#yes this is about quentin thanks for asking

[redbuddi]

dunno if this is an unpopular opinion or not but I think that videos that do nothing but recap a tv show with little to no actual critical analysis for like five hours are as close to worthless as a piece of art can be. If I'm not gaining anything more than I would get from reading the wiki then what's even the point man

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #9

Massively Milky 🥛 / Euphoria 💖

“Oh,” says Eliot, stopping short in the doorway of his bedroom. Q, hot on his heels and less than sober, crashes into him. 

“Hey, what gives?” he complains, but Eliot just holds up a hand. Q hops up and down, trying to see over Eliot’s shoulder, but he lands unsteadily and braces himself against Eliot’s hips, making him stumble farther into the room.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Margo yells from where she’s splayed on top of Josh in Eliot’s bed. “Get the hell out!”

“Bambi,” says Eliot, playfully aghast. “In my bed? The chutzpah!”

“Out!” shrieks Margo, and Q ducks as a stiletto comes flying over Eliot’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing Eliot’s hand and tugging him down the hall to his own room. “I put a charm on my door earlier, there shouldn’t be anyone in there.”

“Put a charm on your door to what?” asks Eliot, letting himself be tugged.

“To lock it, duh. Have you met me?” A little clumsily, Q disarms the spell and lets them in. “Not exactly the party type.”

“And yet,” says Eliot, turning in a slow circle as if taking in his surroundings, “here you are. Partying.”

“Yeah, well, someone dragged me downstairs.” Eliot’s been in his room before, at least in passing, but for a moment he stops and sees it as Eliot must: the plain pale blue sheets and navy duvet, the pile of rumpled half-clean laundry threatening collapse in the corner, the total lack of decor. Eliot’s room at least has, like, plants and stuff. And framed art. All of the art Quentin came to school with is Fillory fan art Julia gave him or he’d bought himself at the one con he went to back in high school, and it now resides deep in the suitcase stuffed in the back of his closet. 

Eliot does a theatrical little bow. “You’re welcome. Feel free to thank me for the many handcrafted cocktails as well. That was kraken rum in that hurricane. Not like the brand Kraken, but, like, actual kraken. And I made the orgeat syrup from scratch.”

Q furrows his eyebrows. “There’s no actual kraken.”

“Oh, yes, there is.”

“Nuh-uh,” says Q, shaking his head and flopping onto his bed. The last shot of rum is starting to hit him, his thoughts going blurry, everything suddenly moving a little slower. 

Eliot throws himself down beside him, somehow still managing to look graceful and put together despite the many, many hurricanes Q watched him drink. Helped him drink. Whatever. “There is, and they’re sentient.”

Quentin is suddenly very, very aware of how close to him Eliot is. He can smell his woody cologne, the alcohol and sugar on his breath, the sweat from dancing downstairs in a pit of other people blowing off steam about midterms. He can’t remember if he put on more deodorant before the party. Or what he ate for lunch or what his breath might be doing. Did he even brush his teeth this morning?

“I know,” says Eliot softly. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“What?” says Q, too fast, and Eliot laughs.

“The kraken. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Q laughs too, nervously. “Um, did you need something from your room?”

Eliot shrugs, letting himself collapse back onto the mattress. “I was going to do some E, but it’s not worth the trauma of potentially seeing Josh’s dick.”

“I thought you liked dicks,” says Q, and immediately regrets it.

“I do,” says Eliot, as if that’s obvious, because it is and Q is just drunk and dumb, “but I’ll take a pass on Josh. Margo gets territorial.”

Quentin tries to laugh. He is definitely not thinking about Eliot’s dick.

Instead, he tips backward so that he and Eliot are lying parallel. From this angle, he can see the mound of his belly rising up like fresh dough waiting to be punched down. He’s been doing a bad job of eating things that are nutritionally complex recently, not to mention all the stress eating he’s been doing as midterms approach, and upping the dosage on his meds hasn’t helped. When was the last time he ate a vegetable?

“I’ve never done E,” he says to the ceiling.

Eliot snorts. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Hey!” With only a little difficulty, Q rolls onto his side to face Eliot. Booze sloshes in his gut. “Don’t act like I’m some kind of square! I’ve smoked weed with you!”

“Using the word square isn’t helping your case, Q.” Eliot levers himself over as well, and suddenly they’re staring at each other, noses six inches apart. Quentin cannot remember the last time he washed his sheets.

Eliot blinks at him. Q stills. 

“I left my drink downstairs,” says Eliot, as somberly as if he were announcing the death of a beloved relative.

“I’ll get it,” says Quentin instantly, standing up too fast. He sways and steadies himself on his bookshelf, the room tilting around him. “I think.”

Eliot hits him with a winning smile, and then it’s not a question anymore. Q wobbles downstairs, realizes he forgot to ask Eliot where he’d left his glass, and decides no way is he going back up and down the stairs a second time, so he googles how to make the cocktail and cobbles one together to the best of his ability. Luckily, most of Eliot’s liqueurs and syrups are clearly labeled, even the ones in otherwise unremarkable glass bottles, which probably has something to with the mason jar he spies in the fridge with a masking-tape-and-Sharpie label that says IMPOTENCE TONIC DO NOT DRINK in Margo’s loopy handwriting. 

Satisfied with his work, he takes a shot of rum for confidence, scoops up a stray pizza box from the kitchen counter, and carefully makes his way back upstairs, leaving only a few drops of hurricane on the steps for his trouble. Outside his room, he stops to catch his breath and get his bearings. Eliot is in his bed. He’s about to be in bed with Eliot. And granted, it’s not the first time that’s happened. Not even the first time he’ll have slept with Eliot. But it’s the first time he’ll do any of it lucid, and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. If something else is going to happen between them, he wants to remember it. 

He bumps open the door with his hip and exhales in relief when Eliot is draped right across the bed where Q left him. His dark curls fall foppishly over his forehead. Q has the unbelievably stupid thought that he looks like Sleeping Beauty.

“Hey,” he says, nudging the door closed again with one foot. “Your hurricane cometh.”

Eliot barely raises his head off the mattress. “Too late. I’m not getting up.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna drink it then,” says Q, climbing back onto the bed. “Your loss.” 

“Nooooo,” whines Eliot, and Quentin dangles it over his face. 

“Last chance.”

Eliot flails aimlessly with one long arm, and Q loses his balance trying to dodge and topples onto the floor. Only about half of the hurricane lands in the glass, and the rest catches Eliot’s thighs on its way down.

“Oh,” says Eliot lightly. “I’ve been shot.”

He slumps off the bed and onto the floor beside Q, who sets the glass out of harm’s way and pulls the pizza box down with them. There’s still a few slices of pepperoni left, which is better than he could have hoped for a Physical Kids party. Half the time you open a pizza box around here and it’s got some kind of psychedelic on it. Or else it’s vegan, which is worse.

“Do you want some?” he asks, taking a giant bite. Part of him is aware that it probably isn’t cute to be stuffing grease-sheened pizza into his mouth when he can see his stomach pushing against the fabric of his t-shirt, but it’s that or some word salad about how good Eliot smells, so he takes his chances on the pizza. 

“Mm, thanks,” says Eliot, balancing the box on his thighs. “Cold pizza.”

“Room-temperature pizza,” amends Q through a mouthful.

“Oh, I stand corrected.” He closes the box and places it back in Q’s lap, then gives it a tender pat. “You have it.”

“I’m not going to eat half a pizza in front of you.”

“Why not?” asks Eliot, and there’s something brighter in his dark eyes than there was a moment ago.

“Uh, because I don’t need it? Obviously?” Quentin’s blushing, but he grabs at his stomach anyway. “Hello?”

“Oh, but I like this,” says Eliot, his voice going soft. So slowly, he drags a gentle hand down Q’s middle, just fingertips, barely enough to press, but it still makes everything in Q stand up and take notice.

He chokes a little on the bite of pizza in his mouth. “Don’t be weird.”

Eliot rolls his eyes. “My taste isn’t weird, it’s superb and discerning.”

“Your taste in what? Losers?”

Eliot frowns. “Let me try again. Oh,” he repeats with more emphasis. His hand is back on Q’s belly, pressing a little harder now. “But I like this.”

Quentin’s face burns hotter. “Stop,” he says, pushing the pizza box away. “I get it. You don’t have to rub it in.”

The furrow between Eliot’s eyebrows doesn’t smooth. Q’s heard Margo yell at him about getting lines there by doing exactly this. “What am I not making clear?”

Q blinks at him. “What?”

Eliot reaches out and cups Quentin’s cheek in one big hand. “I’m not making fun of you, Q, Jesus. I’m just — saying.”

Something warm and prickly is suffusing Quentin all over, halfway between thrill and panic. He can feel his pulse thudding where his skin touches Eliot’s. He can’t hear anything else. He can’t look away.

“Saying what?” he asks quietly. The music from downstairs pounds through the floor, and he feels himself unconsciously begin to tap his fingers on his knee in time.

“Oh my fucking god,” says Eliot, “am I speaking Armenian? I’m not just sitting here because I want to be in a quiet, depressing room when I could be at a party. I am saying that I like you. Do you need me to repeat it in any other language?”

“Hey, in my defense, my Armenian is not good,” says Q, though he’s halfway to laughing now. “Is this real? Am I dreaming?”

Eliot purses his lips. “You’re lucky I didn’t get around to doing E because this would be even less coherent.”

Q feels around behind him for the half-empty glass of hurricane and swallows half of it in one go. “Wait, so you’re saying that —

“Oh, come on, Q,” says Eliot, knocking back the other half of the cocktail and rolling away from him. “What do you want me to say, that I have feelings for you? I’m begging you, don’t make me.” He pouts. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Okay,” says Q, and it must be the kraken rum because he doesn't think he’d be this bold otherwise. “Then show me.”

Without a word, Eliot hauls him back up on the bed, extra pounds be damned, and Q, breathless, stares at him wide-eyed. 

“You’re strong!”

“I grew up on a farm, remember? I’m more butch than I look.” Firmly, gently — if you had asked Quentin five minutes ago, he’d have said a touch couldn’t be both at once, but Eliot manages it — he flips Q onto his back and crawls on top of him. 

“Look,” he murmurs into the curve of Quentin’s neck. “I know body stuff is hard to believe. But I need you to trust that I wouldn’t lie about this. I’m a bitch, but not like that.”

Q nods, brain not fully online due to the sandpaper scrape of Eliot’s stubble against his skin. “Okay.”

“Okay,” says Eliot, and then he says something in Armenian into Quentin’s mouth.

“Fuck you,” gasps Quentin.

“Gladly,” says Eliot, and he kisses him.

Q kisses back hungrily, desperately, pressing Eliot close like he can’t get enough. He buries his hands in his curls, mouths urgently at his neck, his jaw, his collarbone. Eliot’s less frenetic, his kisses long and deep and steady. He pulls the elastic from Q’s hair and runs his hands through it, cups his face in his hands and kisses until Q needs to come up for air.

“Okay,” Q pants, eyes blown wide. “I believe you. I believe you.”

“Good,” says Eliot. He’s stretched out beside him, so long that his feet hang off the bed, and he feels like the buffer between Q and the rest of the world. The party thuds on downstairs, but it’s muffled through the haze of alcohol and body heat and endorphins.

Q leans in, unwilling to put much space between them, and Eliot kisses him slowly, reels him back in. He braces a hand on Q’s paunch, and Q manually overrides the urge to pull away again. This is good. This is okay.

“Soft,” Eliot mumbles into his neck, and Q laughs.

“Yeah. Pretty soft.”

“’S nice,” says Eliot, garbled. He sucks at the soft skin below Q’s soft jaw. It’s all soft. Q starts to wonder just how much secondhand weed he’s inhaled. 

“You should eat the pizza,” says Eliot. “You’ll be less hungover tomorrow.”

Q squints at him. “Is that true?”

“Okay, maybe I just want to feed you cold pizza. Let a man have his strange desires.”

“I thought they were disturb and su — superb and discerning,” he pronounces carefully, and the crinkle of Eliot’s smile around his eyes is everything. 

“You’re drunk,” he says gently. “Eat some pizza.”

“You’re drunk,” says Quentin as Eliot drops a hand over the edge of the bed and fishes for the box. “You eat some pizza.”

Eliot obliges, taking a bite from the slice Q had started earlier. He pulls Q up to sit against the headboard and holds the pizza to his lips.

Q has not been fed before. He’s arguably not even that good at feeding himself, if recent events are anything to go by. But Eliot is slow and gentle, and he keeps looking at Q with sweet, fond eyes. With each slice, Q feels heavier, less like he’s floating. It’s good. He feels like he’s fully here. He feels full.

Eliot kisses him. Q burps. 

“Okay?” asks Eliot, and Quentin nods. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Good,” breathes Eliot, laying his palm across the crest of Quentin’s stomach. “Do you want to keep going, or do you want to stop?”

It’s not even a question. “Keep going,” he says, and Eliot moves on top of him again, careful not to put too much pressure on his midsection. 

If it was hungry before, then this, now, is satisfaction, languid and warm. They get each other off, and as Eliot cleans himself up, Q lies still, curled in something close to the fetal position in just his boxers, room unsteady and next move uncertain. This is the part where Eliot goes back to his own bed and they don’t talk about this in the morning, right? 

“Scoot over,” says Eliot, lighting on the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless and wearing a tiny pair of royal purple underwear that are probably silk or something, and Q reaches out in tipsy, muted wonder and touches the swell of belly pushing over his waistband.

“Oh,” he says softly. “I see what you mean.”

Because Eliot’s little belly is perfect. It’s feathered in dark hair, his skin pale in contrast, and there are impressions pressed into him from the waistband of his pants, his belt. Q runs his fingers over them, tries to smooth them out. Minor mending, indeed.

“Mm-hmm,” says Eliot. “Not so hard to believe now, is it?”

“Do you have this all the time?” asks Q, rolling over for a better angle. “Do you have it, like, spelled or something?”

Eliot nods. “The waistcoats,” he says after a long moment. “They serve a purpose. Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

Quentin pets at the little mound of flesh. “I won’t. It’s so nice.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” says Eliot again, drawing it out. Slowly, he turns and scoops himself around Quentin so that they’re spooning, his chin propped on Q’s shoulder, his arm hooked over his middle, tracing idle patterns on Q’s own full belly through his t-shirt.

Eliot kisses his neck. Eliot holds him skin against skin. Eliot plays with his hair. Eliot falls asleep halfway through muttering something about the music choice downstairs and then wakes up again and finishes the sentence a moment later. Quentin is so verklempt by it that he has to turn over and give Eliot a turn to be held. He’s not entirely sure that what was on the pizza wasn’t psychedelic. For all he knows, he got caught in the crossfire of someone’s drunken casting downstairs. Or maybe this is just what it’s supposed to feel like to feel content with someone. To feel held and feel wanted. 

“Room’s spinning,” says Eliot softly from beside him. Quentin smoothes the hair out of his face and squeezes the pressure point that’s supposed to help prevent nausea, or something like that. It’s been a long time since health class.

“Oh, no,” he says, exaggerated. “You’ll have to stay here. And there’s only one bed.”

Eliot huffs out a sleepy laugh. “Whatever will we do,” he mumbles.

Quentin wakes up with Eliot’s hair in his mouth, his hand asleep under Eliot’s ribcage, his own morning wood prodding uncomfortably against Eliot’s hip, and a spectacular hangover. But he remembers every moment of the night before.

Carefully, he tries to maneuver Eliot so that they can both lie facing away from the piercing autumn sun, but Eliot stirs, rolling one shoulder into Quentin’s jaw. “‘S it morning?” he asks blearily, and Q shakes his head, helping him roll over.

“Not yet. Go back to sleep.”

In the early morning silence, he pads downstairs and fills two honest-to-god steins with water for a few hours from now, when they’ll inevitably need them. Then he slips back into bed behind Eliot and gathers him into his arms. One language isn’t enough for how good it feels.

[eunchancorner]

Revenged and Rescued (Part 14)

I figured after all that excitement, the boys could use a chill day :3

-

Henry woke up slowly, looking across the tent to see Charles sitting patiently on his cot. For a moment he thought to ask him why he wasn’t eating in the mess hall, before he remembered guiltily.

He can’t, he has to watch me…

“Henry, you’re awake!” the pilot greeted as he realized the other was up. “I got ready while you were asleep. If you need me to step out so you can get ready, I can, but I’ll be right outside if you need me. N-not that you should need help getting dressed like normal, but still. And maybe I can talk Quentin into grabbing us some breakfast, hm? Heard they got poptarts down there, it’s been a while since we’ve had something with that much sugar!”

���Mhm… yeah, just… give me a sec…” he mumbled tiredly, and the pilot quickly stepped out of the tent. Henry could still see his silhouette on the opening flap, and he yawned as he sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

After getting dressed, he stepped out, just in time to catch Quentin walking up with a few poptarts and small cartons of juice in hand.

“Hey, boys, thought you guys might want a breakfast delivery,” he said, tossing Henry and Charles a drink and poptart each.

“You read my mind!” the younger pilot smiled as he quickly tore the packaging open, wolfing his food down as Henry ate calmly. After the two had finished their breakfast, Charles piped up again.

“So, you seem to be in a good mood today, Quent. What’s going on?” he asked as the three began walking to where the squad usually sat, meeting up with Madd along the way.

“Well, you know how Konrad and I have that deal? About how he’d ask June out next time he saw her if I, uh, asked out Anthony?” the older pilot began, and the younger three knew where he was taking it before he even finished.

“You didn’t!” Madd cut in

“I did! Well, I asked if he’d like to hang out and drink with us and the squad tonight, but uh… h-he said yes! He’s gonna grab some extra beer, and said he’s gonna see if we can make it ‘a night to remember’!”

“Quent, that’s awesome! I think he might be interested in you, too!” Charles pointed out, and Madd nodded.

“He almost NEVER wants to drink with anyone but Smokah, you have a real shot here. Make it count.”

“Make what count?” Calvin asked as they arrived at the bonfire pit, settling in empty spots.

“Quentin asked Anthony if he wanted to hang out and drink with us tonight, and he said yes,” Henry told them, earning an excited look from Konrad.

“Alright, I can’t wait to see how this plays out!”

“You guys are gonna have to record it for me, because I wanna see that, too,” Mac chuckled, Phlex grumbling in quiet agreement beside him.

“I’ll take care of that, seeing as me and Andrew will probably be the only ones not drinking, and well, I don’t think Andrew wants to, do you?” Eel asked his apprentice, who just shook his head quietly.

“Aww, c’mon, you guys never drink with us! Just this once?” Calvin pressed, but Eel shook his head.

“Trust me, if the general got anything other than piss-flavored beer, I absolutely would, but until then, I’ll be the sober friend, thanks.”

“I just don’t like being drunk,” Andrew deadpanned with a shrug.

“Ughhh, fine, at least we get to see how Henry is when he gets something in his system that isn’t radiator fluid!” Konrad joked as he looked over to Henry, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, make fun of the guy with literal weapons in his arm,” he shot back, earning little more than a laugh from the twin.

“As if you’d actually use them on me. You like me too much~”

“Oh please, you’re no Charles.”

“Oh? So Charlie’s special? How special is he, Henry?~”

And just like that, Henry froze. He glanced at the pilot, who suddenly had his full attention, and he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he should say.

“Well… He’s uh… H-he’s my first friend here… and uh… well… I-I’ve never met someone so… dedicated… uh, to helping me… and protecting me… and h-he’s… well…” he struggled to find the words, but looking over at the pilot one more time, the words found him.

“He’s honestly just the best.”

“You wound me, Henry, you really do,” Konrad said dramatically, draping an arm over his face and earning a snicker from his brother.

“Well, since we’ve got a special thing coming up tonight, how about we chill out today. Just chat, maybe play some poker? I’ve got cards and a few extra bucks burning a hole in my pocket~” Calvin offered, pulling a box of playing cards out.

“God, you can’t go a week without gambling, can you?” Quentin asked, sounding both exasperated and amused with the younger. “Alright, I guess we might as well…”

Most of the rest of the day was just that; calm chats, various card games, most of which were betted on by Calvin and Andrew, and just generally enjoying each other’s company. The whole time, Henry could feel Charles glancing at him, but he didn’t address it. He didn’t want to embarrass the pilot in front of everyone, and in all honesty, he didn’t mind.

Hours felt like minutes, and before they knew it, lunch had come and gone and sunset was approaching. Mac and Phlex retired to their tent for the night, and a short while later, Anthony showed up with what Henry thought was a pretty sizable amount of beer for a military base.

The night began to blur after that first sip. It began with the attention on Anthony and Quentin; how obvious Anthony was about flirting with him, how red Quentin was with the attention, but before long everyone was more absorbed in their own activities. The twins kept getting into playful scuffles that Madd would take it upon himself to break up until they just decided to team up on him. Andrew was nearly forgotten, and barely anyone noticed Eel recording.

Henry and Charles focused much more on each other. Henry spoke so much more but didn’t remember a single word, and it quickly came to a point where they went back to their tent early. That was where things got really blurry.

A playful chat, sharing music tastes that turned into dizzy, drunken dancing.

Drunken dancing dissolved into a messy tickle fight.

A kiss.

Something more?

Henry couldn’t quite remember.

All he knew was that when he came around, it was morning. He was laying in his cot, but this time, he wasn’t the only one under his blanket. Charles was there, behind him, arms wrapped around him and face buried in his shoulder. It was new, it was close, it was sudden…

But Henry didn’t move. Instead, he just relaxed. He embraced Charles’s warmth, because right then, it was just them.

And he was okay with that.

[thesoulesscollection]

“Too bad, you need to sleep here now. I can’t seem to sleep without you anymore.” I think would be cute with roseright 👉👈

I'm so sorry for allowing your request (and the many more) to wait for so long. I also thought you asked for Grumpy Old Men too but I must've accidentally got rid of it or you never asked.

Whoopsie but I do hope you don't mind both ships to make up for it.

Down below was the original request qnd the post (Here) creativepromptsforwriting on Tumblr

“I personally like it, but you do look silly like this.” Would work with grumpy old men I think?

“Too bad, you need to sleep here now. I can’t seem to sleep without you anymore.” I think would be cute with roseright 👉👈

RoseRight 

Right stood beside the edge of his bed, anxiously trying to pull himself together but winced a little at how embarrassed he felt about it. 

“You. You said you needed me?” 

The shame persists when a soft voice calls out, waiting for his response, yet curious on what it may be, her reason to be here. 

“Where do you want me to put them for you?” She tacks on. 

He sucks in a breath. For all his wants and desires had easily overpowered his logic. 

It was her. Ellie. 

The peculiar reason why he couldn't sleep. By the door she stood, holding close to her chest were thick blankets and soft pillows, and it was all that he needed for the night. 

He wants her for her comfort, for him to be sweetly wrapped up in her soft arms. A light in the darkness. As it'd begin to terrify him. 

“Yes, I do” He stiffly admits. “I've been struggling to sleep lately” 

Though he won't say it outloud. 

However concern is made obvious by her expression, and he doesn't like it, instead feeling guilty that she can be so worried about him. 

“Oh. What does that have to do with me though?”

“Everything” Right grumbles, flustered, motioning to her with his hand. 

“Excuse me?” Ellie tilts her head with a pouting frown. “I don't remember doing anything to you. I keep to my own lane like everyone else here” 

“That's it you hadn't done a thing” 

“What?” 

“Your entire existence drives me mad” 

The words left her to stare up at him as he comes to terms with what he spills in a moment of weakness. 

“Besides that, I know this is weird but can you stay the night with me” 

In the middle of the room, against the back wall, was a queen bed that can fit the two easily and have plenty of room for them to not be squished together. 

Though he wouldn't necessarily mind feeling her heat. 

“For the company” Yet he was quick to reassure after seeing her tense, “Only for a while. Nothing more” 

“How can I be so sure?” She asked in a tone Right couldn't detect whether it was meant to be accusatory or not as she tilted her head with a smirk. 

Right was going to open his mouth to say something, defend himself and his pride. Though Ellie swiftly beats him to the punch. In order to bring him down to earth with her. 

“Thought so, heh. I knew you liked me, didn't you” What she's doing is teasing him, the heat rises in his face. “What if I say no? What will you do then?” 

“Too bad, you need to sleep here now. I can’t seem to sleep without you anymore”

Although more blunt than he would've intended it, she snorted, amused, “Uh huh. So would you want me to cuddle up with you too? If you like, I can be the big spoon” 

Right rolls his eyes but smiles, taking a careful step closer. “Yes, that would be fine. Thank you” 

She grabs his hand. 

Grumpy Old Men (They're not old here but I wanted to write about their relationship's earlier years & mentions of kiddo Johnny) 

Quentin wasn't used to this style of outfit. 

“I couldn't say no to the kid. It would've hurt his feelings” He mumbles, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. The shirt was snug in certain areas, around his stomach yet wasn't uncomfortable. It was bearable. 

“He was so proud of himself. Saw it in the stores’ window and thought of you” 

When turning away from the mirror, he saw Hershell staring him up and down, puzzled just as well with the article of clothing.  

“Definitely your son. Neither one of you has a sense of fashion” 

Rolling his neck, Quentin took another glance at his reflection from the back this time. 

It was a bright Hawaiian button up shirt with a rainbow floral print. But his heart did swell a little at the sweet gesture from the kid. 

“I personally like it, but you do look silly like this” Hershell chuckled, motioning with grabby hands for the man to come closer. 

“Not saying it's bad. It's what I expect from a nine year old” 

“C'mon. You love it” 

Two large hands gently hold onto him, thumbs pushed into his hips, and rubs soothing circles. 

Hershell clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “You do look nice. Really handsome” Slyly moving a hand up on Quentin's chest, fingers trailing across the buttons. 

“Thank you” He shrugs, still expressing uncertainty. “Don't know when I'll ever wear this” 

Now there's a mighty guilt in the sense he won't find the occasion or the drive to even wear it. 

Which made it worse that the kid had a strong admiration for him. Quentin had no idea as to why and it worried him a lot. 

“You'll find the best time for it so don't feel bad” A light nudge at his side was a reassurance to Quentin. “I can find a way to show this off for you” 

Exhaling exasperated, Quentin shrugs the man off. “Oh, you would, wouldn't you?” He eyes the man, returning the interest in the offer. 

Hershell took it up and leaned down to his level, soft lips met in a passionately deepened kiss. 

[cherry-cristal]

Would the Survivors recognize Nicolas Cage?

So, I’m gonna put if the survivors gonna recognize Nic when he finally arrives to this hell

SURVIVORS / KILLLERS

YES/NO (if yes) Would they gush about it?

Dwight Fairfield: YES/NO | Dwight is you average white guy with average taste so of course he knows who’s Nicolas Cage is. He gushed, but not too much, from shyness and politeness.

Meg Thomas: YES/NO | She looks like she watches shitty movies with her mom whenever possible, so of course she knows who he is! She gushws, so much, like, she’s 10/10 an extrovert she made him sign so much leaves.

Claudette Morel: YES/NO | She knows who he is, has watch like, 2 and a half of his movies and knows more about his memes than him.

Jake Park: YES/NO | He knows who he is, but not being a huge movie person he doesn’t really care.

Nea Karlsson: YES/NO | She’s from 2021, she was a young delinquent and passed more on the streets that in front of a screen so she knows but she couldn’t give more of a fuck.

Laurie Strode: YES/NO | Her nightmare began in 1978, and the next few years because of her brother she could keep up with media.

Ace Visconti: YES/NO | HE KNOWS HIM and he knows how to fake his sign, he had got sooo much money with that scam! He of course asked for his autograph!

William "Bill" Overbeck: YES/NO | He was a veteran, bitter about the civy life, he heard his name once or twice but don’t really know him.

Feng Min: YES/NO | SHE RAN A FORUM FULL OF HIS MEMES! She was fan of his shitpost and asked him to reenact so much of her favorite dialogues!

David King: YES/NO | He knows who he is, has seen a few of his movies but doesn’t really care, so when he sees him he was like ‘yooo, no even celebrities are safe from this shithole’ and that’s all.

Quentin Smith: YES/NO | He knew the memes (the old ones) but after everything with Freddy and now being in the Entity realm he forgot about him.

Detective David Tapp: YES/NO | He saw like, two of his movies and that was all, his ex-wife was a fan but he doesn't really paid attention to mainstream media being a workaholic and all.

Kate Denson: YES/NO | She’s from the 60′ I don’t think Nic Cage was even born. 

Adam Francis: YES/NO | He actually learn about him when the Nicolastick became famous in Japan, but nothing more.

Jeffrey "Jeff" Johansen: YES/NO | He watched a lot of his movies when he was around 18 or 19, and even if he’s not as much as a fan now he still gushed a little about him.

Jane Romero: YES/NO | SHE had meet him before, even drink with him, but since their circles weren't really comparable, they didn't keep contact, she welcomed him not differently from whoever else falls in this nightmare.

Ashley J. Williams: YES/NO | Everything went to shit in 1982 for him, jumping from age to age and trauma to trauma he doesn’t even know what year he was taken from.

Nancy Wheeler/Steve Harrington:  YES/NO | Being from the 80′s, and with all that went on with Eleven and the kids, they don’t know who he is.

Yui Kimura: YES/NO | She knows him because Hiro (her bff) is a fan of his movies and camped with him outside a store when they announced the Nicolasticks, she almost cried when she saw him because she was reminded of Hiro and how he was when she dissapeared and really couldn’t face him in a while.

Zarina Kassir: YES/NO | She know he exist, maybe saw... one? Two movies? But she’s not interested in fiction movies and being a workaholic didn’t let her much time to care about celebrities.

Cheryl Mason: YES/NO | Nope, no idea, no having time for teenhood and all that “vessel of a god and Silent Hill stuff” didn't give her much time to kept up with celebrities.

Felix Richter: YES/NO | He knows him, his tailor once told him they tailored a suit for him, but that’s all to be honest.

Élodie Rakoto: YES/NO | Knows, doesn’t care, she’s too busy trying to save her parents thank you very mucho.

Yun-Jin Lee: YES/NO | She knows who he is, doesn't really caring BUT since Ji-Woon was SO OBSESSED WITH HIM she actually tries to avoid him... And everyone else to be honest.

Jill Valentine: YES/NO | Even if Nic’s career started to be noticed in the 90′s she didn't have time to go to the cinema so maybe heard about him from strangers in the streets, but that’s all.

Leon Scott Kennedy: YES/NO | Goody-two-shoes freshly outa school rookie cop Leon sure didn’t have time (or actually care) about the upcoming actors.

Mikaela Reid: YES/NO | SHE KNOWS HIM, she went to a couple of comic cons to meet him and has an autograph from him, she gushes so much and actually gets hurt when he told her he didn't remember her.

Jonah Vasquez: YES/NO | His movies were what keeps him sane whenever he had a little bit of time for himself, he binge watched every-single-one, with beer and stale nachos.

Yoichi Asakawa: YES/NO | He has seen a couple of movies and were there when almost all of his student were late to class because they camped to try to buy a Nicolastick.

Haddie Kaur: YES/NO |Knows about him, has seen a couple of movies, knows a few memes, but that’s all, she’s busy, ok? That doesn't mean she didn't ask for an autograph...

Ada Wong: YES/NO |  Nope, Nicolas what? No idea, doesn’t care, doesn’t matter.

Rebecca Chambers: YES/NO | Even if she doesn't know who he is, she gushes about meeting a celebrity, especially the Entity’s Realm!

Vittorio Toscano: YES/NO | Dude’s older that dust, he doesn’t know what a photograph is.

Thalita Lyra: YES/NO | Knows him, watched movies with his brother and actually really likes one of his memes, asks for an autograph for her brother (but it’s actually for her)

Renato Lyra: YES/NO | Has watched every single one of his movies in an “ironic” way, actually likes a lot of them and stuttered welcoming him.

Gabriel Soma: YES/NO | Dude’s from 2098 after a war that made humans go to outer space, I don’t think he even knows what a movie is.

[porcelain-pines]

please please please tell me more about rosie’s cult! like common rituals/practices/prayers they would do (self-flagellation was a common thing in khlysty, was that a part of it as well?), “rules” amongst the followers, whether there are any distinguishing characteristics among the followers as opposed to non-followers (such as brands or something), the type of people that would join the cult (tortured souls? adults and children?) maybe a small summary of the homilies rosie performs? i literally want to know everything, cults have been my hyperfixation since forever, thank you monarch

Sorry for taking forever to answer this i keep forgetting to check my inbox💔

This au isnt that developed yet so i honestly dont have ton of info yet, but yes in some stuff ive written (unfortunately too unpolished atm to post lol) the self flagellation is a big part of their rituals, however its more so Rosie encouraging others to do it to themselves as a way to gain her approval rather than her engaging. I feel like its important to mention Rosie’s only knowledge of khlyst practices came from her mother, who she didnt really get along with that well, and in this au Rosie and Quentin ran away from their parents together around the age Rosie dies in canon. Because of this, a lot of practices within her cult are just random rules she felt like making up, or that “god” told her.

This “god” that tells Rosie things is actually just the same malicious spirit that manipulated her in canon. It likes sacrifices to be made for it, so it asks her for that, and Rosie has her group target people she deems as sinners for whatever reason, oftentimes just people she dislikes. Oftentimes Rosie’s views are very hypocritical, and she and the group will engage in the exact things they target others for, just because she thinks their special protection from God gives them the right to.

As for recruiting, she typically goes after traumatized young people with no family or safe connections who are looking for literally any community and easily manipulated by her motherly facade. (Basically Dolly)

[backtothefanfiction]

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Six: He's Got A Soul As Sweet As Blood Red Jam

Summary: Peter may seem like a big tough gangster to the rest of the world but he's still that soft boy from Queens underneath it all.

Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut (like real soon), slight fluff and jokes, this is mostly plot, character and world building

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: This is basically just world building and further character development but still does a lot to bridge the gap between our lovers with their one to one dinner date. Expect some more name dropping and greater universe references and a lot of links back to our initial prologue and Peter's origins of friendly neighbourhood super hero to mob boss. Also title comes from the second verse of Lana Del Rey's Off To The Races, wanted to use both lines but it would have been too long. Anyway enjoy!

SIX

Peter had organised Miguel to drop the two of them off at F.E.A.S.T an hour later. The acronym stood for food, emergency, aid, shelter, training. It was a community outreach hub for the homeless or those in need. They had set multiple buildings up across the city under the banner when Peter first switched from being the friendly neighbourhood crime fighting vigilante to being a criminal in his own right. He still wasn’t like all those other guys though. Guys like her Father, Dr Octavious or even Quentin Beck. Whereas all those guys were solely out for themselves, Peter had never forgotten his roots or his mission to help his community. No, he was more like a Robin Hood figure. At least 50% of his annual profit always went back to the people.

And she had been there with him to set the whole thing up. After that first conversation they’d had all those years ago in the darkness of her college dorm room, they went back and forth for hours about what the people really need. Thus F.E.A.S.T was born.

They climbed out of the car and Miles quickly went round to open the trunk, to a mass of pink cake boxes. They quickly began to unload them from the car. Miles held out his arms and Angel stacked one box on top of the other until they were up to his eyeline. She took the final box out of the trunk before closing the boot. She shot a quick look of thanks Miguel’s way before her and Mile’s made their way to the door.

Her fingers quickly rooted around in her blazer pocket for the set of keys Peter had given her, her fingers holding a fob up to the side door of the building. There was a low buzz as the door unlocked and they shuffled their way inside with the boxes.

“Hey Karen.” Angel said, greeting a strawberry blonde woman as she made her way towards the same door her and Mile’s had just come through.

“Hey!” Karen beamed upon seeing her, an arm quickly raising to wrap around Angel’s shoulder. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It’s complicated.” Angel briefly responded. “How’s Matt?” 

“Oh, you know how he is, always takes on too many clients and never leaves himself enough time.”

“We’ll have to catch up properly soon.” Angel beamed.

“Yes. We definitely will. Look I’ve gotta run, I’ve gotta get some paperwork over to city hall before they close, but it was great seeing you.” Karen spoke joyfully as she wrapped Angel into her arms once more.

“Yeah, and you.” Angel concluded their conversation as Karen began to make her way to the door, buzzing herself out.

“Okay… so where are we putting these?” Miles asked, motioning to the boxes he was beginning to get frustrated with holding, after all, pink was not his colour.

She rolled her eyes before saying, “This way.” as she began to walk through the familiar halls. 

Not much had changed since the last time she had been there. Maybe some of the faces, but she was still surprised to see so many familiar ones. Particular Nurses who saw patients with doctors in special designated consultation rooms, all paid for by the Benjamin Parker foundation, little kids who enjoy coming and hanging out in the rec rooms recognising her, smiling and waving as she passed them.

“Hi, Angel.”

“Hi.” she’d say back.

“Hi, Angel.”

“Hi!” It was like that all the way down to the food hall. A large canteen that served regular hot meals for anyone in need, whether you were living on the streets, struggling for money or simply had no idea how to cook. It was a bustling hub of life and community. Mothers talking over cups of coffee as their kids bonded and played together. Newly divorced men looking for someone to talk to and sharing a table with those who called the streets their home as they swapped life stories. It was her favourite place in the world and her proudest achievement in life.

They set the boxes down on a free table along the back wall, opening them up to display the fresh goods. There was a sudden thud to her side as a small girl collided with her thigh, her small arms reaching to wrap around her waist. 

“Angel!” the girl beamed, “You came back.”

Angel recognised the young girl immediately. She had grown a fair bit since she had last seen her at the shelter. “Of course I did.” Angel beamed as her arms instinctively wrapped around her. “Look how much you’ve grown.” Angel commented.

“Look, I’ve got a loose tooth.” The girl said proudly as she used her fingers to pull down her lower lip and show it off.

“Oh wow. You make sure you take good care of it and that it gets to the tooth fairy okay, yeah?”

“I will.” she beamed before she ran off back towards her mother who politely smiled and waved in her direction from her seat at one of the tables.

“Wow, you really know everyone here.” Miles interjected as she continued to watch the young girl as she joined another little girl at a smaller coloring table.

“Believe it or not Miles, this used to be my livelihood. I used to come down and spend so many of my days here helping out. Veronica was actually born here.” She said motioning to the little girl who kept looking back and smiling at her.

“You don’t say.” Miles said with a smile as he finally began to relax.

“It’s my favourite place in the world.” she said fondly. “Come on, I’ll give you the proper tour.”

They walked around the halls together as she gave him the grand tour of all three floors. As well as the already mentioned doctor’s rooms, cafeteria, common rooms and childrens playrooms, there were counselling suites and consultation rooms for legal advice. The second floor had a community hall with regular classes from toddler groups to self defence lessons. The whole top floor was dedicated to the homeless project that provided emergency beds for those rough sleeping whether on site there at the hub or being relocated to one of the apartment buildings they had bought out as temporary accommodation until they could get their feet back on the ground.

They sat and talked to people in the communities, helped out staff where they could and overall tried to inject some light into people's lives amongst the darkness.

“Hey.” a familiar voice said behind her as Veronica, who had just come and given her a picture she had drawn for her, ran back to the coloring table.

“Heeyy!” she beamed softly as she turned around to find her husband.

His hand tenderly braced itself against her lower back and she couldn’t help but melt into his warm touch. She had become so wrapped up in what she was doing, she had almost completely forgotten everything else that had come to pass. The way that everyone had opened their arms to her made her feel like the last three years had never happened, let alone the last 4 hours she had spent there.

“I went back to May’s apartment but you weren’t there.”

“No.” she smiled fondly.

The whole moment felt so domestic, reminding him of days gone by where he would pick her up on Friday afternoons, a moment for him to show his own face and see all of the hard work that was continuing to be carried out with his money. He turned his head around the room looking for Miles, only to find him sitting on a tiny chair next to a little boy on a purple bean bag, playing with the new playstation that had recently been acquired.

“I’m assuming all of the baked goods are gone?” he asked, attempting to keep civil conversation and find good ground between them.

“Actually I think there might be a cupcake or two still in there if you want one.”

They smiled fondly at one another. He had to admit, despite all of the shit he ended up being involved with on a day to day basis, whenever he came back here, seeing families and communities thrive, it made it all worth it,

“You ready to get out of here and go for that dinner?” He asked softly.

She silently nodded as she found herself suddenly drowning in his honey brown eyes. Those soft eyes. The ones he used to look at her with back when they first met. Back when he would sneak into her dorm room. His gaze would soften like molten honey, a sickly sweet sensation always pulling her in as he told her how beautiful she was, his Angel. “Yes.” she finally said slowly, finding her voice. It was barely audible above the noise of the room, but she knew he heard it.

“Yo, Miles!” Peter hollered across the room to him, causing the younger gentleman’s ears to prick up, his head turning slightly, but his eyes never left the screen. “You’re free, man, go home.”

“Yeah, okay, just a minute!” he called back, “I just gotta win this race.”

“Nu uh.” the young boy next to him replied before Miles playfully bumped the kids shoulder with his own.

Angel couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at the exchange as she grabbed her blazer off the back of a chair as they left.

-

When they got out onto the street Angel had expected to find Miguel outside waiting for them, but instead her eyes came to rest on a black Maserati she recognised from her quick glance across the garage in their rush the night before. “Where’s Miguel?” she asked as Peter began to make his way towards the car, opening the passenger door for her. 

“I’ve got him out running an errand with Harry.” he replied as she stepped past him to slide herself into the passenger seat. “Plus, I want tonight to be just about us.” He said, his head bending down to look at her through the door frame.

“Okay, duly noted.” she replied with a curt smile before he closed the door on her. “So does that mean we’re gonna get through a whole evening without interruptions?” She asked when he climbed into the driver's seat on the other side.

He shuffled slightly in his seat before reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer for his phone making a show of putting it on aeroplane mode before handing it to her for safe keeping. She pursed her lips, attempting to keep a straight face as she looked down at the phone now turning around in her fingertips, trying not to let on how big of a deal that was for the two of them.

“So where are we going?” she asked as he clicked his seatbelt into place before starting the car up with a loud rev of the engine for good measure. She had no doubt he was showboating, trying to impress.

“Oh, now that would ruin the surprise.” he said as he quickly revved the car and sped away.

*****

They arrived 10 minutes later outside a restaurant on the upper east side called the Lemon Grove. The whole front of the building was lit with fairy lights and vines filled with fake lemons. They got out of the car and Peter tossed his keys to a waiting valet before his now free hand rested comfortably at the small of her back as he guided her to the restaurant door.

“Hi, good evening, welcome to the Lemon Grove, do you have a booking with us this evening?” a gentleman, who looked to be nearing his forties asked.

“Yes, there should be a table for two under Parker.” Peter said.

The maître d' scanned his list before saying “ahh yes, here it is. If you’d like to follow me this way.” he encouraged them as he held out a hand for them to follow him.

He led them through the bustling restaurant and over to a table tucked away to the back. He moved to pull out a chair for Angel but Peter quickly cut him off, “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” he said, wanting to make a show of putting in the effort with her after their fight earlier on he was still trying to make up for.

“Okay.” the maître d' said as he took a step back.

When Peter had stepped back around to the other side of the table and began taking his seat the maître d' stepped forward again to place the menus on either side of the table in front of them.

“Thank you.” Angel smiled, as Peter tucked his chair in.

“Can I get either of you a drink? Or would you like to take a moment to look at the wine list?” The maître d' asked, motioning to the smaller menu already on the table.

Before she had had a chance to say anything Peter hastily grabbed the wine list, scanning it over, before ordering them a bottle of an Italian Cabernet from Tuscany. 

“Coming right up, sir.” The maître d' said before walking away and leaving them to their table.

“You still love Italian food right?” Peter asked her as they both reached for their menus to start gazing over the cuisine. 

“Would you hate me if I actually said I’d gone off it.” she deadpanned from behind her menu, causing him to freeze. “I mean, living in Italy for just over two years…” she continued, seeing how far she could push him and make him squirm. She watched over the top of her menu as he swallowed uneasily. “I’m kidding Pete.” she quickly said as he met her eyes, a smile creeping across her face.

“Don’t do that.” he quickly shook his head at her, but he couldn’t hide from her the small quirk in the corner of his lip at realising he’d been had. “No.” he continued, trying to brush it off. 

“What? Spider boy can’t take a joke anymore?” she teased as she fought with the grin that wanted to take over her whole face.

“Oh no, I can take a joke.” he quickly interjects, looking to cover himself.

“Yes, of course.” she mockingly nods as he continues to get a hold of himself.

“It’s just, not often that I am the victim to them.”

“Okay.” she smirked as she continued to nod, her eyes turning back to the menu in front of her as she scanned the list of foods.

It was at that point she realised she hadn’t really eaten since their breakfast meeting this morning.

“What is it?” he quickly asked, noticing the sudden furrow to her brow, an air of concern taking over his whole body.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” She hastily responded, not wanting him to stress or feel like matters were worse than they were, as if either of them still weren’t somewhat on alert after the events of the past 24 hours, an unconscious paranoia just waiting to take over. “I just realised I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Oh.” he interjected quietly as he began to settle again.

They sat in silence for a moment as they continued to scan the menu, that unspoken paranoia sitting heavily in the middle of the table between them after his reaction that neither was sure how to shift.

“So do you know what you want?” he asked, clearing his throat slightly and breaking up the silence between them.

He watched for a moment as she flicked back and forth between pages. “Yes… no… maybe?” He can’t help but be warmed by the small questioning look on her face, one eyebrow twitching higher than the other, her head tipping slightly as she muddled over the different options in her head. It was the same look she used to get when he would watch her study for a test or when she was struggling to work something out for her thesis, back when she was still at college.

A waiter came over with their drinks and it made Peter smile when she didn’t even look up from the menu, but still reached for the glass the moment it had been sat down, swiftly bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. 

“Do we know what we’d like to order this evening?” The waiter asked as he stood patiently next to the table. 

Peter was about to ask for him to give them another moment when she closed the menu and sat it down in front of her. There was a pause as if to check she really was ready, when she said. “Off you go.” tipping her head to encourage Peter to place his order, as she once again brought her wine glass coily to her lips.

“Are we doing starters?” Peter quickly questioned her, an old habit suddenly popping into his head.

“Peter, just order.” she replied, but he could see the quirk of her lip and recognised the sudden dark gaze to her eye and knew she was up to something.

“Okay…” he hesitantly said, his head turning towards the waiter. “We’ll take the calamari and a portion of arancini to share for starters.” he began, his eyes quickly glancing back to his date for confirmation she was okay with this. She merely raised her eyebrows as she sank back in her seat, wine glass still poised in her hand, the tiniest tilt to her head encouraging him on. “Then for mains, I’ll take the sea bass…” he paused, flashing her another glance and her eyebrows rose higher still, encouraging him to surprise her and order for her. He quickly scanned back over the menu before him, re-familiarising himself with it. He smiled to himself. “She’ll have the parmigiana di melanzane, a portion of bruschetta and a small caprese salad on the side.” He said with perfect pronunciation as he ordered her a selection of their starters for her to pick and choose from like an Italian version of tapas. Once she had laid down the gauntlet he had felt her tense slightly, worrying whether or not he’d order the right thing, but upon making the order, he could feel her energy begin to relax, a smile forming on her lips again.

“Is that everything, sir?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, I think it is.” Peter said with a smile dismissing the waiter who quickly took their menus from them before heading to the kitchen with their order.

There was a pause between them as Peter took a sip of his wine and they tried to work out what to talk about. 

“How’s your shoulder?” Peter asked her as she folded her hands into her lap.

“It’s okay. A little tender but, it’s fine.” Her fingers automatically reached for the shoulder in question but quickly lowered her hand back into her lap.

“How bad was the house?” she asked. Peter noticed there was a slight hesitancy to her question, as if it pained her to think about.

“It’s gonna take a bit of work but-”

“Do you think we’ll be able to go back there, or will we need to sell it?”

Her question seemed to answer her previous hesitancy. It had been their house, their home. The place they had picked out together, decorated together. Lived in together. They’d always seen it as their forever home. The place to raise kids one day. Maybe get a dog. Hold large family events in the backyard. They’d tried so hard to keep it separate from everything else and now that privacy had been violated.

He was silent for a moment as he considered his response. “I won’t lie… it might have to be a possibility.” He watched her closely as she exhaled the breath she had been holding, the usual twinkle in her eye fading as the reality of their situation took over once more. “But until-”

“I know.” she said, not needing him to finish his sentence, her own mind already completing it for her. ‘Until the Vulture had been taken care of, they wouldn’t even be able to consider the house safe enough to go home.’

“So what do we do?” she asked. “I mean we can’t very well keep staying at May’s.” she noted.

Peter was silent for a moment as he looked down at the table in front of him. He had that face on him, she noted, the one where he had something planned but didn’t want to let on that he in fact had a plan.

He was saved by the arrival of their starters, the food being placed down in the middle of the table for them both to pick at.

“Thank you.” Angel said politely to the waiter as he quickly made his retreat, leaving them alone once more.

“Oh my god.” she sighed as she took a bite out of one of the arancini balls with a groan of satisfaction. “That’s amazing.”

Peter’s face changed to one of pleasant surprise as he placed one into his mouth and confirmed his wife's reaction by having a similar one, his own humm of satisfaction vibrating his lips as he chewed.

“So is it as good as the stuff in the actual country or…?” he asked as they moved on to the calamari.

“Not bad.” she confirmed as she finished her mouthful. “I made friends with this lovely old woman who lived down the road from the house and she used to make the best meatballs I have ever tasted. She had just that right ratio of tomato and garlic and she’d slow cook them so they just melted in your mouth.” Angel gushed.

“Now I’m glad I didn’t order the meatballs.” Peter smiled. “With a description like that I don’t think they could have compared and I would have spent the whole meal feeling disappointed with my food, dreaming about these mouthwatering, slow cooked-”

She giggled, a blush forming on her cheeks as she took another sip of wine as he jokingly continued to use as many adjectives as he knew to describe a plate of meatballs he would never ultimately have.

“Oh no, I’m serious.” he continued with a smirk, “I’m gonna call Miguel right now, get him to tell them to get a jet ready so we can fly to Italy to this mysterious magical Nona who cooks the best meatballs and we will do nothing else until-”

“How are you gonna do that, when I have your phone?” she teased back.

“Fine then, you call Miguel.”

“Peter.” she giggled and chastised. He loved it when he could make her blush. Make her forget about everything else. Take them back to their youth. Quiet rainy afternoons, wrapped up in each other's arms on that small single bed.

“Okay, okay.” he conceded with a smile.

“What do you wanna do about your Father’s house?” he asked her as their main courses arrived, her three smaller plates being laid out strategically in front of her by the waiter. Peter watched as she quietly thanked him before switching the order of the plates once the waiter's back was turned. It made Peter’s stomach turn, a sickly sweet feeling that sent tingles to the joins of his jaw that made him quickly turn his head to his own plate before him, inner conflict returning as his brain remembered the question he’d just asked and all of their recent history began to drive a wedge between them once more.

“Sell it.” 

“You sure?” he questioned. It had been the home she had grown up in.

“There’s nothing left for me there.” she said as she lifted a fork full of salad into her mouth.

“Did you wanna go back and sort through anything?”

“No.” she adamantly shook her head.

“Okay.” he silently nodded and agreed. “We can put all the money back into the foundation if you want. Maybe set up another hub in the city?” he asked, trying to chip away at the wall she seemed to just put up at the mention of her Father.

She paused as she lowered her cutlery. “Peter, can I ask you something?” Peter’s own hands froze either side of his plate as he gave her his full attention. “Do you ever wonder if you made the right choice?”

“What do you-”

“I mean all this.” she gestured with her hand between them. “If you hadn’t given up the suit and the mask… do you think things would have been different?”

“I think…” he paused as he tried to comprehend her question. To think of the life they would have had if he had continued to be the Spider-Man, not whatever he was today, “I think we wouldn’t have much money. I think we’d have ended up living in a shoe box apartment somewhere in Queens, still sneaking around behind your father’s back.” She quietly sipped on her wine as she listened to his thoughts. “I think a lot of people's lives would be harder because they wouldn’t have the hubs to go to when they are in need.”

“That’s not what I mean.” she quietly said as her arms came to rest on the table, her fingers reaching out to him.

“You mean, do you think he would have let you stay?”

There was silence between them. Peter watched as she slowly removed her hand from where it had reached out across the table towards him. Reached out for him, to bridge that gap that had grown between them. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t be reminded what it felt like to feel her soft skin against his.

The two of them remained silent, unable to finish their food. The weight of everything that had been or even could have been already enough for their brains to process, let alone the last of their food in front of them.

When the waiter asked if they’d like to look at the dessert menu, Peter waved him off. He instead quickly settled the bill with a generous tip and they both left.

They waited quietly side by side at the edge of the street for the car to be brought around.

“I’m sorry.” she finally blurted out as her arms closed tightly around her with the evening chill. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” she added more quietly as the car revved to a stop in front of them.

The driver quickly got out, handing Peter the keys before stepping towards the passenger door to open it.

“Get in the car.” Peter instructed softer than she expected. “There’s something I want to show you.”

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

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[creelkobblelaufeyson69]

Pursued

Warnings: smut

Being the Spiderman in the universe they were in was quite hard. But that is just how it goes with that line of work. They lost their parents during a fight, and they still hated it to this day, since they blamed themselves for their parent’s death. They just needed something- anything for them to make them truly feel like a hero

In this universe Spiderman is always viewed as the villain. No matter how much they help out, they are still viewed in such a negative manner. They just wanted to feel like everything wasn’t their fault. This is when their teammate Quentin Beck chimes in

Those two were in a relationship, but it took them a while to fully believe that he had a crush on them. It was real as well. He wanted to help them get viewed as a hero. He didn’t see them as a threat at all. So him finally revealing the big secret he’s kept from them for a moment like this, made him realize how worth it it was to keep this secret from them

They were quite impressed, and turned on about how smart he was. How he managed to make the real Nick Fury believe his act. They give him and his team an applause. Quentin gets up from the stool, and then bows. “Thank you, honey” he says as he stands up straight again

He walks over towards where they sat, and once he was close enough, he takes out his hand. “I can make you into that superhero you’ve always wanted to be. But you have to keep this a secret” he says, which makes them take his hand. He smiles; “I knew you’d say yes.” “Plus I would’ve been so pissed at myself if I did have to kill you”

This makes them confused that he had thought about that, but it was fair on his side to have a plan b if plan a didn’t work out. “I like my suit though, so that won’t be an illusion” they said as they take their hand out of his. They stood up, and was closer towards him

“I wouldn’t make that into an illusion anyway, since I like seeing you in that tight suit” they blushed madly now, which makes him smirk. “Perhaps we should celebrate, since you’re new here” he says with the smirk still on his face. “I like the sound of that” they said as their lips go for his now

The two start to make out, which makes everyone else uncomfortable. Once the two pull apart, Quentin is catching his breath. They do the same, and also remembers that the two are still in front of people. “Can we go somewhere more private?” They asked in a hushed voice

He nodded his head, and then the two leave without saying anything to the rest of team. The two were eventually at his place, and once the two were fully inside, he stood behind them. He unzipped their suit, and once it was on the ground, he pulls down their underwear

He notices how wet they were for him, and chuckles. “Of course this turns you on” he says as as he has an evil smirk on his face now. “You know, I also think you make a good superhero. If only others could see that in you though” he adds as their underwear hits the ground. “Can you jump for me?” They did as told and now their legs were on his back, and they had their hands on the wall

He begins to lick their pussy, which makes their head arch their head. Moans escaped their mouth as he grasped onto their thighs as he now sucks their folds. “Quentin” they moaned as he continues to suck their folds. Their walls clenched now, which makes him stop. He gets them back onto the ground, and now he takes his shirt off

“If there are people that still don’t like you even after I change their minds. I’ll kill them” he says as his shirt goes onto the ground. “You’re joking” they said as now takes his pants off. “I’m not. I’d kill anyone that still hates Spiderman” he says as his pants were now on the ground. “But I won’t do it directly towards them. My illusions will kill them” he says, which turns them on more

“That’s hot Quentin” they admit as he takes his boxers off. “Yeah?” His evil smirk returns now. “Yeah” they said as they leave hickeys onto his neck now. He moans as they mark him. He gets pinned to the wall now, but it was quite aggressive. He liked it though

Once they’ve stopped marking him, they looked deeply into his blue eyes. He kisses them onto their lips now. He guides them to their couch as the two made out. Once close enough to the couch, he pulls apart. They knew their couch was behind them, so they laid down now. He goes on top of them, and his lips go back onto theirs

He goes into them, which makes them pull apart. Their head almost arches back, but makes them continue to look at him. “I wanna see the faces you make while I’m pleasuring you. Understand?” They told him that they understood, and now he’s thrusting

Their eyes go to the back of their head as he fucks them. Moans escaped their mouth as he hits their g spot. He moans too, but he doesn’t allow himself to arch his head back. He needed to see their face, especially for when they cum. “Y/n” he moans as his hands were intertwined with theirs

The two were leaving nail marks on each other’s skin. But neither had cared. It had just added to pleasure for the two. “I don’t understand how no one could like Spiderman. Especially with how sweet they can be” he starts, which makes them excited. “And how hot they can be. People loved a masked person, but don’t like Spiderman. How depressing. Their missing out” he adds, which makes them cum

He stops, but they wanted him to continue. He smirks, and happily listens

[ihearyou-jikook]

there's a scene in bon voyage s3 e6, when the members were eating and jhope mentioned that tae and jk were sleeping upside down and hugging each other's legs, i found jimin's reaction to the info kinda sus. the scene was overall weird, jimin was sitting down when hobi finished talking, with no apparent indication of standing up, and suddenly they show jimin's reaction and he's like "wae (what)!?!?" but he's standing up, and then another cut to hobi confirming the story, then the camera goes back to jimin who is seated again and says "that's weird". do you think they edited some of the conversation out?

Anon, this moment makes me 😆🤭

Sorry for making you wait. Let's go go go!

(Had too much fun with this one, it is quite long >.<)

Here is a clip of the moment

Cr. Full video here

Let's Quentin Tarantino this. Do I think this was a sus moment? Do I think some of the convo was edited out?

Yes, to both. 👀

JM going from sitting to standing up without us seeing it happen didn't stick out to me too much only because in content like this (Not just BTS content), editors tend to show multiple viewpoints of a moment and I'm guessing JM stood up when we saw the close up of Hobi explaining what he saw. You can also see Hobi's eyes are looking upwards as he's talking.

What gets me tho is JM's initial reaction to Hobi, going eh?! And then needing to clarify what he just heard lol.

Then we cut to JM saying "왜 그래" with that face and that tone.

Side note: I'm not Korean and I'm not fluent in Korean. I have been learning for a while. I'm somewhere between beginner & intermediate and understand that context, tone, and the words used, explain so much when it comes to the Korean language. That's why I wanted to highlight this next part.

Let's talk about the sub-titles here for a moment.

The translator decided to go with "What's wrong?"

This is correct, but it's not the only meaning of those words. "왜 그래" can also mean the following depending on the tone, context, and intonation (rise & fall of voice): "Why is it like that?" "Why are you like that?" "Why are you acting like that?" "What's going on?"

This is a great post about how "왜 그래" can be used.

IMO, JM's tone sounded like it had a bit of a bite behind it. There was no rise in his voice at the end of the words to sound like a curious question. And his face was a little more on the serious side. Again IMO, something like "Why were you like that?" seems more accurate.

He gave off a WTF? vibe.

Back to the question about edited-out parts

I think it's hard to say if anything was edited out right before JM said 왜 그래 but I definitely think the reaction to what JM said was edited out.

There could have been more conversation, but I honestly think there was probably awkward silence after him saying that. 🤣

Because JK & V were both awfully quiet while Hobi was explaining, other than initially asking "Did we?" "Who did it?" There was no laughing, no smiling.

To me, it felt like JK & V were starting to sense JM's unrest with the whole thing and so they decided to stay quiet since an upset Mimi is not what you want to deal with. An upset Mimi is a feisty Mimi.

Look, we always talk about JK being the possessive one but I just think JK is louder about it than JM. There are 2 possessive men in the Jeon-Park Household.

While JK does do some type of skinship with all members, I do think JM enjoys his boyfie privileges. That there are just some things JK doesn't do often with others. And it was probably weird to hear that they were hugging each other's feet especially when JK is sensitive to smells 🤣

Before I go, I have to bring up our president Hobi.

Like, Hobi.

Why do I feel like you're snitching on them to Mimi??

🤣🤣🤣

That's the funniest part about this moment to me. After bringing up the situation to JK & V, Hobi is literally telling this story to JM.

I love Hobi. I miss him!

Thank you for the ask Anon. 💜💛

For you, Happy Jikook inc...

Cr. Daylight

[larkscribbles]

Hungry?

Word count: 1,514 [Ao3]

Following their meeting in Dimhollow Crypt, the Dragonborn and Serana stop in Morthal for the night. The vampire is given a moment to reflect on the past, what she must do in the present and an inkling of what the future might hold. (Set at the start of the dawnguard dlc.)

Serana did not think highly of Morthal, a smattering of thatched roof buildings mired in a gunky half-slush marsh. The few people they met outside were just as icy as the weather. Serana’s inner bookworm would have imagined a future of flourishing cities, mind-bending magical and technological advancements. Instead, Skyrim remained barren, cold and perpetually layered in a thick swathe of snow. She was sure the fading daylight did not help this sentiment. In fact, it caused her companion to lose his footing and stagger up the three remaining wooden steps to the inn. He acknowledged this flailing and windmilling by clearing his throat and a curt “Tired.”

In all fairness, she was too, despite having slept for hundreds of years. It had been a long trek to get anywhere near this level of civilization. Her limbs were stiff from exertion and the cold.

The Moorside Inn, despite being one of the largest structures in the city, was particularly devoid of life. A combination of a distrust of outsiders and the late hour, one would assume. While her associate made a beeline for the innkeep, Serana perched on a stool and allowed herself a moment to take it all in. The air was warm, tinged with the thick scents of smoke and wood. The room was wreathed in orange, illuminated by the licks of flame persisting in the firepit. It was lived in and homely, a far cry from the cold stone of Castle Volkihar. She found her mind wondering how her home had changed in her absence. The brief warmth of nostalgia was promptly snuffed by the bitter thoughts of her father. She hoped he had not become too embroiled in his obsession, she hoped he had come to his senses. And her mother… Serana blinked hard enough to focus her mind back on the present. The man she had encountered, Quentin, seemed capable enough to take her to the castle and smart enough to let her do the talking when they arrived. He was presently stumbling over his own words, gaze flicking between the innkeep and her. Hm. Perhaps not.

“Two beds, please. Uh- not a double bed- like two seperate - do you want to be in different rooms? I’ll pay.” He had splayed his palms in an indeterminate gesture, presumably some sort of asking for her input.

Serana thought on it a moment, then shrugged. “No difference to me.”

He seemed relatively happy by this, but the quirk of his brow and the way his mouth pressed into a thin smile suggested some awkward undercurrent. His voice quietened and he leaned over the desk conspiratorially. “So, uhm, what’s cheaper?”

This earned him a hearty chuckle from the innkeep.

The vampire rolled her eyes and busied herself with unbuckling her cloak. The wet bundle of cloth it had been reduced to reminded her why she disliked the snow. She laid it out on the seat next to her, the thing certainly needed to dry. Her companion strolled into view, two mugs in hand.

“Hot cider. I don’t know if you like cider. Or- or if you can have it with your… uhm. If you’re allergic to apples or something. If you don’t like it I can definitely drink two-“

“It’s great, thank you.” Serana wrapped her hands around the sides of the mug, enjoying the warmth emanating from it. She then made a very obvious show of sipping it to clarify her point.

“Oh. Good. Great. Uhh. Jonna said she’d be around to ask about food. Are you… hungry?” He pulled a stupid face when he said this. It was the agonising kind of face that exemplified how extremely unsure the Dragonborn was of what he just said: raised eyebrows and a lopsided mouth, one side angled down to a comical degree.

“Why yes, Quentin, I could certainly eat some food right now.” She stressed the words from between gritted teeth. He narrowed his eyes as if this would help him discern whether this was a euphemism or not. “Apples and anything else are fine with me.”

The shadow on his face seemed to immediately lift, his teeth flashed in the firelight. “Oh! That’s good. That’s nice. I just didn’t- haven’t met anyone- anyone like you- with your- I’m trying not to be rude.” He finished disjointedly. “I-have-been-attacked-by-people-with-your-dietary-condition-but-I-appreciate-that’s-different-”

Serana barely resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Seeing the rapidly approaching innkeeper, she bowed her head slightly to avoid direct eye contact.

“You two are lucky that you got here so late. Narrowly missed out on our bard’s caterwauling. Don’t got too much left at this hour, or in general but I can heat you up some beef stew if that’ll do the trick. Can throw in some bread too.” The redguard woman’s expression was welcoming but tired.

“Yes. Good for me!” The Dragonborn flashed a thumbs up. Serana took a moment to absorb this - it wasn’t just any thumbs up, it was a double thumbs up, with his lopsided grin. By the divines, this man’s social skills… had the times changed this much? She mirrored the action on knee-jerk impulse, internally cringing at herself for it.

“Yes. Thank you,” she offered curtly.

“So where are you two headed? Figure you’re not staying in Morthal.”

Serana tried to not let the flicker of concern show on her face. It had been so long since she’d been around Skyrim. She didn’t know if any excuse she could conjure up would hold anymore. What if place names had changed drastically? She didn’t want to have to use any of her vampiric abilities if she could help it.

“Solitude. I just moved and Serana here’s going to show me the capital.” The lie rolled off his tongue surprisingly well given his prior social ineptitude, it made the vampire wonder if it was intentional.

“Ah. That’s nice.”

Serana didn’t know how intensely she was being scrutinised, nor did she want to know. She concealed herself behind her mug, made an indiscriminate grunt and stalled for time until she sensed the woman had left. Then she spoke, voice still low. “There was a civil war last time I… in the second era. One side’s capital city was Windhelm and the other was Solitude. Guess that explains who won.”

“Oh. Right. I haven’t read too much of the history.”

Serana found herself taken aback. “But you-?”

“My job is more in the realm of ancient history. And uh the prophecies.” He registered the incredulous look on Serana’s face. Quentin broke out into something just short of a laugh. “Nothing to do with my current title, well, not initially. My job! I am- was- uh- a dungeon delver.”

“So crawling through crypts wasn’t too unfamiliar.”

“No, not really. The corpses reanimating themselves in front of you is, kinda. But I’m not a graverobber, obviously.” He waved his hands enthusiastically before the gesture abruptly ended. “It wasn’t just me. I had a team and uh- I’m waiting for them here. They said they’d meet me here in Winterhold. Do- do you have any friends? I meant- as in friends around Skyrim?”

“Ah. No. I had quite a lonely upbringing at the castle. Was pretty isolated.”

“Oh. Right. I see. And- and-”

“And I’m going back there.” She finished his thought with a bow of her head.

“Yeah.”

Words unspoken hung thick in the air. The tension was cut by the scrape of wood against wood - two steaming bowls. By oblivion that woman had snuck up on them!

“Stew’s up. Enjoy.” Jonna smiled warmly, then made herself scarce. Perhaps she was just closing up for the night, or perhaps she had sensed the shift in the atmosphere.

“I have a house in Whiterun, if you’re ever around. Breezehome.” Quentin panted between mouthfuls of steam, not waiting for his food to sufficiently cool.

Despite the flicker of warmth that ignited in her chest at the gesture, Serana found herself dodging the question. “Is that a dragon thing? You trying to practice breathing fire?”

“Doesn’t help. Tried before. ‘M just hungry.” He whined to himself, unable to cool his tongue on his warmed cider. “Gonna try eating fire salts next - uh - that was a joke, obviously.”

She laughed genuinely but briefly. The feeling was fleeting, marred by the keenness of her obligations to her family, as sharp as the frosts outside. The least she needed to do was to find her mother. Companionship was a welcome but momentary reprieve from the weight of it all.

No. Serana willed herself to live in the moment. She was allowed to think of the present and future, it was healthy to do so. She just needed to close the previous chapter of her life. Get a proper conclusion to it all. The vampire was snapped out of her thoughts, stomach growling at her lack of anything after centuries of sleep. She’d have to get something proper later tonight. “Guess I’m hungry too.” She drawled in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

“Oh. Yeah. When was the last time you ate?”

“A while back.”

[cocainegirlsnblunts]

Smoothies In 1991

In this “series” you are Jack Harlows Lover/Wifey/Muse/Mother of his Children.

And I named this series “Smoothies In 1991” because your “uncle” is Larry June in this. (he’s just a really close family friend and you see him as an uncle)

Personal life

Your Career as a Visual Artist/Art Director

You doing a Vogue Beauty Secrets video

You doing a Vogue 24 Hours With

Doing a ELLE Waking Up With video

Instagram Posts

Here’s your “vibe/aesthetic” and our face claim is Stephanie Rao.

Your Wikipedia

Arlette Viotto Prescott is an American Art Director from San Francisco, California. She is in charge of the Visual Appearances for Album Covers and Music Videos. She is best known for being behind the Album Isolation by Kali Uchis. Viotto has also worked with Artists like Madison Beer, Cole Bennett and many more.

Early Life

Arlette Viotto Prescott born October 27th, 1999 in San Francisco, California. Grew up in Palo Alto’s Charleston Meadow, and Atlanta, Georgia. She was raised by Vincent and Claire Viotto. And has one sibling, older Sister Giselle. Arlette is of Mexican, Italian, and French descent.

Interviewer: “So what are you? Like are you White or Mexican?”

Arlette Viotto: “I don’t know exactly what I am but I’ve always just said i’m half Mexican half Italian.” “My Mom is French and Italian, and My Dad is Mexican.”

Interviewer: Can you speak the languages?

Arlette Viotto: Yes I can! Uhm, my parents taught me English first of course, then Spanish, then Italian. So I’m fluent in those, but when I got to learning French… It was difficult at first I’m not gonna lie, but I got it! So now i’m what, quadrilingual!”

Career

Everything started for Viotto when she met Lyrical Lemonades Cole bennett in 2016, and eventually started working with him. Bennett said this in a 2018 interview. “Arlette Viotto, oh man she’s extremely talented, I met her when she was 17 and uh, she’s a great friend, she really helped with a lot of these videos and album covers. she has a lot of sick ideas.”

Now Viotto has very few interviews, but in her very first one in 2019, she was asked “What do you think about your career right now?

“I mean, first of all, I am extremely thankful for the support and love i’ve gotten, but I don’t even think of myself as famous.”

“And even when I started all of this, I didn’t want to be “famous”. I just wanted to work with dope ass people ya know?”

“And I mean i’ve always been a creative person, I just really wanted to share my work and ideas with the world. But like I said I appreciate everything that’s come out of it.”

In the rise of Arlettes Career, she worked with Playboicarti and Asap Rocky on their New Choppa Music video in 2017. She helped with the Quentin Tarantino idea and even appeared in it as one of the Female Shooters.

In 2018, Viotto worked with Kali Uchis on her debut studio album Isolation. Viotto came up with the Color scheme, and overall Aesthetic for the Album Covers. She was also behind Music Videos for After the Storm, Tryant, and Get up. Viotto has developed a bond and friendship with the Artist because of this.

Viotto also worked with Summer Walker on her 2019 debut studio album Over It.

Arlette has worked with Madison Beer on the Music Video for “Home With You”, “Home To Another One”, and “BOYSHIT”. Arlette even appeared in Vogues 24 hours with Madison Beer Video.

[eneiryu]

hi! i love your fics so much and i was wondering if you would ever write a fic that is a prequel to offered the moon every part of the truth? i was thinking about how theo got the injury like just from inferencing from the fic, theo already seems cool with the pack and part of the pack and in a relationship with liam when he got attacked (seems like quentin did it cause he knew it was the only way to get revenge because scott’s pack already accepted him as one of them and loved him and the rest of the packs all accepted him so there’s no way he could convince them that theo needed to pay for what he did) but it also seems like the attack happened after they arrived at some summit type thing yet no one was close enough to theo to save him or do anything until after quentin already attacked (and scott who has a no kill rule was the closest one and killed quentin). so that made me think like what if liam and theo had gotten into a small petty fight (like since it’s a summit maybe someone else from some other pack said something rude or biting to/about theo and liam overreacted to it or called it out and theo got mad at him cause it’s a summit and it makes them all especially liam and scott look back so liam got mad and decided not to drive with theo and go in mason and coreys car instead so theo was “alone” at the time of the attack). but really just desperately want to know about the situation leading up to it and immediately after it like this is one of my favorite fics for some reason and i just need a backstory of it

Thank you! I do really love that fic—it was one of my first times really playing a game of “how much can I get away with not saying, and yet still manage to tell a complete story,” and I like to think it worked out alright.

But yes! The ask has come up before, to write a prequel, and I would really like to do it. Somewhere I did actually write down a summary that I thought could work, and had at least some thoughts for the plot, but it never fully blossomed into fruition. That said, I am interested in writing the prequel, so one of these days—I will definitely try and find the necessary inspiration to.

[aquadestinyswriting]

Eye of the Storm

Summary: Elowyn helps Morag sort out some sort of breakfast while everyone else recovers from their assorted hangovers the morning after the trial's conclusion. Written for the Flash Fiction Friday prompt 'Found Family'

Words: 832

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @flashfictionfridayofficial @sparrow-orion-writes-orion-writes,@warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @blind-the-winds, @thesorcerersapprentice,@writeblrcafe, @ashiru, @writeblrcafe

Warnings: None

Notes: Based on an actual bit that was roleplayed out, but some creative liberties have been taken as I can't remember what exactly was said in the session any more.

Morag smiled at Elowyn as the woodling busied herself sorting out a pot of bloc,

"Ta for the help, hen." She said, straightening up again with a groan, "It's much appreciated." Elowyn shrugged her shoulders,

"I can't very well leave you to sort out everything for us all by yourself. Especially since no one else is in any position to, at the moment." She pointed out, nudging Snotgrut, who had fallen asleep curled up next to 'Arry in the corner of the kitchen, with her toe.

The green and brown lump groaned as the goblin stirred,

"My head is about to explode." He complained, "Why do people insist on drinking to excess if this is the outcome the next day?" He blinked blearily as a mug of hot and bitter coffee was thrust into his hands,

"This should help a bit, along with a decent breakfast." Elowyn told him. She turned her attention to the piece of rope dangling from seemingly nowhere, "Now how am I going to get this to Felix?" She wondered looking between the mug in her hand and the area where the rope seemingly vanished into thin air near the ceiling. She wafted the bitter steam up in the general direction of the Rope Trick opening after shouting for Felix to get up failed to rouse the gnome. Eventually Felix's arm shot out of nowhere, took the mug from Elowyn's hand with a mumbled 'Thank you' before vanishing once again. Elowyn shook her head as her ears picked up the renewed snoring from the extra dimensional space.

"That's the last time I get myself talked into a drinking contest with a dwarf." Quentin moaned as he stumbled into the kitchen.

"I did say it was a terrible idea, Quentin. Not that I have room to talk." Laurence groaned, collapsing into a chair at the table and burying his head into his hands. Elowyn clucked her tongue,

"Well that's what you get for going out and getting wankered isn't it?" She said, placing her hands on her hips. Neither man nor elf said anything and simply moaned into the table. She looked over to the younger woodling woman that now stumbled into the kitchen with a softer smile, "Lesson learned?" She asked. Aurianna nodded her head, wincing at the pain that lanced through her head at the motion. 

"Breakfast's pretty much ready. Just hold on while I get the rest of them up." Morag piped up, picking up the frying pan and a wooden spoon from the counter. Elowyn smiled, winced and covered her ears, gesturing for everyone else in the kitchen to do the same seconds before Morag started bashing the two implements together.

"Right! Come on, you lazy sods! Up! It's about lunchtime already!" The housewife's voice boomed through the house, echoing slightly, alongside the ringing of the frying pan. Various moans and groans of protest quickly followed suit, but Morag stood firm, simply banging the frying pan again when no one appeared on the stairs.

"I said up! Breakfast's ready and I swear on Moradin's bloody beard if I dinna see anyone down here in the next two minutes there's gonna be more than the hells to pay!" She snapped. Elowyn winced but turned her attention to her own little family,

"Well, seeing as our host was kind enough to make breakfast for us, I'm calling not it for the dishes." She said. Morag shook her head as she waddled back into the room,

"Och, dinna fash yerselves." She protested, "Ye helped more than enough the other night, and you all put in the work to see proper justice done." She beamed at the motley group of adventurers, "Besides, the lot o' ye are basically family at this point, and seeing as ye are, I'll not have ye taking on more than your fair share of the chores while you're here." Elowyn opened her mouth to protest when a rough, but blessedly familiar voice, came from the doorway,

"I'd save yer breath, hen. You were basically adopted the minute I brought ye back here the first time. Now, that includes the rest of you sorry lot."  Meredith added, poking at Quentin's ribs as she sat down next to him. 

"Oi! This is the thanks I get for helping you avoid the executioner's block?" The elf protested. Meredith stuck her tongue out at him,

"What help, ye pointy eared git? From what I can tell yer goblin friend did most of the work!" 

Elowyn stifled a laugh as others joined the friendly argument. A warm feeling settled in her chest as she looked around the cramped room as everyone finally converged around the table. Her family were finally all in one place, happy, healthy and whole. Well, half of it, the other half were back in Toreguarde after all. Once everything was taken care of she'd need to find a way to get the whole lot together. For now, though, this was all the family she needed.

[fischerfrey]

A Christmas Prince; The Royal Wedding

Chapter 1: Back to Alderly

Summary: It's been a year since Dawn helped Quincey keep his throne. Now the pair's wedding is fast approaching, but unrest is stirring both in Alderly and in the personal lives of our heroes...

A/N: The second installment in the movie trilogy makes even less sense plot-wise than the first but Annie and I wanted to try our hand in this anyway. I expect this one will be a little shorter than the first fic was, because I'm cutting the stupidest parts from the movie script entirely, lol.

Words: 3k

Characters:

Dawn and Evan Harvelle @potionboy3

Quincey, Olympia, and Isabella Alderly

Tess Brandon

Lainey Bell by @gcldensnitch

Beginning | Next Chapter

Want to read the first fic in the series, A Christmas Prince? Click here!

Chapter 1: Back to Alderly 

Dawn’s Blog, December 15th 

Post title: Big Event! 

Dear all,   It's been three hundred forty-nine days, eleven hours, twenty-three minutes, and seven seconds since I said “yes” to the love of my life, Quentin Christian Alexander, King of Alderly. But who's counting? Other than me and millions of people around the world. Needless to say, it's been a whirlwind year. There's been a lot of back and forth between Bristol and Alderly. The long-distance engagement hasn't always been easy, but it's always been interesting. Somehow through all this insanity, I'm still me. Even though I'm about to become royalty of a small country.  Thank you for all your love and support this past year. Sharing my writing with all of you means more than you'll ever know. I promise to keep you posted on all my adventures to come, especially our wedding on Christmas day in Alderly. 

“What’s with the sunglasses?” asked Evan Harvelle when he, Dawn, and Dawn’s aunt Teresa exited the airport.  

“We’re in disguise, dad,” Dawn explained. 

“You’d think that they would send someone to escort the future prince consort,” Evan mused quietly. The airport was bustling, as usual. Alderly’s tourism had seen unprecedented growth since Dawn and Quincey’s engagement announcement. Of course, there were also those that firmly opposed the marriage, but Dawn felt like nothing could dampen his spirits. 

“I think they did,” said Tess, pointing towards a line of cars heading towards them. 

“Oh, they’ve sent the royal motorcade,” said Dawn, surprised. 

“Did you think they were going to make you take a taxi?” joked Tess. 

“I mean we took one to the airport back in England so...” 

The motorcade naturally drew people’s attention, and it wasn’t long until someone shouted: “Look, it’s Dawn Harvelle!” Several faces turned to look at them and Dawn and his family surely would have been swarmed, had the royal chauffeurs not managed to get to them and escort them to the car. As Dawn was about to get in, a reporter approached him through the crowd. 

“Mr. Harvelle, any comment on the King’s new initiative? Will it affect the wedding?” she asked, thrusting her recording device towards Dawn. He had been prepared for this. 

“I’m very happy to be back in Alderly,” he said. “And excited for the wedding, and Christmas of course.” 

The reported didn’t look pleased with Dawn’s reply but before she could ask anything more, Dawn was ushered into the car. 

“That was intense,” said Tess. She was already sat in the limo looking a bit hackled. Tess was Dawn’s mother’s sister and only five years older than him. Dawn had asked her to join them, since the two were quite close, especially since the passing of his mum. 

“Are you okay?” asked Evan. 

“Yeah…” 

“What was that initiative that reporter was talking about?” his dad continued. 

“I…” Dawn paused. “Actually, I don't know the details. I’ve been so busy I’ve barely managed to catch up with Quincey in weeks.” 

“I can’t believe you’re going to be living in here,” said Tess, peering out the window. 

“That makes two of us,” said Dawn. 

“Three,” corrected Evan. “When you shipped off all your stuff here, it was one thing, but now…” 

He looked a bit stricken and Dawn had to admit that his own chest felt suddenly tighter, too.

“Dad, I’m going to come visit Bristol all the time,” said Dawn. “And you can come here anytime you want. Remember, they’re making you a count or something.”  

Every time Dawn thought about his father as a count, he felt the urge to giggle. Evan Harvelle was the most normal man in the world. Not to mention it would be infinitely amusing to have both Count Evan and Count Evander. 

~ 

The motorcade weaved its way through the city. There was snow everywhere, because of course there was, and when the palace first showed up behind the snow-covered treetops, Tess actually audibly gasped. 

“Not bad, huh?” asked Dawn. 

“You’re so posh now,” she teased. 

They all filed out and headed inside. Dawn was expecting to see a certain face among the welcome committee, but Quincey was conspicuously absent. Instead, he was greeted by Queen Isabella and Olympia, the latter of whom immediately wrapped him into a big hug. 

“Dawn!” she exclaimed. “I’m so happy to see you again!” 

Dawn hugged her back. “Damn right,” he said. “I missed you.” 

Olympia let go of him and smiled. 

“This is my dad, Evan,” said Dawn. 

“Your majesty, your highness,” said Evan, only a little clumsily.  

“And this is Tess, my aunt.” 

Tess echoes his dad’s formalities. 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” said Olympia and Queen Isabella nodded. She didn’t seem openly hostile, but Dawn could tell she wasn’t happy about how everything had turned out. 

“Mr. Harvelle, welcome back to Alderly,” said the queen. “And I’m most pleased to meet you both.” 

“And you,” Tess said with a smile. Isabella regarded her for a moment. Tess was dressed in her usual manner in a flowy, colourful dress and knee-high boots. It was quite the contrast to Isabella’s prim and proper pantsuit and immaculate bun. If Tess noticed the queen rating her outfit quite low on the scale of 0 to 10, she gave no indication. 

Behind the royal family members was Dawn’s old friend, Miss Pince. 

“Pince!” he said when the introductions were out of the way. “How are you? Has it been awfully boring here without me?” 

“It has been quiet, Mr. Harvelle,” Pince replied, and it was quite evident she had vastly preferred it. “And I have been promoted to the head of Palace Office of Press and Protocol.” 

“Oh, sweet,” said Dawn. He wasn’t exactly sure sweet was the right word, though. 

“Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms,” Olympia said cheerily. 

“That is hardly appropriate,” said Pince. 

“Oh, Irma please, let it go,” said Olympia and headed towards the stairs. Pince sighed. Dawn, Evan and Tess followed the princess. 

“See you all at the reception,” the queen called after them. 

~ 

Dawn almost choked of laughter when Olympia announced loudly that he was to have the bridal suite until the wedding. He then also understood why Olympia had wanted to take him personally. They’d left his dad and Tess to settle into their own rooms. 

“Pince did this on purpose,” said Dawn, more amused than anything. 

“Oh Dawnie, it’s tradition, it’s protocol,” Olympia laughed. 

“It’s very… frilly,” he noted. “And pink.” 

“Nothing wrong with a little pink,” said Olympia, a known appreciator of pink. 

“I love pink,” said Dawn, who didn’t really have a strong opinion for or against. 

“I had hoped I could simply share a room with my fiancé.” 

“That’s entirely impossible, and worst of all, common.” 

“Where is he, by the way?” Dawn asked. 

“He’s been busy with all kinds of kingly duties,” Olympia explained. “I’ve barely seen him, and I live with him.” 

Dawn couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy with this new information. 

“But I’ll let you settle in now, you must be exhausted,” Olympia said. “We must catch up as soon as possible though, I have so much to tell you.” 

“Of course, thank you O.” 

~ 

Once left alone, Dawn looked around the room. It looked straight out of one of those early 2000s animated Barbie movies. On one of the nightstands Dawn noticed a note, written on familiar hand. He took the paper and read:  

“To my love, with all my heart. 

From this day forth, 

we shall not be apart. 

Poetry can be a challenging art. 

If not yet mastered, here's a start.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at the corny little poem, when a voice from the door behind him said: “It’s a limerick. Of sorts,” said Quincey. 

Bad limericks be damned, Dawn all but ran to hug him.  

“Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you,” said Quincey, hugging him back. “I had to finish my poem.” 

“Next time, maybe you could forgo poetry and come greet me instead?” Dawn suggested. 

“Hey,” Quincey protested. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” 

“Yes. It most definitely was.” 

Quincey laughed and Dawn kissed his stupid face. 

“I can’t believe this is finally happening,” Quincey said. 

“You’re telling me,” Dawn laughed. “A year ago, I was working a shitty job in Bristol, worrying about writing an article about a ridiculous playboy prince.” 

“Ridiculous, maybe,” Quincey mused. “Definitely not a playboy.” 

“I guess that’s true–,”  

Dawn’s sentence was cut short, when Quincey’s new equerry showed up at the door. 

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” she said. 

“What is it, Lainey?” asked Quincey.  

“An urgent call from the Minister for Economic Affairs and the Prime Minister,” the equerry said, eyeing the both of them. She seemed to be around the same age as Quincey, with her blonde hair up on a ponytail and a tablet in her hand. 

Quincey sighed. “Can’t it wait?” 

“I’m afraid they insist.” 

Quincey turned back to Dawn. “I must take this. We'll have more time this evening at the reception.” 

He kissed Dawn’s cheek quickly and followed Lainey out the door. Dawn sat on his bed and dug out his phone. He typed in a message to the group chat he had with his friends: just saw my husband-to-be for the first time in months for all of 5 minutes. 

Not long after came a reply from Jimmy: abolish the monarchy. 

~ 

Two hours later Dawn had unpacked his meager little bag (most of his other belongings had been handled earlier by palace employees) and gotten ready for the reception. It was to be a party of importance, with government officials and foreign ambassadors. The thought might have spooked Dawn once, but now he was slightly better prepared. He met up with Quincey before the double doors that lead to the banquet hall. 

“Hi,” said Quincey in a low voice. 

“Hi,” Dawn replied. Quincey offered his arm and Dawn took it. 

“Ready for this?” asked Quincey. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

The doors were opened, and the pair entered, with a herald calling out: “My lords, ladies, and gentlemen; King Quentin and the guest of honour; the future Prince Dawn!” 

As they entered, at least fifty pairs of eyes turned to look, among them the prime minister but most of the faces completely unknown to Dawn. He hadn’t had any official duties as a royal spouse yet, as their circumstances were rather unusual, and Quincey’s advisors felt it was best to move slowly and respect traditions. Dawn didn’t want to cause any more trouble than he already had but he wasn’t sure how much tradition and protocol he was going to be able to handle without complaint. 

“Oh wow, this is–,” he started but suddenly a man in an expensive looking suit and a serious look on his face appeared and whispered something to Quincey. 

“Dawn, find Olympia, I’ll get away as soon as I can,” he said as the man whisked him away and Dawn was left standing alone in the middle of the room, feeling more awkward by the second. He was approached by several people with greetings and congratulations, he recognized the Minister of Internal Affairs, as well as Magister Malinda, but some he only pretended to recognize, as he had been advised to do. 

“Mr. Harvelle, here,” said the queen’s voice to his left and Isabella introduced him to some more dignitaries, such as ambassadors from Penglia and a president of the Council of Women in Alderly.  

“I should go save Quiney…” Dawn mused as he saw him still talking, or rather, arguing with the same man. 

“Best, I think, to leave him to it,” said the queen. 

“What’s going on?” asked Dawn. 

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Isabella simply said. “You should focus on the wedding. Most of it is well in hand but Quentin insisted we leave some breathing room for you, despite the short notice.” 

And the Queen's objection, Dawn thought but only said: “Well, that’s nice."

He had pretty much resigned himself to having no say at all with the wedding. 

“To that end, I have hired a wedding planner to help you.” 

“What?” 

“A wedding designer, Your Majesty, but yes,” a woman said, walking up to them. 

Dawn recognized her. Rosa Yaxley, the girl who had been briefly engaged to Count Evander, Quincey’s throne-stealing cousin. 

“You’re a wedding designer?” Dawn asked. 

“Yes, and now I’m here to help,” she said, though Dawn couldn’t be sure if she was all too happy about this prospect. “I hope there’s no bad blood between us?” 

Dawn looked from Rosa to the Queen and back again and then said with a note of humour in his voice: “Well, if her Majesty found it in her heart to forgive you, then I suppose so can I.” 

Rosa smiled. “Glad to hear it Mr. Harvelle. We’ll get to work tomorrow.” 

~ 

Dawn finally found Olympia, chatting with his dad of all people. 

“Well Dawn and I call them meat jelly, they’re pretty gross,” Olympia was saying to Evan, who examined a suspicious looking block of meat that a passing waiter had offered to him. 

“Don’t eat that, dad,” said Dawn.  

“Thanks for the tip, kiddo,” Evan said and deposited the meat jelly on a nearby table. 

“Oh, Dawn, I was just telling your father about how I’m part of organizing a charity event!” 

“You are?” 

“It’s a play,” Olympia continued. “The Tale of Princess Froon, an Alderlian folk tale. I was asked to play the titular role to draw in the high society crowd.” 

“Oh my god,” said Dawn. 

“Hey, it’s a beautiful tale,” said Olympia with a grin. 

“Oh, I’m sure.” 

“Anyway, all the proceeds will go to helping those affected by the current depression.” 

Dawn had read the newspapers, of course, and knew of the rather terrible financial situation in Alderly. “That sounds pretty awesome,” he told Olympia. 

“I’d sure like to see some Alderlian culture in play,” said Evan.  

“You’re most heartily invited, Mr. Harvelle,” said Olympia. 

“Isn’t this the one where Princess Froon gives Santa his magic powers?” asked Dawn. He remembered Quincey talking about it last year. 

“Yes, just the one.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait.” 

A tap on his shoulder made Dawn turn around, ending up face to face with Miss Pince. 

“In my new capacity as the head of Palace Office of Press and Protocol, I’d like to have a word with you.” 

“Of course,” said Dawn. “See you later dad, Olympia.” 

Olympia gave him a thumbs up, as Dawn followed Pince to a less crowded area. 

~

Once they were safely out of earshot of any visiting dignitaries, Pince said: “It's clear that you've had a very laissez-faire attitude concerning your image over the past year; magazines, television, blogs…” 

“Blogs, that's what I do for a living,” said Dawn. Ever since his successful article about Quincey, he had run a blog focused on his journey into learning all about Alderlian politics, customs, and of course, details about his own personal life all mixed into a neat little package. He was quite proud of it. “I’m a professional write–,” 

Pince interrupted him: “But now that you're a part of the royal family, we must be careful of the image that you project. Consider me your protector.” 

Dawn wasn’t a fan of where this conversation was headed. “Look, Miss Pince, I know that my life is about to change in a major way, but I’m not going to quit my job.” 

“The goal is to see you and the crown in the best possible light.” 

Dawn sighed, and said: “Well, nothing shines quite like the truth, right?” 

“I'm glad we see eye-to-eye. Please wait here and I'll have the King and you pose for the photographs.” 

~ 

After their photo-op, Quincey led Dawn out of one of the doors lining up the outer wall into a beautiful little courtyard.  

“Irma didn’t give you too much trouble, did she?” he asked. 

“Just wants me to delete my blog,” said Dawn. 

“Yes, we’ve had words about that before,” Quincey said. “She’s just passionate about protecting the image of the royal family. She feels like it is needed now more than ever, when we’re already breaking about a dozen ancient customs just by being together.” 

“I know,” said Dawn and took Quincey’s hands in his. “It’s important to project an image of continuity even through this massive change.” 

“Yes.” 

“Has it been difficult?” Dawn asked. 

“Well, not everyone is as on board with a gay monarch as I had hoped but it was to be expected. I can’t change people’s decades held beliefs overnight, but I know I can make a change over time.” 

“You’re doing a great job,” said Dawn. 

Quincey smiled, but it was a tight smile. He was hiding something, but Dawn didn’t feel like pestering him about it tonight. He was exhausted too. 

“You have a new equerry,” Dawn noted. 

“Oh, yes, her name’s Lainey Bell,” Quincey replied. “We met in uni. She’s about the only thing keeping me afloat right now.” 

Dawn gave him a look and Quincey laughed. “Aside from my everlasting love for you, of course.” 

“We should get a Christmas tree up in here,” Dawn just said, observing the tree-less courtyard. 

“Oh, a good idea!” 

“We could go look for one tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow’s no good, I’m going to town to give a speech.” 

“What kind of speech?” asked Dawn. 

“Well, you know how I’ve been trying to implement the initiative to bring Alderly into the 21st century? Strengthening infrastructure, schools, tech…” 

“It's smart.” 

“That's what I thought but instead of strengthening the economy, the country is bleeding money,” Quincey explained. “And nobody can tell me why.” 

Dawn frowned. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“Do you know any genius economists?” 

“I can’t say that I do.” 

“I’m having a meeting on Friday, trying to figure this out. Something’s not right.” 

“Can I come?” 

“I would really appreciate it if you did.”  

Dawn smiled and squeezed his hands. “We will figure this out.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Quincey said. “But I also have a feeling like Irma and Miss Yaxley are going to keep you quite busy with the wedding preparations.” 

“Oh, for cock’s sake…” 

tag list: @lifeofkaze

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[wqintraining]

NEW X-MEN: THE ANIMATED SERIES - SEASON 2, EPISODE 9

We open in the past, to a time we've glimpsed before. In the time that immediately preceded the original rise of Dark Phoenix, the classic X-Men have been defeated and captured by the Hellfire Club. Nightcrawler, Colossus, and Storm are stripped down and trapped in hanging cages, with only the latter still conscious. 

Storm screams in agony as Emma, the heartless White Queen, psychically tortures her. She tells Storm to stop resisting and that she just wants them to be friends, while speaking in a sickeningly sweet tone and visibly is having the time of her life doing this. 

Emma pauses her attack and gives Storm the chance to speak. Panting, but still determined, Storm tells her that she will not get away with whatever she's planning and that she will face the wrath of a goddess for this insult. 

Emma reaches her hand through the bars and slaps her. 

A goddess? She thinks far too much of herself. But that's okay. The White Queen is here to teach her her proper place in the world. 

Emma resumes torturing Ororo, laughing maniacally as she does so. 

In the present, Emma is seated at Scott's desk, laughing more casually as she twirls her finger in her hair. She's on the phone, but it isn't clear who she's talking to, as they simply make small talk. 

Outside in the hall, Storm is looking to speak with Cyclops, but hears Emma's voice inside. She takes a deep breath and steels herself before heading into the office. 

Storm demands to know why Emma is in here on her own and where Scott is, but Emma just raises a finger, telling her to wait a minute.

Storm gets impatient as Emma obnoxiously draws out the call. Before she finally hangs up, she tells the person on the other end of the call "the plan will not fail."

Once Emma is off the phone, Storm asks her what that was about. Emma tells her not to worry; it's actual business, not X-Men business. She wouldn't understand. 

Storm sneers at her, but refuses to take the bait, and just asks where Scott is. Emma informs her that he's prepping the Blackbird. They have matters in France to attend to. 

Storm asks if Emma found a new Mutant, but Emma only hums that it's something like that. Increasingly frustrated, Storm notes that ever since Scott and Emma began "SIGH…dating" the X-Men haven't gone on any missions as a team. The two of them dealt with Sublime on their own, they've been hunting the remaining U-Men cells on their own, and they've been retrieving new Mutants on their own. 

Emma says that yes, they have, and things are going well. But Storm shouldn't feel redundant. She knows she's doing her best. 

Storm slams her hands down on the desk. Perhaps if she delegated more, she could focus more time on addressing the telepaths she brought here who terrorized the rest of their students. Emma tries to assure her she's handling the Cuckoos, but Storm doesn't care. Too little, too late. 

STORM: "I am through putting up with your rank arrogance. Test me again, and I'll test how durable your diamond form truly is."

Storm marches off, while Emma just kicks her legs up on the table and smirks. She's looking forward to it. 

Elsewhere in the school, Iceman is teaching sex ed. While he is properly demonstrating how to put on a condom, he cannot stop making horny sex jokes as he does so. 

Seated in this class are Brian and Quentin. The two of them aren't paying any attention, with Brian having already gotten this talk from his dad when he came out as gay, while Quentin figures he won't be getting any until he's rich, famous, and beloved.

BRIAN: "Aren't you already rich?"

QUENTIN: "Yes, but not famous or beloved."

Brian tells him, if nothing else, he likes him, and thanks Quentin for still talking to him after all the "Hellions" crap. Quentin appreciates it, with him mentioning that Brian is the only one who directly apologized to him, but he really never even blamed him. 

QUENTIN: "You're a sheep who lives among a pack of wolves. You did what you had to do to survive. I believed Cessily to be a sheep as well, but she's shown her true colors." 

BRIAN, weirded out: "Riiiiight." 

Brian turns his attention away from his new sorta-friend, and toward Iceman, just in time to hear…

ICEMAN: "...but listen, it may be my job to teach you all how to do this yourself, but for all you studs, I'm rooting for you to have someone else doing it." 

Among a mix of awkward laughter and a single enthusiastic cheer from Specter, Brian raises an eyebrow. 

The bell rings and everyone starts clearing out. As Brian stands, Quentin's face lights up as he checks to make sure Brian is still free to come with him to Jumbo Carnation's fashion show that weekend. 

BRIAN: "I still can't believe you're into fashion."

QUENTIN: *Snapping his suspenders*: "I don’t see how."

Brian laughs. 

BRIAN: "Yeah, man. I'm there."

As Brian walks off, Quentin eagerly turns to Glob, who was sitting on the opposite side of him, and raises his hand for a high five. 

QUENTIN: "Wooh! A second friend! Gonna be great."

Glob taps Quentin's hand. 

In the hangar bag, Scott is prepping the Blackbird and…is also telling it what a good girl it is. With the new engine he had Beast install, she's gonna fly better than ever. 

"Eh hem". 

Scott, embarrassed, turns around to find Ororo behind him, an amused smile on her face. 

Scott: "Ororo, I was just…um…"

Storm laughs and tells him to be calm. She likes the rare moments he allows himself to be at ease. 

Scott asks if this means they're talking again…again. Ororo confesses that she'll never be able to stay mad at him forever.

STORM: "Although Kitty may be a different story."

Scott: "She learned a lot from Logan. Including how to hold a grudge."

Scott follows up and asks if this also means she's willing to give Emma a chance. Storm confirms that, no, actually, she's more suspicious than ever. 

Scott sighs and rubs his forehead, but Ororo tells him to listen to her. No, obviously, she has not been fond of Emma's presence since she arrived, nor has she supported…whatever is going on between her and Scott…but this is different. She spoke to Emma just now and she seemed different. And yet also familiar. 

Scott asks her to stop, but Ororo refuses. She knows she sensed a darkness around her earlier, and she fears she knows why. She came here on his invitation, broke up his marriage, and has had him largely isolated recently - the latter a strategy they both know she's used to control people before. 

SCOTT: "Get to the point."

STORM: "The point is that I believe she's tired of denying her true nature. And she desires to drag you into darkness with her."

Scott stares down at the floor in thought. 

SCOTT: "Ok."

STORM: "Okay?"

Cyclops tells her he's hearing her, and assures her he does get why she's concerned. There are no telepaths stronger than Emma left on Earth, but Betsy and Rachel, together, should still be able to get in her mind, no problem. She can call them and have them investigate as soon as he and Emma get home. In the meantime, she's in charge. 

Storm concedes that that's fair. It doesn't happen often, but she hopes that she's wrong. 

Storm wishes him luck and flies off, passing Emma on her way out.  The two exchange one more glare. 

Ororo immediately flies to the teacher's lounge, where Kitty, Beto, and Bobby are having lunch together. She tells Kitty that she's decided to accompany Cyclops and Emma on their France mission for the next several days; she's in charge while they're all gone. 

KITTY: "Wait, I'm fourth in command?!"

BETO AND BOBBY, mouths full: "She's fourth in command???"

Storm knows she'll do well, offering brief encouragement before departing in a rush. 

Kitty's stomach rumbles, and she doesn't think it was the tuna. 

In the cafeteria, the friend group, sans Brian, is having lunch. With Noriko having evidently decided to share with everyone else what she shared with Julian, Cessily wants to know more about the "Old Noriko". 

CESSILY: "Were you boy crazy? Were you super excited about school festivals and stuff?!"

NORIKO: "One, please learn about Japan from something other than anime. Two, yes. Yes, I was."

Everyone laughs. 

JULIAN: "She also mentioned while we were in the med bay that she was on the volleyball team."

The laughter continues as Noriko buries her face in her hands. 

ROXY: "So you DO have a hobby!"

NORIKO, embarrassed and growling: "Screw you, Keller."

JULIAN: "Not in your wildest dreams."

Sofia rolls her eyes. After what the two of them went through together, she'd hoped they'd be a little kinder toward one another. 

Noriko and Julian both bristle at that, but underneath the table, we see that they're playfully kicking at each other's feet. 

CESSILY: "Wait, Nori! If we could get a volleyball team started here, I could cheer for you!"

Even more laughter. Nori wants to die. 

NORIKO, to Laura: "I don't suppose you can distract everyone by telling us about the time you killed some pro volleyball player?"

Laura tilts her head and thinks. 

LAURA: "I don't think I ever killed a VOLLEYball player."

Sooraya pats her on the back. 

Brian arrives, taking his seat and asking everyone if they've noticed anything "off" about Mr. Drake. 

JULIAN: "You mean besides the fact he's dumber than Ashida?" 

Nori adds a little shock to their game of footsie, making him fall out of his seat.

While everyone now laughs at Julian, instead, Brian explains what he's talking about. Namely, he seems unnaturally horny. And in contrast to how sexless the rest of the teachers are around them, besides Ms. Frost, he can't help but wonder if he's maybe over-performing. 

CESSILY: "You think Iceman might be gay?"

ROXY: "I dunno. Seems pretty straight to me. Guy's gotten to sleep with Polaris. You'd be horny too if you lost that."

BRIAN: "I really wouldn't be." 

Brian sighs. He can't just ask him something like this, you don't just drag someone out of the closet…but maybe he could find out if he's right and ease him out at the same time. 

NORIKO: "This sounds like a terrible plan that could only have even worse consequences and I support you 100%."

LAURA: "I'm bored. I'll help." 

NORIKO: "Oh even better! 

In a dialogue-free montage, Scott and Emma are yucking it up in the Blackbird as they fly to France, with Storm trailing right behind them, staying just far away enough for her to not be picked up by the plane’s sensors. 

In France, Storm, in disguise, follows Scott and Emma and is deeply annoyed when she discovers the two are just on a getaway, having fun, and not actually doing any work. Still, she keeps watching just in case that changes. It does not. She’s simply left annoyed as she watches Emma drag Scott around Paris, the two getting lunch in a fancy restaurant, catching the opera, and, clearly, Scott’s favorite part, taking a helicopter tour. 

Storm looks like she’s two seconds away from killing herself in frustration by the end of this. 

Back in the teacher’s lounge, Iceman is watching TV.  There’s a knock on the door, and Bobby laughs that they don’t need to knock. Brian and Laura enter. 

ICEMAN: “Oh. Kids. I guess you did need to knock.” He continues to talk as they approach him. “You know it’s weird they let you be an X-Man but treat you like another one of the students, right?” 

LAURA: “Believe me, I know.” 

Brian re-introduces himself since he and Iceman haven’t really talked, but Bobby does know him. After all, he’s one of their “X-Men in Training”. 

ICEMAN: “You’re the Alpha-level telekinetic, right?” 

TAG: “No. I just said I’m Tag. I tag myself and make people run away.” 

ICEMAN: “Right, right, right.” Iceman mumbles to himself that that doesn’t seem like much of an X-Man power. Brian hears this and sneers. “So, what do you need?” 

Brian says that he’s pretty open about it, but he’s gay. Bobby thinks he should be talking to Northstar then. He seems to be getting along with that other gay kid. Well, about as well as Jean-Paul gets along with anyone. 

ICEMAN: “Wait, does this have to do with sex ed? Oh god please tell me it doesn’t have to do with me.” 

Brian takes a breath, trying to stay focused and keep his cool. He gets that this can be hard. He asks Bobby if he’s into anyone right now. Bobby says not really, but, well, he wouldn’t say no to a night with Dazzler. 

BRIAN: “Dazzler. Interesting choice. And what about–?” 

LAURA: “Are you gay?” 

BOBBY: “WHAT?!” 

BRIAN: “LAURA!” 

LAURA, shrugging: “I came because I was bored. I was getting bored again.” 

Bobby is frustrated, annoyed and confused, but makes clear that, no, no he is very much not gay. There’s nothing wrong with living like that, but it’s not his speed. He tells them both to get out. Now. 

BRIAN: “I just thought–” 

ICEMAN: “Now!” 

Dejected, Brian exits, Laura following along. 

LAURA: “We did our best.” 

Brian glares at her. 

LAURA: “What?” 

In Scott’s office, Kitty is at his desk being forced to pick up his and Emm’s workload. After less than a day, she already seems to be losing her mind. She’s struggling to juggle all of the phone calls, emails, reports, and scheduling required of her. 

Eventually, she finds herself with a moment to breathe…only for Dazzler to stomp in, pissed off. Apparently, Kitty sent her a notice that she’s to go out of her to spend some time with the Cuckoos. 

DAZZLER: “I’m not dealing with those little terrors! They’re Emma’s problem!” 

Kitty rubs her forehead and softly asks Allison not to shout. For one, this was Scott’s idea, not hers. They may be Emma’s squad, but they’ve expressed that they’re fans of, and want to be like, Dazzler. So, they need her to be a good rolemodel for them. They’re not asking. 

DAZZLER: “Gross. This is going to be worse than all of those, “Win a Chance to Spend a Day with Dazzler” sweepstakes.” 

Allison agrees, but mumbles about finding a new agent as she exits. 

Kitty sighs as she leans back in her chair, but she is once again denied a moment of peace. A stepping disc opens behind her, and Magik puts her hands over her eyes. 

MAGIK: “Guess who!” 

KITTY: “Ugggh. Selene Gallio?” 

MAGIK: “Ha! She wishes!” 

Magik teleports in front of Kitty and asks why she’s such a mess. Kitty explains that she never quite realized WHY they needed multiple headmasters, and she’s now terrified that this is going to be all on her one day. 

Yana thinks she’s looking at this the wrong way though. Instead of freaking out about having to do all this work, she should use her minions. 

KITTY: “My minions?”

MAGIK: “The teachers! They’re all here because they want to be. And if they want to work so bad, they may as well be working as hard as those in gulags.” 

Kitty doesn’t like the “gulag” part…but maybe she could get some help from them. Magik tells her not to worry about it. She can just stay focused on what she’s doing now. Just give her the authority, and she’ll whip them all into shape. 

Kitty takes a moment to consider if she should really do this. 

KITTY: “Fine. You know what, it’s either this or I drink, and I’m not 21 for another month! Let’s give it a try!” 

Magik laughs maniacally. 

KITTY: “Not helping, Yana.” 

In Paris, Scott and Emma get checked into a hotel. Storm is completely fed up and is frustrated in disbelief that this is what they left the school for. She’s about to head home, but before she flies off, she notices someone exiting the same hotel. Someone who’s been referenced, but never seen before. 

STORM: “Fabian Cortez.” 

On his phone, Fabian tells someone that he’s on his way, and that their final participants have arrived. It’s time for the new hunt to begin. Storm is left to ponder as Fabian gets into his car and is driven off. 

Storm shuts her eyes and softly vocalizes everything she knows. Cortez was one of Magneto’s followers during his darker days, but he also worked alongside Trevor Fitzroy as one of the Upstarts, a group of rich and powerful Mutants who “hunted” other Mutants for their own sick amusement. The Upstarts fell apart after Fitzroy was killed…by Emma, after the Upstarts murdered the Hellions. If they’ve reassembled, their new hunt needs to be nipped in the bud before anyone gets hurt, but she has no idea who she could be facing. 

Ororo turns back to the hotel, thinking about looking to Cyclops and Emma for backup. 

STORM: “Their final participants have arrived. No…no, it couldn’t be. Scott would never. Even Emma would never work with THEM.”  

Storm thinks about it for a minute more…before deciding she cannot risk it, and flies after Cortez to face the new Upstarts alone. 

In the gymnasium, Laura is running Brian through his hand-to-hand combat drills, since the Danger Room was taken offline once again after it almost took Emma’s head off. Notably, unlike Sofia’s training sessions with her, this does not involve sparring with Wolverine. 

Brian complains to Laura that she was supposed to help with Iceman, not do exactly what he said not to. Laura counters that his strategy wasn’t getting anywhere. She could read from his body language and how he reacted to what she said that Brian was right if that’s any consolation. 

BRIAN: “Barely.” 

Brian sighs that there has to be something they can do to help him, but Laura has a question. 

LAURA: “So many cultures seem to take issue with attraction to one’s own sex. Why?” 

BRIAN: “Why do people hate Mutants?” 

Laura pauses. 

LAURA: “Hate and fear. Weaknesses of the mind.” She pops out her claws. “People should be afraid of me for this. But why fear who I want to kiss?” 

BRIAN: “You mean why fear you for wanting to kiss Sofia?” 

Laura, unamused, flips Brian off with a single claw. 

Brian wishes he got it himself, but he’s not exactly a history scholar. All he knows is that religion has “something” to do with it, the hate has been passed down for thousands of years, and people are always just looking for something to get angry at. 

BRIAN: “Not like they can’t just read comics if that’s what they want.” 

Laura asks if that’s why he and Cessily got so into the whole “Hellions” thing. 

LAURA: “You’re both angry. At the whole world. And that what your way of getting back at it. Right?” 

BRIAN: “...something like that.” 

Brian admits that he knows it was wrong, and he knew it was wrong at the time, but it still felt so good. He felt like he was powerful and had no reason to be afraid at all. 

Inside a warehouse, a platinum haired woman in red and yellow looks up at a blank scoreboard as she sips a glass of wine,  excitedly moaning over how good it is. Really, it’s the perks like these that she missed most about running with the Upstarts. 

Brian asks if Laura will spar with him like she spars with Sofia. He wants to get stronger. Laura warns him he'll get hurt, but he's up to the challenge.

As she stuffs horderves in her face, a young man in a suit approaches her, questioning what she HAS been doing. She’s as powerful as any Mutant, but she’s been, what, robbing banks? 

“Really, Sienna, I’d have thought you’d do more.” 

SIENNA BLAZE: “Ah, shut it, Shaw. You don’t know my story.” 

 “Nor do I particularly care about it. And please, it’s Shinobi.” 

Cortez enters with a wide, fake grin on his face, telling his old accomplices how lovely they both look tonight and how happy he is they could make it for this little reunion. Shinobi tells him to drop the bit. He’s only here because Cortez promised this hunt would conclude with a group assault on the Xavier Institute, and he wants to wring his hands around the necks of the children who humiliated his father. Sienna is more of the spirit of things and is excited to get started, questioning if the only ones yet to arrive are the newbies. 

SHINOBI: “I certainly hope so. Otherwise, that would mean our dear host invited…” 

“Greetings, old friends!” 

Shinobi and Sienna both cringe as Andreas and Andrea Von Strucker enter the scene. Fabian happily greets them both, blowing air kisses at the two, delighted that Baron Von Strucker’s wonderful children could rejoin them for this. 

Shinobi and Sienna both glare at Cortez. 

CORTEZ: “What? They’re good at what they do?” 

Sienna groans while Shinobi pinches his nose and moans, “Damn nazis.” 

Andreas mocks that they’re clearly intimidated by them, while Sienna clarifies that, no, they just don’t want them kissing in front of them. 

ANDREA: “For someone so promiscuous, you sure are a prude.” 

SIENNA: “Who are you calling a prune?! Oh I am ready to start this hunt right now!” 

Before Sienna can start something, Fabian tells everyone to calm down and not be so hasty. Their final players should be arriving any moment now. 

An explosion occurs, blowing a hole in one of the warehouse’s walls, with two men, recognized by comic fans as John Greycrow and Riptide, flying through it, unconscious. Everyone turns their attention to the attack, as Storm enters, lit up with electricity and floating above the Upstarts. 

STORM: “Whatever any of you are considering doing next…I recommend surrendering instead.” 

Naturally, the Upstarts aren’t going to back down that easily, and ready themselves for battle. 

Back in America, Bobby has come to visit Chrisitan Frost. Christian eagerly greets him, referring to him as “my hero”, and it’s established they’ve seen each other a couple of other times since Iceman saved Christian from the U-Men. 

BOBBY: “I’m sure you’re just happy to have ANYONE besides your sister visiting you.” 

CHRISTIAN: “Are you implying that nearly all my social interaction for a decade and a half involving social gossip and hearing about the latest lives Emma’s destroyed would get tiring? Because you don’t know the half of it.” 

Christian obviously doesn’t have any news himself, but he likes hearing about the newest going ons with the X-Men from him; he’s more honest about the embarrassing parts than Emma is. 

BOBBY: “Uh, well, Emma’s with Cyclops in France right now. To be determined what that’s about. We just took in a demon? I guess? We’re still trying to–” 

Christian cuts him off. 

CHRISTIAN: “Stop. A demon? Demons are real?” 

BOBBY: “Wow, you’re as out of the loop as the dumb kids I teach.” 

Bobby laughs, before spinning that out into a tangent about his earlier encounter with Brian and Laura. He couldn’t believe these kids! Why the Hell would they think he’s gay?! Christian raises an eyebrow and reminds him that HE’S gay. 

BOBBY, gesturing to their surroundings: “Obviously! And obviously, I have nothing against gay people!” 

CHRISTIAN: “Then why do you sound so offended?” 

BOBBY: “I’m not offended!” 

The two stare each other down until Christian laughs. Bobby asks what’s so funny. 

CHRISTIAN: “Nothing, nothing. I’d just forgotten how those words sounded.” 

Christian reminds Bobby that he’s quite a bit older than him, and tells him that what he’s saying is normal. He acted this way too. A lot of them have. It’s what they’re taught to say. 

CHRISTIAN: “To be honest, you aren’t hard to peg. At least in that way. I saw it the day we met. I’m sorry those brats brought this up to you before you were ready.” 

BOBBY: “Are you calling me gay too?” 

CHRISTIAN: “You’re something. If you need to deny it more, go ahead. That’s your choice. But think about all the thoughts you’ve had. Think about your life. And make that choice with everything in mind.” 

BOBBY, hanging his head: “I…I don’t…you’re not trying to seduce me, are you? Cause I know you Frosts like younger men.” 

CHRISTIAN: “Keep making jokes if you have to. Whatever makes you comfortable.” Christian smirks at him flirtatiously. “And I’m only trying to seduce you if you want me to be.” 

Bobby stares off into space as he wraps a sheet of ice around his face. 

In Sunspot’s bedroom, he’s on the phone with Monet, who’s screaming at him in French. Roberto, also speaking in French, asks her to please stop shouting. No, Cyclops and Emma haven’t figured out what they’re doing. Frankly, he’d be embarrassed if they already had. No, they’re just in France doing…something. 

MONET, over the phone: “I am not going down helping you, Da Costa. Especially not to Ms. Frost.” 

There’s a knock on the door. 

ROBERTO: “We haven’t done anything wrong. Yet. Try to have some faith in me, hmm? I have to go.” 

Roberto takes off his headphones, hangs up, and answers the door. 

KITTY, disheveled, but less than before, grinning: “Hi!” She dumps a stack of papers in his hands. “Bye!” 

Kitty starts walking away, but Beto follows and asks what this is. Kitty explains that she’s in charge, and she’s decided to delegate some of her duties as temporary headmistress. 

KITTY: “Have fun!” 

Magik appears beside Kitty as she gets away from Sunspot and the two giggle together. The look on his face just now was priceless! The most nostalgic thing she’s seen since she got here. 

KITTY: “Yeah…wake up the others.” 

In their bedrooms, Beast, Nightcrawler, Dazzler, Northstar, and Warpath are all woken up from their peaceful slumber as airhorns mystically emerge next to their heads and blow out their eardrums, before Yana’s voice comes out of them, shouting at them to get up NOW; there’s work to be done. 

HANK, rubbing his head: “As if I needed another reason to leave.” 

In France, while the rest of the Upstarts are ready to tear Storm to shreds, Cortez approaches her with open arms and asks if she’s here to join them on their hunt. They may disagree about whether or not Mutants are a higher form of life than humans, but she is Storm, the so-called goddess - she thinks herself a higher form of life than everyone. 

Storm threatens him not to presume to understand her, but the Fenris twins believe he has her pegged. For someone so insufferably arrogant, it’s peculiar that she doesn’t flex more. Not that they’d expect someone like her to know what she was doing. 

Storm calls down a bolt of lightning from the heavens and blasts Fenris away. 

CORTEZ: “So much for the open hand of friendship!” 

Charged up with electromagnetic energy, Sienna flies at Storm. She kicked her ass once, and this time she’s putting her in the ground for good. 

SIENNA: “Assuming there’s enough left of you for that.” 

As Storm flies and deflects her attacks, mocking that she’s deluding herself if she believes she’s the same Mutant she was when they first fought years ago, increased pressure is put on her as a still conscious Fenris hold hands and attempt to shoot her down with energy blasts. 

Andreas reminds her that Blaze isn’t the only one to have nearly taken her out, with Andrea following that if she hadn’t been so annoying and survived, shooting her in her ugly little face would have been the happiest of memories. 

Storm summons a fierce wind and sends all three of them flying back into a wall. Staying alert, she scans with her eyes for Cortez and Shinobi. Shinobi attempts to get the drop on her, literally, as he phases through the ceiling, and attempts to skewer her with a katana from above. Ororo dodges, and continues to dance around his blade swipes, as he continues to say that the X-Men, and especially her, are nothing but hypocrites. They all know they’re above humanity, but they’re too weak to act on that and have the nerve to judge and get in the way of those attempting to take their rightful place. Especially in Storm’s case, if there was ever a spine behind that ego, she’d make a fearsome queen. 

Storm’s eyes widen with rage, as her memory flashes through Emma torturing her years ago, as well as Cyclops and Emma kissing, and the image of the Phoenix. 

STORM: “I AM NO QUEEN!” 

Reaching out her hand, Storm engulfs Shinobi in a localized snowstorm, freezing him instantly; phasing won’t save him. 

STORM: “I am nothing like her.” 

Storm is ready to deal with the others next, but she suddenly feels extremely weak. Fabian laughs as he approaches from behind. Whatever she’d like to deny, she absolutely is as arrogant as himself. She was in such a rush to be the big hero, she clearly forgot about what he could do. 

CORTEZ: “I cannot shut off the powers of an Omega such as yourself entirely, but I can damn sure make you weak enough for a strengthened Blaze to obliterate you.” 

ANDREA: “You’re boosting us as well, yes?” 

ANDREAS: “We deserve to–!” 

Before the nazi twins can say anything else, Blaze screams as Cortez increases her power level, and the uncontrolled electromagnetic forces she manipulates rip Fenris apart, killing them both. 

Storm looks on in horror, unsure of what she can do. 

At the Institute, it’s the dead of night, and while Kitty and Magik are asleep peacefully in their beds, most of the other teachers are passed out in the teacher’s lounge or in their classrooms while working. Only Beast is still awake, as he kvetches and mocks Kitty’s order. 

BEAST: “I want the Danger Room fixed already!, she says. As if I haven’t been working on it for months. There is nothing wrong with it!” 

Hanging upside down in the Danger Room, Hank finishes eating a banana. He’s still hungry though. A peanut butter and banana sandwich before returning to this impossible task sounds good. 

Hank heads down the hall but hears strange sounds and banging coming from somewhere. He follows the noise to a closet. He’s hesitant to open it, but when the magnitude of the rumbling increases and it sounds like things are breaking, he feels he has no choice. 

Hank screams as he sees Julian and Noriko forcefully making out in the closet, their powers going wild and breaking everything else inside. The two teens of course scream in response to Hank screaming. 

JULIAN: “We were just kissing!” 

NORIKO: “We are NOT dating!” 

JULIAN: “I would never date this loser.” 

NORIKO: “And I would never date this jerk.” 

JULIAN: “Do NOT tell Sofia!” 

NORIKO: “Or anyone! 

Hank composes and gives them both a blank stare. If they promise to use protection if this goes further, he’ll forget he saw anything. Noriko and Julian instantly nod. Hank sighs as he walks off, shutting the door behind him. Julian and Noriko immediately resume making out. 

In France, the raging Sienna screams in agony as she brings down the building around them, shaking the world. Storm does her best to dodge her attacks, all while keeping an eye on Cortez. She knows that if she can just land a hit on him and knock him out, Blaze will pass out from exhaustion. This becomes more difficult as Cortez pulls out a gun, attempting to aid Blaze in shooting Storm out of the sky. 

CORTEZ: “Isn’t this so much more fun than a bank robbery, Sienna?! The hunt may be spoiled, but when we’re done here, we can still go and kill every last X-Man, and all their little–” 

Storm, spotting a split-second opportunity, shoots a lightning blast at Cortez. He’s sent flying into rubble. However, he gets up just a moment later, remarking that the collision hurt more than that little taze. 

As things get worse and worse, and we see various parts of France throughout the episode being affected by Blaze’s attacks, Storm changes tactics, pleading with Blaze to try and control herself. They agree on nothing, but if mass destruction was what she longed for, she could have achieved that long ago. She must stop, for everyone else, and for herself. 

Blaze tries to fight it, slowing down her attacks as her own body cracks, but Cortez won’t be having that, and further boosts her. What follows is overwhelming. 

The warehouse is completely destroyed, Shinobi seemingly killed, and Blaze’s blast all but knocks Storm out, with her severely injured and barely clinging to consciousness. 

Cortez laughs maniacally as he tells Blaze to finish it. Kill Storm, and wipe out this entire Flatscan civilization! 

Blaze screams, Cortez laughs, and Storm struggles to stand…until the former two simply fall over unconscious. The Earth ceases to shake and Storm breathes a sigh of relief. 

STORM: “What just…?” 

“Not to speak down to you as if you were a student, but I must ask: what were you thinking coming here alone?” 

Storm cringes as she pushes herself to stand up. Emma has arrived on the scene. 

The next morning at the Institute, the friend group is having breakfast in the cafeteria. Cessily is excitedly telling everyone how she just got the call from the Washingtons, and she’s going to be a background dancer in their next video. 

While this is going on, Sofia, who’s still sitting as far away from Julian as she can, lapses into old feelings and sends a small wind over his way to put his stray hair back in place. Julian smiles at her and she smiles back, but when Julian looks back in front of him at Noriko, she shoots him a look that says, “Dude, what the Hell are you doing?”. From the look on Julian’s face, he has no idea either. Laura watches all three of them intently. 

Iceman approaches the kids and asks Brian if he can talk to him alone for a minute. Brian says sure, and the two end up in Bobby’s classroom. 

Brian starts apologizing to Mr. Drake for yesterday, but Bobby tells him to stop. He can’t deny what Brian and Laura said touched a nerve and, after talking about it with someone else and making him think, maybe he was onto something. He’s still not sure. But he’s sorry he snapped at the kids, “I don’t think Wolverine cares about hearing an apology”, and he’s grateful to Brian for at least reaching out to try and help; he’s a good kid. 

Brian thanks him and tells him there’s no need to be sorry. He gets it. And he’s happy to have at least helped Mr. Drake start questioning. 

BOBBY: “About that…what made you think that anyway?” 

Brian explains to him how his pretty extreme outward heterosexuality is a pretty common sign. Some other little things he picks up too. And also...he may have been projecting a little. 

BRIAN: “Real talk? I’ve been a fan since before I even knew I was a Mutant. I love my dad, I wouldn’t trade him for anyone, but…he’s kind of a dork. Didn’t really have anyone immediately around who was “big and tough” to emulate like I wanted, you know? But then, I’d see clips of you online. Strongest guy in the world. Wanted to be just like you.” 

BOBBY, laughing to himself, pretending to be humble: “Strongest guy in the world? I don’t know about that, I haven’t fought Magneto or Exodus since I got this powerful, but…sorry, continue.” 

Brian goes on to say that part of why he tries to help his friends as much as he can, tried to help Mr. Drake…part of why he went with the Hellions thing…was because he knows he’ll never be strong on his own. End of the day, he’s only an X-Man in Training because he made the right friends. End of the day, they’ll all be X-Men, he won’t be. 

BRIAN: “You said it yourself. Tagging isn’t much of an X-Man power.” 

Bobby shakes his head. He thinks Brian misunderstands a few things. He wasn’t ALWAYS an Omega. Back when he was Brian’s age, he was considered the weakling of the original 5 X-Men. The dumb little brother who everyone needed to protect. How was throwing snowballs and tripping people on slippery roads supposed to make a real difference? 

BOBBY: “There may be a lot more power inside you than you realize. And even if there isn’t? There are all kinds of ways the X-Men could use someone with a power like yours. You’ve got potential. And if the rest of the X-Men didn’t think so, they would have swapped you out for someone else.” 

Brian thanks him. He’ll keep all that in mind. He should get back to his friends now though. But hey, maybe if he wants to start exploring his potential queerness for real, he’d want to come with him and Quentin to Jumbo Carnation’s upcoming fashion show? 

BOBBY: “HA! No. Nope. Appreciate the offer, but I am definitely not ready for something like that.” 

Brian gets it and the two fist bump. 

In the office, several of the teachers haven’t shown up for their classes, and she can’t reach them on their phones or communicators. She has no idea what’s going on. 

In the corner, Magik laughs. Really? Does the girl genius have no idea? 

MAGIK: “KItty, you overworked your minions all night! They’re probably all exhausted and passed out!” 

KITTY: “They’re all superheroes, I thought they could handle it! Wait, if you knew this would happen, why did you tell me to do this?!” 

MAGIK: “Duh, because I’m a queen with years of experience, and when you end up taking this place over for real, you should know what you’re doing. Lessons like this are necessary.” Illyana boops Kitty’s nose. “You’re welcome.” 

As Magik shuts her eyes and smugly waits for an apology, Kitty growls and jumps at her, phasing them both through the floor. Magik just laughs. 

In the rubble of the destroyed warehouse, Storm demands Emma not to take one step closer and explain what’s going on here. Emma sighs that Ororo never can just thank her. Not long ago, they received a report from SHIELD that Domino had been apprehended after being caught working for Fabian. Hating to see a former X-Man in human custody, she arranged a deal for her. She’d pull strings to get her out, in exchange for information that would result in Cortez’s capture. She convinced her to go along with it, and so she came out here to apprehend him, dragging Scott along for a bit of fun. She didn’t want his help though.  

EMMA: “For me, facing the Upstarts alone was personal. Why would you not seek out our aid? And why did you follow us at all?” 

Storm cools off and sighs before explaining that she didn’t trust them. She hasn’t ever trusted Emma, of course, but she sensed something especially off with her earlier. She was concerned with what she was planning on doing, both WHILE here, and TO Scott. 

Emma rolls her neck and concedes she can’t entirely blame her. For any of it. She can see how her relationship with Scott may seem suspicious in light of everything, but all it is is that she’s never had someone she cared for in such a way. She’s not sure she likes how that feels, but she knows she wants to keep him close. And what she sensed earlier was likely her murderous intent. She freely admits she was not planning on allowing any of the Upstarts to survive. 

EMMA: “I was a monster in the past. Towards you, especially. I understand your hate. And I cannot deny, that treatment of you…came from jealousy.” 

Storm doesn’t buy THAT at all, an amused smirk on her face. Emma knows how ridiculous and embarrassing it sounds, but it’s true. After Jean’s death, they were the two most powerful women in the world. But no matter her bluster, Emma knew she was a distant second to Ororo. That was why she hated her so much. 

Ororo smiles and questions what has Emma opening up like this, saying all these pretty words she’d never say. Emma answers that, frankly, this feud between them had become exhausting. And it’s reaching a point where it’s putting their lives in danger. She just wants it put to bed. 

Storm looks at Emma for a few moments. 

STORM: “Once again, the opportunity to betray us was open to you. And once again, you prove yourself an ally. So long as we’re sharing things we never would, and you are humbling yourself, perhaps I have been too harsh with you. You will always be a monster in my eyes. That cannot be changed. But I can try and understand that that isn’t who you really are. Not anymore.” 

EMMA: “I’m certainly not asking for us to be friends so that sounds like a nice start.” 

Emma reaches out a hand, and Ororo shakes it. 

STORM: “You may be a distant #2, but we should still be able to achieve a great deal cooperating with one another.” 

EMMA: “Oh, don’t make this a whole thing, goddess.” 

Emma asks if Ororo would care for a room in the hotel, but Storm thinks she’ll just be heading up. She left Kitty in charge and she’s not sure she thought that one through. Emma tells her it’s probably fine; Ororo raised her well. 

With smiles on their faces, Ororo starts flying away from Emma, as the usual episode wrapup music kicks in…

…only for it to be cut off, as, on a close-up of an evil smirk on Emma’s face, she whispers, “Finally”. 

With a psychic blast, Emma shoots Ororo out of the sky. Storm is still conscious, but she’s completely paralyzed. Emma snickers as she floats over to her. 

EMMA: “Oh Storm. Always so arrogant. Of course “humbling” myself before the goddess was what would finally make you drop your guard. I should have seen it sooner.” She bends down and whispers in Storm’s ear. “You thought I was planning to betray the X-Men? You thought I was trying to corrupt Cyclops? You didn’t believe that I’d ever truly changed? Congratulations wind witch: you were right.” 

Emma laughs manically as Ororo’s eyes fill with fear and rage. 

[queenofalpaca]

WIP Folder Game

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

@voidcat-senket tagged me because they wants me to SUFFER, go thank them

Why are there so many

Splitting them by fandom because otherwise this would be a huge mess (I say, as if it isn’t regardless). With that said, in no particular order:

Jedi Fallen Order/Survivor

Cal’s Sith Buddies

Baby Cal’s Sith Buddies

Medic Cal

Reverse AU

Sleep Dep

Haunting

Came back Loving

Big Sis Trilla/Inquisitor Cal

Ponchos

Gods

Injured Villain

Bode’s Force Background

Go to Sleep, Scrapper

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss/Mansplain, Manipulate, Malewife

Bode kidnaps a Padawan

Tanalorr’s Child Protective Services Or: how Bode opened up a daycare on Tanalorr

Mermaid Bode (concept)

Duty Calls

Duty Calls: Bode edition

Bode from HR

Sekiro Plunny

Trans Bode

Little Omega, Big… Omega?

Dooku/Bode

Hades AU

Big brother Raj (Candela version and Star Wars version) [Jedi Survivor and Candela Obscura]

Trans Bode and Rajan [Jedi Survivor and Candela Obscura]

DC (Green Lantern)

Marie does a magical oopsie

Oblivion (one shot collection)

The De-aging Incident

Parallax/Kyle

Oblivion and Parallax

Definitions

Knight au

5+1 White ring

Blind Kyle

Oblivion!Kyle

DC (other)

The Omelette (Jason* gets a dragon) *Jason Blood, that is

The Gray Sons

The case of the fake guns

Marvel (Mysterio)

X times Tony flirted with Quentin

Mysterio Witch Edition

Enter Stage Right: Mysterio

Miscellaneous (fandom in brackets)

Apparently HFW now? [Horizon Forbidden West]

Zodiac [Zodiac, as in the movie with RDJ and Jake Gyllenhaal]

It’s Rain(ing) [Mortal Kombat, Rain]

Do I have too many wips? Yes. Have a touched most of them within the past six months? Nope. Am I ever going to write all of these? Probably not. Do I love and cherish every single one of them regardless and could be convinced to write/continue most of them if you ask real nice and throw in a treat? …perhaps.

I don’t even know enough people on tumblr to tag as many as I have wips so I’m just going to inflict this on @azu-mog and move on <3