#to have pieces click into place for the first time in decades and the machine starts and you are proud and relieved and joyful

[ziracona]

I am finding that the more I learn about and understand and even like myself, the less palatable I become.

It’s very hard. To know what to do.

I am making sense to myself for the first time in years. I am proud of who I am finding out I am. I am relieved to be making peace and headway. But even when I find relief in acceptance of something I was ashamed of before, I cannot un-hide it from the world. It was buried for a reason.

I am not afraid of the other parts of me, or ashamed of them. I’m glad they’re with me. I am not ashamed of being them, but I am afraid of what other people will think and do if they know. I cannot make them feel the way I do.

I like the parts of me I am discovering and making peace with, healing.

But they were broken for a reason.

The more of them I fix and find, the less of myself I can share with anyone.

It’s hard.

To be more okay and more awake. To dig up parts you buried. And then brick them up in the walls.

[booksandchainmail]

Hugo Best Series Finalists 2024

I've read at least part of every series, here are my impressions and loose rankings:

October Daye, by Seanan McGuire. I've read: all 18 novels and novellas, most of the short stories The Toby Daye books have been nominated basically very year, eligibility allowing, and they deserve it. This is exactly the kind of series this award should be for: a sprawling story decades in the writing, where early books weren't quite strong enough for awards and later books have to high a barrier to entry to be nominated alone. Looking back, it's astonishing the degree to which this series has grown upon itself over 18 novels, and I respect the level of foreshadowing and delayed reveals. The worldbuilding and progress-over-time is where this series shines, but basically every book of it is a great urban fantasy mystery novel in it's own right.

Imperial Radch, by Ann Leckie. I've read: all 5 novels and assorted stories I really like these! Admittedly I felt that Translation State was good but not great, but the original trilogy remains one of my all time favorites.

The Last Binding, by Freya Marske. I've read: all 3 novels I do like these books a lot, a very nice series of fantasy romances. By virtue of their historical setting, they are about queerness in a way that a lot of queernorm specfic can't be. I especially appreciate their willingness to change the assumptions of their premise

The Final Architecture, by Adrian Tchaikovsky. I've read: all 3 novels These were good! Nice crunchy sci-fi. Unfortunately they didn't live up to the level set by the other works of Tchaikovsky's that I've read, which have all been amazing. These books were enjoyable, they had good plot and characters and particularly worldbuilding, but I didn't come away from them with any deep thoughts or feelings

The Universe of Xuya, by Aliette de Bodard I've read: both novels, none of the shorter pieces I don't know what it is, but I keep bouncing off de Bodard's work, which is unfortunate, because I really like the concepts of her books, so I keep trying them and not liking them. The central romance didn't click for me in The Red Scholar's Wake, and it took me too long to wrap my head around the worldbuilding (possibly this would have been better if I had read some shorter pieces in the same universe first). A Fire Born of Exile was a decent book in it's own right, but as a Count of Monte Cristo adaptation I disliked it.

The Laundry Files, by Charles Stross I've read: The Atrocity Archive Look. I DNF'ed Stross's Family Trade series last year, so I didn't have high hopes going in. It's also probably unfair to judge the entire series by just one book published decades ago (it's not like the first Toby Daye book is that remarkable either). But I did not like this book, and I have no wish to continue with the series. I have no familiarity with cubicle-farm bureaucracy machines, so I think a lot of the humor fell flat. It also felt glaringly, un-ignorably, uncomfortable that with the exception of the main character's love interest (she's so unexpectedly hot and smart, and also gets kidnapped twice) and ex (keeps sleeping around to make the main character jealous), all the other women were small-minded obstructionist petty tyrant middle managers, who the protagonist could finally get one over on and put in their places at the conclusion, with the backing of course of his male coworkers, who all seemed to have hidden depths

[samwpmarleau]

fic: there but for the grace of ...

whumptober day 13: “death will do us part” masterlist: tumblr, ao3 “I know what I swore. Decades I’ve done your dirty work. I’ve watched everyone around me die. I have nothing left.” Exactly. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, kid. Nothing to live for? Can’t ask for a better host than that.

It’d taken him a long time to notice. Or, perhaps, he simply hadn’t wanted to. It’d taken the others shooting glances his way more and more often, then finally, Daisy herself.

“It’s stupid to ignore this,” she says. “Everyone can see.”

“See what?”

“Robbie, come on. Look at us.”

He does, gets out of bed to stand next to her at the vanity regarding themselves in the mirror. Him, as youthful as he’d been when first they met, not a gray hair or crow’s foot in sight.

Her, beautiful still, but aged. Her thick, black hair streaked with silver, lines around her mouth and eyes. Though her powers are stronger than ever, her body has begun to fade. Not profoundly, true. She isn’t hunched over with knuckles the size of golf balls. But … no longer is she young, either.

“Fifty looks good on you,” he says.

“Fifty-one, and that’s not the point.”

“What, are you afraid people will think you’re a cradle-robber?”

She turns around to face him. It isn’t insecurity written there. It’s fear.

“I don’t care what people think. I care that … that this isn’t a temporary thing. Your clock isn’t going to just start one of these days. It’ll always be frozen.”

“I’m not gonna leave you for another woman,” he says, knowing full well that’s not what she means.

“Damn it, this isn’t a joke! I’m going to die, and my husband isn’t going to look a day over thirty.”

Robbie lifts her left hand and kisses the thin golden band there. “One person always dies before the other. I’ll last a little longer, that’s all.”

“Not a little. Forever.”

“Maybe so,” he allows flippantly, not wanting to think about it, “but not anytime soon. So can you stop panicking about something that hasn’t happened yet?”

She comes to bed, but she doesn’t sleep a wink. Neither does he, feeling her stiff by his side. Still, she lets it be after a few days, things returning to normal.

———

“Normal,” of course, was bound to cease at some point.

So it does now, Daisy’s hands over his in a grip he can only describe as frail. While her mind had never failed her, the rest of her did not have such stubbornness. Her hair is a halo of pure white against her pillow, dark eyes glistening as she gazes up at him.

“I told you,” she says faintly. “I told you we’d be here one day. I’m decrepit. You’re a snack.”

“You could still quake my ass across this room.”

“Hmm, true.”

Robbie places a hand on her cheek. “I love you.”

“If you didn’t, I would quake you.”

Daisy coughs, loud and sharp. It sounds like her lungs are coming apart piece by piece. Robbie looks over at the nurse, whose face reflects what Robbie wishes it didn’t. Worse, she quietly slips out the door, leaving them alone.

“Still so broody,” Daisy scolds.

“You like broody.”

“Not right now I don’t. C’mere.”

Robbie joins her on the bed, carefully supporting her as she turns to cuddle into his side like she’s done a thousand times before.

“I love you, too,” she murmurs. “So much.”

Thirty minutes later, the nurse comes back in. She places a hand on his shoulder then collects the machines.

———

Robbie recognizes all who show up at the service. For only a few of them can he muster up the slightest care. Everyone here had worked with her or been mentored by her. Some she even called her friends. But none of them are ones she’d known for decades. Those friends, they’d buried. Even Coulson they’d buried, in a fashion. He hadn’t outlasted May by much. One click of a button, and he’d powered down, for good. Everyone else had followed in due course. Daisy had hung on for him, Robbie knows. It’s as comforting a fact as it is burdensome.

He manages to stomach the funeral, suppressing the urge to shout at everyone to get out.

When finally they do, he leaves himself. Firing up the Charger, his faithful companion, he drives to the cemetery and walks down the rows. It’s a bit of a farce; there’s nothing but earth beneath her gravestone, her ashes spread in a village of ruin in the mountains of Nepal. Daisy had told him and no one else of its location many years back. With all other former residents long dead, and now Daisy, he remains the only living soul who knows it’s here.

Afterlife.

Nevertheless, a gravestone had felt appropriate. If nothing else than to appease those who wanted to pay their respects. He moves the flowers off to the side to expose the marble.

The graveyard is empty, save himself.

Himself, and the being he’s shared his body with for the past seventy years.

“Find someone else,” Robbie says aloud. “I’ve served my time in hell.”

The voice in his head that responds is as intimately recognizable as Daisy’s.

You swore to settle all my scores. There are more to settle.

Robbie kneels down in the soft dirt. He wishes he were the sort of man who could sense a loved one’s presence when visiting their tomb, but he’s not. Daisy isn’t here. Or if she is, he can’t feel her. He can’t feel anything but the Rider.

“I know what I swore. Decades I’ve done your dirty work. I’ve watched everyone around me die. My brother, my friends, my neighbors. My wife. I have nothing left.”

Exactly. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, kid. Nothing to live for? Can’t ask for a better host than that.

“I don’t have vengeance in me. I don’t have what you thrive on.”

You have grief. It’s the sweetest emotion of all.

He’s not wrong in that. Robbie had been able to endure until now, Daisy’s counterweight keeping him afloat. In turn, he doing the same for her as she, too, lost people she loved. They were a team. They were …

Were. That’s all they’ll ever be now. Were.

He stares at the name on her gravestone and tries to smile.

“It’s antiquated. It’s patriarchal. I’m not doing it, Robbie, and it’s kind of insulting you thought I would.”

“That’s not why I’m — I just think we should have the same name.”

“Good idea. Do you need me to spell Johnson for you?”

Neither of them wins that particular argument, and the team resolutely declines to take sides. It isn’t until they’re helping Alya with her homework that the idea occurs to them at all. For there, at the top of the worksheet, is the girl’s name:

Alya Fitz-Simmons.

“We’re morons,” Daisy says, and promptly, finally, fills out the New Last Name boxes for them both on their marriage certificate: Reyes-Johnson.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Daisy asks, blowing on the ink to dry it. “You’re not gonna feel emasculated or whatever?”

“I think my masculinity is safe.”

It’s an annoying undertaking to get everything switched over and disconcerting to share only half of Gabe’s name, but worth it, if nothing else than to see Daisy’s satisfaction with the compromise.

And the cherry on top — the Rider hates it.

Sixty years he’s had her name beside his. Sixty years she’s been as much of him as he is himself. A week ago, half of him had died. Half that feels like all.

“Please,” he tries again. “I’ll do one last mission for you, I’ll kill any scumbag you want me to in this world or any other. Just let me be with her.”

You would curse another for your own gain? How ruthless.

Again, the Rider isn’t wrong. He cannot remain incorporeal for long; the only way Robbie could rid himself of the spirit would be to pass it directly into another soul.

“There’s got to be someone better than me by this point. Someone who wants to kill, who would like having you.”

Oh, sure. I’ve sensed many over the years. But why fix what ain’t broke? You may not be ideal, kid, but it entertains me to have you do my bidding even though you don’t want to. Why would I give you up?

“Because I deserve it. I’m not the boy I used to be. I’ve held up my end of the deal.”

As did I. I let go of Agent Mackenzie, did I not? That was our deal. It is not my fault you are bad at bargaining.

“I know, I know, that’s what I agreed to. But —”

There is no “but,” Robbie Reyes.

“There could be. You could make an exception. You’ve done it before.”

Indeed. When it benefits me. This would not benefit me.

“Can’t you show some compassion? I’ve never asked for anything from you since our deal.”

Compassion? Compassion is weakness. Compassion is for humans.

“We can make a new deal. There’s got to be something you want more than you want me.”

No, kiddo. There isn’t. You’re mine, and you always will be. ’Til death do us part.

The demon inside him retreats, decides the conversation is over. Robbie knows well enough by now that he will not rise again until it’s pertinent. Not that Robbie can’t still feel his presence, of course. It’s there, lurking.

Robbie places his hand on the face of Daisy’s gravestone, traces the letters engraved there. Her name, her birthdate, her death date. Her epitaph.

Here lies the Savior of Worlds.

“Wait for me,” he weeps. “I don’t know how, or when, but I’ll find you.”

A gentle wind blows. He knows it’s not her. But it’s easy to imagine that it is, that she’s here just out of sight. He can hear her voice clear as a bell in his head the way it used to be, no death rattle, no pain.

Says the wind, “I’ve got time.”

[theclo4ked1]

Allow myself to get a little RETROspective over FusionFall for a bit...

You may have noticed my Tumblr page now looks like a Windows 7 computer operating system. You like it? Along with that, I also updated my "find me elsewhere" list of virtual places to include FusionFall's second revival, OpenFusion (soon to include Retrobution, the revival of FusionFall Retro). In addition to that, I made a page just for my Creature Feature, which you can find in the pinned post or by clicking here. . After making that page for my four Creature Features, I began thinking back to my time in the Future...both times. What do I mean by that? Well, lemme first take you back: late September of 2018... (A VERY long and unfocused post past this point.)

. FusionFall had came back to life/into my life with the beta release of Retro, housing the first four levels and the entire Future Zone. I remember the days and nights leading up to the 29th (which was actually the 27th) being spent with the local players hunting Bad Max to pass the time until the Past was released to the public (or you could say until the time machine was finished). I can't remember if I found Don Doom while Retro was out, but I did in OpenFusion since the Future Zone was empty of players. . Eventually, one afternoon, I logged onto to the Universe Team's website (what used to be fusionfallretro.com, I think) to find that a glorious update on the front page. I don't remember what it said exactly, but you can assume that the Past Zone ergo the entire rest of the game was finished. With this release, Przzyfied (one of the bois on the team), whom I was subscribed to and looked forward to his FuFa (FusionFall) content eagerly, released a Smash Ultimate-type video showcasing all the characters in the game much like the source material did to announce this update.

This, of course, was around when the EVERYONE WAS HERE tagline was hyped to the max. I saw this as a second chance to finish what I started about a decade before. As I said in a rant addressing the DCMA takedown, I came a few levels close of crossing this game off my bucket list before it shutdown, but luckily with OpenFusion, I have that chance again. Third time's the charm. . So, yeah, the Past Zone was open, TIME TO GO! (this mission was removed in Retro btw) I bid the characters farewell and Samurai Jack'd my ass outta 'ere i have not watched samurai jack anyway fast forward past the shutdown to OpenFusion where I restarted my journey to save the Cartoon Network Universe. . This is where my Creature Feature showcase started. I also began an external and complex log of every mission, Boss Monster and Thromnambular locations, along with other details and I'd like to share it with other Notepad Purists-- I mean everyone when I finish it. As you may know, I've only done four monsters; those found in the Future Zone. I didn't spend as much time here as I did in 2018 and I was a bit less thoughtful with my decision to leave but it felt just as sorrowful having to go. I kept playing until level 12 where I just stopped. . The reason I haven't posted any more than the four I got is because I just hadn't found any more interesting monsters to showcase in the Past. I couldn't find any thing to like. However, be ready for the Oil Ogres when I get there-- I will post about them, I will gush about their greatness. . NOW. "Present day" post-Majora's Mask again after eight years. Seriously, I haven't played that game since I was in metaphorical diapers. I used a guide to get through that game my very first time (masks included), but the last time--the most recent time--I think it was nearing the end of Spring, early Summer, anyways I 100%'d the game ALL. BY. MY. SELF (save for the one heart piece from the treasure chest game won by being a goron, i don't know how i would've figured this out in-game, what? do i talk to someone in clock town AS a goron to get this information idk maybe i should try that next time in eight years). But in this last playthrough, I had what may have been my greatest yet most melancholy memory with this game. . Alright, lemme paint this picture: uhh let's do 4chan. >be me >like 90% done with mm >stone tower is left along with other things

BAH forget it. Yes, I was very close to finishing this game. I had the Stone Tower Temple (and its 15 stray fairies) left to do along with the Anju and Kafei three-day-time sidequest, maybe a few masks, too, and the remaining Heart Pieces (excluding the Moon, those were easy enough to obtain). By the way, I fucked up the Bombchu aiming needed to get to the one kid wearing Twinmold's mask, so the first time beating Majora was without the Fierce Deity Mask, but just a week or two ago, I went back and absolutely shat on Majora because I got the FD mask after simply

getting good.

Maybe it was meant to be; to do the final boss as base Link, then the bonus is a rematch using the sheer and raw power of the Fierce Deity Mask. . Sorry tangent, yeah I was close to the end of the game. I began the three day cycle anew. In this timeline, before heading to the Stone Tower Temple (STT, from here on), I had a rematch with the prior dungeon bosses, Odalwa, Goht, and Gyorg, before moving on to the penultimate frontier. Snowhead took me more than the three days (inverted Song of Time activated, too) to figure out the earlier puzzle in the central room, so I had to reset time once to complete the whole dungeon. Surprisingly, STT took me only two and 3/4 days (inverted time activated also), or until midnight of the Final Day to complete. I can't remember what I was more stuck on, the puzzles or the fairies. . I had to listen to the greatest dungeon song for about 3 hours. . But man, upon seeing that cutscene of the four giants' spirits(?) being released, that just felt "it" for me. I had nothing else I wanted to/could do (time-specific sidequests) since, again, I was nearly 100% done with the game, so I returned to Clock Town for a drink: a nice alcoholic Chateau Romani. After a nice swig of three-day-magic, I just roamed the fields with Epona until I had pulled out my Ocarina at the last second to reset time to the Dawn of the First Day. I nearly let the world end, and it was such an indescribable, unhappy feeling. You know "My Friend and the Setting Sun"? yeah well I was "My Horse and the Falling Moon".

So that brings me back to FusionFall. With nothing left to do but wait til the world ends (well you dont actually see the world end, but it's implied that it does after you travel back in time), it left me with that feeling of, I guess, "I don't wanna leave this place but I have to because this game has an important story ahead". . Or maybe it just has something to do with me and my idea of timelines. I'd have to leave something I cannot return to, and I find it difficult to leave things I grown attached to. Yeah, it's a videogame at the end of the day, but it's more to me. The characters I met, the things I've done and the things I've seen will be gone when I leave and no one else will remember. Makes me sad, really. . sorry Where was I going with this? I forgot.

[princesscolumbia]

I love telling this one!

So when I started in I.T. it was back when most people had dial-up Internet, if that. I.T. people would pass around stories about their wildest and most bizarre experiences, and here's my favorite of the (most likely apocryphal) stories that floated around at the time:

A family buys a computer, brand new. They get it home and set it up and it doesn't work. They take it back to the store and explain the problem and the tech on duty is all, "Well, let me hook it up and check it out." He puts it on the bench and everything is fine. He takes the computer back to the desk and explains what he found and makes sure they know how to hook it up and sends them on their way. The next day they're bringing it back in and (since even low-end desktop computers could cost upwards of US$3k back in 1990s dollars) wanted to triple check before processing a return, so he hooks it up to the bench again and everything tests fine. He quadruple explains everything to the family, everyone understands 100% how to hook it up, they take it back home and sure enough are back the next day. Frustrated as all get, the tech takes a picture of his family over to the office copy machine (in the back office, away from the family up front) and blows up the pic until just his face is copied out on a standard Letter sized piece of paper, then tapes that to the inside of the case, then sends it off with the family. They never have problems with that computer again.

Okay, now fast forward about a decade. I'm home from work and it's my day off. I'm watching TV and stretched out on the couch with my feet up at one end and my head at the other. Behind the couch is the desk my (then) wife and I used for our computers, arranged so we can watch TV while we were at the keyboard if we wanted. Her computer (an iMac) is right behind where my head is at this point.

I'm on my day off, I don't want to get out of the couch, I don't want to mute the TV, I just want to stretch out and veg for a while.

I start hearing, *click-click...clack-click* "Damnit!" *pause, click-clack-click-click* "...damnit!!!"

Now, obviously I knew what was coming. Sure enough, *click-clack-clack-clack, BANG of fist on desk* "Damnit! [deadname], can you please come fix my computer?!"

I really don't want to get up, and I remembered that apocryphal story and think, What the hell, why not? Not looking away from the TV, I reach my hand up and slightly back, slapping my palm on the top of the iMac, and say, "Try it now."

*sigh, click-click...click-click* "Oh! Hey, it worked!"

To this day I have no idea what was wrong in the first place.

they used to make smackable technology. you used to be able to hit your tv when it didn't work good.

[tilda-del-mar]

five times plus one // Jack & Brock & the road to a first kiss // outline

5. Circa 1994. Brock’s bitter & jaded & in jail after one drunken bar brawl too many. In strolls this super put together, competence exuding guy who ignores Brock’s dumb quips & offers him a job at Shieldra instead. Which sounds a hell of a lot better than jail, like the kind of job Brock thought he’d never get to do again. So he says ‘hell yeah’ and thinks ‘hell, I could kiss that guy, what is he, the fairy godmother for fuck-ups like me?’, which he does not say aloud bc Jack’s so fucking handsome and holds himself like a stalking mountain lion and Brock kinda would love to do more than just kiss him in thanks and now that’s a line of thought that needs to be shut down. Hard.

4. Circa 1996. Jack’s finally getting to go home after having half his face blown off plus a myriad of other injuries in an explosion. Doctors said to thank his lucky star. Brock brushes it off when Jack told’ em luck had shit all to do with it, it was Rumlow who stopped the worst of the bleeding under fire. Rumlow, whom Jack had clicked with almost right away despite all the ways in which they are different. Rumlow, who had come to visit every day he wasn’t on some mission while Jack lay uselessly in a hospital bed. Rumlow, who upon dropping Jack off acts like the ‘you are a piece of shit for not calling, I hope it is bc you’re banged up as hell’ message Jack’s decidedly male steady fuckbuddy had left on the answering machine is scandalous only for all the ways in which it was rude as hell and probably the root cause for Jack getting blown up in the first place, and don’t you let the timeline get in the way of a ridiculous theory, Jackie. ‘Guy’s a moron for ever letting you go, ‘s what he is’, Brock slurs later, as they are both a little fucked up after sharing Jack’s good scotch, and Jack’s heart does a funny little flip at that.

3. Circa 2000. Jack’s got Brock pinned to the mats, and hey, maybe Brock let him win this round a little too easily, the way Jack accuses him of with warm amusement in his voice. And Brock so wants to kiss him and/or bite the amused little curl off a smirk off his lips; Then, though, he remembers shit like his first bf and that abusive guard from juvie, and taps out with a laugh, brushes both the flirtations and the not-quite-platonic feelings for Jack aside, and that’s that.

2. Circa 2003. Some sort of torture training where Jack for reasons has to beat up a tied to a chair Brock and at this point they obviously trust each other blind. And Jack looks sooo good with bloodied knuckles and Brock kinda doesn’t mind a little pain and whoopsie. But he can’t say anything, can’t act upon these feelings b/c Jack would finally realise how fucked in the head Brock truly is if he knew this got him turned on, right? Of course he’s wrong bc Jack’s got quite a similar if reversed line of thought, but they are dumbasses who don’t use their words and so nothing gets resolved yet.

1. Circa 2007. Amidst a fire fight, pinned down by enemies and sure they’ll die. And it ain’t like it is in the movies, and there’s no time slowing down or some shit, just desperately hoping against hope somehow they won’t run out of bullets, somehow at least Jack will make it home. In the end, there’s just a quick “Jack I-“ & a “yeah, same,” just as they’re down to their last magazines, and just then as all seems lost reinforcements swoop in and saves their asses and the day, yay!

+1 Circa 2007, same day still. Comfy back home after debriefs and medical check ups and showers, in Brock’s small place in the city on the couch, with like pizza and scotch and beer after surviving that last crappy shitshow of a mission. They’re tired, and banged up and all kinds of tangled together and no more nervousness, just certainty and then Brock leans over and up and they share a kiss that was over a decade in the making and yay.

[ikingsley]

Ina x MC: Sabbatical (Part 2)

Ina x MC: Sabbatical (Part 2)

Second part of the Sabbatical Series. Read the first part here: Sabbatical (Part 1).

Summary: Ina hears about Luna’s accident and tries to do something about it.

Warnings: I’m gonna call it angsty fluff. But I guess more angst than fluff. 

Tag: @samanthadalton @domakir @kulaykape @hellyeah90sbaby @dopeyouth @kwaj05 @thedaft1 @swimmingshoebakerydreamer

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Author’s Notes: Yes, this was going to be a two part series, but then I had an idea and well, it got long. It’s probably going to be 3 parts now. Sorry, @kwaj05! This is what happens when you ask for angst.

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

A couple days had passed. Ina still hadn’t heard back from Luna. She was a little disappointed that Luna hadn’t answered her, but she figured Luna was busy and had other priorities. Instead of focusing on her heartbreak, Ina immersed herself in her work. 

Admittedly, Ina enjoyed New Orleans. It was a weirdly quaint, but big city. She started her mornings at Cafe Du Monde with a large coffee and a beignet. She read the news, sipped her coffee, observed the people around her and then made her way to work on her research. She strolled through the streets, analyzing the French influence on culture, behavior and life. The first-hand experience she was gaining would be a big boost for her career. Then, each dusk she would return back to her hotel and write bits and pieces of her paper.

Most of the time, Luna was just a side thought. But there were times she couldn’t help but remember Luna. She’d see constant reminders of Luna and think Luna would want this or Luna would do that. Then she’d go down the rabbit hole, imagining what Luna was doing at the time, or reminiscing on their time together. Ina made no attempt at getting over Luna, mostly because she believed that their separation hadn’t been official. She only wondered if Luna had gotten over her.

This morning began just like any other morning. Ina got up and went to Cafe Du Monde and unlocked her phone to read the news. Then she got curious about Belvoire and the drama between Poppy and Luna. She looked around and made sure she recognized no one. The T was a funny source, but it was probably one that a professor shouldn’t have frequented. Belvoire drama was basically her scoop of reality television and mindless entertainment. She typed up ‘The T’ into the search engine and clicked on the link. The rankings were the first thing that popped up. Poppy first then Luna...Then she clicked on the ‘Search’ tab of the website and typed up ‘Luna Garcia.’ When she got to the title of the latest article concerning Luna, her jaw dropped open and her eyes watered.

“Poppy’s Nemesis Injured in Car Accident”

Ina quickly skimmed the article. It outlined Luna’s accident and how she’d been taken to the New York Presbyterian Hospital. At the end, it wished for her speedy recovery.

Ina’s heart shattered. She should’ve been there. She then looked at the date of the article. Saturday. 1/16. The same day she’d left to New Orleans. Guilt consumed her body. Had Luna been trying to reach her? Had she gotten into an accident because of her? No. No. No. It couldn’t have been. It must not have been. 

Ina was normally stoic and unemotional in public rather than a sappy mess, and she was far from a crier. But this pushed her over the edge. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. She slammed her hands on the desk attracting the unwanted attention of patrons around her, paid for her coffee and beignets and walked towards her hotel, ignoring the stares of the passersby. Her tears ruined her makeup, but she couldn’t care less. Luna was the only thing on her mind. And she needed to get to her. 

Ina booked the next flight out of NOLA, sabbatical be damned. She would face any and all possible repercussions later.

~

She had to wait a couple hours before the flight so she went back to her hotel. Ina pulled the covers over her, rocking back and forth like a baby. Her tears stained the pillow, creating a soggy mess. She was worried sick for Luna. The woman she was madly in love with, the woman she hurt. She needed Luna to be okay. She needed to be by her side. She needed to see Luna smile again, at least one more time. She needed to hold her hand. She didn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t have the opportunity to tell Luna that she loved her once more. She only wished that when she told Luna she loved her, that Luna could hear and understand her. Ina, even though she was not pious by any means, fell asleep, praying that she would be blessed with a few more moments with Luna.

~

Ina boarded the plane in the evening, wearing uncharacteristic sweatpants and a hoodie. She opted for sneakers rather than her famous high heels. She also realized there was no point in wearing makeup. Often times, she just burst into tears unprovoked, effectively ruining any makeup she had put on. Her brain still filtering through all the things she felt, and she realized how deeply in love she was with Luna. She was everything she could ever want in a woman - gorgeous, brilliant, clever, attentive. Luna was damn near perfect in Ina’s eyes. And in retrospect, she took Luna for granted; Ina realized how lucky she was to have Luna. Her heart ached to see and have her again. She yearned for her touch, her smile, her laughter. And if Luna were gone, Ina didn’t know what she’d do.

Then she began worrying that Luna may not want to see her again. She worried that Luna would blame her for the accident. The saddest part was that it could be true. And Ina would never be able to forgive herself if Luna couldn’t forgive her.

But even a bigger worry was if she couldn’t talk to Luna again. What happens if- She didn’t even want to think about it. Her last conversation with Luna could not be a fight. It just couldn’t. 

~

“I know that look. Young love?” an older gentleman had asked.

Ina was brought back to reality. She nodded slowly.

“I was once in your place. My advice: don’t let her go once you have her. Cherish every moment you have with her. Be with her through the good and through the bad. Love her and appreciate her endlessly. You never know what life will throw at you from one day to the next,” he reflected.

Ina mulled over his words. She decided that when she got through to Luna, she’d never let go.

Ina felt like she was trapped on the plane for forever. Finally, the pilot announced its arrival at LaGuardia. Ina’s heart raced. She couldn’t get off the plane fast enough. Ina ran down the airport’s vast area, knocking several items, including people, around her. Most of them were tourists who just remembered that New York citizens had the reputation of being rude. She hailed a taxi and ordered the cab driver to take her to the hospital. It was then when she noticed how out of breath she was, but she needed to be with Luna. 

~

Ina almost left her bags in the cab in her rush. She rushed into the hospital, with a check-in bag, carry-on and purse. It attracted the attention of the people around her, but she hadn’t noticed. . 

“Garcia!” Ina exclaimed.

“Excuse me?” the receptionist answered.

Ina subsequently remembered her manners, her face flushing in embarrassment. She realized she hadn’t talked to anyone for several days now, and in that time, it seemed like she forgotten all social cues. “Sorry. Do you have a Luna Garcia here?”

The receptionist stared back at her for a couple of seconds.

“At least tell me if she’s okay. Please. Tell me she’s alive,” Ina begged.

It was one thing for Ina to look untidy. Sometimes when under high stress like when a paper was due, Ina did put her appearance to the side. But for Ina to beg, that was a different story. Ina never begged, not even in the bedroom. That was Luna’s job.

“I can’t disclose that information, ma’am,” the receptionist said calmly.

Ina was getting desperate. And it showed. She went back and forth with the receptionist. Finally, Ina got the receptionist to at least check the records. 

The receptionist quickly did so.

“She’s...not awake to approve visitors and I don’t see your name as a contact person. So how are you related to the patient? Her sister? Her mom?”

Ina visibly cringed at ‘her mom.’ But in all honesty, Ina looked like she had aged a decade in the past weeks. The woman looked disheveled, capped by huge bags under her eyes due to her lack of sleep. 

“I’m her...uh...partner,” Ina said slowly, realization setting in. She remembered that she may not be anymore. 

The receptionist was still reluctant to let Ina through. And Ina could tell.

“Please. She doesn’t have any family here in New York. I really need to see her. I’ll do anything. Just please let me see her,” Ina pleaded.

The receptionist was unsure what to do. But she looked deeply into Ina’s eyes where she saw genuine concern shining through.

“Okay, fine. She’s in Room 9121. Ninth floor. Second room to the right.” 

Ina thanked the annoying-turned-kind receptionist as she lugged her baggage around the hospital. She entered the elevator and suddenly felt nervous. It had been a while since she’d seen Luna and she didn’t know what to expect. She found the room and took a deep breath before heading inside.

Luna slept peacefully as the machines around her beeped rhythmically. She had a few bruises and a cast on her right leg, but overall, she looked good. Ina let out a sigh of relief. Luna was okay physically. She would make it. Now her concern shifted to her reaction once she saw her.

By now, it was almost 1 AM. Ina put her bags in the corner of the room and pulled up a chair next to Luna. She put her hand out clasping Luna’s weak hand. 

Luna was out cold. Ina’s heart filled with gratitude that Luna was next to her. Ina then began talking to Luna. 

“I’m so sorry Luna. I was a fool. I should’ve told you about the sabbatical and we should’ve discussed it before I jumped in with both feet. I was just so excited about it. But no. If we’re together, we’re a team. And I should’ve considered you in my decision. I hope we can talk about this later. I love you with everything in me. And I’ll do everything to show you how much I love you.” 

Ina rambled on for a couple more minutes before falling asleep herself, holding onto Luna’s hand throughout the night.

~

Luna was the first to wake up. She looked around confused. She saw someone’s bags on the side of her room. Then she saw her hand was being held. It was to her greater surprise that this hand belonged to Ina. She instinctively jerked away from Ina. She loved her. But after their quarrel, after the life-changing accident, it hurt. Her heart weighed heavily, torn between her love for Ina and the pain Ina had caused her. Ina was awakened by Luna pulling away from her. 

“What are you doing here Ina? I thought you were in New Orleans,” Luna said plainly. 

“Luna, oh my- oh thank god! I saw ‘The T’ about the accident. I’m so sorry Luna. I should’ve been there with you. I should’ve protected you. I-” Ina confessed.

“Go. Please. Just leave me alone. I don’t know how I feel right now. I went out to find you, Ina! I loved you. I still might. But it still hurts. It hurts to even look at you. Just give me time. Alone,” Luna said turning away from Ina.

“Please,” Ina pleaded.

“Go! Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Luna said firmly.

“Lu-” Ina began.

“Don’t you dare Lu me. I could’ve died for Christ’s sake,” Luna paused to change her tone of voice. “GET. OUT. I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU,” she roared.

Ina had never heard Luna so angry. Her heart ripped away from her soul. It caused her physical pain to hear the words, but she had to respect Luna’s wishes if she wanted a chance to ever talk to her again. And so she conceded, somberly picking up her bags. She threw Luna one last, sad look as she opened the hospital room door. Her tears rolled off her face like cars racing down a street. She put her bags down to wipe her face and sniffled. Luna hadn’t been looking at Ina, but she heard the sniffle. She looked up to see Ina full-on crying, quite uncharacteristically.

Luna finally took a good look at Ina. She’d never seen Ina look so old or tired. Neither had she seen Ina full-on crying. In all honesty, she had never seen Ina look so well...bad. And even if this may have provoked a feeling of empathy for Ina, Luna was too heartbroken and hurt.

As Ina closed the door behind her and choked back a sob, Luna whispered out, “Goodbye, Ina.”

[bohemianrequiem]

Here’s my Codeswapped gift for @nemesisadraste ! I had so much fun writing for Sam and expanding upon her relationship with Odd and the other Lyoko Warriors. I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

Prompt - Sam becomes a Lyoko Warrior

If you had told Sam earlier today that her evening would be taking a turn for the unexpected, she wouldn’t have doubted it-

Things were always that way when Odd was around and that was how she liked it. The unpredictability of their dates as a simple plan for dinner would turn into an hours long romp through the market district of town, both of them perusing clothes neither one could afford, was just another part of the fun of their relationship. Funnily enough, she had come to begin expecting these little pleasant surprises the more time they spent together. However, there was another trend that Sam was beginning to develop over the last few weeks.

First, Odd’s phone would ring and would with his nonchalant greeting of “What’s up,”followed by the name of one of his various friends from Kadic. Usually Jeremy or Ulrich, sometimes Yumi, and very rarely a strange girl named Aelita would be on the other end. After a moment, Odd’s brow would furrow, his jaw would set, and an uncharacteristic seriousness would envelop his entire person. “For real? Yeah, I’ve got it. On my way.” He would then flip his cell shut and turn his gaze towards Sam, his features slowly softening to the goofy boy she’d come to care so much for.

“Sam, I know what you’re gonna say-“ He placed his hands up in mock surrender, a worried chuckle already slipping past his lips before he could even finish his sentence.

“Let me guess, you’ve gotta go?” Sam sighed, more out of habit than any actual disappointment. Like she’d said, this was becoming a frequent portion of their date nights. At least this time they’d actually got to enjoy a movie together and make it halfway through dinner. Her burger half eaten and now being laid down on a plastic red tray, she shrugged. “Do what you gotta do, man. Text me when you get back to the dorms for the night?”

Odd blinked once, then twice. “A-Are you sure?” Obviously surprised at her lack of frustration at his need to preemptively end their date. Sam just waved her hand in dismissal, as if pushing the worry out of existence.

“Yeah, Dude. I know Kadic’s got you guys doing hella group projects this semester. Go help your friends.” At least, that was the excuse Odd had used before. She might have believed it the first time or two, even if schoolwork wasn’t usually that high up on Odd’s list of priorities, but something about his behavior recently had clued her into the fact that this was about something much bigger than school. “So, go on. I’ll be fine making it back to my place.”

Odd took his bottom lip between his front teeth, a habit that Sam had long since stopped trying to break him of, then nodded. “Thanks, Sam. You’re the best.” He gave a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek, then dashed off down the sidewalk. “I’ll text you later, okay?!” He called out over his shoulder as he rounded the first corner.

Another thing Sam had come to accept about Odd was that he was a terrible liar. Case in point, he had literally just ran off in the opposite direction of his school. After a couples minutes of anxious internal debate, she began to follow.

~~~

When Sam arrived at the old factory on the outskirts of the river that cut through town, she had initially worried that she’d lost Odd’s trail and accidentally followed someone else’s. After all, what would Odd be doing at some old place like this?

However, maybe this place wasn’t quite as abandoned as she thought. Despite the paint having chipped off the walls decades ago and piles of scrap iron cropping up throughout the interior, the floor looked relatively clear of dust and other small debris. Somebody, or maybe a groups of somebodies, had obviously been coming through here quite frequently to keep the dust and other objects from settling. That and the ropes hanging from the ceiling, one of which was still gently swaying from side to side as if it had just been handled, clued her into things not being quite what they appeared.

Deciding not to trust the rickety old elevator, which likely didn’t even run anymore, Sam followed one such dust-free path from the main floor of the factory down to another area full of old machines. They looked like the ones used in car factories to put heavy pieces of metal on the chassis of vehicles together, but had obviously been in a state of disuse just as long as much of the factory.

From this room, a winding trail that many times lead Sam to various dead-ends finally culminated in her opening a door into a spacious computer room, complete with some type of projection emanating from the center of the room. A few steps in and she could hear the frantic clicking and clacking of a keyboard across the room. Hidden by the sizable monitor in front of his face, a young boy spoke little.

“Okay, Odd. You should be able to see the construct now.....Yes, I know it’s huge, but you need to get inside of it and regroup with Yumi and Ulrich. I’ve lost contact with them for exactly-“ He checked his watch. “Ten minutes now. And communication with Aelita is spotty, at best. It’s up to you to....to uh....” His eyes lifted from his watch’s face to see Sam standing just a handful of steps into the room.

“Yo,” She put her hand in the area in a tentative wave. “Jeremy, right? I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say this isn’t your social studies project, is it?”

Sam swore she could see a vein in Jeremy’s forehead pulse as he slowly sat backwards and readjusted a microphone attached to his earpiece. “Odd? Were you aware that your girlfriend is here at the factory?”

“Hey! I’m right here!” Was he seriously just going to ignore her and act like they weren’t even in the same room together? “Is that really Odd on the other end? Let me talk to him.” She took a number of determined steps towards Jeremy, the boy defensively putting his hands up around his earpiece.

“No, no, I don’t think she’s infected, but she does look awfully upset. What’d you do to her this time, Romeo?” He stood up and put his hands out placatingly. “Samantha, please-“

“It’s Sam,” She interrupted as her march came to a standstill in front of Jeremy, placing her hands on her hips and impatiently tapping her foot. “Never Samantha.”

“Sam. Right.” He nervously adjusted his glasses. “I know this is gonna be difficult to understand, but you can’t talk to Odd right now. He’s on a very important mission right now. Odd’s still here at the factory with us, at least technically, but you’re not going to be able to see him until he’s finished.”

A mission? Was this some kind of code or was this dude seriously losing his marbles? “What do you mean he’s here but he’s not? Why can’t Odd just tell me all this himself, without all the lying and hiding?”

“He’s not hiding, Sam, he’s doing something extremely important. Come look.” Jeremy motioned her over to the computer monitor behind him. As she took in the many blinking lights and constantly changing lines of code, Jeremy sat down and relaxed. “See? He’s right here, located outside of this massive structure the geography of which I’ve been mapping for days now. The only problem is that I can’t quite figure out what’s inside of it. That’s where Odd and the others come in.”

“The others? You mean Yumi, Ulrich, and Canada girl, right?” Sam shook her head. “Wait, wait, so you expect me to believe that Odd’s inside there? Inside the computer?”

Jeremy nodded. “Exactly.”

Sam had come to accept a lot of things about Odd: from his personality, to his hobbies, but this went beyond all of that completely. Just as she was about to voice her disbelief again, a frantic beeping came from the computer. She watched over Jeremy’s shoulder as he began typing with near reckless abandon and spoke into his microphone again.

“Odd, bad news. You’ve got hostile hornets inbound. Four of them by the looks of it.” Four red dots appeared on screen, worryingly close to a blue dot indicating Odd’s location. The hornets zipped around the screen, surrounding Odd and barraging him attacks that Sam couldn’t see. From the way Jeremy’s face contorted with worry, though, she didn’t need to see the attack to know things were bad.

“This isn’t good. The hornets shouldn’t be able to move that fast. It’s like being inside the construct has super charged them or something.” A dull beep sounded and Jeremy tsked. “Odd, you’ve just lost fifteen life points. Be careful!” Sam could barely hear her boyfriend’s voice over the other end and desperately wished she could reach out and answer.

“What happens when he hits zero?” She asked, the quietness of her voice surprising her in the moment.

“What?” Jeremy was busy typing away on the keyboard as he tried to discover the source of the hornets’ sudden power-up.

“I asked you what happens when Odd hits zero life points. You said he already lost fifteen, so what happens to him when he hits zero?”

Jeremy pursed his lips. “He’ll be devirtualized. Right now, he’s inside the computer program, but if he loses all of his life points when he’ll be ousted and return to being here in the factory with us.” He added under his breath with added frustration. “At least, that’s what’s supposed to happen....”

“And what does that mean?” Sam was beginning to lose her patience with Jeremy’s infuriating tendency to under-explain what was going on.

“It means, well, that they aren’t coming back like they’re supposed to.” He leaned back and breathed out a deep sigh. “Yumi and Ulrich have already lost all of their life points, and yet haven’t devirtualized. I can only guess as to why, but their shared code must be stuck in some kind of feedback loop within the simulation. To put it simply...” He looked up to her. “I can’t get them out.”

Sam nearly slammed her hand down on the computer keyboard, but fearing damaging Odd, settled for simply unleashing a verbal tirade onto Jeremy. “And you just sent Odd in there to deal with it by himself? I thought you guys were supposed to be his friends!”

“Of course we are!” Jeremy shouted back. “Odd knows the risk, so do Yumi and Ulrich. He’s not alone though, he has Aelita inside Lyoko to help him and he has me out here to provide support. Ever since we’ve met, we’ve all always had each other’s backs and that’s not going to stop now.”

“Then...” Sam’s gaze turned from Jeremy and settled on the computer screen. Her anger slowly ebbing away and revealing the worry underneath. “What are we going to do now? What can we do to help Odd and the others?”

Jeremy bent over the keyboard. She could practically hear the gears turning inside of his mind - there was a reason his friends all called him Einstein - until he snapped his fingers. “If we could temporarily overload the construct with some bad data, then that should be enough to slow down the hornets and put Odd at a greater advantage.” A flurry of keystrokes filled the air. “But, ah, it’s no use. I have no dominion inside the construction, no access to any towers, and I can’t directly send anything to Aelita in order to sabotage the hornets. If we went that route, I would have had to given the bad data to Odd right as he was being virtualized. But it’s too late now-“

“So give it to me.” Sam cut in. “If you can’t give it to anyone else to make the enemies easier to destroy, then upload the data with me and I can take it to Odd and Aelita.”

“It’s not that simple, Sam.” Jeremy was about to launch into a deep explanation of the danger of a first timer launching themselves into an already precarious situation, before Sam put her hands on the arms of his chair and gently swiveled it around to face her.

“You said you care about Odd, well so do I. I don’t care about what might happen to me, I just want to chance to help.” Her voice was quiet, but sincere. A bit of insincerity slipped in with her next words. “ ‘Sides, I wasn’t asking, Pointdexter. Now put me in before I start keyboard smashing this thing.”

Jeremy thought for a long moment, then another, before slowly nodding. He could see why Odd was so crazy about this girl. “Fine. Head downstairs to the transporters and I’ll guide you from over the speakers. I can’t follow, but I can get you where you need to go from here.”

~~~

It was like a rush of electricity moving up her spine, before spreading throughout her entire body. The next thing she knew, Sam was staggering to the ground and could barely catch herself before falling face first. In her ear, Jeremy’s voice spoke.

“A little rougher than the usual, but not bad for your first time. I kind of had to rush your Lyoko avatar, but it should suffice for the time being. Most of it was procedurally generated anyways so-“

“Dude, c’mon, mission at hand before we start talking technical?” Sam shook her head as if clearing out his voice.

“Right, right, of course. You should be able to see the construct before you, it’s geometry is marginally different from the surrounding sector.” True to his word, her dark eyes scanned upwards and eyed the pale stone fortress before her. It’s coloring clashes drastically with the surrounding fog and light lavender rock of the Mountain Sector.

“The entrance is wide open. Isn’t this usually the part of the game where you have to defeat some kind of gatekeeper or something to get further into the dungeon?” Sam remarked as she swiftly passed into the threshold of the construct fortress.

“This isn’t a game, Sam. This is a matter of whether or not XANA can gain a new foothold within the Lyoko program, thus giving him greater power in the real world.” Jeremy pauses for a moment. “And, uh, Yumi and Ulrich already took care of the krabs guarding the entrance earlier....so there’s that.”

“I knew there had to be a gatekeeper!” Sam yelled triumphantly as she trekked further in. Hard, angular edges formed from what looked like polished stone walls guided her deeper and deeper into the otherworldly building. “So, speaking of mobs, what kind of weapons do I have?”

Jeremy audibly pressed a few buttons on his end and Sam could hear the sound of metal clinking together on her belt. “Like I was saying, I didn’t have much time to code anything too fancy. These digital shurikins should help if you encounter any ranged enemies and this-“ A weight suddenly appeared on her back. “-Is a copy of one of Ulrich’s katanas. I’d suppose you know how to use these?”

“Of course.” Sam chirped. “Sharp end towards the bad guys, then throw and stab, right?” On the other end, Jeremy groaned uncertainly. “Kidding, kidding. I think I can make these work. Now, what about this thing?” She motioned towards the metal gauntlet that encased her right forearm.

“In addition to being armor, it acts the as the containment module for the bad data I need you to inject. Once you engage the enemy, all you have to do is get within striking distance with the gauntlet and then-“

“Uh, Jeremy? I think the enemy’s already here.” After turning a particularly sharp corner, the narrow hallway Sam had been traveling down opened up into a room with high ceilings and expansive flooring. Towards the center, Odd pushed a very weary looking Aelita out of the way of a hornet’s well placed laser blast.

“Get behind me, Princess, these bozos are stronger than they look!” He fire a quick barrage of laser arrows towards the trio hornets, but their impressive speed allowed them to easily dodge each blast.

“No, Odd! Here!” Aelita kneeled down and bowed her head. Within a moment, a rock-like structure the same color as the rocks from the Mountain Sector appeared overhead. It shielded them from the hornet’s blasts, but shuddered with each and everything strike.

Within Sam’s ear, Jeremy voice came to life. “Aelita can’t maintain that barrier forever. And once it breaks, they’ll be totally defenseless. It’s up to you now.” Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Sam removed one of the shurikins from her belt. As the hornets were completely focused on breaking Aelita’s barrier, they all but ignored Sam as she quietly slipped closer towards the enemy.

Angling her shot towards the wall, Sam let one of her bladed weapons fly. The shurikin gained speed as it bounced off the wall and hit it’s mark on the broad side of one of the hornets. The virtual insect fell to the ground, dazed from the sudden damage it had taken.

“Now! Sam!” Jeremy leaned forward in his seat, eyes glued to the screen.

“Already on it, Pointdexter!” She ran forward and, with a small leap, descended upon the hornet. “Slow!” Out of the wrist of her gauntlet popped two bladed prongs, that soon became buried deep into the hornet’s body. It shuddered for a moment as it’s virtual body was pumped full of problematic data manufactured by Jeremy. Sam pulled the prongs out of the hornet’s body and threw up a hand to cover her face as the creature exploded.

Above her, the other hornets shuddered and jerked midflight before falling to the ground. “You’ve done it! The hornets are down for the count, and the rest of the construct’s data steam has been disrupted too.” A few keystrokes pass. “And Ulrich and Yumi are being devirtualized now!”

“So, now what? Do we keep going further in or...?”

“No way. Everyone’s life points are way too low, not to mention you and I are going to have some explaining to do to the others.” Sam nodded her head as Jeremy’s voice left her ear. Before she could ask anymore questions, Odd practically slammed into her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked Sam straight up into the air.

“Sam! You were so cool! You were like ‘pew’, ‘shing’, ‘stab’, ‘jab’, and then you-“ Sam groaned out-loud.

“Dude, cool it! You’re gonna strangle me to death after I literally just saved your life! Put me down!” Odd loosened his near death grip around his girlfriend and slowly lowered her to the ground. He gave a sheepish laugh. Beside him, Aelita giggled at his bashfulness in front of Sam.

“Right, sorry. For real, how did you get here? Did Einstein call you or something?”

“Not exactly. I, kinda-sorta, followed you here from our date. Then when I saw you guys needed help, I had Jeremy virtualize me.” Sam looked Odd up and down for a moment. “Why...Why are you a cat boy?”

Aelita put a hand over her mouth to stop from laughing, but failed to contain her amusement as tiny snickers slipped past. “Yeah, Odd. What is with the cat get-up?”

Odd’s cheeks flushed with color. “W-Well, it’s kind of a long story. I sorta showed up here like this the first time and since then I’ve just learned to roll with it. But what about you? You look awesome!” His eyes ran over the black jumpsuit with satisfying white lines going down the lengths of her covered arms and legs, accented by an indigo crop top overlaying the outfit.

“Jeremy told me he was using Yumi and Aelita’s outfits as a basis for mine, but most of it was generated automatically when I first got here, I guess.” Sam looked at Aelita and her gaze was instantly drawn to her point eyes and face markings. “I guess between you two, I’m kinda the odd one out. No cats ears, no elf ears, just plain ol’ human ones.”

“Hey, you guys.” Jeremy spoke to all of them through his computer’s microphone. “As much as I’d love to continue this conversation on fashion, we really should get you three back home. Ulrich and Yumi are already here, so I’ll start the devirtualization process. You first, Aelita.”

As Aelita began to disappear into unraveling strands of code, Odd put a hand on the back of his neck. “Sam, I’m sorry you had to find out this way about what I’m always doing with my friends. I wanted to tell you, and I didn’t like lying to you, but trying to explain all this to you always just seemed so...impossible.”

“Odd, if you had told me about all of this, I probably would have thought your brains had finally melted out of your ears from playing so many video games. I’m not angry or anything, more like amazed really. I almost still can’t believe anything like this even exists. I’m glad you’re safe though. Aelita and the others too, of course.” She kicks the ground with her shoe. “So, uh, does this mean I’m like part of the team now or what?”

Odd shrugged his shoulders. “If you want to be. I’m sure the others would agree that you’ve already more than proven yourself, but there’s still a lot we would need to talk about first. What Lyoko is, what we’re fighting, where Aelita really comes from...”

“I knew she wasn’t from Canada!” Sam yelled, before laughter overtook both her and Odd.

“It was the best we could come up with on such short notice. You’re telling me people from Canada don’t naturally have pink hair?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure nobody from anywhere is a natural pink, dork.” Sam flicks his nose with her index finger as the devirtualization process begins to take her. “I’ll see you back topside, alright?”

Odd nodded. “Yeah, see you back in the factory, dork-kisser.”

[jaxsteamblog]

Oma and Shu

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

Katara remembered what Rohan had told her about King Bumi. Avatar Aang had friends in every nation, but Bumi was always his closest companion and became another father figure in his children’s lives. In one familial anecdote, King Bumi had placed Baby Bumi on his throne and let him rule for the day, daring anyone to definitively prove that he wasn’t the actual king. 

It was this intimate friendship that kept Omashu safe during the war until Aang passed. King Bumi was killed during the fall of Omashu, outliving his promise to Aang that he would see the end of the war. 

His heir, Queen Liu, was not a relative. She had been his head accountant and, as stated in Bumi’s will, had been actually running the kingdom for the past decade. A head for numbers but little skill with people, Liu relied on her inherited friendship with Aang’s family to keep her seat in the turbulent political waters. 

When Zuko had reached out, hoping for a visit, Liu cleared out a villa near the palace for them. Their interactions with the Queen when they first arrived was brief, and the dinner was slightly awkward, but the villa was airy and Katara could watch the ancient mail service fly by the windows. 

Now, after the failed kidnapping, they were being brought in for a royal audience.

“I am so sorry.” Liu gushed as soon as they stepped into the throne room. Her green suit was rumpled and her crown was tangled in her short hair, giving her a frantic look that matched her energy. 

“I had my security team sweep through the area just this morning.” She continued, taking quick strides to meet them. 

The guard attending them stumbled to a stop, unsure of how to proceed. 

“Your majesty, if my suspicions are correct, there was a lot of money that made sure you wouldn’t find out anything until it was over.” Zuko said, holding up his hands. 

“And we’re fairly certain they weren’t planning on killing us.” Katara added, looking at Zuko. “Having us gravely wounded would have gotten the same result.” 

Liu stared at them. Despite her inexperience with political machinations, she was still brilliant with equations. She snapped her attention to the guard, who reacted with the same alacrity as they saluted her.

“Find out who let them in and bring the persons responsible directly to me. I want it quiet.” She said. The guard nodded and left quickly, their heavy armored clothes making a clatter.

“I hope you don’t think Omashu is involved in this.” Liu said, attending to Katara and Zuko.

“Not at all.” Zuko said.

“Well, there might be some bad blood.” Katara interjected, rubbing the back of her neck.

The scorch marks, barely a decade old, were still present on the walls. 

“Which may have been part of the plan.” Zuko agreed.

“So you do suspect someone here?” Liu asked coldly.

“No, your majesty. Only that an interested party in the Earth Kingdom would leverage that fact. Omashu was the only kingdom that was successfully invaded.” Zuko explained.

“Hmm.” Liu sounded irritated but then she let out a breath.

“We cannot come to war again. With the Fire Nation or another city-kingdom.” She said, pressing the tips of her fingers to her temple. 

“We don’t want that either.” Katara said, taking Zuko’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Liu saw the movement and her eyes narrowed. 

“How did you escape your assailants?” Liu asked.

Zuko and Katara looked at each other.

“The badgermoles saved us.” Katara said, facing Liu.

“Of course they did. They’re nothing if not hopeless romantics.” She replied. 

Both being completely confused, they stayed quiet as Liu untangled her crown. The queen sighed as she straightened her hair and replaced the simple piece. She turned around and walked back to the throne, her hands behind her back. 

Katara and Zuko followed after, walking slowly.

“I asked Bumi why he picked me, since I was the furthest thing from royalty in the entire kingdom.” Liu said suddenly, putting her hand on the flat arm of the stone throne. 

“I’m a competent Earthbender and, like him, I know my crystals.” She continued. Lifting her hand, a column of purple crystal sprouted up after her. “But I’m a bastard.”

Lowering her hand, Liu pressed the crystal back into the nondescript stone. 

When they didn’t reply, Liu snorted and sat down on the throne. Tapping lightly on the arms again, crystals erupted all around her. 

“Oma was the first Earthbender and she ripped this entire kingdom up from the ground in her grief. There used to be a forest here, did you know that?” Liu asked. “It was mostly destroyed in the war between her village and Shu’s, but the rest lost its roots when Omashu emerged.

“Bumi told me that every single ruler of Omashu has been a bastard, because of one simple curse.” 

“A curse?” Zuko repeated.

“No one had seen earthbending before. What Oma did was something people thought only the spirits themselves could accomplish. They thought her a witch, and probably would have sent her off with Shu had they not been thoroughly terrified.” Liu said. “And when she raised Omashu, she vowed never to marry and that if any marriage occurred in the royal line, they would be as barren as the desert that surrounds us. But worse, if the blood of fated lovers was ever spilled again in Omashu, the kingdom would fall.”

“So are you…?” Katara started and Liu shook her head.

“Bumi’s preferences would have a slim chance of ever producing natural children. I’m the illegitimate child of a professor and a housekeeper.” She answered. 

“Wait, are you saying that you’re worried the kingdom will fall now?” Zuko asked. 

“Had either of you died, I think we can all agree that plenty of people would look to hold me responsible.” Liu said. “My claim to this throne is tenuous at best, considering my history and Bumi’s chaotic whims.” 

“I think prophecies and curses are made vague enough that a random coincidence could fulfill it.” Katara said. 

“Why did you choose to visit Omashu?” Liu questioned.

“Our, well, the first time we went out together was to see an art exhibit about Oma and Shu.” Katara answered. “It was Zuko’s idea.”

“And why did you choose that?” Liu inquired.

“I.” Zuko cleared his throat and avoided eye contact. “I mean, I thought the similarity was interesting.”

“Two people from opposite sides of the war, but claiming no allegiance, love each other even as their people condemn them for it?” Liu asked. 

Zuko shifted uncomfortably and Katara stared at him, mildly irritated and incredulous.

“In the name of Oma’s bastard children,” Liu said, speaking the typically annoyed phrase with lofty importance. “I acknowledge the bond of this pair and will strive to protect it.”

The solemnity fell on them, and Katara couldn’t even feel awkward. 

“For as long as you two are together, you will have the friendship of all of Omashu behind you.” Liu said, speaking casually now. 

“Thank you, your majesty.” Zuko said and bowed. Katara mirrored him, but felt empty inside. 

She didn’t want prophecy or fate. She didn’t want a legacy to protect. She certainly didn’t want any part of a curse.

She just wanted Zuko.

But, Katara felt the warmth swirl in her chest, that was probably all Oma wanted too. To be with her beloved.

“Thank you.” Katara whispered to earth. 

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[rainbowcaleb]

impossible magic

fictober prompts: 4 "incantations" mixed with 5 "you are here"

CW: blood, implied torture, imprisonment, chains, disassociation, hurt with a dash of comfort at the end, also mutual pining~

((also available on ao3 if you’d rather read there))

--------

 If he died, there would be no coming back.

 It was a secret Essek kept carefully hidden away. It was the reason behind the argument that pushed his father away to a place he didn’t return. His mother must know. There was nothing that escaped her notice and his father had no love enough for his son to keep his secret. But Essek knew his mother was like himself in one important way; she was a master at compartmentalizing information if it could be used.

Right now Essek didn’t really care about whatever political machinations he had inherited. The tiniest whisper of regret was trickling across his consciousness much like the drops of blood that had finally slowed their flow down his forehead.

He had woken from unconsciousness held strictly in place by manacles and chains. His arms were pulled taut behind him, mere inches of chain holding his wrists down to the shackles on his ankles. Every link, every piece, every ounce of the metal was heavily enchanted to block any magical escape. Even if Essek had any feeling left in his fingers, he wouldn’t be able to cast.

 Sparing no expense, his captors had his neck collared with a thick heavy ring, just tight enough to drag painfully when he tried to swallow. Another enchantment laced through it and he knew if he tried to speak magic it would shock him with lightning. He knew because he had already attempted one desperate incantation. The collar was attached by a short length of chain to the wall behind him, so he wasn’t even able to find relief by lying on the ground without choking himself. He was forced to stay upright, his voice the only boon still left to him, but all his decades of magic rendered useless.

 Essek had long stopped feeling the pain of his legs against the uneven stone floor and he had long lost track of the time. It was more than a week. He had scraped bloody lines on the floor with his knee to keep the time, but after the days kept going and going, he had lost the motivation to bother. No water came. No sustenance. No visitors. But they didn’t want him dead, otherwise he would be already.

 This was calculated torture. They were waiting for him to break. Since his captors had taken the risk of leaving his voice in place, clearly they were hoping for him to give information. Otherwise, why not just slash his throat and be done with him? Perhaps they knew, impossibly somehow they knew Essek only had this current life and to kill him would end the trail of any of his secrets. He could be locked away by an enemy that intimately knew him. And now they were simply waiting. Essek wanted to heroically believe he could last until a rescue came, or perhaps he could overpower his captor, but he knew he was too weak. They had already won when they captured him.

 It was some amorphous time between one week and two when the first visitor came. A bucket of ice cold water was dumped on his head, waking him from a feverish daydream, and he opened his mouth trying to catch whatever drops he still could.

 There was a laugh from some distance a few feet away, male or female he couldn’t tell, and then footsteps receding before the slam of a door.

 It would be another week before another bucket of water. They were doing the bare minimum to keep him alive. They were waiting. They were patient.

 All Essek could do was try and keep his mind. He had lost motivation and strength long ago. If it wasn’t for the collar and chain holding him upright, he would have collapsed many days ago. Essek had to hold grasp onto his mind, the most important part of him, his most powerful part. He could not lose this too. He repeated lines of incantations, imagining their sigils and components in his mind's eye, but being careful not to move his mouth. He did not know if anyone was watching or what they were watching for. He started with the first spell he ever learned, testing his memory too, and then worked through each spell variation until he advanced to its final form. And then he would pick the next simple spell, working through each one like a library in his head, keeping his mind occupied. His whole body had surpassed from pain into nothingness. Essek felt completely detached from anything material around him. All he had was the repetitions of incantations, the words a rhythm in his head that kept his heart beating.

 Another ice cold drench of water. It woke him from a fitful sleep, having dozed off somewhere between reciting dunamantic spells. His body protested, the tension against his shackles friction again as the water trickled down. It was a terrible reminder of where he was.

 He coughed out his first word spoken since he was brought here. “W-who?” Essek didn’t need to know why.

 The voice just laughed again, mirthlessly. He heard the door shut again.

 Even though time had completely slipped from him, Essek had come to expect the water that came in a regular pattern.

 It did not come that week.

 There was something warm and glowing near his legs. His first thought was that perhaps his mental incantations had impossibly broken through the spells on his manacles and a drift globe had materialized. Something small and soft patted his knee. He smelled sulfur. Then there was an earthshaking explosion and the door he assumed was somewhere in this room was knocked down onto the ground. Essek’s eyes were still closed, he barely opened them anymore, but he could still see shocking orange light through his eyelids. Then it dimmed.

 He heard scuffling, metal being dragged, multiple footsteps. Something grazed his face, but it was so light it felt like he imagined it. Essek felt the tension of the chains snap and he toppled sideways, suddenly loose from his bonds. Softness caught him instead of the hard stone floor. The last string of fight that had been forcing him to stay awake snapped.

     Essek woke lying down. It felt like the first time in a decade that his body wasn’t twisted into a terrible position. He opened his eyes. It took more strength than he expected to force his eyelids open. He didn’t bother trying to move his limbs. The pain was greatly dulled, but the exhaustion was filling his bones with lead.

 He didn’t recognize where he was. The whole room emanated a soft amber glow, the walls a plain ocher paint, the floor a polished wood. Essek tilted his gaze as far as he could and he saw a small nightstand beside him, a pitcher of clear water next to a glass, and several emptied potion bottles beside it. He was in a bed. Someone had found him and cured him and tucked him into bed. Essek knew who. As his senses woke up from however long he’s been asleep, he knew. The magic he felt flowing through this entire room told him with certainty. Caleb.

 There was a click and a door opened. Essek didn’t turn his head to look, but several footsteps entered. He saw the familiar blue of Jester lean over him.

 “Oh my gosh we were getting so worried, it's been days, we didn’t know when you would wake up and it’s been kinda crazy having to haul you out and have Caleb recast the Tower and stick you back in and-”

 “J-jester.” Essek’s voice felt tight with under-use.

 “Yes, that’s me!” She gave him a blinding smile. “You remember! You were kinda delirious when we found you, like you didn’t recognize us and were mumbling spells under your breath. You didn’t cast anything though, I don’t think you had anything left in you.”

 Caleb was over her shoulder, looking at Essek with a guarded expression.

 “H-how, there?” Essek asked.

 Caleb finished his thought. “We heard you.”

 He had so many more questions, but his voice wasn’t cooperating. Jester picked up on this.

 “It’s a long story, but I was trying to send you a message about Vess, ‘cause we were gonna do this thing for her but there were some crazy red flags and we thought you might’ve heard something, any anyways your reply was super weird. It was like you were whispering on the other side of a door and it was hard to hear you and it didn't even make any sense. Just a couple words in between some long pauses.”

 “It was a spell. When Jester repeated the words to us, I recognized it as your Echo spell.”

 Essek had no memory of a Message, or doing any magic. The only thing he could imagine was that somehow his repeated incantations had briefly broken through the shackles.

 “Well, whatever it was totally made me worry! It was so random and weird for you to respond like that. And then when I scryed it was like a big blank space and then I got booted out from the vision with a painful shove! It was scary enough that I Messaged our housekeeper, gosh I had almost forgotten we had gotten one but thank goodness we did, and had her go look at your house and there were some weirdo guards posted outside who said you were not to be disturbed. But they were totally unconvincing and weird.”

 He was barely following the story. The drag of sleep was threatening him again, and nothing felt better than the soft bed he was resting in at the moment. Essek tilted his head to look properly up at Caleb. There were bags under his eyes, nothing new, although they looked darker than he last remembered. There was a mostly healed cut across his cheek and the cuffs of his coat looked dusty black with ash.

 “Jester, can you find Caduceus? I think this calls for some tea.”

 “Can’t you get one of the cats to-”

 “Jester.”

 “Okay, fine, fine. I can take a hint.” She winked at Caleb and stepped out the room, closing the door behind her.

 Essek kept his eyes open, trying to take in Caleb’s face as the guarded expression was faltering under the weight of something happening in his thoughts. Caleb’s arm jerked forward, then paused, but he completed his movement to gently brush a lock of hair from Essek’s forehead.

 “I will not ask, because I know the answer will be ‘no I am not okay’.” Caleb gave him a wry smile but then it faded again “We were...We investigated and what we found, or didn’t find that is, was disturbing. So many lies so easily spread, and you-” The hand returned to Essek’s face, the lightest sweep of Caleb’s thumb across his cheek. “We were worried.”

 Maybe he still had a tinge of delirium, but Essek had to ask. “And you?”

 There was the briefest shock in Caleb’s eyes, like he hadn’t expected the question. But Essek had to know. In between the flow of magic words that kept his mind occupied, the daydream (painful, beautiful, impossible) that came to him was the memory of teaching spells to Caleb. Of wanting to teach him more. Of wishing to spend more time with him. Of pursuing that thread of something that seemed to keep pulling them back to each other. He had to know.

 Caleb leaned over and pressed his lips to Essek’s forehead, familiar yet unfamiliar, the touch feeling much more intimate in this position while alone in the room.

 “I was worried.” Caleb’s words were a puff of hot breath across his forehead. Then he straightened back up and pulled his hand away.

 “Caleb-”

 “Do not make me say more.” There was a small smile on his lips, but Caleb’s eyes looked sad.

 “Not now...We-,” Essek was really wishing his throat felt less like glass. “Can we talk later?”

 There was a noise at the door as the handle turned. Caleb didn’t turn to see who it was and instead kept his gaze on Essek.

 “Yes.” He stepped back as Caduceus and Jester walked into the room. “Yes, later.”

 Essek was given another cold potion and warm hands of healing, and then he drifted off into unbothered sleep. Whatever they had given him was preventing any restlessness or dreams. However, Essek still found himself chanting a spell to himself as he sank into sleep; it was the first spell he had taught Caleb, its words as familiar and soothing as that memory itself.

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press/Gallery: Elizabeth Olsen Is Ready to Lead the MCU

An ambitious new Disney+ series might just give the strongest Avenger the happy ending she deserves.

  GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 001

  ELLE: We can’t keep meeting Elizabeth Olsen like this. By “this,” I mean in the throes of catastrophe or bereavement, or, to put it plainly, when she’s an emotional wreck. In the 2018 Facebook Watch drama Sorry For Your Loss, Olsen assumes the role of Leigh Shaw, a young widow grappling with the unexpected loss of her husband and all the painful nuisances that come with death: the unbearable waves of sadness, the clichéd condolences, a grief support group that runs out of donuts. At one point, Leigh says through a cracked voice, “I’m just mad all the time.” It’s hard not to draw parallels to Olsen’s other angry character. After all, “mad” is exactly how 2015’s Avengers: Age of Ultron introduced us to Wanda Maximoff.

Defined by tragedy since her Marvel debut, Wanda (aka the Scarlet Witch) is an orphan with telekinetic powers. When not saving the world, she spends most of her time onscreen grieving the deaths of her parents, twin brother, or lover. Wanda’s never been allowed to fully exist outside the confines of her grief and anger, but with the launch of WandaVision—Marvel’s foray into serialized content for streaming—she may just be getting the happy ending she deserves.

Partly inspired by The Vision comic book, which follows synthezoid superhero Vision and his family as they move to the suburbs of Washington, D.C., the Disney+ series is an ode to the TV sitcoms we’ve come to love, with Wanda and Vision (Paul Bettany) basking in newlywed bliss—except Vision’s been very dead (killed twice, in fact) since the events of 2018’s Avengers: Infinity War. It’s unclear exactly how these starcrossed characters got to suburbia, but for now, it’s a delight to see the typically solemn duo sink their teeth into slapstick comedy.

“The show is like a blank slate for them,” Olsen tells me over Zoom, her light brown fringe a departure from Wanda’s red waves. The Scarlet Witch’s doleful glare is also long gone; in its place, Olsen’s eyes are wide with excitement. “Wanda and Vision’s journey to this point is a story of pure, innocent love and deep connection with another person,” she explains. “It was also very traumatizing. Tragedy has always been their story. In our show, we kind of wipe that clean and start fresh.”

But Wanda’s complicated past looms over WandaVision. Age of Ultron saw her and her twin brother, Pietro, initially opposing the Avengers (the siblings volunteered for a series of experiments with Hydra—a super evil organization within the MCU—after the deaths of their parents at the hands of Tony Stark’s Stark Industries) before switching sides to help save the Earth. The movie ends in victory for our superheroes, but yet another tragedy for Wanda when Pietro dies in battle. She finds comfort in the arms of Vision, an android created from the remains of Tony’s J.A.R.V.I.S. program, but even that bliss is short-lived. You see, Vision can only live with the help of the Mind Stone, which Mad Titan Thanos needs to take over the universe. In Infinity War, Vision asks Wanda to sacrifice him, and Wanda reluctantly agrees—but Thanos reverses time to gain control of the stone, killing the robot for a second time. Wanda’s pain is palpable: Imagine sacrificing the love of your life to save everyone else, just to watch him brought back to life and killed again—by the very villain you’re trying to defeat.

Though the thrill of playing a character with superhuman abilities is enticing for any actress, Olsen says it was Wanda’s internal battle with mental health that attracted her to the role in the first place. “[Joss Whedon] explained to me that Wanda Maximoff has always been this pillar of the struggle of mental health, from her pain and depression and traumatic experiences to how she completely alters the reality of the comics,” Olsen says of her early conversations with the Age of Ultron director. “The thing I held onto after reading the initial script was that she was not only powerful because of her abilities, but because of her emotions.”

In fact, MCU theorists would argue she’s one of, if not the, strongest Avenger. She can infiltrate the others’ minds to reveal their biggest fears (Age of Ultron). She can overpower Vision and send him plunging through several floors to break up a fight between warring superheroes (Avengers: Civil War). She can even bring Thanos to his knees, snapping his sword in half and forcibly removing his armor piece by piece (Infinity War).

Still, “they keep slapping her over the head with more grief,” Olsen quips.

As phase one of the Marvel Cinematic Universe began with the sound of clanging metal on May 2, 2008, phase four kicked off on January 15, 2021 with a kitschy 1950s sitcom theme: “She’s a magical gal in a small town locale / he’s a hubby who’s part machine / How will this duo fit in and pull through? Oh, by sharing a love / like you’ve never seen.”

With WandaVision, Marvel steers clear of the typical superhero trappings: no destructive battles at a Berlin airport or across the streets of New York City; no blonde-haired god time-traveling to other realms; no tree-like alien fight alongside a raccoon. Wandavision takes place after the events of Endgame in a fictional suburban town called Westview, and the biggest problem the newlyweds face in the show’s opening moments is creating a convincing backstory to get nosy neighbor Agnes (Kathryn Hahn) off their backs.

“They are just trying to fit in,” Olsen explains. “They’re trying to not be found out by their neighbors that they’re super-powered beings.” Now, if only we can figure out what the hell is actually going on. Olsen remains tight-lipped: “The reason it’s a sitcom shows itself later in the show,” she hints. “When Kevin [Feige] told me, it didn’t feel so bizarre. It felt like a great way to start our story.”

“With our show, you don’t know what the villain is, or if there is one at all.”

So, is Wanda stuck in the first stage of grief, denial? Has she altered reality as a coping mechanism for Vision’s death? Is she being held hostage by a terrorist organization (ahem, Hydra!)? One thing we do know is that someone is watching the couple and taking notes. At the end of episode 1, the camera pans out from a retro TV playing an episode of WandaVision (meta!) to show a hand jotting down notes. There’s a strange sword symbol on the notebook and a nearby control board, and in episode 2, the same sign appears on a toy helicopter lodged in the couple’s front yard. Later, when a mysterious beekeeper crawls out of the sewer on the couple’s street, the symbol is seen on the back of his suit. In its 20-plus movies, Marvel villains have always existed in plain sight. But with a new, less obvious darkness lurking at every turn, Wanda may have to return to her world-saving roots.

“Someone said to me when you watch any of these hero movies, you know when the villain’s about to show themselves, and you also have an idea of who the villain is,” Olsen says. “With our show, you don’t know what the villain is, or if there is one at all.” For now, WandaVision allows for glimmers of hope and optimism for Wanda and Vision, despite what darkness tries to threaten their happiness. “Wanda is trying to protect everything in her bubble, protect what she and Vision have and this experience,” Olsen says. “I think everything she does is in response to keeping things together.”

In addition to exploding the concept of the superhero onscreen, WandaVision toys with a different era of TV in each episode. The pilot takes viewers to the ‘50s with an episode filmed in front of a live studio audience, and Wanda dresses up in the quintessential housewife garb, not a hair out of place in her voluminous bob. By the time we click on episode 2, she trades in her apron and kitten heels for a more pared-down ‘60s look, while episode 3 gives a nod to the ‘70s, complete with a Brady Bunch-style staircase and a shag haircut for Vision.

While dressing up was the fun part, time-hopping through the eras required a lot of binge-watching old sitcoms to get the mannerisms down right. Olsen studied series like The Dick Van Dyke Show, The Brady Bunch, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and Bewitched to “understand the tones of each era” and get a grasp of how Wanda and Vision should act as a couple. (One of her favorite TV pairings was Jane Kaczmarek and Bryan Cranston from Malcolm in the Middle.) She was fascinated by the way female characters evolved through the decades: “You have to learn appropriate manners—what’s considered being polite or proper. That coincides with women’s voices changing,” she explains. “I enjoyed challenging myself to match the syntax and the lyricism. I live in a very chest-register kind of deep voice. I had to remember not to bring it up at certain moments.”

For so long, Wanda served as a supporting character to Marvel’s biggest names, and the formulaic mundanity of the major theatrical releases made it easy to get comfortable. WandaVision offered Olsen a much-needed challenge. “I’ve only been working for 10 years, but there is this feeling where you start to get comfortable,” she says. “WandaVision was the furthest thing from comfortable for me. It felt intimidating. The character is a completely different thing.”

And fans hoping for a little Marvel action won’t be disappointed. “We still live up to what Marvel does,” she promises. “We just tell the story in a completely different way. It’s a very emotional, female story and it’s a story they haven’t told yet for either of our characters.” Whatever your theory is, keep the cliché condolences to yourself. No one will be uttering, “Sorry for your loss” in Wanda’s world.

Press/Gallery: Elizabeth Olsen Is Ready to Lead the MCU was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[mythiica]

amber astrolabe | ikevam | leonardo

title |  amber astrolabe fandom | ikemen vampire character | leonardo da vinci  genre | angst, bittersweet warnings | well i dont kill anyone, but i dont make any promises for your feels intended gender audience | neutral audience  word count | 2.1k pov | second person  check out the others in this collection | comte, mozart other comments | reuploading! i decided to edit it a bit before doing so, sorry for the wait

The museum looms in front of you, practically swallowing you with its grand glory as it reaches for the sky. Sunlight sparkles in the new windows, yet to be touched by peoples’ hands as they stare into the street. Even from the outside, you can see the top of the arched glass roof letting natural light pour in.

          You remember it when it was the train station and how you would sneak past the guards to climb the stairs hidden behind the walls. Tipping your head back, you squint hard against the bright sun to spot the window of your old room on the top floor. 

         It’s a bad idea to return to the museum– this beautiful building hosts so many memories that are not as wonderful. Still, against your better judgement, you pay your admission ticket like any other tourist that clamours through the doors of the Musée d'Orsay before melting into the crowd. 

         In honor of the museum's grand opening, more people have gathered to see the new displays for themselves. You were specifically interested in the exhibit that you had read about in the newspaper a few days prior. After nearly five decades, the lost works of a famous artist have resurfaced. A trove of sketches – namely hundreds of half-finished drawings of an unknown woman. Pieces of her face were scattered across blueprints, hidden on the backs of oil paintings, and even etched into the lacquer of strange wooden contraptions. 

         You walk past the main exhibit, not really having an interest in seeing the Mona Lisa again. Still, the painting smiles at you from over the churning sea of heads, as if she knows something you do not. 

         Now in the traveling exhibit, you take your time, pacing around to admire the art. You marvel at the broken wing of a plane that did not survive a test run, awe at the elaborate blueprint of a flying machine with gold sails, and even laugh at the obligatory comedic comment that this mystery artist must have had an obsession with someone. 

         However, from the corner of your eye, you notice something glinting in the spotlight just a few meters away. As you approach it, you can’t help but be a tad bit sad to see that it has lost its original shine over the years – in fact, you had held the astrolabe when it was brand new. The hands of the device point towards the end of the exhibit just beyond the corner, but you don’t pay it much attention. Instead, you search your memory, thinking hard to collect the pieces of the past before you can fall against the events that transpired nearly a lifetime ago. 

“Cara mia, close your eyes. I have a gift for you.” 

         “If you drop a screw in my hand again and say you found it behind my ear, I’m going to throw it at you!” 

         His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, but you close your eyes to humor him. Without wasting a moment, he takes your hand and presses a cold, circular object into your palm. “You can look now.” 

         Your eyes flutter open, but you don’t know what to say. “A pocket watch? Did you steal this from Arthur?!” 

         “No.” He pulls the lid back to reveal a much more complicated interior. You take a moment to admire the fine engravings around the edge of the disk before your eyes graze over the centre of the object: an oblong piece of metal resembling the hands of a clock stretch across the diameter, overlapping the intricate second layer that sits atop what looks like a miniature map of the world. It is a deep copper color, and you immediately think of his eyes. They are nearly the same shade of amber, so deep and intoxicating that you wonder if he made it like this on purpose. “It is an astrolabe.” 

         “Well, it looks like you took a watch and a compass and made some… strange hybrid. What does it do?” 

         When he cups his hand over yours, your breath catches in the back of your throat. His hands are so large and warm. “It’s used to calculate the position of the Sun and other stars in the sky. Here, I’ll show you.” Now, his fingers lace with yours, the astrolabe pressed between your palms. It fits there perfectly, as if it were made to be held by your hand and his. 

         The two of you step over the incredible mess that has accumulated over the past week. No matter how hard you try, this place always remains a mess. It is no use to scold him for it now, for he has something set in his mind – nothing you say or do will be able to draw his attention away from showing you what this strange device is capable of doing. 

         He allows you to climb up the winding staircase first. 

         What a gentleman. 

         Then again, it’s the perfect opportunity for him to place his free hand on your waist. To ensure you don’t fall, he explains with the slyest of smirks. 

         Upon reaching the roof of the building, he leads you to the large telescope pointing towards the night sky. A breeze ruffles through your clothes, so he pushes you between the device and his body.  Warmth radiates from his chest, so you lean against him slightly as he explains what he is doing. 

         “This telescope is completely uncalibrated, alright? Cara mia, are you paying attention? Look inside. You’ll see that it is not pointing at anything memorable.” 

         You smile to yourself. He always is so passionate about his work. To humor him, you take a peek through the lense. There is only darkness. 

         “I see.” 

         “Now, if you’ll give me a moment…” Lifting the astrolabe to the sky, he fiddles with it, mutters to himself, and then changes a few settings on the telescope. It swings around to point at a seemingly equal void in the sky – you cannot see anything of importance against the night sky, but he nudges you slightly, prompting you to look through the lense once more. 

         “Is… is that Venus?” 

         “It is!” 

         You lean back and squint, trying hard to see a flicker of green against the black. However, your eyes are too weak to spot anything. “That’s very impressive.” 

         “Oh, but that’s not all!” He side steps around an open box of art supplies and turns over a large piece of paper. It is obviously a flying contraption, but it looks so strange… like it is straight out of a steampunk novel. And is that gold on the sails? How is this thing supposed to fly? 

         Raising an eyebrow, you take a seat on the small stool next to the lamp resting on the ground. “What is it for?” 

         A grin captures his lips. “I’m taking you to the stars. No more sitting around on Earth. I’m tired of this place. When we wed, I promised you a life of adventure. We left the mansion, and now we’re living in the closet of a train station. This isn’t the glamorous life you should have.” 

         “I think it’s pretty fancy, actually–”

         He shakes his head with a laugh, and his dark brown hair falls over his forehead. “We’re going to fly amidst the galaxies that make up the vast universe. How tiny we are, compared to them.” He whips around. “Imagine, reaching your hand out and catching a handful of dust from the time of creation. How amazing that would be…” 

         You laugh, but don’t correct him. Instead, you take his hands between yours again and kiss his calloused knuckles. “Where would you like to go first?” 

         He leans his head against yours and points at the horizon. “Sirius. It is one of the brightest stars in the night sky.” Turning to meet your gaze, he brushes his thumb against your cold cheek. “There is only one star that rivals its beauty. Would you like to know which one?” 

         “Of course.” 

         “A moment, if you please.” 

         Taking a dramatic step backwards, he plays around with the astrolabe until it clicks into place. The long hand is pointing directly at you. 

         “I don’t understand,” you tell him. 

         “Cara mia, you are the brightest star here tonight. You will always be the most beautiful star as well. Trust in that.” 

         You flush at his words, and it is hard to contain your smile. “You’re such a smooth talker, why can’t you put some of that effort into cleaning your room! I swear, it looks worse than it did when I first arrived here. Remember that time I found a mouse amongst your things?!” 

         “Don’t bring Lorenzo into this, he’s done nothing wrong!” 

         The two of you break into a fit of laughter, and that’s when he puts the astrolabe in your palm once more. “This is yours though.” He’s looking at you again with those pools of ochre mischief. “In the case that we are separated before we can reach the stars, use this to find me. Go towards Sirius, and I will meet you there. I’ll wait for you.” 

The white noise of the museum filters into your mind as your eyes flutter open, and you ease back into reality. Tears roll down your cheeks, but you do not move to wipe them. 

         Looking at the astrolabe again, you see the tender scratches against the metal: his initials coupled with yours. An impressive layer of grime dulls the shine of the device, making it less impressive than how it looks in its natural state. 

         A week after he showed you his plans, a tank of a train exploded, plunging the east side of the station in flames. As the fire grew, it stretched to the opposite side, where the hotel was. You had begged him to escape before the roof collapsed, but he insisted on returning for the astrolabe and his telescope, because he had been using it to calculate stars the night before. 

         As you had expected, the wooden beams were not strong enough to withstand the fire but, by some stroke of luck, he managed to thrust you to safety before everything collapsed. 

         Neither him nor the damned astrolabe made it through. 

         A painful hatred for the device burns in your lungs, so you turn away from it and nearly run into someone. Tossing an apology into the air, you hurry forward and move past the rest of the salvaged artworks without paying them much attention. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings and weighs your feet down, retarding your motions. 

         Despite the tears blurring your vision, you throw your head back and glances back at the astrolabe. You don’t know if it is taunting you or trying to tell you something. And yet, your eyes follow the long hand forward, just beyond where you’re standing, until you realize that it is pointing directly at the final, most impressive display of them all. 

         It towers over your head, stretching up the entire length of the wall. Pieces of blueprints, canvases, loose papers, wood, and more are all arranged to create a larger than life depiction of– you. 

         The eyes.. Her nose.. That beauty spot on her cheek that you hate… it is all there. He had to have reproduced it all from memory because you don’t remember him taking any photographs or sketches of her. 

         In the bottom corner, you see a plaque: 

         Believed to be a portrait of his lover, our favourite artist would have had to spend years creating this piece: in fact, our experts needed months to put the pieces together in order to reveal a face! In the left margin of the paper with her eye, the phrase ‘my star’ is written, so we have named her ‘Étoile’ for reference. Who was this woman? It was thought that this was lost to a massive fire in the nearly five decades ago, but the recent excavation proved fruitful in its treasures among the basement of the Gare d'Orsay when preparations for the museum began...

         You hear his voice loud and clear in your mind. 

         Cara mia, I am waiting for you, but do not rush. When you are ready, join me, so that we may explore the world beyond this one together. 

         Unable to contain your emotions anymore, you break into sobs. The sadness ebs from your broken heart and stretches through your body, making your legs click in place. You lose your balance and fall to the polished tiles, clutching your chest in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Other guests swarm to your side, offering you help or to call for someone, but you ignore them all. 

         Even overwhelmed with memories, you can feel the warmth of his promise, just as if he were standing beside her. 

         I’ll meet you again, Leonardo. 

         I’ll meet you at Sirius. 

[salt-warrior]

WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Six: Dust and Ashes and Cinders

Burning wings fluttered to no avail. Screams pierced the air with an agonizing ferocity. Flames licked at golden skin as the angels fell from Heaven and into the gaping jaws of Hell.

Dozens of the majestic creatures fell; the gradual descent causing their lovely features to turn impish and cruel. Feathered white wings turned to scales of black; the skin of shimmering gold shriveling into wrinkled gray tinged red; eyes of the purest summer's day transformed to a forest fire. It was both marvelous and shattering to watch.

The burning Hellfire—which should have consumed them—embellished their features into something near glorious. The flames licked their skin and caused it to glimmer instead of burn.

Heaven's clouds of ultimate glory began to close, allowing but one last angel to crash down to Hell. This final angel, however, did not change as she fell. Unlike her brothers and sisters, the angel's godly splendor increased into something more beautiful than man was worthy to behold. This angel was neither of Heaven or Hell, for She had been dragged out of Heaven against her will.

The angel continued to fall, but not to Hell—for the gates to fire and smoke had closed just as sure as the entrance to glory. The fallen angel was stuck in the middle. Earth.

Fire and glory consumed the angel, though no visible harm showed upon her skin. Tears flooded from her large earthy eyes and down her golden skin. She did not scream like the other fallen angels had, for at least they had a place where they were meant to live.

But this angel belonged to no one; she wasn't wanted by anyone.

***

Sweat still cooled the back of his neck, even as Kai walked into the Hospital. It was two in the morning, but family, doctors, and nurses still buzzed inside the white walls. Kai wasn't surprised. He remembered living in a different hospital for weeks while waiting for the passing of his mother.

It had been nearly a week since Kai had last come to visit Selene. He hadn't known whether or not he could stand to look at her, but he could no longer stay away— not after his dream.

Kai never remembered his dreams. He had been jealous of Thorne for having such exotic dreams for years, but maybe there was a reason for why he usually forgot. The dream he'd had was far too terrible and upsetting.

Kai had promised himself that he would do everything in his power to help this girl. He had kept that promise, but perhaps not in the way he should have. Kai had made a statement with the police. He had visited with Levana. He had taken care of her financial problems, but there wasn't a single day in which Kai had sat by her side and been there for her. He had left her all alone. He was a coward.

After seeing Selene for the first time since the accident, Kai had become sick. Guilt ate at him every time he looked at her mutilated flesh and lack of a limb. He had been so selfish; but he was ready to put that past him.

The extreme burns ward stank in a sickening way. You can still leave, Kai thought. She's in a coma; she won't know that you've been here. Kai hated himself for thinking it, but he couldn't help it.

Pushing past all the fear and guilt, Kai opened Selene's door. Immediate relief filled him at the mere sight of her. Already her skin was healing over, the skin grafting making her skin look patchy instead of bloody and charred.

Kai plopped down in the seat next to her bed. He hesitated, but grabbed her right hand— the one that wasn't burned. She looked peaceful and serene as she slept. Every care in the world had been swept away, if only for a few more days. A pang hit Kai's heart as he remembered the angel, knowing that it had been her.

Clearing his throat, Kai spoke to her. "I, um..." Kai turned to look at the doorway, but it remained empty. "I'm sorry that I haven't been here for you. You're all alone, and I let my own self pity and guilt keep me away, and I hope that you'll forgive me."

No response came, but Kai felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. "I got most of your affairs sorted through." Kai smiled, rubbing the back of her hand. Her palms were rough, and it must have been from her mechanics job. The backside of her hand, however, was soft and smooth. "I talked to Levana. She's the one who hit you. She feels terrible, maybe even worse than I feel."

A pause. For some reason, Kai kept on expecting her to talk to him. Stupid. "She was driving to visit her step-daughter. She just had a baby, but it's hard for her to take care of her. The daughter, Winter, has schizophrenia. She has these episodes where she thinks she's frozen or that her house is pooling with blood. Anyway, Levana was going down to help because Winter's husband was gone. He's a doctor and studies schizophrenia in hope for a cure. They were childhood best friends and he promised that he would help her. He loves her that much."

A warm fluttering filled Kai's chest. He wasn't entirely sure why he was telling Selene the story, or why Levana herself had told him, but he couldn't help it. He was a hopeless romantic, and the fantasy of someone loving another person that much filled Kai with unexplained joy. Thorne always teased him about it, but Kai couldn't help it.

"Anyways, Levana feels terrible about the whole thing. I heard that she's come to visit you a couple times even. She ran into Thorne one of the times." Thorne, unlike Kai, had visited Selene multiple times, though it was due to Kai's request. He had visited her three times, reporting that she looked even more hot every time he saw her while Kai sat in the hall outside her room trying not to cry. Kai hoped that he would not try to make a move once Selene woke up.

"I hope that Thorne hasn't bugged you too much. I told him just to come in and check on you, but he probably told you some terribly inappropriate jokes instead." Kai chuckled. "Sorry about him. His heart is in the right place, at least.

"I'm going to try contacting your family today. Well, Foster Family. I don't really know if it counts, but I bet they still love you." Kai cursed himself. He didn't want to give her false hope. Or himself for that matter. He had no clue of her backstory or why there had been a falling out. He had always had a happy family, and it was unfair to assume that hers was the same. "I bet that they'll come for you." Kai amended.

"I bet that I can even convince them to come down for your birthday." Kai winked, though there wasn't really a point. She couldn't see him. "I know that you'll be turning the big double decades in a week and I think that I'm gonna throw you a party."

Iko told him that small detail. She even mentioned that Selene should be able to be at home by that time as long as she had daily hospital visits.

"Selene," Kai covered her hand with both of his own. "I know that I don't know you at all, but I feel like some part of me does. Maybe it's because I dragged you from a burning car and have talked only complete nonsense to you since. Or perhaps it was fate. I don't know. You probably don't even believe in that kind of crap anyways."

A tugging sensation in Kai's gut urged him onward. "When I met Thorne, my best friend, we just kind of clicked. I knew that he would be my best friend, even before we talked to each other. I could be crazy, or sleep deprived–" Kai glanced at the clock on the wall.. "–but I think I'm supposed to know you."

Kai pulled Selene's hand up to his mouth and placed a tender kiss on it. He used to do this with his mother, while she was obstructed with machines and tubes. "Thank you for listening to me, Selene. I'll be back soon."

And Kai knew with a surety that he would.

***

The stench of smoke consumed the dark room, but the presence of the substance no longer remained. Selene's lungs burned, and her eyes stung, but at least she could breathe.

A light flashed on above Selene's head and she closed her eyes with a wince, blinded. A headache throbbed behind Selene's eyes, and the light made it ten times worse. "Wake up, you piece of crap." A kick landed in Selene's side. She let out a yelp, but that only earned her more abuse.

"Please stop." Selene begged, something she hated. She had begged for her mother not to leave her, but nature did enjoy the suffering of orphans. She had begged to stay with the Kesley family, but they hadn't wanted her. She had begged for Peony—the only person who had ever treated her like family—to stay with her, but she had left. "Please."

A strong arm grabbed Selene under the armpits, dragging her off the floor. Selene opened her eyes, just as her body was placed in a plastic school chair. Four people surrounded her, all familiar, but only three expected. The fourth caused a stab of betrayal within Selene.

"Why are you–"

"You know why we're doing this to you, Selene." Barked Sybil Mira, but that wasn't what Selene had been asking this time. She knew why they were doing it, but not why her best friend was. Sybil glared, her dark hair contrasted horribly with her honey skin and storm colored eyes. The black spots dancing across Selene's vision weren't doing much to help her case.

"You did a terrible thing." Sneered Aimery Park. It was funny to hear him accusing her of doing something bad after all the torment he had given to dozens of girls. "You killed Peony, and you're going to pay for it."

Selene glanced down at her feet. It was true; she had done something terrible. She was the reason why Peony had lost her life, and she deserved whatever came next. The only thing that she regretted was that her only friend had turned on her as well. She was the only girl who would talk to Selene, and it went the same for her. They sat together at lunch and did group projects together, and had even spent some time together outside of school together. But that had all been before the accident.

Pearl walked in front of the other three, dragging her nail viciously across Selene's cheek. "When we're done with you, you'll be nothing but dust and ashes and cinders."

Selene stared into Pearl's dark eyes fiercely. She was not about to play the docile girl who would get kicked around. Yes, Selene had made a mistake in letting Peony grow attached to her, but there was nothing that would fix it. They could do whatever they wanted to her, but Selene would never accept that it was right. Because it wasn't.

The final person came to stand in front of Selene. Her presence made Selene ache. She was the only one here who could truly hurt Selene. She would be the one to destroy her.

Selene waited for her best friend to say her piece. The girl hesitated, and for a second Selene thought that she looked regretful. There was a shot of pain in the blue eyes, and she was twisting her fingers in her hair out of nervous habit.

"You deserve this, Selene. You deserve the darkest and most fiery places of hades domain." Whispered the familiar voice. A single tear slipped from the girl's eye. Selene visibly flinched at the words. It hurt to know that her best friend would tell those who wanted to hurt her exactly how to injure her the most.

Selene hadn't meant to kill her sister. It had been an accident, and even the paramedics claimed that there was hardly anything she could have done differently. Selene blamed herself, but not in the same way Pearl did. She hadn't meant to do it, and she had thought her best friend would understand that.

Anger bubbled beneath Selene's skin. Hatred filled her; she would no longer beg to these monsters, but take her punishment. They could do anything to her, but in the end, she wouldn't waste another thought on them— they just weren't worth it.

"I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure that place is already reserved for the four of you, Cress."

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets I

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (Slow Burn)

A/n: This is my first stranger things fic, I’ve done other fandoms, and i’ve been itching to get this idea out, let me know if you liked the first part, and if you want to be tagged! (Pls be nice, i’m shy lol) (Also, I had this on a side blog, that I decided to bring to my main blog)

•••

The 1980’s were weird, that was your final opinion. Mainly because it was so much like home, they had phones, they dressed almost like you were used to, they had music you’d grown up on, like The Clash and Elton John, but a lot of the songs that were decades older than you, were new to them.

And while you knew every lyric to ‘The Safety Dance’ and ‘Come on Eileen’ everyone around you was still trying to learn them, and would jumble them from time to time. But at the young age of two, you were dancing along to The Clash while your dad laughed and danced with you.

Knowing that some songs you loved wouldn’t come out for up to twenty years later made you upset, not being able to listen to Nirvana. Suddenly you wanted to be in the car, listening to your dad try to sing along to Ed Sheeran or Taylor Swift. It was always amusing seeing his reaction to the newest songs on the radio while he drove you to school.

There was another thing about this time period that you found weird. They actually had lockers. All of the lockers from your school had been taken out in the late 90’s when a kid hid a gun and drugs in his, so no one had lockers except for in the locker room. So having to remember two different combos was a pain in your ass.

“L/n!”

A heavy sigh escaped your nose as your lips went thin in fake annoyance even though he hadn’t fully approached you.

“What do you want, Harrington?” You questioned, turning from the open grey locker to see him just a few feet away.

He gave you a look of fake offense as he leaned against the locker next to yours a hand over his on his chest, sadly were the latch of your own was, so you couldn’t use the door as a shield,

“Hey, now, who said I wanted anything? I just wanna talk to my friend.”

You were kind of friends. He was nice, at least to you. Though you’d seen him be a douchebag to other students. The cliche you’d seen in a movie of highschool. The popular guy who only cared about popularity and the people he was around. And you didn’t know why he thought you were a good person to be around, because when you were six you accidently set your curtains on fire while the babysitter fell asleep. And you were pretty sure you gave off ‘crazy bitch’ vibes.

You turned back to the locker and shook your head, grabbing your English textbook and looking back to him, a hand holding onto the door while you leaned into it. “Okay, why do you want to talk to me?” You questioned with a fake smile.

“Alright, grumpy. Tommy H, Carol, and I wanna hang out at yours tonight. My parents don’t leave for three more days, and  Carol’s mom hates Tommy, and you know how Tommy’s dad is.” He explained, looking down at you.

You hummed in amusement. “Not happening.” You responded, grabbing the hood of his hoodie and placing it in his locker, closing the door in on it. “Have fun.”

“Y/n!” He exclaimed in a sudden panic at being stuck in your locker, not being able to pull himself loose. “This isn’t funny, I will tell Mrs. Click!” He threatened as you stepped back, a genuine grin on your face as you looked up at him.

“A tattle tale? Didn’t think you’d stoop that low, and also, Mrs. Click? You think I’m scared of my History teacher? She’s afraid of saying ‘Wench’ out loud while we reading historical texts. She’s not intimating.”

Steve nodded a bit in thought. “Yeah… Okay, maybe I didn’t think that through, I’ll go to principal-”

“If I get suspended, I get suspended.” You shrugged. “Find a way to get me something to listen to music on, and something that has music on it, and then I’ll let you go.”

“Are you… Are you bribing me? Y/n L/n is bribing me? The new girl is bribing me.” He said in awe, still grasping onto his hoodie, looking at you with his mouth agape and his eyebrows raised.

When you only tilted your head he groaned, pulling on the cotton material. “Fine, Walkman or Record Player?”

“Hmm… Walkman.” You replied.

“Queen or Blondie?” He questioned, a smile coming across your face as you reached up to the lock.

“Both.”

Steve rolled his eyes as you unlocked your locker, setting him free. “That wasn’t fair, you look innocent.” He grumbled.

You mimicked his eye roll, closing the locker and walking away through the hall. ‘Fair’ being repeated in your head. Nothing was fair anymore to you. You’d been normal, just an annoying kid who was obsessed with Grey’s Anatomy, and history. That was what you had to your name. Your friends had once watched the bad uneducational tv show with you just to try and understand your obsession, you dad even had given it a chance, only saying that most of the characters were annoying.

But you only had history now. And some of the things you were supposed to learn in AP European history haven’t even happened yet. And it was freaking you out.

What was freaking you out more? Knowing you had a ‘classmate’ in your History class, who sat next to you, and was your relative. Your dad’s brother.

Sitting next to him was strange. Because he was your uncle. He’d been the one who bought you your first bike, and watched you fall off and break your wrist after your dad had let go of the bike.

To say that being his partner on a history project was weird, was an understatement. Because the entire time you felt like hitting your head against the desk, because he didn’t really change.

“What’s so important about a quote?”

“Are you serious?”

“As serious as the Titanic.” You responded, brows furrowed.

He stayed quiet for a moment. “I don’t know.” He admitted, receiving a chuckle from you as you watched him flip through the book. “I don’t even understand this project.”

“Come on, we have to choose a quote from a historical piece of fiction, We were assigned Romeo and Juliet.” You said grabbing your book and flipping to a certain page. “Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” You teased, knowing that the page you were on didn’t have that in there.

The boy was technically older than you, but right now, you were the same age, and he was shaking his head with a smile. “It’s like she wanted him to be stalking her.” He responded.

“What?”

“She’s asking where he is.” He shrugged. “It’s weird, cause he still doesn’t come out when she asks that.”

“That’s not what she means. It’s early modern English. Phrases were different. She’s asking why he has to be Romeo. In modern words it’d be ‘Romeo, oh Romeo, why does it have to be Romeo.’ She’s upset because the guy she likes is in the enemy’s family.”

The boy looked at you, eyes scanning your face for a moment, looking for any hint of you joking, but he didn’t he finally spoke. “You could teach this class better than her.” He said in a hushed voice to make it so Mrs. Click didn’t hear.

“No-”

“L/n!” The two of you snapped your attention to the older woman who was scowling. “Back to work!”

You rolled your eyes and looked back to him as the bell rang. “That’s our cue.”

The 80’s were weird, and you didn’t like them. What with being so similar to home. With your uncle in the same history class as you, and being close to your dad, but older than him and not seeing him as your dad. And knowing people around you who were almost Baby Boomers, and in your time, would reprimand you for the jokes you made and your views of the world.

Being 16 in your time had been easier, able to cheat off websites for homework, and texting, which seemed to have been taken for granted by you.

Here, you couldn’t say you didn’t have a mom, but rather two dads. Because it was the 80’s and you knew the comments you’d get. You also couldn’t say your full name. That the dad you were genetically related to was the one who gave you the second last name that your uncle had and everyone would question it, and it pained you not being able to go by it, because he’d taught you more things than anyone else ever had. He’d taught you how to ride a book, and said that he’d be disappointed if you ever got ditching class, and that if you were going to do it, not to get caught for his sanity.

You would regret ever coming to this town with him, and you would regret the choice to ever run out of Enzo’s after your other dad yelled at you for being drenched from the rain after you ran in, finding that it was a formal restaurant and not a casual one. You’d regret going into the woods and getting lost, because all you wanted, was to be held by your dad and have him tell you it was going to be okay, You wanted to hear him walking down the hall late at night when he couldn’t sleep and you were hiding under your blankets with your phone, tying not to get caught for being up late.

But you had the fear that you’d never see your dad, as your dad. That you’d have to continue growing up in a time that has been written in history books. That you’d have to watch as technology progressed, and that you’d be conscious and aware for the year you were born.

You were still a kid, even if you didn’t look like it. Just six year ago, you’d been in elementary school, and you still got nightmares and went to your dads’ room because you were still scared of sleeping alone. You hadn’t been since, until now. You could barely sleep at night in the unfamiliar room of the motel you were living in, without your parent’s room down the hall.

But you were trying. And you wanted to redo everything, if you could build a time machine, you would. But that hadn’t even been available in your time, let alone 83’.

[fostersffff]

Robot Carnival Review

When I first started my blu-ray collecting kick, Discotek was hyping up their release of Memories, an anthology movie organized by Akira’s Katsuhiro Otomo. While doing research on it, I saw it was recommended in the company of Robot Carnival, another anthology movie Otomo was involved with, with more animators and thus individual shorts, and a unifying theme of “robots”. As a robot enjoyer, I figured I couldn’t go wrong with this, and I was right! This was a joy from start to finish, where even the weakest segment still had plenty to offer. If this sounds like it might be up your alley, it’s available to stream for free on RetroCrush and YouTube!

Additional note before I get into talking about each short individually: with the exception of Cloud, the music for every short was composed by Joe Hisaishi, who has way more range as a composer than I would’ve ever expected, considering I knew him exclusively as the Studio Ghibli composer. Additional additional note: I watched the anthology in the original Japanese order, the version on RetroCrush and YouTube uses an alternate order from the international release.

Opening/Ending (Katsuhiro Otomo, creator of Akira and Atsuko Fukushima, key animator on dozens of anime projects, including Akira) - A mobile fortress (literally the above Robot Carnival logo) traverses a post-apocalyptic wasteland, bringing death and destruction wherever it goes. The Opening sets the bar for what you should expect going forward in terms of production values, and the Ending is a nice send off for the whole thing, but I don’t really have much else to say about these shorts.

Franken’s Gears (Koji Morimoto, Director of Memories: Magnetic Rose) - A mad scientist attempts to bring their robot to life, succeeds horribly. I think of all the shorts in this movie, this one has the most impressive mechanical animation. The whole thing takes places in the scientist’s lab, and the emphasis really is on all of the ways the environment is struggling to bring the robot to life, to the point that once it does so, it begins to crumble and break apart. But the animation on the scientist himself is also really charming; the way he moves almost makes him look gooey, which is apt because my sister pointed out he was probably designed after a snail, what with the big orb on his back.

Deprive (Hidetoshi Omori, Animation Director for Char’s Counterattack) - A super android has to mamoru his imouto from an invading alien robot army. One of my favorite shorts in the anthology, this was an entire action movie expertly condensed down into not even ten minutes, complete with an awesome soundtrack. I’d actually go so far as to call this one perfect for what it is, but it’s not much more than that.

Presence (Yasuyomi Umetsu, Character Designer and Chief Animation Director of Megazone 23 Part II) - A man builds an android for companionship, and he gets more than he bargained for. Longest piece in the compilation by a mile, and the first one with voice acting. Despite enjoying some of the other shorts more, I think I would call Presence the “centerpiece” of this anthology, as it’s definitely the most story-rich. It even has some prescient worldbuilding: the people of this setting do not see robots as sentient beings, which is shown right at the start when a bunch of kids knock the head off of an android and play with it while absolutely no one in the crowded plaza reacts. This sets the tone for the main character’s interactions with his creation, and provide additional context for the things he does besides the obvious explanations.

This was also the first short where I noticed something off about the animation, where it seemed to animate too well in for certain movements. As it turns out I was right; the liner notes explain that the director was using this project to experiment, and he would animate different movements on different frame counts. It’s not terrible, but it is a little distracting to see how smoothly something like a simple head turn will animate while more complex motions look more standard. Also, unrelated but fun coincidence: the liner notes also explain a reference in the script to a story called Daddy Long Legs, about an orphan girl who receives funding from a wealthy philanthropist she never meets, which explains a reference that went over my head Yakuza: Like a Dragon.

Star Light Angel (Hiroyuki Kitazume, Character Designer and Animation Director for Mobile Suit Gundam ZZ and Char’s Counterattack) - What could have been the most effective piece of robosexual propaganda ever made: a girl and her friend are at Tokyo Disneyland ROBOT WANDERLAND and are having a wonderful time, until she discovers that her boyfriend is cheating on her, at which point she retreat into the park and winds up on a virtual reality ride. Meanwhile, a robot performer attempts to find her and return the locket she dropped while she ran past him. This is tied for my favorite, alongside Deprive, because I’m a big sucker for romance and the main song for the short is so perfect for the content. I was also delighted to find the explanation for this short was that Kitazume, who’s work up to this point was all mecha anime like Aura Battler Dunbine and Zeta Gundam, really wanted to try to flex with character expressions, and it came through brilliantly as the range and level of facial expressions was the first thing I really took notice of in this. Funny enough, though, Kitazume also apparently said he considers this and Deprive to be the weakest pieces of the anthology, and I suppose he’s right in that they have the least meat on their bones and are also probably the least technically impressive, but still: my two favorites!

Cloud (Mao Lamdo, a prolific animator on many projects, but probably best known for this) - A robotic boy wanders past a series of ever-changing clouds. Cloud is definitely a stand-out short for a number of reasons, from the way its animated to the incredibly tangential connection to the “robot” theme, and to be perfectly honest I got a lot more out of it after I read the liner notes. The short was adapted from a self-published book Mao Lamdo had written years prior that had nothing to do with robots, and his interpretation of the short and the change to making the main character a robot was that it represented his frustration with the trend in the anime industry at the time trending towards a being obsessed with the mechanical world, while he still preferred to draw and animate nature. As I mentioned at the top, this is also the only short to not have music composed by Joe Hisaishi, instead the piece used is by Isaku Fujita, and as far as I can tell, this is his only credit. Still, it’s a good credit to have; Lamdo said the song evoked the idea of having a conversation with God and asking the big questions, which I can completely see.

Strange Tales of Meiji Machine Culture: “The Westerner’s Invasion” (Hiroyuki Kitakubo, Director of the JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure OVA and Golden Boy) A terrible steampunk mech invades a Japanese town, and is warded off by a team of youths piloting their own terrible steampunk mech. I watched this one with the English dub first and then again in Japanese because it’s been a fuckin’ minute since I heard a dub this racist, complete with changing r’s to l’s and vice versa, only to be cracked across the skull by what I am certain was a Japanese man doing his very best to phonetically read English in the Japanese version. In spite of that, though, this is easily the funniest short for all the right reasons, and it kinda clicked once I found out that the director was also responsible for Golden Boy; it’s that exact kind of humor, complete with a protagonist who could very well be Kintaro Ue’s ancestor.

Chicken Man and Red Neck, a.k.a. Nightmare (Takeshi Nakamura, director of Catnapped! The Movie) - A robotic magician wreaks havoc on a city by transforming everything in sight into robotic monsters, and a vagrant gets caught up in the chaos. I initially wrote down “this one has the energy of a Don Bluth movie, particularly In the Dark of the Night from Anastasia”, although the liner notes say he actually was inspired by Night on Bald Mountain, which is definitely a more flattering inspiration and more accurate, to boot. I think of all the shorts in this anthology, this one gets the prizes for “best overall animation” and “best use of robots”, and it also has the most intense PS1 RPG sounding music, which once again speaks to Joe Hisaishi’s talent as a composer for doing that a full decade before the PS1 even existed. Also, fun trivia, the director turned down an offer from Hayao Miyazaki to be animation director on Castle in the Sky to make this, which… was maybe not the best career move, but still this was a terrific short and I’m glad to have it.

Again, the movie is easily accessible for free streaming, and I’d heartily recommend you check it out if you haven’t already. But if you’re into collecting physical media, the blu-ray is crammed full of tons of goodies, including the liner notes I’ve referenced, art galleries for each segment, and a lot of other production materials. Discotek also announced they’re doing a 4k UHD release of this soon, which won’t include all the extras due to the way UHD discs work, but I gotta be honest, this would be worth double dipping for if the resolution bump is noticeable enough.

[starryseung]

han jisung + fluff + smut

☾ 

request: for @hannie-squirrel00 : Heeeyyy lovely🥰 I've been reading your Stray Kids imagines which I am loving btw😍🤩 and I wanted to ask you if you could do a smut for me with Jisung please? If you need anything let me know and also could you make it long? Thank you soo soo much🥰🥰 word count: 4.2k words warnings; cunnilingus, unprotected sex, blowjob, fluffyyyy

Ugly Sweaters

"And the loser is... y/n! Congratulations to all the players~"

You sigh, knowing this was coming. The rest of the night is spent drinking and laughing along to stupid jokes. You stay along with your best friend and roommate, Chaerim. She was extremely tipsy for a pre-Christmas party, and you wanted to stay by her side before she gets kidnapped by an odd guy.

You were at your college friend’s residence, celebrating the last day of November before the beginning of the festive month. All of you played games until one of your friends proposed a game of beer pong, where the winner would choose the punishment for the loser. After the winner was decided, Chan, you knew he was going to go hard on the loser. A few moments are dedicated to thinking, and he replies.

"The loser has to wear ugly Christmas sweaters for the next 25 days until Christmas Eve."

And when the loser was judged, you, Chan's eyes filled with pity after imagining you wearing an ugly yellow-colored sweater filled with clashing decorations. He laughed awkwardly, not wanting to tense the atmosphere around you. Of course, you weren't upset, it was just a game. The next few weeks at work were off, you didn't have college, so you would stay at your apartment under the comforts of your ugly sweater.

On the day before the first day of the Christmas month, November 30, you went shopping to buy sweaters with Chaerim. Your eyes filled with awe as you looked at all the latest collection of sweaters, heart-melting, and bank account shivering. You start to think that this challenge wasn’t terrible for you since you could save your money now!

But that didn't stop your shopping partner from practically throwing her money everywhere she found a cute sweater. Hell, the sweater wouldn't even cover her torso, and it would still tumble into the shopping cart to get along with its other rich mates. Meanwhile, you move towards the nearly isolated section of the store, searching for an ugly, but presentable hoodie to satisfy your friends' growing impatience on the group chat, asking for your picture in the outfit.

You spot an employee from your peripheral vision, looking at you with his booklet and pen in hand. He walks over to you and you turn around to face him with a handful of sweaters drowning you. He chuckles before speaking.

"Excuse me, do you need help with those?"

"Uh... Yes please."

You pick up feet shuffling away as you stand there behind the pile of wool. You hear wheels rolling when you peek from behind the pile in your hands to see the employee bringing a shopping cart for you. You thank him as you dump the pile into the cart, resting your arms after holding the weight.

"Thank you... Jisung", you say smiling as you notice the name on his tag reading 'Han Jisung'.

"Oh, don't worry it's my job. Why the ugly sweaters though? Lost a bet?"

You chuckle, "Lost a game. It was bad." He laughs along as he fixes some clothes falling out of the trolley. You take this moment of silence as an opportunity to check him out. Han Jisung was slim. He had a petite figure —small waist, narrow shoulders— but he was well built. His white button-up hugged his arms and waist at the right place. He had a good pair of thighs, his black slacks acting like a second skin on the limbs.

"So... I'm gonna go now, my friend's waiting for me. I hope we meet again!", you bubble, waving the male a goodbye. He smiled and went back to work, noting down some price tag values and clicking his pen close. You walk over to Chaerim, her cart overflowing with accessories and dresses that were maybe more expensive than your entire wardrobe.

"Chae, honey, we're shopping for the week. Not for the decade," you cautioned, eyeing her shopping cart. Chaerim was rich, anyone could tell. But she was humble. She wouldn't brag about her riches, but also couldn't box her shopaholic nature when she saw the designer fabric and exceptional perfume. Those were her weaknesses, and she might as well live off without a family, but no new clothes? She would die.

You stand in line as you see Jisung run-up to the next cashier counter, filling in the empty spot. You feel a tug at your arm, and only register your friend pulling you towards him. He smiles at your friend before looking at you, beaming like the sunshine. He scans your clothes, which took twenty minutes due to Chaerim buying nearly three-fourth of the store before handing over the receipt to you two. Chaerim pays for it and as she types in her credit card password in the machine, Jisung asks–

"So, what's your name?"

"y/n", you smile, mentally beating yourself up for not saying it the first time you met. You and Chaerim grab the bags of clothes as you waddle up to the exit, stopped by the call of your name.

"Hey! Wait for a second!"

You and your roommate turn on your heels to face a breathless Jisung as he hands a credit card your way. You look at Chaerim as she makes eye contact with you and you metaphorically slap her. If it weren't for Jisung, your friend would have to pick food out of a trash can.

"You can leave those here, you know. I'll deliver them at your place", Jisung nervously suggests, gesturing his hands as if trying to pry the bags away from you. You smile at him and nod as he takes out his notepad and writes down the address Chaerim dictates him. Your friend hands the bags to Jisung and leaves to call a cab, leaving you and the boy alone to hoard aside your wares. As you turn to leave, Jisung stops one last time, scratching the back of his neck.

"Can I have your number?"

You cock an eyebrow at the question amusingly. He notices your reaction, quickly jumping to clarify his words.

"I— I meant if I couldn't find your address! I don't wanna get in someone's pants after 10 minutes of conversation!"

"So if our talk lasted longer, you would ask my number to get in my pants, am I right?"

"Yes! I... I mean no! I—" he huffs out, pouting his lips as he failed to make you understand his true intentions.

"Okay okay, I'm just kidding. Here, note it down", you giggle at his softness, giving your number to him. You run back out the store as you look at Chaerim enter a taxi, running over to the vehicle and hopping inside

You and Chaerim order takeout on the way home, and you couldn't stop smiling at the interaction you had with Jisung. Your friend noticed your happiness, twirling her fingers at the base of your hair.

"Who's my lover girl thinking about, hm?"

"Hey! I'm not thinking about anyone", you mumble, grinning as your thoughts flood with Jisung's smiley and bubbly face. You hear a scoff, followed by an “As our lover girl says”, from next to you as you elbow your friend in her sides, laughter filling the cab.

You reach home and get ready for bed, phone dinging with notifications as you open your group chat to view texts from your desperate and thirsty friends. You even notice a few from Chaerim, giggling at her stupidity. You tell them all to wait since the clothes were on their way, and that was enough to blow up your phone even more; a few texts from people who you didn't even know were enquiring about the ugly sweaters.

As you brew yourself and your roommate a hot chocolate, you hear your phone ringing. You look at the unknown number ringing you and you pick up, thinking it was Jisung who couldn't find your apartment.

"Hello, ther—"

"Good Evening Madam! You are the lucky winner of our raffle round! You have won a car and a grand prize of one million dollars! All you need to do is send in your social security number as well as passport details to receive the pri—"

You hang up, annoyed at the loud voice of the call center employee. If anything, they should've hired someone with a voice like Jisung's, soft, polite, kind, and actually convincing. Realizing you wouldn’t be able to meet him then, you forget about the call, sipping from your drink. You hear your phone ring again as you pick up without looking at the caller ID.

"You better listen to me right now. I miserably need a car and definitely need a million dollars, but if I had to give out my social security number around like cupcakes, you can consider shoving those prizes right up your as— "

"Y/n! What are you talking about?" A surprised voice speaks through the phone. You realize it wasn't from the caller this time, but from Jisung on the other side. You absolutely hated yourself and wanted nothing more than Han Jisung himself tossing you into outer space.

"Listen, it's okay, that's happened to me too, and it was to my boss, which is even worse. Now don't ask if I did it intentionally or not, because that would get me fired." he laughed across the static line, making you at ease and snicker too.

"Anyway, so there's this huge stationery shop, that's your building yeah?"

"Yep"

"Great. I'm on my way!"

"Thanks, Jisung!" you squeal, thanking the boy for his kind intentions. You wait at the door for the boy to bring your clothes. It was as if you were attracted to him like he was a magnet and you a piece of iron. He was sweet, caring, helpful, not to mention very attractive and probably the best boyfriend one could ask for.

You jolt as you hear the doorbell ring, quickly shuffling to open the gate. You see Jisung standing at the doorway with his hands filled with nearly five full bags of garments. You offer him to come in and have some hot chocolate and sit down since he must be tired from delivering the huge stack of clothes all the way down to your house.

He politely denies the offer, talking about coming over some other time, preferably when he wasn't doing night shifts. You felt pity for him since he had to work even during Christmas Eve. You smile and wave him goodbye until he leaves out of your sight, tossing the feeling of your heart rapidly thumping against your ribs aside, getting ready to send your annoying friends a picture of you in your new outfit, your first ugly sweater out of the other twenty-four you were going to be forced to wear not only by your annoying classmates but also your roommate.

You do the usual routine, brush your teeth, clean your makeup, get comfortable and cuddle up next to your teddy bear plushie. You think about Jisung one last time before dozing off and place your teddy bear’s paw above your head, smiling at the feeling of your roommate’s soft hands carding through your scalp to get you to sleep.

••••

A few days pass by, and Jisung still hasn't left your mind. You always hover your finger above the call button, to at least hear his voice once. You had never behaved that way, to say the least. Even Chaerim noted how your eyes would glisten and shine at the mere mention of Jisung's name. How you would shy down under your blankets when she would ask you about him. And when the day to buy the next batch of ugly sweater rolled along, you couldn't control your happiness.

You practically ran towards the store, looking for not only the sweaters but for a particular someone. You smile when your eyes land on Jisung and you try playing it cool as if you haven’t been thinking of him all week. But when he locked eyes with you, he was the one whose heart rate skyrocketed. He squealed and ran towards you, grabbing you by your arm and taking towards the latest collection of hideous sweaters. Chaerim looked over at the two of you with doe eyes, happy that her best friend was finally getting hooked up and wouldn't be a lone wolf at Christmas.

You and Jisung had grown closer over the next few days, with you meeting him after his shifts with your new bright green hoodies and yellow sweaters. You would get a few looks and laughs here and there, but it was all a joke. You liked Jisung, and you knew he liked you back. Stating that the two of you had become inseparable was an understatement. You two were basically connected by the waist and would spend the smallest moment away from work with each other. Albeit, you two hadn't confessed.

It was only two days for Christmas now, and even Chaerim’s boyfriend had come over. It would always disappoint you that you had to sleep out on the couch when your roommate would share intimate moments with him. Not because of the simple fact that your bed was taken away from you, but because you couldn't do the same to her with Jisung. Even you wanted Jisung to kiss you, to touch you in places you've never let even the closest people touch you, to have sex with you.

To tell you he loves you.

••••

At last, it was Christmas. Your overly excited roommate had tied up mistletoes around the house. You had invited Jisung over to spend the night together since Chaerim would be busy with her partner. You and Jisung would randomly yell out a 'kiss! you're under the mistletoe!' to the couple whenever they would cross from under the leaves, earning a groan from either one of the two. You two would chuckle and sit in one position, not moving from the couch so that they didn't have the opportunity to take revenge.

You feel someone shuffling behind you when you look back at Minho holding up something above the two of you. Chaemin crosses her hands and taps her feet smirking as she opens her mouth to leave words you weren't planning on hearing for the rest of the evening.

"Kiss, honey. You're under the mistletoe", She grins, her plan working as she wanted it. You huff, mumbling a "That's not fair" to the older couple looking down at you two. You look at Jisung, who just smiles smugly and shrugs as if suggesting that you two have no other option.

He shifts in his place, making your insides shiver as he places his hand on your jaw, leaning in to meet your lips. His lips feel like cotton candy on yours, your strawberry flavored chapstick blending with his make-shift saliva covered lips.

You pull away, anxiety instead of blood coursing through your nerves. Looking away and not making eye-contact with Jisung, you make a mental note of killing your roommate and her boyfriend once you find the right moment. Jisung rubs his palm against the flesh of your thigh in an attempt to stop your veins from getting jittery. Instead, the touch does the complete opposite, making fire rage in your body. You clear your throat glancing at Chaerim and Minho and walk to the kitchen after announcing that you were going to get you all some snacks.

That night, you and Jisung were exceptionally quiet. It felt as if you two were out of topics to talk about when in reality, you didn't want to face each other. You suddenly feel regret, thinking that maybe if you hadn't invited Jisung, he wouldn't have been embarrassed, and maybe your friend would still remain.

It was late at night when you all sat down in a circle, holding three to four gifts each between your legs. You were nervous and excited, curious as to what Jisung had bought you. Chaerim started, who received a silver ring from Minho, followed by Minho, who got tickets to his favorite artist's concert from his partner. He hooted and the pair kissed a filthy kiss, making you young chicks look away. You look at Jisung and gag, making him laugh at your cute faces.

You motion Jisung to open the gift you had given him, and he obliges. He opens the wrapper to reveal an expensive album record that he had been dying to buy but couldn't since he was short in money. He fist-bumped the air, jumping up and dancing a cute dance while chanting 'I'm so happy' over and over.

"Open your's, quick!"

By now all eyes were on you since you were the last one to open your gift. Minho shoots a 'hope it isn't a five-dollar bill' to Jisung, earning a face from the younger. You smile and open your gift, revealing a red-colored oversized sweater covered in white pearls and green beads. Your mouth hangs agape as you look over at Jisung and back at the dress.

"I saw you swooning over this when we first met, so I thought it would make the perfect gift", he speaks nonchalantly, waving off the fact that he could've bought ten of the album records he'd been dying to buy all these weeks with the money he spent on one sweater for you.

You jump up and hug him as your lips meet, this time both of you sharing the affection. This was how you wanted your kiss with Jisung to be like –slow, passionate and loving, not forced and under pressure of people watching you. You hear the older two yells “Get a room!” as you smile into the kiss, his hands snaking down to your waist.

All of you decide to watch a movie, which was ultimately ditched by Chaerim and Minho because they were sleepy as they prance into your and Chaerim’s shared bedroom, preparing to keep the neighbors awake all night with their sinful sounds. You and Jisung were left under the covers, cuddling into each other. He looks at you and opens his mouth to ask you something, words stuck in his throat as you’re facing the screen, your soft features illuminated by nothing but the bright light from it.

“Did you enjoy the kiss before?”

You frown in confusion, “If I said no, will you make me feel better?”

You feel the couch shift next to you and you turn towards him completely, his hands running up and down your sides. You cup his soft cheeks and pull him into a kiss, the sensation being both feverish and passionate. He pulls you closer to him, making you straddle his legs. You lick your lips before diving back in, pushing yourself onto him so that he lies down on the couch. You lay atop him, and he grazes his tongue against your lips as you permit him entrance. You bite his bottom lip, bubbling a small whine out of him. Only through the light provided by the television, you still feel him blush red, embarrassment flooding through him.

You run your hands through his fluffy hair, tugging at it softly as he moans into the kiss, sounds muffled due to your lips connected. He props himself up such that you fall under him, and for once you thank Chaerim for buying a wide sofa. You break the kiss, breathing in a tuft of air, only for it to be stuck in your lungs as Jisung nips at the skin on your neck, his growing bulge grinding down on your inner thigh. You feel the wet patch on your clothed core growing as every second passes by, your body becoming needy for action.

He sits up and crawls down to have your pussy face him. He removes your leggings, letting your underwear remain. He blows on the wet area a few times, earning eager whines from you, and you hold a fistful of his hair between your fingers, trying to pull him closer to your heat. He obliges, licking a fat strip on your slit right above the lacey material, making you shudder with pleasure. He pushes his muscle against your hole, making a moan bubble from your lips.

Pushing your underwear aside, he quickly jumps to business. He starts eating you out like he hadn’t just had dinner an hour ago. You arch your back in pleasure when he works his tongue against your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves. Two fingers prod at your entrance and before you can think about them, they’re pushed into your core, making you moan and buck your hips into his face.

He holds you down with his free hand, rubbing his thumb against your clit and tongue licking your slit a couple times. He pushes his tongue inside you, and you clench around him. He laps your walls and reaches your sweet spots, making you thrash under him. You wanted to desperately release the alien feeling in your abdomen, but Jisung wasn’t going any further than fingering you.

“Jisung, please” was all it took for the boy to unbuckle his belt and drop it at the foot of the couch. He takes his pant off and climbs back up to you, kissing every part of your skin from your torso to your breast, pushing the blue sweater up along with his forehead. You pull the fabric over your head, revealing your bra-less figure. Jisung groans at the sight, biting his bottom lip as he starts grinding his hips into your dripping cunt.

He reaches out to run a hand through your hair, only to be stopped by your fingers curling around his wrists. You bring them down and press his palm over your heat, showing him how hot and wet you were, how desperate you were for his cock to be buried deep inside of you. He exhales a growl and tugs at your panties, pulling them off. He grinds on you a couple of times before finally pushing his length in you, inch by inch, to prevent any pain from coming to the bay.

Once he’s fully in, he opens his eyes to look at you, mouth agape and eyes screwed shut. One of your hands were tangled in his hair, while the other one was gripping the edge of the sofa, almost tearing a hole into the material. You open your eyes at the sudden stillness, only for Jisung to cock his head questioningly as if asking if he could move. You nod after a couple moments, bliss washing over the pain. He starts thrusting into you, slow and hard. He reaches lengths in you almost no one ever did, and you were shaking in pleasure.

He hears a moan, but not from you, it roams from the bedroom. Even they’re fucking. He picks up his speed once he thinks you’re doing well, thrusting into you like his life depends on it. He reaches your cervix head-on a couple of times, lolling a scream and yelp from you occasionally. You moan louder, drowning out the noises coming from the bedroom. And when he starts gyrating his long fingers against your clit, you jolt in pleasure, gripping on his arms tightly as your pleasure waves over you.

Your breathing starts getting labored and he hardens his grip on your waist, making your body burn with pleasure. He bends down, biting and sucking on your neck, licking the area after he’s created a marooned art piece. The feeling on your skin drove you to the edge, and you release around him, walls clenching at his fat length in you. He pulls out of you and thrusts into his hand, searching for his orgasm miserably.

You replace his hand with yours, and though limp, you sit up against the arms of the couch and start pumping his length in your hand. He throws his head back in pleasure, his bottom lip between his teeth and eyebrows scrunched. You lick from base to top, kitten licking his slit when you feel he’s getting closer to his high. You hollow your mouth and fill him into the cavity, making him hit the back of your throat. Sucking and swallowing at his length, what couldn’t fit in your mouth was replaced by your hands, rubbing the pads of your fingers against his protruding vein.

He orgasms hard, making his vision go white with black dots. You suck him dry, some of his cum dribbling down your chin as you get up, which he cleans with the back of his hand. He pulls you into a kiss, tasting his orgasm on your palette.

You pull away to join him under the blankets, cuddling and hugging him as he kisses your forehead. You whisper small ‘I love you’s to him, and he returns them with pecks littering your cheek, smiling like a madman. He hugs and nuzzles his head against your hair, mumbling sweet nothings. You face him, inching your face further from his.

“What are you mumbling about?”

“I bought that dress because employees have a 65% discount on store items,” he confesses, giggling. You open your eyes wide, laughing softly at his cheekiness. Your snuggle closer into his chest, hearing his heart beating only for you. He cards his hand through your hair until he hears soft snores from you.

He looks over at the ugly sweater sprawled across the other end of the couch and smiles, mind rewinding back to the time when you two first met.

—

a/n: this!!! fic!!! is!!! my!!! baby!!! also, i know Christmas is long gone, but i really wanted to write over this prompt. Enjoy ;)