#I’ve always wanted to try it or go into a cave but I k ow it will scare me lmao

[pumpkinpaix]

Pleeeeeeease get into the class one at some point because I very much want to understand the class dynamics happening in the story but I have yet to find a meta that dives into it

god anon you want me dead don’t you alsjdfljks

referring to this post

okay, so -- my specific salt about class interpretations in mdzs are very targeted. I can’t pretend to have a deep understanding of how class works in mdzs generally because uhhhhh yeah i don’t think i have that. i’m just not familiar enough with the genre and/or the particulars of chinese class systems. but! i can talk in general terms as to why I feel a certain way about the class dynamics that I do think I understand and how I think they relate to the themes of the novel! i’m gonna talk about wei wuxian, the daozhangs, xue yang, and 3zun with, I’m sure, a bunch of digressions along the way.

the usual disclaimers: i do not think you are a bad person if you hold opinions contrary to my own. i may disagree with you very strongly, but like. this isn’t a moral judgment, fandom is transformative and interpretive etc. etc. and i may change my mind. who knows what the future will bring!

OKAY so let’s begin!

here’s the thing about wei wuxian: he’s not poor. I think because characters use “son of a servant” kind of often when they’re trying to insult him, a lot of people latch onto that and think that it’s a much stronger indication of his societal status than it actually is. iirc, most of the insults that fall along the “son of a servant” line come after wei wuxian starts breaking severely from tradition. it’s a convenient thing to attack him for, but doesn’t actually indicate anything about his wealth. (exception: yu ziyuan, but that’s a personal familial issue) this is in direct contrast to jin guangyao who is constantly mocked for his family line, publicly and privately, no matter what he does.

so this, coupled with all the jokes about wwx never having any money (wei wuqian, sizhui’s “i’ve long since known you had no money” etc.), plus his like, rough years on the street as a child ends up producing this interpretation of wei wuxian, especially in modern aus, as someone who is very class conscious and “eat the rich”. but the fact of the matter is, wei wuxian IS rich. aside from the years in his childhood and the last two years of his life in yiling, like -- wei wuxian had money and status. he is gentry. he is respected as gentry. he is treated as a son by the sect leader of yunmeng jiang -- he does not have the jiang name, but it is so very clear that jiang fengmian favors him. wei wuxian is ranked fourth of all the eligible young masters in the cultivation world -- that is not a ranking he could have attained without being accepted into the upper class.

wei wuxian’s poverty does not affect him in the way that it affects jin guangyao or xue yang. he is of low-ish birth (still the son of jiang fengmian’s right hand man though! ok sure, “son of a servant” but like. >_> whatever anyways), but for most of his life he had money. he, jiang cheng, and their sect brothers go into town and steal lotus pods with the understanding that “jiang-shushu will pay for it”. this is a regular thing! that’s fucking rich kid behavior!!! wei wuxian is careless with money because he doesn’t have to worry about it. he still has almost all the benefits of being upper class: education, food security, respect, recognition etc. I think there may also be a misconception that wei wuxian was always on the verge of being kicked out by yu ziyuan, or that he was constantly walking on eggshells around her for fear of being disowned, but that is just textually untrue. i could provide receipts, but I admittedly don’t really feel like digging them up just now ;;

even in his last years in yiling, he was not the one who was dealing with the acute knowledge of poverty: wen qing is the one managing the money, and as far as we know, wei wuxian did little to no management of daily life during the burial mounds days -- mostly, he’s described as hiding in his cave for days on end, working on his inventions, running around like a force of chaos, frivolously making a mess of things -- it’s very very cute that he buries a’yuan in the dirt, but in classic wei wuxian fashion, he did Not think about the practical consequences of it -- that A’Yuan has no other clean clothes, and now he’s gotten this set dirty and has no intention of washing them. is this a personality thing? yeah, but I think it’s also indicative of his lack of concern over the logistics of everyday survival, re: wealth.

furthermore, i think it is important to remember that wei wuxian, when he is protecting the wen remnants, is not protecting common folk: he is still protecting gentry. fallen gentry, yes! but gentry nonetheless. wen qing was favored by wen ruohan, and wen ning himself says that he has a retinue of people under his command (the remnants, essentially). their branch of the family do not have the experience of living and growing in poverty -- they are impoverished and persecuted in their last years, but that’s a very different thing from being impoverished your whole life. (sidenote: I do not believe wei wuxian’s primary motivation for defending the wen remnants was justice -- i believe he did it because he felt he owed wen ning and wen qing a life debt, and once he was there, he wasn’t going to stand around and let the work camps go on. yes, he is concerned about justice and doing the right thing, but that’s not why he went in the first place. anyways, that’s another meta)

after wei wuxian returns, he then marries back into gentry, and very wealthy gentry at that. lwj provides him all the money he could ever want, he is never worried about going homeless, starving, being denied opportunities based on his class and accompanying disadvantages. who would dare? and neither wei wuxian nor lan wangji seem to have much interest in shaking up the order of things, except in little things like the way they teach the juniors. they live in gusu, under the auspices of the lan, and they live a happy, domestic life.

were his years on the street traumatizing? yes, of course they were, there’s so much delicious character exploration to be done re: wei wuxian’s relationship to food, his relationship to his own needs, and his relationship to the people he loves. it’s all important and good! but I feel very strongly that that experience, while it was formative for him, did not impart any true understanding of poverty and the common person’s everyday struggles, nor do I think he ever really gains that understanding. he is observant and canny and aware of class and blood, certainly, but not in a way that makes it his primary hill to die on (badum-tss).

this is in very stark contrast to characters like jin guangyao and xue yang, and to some extent, xiao xingchen and song lan. I’ll start with the daozhangs, because I think they’re the simplest (??).

I think both xiao xingchen and song lan have class consciousness, but in a very simplified, broad-strokes kind of way (at least, given the information we know about them). we know that the two of them share similar values and want to one day form their own sect that gives no weight to the nobility of your lineage and has no concern with your wealth. we also know that they both disdain intersect politics and are more concerned with ideals and principles rather than status. but, I think because of that, this actually somewhat limits their perception and understanding of how status is used to oppress. as far as we know, neither of them participated on any side in sunshot and they demonstrate much more interest in relating to the commoners. honestly, i hc that they were flitting around trying to help decimated towns, protecting defenseless villages etc. I ALSO think this has a lot of interesting potential in terms of xiao xingchen and wei wuxian’s relationship, if xiao xingchen is ever revived. regardless of whether you’re in CQL or novel verse, xiao xingchen really doesn’t know wei wuxian at all, other than knowing that he’s his shijie’s son. he knows that cangse-sanren met with a tragic end, like yanling-daoren before her, and that he wants to be different. but here is cangse-sanren’s son, laying waste to entire cities, desecrating the dead. I would very much like to get into xiao xingchen’s head during that period of time (and i think, if i do it right, i can write some of it into the songxiao fixit), but that’s neither here nor there, because i’ve wandered off from my point again.

i would posit that song lan is used to an ascetic lifestyle, and xiao xingchen probably is too -- but that’s different from poverty because there’s an element of choice to it. I also think that neither of them is particularly worldly, xiao xingchen especially. he lived on an isolated mountain until he was like, seventeen, and he came down full of ideals and naivete about how the world worked. I think that both of them see inequality, that they are angered by it, and that they want to do something about it -- but their solution is neither to topple the sects, nor is it to reform the system. rather, it seems to be more about withdrawing and creating their own removed world. I think that the daozhangs embody a kind of utopianism that isn’t present in the minds of any of the other characters, not even wangxian. honestly, baoshan-sanren’s mountain is a utopian ideal, but one that is not described. it exists outside of and beyond the world. i have a lot of jumbled, vague thoughts about utopianism generally, mostly informed by china miéville and ursula k. le guin, and I don’t think i have the ability to articulate them here, but i wanted to. hm. say something? there is something about the inherent dystopianism contained within every utopia, that utopias are necessary, but also reflections of the existence of terrible things in their conception. idk. there’s something in there, I know it!! but i suppose what I want to say is -- i do not think the daozhangs understand class and social hierarchy very deeply because they don’t see a need to examine it deeply. for their goals, the details aren’t the point. they’re not looking to reform within the system, they’re looking to build something outside of it. I think they spend a lot of time concerned with alleviating the symptoms of social oppression, and their values reflect the injustices they witness there.

regardless, even if their story ends in tragedy and there is a certain amount of critique re: the utopian approach, i think the text still emphasizes that xiao xingchen left a utopia and that he thought that people mattered enough for him to try, and that was an incredibly honorable, kind, and human thing to do.

YEAH SURE THE DAOZHANGS ARE THE SIMPLEST ok ok RETURNING to class and moving forward: xue yang.

i also don’t think xue yang has class consciousness lol, or not in any way that really matters, but I do think poverty impacted him in a much stronger way than it impacted wei wuxian. wei wuxian spent some years on the street as a child. xue yang grew up on the streets. chang ci’an’s horrific treatment of him was directly due to his class and social standing: chang ci’an is a nobleman and xue yang is not even worth the dirt beneath the wheels of his cart. what I think is the seminal point though, is that this does not make xue yang think particularly deeply about systemic injustice, because xue yang is so self-centered, self-driven, and individualistic. he is not even slightly concerned about how poverty and class might affect other people -- they’re other people. what he takes away from his experience is not an anger at being wrongfully cheated by a system, but an anger at being wrongfully cheated by a specific man.

xue yang is not particularly concerned with the politics of the aristocracy -- he has no obvious ambitions other than, “i want to eat sweets whenever i please”, “i want to hurt anyone who wrongs me”, and “i want to be so strong that no one can hurt me”. like, he just doesn’t care -- it’s not the kind of power he wants. he sneers at people for like, personal reasons, not class reasons -- “you think you’re better than me” re: xiao xingchen and song lan. to him, all people -- poor, wealthy, noble, common -- are essentially equal, and they are all beneath him. after all, what does he care what family someone comes from, how much money they have? everyone bleeds when you cut them. some of them might be harder to get to than others, but xue yang does not fear that sort of thing. it’s just another obstacle he needs to vault on his way to getting revenge and/or a pastry.

ANYWAYS onto jin guangyao (wow this is hm. getting rather long ahaha oh dear): I would argue that the two characters with the most acute understanding of class/societal politics and the injustice of them are jin guangyao and lan xichen. i’ll start with jin guangyao for obvious reasons.

where xue yang took the damaging effects of poverty as personal slights, I think jin guangyao is painfully aware that there is nothing personal about them, which is, in some ways, much worse. why are two sons, born on the same day to the same father, treated so differently? just because.

he watched his mother struggle and starve and work herself to the bone in a profession where she was constantly disrespected and abused for almost nothing in return, while his father could have lifted her out of poverty with the wave of a finger. why didn’t he? because he didn’t like her? no -- because he didn’t care, and the structures of the society they live in protect that kind of blase treatment of the lower class.

“so my mother couldn’t choose her own fate, is that her fault?” jin guangyao demands. he knows that he is unbelievably talented, that he has ambition, that he has potential, and that all of it is beyond his grasp just because his father didn’t want to bother with it. his mother’s life was destroyed, and his own opportunities were crippled with that negligence. it isn’t personal. that’s just the way things are. your individual identity is meaningless, your humanity does not exist. when he’s kicked down the steps of jinlin tai, it’s just more confirmation that no matter how talented or hardworking he is, no one will give him the time of day unless he finds a way to take it himself and become someone who “matters”.

jin guangyao’s cultivation is weak because he had a poor foundation, and he had a poor foundation because he was denied access to a good one. he copies others because that’s all he can do at this point, and he copies so well that he can hold his own against some of the strongest cultivators of his generation. he’s disparaged for copying and “stealing” techniques, but -- he never would have had to if only he had been born/accepted into the upper class. the fact is that i really do think jin guangyao was the most promising cultivator of his generation that we meet, including the twin jades and wei wuxian: he had natural talent, ambition, creativity, determination and cunning in spades. in some ways, I think that’s one of the overlooked tragedies of jin guangyao: the loss of not just the good man he could have been, but the powerful one too. imagine what he could have done.

jin guangyao spends his entire time in the world of the aristocracy feeling unsteady and terrified because he knows exactly how precarious his position is. he knows how easy it is to lose power, especially for someone like him. he’s working against so many disadvantages, and every scrap of honor he gets is a vicious battle. jin guangyao fears, and I think that’s something that’s lacking in xue yang, wei wuxian and the daozhangs’ experiences/understandings of poverty. i think it’s precisely that fear that emphasizes jin guangyao’s understanding of class and blood. jin guangyao exhibits an anxiety that neither wei wuxian nor xue yang do, and it’s because he truly knows how little he is worth in the eyes of society and how little there is he can do to change that. to me, it very much feels related to the anxiety of not knowing if tomorrow you’ll have something to eat, if tomorrow you’ll still have a home, if tomorrow someone will destroy you and never have to answer for it. it’s the anxiety of knowing helplessness intimately.

moreover, jin guangyao is the only person shown to use the wealth and power at his disposal to take concrete steps to actually help the common people typically ignored by the powerful -- the watchtowers. they’re described in chapter 42. it’s a system that is designed to cover remote areas that most cultivators are reluctant to go due to their inconvenience and the lack of means of the people who live there. the watchtowers assign cultivators to different posts, give aid to those previously forgotten, and if the people are too poor to pay what the cultivators demand, the lanling jin sect pays for it. jin guangyao worked on this for five years and burned a lot of bridges over it. people were strongly opposed to it, thinking that it was some kind of ploy for lanling jin’s personal benefit. but the thing is -- it worked. they were effective. people were helped.

i believe CQL frames the watchtowers as an allegory for a surveillance state/centralized control (i think?? it’s been a minute -- that’s the hazy impression i remember, something like a parallel to the wen supervisory offices?), but I personally don’t think that was the intent in the novel. the watchtowers are a public good. lanling jin doesn’t staff them with their own sect members -- they get nearby sects to staff them. it’s a warning network that they fund that’s supposed to benefit everyone, even those that everyone had considered expendable.

(did jin guangyao do terrible things to achieve this goal? yeah lol. it’s not confirmed, but his son sure did die... suspiciously...... at the hands of an outspoken critic of the watchtowers........ whom he then executed....... so like, maybe just a convenient coincidence for jin guangyao, two birds one stone, but. it seems. Unlikely.)

lan xichen is the only member of the gentry that ever shows serious compassion for and nuanced understanding of jin guangyao’s circumstances. lan xichen treats him as his equal regardless of jin guangyao’s current status -- even when he was meng yao, lan xichen treated him as a human being worthy of respect, as someone with great merits, as someone he would choose as a friend, but he did so knowing full well the delicate position meng yao occupied. this is in direct contrast to nie mingjue, who also believed that meng yao was worthy of respect as a human being, but was completely unable to comprehend the complexities of his circumstances and unwilling to grant him any grace. you know, the difference between “i acknowledge that your birth and status have had effects upon you, but I don’t think less of you for it” and “i don’t consider your birth and status at all when i interact with you because i think it is irrelevant” (“i don’t see color” anyone?)

to illustrate, from chapter 48:

大抵是觉得娼妓之子身上说不定也带着什么不干净的东西，这几名修士接过他双手奉上来的茶盏后，并不饮下，而是放到一边，还取出雪白的手巾，很难受似的，有意无意反复擦拭刚才碰过茶盏的手指。聂明玦并非细致之人，未曾注意到这种细节，魏无羡却用眼角余光扫到了这些。孟瑶视若未见，笑容不坠半分，继续奉茶。蓝曦臣接过茶盏之时，抬眸看他一眼，微笑道：“多谢。”

旋即低头饮了一口，这才继续与聂明玦交谈。旁的修士见了，有些不自在起来。

rough tl:

Probably because they believed that the son of a prostitute might also carry some unclean things upon his person, after these few cultivators took the teacups offered from [Meng Yao’s] two hands, they did not drink, but instead put them to one side, and furthermore brought out snow white handkerchiefs. Quite uncomfortably, and whether they were aware of it or not, they repeatedly wiped the fingers they had just used to touch the teacups. Nie Mingjue was not a detail-oriented person and never took note of such particulars, but Wei Wuxian caught these in the corner of his eye. Meng Yao appeared as if he had not seen, his smile unwavering in the slightest, and continued to serve tea. When Lan Xichen took the teacup, he glanced up at him and, smiling, said, “Thank you.”

He immediately dipped his head to take a sip, and only then continued to converse with Nie Mingjue. Seeing this, the nearby cultivators began to feel somewhat uneasy.

all right, since we’re in full cyan-rampaging-through-the-weeds mode at this point, i’m going to talk about how this is one of my favorite 3zun moments in the entire novel for characterization purposes because it really highlights how they all relate to one another, and to what degree each of them is aware of their own position in relation to the others and society as a whole.

1. nie mingjue, who is a forthright and blunt person, sets meng yao to serving tea and is done with it. he notices nothing wrong or inappropriate about the reactions of the people in the room because it’s not the sort of thing he considers important.

2. meng yao, knowing that his only avenue is to take it lying down with a smile, masks perfectly.

3. lan xichen, noticing all this, uses his own reputation to achieve two things at once: pointedly shame the other cultivators in attendance, and show meng yao that regardless of others’ opinions, he considers him an equal and does not endorse such behavior--and he does it while taking care that no fallout will come down on meng yao’s head.

is this yet another installment of cyan’s endless lxc defense thesis? why yes it is! no one is surprised! but this is my whole point: both meng yao and lan xichen understand the respective hierarchy and power dynamics within the room, while nie mingjue very much does not. this is not because nie mingjue is a bad person or because nie mingjue is stupid--it’s a combination of personality and upbringing. nie mingjue is straightforward and has no patience for such games. but then again, he can afford not to play because he was born into such a high position: that’s a privilege.

to break it down: meng yao knows that he is the lowest-ranked person in the room, sees the way people are subtly disrespecting him in full view of his general who is doing nothing about it. in some ways, this is good -- nie mingjue’s style of dealing with conflict is very direct and not at all suited to delicate political maneuvering. after all, the way he promoted meng yao was actually quite dangerous to meng yao: he essentially guaranteed that his men would bear meng yao a grudge and that their disrespect for him would only be compounded by their bitterness at being punished on his behalf. (it’s like, why often getting parents or teachers to intervene ineffectively in bullying can just be an incitement to more bullying -- same concept) meng yao’s reaction during that scene shows that he’s pretty painfully aware of this and is trying to defuse the situation to no avail. nie mingjue gives him a bootstrap speech (rip nie mingjue i love u so much but. sir) and then promotes him, which is pretty much the only saving grace of that entire exchange, for meng yao at least.

lan xichen, on the other hand, understands both that meng yao is the lowest-ranked person in the room and that any direct attempt to chastise the other cultivators in the room will only serve to hurt meng yao in the long run. he knows that if this were brought to nie mingjue’s attention, he would be outraged and not shy about it -- also bad for meng yao. so he uses what he has: his immaculate reputation. by acting contrary to the other cultivators’ behavior, he demonstrates that he finds their actions unacceptable but with the plausible deniability that it wasn’t directed at them, that this is just zewu-jun being his usual generous self. this means that the other cultivators have no one to blame but themselves, nothing to do but question their own actions. there is nowhere to cast off their discomfort. meng yao didn’t do anything. lan xichen didn’t do anything -- he just thanked meng yao and drank his tea, isn’t that what it’s there for? he doesn’t disrupt the peace, he doesn’t attack anyone and put them on the defensive, but he does make his position very clear.

i know this is a really small thing and i’m probably beating it to death, but I really think this shows just how cognizant lan xichen is of politics and emotional cause and effect in such situations. certainly, out of context I think the scene reads kind of cliche, but within the greater narrative of the story and within the arc of these characters specifically, I think it was a really smart scene to include. it also showcases lan xichen’s style of action: that he moves around and with a problematic situation as opposed to moving straight through.

not to be salty on main again, but this is why it’s very frustrating to me when I see people call lan xichen passive when he is anything but. his actions just don’t look like traditional “actions”, especially to an american audience. it’s easy to understand lan wangji and wei wuxian’s style of problem-solving: taking a stand, moving through, staying strong. lan xichen is juggling an inconceivable number of factors in any given situation, weighing his responsibilities in one role against those in another, and then trying to find the path through the thicket that will cause the least harm, both to himself and the thicket. lan wangji and wei wuxian are not particularly good at considering the far-reaching consequences of their actions -- again, not because they are bad people, but because of a combination of personality and upbringing. they’d just hack through the thicket, not thinking about the creatures that live in it. that is not a terrible thing! it isn’t. it’s a different way of approaching a problem, and it has different priorities. that’s okay. there are advantages and disadvantages on both sides, and where you come down is going to depend on your personal values.

okay we’ve spiraled far and away from my original point, but let’s circle back: i was talking about class.

I think it’s undeniable that class, birthright, fate etc. are some of the driving forces of thematic conflict in mdzs, and the way each character interacts with those forces reveals a lot about themselves and also about the larger themes of fate, chance, and what it means to be righteous and good and how that is and isn’t rewarded. a lot of the tragedy of mdzs (the tragedy that isn’t caused by direct aggression on the part of one group or another) stems from the injustices and slights that people suffered due to their lot in life. it isn’t fair. none of it is fair! we sympathize with jin guangyao because we recognize that what he suffered was unconscionable, even if we don’t excuse him. i sympathize A Lot with xue yang as well for similar reasons, though I understand that’s a harder sell. this is a story focused on the mistakes of an entrenched, aging gentry and the effects that those mistakes had on their children, and a lot of it has to do with prejudice based in class and birth status. whether the prejudice was the true reason or whether it was just a convenient excuse, the fact remains that the systems in place rewarded and protected the people in power who used it to cling to that power. mdzs is also a story of how the circumstances of one’s life can offer you impossible choices that you cannot abstain from, and it asks us to be compassionate to the people who made terrible choices in terrible times. it’s about the inherent complexity in all things! that sometimes, there are no good choices, and i don’t know, i’d like to think that people would show me compassion if I had to make the choices some of these characters did. not just wei wuxian, mind you, every single one of them. except jin guangshan because I Do Hate Him sorry. and i guess wen ruohan. i think that’s it.

good. GOD this is clocking in at //checks notes -- just over 5k. 8′D *stuffs some weeds into my mouth like the clown i am*

(ko-fi? :’D *lies down*)

[hyuckssunchip]

Innatism

Pairings: Lucas x reader, ft. Kun

Words: 1.7K

Warnings: angst, a little fluff

Synopsis: 

Upon reuniting with your ex-boyfriend you discover that not everything was as it seemed. Through obstacles and answers to can finally come to the conclusion that maybe people aren’t as bad as you thought.

You were sitting in the coffee shop close to campus, not something out of the ordinary. You came here almost everyday after class to get your work done. With your drink just out of your reach you sat typing furiously on your laptop. Your philosophy teacher was slightly insane, and had doled out a write up assignment on whether or not humans are innately evil or not, worth a third of your grade and was due Monday.

You frowned to yourself, not knowing where to start. This prompt was so overused and you wrote the same thing every time, but certain recent events kept coming to you and oddly enough you were conflicted on your decision. 

A few months ago your boyfriend of 8 months broke things off with you. He gave no explanation or any indication to cause such a change. You were devastated and all you remember was the cold look in his eyes as he told you right to your face, “You’re not the person I want anymore. In fact, I don’t love you, I never did.” And before you could reply he up and left you sitting in the very cafe you were at now.

Maybe subconsciously you were brought here to remember. The one thing that was out of the ordinary was that you actually sat in the same spot as you did a few months back when your heart was broken. Prior to this you couldn’t even bear to look at the seat, but here you are. Obviously you didn’t think Lucas was evil, the bad memories of him just kept flooding back, yet you couldn’t let yourself move.

You sighed, shaking your head trying to focus back on the assignment. It had been almost four hours since you started but you didn’t feel even close to being complete with the assignment, or maybe you just couldn’t get yourself to leave.

“Still a creature of habit aren’t you?” A voice you could never forget asked from behind you. You whipped your head around, afraid what you thought was true.

He looked so different, so sad and tired. He looked as if he hadn’t slept or eaten in days. While there was a slight hint of humor in his voice, you could tell that it was forced, and the smile may have brightened his features, but it never reached his eyes.

You coughed looking away,  feeling the prickly sensation threaten to sting your eyes, and the feeling of your throat tightening around the lump that refused to go down.

“I guess,” you muttered, trying to keep all emotion out of your voice. You didn’t want him to see how much he still affected you. You had to be strong.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked quietly, almost begging. Your eyes flitted across the almost empty room, and turned back with a  frown on your face, “I really can’t talk right now, I've got stuff to do.” You said as coldly as you could muster.

“It’ll only take a minute.” he pleaded. As hard as you tried to not look at him, you failed. Your eyes locked and you caved nodding your head as an indication for him to sit.

However, you refused to look up from your laptop and continued working. After 10 minutes he broke the silence with “I miss you.”

You stopped typing mid-word. Frozen, you closed your eyes for a second taking in a deep breath.

You felt a hand graze over your own and you instinctively flinched. At this, you heard him choke on his breath and pull away but not before giving you one last glance of hope.

“I’m telling you Kun, it was really weird, We just sat there in silence, then he said I miss you. Everything got weird and he bolted.” You whined to your best friend Kun over the phone. Unfortunately the bad thing with having your best friend set you up with his bandmate, things  tend to get awkward when you break up.

“That is weird. He told us he couldn’t go to lunch with us because he was meeting up with an old friend. I wonder why he lied to us.” [K]

“I don’t know anymore. I’m just so upset that he had the nerve to tell me he missed me after what he said before. It’s not fair!” [Y/N]

“I still don’t really know what happened before. You wouldn’t tell me why he did that.” [K]

“Because I don’t know! He never told me either. To be honest, I hate to say this, but I’m worried about him. He looked awful. Has he been eating, or sleeping?” [Y/N]

“Y/N… I don’t think you--” [K]

“Wait, no. Don’t tell me. I’m supposed to be over him and that whole situation. Forget it. Just… keep an eye on him will you? I mean, not because I asked… because you’re his friend.” [Y/N]

“Okay Y/N. Hey, don’t let this get to you okay?” [K]

“Yeah. Alright. Are we still on for Saturday?” [Y/N]

“Yep! I can’t wait to see you! Gosh, it’s been so long.” [K]

“I know! Alright I guess I should go, I have a ridiculous paper calling my name.” [Y/N]

“M’kay see you soon!” [K]

You let out a sigh throwing your phone on the bed and flopping down next to it. Your eyes closed, ready to drift to a nap when the doorbell interrupted your peace.

Hmmm… that’s odd. It’s 7:00 PM, I didn’t order food did I? On second thought, I probably did didn’t I?

You made your way to the door reaching for your purse as it opened. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, I think I owe you an explanation, and an apology.”

Your head snapped up to meet with none other than Lucas, not looking much better than he had hours before. Although the offer was enticing as he stood in the doorway holding a tub of your favorite ice cream.

You quietly left, running to the kitchen and grabbing two spoons, wagging them in his face before making your way to the couch.

“Open up, bud. You got a lot of explaining to do.” You said as he popped the lid off the tub. 

He gave you a sad smile at the term ‘bud’ and opened his mouth to talk, but not before shoveling a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

“I know what I said was harsh and uncalled for and I understand if you can't forgive me, but there was a reason.” You nodded, continuing with your ice cream escapade.

“I want to start off by saying I love you. Ah- before you say anything, let me finish. I lied back then, I loved you then, and I love you now. And no matter what happens from here on out, a part of me will always love you.” The spoon had made it halfway into your mouth before you froze.

“I know I can’t blame what I did on someone else, but I never wanted to leave you, it really broke my heart to do that. To see you in shock and pain, it hurt me more than it hurt you. Whatever you felt, I felt ten times worse, believe me. I haven’t been well lately, I can’t seem to sleep because I always dream of you, and I can’t stand reliving what I did. I can’t keep food down and everything I do gets sloppy. That’s the only reason they're letting me do this right now.”

“Wait a minute... who’s they? Why can’t you do stuff? What are they doing to you? Lucas, if something is wrong, you can tell me, you know that right? If you’re in trouble or need help, I’m here. Okay?”

This earned a smile from him, but you were still worried, the frown never leaving your face. 

“Oh calm down,” he chuckled, “everything’s alright. Just eat your ice cream for now.” he said as he pushed the spoon towards your open mouth.

“I’m not in trouble, don’t worry about me. In fact that’s the last thing you should do for me. I don’t even deserve that.” He said with a sad smile. 

“It was my manager, they never liked our relationship. They said we had to break it off or the band would suffer. I should have never done what I did to you, but I couldn’t let the boys down after all they worked for. That's no excuse for how I told you though. I thought if I was harsh and mean, you would hate me and it would be easier for you, but I was wrong. I only ended up hating myself. I’m not asking for forgiveness or a second chance, only that you know why I did what I did. Although a boy can hope.” He chuckled sadly to himself at the last part, avoiding eye contact with you and grabbing the tub to shut himself up while he still could.

A minute of silence passed before either of you dared to move or say anything.

“You idiot! You could have told me, I would’ve understood!” You shouted smacking his chest repeatedly. It was a sight to see, a grown man getting smacked to death with a spoon hanging out of his mouth and eyes as wide as saucers.

After a bit more playful banter and some reconciliation you and Lucas sat on the couch content in each other's arms, for the first time in months. “Are you sure you’re not mad?” he asked, still timid.

“No, do you want me to be?” you giggled back. “Oh!” you gasped. “My paper! I know exactly what to write about now!” You looked over at Lucas who was staring at you with a hint of a smile sketched on his face and you gave him a peck.

“I’ll be right back!” yelling as you ran to your room, grabbing your laptop and making your way back to your spot against Lucas.

“Everything good?” He asked, digging his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yeah, everything’s good.” You whispered, smiling to yourself, knowing that Lucas’ explanation and decision may have been the factor in changing your answer. Maybe the world is made up of good people after all, it just may not be that obvious. 

© Copyright 2021. hyuckssunchip. All rights reserved.

[fearfulkittenwrites]

“I’m allergic to bullshit” and Stealing the batmobile

Summary: The Robins have the awful habit of stealing the batmobile (it comes with the mantle), and Steph and Tim are no exception. But they are surrounded by very perceptive vigilantes, and the task becomes a little impossible with a full house.

“Steph, Tim...” Dick called as they got off the stairs, arms crossing as he stopped “What are you doing?”

Word count: 1176

Notes: Hey! This work was beta'd by @3ambird​, thank you so much for the help! They are absolutely amazing, and helped me so much with this work! Also, it was requested by @pricetagofficial​ so this is a reminder that you can always come talk to me and request me stuff! Thank you for clicking this work, I hope you like it!

Link for it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310628

Dick and Jason were sitting across from each other on the couch, each of them trying to gain more space with his feet, lightly kicking and pushing the other’s legs. Cass never quite understood why they did it, since the manor had more than enough couches for both of the huge men. Duke got back from the kitchen, and he handed his sister a glass of water before settling down on the armchair across from her spot.

“So, where is Damian again?” Duke asks Dick, taking his focus away from the intense war of feet.

“Hm? Oh, he’s with Bruce on that golfing thing for charity or whatever.” Dick answers, getting kicked in the butt for ignoring Jay. “Ow!” He retaliates, kicking at Jason’s legs “I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

“What about Steph and Tim? Did they go too?” Duke asks again, ignoring the fight as his brothers keep moving around.

“Nah, they’re still around.” Dick replies, smirking as his foot pushes Jason’s face away, muffling his voice.

“Are you sure? Because if that’s so, they’re awfully quiet...” Duke points out.

“They went down to the Cave.” Cass says.

All of them freeze and go silent for a moment.

“Oh, shit.” Dick exclaims. Suddenly, the four batkids leap from the couch and rush to the batcave, all of them in such a hurry that Jason forgets to put on his shoes, meaning he won’t stop complaining as he steps on the cold metal stairs down to the cave.

“Steph, Tim...” Dick called as they got off the stairs, arms crossing as he stopped “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” The blonde girl answers from the vehicle bay, her head popping up from behind the batmobile.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me.” Jason teases, stopping next to Dick.

“We were making out.” Tim says.

“Sure.” Duke states almost cynically, as Tim was not nearly flustered enough for that to be true. “Why were you making out in your uniforms, behind the batmobile?”

“The batcave can be very romantic...?” He tries.

Cass gives them a look that clearly means ‘seriously?’.

“Alright, human lie detector,” Tim starts, standing up “We weren’t making out.”

“Like that wasn’t obvious.” Steph complains, rolling her eyes.

“Hey!” Tim exclaims “I didn’t see you trying to cover our asses.”

“And why do you need to cover your asses?” Dick asks.

“Uhhhhh, no reason.” The teen puts his hands behind his back while Steph covers her face with a hand, clearly done with Tim’s terrible deflections.

“How can someone be so brilliant and so stupid at the same time?” She mutters.

“You think I’m brilliant?” Tim smiles.

“And stupid.” Jason points out “Just so we’re clear.”

“How come you can lie to B with a blank face, but now you’re a total mess?” Duke crosses his arms.

“With Bruce it’s usually after I’ve done whatever he’s calling me out for. I never prepared for this.” Tim explains.

“That’s a lie.” Steph cuts in, rolling her eyes yet again “He admitted yesterday that he just can’t lie to Dick.”

“Damn straight.” Dick says, a smile on his face as Tim blushes and stutters after her statement “So, tell me Tim, what were you two planning on doing?”

“We were...”

“Waxing the Batmobile!” Steph stepped in, a little desperate.

Jason’s tongue slipped through his lips before he bursted out laughing until he got red in the face.

“Yeah, okay, what were you really doing?” Dick asks, Jason still laughing like a mad man behind him, being briefly joined by Duke, who was incredibly amused by the vigilante’s laughter.

“What?” Steph tries “Why don’t you believe me? We just wanted to surprise Bruce. Make a nice thing for him, y’know?”

Jason starts coughing his lungs out, probably due to all the laughter. Dick sighs, turning around and patting his biggest little brother’s back.

“I told you to stop smoking.” He murmurs.

“No, it’s not that...” Jason struggled to catch his breath “I think that I might be allergic to bullshit. Your bullshit, specifically.” He points to Steph.

“Oh, shut up.” She retorts, crossing her arms.

Dick gives Tim a look.

“Okay! Fine!” He blurts out, overwhelmed by his brother’s prying at this point “We were going to steal the Batmobile. We just wanted to drive around town playing spice girls and catchy k-pop songs.”

All of them blink slowly, exchanging looks.

“That’s... it?” Dick says.

“...Yes?” Tim replies, unsure.

“Why didn’t you tell us then?” Dick asks “We thought you were doing something really dangerous.”

“Wait.” Steph says, looking at her four siblings “You’re not mad?”

“Pffft.” Jason mocked “Mad? Kid, every Robin steals Batman’s car. It’s like a rite of passage at this point.”

“Even Damian?”

“Especially Damian.” Duke says “He doesn’t do it for fun, but he has done it.”

“What about you and Cass? You aren’t Robins.”

“Hey! I am a Robin, thank you very much.” Duke crosses his arms.

“I won’t interfere in your rite of passage.” Cass signed.

“Are you guys serious?” Tim says.

“Yeah, go ahead, have fun.” Dick reaches into his pocket “Here.” He offers them a car key “I have like, three copies, you guys can have that one if you like. Just try not to crash.”

“Wow, thanks!” Steph takes it “I had no clue you could be a cool brother.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dick ruffles her hair “I mean it, don’t crash the car. And don’t run red lights unless there’s an emergency.”

“Alright, captain tight pants,” Jason mocks, tapping his brother’s back “Let them have fun.”

Steph and Tim soon took off in the Batmobile, blasting “Wannabe” on the speakers, loud enough for their brothers to feel the vibrations on their bones.

“Shouldn’t we have told them about the alarm on Bruce’s phone?” Duke asks.

“And ruin the fun?” Jason smirked “You still have a lot to learn.”

Just then, Dick’s phone rang.

“Is it him?” Jason peeked over his shoulder.

“Yeah. All of you, shut up for a second.” Dick puts the phone to his ear “Hey, B. What’s up?” A pause, small murmurs coming from the phone “What? Really?” More phone noise “Well, that’s weird. You know, I could’ve sworn I saw Steph and Tim going down to the cave a little earlier. But I don’t think they’d... Yeah. Mhmm.” Dick nodded “No, you should totally check on them. I can’t believe they’d do this. Alright, bye. Take care, B.”

“So?” Jason asked, eyes gleaming.

“He’s onto them.” Dick snorts “They are so screwed.”

Cass smiles a little, and Jason laughs.

“God, I feel kinda bad now.” Duke grimaced.

“Remember that time they set every single device in the house to play that baby shark song, each of them a minute apart from each other, the first going off at six in the morning?” Dick says “On a sunday?”

“Yeah, okay, I don’t feel bad anymore.” Duke frowns “They’re getting off easy.”

“Oh, baby bro,” Jason throws an arm around his shoulders “You’re dumber than I thought if you think I’m not already planning more.”

[zigtheeortega]

mementos

✿ pairing: logan x mc

✿ word count: 3792

✿ warnings: cursing

✿ tags: @beccadavenport ; @agentsewell ; @agentdumortain ; @violinet ; @serafinedupont ; @messofakind ; @felix-hauville ; @troublemakerinspace ; @pixeljazzy ; @rodappreciationweek

✿ author’s note: a big thank you to @choicesarehard for gifting me this idea because lord knows i was stuck trying to come up with a fic idea for rodaw. action writing is hard, y’all. if you get confused just know i’ve never broken into a house so i have no clue what i’m doing :) (lmao or have i) (i have not)

•─────────✦✿✦────────•

The sound of his boots slapping against the damp pavement reverberated off of the brick of the alleyways, his gasping breaths adding to the symphony that was his escape.

He grasped the short straps of the bookbag, yanking down towards the ground, tightening them. The lack of bouncing helped his momentum; he pumped his arms, using the newfound aerodynamics to increase his stride.

“Hey! Hey! You there, stop!” A voice called from behind him, but he could barely hear the cops over the thumps of his own heart, the steady bass in his ears that set the tempo of his gait.

He quickly side stepped, sliding into another alley, feet skidding expertly against the ground, before launching into a harder sprint to gear up for a leap.

He was in the air before they turned the corner, just narrowly avoiding the beam from the flashlight as he descended over the wooden fence. He was thankful for the parts of L.A. that didn’t make sense, like the hive of businesses over their tiny sliver of properties.

He kept running until he approached a nearby storm drain, inconspicuously tagged with two lines of blue spray paint, which to the normal person could look like a landmarker for construction workers, but for him was his starting point to his escape route.

Gripping the edge of the sidewalk, he angled himself inwards, turning on his stomach when he was halfway in so he could safely drop to the shallow murky water below. 

He held his breath, hearing the jingling of handcuffs and keys above him, the micro-stampede of heavy footsteps fading in and out as they passed the drain’s opening.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Logan ripped the ski mask from his head, freeing his thick locks, stray strands clinging to his face – and let out a triumphant, breathy laugh, echoing off of the concrete walls.

He did it. He’d pulled it off.

The greatest heist he’d ever orchestrated, all for the contents of her bookbag.

----

“I’m chilly.”

“Really? It’s pretty warm out right now,” he said, draping an arm around her shoulders as soon as the car came to a halt at the stoplight.

“You know I’m cold natured, Logan,” she pursed her lips, leaning into his embrace.

“You want my work shirt? I just washed it.” He reached back, feeling for the fabric underneath his fingertips. “It smells like me, and I know you love that shit.”

“It’s a little too thin for my liking. I’m sorry,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “I just don’t like bothering anyone with my complaining when I could just slip a jacket on.”

“Hey, don’t apologize for not being comfortable, baby,” he kissed her hair, murmuring into the crown of her head.

She reached over to turn the air off, and soon enough the dry warmth of L.A. crept into the periphery of the front seats.

“I just really wish I had my stuff, you know? I don’t really feel normal with just the clothes off my back and whatever I can bum from Mona and Xi and you,” she motioned at the plain white tee she’d stolen from Logan’s drawer full of them, and her jeans she’d ran away in.

“You know, I left my textbooks, my homework, my calculator – God, my whole bookbag –” She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a sharp breath. “My Langston sweatshirt…” She covered her eyes with her hands, leaning onto her knees.

When she sniffled, his chest twinged. “Aw, Raquel…”

“No, no, I’m okay I’m just… still a little sad about it. I’ll be fine,” she leaned back, quickly wiping her wet eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just attached, you know?”

“Hey… stop that,” he said, reaching over to gently take her hand in his, lacing their hands together, resting them on the central console behind the gearshift. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Not to you…” She sighed again. She left it at that for a while, letting the melodic rumble of the engine fill the air, a comfortable silence settling between them.

“I could go get that stuff for you.”

“Logan, no, I don’t want you spending any of your hard-earned money on me –”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Her eyes widened. “Hell no. I could never ask you to do that for me.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” he smirked, winking.

“Well, I’m not accepting.”

“And?” He egged her on, smirk fully intact.

She rolled her eyes. “And – you could get hurt. And I’m not okay with that. My dad isn’t exactly the most forgiving right now, if you couldn’t tell.”

He slowed to a crawl, tapping the garage door opener clipped to the sun visor, waiting for the door to slide open. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve done this type of shit before.”

“Yeah, you’ve done higher risk stuff than this, but this is different, and you know it.”

He expertly reversed parked into the tight spot, leaning back, bracing his arm on the headrest of the passenger seat, one hand on the wheel to guide the car into place.

When she looked up, his face was nearly touching her own, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the vein on his bicep, trailing upwards to the sharp angle of his jaw, settling on the smug look that seemed almost permanent. “You like what you see?”

Before she could answer with a quip of her own, he’d put the car into park and grasped her face between his rough hands, kissing her with enough delicate passion to make her head spin.

“So that’s settled. I’ll get it tonight,” he purred against her neck, lightly nipping the spot that made her toes curl.

“Yeah sure, whatever…” she sighed, a near moan slipping out as she trailed off.

He pulled back, winking. “That’s what I thought.”

----

“Right here. Put it in park,” he said, looking out the window.

He hopped out of the car, tagging the concrete with two lines. When he slid back into the passenger seat, she eyed him. “Just tagging the drain so I know where to go in.”

“Are you sure about this, Lo? Really sure?” She gripped the wheel, knuckles white. “I don’t have to spell out how badly this could end, do I?”

“Yeah. It’s my risk to take.” He leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Anything for my girl.”

----

She checked the burner phone again, nervously bouncing her leg, her knee knocking against the wheel.

Logan was supposed to call twenty minutes ago. He said if he didn’t show up within the hour, to just leave him and call Xi. He was adamant on avoiding telling Teppei at all costs.

She tapped out a frantic text to the only number in the phone, but immediately decided against it, flipping it closed and tossing it into the passenger seat so she wouldn’t be tempted to check the time again.

She opened up her glove compartment, browsing the few CD’s she’d tossed in haphazardly, grateful for them, as archaic as they were.

She popped a random disc into the slot, and flicked the volume button on her steering wheel until she was distracted enough by the rhythmic bass flowing out of the speakers, her heart nearly in time with the upbeat tempo.

No matter how many times Logan put himself in danger, she couldn’t get used to the death grip her anxiety had on her stomach, her chest, her throat.

She focused on bobbing her leg to the drums, evening her pulse out to the lyrics, and breathing in and out each stanza, each verse bringing her closer to a steady heartbeat.

----

He adjusted the makeshift mask on his face, thankful he could at least breathe through the narrow slit he’d cut for his mouth.

He’d snagged one of Toby’s plain black beanies, and DIY-ed the hell out of it. No sense in spending the money on for a one-time use, he thought.

A ski mask was cliche as hell, and would definitely cut down on his total time to finish the job (because who wasn’t going to call the cops when they saw a sketchy guy in a mask) but it was gonna be much harder for them to identify a suspect with no identifiable tattoos in a plain white tee than if his chiseled face and silky hair were on display for the whole neighborhood to see.

Patting his pockets to make sure his lockpick, burner, and knife were there, he approached the house. He slipped his leather gloves on, eyes darting across the street. He watched for movement, for any sign of life, despite it being the dead of night.

There was no doubt that the suburb had a neighborhood watch program. If a cop felt safe living there, it was a tight ship.

Breaking into a cop’s house was the stupidest idea Logan had conceived, next to lying to Raquel about… everything.

He’d started off stringing her along (he’d never forgive himself for not appreciating her sooner), but her sincerity and tenacity made him cave the more and more time he spent with her.

She was everything he wanted to be – and everything he wanted for himself.

So when he had to break the illusion and tell her the truth, the guilt ate him alive. He promised himself that he would do anything to make it up to her, no matter how crazy it was.

He’d tested her loyalty, and she was fiercely devoted through it all, despite never owing him a damn thing in the first place. And that scared him. As much as he liked her, he was slightly on edge all of the time. In truth, he was waiting for her to bolt when things got bad, like anyone else would, including him.

He wanted to prove to her that there were reasons to stay – if one of those reasons was a sweatshirt, he was going to do everything in his power to get it back.

There were no cars in the driveway, as Raquel had predicted. He always worked a night shift on Thursday nights so he could grab her breakfast on the way home before she left for school.

She smiled sadly when she told him, and it cut deeper knowing he’d brought her into his world and ripped those precious moments away from her.

He crept up the edge of the driveway, thankful that the nearest lamppost was nearly out, flickering an orange tinted light that barely touched the Olvera’s lawn.

He sprinted to the side of the house, inching along as he tried to recall the blueprint she’d scribbled out for him.

----

“There’s two bedrooms. One right next to the kitchen – that’s dad’s – and one down the hallway. That’s mine,” Raquel said, sketching out the layout of her house on a scrap of paper. “My window faces the backyard, so if you can make it back there, it should be easy to get in.”

He peppered kisses across the back of her neck from behind her, an arm gripping her waist. “Lo, I can’t concentrate if you’re kissing me like that,” she breathed, clicking the pen shut, dropping it on the table.

“Ah, we’ve got time. Don’t worry about it,” he murmured against her earlobe, eliciting a shudder from her, watching the goosebumps raise on the skin of her arms. He never got tired of making her body react to his touch.

“No, we have to get it right. You have to take this seriously,” she turned in his grip, planting her hands on both sides of his face, forcing him to hold her searing gaze. “Please promise me you’re gonna bail if you think it’s unsafe.”

“I promise,” he leaned in, sealing it with a kiss.

----

He approached the short fence, using one arm to prop himself up, and a leg against the wall to push himself over. Once his feet hit the grass, he did a quick sweep of the perimeter, looking for a censor, a trip wire, a laser – anything.

The backyard was bare, the only indication of use being the rusty gas grill with a broken wheel in the middle of the yard, a tarp haphazardly covering half of it.

He took a few cautious steps forward, his boots crunching the dry grass.

Damn the L.A. drought, he thought, attempting to tiptoe.

He reached a dip in the brick wall, realizing that the patio and back door were right next to him. He dared taking a peep, thankful there wasn’t any activity in the house from where he was.

Just to be safe, he crouched, crawling on his stomach until he reached the other side of the small patio. His heart rate sped up the closer he got to her window, so when he recognized her window (undoubtedly hers, because he spotted her lavender curtains), his pulse was quick.

He dug his fingers under the sill, gently pulling to see if it’d budge – and it did.

He wasn’t used to jobs going this smoothly. As young as he was, he wasn’t naive. He was anticipating something bad happening, so he let that anxiety fuel his edge to make sure he didn’t lose sight of his goal.

He tugged the window up, thankful that it didn’t creak. He slipped his boots off, leaving them in the sill in case it fell shut, shuffling across the floor, his sock-clad feet virtually silent.

He noticed her sweatshirt right away, slung haphazardly across the back of her desk chair, clearly her go-to comfort since its place was at her study haven.

He saw her backpack second, neatly hung on the edge of her bed, zippers zipped all on the same side, not even so much as a pop tart wrapper in her drink pocket.

Lastly, he surveyed her desk, which made his face contort in regret, an empathetic grimace underneath his mask.

She’d left a textbook open, her pencil bag unzipped, her highlighters scattered across the desk – she’d been interrupted when she left. She was studying, trying to maintain her Valedictorian status, hopefully to get scholarships for Langston, and he’d ripped it away from her.

All because of her entanglement with him.

He started by packing up her writing tools with care, as well as her textbooks, placing them delicately into her bookbag, partially because he wanted to be quiet, but also because he didn’t want to fuck anything up more than he already had.

He went back to grab her calculator, eyes flitting to the framed picture next to her lamp. It was Raquel and a woman he presumed was her mom. They were grinning from cheek to cheek, faces pressed against each other, her arm wrapped around her mother’s neck.

Her eyes were bright, her smile even brighter. And she looked just like her mom, so much that it hurt him to look at Mrs. Olvera, knowing vaguely of her fate.

He knew it was a bad idea, but he did it anyway. He flicked the knobs on the back of the frame, slipping the photo out, gently placing it between the cover and the first page of her Calculus textbook.

He folded the sweatshirt neatly, tucking it into the backpack, before zipping it closed. He dropped it out of the window and onto the grass, before sticking one foot out, ducking underneath the sill, almost all the way on the other side.

He miscalculated, landing on the outer edge of his foot instead of the ball of his foot, his ankle buckling ever so slightly. His back bumped up against his boots, which were still in the frame of the window, and they both fell, the thud echoing in the still house.

He grabbed them quickly, not thinking anything of it, until he saw a stream of light, presumably from the hall, streak across the carpet.

Mr. Olvera was home.

Logan’s heart was deafening in his ears. He laced his boots in a frenzy, slinging the backpack over his back, inching towards the side of the house closest to him.

He tried maneuvering over the fence the same way he did when he came in, but his hands were so uncharacteristically shaky, that he slipped, banging his knee against the wood, clambering over loudly.

As soon as his feet hit the grass, he was running.

At this point, he knew that someone had called the cops. Probably Mr. Olvera. But he wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

He practically glided through the wind, using each desperate step to launch himself forward as he pumped his arms to go as fast as humanly possible.

The bookbag flopped against his back, the textbooks heavy, but he couldn’t focus on anything except sprinting out of the neighborhood.

He turned the corner onto the main road of the suburb, his muscles screaming out for him to slow down, but the ache only fueled him to go faster.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! You’re so fucking close, you just have to make it to the storm drain, he thought, chanting his game plan to motivate himself to push through his exhaustion.

He passed the entrance sign to the suburbs, thankful that he was nearing the part of the city he’d planned to use as his escape.

He sprinted towards the brick buildings, panting heavily, the material of his makeshift mask sticking to his skin, sweating profusely through the fabric.

Just as he reached up, ready to rip off the mask for some relief, he heard a siren, the blue and red lights reflecting off the pavement in front of him.

“Oh shit –” he gasped, when he realized that another cop car was approaching, trying to trap him.

----

Raquel tapped her fingers against the wheel, adjusted the rearview mirror, checked her phone, and then switched the song – like clockwork. She was trying to keep herself preoccupied so that she wouldn’t fixate on the time, each passing minute building on the dread that weighed down her stomach. Each minute was like another pound, and she was already feeling so anchored that she could barely stand it.

“Call Xi. Post bail. Hide out till Teppei calms down,” she whispered to herself over and over, the definite plans the only thing anchoring her.

After she repeated that until the words didn’t sound real, she flipped her phone open, and typed Ximena’s number from memory. It was her burner’s number, so it was crucial that Raquel have it memorized.

499–1304. 499–1304. 499–1304.

She wasn’t sure how long she could rhythmically tap out the digits to the beat of the song without going insane.

Minutes later, after she’d started trying to memorize the lyrics to a song she’d never heard before, the flip phone vibrated against the dashboard.

She answered on the first ring. She wanted so desperately to call his name out, to make sure it was him, but he told her that under no circumstances should they give away personal information, especially their names.

“I got it. Meet me in five,” he panted heavily, his voice echoing and sounding distant, like he was in another room.

As soon as he hung up, she gunned it towards the second storm drain he’d tagged for her. When she saw the two lines followed by a heart, relief flooded over her.

----

Ten minutes later, she watched as her school backpack was flung out of the crack and into the middle of the street; Logan’s body followed soon after, his arms straining with effort to pull himself out.

Once he stood up, he made a final sprint towards the car, faintly staggering as he struggled to open up the passenger’s door.

He fell inside, gasping, “Go, go, go!” and she floored it, not speaking until they were a safe distance from the scene of the crime.

She parked underneath an old bridge closeby the garage. She couldn’t stand not speaking to him – she had to know if he was okay.

But as soon as her hand was off of the gearshift, his hands were on her, his gloves abandoned on the floor mat of the passenger’s seat, his clammy palms gripping her jaw as he kissed her deeply.

Any questions she had evaporated, her skin warming underneath his touch. She hummed contentedly, tasting the salt on his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his damp hair.

He smiled against her mouth, pressing a tender kiss to her parted lips before pulling back to look at her. “Sorry, I took so long, baby.”

He kept his left hand on her face, the other reaching back to grab the bookbag. “I grabbed your textbooks, and your pencil case, and your sweatshirt… and something else.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh god, Logan, what did you take –”

“Nothing bad. Don’t worry.” His smile was soft, hinting at sheepish. He pulled out the Calculus textbook, handing it to her. “Open it. It should be at the very front.”

She did as he said, creaking open the old book. Her chin dimpled, her bottom lip shaking. “Lo…” she whispered, raising the photo by its corners.

“I figured, if your sweatshirt reminded you of your dad, you’d need something for Mrs. Olvera, too,” he rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone, catching a stray tear on the tip of it.

She put the photo back into its place at the front of the textbook, and thrust herself across the center console and into his arms, murmuring incoherent thank-yous in between sobs.

Even if it wasn’t enough in the grand scheme of things, it was enough to keep Raquel there with him longer. It bought him precious time with her that he might not have gotten otherwise.

He gripped her tightly, letting her cry, his guilt satiated by the sweet nothings she whispered into his ear. Regardless of his covetous feelings towards parents, Logan felt a level of love and gratitude from Raquel in that moment that made him nearly forget the list of things he’d made a habit of wishing for.

He had what he needed right in front of him. And he’d sacrifice anything – risk it all – to keep it that way.

“Anything for my girl.”

----

[chaptersinprogress]

demolition lovers  |  4

"P'King!"

Sighing, he closed his eyes and sent the heavens a quick prayer for patience. Speak of the devil.

Rating: T

Warnings: mild swearing

Pairings: Ram/King; Bohn/Duen

King frowned as he checked his watch. What was taking Bohn so long? Surely the meeting with the professors hadn't run that late. He sighed and shot Mek a text.

K: I'm at the Gear Statue. Where are you guys? Is the case still being discussed?

M: Still outside the Dean's office. They're taking longer than expected. Might be more serious than we thought.

K: Damn. Still can't believe it was the archi department the nongs brawled with. We've always had a decent relationship with them.

M: Yeah. But don't worry, we haven't seen any sign of the med kid yet. We'll make sure Bohn doesn't run into him.

K: Thanks. Sorry for taking up your afternoon.

M: Bohn's our friend, it's nothing.

King pocketed his phone with a smile. Mek and Boss were far too good to them. He swung his bag onto his shoulder as he got up. He'd better go find the Year 1s now, or he'd be late for their tutoring session.

"P'King!"

Sighing, he closed his eyes and sent the heavens a quick prayer for patience. Speak of the devil. Opening his eyes, he found Duen standing in front of him, holding a bouquet of flowers.

"N'Duen," he said coldly.

Duen flinched slightly at his tone. "Ah, sorry to trouble you, P'King. Do you mind helping me pass this to P'Bohn? I didn't manage to find him this morning to pass them to him myself."

"Don't worry, you can consider the deal over. You needn't bother."

"But I want to," Duen replied slightly desperately. "I have to make it up for hurting him."

King let his eyes fall to the bouquet Duen clutched. Purple hyacinths were interspersed with daffodils, all enclosed within a ring of fresh snowdrops. He mentally catalogued the flowers - forgiveness, new beginnings, hope.

"And why should I pass this to Bohn?" he asked. "What are you expecting, N'Duen?"

"I...I..." began Duen, stammering. He took a deep breath. "I wish to court P'Bohn!"

King raised his eyebrows. "Oh? But I thought you found his attention... troublesome."

Duen flushed. "I didn't mean it that way! It's just... P'Bohn can be kind of forceful. And there are a lot of people who aren't happy about his attention being on me, so...um... they take it out on me. It's a bit scary sometimes," he admitted.

King felt himself soften slightly. He'd grown up with Bohn and knew first-hand just how aggressive he could get when he wanted something. That and people could get very ugly sometimes, especially when it came to matters of the heart. 

No wonder the kid had reacted so strongly. The stress of being pushed around by Bohn and the others had slowly built until he'd finally exploded. Bohn had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"But are you willing to deal with this?" King pressed. "There will probably be many times in the future that situations like this occur again. Who's to say that you won't react the way you did again? I don't want to watch my best friend get hurt."

Duen considered the question carefully. "P'King, I cannot guarantee you that I will never hurt P'Bohn again. We are both human, and we will end up making mistakes, some of which will hurt each other."

"But I can promise you that I've had the week to think about this,” he continued. “And I'm sure that P'Bohn is worth the effort. The future may be uncertain, but I'm willing to apologise for the mistakes I've made and will end up making. And if P'Bohn will have me, I hope to stay by his side for a long time."

King searched Duen's face for the slightest hint of insincerity, finding none. And the fact was, the type of relationship Duen and Bohn had was between the two of them. He had no right to determine it. Caving, he took the bouquet.

"Fine. I'll help you pass this to Bohn. But- !" he said as a smile spread across Duen's face. "First you'll need to convince Bohn to accept you on your own. Then you'll have to convince me that you're a good match for him."

Duen nodded frantically. "Yes, P'King! Thank you for giving me a chance!"

King sighed, already beginning to regret the decision. "Alright, alright. Scram," he said, walking off to find the Year 1s.

"P'King, over here!" shouted Phu.

King raised his hand in acknowledgement and strode over to the group of Years 1s huddled together at a bench in the Engineering Faculty's garden.

"Hello nongs, I've heard that you need some help. Your midterms coming up?" he asked, leaning against the side of the table.

Phu nodded frantically. "Yes Phi, but we're all lost when it comes to indeterminate forms of limits and L'Hospital's rule."

"Ah. Yeah, it can be a bit tricky to wrap your head around at first. Let me see, we can work through an example together."

King spent the next ten minutes explaining the concepts, first to the entire group, then tailoring the explanation to suit the individuals who still couldn't fully grasp it. When he had satisfactorily cleared the theoretical doubts, he assigned the group a set of questions from the textbook to try applying what they had learnt.

After giving them five minutes to attempt the questions on their own, he began walking around, checking their work and offering corrections and guidance to those who needed it. As he pointed out a mistake to one of the students, he heard Phu call out.

"Ram! I saved you a seat. Hurry up, P'King has already started tutoring!"

King felt his heart rate pick up. What were the chances that this was some other 1st year engineering student also named Ram?

He felt more than saw someone settle down opposite the student he was helping. King's palms grew sweaty. Still torn between wanting to know and remaining ignorant of who exactly had joined them, he forced himself to focus on the worksheet.

When he finished pointing out the errors and could delay no further, he slowly straightened up. His eyes dragged across the books stacked on the table to muscular forearms encased in a crisp white shirt, travelling along the length of a slim black tie, before arriving at a familiar face.

King swallowed heavily as Ram looked up at him, expression carefully blank.

"Ah P'King, do you mind explaining the concepts again to Ram?" asked Phu. "Sorry he's late, I forgot to mention to you that he had a prior commitment."

King hastily turned to face Phu, grateful for the opportunity to look away. "No worries, Nong. I'll be right there."

He made his way over to Ram at snail-pace, desperately trying to prolong the time it took to reach his ill-fated crush. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to burst right out of his chest.

Finally reaching Ram's shoulder, King took a deep breath before speaking. "So, um, do you have any particular questions or do you want me to start from the top?"

Ram nodded sharply. King waited for Ram to clarify which of the two he was referring to but received no answer.

"You do understand Thai, right?" he asked carefully.

Ram gave another jerky nod. When no further reply came, King ran a hand through his hair. "From the top then, I assume. Turn your textbook to the chapter on indefinite limits, we'll start from there."

He muddled his way through the explanations, relying on Ram's nods and head shakes to gauge his understanding. Assigning Ram a couple of questions, he stepped back and took a few moments to collect himself.

Shit. Having to tutor his crush was pure torture. He had been hyper-aware of himself the entire time - every breath, every tiny motion he made, and even the volume of his voice. The stress of having to be near Ram was going to be the death of him.

"P'King," Phu called. "Ram's having difficulty with this question."

Pulling himself together, King braced a hand on the table and leaned over Ram's shoulder to study the problem. As he did so, he caught a whiff of Ram's cologne - a heady blend of musk, wood and leather. The scent hung seductively in the air.

King inhaled deeply, subtly trying to fill his lungs with it. Too distracted by the smell to concentrate on anything else, he stared at the paper blankly, not processing a single word.

Ram turned his head slightly to stare at his suddenly all-too-quiet senior. The movement caused his nose to lightly brush against King's cheek. The touch burnt like the white heat of a comet trail and yanked the senior back to the present.

King jerked away like he'd been stung.

"I...er...I forgot about a meeting. Gotta go now," he stammered, grabbing his bag and the bouquet from Duen off the bench. "N'Phu, send me a photo of the question. I'll get back to you later," he said before promptly fleeing, leaving the 1st year students staring after him in confusion.

Bohn stroked a smooth petal delicately. "What did you say the flowers meant again?"

"Forgiveness, new beginnings and hope," came King's muffled voice from where he'd buried his face in the mound of pillows littering Bohn's bed.

Bohn hid the smile that had slowly begun to spread across his face in the bouquet. "King, he went through the trouble of making an apology bouquet."

"Yay... lucky you..."

Bohn shot his friend a glare. "What's your problem? You've been like that for half an hour already."

"Don't remind me," King moaned, attempting to smother himself with the pillows. "Or better yet, just kill me now."

"You have five seconds to start talking before I come over there and make you talk," Bohn threatened. "Five. Four. Thre-"

King threw a pillow at him without looking. It bounced off the edge of the couch, nowhere near Bohn. Grabbing it, Bohn chucked it back at King, and unlike his friend, nailed him right in the head.

"Ow! Alright! He was part of the group I had to tutor today and then I went and fucked it all up with my stupid crush, happy?!"

"What did y- "

Bohn's phone pinged. Deciding to drop the subject for the moment, Bohn reached over and picked it up. Reading the message, he whooped and jumped on top of King.

"He asked me out! King, Duen asked me out!"

King lifted his head up with a groan and wheezed, "He did what now?"

"He asked me out!" yelled Bohn into his ear. "Our usual bar, tomorrow night at 9!"

"Ok, ok, I heard you now get off me," King pleaded, gasping for breath.

Bohn promptly rolled off him and moved to text Duen. King put an immediate stop to that by grabbing Bohn's arm.

"Wait, are you sure you want to accept? This is the same guy who rejected you a week ago that we're talking about."

Bohn raised an imperious eyebrow. "Of course I'm sure. I always get what I want."

King sighed and let Bohn get back to texting Duen. He pulled out his own phone. Like hell was he letting Bohn walk into this on his own.

K: Our resident idiot has decided to accept that kid's request for a date tomorrow

P: You serious? The same one he was avoiding at the fundraiser?

K: Yeah. A bouquet of flowers is all it took for that resolve to collapse like a house of cards.

P: What's the plan?

K: I'm gonna go with. No way in hell am I going to leave them alone till I'm sure of his intentions.

P: Text me the address and time, I'll be there

K: No way. You have your hazing trip the next morning. Are you not planning to sleep? You're not coming.

P: You're not my dad. And that's my problem. Besides, Bohn's given you the slip plenty of times. As long as he doesn't know I'm there, we can keep an eye on him.

K: Fine. The usual bar, 9pm. I'll let you know if there's a change of plans.

P: Got it

[ghostlyshylee]

Nightmares

(Pre-story note, I originally posted this on DeviantArt back in 2016. I would love to write again and share my ideas with people. This is technically my first fiction so it may be a bit rough around the edges so let me know how you feel, any criticism welcomed!)

[Lee: Naruto - Ler: Kakashi; platonic]

———–

It was another usual day of training for squad 7, Naruto butting heads with Sasuke and Sakura getting on the blonde’s case. “Alright everyone that’s enough training for one afternoon.” Said Kakashi exhausted from Naruto constantly bickering with Sasuke. “Aw man! But I’m not even tired yet!” Naruto argued. “Hmph, you look pretty tired to me.” Retorted Sasuke sarcastically. Naruto was about to go at it again but was interrupted by one annoyed Sakura. “Naruto why don’t you just give it a rest already?!” She stressed. “Man why’s everyone always on HIS side?” Naruto pouted. Kakashi sighed at his squad while putting away his latest romance novel. “Well I don’t know about you three but I’m starving so how ‘bout I treat you all to some lunch to reward your recent hard work?” Everyone’s face lit up at the offer, Naruto’s in particular. “Alright! Can we eat at Ichiraku’s? Please??” Naruto asked eagerly. “Why does it always have to be Ichiraku’s?” Sighed Sakura. “Because Ichiraku’s is the best!” Stated Naruto like it was the most obvious fact ever. I really don’t mind where we eat.“ Added Kakashi. "I guess there’s no choice.” Said Sakura. “Whatever.” Said Sasuke not really caring where he ate either.

-Some Time Later-

*Sluurrrp*

“…ahh! That hit the spot!” Exclaimed Naruto satisfied with his third bowl. Sasuke casually wiped his mouth as Sakura finished her bowl. “Nothing beats Ichiraku’s ramen!” Said Naruto. “Here’s what we owe you.” Said Kakashi handing over the ryo. “Well I’m heading home everyone, thank you for luch Kakashi sensei.” Said Sakura readying herself to leave. “Alright then see ya, stay safe.” Kakashi said as he waved her goodbye. “Well no use for me to hang around here so I guess I’m off too.” Said Sasuke while hopping from his seat. “Thanks for the food Kakashi.” He said as he walked out of the ramen shop, Kakashi nodding in response. After a few minutes passed Kakashi began to lean back onto the bar, a bit lost in thought while Naruto patted his stomach satisfied. Kakashi’s eyes had begun to wonder and eventually ended up on Naruto’s stomach. “Hmm, the nine tails.” Kakashi thought to himself.  "Wonder how that seal has been holding up.“ "Eh, something wrong sensei..? "Naruto asked curiously. "Hmm? Oh, it’s nothing.” Kakashi said while looking fowards. “Well… actually there is something Naruto.” Naruto sat up at full attention. “What is it?” Kakashi paused for a moment. “I was wondering about your seal.” Naruto looked at him a bit confused but then realized what he meant by “seal”. “Oh, it’s coming along OK I guess…” Kakashi looked at him with a questioning look. “Just OK? He asked. "Well…” Naruto started. “Do you want to talk about it in private?” Kakashi asked with a hint of concern. “Sure I guess..” Replied Naruto a little anxious. “Alright, let’s head back to the training grounds then.” Said Kakashi. They both got up and thanked Ichiraku for the meal then left for the training grounds.

Some time had passed since they went to eat for the sun was starting to set and the sky was quite orange. “So, what seems to be the problem?” Asked Kakashi as they both got comfortable on the grass. “Well, ever since that fight with Haku I’ve been having these weird dreams.” Said a Naruto, sounding a bit uncertain. “Weird dreams?” Asked Kakashi. “Not really dreams … they’re more like nightmares.” Naruto said looking tense. “Tell me Naruto, what happens in these nightmares?” Asked Kakashi. “Well it’s hard to explain but I would wake up in a cave, but I’m still asleep and some reason it just stinks so bad in there.” Explained Naruto. “And I would try to find my way out but I keep running in circles but then I’d finally find a straight path that always leads me to a cage.” Said Naruto. “A cage?” Asked Kakashi worried. “Yeah, a giant cage. It’s so weird but like there’s always some kind of monster in the cage calling my name, telling me to come closer… it’s just so creepy.” Said Naruto staring into his legs. “I wish the nightmare would stop but it’s been happening every night ever since that fight.” Naruto said with a hint of sadness and defeat. Kakashi put his hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him.

“Maybe I should take a look at your seal.” Naruto was a bit suprised by the suggestion and eyed his sensei with a bit of confusion. “Oh, uh alright.” Kakashi motioned for Naruto to stand. “Alright, remove your jacket.” Kakashi pointed out and Naruto did as instructed. “Ok now what?” Asked Naruto, admittedly a bit nervous but also curious. “Now I need you to come closer so I can examine the seal.” Stated Kakashi. “Right.” Said Naruto as he moved close enough for Kakashi to examine. “Alright I’m going to lift your shirt up a little.” He lifted his shirt revealing the seal, Naruto held it in place to make it easier for him. Kakashi then proceeded to lightly trace the seal markings. “So it seems nothing’s been changed yet, that’s a relief.” He thought to himself while continuing to examine Naruto. While thinking to himself he was snapped back to reality by Naruto suppressing what sounded like… giggles? He looked up at Naruto to see a large smile across his face. “Hmm” He mused. “What’s wrong Naruto?” Asking curiously, already having a pretty good idea. “It kind of tickles when you do that.” He replied. “Tickles, huh?” Asked Kakashi a bit mischievously. A thought came to him, giving him a cruel idea.

“This might be a bit fun.” He thought to himself, a playful look in his showing eye. In an instant, Naruto found himself in a headlocked position, bringing him to his knees. “K-Kakashi sensei?!” Stammered Naruto, uncertain of what just happened. Instead of replying, Kakashi simply glided his free hand over the seal. “Ka-hah kashi-heheheh sen-henseiheheh!!” Kakashi simply smirked and increased his pacing. “N-no! Stah-hahaha sto-hop! Pleasheheheseee!! Why are you, hahahahah!! Doing-hing thi-hiseheheh?!”

“I’m simply testing that seal of yours.” Kakashi replied casually. “Nohoho! Na-hahat like this!!” Kakashi just shruged and began to pick up his pace while tickling a bit harder. Bwahahahah!! Nahaha! St-stohahahap! Hahahahaha!“ As the tickling continued Kakashi decided to take a different direction. "Ahahahahahahaha! W-what’re youhohoho-” He cut himself off with a squeak as Kakashi assaulted his pits next. “AHahaha!! Nahahahahahah! It’s tohohoho much! Plea- *squeak* don’t!!” Kakashi hearing Naruto’s squeaks continues the rough house on his pits. Ah-HAH!! IS THIS REALLY HELPING?!“ Screamed Naruto. Kakashi being entertained and not wanting to let up, devised a new idea. Kakashi let up on the headlock, immediately after Naruto nearly doubled over on the ground from the extensive "inspection”. “I-is is over?” Asked Naruto catching his breath. “Nope.” Kakashi simply replied.

Taking advantage of his student’s exhausted state, Kakashi pulled Naruto into his lap, grabbing both of his wrists. “No… heheh no!” Naruto began to realize his situation. “Come now Naruto, it requires a great deal of inspection to make sure one’s seal is holding up.” Kakashi said trying to sound serious but coming across as a bit cheeky. “Besides, I’d say you needed bit of cheering up having such nightmares.” “But I don’t need to be cheered up, I’m fine!” Naruto forced an almost painful smile on his face. “Mmmm I don’t buy it.” Said Kakashi as he suddenly drove his finers into Naruto’s left ribcage, this of course driving Naruto into hysterics. “MUAHAHAHA!! N-HAHA NO!! KAHAHA KASHIHEHEHEH!!” “Yes?” Kakashi said speaking over Naruto’s laughter. “STAHAHAHAHAPAHAHA!! PLEAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Naruto screamed. “Hmm…” Kakashi mused while doing a spider crawl motion on his right rib. “YOUHORHOR KILLEHEHENING MEHEHEHEH!!” Kakashi looked at Naruto faking a shocked expression. “So it seems I am.” Kakashi decided to let up on the poor boy and Naruto took this time to breath some much needed air.

“Heh..heh… that was awful” Naruto breathlessly exclaimed. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Kakashi smiled, Naruto’s wrists still in hand. A good few minutes passed by while Naruto caught his breath, he was about to question why he was still being held captive in his sensei’s lap only to be swiftly cut off with a loud and wet sound. Naruto taken by complete surprise (and tickly sensations) shrieked. “NAHAHA-BWAHAHA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! I C-CAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE THIHIHIHIHISSSSS!!!” Naruto unable to form sentences right suffered through what seemed like endless raspberries.  Five long minutes later Kakashi finally let up and Naruto was a gasping mess, his face had reddened with the amount of harsh tickling and Kakashi could see tears taking form. “Well looks like I DID go overboard…” Naruto looked at Kakashi angrily, or would’ve appeared that way if there wasn’t a huge smile plastered to his face.

“You… you-hoo jerherherk…” “I try.” Smiled Kakashi. A few minutes go by as Naruto’s coloration finally returned back to normal and was finally able to get up out of Kakashi’s grasp. “Man, that was still a really jerk move!” Puffed Naruto at Kakashi. “Hmm I wonder what Sasuke and Sakura would think of this?”  Mused Kakashi. “WHAT?!! YOU’RE NOT TELLIN’ THEM ARE YOU?!” Panicked Naruto. “Calm down Naruto, I’m just pulling your leg.” Kakashi said, letting out a small chuckle. “Right…” Naruto said, still a bit embarrassed about it. “Naruto..” “Wh-what is it?” He asked. If anything actually does happen with your seal come and tell me, ok?“ Kakashi said while ruffling Naruto’s hair. "Yeah ok.” Kakashi made up to Naruto with some more ramen later that night for the extensive “examining” and Naruto didn’t really mind.

-Later that night-

Naruto had just gotten home from his second ramen run with Kakashi. “Man, finally home!” Naruto said exhausted from prior events. “What a day…” He said to himself as he plopped down on his bed, too exhausted to shower even, to be infact he was happy to go to sleep for he didn’t feel afraid of the nightmare anymore.

[fortheheavenssake]

MM Anon 6

Jan 1, 2020

MM ANON ……… “ I don’t want to go back!!!”…… “ get him a title”………… “ a monthly periodical” ……… “mental health and well-being” ……… A brief synopsis LG……… “ I’ve prepared a small dossier ma’am”…… “One has no choice”……… “I’ll contemplate it”………… “ Somewhere warm Catherine”……… keep a low profile ………… he’ll do what he’s told!!!! ………… perhaps a state visit??………… “springtime with Boris in harmony” ……… “Mmmmmm, god help us”

————-

Jan 2

MM ANON ……… Drip, drip drip……… Drop ,drop drop……… back to school soon 🏫 ……��� a successful 🌍 ……… Sophie steps up…… a stable stable ………a tad overconfident ……… “ sooner she falls off the better!!” ……… “ Mmmmm, quite the young man!!”…… “resuming play” ……… it’s the open!! ……… “a bit of an obsession!!” …………”it’s another course Catherine” ……… “be careful!!”…… “ we’ll have to send an envoy ma’am”. ……… “yes, it’s a disaster “.

—————

Jan 3

MM ANON …… “They will return… eventually!!”…… “mummy, it’s school Monday!!”……… cry-sis, 😭😭what cry-sis…… “from our house to Bauhaus”……” there together sir”………… “ one needs the quiet time “……… take the pulse of the populace ……… “ overwhelming support ma’am” ……… “football George,football!!”…… “O god!! He’s on another planet”………… “ A quiet few weeks would be welcomed” ……… I received the memo. ………” poison chalice old boy, poison chalice”

—————-

Jan 3

MM ANON, The Suck-sexses are said to be contemplating a return to the UK, I don’t think so, they have made it quite clear that they have nothing but contempt for the BRF and its citizens. They probably will visit LA and try to get some free PR via OW. Nutmeg will begin to blab more word salad about her “Snoozpaper” and how she’s living this perfect life with archificial and himself. WHO PAID FOR HER SIX WEEK VACATION???? THE BRITISH TAXPAYERS

————-

Jan 3

MM ANON , Mmmmm ,RA has a point, no recipes from Harry except (photoshopped images) ? My own gut instinct is that all the misinformation has muddied the waters of confusion. As you say this site is for “ entertainment purposes” and your unique in that respect. No body posts the amount of information that crosses your blog from anonymous sources to real time situations, even the national press visit “Skippy” to fuel its veracity for copy. As they say “A diabolo,qui semia dei”

A diabolo, qui est simia dei. Where god has a church the devil will have his chapel.

Thank you MM Anon😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

—————-

Jan 4

MM ANON ……… a list of all her discrepancies!! ……… sex, lies and video tapes, my god!!……… metoo Monday …… “actually darling it’s now the safest local”…… “I’d love to play in a tournament” …… “ great backhand!! “ ……… Duty calls…… first things first!! ……… “an environmental tour??” ……” eventually,with the children” ……… no chance to cry racism ……… no protocol left ……… maybe frog cott?? ……… we start building in the spring ………” it won’t last long”.

—————

Jan 5

MM ANON, ……… 🎼I’m ready, ready ready ready,I’m ready🎼…… “No your not”………… vinegar and brown paper ……… activate the broken record ……… same old, same old ………” from my window I can see Frogmore House” ……… A short reflection on residency ……… home delivery …… another Sunday service , beautiful!! ……… she’s got this one in the bag. ………”The children aren’t participating!!”……A REASON, A SEASON A LIFETIME. ………

——————-

Jan 6

MM ANON … RICKY , RICKY ,RICKY!! …… respect!! …… A HANK-kerchief full of platitudes …… 🎼a speech full of sugar helps the Meganson go down🎼……… 🎼Oh happy days 🎼………… “SHE CAME, SHE SAW, SHE CONNED-CURD…… …”………… “ this must end soon !! very soon”…… We have the technology ……… “Ahhh , The elusive tape”……… Timing is everything!! ……… DM loading it’s guns……… print and be dammed!!

—————-

Jan 6

MM ANON, Ok , a sycophantic visit to Canada 🇨🇦 House tomorrow in a packed London, they’ll be met by the Ambassador and no doubt Harry will be the customary three steps behind his 43 year old companion who will smile on queue and fake waves to nobody watching. After the same old same old they’ll disappear into the same car and return to the elusive residence somewhere in England. Don’t expect a rush towards the crowd.

—————

Jan 7

MM ANON, ……… she’s the (arm) pits……… go home Yank…… he’s a stone lighter ……… get off my f#@£%land ……… “ come to my birthday, never!!” ……… A state of emergency …… who dares bins ………… 🎼return to lender🎼……… “ it’s a struggle old thing”……… “ stop swearing at the tourists”…………… “ bloody tourists” …… Sydney!!……… “ I’m looking forward to next series” ……… “new stamps??”

—————

Jan 8

MM ANON ……… 🎼”And she must face the final curtain 🎼 The problem with NOT WEARING your wedding ring opens all conversation towards conjecture ………… 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 the firm always wins. Numerous whores and courtesans have tried to put a dent in the Monarchy over the past 2000 years most were decapitated. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

—————-

Jan 10

MM ANON. .…… GSTQAOBC …… don’t rock the bloat. …… pain-t stripper …… past, present and future ……… hide-a-Weymouth ……… W&K rule……… make a list ……… common- wealth……… nutmegs strange grandiosity ……… feed the handbitten …… king baby ………… love in a cold climate ……… NO MORE MONEY ……… a fall from race ……… Harry has left the building

—————

Jan 10

MM ANON, BP has just denied that M&H were frozen out. And where did she accumulate £500 million. Something really really stinks. All her life she’s grifted and whored. TPTB should take her down before the BRF are involved in her elaborate deception. DM poll on side of RF and PH, want MM to leave Britain and never return.

—————

Jan 11

MM ANON ……… blowing up a GAIL……… “ it’s like de-programming sir” ……” better have them inside the tent pissing out……… “it’s her pattern of behaviour” ………… back in the day ……… W&K step up……… William refuses to play ball……… that’s weak Charles …………” it’s all about money with her”……… “ all I’m saying is,you’re powerful family “ ………” another snifter LG”……… “ hold the calls Sydney”. 

————-

Jan 12

MM ANON ……… 🎼I don’t like Mondays🎼………” turn her bloody ugly face orf”. …… “ your call William!!” ……… bad advice ……… A military absence ……… “ yes,Pontcius Pilate” ……… Charles, The weakest link ……… “ your over generous ma’am”. ……… “ let them go, f**** em” ……… The taxpayers won’t like it ……… Canada caves……… RCMP……… BO offers a net- flick……… 🎼money,money,money 🎼…………… royal dis-appointments. ………… a tabloid tornado looms.

—————

Jan 13

MM ANON …………… take it or , take it!!……… no negotiation ………… Harry walks out ……… threats and lies ……… no comment…… tabloid carnage ……… more talk,talk. ……… commonwealth ambassador??? ……… no loss of financial support ……… MM gives up title ……… Harry keeps HRH. ……… archificial tells all……… W&K hold a huge party 🥳 🧣🤣🥳🥳🥳👀……… PP gives Sydney a knighthood ……… PP& Sydney get drunk. …………George bakes a cake. ……… Lottie has another sleepover. ……… Nanny gets a surprise

—————

jan 14

MM ANON ……… para-sight……… “ O ma’am, cunning very cunning”………… “ William is made of sterner metal”……… ( behind every great man) ……… spring offensive, the children!! …………” Lotties the key”……… the holy trinity ……… “freeze them out”………… “it’s all a smokescreen sir”…… “ yes, full steam ahead, ask Camilla “ ………… “ circle the wagons LG” …………” Burn that f**** olive branch, once bitten”………” a Canadian tour , with the children, OMG! Touché!!……… inde redire eruditionis Habes

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

Jan 14

MM ANON … She new well in advance of Markle V Markle, that’s why she ran , doesn’t want the dirty laundry washed in view of a few hundred yards of BP. HARRY, You married trash. Trash whose father is going to testify against her. Goodness sake Harry, didn’t you see this , or weren’t You briefed by the intelligence service about her family and sordid history.

————-

Jan 15

MM ANON …………… OUR BEAUTIFUL DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE …………… ONE DAY OUR GLORIOUS QUEEN ……………WELL DONE KATE , YOU ASTOUNDED THE CRITICS ……… ONLY ONE CLASSY DUCHESS. 👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

—————

Jan 15

MM ANON, MARKLE V MARKLE, won’t get to court, she will not Dare. She won’t bring the firm into disrepute. Unless she really wishes to harm the royal family and that’s a possibility. Will she permit her resentment for her father to drag her dirty washing through the royal courts of justice in the Stand. Is she that psychotic. Yes , I think she is, will Harry approve, I don’t think so.

—————-

Jan 16

MM ANON,……… sea-plane PR. ……… where’s Harry?………… “ leaves 15million mansion visits poor shelter 🤣🤣🤣………… so broke,(woke)……… Paternal hurricane ……… Royal courts of Justice ……… “ write me a roll”………… “what Megan wants, Megan forgets”:……… Calipornia politics? ………… “she can be the new AOC” ……… she’ll campaign for Dems……… “OW ,tell all coming”. ……… negotiations,negotiations!!! …… W&K kill it !!!

——————

Jan 16

MM ANON,……… laugh and carry on……… isolation desperation ……… W&K leapfrog ……… not jaw jaw …… pseudo Trudeau ……… re-distribution …………” just scrapping by ,sausage” ……… LA NA. ……… gizza job……… ahhhhh’ the ubiquitous tape……… brotherly shove ………… “ the tour will proceed” ………… Diamond Dogs……… 🦂🦂🦂………… twice shy

————-

[its-love-u-asshole]

Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki, Awashima Seri/Douhan Hirasaka 

Summary: Saruhiko would never admit to being inspired by...anyone really, but he's come to learn there are always exceptions.

Rating: T

Tags: fluff, established relationship, fushimi pov

Note: yooo ITS BEEN FOREVER!!! I assume this year will be the last sarumi fest, so I thought I should do at least a little something! I missed these two losers a lot, they're the pairing that brought me back to writing four years ago, and I owe the K fandom so much. I've met some amazing, lifelong friends, and whenever I remember my days in the fandom I just remember endless support and encouragement! I'm sad this will probably be the last K fic I'll ever write, but I'm also glad I'm sticking to my roots and delivering some plain old fluff ^^ (also seri and douhan pft I adore them) I hope you enjoy!

It starts with Douhan and Seri.

Saruhiko never would've expected it from them; out of all the people in his life who he's...somewhat comfortable calling friends, they're the two who annoy him the least. Sometimes they drag him to the gym or the mall, if for no other reason than to expose him to sunlight and fresh air...but even then, their words and the general cadence of their voices don't grate on his nerves.

He's...not entirely against being around them, is what he means.

Even when the two women began to date that didn't change, though he did avoid them during the first month. Back then, the intimate and subtle demonstrations of affection didn't compute in his mind. He couldn't make sense of them without feeling weird; a strange coiling would start in his gut and work through his body until he couldn't sit still. Like a code he couldn't crack or particularly rough work day, he couldn't figure out what it was about every delicate touch or private whisper.

It was uncomfortable, and he hated to admit that. He hated being bothered by things he didn't understand.

At least with large crowds or hot-blooded people, it was easy to explain away; they were annoying, simple as that.

Yet, like with a lot of other habits he'd clung to over the years, the instinct to shy away from understanding when it came to that level of intimacy began to be more trouble than it was worth.

There was just nothing to fuel it anymore, and besides...

Douhan and Seri simply embodied something he was grasping for, something he’d always been grasping for, though he refuses to admit it.

Back then, and now. Nothing has changed.

"I like you, Saruhiko!" Misaki says at the top of his lungs. It's too loud, the volume might make Saruhiko squint in distaste.

If it were anyone else.

Misaki had always been his exception, and he never liked to admit it.

Saruhiko's heart stops in his chest as he stares at his best friend, looking like a drowned rat on his doorstep. They'd met for dinner on the other side of town; by that time, it was a habit. No more distrust, no more fights...

Just a lightness Saruhiko never thought he'd feel again, something he's still not used to feeling.

And just when he thought he was okay with just that, just when he'd begun to ignore the nagging in his mind which always seemed to want Misaki closer and closer, the other decided to cross the distance entirely.

Saruhiko's honestly shocked the redhead was dealing with the same issues, but now there's no way to deny the possibility.

Because Misaki is here. He probably ran all the way back from his home at this ungodly hour because as always, he couldn't wait. He couldn't just...slow down.

And Saruhiko's completely powerless to do anything but cave.

When Saruhiko doesn't say anything for a while, Yata's rain-soaked features flood with red, and it’s not like that of his aura. "I-I mean, like-like you know?"

Yes, he does.

Shockingly he does.

Misaki is blushing for Saruhiko, and it's so satisfying and scary all at once.

"I probably always have but--I was waiting for you to get over yourself!"

Saruhiko almost laughs.

Of course. He could make fun of Misaki's shyness, his complete inexperience with anything resembling romance. How could he possibly know what he feels? How does he know Saruhiko deserves it?

Those are the instinctual questions which run through his mind, but they're not the last. Again, old habits don't necessarily fade away, but they lose some of their power, as all things do.

Saruhiko can't run from this, not this time.

He clicks his tongue after the longest silence in the world, and Misaki's fidgeting comes to an abrupt halt.

"Was that supposed to be a confession?" Saruhiko laughs, and for a moment, he sees the fear in Misaki's. The moment where he knows the expected defiance should be, the refusal. Saruhiko can't hold it against him, it's what part of him still yearns to do.

Yet, Saruhiko still defies expectation. "I bet I could do a better job."

It's a lie, his hands are shaking from how much of a lie it is. He's not sure what he's capable of these days, but when Misaki is looking at him like that...

He can't deny him anymore.

Misaki's eyes widen, the clear shock so priceless and satisfying, despite the uneven beating of Saruhiko's heart. Then, it's gone, replaced with a grin too bright and fiery. Lately, Saruhiko sees it a lot, but he'll probably never be used to it. Misaki scoffs, the challenge burning in his eyes. "Yeah? Prove it."

And in a matter of seconds, the doorstep is as empty as before.

Many would say he was just as bad as Seri and Douhan now. After that, things seemed to spiral. It’s been a year, but with Misaki, time seems to stretch on and on. His boyfriend has a habit of making everything they do together seem like the first time, it's a power Saruhiko has yet to understand.

But, otherwise, he's used to it now. He gets it, in a way. The intimate touches, the whispered words, he's familiar with them now, along with a hundred other small things which come with being with Misaki.

So, Seri and Douhan were no longer an issue.

For a year.

Unfortunately, here they are again, disrupting his normal stream of consciousness with a boulder, leaving him stranded and stuck without an ounce of knowledge of where to go next.

He watches from his desk as Douhan gets down on one knee, revealing a rose gold wedding band with opal in the center.

Why does Seri's desk have to be in his immediate line of sight?

Saruhiko's finger twitches as Douhan slides the ring onto Seri's finger; it's a fitting choice, given their different clans, he guesses. When it comes to accessories, Douhan always knows best. The opal reflects all the colors.

Douhan's normally neutral face is the same to any outside observe; but Saruhiko sees the gentle upward tilt of her lips, the shakiness of her usually precise hands.

It's overwhelming, but he can't look away.

Again, they've thrown him totally off center, and with what? A proposal?

Why does that bother--

He crushes the question like a glass bottle. He knows why, and he hates it. It's so pathetically vulnerable and unnecessary and yet...

He sees the way Seri blushes, the mistiness taking over her strict expression; Douhan is truly bold, coming to their place of work to make such a grand gesture.

The guys are already up and congratulating Seri loudly, but Saruhiko hears none of it.

Seri jumps into Douhan's arms and then green eyes meet him from across the room, like they know he's been watching. They always know.

Douhan gives him a knowing look, it doesn't even last a second, and then her focus is all Seri.

Saruhiko understands.

Yes, that's why the gesture bothers him, because unlike before, he does understand this. He just wishes he knew how to deal with it better.

The proposal bothers him for one reason and one reason only: he wants it.

Saruhiko wants.

And it never gets easier admitting that.

Beside him, his phone buzzes, like it tends to around this time. He knows exactly who it is before he picks it up, and it drives his new revelation home.

Misaki: Hey! We r still grabbing dinner yeah?!

Don't they always?

Saruhiko's eyes soften, he can feel it, and he can't do anything to stop them.

Saruhiko: We do every Thursday.

It doesn't stop him from being a bit of a smart-ass though.

He doesn't read the barrage of texts he gets after that, though the urge is there. His phone vibrates for a few seconds, some weak retort Saruhiko will no doubt tease his boyfriend for later.

Then, thirty seconds pass, and a reluctant buzz comes again. Saruhiko doesn't have to read it to blush, Misaki is so predictable sometimes.

There's about two hours until he's off work, not enough time for what needs to be done, but he pulls up a few websites anyways.

As far as rings go, there's a lot to weed through, some gaudy and some plain. He wrinkles his nose, and the light feeling in his chest doesn't leave him for the rest of his shift.

It takes him a while to realize it, but he finds he doesn't care what rings they have, all of them suit Misaki in Saruhiko's mind, and nothing will probably change that.

He doubts he'd try.

[rrrawrf-writes]

michaelmas

time for my contribution to michaelmas!!!!

i almost feel like a cheat bc i rarely call rembrandt ‘michael,’ but for the record, i did name him that well before this ever became a thing, so it’s still legal :K

this is actually also an au, where instead of getting winn thrown in jail for ruining his life, michael rembrandt decides to turn the other cheek and help winn realize his childhood dream of becoming a superhero........... :)

ALSO I ALMOST FORGOT THIS IS BASED OFF A PROMPT FROM @gingerly-writing​ THAT I TORE UP A LIL FOR MY OWN PURPOSES

also @michael-lover-anon​

“So.” Rembrandt slid onto the barstool next to Winn, peeling off black leather gloves. “What do I need to order you to solicit some help?”

Winn shouldn't have been drinking - even on his day off - but here he was anyway, his head pillowed on his arms and a single glass in front of him. Too much alcohol made his power go odd, and he guessed he was reaching that point, because he hadn't noticed Rembrandt until the man spoke.

“The whole bar,” Winn mumbled into the crook of his elbow. As always, when Rembrandt was around, his skin crawled and his legs twitched with the need to get away.

“Done,” Rembrandt said simply. He turned around on the barstool, leaning his elbows back against the counter. Even in the dim lighting, he looked thoroughly out of place here, in his usual black suit and tie and polished leather shoes. Winn, who actually worked for a living, was resplendent in a dark green sweater and jeans that were torn at the bottom.

He wanted to punch the smugness right off of Rembrandt’s face. Instead, Winn just rolled his eyes.

“What?” Rembrandt grinned, his gaze roving over Winn’s less than impressive attire. “I’m rich. Oh, and I own this bar anyway.”

Winn lifted his head at that. “Since when?” he demanded - this was one of the very few places he’d been certain Rembrandt didn't have his fingers in. It was on the edge of the city, far away from anything convenient or useful. There was literally nothing out here - except maybe the fish and chips - that could have interested someone like Rembrandt.

Rembrandt gave him a slow, cat-like smile. “Since yesterday.”

“Go screw yourself,” Winn snarled, shoving himself away from the bar and standing up. His power wavered uncertainly, along with the rest of him. “Give me a week off from Fell’s bull.”

“Done.”

Winn hesitated, then. He put a hand out to brace himself on the bar and narrowed his eyes at Rembrandt. “You’re being awfully accommodating, considering you basically exist just to ruin my life.”

“Well, that was when all I needed from you was entertainment,” Rembrandt said pleasantly. “Now I need help.”

“Entertainment?” Winn’s outraged yelp was enough to startle half the bar into looking at them. He ground his teeth together, then leaned in towards Rembrandt, his hand on the bar curling into a fist. “I don't do any of this for your entertainment.”

Rembrandt’s eyes glinted. “Don't kid yourself, Mr. Yale.”

“Get lost, Remy,” Winn snarled back. Rembrandt dropped his pleasant smile like a ton of bricks. His eyes shifted to a point over Winn’s shoulder.

Winn noticed the curling, tendril-like beginnings of one of Fell’s portals too late. It formed directly underneath him, and Winn could feel the solidity of the floor turn viscous and paper-thin. He cursed, but before he could step away, Rembrandt gave him a good shove, and Winn fell through.

He hit the ground hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him. The portal closed some three meters above his head, leaving Winn to stare at the dark ceiling of what might’ve been a subway tunnel years ago. His power automatically spread as he struggled to get in a full lungful of air, and he realized that about six meters in each direction, the tunnel ended. One side was the natural, constructed end; the other was a cave-in.

Another portal whirlpooled open over to the left, some five feet above the ground. Rembrandt fell through, landing on his feet with far more grace than Winn had managed, not even taking his hands out of his pockets for balance. Fell themself teleported in without the use of a portal, as far from Winn and Rembrandt as they could manage.

Winn coughed and rolled himself over. “Are you serious, Remy?” he snapped, shoving himself to his feet. He marked Rembrandt and Fell both with his power, backing away. “You don’t get enough of the bloody gladiator games from TV, you gotta watch us up close now?”

Rembrandt had picked up a collapsible baton somewhere along the way; he gave it an idle swing through the air. “I told you, Yale, I’m not here for entertainment,” he said coldly. “I thought I told you to stop calling me Remy.”

“Thought you told me you were gonna give me a week off from Fell,” Winn retorted. Fell didn’t say anything, not like Winn ever expected them to - he’d never heard them utter a single word in all this time, not even when Winn was lucky enough to score a real hit. They wore a black bandanna over their nose and mouth; tonight, the hood of their sweater was pulled low over their eyes, and they scuffed their shoe over the gravelly floor when Winn looked at them.

“Well, you didn’t seem amenable to my request.” Rembrandt snapped his fingers. “Don’t worry about Fell, Yale. You’re dealing with me tonight.”

Winn’s full attention locked onto Rembrandt, and he felt a chill run down his spine. The only edge he had over Rembrandt was that he was powered, and Rembrandt was not - but right now, Winn was feeling buzzed - probably past that, if he had to be honest with himself - and his power was having just enough trouble focusing that he knew he was royally screwed.

“We could’ve talked about this up there,” Winn pointed out, taking a couple steps back. His power scrambled to find him an escape route as he talked, but there wasn’t one. Winn quelled a small bubble of panic. “You don’t have to be so dramatic all the time.”

Rembrandt’s eyebrows arched. “Dramatic? Yale, I only wanted a simple yes or no. You’re the one being dramatic, throwing a temper tantrum in public like that.”

Winn scoffed. “Listen, Mikey -”

He didn’t get a chance to finish.

Rembrandt snapped forward; Winn hissed through his teeth and skipped back, stumbling a little. He knew he shouldn’t’ve gone out tonight - should’ve just gone to bed early -

He was too focused on the baton in Rembrandt’s hand that he didn’t notice Rembrandt’s kick, driving into the side of his knee. Winn staggered, swearing and bracing a hand against the wall. He was too slow to get out of the way, and so he put his arm up, instead.

The baton cracked against his forearm and part of his face regardless; Rembrandt ducked in and drove his fist into Winn’s stomach. He stepped back once Winn was on the ground, heaving for breath again.

“I’m sorry,” Rembrandt said mildly, “what were you saying?”

Winn raised his middle finger and wheezed, “Screw you.”

“Mm-hmm.” Rembrandt backed up, letting the baton hang from a cord around his wrist as he adjusted his sleeves. Winn, eyes closed, let himself lay there for a moment. Fell still hadn’t moved from their corner. “Who made you, Wings?”

Oh. They were back to this again. Winn clenched his jaw. “Your mum.”

Rembrandt crouched down on his haunches next to Winn, who tried to hide his flinch. He was still on his back on the ground, and right next to the rough stone wall; Rembrandt had him pinned. Poking Winn’s ribs with the baton, Rembrandt prompted, “Try again.”

Winn tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but Rembrandt laid the baton warningly across his chest and Winn froze, his eyes darting to the little button on the handle. Rembrandt smoothed a thumb over it in warning.

Closing his eyes, Winn flopped back against the hard ground and let out a long, slow breath. Hating himself, he bit out, “You did.”

“That’s right,” Rembrandt said quietly. “And so, who can break you?”

“You can.” Winn’s voice was flat and dull, but the response was good enough for Rembrandt, who nodded and pushed himself back up to his feet.

“I would think,” he said, turning to walk a few steps away, “you’d be more grateful to the man who helped you gain such a persona, Wings.”

Winn let out a bitter laugh as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “All you did was make me’n’Fell fight each other on TV.”

“No,” Rembrandt said sharply, “I think I did quite a bit more than that. I made room for you both. Strongarm, Sharp, Death Valley - do you really think they just decided to pack up and move?”

Strongarm had been bribed into retirement. Sharp was dead, Winn was pretty sure; the hero had just disappeared from the streets, as far as the public was concerned, but his own personal investigations had culminated in the obituary of a young woman covered in burns in her mother’s house.

And Death Valley worked for Rembrandt now, down the coast.

Of course, Rembrandt hadn’t told either Winn or Fell any of that. They’d had to figure it out on their own.

“I get it, Remy,” Winn said tiredly.

“There wouldn’t have been any opportunity for the two of you in this city,” Rembrandt continued, “if I hadn’t arranged it.”

“We get it, Rembrandt,” Winn snapped this time. He used the wall to get back up to his feet, as Rembrandt shot him an irritated look. Taking a breath, Winn glanced over at Fell. They almost blended completely into the dark tunnel, huddling inside an oversized hoodie over form-fitting leggings.

Fighting them always felt wrong to Winn. He couldn’t be sure why - but they both owed Rembrandt, so when he arranged their little battle royales to cover up his own operations, they obliged. Winn wasn’t sure that the hype and prestige Wings was getting from it all as a supposed hero was worth this.

“Do you, Yale?” Rembrandt asked skeptically. “Because lately, all I’ve been getting from you is one ungrateful comment after another. You barely give Fell any exercise anymore. They’re getting lazy.”

Fell didn’t do much, either, Winn thought. “Don’t talk about them like that.”

Rembrandt arched an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Winn opened his mouth, but behind Rembrandt, Fell gave a quick shake of their head, eyes widening. Winn shut his mouth again, then said, “Maybe I’m not grateful because all that stuff you spouted, the fame and the money - I’m not getting any of that.”

Rembrandt scoffed. “I can only work with what I’m given, Yale, and I’m not a miracle worker. I’m giving you a chance, but you have to put in the work.” He tipped his head slightly. “You’re abrasive and antagonistic. Hero or not, no one’s going to like you when you act like that.”

He was right. As Winn remained silent, Rembrandt continued. “We’ve wasted enough time. The Liberty Guard has something in their New York branch office, Yale, I need you to get it for me.”

Winn stared at him. “No.”

The sharp look Rembrandt gave him made Winn start sidling away from the wall, so that Rembrandt couldn’t trap him against it again. “I’m not - I’m not going to steal from the Liberty Guard, Rembrandt, are you insane? The New York guard? They’ll kill me!”

“And I would be overwhelmed with sorrow to hear that,” Rembrandt deadpanned.

Winn ground his teeth. “I can’t.”

“No, I think you can,” Rembrandt said. “You’ve stolen from Wildcard - they’ll be a cakewalk in comparison. What’s the real reason, Yale?”

“There isn’t one,” Winn snapped, “Except they think I’m a bloody hero, what d’you think they’ll do if I’m found out?”

Rembrandt looked unconvinced. “Yale, you’ve been up to New York three times in the past two months alone. You aren’t even up there to help them with their own problems.”

“Maybe I just like New York,” Winn said.

“You don’t.” Rembrandt narrowed his eyes, and then let out a single, sharp laugh of disbelief. “Did you make some friends?”

“Screw you,” Winn snapped. Rembrandt grinned at him, hands on his hips.

“You did. Or are you just trying to? Mewling at their door like those little lost animals you like to adopt so much? Hoping they’ll take in a little stray like you.”

Winn, scowling, stalked down the side of the tunnel, towards Fell’s space. Maybe he could get them to teleport him out of this bloody hole in the ground.

Rembrandt took two steps towards him and Winn flinched, stumbling over a chunk of debris. Rembrandt snorted.

“Are you lonely, Yale?” he asked, “or is this just a bid to get out from under my thumb?”

Winn put his back to Rembrandt, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached, and tried his level best to ignore him. Get me out of here, he mouthed at Fell, but they just shrank into their sweater and shook their head. When Winn got a few steps closer, Fell dissipated into black smoke, inky against the dim shadows of the tunnel, and then reformed at the opposite end. Winn couldn’t help but throw a curse at them.

Rembrandt stepped up behind Winn. Instead of moving away, Winn forced himself to stay put, staring furiously at the heap of rubble and dirt that blocked him from running.

“You don't have friends for a good reason, Winn,” Rembrandt said quietly. “You're a tool. In every definition of the word possible. At best, they tolerate you because they need you.”

“Shut up,” Winn snarled over his shoulder. “Can you not go one day with being a stuck-up prick?”

He picked up mentally on Rembrandt’s movement, and didn't realize it was a feint as he jerked to the side, his reflexes - along with his power - far too dulled to be dealing with this. Rembrandt’s foot swept his ankles just as Winn stepped, and he hit the ground again. Hard.

“You want a day off from me?” Rembrandt asked, standing over him. He smiled thinly. “Done. Fell, give me a portal.”

“Wait, what?” Winn started to push himself up, but then Rembrandt pulled his foot back and swung it directly into Winn’s face.

“Fuck!” Winn shouted, rolling over - partially from the blow, partially to keep from Rembrandt kicking him again. He cupped his hand over his face, blood already spilling out of his nose; behind him, Rembrandt stalked over to the portal Fell had opened.

“I’ll be back,” Rembrandt glanced at his wristwatch, “at 11:39 tomorrow night. One full day, Wings, just like you asked.”

Winn swore and shoved himself up to his feet - and then stumbled back to his knees again, dizzy and nauseous. “Wait - Wait, please, Remy -”

“Don’t call me that.” Rembrandt turned to look squarely at Winn, the black portal swirling behind him. “Why don’t you give your new friends a call? Surely they’ll come to your rescue.”

Winn gritted his teeth, tasting blood inside his mouth, as well as on his lips, feeling it dribble from a cut on his cheek from where the heel of Rembrandt’s shoe had struck him.

They wouldn’t come. They wouldn’t come help Winn, and Rembrandt knew it.

“Twenty-four hours, Winn, down to the second. Then we’ll see what your answer is.”

“It’s fuck you!” Winn snarled, against every single instinct in his brain that screamed at him to stop, to make peace, just enough to get him out of here -

Rembrandt just smiled, stepped backwards into the portal, and disappeared.

[redpaperowl]

D&D Tonight

H: It's easy to tell what way's up in a cave. Just throw something at one of the idiot twins, and if they say 'ow' you know that way's not up.

DM: Yeah the orphan’s at the bath (Misheard as bar) H: Yeah just get drunk together DM: DRUNK? Z: He’s always drinking at the bar DM: BATH! SPLASHY SPLASHY

DM helps Zazzles pick an ability where if she bites really well she can regain some HP during a fight: Zazzle’s speaking slowly while typing the descriptor: Z: I’m like a zombie but cooler

H: Am I wrong? DM: Morally yes. H: It’s a good thing I’m not a doctor of morals then

H: I’m not bothering with making potions anymore, I’m sticking my healing into bombs.

H: Wait, I thought we decided he was Prince Adam? Z: And Zazzles shall be his Belle. The Belle of the ball. The goblin ball. H: You want to do what with his balls?

DM: Whatever was in that water was good Z: We should bottle it up and sell it DM: You could just buy it from the gift shop? Z: But it’s just so much easier to steal it H: But we have so much monies... we can pay £100 for a banana Group laughs H: There, my hilarity has been cemented.

K: So, things and places, I guess

DM starts using the Adam West scene change music

DM: So are you still pestering this shop keeper about the wooden dildos? K: Sounds about right DM: If you really want you can commission him, I don’t know why you would though K: WOULD! DM: God damn it.

H: I think we should possibly go to the forest of not danger

H: If you hug it and it starts singing soft music- Z: Hack it to death.

K: The murder goblins tried to murder us. That’s why they’re called the murder goblins.

Z: Oh my god is it Tree Bae?

H: Captain Tree Bae.

DM: His name is OakenBush Everyone laughs DM: I don't get it, why is that so funny? Zazzles rolls perception Z: I’m looking for his oaken bush. Zazzles is slowly becoming a pervert guys. K: SLOWLY?

Misunderstandings upon seeing Capt Tree Bae holding a sign offering face carvings: Misunderstanding 1: He makes wooden masks Z: He chops up his own... he sounds like our kind of person. Misunderstanding 2: We carve other people’s faces off Z: So wait if there are hunters... and it’s his forest... are we hunting them down and carving off their faces? Not a misunderstanding: Z: If we’re carving faces into trees, are we tattoo artists? H: Treetoos

K: THE GROUND IS THE FLOOR AND THE SKY IS UP

H: It’s either you guys or students... I realise as I say this that Hannah (Zazzles) is a student.

DM: A clearing but it’s full of trees. H: A clearing minus the clear... an ING if you will.

Z: Going back to the “I make jewelry how hard can taxidermy be?” if we’re going to carve tattoos into trees, we must automatically be tattoo artists right? H: LET’S OPEN A TATTOO PARLOR K: YES Z: CAMPAIGN OVER DM: So you’re opening a tattoo parlor and a rat farm? H: Niche market.

H: Heinrich and The Idiot Twins Plus That One Rat Dude We Hung Out With For A While Plus Avery: Rat Farm and Tattooists DM: So you’re just not including the actual tattooist you know? H: Who? Everyone: Nok!

K: I can draw really well H: I have medical precision DM: What’s Zazzles bringing to this? Z: I can bite really well. Just rub some ink into it, it’ll be fine. We learnt wood carving and yeah, our predictions were pretty accurate for our rolls

K: (Trying to find Perception on their character sheet): P, P, P... H: Okay, Kinisk has started shouting about peepee. Good going.

Zazzles and Kinisk have shit knowledge nature rolls DM: Whatever Zazzles was chewing has clearly affected her... H: Are there hallucinogenic trees? DM: Has Zazzles drugged herself? ... There’s a vine in the amazon? Z: You know what? A vine? Some funny coloured frog I wasn’t paying attention to. I ate something I shouldn’t. DM: I don’t know what Kinisk’s reason is K: I’m just going around going “LOOK PRETTY TREES”

DM: Zazzles regrets eating things. Z: ZAZZLES REGRETS NOTHING H: Sometimes Operation Pineapple just gets you stoned.

H: The story here is DON’T STAB YOURSELF IN THE EYES WITH A FUCKING BIRO. IT WON’T LOOK GOOD. IT WON’T FEEL GOOD. YOU WILL BECOME THE LAUGHING STOCK OF THE PRISON. AND YOU CAN’T FIGHT BACK. YOUR EYES DON’T WORK. YOU STABBED THEM WITH A BIRO.

H: Do you have nerve endings? Tree: Not there Z: OH IN HIS OAKEN BUSH!

Tree: We don’t leave our forest much Z: Aw thats a shame you should really go out and see the ... no I change my mind, don’t go see the world, it’s a horrible place, there’s people like us in it Tree: Yeah, that’s what we thought.

H: So we've got to stop this tree person from tweeting? Is he Donald Trunk? DM: No... H: If we get Zazzles to hang onto Kinisk's legs, we could perform some invasive root surgery. DM: No... H: Or maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree. DM: You stop that. H: What, do yew not like my puns? K: Maybe you should leaf them alone. H: I thought they were oak-kay. DM: … H: Ohgodshe'sgonnakillmeandallIhavetodefendmyselfwithisacomb

Zazzles hears the word “Handle Animal” and immediately rolls regardless of what the plan was Z: I’ve been waiting for this day! K: IT’S NOT RACIST? DM: No, because this time IT’S AN ACUTAL ANIMAL. Plus, Zazzles, you have oats, that will help lure the birds out.... I know bird facts.

H: I wonder if it’s time to see my old friend, that guy who wants us to leave him alone - ChickenNok.

[choupetit]

GOT Recap: The Spoils of War

Airdate: 8/6/2017 ; Season 7, episode 4 

 So, I don’t mean to be dramatic or anything, but…OMG, THIS WEEK’S GAME OF THRONES WAS FREAKIN’ AMAZING!!! This episode was a beautiful gift from the TV gods with more reunions, more Jon and Dany, more Littlefinger side eye, and dragons galore! I’ve managed to gather up my jaw from the floor to bring you the recap of “The Spoils of War”, so let’s not waste another moment! 

But Jaime, I Want A Castle NOW! 

Ah, the spoils of war, indeed! The Lannister army has packed up all the goodies and gold they’ve won after their surprise attack on House Tyrell and they’re on their way home from Highgarden. Jaime Lannister grabs a hefty bag of gold from the money wagon and hands it to Bronn, then sends the driver on his merry way to King’s Landing. Mopey Bronn has a bad case of First World problems as he bitches and moans about how he wants a proper reward, like…oh, I don’t know, a castle…maybe even the one they just stormed. Jaime is all, “Seriously, dude? Quit yer whining, you just got a load of cash. Daenerys Targaryen would probably evict you in a week. And besides, castle upkeep is pricey.  Once you’ve paid the whole Downton Abbey staff and fed the moat monster, there’s barely enough money left to fill your Olympic-sized pool with champagne every day. You’ll get your pick of castles once we’ve won the war.” Bronn musters up the strength to silence his inner Veruca Salt as Randyll Tarly and Dickon (whom Jaime keeps calling Rickon) appear, and Jaime sends the three men off to shake down the local farmers for their harvest.

 Meanwhile at the Red Keep in King’s Landing, Queen Cersei tells the Iron Bank representative that she’s able to repay the full debt she owes. The money is on its way as they speak. The rep is duly impressed and informs Cersei that the bank will be happy to make a new loan for her next venture: Restoring her rule in Westeros. Cersei shares that she’s growing her army and has reached out to the Golden Company in Essos - your basic mercenary placement agency. As soon as the gold arrives, the rep assures Cersei that she’ll have the Iron Bank’s full lending support to pay for her hired guns. 

I Know What You Did Last (Long) Summer 

At Winterfell, Petyr Baelish aka Littlefinger has a one-on-one meeting in Bran’s chambers to give him a gift: The dagger that was used in the assasination attempt against young Bran shortly after his tower-falling accident. The blade is made of Valyrian steel, btw. Littlefinger muses that it could be argued that this dagger launched the War of the Five Kings. He claims that it is his mission to protect the Stark children - anything Bran needs, Littlefinger is his guy. Gee, coming from a slimeball who arranged the worst marriage ever between Sansa and Vile Ramsay, I’d have to say that’s a hard pass. When Bran asks Littlefinger if he knows to whom the dagger belonged, Baelish says no. Littlefinger goes on to ponder that it’s so weird, doncha think, how the dagger led to all the craziness that happened to the Starks, and made Bran who he is today. He remarks that Bran must have seen unfathomable things beyond the Wall (cue laughter) and sympathizes that it must be odd to return to Winterfell among so much chaos. To which Bran flatly replies “Chaos is a ladder.” A hint of alarm flashes across Littlefinger’s face, and luckily for him, Meera Reed appears at the door and he has the perfect excuse to leave. 

Quick side note: If you, like me, were totally confused by Bran’s line, then rejoice for the interwebs! Apparently it’s a callback to a conversation Littlefinger had with Varys back in season 3, when the former said “Chaos is not a pit. Chaos is a ladder.“ 

Bran just out-creeped the resident creeper! Looks like Lord Baelish is going to have to recalibrate all those battles he is always fighting in his head to predict every scenario that could happen in real life! 

 As for Meera, she’s come to bid farewell. She tells Bran that she’d like to stay, but she needs to return to her family what with the snow zombie apocalypse coming, and Bran is about as safe as it gets now that he’s home. Bran goes, “K, cool. Gracias. Bye, Felicia.” Dumbfounded, Meera is all, “Really?! That’s all you’ve gotta say? Wtf, dude. Lots of people died or almost died helping you.” And Bran’s all, “Yeah, so…I’ve got a lot of data uploaded to my brain and it’s kinda hard to keep track of emotions and personality and stuff. But hey, girl, I vaguely remember what it’s like to have feelings and the old me is stoked that you were there for me, but the new me just can’t do this whole attachment thing right now.” Meera’s face crumbles and she says what we all have been thinking, "You died in that cave.” She fails to add “You may want to tone it down on the voyeuristic creepazoid thing, which is freaking everybody out." 

Just outside of Winterfell, Arya has arrived and is trying to convince some a-hole bouncers at the gate that this is her home. They don’t believe her and tell her to eff off, but she talks them into letting her into the courtyard while she waits for them to get Sansa. The guards squabble amongst themselves and when they turn, she’s gone. 

When the guards give Sansa the news of her little sister’s return, she knows exactly where to look for Arya. In the underground mausoleum, Arya stands at her father’s grave when Sansa arrives. It’s a sweet reunion as Arya’s first words are "Do I have to call you Lady Stark now?” And Sansa replies, stone-faced, “Yes.” She breaks into a smile, and the sisters hug warmly. Each hints to the other that they’ve been though hell since they last saw each other. Arya is eager to know if Sansa really killed King Joffrey, and when Sansa says no, Arya tells her he was at the top of her kill list. Sansa thinks she’s joking and Arya lets her. Sansa informs her baby sister that Bran is home, too, and the look on her face screams “Gurl, things are pretty cray around here." 

 The sisters meet up with their brother at the Godswood Tree, which is Bran’s version of “Central Perk”…without the friends, java, or general joie-de-vivre. Arya throws her arms around Bran, who looks like he’s absentmindedly trying to recall typical human interactions, and gives her an awkward emotionless hug. He tells her he saw her at the crossroads to King’s Landing and Winterfell, and seems a bit surprised that she is here. Wait a second, did he only briefly flip to the Arya channel and not bother to see what came next? I thought this guy was all-seeing/knowing! Harrumph! He shows both sisters the dagger he received from Littlefinger. Arya immediately notes it’s made of Valyrian steel while Sansa warns that Littlefinger never does anything for anybody without wanting something in return. Bran don’t care. He gives the dagger to Arya, saying she’ll get more use from it than a cripple. I can’t help feeling he knows that Arya is going to have a run-in with some Whitewalkers and will find that dagger mighty handy. 

Then I Saw His Cave, Now I’m A Believer 

At Dragonstone, Queen Daenerys and Missandei are walking down to the beach to meet up with Jon Snow, who has found a cave full of Dragonglass, which he’s ready to mine. Jon calls Dany over. "Yo gurl…I wanna show you something inside this dark cavern…” and everybody immediately goes “Oooooh, Ygritte be spinning in her grave!” But this is Jon we’re talking about, and he legit wants to show her a bunch of cave drawings that he believes were made by the Children of the Forest. I'mma start to call them Toddlers of the Forest because they draw on walls, make rash decisions, and leave ginormous messes for others to clean up. 

 Dany is amazed by the artwork in the cave and marvels that it could have been made before men even existed. But Jon’s all “Nuh uh, look over here.” And we see crude drawings of men and then…Whitewalkers. Jon’s all, “See, queenie? Living proof! They worked together to defeat their common enemy. Case closed! You believe me now?” I cannot properly express just how badly I wanted the camera to pan down to his hand holding a piece of chalk, or show a close-up of the tiny initials J.S. etched underneath the Whitewalker stick figures. 

Dany tells Jon she will fight for him on one condition: Bend the damn knee! But Jon is all “Yeah, but no, ‘cuz my people won’t accept a Southern ruler, so that’s not gonna fly.” To which Dany goes, “They will if their king tells them to. It would be a shame for them all to die, just because you couldn’t get over yourself.”

 They emerge from the cave to bad news from Tyrion Lannister and Varys: Casterly Rock is won, but…oopsies, Dany’s fleet was destroyed and Highgarden is toast, too. Oh, and Cersei has made sure that all food has been removed from The Reach, so Dany's army of Unsullied will starve on their way back on foot. Daenerys is furious.  She’s lost all her allies and it seems the conversation she had with Lady Olenna about ignoring advice from clever men is really speaking to her. She wants to hop a dragon and go nuclear on King’s Landing. Tyrion strongly advises against it, but Dany points out that he’s been pretty sucky in the advice department.  She even suggests that perhaps Tyrion is purposely giving bad counsel to protect his family. Burn.  She turns to her Northern visitor and asks “What Would Jon Do?” and the reply is “Well, if I was trying to win the love and loyalty of all of Westeros and set myself apart from all previous and current rulers, I sure as hell wouldn’t lay fiery waste to an entire city, killing thousands of civilians.” You can practically hear Tyrion’s inner monologue screaming “Yes!!!! Thank you, Voice of Reason!" 

 Back at Winterfell, Brienne and Podrick are sparring in the courtyard, when Arya comes along and tells Brienne she wants to train with the woman who beat The Hound in battle. We get a sweet sequence of Arya showing off her badass fighting skills while Sansa and Littlefinger look on from the mezzanine and Sansa seems to be wondering "Wtf is going ON with all my siblings?!” Arya has an exhilarated smile on her face as she fights and eventually bests Brienne. When Brienne asks who taught her to fight like that, Arya grins and says “No one”. She looks up and sees Littlefinger and her smile fades fast. Is he on her kill list, I wonder.

 Hundreds of miles away, Jon and Ser Davos are walking the walls of Dragonstone and Davos asks what Jon thinks of Dany, hinting that she is a hottie. Jon’s all “Dammit, man, I don’t have time to date right now, I’m trying to save my people and all of humanity.” They encounter Missandei on their walk and she tells them what an inspiration Dany is to all the people who follow her. They notice a Good Greyjoy ship and head to the shore where Theon arrives by boat. Jon tells Theon he would kill him if it weren’t for the fact that Theon helped Sansa escape from Ramsay Bolton. Theon tells them he needs Dany’s help to rescue his sister from Uncle Euron, but Jon replies “Dany ain’t here, yo." Hmmm, where could she be? 

Don’t Mess With The Dragon Mama

On an open field, still a distance from Kings Landing, a large group of the Lannister army is taking a rest while Jaime and Bronn look on. Commander Randyll Tarly rides up and informs Jaime Lannister that the gold has been safely transported to Cersei. He says the soldiers need to catch up with the front end of the regiment at the Blackwater rush and asks for permission to flog any stragglers as motivation to get moving. You get the sense that he considers flogging others a perk of the job.  Ugh, Randyll is such a miserable guy. 

Jaime and Bronn ask Rickon - I mean Dickon! - what he thought of his very first battle at Highgarden and he confesses it was hard to fight men he grew up with…and surprisingly stinky. Bronn smugly points out it’s the smell of men pooping their pants when they die. Lovely imagery there, dude. Suddenly Bronn realizes things have gotten too quiet. Jaime is on high alert and shouts to the soldiers to get into formation, because something’s a comin’. 

The tension is palpable. In the distance we see a horde of Dothraki closing in. Hurrah for Team Dany! Although, it’s kind of a conflicting feeling of triumph, because I hate Queen Cersei, but I’m also rather fond of Jaime and Bronn.  Maybe they’ll be aight…hopefully. I know the term "epic battle” is brought out often, especially where Game of Thrones is involved (deservedly so), but believe me when I say what follows truly is an epic, heart-racing battle scene. Words can’t do it justice, but here are some of the need-to-know highlights: 

 The Dothraki ride in like the unhinged, badass warriors they are, and as they get closer and closer to the Lannister army you just know a dragon is gonna appear soon. And appear it does! Drogon swoops over the horde, taking the lead, and we get a close-up of Dany on his back as she says “Dracarys!” and her Dragon spews out a stream of fire onto the shocked Lannister army. Total chaos ensues as burning men flail and run and we get lots of breathtakingly awesome shots of Drogon just shooting out flames like a laser beam, making a barbecue of any poor soul who happens to be in the line of fire. Meanwhile the Dothraki are handling things on the ground. 

 Amidst the madness, Jaime instructs Bronn to get to the wagon with Cersei’s secret weapon: Qyburn’s jumbo dragon-slaying crossbow. In true Bronn fashion we get the retort “Why me?” -“Cause it takes two working hands, ya jerk, DO IT!!!" 

 A Dothraki warrior singles out Bronn as he makes his way through the burning hellscape, and there’s a sad moment for all animal lovers when Bronn’s horse loses a leg.  Bronn eventually gets the upper hand when he reaches the giant crossbow and fires it at his Dothraki assailant - skewering him. I mean…they ARE at a barbecue, after all. 

 As Dany continues to soar over the disoriented mass of soldiers and Drogon sets things ablaze, Bronn takes aim at the creature. He misses the first time, but the second shot hits Drogon in the chest. It’s not an immediately fatal shot, but the dragon falls from the sky.  Somehow the beast manages to regain enough control to land with Dany still safely perched on his back. Jaime is about a football field’s distance from where Dany and Drogon have landed, and Dany is trying to remove the massive spear from Drogon’s chest. 

Tyrion and Varys look on from a great distance and Tyrion mutters "You effing idiot!” when he sees Jaime charging toward Dany on horseback. Just as Jamie is mere feet away, Daenerys turns around and Drogon turns his head to blow a giant stream of fire at Jaime. But before the inferno can engulf him, somebody rides up and knocks Jaime from his horse and both men fall into a conveniently-placed body of water. Jaime sinks deeper and deeper into the water and…the credits roll. 

 Holy Mother of Dragons! What an intense final 20 minutes that was! The music and camerawork were simply perfect and I loved the sequence of Bronn making his way to the dragon-killing weapon - it was shot beautifully and conveyed the disorienting horror of the battle. I was covering my face for the whole battle scene, cringing and shouting expletives at the screen, praying that no Dragons would die. 

 Man oh man! Still kind of recovering from the excitement. I’m hoping desperately that Drogon’s wounds aren’t fatal. Dany can’t lose her favorite dragon-child! Perhaps it’s time to invest in some dragon-sized chainmail. 

Pretty sure Jaime will survive - at least till the next episode - and my guess is that Dickon saved him, and will be getting more screen time. Even though this was a set-back for Cersei, I’m sure she’ll return with a vengeance once her hired hands from Essos come to town. 

 It’s great to have all the legit Stark kids back home and I’m loving the buddy pair-up of Arya and Brienne. Although poor Sansa is all “Damnit, I’m stuck with Littlefinger while everybody else gets to have all the fun.” What will Baelish do next? I feel like he probably wants to peace out of Winterfell, considering there is a highly trained assassin in the hizzy and a know-it-all who likely has seen every scheme and backstabbing thing Littlefinger has ever done. I think it’s high time for Bran to start giving people some useful info instead of just being all “I’ve been working on this cool time traveling Peeping Tom hobby lately” with everybody he meets; giving Arya the dagger is a good start. 

 Next week it looks like we’re getting some Whitewalker action, or, at the very least, an update on the Wildlings at East Watch. Will Jon finally “bend the knee” in order to get a dragon on loan from Dany to help out his pals in the north? He’s just gotta suck it up and do it, right? But will Dany even be able to spare any of her Unsullied what with Cersei’s sneaky outmaneuvering at Casterly Rock? So much can happen! With only three episodes left, every minute is precious and I’m pretty optimistic the final episodes are going to deliver mucho good times! Hang tight until next week, my dears!

[mnemememory]

Love your writing!!! If you're still taking prompts, how about trini's mom walking in on trini and Kim during a tender moment like Kim's holding Trini's hand and Trini's mom is like *raises eyebrows* what's going on here?? Idk if this makes any sense or anything to go off of. Hope you have a great day!!

cross-posted on ao3

Summary: Kim wants to come over, and Trini regrets everything

mild trini/kim

A/N: thanks so much for the prompts, sweetheart! I’m sorry this took so long, but it kind of got away from me :P

Trini knows this is a bad idea.

Things involving Kim always seemed like bad ideas, though, so she just figured it was her usual mantra of ‘don’t say yes to the pretty girl don’t say yes to the pretty girl oh man are you stupid’ and just went along with it anyway. Because apparently saying no to pretty girls was something she found difficult.

So when Kim says, “Hey, Trini, I don’t think I’ve ever been to your place” – well. Trini had put up a token protest (because there is no way this wasn’t going to blow up in her face) but ultimately had caved, because hey, maybe it would be nice to bring a friend – a friend, Zach – home. It’d stop her parents from worrying so much, wouldn’t it? This was what they wanted. Win-win.

Except Zach wouldn’t shut up about it. “You’re introducing her to your parents!” he says, grinning up at her. She’s taken to hanging out near the abandoned gold mine, letting the height soothe the way her muscles stretched too much beneath her skin. “You haven’t even been on a second date yet! Wow, someone is moving fast.”

“I could kick you off and watch you bleed out,” Trini says. “I’d laugh.”

Zach isn’t deterred, which is more than a little bit annoying. She misses the times where intimidating people had been as easy as breathing. “I’m sure you would,” he says, hopping around from one rock to the other like a rabbit on speed. Trini’s been waiting impatiently for his heart to explode for the past ten minutes, but so far, no dice. “And I’m sure it would be suitably entertaining.”

Trini’s brain catches up to his earlier comment. “And we aren’t dating! Have not been dating! Why are you like this?”

“What do you call that time you went to Krispy Kreme –”

“We were training.”

“With donuts,” Zach says. “By yourselves. Eating.”

“I will kill you, it will be painful, you will scream by the end of –”

“Calm down, calm down,” Zach says, laughing as he dodges out from one of her airborne attacks. Trini lands on all fours, fingers gripping into the rock as easily as anything she’s ever done. It feels almost like cheating, the way her body responds to things in ways that shouldn’t be possible. All that work, all those stretches, all that time and energy – now, with her little yellow hunk of rock pressed against the lining of her pocket, she’s all but invincible.

“That wasn’t a date,” Trini repeats, turning around to glare at him. “And this isn’t one, either. My parents have been begging me to make friends, in any case. This will get them off my back.”

“Whatever you say, Trini dearest,” Zach crows, and then dodges back once again as Trini hauls a well-aimed rock at him. “Hey, ow, you don’t need to go that far –”

“Is it okay if I bring a friend over tomorrow?”

The table cuts silent.

Trini inwardly cringes, and then steels herself and glances up. Her mother is staring at her, face paler than she’s seen in a while. Her family is smiling, like he’s proud, but also like he has no clue what’s going on. It’s not an unfamiliar smile.

Her brothers break first.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” one of them crows, stretching out over the table to grin at her.

“What’s his name?” the other one says, eyes blown wide with delight. He doesn’t wait for her to answer. “Trini and new guy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N –”

“Boys!” her mother snaps, and then both snap their mouths shut. Trini glares at them wrathfully from across the table, and then turns to fully face her mother. “Is it a boy?”

“No!” Trini says, and she wishes her voice doesn’t sound so defensive. They don’t know, she thinks. “No, it’s one of my friends. Kim.”

“Kim,” her mother says, like she’s tasting the name on her tongue. Trini feels to abrupt urge to leave. “I guess so, as long as you’ve finished all your homework.”

Homework, yes. Trini loves homework. She loves that she doesn’t need to do it to pass.

“We’ll just be studying,” Trini says, and the words feel hollow in her mouth. Studying, right. She wonders if Kim even bothers to study. Why did Kim even want to come over, anyway? It’s not like they don’t see each other enough, even outside of school and Power Rangers training. This is the most social that Trini’s ever been, and it’s starting to freak her out, the way she’s fallen so easily into a pattern.

“Well, that should be fine,” her mother says. “Do you share classes, then? How did you meet?”

Trini sinks lower into her chair, feeling her shoulders bunch up. “Mum.”

“What’s her last name?” her mother continues, relentless. “Do we know her parents?”

“I doubt it,” Trini says, skin itching. She wants to be outside, stretching out over the rocks and rocketing towards the stars. She’s fast; faster than she’s ever been before. If she starts running, though, she doesn’t think she’s ever going to stop. “Mum, how many friends do you have here?”

There’s a brief, ugly silence.

“Trini,” her father says, but Trini’s done. This is a horrible idea. She’ll just tell Kim that her parents don’t want her to have friends over – it should be easy enough. Of course, she has an awful vision of Kim telling her, Oh, okay, I’ll swing by in the middle of the night and just take a look at your place then, which. Is less than helpful.

Trini shakes her head and shoves her chair back, almost tripping in her haste to leave the table. “I’ll wash the dishes,” she says, grabbing her plate and shuffling towards the kitchen. It’s almost physically painful, keeping her speed normal and human. I’m fast, she thinks, and then wonders if she’s really fast enough.

“Bring her here,” her mother says the next morning, when Trini’s trying to bolt outside the door before anyone else is awake. Her mother is sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of coffee so strong that Trini is getting a second-hand caffeine hit just from the smell alone. “I want to meet her.”

“Maybe I don’t want her to meet you,” Trini says, and then regrets it.

Her mother glances up, face old. It’s strange to think of her that way, but there are lines, there. Bags. Without her makeup on, she looks tired. Trini has to glance away before she says anything else that she’s going to regret.

“Bring her here,” she repeats.

“I’ll think about it,” Trini says, and then curses herself. A deal is a deal. She’ll think about it, and then she’ll tell Kim, and then Kim is going to want to come anyway. No amount of saying ‘I don’t think this is a good idea’ has made her change her mind yet.

“See you later,” Trini says gruffly, and then backs out of the house and closes the door.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Trini releases the death-grip she has on her backpack strap, forcibly turning her neck so give Kim a smile. Kim arches her eyebrow and silently reiterates the question.

“I’m fine,” Trini forces out, and she’s not lying. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Kim gives her a look. “Are you sure?” she says. “I don’t have to come over, you know.”

“No, no,” Trini says. She’s already let the cat out of the bag on this one; Kim wanted to know what her family was like, and if she doesn’t get this over this, it’s just going to escalate. Best get it done quickly and with as little pain as possible. Like ripping off a band-aid.

As a kid, Trini had hated ripping off band-aids.

Everyone’s home; she can already hear the boys running screaming down the hallway, can already hear her mother yelling in the background. Her father isn’t being obvious about it, but he should be there, too. Trini inhales sharply and reaches towards the doorknob, before hesitating.

“Is there something wrong, Trini?” Kim says.

“Oh, they’re going to love you,” Trini says, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward.

She doesn’t announce their presence inside, because that would be too abnormal for anyone to cope with. Instead, Trini drags Kim upstairs as fast as she can, almost tripping over the stairs in her haste to get out of the firing zone.

“Trini?” her mother calls, and Trini freezes with her hand on her door. Damn. So close. “Trini, are you home?”

Kim is a silent wall at her back, and Trini’s words stick in her throat. Respond, damn you, she tells herself. C’mon, just – respond!

“Yeah,” she says, and then clears her throat and breathes in deeper. “Yeah!”

“Is your friend with you?”

“We’ll be studying in my room,” Trini shouts, and then shoves Kim into her room and closes the door with a slam. She closes her eyes, steels her shoulders, and then turns to give Kim a wide smile. “So.”

Kim doesn’t look impressed. “So,” she parrots. “Trini, just how many friends do you actually have?”

Trini rolls her eyes. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Kim ignores her and flops onto Tirni’s bed, splaying out dramatically across the duvet. Trini averts her eyes from the way Kim’s shirt rides up over her stomach and rests herself against the wall. Everything’s clean, if a little dusty – she’s taken to sneaking out via her window every night and just curling up wherever she finds someplace comfortable. Rita’s attack left her more than a little leery of sleeping – well, anywhere.

“This is nice,” Kim says, eyeing the plastered-over cracks on the far wall. Trini hasn’t had the time to paint over them, but she’s planning on it. “Very neat.”

Trini huffs a laugh under her breath, reaching up to link her fingers between Kim’s. Kim rolls over and grins at Trini from above, face almost heartbreakingly beautiful.

Trini knows that this isn’t what Kim wants, she knows that she doesn’t – that she can’t – that this isn’t –

There’s a knock on the door, and then Trini’s mother is opening the door and is looking at them before Trini has time to let go.

“Studying,” her mother says, arching her eyebrow.

Kim steps in before Trini can start an argument. It’s handy, having friends. Friends. “We were just about to get started,” she says, sitting up and smiling. She doesn’t let go of Trini’s hand. “School was pretty gruelling, so we decided to take a break beforehand.”

Trini’s mother smiles, but there’s something fake about it. She’s showing too many teeth. “You must be Kim.”

“That’s me,” Kim says, straightening. “Kimberly Hart. It’s a pleasure meeting you, ma’am. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Trini squeezes Kim’s hand in warning. “Is there something you wanted, Mum?”

“I came to see if you wanted anything to eat, or drink,” her mother says. “You didn’t even come into the kitchen to say hello.”

“We’re fine, Mum,” Trini says, clipping off her words. “Anything else?”

“Dinner’s at seven, if your friend wants to stay,” her mother says. She doesn’t move away from the doorway, and Trini feels herself gripping Kim’s fingers with too much force. She tries to relax her hand, but she finds that she’s locked her arm up all the way to the shoulder.

“Mum,” Trini says.

“Come say hello properly before your friend leaves,” her mother says, and then exits the room. She doesn’t close the door. There’s a brief silence as Kim doesn’t talk and Trini just waits for it, just waits for her to say something. There’s a reason that Trini never brings anyone home, and her mother is 70% of it.

With her father claiming at least 10%, the remaining 20% proceed to hurtle into her room without even having the grace to knock. Trini leaps up and makes a grab for her brothers as they start shouting questions at Kim, but Kim just laughs and sits up.

“You didn’t mention you had brothers,” she says.

Trini freezes, and her brothers give her identical looks of betrayal. “You haven’t mentioned us?”

“You’re cute,” Kim says with a grin. “But we’re busy, so scram.”

With starry eyes, one of her brothers drops to the ground and opens up his arms. “Marry me.”

Trini grabs each by an arm and herds them into the hallway. “Get out,” she hisses, face red and heart beating fast enough to kill her. “I’ll kill you later.”

“I’m going to marry your friend,” one of them says, eyes gleaming. “She’s pretty and mean and –”

“You need better standards,” Trini mutters, slamming the door shut.

“I’m glad you’re making friends, Trini,” her father says that night. Kim’s gone home – Trini had almost had to beg her; C’mon, Kim, please don’t do this to me, you’ve seen enough – but her parents won’t stop talking about it. We’re so happy for you, they say, This is great, you need to branch out more and stretch your wings and –

“Can’t you find anyone better, though?” her mother says. “She seems a bit…”

Trini closes her eyes. Don’t do this to me. Please.

“Kim’s great,” she says, but the words feel dry and hollow. Everything feels dry and hollow; her lungs aren’t working properly, but she’s breathing just fine.

“Oh, I know, honey,” her mother says. “And I know that you’re trying to fit in – and she seems sweet, but –”

“But what?” Trini says. “You saw her for like two minutes.”

“You two seemed awfully –”

Please, PLEASE don’t do this.

“She’s a friend from school. I thought you wanted me to make friends,” Trini says, lounging back. She’s faced Rita Repulsa down. She’s driven an alien mecha sabre tooth tiger, this can’t be that difficult – this isn’t that –

“We know, honey, we just don’t want you hanging out with the wrong people.”

“She seemed nice to me,” her father says.

Her mother shoots him a glare. “You didn’t exactly talk to her, now, did you? Kim Hart, was it? I think I’ve heard that name –”

“Are you serious?” Trini says, glaring. “You cannot be serious, this is ridiculous, I can’t believe that you’re –”

“Wait, Trini, where are you –”

Trini sits on the top of the gold mine and breathes; in and out, in and out. The stars stretch out overhead and devour the darkness, the jagged edges of the horizon silhouetted black.

She’s free, she’s free, she’s free –

[kdinthecity]

Fantasy

Alright, as the title implies, this one is nsfw, although I consider it pretty mild. Your boss might not, though. This is for Zutara Month, “snowflakes.” If any plot points don’t make sense, it’s because I adapted this from one of my multi-chapter fics. I tried to make it stand alone, though.

In retrospect, planning an Ember Island reunion in the winter may not have been the best idea. The bitter wind persisted and therefore thwarted their beach plans to some extent. Zuko and Katara eventually joined their friends at the waterfront—after stealing a quiet moment alone back at the beach house. When the icy tendrils of the tide reached their bare feet, it became obvious why no one was swimming.

 "I thought this was supposed to be the perfect vacation spot," Toph grumbled. Not that she wanted to swim anyway.

 "I don't know. I've never been here in the winter," Zuko replied.

 "Apparently Yue Bay is where the weather is perfect all year around," Katara said, although she couldn’t remember who told her that.

 "I'll make a bonfire. I always liked those as a kid. At least until…" Zuko trailed off and set about the task of finding firewood.

 "I'll help you." Aang met the Fire Lord’s scowl with his characteristic grin. Katara wasn’t sure what dark memory plagued Zuko, but she hoped that the Avatar’s animated chatter and goofy antics could help snap him out of his sudden gloom.

 After the fire had been burning for some time, the younger two of the group expressed their boredom and wandered further down the beach to build sand sculptures with their earthbending. When the conversation amongst the remaining four died down, Katara noticed that Sokka and Suki had gone from cuddly to handsy. It had to be some form of torture to watch her brother do that. Zuko picked up on her annoyance pretty quickly, though. "Let's go for a walk," he said.

Zuko seemed to have a destination in mind, and when they arrived at the cave at the far end of the beach, Katara recognized it. They had celebrated her birthday there two summers ago. It was decidedly one of the best birthdays she'd ever had and largely because Zuko had gone to great lengths to make it special for her. And that was before we even…

 Zuko pulled her into a kiss and then led her into the cave. He gave her the look, his sly smile, and she realized that not only did he have a destination in mind, he also had a plan. She was curious and yes, aroused even, but also feeling a bit feisty. What if I play hard to get? Besides, it's so damn cold…

 The weather appeared to not phase the firebender at all because once inside the cave, Zuko immediately started stripping off his clothes.

 Okay, then.

 "Z-z-zuko, what are you doing?"

 "Well, I don't want to get them wet, do I?"

 She remembered now. At the back of the cave was a hot spring. Zuko stood still for a few minutes with his back toward her. It seemed like every muscle in his body was flexed, and all he was doing was just standing there, inadvertently driving her crazy. He then looked over his shoulder at her, flashed a seductive smile, and strode to the water's edge. For all his lack of self-confidence in other ways, in this, he did not. Or perhaps it was just where Katara was concerned. Those types of smiles were only reserved for her, after all.

 And this was something they only shared together.

 He eased into the water and sighed. She melted.

 "It feels great, Katara. Are you coming?"

 Playing hard to get was such a stupid idea. Shivers went down her spine and not because she was cold.

Once she had joined him in the water, he said, "You told me I needed to relax and have fun, so I just thought—"

 She cut him off with a kiss. A very insistent, I-have-to-have-you-now kiss. He broke it just briefly to look into her desire-filled eyes before he lost himself in them—and then lost himself in her completely.

 They had "bathed" together before back at the palace, but this… this was different. It was such a combination of sensations: the heated pool, like fire and water; them moving together, team liquidy hot; the occasional burst of cold air against their heated skin, opposites attract…

 And snow.

 Wait, snow?

 Zuko stilled their motions even though it almost pained him to do so. Katara let out a little whimper in response.

 "K-k-katara, why is it snowing?"

 "Oh…um…" She tightened the grip she had around him with her ankles before leaning back slightly to look up at the top of the cave. In an act of impulse before entering the water, she had frozen the condensation there. She had also regulated the surrounding air temperature, so that when the water droplets began to melt and fall, they would refreeze, crystallize, and then float down like snowflakes.

 The flurries melted instantly when they touched Zuko's skin, she noticed. She wondered if he could feel their icy prickle first like she could, or if everything with him was just constantly and irresistibly hot. He watched the snowflakes fall in between the puffs of steam their quickened breaths made. When he realized she wasn't going to give much more of an answer, he coaxed her to the edge of the pool where he could get more leverage. It wasn't long before their cries of pleasure echoed off the cave's walls.

On the walk back to the beach house, Katara confessed. "So, I've always had this… fantasy… about doing it in the snow. Or, um, maybe inside an igloo. I dunno."

 "Sounds cold." Zuko smirked.

 "Yeah, I guess that's the part I couldn't figure out. I never factored a firebender into the equation, though."

 "Wait… how long have you had this fantasy?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

 "Oh, come on. It's not like I ever thought I would leave the South Pole."

 "Is this what all little Water Tribe girls fantasize about?"

 "Zuko, stop it! Maybe I'm just homesick, did you ever think of that?"

 "Oh." He looked taken aback. "Are you?"

 "Maybe? I don't know. I just don't know if I could live in the Fire Nation for the rest of my life, OK?"

 "Whoa, whoa, what brought this on? Nobody's forcing you to stay in the Fire Nation. Even if we… well, I had hoped you would stay with me, but of course, you could go back home whenever you want. I wouldn't stop you." All confidence was lost. Zuko was not the man in the cave anymore. He felt uncertain, vulnerable… and cold.

 Katara realized that while she had been playing with snow flurries before, she had just thrown ice daggers without meaning to. And instead of melting upon impact, they had penetrated. That came out completely wrong. How do I explain? It’s just a big decision, that’s all…

 "I want to go with you," Zuko said.

 "Huh?" Katara had been so distracted by her own inner dialogue, that Zuko's comment caught her off guard.

 "I want to go with you to the South Pole."

 "You d-d-do?"

 "Yeah. I want to meet Gran Gran. And eat seaprunes. And go tiger seal hunting with your dad. And try ice fishing. And I want to make love to you in the snow. Or in an igloo… whichever you prefer." He smiled, this time a shy and hopeful smile.

 "Technically you've already met Gran Gran…"

 "That doesn't count."

 "And you've had seaprunes."

 "That doesn't count, either."

 "And just now, it was snowing, sort of…"

 "Katara?" His smile vanished.

 "Hmm?"

 "Are you… ashamed of me? Do you not… want me to go?

 "No! I mean, yes!" Zuko's frown contorted into a look of confusion. Katara made a noise of frustration.

 "I'm sorry, I can't seem to say what I mean. No, I am not ashamed of you. And yes, I would love to take you to the South Pole!"

 "Who's going to the South Pole?" Sokka fell in step with them out of nowhere.

 "Sokka! Where did you come from?" Katara squeaked. And how much did you hear?

 "I've been looking for you two. Lunch is ready. And then after lunch, Zuko, you owe me a sword fight."

 "You're on," Zuko replied. "Hey, Sokka, we'll see you at the beach house in a few, okay?" He gave the other teen a rather pointed look, and his meaning was understood.

 "Sure thing." Sokka left.

 Katara marveled at how easily Zuko could get rid of her brother. She couldn't do that if she tried. In fact, if she had insinuated or even outright asked him to leave, he would take that as all the more reason to stay.

 Zuko interrupted her thoughts with a kiss. His breath was warm on her neck when he whispered, "So… I've always had this fantasy of doing it in a hot spring… inside a cave…"

[kennethherrerablog]

Manage Your Money, You Must: 10 Money Lessons We Learned from ‘Star Wars’

The Force will be with us — always.

Because “Star Wars” has embedded itself so deeply into our cultural DNA, it continues to shape the way we think about life.

Over numerous movies and assorted iterations, “Star Wars” has taught us about overcoming obstacles, about dealing with family drama, about friendship, about patience, about beating the odds — and even about money.

Because this is The Penny Hoarder, we’re especially interested in the part about money.

Even though the epic saga of Luke Skywalker & Co. played out a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, the financial wisdom we gleaned from it applies to the here and now.

Now, prepare to make the jump into hyperspace! Here’s what we’ve learned:

1. Always Pay Your Debts — Or Else

Bingo. This is always the first one everyone thinks of.

Han Solo owes money to the giant slug-like crime boss, Jabba the Hutt. When he doesn’t pay up, Jabba sends bounty hunter Boba Fett after him — basically a debt collector with blaster pistols and green Mandalorian armor.

Instead of declaring Chapter 7 bankruptcy, Han ends up frozen in carbonite. Then Princess Leia, Luke, Lando and the iconic droids have to infiltrate Jabba’s lair to save him in a sequel.

Just like with Solo, the longer you don’t pay off your debts, the bigger the problem gets. The interest piles up.

Pro Tip

Credit cards companies charge compound interest. If you don’t pay off your bill each month, the company charges interest that is added to the amount you owe. Then that new total is charged interest.

Your first step should be to figure out what you’re dealing with. Map out exactly what kind of debt you have. For example, which companies do you owe money to? Are any of your debts in collections? What are your minimum monthly payments on each credit card or loan?

An easy way to start doing this is to sign up with a free service like Credit Sesame. This tool shows your balance on any unpaid bills, credit cards or loans. It also offers tips on reducing your debt and raising your credit score.

2. Used Vehicles Offer the Best Value

The Millennium Falcon takes its share of verbal abuse in multiple “Star Wars” films.

“You came in that thing? You’re braver than I thought,” Princess Leia says upon first seeing the starship. And in “The Force Awakens,” Rey calls the ship “garbage.”

But the Millennium Falcon gets the job done. (Did we mention that it made the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs?) Turns out you don’t always need a shiny new vehicle.

Used cars are often a better deal than new ones. Consumer Reports recommends buying a car that’s two or three years old. For tips on buying a used car, go here or here or here.

You’ll need to take care of your ride, though. (The Falcon’s hyperdrive keeps breaking down despite Chewbacca’s best efforts in “The Empire Strikes Back.”)

According to a AAA survey, 1 in 3 U.S. drivers can’t pay for an unexpected auto repair. Consider creating an emergency fund with a high-yield bank account.

3. Negotiate the Best Deal You Can

Early in “A New Hope,” Luke and Uncle Owen are bargaining with some creepy little jawas over the price of some used droids.

When an R2 unit they’d just bought immediately breaks down, Uncle Owen aggressively questions the quality of what the jawas are selling: “Hey, what are you trying to push on us?”

The result: Luke’s family gets the best droid ever, R2-D2.

Negotiating isn’t just for markets and cars, any variable expense can be negotiated to a lower price — you just have to know what to look for.

4. “Do or Do Not. There is No Try.”

Yoda’s admonition to Luke in “The Empire Strikes Back” is probably the biggest zen moment in any of these movies.

As always, Yoda is right on target. You’re either going to do it, or you’re not. Don’t just try.

If you’re going to make financial changes, commit to them and be consistent. Don’t just try once or twice and then forget about it. Sticking to it is the key to success.

Pro Tip

Help yourself by making it harder to spend. Deleting your credit card number from your internet browser can create just enough of a hurdle to force you to pause before giving in to that impulse buy.

For instance, saving money is hard. Consider trying an auto-savings app like Acorns.

Once you connect it to a debit or credit card, it rounds your purchases up to the nearest dollar and funnels your digital change into a savings or investment account.

Because the money comes out in increments of less than $1, you’re less likely to feel an impact in your bank account.

5. Don’t Let the Little Details Blow Up On You

The Empire spared no expense on the Death Star, don’t you think?

You’ve got to figure that moon-sized battle stations capable of blowing up planets don’t come cheap (especially two of them).

But they overlooked that pesky little design flaw that allowed the Rebel Alliance to destroy the whole thing. Whoops!

Don’t neglect the details like that, because they’ll burn you. Don’t skimp on maintenance and repairs for big-ticket items like your home and car. If you blow that stuff off, you’ll just end up paying more in the end.

Another lesson from the Death Star: Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. The Empire sure had a lot riding on its supercool Death Star, didn’t it?

Don’t depend on just one thing. Diversify your investments. Here’s how one woman used an app to make sure her 401(k) was in balance.

6. Get Rid of Your Old Stuff

The “Star Wars” universe looks different than Star Trek and other sci-fi settings. “Star Wars” has that “lived-in” look — there’s junk everywhere. You know, just like your house.

And in the “Star Wars” movies, people make money selling that junk — just like you should.

In “The Force Awakens,” Rey is a scavenger on the planet Jakku, feeding herself by salvaging parts from ships.

On Luke’s home planet of Tatooine, those jawas we mentioned earlier appear to be scavengers, too.

Pro Tip

Letgo is an app that lets you connect with people who want your old stuff. It’s free to use — just snap a photo, upload your item and add a description and price.

In “The Phantom Menace” — hey, here’s our first and only mention of the prequels! — Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi meet young Anakin Skywalker in a junk shop where he fixes things.

Meanwhile, here on our planet, a number of apps are making it easier than ever to sell your old stuff online.

To free up space and earn some extra cash, use apps to sell your stuff. Listing the right stuff in the right marketplaces means you’re more likely to sell it for the right price.

7. Beware of Scams. Know What Things Are Worth.

Toward the beginning of “The Force Awakens,” a hungry Rey nearly pawns the droid BB-8 in exchange for 60 portions of inflatable food. She’s sorely tempted, but senses something is wrong and backs off.

That’s the surest way to spot a scam: If a deal looks too good to be true, it probably is.

Whether you’re selling a droid or shopping for shoes online, you’ve got to watch out for rip-offs. Here’s how to protect yourself from imposter scams, credit repair scams, identity theft and senior scams.

As long as identity theft remains a huge problem you need to keep an eye on your credit and transactions.

8. Embrace the Gig Economy

When Luke and Obi-Wan need transportation to Alderaan, they basically catch an Uber. A space Uber. They pay for the Millennium Falcon to take them there.

Here on Earth, you can make like Han and Chewie in your Honda or Chevy by driving with Uber or Lyft and make extra money each week on your own schedule.

Pro Tip

In addition to age requirements for drivers, Uber and Lyft both have age restriction for your vehicle that are based on regulations in your city.

There are other entry-level ways to make money nowadays that you can do on your own time – and from your phone – thanks to the growing gig economy.

Craigslist is an easy place to sell your services under the “Gigs” section. Pay and tasks will vary, of course. And if you don’t trust Craigslist, check out TaskRabbit or Fiverr – to name just a few.

9. If the Deal Turns to the Dark Side, Cut Your Losses

Here at The Penny Hoarder, we’re always looking for good deals.

We’re always asking, Is this a good deal or not a good deal? And when we hear the words “deal” and “”Star Wars”,” we can’t help but think of Lando Calrissian in “The Empire Strikes Back.”

Lando … Lando did not get a good deal.

When Han, Leia and Chewie first turn up in Cloud City, Lando tells them, “I’ve just made a deal that’ll keep the Empire out of here forever.”

Of course, the deal involves betraying his friends. Later, Darth Vader menacingly informs Lando, “I am altering the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.”

Still later, when Vader threatens Lando further and mistreats his friends, Lando fumes, “This deal is getting worse all the time!”

That’s when he switches sides.

If you make a deal and the reality doesn’t match what you were promised, be prepared to walk away. Cut your losses and move on.

10. Sand People Always Walk in Single File to Hide Their Numbers

You see, from this we can learn that … no, no, wait. That’s not a good example at all. We learn no financial truths from that.

We’ve got nothing for you here.

Let’s try this instead. One of the most important lessons we learned from “Star Wars” is:

10. Make Sure You Have a Long-Term Plan

The heroes and villains of the “Star Wars” universe are seriously into some long-term planning.

Emperor Palpatine’s master plan takes several movies to unfold. After he reveals himself to be Darth Sidious and strikes, Yoda and Obi-Wan lay low for a couple of decades after the prequels, waiting for their chance to return the favor.

Of course, when we first meet Obi-Wan and Yoda, they’re chilling in a cave and a swamp, respectively. Apparently the Jedi Council didn’t have much of a 401(k) match.

The sooner you start saving, investing and paying down your debt, the better off you’ll be.

All told, that’s everything that “Star Wars” has taught us about money so far. Take it as you will.

Do, or do not.

There is no try.

Mike Brassfield (mike@thepennyhoarder.com) is a senior writer at The Penny Hoarder. His “Star Wars”-loving co-workers helped out with this post.

This was originally published on The Penny Hoarder, which helps millions of readers worldwide earn and save money by sharing unique job opportunities, personal stories, freebies and more. The Inc. 5000 ranked The Penny Hoarder as the fastest-growing private media company in the U.S. in 2017.

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