids tear a man apart because he has allegedly raped someone (which is then told to be untrue; he is part of the resistance group, and handmaids murdering him with their bare hands is a good way for the totalitarian government to get rid of him). 

In truth, the handmaids have no real chance of getting themselves out, if they do not collaborate with Mayday, the resistance group. In truth, they are stuck in their miserable places, and that is why one of the earliest quotes from Offred is so chilling:

This is also why the handmaids live with the bare minimum of utilities - they are watched as they bathe, no light fixtures are present, matches are forbidden, knives unsupervised are forbidden. 

Because so many have killed themselves in desperation to get out of the hell that they have found themselves in. 

The Language

Margaret Atwood especially puts focus on the horror of the world that Offred lives in through two means; the conference / historical notes at the end of the story which brings a light and humorous view on the totalitarian society, and the on-the-verge-but-not-quite tone of hopelessness that Offred uses to describe her tales through. 

Aunt Lydia is often the catalyst for this kind of hopelessness. In the times where Offred tried to convince herself that this really is better. That the world is not quite as bleak, and that she actually has it better now than before.

It is a form of brainwashing that is already beginning to form. And what else can she do, one might think. She has to survive somehow. 

And yet, she brings herself to rekindle a fire once in a while. To open the lid on the anger, the resentment, the fierce cruelty of the world that she is faced with. It is something that she does internally, and one of the more prominent moments of this is when she is faced with the Commander in his office. 

The butter in this scenario refers to a tiny rebellion - an act of survival in a way that goes against the schemes and oppression of the world around the handmaidens. The most telling thing is that he laughs at her - as if the way of coping, the secret tips that are being shared between the handmaidens is nothing more than child’s play.

And it probably is to him. 

With a good standing, a good life and a sweet deal compared to the majority of this society that he helped create, he would never think to ‘stoop’ to such methods. 

The oppression is strong in this one, is all I have to say. 

Notes and worthy mentions

The Ceremony. Ooooh, the Ceremony. Of the most convoluted, terrible scenes I have ever had the displeasure of reading, this detached form of rape, explained as the rape is occuring, was terrifying and horrifying and I really, truly never want to read anything like it again.

Also, Offred calls it something else. She doesn’t want to call it rape, because she feels as if she had a choice - not much choice, but still choice. 

One thing that ticked me off was the mention of Mayday and the Underground Femaleroad - the latter a smuggling ring made to get the women out of their horrible positions. 

And the person at the historical conference calls it a Frailroad. Yes, it’s a shortening of female and road, but dang. And the worst thing is? It is totally realistic as to how it would probably be called - just look at how we treat the witch trials or say feminazi if a feminist speaks up about something that’s a ‘little too radical’. I call BS, is all, even if it just goes to show that Margaret Atwood knows what she’s doing when she writes. 

In conclusion

It is not a good book. It is magnificent in the way it portrays something that many women feel at least slivers of and amplifies them in a way that pierces your heart and leaves you dangling at its mercy. 

Books are meant to entertain, yes, but they are also meant to challenge, to inquire, and to make you think. Rarely has a book stayed with me for this long after I have read it, and rarely have I seen more parallels from the world we live in capable of being drawn to this hellscape that Margaret Atwood has created.

There is truth in this horrifically fantastic book. And this means that I cannot help but give it five paws out of five. The alternative would have been to have given it zero, but the thing is that I have seen society in such a new light after reading this that it wouldn’t have been fair. 

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 16 | Chapter 18 | AO3 link

“Die already!” Alya growls, furiously mashing the buttons on her controller.

“No can do, babe!” Nino mashes just as hard, trying desperately to keep up with his girlfriend. But she’s on the warpath and is out for blood, so there’s absolutely no chance of him getting any ground on her, and he’s soon utterly crushed by Alya, who whoops and punches the air.

“I never knew that Alya was so ruthless at Ultimate Mecha Strike III,” Adrien comments, his voice slightly warped by the phone speakers. Marinette just laughs.

“Why do you think I never play against her?” she says, turning her phone so that she can see Adrien’s face while still letting him see the gameplay. “She’s terrifying.”

“And I can never beat Marinette!” Alya snarls, already loading a rematch with Nino, who looks like he’d rather be akumatised thrice over than go up against her again.

“That’s because she’s super talented!” Adrien says. Marinette beams at the compliment, idly marvelling at how she can smile now at something said by Adrien that would’ve turned her into a hot, gooey mess only weeks ago. And it’s not like he doesn’t still make her insides shiver, but the more she focuses on being friendly without the looming pressure of asking him out, the softer those shivers become. Part of her misses the hot intensity of her feelings for him, but really, would she be interacting with him in this way if she was still a disaster around him? She’s become better friends with him over the past few weeks than she had in all the months of crushing so hard on him that she could barely talk to him. Hell, she’s even stroking his hair consistently now.

Who knows? Maybe those feelings will bear fruit someday. But as it is, Tikki had been totally right; she’s far closer to Adrien as friends than when she’d been stressing over asking him out. And if something does happen between the, at least she’s got a solid foundation of friendship to build on.

“I wish you could have come,” she sighs. “It’s not really a sleepover if you’re not actually sleeping over.”

“Father was pretty firm,” Adrien says, his smile fading. “And I didn’t want to push it. There’s a line between teenage rebellion and being outright disrespectful.”

“It’s probably wise to pick your battles,” Marinette agrees. “But still. Now Nino has to sleep on the floor alone because Mum and Dad are on the whole “no boys and girls together!” thing.” She makes a face and Adrien laughs.

“Can’t we talk about this?” Nino pleads. Alya just gives the most terrifying laugh that Marinette’s ever heard and proceeds to crush Nino, who drops his remote and throws his hands up.

“I think that’s the end of that,” Marinette says, her lips twitching at how Alya immediately loses her scary competitiveness and tries to cajole Nino into hugging her when he’s looking at her as though she’s an akuma. “Maybe we should do something that you can actually do with us.”

“I don’t mind watching,” Adrien says. “I mean, I wish I was there, but this is better than just sitting in silence.” He smiles at Marinette. “And at least I get to talk to you.”

Marinette grins back, wondering why his face suddenly morphs into a look of horror.

“Uh – and Alya and Nino – when they’re not playing their game – not that it’s not nice talking to you –”

A voice in the background on Adrien’s end halts his rambling in its tracks. He grimaces and drops his phone on his pillow, giving Marinette a wonderful view of his high bedroom ceiling as his footsteps cross over to his door.

“Adrien, your father has requested that you practice your current piece –”

“But I’ve already done my piano practice today!”

“Yes, but your father is dissatisfied with your progress. He feels that you should practice the piece a little more until you reach his standards.”

“Seriously? He won’t let me go to my friend’s sleepover and now he’s not even letting me be there by phone?”

“If it was up to me, I would be perfectly happy for you to continue talking to your friends. But it’s not up to me.”

Marinette desperately wants to jump in and say something but doing so will only make things worse for Adrien. Plus, he probably doesn’t even realise that he’s got an audience of not just Marinette but also Nino and Alya, whose bickering has ceased so that they can listen in too.

“You know what? No.”

“Adrien –”

“All I ever do is practice my piano and fencing and Chinese and model for him! And he can’t even let me hang out with my friends for one night!”

“Adrien, this is so unlike you –”

“What, like going to school was unlike me?”

“Those were exceptional circumstances –”

“Leave me alone.”

“But –”

“I don’t care what Father says! Tell him that it was all me and you tried your best. Just…leave me alone for the rest of the night.”

“Adrien –”

“Leave me alone!”

There’s silence for a few moments. Marinette bites her lip and exchanges a glance with Alya and Nino, who look just as worried as she does.

“I’ll tell your father that you’re coming down with something and feel too unwell,” Nathalie finally says.

“Thank you, Nathalie!”

“But be warned, he will expect more effort in the next few nights to make up for this.”

“I don’t care. Really. Just…thank you.”

There’s the sound of the door closing, followed by footsteps that gradually grow louder. Marinette has a brief bout of motion sickness when the phone is picked up, making the screen blur and move wildly until it refocuses on Adrien’s miserable face.

“You okay, dude?” Nino says. Adrien smiles, but it’s a weak effort.

“Sorry you guys had to hear that. Guess I didn’t hang up like I thought.”

“What Nino said,” Marinette says when she notices how pale Adrien is. “Are you okay?”

“Honestly? I think I’m about two seconds from a panic attack. I can’t remember the last time I’ve put my foot down like that.”

“Well, are you sure you can’t make it over here?” Alya says, while Marinette’s stomach lurches. “You shouldn’t have to be stuck there with a borderline panic attack just ‘cause your dad’s on a power trip.”

“I wish I could. But there’s no way out without my father seeing except through my window, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t survive the jump.”

Marinette briefly entertains the idea of turning into Ladybug and rescuing Adrien, but she has to force herself to think clearly. There’s no way she could explain how Ladybug found out about this so fast, not to mention that there’s no way she could explain her extended absence to Alya and Nino. Hell, she already pushes that enough during akuma attacks, and at least those are a convenient excuse. Her powerlessness right now makes her clench her fists. What good is she as Ladybug if she can’t help those who need it?

“Anyway,” Adrien says, pasting a grin on his face, “I’ll be fine so long as I can talk to you guys.”

“Do you at least know how to focus on your breathing?” Marinette says. “Five seconds in, hold for three, out for seven. Do it now, while we’re here.”

Adrien immediately obeys, sucking in a deep breath while Marinette counts to five, holding it, then releasing it while she counts to seven. After a minute or so, Adrien closes his eyes and sags.

“Thanks, Mari,” he mumbles. Marinette smiles at him.

“Any time!”

“I think I’ll be okay now if I keep my mind off it. What should we do next?”

“Anything but truth or dare,” Nino shudders. “Marinette and Alya get ruthless when they gang up on you.”

Marinette and Alya laugh together. The mood’s slowly starting to creep back to where it was before, but Marinette still can’t help but wish that there was more she could do for her friend than leaving him in his prison-like house and only having him over via phone call.

The next day, Adrien’s not at school, although Marinette’s not totally worried because he’d texted her beforehand to say that he’s being made to stay home due to Nathalie’s excuse of him coming down with something. Still, though, she can’t help but worry a little and that, mixed with her feelings of powerlessness, leaves her distracted all day. Especially since he’d also said that his phone was probably being taken for the day while he had lessons at home, so he hasn’t messaged her since his initial text and is therefore most likely unreachable.

“Marinette.” Ms Bustier’s voice snaps Marinette out of her haze. Marinette jumps and meets Ms Bustier’s eyes guiltily. “Please pay attention to the lesson.”

“Sorry!” Marinette says. Ms Bustier’s face softens.

“Are you feeling unwell? Do you need to be excused from class?”

“I…actually, now that you mention it, I do feel a bit sick.” It’s not like Marinette’s lying; her stomach really is rolling, and she hasn’t been able to concentrate all morning. Ms Bustier just can’t possibly know that it’s from anxiety over her friend rather than an actual illness.

“Alya, could you take Marinette to the nurse?” Ms Bustier says. “Marinette, if you still feel unwell after having a rest then please go home.”

“I’ll take her, Ms Bustier,” Chloé declares. The class goes dead silent. Ms Bustier is the first to recover.

“Thank you, Chloé, that’s very nice of you,” she says.

“I know,” Chloé says rather smugly. “I’m being super nice now. Come on, Dupain-Cheng.”

Although Marinette doesn’t trust Chloé at all, she can’t really say no when she’s the one showing Chloé how to be nice. So, rather than kick up a fuss, she swallows her words, packs up her things, and follows Chloé out of the classroom.

“What’s the deal, Chloé?” Marinette says when they’re walking down the corridor, Chloé strutting ahead of her. “If it was anyone other than me…”

“Because you’ve been a mess all day and Adrikins isn’t in class,” Chloé says. “I put it together. Something happened to him and you know what, and since he’s not answering my texts…”

“He probably doesn’t have his phone,” Marinette says. She explains what had happened the previous night, all the while wondering why she’s confiding in Chloé like they’re friends or something, and Chloé doesn’t look anywhere near happy by the end of her explanation.

“Cute,” Chloé drawls. “You’ve worried yourself sick over your friend. At least it’s not something super serious like I thought.”

“Nothing super serious? How can you say that?”

“Because his father’s like this all the time. It’s not like I’m happy, but at least I know it’s not something like having a broken leg or me needing to destroy whoever hurt him or something.”

Marinette totally doesn’t buy that. “Rubbish! After you let Adrien take the fall for what you did twice, pretending like you care is a total new low for you, Chloé. You don’t care about him at all, do you, you just see him as some trophy –”

Chloé’s hand shoots out to grab Marinette’s wrist and yank her down the next corridor and into the girl’s bathroom. “Don’t you even dare go there, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé hisses, squeezing Marinette’s wrist as the door slams shut behind them. “I’m trying to be nice so that my best friend will talk to me again, so don’t you even think of implying that he’s just a shiny thing to me. I just…didn’t realise how special he was until he stopped talking to me for good. I didn’t realise that I was treating him like shit as well as all you peasants since, you know, that’s my default.”

An awkward silence falls over them. Chloé clears her throat and lets go of Marinette, then deliberately wipes her hand on her jacket. Marinette stares at Chloé with a tilted head.

“Are you really in love with him?” she says. Chloé just sniffs and looks away. “You can tell me, Chloé. I’m the last person who’d go telling everyone your private information.”

“You hate me, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé snaps. “I hate you. Forgive me if I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t hate you,” Marinette says. “Not since you asked me for help. I’ve actually been…impressed at how you’re really trying to be nice. I don’t like you, but I don’t hate you. And even if I did hate you, I wouldn’t go spreading around anything that you tell me in private.”

Chloé stares at her for a long moment, then sighs. “You’re, like, the one person I can actually believe wouldn’t do that to me,” she mutters. “Stupid, goodie-two-shoes Marinette Dupain-Cheng. No, I’m not in love with Adrien, okay? He’s like my brother. But I don’t want anyone else to get near him.”

“Why? If you’re really that close, you can’t possibly believe that he’d abandon you for someone else, right?”

“He did!” Chloé clenches her fists and stomps her foot. “He left me for – for you! And that Ladyblogger and weird DJ!”

“Only because you were being mean and he knew that he had the power to push you to become a nicer person,” Marinette counters.

“Exactly! Now I’m stuck turning myself into some fake, nice, smiley person that I’m not just to get my friend back!”

Marinette’s face softens as she regards Chloé, who snarls and looks away, crossing her arms. “Then don’t do it for Adrien,” Marinette says. “That’s what I’ve been telling you. Find a reason why you want to be nice.”

“I don’t have a reason! Don’t you get it? Why should I want to be nice when I can get everything I want anyway?”

“You didn’t end up being class president. You’re always getting kidnapped by akumas with a vendetta. No one apart from Sabrina and Adrien likes you, and Sabrina’s more of a servant than a friend. Those are three good reasons.”

“Whatever, miss perfect know-it-all. Come on, we’re supposed to be at the nurse’s office.”

As Chloé storms for the door, Marinette scrambles for one last line of reasoning as to why Chloé should keep being nice. Finally, as Chloé’s pushing the door open, Marinette blurts out, “What about Ladybug?”

Chloé freezes. “What about her?”

“You’re her number one fan, right? Well…why not do it so you can be the kind of person Ladybug would love to have as her number one fan?”

“Are you implying that she doesn’t see me or want me as her number one fan?” Chloé arches an eyebrow as she turns, letting the door slam shut again. Marinette gulps. Now she has to be careful with how she navigates this, or she’ll end up either outing herself or offending Chloé into hating Ladybug again.

“I never said that,” Marinette says slowly. “Look, if you truly can’t do it for yourself, do it to become a person that Ladybug would be proud of. I know I try every day to strive to be the kind of person that Ladybug would approve of. And once you’re in the habit of being nice, who knows? Maybe you’ll find that you really do enjoy having people like you and want to do nice things for you because they like you and not because they fear you.”

“Hmph.” Chloé crosses her arms. “Well, she did totally praise me for being nice and helpful at my party. Whatever. Come on, Dupain-Cheng. You’re supposed to be sick.”

“You could start being nicer by calling me by my first name,” Marinette says as she follows Chloé out of the bathroom. Chloé snorts.

“Over my dead body, Dupain-Cheng.”

[bittykimmy13]

Lineup (GT Horror)

WARNING: This story contains ideologically sensitive material and dehumanization in a GT context.

Welcome to the Print/Trinket universe! Where rebellion against the society is punished with size change. This is a universe Maggie and I have been quietly developing for a while and hope to publish books about one day!! Characters belong to me and the lovely @little-miss-maggie

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

Every day was a fight to live to see the next, and there were no days off. Cleo was still shivering from her ordeal that night. A customer had plopped her into his drink—a glass deep enough to force her to swim amongst the ice. Her muscles ached. Her lungs burned. Her skin was lined with goosebumps of disgust, refusing to forget the sensation of those grinning lips and teeth brushing against her, teasing her. She hadn’t seen his face. She’d learned within the first few days that it was easier on her psyche to not look, even if James glowered at her for not aiming a stupid smile at the customers. Rubbing her arms up and down, she rested her chin on her knees. Her dress was strapless and short, barely clearing her butt. Her outfit wouldn’t be replaced until it was unpleasant to look at. Didn’t matter that it was wearing thin and stank of alcohol. Her hair received the same treatment—as long as her emerald locks were still bright and bouncy, how dirty she felt was irrelevant.

She peered around the terrarium. There was quiet sobbing here and there, murmurs of comfort. Nothing new. The mounting whispers were more troubling, the tension that traveled from one person to the next. Someone passed the message on to Susie, who whimpered and pulled her fingers through the tips of her neon green hair. She hurried over to Cleo and knelt down to whisper in a shaky voice. “Look alive. James is making space for fresh faces tonight.” Cleo took a deep breath. “Thanks for the heads up.” Susie nodded and went off to the next person, stammering through the relayed message. Out of the corner of her eye, Cleo spotted a figure huddled in the corner of the terrarium. He hadn’t spoken much, but she’d heard his name was Martin and that he used to be human. Those ones always took the longest to adjust, if they ever did. Cleo would know. But it wasn’t easy to walk up to someone new and empathize, especially knowing that someone could be here one day and gone the next. Before she could decide whether to warn him or not, the storage room door unlocked and creaked open. Everyone fell silent. Massive footsteps trailed close and came to a stop. The top of the terrarium flew away. James leaned over the opening, a sinister smile on his face. Cleo glanced up at him only briefly before bringing her eyes to the floor. The longer she looked, the longer it would take to pull herself together. She wanted nothing more than to clap her hands over her ears when his voice purred down at her and the others. “Hello, lovelies.” A pleasant voice. A horrible, pleasant voice of a person who knew he was a heartthrob, so long as no one looked right beneath the surface. His tone darkened and he snapped, “Line up, all of you!” Everyone hurried to get in a row. Cleo stared straight ahead, feeling as though everyone’s hearts were pounding in sync. There were about two dozen of them. Two dozen terrified people who had no choice but to do exactly what they were told, no matter what. There were those who stood a little straighter, a little more confident than the others. Those were the favorites who were specifically requested by customers, the ones who made James the most tip money. They were safe, as long as he didn’t take too much of a liking to them. Martin came up beside her in the line. Though he faced forward, Cleo could feel him trying to catch her gaze from the corner of his eye. “What’s happening?” he breathed. “I thought the bar was closed already. W-what does he want?” Cleo clenched her jaw and didn’t answer, lest she draw attention to herself. She peeked up and found James looking down the line appraisingly. Without warning, his hand dove into the terrarium. He grabbed one of the guys from the other end of the line. The man writhed and screamed. “No, please! I’ll do better! I’ll do better, I swear!” James ignored his pleas and tucked him into his front shirt pocket. The screams were more than muffled—they were practically non-existent behind the layers of James’ jacket and shirt. “What’s happening?” Martin demanded in a tighter voice, looking to either side of him. No one answered, and thankfully, James didn’t seem to take notice of the whispering. His eyes were set instead on the middle of the line. He reached out again at a leisurely speed this time. A shriek rang out before he could grab his target. The trinket broke away from the line and started running. Cleo turned to see; she couldn’t help it once she recognized the voice. A head of bright green hair bobbed away into the corner. Susie only made it that far because James allowed it. He rested his elbow on the edge of the terrarium and propped his chin in his hand, watching with amusement as she searched desperately for some opening in the glass to slip through. “Should’ve been so lively this weekend, beautiful,” James said. “It’s your own fault for waiting until your number’s up to be so energetic.” Reaching out, he cornered her with his hand. She sobbed and dodged around his fingers, but he effortlessly snagged her ankle. Her scream flew with her as he plucked her up. She kicked her other leg wildly and tried to fold herself upward to pry her ankle out from between his fingers. James brought her up in front of his eyes and gave his hand a little shake that made her unfold and dangle to his satisfaction. Each breath that flew from her lips was a gasping scream. She swiped at his face desperately. He laughed and leaned in closer to let her hit the bridge of his nose inconsequentially. “You'll be a fun one, won't you?” He lowered Susie near his mouth and gave a nauseatingly sensual growl, snapping his teeth just short of her flailing hand. Had she swung her arm out a little farther, that hand would have been pulverized. Pulling open his jacket pocket, he held her high over it. When he released her, he watched her descent with a mirthful smile and proceeded to smooth his hand down over the tiny, struggling bump she created. Never did he put trinkets into the same pocket. Cleo heard the isolation was to ensure that none of them helped each other escape. Others said it was a sick power move, feeling those helpless little struggles all across his torso. With that satisfied smirk on his face, she wouldn’t doubt it. He took another girl—a quiet pink-haired one who Cleo had never even heard speak. Customers had sent her back more than once, complaining that she was a bore. The girl didn’t even react to being chosen, her expression utterly vacant when she was lifted away and tucked into the other jacket pocket. It was amazing she had lasted as long as she did. “One more,” James murmured, contemplating the row of remaining trinkets. The near-hypothermia from that night must have been making Cleo slap-happy, because she nearly burst out laughing at the idea that James’ roving eyes created a traveling wave of tension throughout the line much like a stadium wave at a sporting event. She clenched her jaw to swallow a snicker, but any threat of laughter was doused when she saw James’ eyes had settled on her. Their gazes locked, and the little smile of acknowledgement that quirked at the corner of his lips made her want to puke. He stared. She couldn’t breathe. Her muscles tensed, prepared to send her charging with nowhere to run or hide. A whimper coiled at the back of her throat. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. “You can’t do this!” Martin. Stupid Martin, who couldn’t realize in that moment that he was the reason Cleo would live to see another miserable day. James turned his attention away from Cleo, intrigue lighting up his eyes like a kid who found an extra present under the Christmas tree. “What was that?” James said. Everyone seemed to hold their breaths as one. Cleo swallowed hard, pressing her lips into a thin line as silent tears finally sprang from her eyes and ran down her face. “Y-you… you’re not allowed to take trinkets with you,” Martin stammered. “It’s illegal!” James barked out a laugh that made everyone in line flinch. “Illegal? The reason you’re here is because you did something illegal. I can do whatever the fuck I want with you—gotta clear space for new merchandise somehow, right?” His eyes raked Martin up and down. “Like merchandise that I don’t want to risk mouthing off at customers.” His hand lunged down, bumping hard against Cleo as his fingers shut tight around Martin and lifted him away. She stood up swiftly and got back in line with an empty space beside her, trembling. Through her fleeting gazes upward, she caught glimpses of James shoving Martin’s struggling form into the pocket of his slacks. “Hope you all learned a little something tonight.” James took the lid of the terrarium and lowered it. He crouched to peer in at them, tapping on the glass. “Make an effort, and maybe you’ll get to stick around for a good, long time. Goodnight, lovelies.” He latched the lid shut, left the room, and locked the door behind him. Breaking out of formation, other trinkets either sighed with relief or whimpered at the loss of a friend. Cleo stood stock-still, as if James might come back to take her if she so much as blinked. After a minute, someone came over to ask if she was alright. She made a choked noise, buried her face into her hands, and screamed.

[missmarquin]

This Magic Moment

It's the 60's, and there are rules. You aren't supposed to fall in love with your guy friend, and you definitely aren't supposed to dance with him at prom. Modern AU, Sylvix Week day 3, Oneshot. @sylvix-week

Read on A03 for better formatting!

Modern AU // Fairytales // Letters

...

“It’s a good color on you,” Dimitri says, his lips twitching into a smile.

Sylvain hears Felix scoff before he answers. “Shut up, boar. What would you know?”

He hasn’t looked yet, but Dimitri is probably right. Felix is one of those guys that can wear just about anything, and make it look good. Well, once you look past the tired bags under his eyes and permanent scowl etched deep into his face.

Really, quite fetching once you get used to the look of him.

“I would have preferred black,” Felix snaps.

Dimitri hums at that. “Well your father--”

“I know what my Father said.” There’s some shuffling of fabric and then a small hiss of annoyance. “I was there.” A pause. “Sylvain.”

Ah, his cue. He adjusts his jacket before stepping out of the dressing area. “It’s a little tight, but the color is--”

Felix is wearing a cream-colored suit, impeccably tailored. One can’t drop a cool two hundred dollars and not expect it to be so. But the slim cut is an unusual one that fits his friend, and the off-white pairs well with his inky, dark locks. It hugs him in the right ways, lengths his legs and--

Sylvain swallows thickly.

Felix rakes his eyes over him and tsks. “Of course you would pick something so flashy .”

He glances down, rubbing his fingers over the material nervously. Burgundy isn’t flashy, he thinks. Then he wonders why he even cares about Felix’s opinion to begin with, but that’s been an oddity that happens a lot lately. “Mercedes showed me the dress she bought,” he replies with. “This’ll pair nicely.”

Felix humphs at that, but says no more. It’s all about propriety, they both know. They’re high standing and important figures, with deep pockets and expectations to follow through with. Sylvain won the argument about going to the dance with something so beneath him , but his father won’t expect anything less than perfection at the end all of things.

So yeah, the burgundy will go very nicely with Felix’s-- he swallows again, dislodging that thought immediately-- with Mercedes ’ dress.

“It doesn’t go with your hair,” Felix finally says. “It clashes.”

Good . The suit will match his date, but there’s still enough rebellion to drive his father mad--

“But… it looks good,” the other man finishes, relenting.

Sylvain halts at that, looking towards Felix. He’s turned away though, staring at himself in the mirror. Sylvain knows, he knows that all he sees is Glenn staring back at him. Felix can’t hide the downturn of his lips, or his sudden bad mood.

Neither Sylvain nor Dimitri comment on it. “Thanks, Fe,” he finally answers.

Felix lips twitch into a subtle smile, and there’s a pang through Sylvain’s heart. It’s a new feeling, whatever this is, and he’s not sure he likes it.

So he doesn’t dwell on it.

Mercedes is Goddess-sent, Sylvain decides.

Her adoptive father drops her off at his home, and even though she’s never been there, she doesn’t gawk.

She’s soft and pretty, and everything a boy wants. Hair like a summer day, carefully pulled into a neat little bun at her neck. Minimal make-up that only enhances her natural beauty. The gentle pastel of her pink dress, matches her skin tone well, and there’s a healthy glow to her cheeks.

His father stands to the side, his lips pulling into a terse frown as he surveys the girl. He hasn’t chased her off yet, so… so far so good. But Sylvain can see the gears turning in his head, already looking for an out.

His mother reaches out, all smiles and cooing, taking Mercedes’ hands into her own for a gentle squeeze. His date responds in kind.

Sylvain doesn’t want to marry Mercedes; he doesn't dream of a future with her. She’s kind and sweet, and perfect to just enjoy the company of. His parents only see dating as a purpose though, and they level her with a critical eye.

Eventually she’s tugged to his side, his arm around her shoulders and her hand against his chest. He was right of course, his suit and her dress work perfectly together. They look good .

But it feels empty.

There’s a flash of an instant camera, as his mother titters excitedly and his father’s jaw locks hard in displeasure. Sylvain waves it all off, tugging her through the door.

“I’m sorry,” he fumbles, not like himself. He’s usually calm and collected, but as of late he’s not himself. His parents bring out the worst in him. He opens the passenger door of his Mustang, shuffling her in.

“Whatever for?” she asks, that kind smile she’s so known for ever present on her lips.

“My parents.”

“Sylvain, there’s nothing to apologize for,” she says. “I understand.”

Right. She gets it, the expectation of marrying well and being useful . Her situation isn’t the same exactly, but it’s not far off. But they’ve bonded over it as friends, and it’s always lurking between them. It feels cruel to be thankful for it. He takes her hand gently, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, before pulling it to his lips and kissing it gently.

Her smile widens, and he thinks for a second, if he has to marry someone, she really wasn’t a bad choice.

But there’s nothing there; there’s no spark.

He doesn’t know why it disappoints him so.

Felix squirms uncomfortably, and Ingrid looks just as miserable by his side.

Sylvain knows that a prom really isn’t his kind of event, but as a Fraldarius , he’s expected to go. Ingrid regards him with a calculated fondness because she loves Felix-- they all did-- but it’s different for her. She doesn’t see Felix, she sees Glenn. Even if he’s a shorter, longer-haired version with a penchant for looking constantly aggravated, the resemblance is there.

Ingrid looks at him like he’s the whole moon , but it’s outshined by the utter sadness that settles beside it.

The food is gross, the punch isn’t spiked yet, and while the band is good, they aren’t playing anything worth while. So the four of them sit at a table in silence, watching Dimitri from afar as he flirts with one of their teachers.

 They’ve been there for more than an hour, indulging in only a few dances drowned in awkwardness. Sylvain watches as Ingrid reaches out, trying to grasp Felix’s hand, but he pulls away, barely holding back a snarl.

She yanks back, like she’s been burned, excusing herself for the bathroom.

Oh Goddess, this is by far the worst time he’s ever had, anywhere . It’s painful to watch.

When Dimitri finally comes back, balancing several cups of punch, he regards the table with confusion. “Where’s Ingrid?”

Felix loses it then. He finally snaps, cutting through that thread that’s been wearing thinner and thinner and thinner since the moment they stepped through those gymnasium doors. He stands abruptly, pushing out from the table and stalking right out the entrance.

Dimitri blinks, Sylvain sighs and Mercedes reaches out for his hand that’s settled in his lap. Her fingers are warm and soft, and when he looks to her, she’s smiling.

“Go after him,” she says.

“He doesn’t need a babysitter,” Sylvain replies, a little sour. He absolutely wants to though. He wants to comfort him, because Felix hurts , he’s hurt for a long time. And he wants to fix it.

“That isn’t what I implied.”

“His father was wrong to make him ask her.”

Mercedes’ hums at that. “Yes,” she agrees.

“And Ingrid was wrong to accept.”

“She cares for Felix,” Mercedes reminds him.

“We all do, but it’s not as if she actually see him. It’s clear on her face, she’s still--” But Sylvain can’t finish the sentence, because even three years later, Glenn’s death is a wound still as fresh as the day it happened.

For Felix, most of all.

“It’s unfair to him,” Sylvain finally sighs. He leans back in the hard folding chair, his head hanging as he stares at the ceiling blankly.

“Yes, it is.” It’s surprising that she agrees with him. “But in the end, appearances are all that matter.” Sylvain is taken aback by the lack of sincerity in her voice. It’s rare that Mercedes crafts a hardened edge for herself, but when she does… well, she’s scary.

Sylvain blinks and looks back to her, taking in her terse smile. Suddenly, her hand seems cold on his.

“I would say that Ingrid doesn’t know any better, but I’d be wrong. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and that’s why it hurts her as well.”

Well . She’s not wrong. Ingrid doesn’t like seeing Glenn every time Felix comes into focus. But she can’t help it, and she allows it to continue.

“Go after him,” she says again, quietly.

Sylvain lets out a dark chuckle. “I don’t know what kind of difference I will make.”

“I think that you do.” Her smile shifts into something secretive, and he opens his mouth to retort, but nothing happens. Words fail him.

It’s that feeling again, that pang through his heart, the one that he really, really wants to ignore. But he can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t--

A look of panic must flash across his face, because she squeezes his hand. “Sylvain,” she says softly. “It’s okay .”

He doesn’t think it is, but he goes to Felix anyway.

He finds Felix directly outside by the track. The doors to the gym are still open, and they can hear laughter and music floating from it, but it’s otherwise lonely. He’s pulled off his jacket, having thrown it over a bleacher. His tie has been loosed, pulled half apart and hanging limply below his throat.

“Hey,” Sylvain says.

Felix reels. “She--” he starts, but then stops. Even as angry as he is, he can’t find anything bad to say. He won’t say anything bad, because deep down, he knows that Ingrid hurts just as much .

“It’s okay,” Sylvain says, remembering Mercedes’ words. He says them with a different context, but they still feel right.

“Your date is inside,” Felix snaps instead. “You shouldn’t leave her.”

“Mercie is fine,” Sylvain says. “She sent me out here.”

Felix scoffs at that, and Sylvain winces. Okay, not the right thing to say .

“There’s no point in wasting your time out here with me.”

Sylvain isn’t prepared for how sad those words make him feel, because he cannot think of anywhere else he’d rather be. He steps forward, reaching out and grabs Felix’s wrist. He doesn’t mean to, really. He doesn’t think about it, it’s just instinct.

Felix freezes, body tense as he looks back at him.

Sylvain blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Dance with me.”

What .

“ What? ” But Felix doesn’t sound angry, he sounds surprised. His eyes narrow and Sylvain swallows, practically choking on his own spit.

Goddess he’s stupid. Why the fuck did he say that?

Instead, Sylvain says, “We can hear the music out here. Dance with me.”

Sylvain expects for him to hiss and snap back with an Idiot , but Felix replies dumbly with, “Okay.”

Oh Goddess what now .

But it’s easy, reaching out with his other hand. Felix turns and takes his hand. It’s not awkward, at least, not really. The only awkward thing is the heavy pounding of his heart and the nervous sweat breaking out on his palms, but everything about this feels right .

Music wafts out from the gymnasium and they turn slightly. It’s stilted as they try and find their steps, but Sylvain chuckles at it. Felix tsks , like he always does, but adjusts his footing slightly as his hand winds up to Sylvain’s shoulder.

Felix looks uncomfortable, pulling away slightly. “Look, I--”

This magic moment, so different and so new--

They pause at the song wafting from inside.

“I like this song,” Sylvain says quietly, pulling Felix back to him. “It’s a new one.”

“Sylvain--”

Sylvain won’t tell you that he can sing because he doesn’t like to, but he hums along with the chorus and Felix falls quiet. They don’t move much, just swirl in a circle slightly and--

Sylvain doesn’t want this to end, he realizes. “You look handsome tonight.” He tugs lightly at the undone tie and Felix scowls.

“Don’t joke.”

“I’m not.” He grips Felix’s chin, lifting it slightly as they sway. “She’s being unfair to you,” Sylvain continues finding his other hand, lacing their fingers together. Felix’s hand is calloused from fencing, but it’s warm. And Sylvain likes holding it. A lot. “You know that I never will be.”

Felix stops abruptly, nearly tripping him. “ Sylvain ,” he says quietly, and he can feel Felix’s adam’s apple bob against his fingers as he swallows. “You are being unfair.”

Sweeter than wine, softer than the summer night. Everything I want I have, whenever I hold you tight--

Felix swallows again, and Sylvain rubs at the skin along his jaw.

“ Felix ,” he starts.

“Just fucking do it, if you’re going to.”

Sylvain hesitates. Felix doesn’t. Felix lets go of his him, grabbing Sylvain by the face, yanking him down. Sylvain is surprised, nearly tripping, but then there’s Felix’s lips and oh--

Fuck.

Sylvain’s kissed a lot of girls before, but they’re shy and timid, and nothing like the harsh lines and strong shoulders of Felix under his grip. The other man threads his fingers into Sylvain’s coat, pressing against him insistently and he just falls into the embrace.

Yeah, it takes about half a second for Sylvain to kiss back, and yeah it’s absolutely worth it. His lips are soft, and he’s all breathy, and Sylvain feels the blood start to pool within him. His hand comes up, slinking into Felix’s hair, pulling at it lightly. He angles his face different, slipping his tongue in and--

Felix pulls back to breathe, red-faced and embarrassed, eyes shining bright as he comes down from the contact high. Sylvain paws at his face, smoothing his fingers across his jaw, brushing back his bangs, trying to touch literally every inch of skin that he can, and Felix just sinks into it.

“Wow,” Sylvain sputters. “I mean-- Fe, I… Wow .”

“Just--” Felix breathes, chest heaving as he tries to gather himself, “Tell me that I didn’t waste that. Please.”

“Waste-- No .” Sylvain traps his cheeks between his hands, pressing their foreheads together. “Goddess Felix, you have no idea how hard it’s been to fight this.”

Because of his family. Because he’s the heir to the Gautier Fortune. Because he’s supposed to marry high and young, have children and carry on his so called duty.

It hurts, that he’s loved Felix for so long, and he didn’t even realize it until recently.

“Ingrid is stupid, but so are you,” Felix accuses.

“Yeah,” Sylvain replies, tilting his head to kiss below the other man’s ear.

“You’ve worn a different girl on your arm every week, for years .”

“Not my most stellar moments.” He kisses Felix’s jaw.

“And this is?” Felix asks, and the question burns through Sylvain hot like a coal. He pulls back again, surveying him, looking into the depths of those amber brown eyes. This is what he’s been missing, he realizes.

“Didn’t you hear the song? This magic moment--”

Felix pushes at him, but Sylvain is like a rock in his arms. He doesn’t budge. He presses his thumb against his cheek gently, before ghosting along his lips. “Felix, it goes without saying that I love you.”

“ Idiot ,” Felix says, but it’s good natured and--

Sylvain kisses him again, this time slower and softer. Felix throws his arms around his neck, clinging to him like he’s afraid that he’ll disappear. Sylvain hums that stupid song under his breath, but he loves it, he loves everything about this.

When they finally go back inside the table, he knows they haven’t fooled anyone. They’re red faced with swollen lips and ruffled suit jackets. Dimitri won’t look him in the eye, just babbling awkwardly. Mercedes has that knowing grin on her face, that damn woman and Ingrid--

Ingrid must have gone after Felix eventually and saw the two of them, because when she meets Sylvain’s gaze, she mouths a simple Thank you.

He smiles, full and genuine and he feels his heart soar, before he mouths it back.

[boysdontcryblood]

Chapter Three

[warnings for reform school setting, authority figures abusing their power, non-corporal punishment; this chapter has quite a lot of verbal abuse]

. + . + . + . + . + . + .

Ben paused halfway through writing I will not trespass. for probably the hundredth time. Would they even notice if he wrote something just a bit different? He drew a tiny frowny face in the place of the O and went on with writing more repetitions of the line. The little rebellion almost made him smile, but the reality of the pointless punishment was impossible to ignore.

As if writing this shit down was supposed to force them to follow the rules.

Ben sighed and looked up at the front of the room, where Mrs. Graves was staring straight at him with her eyes narrowed.

“Sit up straight, Benjamin,” she snapped.

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered and adjusted his posture. Slightly. The seat was uncomfortable no matter what he did. Like hell was he going to sit with his back straight in it. He went back to writing.

The room was quiet save for the scratching of their pencils on paper and the ticking of the clock on the wall. Awsten and Otto weren’t there; probably in another room dealing with Old Bastard Steele. Or making Steele deal with them.

Time crawled on. Ben hid a couple more little faces in the lines. His hand was aching and he wanted to stop, but one glance at Patty in his peripheral vision made him keep going.

Better to get this over with.

There was a rustling noise behind him, where Ali was sitting. Without thinking, Ben started to turn his head to look.

“Face the front!” Mrs. Graves snapped.

Ben slumped back into his original position in the stiff-backed chair. Whatever.

“Alistair, you aren’t done yet,” Mrs. Graves said, walking down the aisle between the rows of empty desks. Ben noticed Patty tensing up as she passed between them. Her heels clicked on the floor with each step she took, forceful and harsh. “Resume your task immediately.”

“Sorry,” Ali said in a low voice behind Ben. The rustling noise resumed for a second. “It’s cold.”

“Deal with it.”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”

“And sit up straight, Benjamin,” she added as the sound of her heels came back towards Ben. “Unless you’d like to write out more lines?”

Ben didn’t reply, but he reluctantly sat up again. He was already looking forward to getting back to his and Patty’s dorm room later so he could lie down on his mattress, however shitty it was. He made a tiny face with little Xs for eyes in the next repetition of the stupid sentence he wrote.

Once they were done, Mrs. Graves took the papers from them. Ben silently dared her to look more closely at his to find the plethora of tiny faces sticking their tongues out. But she was only looking at the top one: Ali’s.

“Report to Sergeant Steele in Room 129,” she said, dropping the papers on the desk behind her. “He’ll handle the rest of your remedial study.”

Fuck. Ben couldn’t hold back the grimace at that. And unfortunately Mrs. Graves was only a few feet away from him.

“Not looking forward to it, are we, Benjamin?” she said, her lips curling in a rather cruel smirk.

“No. Ma’am.”

“Then I suggest you not go slinking around areas of the school that are off limits to students,” she said. “Obey the rules, and your time here will be more pleasant. That goes for all three of you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Patty said.

Ben left the room before he could do anything else to piss off the evil old bat. Once he, Patty, and Ali were a safe enough distance away, he groaned loudly.

“That wasn’t great,” he said. “I’m sorry, we should have left that room sooner—”

“It’s not your fault,” Patty said. “You had no way of knowing. And I was the one who screamed.”

“You had good reason for that,” Ali muttered.

Ben opened his mouth to argue— whatever, the room was spooky inside, but literally every room in this fucked up school was creepy— but he shut his mouth, remembering the genuine panic on Patty’s face. Seeing that had been enough to freak Ben out back in the room, even if he had no idea what could have caused such a reaction.

Maybe one of the rat skeletons?

They arrived at Room 129 and Ben’s stomach lurched with dread. Yeah, it was better to get this over with, but… god, it was going to suck. Whatever the old ex-military bastard was going to make them do today. The not knowing made it even worse.

“It’ll be alright,” Patty said in a soft whisper.

Ben turned to look at him. Patty was smiling, and he reached out to grasp both Ben and Ali’s hands, squeezing them for a moment. Ben felt the fear and tension in his chest ease up.

It would be alright. They’d be together at least.

Patty let go of their hands and strode forwards to open the door. Ben wanted to chase after the lost touch, but before he could move, the door was open.

“You again,” Sergeant Steele said.

He was standing at the far end of the room in front of the huge blackboard with his intimidating message of the day on it.

PAIN IS THE GREATEST TEACHER.

Otto, Awsten, and three other boys were all standing in a lineup in the middle of the room. There were no desks or chairs anywhere. The walls were decorated with pictures of muscled soldiers in uniform, more quotes about masculinity and discipline, and thinly veiled military propaganda. Ben could barely hide his disgust at it all.

He hated this room. He hated Sergeant Steele. He hated the school that allowed— and encouraged— this shit to happen. All in the name of “fixing troubled boys” like him. Yeah right.

Ben dragged himself into place in the line. Steele walked down the line, pausing to glare and taunt each one of them in turn. Starting with the boys Ben wasn’t familiar with and working his way down to Ben, Patty, and Ali’s end.

“You think something’s funny, Otto? We’ll see if you’re still smiling like that in two hours.”

Fuck. Two hours?? Ben tried not to look too nervous as Steele drew closer.

“Excited about spending more time with your partner in crime here?” he said, eyeing Awsten. “Guess again. Otto, move to the end of the line.”

Otto moved, but he did so in an obnoxiously slow manner. Probably to piss Steele off.

“Still won’t cut your damn hair, Ben?” he said when he stopped in front of Ben. “Jesus, you look like a fucking girl.”

Ben forced himself to remain quiet, like everyone else had. The second time he ended up here with Awsten, the other boy had made the mistake of talking back to Steele. It was about something completely pointless, about how Awsten didn’t like the all-black uniform.

It had not ended well for them that day. Three hours of mowing and raking and pulling thorny weeds and hauling old rotting logs at the edge of the school property.

Steele shook his head in disgust. “No, you’re too ugly to be a girl.” He moved on to Patty next.

“What, you gonna cry, Patrick?”

Ben’s hands clenched into fists. To his right, Awsten very obviously turned his head towards Steele’s back. He stuck out his tongue at Steele and waved his middle finger at him. Idiot.

“Boys don’t cry. Guess I got it wrong, you’re the biggest girl here, not Goldilocks over there.”

Ben’s fists shook. It was getting difficult to remind himself why he shouldn’t get out of line to punch Steele. But one look at the man did the job: the guy would crush him. And he’d be delighted at the opportunity to do so in front of the rest of the boys.

Ben tried to force his anger down. He tried to just let things happen around him. This would all be over soon. They’d get through this in two hours— hopefully less— and they’d all gather in his and Patty’s dorm after this to… recover. Yeah.

Steele moved on to Ali.

Steele went to the front of the room to deliver a harsh speech about the necessity of discipline. Ben didn’t listen to a word of it.

Finally, Steele revealed that the punishing task that day would be cleaning the school’s tall narrow windows. He took them all to a closet with supplies and made sure that Awsten and Otto were as far as possible from each other the whole time. They moved from room to room, hallway to hallway in relative silence, apart from Steele barking his instructions and criticisms of their work.

Ben tried to stick close to Patty, but he didn’t get a chance to say a word with Steele hovering around.

After two hours, Ben’s knuckles were painfully red and on the verge of cracking and bleeding. Ali and Patty were in the same shape. They returned to the dorm hallways without a word between the three of them.

It was miserable. And the miserable feeling persisted when Ali and Patty both sat down on Patty’s bed.

But when Ben pulled out a jar of healing hand cream, both Ali and Patty’s faces broke into matching smiles, and Ben felt the warm spark of hope burning in his chest again.

[simone-garnett]

you haven't heard about the toni might be jealous of cher0sie's friendship bs?

oh please for the love of god, please tell me you’re joking.

the only way i will accept such a horrible plotline is if toni decides she needs to be friends with josie outside of their shared connection to cheryl because she doesn’t want to feel this way. and then they slowly fall in love, but they both care for cheryl and don’t want to hurt her so they secretly pine for the other.

and at first they don’t know how the other feels and its unrequited pining on both sides but then something happens, josie’s rebellion against her mum going a step too far, and she calls toni for comfort. She expects toni to roll her eyes and tease her and make her feel better, but she doesn’t get that, not at all. toni’s so furious at her for being reckless with her life and they have a shouting match in an abandoned carpark somewhere and they get all close and intense and then toni lets out a ‘because i love you, that’s why!!’ and it steals josie’s breath away. toni and cheryl had seemed like the perfect couple and she felt horrible for falling for her friend’s girlfriend but she did anyways. and she’s silent for a moment too long because josie can see the moment toni’s heart breaks, the girl turning around, and no, she can’t leave, they can’t be left like this.

and she grabs for toni’s arms, grip tight. she wouldn’t be letting go. and toni is stiff in her hold. and she whispers the words, i love you too. and toni doesn’t turn around, if she did josie would see the tears streaming down her face. josie would wipe them away and tell her she’s perfect and wonderful and how could she not fall in love with her? it would end up with more confessions of the heart being revealed and they can’t, they won’t.

and Josie doesn’t think hearing the words ‘we can’t’ would be that painful, not when she had been telling herself that night after night, but it is still like a knife to her heart. doesn’t think her own ‘i know’ would leave her choked up and biting back her own tears.

she lets go of toni then, arm falling limply to her side and toni takes the time to separate, to breathe. She offers josie the ride, storming ahead so she can wipe away her tears without josie seeing them.

(she doesn’t do a good job)

and they pine and love each other from a distance until toni can’t take it anymore. toni and cheryl break up, toni unable to pretend to anyone, not least herself. it is messy and horrible, with accusations of cheating and lying, and it ends up with cheryl returning her red leather jacket. but she’s still friends with josie and the pussycat can’t bring herself to tell cheryl she was in love with cheryl’s ex. and toni comes to her after a few months, telling her she still loved her, asks if she still feels the same. and it kills josie to hear those words from her; she had dreamt of such a thing, but she couldn’t hurt cheryl. and she hates that she can see the hope die in toni’s eyes as she rejects her even as she loves her. and toni tells her that she can’t let her happiness be dictated by another person, that in order to keep cheryl happy, she would have them both be miserable. and then toni walks away.

(josie fears she may never get the chance to rectify her mistake)

but then there is an accident. someone had run toni’s motorbike off the road. and sweet pea comes to josie, tells her in a low and urgent voice that toni was in hospital. her feet collapse underneath her, her heart stops, her world stops spinning. they leave the school, rushing of to be by her side and she doesn’t think she’d leave the hospital, not while toni is still unconscious.

it is only when toni is awake does she run. she was surrounded by serpents, she had love, she didn’t need her.

(she doesn’t know that toni scans the crowd, her smile falling slightly when she doesn’t catch sight of josie.)

josie didn’t think she was that obvious, but in hindsight, she wonders if there was any other logical conclusion. cheryl is stiff beside her. ‘you’re in love with toni.’ it’s not a question, not something josie could deny.

‘yes.’

‘and she loves you back.’

‘i hope so.’ hurt flashes through cheryl’s eyes.

‘and if i dont approve.’

and josie laughs, it is a little broken, a little empty. cheryl didnt need to approve or not - josie already had ruined her chance. ‘cheryl honey, i dont give a damn anymore.’

and she walks away, goes home. she doesn’t think toni’d be there in crutches waiting at her door step. and the sight of it is enough to break her, josie running to toni, burying her head in the crook of her neck, tears falling against toni’s skin, her arms too tight around toni’s waist, josie sobbing against her. not that she cares, toni dropping her crutches to lean on josie. and she barely pulls away before she leans forward again and toni smiles against her lips, kissing her back.

and then they are loving and cute girlfriends and their duets are the greatest thing and the pussycats are back together.

and anon i’m not here for pitting my two girls against each other, not in the slightest. and im glad i never heard that news before because i was allowed to remain in my little oblivious bubble.

also apparently, whatever the situation i will make mctopaz happen somehow.

[mira-gilastorm]

Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords

Chapter 1: Brace for the Cold

Winterfell was bustling with activity like it hadn't in months. Something about the King travelling north with his whole family. Sansa chattered on and on about it to her ladies. Arya was just excited to see real-life knights and it was Clary's job to keep up with Arya. She was, so far, the only one who could other than Jon. And the Septa seemed to prefer a lady-in-waiting do it. It had made her mother uncomfortable to see her bonding with the Stark girl, but Jocelyn wasn't really in any position to refuse the Wardens of the North. Besides, it wasn't like she ever let Clary have friends. Arya was fun - a kindred spirit. She was wild and didn't care to play by the rules of her gender. She would train and fight with her brother Jon when no one but Clary was there to see and it was endearing. But not today, today the Stark men had gone off to behead a deserter from the Watch and everyone else was preoccupied with readying the great Keep for a royal visit.

"What do you think they'll be like?"

"Who, m'lady?"

Arya gave her a frustrated glare. "All of them. Any of them. Just, what do you think they will be like?"

Clary turned the corners of her mouth down. They were sitting at a railing above the training yard, watching Arya's littlest brother train in archery. He was barely a tot and using what amounted to a toy bow - it was almost comical. The younger sister could shoot circles around her brother if they'd give her half a chance. Coming from a family that allowed her to train in secret, it angered Clary. "I know the Queen is said to be a beauty unparalleled. She has the Lannister gold hair and emerald eyes and her twin brother, Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard, is as handsome as she is beautiful. They call him Kingslayer and Oathbreaker for killing the Mad King he was sworn to protect."

The little wolf scoffed. "Like any sane person would have done otherwise. The man was going to burn the whole world to the ground if someone didn't stop him."

Clary watched her charge for a moment, considering. Arya was barely ten and one, not yet a woman grown. But she spoke like a warrior beyond her years. "Even still, I heard the cooks saying all three of the children are coming as well. They're all supposed to share in their mother's beauty." Arya's face darkened again. That was a sore subject. Her sister, Sansa, was the spitting image of their lovely mother - with the red Tully hair and bright blue eyes. But Arya was a Stark, through and through, with gray eyes and flat brown hair that did what it wanted, no matter how many times Clary attempted to tame it. It didn't help that Jon was always ruffling it like she was some kind of pup.

"Are you two supposed to be up here? Wasn't Septa looking for you, little one?" Lord Stark's voice was husky from the cold. His sons and ward trailed after him, carrying awkward bulks. Clary lowered her eyes and curtsyed as her mother had taught her.

"We're watching Rickon and the others try to hit targets. They're miserable archers, Father. I'm much better than the lot of them!" She turned her gray eyes to Clary for confirmation.

Clary could see the Stark boys smirk at her knowingly. She nodded in deference to Eddard Stark. "It's true, m'lord. Your daughter is an unparalleled archer. With proper instruction, she would be a valuable asset to the North."

Arya beamed at her lady's words. "See, Father? Even Clary knows! Although she's more talented than she lets on herself. You should see her spar with a dagger and short sword. She's a natural!"

That got the Lord's attention more than the praise of his youngest daughter. "What's this about you girls sparring?"

"Arya has not been sparring, m'lord. I train with my mother regularly. I didn't know she was aware of my skills." She averted her eyes from the retinue of soldiers where she knew her stepfather was watching with a glare.

Robb, the oldest Stark boy, barely six and ten, stepped forward. "And what business does your mother have knowing how to handle a blade, much less teaching my sister's lady-in-waiting how to wield one?"

Jocelyn had warned her daughter that this might happen when she was chosen to be close to the Starks, and she told her there was always one thing to say that would help explain any out-of-ordinary family traditions that northerners sometimes took to protect themselves. "It is family tradition for all of us to be able to fight, daughters or sons." She raised her face to meet the steel gray stare of Lord Eddard Stark. "Winter is Coming, m'lord."

He nodded stiffly. "Indeed it is, Miss Rivers." He motioned behind him to his boys and the men standing at attention behind them. Jon Snow, his own bastard son, brought up an armful of the largest wolf pups Clary had ever seen. Arya squealed in delight. Bran and Robb were already holding pups of their own, and Theon looked to be carrying two others. Clary's eyes drifted to her stepfather, a Dornishman who had taken her in and treated her as his own daughter when he married her mother. He gave her a brief nod of approval. She had handled the questions well. Luke Garroway was the captain of Eddard Stark's personal forces. They had fought together in King Robert's Rebellion, she knew, and it was why she was trusted to be Arya's lady, despite having no name or true-born father to speak of.

Arya had picked out her wolf. "Clary! What should I name her?"

She moved to her Lady's side, admiring the pup she had cuddled to her chest. "Something fierce, like yourself, m'lady."

Some of the men snickered at her comment but Arya's eyes shone. "Nymeria, then. Her name is Nymeria."

* * *

"Two months on this bloody road, Jace. Two months." His brother was miserable. He hated dealing with anyone outside of the downworld.

Alec, Isabelle, and Jace all rode with the king's convoy. It had been mother's idea - to ride with the mundanes. The Institute generally operated outside of the workings of the common humans, especially these Westerosi nobles, but Jace was enjoying himself. His golden hair wasn't out of place with the queen's Lannister family so he was assumed to be a cousin of some kind.

"You could try not to be so pleased with the situation." Alec brought his horse alongside Jace's.

He flashed his brother a charming grin. "And where's the fun in that? How often do we get to actually enjoy ourselves?" Alec glowered, refusing to answer. "Besides, I've never been north. I'm interested to see what this warlock is on about."

"You didn't read the letter." It wasn't a question. Jace rarely stopped to do anything other than train and ready his weapons.

His nose scrunched up in distaste. "Nah, that's what I have you and Iz for." At the mention of their sister, they both glanced over their shoulders at the collection of carriages and wagons they were travelling with. "How do you think she's fairing with the other ladies?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "If she isn't astonishing them with tales of long forgotten battles that we probably fought last week, then I'd say she's miserable listening to their idle castle gossip."

That was likely true. Their sister had drawn the short straw, as a female, and was in a carriage with several of the Princess Myrcella's ladies-in-waiting. The Lightwood name got them far in King's Landing, so it wasn't hard to join the party northward. But it came with the strings of playing by the mundanes' rules.

"This warlock claims mundanes are starting to report seeing wolves and ice demons. Sounds like the north is overdue for a visit from the Clave." Alec was recounting details of the mundanes' sightings as someone called a halt ahead of them. The brothers exchanged a glance and both urged their horses to the front of the caravan where they could see the impressive walls of Winterfell. The gates opened and a line of well-trained soldiers filed out, marking the road in honor of the king's entrance. Jace and Alec led the way in, followed by the Kingsguard and royal carriage. A line of nobles waited to meet the king. Jace and Alec paid them no mind. They weren't here for the royal visit or whatever other mundane concerns brought King Robert all the way to the North.

"Mother said we would likely find the warlock near the library. He apparently poses as a partially trained Maester, some sort of apothecary and librarian now."

Isabelle bounded up, clutching at the cumbersome skirts. "Sounds like a good guise for a warlock." Her dark hair and hazel eyes stood out in the cool air of the north.

"Glad to see you survived the ladies, Iz." Jace quirked a brow at her.

She scoffed. "Honestly, I think I've met shax demons that had more brains than those girls. All they wanted to talk about was how many sons this Lord Stark has and whether Princess Myrcella will end up betrothed to one. The poor girl is seven, Jace, and all they can talk about are these Stark boys-"

Alec held up a hand to stop her before she started listing off the Stark boys and reasons they would make good suitors for the princess. "We're all here. Glamour, but remember we don't know how many downworlders live here. And we've all heard the stories about the blood of the First Men giving the Sight. Behave as if you can be seen." All three nephilim pulled out their steles and activated their glamour runes.

They moved quickly, watching closely to see if any eyes followed them or noticed them at all. Jace thought he saw one of the Stark's soldiers glance at them, a Dornishman, but at second glance he seemed to just be scanning the yard. They made their way up into the main keep without issue. Near the tower steps that should lead them to the library, Jace heard whimpering and shushing.

"Nym, you have to be quiet. Lady Arya will be back as soon as she's finished greeting the royal guests."

A small gasp escaped Izzy's lips as they saw the largest pup imaginable. The pup, Nym, turned at the noise, eyes wild and mischievous. Jace could tell there was no way to fool whatever that beast was. It saw right through his glamour and leaped down several steps to crash into him, dragging a lovely redhead with it.

She stared at him, shocked, before gathering her thoughts much faster than he was able to. "I'm so sorry. She's the Lady Arya's wolf and is just as wild as the little lady. We're still training them, but they're only a few weeks old, so they'll learn."

Her bright green eyes were uncertain, but hiding something and his instincts kicked back in. "You have the Sight?"

"The what?"

"You can see me."

The girl looked him over, in his red and gold - Lannister colors - and decorative sword. "Isn't that the point?"

Alec cut in. "Jace, come on." He held her stare for a moment longer before turning to follow his brother's order. Isabelle stopped ruffling Nym's fur and the three moved past the redhead to continue up the staircase.

"If you're looking for Lord Bane, he won't be up there." They turned to stare down at her where she was peering out a window at the scene down in the yard, which must have been why she was there to begin with. The king and Lord Stark were disappearing down into what looked like some kind of crypt. Strange, but the two had history, and it wasn't his place to get involved in mundane concerns.

Alec was the one speaking up for their group. "And where will we find Lord Bane?"

The girl glared up at them from her place in the window. "Wherever the party is. He has rather," she smiled slightly, as if at a private joke, and Jace found himself wanting to ask her what it was, "extravagant tastes."

Jace shrugged, smirking at his brother. "Looks like we'll be spending time with the royal party after all." He peered briefly over the window's edge to see people filtering in.

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourselves, whoever you are." The redheaded girl pushed herself off from the window and made a clicking noise to the wolf, whose ears perked up immediately. "But I must really return to my duties and make sure Lady Arya doesn't do something crazy like collapse a banner on the Lannister soldiers or the like." She curtsyed deeply and Jace caught a quick glimmer off of something tucked in the folds of her gown, a weapon or maybe - just maybe - a stele. He couldn't be sure. Whatever it was clearly had runes marked on the hilt.

Isabelle descended a few steps to put her finger under his chin, drawing his attention from where the girl had been. "You're drooling, Jace. Over a mundane." She tilted her head in the teasing way only Izzy could before turning to Alec. "So what do we do, big brother? Do we wait for the warlock here, hoping he comes back alone, or do we seek him out in a lovely royal feast?"

Jace snickered, shaking his head. Of course Izzy wanted to go to a party. She was always the center of attention - their perfect distraction on missions. Her beauty, strength, and confidence radiated off of her and it was impossible to overlook. She was all raven hair and honeyed-green hazel eyes, with pale skin that drew eyes from everyone.

Alec relaxed his head against the stone wall he was leaning on, staring at the keep's ceiling as if it might save him. "Fine, but we don't draw attention to ourselves." He glared at Isabelle. She raised her hands in defense. Then he turned his stern gaze on Jace, who had taken to toying with his decorative blade. "Goes for you too. No showing off."

"Me? When have I ever?"

* * *

Daenerys hovered outside the door of Illyrio's sunroom. She'd never seen anyone like the woman who'd come to visit today and couldn't help the curiosity that dragged her to listen at the cracked entrance, as the obvious topic of conversation.

"Has the girl shown any signs? Marks?"

"No, she has no mark, but I'm telling you, there's something different about her. She's not mundane. I would swear my magic on it."

"And what of the boy? Her brother."

"Entirely human. Possibly mad. He's selling her to the Dothraki in return for the promise of Westeros." Dany's heart quickened at this. She was to meet her potential husband soon and the deal was to be struck - a bride for a throne.

"You know the Clave doesn't interfere in mundane affairs. We hardly intervene with downworlders. The Accords must be upheld. The Rebellion nearly cost us everything."

"So you would let the Dothraki possess a girl with the blood of the dragon?"

"What would you have me do, Magister? Whisk her away to Idris? Confine her to the Gard?" A chair scraped the carpeted floor and she could hear the woman pacing.

Illyrio raised his voice from the hushed tones, betraying his frustration as he very rarely did. "I would have you protect her. As you should have protected her forebears - an entire race, gone! And now there are no more dragons. Is that not part of the Accords? Shadowhunters protect downworlders and mundanes alike."

Dany could hear the woman sigh. "If she is what you say she is, I will assign one of my own to her as lady-in-waiting. She is overdue for an assignment abroad anyway. But make no mistake, Magister, we will not intervene, only protect."

"You intend to send a shadowhunter into the Great Grass Sea with an undefeated Khal? Will she remain glamoured?" Dany was becoming more and more aware of how little she knew of what they were talking about.

"Unnecessary. Anyone who knows to question her runes will be silenced or at least treated as a threat to the princess. Aline is the best the Volantis Institute has."

"Aline. You would send your own daughter?"

"If this girl is what you say, then there is no one else I would trust. She must be properly watched and trained. There are rumors of remaining Circle members hidden throughout Essos. They would kill for one with her power. You were there. You know how Valentine sought to use their line to end our world. As I said, the Rebellion nearly cost us everything. It will not happen again."

Dany stepped away from the door. The woman had seemed strange when she'd been escorted quickly to Illyrio, dressed in all black leathers, despite the intense heat of Pentos, but the tattoos over her exposed skin had marked her as a kind of woman Dany had never encountered before. A shadowhunter based on what she had just heard, willing to send her own daughter into the horde of Dothraki to keep Dany safe from some threat she had never heard of. Downworlders, Idris, Clave, Valentine, Circle - these were foreign words to Daenerys. But being in danger was not unfamiliar. That was a word that had followed her from the womb.

She took the steps back to her borrowed rooms gracefully, stopping to admire the gardens beneath her. She knew this was all going to be gone soon and she would be living among a people her brother disdainfully called barbarians. She'd gladly read every book in any language Illyrio lent her on the Dothraki. She was bracing herself for a violent wedding and was grateful that she'd learned to ride a horse young. He brother's impatient steps clicked behind her, followed by the Magister's heavily padded shoes.

Dany turned holding her head as she'd been taught, regal and proud, feeling trapped between her door and the group at the foot of the stairs. Her brother joined her on the steps, facing down the Pentoshi and women accompanying him. Viserys grabbed her wrist tightly, lacing her arm over his. She smiled briefly at him, as he would have expected. The two women with Illyrio were both shadowhunters, based on what Dany had learned - the one from before and now one who could have been her sister, dressed in similar black leathers with the same rune tattoos.

Illyrio stopped a few steps below the Targaryen siblings, bowing low in that way that always pleased Viserys. "Your Grace, may I present Mistress Jia Penhallow of Volantis and her daughter Aline." He motioned toward the two women grandly as they bowed like trained soldiers.

Viserys sneered. "In Westeros, our women curtsy to show respect."

Jia's dark, narrow eyes drifted over him as if he were a curiosity. She stood upright, her pitch black hair falling straight down her back. "Forgive me, your grace. It's been quite some time since I spent any time in the company of Westerosi." She spoke the Common Tongue of Westeros flawlessly with only a slight accent.

Dany could feel her brother's rage growing at the woman's insolence and refusal to pay him absolute homage, as he believed he was due. She glanced at the younger shadowhunter. "We are honored to meet you both." She inclined her head to each of them even as her brother pinched her arm. That would leave a bruise. It took all Dany's effort not to sigh.

The Magister gestured again and Aline stepped forward. "Mistress Penhallow has offered her people's support to our cause and offers her daughter, Aline Penhallow, a warrior among their people, as guard and lady-in-waiting for the Princess Daenerys."

Jia locked eyes with Dany. "Please, consider this a gesture of good faith between my people and your own - the beginnings of a new alliance, if you will."

Viserys' eyes lit up at that. He was always plotting with Illyrio, trying to make political arrangements and alliances. But Dany had heard what they said. They weren't interested in her completely human brother, so they must have just been saying what needed to be said to get his approval of the arrangement. She felt slow at having to think through it, but glad that she was learning to play the game. Perhaps Aline could help her learn.

Her brother tugged her arm hard, nearly pulling her off-balance. They were descending the stairs. "We thank you for this show of loyalty and alliance, Mistress Penhallow. And, of course, my sister would be honored to have your daughter as her lady and guard."

Dany extended a hand to Aline who took it and bowed again in deference. "It is an honor, Your Grace."

* * *

"What do you keep staring at?" Simon turned to glance behind him. It was like he looked straight through the strange group she'd met on the library stairway earlier. You can see me, he'd said. Obviously, not everyone could, or the serving girls would be all over him with his Lannister-gold hair and mismatched eyes, like they were with the rest of the royal party.

"Nothing," she turned back to Simon and whatever story he was telling. Apparently, the little Princess Myrcella enjoyed his music and the queen had invited him to play in King's Landing. "I'm so excited for you! It's what you've always wanted, right?"

"Well," he drew out the word, "I don't really want to go without my best friend." Her face fell. She couldn't leave Winterfell - her mother, Luke - Lady Arya. "But it looks like we'll all be travelling south soon, so I don't have to worry about that!" He grinned that ridiculous grin of his.

Clary frowned. "What?"

"Seriously, Rivers, where have you been all day? Not chasing that direwolf around again, I hope. The King wants Lord Stark to be his new Hand and now we're all supposed to go south to King's Landing! I was playing for Sansa and all her ladies and the princess while they were doing their sewing or whatever it is ladies do, and it was all they could talk about. That, and the fact that Sansa is going to be betrothed to the Prince Joffrey. She's going to be queen one day. I thought she was going to fall over from sighing so hard."

Simon did a perfect impression of Lady Sansa and Clary giggled. "How miserable was my poor Lady Arya the whole time?"

"Oh it was like she couldn't get a stitch right. I thought the Septa was going to take her fingers off. She ran off partway through. Did she come find you?"

Clary shook her head. "She must have found Jon." The two looked down their table to the brooding bastard who was feeding his white wolf pup scraps.

He swayed a bit and Simon raised a brow, snapping his fingers. "Jon! You in there?"

Snow swiped his hand out of his face, quick as ever, even drunk on too much ale. "Aye. Just enjoying my time down here with you lot."

"Oh come off it, Jon," Clary snapped. "You could be stuck up there with the Lannisters." She lifted her chin toward the Queen and her brothers, heads held high. "We're much better company."

He glared at her and her musician friend. "I suppose so. A bastard, a minstrel, and my little sister's mysterious lady, who can fight with a short sword and wrangle direwolves. Quite the company indeed."

She scoffed. "Your mood leaves much to be desired, Jon Snow." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Bane still lounging, surrounded by a group a travelers ready to be regaled by his fanciful stories, not far from where they sat at the lower tables. His mock-Maester's chain hung around his neck ornately, decorative and jewels flashed from each of his fingers as his waved his hands for emphasis in his storytelling.

A drunken roar of laughter echoed from the high table. The King was full of wine and memories. This night was going to go downhill, fast. She decided she was going to ask some questions. She glanced at Simon and Jon. "Excuse me." She ignored the dumbfounded looks on both of their faces as she made her way across the Great Hall. Movement from the other side of the room followed her. So they were watching her too. She had suspected as much.

"Lord Bane, do you mind if I steal you away? I'm afraid we have some guests with urgent need of your guidance." The librarian's eyes focused on her as he halted his story of the time he tamed a fire-breathing cobra in Dorne.

His gaze flicked to the trio who were not far behind her and he smiled sweetly. "For you, Miss Clary, anything." He stood gallantly and motioned almost imperceptibly to the others to follow. They made their way back to the steps of the library tower where he rounded on them all. "Clarissa Rivers, what are you doing involving yourself with shadowhunter business? Surely, Luke and Jocelyn have both warned you about the dangers."

The tall one with dark hair stepped forward, as if to defend his group, but Lord Bane held up a hand, still glaring at Clary. She averted her gaze. "It wasn't like I was trying to get involved in anything. They showed up here. I just kept Nymeria from eating them."

He rolled his eyes dramatically, lowering his hand and acknowledging the shadowhunter, looking him over appreciatively. "Fine, pretty boy, what do you have to say? What were you doing wandering around unglamoured?"

The other two snickered. The girl, now dressed in something much less ornate, put a hand on the other man's shoulder, who seemed at a loss for words. "What my brother means to say is, we were glamoured - completely, not just our runes. She saw straight through it, her and that beast of a pup."

Lord Bane massaged his temples in exasperation. "Of course she did. I almost forgot your nameday had passed, Clary. Damn. So much for that contract."

Clary stared confusedly at the librarian and the three strangers. They seemed to have some kind of understanding that she was clearly missing. "I'm sorry, contract?"

"Yes, with your mother. But we'll discuss that after I've concluded my business with these lovely shadowhunters here. If Luke or Jocelyn find out I've allowed you to be involved in their affairs, I'll be finding myself a new position, far away from Winterfell, and, believe me, this one wasn't so easy to come by." He made a distasteful face, waving his hand like he could snatch another out of thin air, before turning on his heels and storming into his library.

The two dark haired shadowhunters followed quickly, with the golden one, Jace, close after. Clary decided she wanted to know what was happening and started toward the entrance.

Jace blocked her way faster than should have been possible. "You heard the warlock. He'll discuss his contract with your family after he's given us the information we need."

She set her jaw, the same way she did when Lady Arya was being particularly stubborn. "Glamours, runes, shadowhunters, warlock - you keep saying these words like I'm supposed to know what you're talking about, but I don't rightly care. If this discussion deals with the safety of the Stark family or my lady that I protect, I have a right to hear it."

The shadowhunter leaned back on the doorway, eyeing her with a blank expression before shrugging and entering, leaving the door open for her.

"What's she doing in here?"

"She was insistent."

"It's too late now, if we're going, we're going." Lord Bane stood in front of a swirling window of some kind, where Clary could see nothing but snow and trees on the other side. He snapped and waved his hands and they were through.

The three shadowhunters seemed completely unphased by having been transported from the safety of Winterfell to the Seven knew where. But Clary turned, trying to see the keep or a village or anything other than trees or snow for as far as she could see ahead of her. Behind them, however, was something she had only ever heard of in stories. The Wall was taller than she had even imagined. She knew the legends said that Bran the builder used magic to construct it. Based on what she was seeing, she had to believe it.

"You couldn't warn us before dragging us out beyond the Wall?" The girl shadowhunter's raven hair was flecked with snow. "All your letter said was ice demons have been sighted and wolves are getting more bold. The Clave doesn't have any record of any ice demons, up north or otherwise." Her hazel eyes glinted with fury. "If you portaled us out here to freeze our asses off just to make a point to the Clave, you are in for a rude awakening, warlock."

Clary's teeth were chattering. She was still dressed for the feast. The taller shadowhunter noticed her. "Great. Now the mundane is going to freeze to death on our watch. Mother's going to be so pleased."

Bane and the woman were still arguing, but Jace made quick strides over to her, pulling out a metal object from a holster near his thigh. It was like something her mother kept above the hearth in their home, not quite a weapon but something about it radiated a power she felt like she knew. Both she and the other shadowhunter eyed him warily as he approached her with it.

"Jace, don't."

"Trust me, Alec." He grabbed her hand and pushed the sleeve of her dress up gently to press the cool metal to the inside of her forearm. Suddenly there was a searing pain before warmth flooded through her, obscuring any cold from the snow. Her eyes widened as they met his - one blue, one golden brown. He smirked at her, raising his brows in a quick motion, dropping her hand, and flipping the object down into its holster again faster than she could follow.

She stood in obvious shock with words feeling caught in her throat. The tall shadowhunter - Alec, grabbed her wrist and examined it. "How the fuck did you know? You could have killed her!"

His raised voice grabbed the attention of the others. Lord Bane hovered over the shadowhunter's shoulder, strangely close while staring down at Clary. His sister moved to stare at her wrist and then up at her face. "Look at her, big brother, she's in shock. She has no idea what's happening." She tugged Clary's wrist out of her brother's grip and pulled her to her side. "I'm Isabelle. The boys call me Izzy. The grumpy one is Alec and the one who almost just killed you," she shot a pointed glare over her shoulder, "is Jace. It looks like you're one of us. So the question is, Jace, how did you know?"

He shrugged with his arms crossed as the rest turned on him. "I saw her carrying a runed blade earlier. Between that and her ability to see through our glamour, it was a safe bet."

Lord Bane pushed past Alec and grabbed Clary away from Izzy. "Oh, a safe bet? What if she had been a mundane with the Sight? Then, not only would we be beyond the Wall with nothing but the three of you and my magic, but we would also be potentially facing a wight. Something I'm not too keen on right now." He put an arm protectively over her shoulder as he marched her past Jace. "So why don't you save your gambles for the jousts, hmm?" He kept moving through to snow into the treeline. "Come on, pretty boy. Try to keep your siblings in line on our way, will you? Can't have them killing FreeFolk by runing them or something."

Clary heard Izzy laugh and she turned to see Jace and Alec exchange confused looks. Jace raised his hands in surrender, motioning for the others to go ahead of him. The others caught up quickly, giving Clary and Bane a respectable berth.

Alec glanced sideways at them a few times. "Lord Bane, your letter said mundanes. You neglected to mention they were wildlings reporting these things."

"Oh please, you and I both know I'm no lord of anything. It keeps the mundanes from asking too many questions. It's Magnus, please."

Clary was caught under Magnus' arm, between him and the shadowhunter and was forced to look up from one to the other as they spoke. She could see his face and he almost seemed unable to rephrase his question for a moment. She felt the need to blush for him. Bane was always so forward.

"Alright then, Magnus. You neglected to inform the Clave that it was wildlings that were reporting these supposed ice demons and wolves."

Magnus practically glowed with mischief. "If I had told dear Maryse who was making the reports, would she have sent you?" He glared at the siblings. "No. I would have been left to deal with the growing threat with the sparse downworld resources we have in the north. They sent raiders over the wall to reach me, not to pillage or plunder, just to get word to us southerners that the White Walkers are coming. The stories these wildlings could tell-" he broke off. Clary felt him shiver.

Isabelle was holding her skirts as they stepped over branches. "So your saying there're White Walkers out here, ice demons frightening enough to send the wildlings over the wall to you."

Jace piped up from behind them. "I think he's saying he wants us to hear it from them. But what about the wolves?"

"You didn't mean the direwolves? They're only pups! And Luke is helping the Stark children train them." Clary pulled ahead of the rest of the group, turning to face them, though none would meet her glare.

Alec crossed his arms at the delay. "No, not those beasts the Starks call pets. What do the FreeFolk call them? Skin-changers?"

Magnus watched him curiously, but nodded. "Indeed. You see, the FreeFolk are not as closed minded as those south of the Wall. Downworlders often move about openly among them, but an entire pack making an alliance with mundanes... This is unheard of."

Isabelle scoffed, resuming her pace through the trees, deciding they had answered enough of Clary's questions. "This is insanity. You've dragged us up here for superstitious wildling nonsense."

Her brothers followed, but Magnus gave Clary an affronted grimace. "I'm so glad Maryse sent her children. So charming."

She snickered and turned to follow after the trio of shadowhunters, the warlock matching her stride. She nearly ran directly into Jace - again. They'd stopped at the edge of the treeline. Spread out beneath them was a valley full of campfires, warding off the northern cold.

"You didn't say we were walking into a military encampment." Alec shot a glare over his shoulder.

Magnus shrugged. "It's not. It's an evacuation."

* * *

Jon made his way out into the snow, closely followed by Ghost, escaping the noise from the Hall that was echoing in his drunk skull and the humiliation that had been his encounter with his uncle Benjen. He replayed the tripping and falling over his own drunken feet on the way out and groaned again.

"That fun in there, Jon?" he turned to face Lucian Garroway, captain of Winterfell's guard.

He winced. "Oh yeah, a right proper feast, complete with drunken humiliation."

Luke nodded, crouching down and holding out his hand to Ghost. All the other Stark children had allowed his help with training their direwolves, but Jon wanted to train Ghost all on his own. "I take it you and Ghost here weren't up at table with your siblings, then." He made a pleased sound as Ghost shifted closer and allowed him to stroke his snout, not needing Jon's reply.

Jon watched curiously. Ghost seemed to almost like the soldier. "No we sat with Clary and Simon."

He glanced up at the mention of his daughter's name. "Have you seen Clary? I would ask Simon but he had been called upon to play by our very intoxicated King."

They both laughed. "Aye. She went with Lord Bane to discuss something. Interrupted his favorite story about the Dornish snake too."

Lucian stood suddenly. "Was she with anyone?"

Another voice answered from above them. "If you're speaking of the lovely red-head, I believe she was with a trio of our travelling party. Don't ask me their names, though. I couldn't tell you. Light-something, I think. It was a bit of an ordeal when their mother requested they join our group."

Lucian muttered a curse. "You'll have to excuse me. I believe I'm going to have business to attend to." He inclined his head. "M'lord."

Jon watched him stalk away toward the homes built along the walls, likely to tell Clary's mother of what he'd just learned.

"So this is one of the infamous direwolves I've heard so much about. And you must be Ned Stark's bastard." Lord Tyrion Lannister sauntered over to Jon and Ghost awkwardly in the snow. Jon grimaced at his use of the word. "Did I offend you? Sorry, dwarfs don't have to be tactful. You are the bastard, though."

Jon felt himself sober a bit. "Lord Eddard Stark is my father," he admitted stiffly.

Tyrion eyed him as if he were a particular curiosity. "Allow me to give you some counsel, Jon Snow. Never forget what you are - the rest of the world surely won't. Make it your strength," he tilted his head slightly as if remembering something, "and then it can never be your weakness."

The ringing in Jon's head was really and truly gone now. He glared at the Lord standing in front of him and his wolf. "And what would a Lord of Lannister know of being a bastard?"

The dwarf smirked. "All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes."

Jon felt his head go fuzzy again and Tyrion turned to go back into the feast. It was then he realized Clary had gone up the steps alone with Bane. Who had Lord Tyrion been talking about?

Read on ao3

[the-alpha-incipiens]

The Fifth Drink Before a Long Drive (Hooked Outlaw Queen, rated T)

For Day 6 of @oqfixitweek. Roni Day! Have a little implicit Hooked Outlaw Queen threesome that maybe I will flesh out one day and write properly...

The Fifth Drink Before a Long Drive

Roni doesn’t do relationships. She did, once, a long time ago and all it got her was heartbreak. There are many things she needs in life, but that? That’s not one of them. So she gave up on that part of her life, and threw herself into a different kind of a relationship: the tempestuous life of a small business owner, particularly one that runs a dive bar. Ironically, this means she gets involved in all sorts of relationships, as if knowing how to pour a beer means she’s an expert in psychotherapy and can solve all sorts of problems. Best she can do is cure your taste for a damn good burger and some top shelf alcohol. Nonetheless, her customers think she can give them advice, and she seemingly can’t resist trying to help out miserable people.

Unsurprisingly, that gets her into trouble more often than not. Such as joining with Henry Mills and Jacinda to try and take on that bitch Victoria Belfrey. She still doesn’t know what she was thinking, or how she got all stirred up just because of those two and Jacinda’s adorable little girl.

She knows a lot about Hyperion Heights, anyway, because everyone comes to Roni’s. She’s got good food and good alcohol and, well, she’s not stupid. She knows she’s attractive, and she knows more than a few of her patrons so choose to patronize her because her fine establishment because of her looks. So she’s got a bit of a pulse on the neighborhood, and so she’s heard plenty of things about the aloof Detective Weaver and she even knows a little about his beat cop-turned-detective partner.

Roni couldn’t tell you what it was about Detective James Rogers that made her watch out for him. Maybe it’s because she’s seen what Weaver’s done to his other partners, maybe it’s something about how both she and him are caught up in Henry and Jacinda’s rebellion against Belfrey. Whatever it is, she cautions him, and looks out for him, and somehow ends up spending more and more of her time with him.

And again, she’s not stupid, not blind. He’s an attractive man, Detective Rogers, wears his uniform well and has piercing blue eyes, and an accent. It’s a well kept secret of hers, but Roni is a sucker for a British accent. Just something about one <i>does</i> things to her, feels familiar even though she’s never dated a Brit a day in her life. But she doesn’t do relationships, doesn’t date, doesn’t really sleep around…

Perhaps that was her first mistake. It’s been awhile, a long time, actually, and somehow Rogers had stuck around after the little “resistance” meeting with Henry and Jacinda. Trading shots and stories about his time as a cop, his suspicions about Weaver and Belfrey (a match made in hell, Roni’s sure), and well.

He just looks so damn good in the dim light of her dive bar, slinging back another shot as she does the same. His lip glistens with alcohol, and she thinks she should clean that up for him. So she does, leans right over and sucks that lip between hers, kissing him and forgetting about anything else except his mouth and the warmth of his body against hers for a little while.

They keep it a secret, their nights together, because it’s nobody’s business what they do when everyone else is gone. (Even if she is doing things in her establishment she probably shouldn’t do, such as letting Rogers spread her out on her bartop like a meal to be devoured — and oh, does he ever devour her.) As such, exclusivity isn’t really their thing — though Roni knows he hasn’t been seeing anyone else, and neither has she. Honestly not many men catch her eye, and it’s rare that she wants to share any part of herself with anybody.

Which makes her attraction to Brian Reynard all the more surprising. He’s British, too, so maybe she has a type after all. But he’s different from Rogers, with his salted hair and neatly trimmed beard and sparkling blue eyes that draw her in, make her feel all sorts of things. Ridiculous, girlish, foolish things. She’s never seen him in Hyperion Heights before — she knows she would never forget seeing him. She’s not sure why he came into her bar, or what kept him coming back, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t happy about it.

He’s surprisingly easy to talk to, seems to understand her in ways she can’t even comprehend, gives just as good as he gets when she throws some of her patented sass his way, and she <i>likes</i> him. His sense of humor, his wit, his British accent and good looks. Something that apparently is much too obvious, as even James points it out one night when Brian is talking to Henry in a corner of the bar, and she is blatantly checking Brian out despite her best intentions. (He approves of what they’re doing, how they’re trying to fight Victoria Belfrey and save their neighborhood, and God if that doesn’t make him even more attractive to her.)

“You know, I wouldn’t be offended,” James says as he’s getting a refill on his soda. Off her confused glance, he explains, “If you wanted to end things between us. Don’t get me wrong, we have a lot of fun, but I can tell you’re interested in him. I wouldn’t want you to not pursue him just because of our… situation.”

Roni means to protest, to insist she doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but her eyes slide right back to Brian, and she knows it’s stupid to play dumb. But she does scoff, and shake her head, saying with a tiny shrug, “It’d never work. And I like our no-strings situation just fine.”

He looks at her as if he wants to say more, and she hates that he’s begun to read her so well, too. It unnerves her how much she opens up around these two men, even though James is nothing more than a warm and willing body she shares her bed with. What he does say, however, is, “Something else I wouldn’t mind is… if you wanted to share, so to speak.”

Her confusion is entirely real this time, her eyebrows furrowing together as she repeats, “Share?”

“Yeah. If you wanted to maybe… invite him sometime. To one our… meetings,” he says, pitching his voice so that there’s no way she could mistake his meaning.

Roni’s gasp is entirely involuntary. She’s never done that before, not even in her wilder days (though she got close a few times, it always ended up not happening). And maybe that’s why she says <i>Really?</i> in such an intrigued voice, the thought of a new adventure and perhaps particularly a new adventure with Brian, a man she feels such a connection to, igniting something in her.

“You’re not the only one who can recognize a handsome man when you see them,” James smirks at her, all smug charm, the sort of smirk that sets her insides twisting with desire.

So Roni throws back a shot, one more, just for courage. And then she’s walking straight over to Brian, smiling at Henry before setting her sights fully on the man she intends to proposition, leading him away with a coy, “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

He comes willingly, and Roni just barely catches Henry’s all-too-knowing grin or the way Brian rolls his eyes in response as she’s leading him away to the hallway that goes to her office. Interesting, she thinks, before she remembers why she’s there, what she’s after.

“This is probably going to sound a little strange, but… You see, Rogers and I are… a thing. A sort of friends-with-benefits kind of thing, I guess is what they call it. And, well, we thought maybe you could… join us. If you were interested.” It’s not the smoothest proposition ever, but it seems to work, has Brian’s eyes darkening and lowering to stare at her mouth.

“Well then,” he says finally, biting his lip, and Roni gets the express urge to do that for him, instead. A flash of heat skitters under her skin, sparking her nerves, and she wants to ride this man into the ground, Jesus Christ. “Sure. But can I ask one thing?”

Roni nods, because having questions could only be normal, and yet she’s completely taken off guard by his question.

“May I kiss you right now? Just the two of us?” he murmurs, a touch hopefully, and she might have laughed had it not stirred her desire further.

And oh, how could she ever deny him that?

Kissing Brian turns out to feel a lot like putting on a threadbare T-shirt, something you’ve had for a while and yet can’t throw away just yet, despite how worn it’s gotten. He feels familiar, and warm, homey, a feeling only enhanced by his woodsy scent. She wants to breathe him in, and hold him close, kiss him forever.

The kiss ends all too soon, has her wanting to pull him in for another, when he’s asking, “So shall I stick around once everyone’s gone, or do you and James want to do it another night?”

Roni blinks, not sure what he’s talking about, and then remembering. The threesome. “Oh, um. Stick around. Everyone should be leaving soon.” She shoves a hand through her curls, pushing them back off her face, telling herself to show some restraint and walk away from him.

Soon, she’ll get to have more of him, after all, and though waiting seems torturous now, she has a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be one of the best nights of her life.

[rcsonant-blog]

                                           i realize that being a woman is a lot                                             like being a planet—i can’t decide                                      what my gravity attracts. i am as helpless                                            as i am powerful. i am very powerful.

born in tokyo, yukiko grew up known as a fiery daughter unconventional to the standards placed upon the typical japanese/korean family. though her mother and birth father were korean, her mother left the man before giving birth, instead moving to tokyo (a place of which she always dreamed of moving). it was there that her mother met  katsuo, a man willing to provide and ready to be a father unlike the previous man.

what differentiated her from conventional daughters was nothing short of compiled qualities that her parents doted on her for despite the disapproval of strangers. she was loud and bounced around like a ball of light, cheeks round with enthusiasm.

growing up, her personality only blossomed from there. by the age of five they’d welcomed a healthy baby sister which took the name of mei, a sibling for her to admire in the light that poured from window sills. she swore in those moments growing with her baby sister that she’d never been happier – she couldn’t be happier.

years when by as she flourished into a teenager, getting along with her parents without much trouble and maintaining a decent home life. her family was the perfect balance of a mix of adoring qualities, and she was content. until her mother got pregnant again.

of course it didn’t seem so bad aside from the age gap. the pregnancy was an accident, yukiko already of the age of fourteen while her mei was the age of nine, but the two remained both ecstatic yet skeptical. welcoming a baby sister so late in their lives was not only riveting, but nerve-wracking, the family unaware of the issues to surface.

her mother went into labor nine months later, kiko ready to welcome her new baby sister natsumi into the world. while the delivery went over well, adjusting at home felt different this pregnancy.

her mother had begun experiencing questionable syndromes, yet she insisted that the nurses ensured her that prenatal sickness was common ( and her mother was a strong woman, never wanting to appear as if she was overreacting to mere cold symptoms ) so she insisted that a hospital visit wasn’t necessary. within mere days however, the sudden and excessive bleeding accompanied by a high fever and shivers that left her unable to communicate, it was clear to her family that there was something wrong.

after rushing her to the hospital, they’d discovered that she was entering a drastic drop in blood pressure and heart rate, something of which eventually spiraled into septic shock. it was only a matter of time before multiple organs started to fail, and her mother passed away.

her death was something that shocked yukiko’s family immensely, her father entering depression as her bubbly personality dropped. she was bitter at the world, a more importantly, shifted the blame undeservingly to her younger sister, sumi. at such a young age, she couldn’t understand why her and mei’s births had been fine, yet sumi’s came at the cost of her mothers life.

she began to act out, rebelling into the age of fifteen to try and feel something opposed to the emptiness that encompassed her chest. her actions, however, only stirred tensions in the household, their verbal fights nothing short of ugly and uncalled for as he quickly grew fed up of her actions and shipped her off to st. augustine, florida to live with her uncle.

yukiko was miserable. only sixteen, she was abandoned in a city unkind to those with no direction. significantly smaller than the comforts of a bustling tokyo, she became a foreigner stranded in unfamiliarity, her uncle a strict cop who was determined to set her back in line.

the move only upset her more, only encouraging her to act out even more. she took advantage of the soft bone that he’d never admit to having for his niece, her uncle often getting her out of the trouble that she found herself in (i.e. getting her out of parking tickets, keeping her from the day long cell holds she was dancing towards ). it was as if she wanted to get arrested because the thrill of getting caught – the thrill of being shown that someone cared enough to let her take the punishments she was warranting instead of weaseling her out of them.

she was frustrated – a broken girl with clipped wings that knew english but refused to speak it in florida just to piss people off. a loud nineteen year old despite the fact that her actions did more talking than her words. she searched for the happiness in the empty mouths of strangers, angry at the world until she was offered a ticket to busan. it was a move her family had made in the years between lost contact, a chance to see the people that had so willingly tossed her away ( though that wasn’t the point. they had tried to keep in contact with her, but she refused. they hadn’t spoken in 4 years ).

so she took it. showed up with cold eyes in another unfamiliar city that somehow felt like home. mei felt distant and sumi had grown to be five, an unfamiliar face that shied away at her tense gaze. she could barely bring herself to meet her fathers gaze.

after establishing that her uncle couldn’t deal with her ( unless he wanted to be fired for how many times he saved her ass ), she was sent to korea to move back in with her family, another unwarranted move that left her distressed. she felt like she was fending for herself with people that’d grown to be strangers. luckily she was never home, out with unfamiliar faces that brought her comfort. she kept up acting out until one night where she was caught up with the wrong people at the wrong time.

thought she hadn’t done anything, the people flipped the script on her and got her taken away in police custody. thrown into a cell for a day or two was enough to terrify her and snap her back into reality. with her father bitter with having to pay a bail amount for her, she realized that with 20 years old fastly approaching, she had to cope with what had happened in her past instead of internalizing it into inexcusable actions.

she seeked help of a therapist that helped her get her life back on the right track, and yukiko with time began to grow out of her rebellion and back into her own skin. taking some time to rediscover who she is, she began to redevelop her relationships with her siblings and father before years later deciding to apply for college in seoul. with an interest in journalism and aspiring to become a documentary producer, she livin her best days in her little apartments now years later in seoul !!

⸻ THE BASICS

name: yukiko suzuki

age: 24

birthday: february 26, 1994

race: korean

gender: cisfemale

sexuality: heterosexual

relationship status: taken

⸻ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

hair: brown

eyes: brown

height: 167 cm (5′6)

build: slim

distinguishing marks: a crescent shaped scar on the roof of her mouth

common accessories: earrings and bellybutton piercing

⸻ PERSONAL  

profession: documentarian paid internship

languages: japanese, korean, english

residence: seoul, south korea

birthplace: tokyo, japan

religion: buddism

fears: childbirth

disabilities: none

good traits: brave, brilliant, calm, communicative, curious, determined, unselfish, lovestruck, mature, supportive

bad traits: critical, competitive, dauntless, intolerant, reckless, quarrelsome, rowdy, picky, feisty, argumentative

⸻ TRAITS

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between.

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between.

⸻ PLACE IN SOCIETY

financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

class or caste: upper / middle / working / unsure

education: high school / college / dropped out

criminal record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no

⸻ BELIEFS

monotheist / polytheist / atheist  / agnostic / nontheistic

belief in ghosts or spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

belief in an afterlife:  yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

belief in reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

belief in aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

philosophical: yes / no

⸻ CAPABILITIES

combat skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

literacy skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

artistic skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

technical skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

social skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

⸻ HABITS

drinking alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

smoking: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

other narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

medicinal drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

indulgent foods: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

splurge spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

⸻ HABITS

nail biting / throat clearing / lying / interrupting / chewing the ends of pens / smoking / swearing / knuckle cracking / thumb sucking / muttering under their breath / talking to themselves / nose picking / binge drinking / oversleeping / snacking between meals / skipping meals / picking at skin / impulse buying / talking with their mouth full / humming or singing to themselves / chewing gum / leg jiggling / foot tapping / sighing / hair twirling / whistling / eye rolling / licking lips / sniffing / squinting / rubbing hands together / jaw clenching / gesturing while talking / putting feet up on tables / tucking hair behind ears / chewing lips / crossing arms over chest / putting hands on hips / rubbing the back or their neck / being late / procrastinating / doodling / shredding paper / peeling off bottle labels / forgetfulness / running hands through hair / overreacting / teeth grinding / nostril flaring / slouching / pacing / drumming fingers / fist clenching / pinching bridge of nose / rubbing temples / rolling shoulders

[infinitypool]

Letting go of something, some place or even someone that you thought you had loved can be one of the hardest things in the world. Realizing that you are lost in a brand new world of your very own can be even harder. There are so many things that can overtake us, dreams of fortune, relationships; with every second bleeding out consequent thoughts and assumptions, philosophical questions that are almost extraneous to our own paths and yet still perplex us and our time with paradox, excitement; a feeling which gives us proof of purchase in a foreign and distant type of rebellion, there is boredom ; a quiet tempestuous void, without a continuance and still representing a feeling that epitomizes the phrase "in between" and lastly the definition of life, a way of a path, a bridge to an end, a solution to a constant and a shimmering light in lieu of an overly apparent darkness. ------------------- We would always meet up at "Saint Frick " in between east and west Greenwich. The reservoir was pretty much a beacon of our progression as time went on. It was there before the 7-eleven, the St. Andrew's baked goods fiasco and was rehabilitated about a month right after Ricky ate out Clarisse out on my fucking roof.... So yeah it holds a lot of history I guess... our history. Ricky was the type of person who you would love to hate with a passion; Don't get me wrong he was good company, good laughs, good times on Saturday nights, but he honestly had no sense of respect at times. He was attractive enough to be considered a somewhat tolerable asshole, so when you got down to the gist of it, he was a prick, a likable prick nonetheless. Claire, from my previous mention of her, you could probably guess is my next topic of discussion, ironically she wasn't anyone's sole girlfriend, she was everyone's girlfriend. It wasn't because she was considered the typical "loose" floozy or whatever you would call her but because she didn't have a care in the world. That was pretty much her only flaw, she didn't care enough about anything, so she did everything and well actually every body, for a bit. A stranger of which me and my father would soon see her dancing on the entrance after driving up there for maintenance issues. I think it was something wrong with the filter gutter, wild moss? Or just leaves I don't really remember. Though one of the first things that i do remember about her was the song she was playing that day. Aidan looked up toward the sky. “What is she doing?” What was she doing? he asked himself... and how many times had she done this before? better question.. "How the fuck did she get up here?" Aidan said to the group. He stood next to Alexandra, Rick, Sarah and his father, Victor; All of their gazes were unified at this sudden intrusion. She was an odd spirit, dancing so calmly on top of the mismatched half refurbished planks. What is she doing up there? "Dancing...." said Aidan's father "What?" "She's dancing." Victor said, shocked "More like teasing really... "Aidan said. Victor laughed "YASSSSS"  Truman screamed. "SLAY! QUEEN" Sarah chimed in. "She's kind of hot" ... Rick uttered I thought she looked interesting, not in Ricky's sense but she was pretty I guess—though Ricky would've fucked a brick to be honest. "That's debatable..." Aidan remarked as he eyed her hips and peeked a look at her ass. Aidan's Father, Victor stood still and in a daze almost... "On a fucking Monday ..." he said to himself.... Hmph... Aidan looked over at Alexandra. "What do you make of all this?" She looked through her glasses.. "I'm a little more concerned about the integrity of the roof.." Alexandra said   "SHIT" Victor yelled as he quickly burst into a run to the pool shed. "DEBORAH! He yelled again. "WHERES THE LADDER" "Oh Come-On," Aidan looked back up at the girl. "She's not even in any fucking danger..,." "Watch your mouth, " scolded Victor as he hustled away. Aidan looked back to the girl and sighed in remorse. "She got up there for Christ's sake, I don't think she's going to fall." This girl baffled him. "The amount of effort"... he thought in his head. "I kind of admire her for it to be honest" he muttered "For what?" Sarah said "Her spunk," Aidan said, still looking in awe. Truman smiled. "She is definitely high off of something." Sarah said "Hmph.." Rick grunted in amusement. "And it definitively aint weed"..... he said "Nope" ... "Ecstasy?" Truman suggested . "A rave drug without the rave." "Hmph" Rick muttered . " She's been up there for like an hour, that's a fucking rave." Sarah said. The whole gang looked intensely at each of sway of her hips, her feet balancing and readjusting fluidly and in a motion they had never really seen or even understood if they had even. " She actually got up there," Aidan said as he looked on... She was moving with aimless passion of all sorts, everyone kind of stayed still for another moment and just was there for the sight of her. The skylight glistened around the roof through some of the fresh palms behind the entrance. "That's something in its self." he said astonished. "You don't even know if she's sober." Alexandra said "Well could you have gotten up there if you were drunk?" Aidan remarked "Good point" Aidan looked up at her intensely, perplexed and curious thoughts about, " .........Fuck It " Aidan reached for the nearest branch jutting out of the side of the old sycamore tree beside the main entrance. "What are you doing?" said Rick "I've been inspired, Rick." Aidan said to him as he started to ascend This was unlike him. Sarah thought. "By what Mr. Mcdaniel?" Sarah said in spite. "Her" he responded ,yelling as he grunted with the fling of his wrist to the next branch. "Oh, well that's fucking cute. "Sarah said to herself. "You know ... some could say she's his Rapunzel in this instance." Truman said as she chuckled. I had never truly understood why the first couple of scratches you get from climbing hurt so much, Aidan thought, after the third or fourth scratch you just slowly stop caring all together, or maybe you just lose a sense of pain, after all your already half way up, you kind of feel like you owe it to yourself really, and that's why you fight through it. Its an odd sense of adrenaline. "Ladies and gentleman"  Aidan Grylls in the premier of NIGGAS VS WILD !" Truman yelled as he sarcastically clapped. "Truman!" Aidan yelled below. "What?" Truman replied "When's the last time you sucked a dick?" Aidan said as he smirked while grabbing another branch. "Tuesday! I thought you would have remembered me and the moment we shared ! " Truman yelled back from below. Aidan laughed as he reached for another branch now about halfway up the old sycamore, the sound of the girl's boom box was more of a motivation for him to reach forward again and again. "Don't be an idiot!" yelled Rick. It's a little too late for that. Aidan thought to himself. Alexandra sighed to herself. "Determination is a such a puissant resource for the blissfully courageous," She said to herself, distressingly as she watched. "You mean blissfully ignorant" Rick interrupted "Do you even know what puissant means?" Alexandra waited for a senseless response. Rick thought for a moment, paused, "Means precise right ? ......" he asked. Aidan's grunting was echoing in the distance as Rick took a moment to look at Alexandra, this short haired little Spanish girl with a Hiroshima sun tattoo on her back peaking out from beneath her bra strap .He saw this intelligent girl spectacularly in tune with everything and yet still at a distance from any standard definition of human emotion, she glared back at him, looking at him for longer than he looked at her, through him almost, without a care in the world through her faded & scratched maroon glasses. He bit his lip, thinking about any possible miserable definition for puissant, and looked back at Aidan. Alexandra smirked. “It was a latin word, and even though her pronunciation of it was actually wrong, she would have never told him this.” She opened her phone and checked her messages, reading some text, then paused for a moment to think again. Aidan had reached a very decent height and a small realization hit her, she sighed and then quickly raised her head up high, closed her eyes and yelled. "IT RAINED LAST NIGHT YOU FUCK WATCH WHAT YOU REACH FOR " Aidan braced for it just as the words reached his ears, "Shit". his foot had slipped off one of the moistened branches Everyone watching flinched at the sight of the blunder, all except Alexandra. Aidan was now hanging from a branch by one hand precariously as he glanced back down to the sneering ground below.... He could see Alexandra smiling as she waved up at him with a smug look of self-appropriation. "GET THAT FUCKING SMILE OFF YOUR FACE, YOU'RE FUCKING ME UP! " He yelled. Her intelligence was more like a constant truth really, annoyingly so. She was always so imp-endingly right and why it would always be right before he would try to fly so close to the sun he would never know. It would always feel so sidesplittingly ironic how much she was right, He had come to love and hate that about her and he would always remember that about her, Aidan thought to himself as he held the base of the tree trunk before shimmying onto one of the branches. He jumped from the biggest branch to the ledge of the entrance,  barely making it. His hands grasped the top of the gutter, hanging dangerously high from the top of the entrance roof as he slowly tried to raise his legs from beneath the gutter. The music from the speakers vibrated through the tiles of the roof. One elbow after another he pulled himself up. His face was red and plump with effort as he gained a footing on the roofs red tiles; he bent over as regained his breath. "I'll be damned" Rick said impressed Aidan rose from his quick and tired state to stand up on the roof. He let his arms drop as he felt the falls dry breeze beneath them as he regained a better sense of where he was, he raised his head to the clear maroon sky and let go of the fear of falling for a second to catch his breath. The palm leaves looked quaint dancing in the sunlight from the top of the entrance. In fact the entire facility looked amazing, Aidan could see the path to the hayfield in between the pool shed's back gate, his father running back from the tool shed, Alexandra's mother Vivian watching from outside of the Shake shack, and even the pool, looked invariably grandiose from up there and he probably would've tried jumping in it if it were closer to the entrance. Everything went slow for a moment; He couldn't hear anything, the wind, the oceans far distant echo , Sarah cursing at Truman for making jokes about his apparent demise, Victor yelling at him to get down from the roof, everything was silent. All he could hear was Claire's music. He loved her all together in that moment in time despite the absurdity of the moment, he would never forget exactly how in the flying fuck he got up there on that windy day in March in the first place. "So this is why people climb mountains .... and all other types of extravagance and shit," he thought as he looked at the scenery.  It's serene...." Aidan started to bob his head to the beat as he looked around his view, he was star-struck by the beauty of the moment, in fact, this was the first thing he had climbed in his life... and to think he didn't even climb shit since his freshman year.... "Holy Fuck" Aidan said mind-blown at this sudden surrealism. Claire turned around at him and looked at Aidan disturbed, the song had ended. "What? "She said Aidan had completely forgot about Claire in that moment and quickly turned around ... they both looked back at each other. "What did you say?" Claire said confusedly. Aidan was at a loss of words.... This was the first time he had heard her talk, then it hit him. "Wait, why are you looking at me, like I'm the wild one? he said " You're the one on our roof"  he gestured at her "like seriously?" he said. He looked back down at the gang below, then looked back at Claire. The entire gang looked back up at him blankly. "How do you think its going?" Truman questioned. "I don't know, this isn't like him, at all, well at least not to this degree" Sarah said to herself. "DON'T FUCK UP YOUR FIRST IMPRESSION WITH RAPUNZEL." Rick yelled. "Oh fuck you Rick" Aidan whispered as he eyed him below. Her face was blank as she stared at him. Why am I even up here? he thought to himself, surprised. Claire, still looking at Aidan, laughed and smiled. The next song started to play, breaking the silence and just like that she was dancing again. Aidan turned around to look at this weird, clearly insane woman sensually moving without a care in the world one more time. He had thought it was love at first, but it clearly wasn't that type of affection, it was much less serious than that, it was more like sheer amazement, an amazement he couldn't even pinpoint, a sense of unpredictability" he thought. He sobered up and looked back at Claire, crazy fucking Claire. What is she on ...  he thought to himself ... Aidan snapped back to his senses.. he cleared his throat "Ok?....so uhm you're going to have get dow---." the tile beneath his foot broke before Aidan could finish his sentence, and of course he fell into the pack of panda lilies in front of the entrance.