#wingmen of the century

[sharkboy-starmites]

Guess what? More starmites.

(My hand writing is bad here's what it says:

"Time sensitive question, how flirt with girl?"

"Throw rocks at she" -s'up s'up

"Hot dogs!" -diggety

"Kill her." -ack ack

"Great advice guys." -punk)

[milswrites]

The Trials of Aphrodite Part Five

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: You make the most unlikely of friends.

Warnings: Angst.

“I think you should talk to Elain.”

You scoffed as you looked up from the pages of your book, brows raised and eyes rolling as you turned your once focused gaze to the anticipatory stare of your friend, “Good morning to you too, Az. I’m swell, thank you for asking.”

Hazel eyes narrowing at your remark, a sound of disbelief fell from Azriel’s lips as your attention returned to the book between your hands. Disgruntled by his piercing gaze, you stubbornly moved the object to block him from your view. Your action drawing a groan of contention from the shadowsinger as he argued, “Oh come on sweetheart, I just got ahead of myself. I’m sorry, alright?”

Azriel sighed lowly as he realized you weren’t going to budge, lips downturned as his hands came to rest on either arm of the chair you were curled up in. “Angel?” he asked tentatively, leaning forwards until the tip of his nose brushed against the spine of your book, a teasing finger coming to push the novel down until his amused gaze met your own formidable glare. The heated breath of his mirthful chuckle kissing your cheeks as he smirked, “How’s my best friend doing on this lovely day?”

You snorted at his question, eyes unforgiving as you answered flatly, “I’m telling Cassian that you called me your best friend.”

The shadowsinger chuckled at your words, shrugging his shoulders in dismissal as he added, "Come on angel. If you don't tell me how your day is, I guess I'm just going to have to tell Rhys that it was you who knocked over the entire shelf of his expensive wines last solstice."

You slammed your book shut, glaring daggers at the male as you seethed, "You wouldn't dare! You swore you would never tell!"

"You're right, and I always make good on my promises. But it's nice to see your beautiful face again." Azriel grinned devilishly, sliding the book from your lap before you could utilize it as a weapon, "Now, how's my angel doing today?"

You huffed, unable to stop the small smile from pulling at your lips at the male's antics, "Slightly annoyed that I still fall for your same tricks after five hundred years of friendship."

"But you still love me all the same," Azriel grinned. Your eyes shied from his playful gaze as he spoke, cheeks turning pale as you wondered if Azriel knew just how truthful his statement was. Yet the male failed to notice your change in demeanor, rather, he proceeded once more with tentatively approaching the topic of his arrival, "So much so that you'd talk to Elain for me?"

You slumped into your chair, resisting the urge to groan in frustration at your friend's proposal, "Az, I have never once spoken to Elain. Don't you think she'd be suspicious if I started trying to be her friend out of the blue?"

"But isn't that what wingmen -" Azriel shrank under your unimpressed stare, nervously laughing as he corrected himself, " - sorry - wingwomen do?"

Your mouth parted wordlessly, mind searching for any possible excuse as to why you talking to Elain for him would be a bad idea. But it was too late, Azriel had sensed your reluctance. His hand coming to meet your own as he pleaded his case, "There is not a single person in Prythian you could talk to who wouldn't fall for your charm. Look . . . It'll be easy. I just think I may have more of a chance with her if you shared some things about me that you think she may like to hear."

"What, like the fact that you still sleep with the stuffed bat I gave you centuries ago?" you teased as payback for his earlier comment, taking pleasure in the way Azriel's smile dropped in horror. The male's eyes blowing wide in alarm as he stammered a pitiful response, "How did you -? . . . I- I don't sleep with him anymore!"

"Him?" you laughed at Azriel’s pitiful attempt of a burning glare, throwing your head back in glee at the sight. Proud that you were possibly the only person alive who could be on the receiving end of one of the shadowsinger's threatening stares and live to tell the tale.

"You're hilarious, truly" Azriel replied flatly, “It’s nice to see how much you care about my love life”. The shadowsinger, unamused by your incessant giggling, permissed a grave expression to cross his face as he continued to press the matter, "Please. I really need her to like me, and if that means that I need to ask my guardian angel to work her magic . . ."

Your heart clenched at his words, the laughter dying in your throat as your eyes fell from his own pleading ones to the hands at your lap. Stare cold and broken as you realized Rhysand had been wrong the other day. You could never say no. Not to Azriel.

You were a victim of your own heart's desire, cursed with the unfortunate luck of only ever being able to answer the male with words he so longed to hear. Azriel the commander and executioner of your love as your reply slipped from your lips before you could even think about stopping yourself, "Of course I'll speak to her, Az. That's what friends do, right?"

"And what a great friend you are" he grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing at your acceptance, "I'll pay you back for this, I promise. We'll go to that restaurant you like, the one down by the Rainbow."

"Yeah. . .” Azriel was gone before you could even finish your sentence, his shadows lingering for a moment before they ultimately decided on following their master, “That sounds nice. . ."

You quietly sigh, vacant eyes never straying from your lap as you move your shaky hands to cling onto the arms of the chair, gripping the velvet upholstery in an effort to stop your uncontrollable trembling.

Terrified at the prospect of facing the female who was in every way your superior, you exhaled deeply. Rubbing at the growing ache in your temples as you readied yourself to look into the eyes of the cauldron-blessed fae who had stolen Azriel’s heart.

It didn't take long to find her.

The majority of Elain’s days were typically spent within the walls of her garden, the timid female preferring to pass her time with the company of flowers rather than that of other fae.

Perhaps you could tell yourself that was why the two of you had never spoken. That her quiet, reserved nature was the reason for the silence between you. That it had absolutely nothing to do with the shadowsinger who had managed to capture both of your affections.

If that were the case, perhaps you would have allowed yourself to have visited her garden sooner. Sparing the time to come and admire the beautifully blooming flowers, taking the opportunity to bask in the soothing tranquility of your surroundings. You had to admit it was impressive, the radiant life that Elain had managed to bring to the garden that the workers have otherwise been unable to do so.

But you also had to admit that you have been selfish, and unfairly so. Unable to help but wonder if your reason for visiting Elain today was a punishment from the gods, a penalty for having not been more welcoming to the female upon her arrival to the Night Court.

It didn't take long for Elain to notice your presence in her garden, the sound of your approaching footsteps being enough to pull the female's attention from the flowers she was tending to. Her brow creased in confusion as she saw exactly who it was walking towards her.

"Uh, hello Elain," you awkwardly began, smile tight as you mentally cursed yourself for your uncomfortable demeanor, "I saw you through the window and I um . . . I thought you may appreciate a tea."

Elain's eyes dropped to the cup held between your shaky hands, mouth slightly parting in question at your unusually kind gesture, "Oh . . . "

Sighing, you closed the distance between you, placing the cup on the ground before opting to sit beside the female. "It was Azriel's idea" you confessed, tentatively glancing in Elain's direction, noting how her ears pricked at the mention of your friend's name, "He thought it might be a nice idea for you to have someone to talk to. . . The tea was all me though."

"That's nice of him" Elain allowed a soft smile to grace her lips, moving to pick up the cup before she nervously added, "and you, thank you for the tea."

"Yeah, he's always watching out for the people he cares about" you winced at your words, eyes closing in shame as you were aware of just how terribly this conversation was going. Moving your hand to pick at the hem of your dress as you resisted the urge to flee in embarrassment.

But if Elain were bothered by your uneasy company she didn't show, moving to pick up her trowel once more as she resumed her gardening, her words light as she replied, "I know I'm considerably younger than all you fae, but that doesn't make me stupid. I know why you're here."

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing as you found yourself unable to stop the rising wave of panic which had begun to wash over you, nervous eyes flickering over the poised female as you breathlessly asked, "What?"

"I know love when I see it" Elain answered, briefly turning from her task so her brown eyes could meet your own, "That's why Azriel sent you to talk to me wasn't it? Because he thinks he loves me."

"You know?" you asked at a higher octave than deemed normal, unable to help the surprised laugh which escaped your lips, leaning back onto your hands as you allowed the information to soak in. Mouth dropped in disbelief as you gathered your thoughts, "You'd certainly make for a better spymaster than him."

"It doesn't exactly take a spymaster to see it" Elain smirked slightly, seemingly pleased by your astonished reaction. Gesturing to a spare trowel she continued, "Come on, if we're going to talk you may as well be helping me."

A feeling of satisfied contentment washed over you as the two of you worked in a comfortable silence. It wasn't hard to understand why Elain loved to spend all of her time here, the quiet calm of the garden was a suitable place to sieve through the questions which had risen at her revelation.

Wondering exactly where it was you were supposed to begin, you tentatively asked, "So why haven't you told him that you know?" Your face immediately turning pale as your tumultuous thoughts had already answered for her, heart racing as you voiced the glaring question on your mind, "Unless you don't love him back?"

It had always been a possibility that Elain didn't share the same feelings for Azriel as he did for her. You would be lying if you said you hadn't hoped for it. Having already pondered the possibility that if the shadowsinger were to be rejected, his lovesick eyes may then turn to you. You almost scoffed at how pathetic the idea was.

And yet, inexplicably, a sinking feeling had risen in your chest. Heart already breaking at the mere thought of how Azriel would react to the terrible news that Elain didn't like him back.

It took several moments for the female to reply, mind lost to her own thoughts as she searched for an appropriate answer. "Love him?" Elain pondered, gaze distant as she stared at a budding flower before her, "No. But I could grow to."

The soft sigh which escaped from Elain's lips told you she had more to say, her eyes thinly veiled by a white mist as she began to explain her reasoning, “I was engaged once - if you'd believe it - but then the war happened, and Hybern, and then by some cruel trick of fate the cauldron turned me into the one thing that my fiancé had always been taught to hate."

You failed to find an answer worthy of speaking, sympathy brewing in your chest at the female's admission that her transition has been more than difficult. Guilty, that between your bitterness and jealousy, you hadn't stopped to think about exactly what it was Elain was going through. 

"I never got a choice, not when I got shoved into the cauldron and not when I got brought here. . . So I don't really know what it is I want with my life anymore. I'm not even sure I know who I am. But I do know Azriel makes me happy," Elain's words drew you from your spiraling shame, a wistful smile on the young fae's face as she spoke about the male, "When I'm with him I don't have to be who I used to be. . . He gives me the room to figure out who I am in this new life I have been given."

"You make him happy too, Elain" you answered with a sad smile, swallowing your pain as you tried to blink away your rising tears, "He really does think the world of you."

It didn’t take long for you to realize you had allowed your emotions to get the better of you, your face blanching as shock crossed Elain's features. Her eyes full of sorrow as she turned her gaze to you, "You love him?" 

"And he loves you."

You did your best to shrug away the females sympathetic stare as you moved to continue gardening, yet Elain's pitiful eyes remained on you, lips downturned as she queried, "How long?"

You laughed at the answer to her question, too embarrassed to reveal to Elain that you had wasted centuries pining after a male who would never love you back, "Let's just say it's been long enough for me to know it's time to move on." 

Elain hummed in quiet understanding, taking a moment to think before her head tilted in question, "And have you?”

"Have I what?"

"Moved on?" 

There was no malice in Elain Acheron's voice, not as each question she asked was delivered with such empathy. Rather, you found yourself blushing at her curious nature, a shy smile gracing your features as you found yourself revealing, "I'm getting there, one day at a time. . . I may have met someone the other day."

Elain squealed in excitement, dropping her trowel as she moved her body to face yours, eagerly outstretching her hands to meet your own as she laced them together and begged, "Tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell" you reply honestly, ears burning at the thought of the male you had met the other day, "We've only met once, at the bakery in Velaris. He spilt his coffee all over me and then we just got talking. I don't know. . . It just felt so natural, for once in my life I didn't find myself thinking of . . . well . . . Az. He asked to meet me again but -"

"Oh you have to!" Elain cried, an encouraging grin crossing her face as she urged you to take the step. Her searching eyes not failing to miss the hesitance in your own;, hands squeezing yours as she offered her advice, “Moving on isn’t meant to be easy. But the regret you’ll feel if you miss this chance will hurt more. . . Besides you never know, this male might surprise you, it already sounds like he’s swept you off your feet.”

You smiled at Elain, the thought of males far from your mind as you found yourself unable to think of anything other than how utterly and completely wrong you had been about her. Brows knitted together in regret, you expressed this to the female, “You know, you’re not quite the person I expected you to be Elain Archeron.”

The fae's eyes twinkled in response, a matching smile upon her lips as she replied, “No, neither are you.”

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

Notes: Sorry for the wait for this part 🥲 my uni kind of killed me off for a moment. And thank you to @sarawritestories who helped me iron this part out because my brain is fried at the moment.

Taglist:

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @annaaaaa88 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2 @leeknows-wife @riorgail @lady-of-tearshed @evergreenlark @anuttellaa @daily-dose-of-sass @Jesus-is-me @tothestarsandwhateverend

[owl-with-a-pen]

Weightless, Kara coasted across the stratosphere of a broken world. Static still bristled at the corners of her vision, enough that even from far above, there were pockets she wasn't able to decipher past the fog. With a gasp, she burst forward with unmitigated strength, throwing herself into orbit.

Up and up she flew until, finally, she settled somewhere that direction no longer mattered - cradled by the infinite lull of the universe.

And yet the pain still found her. The memories. Flashes of blood and death and destruction. A blaring heat at the back of her mind, ringing in her ears until the pressure was too much to bear. A blast of raw energy that had erupted from her eyes, blown to astronomical scale by the technology Father had designed just for her.

Destroyed. How could they all be… gone? How was that possible? How had she… how could she…?

Legs curled tight to her chest, Kara felt no more than a child held static by the void. The same child who had been marched up and down Kandor’s vast hallways for years on end; measuring her strength, her speed, her dexterity through rigorous training cycles led by the holographic foes that had been pasted to the indistinguishable bodies of Father’s Primus drones. Her mind, of course, had been exercised to the same extreme – a most powerful tool, Father had praised. Encouraged by his enthusiasm, she had read from data crystals at his console for hours at a time, covering endless topics in both theory and practice until he had decided she was finally ready for her most important lesson.

Of the worlds soon to be welcomed by the New Kryptonian Empire.

Kara pressed her palms against her eyes, forcing herself into those softer memories.

She’d learnt first of Thanagar – how to speak in their crude tongue, or to fly in the same undulating method as though guided along by a set of her own burly wings. It was less dignified than the freedom of movement a Kryptonian had against gravity, and yet Kara had revelled in its exciting and unpredictable nature, the way it would make her stomach flip with every sudden dive or sharp swoop. She had laughed loudly alongside other Thanagarians, joining them on migrations, watching on as they had welcomed technological advancement alongside their centuries-old traditions. She had sat down with Thanagarian elders, staring transfixed as they had whittled figures of their Wingmen from great trunks – an order held in high esteem, expected to police a world that had once prevailed without the need for such intervention.

They struggle, Father had told her, to find order. Their construct is failing, their ideals… inefficient. The Kryptonian Empire would bring them the perfect order that they crave.

Kara’s eyes widened behind her hands, that same numbness from before creeping back into her mind. Placating her. Assuring her…

Their planet had been beautiful. She had found joy there… high up in the sky along with the other children.

Children.

Kara squirmed against the void, a whimper lodging itself deep inside her throat.

Soft memory. The planet was mesmerising, with vast cities, limitless oceans and stone perches set high into the sky to witness the most tranquil sunsets. Statues stood tall out in open water, meticulously crafted by sculptors over years, their chisels held steady against the hefty beat of their wings.

And on the ground, beneath the ocean floor, caves had stretched for miles, whistling their own tunes, smelling of salt water and…

Flush with Nth metal deposits, Father had informed her once with a grounding hand. A long time ago. Going to waste on limited minds undeserving of its uses! Seize the planet for the Empire, Daughter, and strengthen our own resources in the process.

She had demolished senselessly for… for resources?

No. No. That couldn’t be it. That wasn’t true.

Soft memory. What of Euphorix? A matriarchal society, Kara remembered, one that had welcomed her with open arms. Father had not joined her there. She had been free, for a time. The Euphorians had not been in need of a new order as he had described. They’d had their own already.

And Kara… desperate for a planet to call her home, had nearly fallen for their…

False ideology.

She cringed, burying herself further away.

They will welcome you without question. The perfect unsuspecting ally. An alien with much to learn. But you will learn of them, using the powers they do not possess; study their battle strategies, their vulnerabilities. Find out everything you can about them and exploit it. Do this, Daughter, and the New Empire will be forever in your debt.

Kara shuddered. The Empire, of course, she had done it all for the…

H’lven had been next. A juvenile planet made of half-breeds, rodents who had evolved similarly to how apes had on Earth. Kara had found their easy way of life hypnotic, a simpler means to exist. She had studied their rituals as instructed, their holidays and their hibernation periods. Although, Father had been most intrigued by the latter…

Take their world while they sleep. Ensure no resistance.

Tears rolled down Kara’s cheeks and she clenched her fists harder against her face, shaking her head until her skin was raw against her knuckles. She had learnt their languages, their politics, their battles won and lost. Their tactical advantages, their disadvantages. Everything that might make them susceptible to attack.

All of it locked away behind false memories, or perhaps, distorted ones. Just like the wall on Thanagar, the glyphs carved into every planet face they had invaded. A mural immortalising the Kryptonian trickster who had lived among them before raining fire down from the sky.

Every planet, shy of one.

Kara gasped shakily, folding even tighter into herself.

Earth had been an outlier. Father had instructed her not to stray from her directive – all would come together in time. But she had been… impatient, more-so than with other planets. For this one had called to her, not to Father, to her. A message filtered through space, from one who called himself… Kal.

Hello. Uh, Kara… I don’t know if this will work, but if you’re out there and you get this message, I’m tired of being alone. I thought you might be too. Your cousin, Kal-El

The language had been strange to her ears at first, and while Father’s translation technology had made the words decipherable, she’d wanted to hear it for herself, in the language it had been intended for.

Earth. Not part of their plan – not yet - but English was one of the many languages stored in Father’s databanks. There must have been reason for that.

And so, Kara had sat with the Primus drones for days, speaking back the chaotic language that was English consonant by consonant until she had achieved fluency, the common vernacular. She’d needed to ascertain that there was no doubt for mistranslation, the message was too important to misinterpret.

Especially that word, the one this Kal-El had used as his sign-off.

And when she was certain, Kara had cried tears of joy for the first and only time that she could recall.

Cousin had meant family.

Thinking back, she wasn’t sure why she’d kept this from Father for so long. After all, would he not have been overjoyed to learn of another Kryptonian’s survival? To add to the ranks that they were sorely lacking?

He would. He will.

Then why? Why wait? Perhaps she had feared exactly what had happened. That even with the knowledge of another Kryptonian, a blood relation, he had still forbidden her from straying from their plan. The new Kryptonian was interesting, and he would prove an indisputable ally, but only when the time was right. And only when they arrived on Earth together.

You must learn from your mistakes, Daughter.

Kara nearly scoffed at the echo of Father’s words. Mistakes? How was she to know what mistakes had been made when they were locked behind a wall of static within her own mind? She had been instructed to embody the planets that they conquered, to take from them their tongue, their beliefs, their strategies, all to determine exactly how she might bring their downfall most efficiently. A Kryptonian was strong, but Father had wanted more from her. Power was not just in one’s physical traits, after all.

The perfect weapon must be astute both in mind and body. Kara, my daughter, you will be the essence of our Empire.

But how was she meant to embody a world without falling in love with it? The Thanagarians and their art, the Euphorians and their wisdom, the H’lvenites and their innocence. They were ideals she had fallen for, ideals she had been punished for daring to emulate.

A test of your loyalty, Daughter, Father had told her once, when the fog had again cleared intermittently from her mind. So that I know your will is unwavering and your allegiance to the Empire is without question. These are all… necessary extractions.

Kara’s chest caught suddenly, and the tears on her face rolled in globules out across the star-lit void.

That word. Extractions. She wondered suddenly if she was remembering it correctly.

But with everything she couldn’t grasp, the pieces she could only felt clearer for it. That memory was without fog. It was unmuted. Bold.

Father would have punished her for her keepsakes. For the recipe book she’d been gifted on Euphorix, the statue the elders on Thanagar had crafted just for her. He had believed her obsessions childish and inappropriate. Not fit for a warrior. But… Father had not been speaking of her small treasures, then. They were mere tokens, not extractions. And… if her memory was correct, he wouldn’t yet have known about them at all.

Kara wiped her eyes harshly, staring down at the broken planet beneath her, the stuttered clouds that swirled overhead, raining ash onto an empty world.

From this high up, she couldn’t see the elements of her destruction that had ravaged the planet, and yet in her heart she knew that a great deal was gone.

More than that. Because, as her eyes started to scan, slicing through the fog, she realised that it wasn’t just the city structures or coveted resources that had been eradicated.

Something else was missing.

More static. More deceptions.

Kara had knelt in the ruins of Thanalder, she had felt the rubble of the planet’s largest city beneath her knees, recognising the scorch marks on the stone as her own deadly assault. That had been real. She’d been so ashamed, so disgusted, that she’d sent herself reeling into the sky. There was only so much that could have been seen from ground level, anyway.

Now, though, she had the perfect vantage to see it all.

As much as it hurt, she forced herself to keep looking beyond the fog, to see past her soft memory. The static hadn’t yet receded completely, and there were still pieces hidden from her, obscured in pockets of lost time.

She scratched at the surface of that memory, focusing harder and harder until her skull ached with every rock upturned. No longer did she lie foetal and numb in the darkness, no longer would she allow Father to dismantle her memory for his own gain. He had taken more from her than she had ever known and… and more still from the planets they had conquered.

When the static finally cleared, a chasm opened somewhere inside of Kara’s heart, mimicking that of the city-sized craters she could now see carved from the planet’s surface, left to sully the landscape below.

A shudder passed down her spine as she kept staring, willing herself to understand.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, something Kal-El had said to her struck again so suddenly, she nearly choked.

Are all the planets in the New Kryptonian Empire like this?

He had been right to question it, Kara realised dully. Father had promised her an Empire, a new Krypton that she’d be old enough to protect this time around. But… who was left here to protect? What had Father taken?

Keepsakes. Like hers.

Just, on a much grander scale.

Fury clogged her throat, then grief, then an unbearable agony.

Hypocrite! her mind screamed.

Father had let her fall in love with planet after planet, given her that freedom, only to take it away every time he’d obscured her mind. And, when she woke, the things she had loved were gone. A token in their place.

But what of Father’s tokens, what of Father’s cities? They weren’t hidden in shame behind a wall. They were proud markers of conquest. Trophies. Displayed, somehow…

How could he have them on display?

But Kara’s memories didn’t lie, not any longer, and she remembered the spires of the lost cities of Thanagar, Euphorix’s capitol of Aesad, and the densely populated forests on H’lven. Neatly tucked together beneath ornamental glass domes…

Kara shook her head. It didn’t matter. It couldn't. They were gone because of him. They were gone because of her…

How long until Father pitted Earth just as he had the others? What city might he spare for his collection, his Empire?

Kara thought at once of Jimmy Flamebird’s face, the kindness and honesty he had offered her, and remembered the feel of his hand in her own. A frail, human hand, not even capable of bending steel, but he had extended it to her just the same.

What would happen to him now? The planet she had barely made time for in her haste to visit alone. There was still so much to learn from it, but Father’s crystals would offer her no insight now. He would only fog her mind again. If she returned to him now, if he learned of her defiance, everything she had discovered would be lost to her.

Even without a gravitational force, Kara felt something solid ball inside her stomach, pulling her down from the navel.

She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t go forward, either. She was… alone.

As she curled back in on herself, desperate to drive her demons away, she didn’t think she’d ever felt this small. “Kal-El?” she asked the void, picturing his face in the spaces between broken memory. When that failed, her voice faltered. “Clark?”

Kara didn’t expect an answer when she whispered, “What do I do now?”

[also on AO3]

[topazshadowwolf]

Fuzzynight mutual pinning

These take place after the first chapter of The Bad Wingmen:

---

It was dark in her home. It was made early in the war that consumed her AU. She and others, including the Judge, dug out this hideout that later became a “house” of sorts. Back then, she was only called Balance, if not Toriel. Regardless, it has withstood the test of time, though it still lacked natural light. So, she lit the lantern she left by the door and then walked in.

She stopped locking the door a long time ago.

Not like it mattered. There are only two beings left in this AU. Herself being one and the other being far too large to fit into this burrow of a home.

Perhaps she should have stayed in Nightmare’s castle for longer.

He seemed so embarrassed at first to wear that cat hoodie for her, but he was so adorable in it. Even when he stood then, standing and speaking as properly and in control as possible. The pure fact he was willing to put it on…

She had actually expected him to kindly turn it down. But he didn’t. He might not have put it on in front of his followers, but he still was willing to let himself be seen like that by her. And she saw the way his tentacles gave a little… “happy wag” when she said something about how handsome he was in it. At least, she believed that’s what they signaled. It wasn’t like the irritated lashing or calm curling she had seen them do.

They were so expressive! Oh, he could try putting on a show of bravado or even apathy, but those tendrils will tell the truth every time if she watches them closely. It has to be close because he is alert to their actions and will curb the behaviors if he feels it may reveal something.

Ah! When was she so alert to this? No matter when, there was still so much to learn about their movements, as she had only recently noticed this. It was rather… attractive, dare she say?

How long ago was it that she first faced against him? Though, at that time, it was the corruption she fought. Now she talks with him, shares food and drink, and then she made him that gift.

Oh, what a silly old woman she was. She was falling for him, and now that she thought about it, she knew it was true.

What right does she have to fall in love again?

But she only got home from his castle, and she longed to see him.

Maybe… she won’t stay away as long. But was that right? How long will he tolerate her coming around his home unannounced? Sure, they were working together to bring peace between the brothers and their forces, but she doubted he wanted her around more than needed.

Besides… she didn’t deserve that… Not after her failures.

---

He looked at the hoodie, feeling over the stitchwork. His phalanges could feel a soft spark of magic there from her care and focus. That was a sign that she put a lot of care and effort into this. Had… anyone ever made him anything before?

Mother made him his physical form, and the boys did buy joke or serious gifts for him. But this was the first handmade gift he had ever received in his centuries of life. And she looked so happy when he put it on. Her smile grew, and there was a brightness to her eyes. She was beautiful.

Nightmare placed the hoodie on a hanger and hung it in his closet. He will have to wear it again for her. It would be wrong to waste the time and effort she put into it by only wearing it those two short hours. When will she visit again?

Enough sentimental thoughts; he had work to do. Closing the closet, he made his way to the office.

[againstboredom]

What if Kaien somehow came back during Rukia’s captaincy?

I would love if through a mechanism or other Kaien came back during the last chapter time. Now Rukia is a captain, has a family, Byakuya is good to her and she is BFF with the guy that saved the world.

I would like to see Byakuya, Renji, Sentaro and Ichigo becoming a bit unsure of themselves even if they know better. Especially Ichigo, I think that he would have a mini crisis, but he’ll speak with Rukia and it would be ok. Renji would feel a bit jealous, Byakuya would be uncomfortably reminded that there was about a half-century during which he was a bad brother. Sentaro will be professionally jealous, but ready to renounce his vice-captaincy for Kaien.

Rukia herself would be ready to resign in his favor, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He’ll tell her that he always knew that she would make a fine captain one day. Their roles will be reversed for a while, she will help him achieve bankai. I can also imagine Rukia pushing Renji to befriend Kaien, and they two being his wingmen when Rukia decides that Kaien has grieved enough.

I can imagine some dinner conversations with Byakuya that would be uncomfortable and funny.

Maybe he would ask and receive permission to form a team with the task to patrol the most vulnerable areas of the Rukongai. inspired by the tales of Renji and Rukia growing there.

Of course he and Ichigo would become vitriolic best buds in a hot minute, but Zangetsu and Nejibana would pull on each other’s pigtails enter fighting because that’s how they know to show affection and Senbonzakura would laugh at them until they would be ganging up on him.

The hell arc could offer some interesting possibilities. Just don’t have Rukia have to kill him a third time for cheap drama, it is already to much that Aaroniero had Kaien’s spiritual body, his spiritual pressure,his Nejibana and had downloaded all the information in Kaien’s brain.

Of all the dead in Bleach, he is the one I would like the most to see being given a second chance. Which would also mean that Rukia can be again in the lime-light as the protag that she should be.

[discyours]

Why do men seem to have some sort of universal respect, some brotherhood, maybe we could call that class intergrity (i can even see most legitimately bond over misogyny) and when it comes to women there’s usually so much animosity, competition, just lack of some sort of fundamental sisterhood that men seem to have and even if its found in some groups usually the moment there’s a boyfriend involved everything about that vanishes

We're socialised to see each other as competition, that's all it really comes down to. I imagine it might have something to do with men traditionally taking on a much more active role in pursuing relationships (and women obviously being taught that ending up as some guy's wife is the ultimate source of happiness). Men need tips, tricks, wingmen. Women can't traditionally do much other than sit there, look pretty and hope he doesn't pick your friend instead of you.

That's just speculation and I'm exhausted right now so it might be complete bullshit. But those traditional roles definitely still seem to affect us, if you look at how common it is for women vs men turn on their friends out of fear that they're trying to "steal" their partner (which is ironic because most women I know hate their friends' boyfriends, and most men would happily fuck their friends' girlfriends if the "bro code" didn't forbid it).

It's tragic because women have far more of an actual need for class solidarity. We have to protect ourselves from men. Men like to claim that prostitution is the oldest profession but how old do you figure midwifery is? A profession for women to help other women by passing on knowledge about how our bodies work. Something men have failed to imitate successfully even after centuries of trying. Look at the cohesion women find among themselves on parenting forums (because 90% of the time they're the ones doing all the work). We have the need, we have the foundation, our socialisation just tells us to reject it in favour of distrust.

[kaeyas-beloved]

Request List

— Old Era (vcl-1807)

Van Gogh Brother’s Comfort

Arthur & Theo wingmen of the century

Arthur’s novels helped a teen!MC get through a previous illness

Her Wonderland Lover (part 2 of The Emperor’s Daughter in Wonderland)

Theo + Lover by Taylor Swift

Class 1-A w/ Big Four!Reader

Class 1-A w/ Bad Luck Quirked Reader

— New Era (kaeyas-beloved)

[ 💐 ] - buying them flowers, just because w/ Diluc

Donna’s a thorn in your relationship… w/ Diluc

Revealing you can act in plays well w/ Shakespeare

[ 🤒 ] - minding them when they’re sick w/ Kaeya

[ 🥘 ] - having dinner ready for them when they arrive home w/ Gepard

[ 🤒 ] - minding them when they’re sick w/ Childe

Aizawa request

[ 🥘 ] - having dinner ready for them when they arrive home w/ Kaeya + Ayato

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

The Wingmen by Adam Lazarus

Fascinating factual account of two famous men who became fast friends as Marine pilots during the Korean War.

One of the reasons I was drawn to this book was that it reminded me of one of my maternal uncles telling me a few stories about his time as a soldier in Korea. Additionally, I wanted to find out what these two men, a professional baseball player and an astronaut, might have in common. The book was well researched, the writing flowed and was easy to read, and the men came to life on the page.

I actually started a list of “similarities” and “differences” and realized that the main thing John Glenn and Ted Willams had in common was the trust and admiration that formed between the two men while flying missions together. They both had planes damaged, limped back to base, and survived to return home. Ted returned to play professional baseball while John opted to stay career Marine in various positions till his last as the first astronaut to orbit the earth. There was a lot to take in from how they were raised to how they were buried.

I didn’t know a lot about either man before reading this book but came away with an understanding of and appreciation for the good things they both did. I felt I got to know them and learned a bit more ab the Korean War, too.

NOTES:

1) My father was in WWII, my uncle fought in Korea, I wrote letters to men in Vietnam, and have been through the Gulf War in Saudi Arabia – this book had me thinking about how war impacts the soldiers, their families, and the country the war takes place in.

2) I googled after finishing and found out that Ted’s rather controversial son died a couple years after his choice of burial for his father and chose the same for himself.

Thank you to NetGalley and Kensginton Publishing – Citadel Press for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

BLURB

The untold story of the unique fifty-year friendship between two American John Glenn, the unassailable pioneer of space exploration and Ted Williams, indisputably the greatest hitter in baseball history. It was 1953, the Korean War in full throttle, when two men—already experts in their fields—crossed the fabled 38th Parallel into Communist airspace aboard matching Panther jets. John Glenn was an ambitious operations officer with fifty-nine World War II combat missions under his belt. His wingman was Ted Williams, the two-time American League Triple Crown winner who, at the pinnacle of his career, had been inexplicably recalled to active service in the United States Marine Corps. Together, the affable flier and the notoriously tempestuous left fielder soared into North Korea, creating a death-defying bond. Although, over the next half century, their contrasting lives were challenged by exhilarating highs and devastating lows, that bond would endure. Through unpublished letters, unit diaries, declassified military records, manuscripts, and new and illuminating interviews, The Wingmen reveals an epic and intimate portrait of two heroes—larger-than-life and yet ineffably human, ordinary men who accomplished the extraordinary. At its heart, this was a conflicted friendship that found commonality in mutual respect—throughout the perils of war, sports dominance, scientific innovation, cutthroat national politics, the burden of celebrity, and the meaning of bravery. Now, author Adam Lazarus sheds light on a largely forgotten chapter in these legends’ lives—as singular individuals, inspiring patriots, and eventually, however improbable, profoundly close friends.

[bewitchingbooktours]

Release Day Blitz Crazy Witch by C.S. Edwards #ReleaseDayBlitz #PNR #ParanormalRomance

Crazy Witch

The Witch Doctors 

Book Three

C.S. Edwards

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: C.S. Edwards

Date of Publication: October 31, 2022

ISBN: 9798215161517

ASIN: B0BH6JKM82

Number of pages: 142

Word Count: 36,382

Cover Artist: C.S. Edwards

Book Description:

What does Bart Babington’s love life, a legendary key, and the Goddess of Death, have in common? Well, Bart is about to find out.

The not-so-famous witch doctor cosmetic surgeon is sick and tired of his two meddling sisters trying to mate him up at every annual Samhain celebration for the last ten years. So, Bart enlists his two best wingmen to help him find a fake date to take to Rabbit Hash for the party.

In his grand plan to get his sisters off his back, what he didn’t count on is falling for a pigeon raising, southern witch on a moped. Nor did he expect to lose her during the couple’s championships for the Loving Cup. But he’s on a ghostly trip to sort out his past and make room for true love in his life.

Will Bart find his witch, or will he never unlock his heart?

Magic and Mayhem Universe     Books2Read     Amazon

BN     Apple     Author Website

Prologue

Once upon a time there was a witch and a warlock who fell in love. They lived together in a modest and remote castle, working the land, making essential oils, and giving back to the earth. They were a good witch and warlock who loved their life and wanted nothing more than to share their love and good fortune with others. But most of all, they dreamed of having a tiny magical being of their own. This was not to be. For all their trying, the witch could not become pregnant. They grew herbs to make special teas, mixed up potions for fertility, and even cast spells under the light of the full moon. Nothing worked. The witch’s belly remained empty. The days turned into months, into years, then into decades. A century passed, but no baby came. The witch fell into a deep sadness. She no longer got out of bed and tended to her garden. She no longer sang while strolling through the meadows of wildflowers. She no longer ate until she was full. She cried. She slept. She stared into the nothingness of the night.  

Heartbroken to see his love so forlorn, the warlock decided to venture out of the safety of their secluded castle and find a Baba Yaga to heal his wife and give them a child through either light or dark magical means. The day he left, he kissed her and promised to always love her in this world, and the next. He vowed to search eternally for help for his barren wife. He vowed to find a way to give her a child. The witch pleaded with him not to leave. She told him she’d felt something terrible coming his way. He saw it, too, but knew her happiness was more important. She cried and held onto the warlock, but he pushed her away. Before he mounted his stead, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. The warlock embraced the witch’s face in his hands and looked deep into her aqua eyes. He said, “you are my heart. Without you by my side, this muscle in my chest would cease to beat. I will travel to the end of the earth and time to make you happy.” He kissed her again. “If I do not return, always follow your heart.” He removed a long chain that held and small key from his neck and placed it in her hands. “This key opens the lock to the future. It’s been passed down in my family since the beginning of time, bestowed upon those with a purpose to learn. Use it and our love will be for all eternity.” 

The witch did not see the warlock alive again. 

About the Author:

C.S. Edwards is a southern author of small town adventures sprinkled with romance, mystery, and occasionally some paranormal and fantasy. Her newest release, Crazy Witch, The Witch Doctors Book 3, is a saucy, fun, romantic romp. In her catalog, you’ll also find the darker small town mystery Welcome to Lovely, that shows a spicier side of crime and romance.

C.S. Edwards lives with her family on the Kentucky side of Cincinnati, where they are all just doing their part to make the world a little more interesting and entertaining.

“My kids, all five of them, swear I talk to myself way too much. What they don’t know is, I’m not talking to myself, I’m talking to my characters. Sure, that makes me a little crazy, but come on, it also makes me super interesting—right?! Probably not, but a girl can dream.” — C.S. Edwards

Check out all of C.S. Edwards’ books here:

https://csedwardsauthor.com/

Sign-up for new releases here:

https://csedwardsauthor.com/contact

Join her on social media here:

https://www.instagram.com/authorcsedwards/

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https://twitter.com/CSEdwardsauthor

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15014243.C_S_Edwards

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[honeyandhondewberries]

Leon trying maybe a little too hard to set up a moment where Hop can finally confess to his crush but there is always just this awkwardness whenever Hop and his crush talk to each other. Like it’s obvious to anyone watching they like each other it’s just they can’t say it

AUGH i LOVE awkward i love HOP YES. I hope I made this sufficiently awkward and cringe-worthy. ((& I added Raihan & Sonia to wingman w/ Leon, hope you don’t mind!!)

~~

Not a Date (HopxReader)

“What’re you getting so fancy for if this isn’t a date?” Leon calls from behind the door. 

Hop was pulling on his shoe and nearly rolled his ankle at the sound of his brother’s question.

“Hair done? Sweater and blazer?” Leon continues. “And just to be clear, this isn’t a date?”

“Nope,” Hop replies as he double-checks his appearance in the bathroom mirror. “Not a date.”

It’s certainly not a date, certainly not with you. Certainly you and Hop are both just friends, and certainly this is just dinner with a friend.

Which just so happens that friend is, well, you know, you.

Just because Hop has been attracted to you for eons and you got Raihan to get you a reservation at Hammerlocke’s finest restaurant doesn’t mean it’s a date. Just because you texted him about it and he immediately responded yes doesn’t mean it’s a date. Just because he couldn’t stop thinking about it at the research lab so he almost caught his hair on fire, just because he flew out to meet Leon at the Hammerlocke hotel without thinking what to wear, doesn’t mean it’s a date. That did lead to a frantic call to Sonia, however, who then told Hop everything he needed to know about going to dinner with a special someone (who was just a friend), and just because that led to stopping into the Hammerlocke boutique since he didn’t have anything that wasn’t his lab coat or dirty, and just because that led to him spending a little too much time picking out an outfit that accented his legs and his height and his eye color (according to Sonia’s recommendations), and just because you sent him a picture of what you were going to wear and the thought of you in that outfit made his stomach tie itself in knots, that didn’t mean this was a date.

Certainly not.

Hop smooths down his blazer for the umpteenth time, fixes up his hair, and checks his teeth again. It’s certainly not a date with you, so why is he so nervous? He’s not nervous, certainly not, since this isn’t a date.

“You gonna get your first kiss tonight?” comes Raihan’s voice from behind the door, and Hop nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Raihan?!” Hop spits, and he yanks open the bathroom door to see the smug Gym Leader raising an eyebrow at him. “What’re you doing here?!”

“Ooh, easy killer,” Raihan grins as he gives Hop’s outfit a once-over. He lets out a long whistle. “Look at you, trying to give your date a heart attack?”

“It’s not a date,” Hop growls, and he glares daggers at Leon, who only offers a sheepish shrug.

“He wanted to help,” Leon says apologetically.

“Help with what?!” Hop asks. 

“Help you on your date,” Raihan answers. “Help you get your first kiss.”

Hop’s jaw drops, and he again glares at Leon, who in turn offers a guilty smile.

“I’ve kissed people,” Hop mumbles as a blush creeps into his cheeks. 

Leon’s eyebrows raise but before Hop can defend his blatant lie, a harsh knock comes from the hotel door. Raihan opens the door and Sonia comes bolting in.

“Where is he? Did he leave?” she splutters. When she meets Hop’s gaze, she sharply inhales, then exhales an, “Oooh, Hop!”

She rushes over and fiddles with his blazer, and Hop immediately swats her away.

“Oh, it looks so much better in person,” Sonia coos. “Look at you, so handsome!”

“Who are you, his mum?” Raihan scoffs. Sonia ignores that, and continues smoothing down Hop’s outfit, and Raihan turns to Hop again. “When’re you leaving?”

“Um, soon, I think,” Hop mumbles, and he checks his phone. 

If you’re punctual, you should be knocking on his door any minute. Once Sonia is done cooing, Hop sits on his bed, then stands, then sits again. He chews on his nail as the other three chat, he crosses his legs, just to uncross them, then he paces around the room. Why is his heart beating so hard? Why is he sweating? Why can’t he stop fumbling with his fingers?

“Oh, look at him,” Sonia swoons. “So nervous for his cute little date to arrive.”

“I’m not nervous,” Hop huffs. “Why would I be nervous? It’s just dinner with a friend.”

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door, and Hop’s soul nearly leaves his body. Leon steps up to him and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll be fine, Hop,” Leon says gently, and Hop nods.

After a clap on the back from Leon, then a light shove when he doesn’t move, Hop heaves in another breath, heads to the door, then pulls it open.

There you are, not a minute early, not a minute late. You’re standing just as stiff as he is, with your hands behind your back, and it seems like you’re also holding your breath. You both simultaneously puff out the air you’re holding at the sight of each other, neither of you accustomed to the other looking like this. Hop stares for a few seconds, opens his mouth, closes it, then swallows.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi.”

When he makes no other semblance of a response, you shift your weight to your other foot and glance over his ensemble. His hair isn’t as messy as usual, and his usual lab coat is traded for a cable-knit sweater, blazer, and dark jeans.

“You look nice,” you say stiffly.

Hop nods.

“Um, th-thanks,” he mumbles in return. “Sonia picked everything out for me, actually. Said I couldn’t wear a lab coat on a da-er. Dinner. On a dinner… time… event… with a friend.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” you say. “She helped me with my outfit too.”

You smile and nod, then gesture to your own Sonia-compiled outfit. Hop nods as well. What you're wearing is tighter in certain places - tight enough for Hop to notice how well this outfit compliments your figure. Not that he doesn’t normally notice. Or, er, not that he does normally notice. He clears his throat again.

“Yeah, y-you, look, um, ah,” Hop stammers as his eyes trail down your body. His gaze lingers a second too long, then a second after that, until he flicks his gaze back to yours. “Um, y-you look grood. Good, I mean. Great. You look nice too, is, uh, is what I meant.”

“Hop, dude, get it together,” comes a mutter from behind Hop.

“Shh, Raihan!”

Hop whips around. He had been holding the door open with his foot, and Sonia, Leon, and Raihan had jammed themselves into the small crack of the door. They’re like a ladder in that sliver of space, with Sonia at the bottom, then Leon, then Raihan. All of their eyes widen when a furious fire blazes around Hop.

“Get out of here!” Hop hisses as he shoves at them with his foot. They all scamper back and Hop slams closed the door. When Hop turns back to you, you’re holding a massive bouquet out to him.

“I got these for you,” you say quickly. “I, um, I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just got one of each.”

Hop blinks a few times, then processes that you certainly had. The bouquet is bursting with color, and some of the flowers are practically falling out of the cloth holding them together. He’s not actually quite sure how you’re holding them all with one hand.

“Oh, thanks,” Hop says quietly. “They’re beautiful. I’ll go put them in some water.”

Hop turns, fumbles his hotel key out, and you hear faint hisses from behind the door.

“Shit, he’s coming!”

“Go, go, go!”

“Act natural!”

There’s a flurry of rustling, and when Hop opens the door, he’s surprised he doesn’t break his jaw from how hard his teeth are clenching. Leon is lounging on the bed, and he offers a nonchalant glance.

“Oh, what’s that you got there?” Leon asks as he pretends to watch the tv that isn’t turned on. “Flowers, nice.”

“Yep,” Hop mutters through gritted teeth.

Hop motions to scrounge around for a glass, only to see that one is already prepared with water on the counter. Sonia whistles as she faces the wall.

“How convenient that somebody left this out,” Hop growls as he shoots daggers at the back of Sonia’s head. She flinches.

“Hm? What? Are you talking to me?” Sonia asks as she casually turns around. “Oh hey, flowers, nice.”

“Uh huh,” Hop grunts as he plunks the flowers into the glass. The sheer mass of the bouquet nearly topples it over, so he props it up with the tissue box and a coffee mug. The toilet flushes, and out comes Raihan.

“So when you go in for the ki- oh hey, flowers, nice.”

“Don’t.” Hop warns, and the word jerks out from his teeth like poison. Raihan offers a thumbs up. “I am leaving now, and you are all going to stay here and not follow us or bother us or do anything stupid, got it?”

Leon, Sonia, and Raihan all nod in unison. Hop threateningly points at all of them, slips out again, and he nearly runs into you.

“Everything alright in there?” you ask.

“Just fine,” Hop growls as he glares into the room. Leon, Sonia, and Raihan all offer a toothy grin, and Raihan even adds a wink. Hop quickly pulls the door closed, though you both hear a faint rustling, hushed and frantic whispers, and the sliding of a window. Hop chooses to ignore it.

You walk down the hotel hallway, neither saying a word, and step into the elevator together. The tinny music crackles around you, and you both stand a few inches farther from each other than you normally do. Hop tries to whistle, but his dry mouth only produces a faint ‘pfflbflff.’

“Did you say something?” you ask.

“Huh? Oh, no,” Hop says.

“Oh, I thought you said something.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Right, right.”

“Yeah.”

What should he say? Arceus, what do you both normally talk about? Anything? Pokemon? Yeah, you talk about Pokemon. Hop’s voice squeaks in his throat, and he quickly covers it with a cough when you look at him again.

“How was your day?” you ask quickly, and Hop coughs again.

“Good, good, it was good,” he says.

“Good,” you say. “That’s… that’s good.”

“Yeah.”

The tinny elevator music dinks in the background. Hop chances a glance to the floor number.

Only ten more floors to go.

“H-how was yours?” he asks in return.

“Good too.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

Hop bites his lip. Maybe he could have just met you at the restaurant and you wouldn’t have to endure this. Normally he talks non-stop, but for some reason, you always seem to make him forget all the words he knows.

“How’s work?” you ask.

“Good. That’s good too.”

“That’s good.”

Well, this is going great.

The elevator stops and a family walks in, and their chatter helps ease the tension between you. The children bounce around each other, and you step closer to Hop to give them more room. His hand brushes your waist, and you both tense at the feeling. Neither of you move after that, though.

The fresh air of downtown Hammerlocke continues to ease the tension between you, and when you ask about Hop’s research, you both finally delve into conversation. The restaurant is nice (a little dark and moody, and for some reason the waiter insisted that you both sit in a private booth with a candle in the middle of the table), and it’s your turn to talk. You tell him about your own work, your Pokemon team, and Hop rests his cheek on his fist as he listens.

This isn’t a date, but Hop really wishes it was.

The way your eyes glitter like they have little stars in them, the way you smile when you talk about your passions, the way your laugh rings in the air like bells… Hop lets out a melancholy sigh because of all of it. Maybe he could tell you tonight.

You finish your dinner (after Hop accidentally spilled water on you, which made your outfit cling tighter, not that he noticed), you both head back out into downtown Hammerlocke. The moon is high in the sky now, casting a soft glow over you as you walk down the purple-bricked street.

“You’re shivering,” Hop says. “Are you cold?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you say with an awkward laugh. “The water hasn’t dried all the way, and it’s weirdly windy tonight.”

Hop nods and glances around. It does seem strangely windy, as if the wind is only blowing on the both of you. Your hair is tousled because of it, and Hop squints his eyes at the roof of a building. Three shadows quickly duck away, and Hop squints harder.

“Here,” Hop says, and he shimmies out of his blazer, then wraps it around your shoulders. “I run hot anyway, and it’s my fault you’re freezing.”

“Thanks,” you say bashfully, and you tuck his blazer closer. A light pink ebbs into your cheeks, and Hop decides that that’s his favorite color now.

“Strangely windy right here, though,” he says, too loudly for a conversation between two. “Almost unnaturally windy, like a Pokemon caused it.”

He squints his eyes at the rooftop again, but there isn’t any scuttling or frantic whispers like he thought there would be. Instead, there’s a gruff construction worker and a Conkledurr that block your path.

“Road’s closed.”

“What?” Hop asks. He peers around the construction worker, then his brow furrows as multiple pedestrians meander past him. “No it’s not.”

“Yes it is. Gotta go another way.”

“Those people are going in,” Hop huffs.

“Go to the plaza,” the construction worker grunts “Ain’t no work bein’ done there.”

“There’s no work being done here,” Hop huffs again, but he stops arguing when you pull on his hand.

“Let’s just go that way,” you say. It doesn’t seem this construction worker and this Conkledurr are leaving anytime soon.

Hop glances to your eyes, to your hand curled around his, and he nods, almost in a daze. You pull him along by his hand, though Hop can’t manage to figure out how to hold your hand properly. He wonders how sweaty his hand feels.

You make it to the plaza, and the center fountain bubbles as a stream of water rises into the air. Lanterns frame the plaza, glowing gold and purple, just like the rest of the city. It’s not a festival or anything, why are there lanterns? Where are the rest of the people? The only person here is a guy plucking an acoustic guitar. Well, there’s a flute player too, and they start up once you step close enough. 

“Oh man,” the guitar player bemoans. “Here we are, playing this beautiful music, and there’s no one here to dance to it.”

“Hark!” the flute player says. “Arceus has blessed us this day, here come two numb nutters now!”

You hear a hiss.

“Young lovers, not numb nutters, you twit!”

“Here come two young lovers now!” the flute player corrects.

They immediately start playing again, and you and Hop glance at one another. You step towards him, and he quickly steps back.

“Oh, I-I don’t know how to dance,” Hop stutters.

“What?! Yes he does, I literally showed him in the lab two days ago!”

Hop’s brow furrows as a memory flashes - an awkward memory of Sonia forcing him to dance when he was trying to study a lake sample. He sniffed her coffee afterwards, but he couldn’t identify anything pungent.

“Sonia?” Hop says.

“Shut up, Sonia!” someone who sounds strangely like Leon hisses. “I-I mean, I’m just a Pidove! Coo, coo!”

“Oh, that’s okay,” you say quietly, and Hop’s attention redirects back to you. “We don’t have to.”

“B-but if you want to we can!” he splutters. He steps forward again curves his hand around your waist, and pulls you into his chest. When your eyes widen, he suddenly pushes you away again. “Sorry! Sorry, I-I just, I, um…”

You shake your head to recover, but when Hop reaches for you again, you hear another hiss.

“It’s too late for that, just go in for the kiss!”

Hop’s heart thumps, hard and heavy, at the thought. He grabs you again, then quickly loosens his grip.

“Sorry,” he mumbles again. “I-I, um, just thought I heard a Pidove.”

“Me too,” you say quietly. Your hands are braced against his chest from how quickly he pulled you in, but you don’t step back. “Um… you could… if you… if you wanted to.”

“Wanted to what?” Hop asks stupidly.

You hear a groan, then a smack from behind the fountain.

“Well, you know,” you mutter. “What that Pidove said.”

Hop’s eyebrows furrow, then shoot high on his forehead when he processes what you just said.

“You… you want me to…”

“W-we don’t have to!” you quickly splutter. “I-I, um, I-I just thought-”

“No! No, we can, we can,” Hop yelps in return. “I… yeah, yeah we can.”

A nervous anticipation flares between you, deep and intense, pulling and curling your stomach in the best way. There’s a few awkward breaths, shy smiles, Hop leans in, and ever so cautiously, bashfully, almost, he presses a soft kiss against your lips. You can’t help but smile, and he can’t either, when you both slowly pull away.

“I was so nervous to ask you out in the first place,” you say with a bashful smile, and you’re not quite sure why Hop’s eyes widen. “But this was the perfect ending to the perfect date.”

“This was a date?!”

You hear three distinct groans from behind the fountain.

[lfc21]

A storm to remeber

The UK had been hit with the worst storm for 30 years and you couldn't help but think you where going to get blown away into another century. You had been woken up about 6 times throughout the night thinking someone was trying to get Into the house when it was just the wind whistling through the windows or slamming the letter box open and closed. You knew it would be bad as it was all over social media for days, but not this bad. It was possibly one of the coldest nights of your life and it was only going to get worst. Trent had been a pain throughout the whole night constantly asking you if you had heard something or wanted to go to the window to have a look like a child in a sweet shop.

"Babe the dogs wount go outside for a wee" you laughed at the patio doors as your two French bulldogs where barking at the wind and rain that accompanied the outside. Yours and trents dogs where two of the laziest and stubborn dogs to walk the earth, so forcing them to go out in the rain was going to be a task with very bad results.

"I'm not surprised! If someone asked you to spend some time outside in this storm im guessing your going to say absolutely not!" Trent said getting higher pitched each time words fell from his mouth as he felt abit to protective over the two dogs. He had spent his whole morning watching you and the dogs sat at the patio doors watching the word go by as you had never witnessed such madness.

"Well I know that but I don't want them to do anything inside because I know for a fact you wount be the one who has to clean it up" you said looking at him as he sat on the kitchen island watching your two small dogs run away from you causing you to slam the patio door shut, partly due to your patience and partly due to the 40mph winds. You turned your head to yours and trents garden which looked like a scene from a horror film. Your table had been launched across the garden smashing Into a large tree, your 6 chairs that paired with it had gone walk about up the patio and what seemed to be a thousand and one dogs toys where either over the fence or sat in a bush.

"When do you think it will stop?" Trent asked genuinely concerned as he didn't know how he could drive in this weather meaning there may not be any training for a few days.

"Not got aclue but I know its getting worst tonight" you admitted with a tight smile knowing it would play on his mind slightly at the thought of missing a day of training. You walked over to the kettle starting to make two cups of tea to warm yourself and trent up. You where currently wearing trents oversized under armour hoodie and leggings and Trent had gone for shorts and a dressing gown. Truth be told you thought the winter months would be coming to an end and the sun would start to peak out but it was just going in the opposite direction.

After making the cups of tea you and trent had decided to sit on the couch and watch the BBC news that had not stopped speaking about the current storm. You had your legs resting on trents until the phone started ringing.

"Ooo who could that be" you said surprised swinging your legs off trents to grab your phone of the coffee table. The sound of your phone caused trents eyebrows to fall together as he didn't know who it could be.

"Hello andy" you churped up at the sound of your familiar bestie. Trents eyes had lit up as his wingman was speaking to his girlfriend and not him causing him to feel slightly jealousy.

"Hiya love just wanted to let you know me and Rachel have no power so expect yours to come off soon" andy said laced with anger as he knew his kids where going to be running circles around him and Rachel due to no YouTube and TV. Robbo and trent had always been updating each other on random situations that would go on in your houses as you lived in the same road. The wingmen had always told you and Rachel it was not planned to live so close together but it definitely was. What a bromance.

"Oh god ok well we seem to be all good at the minute! I'll check the lights hang on" you rambled jumping up and placing the phone down on speaker next to trent as he wanted to hear andy more. You ran over to your light switch expecting it to be fine, infact it was the complete opposite. No light was coming from the ceilings and you started to repeatedly flick it up and down but you had no luck.

"Great! Just great! The electricity has gone!" You shouted over to your phone and trent slapping your hands down on your hips. Trent looked at you from over the back of the couch in real confusion, he liked how you had become so indulged in the storm and its problems because without you he'd be fucked and probably crying in the closet upstairs.

"Are you sure babe? the tv seems to be still work-" trent said pausing at the sight of the tv going black.

"Yeah it's fucked" he admitted getting up as he wanted to see if he could fix it. You quickly thanked robbo for his concern and sent him on his way as you tried to think of a way to fix your falling apart house. Trent had layed himself under the cabinet where the tv was placed to see if pulling every single wire would help but it was as useful as painting underwater.

After a stressful afternoon you and trent had decided to play a game off scrabble in order to pass the time as you had gotten news that the electricians where working on getting everything sorted.

"Oooo this is hard" you said placing your hand on your face as you tried to concentrate on all your letters. Scrabble was not designed for you at all you didn't have the patience or intelligence for it.

"Shhhhhh!" Trent shushed you as he starting to move lots of letters around.

"Yes!!!!! I've done it!!!" Trent screamed jumping up causing you to snap your head up at him due to his sudden outburst.

"Bloody hell" you laughed as you wasn't expecting such an exciting win. Trent smiled as wide as he possibly could as he would of fell into a shitty mood if he lost as he is basically a child.

For the rest of the day you and trent had baked a cake and cleaning every room in order to do something useful whilst the storm was taking over. This weekend would definitely be something to remeber as it was a storm that was as dramatic as you sometimes.

[ttte-in-the-sky-au]

Lore dump at 00:08am? Hell yea! Anyway-

TW: Death, blood (represented), mentions of murder and suicide

I've been doing some thinking recently, mainly about the absolute fuckton of spirits around Sodor and how they even exist and stuff. So I decided to do this post about that in the middle of the night!

-So how (or rather why) do spirits exist in this universe?

The answer is rather simple, at least to me: those who die before their time's up for whatever reason (let that be murder, an accident, or """"""science"""""", which is literally the same as murder but felt like I should mention it-) come back to the island as spirits, normally until they were supposed to die of natural causes. Mind you, Wingmen live many times longer than us, regular humans, so this could be centuries, maybe even millenia! When a spirit reaches this set date, they can choose to go on to the afterlife or stay in the mortal world. Most choose to move on, but there are those who stayed.

-What do these spirits look like?

There is no set "look" for a spirit, as their premature death dictates their appearance. For instance, Proteus and Godred (Also Timothy and Rusty's ghost engine, but I haven't drawn them yet lol-)

No, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you, Proteus is literally just a floating head. I won't go too much into detail about his death, as that's a big fat spoiler, but to summarize: he was cut up by someone. This included being decapitated, which is actually what caused his death, therefore, his head is all that's left of him.

He chose to stay on Sodor to help those like him find a place in this strange purgatory of sorts before they can move on to the afterlife.

Another great example of death affecting appearance is Godred, whose whole left side is constantly fading into gold dust, due to his accident absolutely fucking it all up beyond repair, but it wasn't all cut off, which is why the gold dust still somewhat resembles a humanoid figure.

No one knows why he's still on Sodor, as he could've moved on a long, long time ago. But he's still among the living.

General trivia:

-Spirits and the living can and do interact, mainly Edward, Toby, Skarloey and Lady.

-Lady is quite literally god of this universe, responsibile for looking after the many spirits of the island and help them move on to the afterlife. She also has a say in who lives and who dies. Lady herself is immortal.

-Spirits are often found lingering around where they died, trying to get any passerby to help find their remains, hoping this could somehow help them come back to life. (This isn't possible in this AU as of september 16th, 2022, but I'm not completely sure yet. Stay tuned, just in case I change my mind!)

-If you paid attention to the artworks of Proteus and Godred, you might've noticed that their eyes are different! While Proteus' are pure gold, Godred's are black, both oozing gold dust, almost like tears.

This is because a spirit's eyes say a lot about the life they lived and their intent as a spirit.

Proteus lived a good life, even if it was a short one and now wants to do nothing but help others in a situation similar to his own.

Godred, on the other hand, didn't live the best life, to say the least. He was arrogant, boastful, egotistical and selfish. Nowadays, no one know what he exactly wants, but pretty safe to say that he's not on the island for the same reason as Proteus.

-How would suicide affect a spirit's appearance and eyes?

Suicide usually takes form in smaller scars, depending on how one took their own life. Their eyes still work the same way, being pure gold if they lived a good life, being a good person and have good intentions as a spirit, and they're black otherwise.

——————————————————————

Special thanks to @fabianvalencia561, @new-york-central-guy, @trainqueen379 and @ladychandraofthemoone for helping out with some of the concepts explained above! (Mainly the eyes)

[cresentcube]

Nine is the group's first and foremost Luminerik shipper, with Sylvando of course.

Oh for sure.

Look, dq9 was a tragedy born from countless broken love stories- Nine, after going through coffinwell and corvus and everything during the centuries he lived, he is dead set on not letting any love stories fall in tragedy. He WILL make sure his brother is happy. Whatever it takes, he is not letting him suffer such despair.

Sylvando and Nine has a bet over who will confess first. Nine teases both Erik and El over it so much that Nine developed a knack of perfectly dodging Erik's red-faced swatting. I'm pretty sure sylv has a wedding plan written down to a T somewhere. They teamed up to be a set of ultimate wingmen. Noone can stop the two. When Drustan asked what wish El had they were both holding their breath like a game show contestant. Silent yet victorious high five ensued after El stammered out that he wanted Erik to live together with him.....

[jessicas-southkoreanlitblog]

5 Interesting South Korean NonFiction Books

I want to Die But I Want to Eat Tteokpokki by Baek Sehee

"PSYCHIATRIST: So how can I help you?

ME: I don't know, I'm – what's the word – depressed? Do I have to go into detail?

Baek Sehee is a successful young social media director at a publishing house when she begins seeing a psychiatrist about her - what to call it? - depression? She feels persistently low, anxious, endlessly self-doubting, but also highly judgmental of others. She hides her feelings well at work and with friends, performing the calmness her lifestyle demands. The effort is exhausting, overwhelming, and keeps her from forming deep relationships. This can't be normal. But if she's so hopeless, why can she always summon a yen for her favorite street food: the hot, spicy rice cake, tteokbokki? Is this just what life is like?

Recording her dialogues with her psychiatrist over a twelve-week period, and expanding on each session with her own reflective micro-essays, Baek begins to disentangle the feedback loops, knee-jerk reactions, and harmful behaviors that keep her locked in a cycle of self-abuse. Part memoir, part self-help book, I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki is a book to keep close and to reach for in times of darkness. It will appeal to anyone who has ever felt alone or unjustified in their everyday despair." (GoodReads.com)

A History of Korea: From "Land of the Morning Calm" to States in Conflict by Jinwung Kim

"Contemporary North and South Korea are nations of radical contrasts: one a bellicose totalitarian state with a failing economy; the other a peaceful democracy with a strong economy. Yet their people share a common history that extends back more than 3,000 years. In this comprehensive new history of Korea from the prehistoric era to the present day, Jinwung Kim recounts the rich and fascinating story of the political, social, cultural, economic, and diplomatic developments in Korea’s long march to the present. He provides a detailed account of the origins of the Korean people and language and the founding of the first walled-town states, along with the advanced civilization that existed in the ancient land of "Unified Silla." Clarifying the often complex history of the Three Kingdoms Period, Kim chronicles the five-century long history of the Choson dynasty, which left a deep impression on Korean culture. From the beginning, China has loomed large in the history of Korea, from the earliest times when the tribes that would eventually make up the Korean nation roamed the vast plains of Manchuria and against whom Korea would soon define itself. Japan, too, has played an important role in Korean history, particularly in the 20th century; Kim tells this story as well, including the conflicts that led to the current divided state. The first detailed overview of Korean history in nearly a quarter century, this volume will enlighten a new generation of students eager to understand this contested region of Asia." (GoodReads.com)

Devotion: An Epic Story of Heroism, Friendship, and Sacrifice by Adam Makos

"Devotion tells the inspirational story of the U.S. Navy’s most famous aviator duo: Lieutenant Tom Hudner, a white New Englander from the country-club scene, and Ensign Jesse Brown, an African American sharecropper’s son from Mississippi. Tom passed up Harvard to fly fighter planes for his country. Jesse became the navy’s first black carrier pilot to defend a nation that wouldn’t even serve him in a bar.

While much of America remained divided by segregation, Jesse and Tom joined forces as wingmen in Fighter Squadron 32. Adam Makos takes us into the cockpit as these bold young aviators cut their teeth at the world’s most dangerous job—landing on the deck of an aircraft carrier—a line of work that Jesse’s young wife, Daisy, struggles to accept. Then comes the war no one expected, in faraway Korea.

Devotion brings us into the foxholes with U.S. Marines and soaring overhead with Tom and Jesse as they battle a North Korean invasion. As the fury of the fighting escalates, Tom and Jesse fly, guns blazing, to save a Marine division cornered at the Chosin Reservoir and outnumbered ten to one. When one of the duo is shot down behind enemy lines and pinned in his burning plane, the other faces an unthinkable choice: watch his friend die or attempt history’s most audacious one-man rescue mission.

A tug-at-the-heartstrings tale of bravery and selflessness, Devotion asks: How far would you go to save a friend?"(GoodReads.com)

Brother One Cell: An American Coming of Age in South Korea's Prisons by Cullen Thomas

"At age twenty-three Cullen Thomas was, like most middle-class kids his age, looking for something meaningful and exciting to do before settling into the 9-to-5 routine. Possessed of a youthful, romantic view of the world, he set off for adventure in Asia and a job teaching English in Seoul, South Korea. But he got more than he ever bargained for when an ill-advised stunt led to a drugsmuggling arrest and a three-and-a-half-year prison sentence. Brother One Cell is Cullen�s memoir of that time�the harrowing and unusual story of a good kid forced to grow up in very unusual circumstances.

One of only a handful of foreign inmates, Cullen shared a cell block with human-traffickers, jewel smugglers, murderers, and thieves. Fortunately for him, the strict Confucian social mores that dominated the prison made it almost a safe place, different from the brutal, lawless setting most would imagine. In the relative calm of this environment Cullen would learn invaluable life lessons and come out of the experience a wise and grounded adult. With its gritty descriptions of life behind the concrete walls, colorful depictions of his fellow inmates, and acute insights about Korean society, Brother One Cell is part gritty prison story, part cautionary tale, and part insightful travelogue into the places most people never see."(GoodReads.com)

Trail of Crumbs: Hunger, Love, and the Search for Home: a memoir by Kim Sunée

Kim Sunée was three years old when her mother took her to a crowded marketplace and left her on a bench with a fistful of food. Three terrifying days and nights later a policeman discovered Kim, who was clutching what was now only a fistful of crumbs.

Nearly twenty years later, Kim's life is unrecognizable. Adopted by a family in New Orleans, she grew up as one of only two Asian children in her community. At the age of twenty-two, she becomes involved with a famous French businessman, and finds herself living in France, mistress over his houses in Provence and Paris, and stepmother to his eight year-old daughter.

But despite this glamorous lifestyle, Kim never really feels at home. Trail of Crumbs follows Kim as she cooks her way into many makeshift homes and discovers that familiar flavors are the antidote to a lifetime of wandering. Ultimately, it is in food and cooking that Kim finds solace and a sense of place. Sensuous, intense, and intimate, this powerful memoir will appeal to anyone who is passionate about love, food, travel, or the ultimate search for self." (GoodReads.com)

[ellestra]

Superpowered life

I really liked how this episode took time to humanise both John Walker and the Flag Smashers.

I like how it gives us those moments from Flag Smasher’s point of view. Showing the small moments like Karli taking time to make sure the guy Walker shot is OK. And then her clear heartbreak for the friend who sacrifices himself. This is so different from the opening of last episode when Sam was killing LAF men left and right and Batroc didn’t care his people died. They were treated as disposable but Flag Smashers aren’t. They think themselves the heroes who fight for those who lived through Blip.

Last episode we saw the hurdles the returned have to go through but we also got a taste of the way those extra five years changed those left (from Hayward to Sarah). This episode we see the Walker and his group created as enforcers of the Global Repatriation Council so the returned at least have a body that takes care of their needs (even, as we see with Sam imperfectly) but it just makes those who grew up in the world without them more resentful (this movement seems to attract a lot of young people for whom the world without half of humanity became norm).

They had to give up a lot and their needs got swept under the rug when billions of people came back wanting the world to be just like when they left. It’s a misplaced anger (it’s not like those people had a choice and they are refugees often with even less than FS) but it is understandable and it’s no wonder there are so many people willing to hide them. And it’s hard for them not to feel vindicated when GRC sends men to “pacify” them. Making the Flag Smashers so diverse and throwing a guy dressed in American paraphernalia to fight them somewhere in Europe just drives home how not completely wrong they are.

But it looks like neither Walker nor our heroes are really the Flag Smashers big problem. It looks like they stole the serum that makes them super soldiers form Power Broker and that’s what was in those creates not vaccines. I wonder if they want to make so many more super strong followers or d the powers wear off with time and they need to keep taking it.

In many ways John Walker is a lot like Steve. He wants to help people and make the world better. He believes in the ideas of America and wants people to believe in them too. He wants to be the hope Steve was. He jumped on top of grenades. And he got really good at throwing that Shield fast (the way he saved Hoskins was pretty cool). He’s the best man for the job, isn’t he?

He’s even appropriately bashful about being lauded for his accomplishments. Feels weird about being trotted for shows in public. And have doubts he can live up to being Captain America. He’s also a little cocky and likes to use his influence (the government line, releasing Bucky) but that’s not that different than Tony. Or Thor. And he even has the same Big Three idea as Sam. He’s just like our heroes.

He’s just like those guys before they learnt their lessons about humility and blind trust. So isn’t us, or Sam and Bucky, not wanting to have to deal with that journey again just unwillingness to give him a chance?

But then the uncomfortable parts hit you. From the fact that he took the job over a black man. Sam isn’t completely wrong about becoming his own symbol and not just using Steve’s clout. The fact that John took it like it was something he deserved is already telling something about his confidence and show points us to the “white men confidence” on that by making it uncomfortable. From the way they have people of colour telling him he can do it. To the black best friend/sidekick. That last one really hit hard.

This is, however, not fully on John really. It’s on people who created him. In universe, the men who lauded Sam for giving up the Shield only to give it to a white dude. In real world on all those who keep creating protagonists like these.

This hit differently when the character of Captain America was created almost century ago and we were already so accustomed with him it’s easy to ignore the dissenting voices for the comfort of it’s always been like this. But there is still to many media that repeat this pattern over and over again with new characters.

The patterns so ingrained it has to be pointed out again and again how skewed that is and the show rammed it home with Walker calling both Sam and Bucky Steve’s wingmen. He was implying he wants them to be his now and they both went clearly “sorry, man, we are the protagonists now”. And that made him resort to threats and that is on him.

The thing about Steve was that there was plenty of brave, smart, decorated men with him in that camp. He wasn’t chosen because he was better then them at fighting but because of his heart and willingness to stand up for what is right no matter what. And when he jumped on the grandee he didn’t know he would survive. Walker has special helmet. And he clearly enjoys the privileges and power that comes with the position.

It’s all fun when he is the main character in this story - saving the Avengers and getting them out of trouble - but when they refuse to be appropriately grateful and fall in line his generosity turns to anger. And that really drives home that white man entitlement, doesn’t it? (I hope it does.)

And the show doesn’t stop there. There is still the way US government treated Isaiah Bradley. Bucky got pardoned for everything with just Steve’s backing but the man who protected Americans from him got nothing but abuse. All Bradley can have is being left alone while Bucky is recognised as an Avenger. At least Steve was always a hero but Bucky used to be a villain and he still is better off. It reminds us how long this has been and issue. (The kid is Eli, though, isn’t he?)

And then there is the way police treat Sam. The tone they use when they ask Bucky if “this man is bothering you”. And then complete change when Bucky says “do you know who that is” and the celebrity status hits and suddenly Sam isn’t jut a black guy but Mr. Wilson, the Avenger. But it really hits when it turns out Bucky is to be arrested because he missed his therapy session for a trip to Europe. The policeman is still polite and all “Mr. Barnes” and “sorry about this”.

We see Bucky’s super soldier serum powers in work (with jumping and running) and Walker I think just has the suit and good coordination but it’s clear their greatest superpower is being white men.

I liked this episode take on racism better as it was better at showing it as a background didn’t involve Sam ignoring his sister’s agency and her knowledge. And because it showed the status his celebrity grants him better, especially when contrasted with the life of Isaiah Bradley who has powers but not fame so none of the perks and all the burdens of being experimented on.

And I like the way it shows it also gets to those who are discriminated. After all the kid who calls Sam Black Falcon is black too. It’s just Falcon. No qualifiers necessary. But then Sam calls Bucky White Panther. The colour coding gets to all of us. (In Polish pantera = lampart and both mean leopard so we actually say żółta pantera = yellow panther along with black but I’m glad no one uses that for people.)

I also liked that Sam thought Bradley meant white people when he said Bucky’s people. I mean he wasn’t wrong since Hydra was pretty much white supremacist but still funny.

The only thing that bothered me was Bucky’s therapist forcing Sam into the session. The excuse was flimsy, the was no real indication she knows they fight all the time and the whole thing seemed to be only for that one line when Bucky admits he’s afraid Steve was wrong about him. But the execution of this was clunky and the moment with Bradley worked much better.

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Everyone Secretly Wants You

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3,528

Warnings: None

Summary: The Doctor takes her fam to an art gallery, showcasing the work of Ava Centuria, her favourite artist of the 42nd century. However, she gets more than she bargained for when said artist takes a keen liking to you.

A/N: I know today has been... a lot. So here's something short and fluffy I wrote to take my mind off of things. Keep yourselves safe and surrounded by love my friends. All the best everyone and lots of love ❤️

“Well then,” Graham said. “Art galleries have certainly changed.”

You had to agree. It didn’t really look like any sort of art gallery you had ever seen before. There were people performing on stages, gallery goers were dressed in multi coloured neon robes, and food that changed shape on on the trays the waiters carried around. It looked like some sort of fancy festival, and you felt like any second you would see Billie Eilish casually stroll around beside you.

You loved it.

“It’s the 42nd century Graham!” The Doctor cried. She was hard to miss, she had replaced her coat with one that was a bright neon blue. “No one cares about stuffy rich people etiquette at these sort of things, it’s why Ava Centuria is so amazing! She completely reshaped societal norms, she made kooky mainstream.”

“Sounds like fun,” Yaz said encouragingly, and she was giving the Doctor a pair of thumbs up. It looked comical, her finger nails were each a different neon colour, and she wore a black suit with neon coloured stripes, reminding you of the kind of thing a school principal would wear to a carnival, except, well, neon.

As the five of you entered, you passed a towering banner that had a woman’s face plastered across and the word ‘Welcome’ written beside her. She was quite beautiful, with sharp cheekbones, long curly black hair, and painted red lips.

“Woah,” Ryan said, as the whole lot of you craned your heads so you could see it more clearly. Ryan had gone all out for the gallery, and had neon green wings painted under his eyes, which matched the neon green blazer he was wearing over a white shirt. “Is that her? This Ava chick.”

“Yup,” The Doctor said proudly. “Oh I can’t wait to meet her, I bet she’s a riot.”

Then a pair of bells rang and you jumped, clutching onto the Doctor with a yelp. Your heart sat in your throat and the Doctor placed her hand onto yours. You soon found your gaze met with hers, and your heart continued beating rapidly, but this time, for an entirely different reason. In this light her eyes almost looked like they were bright green. They sparkled under the light, and for a moment, you were mesmerised.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, tearing yourself off of her. “Just startled.”

A small marching band began walking past, wearing bright red uniforms. One of them blew something that looked like a kazoo, and it let out the shrilling bell sound that had just startled you. The Doctor gasped, her eyes shining in delight. “Oh I am following that,” and without another word, she had zoomed off.

The rest of you looked at each other, exasperated. After one moment, then another Yaz rolled her eyes. “Alright, okay, I’ll follow her. If we get into trouble I’ll ring.”

“Not too loud I hope,” Ryan said with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to startle Y/N.”

You gave him a glare, that was only half fake.

“Oh nah,” Yaz said, and met Ryan’s smirk. “Without the Doc around, there’s no one for Y/N to cling on to!”

You began to splutter out a protest but the other’s laughed, and before you knew it, Yaz jogged off with a wave.

You sighed dejectedly. “I really was freaked out.”

“We know,” Graham said. “Just teasin’ is all.”

You, Ryan, and Graham began exploring the art gallery. Ryan nudged you on the shoulder. “When’re you gonna tell her anyway?”

“Tell who what?”

“You can play confused around her,” Graham said, by your other side. “But we know better.”

You rolled your eyes, and a waitress appeared in front of you, offering you a platter. You watched for a moment as the collection of little cakes changed from neon orange to neon cyan, and they looked almost as if they were glowing. It was so cool. You plucked one off the tray and shoved it into your mouth, nodded your thanks and then grinned ruefully at your friends as you sidestepped away from them.

The cake was nice. it wasn’t a flavour you could identify, but it was sweet and fluffy, like a cloud.

Graham took three.

“C’mon Y/N,” Ryan said, skirting around the waitress so he could catch up to you. “You know she likes you back.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” you lied. “I just want to eat some cake and look at some funky art.”

Also a lie.

Graham held out one of the cakes to Ryan, and, in doing so, essentially barred you in between them. Ryan took off a chunk and popped it into his mouth. “What’s got you so worked up about it anyway, it’s not as if you’re as emotionally awkward as she is,” he sounded like he was speaking from experience.”

“You too,” you said. “Are the worst wingmen in the history of wingmen ever. Now I’m going to go over…” You glanced around the room, trying to find an area that was relatively crowded. “There,” you said, pointing at a crowd of people gathered around a stage where a man was eating… was that fire? Wow. “So,” you continued. “If you’re going to butt your noses into my love life, I suggest you keep up.”

You dove under Graham’s arm and ran. Look, it wasn’t as though you didn’t like them – of course you did, they were some of your best friends. But it was awkward talking about the Doctor. It was so confusing, she, was so confusing, and you didn’t have the energy to think about it right now.

You slipped into the crowd and scurried to the front, dogding and weaving through neon coloured bodies. When you made it you ducked, turning around so you could try and find Graham and Ryan through the gaps in the people.

There, in the back, towards the right. They were standing around like lost puppies. Good, you had definitely lost them.

Slowly, you navigated your way through the crowd until you were by the other side. This area was far quieter, and you ducked into a narrow hallway.

You’d lost them, and with it, you had lost those annoying questions.

You’d find them soon enough, you just needed ten minutes where a ‘will they, won’t they’ conversation wasn’t the focal point of anything and everything your friends wanted to talk about. Ten minutes without knowing smiles and staring at each other like they were in on some secret, or like they were characters on The Office.  

You found yourself in a relatively empty room, save a few individuals. There was clothing propped up everywhere, and you quickly realised it was on display like a stagnate fashion show. Slowly, you began walking around the room, taking it all in.

And then you saw it.

Completely and utterly confused, you stood in front of a dress. You caught snatches of conversation from the people next to you, who were praising the piece for its creativity and out-of-the-box presentation, but to you... well, it was ugly.

It held a clattering of different patterns; the skirt was made with stripes of cheetah print, rainbow polka dots, red gingham, and acid washed denim. The top clashed even more, and was made of a sequinned fabric, one that, when you moved it, you assumed would change colour.

You weren't sure if it was supposed to be an open smock or a cape, but a sheer, neon orange fabric was drapped around behind the dress and over the arms of the mannequin. It ended in huge black ruffled lace, lining the mannequins wrists and the kissing the floor.

Now, this wouldn't be too bad if there were any structure to the dress, but it was cut into a t-shirt shape, so there wasn't any reason, practically or otherwise, to separate the skirt from the top.

Not to mention the Edwardian style ruff collar that sat around the neck, was made out of, of all things, CD’s – which apparently still existed. You wondered if it was a commentary on something, though you couldn't think of what.

You screwed your face up, concentrating, trying to find something, just a single element about the dress that you liked. It was just... awful, you were sure you could even argue that as an objective fact. Surely the thing broke some sort of laws about fashion and style.

"It's a social experiment," a warm voice said beside you, and you jumped. You hadn't heard anyone coming.

You turned to face the person who owned the voice, and assessed her thoughtfully. You recognised her, but you weren't sure from where.

"I thought I would explain it to you," she continued. "Since you were quite obvious on your distaste for the piece."

The realisation dawned on you like a wave of ice water, running through your mind and down into your bones. Her high cheekbones, her wry cherry red smirk,  her unruly, uncontrolled black curls dancing under the light as she cocked her head to the side, it couldn't be.

But it was. Standing beside you was Ava Centuria, the artist whose work was on display.

The artist who had designed this dress.

The artist who had just called you out on not liking her dress.

Your realisation must have shown on your face, because she broke out in a pearly laugh. "I do appreciate constructive criticism though. So, tell me, what don't you like about it?"

You gauged her thoughtful. Part of you was about to splutter out an apology, tell her that you actually really did like her work. But that would be a lie, and somehow, under Ava Centuria's warm gaze, lying to her just didn’t feel right.

You looked back to the dress, then to her. “Honestly. I… I just think it’s ugly.”

She let out a delighted laugh again, and you realised it was actually quite a lovely sound. “You’re the first to say that.

”“Is that a bad thing?” You asked, because really, you had just insulted her work, and she seemed happy about it.

“It’s refreshing,” she said, and she regarded the dress. “And you’re right. It is ugly. I made it so on purpose.”

This just made you more confused. “I’m sorry? Why would you do that?”

She gave you a kind smile, and you felt yourself warm in response. Ava Centuria really was striking, it looked like she had been moulded by the gods. She was the kind of beautiful that poets wrote about. “Like I said, it’s a social experiment.”

You smiled at that, thinking of the Doctor. You would have to show her this, she loves a good experiment. “What are you experimenting?”

“People,” she said, and she brushed her arm over your elbow, guiding you with her to look around the room. Her touch was warm, and you found that you didn’t mind her touching you at all.

“I find it terribly interesting,” she said, her voice low and soft in your ear. She was so completely close – you could smell her perfume, which was sweet, like a warm Spring breeze. “That something could be completely mundane, or even downright awful, but, if you give it prestige, suddenly everyone completely and utterly adores it,” when she turned to look at you again, her eyes sparkled. “It is why I appreciate you, you are honest. It is not something I am accustomed to.”

It was a sobering statement. “That seems like a lonely way to live.”

Her expression faltered, her wry grin falling into a small, sad, smile. “It can be” she gave you a knowing look. “Sometimes, though, I am lucky enough to find someone who can make the days just a little bit brighter.”

You thought about the Doctor, who lied so often, and kept so many secrets. Was she lonely too? Even with the fam, even with you with her? Did you help make her days brighter?

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said after a moment, recatching your attention.  “But I didn’t seem to catch your name.”

You noticed she had still not let go of your arm, and was caressing you slightly with her thumb.

You chuckled. “I never gave it.”

“Surely then you must share it.”

You told her your name and she smiled. “Ah. Y/N. It is fitting. It is a beautiful name for an equally beautiful person.”

You felt your eyes widen and your ears tense. Had she just-

“I am an artist,” she continued. “I know these things.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. It wasn’t often people as gorgeous as Ava Centuria just casually flirted with you.

She stuck out her other hand. “I am Ava, by the way.”

It was such a bizarre turn of events that it startled a laugh out of you. You took her hand. “I know who you are, Ms Centuria.”

“Ava,” she repeated. “And, I know. But I felt it was important for a formal introduction, especially when one considers what I am about to ask you.”

You paused at that. Ask what?

“I would like to give you a tour,” she said. “A personal one, just for you. I would very much like to hear your thoughts on my collection and…” her movement on your arm faltered. “I would very much like to get to know you better, if you would let me.”

Under the lighting, Ava’s hair seemed to glow, like a halo of light was wrapped around it. She looked ethereal, and you couldn’t believ that she had just –

Oh gosh, Ava Centuria had just asked you on a date. Now. As in, immediately.

“Oh Y/N,” a familiar voice called out. “There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You turned to see the Doctor strolling up, her neon blue coat billowing behind her. She… there was no other word for it, she looked awkward. Her hands were balled into fists, and she was giving you a strained smile. Behind her, across the other side of the room, stood Yaz and Ryan. Yaz was giving you an incredulous look, as if you had just taken the last cake from a tray, and Ryan, Ryan looked like he was about to whoop into the air, or shake you.

You had no idea how to interpret either of those looks.

“Doctor,’ you said and her smile softened as she met your gaze.

You turned back to Ava, sure that you had flushed, and untangled yourself from her grasp. The Doctor was beside you - and when had she appeared? She wrapped her arm around your frame, pulling you in to your side. "You must be Ava Centuri?" She said, but her smile seemed too wide, too forced. "Oh I'm a big fan!"

Ava stiffened. “Well,” she said, and her voice was distant. “It appears I am at  a disadvantage, Y/N has not told me about you.”

“Oh! Well that’s surprising, I’m Y/N’s number one. We’re very, very close, Y/N and I,” her other hand fell across your arm, the spot where Ava had just been holding you. “We’re two peas in a pod, birds of a feather, made from the same cloth, you could say. Oh, a match made in heaven! Like Bonnie and Clyde,” she scrunched up her face. “No wait, not them, They died.”

“They also killed a lot of people,” you added. “Which wasn’t great.”

“That to,” The Doctor said, nodding to you like it was the most serious conversation you had ever had. She turned back towards Ava. “I’m the Doctor.”

“Well met Doctor,” Ava said, and she seemed to genuinely mean it. “I’m quite sorry though, you see, Y/N and I were-”

“Oh yeah!” The Doctor said. “I’m terribly sorry,” She squeezed your shoulder again, and it looked like the Doctor wasn’t sorry at all. “But we have to be off. We’ve got loads of things to meet, people to see, and places to do,” she scrunched up her face again. “No, wait, that’s the wrong order.”

“Things to do, people to meet, and places to see,” you supplied.

The Doctor grinned at you, utterly delighted. You felt a swell of pride in your stomach, you loved that you were the cause of that smile.

“Ah,” something seemed to dawn on Ava, and she looked in between you and The Doctor. Her eyes lingered on the Doctor’s arm, which was still securely wrapped around your waist. That small, sad smile from earlier returned. “I, I do believe I understand,” she turned to the Doctor. “You have found an angel among mortals, be sure you remember that.”

The Doctor audibly swallowed, and her grip on you faltered, for a moment. “I – uh, yeah. You’re right. Completely right, actually. Always knew you were clever.”

She nodded. “Good,” she turned to you. “And dear Y/N, if you ever find yourself wanting to entertain the whims of a lonely artist, I really would consider myself so very lucky.”

You didn’t know what to say.

She took your hand, and placed a delicate kiss on your knuckles, a part of you felt your arm tingle at the contact. “I best not keep you then. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. Doctor.” She gave the Doctor a consolatory nod, and left.

“Huh,” The Doctor said. “She was… I’m not sure I liked her as much as I thought I would.”

You hummed, not necessarily agreeing, but not really knowing what to say. You watched Ava walk away with a small frown. You hoped she was okay, she had been kind. She deserved kindness.

She wasn’t someone who your heart could belong to.

You turned to the Doctor. “So, what’s up? Is everything okay?”

The Doctor paused, her face falling. It was almost as if you could see the cogs turning in her brain, but you couldn’t work out why she was thinking so hard. “I think Graham’s gotten lost,” The Doctor said suddenly. “So I think it’s high time we find him and get out of here, what’d you say?”

You nodded, and, still holding you, The Doctor and you began walking out the room. You found your friends gathered outside the TARDIS, in fact, neither you or the Doctor had even paused to find Graham. You assumed Yaz and Ryan had done so, when you and the Doctor were talking to Ava.

On the way in, you noticed how the neon everyone was wearing glowed under the crystals. The Doctor was gorgeous in a way you couldn’t describe. She was here, present, by your side. It was so tangible, suddenly.

You had never noticed before, the way her hair softly fell around her face. She had bright neon stripes of green in it, and you wondered, absentmindedly, when she had had them done. The chain from her earring glinted in the soft light, the stars along the chain glittering.

In a soft voice, you asked. “Why the neon, do you think?”

“I dunno,” she said, and she shut the door behind Ryan, the last to enter the TARDIS. He was giving you a funny look, and you chose to ignore him. You chose to ignore Graham and Yaz too, for good measure. You would get embarrassed and fluder, you could already feel it.

“Sometimes,” the Doctor said, after a moment, and she looked around the room. “When you can’t find any brightness, you wonderful humans chose to create it instead. Even in the darkest of times.”

“Us humans?” You smiled, and you took a chance, maybe this time, just once, the Doctor could be honest. “What do you do then, Doc?”

“I don’t need to create it,” she said, her gaze wholly focused on you. “I’ve found it.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. That… The Doctor couldn’t possibly mean what you thought she meant. But she looked at you so intently, as if you were her entire universe. Her gaze flickered across your face, across the neon yellow flowers Yaz had painted on your cheeks, across your nose, and on your lips.

She leaned in, or maybe it was you, and she as so close now.

The sound of a loud cheer shattered the spell. You jumped back in shock.

“Finally!” Ryan cried, all the way from across the console.

You looked up to see Ryan, Graham, and Yaz standing off to the side, watching you like a collection of hawks. Graham and Yaz turned to Ryan in astonishment. Yaz elbowed Ryan and he doubled over. She tugged on his ear and whispered harshly.

The Doctor grinned when she spoke. “I can hear you, y’know.”

You, however, could not.

“Is it true?” She asked them, and you desperately wished you could have heard.

Graham gave you both a look, one which said ‘sort it out yourselves’.

The Doctor turned back to you. “I think you and I need to have a talk, later, when there’s no one else around?”

She looked vulnerable, her eyes wide and pleading, as if you hadn’t been just about to kiss her.

You nodded, giving her a small, warm smile. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”