#therefore he did perfect and deserves more credit

[blametheeditor]

Terms Of Agreement | Chapter 5

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Run Down: The monster under your bed, the one in the closet, and your sleep paralysis demon fight for custody.

Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of sleep paralysis, hallucinations, and sleep deprivation. Mentions of death, murder, and accidental deaths. Mentions of treating others as lesser than, addressing someone as 'it'.

We don't play favorites, just lesser of three evils

__________________________________________

Fritz wakes up to darkness, and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up straight. 

If he thought about it for a moment, if the fog of sleep wasn’t clouding his mind, he would’ve remembered what had been said to him regarding the beings fighting for the right to have his soul. Realized night finally came and it was time to torment him. And that the worst thing to do it that moment was open his eyes. 

But that’s exactly what he does. And Fritz stares at his empty bedroom. 

The teenager watches in silent for a moment in the attempt to figure out if he’s actually awake, and if he is, what the culprit was for causing it.

There is nothing in my room.

Fritz takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart. Makes a slow sweep of the room with his eyes, feeling himself relax at the confirmation nothing is inside his room. Not by the locked door. Not in the corner next to his dresser. Not next to the- 

The gasp is involuntary at the sight of the closet door cracked open. Because Fritz had double checked it was closed before falling asleep a few hours ago. Or, was that something he did yesterday? Did he make sure it was closed this morning? When was the last time he even used his closet? That was always something his mom got upset about, the fact he was a walk-in closet but decides to use his dresser instead. All because of a dream he had that started to repeat itself over a few years. 

This...this feels like that dream. Where the door opens by itself. Usually what happens next is that something comes out of it. Once it was shadows shaped like vines. Another time a silhouette of a large, writhing figure. 

...it was never a dream, was it? 

There is nothing in my room.

Fritz’s knuckles turn white at the thought becoming more like a plea rather than a reminder. He refuses to look away from the closet, now. As much as the thought terrifies him of watching some unspeakable horror enter his room, he would rather know what’s coming instead of being blindsided when it happens. 

And it is when. This is David’s night. There is no reason for the monster in the closet to not take full advantage. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes. A minute. Thirty. Maybe even an hour. He can’t tell, and it might not matter. There’s nothing Fritz can do to stop the terror building up inside him. Waiting only continues to make it worse. 

But then the door opens another inch. Then another. And then three long claws that turn into talons, into fingers slowing wrap around the doorframe. An appendage that twitches and morphs from something humanoid into a hoof steps out. Finally, something big that looks like it struggles to breathe lumbers its way out of the closet. It’s too dark to make out any details, looks as if it’s made of shadows, and that makes it all the more horrific. 

Fritz wants to do nothing more than scream, but his body is frozen as if Vincent has paralyzed him. The only thing he wants to do is run while at the same time being too terrified to move. 

Please don’t find me.

There’s not a single sound other than his rapid breathing. He can see it moving what can only be assumed is a head to scan the room. Watches as it takes stuttering steps forward, teetering as its limbs continuously change. Feels its dark presence confirming the target is him. Yet it remains eerily silent, not even making the carpet crunch, as if it doesn’t truly exist. 

But it does. And Fritz is terrified about what it’s going to do once it finds him. 

Suddenly, it whips around and seems to stare directly at him. Goes deathly still. At least, as much as it can, its body refusing to hold its original shape as it continues to contort. 

In this moment as he waits for it to lunge at him, Fritz is reminded of something else that changed the longer he stared at it. Words that he was told shouldn’t be read or else he’ll lose his mind. The cold realization David managed to get his way and teach the disrespectful teenager a lesson. 

No, that’s not possible. This is just a hallucination. It’s meant to scare him, David wouldn’t be able to make a creature made out of letters. That has to be something impossible to do, right? The monster just wants to make him paranoid. 

Fritz trembles as he continues to stare, the creature just as still. Feels each and every one of his breaths stutter. Can’t tell if the rest of his room seeming to grow fuzzy is due to terror, the refusal to even blink, or David really does have that kind of power. 

Finally, Fritz is forced to blink, his eyes stinging. It couldn’t have been for more than a full second. Yet plenty of time for the creature to get a foot closer. He hadn’t even heard it move, and now it’s close enough that if it reaches out, it can grab him. 

That breaks Fritz’s resolve. He screeches as he tries to scramble away. Makes the horrific mistake of looking behind him when his back hits the wall. Shrieks at the creature standing directly beside his bed when he finally looks back at it. 

“Mom!” Fritz screams. “Mom!” 

He waits. For his bedroom door to open. For the lights to turn on. For a warm embrace as he’s told it’s okay, he’s safe, she won’t let anything hurt him. But she never comes. Because she’s gone. Fritz is alone. 

Tears stream down his face as he’s forced to watch the writhing figure, knowing no one is coming to help him. Coughs as a sob erupts at the same time he tries to gasp for air. Begins to panic because he almost closes his eyes. Almost lets the creature win. Knows it’s only a matter of time. 

Fritz sprints for the door. 

His footing on the mattress is clumsy, and he nearly slams his head into his dresser. But he stays on his feet, keeps his eyes locked on his bedroom door, and lunges for the lights. The only thing he can throughout his escape is his own frantic movements, yet he swears there’s a growl as soon as he flips the switch. He doesn’t check on the creature, however, only yanks the door open before leaping into the hallway. 

Fritz whirls around to keep an eye on his room. To see if he’s followed. Counts 60 seconds. Only when nothing happens, not even the ground shaking from catastrophic footsteps, does the redhead allow himself to crumble to the floor. Curls into a tight ball as sobs wrack his body. 

Somehow, he manages to fall asleep like that. He doesn’t dream of anything, but he’s jolted awake at the sound of something crashing to the floor from somewhere inside the house. Looks to his left and right to see the hallway no longer towers high above him. The front door is open to let morning sunlight in. 

I’m not going to survive this...

Fritz knew to take the threat of making his life horrible seriously. But never did he think they would go so far as to make it so unbearable. Sleepless nights are par for the course. Giants that don’t understand they can easily kill him is something he’ll never get used to, but at least it’s consistent. 

The mind games, though? The deliberate attempts to make him paranoid, to not explain anything, to leave him clueless until he’s facing it directly? Where does using Fritz’s lack of knowledge to their advantage end, and it being unfair and borderline cheating start? 

...nothing he can do about it now. He’ll ask later. Now, he needs to get dressed. Try to eat something. Get out of the house before David decides Fritz deserves a special punishment for cutting the night short. 

Fritz finds himself on autopilot as he gets ready for school. Makes two pieces of toast for breakfast. Stares at his bag sitting on the floor for a moment before realizing it had been left on the table last night and must’ve fallen when the house shrunk back to its normal size. Gets his things reorganized before packing extra snacks and a portable phone charger. 

Walks silently out the door. Is genuinely surprised to see Jeremy waiting for him already. 

His best friend takes one look at him before pulling the redhead into a hug. “Bad n-n-night?” 

You don’t know the half of it.

Fritz clings to Jeremy as he takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” 

The arms surrounding him hold him tighter, as if they can protect him from the horrors that visit him in the night. “Would you l-like t-to talk about it?” 

As much as he wants to confide in the only person left in this world who cares about him, who has been by Fritz’s side ever since elementary school, who has spoken about his own troubles and wants nothing more than to be here when it’s most needed...he can’t. He can’t, and it hurts. 

Jeremy gives him a gentle squeeze after a minute of silence. “W-W-Was it a nightmare?” 

...technically it was. That, that wouldn’t be something that could hurt Jeremy for knowing, right? 

“Have they been g-getting worse?” the taller asks after Fritz tentatively nods, earning another one. Because while the nightmares and sleep paralysis had always been bad, never did he imagine it getting like this. Never had he imagined they were caused by malicious beings. “Would you l-l-like to sleep over at m-my h-house?” 

Fritz’s first instinct is to say no, to admit he’ll never be able to hang out with Jeremy after sunset, feels tears stinging his eyes because it’s not fair. After taking his home away, promising he’ll never get a reprieve from the torture, and they still find a way to hurt him when it shouldn’t be possible. 

Then he remembers there’s a schedule. One that’s proven to be trustworthy. None of them appeared Sunday night, and the same thing was said for Thursday and Friday night. He’s safe those nights. Meaning Jeremy would be safe. 

“Friday,” Fritz breathes as he looks up at Jeremy. “C-Can I sleep over Friday night?” 

His best friend beams from the request. “O-Of course! My parents c-c-can't say no to a w-w-weekend night.” 

Fritz can’t help the feeling of hope blossoming in his chest. It scares him, because the three might do everything in their power to crush it, but he feels ten times lighter. He’ll never be able to tell Jeremy the truth, but they’ve been there for each other without such knowledge before. When Fritz refused to back down and get chased off from degrading comments the Fitzgeralds constantly sent his way. When Jeremy silently stood guard and never questioned when naps were taken during class. 

He’s not alone. 

That thought keeps him grounded for the rest of the day. Helps keep him awake, even. Manages to pay attention and retain a majority of what his teachers say. Because there’s the promise that at the end of the week, it’ll all be worth it. 

The moment he’s standing in front of his house again reminds him there’s still literal monsters waiting for him. But waving Jeremy goodbye is all that’s needed to remember someone still cares about him. Someone will be waiting for him tomorrow morning, then the next, and the next. 

I can do this.

Fritz clenches his fists, preparing himself for the terrifying greeting guaranteed to come. Marches up the front steps before diving through the front door. Curls into a ball to keep from tumbling when the door slams shut. 

Blinks in confusion when the sound of the lock clicking into place is heard, but there had been a distinct lack of force. His hair had barely been ruffled. 

“David informed us you deliberately took actions to cut the night short.” 

Fritz feels as though someone punched him in the chest, his lungs refusing to cooperate at the realization he is currently alone with James. The monster who’s made it blatantly clear Fritz is no more than an object to him. Someone that’s needed to be told by the others to back off. 

Who’s...sitting in one of the living room chairs. A book in hand. Head tilted down to show that while he’s clearly talking to the teenager cowering on the floor, whatever is being read is much more interesting. 

“While Vincent finds it amusing, I, on the other hand, agree that such disrespect will not be tolerated,” James continues, causing Fritz’s body to start shaking like a leaf. “Therefore, you are being given one warning. Take such actions again, and there will be severe consequences.” 

Silence. The book continues to be the focus of the monster’s attention, as if Fritz isn’t worth a single glance despite the threat. And it’s this that takes the hope he once had, and shatters it into a million pieces. Because no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, the three will be here until he chooses. Will break him down every chance they get. Remind him that he nothing but the means to an end. 

“You can complete your assigned work anywhere you desire,” the giant continues. “The only area off limits is your bedroom.” 

With that, Fritz feels relief at James making it clear he’s only here to watch him and has no intentions to physically interact with the teenager. 

...he has the whole house to himself. 

Fritz jolts at the thought. Because before this, he’s been herded if not outright grabbed and carried to where the three wanted him to be. Now, he’s being allowed to explore. Something that’s both terrifying if James decides to start walking around, and exciting. 

He’s technically shrunk. The entire house towers over him. And yet he’s never really interacting with anything except traversing the floor or being spilled onto a higher surface. But should he play it safe and just sit down right here to do homework, or explore and claim he’s just finding a comfortable place to work? 

The worst part is his current warden is James. Vincent most likely wouldn’t mind, and he’d trust his sleep paralysis demon to watch the floor while walking. David wouldn’t give him a chance. And before this, Fritz thought both monsters would share the same sentiment. 

Unless this is some kind of challenge to see if he disobeys orders. 

Fritz finally gathers the courage to begin walking toward the living room. Not excited about the inevitable fight with the carpet once he reaches it. But it’ll be a lot more comfortable than tile, and James won’t have the chance to claim he’s being ungrateful not taking advantage of such an offer. 

As he walks, glances are sent toward the monster to check if he’s being watched. Every time, James is content to simply read. The embodiment of calm. It makes him look almost...human. 

Fritz decides to sit down next to the couch, leaning against the wooden leg thicker than he is. Sends a suspicious look at the dark space directly to his left that could be hiding anything. Nothing seems to move through the shadows, however, there being nothing but dust bunnies. And it makes him feel better being next to something that would be awkward walking directly beside it. Not to mention he’d be able to dive out of the way. Be safe from a shoe or hand as long as he’s quick enough. 

As he starts on his homework, James is still sent a fearful look every other minute, just to ensure the monster isn’t planning on something. But Fritz is left completely alone. Something that’s unnerving yet, nice. 

“J-James?” slips out before Fritz can stop himself. 

Instead of ignoring him, the giant tilts his head up so pitch black eyes are now locked on the redhead who dared interrupt him. “You speak like there’s a question despite only saying my name.” 

Fritz feels himself tense up, realizing he managed to upset James with a single word. Wants to do nothing more than run. Take back what he said and plead for his life. 

He can’t say anything, however. Can’t move. Only watches as the monster turns back to his book. “I suggest you utilize the inflection properly rather than wasting our time.” 

Fritz holds his breath. Expects to be grabbed. Told he single handedly promised himself a worse night than previously planned. Get stomped directly beside. But nothing happens. 

What had the others said before? Vincent’s always concerned about Fritz getting killed, but something had been said about harming him a few times. An almost throwaway comment to calm the teenager, but it was there. Is, is that what’s holding the monster back? 

“Wh-What did Vincent and David mean? When they said you can-n-n't intentionally hurt me?” Fritz asks. Because if the worse thing that happened for wasting James’ time was a verbal rebuttal, then it might be safe asking an actual question. There’s still the couch to use as a last resort. 

James’ expression doesn’t change as he turns back to Fritz. He isn’t bored, far from patient, just neutral. And that helps the teenager’s heart beat just a little slower. “There are strict rules that need to be followed in order for any competition over a soul to remain fair for all parties involved, including the soul itself. This includes intentionally manipulating or harming the vessel of the soul. If a monster or demon intentionally harms the vessel, they will be disqualified and forfeit all rights to compete. If harm befell upon the vessel, but there had been no intention and was due to an accident or not having proper knowledge, they may continue to compete.” 

So that’s why David hasn’t disappeared even though Fritz still has a few bruises from being previously being picked up roughly. Even though it could've ended badly, it would've been a mistake. A mistake that could've cost the teenager his life, yet it'd be treated as nothing more than a setback. No consequences other than Vincent and James being upset they lost their rights to a soul.

“B-But there’s still accidents?” Fritz confirms.

“It’s impossible for there not to be,” James says. As if he isn’t talking to the very person who would be the one getting harmed in such a scenario. “However, Vincent is well versed in keeping such fragile vessels safe from fatal accidents. The worst that may happen is the vessel’s integrity being permanently damaged.” 

Fritz hates the fact everything has its pros and cons, including asking questions. He can either get straight answers from James while at the same time being told he’s nothing more than a vessel, or never getting the full picture with Vincent but he’s spoken to like he’s a person. 

At least he has a little more information. Knows he had a reason to be scared of the creature last night. As long as it didn’t intentionally hurt him, it still would’ve been able to grab him if given the chance. And considering James has been described as being more physical than the other two, he might have to be prepared for anything. 

As much as he hates to say it, Fritz can’t wait for Vincent to come back...

[sgiandubh]

Jottings: Season 7, episode 7. If my Latin serves me, that must mean star traveler

Finally made it. Ticked that box. Doubled Cape Fear. I deserve an ice cream, I suppose.

To be honest, I was expecting way worse. And it ends much better than it started, despite SS moaning like a banshee, despite the chopped editing, despite that finger-in-mouth failed transplant (I shall not thank thee, Vanessa Woman) and despite an almost unreadable storyline for us, show-onlies.

A few words on this season's Lallybroch set. I know the Eighties were dubiously fond of shrieking orange shades, diarrheic golden browns and horribly impractical furniture, of course. But am I the only one that feels modern-day Lallybroch is tacky and kitschy AF, as compared to the wonderful, really perfect J&C& the Murrays' timeline? I also find it disturbingly confusing, a failed hybrid between a Texas ranch and a Brittany gentilhommière. To bear the shock, my gaze needs the active help of details with a story and a destiny, such as the Jacobite 'Nemo me impune lacessit' saltire I've noticed ever since Mrs. Graham was reading Claire's teacup, in season 1 - now almost an afterthought. Therefore, the overall result feels like J&C's shrine has been colonized by anachronistic hipsters, not to mention that horrible caravan. There is a complete lack of coziness to a space that did not have the time to become a real home. That only makes things worse when #Broger try their best at mimicking a functional, credible marriage, sex included.

Let's be done already with the Phil Collins moment. And go tell it on the mountain that, despite the multiple warnings received recently, my reaction somehow managed to surprise myself. Reader, I HOWLED, which is beyond redemption and potentially much more cruel than a heavy disappointment. The hydraulics were shaky. The afghan was mustard. She was indescribable and he was elsewhere. I shall only add that my brain refused the connection with In the Air Tonight and went instead for I Can't Dance. If there is any truth in that old symmetry between dancing, driving and canoodling - go figure. Enough said.

The two people who totally slayed this episode were Buck Mackenzie and Vandervaart - I know, indulge me, I am a poor woman of feeble mind. I do not intend to insist on young William, simply because I don't think it's savvy to shamelessly fangirl two days in a row. He shines in that very difficult battle scene, and yes, it reminded me of Culloden J sans the kamikaze touch. And yes, by the end of Saratoga 1.0, William is easily ten years older: the whole world's burden weighs on his shoulders and there is a taste of ashes to that Pyrrhic victory.

Spoiler: [looking at Jemmy's toy plane] Of all the things I have seen... have you been inside one? (...) My Jeremiah would love this. Buck is phenomenal. He is versatile enough to seamlessly transition from a hungry animal to the 18th century lawyer to the unwanted, macho cousin-ancestor to the father who misses his children, all of this in less than an hour. And even if I shall never forgive Herself for not bringing You-Know-Who through the stones, this could be as good as it gets, in terms of a second-best narrative solution. Still, unfair, Herself. Unfair to bits.

Spare the cosmic booing in the air these days, the J&C/S&C PDA issue has also been debated at length, in quite tired terms, to be honest. What I did see was a couple sure of itself and completely at ease with one another. And if you think S&C were nowhere to be found, think again about C's chuckle just after J cheekily tells her she needs spectacles, with a very 21st century flirty-coffee-in-town attitude that is not J.

I believe the next and last episode is on August 11th. That should be the one with the blue light mojo, right? Right.

I can't wait.

Credit given again to @flllk. Of course.

[send-up-my-heart-to-you]

theories for chain of thorns

i had these posted on my gr from like december, im just posting them here

- lucie will now be an antagonist lets be honest we all know it. necromancers are NOT good people and thats the path lucie chose for herself by wanting to save jesse

- someone major will die idk who it is yet, but my instincts tell me its matthew or alistair. the second wouldnt make sense tho – if alistair dies, how would the carstairs line continue down to emma??? hopefully itll be tatiana that bitch

- jamie x daisy its inevitable guys, have you seen the snippets? im rooting for them theyre perfect

- thomas and alistair are NOT gonna end up together this was a gut feeling when i wrote it but as of jan 5 i have a legible reason as to why they would not be happy and its the next theory

- IM SCARED THOMAS IS GONNA DIE the “found family tree” says that thomas died TWO YEARS before barbara. i understand cassie has repeatedly stated that its been manipulated (she hinted that it was changed by the silent brothers) and isnt reliable. but isnt that disturbing?? esp considering theres at least part of it thats reliable, and thats the fact that alistair will 100% go on to marry a woman despite being gay. if alistair doesnt have kids, and cordelias children are all herondales, then the carstairs family would die out and emma would not be related to jem (even tho its been stated that they are related by blood). “oH bUt SoNa iS pReGnAnT mAyBe ShEs GoNnA GiVe BiRtH tO a bOy” first of all, theres a chance the baby is born a girl second of all, the baby might die third of all, where is the son on the family tree? fourth of all, SONA IS, ACCORDING TO THE TREE, DEAD BEFORE THOMAS. PLEASE.

- grace x christopher i despise grace but she acts like a different person around kit… maybe he can fix her

- anna x ariadne she cant fuck up ALL the gay relationships, now can she?

- the merry thieves are gonna forgive alistair (specifically matthew) bro he literally made out with one of them TWICE. if matthew doesnt think “well shits gonna get awkward if i dont forgive the sorry bastard” istg~ 💀

- this is more of a hope than a theory MATTHEW FAIRCHILD SHALL ACHIEVE THE HAPPINESS HE DESERVES smth tells me he wont get a happy ending tho… i mean, if my above theory abt thomas is correct~

- SO DOES ALISTAIR I MEAN CMON GUYS #justiceforalistair he regrets the shit hes pulled and therefore your hate against him for it is invalid PLUS HE GOT BULLIED BY RACIST PIECES OF SHIT HE DID WHAT HE COULD TO MAKE IT STOP

- matthew will open up abt his secret its like a routine at this point, in every shadowhunters series. a character has a secret that nearly kills them outta despair, they open up to friends, theyre met with love and support. jace loving his “sister”. wills “curse”. emma and jules’ relationship. ty bringing back livvy. alec being gay. you get used to it lol

- either lucie or matthew would have their marks stripped lucie for attempting/committing necromancy, and matthew because sobh said he doesnt have a specified death date (also i think cassie just hates him)

- jesse will be evil bro wouldnt that be cruel… like imagine after lucie brings him back hes like “haha i manipulated you to bring me back i never loved you” and then sHe GETS HER RUNES STRIPPED FOR NECROMANCY and its worse bc the shadowhunters are already out to get the herondales bc they refuse to accept tessa as anything but a warlock no but in that case she would prolly go to live with wills parents OKAY BUT IMAGINE HOW HEARTBROKEN CHARLOTTE WOULD BE WHILE DOING IT WHILE JAMIE IS CRYING AND MATTHEW SCREAMING AT HER NOT TO AND WILL TELLS HIM TO STOP WHILE TEARS ARE GOING DOWN HIS FACE

- a “seven husbands of evelyn hugo” thing with anna x ariadne and thomas x alistair (credit to my good friend wiz/nisha for saying this) maybe cassie is going to have thomas marry ariadne and anna marry alistair so that they could have a good old switcheroo, so they can swap lovers?? obviously it cant be anna and thomas lmao theyre cousins but thomas and ARIADNE…

- matthew and cordelia ARE going to kiss at one point HOL’ UP I DONT SHIP EM, i think its gonna be a climon kinda thing where they kiss and dont like it as much as they thought they would, and end up deciding to stay friends i think thats the best way cassie could deal with matthews crush on her without breaking anyones heart, i hope to god it wont be like him confessing and her rejecting him plz oml

[thevalleyisjolly]

for the fandom of your choice/whatever is more applicable (although if u have any spicy d20 takes 👀👀): 3, 5, 7, 13 and 18

Ooh, thanks Jack! Had curry for lunch today so I'm full of spice and ready to let loose!

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

I stay out of the general tags for a reason, but my top 3 all fall along the same lines - the idea that K is a "toxic" person to pair with Evan because they don't really "see" him for him (...which is exactly the flaw and the room for growth that Erika built into the character), the idea that Ricky was "bullying" Cody because he was upset about Cody's cultural appropriation, and the whole non-consensual brain surgery thing with Norman.

(The common theme is people accusing Asian PCs of being mean to their white faves and therefore deserving of all sorts of bad things. Funny how that's happened not once, not twice, but thrice, huh)

5. worst discord server and why

As most of my friends and IRL classmates can tell you, I'm not super active on Discord and am horrible at answering messages in a timely fashion, so I don't actually have a server that I particularly dislike!

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Keradin, Limon, and Evan Kelmp are the first ones that spring to mind. Keradin actually has some interesting character beats and flaws but I've never seen anyone try to engage with him as his own character, they just interpret everything he does as part of a relationship dynamic with Lapin. Limon is a fucking background comedic NPC and I am still annoyed that during and after the season, people were willing to credit him with so much complexity and interiority while downplaying/outright shitting on the actual PCs.

With Evan, I'm not a huge fan of the character concept to begin with but I'm even more livid that in one of the most diverse D20 seasons, fandom actively sidetracked and ignored and even denigrated every other character in favour of the sad white boy played by the sole white player at the table. To be clear, Brennan is great, nothing against the man, but I was in the tags when the season aired live and about 95% of the posts were Evan-centred. Sam, Whitney, and K barely showed up unless they were interacting with Evan or did a particularly funny bit. And that's not even getting into the hate and criticism that got thrown at K for daring to be in a mutual romantic relationship with Evan.

13. worst blorboficiation

See previous question, but oddly enough, I also feel like Emily gets this treatment sometimes? It's complicated because there's one portion of the fandom that acts like she's a terrible chaotic player who keeps trying to fuck up Brennan's plans for shits and giggles (which is outright wrong and misogynistic) and then there's another portion that acts like Emily's characters can do no wrong and Emily may in fact be the only player at the table who knows what she's doing at any given point in time while the rest of them are just comedic yahoos fumbling their way through dice rolls and jokes. Which, placing women on a pedestal is in fact also sexist, and it's not any better than the misogyny you're responding to. It's a huge disservice to the cast and it's especially a huge disservice to Emily - she creates incredibly complex and well thought out characters who have their strengths and their flaws, and acting like they're all perfect girlbosses who are right even when they're wrong erases so much of the depth that Emily put into them.

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

I mean, we all know my answer is of course going to be Cumulous Rocks, but as per a recent post of mine (and many posts in the past), the answer is also more broadly applicable to Zac and pretty much all of his PCs.

[queenscharacters]

"You look really beautiful, Sasha." Niko to Sasha

Sasha knew she was a pretty girl. There were several things for her to be insecure over, but her physical appearance was never one. She never gave her father much thought, therefore never any credit, but her mother was the most beautiful woman she knew. It had to make sense that Blair had passed some of those genes down to her. As far as she was concerned, she got everything from her mama.

There was something about Niko telling her that was different from knowing, from hearing it from anyone else. Even her mom had a way of making her feel more special than anyone else, but somehow the boy he was crushing over found a way to supersede that. She knew she was beautiful, but tonight, hearing those words from Niko’s lips, she felt like the most gorgeous woman alive. Maybe him being the most attractive guy she ever laid eyes on had something to do with it.

“I’m already so annoying, Nikolai, please don’t give me a reason to be worse.” Sasha grinned, ducking her chin bashfully. How was a girl to respond when her literal perfect boyfriend, straight from her dreams, was making her feel like she was still stuck in one? She felt so pretty tonight; wearing a custom one of her mom’s designs was the icing on the cake. Sure, these military freaks had no appreciation for fashion, but anyone with eyes could appreciate her fit.

“Thank you for taking me tonight.” Sasha beamed up at him, her grin widening. She couldn’t help herself. If it hadn’t been for Niko’s invite, she wouldn’t sat this one out. She loved Robbie, she did, but she l felt like such an embarrassment to him. He didn’t deserve his first big event as dean being remind of her inadequacies. The kids she would finally have as siblings would be everything she wasn’t, but she couldn’t even envy them.

[echantedtoon]

A Bloom In Time Ch6 A Take Of A Prince, Queen, And Princess Of Flowers

(Warning: Death scene in this chapter. I do not know Snatcher's or The Florist's real names so Im making my own headcannon names for the two. Also mentioning of Death near the end of the chapter.)

You may have heard this story but not in the correct version you might've thought. Gather around children and I'll tell you the story of a Prince of Shadows, A Queen of Golden Hair, and an honorary Princess of Flowers. And it all took place one thousand years ago. Way before you or I was born. 

Once upon a time there was a planet called Subconia and there are many different cultures and people who live on this world, but the two kingdoms we shall explore was two kingdoms that don't exist anymore. A thousand years ago there lived two kingdoms who lived side by side. The MUCH larger Kingdom Of Subcon, and the tinier Kingdom of Subconette. Though these two kingdoms shared similar names and people, they were worlds apart. A lone Queen ruled over Subconette while a kind King and Queen ruled over Subcon. Years passed as the kingdoms continued to stand, until one fateful day three children were born. A beautiful little princess with hair of the sun was born to the lone queen and a handsome baby boy of equal beauty was born to the Subcon kingdom. Their names? Princess Vanessa and Prince Philip of the Subcon Kingdoms. 

Did you all remember me mentioning a third child born? Ah! Good. You're paying attention to my old tale. 

Yes. A third child was born, but not of royal blood. A young girl, with hair of rose red and eyes of ocean blue was born to a small farming family just on the outskirts of the kingdom of Subcon, but it was fate that decided her role in the future. Her name? Poppy Rose Bloomington...But I'm getting a little ahead of myself aren't I? Let us proceed with the two lives of the royals before the three intertwined.

As months went by, the Prince and Princess's parents deemed it so that the two would be betrothed in holy matrimony, a union to bring the two kingdoms together at last and bring peace to them all. As the amount of years grew, so did the beauty of the princess. Her skin, was very fair and her hair a beautiful yellow rivalling any gold treasure, with a voice as tender and soft as velvet. Not a woman in the kingdoms could rival her own beauty....Or so she thought. Ever since she was small her mother always made sure Vanessa could have anything a young lady wanted. Servants, good food, exotic jewelry, expensive dresses, anything was hers at a moment's demand and she relished in the fact of being a perfect princess like in those fairytales her mother always read her, always fantasizing about her perfect fairytale like with her Prince Charming and having that perfect white wedding. And that spoiled thinking would ultimately lead this girl to doom. Her mother building her up so and giving in to every request only made her want what was truly a fantasy. An actual fairytale perfect life, whether anybody liked it or not. She fell hard for the handsome young prince of brown hair and handsome features. From the time she could understand to speak, her mother always told her Prince Philip was her betrothed, and were to her married when they grew.  Her betrothed.....Her Prince. ALL HERS AND NO ONE ELSE'S!!! She would always be the kind Princess her Prince deserved and he WOULD be the Prince she knew he could be.

Prince Philip was more clear minded than given credit for. The young prince was a kind hearted young boy who cared for his people greatly and wanted to better himself and his country. Therefore it would only make sense for him to want to study the laws governing his kingdom so he may better them. And so his studies began. From a young age the boy studied laws enough to make his parents proud he was taking his studies seriously and at the same time was often taken on visits to meet his future beloved. It was love at first sight....at least at first it was. She was so beautiful and kind and wanted to spend time with him all the time. It was a kinda god send for someone who had no siblings or other children to play with. Having someone your age around you could play and talk to with was exciting. And her beauty only grew over time as well as his love for her, how couldn't he love someone as beautiful and kind as Vanessa? She was perfect.....Too perfect. Things couldn't last forever unfortunately. Vanessa's poor mother had started coming down with an illness that slowly started to make her waste away as her daughter grew and so he tried to be there of course and help console his future beloved, which is where fate intertwined these fated lovers. You see, if there was one thing that Vanessa loved more than anything was attention. Whether it be from her servants telling her how beautiful she was, or compliments....She LOVED attention from her Prince and ...'lightly suggested' it would be nice to receive things. And things she received, flowers mostly.

Did you notice how I pointed out flowers? Good eye.

You see, Poppy was always born with a green thumb, being from a long line of farmers of course helped. She could grow anything from potatoes to peach trees, but ever since she was small, she had always had one love. Flowers! Didn't matter what kind, she always loved growing them just as much as Vanessa loved receiving beautiful flowers from her prince. Which lead us to the fated meeting of the Florist. Poppy worked her whole life to build up her own flower stand and by the age of fifteen she had achieved it. A small flower stand within the Subcon Village, filled with lots of Merry children and near the famous vacation home of the famous Princess Vanessa. Sometimes she'd be lucky enough to see the beautiful princess walking around the village talking to the children but one fateful day to Poppy's surprise a young handsome man with brown hair and a golden crown on his head came to visit the small stand of flowers. Buying the most beautiful roses Poppy had before leaving. And this young ones is how a friendship began. Almost everyday of the week the prince would stop by the Florist's stands and pick out a new bundle of pretty flowers for his mourning and beautiful princess and everyday she would smile and talk to the prince. Business sales went up and she was giddy a well known man had taken interest in her flowers. Then he started asking what she'd recommend he'd get a lady since she was one, she proudly pointed to daises, and tulips, and tigerlillies. So many to choose from, so many to give. Gradually their conversations turned more business like and an unlikely bond began to weave with them. A friendship he had never had beyond any personal life or otherwise. He learnt her name too. Poppy. Named after those cute red poppy flowers she loved so much, with a spark and feisty temper to match. Made him laugh a couple times when she pointed out something snarky he liked. Slowly melting his heart with her passion and tales of hard work she had to do to get where she was know. And he admired her for that. 

Unfortunately fairytales don't last beyond pages, and the Prince learnt that the hard way when Vanessa convinced her still ill mother to make a new law. Telling him he's become fat and shouldn't eat bacon anymore to watch his health. Poppy was confused at such a ridiculous law and her friend was obviously upset about it, but he passed it off as Vanessa wanting to make sure he was healthy as her mother was still dying slowly. Then slowly by surely things only began to get worse. Vanessa wanting attention was fine and he vowed to give her all the attention she deserved, but now she demanded ALL his attention ever and always began scrutinizing him for not being Princely enough now that he began his advanced studies and would go back home within a few months time to finish his more difficult studies under one of the kingdom's best tutors. His only escape was when Vanessa was discussing her future duties with her mother and also taking her Princess classes with her tutors. He was then free to walk around and do as he pleased if only for a few hours a day, those were spent reading or walking around the village, but he learnt pretty quickly to bring some kind of gift or trinket back for her as an excuse for why he'd been out. Vanessa's jealousy could rival that of a child. He never intended for it to happen of course but the strain of the relationship getting to him and the way he looked so tired all the time. Barely smiling when he came in to get Vanessa more flowers. Against her better judgement, Poppy asked why he wasn't smiling anymore and let him rant about his day. Which was a daily thing for them after that. Him coming in, Poppy letting him rant, then he'd buy flowers and leave. Rinse and repeat for the next two years to a few weeks before their twentieth birthdays with Poppy cracking jokes and trying to be helpful and the prince slowly growing more and more fond over her unlady-like snorts and giggles, to her bold statements, to her bright smile always trying to cheer up her friend. All the while Vanessa continued to go down this rabbithole of perfection. He still made excuses for her. Her mother was dying, she was going to be Queen soon, she wasn't ready-.....Well for being Queen that is. Vanessa had already planned out their lives together and even built a BLOODY nursery for their future child that wasn't even born yet. One in her castle and one in the mansion he was staying at, but Vanessa would visit very often. Even stay a few days.

But what really concerned his friend was the hair incident. When he came in with his usual shoulder length brown hair was chopped up and a bad bleached blonde color, with brown patches here and there. He claimed he was alright. Vanessa just wanted to surprise him by doing his hair while he slept. He could tell his friend was concerned and told him as much. He smiled knowing at least someone cared about his well being. Then came the last month he stayed and then off he went back home he went. To spend his final year of tutoring under the wonderful Lady Winchester. She was a kind old lady who taught his father before him and knew the laws better than anyone. He bid his last day there to his beloved Vanessa who cried and begged him not too, and once he fled her clutches......uh Hugged her good bye, he couldn't help but feel very releived he'd get to spend a whole year away from her as hash as it may be. But he did make sure to bid his friend good bye as well. Having one last conversation and sharing a couple jokes before he finally left.

That year would be the hardest for our ill fated lovers and the florist friend. While the Prince was able to breath and see his loved ones again, he couldn't help but miss her. Not Vanessa surprisingly but with all the serious laws and classes he missed their little visits when she always cheered him up and her beautiful smile and that passion she always had for anything she set her mind too.....It wasn't very long before he came to the sudden realization. The prince had slowly but surely fallen in love with the young red headed gal. So many emotions hit him at once. Happiness and guilt being the biggest two. For one, he was engaged to Vanessa, betrothed to be married a few months after all his studies are over. He couldn't go against his parents or break Vanessa's heart after so many years of being together, and she needed him. They had been exchanging letters and learnt her mother had sadly passed during an accident. While he couldn't attend her coronation or her mother's funeral, he still sent her many letters. There was still a piece of him that loved and cared about the young kind girl he grew up with, but not the lady she had become....But his heart was tugging towards the Princess of Flowers as he nicknamed her. The sweet scent always following her around. He often found himself happily thinking about his friend....But that's all they could ever be....Just friends. Vanessa was still his priority as glum as that made him and he had a duty to be there for his future wife. Besides. He was only delaying the inevitable by studying, soon they'd be wed and he would be together with her always.......Though that thought did NOT put him at ease at all. Vanessa in the mean time only drove further into her perfect fairytale madness. WIth her mother passing and her Prince not being able to call her his princess anymore, she was determined to then make her prince her King Instead and keep him all to herself. Jealousy spiking whenever he mentioned this Lady Winchester teaching him, he spoke so fondly and highly of his teacher. What did SHE have Vanessa didn't?! Vanessa was perfect. She made sure every INCH of her was, he just didn't put in enough effort on his part. All he needed was her back so he could know where his true place lied.

When the prince ultimately returned to spend just a holiday week at the summer house before their wedding within a few months time.....It was worse than ever. Vanessa demanded more attention of him. Accused him of liking the lady in the letters he had sent her. Said she would be staying in the summer house with him until their wedding to make sure he wasn't getting cold feet. Still despite all this and him trying to calm her down, he still made poor excuses for her and justified his betrothes's behavior towards him. Falling deeper and deeper into his now rare visits to his friend and falling more and more in love with her as the drew on. Knowing he could never really tell her how he really felt about her. Until one fateful day, the end of that week was the royals anniversary, the prince wanted to appease his beloved by getting her a beautiful bracelet and flowers for their anniversary as a gift to her. She deserved something special for the occasion before he went back, and soon his lonely self went on to that same little stand to but some flowers for his beautiful bride to be. Unfortunately he had used all his remaining pons to pay the jeweler for the bracelet .....but it-....He-......He gave the florist the bracelet as payment. One last gift from him he'd ever get to give her sadly. 

For you see, the princess's jealousy had reached a boiling point. Delusionly thinking that her prince was courting another woman. In her range when he returned to the castle, a grim fate awaited him in the form of a curse and becoming locked within the cellar death did they part. Their kingdoms both in ruins from the curse. Anyone who didn't fall ill to the curse, fled the country never to return again. Vanessa now trapped within her own home, and the prince becoming a spirit of malice no one dares to challenge.

But what of the Florist you ask? Was she frozen by the Jealous Queen, or escaped with many other people? Well, we're about to find out.

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Cold. Darkness. All of it came rushed over so suddenly. Just like the two heavily armored guards carrying her kicking and screaming self towards the dreaded summer house that housed the royals deep in the snowed up world. That winter suddenly came that year unexpectedly with the freezing winds suddenly whipping around her when she just closed up her stand for the day, pocketing the expensive bracelet she was given as payment and what coins she received as payment, ready to go home. She didn't make much from her flower stand she always wanted, but that was always fine and dandy. She loved the smiles on the children's faces when they'd buy single flowers for their parents, or if she'd sell them flowers in exchange for small things like food. It was one way to get to eat around here. But the chills filling the air that after noon followed by the loud thumping sounds coming towards her were new. Especially when all of a sudden two giant armored men stood over her and seized her without warning. So naturally she resisted and fought against her captors as they took her away.

"LET THE PECK GO OF ME!!  I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!!"

The farther down the path they went the more horrified she became. There was ...snow. IN THE MIDDLE OF SUMMER!! Harsh white and cold wind glared all around her as she gawked around wildly....and then shrieked at the sight of a frozen person as they passed. Their feared expression forever frozen on their face. The poor girl went silent from the numb cold as those blue eyes widened in horror at all the suurounding frozen people as they walked past, never easing up on her grip, or giving any emotion to anything around them as the horrified woman went limp in their arms from shock as they approached the black gates and beyond that was the manor. Her blue eyes flicked up to it. It looked more menacing than it usually did as the entire house loomed over them the closer they got and a sudden feeling of dread filled her up to the very core of her soul as they were swallowed by the shadows and even more coldness bearing down on her. The guards didn't stop until they were going up the stairs and into the home. It was as dark and cold as the outside. Even more so if that was possible. She was still frozen and scared in the grip of the guards when the doors opened and they forced her inside. The inside of the manor was colder than the outside is that was even possible, and if she wasn't already in shock, she would've shrieked at what was awaiting them just a few feet away from the door. 

In the darkness of cold and shadows, a hunched over monster made it's way over to them but dared not come further than five feet giving a hiss. Like she was a skunk and this red eyed thing was afraid of her. How strange, but that didn't stop her stop pointing a hand at her, and in possibly the most scariest, raspy voice Poppy had ever heard. Said:

"Take her to the room and lock her away. ...I can't to look at her for as my prince had done. Perhaps locking away her forever will teach her a lesson about gazing into another man's eyes who belong TO ME!!"

"...WAIT!! WHAT?!" She attempted to struggle again but their strength was too much.

Sadly be the fate of the innocent florist wasn't a pleasant one. As she was marched up the stairs to the very third floor of the manor, the coldness and shadows started to become too much to the point of her screaming and struggling body starting to be overcome by them all. the long hallway they were taking her down ended in a single pair of double doors, the doors suurounded by locks that haven't been locked yet. As her weakly numbing body was pushed into the empty room, she looked up just in time to see the two heavily armored guards slam the doors behind her. She struggled to stand with the cold seeping through all her body but wobbled to the door, vision blurring with nothing but darkness. Even as all the clicks and locks of the locks were put into place and the floor jostling with the heavy footsteps of the guards stopping away, she fell to her knees against the door and banged her fist against it. Screaming to be let out as the coldness and blackness seeped more into the room and still overtook her form.

Until it completely consumed her and upon the floor she laid. Beautiful red hair and blue eyes preserved by frost. Until a thousand years later. .....when a miracle happened...

And she once again got to take a breath.

[phoebe-delia]

Life, the Universe, and Everything

Happy 42nd Birthday, Draco! Here's some self-reflective fluff as a present :)

I don't understand people who are insecure about their age. I don't buy into this apparent need people have to prove how young they are with "anti-aging serums" and acting as if their age diminishes their value when really, I think people—like wine and cheese and fine leather—tend to get better over time.

I've only ever wanted to grow up. When I was younger, I would stomp my foot and scowl and cross my arms and insist that I was not to be treated "like a little kid" and therefore deserved whatever trinket or privilege I was being denied.

When I came of age to practice magic, a full adult in the eyes of the law, my enthusiasm was somewhat quelled by the fact that it was of little use to me at the time, living in the Muggle world as I was. The irony was not lost on me, as I spent my 18th birthday in a grimy Muggle diner, sitting in a booth with a torn cushion and choking down a chicken salad sandwich.

It got better, later on, when Harry came back into my life and turned it upside down in the best way with his easy generosity and forgiveness, and eventually his love. But he doesn't get all the credit; I think, now, that I earned it—that I still do, every day. And more than that, I worked for the happiness I've achieved over the last two decades.

I only got happier as I got older. The better part of my youth was filled with bitter resentment and anger, plus two years of near-constant terror.

When you come from a life of privilege, you think that everything will work out for you. You're taught that your parents can solve any problem with connections or money or both. I had the rug pulled out from under me before, during and after the war in that regard, and while my family and I deserved every consequence we paid, if not more, I think it's okay to still have compassion for my younger self; to look back at that time and remember that the struggle, no matter how merited, was still a struggle—grueling and brutal and constant.

So I don't understand why some people seem to dread aging. Maybe most people had an easier go of it than I did, at least I hope so, but it seems that this fear and pressure to feel like you're not wasting your time, your vitality and youth, is universal among the young. I am glad to be passed that.

I turn 42 today. When I informed Lily of this fact the other day, she began to snicker. Trying to rein in my offense at her rudeness, I frowned and tried to explain that it was impolite to shame others for their age, but she stopped me, her expression turning serious, eyebrows drawn in a way that reminded me starkly of Harry.

"Sorry, Papa, I wasn't making fun of you. You see, 42 is the meaning of life."

Nonplussed, I sputtered. "Pardon me?"

"42," she explained. "It's the meaning of life. Ask Dad, I think it's a Muggle thing."

I did end up asking Harry, who chuckled and explained that it was a Muggle film that he'd be glad to show me at my request. I will likely take him up on it, if for no other reason than my dislike for not being able to parse my children's pop culture references. But I digress.

My point is that, while I certainly don't claim to be a Seer, this year is already off to a perfect start, as I'm surrounded by loved ones and simply bursting with a stomach full of Harry's decadent red velvet cake. It well may be that 42 is the answer to the meaning of life, the universe—and everything.

[rhinestonerainbow]

Hey look who got Cyborg Noodle headcanons nobody asked for :D

•I personally feel like she was way more human than she's given credit for. There's the not so well known demo "Electric Shock", it was the Rhinestone Eyes demo I think, and the background vocals are Noodles. So Cyborg Noodle was very much able, or, rather programmed, to talk and express herself.

•When I hear the DBH Quote from Chloe "I only exist thanks to the intelligence of the humans that designed me. You know they have something I could never have. A soul" I immediately think of Cyborg Noodle. I personally headcanon that she wasn't able to feel emotion. Murdoc just didn't bother to program it, and even if he would've, it wouldn't have felt real. Now imagine you're a Cyborg, and you see people around you feel emotion, be angry and very possibly cry, and you just can't do that. You're not capable of it. The emptiness she must've felt deep inside of her must've been absolutely overwhelming.

•Also, before you say "But she did have a purpose" Yes, I'm aware she was programmed to protect the island (or Murdoc, rather, but bear with me), she was literally a walking weapon chamber, she even had a shotgun inside of her mouth (seriously Murdoc wtf), but what if there would've been nothing left to protect? What if the attacks of the pirates wouldn't have happened? It would've destroyed her purpose and therefore made her existence meaningless. Sure, she could've still played guitar, but-

•I feel like she was constantly treated as a replacement. I mean, she was, but imagine you already feel empty, you aren't sure about your exact purpose, and then you constantly get the feeling of just being a replacement. Not the real thing. Someone that was made out of grief and denial.

•Yes I said that. Murdoc made Cyborg Noodle out of grief and denial. Noodle seemingly dying messed with his mental state extremely badly. He felt sorry, and he finally realised for the first time what consequences his actions had caused. So he didn't only drink constantly while being on the beach (at least as far as I know), he also build Cyborg Noodle in the hopes of having a perfect replacement, of having something he could point at and say "But Noodle is still with us!" Needless to say, it didn't really work out, and he knew that. But Denial and alcohol are always easier aren't they :)

•Also them fucking abandoning her, leaving her to rot, and then turning her into a plant pot later was not it. Absolutely not. She deserved better.

[theycallmebecca]

Could we maybe get a part 2 to The Set Up? Maybe Andy x Reader go to a football party or tailgate hosted by the friends that set them up and they’re a little smug because they knew it would work out all along.

I love this idea, nonny. Here's a quick one that I've been mentally writing in my head since I saw this request a few weeks ago.

For anyone who missed the original, it's called The Fenway Set Up.

Also sticking with my Boston sports themed titles. I would have gone with Gillette Stadium.. but it just doesn't roll of the tongue as well... anyway, on to the drabble!

Title: The Foxborough Bet

Pairing: Andy Barber x female reader

Rating: PG

Warnings: n/a

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

"So how did you two meet?" one of the other tailgaters asked you and Andy.

"We met at Fenway this summer," Andy said, one arm around your shoulders and the other holding a beer. "She saved me from a broken nose."

"I caught a fly ball," you added, seeing the confusion on the woman's face. "It was coming right for him."

"It was an instant connection," Andy stated before changing the subject. "So what do you do?"

As Andy and the woman talked about their jobs, you glanced back at your best friend who was standing nearby. From the way she was squeezing the life out of her croissant, she had heard you and Andy telling another person at the tailgate party that the two of you had been brought together by a foul ball at Fenway.

She was so close to exploding and that's exactly what you wanted. And best of all, Andy had know clue that she was this close and, therefore, you were absolutely going to win the bet before he even had a chance to start.

Seeing another friend, you excused yourself from the law conversation and made your way over. You gave your friend a hug and then started catching up.

It took a few minutes of catching up before she asked, "So, rumor has it you're seeing someone."

"Rumors are right this time," you laughed and gestured to Andy. "I met him at a Red Sox game a few months ago. If it weren't for me he's perfect face would have been smashed by a baseball."

"WE SET YOU UP!" your best friend exclaimed, unable to hold it in anymore.

Her shout had quieted all the other conversations and everyone turned to look at her, including Andy.

"What was that?" you asked her.

"We fucking set you and Andy up!" she repeated. "It wasn't a fucking foul ball. We did it. Me and my husband. Yours and Andy's best friends. And we deserve some motherfucking credit!"

You had to bite down on your lip to keep from bursting out in laughter as she huffed. Meanwhile, Andy looked between the two of you before he swore under his breath.

"We hadn't started yet!" he exclaimed. "You said at the game."

"We are at the game," you told him. "We're just tailgating before it. I win."

"You cheated," Andy stated with a glare.

"You... you knew?!" your best friend asked.

"Of course we knew," you replied. "It was obvious once we started talking."

"But, but, but," she repeated.

Laughing, you made your way over to her and gave her a big hug. "We waited for you guys to say something, but you didn't and then we decided to see how long it took you to take credit," you told her.

"I hate you," she replied.

"No, you love me," you stated with a grin. "Besides, I got a super hot boyfriend because of your meddling."

The two of you glanced over to where Andy and his best friend were standing watching to make sure everything was ok.

"They're lucky they have us," she said.

"Yes they are," you said with a laugh.

"Did you really save him from a baseball?" someone asked.

"Yup and my catch was shown on TV a few times," you stated.

It had been shown more than a few times and had even gone national, much to Andy’s chagrin, but you had made it all up to him after your first date.

[notchesandbullets]

Wherever You Go, I Will Follow (Boxer! Metal Arm! Bakugou x Reader) Underground!AU

Art credit: @/helloclonion on Instagram

Warnings: violence, drinking (everyone is of age), hints of ptsd and depression, mentions of cloning norms, angst but fluffy ending.

Synopsis: Bakugou doesn’t like to talk about what happened to his left arm. Years of fighting underground had made him harder than nails. Society was messed up. Children weren’t born, they were made and any who aren’t adopted are raised in mass orphanages. But you’re special. And you’ve chosen the light even though you’ve seen the darkness. Who else to get through to his heart other than someone like you?

Words: 7.8k

The lights blind you momentarily as they flashed on. The humidity in such a crowded space packed with people was making your skin crawl but it was worth it for the greatly anticipated show.

An underground arena that had this much hype was rare since most fighters didn’t make it past their 20s due to injuries so severe from boxing that it cost them their lives.

There were zero qualified doctors here in the society riddled with old factories that didn't exist anymore and sleazy underground cities where nothing could grow anymore due to the pollution. It had fallen to ruin and only a select handful that could heal like they claimed to. 

Due to that little insignificant fact, that meant the expected lifespan of everyone down here wasn’t more than 30 years of age.

Of course, it varied from section to section, but there was enough pattern to know that there wasn’t long to live once you got to your teens.

Therefore, everyone lived fast and hard down here, trying to experience as much as they could before it was their time to go.

And while you couldn’t say that you blamed them, that wasn’t how you wanted to live. You wanted to fight back against the norm and make a difference that would change this world.

Which is why you were so interested in this particular fighter.

Bakugou Katsuki. 

A reformed individual with a criminal record after a looting with his crew went sideways. He was stronger than most with an attitude and ego bigger than the city itself.

He was renowned to be one of the baddest in the underground and had a personality as difficult as a cloned Siberian tiger.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You didn’t know why Mic couldn’t come scout today instead of you, you hated how jam packed Bakugou’s fights got, which is why you always steered clear of them.

Well, that and because you weren’t exactly partial to his famed temper.

Then, the glint of metal had you on the edge of your seat, eyes sparkling with curiosity as you caught a better look the second time around as he stomped into the ring. 

Was that… a metal arm?

It looked like something straight out of Marvel’s Winter Soldier from back in the day. Scarily so. 

You faintly recalled that his opponent’s name was Shindou, supposedly the underground’s upcoming rising star to the top. His undefeated reputation preceded him and he certainly was easy on the eyes.

So why did you find your gaze drawn to the arrogant boxer with a cocky smirk on his face across from the guy that was cuter than him?

Metal arm flexing, sweat dripped down his brow, his crimson eyes narrowed in concentration and tinged with a hint of malice as his much larger rival took a swing at him to kick off the round.

Bakugou blocked it head on, retaliating with a force that sent him spiraling towards the cage. His wrapped hands were crusted with blood and he hastily brushed the dirtied, spiky hair that fell into his eyes out of his face, a ravenous hunger coming through as he bounced on the balls of his feet. 

“Is that all you fucking got, extra?!” He screamed in Shindou’s face and you actually had to cover your ears at the sheer volume that carried through the stadium, egging him on.

Your mouth dried as Bakugou caught him across the jaw the second he flew at him, knocking out his opponent in one go, calling the match in under thirty seconds flat. 

Holy shit, he’s good. You thought to yourself, thoroughly impressed, barely able to hear yourself over the crowd’s roar as Bakugou punched his fist in the air victoriously. 

His technique seemed rough to the naked eye but taking a closer look, his form and tactics were flawless. His overall strategy could use a little work, since he seemed particularly keen on using brute strength, but he was really good at turning the tables on his opponent in an instant.

And really good at making sure that they couldn’t get up again after he threw them down.

You had your share of good fighters. Not like that, you dirty minded creature, you were a scout for your father’s gym. 

Aizawa wasn’t a revered name by any means, but that didn’t mean he lacked skill. He was the one who could take down more people than any other pro could, but he absolutely hated media attention. Hence why almost no one knew of his abilities, other than a select few of his colleagues and fellow fighters. 

And you of course. You were so incredibly proud of your him.

He had recently been scouting new talent after taking in several kids: Shinsou, Todoroki and Midoriya. 

The female boxers in his ring were a literal force to be reckoned with. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen someone pack a punch with as much power as Uraraka when she got serious. And no one could beat Yaoyorozu when they stepped in the same arena as her.

In the underground, it was normal to come across those that talked big, but rarely have you ever seen them deliver.

This guy had some raw talent. Perfect. 

Looks like Uncle Hizashi’s instinct was right.

After the fights ended and the exciting night came to a close, you wormed your way through the rows of people lining up to claim their bets that they had placed at the beginning of the night. You were at least smart enough not to get sucked into all that. 

A cage match had too many variables. The odds could change in a split second, no matter how good or bad the fighter was. And since there were no rules, anybody could win. 

You found the boxer in the designated fighters’ alcove security had put there especially for them to wind down. Here, they would be hidden away from the crowd and only the fighters knew about this spot aside from those that protected it.

“You’re good.”

Bakugou snorted, not looking up at the sound of your voice as he continued to unwrap the tape from his hands. “Of course I am, dumbass.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his arrogant attitude but after a fight like that, you guessed the pride was well deserved. After all, the guy he went up against was undefeated. No one had beat him and after Shindou earned his reputation of tearing the limbs off of the fighters he faced, no one wanted to step into the ring with him after that.

But Bakugou didn’t back away, even going so far as to taunt this guy, boldly proclaiming that he’d beat him.

Normally, you would brush off those guys as no good but he made good on what he said he would do, so you were at least a little bit curious.

A little.

You still didn’t like his attitude though. 

Tossing the bloodied wraps in his bag, he ignored you as you just stood there like a lost puppy. People like you didn’t belong in the underground.

Soft.

Bakugou scowled and huffed scornfully, throwing his bandages down with a little more force than necessary. 

Patching up wasn’t too bad this time around. He was lucky the round ended when it did though, that fucking extra had too much boisterous energy and willpower that had carried him this far. Still, it was better than fighting bare-knuckled. 

There was a time when wraps or gloves weren’t allowed. People liked the blood and violence, and craved someone to come out victorious by taking the other’s life.

Fucking sickos if anyone asked him. 

Bakugou slung his gym bag over his shoulder and shouldered his way past you since you had yet to say a word after that initial, begrudging praise. He couldn’t care less if you hung around but he wasn’t going to stick around for the damn media to catch whiff of this fight.

Once it was leaked that he had won, they would take a percentage of his cut and he would have to go without food for another week just to pay rent on that shitty place he stayed at. 

It wasn’t much but it was better than the streets.

“Wait.” You called out, inwardly chastising yourself for being so pathetic. 

You weren’t star-struck or nothing, so why were you feeling so tongue-tied?

Taking a deep breath when he snapped his head around to glare at you in annoyance for stopping him, you rolled your eyes when he tapped his foot impatiently. 

“You gonna take all fucking night, extra?” Bakugou barked at you, clearly not playing around. 

Your eyes widened as the metal plates on his left arm clinked together as he raised up his fist threateningly.

“I’ve got places to go and shit to do.” He grumbled. “So if you’re just going to stand there like a fucking—”

“Do you want to be a part of Aizawa’s gym?” You blurted out before he could get too carried away on his rant.

Bakugou arched an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. It was rare that the scruffy old man took on recruits.

Huffing, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and scrutinized you. “Who the hell are you?”

You cringed at how rough his voice laced with suspicion came out but you supposed you could understand. 

Collectors were far too common these days, usually rich scouts from corporations that searched for talented fighters to partake in their financial war when it turned bloody.

You weren’t really sure how it was possible for those airheads to train delinquents into soldiers for their military to fight in the wars that they created, but all you were really concerned about was dodging those scouts.

They weren’t people to trifle with.

Bakugou’s suspicions were misplaced this time around though and you jutted out your hip, planting your hand on it as you regarded him disinterestedly. 

There was only one thing that you could say to get him to trust you.

“He’s my dad.” You said quietly.

The boxer nearly choked on air and you flashed him a cheeky grin when he whipped his head around to glare at you.

“Fuck, seriously?”

You nodded and a heavy exhale whooshed out of his lungs in one breath.

Bakugou cocked up an eyebrow, seeing you in a completely different light. “Holy shit.”

You resisted the urge to dash away under his intrigue but you flinched when his eyes landed on you again.

“Sorry.” Bakugou muttered, averting his eyes. “Just never seen one before.”

You scratched the back of your neck, a habit you picked up from your introverted father whenever he was put in uncomfortable situations. “Yeah…”

Children weren’t born anymore, it was illegal. Partly because expenses couldn’t be covered if people got pregnant and partly because the kids would have nowhere to go, but mostly because the government wanted a controlled population. 

By controlling the gene pool, they could create whoever and whomever they chose, placing them in different status’ around the world to fill in the gaps and create the perfect society.

Except, it really wasn’t all that perfect.

You had been a product of your mom and dad’s unconditional love for each other, something else that was also forbidden, especially in the underground cities where disease ran rampant and claimed numerous innocent lives everyday. 

Your mother wasn’t dead but she did have to leave soon after you were born to protect you from the government officials that would come if she stayed.

Your dad was heartbroken but once every three years, the three of you were reunited under the bridge where seagulls cried and the waves crashed upon the shore.

Once upon a time.

Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, his bicep bulging and you were willing to wager that he specifically got those measurements for his metal arm tailored to those specifications just so his huge muscles were distractingly the same size. 

He was still not entirely convinced you were who you said you were. He knew that you had to at least be a bastard’s biological child, no one was bold enough or fucking stupid to say that much out loud, but he still wasn’t sure that the old man was your dad.

Not bothering to be discreet as he eyed you up and down, he motioned for you to give him a little more information.

“Aizawa, huh?” Bakugou drawled. “You don’t fucking look like a brat that belongs to him.”

Clearing your throat, you smirked. Now you were the one tapping your foot impatiently. “Thanks, I’m told I have my mother’s eyes.”

He glared at your sarcasm but you didn’t care.

Craning your neck to the side to get a better look at that beautiful arm of his, you pouted when he ducked out of range.

“Prove that he’s your dad.” He demanded and you feigned innocence before shooting him a grin when he rolled his eyes irritably. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you responded cheekily, “Coffee and cats are his two favorite things in the world, and he only tolerates Uncle Hizashi on a whim when he’s wasted.”

Bakugou barked out laughing and you smiled at the boisterous sound escaping from his lungs. 

“So,” You kicked your feet, scuffing the dirt as you sidled over to him. “You in or what?”

His left arm glinted in the dim, flickering light of the alcove and he tucked in his chin the slightest bit to stare down at you, the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Hell yeah.”

Exactly one year later, you were weaving in between the clustered bodies in the dingy underground bar you were at to make your way to the obnoxious and rowdy group in the back, all while balancing a tray of beers in one hand.

They had just arrived a few minutes ago, eagerly chatting with your dad, who was their trainer, even though he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Your skirt flared around your ankles as you sashayed through the crowd dancing on the dancefloor, a couple strands of hair sticking to your forehead from the exertion of how many tables you waited on already.

“First round’s here!!” You announced, beaming brightly at the packed group of 15.

Shoji, Mineta, and a few others couldn’t make it due to conflicting schedules. But it was alright, they would come again another time. Besides, you were quite sure that a special someone couldn’t care less if they made it or not for this particular day. 

“YES!!” Kaminari shouted escatically, throwing his hands up in the air.

A chorus of “thank you’s” came from the girls as Ashido eagerly reached for her first drink of the night, downing half the bottle in one go. You predicted she was going to be out like a light within the hour if she kept that pace up. 

“Don’t get shitfaced, Kaminari.” Jirou twirled a strand of her dark hair cockily as she teasingly held the last one out of arm’s reach. “Lightweight.”

“Jirou!!” Kaminari protested while the table burst into laughter.

The edgy fighter eventually gave into him, shaking her head in disapproval when he proceeded to chug all of it straight like it was some kind of shot. A knowing smirk appeared on her face when he choked.

“Told you so.” She rubbed in his face as Asui leaned into her side.

“Shut up!!” Kaminari shouted between violent bouts of coughing. It only got worse when Ashido slapped his back, already drunk.

But the slight pink dusted across his cheeks clued you in on what he was really doing.

You shook your head. If he was any more dense, you would’ve smacked him upside the head. Maybe then he would’ve come to his senses and that he didn’t need to do all these things to impress her. 

Jirou never hated anything more than someone who felt fake to her.

As you distributed the rest of the drinks to a clueless Todoroki, a way too eager Midoriya, and handed water to Koda, who thanked you shyly with a small nod.

You smiled at him, then left to the bar that your uncle was managing to get the order for the next table while Iida shouted for everyone to make sure they drank responsibly so that they didn’t cause any problems for you. 

But it was largely ignored in favor of raising their beers in a toast for the birthday boy.

Bakugou scowled in the corner that he was shoved into, wondering why he of all people had to be dragged to this shitty celebration for a birthday he couldn’t care less about. It was too loud here and it was making his head hurt. The only consolation he got was that you were a rare sight, wearing a dress that he had bought for you a week ago.

The seamstress who had made it for him specifically had charged him an incredible amount of money for it, since fabric of any kind that wasn’t made from recycled garbage liners was nearly impossible to come by.

But being a part of the ring of fighters that made up Aizawa’s Warriors gave him credibility and enabled him to make even more money than he did before, so it wasn’t a problem.

That much. 

After rent on his rundown place and scrounging for food, he had saved up the rest for weeks before he was able to afford the pale blue satin dress edged with delicate white lace around the sleeves that cascaded off your shoulders. The tightly-fitted bodice that wrapped around your waist was a simple leather corset, accentuating those curves of yours more than should be legally allowed.

You looked absolutely delicious. 

You continued to sweep around the tavern, oblivious to the looks you were getting. You had a bit of expertise in waitressing due to the lack of income your dad was able to provide so you had to convince him that you really didn’t mind helping out with the staff tonight.

The bar, owned by your Uncle Hizashi, a retired fighter but not retired in spirit, had all the profits go to the orphanages the city couldn’t keep track of or be bothered to pay for; which enabled those kids who were abandoned to have a roof over their heads in all the uncertainty.

The state of those houses holding those homeless children were horrendous. 

But your dad and uncle were taking steps to create something new that would provide them with some relief and a new family.

Kirishima clapped the ash-blond on the shoulder, jarring him out of his annoyance. “Come on, Bakugou, loosen up!!” 

He clicked his tongue and scowled at the red-haired guy’s energy. No one would think that this fun-loving guy and people person would be such a terrifying fighter in the arena.

Kirishima frowned when he noticed his lack of enthusiasm. “C’mon man, I know this isn’t your scene but Y/N worked really hard on this.”

Bakugou’s drink nearly spilled as he set it down abruptly. He wasn’t expecting that. Aizawa had told him that his friends had arranged this.

Picking up on his confusion, Kirishima then proceeded to tell him about how you gathered everybody to ask if they’d be willing to attend the party and how all of them enthusiastically said yes. You had gotten special permission from your Uncle Hizashi to borrow the VIP section of his bar and convinced your father to go easy on their training today. 

Really, the grumpy man with the metal arm should be thanking you since you were the reason all of them weren’t sore to death with barely enough energy to keep their heads up. 

Kirishima was going to blame it on Aizawa. He was tough on them. Too tough. No one should be that determined to make their students push past their limits but everyone knew it came from him caring more than anyone else. 

They were all like his adopted children, in a weird, skewed way. But, no one was going to argue against it. None of them had their biological parents in the picture. 

Besides, Aizawa had enough room for them all to crash in his home. An abandoned mansion overrun with thick green vines but had no working electricity whatsoever looked like something straight out of one of those old horror movies back in the 3000s. 

Bakugou scoffed. Like hell should he care about whether or not you planned this. He didn’t ask you to do any of this, you decided to do it all on your own. 

“Whatever.” He grumbled, snatching his bottle before stalking away from his shocked friends left in the dust. 

Todoroki raised an eyebrow as Kirishima sighed and Midoriya’s expression saddened when he saw him leave. They were supposed to be celebrating…

And yet, all three of them knew why today was so hard for the explosive boxer.

You frowned as you noticed the slumped figure retreating to the back of the establishment. Finishing up serving the drinks for the table you were waiting on, you briefly made a detour to your uncle and asked if it was alright that you take a break.

Ever the doting uncle who loved to spoil you rotten, Mic’s eyes softened understandingly when he noticed who you were staring after and granted you permission.

“Just don’t tell your dad I let you off the hook.” He bargained with an exaggerated wink and you giggled.

“I won’t.” You reassured, setting down the tray and squeezing his hand in thanks.

Then, you followed Bakugou. 

He disappeared around the corner and as soon as you tailed him, you came to a stop in front of a heavy door. Your brow furrowed, wondering why he would be coming here. 

Step after familiar step you took until you eventually came to a standstill on the roof.

Behind you, the heavy door slammed close but it sounded different than usual. Something metal crashed into it, denting it by the sounds of it, and it wasn’t until you turned around that you found Bakugou’s vermilion eyes boring into yours.

The wind was stronger up here and you pinned your arms down to your side, knowing full well from experience how mortifying it would be if your skirt decided to flip up right now.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” He snapped angrily.

To his surprise, you didn’t look the least bit fazed by his outburst.

“I live here.” You responded nonchalantly, undeterred by his characteristic abrasiveness. 

If Bakugou was startled at that revelation, he didn’t show it. If anything, he looked even more irked, though you didn’t know why. He didn’t have any reason to suspect you of lying but in this world, it was safer to be skeptical than sorry.

However, you hadn’t given him one reason to doubt you the entire year you’ve known him. Not one.

So if anything, he trusted you more than the majority of the rats in his rundown city and just as much as his small circle of extras. 

Picking your way past him carefully since the roof didn’t have a safety rail, you made your way towards the curtained tent hiding behind the generator. Pushing the tattered material back, you showed him the bedroll and small table set up with a few bottles of water, a case of beer and a worn book. 

Bakugou’s mouth dropped open but he recovered quickly so by the time you turned back around, he had the same indifferent, kind of irritated look on his face.

Then, he was a bit at a loss of what to do. It wasn’t often he was faced with the dilemma of being wrong so blatantly. Should he apologize? Even when he didn’t say anything but the thought that you were crazy ran through his head? Should he apologize for something you weren’t even aware of?

Nah, fuck that.

You gingerly took a seat at the edge of the roof, leaning back on your hands as your legs dangled. Patting the spot next to you invitingly, a soft smile curved on the corners of your mouth as he grumbled but came over anyway. He plopped down on your right side and you took a moment to study him. 

He looked exhausted, spirit whittled down to the bone until there was nothing left for him to salvage. His eyes were bloodshot and the beer bottle in his hand probably wasn’t doing any favors for him.

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes, you asked worriedly, “You okay?”

He huffed in annoyance at your question.

“Fine.” He ground out through clenched teeth and you shut your mouth.

Bakugou clearly wasn’t looking to talk but you yearned to help. You wanted to be there for him. 

Kirishima hadn’t told you much, only that the incident that took Bakugou’s arm happened a long time ago and wasn’t something he liked to relive. 

You didn’t push it. You had your own share of traumatic experiences in this god-forsaken place and hated nothing more than being forced to talk about by a well meaning friend. So you understood it well. 

Instead of pushing the topic, you sat with him in silence. You didn’t ask why he walked away from the party or why it looked like he was drowning himself in his sorrows to forget something, you just offered him a quiet place to sit, with the company of yours truly.

Fate was flawed. You knew that ever since you were born.

The warped sense of justice that the city had was suffocating. People were put away in prison only to be left to rot with no chance of redemption. Those that made it out were casted out to the underground with no hope to see the light. 

Combatants-for-hire wasn’t an unusual job to take on in the ruined city. All Might knew you too had been mixed up in some shit. 

But it was what made you strong in the end.

“I’m here.” Was all you said softly, staring out at the city lights that were especially illuminating tonight.

Thanks to the heavy pollution, the stars could no longer be seen with the naked eye so this was the closest thing you could get to those twinkling lights raised high in the sky. 

“It’s funny.”

You tilted your head towards him as he spoke and was a bit surprised to find him looking directly back at you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. 

His eyes were a little dazed, probably from the alcohol, but he looked a little more grounded than he did a minute ago.

Bakugou chuckled but it was short and grated against your ears for a second.

It was mocking.

He tipped his head back, downing the rest of his drink before harshly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while he crushed the bottle in his metal fist.

Leaning over, he let go and let the shiny crystals plummet to the ground below. 

You smiled faintly, watching how they sparkled. It looked so pretty. 

Sitting back down, Bakugou mimicked your posture and huffed out a dry laugh. “Out of all the shitty extras in the world, you would be the only one to fucking get through to me.”

Your puzzlement must’ve shown through his alcohol-induced haze because the next thing you knew was that he teetered to the side as he lost control of his equilibrium and careened into you.

Out of reflex, you caught him and gasped at the temperature difference as his cold metal arm pressed against you. You could feel it through the thin fabric of your dress and latched onto it when he moved to pull away.

“Sorry.” Bakugou slurred curtly as he gathered his bearings and tried to detangle you from him. 

But his coordination wasn’t the best and he was growing more and more frustrated when you wouldn’t let go.

He snarled. “Let go.”

You shook your head firmly. “You could fall.”

Oh yeah. You two were on the roof. 

This was a bad idea. 

He didn’t know how he ended up here with you but he needed to leave. Immediately. 

Bakugou stumbled to his feet, somehow managing to lose his way halfway to the door and face-planted in something that smelled faintly of lavender. Snuggling into the soft thing that was rubbing against his face, his brow furrowed in annoyance as you giggled at him.

“You have to take me out on a date first if you want that.” You teased lightly and he immediately sat up as he realized he had crashed in your bed.

He scrambled upright, nearly falling over again in his haste. “Fuck, I’m—”

“It’s alright, Katsuki.” You reassured nonchalantly, coming down to sit beside him, but not close enough where your legs were touching.

Bakugou’s mouth twitched at the sound of his first name but his eyes softened the barest bit and he didn’t fight against it. 

Before he met you, he hated his name. It was a reminder that the place he came from was from a lab, cooked up like some sort of sick science experiment to fulfill a role in society that was chosen by some prick who had money.

It was a reminder that he wasn’t real. That he was expendable to all those bastards that ran the world.

But when you used it, when you spoke it with such tentative curiosity and genuine concern, he didn’t feel so unimportant anymore.

“Fuck.” Bakugou breathed as you leaned closer to examine his face.

Your forehead creased in worry and you raised a hand to his head to check his temperature to make sure he wasn’t running a fever. “Are you feeling alright?”

Squeaking when he suddenly grabbed your hand, you gasped in shock when he tugged you towards him. 

You crashed into his chest and your cheeks flushed hotly as his chiseled form honed from years of training molded against your front. 

His arm wrapped around your shoulders and it took a second to realize that his metal arm was planted firmly on the ground, keeping the two of you steady. 

But when you reached out your fingers to brush against it, he ripped away from you.

You pulled back immediately, apology weighing in your gaze as your eyes flicked away from him. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s fucking hideous.”

You balked at his tenor. “W-What?!”

Bakugou looked away from you, his gaze fixed on the ground behind you as he rested his chin on top of your head, stubbornly refusing to look you in the eye as you breathed steadily against the base of his neck.

You were warm. Delicate.

Precious.

He didn’t expect someone like you to understand.

His vermilion eyes were shadowed by the ghosts of his past that continued to haunt him and he sighed heavily, curling his arm around you tighter. He didn’t want to let you go just let but he didn’t know why you weren’t pushing him away. 

Your soft voice rang out. “Katsuki, what do you mean? It’s not hideous at all.”

He clicked his tongue but otherwise didn’t verbalize his disagreement. 

“How could someone like you possibly understand this shit?” He spat but you didn’t recoil like he was half hoping you would.

At least then he would have an excuse to leave, under the guise that he had upset you. But you didn’t do any of that. 

Too fucking precious. Always saw the good in everything just like that shitty nerd. 

You closed your eyes in defeat. “No… I suppose I can’t.”

You didn’t quite understand him. 

The bite in his tone sounded like you had hit too close to home, and yet, his thumb was absentmindedly running over the satin of your dress that he had bought you, your side heating up under his chest and warmth bloomed from your heart.

And yet, he wasn’t pushing you away.

Leaning down, you rested your forehead against his shoulder, your heart beating too loud for your own ears. “You don’t have to say anything, but I know what it feels like to be an outcast too.”

Bakugou eyed you cautiously, wondering if this was some sort of trick because he was drunk and definitely not as attentive as normally but your tone was open.

Honest. 

“Yeah, maybe you do.” He scoffed, scorning you under his breath. “Maybe you don’t. It doesn’t fucking matter to me.”

“Maybe it doesn’t.” You whispered, tracing patterns on his chest as your head lolled to the side to gaze at him with complete vulnerability. “But just know that you aren’t alone.”

Bakugou whipped his head around as you stared at him. Didn’t you get it already? He didn’t want to fucking taint you with all of this shit that went on down here.

He didn’t want to tell you that he had to settle tinkering with whatever scrap metal he could find in the junkyard just to make his left arm operational again, didn’t want to tell you that the government had offered him a real replacement prosthetic but at the cost of becoming one of their combatants fighting in a war he never chose and as a result, he was casted to the side when something went wrong.

He had lost everything. 

The second he had been tossed out on the street, he had come crawling back to Kiko, a spunky little girl a part of the UA orphanage in the east, one of the ones that Mic funneled money towards to fund their food and supply them with fresh water every three days.

The girl, no more than ten at the time, with her dirty blonde pigtails sticking out on either side of her lopsided head, had been born with a unique appearance.

The officials called it a defect, as though they were talking about an object of mass production.

Fucking disgusting.

It never seemed to bother the girl though, and she often claimed that she was tougher than all those men in fancy suits. Bakugou liked her spirit already.

Kiko had had this habit of tracing her stubby little fingers all over the scars from his fights whenever he came to visit and it had been her idea to forgo a realistic prosthetic from the corporation that was looking to hire him and just go out, full badass, just like Bucky in the Winter Soldier.

It was her favorite movie but Bakugou claimed he had absolutely no idea where she learned that kind of language from. 

He had chuckled and patted her on the head at the time, swearing to hell and back that there was no fucking way he was going to build a metal arm. He would scare the kids if he did that, not to mention, full-grown adults.

But Kiko simply bounded over to him and beamed up at him like nothing was wrong in the world. It was fucking contagious, begging for him to at least consider it, selling the point of how cool it would look.

“You would be a superhero, Bakugou!!” She cheered, raising her hands up high, demanding for him to lift her up even though she wasn’t five anymore. “And you could save everybody, just like you want to!!”

He never got a chance to show her the finished product. Would she have liked it? Would she run around, screaming in his shitty apartment as she played with it when he detached it for cleaning? Would she try to hit him over the head with it when she thought he wasn’t looking like the cheeky brat he knew that she was?

Bakugou could hear her squeals of excitement so vividly some nights that he woke up from his terror of that night, soaked in cold sweat from a memory of the girl he had failed to save.

Defeated and overwhelmed by his circumstances after being rejected by the very people who sought him out because of his talent, he had ventured to the orphanage that night and on a whim, demanded her to live with him. He would take care of her, protect her, teach her things that she couldn’t learn from anyone else.

The widest smile he had ever seen stretched across Kiko’s face and she accepted his demands with eyes tearing up with joy. 

He vowed to protect her. 

He failed. 

He had an unsettled score with the government officials he had upset on his way out from the lab that day they told him he had been scraped from the program. 

The enraged fighter went on a rampage, tearing down anything in his path and clearing out the experiment rooms, offering freedom and a second chance to anyone willing and brave enough to take it. 

And as a result, many took him up on his offer and fled that place with white walls and food too bland to actually be considered nutritious.

There was no doubt about it. He pissed them off the day he saved the others.  

They had come for her and taken her last year on his birthday as revenge for freeing those they were experimenting on. He found a crumpled, poorly wrapped, newspaper covered package lost in the clutter of his apartment when he got home.

The creaking old door that kept out winter drafts had caved in, signifying that it had broken in with considerable force, and Kiko was gone.

That crushed gift hidden under the stairwell was the only thing that remained of her.

Inside, there was a small metal pin in the shape of an explosion. For his personality. Corny, but the little girl was simple-minded and liked the sentiment she found in things that she repurposed. 

Bakugou always thought it was fucking weird but he hadn’t taken it off ever since that day. 

The metal plates of his arm glided, clinking together softly as the polished steel lifted to trace your jaw, the pin visible on the inside of his wrist.

To keep her close to him always.

He had stormed their stronghold but by the time he got there, they were gone. Everything.

Every vial, all the equipment, every single one of the samples and officials had disappeared into thin air. 

Bakugou had tried everything to track Kiko down, paying off the highest crime organizations to get more eyes out on the street but nothing worked. She was gone.

And she wasn’t ever going to come back.

You were silent when he finished telling you his depressing life story, sure you were bored to death but when he started to get up, he found that he couldn’t get very far with you draped over his body like this.

Bakugou had a fleeting thought that you had fallen asleep while he had been lamenting and rehashing every depressing detail from his past but he noticed the stuttering rise and fall of your back.

Well, at least you weren’t asleep, but now he didn’t know how to feel when he had told you all of that and you had yet to say anything.

“I know you don’t want pity.” You whispered into his shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow but waited for you to continue.

“I know there’s nothing that I can say that would make the pain go away or bring Kiko back,” You said softly. “But I’m here for you.”

Bakugou pressed his cheek against your hair and inhaled your sweet scent, closing his eyes as an unseen weight lifted from off of his shoulders. 

“Thank you.” He murmured quietly with great difficulty. 

You smiled slightly, glad that you were able to provide him with a little bit of comfort. “Anytime.”

The two of you stayed entwined for a few more moments, time stretching as he held onto you, soaking up your soothing presence while you relaxed against his hold.

“Katsuki?” You called quietly when he still didn’t let go after five more minutes.

Tightening his arm around you, he frowned when you struggled in his grip. 

“Stop fucking moving.” He demanded and you ceased fighting in favor of pulling back to flick him on the forehead. “Oi, did you just fucking flick me?!”

“Yes.” You replied bluntly, snickering when he rolled his eyes. 

There he was.

Bakugou protested hotly when you pushed down his arms to untangle from him but you shushed him with a giggle, leaning back to open the box of beer by your bed, grabbing two bottles and fishing for something from underneath your pillow

In the underground city where liquor was the only thing that was plentiful, you would take what you could get. 

Bakugou caught the beer that you threw at him in midair with an expression a mix between annoyance that you tossed it at his face and gratitude that you knew how he needed another drink after that tale. 

“What the fuck is that for?” He scoffed, pointing to the roll of gauze in your hand. “You get a papercut or some shit?”

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, failing to notice how his eyes raked over you to look for any kind of injury you might be hiding from him, and held it up to him. “No, but it looks like you did.”

He almost spilled his beer that he just popped the lid off of, mouth furrowing in a deep-seated frown when he followed your gaze and landed on the cuts on his knuckles from the fight that happened earlier that night.

“Fuck.” He cursed, setting down the beer hard to wipe up the blood.

He hadn’t even known when he got hurt. 

But he didn’t even get started on tending to it when your gentle hands wrapped around his and you took over for him. 

“Here.” You murmured, pouring some water onto a clean cloth and dabbing carefully at his cuts. “Let me.”

“You’re fucking weird.” Bakugou grumbled but allowed you to take over. 

Your touch was so much lighter than the rough pads of his fingers. He was always too impatient whenever he had to patch himself up, jerking at the bandages to get them to lay flat when they wouldn’t cooperate.

It was a fucking pain to stop the bleeding when his shitty fingers fumbled with it. It was a trip to hell and back every single time he had to attend to wounds he got from boxing.

Your nose scrunched up in concentration as you finished cleaning the area before securely wrapping the soft cotton around his knuckles.

“There.” You declared in satisfaction, sitting back on your knees.

Admiring your handiwork with an unreadable expression, it was a second before Bakugou nodded begrudgingly with thanks.

“It’s not complete shit.” 

You giggled. “Thanks.”

He picked back up his drink and took a swig.

Offering up yours, you hid your surprise when he actually recognized the gesture and clinked his glass against yours.

The distinct hum from the music in the establishment below filtered up to the roof, filling the silence and the occasional echo of steel grating against each other. The low lights were pleasant and the ambiance was soothing as you two drank away the night.

You shivered, catching a chill as the night air blew by, but before you could reach for your blanket, Bakugou was tucking you in his side. 

“Get over here, dumbass.” He mumbled, turning his face away so that you wouldn’t see his blush. “You’re gonna get fucking sick.”

You noticed how he still kept your metal arm away from you. That wound was still too fresh and somehow you had a feeling that no matter how much time would pass, things would never quite be the same again.

Playing with the hem of your dress, you smiled softly. “But I wanted to wear it today, it was a special occasion.”

Special occasion his ass. It was fucking freezing out here and all you were wearing was that summer dress. His brow knitted as you puffed out your cheeks, breath visible, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to leave you out here when it was so cold out.

���I’m sorry.” Bakugou apologized quietly as you lost interest in toying with the pale blue satin and folded your hands neatly in your lap.

At your questioning gaze, he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes but heat crept up his neck.

“For storming out on the celebration you planned, dumbass.” He grumbled, flicking you on the forehead in a similar fashion hat you had done earlier.

Whining, you held onto your forehead as you made an exaggeration of pain. He rolled his eyes at your antics and you giggled, snuggling further into his side.

“You’re warm.” You mused.

Bakugou scowled, cheeks still pink from the embarrassment tingling through his whole body. “Oi, are you fucking ignoring m—”

“Of course not.” You retorted, pinching his side in retaliation for the flick he gave you before your voice dropped a little. “It’s just— There isn’t anything you need to apologize for. I understand.”

Those words, they were so simple and yet, warmth bloomed in his chest from how they fell from your lips. 

And he could see that you were truly genuine.

He had rejected your kindness earlier when Kirishima had told him you had planned out all of this for him. He had never quite been accustomed to generously that lacked a price or some kind of condition.

Then again, he had never met someone quite like you. 

As you rested against his shoulder, Bakugou took the empty beer bottle from you and placed it on the other side of him so that you didn’t break it and cut yourself when you woke up from your little nap.

He gazed out into the city that had caused him so much misery and wondered how it was even possible for someone like you to exist.

Birthdays, he still hated them, but maybe, just maybe, he could start to heal.

It would start by telling that old man that you fucking needed a new place to sleep that wasn’t the goddamn roof.

It was a good thing he knew just the place you could go.

Brushing back the hair out of your eyes, he allowed a small smile to form on his face as you breathed softly, evenly and he smirked against the top of your head as a thought crossed his mind. And even though he knew you couldn’t hear him, he still murmured quietly.

“How do you feel about seagulls and sand, princess?”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls Extra 3

Summary: Wen Ruohan, who is still a work in progress, confronts Qingheng-jun over Lan Qiren (set between Chapter 21 and 22)

- ao3 -

To cultivate is to go against destiny: this was something all cultivators knew.

That destiny was what tied all of nature together, uniting all things within one path to flow together along the same stream to the same ocean, and that to fight against that current was to fight alone – this, no one knew better than Wen Ruohan.

Excluding perhaps only those secluded cultivators that resided in their mysterious mountains, never seeing the light of day, there was no cultivator in the world like him. The years since his birth numbered a century and more, yet his face was youthful as it had been in his twenties; all those around him, being neither so talented nor so lucky nor even so ruthless, were born and lived and grew old and died even as he remained the same – the same, and yet not unchanging. Surrounded by short-lived mayflies, he existed beyond their understanding; by now, he had learned to look down upon them all as if looking upon ants, or else he might go mad for loneliness.

It was easier to be indifferent. Better to be frozen through and through despite all the flames of his fiery cultivation style, to ignore their meaningless cries and meaningless lives and focus only on himself alone. Sometimes Wen Ruohan wondered whether he had actually died when his normal lifespan was meant to have ended and that he now existed only as a ghost, full of resentment: it was far easier to be resentful of those living creatures around him that seemed to instinctively understand one another in a way he no longer did, to ignore them or to treat them with disdain, to allow their pain to be his own reprieve from his own endless ennui – a small child pulling the wings off of flies to amuse himself and remind himself that these creatures before him were actually alive.

Hatred was easy. Living was hard.

Why should he burden himself with the effort of living – with anything other than amusing himself?

He still hadn’t figured out the answer to that, but apparently some part of the answer was plain old irritation.

Lao Nie was too high ranked to be ignored, as Wen Ruohan did care for his sect if he cared for nothing else, and unlike everyone else he refused to be ignored; he had forced his way into Wen Ruohan’s life and made him feel things once again whether he wanted to or not. Mostly what he felt was anger: anger at being treated the way he treated others (for only he was real, and the rest of them fake, and for that reason only he deserved all the good things in the world), anger at being bothered by that interminable pestilence of a man, anger at – feeling things.

Remembering things.

Wen Ruohan was unwillingly reminded of the brother who had loved him and betrayed him and left him behind with a blood-soaked gift he’d never wanted, a cold corpse so long in the ground that he had undoubtedly been completely consumed by worms; he was reminded of those children he had so greatly cherished, so long ago, the ones he would have been willing to die for but instead had to bury. The memories, and the feelings that came with them, had driven him to distraction, feeling at first as though there was nothing to be found in Lao Nie’s immensely irritating brand of affection but needless pain, but somewhere along the line that little spark of irritation had become more than just that.

It hadn’t just been irritation, but curiosity – curiosity, interest, humor, affection…even a feeling of indulgence, a desire to spoil someone and treat them well for no other reason than in order to see them enjoy it, feelings he hadn’t felt in decades. And somehow that mixture of irritating and curiosity had led him not only to Lao Nie, who sent himself quite happily to his bed, but had driven him in a moment of impulse to set up a trap and net himself a brand new brother of his own.

That, too, was to Lao Nie’s credit…or perhaps fault.

Wen Ruohan had tried for years and years now to deny that he felt affection for Lao Nie, and yet it hadn’t helped him one bit in diminishing that affection. Even if the man were acting very odd as of late, almost as if he did not realize what a rare prize he had won for himself through his endless persistence – it wasn’t that Wen Ruohan needed to be wanted, of course, but it was rather irritating that the man who had stuck himself to his side like a burr that wouldn’t be peeled off would promptly disappear the second it turned out Wen Ruohan actually did want him there – it was still there, unchanging.

It might be affection now, but it had started, at first, with anger, that emotion that the Nie sect knew as well as their own hearts.

It was anger that Wen Ruohan felt now.

Not at or about Lao Nie, for once, nor for his sect, one of the few things he cared for. He certainly wasn’t angry any longer at the shining pearl he had snatched away from the Lan sect all those years before, their vision averted and distracted by the glittering but ultimately insubstantial sparkle of Qingheng-jun – he’d found that he could no longer feel anger when he thought of Lan Qiren, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he reminded himself that it had been Lan Qiren who had turned away from him, distraught and upset on behalf of those meaningless flies.

Lan Qiren, who had, despite it all, missed him.

Who thought of him perhaps as often as Wen Ruohan thought of him in return – affection again, that insidious emotion, and Lan Qiren hadn’t even been the one to be persistent this time. Ridiculous, really, and even more ridiculous that it had been Wen Ruohan who had been the first to bend.

He had condescended to come to the Cloud Recesses to find him, all on the strength of an extremely implausible rumor, knowing even as he flew over that he was being a fool – there was obviously no way that Lan Qiren had actually done what he’d been accused of by the wagging tongues of inferior men, and so his trip to the Cloud Recesses was obviously an excuse to go see him and make up with him.

He hadn’t even removed the tongues of the people he’d heard it from, as a gesture of good faith.

He’d come to the Cloud Recesses for Lan Qiren, and he’d found –

He’d found –

Wen Ruohan was often angry after Lao Nie had forcefully pulled him out of the frozen torpor that was the depth of his hate, but he had not been this angry in a very, very long time.

He moved slower than usual, his rage deadening him like a snake in winter. His anger was not like Lao Nie’s, which burned hot and then snuffed itself out, restoring at once to the usual good humor, but rather lasted and lasted, glacial and slow and inexorable. The angrier he was, the slower he moved; if all his years upon the earth had taught Wen Ruohan anything, it was that he needed to keep a clear head when he was truly angry.

Even if only so that he could fully enjoy taking his inevitable revenge.

Wen Ruohan had used a technique to coax Lan Qiren into a deep sleep, meant for healing, and handed him over to a few of his most trusted associates with instructions to see to his injuries and take whatever steps necessary to reduce his pain in the short term. That the cost and effort expended was immaterial did not need to be stated, of course.

Once that was done, he had gone to the rooms of the Lan sect leader, step by slow step, and as he’d hoped, Qingheng-jun was there by the time he arrived, waiting to speak to him.

For all its loneliness, he reflected, there were many benefits to power.

“You’re in the wrong place,” he told him, seeing that, as he’d suspected, the Lan sect rooms were all oriented the same way.

Qingheng-jun frowned at him, clearly not understanding. “Sect Leader Wen –”

“You should take a few steps to the right,” Wen Ruohan clarified, gesturing, and making clear as he did that there would be no conversation until he was obeyed.

This, too, was the benefit of power.

Confused, Qingheng-jun did as he said, moving over until it matched up with the image Wen Ruohan had put together in his head on the way here: the stories told by his spies and the marks left on Lan Qiren’s body both, a hazy image of two brothers standing in a room that was laid out just the same but which was nothing alike.

“Perfect,” he said, and, curling his fingers into a fist, he punched him deep in the stomach.

Qingheng-jun’s complaint stuck in his throat as he gagged, the air expelled out of him by force – Wen Ruohan’s strikes were enough to shatter stone, and Qingheng-jun, however talented a cultivator, was not strong enough to be able to disregard them. He staggered, and Wen Ruohan caught him by the collar, slamming him against the wall and holding him up.

Just the way Qingheng-jun had done to Lan Qiren, just some few days before.

“How dare you,” Wen Ruohan snarled, and felt it again, that anger that was unlike any other anger. Anger that burned hot, not cold; anger that was like a furious flame, not the bright but unfeeling rays of the sun. Anger for someone, rather than against them…anger that was born of affection, rather than hate. “How dare you touch Qiren! He’s your brother!”

He’s my brother.

“He’s no brother of mine,” Qingheng-jun spat, vicious and bitter. “He hasn’t been in years, not since you stole him away and made him value you over his duty to his ancestors. The only brother he is, is yours – isn’t that how you want it?”

It was, of course, but that wasn’t the point.

Wen Ruohan sneered. “Do you think I do not know about you?” he asked. “You, the gifted child, talented and shining, whose world fell apart when your younger siblings died – your father forced you to take on the burden of keeping him intact, told you that you were the only reason he had to live, that you were perfect and therefore had to remain perfect, no matter the cost to you. In his grief he told you that it was because your brother was born that your mother died and you lost everything, and in your grief you believed him; in your rage you lashed out at him, and found that no one would stop you from doing so…it was easy to blame him, wasn’t it?”

Qingheng-jun glared at him.

“It was,” Wen Ruohan said. “You were a child: it was easy to hate where your father hated, to blame where your father blamed, and to lead everyone in the sect to hate right alongside you. You even convinced yourself that you were justified, when in fact you were only jealous – you had to be perfect, while he could be anything at all.”

He casually slammed his fellow sect leader into the wall once more.

“But you knew better. You knew. You had friends, you had allies, you even had Lao Nie, who knows more than most about righteousness – even if you were blameless for what you did as a child, led on by those failures that were your elders, the same cannot be said for you as an adult. You have learned morality and ethics, and yet you chose to continue that hatred, to rely on that crutch – to take the easy route, the selfish route. Why bother to do the work to improve yourself?”

Why bother indeed.

For some reason, Wen Ruohan was suddenly reminded of Lan Qiren’s eyes at the Fire Palace, full of horror and heartbreak, the way he looked as though his world had shattered even as he’d fled – as if leaving Wen Ruohan behind were the hardest choice he’d ever had to make, rather than a betrayal.

It’s easy to hate, he suddenly thought, his own words echoing back at him. The easy route, the crutch…

Wen Ruohan frowned instinctively before casting the thought aside to be examined at a later time.

“You should have done better,” he concluded. “You should do better?”

Qingheng-jun laughed in his face. “Why should I?” he asked savagely. “What use is he to me?”

“Use?” Wen Ruohan asked, and somehow found himself surprised by the question. Not a pleasant surprise, the way it had been when Lan Qiren had effortlessly resisted his compulsion as a child, or when he had turned out to be a thoughtful and oddly charming conversationalist, passionate about his interests and willing to share them as if he were handing out pieces of himself; it was merely that old familiar surprise that there were people this stupid in this world. “Do treasures need to be useful to be valuable?”

“You do not understand,” Qingheng-jun said, and that was the most absurd thing Wen Ruohan had yet heard: of course he understood. He understood far too well the darker emotions of humanity, the way they failed people and twisted people into terrible things – even Lan Qiren had his faults, his temper and his inflexibility; Wen Ruohan did not deceive himself into thinking that his sworn brother was a saint.

But he was himself, and that was worth something.

Even if someone like Qingheng-jun could not see it.

Wen Ruohan listened with only half an ear as Qingheng-jun spoke, seeking to justify himself and his behavior. It didn’t really matter what he said, not really; it was only excuses, in the end.

Instead of listening, Wen Ruohan recalled to himself the distant past: the madness of the Lan sect of his father’s generation, the chaos and terror of the wars they had begun – the miracles and atrocities they would and did commit for the sake of a loved one. They loved so deeply, these Lans; deeply and wholly and blindly, every one of them. To be the subject of their love would be to be their entire world, and even Qingheng-jun’s mad infatuation with the girl He Kexin was merely a pale echo of that love, though he did not know it. He loved the freedom she represented to him, not her: if he had loved her, he would have valued her happiness over his and let her go, no matter how he felt.

Put their happiness over your own, think first of what they would want, what would be better for them rather than what you wanted – only the madness of denying yourself for the sake of another was love.

A strange thought, although a useless one.

He was not a Lan, after all.

Still, however old, the memories of that past still lingered, leaving their mark on his heart all these years later – of all the sects in the cultivation world, Wen Ruohan was most wary of the Lan.

“I’m taking Qiren back to the Nightless City with me,” he interrupted Qingheng-jun.

“Good!” the other man shouted. “Keep him!”

Wen Ruohan somehow hadn’t expected him to say that, and for a moment he felt seized with glee.

Yes, he thought to himself, suddenly pleased. Yes, I will keep him; is that not what I want from him, what I have long wanted from him? I have thought of him every day since he has gone, dreamt of him every night; there is a poison that has sunk within my veins that wears his face and torments me endlessly, and he himself is the only cure I can think of for it. I even have an excuse now, his own sect leader’s word – I don’t have to give him up any longer. I can keep him for good!

And then, in the midst of his joy, he suddenly had a useless thought:

…he won’t be happy about that.

Truly a useless thought. What did Wen Ruohan care about that? Nothing mattered – nothing ever mattered, nothing but him and what he wanted, his wishes and his desires.

He was the only real thing in the world, him and only him, standing alone.

All good things in the world ought to go to him, be with him. It would make him happy to have Lan Qiren with him, to keep him by his side; what did it matter what Lan Qiren, that mayfly only a little more interesting than other mayflies, would prefer? What did it matter that Lan Qiren loved his sect, which did not value him as it should? What did it matter that Lan Qiren still loved his brother, who did not return it?

Wen Ruohan would take him away from it all, keep him by his side, and Lan Qiren would be better off for it, no matter what he thought he wanted.

It was as simple as that.

“You will never cause him trouble again,” Wen Ruohan said, even though it was pointless: if he wasn’t going to let Lan Qiren return, then such warnings were unnecessary. “Or else this will not end so lightly.”

Qingheng-jun sneered at him.

Wen Ruohan sneered back and dropped him, turning back to the door.

He would carry Lan Qiren back to the Nightless City himself, he decided. He would carry him in his arms as he flew on his sword, and make sure that he was untroubled throughout the entire journey.

His shining pearl.

He’d take good care of it.

[bowling-alleycarpet]

newsies dream cast, part 1

if newsies is in a constant cycle of new productions, it’s about time we get a perfect cast! this is who I’d want as the characters in a remake in the round in 2022

Jordan Fisher as Mush Meyers

livesies was racist and cast a white guy as mush, who was an actual real mixed racial historical figure who was more than likely forced to live on the streets because it was illegal for him to even exist. therefore he gets first on this list just to make up for that even though it could never be enough to make up for that great disservice. perhaps he gets a new solo too because frankly he has always deserved one. I think Jordan would suit the role well with his astounding voice and positive attitude similar to that of a puppy, just as Mush always has.

Max Casella as Joseph Pulitzer AND Mr Wiesel

Max also deserves so much better than what disney gave him. He continued to do disney movies and their broadway shows for twenty years and is an accredited stage actor who helped earn them some 13 Ed’s Tony’s for the stage play of the lion king which is still Disney theatricals biggest gross to this day. He actively asked to be in newsies on broadway and they wouldn’t give him a job! He loves the film so much that he was the only actor from it to show up to the broadway red carpet as well. He deserves every role. And!! Most importantly Pulitzer will finally be portrayed by a real Jewish man!

I also just think it would be very funny to see him as the man he was heckling with as Racetrack, very funny 10/10

David Moscow as Mayer Jacobs

This is the clearest choice on the list and needs no explanation. David is still an activist in workers rights (among other things like sustainable food) to this day! (I did consider putting bernie. sanders on this list for shits and giggles but would never consider him for an actual production.)

Giuseppe Bausillo as Racetrack Higgins

This is the only member of the stage cast I would consider hiring back. He fits the role very well and Bob and Noni’s “Italian beanpole” description. He did excellent before and frankly deserves more credit for it.

Ann-Margret as Medda Larkin

She is still out here thriving today!

Brendan Fraser as Bryan Denton

You can 100% accredit this and the next one to @maggs-is-a-muppet but they’re right and I’m saying it louder for the people in the back.

Josh Sundquist as Crutchy

Please look up his stand up comedy if you’ve not seen it. Very funny man and, importantly, we do not fake disabilities in this house!

On that note, do you of any young visually impaired actors who would be applicable for Kid Blink? I would gladly support them but after quite a bit of searching I’ve only found Johnny Depp, who happens to be blind in his left eye (though I think any visual difficulty would be applicable) but he is much too old for the part. I thought the thirty somethings on broadway were too old but he’s twice their age and i do think that would detract from the plot, sorry Johnny.

Ele Keats as Esther Jacobs

You guys had to know this one was going to be on here.

Matt Bennett as David Jacobs

I’m not saying every Jacobs needs to be a major proponent of bernie but maybe I am. Anyways his album Terminal Cases is iconic.

Auli’i Cravalho as Sarah Jacobs

Auli’i is so talented she got most adults lifelong goal of voicing a disney princess at merely 15. She knows how to make a strong female character also nice and kind.

Christian Bale as Teddy Roosevelt

From his initial hatred of newsies and musical kind to doing three more the next year despite swearing off them, to earning awards for the largest online following from the sheer number of newsies fan sites alone, to becoming possibly the most well known Welsh actor of all time, to singing Santa Fe every time he sees Bill Pullman in the wild, CB has gone on quite the journey of accepting his love for newsies, and it’s time that journey comes full circle. Yes we’re going to spend half the budget paying him for less than two minutes of screen time. Yes, this is very much only in the absence of Robin Williams.

[escapewithbts]

Charity Case - Yoongi

Not super edited, not sure if I love it, blah blah blah, please still enjoy...

I’ve been in such a Yoongi mood lately 😇

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

You stared at your bank statement, or more specifically, your savings account. You had saved up a decent amount of money, that was for sure, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to kickstart your dream.

It all happened a few days ago on a Tuesday afternoon. You had just finished lunch with a friend who was from your home country. The two of you had found a restaurant specializing in the traditional food from there since you both were craving a taste of home. On your walk back to your apartment, you noticed the road you usually took was blocked off with construction (typical for the summertime in Seoul you were learning), so ultimately you had to take a detour, pulling out your Maps app. Although you lived in Hongdae, you really only took the same few roads daily. Therefore, you still did not quite know your way around.

The new directions had you weave down a side street, one you had never been on before. To your surprise, it was full of restaurants, shops, and cafes, and since Hongdae was known for homing many foreigners within the city of Seoul, many of them featured things you were very familiar with from back home.

Strolling down the block you made mental notes of places you wanted to try, places that were bustling with people, figuring they must be good if that’s the case.

All of a sudden, between an American grocery store and floral shop, you noticed a beautiful empty store front. You peered in the large windows and was met with a decent sized space, white walls, white tile floors, a lot of natural lighting. It was perfect. In the corner of the same window there was a sign that read “FOR LEASE” with the name of the agent and a phone number.

You took a picture of said sign before stuffing your phone back in your pocket. There was no harm in calling, right? Even just getting a feel for the space was harmless…right?

For ever since coming to Seoul from abroad, it was your dream to open your own bakery. To make desserts and breads and pastries fresh daily for the Seoulites to try and the foreigners to feel nostalgic for their home countries. You were currently working a boring office job as a translator, saving for the moment you could follow your true dream.

And maybe this was a sign… this was it.

 So, you did call. You did get a feel for the space. And it was perfect. Turns out it had been a pizza shop that went under, (too much competition) so there were already ovens and freezers and refrigeration, all in great working condition. The agent informed you the floor could be ripped up and replaced, there were already light fixtures attached in the ceiling that could connect to chandeliers and you were already picturing plants hanging from macrame in front of the large windows.

But there was just one problem.

As you stared at your savings account and compared it to the down payment in the brochure the realtor had given you… they didn’t match. You were short about 1/3 of the cost, especially since there was still some work to be done inside to really make it your own.

You heart sunk. You mentally scolded yourself for getting your hopes up. It was in such a prime location; how could you have been so stupid to think it was in your price range!

Suddenly, instead of staring at your lack of funds, you were staring at your face in your phone’s front camera as you received a FaceTime call request. ‘Yoongi’ was the name at the top of the phone screen, accompanied by your favorite picture you had taken of him candidly making a gummy smile caused by a joke you had told. Right on time for the daily call you two always had.

You sighed. Did you really want to speak to him right now? You were great friends, you had (stupidly) told him about the place and he had been so incredibly excited for you. He was so supportive and encouraging… it was incredibly endearing. Reminding yourself of that you pressed the green accept button.

Immediately you were met with the handsome face and bleach blonde hair of Min Yoongi. He was resting his head back on his black leather sofa, his narrow eyes meeting yours between screens.

“Hi Yoongi-ah,” you gave him a small smile.

“Hey (y/n).” he responded, returning the smile.

You stood up and walked over to the couch in your small apartment, sitting down and curling your legs underneath you.

“What are you up to?” you asked.

He reached towards the screen and flipped it, so it was now looking forward. An NBA basketball game was playing on the large tv in his living room.

“Watching the game. It’s game 4 of the finals so if Pheonix wins this one they only have one more game to win before they win it all.”

He returned the screen to face him.

“Oh, that’s cool,” you replied, “Did you have a lot on your work schedule today?”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“It wasn’t too bad. Practiced PTD for a Japanese tv performance we have coming up. Worked on some music between rehearsals,” he shrugged, “the usual.”  

You nodded.

“You?” he questioned, “how was your day?”

You looked down at the couch cushions and fiddled with the blanket that laid beside you. You bit your lip before responding.

“Fine. It was fine. I, uh, I had that appointment. With the agent in charge of that space I was interested in?”

Yoongi’s eyes got wide, and he perked his head up.

“Shit, I forgot that was today. How was it? Did you like it as much as you thought you would?”

A small grin appeared on your face remembering how picturesque it had been.

“It was even better than I thought it would be, Yoongs,” you told him.

He smiled wide.

“That’s incredible! So wh-what now? Did you put down the money for it? Or did you need me to come with you to look at it again, see if there’s anything that needs fixing that I can do??”

You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head. He was so sweet, and it broke your heart even more.

“Thank you, Yoongi, for offering, but that… won’t be necessary.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, expecting his next question to make you feel uneasy.

He cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What? Why not? I really don’t mind.”

You sighed, suddenly incredibly embarrassed to be admitting this to your friend.

“I just saw the statement of my bank account and, well, I don’t… I can’t afford the down payment. I don’t have enough saved up yet.”

You couldn’t help but look down in shame. Yoongi never talked about his money or how much he made being in BTS, but you weren’t stupid. He worked incredibly hard for everything he and his fellow members have achieved and you were nothing but proud of him. He deserved it all, even the unassumingly large income he was bringing in. He would never, ever flaunt it or make you feel inferior to him because of it, but you still felt slightly inefficient in your confession.

Yoongi’s face softened.

“Oh… I’m-I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You shrugged and gave him a small, hopeful smile.

“It’s alright. It just means it wasn’t meant to be, that’s all.”

He gave you a sympathetic frown.

“But you said it was perfect.” He reminded you.

You placed your fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Because it is, Yoongi-ah. It’s bright and cozy and practically ready. Not to mention it’s an incredible location,” you rolled your eyes at yourself, “I really should have known it would be too much.”

“How much is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You looked away again and scrunched your nose, before telling him the exact amount required to put down in order for the space to be yours.

His mouth formed into that straight line he was known for when he was neither happy nor displeased by something.

“Could you get a loan? Like from a bank?”

You shook your head.

“I already looked into it,” you informed him, “it’s weird because my bank is home, but I’m abroad so there would be a lot of hoops to jump through and the chances of being approved are slim to none. Basically, it’s not worth putting a mark on my credit for.”

He nodded in understanding, looking away for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together in thought, and as much as you appreciated him trying to help you, you had already thought of all the possible solutions, and you didn’t really want to talk about it anymore.

“It’s okay, Yoongs, really, I’ll find someplace else.” You smiled reassuringly at him.

He looked back at you and hummed in agreement before you began talking about something else.

 -

The next day you had barely stepped out of your office building after a long day at work when your phone’s text message notification sound went off.

5:49pm from Yoongi: Are you off work yet?

5:49pm to Yoongi: Leaving now. What’s up?

5:50pm from Yoongi: Can you meet me here at the HYBE building ASAP?

You furrowed your eyebrows.

5:50pm to Yoongi: Sure. Is everything okay?

5:50pm from Yoongi: Yeah, everything is fine

5:51pm from Yoongi: Come to the Forum at the top floor when you get here, okay? I already told the front desk you’re coming

5:51pm to Yoongi: You’re being weird but okay

5:51pm from Yoongi: Don’t worry so much you pabo, it’s nothing bad

You rolled your eyes and locked your phone before hailing a taxi.

 The ride to Yoongi’s work was longer than usual because of traffic, but eventually you made it, giving a wad of cash to the driver and stepping out of the cab. The tall, reflective HYBE building intimidated you a little bit, like you were going to get in trouble just for stepping foot on its grounds, but you confidently passed the transparent sign that read “HYBE We Believe in Music” and opened the doors to the main entrance. A woman at the front desk greeted you and asked to see your ID when you told her you were here to see Min Yoongi. When she confirmed your identity, she gestured toward the elevators.

 “Yes, you may proceed to the Forum on the 19th floor, he is waiting near the café there.”

You nodded and thanked her before letting the elevator doors close in front of you.

The aroma of coffee wafted into your nose immediately upon stepping out of the elevators. It smelled heavenly. You walked past many groups of HYBE businessmen and women taking breaks or in small meetings before finally spotting Yoongi at a table in the corner near the large windows. He was fixated on his phone, an iced Americano on the table in front of him, and another iced drink sitting across. It had been a few weeks since you had seen him in person as his schedule was usually jam packed, but upon seeing him now your heart skipped a beat and a wide smile formed on your lips. You hadn’t seen his newly bleached hair in person yet and he looked even more handsome than you imagined. His pale skin glowed in the sunlight. It was good to see him again. You missed him.

 “Hi,” you said, pulling out the chair and sitting down across from him, “the building is incredible.”

He glanced up at you and nodded in agreement.

 “It’s nice. They did a great job. I don’t mind coming to work as much now.” He chuckled to himself, and you rolled your eyes.

He pointed to the beverage in front of you.

 “The drinks are good, too, I got your favorite.”

You smiled at him and took a sip. He was right, it was delicious.

 “Thanks, Yoongs.”

He stared at you for a moment, a grin forming on his face. Your face felt hot, and you had to look away.

“Sooo… why did you need me here so urgently?” you quickly wondered.

“Urgently?” he retaliated, “it sure took you long enough.”

Oh, how you loved his bluntness.

You scoffed.

“Well, excuuuuse me, Mr. Min, normal people go home from work around this time, so traffic was absolutely horrendous! Could you have picked any other time of day?”

He smiled and looked down at his hands while shaking his head.

“This was literally the only open slot I had today, sorry,” he glanced at the time on his phone, “and I’m already almost out of time as it is.”

You waved your hands, urging him on.

“Well then, what is it that it couldn’t wait?”

He scratched the back of his neck and chuckled nervously.

“Aiisshh okay, please don’t be mad.”

You narrowed your eyes and cocked your head.

“Mad? What? What is it, Min Suga?”

He took a deep breath and reached into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small piece of paper. Then he unfolded it carefully and placed it in the middle of the table facing you.

To your shock, it was a personal check. From Yoongi’s bank account. Written for the exact amount you had told him last night of the down payment for the perfect shop you couldn’t afford.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes left the rectangular paper to look into his. They were a little weary, maybe, but hopeful.

“Yoongi…” you started.

He held up his hand.

“Please. Just take it, (y/n).”

Your heart was pounding. There in front of you was the exact amount you needed to start your dream. Your very own bakery. And combined with the amount you had in your savings you could even add some extra touches!

But… you couldn’t do it. You knew you couldn’t. This was your dream, and even if that amount of money was nothing to someone like Yoongi, you wanted to be the one to earn it, like he had earned all his successes.

“I-I… I can’t, Yoongi.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

“(y/n) …”

“Thank you, Yoongi, truly, it means so much.”

He shook his head and motioned to the check.

“Then just take it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“But you said so yourself that place is perfect! You were in love with it!”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. Did he have to keep reminding you how great it was?

“Yes. But I cannot afford it. There will be other places.”

“You can afford it if you take this. Please, (y/n), this won’t hurt me in anyway financially, I’m good. I want you to be, too.”

“I am good, Yoongi. I work hard and I’m saving. This place is just not it and I have to accept that. Maybe a time will come where I can afford someplace like it, and when it does it will be just as perfect.”

He rolled his eyes.

“How do you know you’ll find another place?? Jesus, you’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, (y/n).”

Your hands balled up into fists. Okay that was it. Calling you stubborn because you wanted to be self sufficient had made you hit your boiling point.

“I’m stubborn? How about I just don’t want to be your charity case, idol Min Yoongi, hmm?” you whispered harshly to him, “I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t want your help; I don’t need your help. I’m a fucking adult, too, you know, just because I don’t make millions doesn’t mean I can’t make smart financial decisions. God, do you think I’m just that pathetic?”

You got up to leave, so over this conversation.

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut.

“What? Fuck, (y/n), no I don’t think you’re pathetic. If anything… I-I’m the pathetic one.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes before marching back toward the elevators and hitting the down arrow button.

Yoongi followed.

“Do you know why?” he asked, jumping into the elevator with you before the doors could close.

It was just the two of you as it began its long descent down 19 floors.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why what? Why you’re pathetic?” you snorted, “Because you just offered your friend an obscene amount of money for something you have no part in?”

He looked down at the floor and took a deep breath.

Finally, he peered back up at you and his dark brown eyes met yours.

“Well, that, and because,” he paused, shuffling nervously on his feet, “because I’m having a really hard time telling that same friend how I truly feel about her.”

Your heart stopped and your mouth fell open again, in a different kind of shock.

“What?” you said softly.

“Fuck, I love you, (y/n)!” the pale skin of his face turned a bright red, and he took his gaze away again, “Aiiisshh, I’m sorry, I’m just horrible at showing my emotions and telling people how I feel. I guess I was hoping offering you the money would help you understand but I didn’t even think how it would come off, I just wanted you to know that I support you and I want to be apart of your decisions in life as more than a friend and- “

You cut off his worrisome rant by flinging yourself towards him and kissing him hard. It was his turn to be shocked, but he instantly got the memo and pushed you back against the wall of the elevator in passion. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands grazing the bare skin of your lower back under your shirt. You gripped your hands in his blonde locks.

The elevator let out a ding signaling you had reached the first floor. You pulled away from each other, panting from the heat of the moment. You smiled.

“I love you, too, Yoongs. But I’m still not taking your money.”

He rolled his eyes and snorted.

Then you started to exit the elevator, but you felt him grab your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned back toward him with confused eyes.

He grinned at you, his eyes suddenly full of lust.

“Do you maybe... want to see my new studio?”

*

Masterlist

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Hi Dear Jalebi, I demand your analysis :)   What are your thoughts on IPKKND might have some typical track if the audience, TRP, actors departure didn't influence it otherwise? Let me explain, IPKKND was supposed to have a longer office track (that wasn't common though, I would've loved it) but the TRP was low, so Shantivan track was introduced. Then, I read that, Sana Maqbul (Lavanya) wanted to quit IPKKND, that's why the quick breakup???

Is that why they didn't give us the COMMON AF *jealousy and hero's ex GF turns villain* track? Then again, Anjali was jealous and sad about Khushi after the first reveal of Shyam, and it looked like track about Didi Ki Saut was beginning. But again ratings dropped and the fandom didn't react well (kinda protested), Anjali quickly stopped showing jealousy and Dadi was introduced to give ArShi a common saas-bahu vibe.

Hello Dear Analysis Anon!

I am going to over answer this with a lot of detail because I have a lot of thoughts, as always! Time to get into my thinking cape/coat:

This analysis is going to cover:

(1) every example you just mentioned,

(2) my thoughts on external things affecting plot of the story,

(3) things/plots/ tracks that could've been if not for external factors

Examples

1) IPKKND was supposed to have a longer office track (that wasn't common though, I would've loved it) but the TRP was low, so Shantivan track was introduced

As far as I can remember from one of the writers' interviews, the office track was cut short because this was a show on Star Plus - which, as a channel, caters to 'family audience' therefore needs to have sanskaar and stuff at its core. Hence the rude shortening of the office track and weird 'makeover' and 'desi-dying' Lavanya. And hence we had a very weird four months of an eighteen-twenty years old Khushi teaching someone about sanskaars and suddenly knowing everything about a household when Bua-ji or even Payal would've been a more apt choice for this 'tutoring'.

If this was a Star One show, they might've not shifted out of the office for the longest time!

2) Sana Maqbul (Lavanya) wanted to quit IPKKND, that's why the quick breakup??? Is that why they didn't give us the COMMON AF *jealousy and hero's ex GF turns villain* track?

I did not know that's why the quick end happened. Honestly that happened perfectly. I think Lavanya had an inkling about their relationship heading south right when Arnav told everyone he's getting engaged to her. But she chooses to not see it until one day she couldn't. Maybe we could've gotten more from La but if you see carefully, La clearly knows that this relationship is now just for face. Bless her heart for trying though, trying with a smile!

Also, again I think the writers never thought of making Lavanya a vamp. They had enough material with Arnav-Khushi's own differences, Shyam and Buaji playing enough roles to mess up Arnav-Khushi's love story. I probably think they always had planned Lavanya as a beautiful person who was unintentionally caught in all of this. I feel they planned La and Khushi's friendship - they clearly enjoyed writing two completely different people becoming closest of friends.

The writers/creators deserve full credit for this.

3) Then again, Anjali was jealous and sad about Khushi after the first reveal of Shyam, and it looked like track about Didi Ki Saut was beginning. But again ratings dropped and the fandom didn't react well (kinda protested), Anjali quickly stopped showing jealousy and Dadi was introduced to give ArShi a common saas-bahu vibe.

This is all true.

My Thoughts on External Things Affecting Plot

It's not necessarily bad that external things affect plot. Feedback, from channel or fans, can help the show to pivot and understand what is working and what's not. The problem is when feedback is implemented regardless whether or not it matches the theme of the plot.

I loved:

1) The channel moving out of the office because the power dynamic was too great and the contract terms were very unhealthy and Arnav Singh Raizada deserved to get sued at least 10 times by the end of this contract so yes, the shorter the office track the better. Literally the saving grace is they didn't "fall in love" there.

2) The fans protesting against Didi Ki Saut track. Not because I hated the track - I think it was executed in the worst manner! From identical visual languages to show Arnav-Anjali and Arnav-Khushi scenes (which didn't work to show Arnav being equally torn between the two most important women in his life, but just made the audience get creeped by Arnav-Anjali's relationship) and writing scenes of Anjali getting offended by Arnav-Khushi's intimacy/Arnav spending time with his wife, on her birthday, in his bedroom... did she expect Khushi would just *disappear* in a her and Arnav's bedroom? Like that was the worst way to show a compelling plot line and giving people some weird thoughts about Anjali-Arnav (which I hate because I LOVE Anjali-Arnav).

3) Barun walking out when the plot was literally done. Yes, thank you!

4) Barun going to do a movie led to the kidnapping track, which I liked a lot. No, not the nonsense of Manorama Bond fishing out Delhi's security camera footages in vintage recording system - but the fact that given the chasm and angst between Arnav & Khushi, only something bigger than their misunderstanding could force Arnav to give weight to his feelings and for Khushi to be able to forgive him. And his life was at stake. It was a sharp reminder to both of them that they lost so much by not communicating that it doesn't matter what they had to say - they loved each other, they just needed to get back and fight off everything together.

And then again, there are things I HATED that happened because of external factors:

1) The channel for the whole La becomes Desi. And the overdose of sanskaar and tradition that followed for a few months *uggggh* Clearly the channel demanded this from the plot because family, traditions and all are important to Star Plus (wtf are they thinking for Ghum Hai Kisi Ke? though or YRKKH?) And even the Aarav track and Mrs. India - two tracks with terrible execution - were very Star Plus recommended content. Just now Saath Nibhana Saathiya 2 had a Mrs. Surat/Gujarat track and Yeh Hai Chaahatein had a miracle child popping up...

2) The fans demanding Arnav & Khushi's proximity. The whole hut scene was *noooooo*. Lack of consent, body doubles, GLARING logical loopholes and them just trying to do it when one of them is really not in the mood and they were both so out of character. @phati-sari explains this really well in her post (just search for the hut to get all relevant posts on her blog)

3) Barun? Not exactly - he's never in control of the plot so really it's the writers that kinda know what to do with his presence and absence. Even if they get a short time, it's upto the creators who know if they use the last 2-3 weeks for stretching a random track as much as they can and give a rushed ending or quickly wrap up a crap track and give a satisfactory ending. A good example of this is Lavanya's exit - although rushed was dealt with grace, important conversations and memorable hugs. Bad one is the end of the show - I know Barun gave his papers but I wish they went the La way with the end of the show - important convos, teary hugs and a sweet moment (they tried their best tho...)

It's an ITV trend though to not plan for the end of a show... they stretch a crappy track as much as they can and have like a 2 min epilogue. Kasautii 2.0 was the funniest cause they had all misconceptions cleared, Komolika and Mr. Bajaj die and then have a weird 2 min pillow fight to show 'happy family'... guess in that way I'm glad we had whatever we did with IPKKND!

Possible Tracks Then

So if external factors didn't influence the show, we might have had the following:

1) A longer office track. It would end the way it did in canon though. I think it was prewritten that at one point Khushi would tear up the contract and hold him accountable for everything Arnav did. Just instead of 3-4 days it would've been 10-15 days after the contract.

2) Didi Ki Saut track. Honestly that was compelling if executed right. Sometimes you can have an antagonist without becoming a villain, Anjali the perfect character for that.

3) A separation track. I'm pretty sure Arnav-Khushi could have separated at some point in their six months marriage - this is just my inkling and not something I heard in an interview unlike the above two. If given full reign to writing, we probably would've gotten an angst heavy stuff at some point post marriage/6 months.

4) A remarriage track sans Dadi. We know why Dadi was introduced (honestly I didn't mind her, it was a track done well and kinda to redeem Arnav in front of the public eyes. It's a perfect track cause Arnav is 'nice' for standing up for her and kinda heals the wounds he caused in the first few months of the marriage by retorting someone who tells Khushi everything he told her...) But anyway I do think a remarriage was in the works, not because of TRPs but the way their whole 'marriage' was framed and how Khushi was broken because of the lack of everything in it. And they deserved one w/o the devastation that night brought.

5) The 'marriage' would've been a live in. Arnav and Khushi's elopement was supposed to be darker in nature*. Their 'marriage' would've had no religious nor legal validity, therefore a stark contradiction to everything Khushi stood for... but you can't have that in ITV. *By dark I don't mean sexual violence - never.*

6) The whole IPKKND was meant to be darker. I am glad for the romantic comedy though! I think their balance of angst and comedy pre marriage was perfect! Not sure post marriage because it felt like a loop of going back to square one with no progress. But I think things were meant to be less subtle, more tragic and dramatized. So I think we could've gotten extremely angsty periods post marriage with a slow, gentle lull to the romance/comedy. While I am extremely glad for the lightheartedness, I wish I could've read what the whole original concept for Arnav/Khushi was!

7) Arnav revealing the truth to Khushi would've been different. We know the distasteful suicide track quickly came as a way to push Arnav's buttons and have him confess the truth of his elopement to Khushi. And that came from Barun going away - hence the quick kidnapping track and everything. So if Barun didn't go away, I honestly don't know how the revelation would happen. Would Arnav start piecing things together from information and things about Shyam in Laxminagar? Would Arnav end up helping and hospitalizing Shashi who would tell him the truth? Would Arnav come across any hidden wedding card Buaji could've had printed for Shyam-Khushi or even Shyam's fake kundili? Given the Gupta house wasn't the place where Shyam covered his tracks... was this where Arnav would start seeing things? Or guilt ridden, would Garima/Khushi/Madhumati tell Arnav the truth? Something was meant to happen for this revelation, whether it's Arnav believing Khushi or just getting further evidence against her - I... don't know! I wish I knew what the writers had in store.

We highly appreciate for not showing a typical Nanand against Bhaabi trope, also for not making La villain, but would it result differently if things didn't have a hand? Imma cry thinking Anjali jealous and La villain! meh!  What a feast for the eyes it was to see ONLY ONE VILLAIN and less negativity in a tellywood show. Baas bohut hua my casual verbiage. By demand I mean no pressure, please take your valuable time and reply whenever you feel like it.Take Loads of Care and Chocolates your way <3

I hope the above answered all your queries :) Thank you for all the chocolates and care!!!

Phew this was rather long! A big hug to anyone who went through it! See ya later!

- Jalebi

[brellhal96]

Best at your feet

Helmut Zemo x Feam reader

Note: I am very unveiled and it is the first long story I try to develop, please do not kill me if it is not very good, I am a beginner. I'd appreciate your corrections or requests. I change the context a little bit to the one in the series, I hope you like it. The English isn't my mother tongue, I'm sorry if i don't write well. 

Summary: You and Zemo, with no intention of matching, decide to escape to one night's bar without Bucky and Sam noticing. You enjoy the night with some alcohol, cigars and strangers until Zemo intervenes.

Cautions: Mentions of alcohol, tobacco, and some sexual tension.

You took a leather jacket and put on the most beautiful sneakers to match your dress, sincerely you didn't think you'd gotten this far so as not to enjoy the trip.

You sneaked out of Sharon's house, you thought it was something easy, you were actually an expert in circumventing security, for something Bucky had turned to you.

When you got to the biggest club in the middle of the city, you decided that you were going to have a good time, without worries, or fears, just will be you.

You began to drink a beer calmly, but with the dance, the cigarette smoke and the laughter of the strangers that surrounded you, that “calmly” became something abrupt, when you began to feel that the alcohol had its effect on your body, you decided go to the bathroom to wet your face with a little cold water.

When you returned to the bar you asked for another beer, but this time you didn't even drink it, a guy there grabbed you by the waist and took you to the center of the floor while dancing clearly with the intention of seducing you this night, and honestly you would have Let yourself be persuaded, tonight you had no limits. The guy was tall, handsome and clearly strong, he held your hips firmly and you were obviously smiling stupidly in front of him.

But from one moment to another you felt like someone took their hand off you, when you realized that it was Zemo you almost fainted with horror, it meant that Sam, Bucky and he had come looking for you, and that was not good news.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Angry Zemo comes between you and the man

"She doesn't seem to mind" he smiled cheekily at you without noticing Zemo.

"Well, it seems that only drunk girls would accept you, otherwise I don't think so" Zemo growled with a clear anger.

"Excuse me?" Clearly the comment had upset the stranger.

"Let's go Zemo" When you felt that the tension increased rapidly between the two of you, you decided to take Zemo by the arm and start directing him to the exit, but when you saw that he did not follow your instructions, you decided to take his hand in yours, so he turned around completely puzzled towards you, following you.

When you finally made it out, the air was cold and you had clearly lost your jacket along with your dignity in front of Zemo.

"Well, where are Sam and Bucky?" You said while rubbing your hands to your arms from the cold.

At that, Zemo took off the coat he was wearing and put it on you without hesitation.

"They are not here" He said firmly as he observed more clearly with the external light the black dress that drew your body in a heavenly way.

"Wait what?" You braked his hands hard as he tried to put your coat on.

"Why would they be here?" Zemo scoffed at how innocent you sounded.

"Why would you be here? I assumed they had realized that I escaped and were coming for me. ”You saw him with the eyes of wanting to kill him right there.

"Well, I ask you the same question, what are you doing here?" Zemo came a little closer to you now analyzing your face, which made you nervous, you had no idea why your body reacted that way if you had never been interested in the man.

"You're an idiot, take your stupid coat, I lost a great opportunity from me tonight." You tried to take your coat off as you headed back to the club.

But before you can take any more steps he take you by the wrist turning you carefully towards him.

"who? That idiot you danced with? " He said it to you in a dominant way very close to your face. He carefully put her coat back on, as you frowned more and more, it bothered you that he felt entitled to decide for you. But for a moment you plucked up your courage and said:

"Are you jealous?" You smiled hugely when you realized the intention of his comments.

Zemo smiled nervously but didn't really deny anything.

"I came alone, and therefore I can go out and sleep with whoever I want" You tried to loosen his grip, but he did everything in the opposite direction, he took you by the waist and put his hand next to his head as if you were going to dance , whispering in your ear:

"I don't know why you always decide to go for the worst when you have the best at your feet"

You laughed instantly and separated from him no longer trying to keep you close.

"Please Zemo, you?"

"Nobody has said that I am a bad option, and if you do not believe me, you can check it yourself"

For a moment you didn't know why you felt strongly attracted to the man, in an incredibly powerful way over your body and he clearly noticed.

"I'm not looking for anything with guys like you" You looked away trying to avoid his gaze.

"You think so, but you know that in reality the danger and you, are one, and I could make you feel like the most perfect woman on this earth, in every way"

You smelled the perfume that emanated strongly from her coat, it was intoxicating, and in a way how Zemo acted it turned you on, now wishing you would dance with him and that night he would make you the love, as if there was no tomorrow.

"Dancing with idiots and sleeping with strangers in clubs won't get you anywhere, you deserve something better." Carefully and paying attention to your reaction, he opened the coat a little and placed his hand on your waist caressing the dress you were wearing.

Actually, you didn't refuse her touch, it was something that your body actually appreciated.

"Just let me show you the best of me" with his other hand he held yours carefully giving a delicate kiss to your knuckles.

You had never felt that way, you did not know why that man you had kept as an idiot, now had you holding close to him wanting him in every way. He kissed, touching the ground, your forehead, then one of your cheeks and finally your lips in a way that was sweet at first and then somewhat rough, but feeling the mutual desire.

"Just take me home." You stared at him, in a way telling him that it was time to show you everything he had promised you at that moment.

image credits to whom it may concern

[mac-darf]

I'm wondering, ik Wanda has a crazy amount of fans that view her as perfect and without flaw but is she a villain/anti-hero within the MCU?

Like. Okay. When we first meet her she's working with Nazis, to try and kill superheroes. That's bad. Especially since these heroes had literally just saved the world two years earlier. You can bring up her parents being killed, and yes while that is insanely tragic and anyone else might do the same in a quest to kill Tony Stark, he did become a super hero? Tony has sins and him being Iron Man doesn't automatically make up for it, but he's trying. It's not like he killed Wanda's parents, laughed evilly and then killed an orphan. He wasn't aware of how his weapons were actually used to, ya know, kill people bc he's rich and he's never seen conflict. As soon as he does he shuts that shit down and saved the world. We as an audience should be on his side, therefore, Wanda is a villain in Age of Ultron.

But near the end of the movie she realized Ultron plans to kill all humans and she turns against him. Does this make her good, or does his just mean she has basic self-preservation? I'm going with self-preseevation. However at the end when she becomes an Avenger she clearly has made a jump to hero, so yeah. She's good then. Despite working with Nazis, Hawkeye thinks she's cool so she joins the band of heroes.

Then in Civil War she throws a bomb into a building and kills several Wakadan officials. Many have and will continue to argue that their is no where else she could've thrown the bomb. If you truly believe this you are insane. Her actions are the final straw with freelance superheroes. However, while this was completely stupid of her, it was a mistake and she was doing it as a hero. She takes her punishment for being stupid and killing a buildings worth of people well, until she decides to beat up her boyfriend and that she doesn't deserve to be punished. The movie treats this like a hero moment, but if this happened irl she would be a terrorist who escaped prison. Not good. Anti-hero at best.

Then in infinity war she just wants to protect her boyfriend, despite her kicking the shit outta him in the last movie because he was worried she'd stupidly bomb another building. Her wanting to protect him is just what a normal person would do. Her willingly killing him to save the universe is heroic af. She's a real hero in this movie.

She's barely in endgame so I'm just gonna say she's acts like a normal person in it. Because she does.

Then in Wandavision she commits the greatest act of domestic terrorism the world will ever see, because she was sad. She tortures an entire town and locks children in their rooms for several months just because she really missed her boyfriend you guys! This is true villain shit. Plus she steals dark magic book. Dark magic isn't a good thing.

(Now were getting into NWH post credits)

Wait nvm the whole Wandavision thing didn't matter because Doctor Strange asks for her help?? Maybe it's taken out of context and Strange will care more about in rhe movie but based off this teaser it seems like no one cares about what Wanda does, regardless of how selfish and evil it is. Wtf.

I think she might be an anti-villain? Since she isn't a villain according to the heroes but does some seriously intensely fucked up shit even after she rejects the Nazis, which was supposed to be her turning point from hero to villain. But in the universe no one seems to care about what evil acts she does so. Anti-villain. Ig. Idk. I can't wait for the herd of Wanda's fans to misunderstand this post and think I'm attacking this literal Nazi terrorist when I'm just trying to understand how the writers want us to view her.