#and phoenix freaking out i felt that at my soul

[souppunch]

Finally watched the ace attorney movie and I had a lot of fun with it but also the fucking holograms man i couldnt stop laughing its great solid 7.5 outta 10 for me (and I love phoenix here they did a good job)

[alasse-earfalas]

Updated Fierce Deity Links Playlist!

I swapped a couple tracks and added a couple Links with their own songs to the list, so I figured it was high time for me to make an update to the original playlist post. This time around I'm going to go into a little more detail as to why I chose each song for each FD Link, rather than just copy/pasting some lyrics like I did last time.

As a reminder: this is following the theory / headcanon that the OG Fierce Deity Mask is a mask of ascended Sky. Thus, this is not a collection of songs describing what each Link would be like under the influence of the OG FD mask; rather, these are songs for what each Link's ascended, FD forms would be like. (Not that it matters all that much, really.)

Track list under the cut. :)

First: Holy Ghost (feat. Andrea Storm Kaden) by Fabvl (Clean Version) This song was written about Adam from the anime Record of Ragnarok (which I still need to watch). Right off the bat there's the obvious correlation between the First Hero & the First Human, but there's also the desperate fight between a mere mortal and a god. The erratic nature of the music and lyrics, and the screaming, lends itself to the desperation First must've felt during that fight. Considering how he died, I thought that his desperate determination would carry over to his FD form after death.

Time: In The Air Tonight by State of Mine Time just wants to rest in piece. I love the observation in LU that he is done with combat. It would take a lot to convince him to go into battle after training Twilight as the Hero's Shade. However, as a Link, he is still very much a force to be reckoned with. Underestimating him would be a death sentence, and heaven help the poor soul of anyone who stupidly incurs his wrath. With all that in mind, I wanted to go with a song that was a little more subdued than the others, but still intimidating and intense. After listening through the previous playlist a few times, I kept feeling like Time's original song just wasn't quite on par with the others. I swapped it with this one both for the up in intensity, and because it really sells the, "I don't want to be here... but you done screwed up, so now I have no choice but to put an end to your miserable life" vibe.

Twilight: POWER by Divide Music The lyrics of this one fit Twilight like a freaking glove. However, I think I may have shied away from using it originally because the type of music doesn't quite fit the edgy goth cowboy we all know and love. But after listening to it again a few times, it occurred to me that FD Twilight would be ascended Twilight; postmortem Twilight; BotW Wolf Link amiibo Twilight. And that annoying little fleabag (affectionate) is a lot more bold and "Have at thee, pathetic monster!" than he was in Twilight Princess—which is exactly the vibe of this song.

Warriors: The Resistance by Skillet Come on. "I am a nation"? "I am a soldier"? Tell me that's not Wars. The lyrics are just too perfect. Even "Love is the answer" makes me think of how he views his Zelda versus how Cia started a whole war over her obsession with him (additionally, "Used to be a slave, but now you are a conquer" makes me think of my personal headcanon of how the Temple of Souls would have realistically gone if Hyrule Warriors wasn't made for kids). Even the guitar solo at the end is reminiscent of the HW soundtrack!

Four: The War Inside (Spotlight Remix) by Switchfoot Mainly it's just the lyrics for this one. This is only remix I could find that was intense enough, and even then, I'd prefer something with a little more oomph to it.

Wind: Ruthlessness from EPIC: The Musical Do I even need to comment on this? It's freaking ticked off Poseidon. Heck, this was actually the song that inspired the whole playlist!

Wild: The Phoenix by Fall Out Boy Oh man. Where to start? The rapid strings, the chaotic yet poetic lyrics, the relentless pace... Yeah, this is FD Wild. I can just see him, lurking in the shadows, going full guerrilla warfare, setting fire to everything while manipulating Sheikah and Zonai tech like frikkin' Emmet from the Lego Movie. If anything, like Four's song, I'd love to see a remix or cover with a touch more oomph to it. But this will do.

Age (AoC Link): You're Going Down (Radio Edit) by Sick Puppies Age strikes me as the kind of guy who never backs down from a fight or a challenge, no matter how petty (see: eating gravel on a dare). He is heck-a confident in his abilities, masterfully using super reckless tactics (health-burning claymore mechanic, anyone?) and unwieldy prototype weapons to great effect. So, yeah. This is absolutely FD Age.

Legend: Legendary by Skillet It's in. The freaking. Name. Grandiose, confident bordering on cocky, a taunt and an anthem rolled into one. Some of the best-fitting lyrics on this dang list. Overall, just, epic.

Hyrule: Feel Invincible by Skillet This has "I've survived the freaking post-apocalypse, witch" vibes to it, plus some somber contemplative moments that I think would fit older Hyrule very well. I can see Hyrule being another Link who, like Time, just wants to be done when he dies. He'll still fight when he's called upon, and he'll be frighteningly effective in combat, but don't expect him to be enthused about it—just impatient to get back to his well-earned afterlife.

Sky: Say My Name by Divide Music This is the OG Fierce Deity. This is Sky ready to roll some heads. He forged the LoZ equivalent of Excalibur so he could kill a god at seventeen/eighteen, he married the powerful protector goddess who's revered and worshiped by his people, and he is done with your crap. This is the jacked-as-fetch protective dad towering over the schoolyard bully. Your only hope of survival is to not be the bully.

[hxneyhxrts]

Sun Bleached || Jake “Hangman” Seresin (part 3)

Part 2

note: You guys are so freaking sweet for reading this i’m so deadass

warnings: explicit language

Pure Gold

The way the cockpit held heat did nothing to ease Jake’s pounding headache.

Maverick had all but chastised him in the privacy of his office, a conversation neither of them were happy to have had, but necessary all the same.

“You wanna explain to me why Lieutenant Canadee just tore past my office like she was heading to a fire?”

He didn’t. So he chose the safe route, muttering, “No clue,” and leaving it at that.

Mav had split them into teams, a blend of his crew and the newbies. He had shamefully breathed a sigh of relief (mixed with disappointment) when she had been assigned to fly with Phoenix and Bob, not even waiting to hear the rest of the lineup before she excused herself to get dressed. She hadn’t met his eyes all morning, and Jake thought it must be for the best if she didn’t look at him. He very well may have begged for forgiveness if she had.

It’s not that he hated her. He had figured out as much after laying awake in bed for hours the previous night, mulling over their conversation until his head hurt. He didn’t hate her. He didn’t even know her. There was just something about the way she smiled and walked and talked that threw him…

off.

Jake Seresin was never put off. Any room he walked into was his. He flew like he had been doing it his whole life, and very little rattled him. But she unnerved him. He felt disarmed whenever she was even in his line of sight, and he knew himself well enough to know she was going to be a problem if he didn’t get this under control.

So no, he didn’t hate her.

He almost wished he did. It would be easier to hate her and know that was why he lashed out at her after only five minutes of knowing her (or why he spent hours obsessing over those five minutes). Hate would be easier than whatever this was.

Because Jake didn’t know what “this” was. He knew it stung a little bit, but he also knew if he let himself, he wouldn’t mind it. But he didn’t have time for all of this, not when he had a job to do, and a decision to make.

He didn’t see her when he suited up. Or when he stalked across the tarmac, smirking at Payback as a means of convincing them he was still the same unshakeable Hangman. He didn’t see her at all, even now.

The sun was especially awful today, and Jake half wondered if he could be sunburnt through his flight suit. It certainly felt that way.

“You’re dead, Bradshaw,” he huffed, already exhausted by this drill and the heat and her. Rooster groaned, pulling right and heading back to the hangar. Jake had already cleared out Rooster and two student planes- Hive and Beetle.

Copper and Texas had practically jumped at the chance to be his wingmen, and even Jake had to admit that they were doing a pretty good job. They were keeping right on his tail, and had even gotten close to taking out Coyote and Payback, before they got away.

“Tex, you see anybody?” he asked, the first time he had spoken to the young blonde since they ascended.

“Nope, not a soul. I haven’t seen Maverick since we left. I think Coyote is somewhere north east of us, but I didn’t get a good look. Without Hive watching his wing though, we can probably catch up to him before he even realizes.”

Jake shook his head. “Not with Payback in the backseat. We’ll have to edge them out. You guys break left and-”

“Fuck!”

Jake’s head swung to the left just in time to catch Copper pulling up as quickly as the F-18 would go, dropping his own plane down and right. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Phoenix, you’re on Hangman. I’ve got Cop.”

Gwyn.

“Yes ma’am,” his team member responded, and he could almost hear the smile in her voice.

“Copper, stay on my wing!” he roared, but the red head was already falling back. He just barely saw Cheek’s plane as it came up beneath him, sights zeroed in on his wingman.

He was on his own.

Fine.

“Hi Bagman,” Phoenix purred. The smugness in her tone usually would’ve made him laugh, but with the other woman on the same field as him, he wasn’t in a joking mood.

“Let’s do this, then.”

Phoenix for her part, gave him a run for his money. Several times he had been forced to scissor just to keep her from locking him in, but he had gotten his rhythm, and now had her on a wild goose chase. He just needed to get her straightened out so he could pull back and over her.

“Dead,” crackled through his headset before an outrageous curse from Texas followed. “On our way back to you Phoenix.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jake bit out, maneuvering himself just so and getting Phoenix right within his gun lock. “You’re dead, Trace.”

He could hear Bob sigh as Phoenix groaned. “Come and get him, you guys.”

‘Here we go,’ he thought.

“I’ve got visual,” Alec spoke now, the first time Jake had heard from the dark haired man since the exercise started. Jake cut left, trying to put enough distance between them to give him a moment to think.

“Looks like you could use a wingman, Seresin.”

God, he had never been so excited to hear Maverick’s voice.

“Where you been, old timer?” he tried to joke, acutely aware of the team still very much on his trail.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters if I’m here now.” And sure enough, Mav was sliding into place just behind his right wing.

“Second plane,” Rev informed Cheek, and Jake noticed their communication was much more clipped and straightforward than the last time he had flown with them.

“I see it,” came Gwyn’s reply. “Still in pursuit. Check landscape.”

“Clear,” Rev replied, a note of something Jake couldn’t identify in his voice. They were up to something, and Jake didn’t want to hang around to find out what it was.

“Mav, break,” he called, pulling his plane as far left as he could, pushing until Cheek and Rev had completely flown past him before righting himself and getting behind them.

“Works every time,” Mav laughed, but Jake was still too far into the task at hand to chuckle along with him.

Something wasn’t right.

“Rev?” Gwyn asked, calm as ever.

“They’re in position,” came his reply.

Fuck.

Suddenly the sky in front of him was empty, and the plane he had previously been pursuing was dropping, and dropping quickly, plummeting towards the hard deck and then beyond it. Jake and Maverick were still racing forward, passing right over them as they dropped altitude faster than he thought possible before they lost all visual of the other team.

“Canadee!” Mav shouted.

“Dead.”

Jake pulled hard to the side as Maverick sputtered. It was a trick, a dirty one at that, but he had caught it quicker than the older man and barely managing to dodge Cheek’s gun lock as she appeared right behind the pair of them.

“Hangman’s coming around the side,” Rev warned and Jake saw Gwyn turn in response, now following him once more.

She had slid right below them. Disappeared like magic and ended up right on their tail. A small part of him felt thrilled at the chase, but the other part of him, the “I don’t know what this is” part, felt queasy.

He managed to pull his head out of his ass and lock her in after barely dodging her for the better part of ten minutes, and when he finally got the drop on her, his chest loosened.

The comms were dead silent as they flew back to base, no jokes from Alec or anything.

He allowed them to land first, pulling in minutes after and maneuvering his plane to its resting place. He threw the canopy open and was met with Rooster’s grinning face.

“You look like hell,” he smirked beneath that ridiculous fucking mustache.

“Where are they?” he said instead.

He trailed behind Bradshaw to the flight bay where the rest of the team had communed around some tables and chairs pulled up from various corners of the space. Cheek had just managed to sit down when he stalked in, opening his mouth to speak when Maverick beat him to the punch.

“Lieutenant,” he started, and she snapped back up.

“Captain,” she greeted, a twinge of hesitation there.

Maverick slowed to a stop in front of her, and Jake joined him with his hands planted firmly on his hips. “How’d you do that?”

She looked nervous, her hands wringing together, but Alec was smirking from his place next to her. She cast a nervous glance back at him before turning to face Maverick again, avoiding looking at Jake altogether.

“I turned off the engine.”

Jesus fucking-

“You turned off the engine?” Jake voiced incredulously, because surely he had misheard her or misunderstood in some way. Gwyn met his eyes for the first time, her brow smoothing into something like annoyance, and her previous anxieties were gone.

“Yes.”

He wanted to laugh. Maybe even shout. Because this is exactly what he had tried voicing to the rest of the team, to Simpson.

She turned off the fucking engine.

It was Maverick who broke the silence that fell as Jake threw his hands up. “Explain that to me.”

She swallowed once, twice, that nervous restlessness coming back to her in full swing. “In flight school, uh, they’d have us practice what to do if the plane stalled. So we’d have to turn off the engine mid-flight and follow safety protocols,” her voice quietly carried. Her fingers were now digging into her flight suit pants, and Jake would’ve pitied her being so stressed out to talk to her superior if he wasn’t so…

He didn’t know what he was.

“You descend pretty quickly once the engine’s off. So we… cut it from time to time,” she finished in a mutter.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Jake challenged, closing in on her once again. He saw her nostrils flare as she opened her mouth, no doubt to scorn him, but Alec took that moment to jump in.

“We turn it back on once we get low enough, no big deal.”

Bradshaw outright laughed at that, and Hangman glared at his friend, which only made him giggle harder.

“Yes,” Maverick soothed, casting his eyes at Jake quickly before addressing the two students before them, “but you fell well below the hard deck, and we can’t have you guys doing that.”

“There was no hard deck.”

Her words made Jake pause, eyes narrowing as everyone around them seemed to lean in closer.

“Of course there was a hard deck,” he all but sneered at her, because honestly, what the fuck was she talking about.

“No,” she pressed, fully turning to him now, and he fought the urge to seize up. “The hard deck is supposed to be outlined by the drill instructor at the beginning of practice. You didn’t outline a hard deck, and neither did Captain Mitchell. There was no hard deck for this hop.”

Jake could feel the flush coming over his cheeks and how it crept down his chest. His hands clenched at his sides as he bit down the yelling fit working its way out of his mouth. Maverick only smiled.

“Fair enough.”

Fair enough?

“You’re kidding me,” he whirled on the instructor. “You’re not gonna let this slide, are you?”

“We didn’t set a hard deck. No hard feelings.” He turned to the young woman again. “For future reference, let’s just say every drill with Lieutenant Seresin is set at five thousand feet.”

“Yes sir,” she agreed, as if it was that easy to reel her in.

Maverick turned to dismiss himself, and Jake was right on his heels. “So what, we just let her get away with that?” he asked once they had gotten far enough from the group.

“Why are you only blaming her?” Mav asked instead.

Jake’s steps faltered before he regained his footing and started after his captain again. “What do you mean?”

“We were the ones who forgot to set a hard deck. And besides that, she is only one person in that duo, but you aren’t going after the RIO. Only her. Why is that?”

“She’s behind the wheel,” he insisted, a lump forming in his throat

“He’s every bit as responsible for that flight as she is. He told her where we were and defended the maneuver after. So why aren’t you up my ass about how irresponsible he is?”

And damn. He didn’t have a response.

“I think,” Mav started, his tone much more gentle than it had been as they rounded the corner to his office, “there’s something going on with you and her.”

“I don’t even know her-”

“Doesn’t matter,” the older man interrupted. “I think it has nothing to do with her flying and everything to do with her. What it is, I don’t know, but do me a favor.” He turned to face Jake fully as he unlocked the door to his office. “Take it easy on her. Treat her the way you treat everyone else. Give her some of that Jake Seresin charm. Maybe something will happen.”

“I don’t want anything to happen,” he muttered, but it sounded like it was a lie, even to his own ears.

Pete only smiled, and began to shut the door behind him.

“Sure.”

Treat her like everyone else.

Just like everyone else.

Fine.

He could do that.

He would do that.

Easy.

—-------

Jake Seresin was an asshole.

Gwyn had hardly stopped talking since she dragged Alec back to the locker room. He had positioned himself to lounge across a bench, smirking as she paced in front of him.

“He’s just such a dick! It’s only been a few days and he hates me! I’m busting my ass trying to impress him, and for what? God, he’s such an ass!”

Alec laughed, the sound cutting her rant short, and sat up. “Never meet your heroes, right?”

She just rolled her eyes.

It was frustrating. When Admiral Simpson had announced that they were recruiting from her class for an actual team, she had been ecstatic. When she heard it was the uranium plant team, her heart had done a cartwheel. These guys were the best of the best, and the chance to be in their group was right in front of her. She had spent the last week or so dragging Alec out late and bribing one of the techs just so they could get in extra practice. All she wanted was to impress them, and it felt like she was doing that.

Except for him.

He had taken one look at her and decided she wasn’t it. He had barely seen her fly and had no idea the extent of what she could do, and he had shut her down immediately.

And it pissed her off to no end.

She didn’t like being counted out, or talked down to. And Jake Seresin seemed eager to do exactly that.

“It’s just so fucking frustrating,” she grumbled.

Alec rolled his eyes and stood, looking down at her with a light and carefree gaze. “It’s not a big deal. The guys an ass, so what?”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Of course you would say that. Alec, I have to play catch up with you guys at every turn. Whatever the rest of the pilots do, we have to do ten times better. God knows how long it took us just to get into Top Gun, I don’t want to have to fight for every little job.” She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment to push back the throbbing starting at her temples. “I just figured this would be different. They already have Phoenix on the team, so I figured maybe they’d be a little more open minded-”

“Hold on, you think he’s being an ass because you’re a girl?” Alec laughed. “Gwyn, I hardly think that’s the problem.”

“Well what else would it be?” she threw her hands up with a huff. She was aware of how loud she was getting, her voice echoing off of the metal lockers, but she barreled on. “He doesn’t treat any of the other pilots like this, he even went out of his way to strike up a conversation with Texas today! When was the last time someone was genuinely interested in what Texas had to say?”

The man towering over her smirked, a hint of amusement lacing his mouth. “So you’ve been paying attention to who he talks to?”

She heard what he was implying the moment he opened his mouth, and began to shake her head. “You’re insufferable.”

Gwyn grabbed her bag and yanked her sweatshirt over her head as Alec threw his head back and roared with laughter, trailing behind her. She grabbed the rest of her belongings before heading to the locker room door and throwing it open.

Lieutenant Jake Seresin greeted her as it hit the wall.

Of course.

Jake looked between her and Alec quickly, some unreadable expression passing over his face before it disappeared, and then he was smiling. His smile was charming and near predatory, completely foreign to how he had looked at her up until this point. “Lieutenant Shaw, you do know this is the women’s locker room, yes?”

“Yes sir,” Alec replied from behind her shoulder and Gwyn silently begged him to behave. “I just prefer the view in this one. Plus it smells nicer.”

Great.

Jake’s brow furrowed quickly, and then he was sliding that near plastic grin to her. She braced for impact.

“Lieutenant Canadee. How are you?”

And that… wasn’t what she was expecting.

“I’m fine?” It sounded more like a question as it left her mouth. Hangman smiled nonetheless.

“Great. I came to grab you guys. The whole team is heading out for drinks and we’d be thrilled if you’d join us.”

What the fuck was happening?

She wanted to scoff at him. Maybe yell and call him all the horrible names swirling around in her skull. Tell him what a pompous asshole he was. Spit at him for even thinking he could subdue her by being nice all of the sudden after he had all but humiliated her in front of her team.

She would've done all of that, if Alec hadn’t butt in.

“We’d love to.”

Gwyn whirled around to face him, mouth agape and expression shocked, but Hangman was already accepting their agreement and leaving them in the doorway. “Meet us at the Hard Deck.”

—-------

The Hard Deck was a cozy little bar only a few miles out from base. The name would have made Gwyn laugh on any other day, but now it just felt like a dig at her. She wondered if Jake had specifically chosen it to grind at her nerves or embarrass her further.

Alec pulled into the parking lot, killing the engine and turning to face her in the passenger’s seat. “Let’s do this.”

The interior of the bar was exactly what she expected out of a naval bar, all nautical themed and loud. The smell of beer wafted through the air and she scanned the crowd as patrons young and old shuffled around her and Alec hanging by the door. She caught sight of a god-awful Hawaiian shirt that could only belong to Bradshaw and followed it all the way back to a small secluded corner with a pool table. Cheers and shouts rose up from her fellow students, a few of them clapping her on the shoulder as they approached.

“There she is!” Beetle cheered, raising his beer in greeting.

“Yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants,” Alec taunted, pushing at his chest lovingly before settling into a chair and leaning into her.

Jake was noticeably absent and Gwyn released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

This was easy. These people were her friends and this would be fine.

“Well if it isn’t my two favorite faces.”

Fuck.

She blew air through her nose as she turned her head to meet Jake’s eyes. He was dressed down, jeans and a t-shirt, and Gwyn swallowed at the sight of his arms practically bulging against the seams of his sleeves.

She had always admired Jake. He had swung by the base she was stationed at a year ago and she had been instantly infatuated. He was the exact kind of pilot she wanted to be, and he was incredibly easy on the eyes. Since getting to know him, though, she wanted to laugh at the idea that she ever found him endearing.

“How funny,” Alec mused, “we were just saying the same thing about you.”

Jake laughed at that, and Gwyn was deeply unnerved by how easy it sounded. Like he hadn’t spent the last few days practically growling at her. It almost sounded friendly.

What the actual fuck was going on with him.

She felt like she would get whiplash from his mood swings, so she turned back to the pool game at hand in favor of ignoring him. Yet, Jake positioned himself right in her line of sight.

“Great job out there today, by the way,” he praised.

“Um, thank you,” she tried, shying away from his eyes as they bore into hers.

With a nod, he turned his attention to the others, snagging a pool cue from Bob and inserting himself right into the game.

So the night went on with Hangman stopping by her and Alec every once in a while to make remarks about the weather or the game or the atmosphere or whatever other mundane topic seemed to pop into his head, and Gwyn found herself becoming more and more suspicious every time he spoke to her. Alec kept the conversation flowing, thank God, but Jake still tried to rope her in at every opportunity.

A bell tolled through the bar followed by a round of cheers from the entire crowd, including her friends. Coyote and Payback stood, the latter addressing the group as they turned to head to the bar.

“What are we drinking guys?”

One by one everyone listed their beer orders, save for Jake who asked for something harder that Gwyn couldn’t even pronounce and Alec who asked for the same.

“Cheek? What are you having?” Coyote asked.

“Oh no thank you,” she politely declined.

Payback looked at her with his brow furrowed. “The bell means free drinks. It’s on the house, kid, what are you having?”

Alec was snickering to himself behind her, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep any sound from escaping. “Go on, Cheek, tell them your drink order.”

She glared at him before turning back to the two men waiting for her response. “Really, it’s ok. I’ll grab something in a bit.”

The whole group was staring now, and she could physically feel the weight of all of their stares, both confusion from the squadron and humor from her classmates.

“I don’t mind grabbing you a beer, just need to know what you’re drinking,” Coyote tried, and her cheeks began to flame.

“I’m, uh, not old enough to drink yet.”

The sound of the cue ball smacking into the side of the pool table made her jump, turning to find Hangman standing to full height as something akin to astonishment crossed his features. “You’re not old enough?”

Gwyn began to shuffle her feet, the embarrassment creeping through her limbs at a painful pace. “Not yet. I will be soon, just,” she waved her hand uselessly, “not yet.”

Alec outright laughed, pulling her down to sit on his knee. She cast her eyes down and stared intently at a worn spot in the hardwood floors, wishing it would split open and swallow her up.

“You’re a baby.”

Her head snapped up at the sound of Jake’s voice, glaring at the smirk she found on his face. She simmered even as her cheeks heated up further. Alec was still cackling behind her as his arms wound themselves around her waist. Jake’s eyes flickered down to watch them as they tightened on her hips, and she watched his expression falter for a moment before his gaze slid back to meet hers, still just as teasing and awful as before.

“Aw,” Alec cooed, reaching up and pinching her cheek. “Our little baby. Should’ve made that your callsign, huh?”

And the night turned sour from there. Since that interaction, Jake had made every excuse to engage her in conversation just so he could call her “baby” and Alec ate it up every time, pretending to rock her and giggling all throughout.

Fuck these guys.

It was about two hours of that when Gwyn had decided she needed a break from it, and excused herself to the bar. Pushing her way through drunk and sweaty sailors was not what she had wanted to spend her night doing, but she’d crawl through anything at this point to get a break from all the teasing.

The bartender, a small blonde girl about her age, found her waiting after a few minutes.

“I’ll have a lemonade, please,” she ordered softly, too exhausted by the atmosphere.

“Put it on my tab.”

Jake fucking Seresin.

His broad chest came into view as he leaned on the bar next to her, smiling, and she realized then just how much taller he was than her. It would've been intimidating if she wasn’t so spent.

“Hello, baby.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes outright, biting back her scathing reply when the bartender set a lemonade down in front of her. Jake smirked at the sight of the drink, but thankfully chose not to comment on it. They sat in silence as she sipped on her drink, eyeing the other bar goers as they poured in for the late night bustle.

“Walk me through your little trick from today.”

His voice cut through her thoughts, firm and commanding, but much friendlier than it had been in days. “Why?” she pressed.

Jake shrugged, an overly carefree gesture that she saw right through. “Just curious.”

She set her glass down, staring at a point near the font door so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “I wait until Alec gives me the go-ahead and angle the nose down a bit. When I cut the engine the plane stalls for a second, starts to descend, and we wait until we hit a good altitude and fire it up again. Freaks out the other pilot and then we’re pulling up behind them before they realize what we did.” Her fingers slid around the rim of her glass, suddenly nervous to be telling THE Jake Seresin about her silly parlor tricks. “We came up with it in basic. Thought it was kind of funny.”

Jake was silent for a while, eyes roaming across the side of her face as he thought, all while she glanced around nervously, trying to find something to occupy herself.

Finally, “I want you to take me up with you tomorrow and show me exactly how you do it. Shaw can radio in from the ground, but I’ll be in your backseat.”

Gwyn gaped at him, but he was already leaving her at the bar in favor of returning to the group. Over his shoulder he called, “See you tomorrow, baby.”

Tomorrow, then.

Part 4

[tribridkissed]

Season 4? I don’t know her.

I figure this should be a general PSA as well, but I have a bit to say as far as what my post!Season 3 Legacies headcanons are, since I pretend that like 90% of Season 4 didn’t happen. Even the writers have admitted since that they had to slap an ending on at the last minute and honestly, none of us or the characters deserved that rushed ending or the absolute lack of character development that we got. I’m not here to argue it, or debate it, but because of it, if there’s a specific Season 4 plot that you would like to RP, here are some headcanons I have for how I will be rolling with Season 4.

First of all, Hope absolutely tried to come up with a million different ways to kill Malivore WITHOUT KILLING LANDON. I cannot stress this enough, because my girl would not turn on a dime, in one episode. I felt absolutely stabbed in the back watching her just be like, “He’d understand, right Raf? You’d understand, right?” While absolutely not trying anywhere near enough to save Landon first. All that after having a huge speech about not abandoning him. Screw the school. Screw her friends. Hope has always put her family first and Landon was in canon, as high as her family as far as she was concerned, she even said it. It’s one of her flaws, but you can be damn sure I RP her flaws and all, and she isn’t going to be the one to kill Landon if she doesn’t have to.

Becoming the Tribrid would absolutely be because of losing more people. I agreed with that, but because of them not having Riley or Claire as much as they wanted, you think Freya would leave Hope before she woke up? NO. Do you think they wouldn’t wait for Rebekah? NO. Rebekah was there, and Freya had to be incapacitated, for Hope to be brought to Malivore. Those are her second mothers, thank you, and we’re not doing this Tribrid thing without them.

Hope was forced to kill Landon. Obviously a given, but they rushed all of the last Season and she absolutely wouldn’t have just turned on a dime and done him in. Not unless she was absolutely pushed to do it, and having to do it, she absolutely turned her Humanity off. We can absolutely do that, but this is about where the similarities with Season Four completely end and I follow exactly two diversions and that’s it.

Season Four left Landon in Limbo and killed the Phoenix for good for fan service. They knew the show was in limbo, they were trying to get views up, and it suffered for it. Hope would never abandon Landon in Limbo. She’d do everything in her power to get him out and as far as I’m concerned? SHE DID. Hope exhausted every option and eventually, Landon got himself out. This is storyline option one, and ends with Hope and Landon leaving the school, be it together or not together, and him back to being the Phoenix, or Hell, still being the new Ferryman (with his soul freaking intact thank you), and being able to leave as he pleases with his new God powers. So, if you wanna RP with a corrected Limbo plot, I am willing to do it only under the above circumstances.

Now, with other Landon’s, you guys have your own things and we can plot if we wanna throw something together, but as far as I’m concerned, the world that I default to for Hope in all things unless you specifically ask for Limbo to be part of things, is the same world that @mudbirthed​ and I toyed with when we were first upset about how the season was going. That is, where the Phoenix is a God (because hello show you brought in mythology so how about using what you already had), and when Hope was forced to kill him when Malivore was inside of him, the Phoenix fire that was originally dormant again thanks to the Necromancer messing with him, was ignited by her blood, burned out Malivore, and then eventually brought Landon back to life as the Phoenix, and he was then an important cog in the wheel of fighting the Gods (which are also on a case by case basis because I like it since we had Gods already like the cupid episode anyone, but I also just eh too...). That being said, he didn’t come back to life immediately, Hope still had a no humanity stint, but once Landon was back, he helped her family to get her to turn her humanity back on. No shortcuts, no rushed anything, and then together, they had to figure out the rest.

I like including the Gods because I like Phoenix God lore, but I’m also okay with the Phoenix just being the Phoenix and there not being any Gods. Whatever works for our threads, but I default to the Gods because we had two of them already, if not three, in earlier seasons, so they did not come out of nowhere. Gods were even hinted at in Originals and The Vampire Diaries, and the books had angels and demons. So, I’m cool with them, but I’m also cool omitting them.

Also, speaking of Landon tweaks, we need to talk about Lizzie. I am okay with Hope still turning Lizzie, being a dick to her, etc., and I love Lizzie fighting back because she didn’t deserve all of that, but that all should be discussed BEFOREHAND with Lizzie’s that have specific things in mind. We’re here to fix canon, not just follow it blindly, so we can always come up with something together. 

[justmoreocs-writing]

I’ll write my muse spilling their guts to yours.      

Deep down, I knew clearing the air was possibly the best course of action here. Ryan Chase probably knew a lot more about me than I was comfortable not knowing about, so to bare my soul to her meant the information was on my terms. Also, it was the olive branch of folklore in many respects. She might not be forthcoming with information about herself, but perhaps this might just help. I was doubtful, but there was no harm in testing the theory.

Ryan was sitting on the other end of the sofa. A table in between us had felt like the wrong move for this conversation, and while the glass walled room wasn’t all that much better it put us in a space of work. I couldn’t do this at home; this darkness was something I chased away usually, I couldn’t now invite it in, no matter the reason.

Heaving a sigh, I shifted so I was sitting on my right ankle, facing Ryan. She was watching me carefully, and I knew she was probably already trying to work out exactly what the angle was here. Why I’d called this little meeting while everyone else was probably off celebrating the latest job well done. But she was also giving me my space. The ball was very firmly in my court right now.

‘You once asked me why I do half of this,’ I said finally. ‘That you could figure out what the point of Phoenix was for everyone else, but for me you couldn’t put your finger on it.’

‘It’s more than just a challenge,’ she said, echoing my own excuse back at me. It had been the easiest thing to say at the time, and it was partially true.

I nodded. The words felt as though they were sticking in my throat. With the others, circumstance had been the real reason behind the admittance; freezing on a job or being faced with Pat meant that it was nigh on impossible to ignore the past. But this time it was all on me.

‘Everything I know, I learnt from my dad and godfather. They grew up reading people, doing little magic tricks as cons and stuff. It’s because of them every person I see is someone to be read, someone to try unpicking. It was all a massive game until my godfather showed off and undermined the wrong person. He killed his family as revenge.’ My chest tightened at the admittance. Even after all these years, all Pat’s chasing and Dad attempting to help him with the investigation and trying to move on, the pain of that memory was like a knife to the gut.

I took a deep breath, glanced briefly at the back of the sofa where I was gently rubbing the fabric, pushing the strands the wrong way and then back the right way again.

‘Magic helped pass the time, and I used everything they’d taught me with it. But I was determined that I’d use it for something worthwhile. Mum always told me people needed more reminders to smile, that if I just wanted to focus on magic then that was fine too. Still, watching Dad and Pat investigating got me thinking. I applied for a psychology course at Uni; I was pumped for it. Then…’ The words faltered. A freak accident. That was all it had taken to turn my life upside down. To change everything and set me off on the path that had led me here.

‘You didn’t study over here,’ Ryan said, giving me a reprieve from the memories that I was grateful for.

I nodded, closed my eyes tightly for a moment, before opening them and resuming my story.

‘Took a year out. Learnt to play poker in America – a different continent felt like the right move – because it helped with reading people. Still, I was always on the lookout for things to help Pat with Red John. Still always on the lookout for ways to help despite the fact I wasn’t sure I could work for the police or anything like that. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. For a bit, Patrick used to joke that we should go into private investigating together.’ I chuckled at the thought. Neither of us would have survived that. ‘But, I found some part-time work with a police department back in England. Helped a couple of times with things. Turns out, one of the people they couldn’t pin down was a regular at casinos. Found myself doing a little digging to try and help give them something.

‘That’s when I met Phoenix. Or, DXS at least. Wasn’t sure what they’d need my skills for, but it felt like the right thing to do. And so, after apparently making myself something of a nuisance, I joined up.’

A small smirk lifted the corners of Ryan’s lips, lit her eyes. ‘Why does you making a nuisance of yourself not surprise me?’

I shrugged, dropping my hand from the back of the sofa to my lap. It was oddly freeing having admitted to all of that. I allowed myself to take a breath.

Ryan nodded ever so slightly. ‘You didn’t have to tell me any of that you know.’

‘I know,’ I assured her, getting up and being grateful that there was only a slight fuzzy feeling in my leg where I’d been sitting on it. ‘But I wanted to. I’m here if you ever want to do the same.’

I could practically see her eyes shuttering at the thought of opening up a little, but if I wasn’t mistaken it receded ever so slightly.

‘It’s amazing what clearing the air can do,’ I said, before she could argue the point at all. ‘See you at Mac’s.’

Ryan let out a low laugh; I could practically see her shaking her head at the supposed assumptions I’d littered the goodbye with, but part of me hoped it had been the right thing to do. That this reading hadn’t been wrong.

[lily-drake]

Fantasy/Twin AU

Sorry for being late and not posting for a bit. Was a bit burnt out and had writer block. I will go back to write the other days soon though. Also, sorry, I suck at writing wing aus, this is my first time doing it.

Earth J-236, an earth full of mystical life.  An earth where everyone is born with wings.  Your wings represented who you are; well not really, but that’s what people believed.  If your wings were bright and colorful then you were obviously an amazing person, but if your wings were darker or had little color, then you have great evil in your soul.  Marinette was born seconds after her twin, Damian.  It takes a few years before your wings fully grow in, usually to about 6.  But with the accelerated growth serums used in their artificial wombs, it took them till they were three for their feathers to sprout.  Damian’s were black like their father’s with subtle hints of red like their mothers.  Marinette’s were pure black, devoid of any color, and her mother was so proud of that.  She was the League’s charm, for it’s believed that anyone with pure black wings was pure evil.  Her only purpose being to protect her brother, nothing else was more important than her brother’s safety.  She would die for him, because if he died she might as well have died as well as her only purpose for living would be gone.

Damian glared at his sister, his wings ruffling in annoyance.  She was hovering close to him again, and she never said anything to him ever unless she was completely sure they were alone.  He did not believe that his sister was or could ever be, “pure evil” just because of her wings.  In fact, her mannerisms are the exact opposite of what people believed.  She, in her own ways, is caring, sweet, and protective.  He had seen, and helped, her nurse a baby bird that had fallen from its nest back to health.  She would often place little things around the base for only him to find such as some extra baklava, a throwing knife, a drawing of someone, beads, or other random objects.  Grandfather had always been extra hard on her, making sure she wouldn’t betray them, she wouldn’t become “evil enough to lose herself”.  Sometimes she would sneak into his room at night, and it tore him apart to see silent tears run down his little sister's face as small black raven feathers fell onto the floor from her days worth of training.  He had been learning how to fly, her wings had been clipped every two or three months so she could not leave the base.  She had learned long ago to control her facial and wing expressions, but he could always see the droop in them and the sad shine in her eyes as she stood on the ground while he was in the air.

________

Marinette looked up and watched as the fiery Phoenix flew through the air setting Nada Parabat aflame.  She didn’t feel much as she watched her grandfather get blown up.  She only felt great anxiety and fear as she could not find her brother.  She loved her brother, and if her job was to cause chaos, she would make sure she could prevent it from hurting him.  Grandfather had told her about how cursed she was, it’s why they had to be extra tough on her, and she understood that.  They couldn’t have her hurting anyone they needed, only the people they wanted gone.  She was angry at grandfather yesterday for taking some of her feathers for failing a task, this must have been her fault.  She didn’t want to hurt her brother, her wings had only proven nothing but destruction.  She had to leave now, then she could go where no one else was, and she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else.  So like a coward, like the disgrace she was, she ran.  She kept her wings tight against her back making sure that no one could grab them as she ran.  An arrow hit one of them, but she didn’t have time to think about the burning pain as she ran and ran and ran farther and farther and farther away.  Tears ran down her cheeks as she silently prayed that her brother would be okay.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but she knew it must have been a really long time as she had just collapsed from exhaustion in the woods.  She looked back at her wings and slowly and carefully spread them out and hissed in pain from where the arrow had pierced her left wing.  Drops of red slowly dripped down her feathers and dropped on the ground.  She quickly closed them and made sure they were as small and put away as possible.  She looked up at the trees made of brass with different colored jade leaves.  Pearl-like apples growing on a few.  She watched a baby griffon follow it’s mother in the distance, turtle ducks waddling to a pond somewhere nearby, deer nibbling on plants, she could hear the rustling of leaves and branches from unseen creatures and everything was getting more blurry and dark.  She was cold, it felt very cold.  She slowly unwound her wings from around herself and closed them tightly around her, but that didn’t stop the chill that went deep down to her bones.  She was a failure, a mistake, she would only cause harm.  Here she wouldn’t be able to do that, and if she died here, then no one would be hurt by her again, and wasn’t that such a nice thought.

________

Tom and Sabine had finally been able to hire some trusted employees and explore places in Tibet.  They had made lots of money over the years with their successful bakery, and they thought now was a better time than ever to go on a real honeymoon as they hadn’t been able to afford it before when the bakery had first started.  It was during one of these forest explorations when they saw a trail of little drops of blood and felt they needed to follow it.  What they discovered broke their hearts.  There lying on the cold forest floor was what appeared to be a child hugging their very black wings around them.  They knew of the rumors and myths of black winged people, but they did not care.  They believed that their wings were not what made them evil, but rather situations put into their lives.  Sabine quickly checked for a pulse, and though it was slow she sighed in relief when she felt it.  She quickly handed the small unconscious girl to Tom and they both quickly went to the nearest hospital.  How could someone leave such a small child all alone to die like that?  It looked as if she had been injured if the dried blood on the small fragile wings said anything.  And worst of all, upon closer examination, they had been clipped, recently too.

As soon as they arrived they carried the small girl to the front and demanded that they take her in.  They waited until the doctors were done and gave them permission to visit claiming to be the girl’s adopted parents.  It wasn’t technically a lie, they would be soon even if Sabine had to force it to happen.

When Marinette woke up she knew something was off.  She was under a blanket, she’s never been given a blanket before.  The sent of bleach and chemicals were everywhere and it hurt her nose.  There was a beeping noise next to her that was giving her a headache.  She didn’t know where she was, and that was bad.  She opened her eyes a small fraction so nobody could see she was awake and looked around as much as she could.  The entire room was white and there were bright lights.  There were two strange people waiting in chairs near where she was laying.  She wondered if they were the ones who brought her here.  Slowly she opened them up all the way and silently sat up.  It’s best to make no noise, then she wouldn’t disturb anyone.

“Oh sweety, I’m so glad you’re awake.”

The woman said in a cheery and relieved manner, but she just continued to watch and study them silently.  Her wings felt stiff against her back, though she made sure they didn’t move or give anything away.

“How are you feeling dear?”

Silence greeted them, and her face remained as impassive as ever.  They wanted something, why else would they save a freak like her?  What were they aiming for here?

“Did your parents hurt you?  If so, we can take you away from them.”

Marinette’s eyes widened only a fraction.  These were randoms, innocents if you will.  They obviously had no idea who she was, and they seemed unafraid of her and her wings.  Did they not know how dangerous she was, didn’t they know that black wings meant she was cursed?  The man and the woman looked at eachother and spread their wings.  Marinette was shocked, but she wouldn’t show it.

The large man had light brown eagle wings while the small woman had white and black woodpecker wings.  She wanted to reach out and touch the feathers, but then something bad would happen to them, so she held her hands together.

“We don’t care what your wing color is.  Your wings don’t define who you are, it’s what you do with your life that does.  Can we please help you?”

The woman said sincerely as she gripped the man’s hand in hers.  She felt a pull to them, something telling her to accept.  She didn’t want to hurt them though.  But maybe she could protect them?  Maybe she could find a way around her curse and make sure they don’t get hurt?  Slowly she nodded and they both looked so happy when she did.  She hoped that she wouldn’t hurt them, they didn’t deserve to be cursed.  Maybe if she didn’t touch them things would be ok.  If she didn’t let them touch her then it wouldn’t spread.  She could do this!

________

Apparently she couldn’t do it because this is a very affectionate family, and the first thing that happened before they let her sleep on their —super fluffy, pure Heaven— bed was give her a hug.  She had made sure that her wings were tucked under her clothes and tight against her back the entire time though.  So they didn’t touch her wings, so maybe that meant they wouldn’t be cursed.

It was strange, because the next morning they went to a courthouse, and she was adopted.  She hadn’t said anything throughout the entire event, she just watched and observed what people did.  They stayed in Tibet for another few days before they flew to Paris, France.  This was supposed to be her new home.  The city of light and love.  Maybe here, it would stop her curse.  It was so bright that it had to block out her darkness.  She still always carried one of her knives with her, she felt naked without one.  Tom and Sabine seemed to understand somehow, and said that it was her business and that was enough for them till she was ready to talk about it.  It was strange not to be interrogated for now wanting to tell someone something.

Marinette had lived with the Dupain-Chengs for about a year now.  It was strange really, they were honest business people and their joy was always sincere.  They didn’t question much of what she did even though it was probably weird to them.  They didn’t punish her for messing up like the league did, and they never went near her wings without permission.  They never plucked her feathers, and they would often ask if they could preen her wings.  She would refuse every time, but she would often wonder what it would be like to have someone else touch them.  Think of what it would be like if she weren’t cursed.  When it was time for school she would always wrap them around herself then tape them so no one would see or be able to touch them.  Things were finally going well, she couldn’t risk it now!

There was a blonde brat that liked to act like she was above her, and because her wings were always hidden with no explanation she made sure everyone knew that she was “wingless”.  She didn’t care though, being wingless was better than being evil winged.  She never really said anything in class or to other students, she never gave much reaction keeping her stoic face up.  The brat left her alone soon after for being a, “ridiculous!  Utterly ridiculous freak.”  And nobody was the wiser.

Being Lady Chaos was….the best thing that ever happened to her if she was being honest.  Even with pure black wings, people still thought she was a hero.  She never flew, she was scared she’d fall and die.  She was never allowed to fly before, and even if she technically can do so now, it’s not worth the risk.  Her partner though, Mr. Bug has gold, red, and black wings.  He can fly through the air with ease she wished she desperately had.  Sometimes after patrol she would go to the very top of the Eiffel Tower and just stretch her wings out as far out as she could.  She would close her eyes as the wind blew past her and ruffled her feathers and pretend that she was soaring through the air.

________

Year three of living with Tom and Sabine she was comfortable talking to them more, and with Plagg there to control her chaos she finally let them touch her wings.  It was strange really, she never took care of her wings, never cared enough to.  When she first felt the hands on her feathers she had to will herself not to draw them back for fear of them plucking or ripped out.  But Sabine’s hands were so gentle and smooth that they seemed to move on their own and go closer to her touch.  Sabine would smile and hum as she gently preened the dark raven feathers that were soft and smooth.  Maybe she could finally tell the class that she wasn’t wingless soon, and maybe they would be okay with it.

No, they would not as she learned from listening to her classmates talk to the new student, Lila Rossi.  To them Lady Chaos was the only good black winged person because she was chasing after Mr. Bug to earn his affections.  Lady Chaos was obviously evil before she met Mr. Bug and she would always be evil no matter what she did.  Marinette felt nauseous that she ever thought about telling them the truth.  She had never felt more betrayed than she felt now, because she had given them her trust, and they broke it without even knowing it.  After that day, she made extra sure that her wings were hidden and wore a bit thicker clothing just in case.  Tom and Sabine are a little worried about it, but she calmed them pretty quickly.  She was fine, it wasn’t like they were all great friends to begin with.  That’s probably why everyone sides with Lila and decides that she’s a terrible person.

She had tried leaving her past behind, pretending that she didn’t hurt and kill people.  Pretend that she wasn’t a weapon.  She tried to push it far away, but it wasn’t enough.  It was never enough.  She had abandoned her brother.  She betrayed the league.  She did unspeakable things to please someone who would never care about her, just her use.  The city of lights seems duller than usual, it was probably her fault Hawkmoth came to be in the first place, afterall she was cursed to bring ruin everywhere she went.

________

Lila and Chloe thought it would be a great idea to bring everybody to the Crime Capital of the World for their senior trip.  Probably to watch people flounder and worry when things go wrong, which they definitely would.  She had stopped Hawkmoth a month before the trip, but Mr. Bug took all the credit for it. The arrogant self centered bas*.  Adrien kept giving her side glances that always made her feel uncomfortable and slightly disgusted.  During school he would try to touch her with every chance he’d get.  He almost discovered her wings at one point.  She couldn’t do anything about it before because of the stupid your-rich-so-do-whatever-the-heck-you-want treatment.  Now that Adrien’s family fortune is gone, and people don’t trust him because of what his dad did, so he has to be more careful.  He now kept some distance, which she was extremely grateful for.

She would have broken his hand, she had imagined it plus other things more than once.  But then Tom and Sabine would get in trouble by Gabriel for her actions.  They didn’t deserve that, they had been nothing but good to her since they found her abandoned in that forest.

She would be fine though, as long as Lila had a grip on his arm and she was in the back, away from him.  She listened to their tour guide, Richard Grayson, talk about the history and importance of WE.  The architecture was brilliant really, and you couldn’t blame her for having to draw and sketch it.  She often thought of Damian when she sketched.  She used to leave drawings for him around the base, little things that expressed her adoration for him without getting too close.  She wondered if he was still with the league, had he escaped, did he die?  She hoped that wasn’t the case, she hoped that he would be alive and well.  Bright orange and white wings nearly slapped her in the face if she hadn’t stopped right before the movement had occurred.

“Oh my gosh!  I’m so sorry Marinette!  Sometimes my wings just spasm out of control like that!  I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Marinette just silently rolled her eyes and took a few steps backward and watched the class glare at her waiting for her to comfort the liar.  She would never lower herself to do that.  She was still an Al Ghul afterall, even if she did leave it behind when she fled.  She was thankful when lunch came, she waited far away from the line and watched silently from a dark corner to make sure no one would hurt her.  Then she felt it, a hand touching her back feeling for something.  She quickly and instinctively grabbed the arm and twisted it behind them pinning it behind their back at a painful angle.

“Ukhti, let go.”

Marinette knew that voice.  She remembered that name and she could feel her heart stop.  The lunchroom was silent as they watched the small bluenette silently and quickly release the “Ice Prince”. Everyone watched with bated breaths to see what would happen next.  The boy’s wings were ruffled in agitation and fear.

“Where are they?”

He demanded.  Marinette knew what he was talking about, she simply wrapped her arms around herself and turned her head away definitely.

“Why are you hiding them, Malak?  Please.”

Marinette could feel her wings moving in defiance to what her brain was saying.  They wanted to be shown, they wanted to be touched by her brother again.  She looked down and slowly uncrossed her arms from her body.  Damian gently took her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes.

“Everything will be ok, Taw'ami.”

She slowly nodded and with shaky fingers reached under her hoodie and began to slowly unwrap the tape that kept her wings confined.  When all the tape was in her hands she hesitantly removed her hoodie and let her wings unfold from around herself and into the open.  She had made shirts that let her wings slip through slits in the back that were tailored to her wings specifically and were most comfortable.  Damian marveled at how big her raven wings had grown and how shiny they were.  He reached out a hand slowly and gently ran his fingers down the inky black that was her wings.

Shouts of fear and accusations were thrown at her, mostly from her class.  She didn’t listen though, she just observed.  The tour guide was coming over now, probably to kick her out.  He had such lovely wings though,  they were a deep navy blue that looked similar to black with dark red and light blue running through them.  They looked so well kept and soft.

“Damian, what’s happening?  Who is this?”

“Grayson, meet my twin sister, Marinette.”

“You have a twin?!”

Richard exclaimed loudly, drawing even more attention.  The insults and jeers stopped after that.  She looked over at the class and smirked when she saw their shock and confusion.

“Yes, keep up.”

Damian said brusquely.  They must know each other well then.

“Come, we must take her away from these imbeciles and take her to father.”

Damian grabbed her wrist and tugged, her quickly falling into line like she used to when he did this.

“Now tell me Ukhti, have you been taking care of yourself?”

She nodded as they came to an elevator and walked into it with Richard right behind them.  Marinette felt her feathers fluff up nervously.  She wasn’t in control of them right now, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Damian ran a hand gently down her right wing trying to smooth it down.

“Things will be fine Marinette.  Just watch, father will be glad to meet you.”

She looked him in the eyes and squeezed her hands together.

“No, I have not told him about you.  Things will be fine though.”

He seemed to understand her weird way of communicating, she still didn’t understand how he did.  Richard cleared his throat and both turned to look at him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but um…I’m Dick, I’m Damian’s, and yours I guess, oldest brother.  It’s nice to meet you.”

He spread his wings in a welcoming way that meant and showed safety and peace. Her wings involuntarily rose up as well to reciprocate his greeting.  When the door to the elevator opened again she quickly forced her wings to hide on her back trying desperately to keep them from sight.  Damian didn’t seem to like it, but he just grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a large office room.  The plaque on the door read “CEO Bruce Wayne”.  Their father was Bruce Wayne?!  She couldn’t go in there, she couldn’t curse him and ruin his life.  No, she had already messed up at the league, and she was just barely not messing up with Tom and Sabine, she would definitely ruin Bruce Wayne’s life, and she would not allow that to happen.  She tugged at his grip desperately trying to get away.

“Marinette, stop.  Your wings are not cursed, that was a lie.”

Marinette shook her head and kept trying to escape the iron-like grip.

“Do you not trust me anymore?”

She froze at that and quickly shook her head.  Of course she trusted him, it was her that shouldn’t be trusted.

“Good, because we’re going in now.”

And that was that, because the door was now open and she was being dragged into the office room where their father and another boy with large bags under his eyes stared at them.  Damian puffed up his chest and feathers letting his strong, big, and brilliant wings rise into the air.

“Father, this is your daughter, my twin, Marinette Erebus Al Ghul-Wayne.”

They both stared at her in shock and Marinette slowly and cautiously raised her despicable black wings into the air.  Both stared at them in awe before looking back at her, but she didn’t meet their eyes.  She didn’t want to see the disgust and hatred in their eyes.

After a few moments she looked up and saw their wings greeting hers like Dick’s had.  Their father’s wings were a mix of black and dark grey alternating the color in each row of feathers.  The other boy’s were black at the top and slowly turned to red at the bottom.  But they were welcoming her openly, so that must mean something!  Well, it was time to get to know her father, she guessed.

[superspookywombat]

Falling {j.h}

First chapter done :)

Warnings: blood, slight mentions of anxiety

“I just don’t understand why she can’t sleep on the couch!” Bella yells. You stab at your dinner with your fork, the metal scratching at the cheap plastic plates. You shove your plate away, your appetite suddenly gone. Getting up from the table, you grab your plate and start scrubbing at it in the sink. 

“She’s your sister! She’s not just some guest who’s visiting for a few days, she lives here just as much as you do!” Charlie’s voice raises. You flinch, not liking to hear him upset. Submerging your hands in the soapy warm water, you search around in the water for more dishes to do. You don’t usually like to do chores, who does, but you were looking for anything to delay your suitcase that needed unpacking up in Bella’s room. 

“Really? Do sisters avoid you when you almost die? Do sisters ignore your emails? Phone calls? That woman in there is not my sister!” Bella answers. Her response, slightly surprising but also expected, makes the hole rip just a little bit more. A door slams and you jump, your hand involuntarily spasming. You don’t feel it at first, but when you look down and see that the once white, foamy water is now red, a fiery pain shoots through your hand. Footsteps thump down the stairs, causing you to look over and make eye contact with a fuming Bella. Your dad is quick to follow, his footsteps much louder and heavier on the wooden steps. Bella looks away, then moves to grab her jacket and keys from the couch. 

“Dad I-” You start, your hand still clutching your other. His eyes don’t leave Bella, who is now walking opening the front door. 

“Just- hold on,” He says, stepping forward to come face to face with Bella. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Out.” She replies, slamming the door shut behind her. Charlie turns to you, his face paleing when he sees the thick red dripping down your arm and onto the floor. 

“It was an accident, I just- I- there was a knife and I didn’t know that it was there and-” You ramble.

Charlie rushes into the kitchen and grabs a dish towel. He presses it into your good hand and pats down his pockets, looking for something. “Put pressure on it, I’m going to go get my keys.” 

“Dad I’m fine!” You protest, but the blood pumping out of your wound says otherwise. The words that had come out of your sister’s mouth had almost stung more than the gash. You and Bella never fought before moving apart. It was almost weird. You could understand what the other was saying with a quick glance and some eye contact. You weren’t leaving much behind in Phoenix. Before Bella left, you guys stuck to yourself, mostly. There was once when a boy had come between you two, but it didn’t last long after he took you on a date and felt you up even though you had said ‘no.’ He dropped you off at your house that night, and came to school the next day with a broken nose. Bella didn’t have to say anything for you to know that she had approached him before class, the bruises blooming on her knuckles saying it all. The memory causes a small smile on your face. You and her had once been inseparable. Charlie stumbles down the stairs, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Alright, come on.” He says. You follow him out the door, and Bella’s truck is nowhere to be seen. He opens the passenger door for you and you climb in, using your free hand to buckle up. Charlie starts the cruiser, then peels down the driveway. He races down the road, his eyes flickering between your hand and the pavement.

“Dad, slow down. The police chief going 45 in a 25 doesn’t send the best message.” You say calmly. He flicks a switch and suddenly a loud siren radiates through the cold car. 

“There,” He says, his voice slightly quivering. “Problem solved.” He looks down at the red-soaked cloth around your hand, then lets out a shuddered breath.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” Your voice thick with concern. He lets out a humorless chuckle.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with a hole in your hand.” He answers. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Really? I haven’t noticed.” You say. Him being worried causes your anxiety to flare up. You knew it was going to be okay, but you didn’t like seeing him like this.

“Sorry, I just- I don’t like when you girls get hurt.” He says, his fingers tapping rapidly on the steering wheel.

“You’re the one that raised not one, but two klutzes.” You scoff. The humor and lack of worry in your voice calming him a little. He doesn’t answer, but a small smile stretches on his face. Charlie pulls into the parking lot of the hospital, parking in a no-park spot. You roll your eyes, knowing that if you pointed it out he wouldn’t move. He hovered his hand over the small of your back after draping his coat over your shoulders. Herding you into the ER, his eyes rake over the crowded waiting room. There’s a stomach bug going around according to the local news station. You take a seat as Charlie talks to the guy at the desk, no doubt name dropping that he’s the chief. You sigh, your hand throbbing. 

“Y/n Swan?” A nurse pokes her head through a door. You stand up and follow your dad to the lady, a short, black haired woman. 

“That must be a record time.” You tell Charlie, he doesn’t answer, too busy being greeted by passing staff. A clock on the wall says that it’s a little past noon. Most ER visits landed you in an uncomfortable hospital bed for most of the day, so you could kiss your plans goodbye. You had planned on using Bella leaving to your advantage, a chance to unpack, or even just take a nap. But now by the time you’d get back, she’d probably be home again. There wasn’t much you and her had in common, you thrived in the chilly atmosphere of Forks, she couldn’t care less for it. You both loved to read, but she had always gotten along better with Renee, whereas your parent of choice was Charlie. You both were accident prone, but you had always been a risk taker, leaving her to play it safe and talk you down from all of your crazy ideas. She was antisocial because she was a loner, but you were antisocial because of your anxiety. Like Bella, you were pale too, but your hair was (h/c). A phone ringing pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Chief Swan.” Your dad answered. You knew who was calling when he used his ‘authority voice.’ His eyes flickered to you, your face pale and your shirt covered in blood. “Is there anyone else who can- no, yeah. I understand. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Go, I’ll be fine.” You reassure him, hoping he can’t sense the anxiety bubbling up in your throat. He gives you a small smile, then awkwardly pats your shoulder. 

“Call me if you need me, okay kiddo? I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He says. You grimace at his use of ‘kiddo,’ but return his smile nonetheless. He closes the curtain behind him, then walks away. You lay back and close your eyes, trying to focus on anything but the burning in your hand. Tomorrow is your first day of school, and you’re going to show up with a stitched hand like some sort of freak. Your mind wandered until someone pulled open the curtains, making them screech. You looked at the doctor, then wondered if you had bled out and gone to heaven, because the man in front of you had to be an angel. His blond hair almost blended in with his strikingly pale skin, his Topaz eyes seemingly piercing into your soul. Breathe- You remind yourself. The doctor holds out his hand for you to shake, and the moment your skin touches his you flinch at the surprisingly iciness of it. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Swan. I’m doctor Cullen.” 

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 10

A/N:  The response to last chapter was so amazing and I have been LOVING answering your anons and comment questions!  I hope this chapter brings some much needed, uh, happiness to your lives.  We’re seeing them get closer and closer..........😊

November 19th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was eating Doritos straight out of the bag.  

It was a Tuesday night, and she was on the couch with Minerva in her lap and Kasha beside her watching TV.  The Leafs had lost to Las Vegas 4-2, and Aberdeen was ready to call it an early night – if only so she could put a facemask on before she went to bed.  She didn’t have to be in the office tomorrow until about 10, which meant that she could sleep in.  Plus, her eyes hurt.  She’d been reading like a mad woman during all her days off, researching everything she could and trying to learn the history of the Maple Leafs: all the different players, the eras, the iconic moments, the not-so-iconic moments – everything.  It was a lot to learn, but she knew that the second she typed the words into the Google search bar.  She also knew she wouldn’t learn everything in four days, but alas, she was trying.  She was doing what she knew she had in her.  She was trying.  

Kasha snuck one last Dorito before she rolled up the bag and put it back in the designated “snack” cupboard in their kitchen.  They folded up the blanket, fluffed the pillows on the small couch, and made sure Minerva had some food and water in her bowl before closing the curtains and retreating to their bedrooms.  Minerva hopped onto Aberdeen’s bed, and she scratched behind Minerva’s ears which she knew she liked before changing into her pajamas and going to her washroom to wash her face.  

“Do you mind if I phone Evan?” Kasha called out from her bedroom.  “I won’t be too loud, I promise.”

“Go for it!” Aberdeen said, truly not minding.  She’d hear a few mumbles at most – nothing more – and she knew because Kasha did this often.  It was sweet, and they were cute, and Aberdeen honestly didn’t mind.  Kasha’s dad still didn’t know, which meant they were in their own world, which was nice.  She and Kasha were still harbouring secrets for each other, as they always would.

Minerva meowed when she came back in the room.  Aberdeen sat on her bed and cradled her in her arms for a few minutes, scratching and kissing her all over.  Just as she was about to shut off her light and tuck herself into bed, her phone began to ring.  She looked over to see Brendan’s name flashing across the screen.  

She froze.  Brendan never called this late.  She picked up immediately.  “Good evening Mr. Shanahan,” she greeted him.

“You need to be ready in half an hour with a suitcase packed for four days,” he said, his voice stern but sounding somewhat preoccupied.

Aberdeen stood up immediately.  “Oh, okay.  Of course.  Um, why?” she asked.

“We’re taking a red eye to Phoenix.”

She felt like throwing up.  That had to mean something was wrong with the team.  A player was injured, or being traded, or maybe demoted?  What if it had something to do with Kyle?  What if it was about John?  Was his captaincy at risk because they had only won two games in regulation in the past sixteen games?  “Okay.  No problem.”

“I’ll be there with Lou in half an hour.  Tell nobody,” he said before he hung up the phone abruptly.  

Aberdeen began to freak out.  She changed into a pair of clothes and threw her suitcase onto her bed, Minerva meowing at her and watching as she stuffed outfits into her suitcase.  Minerva even tried climbing into the suitcase a few times, which made Aberdeen sad – all she wanted to be doing was cuddling with her cat, not thinking about the Leafs.  She grabbed her travel bags that had her toiletries and travel-sized skincare and makeup products and threw them in as well.  When she was finished, she zipped it up.  She took a deep breath.

Minerva meowed.

“I’m sorry baby,” she whispered, scratching behind Minerva’s ears again.  She grabbed her credentials off her dresser and put them around her neck.  

She exited her room and knocked softly on Kasha’s door.  “Give me a second,” Aberdeen could hear her say to Evan.  “Come in.”  Aberdeen opened the door, popping in about half way.  Kasha immediately saw that Aberdeen was wearing regular clothes.  The look of worry on Aberdeen’s face was a tell-tale sign something was wrong.  She put her phone against her chest.  “Oh my God Aberdeen, what’s wrong?”

“I’m taking a red-eye to Phoenix,” she whispered, making sure Evan wouldn’t be able to hear her through the phone.  Not that he’d say anything.  “Something’s happening.”

“What’s happening?” Kasha asked, her eyes wide.

“I don’t know.  Brendan hasn’t told me.  But this is very unexpected and I’ve just had to pack for four days which means I’ll be in Colorado too.  I’ll be back Sunday.  But can you please watch Minerva?  I know you weren’t supposed—”

“Aberdeen, of course, it’s not even a question,” Kasha said.  

“You can’t tell anyone I’m going,” Aberdeen said.  “I don’t know what’s happening, but you can’t say a word.”

“No no, of course not,” Kasha shook her head.  “Can you at least text me when you land?  So I know you’re safe?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aberdeen nodded, her mind running a mile a minute.  What if it was William?  What if it was Jason?  “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Aberdeen.  This is your job now,” Kasha said.  “I’ll take care of Minerva, don’t worry.”

***

Aberdeen waited in the condo lobby for the town car.  When she saw it pull up, she began walking towards it, pulling her suitcase behind her.  Lou got out and loaded it in the trunk for her, and she opened the back door to sit in her usual seat.  

Brendan was, of course, already there, in a pair of slacks and a comfortable looking sweater.  “Hi Mr. Shanahan,” she said, putting on her seatbelt.  It was then and only then that she noticed another presence in the front seat.  Usually, of course, it was just her and Brendan.  

“Aberdeen, the only people who know the following information I’m about to tell you are Larry, Kyle, myself, and Lou,” he began.  She nodded her head, not believing she was privy to this information before so many other people just by virtue of having to travel with Brendan.  She glanced over quickly to the man in the front seat.  She saw a familiar face smiling back at her.  “You know Sheldon Keefe,” Brendan said as he noticed them looking at each other.

“Of course,” she said.  He was head coach of the Marlies.  He was around often.  Had multiple meetings with Brendan throughout her time working there.  

“Well, he’s the new head coach of the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

***

November 20th, 2019

After boarding the MLSE private jet – not first class on a commercial flight, not even another chartered flight, the MLSE private jet – and everyone sleeping most of the way to Phoenix, they landed and immediately checked into the same hotel as the team without telling a single soul.  Everyone went straight to bed but were notified by Brendan that they had to “lay low” for the next day and would be leaving for the arena, where the team would hold their practice, at 1:30pm.  Aberdeen barely slept, and had to stay cooped up in her room so nobody would see her and know Brendan arrived.  It was torture.  

When she arrived at the arena with Brendan and Sheldon, Brendan told her to sit in the stands and wait.  That’s when she got really nervous, because she knew he was prepping himself to fire Mike Babcock right after the practice, even though it was going on as they spoke.  But she did as she was told, sitting and clutching her iPad in her lap so hard her knuckles were white.  

She noticed William first, of course, his blonde hair peeking through his helmet, as he kneeled on one knee in front of Mike Babcock as he addressed the team.  John, Jason, Auston, Tyson – they were all there, and she picked them out one by one.  Everybody was facing away from her, looking at the whiteboard.  Her leg bobbed up and down uncontrollably.  In a mere, what, thirty minutes, they wouldn’t even have to listen to him anymore.

When the team stood up and did some last-minute drills, Aberdeen noticed Kasperi look in her direction.  William was skating over to him, and when he stopped in front of him, William did a double take.  Her heart fluttered at the moment she knew he realized it was her.  He would have almost missed his cue for the drill if Kasperi didn’t tap him.  When he was finished the set-up drill and skated back to his place, he looked in her direction again, transfixed.  

That was when her phone buzzed.  She took it out and saw a series of texts coming through from Brendan.  

Kyle will be texting you soon.  Please go into the locker room with him while he speaks to the team about the coaching change.  Sheldon will be there too.  Let me know how it goes, as I will be speaking to Mike.  

When we release the announcement expect crazy media.  I will speak to them.  Kyle will not.  If Kyle is not done speaking to the team by the time the announcement is sent out and media comes in, don’t worry.  Stay with Kyle.

I think the team will appreciate seeing your friendly face when this comes down.

You will have to help set up for a media press conference tomorrow but the Coyotes will also provide help.  Me Kyle & Sheldon.

Thank you for not leaking.

By the time she looked up from her phone, half of the team was already down the tunnel.  John, Morgan, and Auston had stayed out to speak with Mike a little bit more, but she took that as her cue to leave the stands and at least start making her way towards the locker room.  She knew the team probably had to undress, shower, and change into their regular clothes before Kyle said anything to them, but she was so anxious she couldn’t help it.

Another buzz from her phone.  This time, when she looked at it, ‘Head Empty’ showed – the name she put for William, so nobody would know it was him.

why are u here?

She had to resist every urge in her to reply.  She couldn’t.  Brendan had sworn her to secrecy, and had already thanked her for that secrecy.  If she typed even one word, William would know what was going on.  So she ignored him.

whats going on minskatt?

is everything ok?

pls answer me minskatt. what is happening

can i come see u?  where are u?

She put her phone on silent.  She couldn’t take it.  She held in every emotion she had as she walked through the arena and hallways, flashing every worker her credentials, before finally arriving at the visiting team’s area.  She walked through the doorway and saw Kyle.  He smiled and waved her over.  

“Thanks for coming,” he said as she approached him, still clutching the iPad to her chest.  

“Yeah, of course.  No problem.”

“You know Aberdeen, Brendan trusts you,” he said.  He could tell she was nervous by how white her knuckles were.  He thought that maybe saying that would put her at ease.  “That he made you come on this trip – that he made you privy to the information before a lot of other people…that says a lot.”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  She wasn’t so sure.  “I’m just doing my job Kyle.  He told me to be packed in thirty minutes and I was packed in thirty minutes.”

“But you didn’t leak it.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows.  “I…why would I leak it?” she asked.  It was the most absurd concept to her.  “I would never do something like that. He thanked me for not leaking it too—”

“I know,” Kyle smiled slightly.

“But why?” she asked again.  “There’s nothing in it for me.”

“Really?  It’s interesting you see it that way,” Kyle said.  “You could have sold that information to any newspaper or reporter and they would have offered you a job.  A chance to write, which is apparently what you want to do, according to Brendan at least.  But you didn’t.”

Aberdeen hadn’t even considered that.  Sell the information for a writing gig at a national newspaper?  She didn’t even know the opportunity was there, truthfully.  What it revealed to her more than anything was that others had done it before – betrayed the team in some way.  She couldn’t even consider it.  She shook her head.  “This is my job,” she said, her voice small.  “I would never burn this bridge.  I’d never sell Brendan or the team out like that for personal gain.”

Kyle smiled.  “I’m going to chock it up to the fact that you’re young,” he said.  “You’re only twenty-one, Aberdeen.  This city is rife with opportunity for people who take advantage of others.  But you’re not like that – at least yet.”

“I’d never take advantage of someone.”  

Kyle smiled.  “Good.  I like a person with conviction.”  His eyes left hers as he noticed someone walking behind her.  He nodded his head at whoever it was.  “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He opened the door for her, ushering her into the locker room.  As she turned a corner, she saw all the guys sitting at their stalls.  Quite a few of them noticed her come in and looked shocked.  When they saw Kyle follow behind her, they knew something was up.  

“Hey guys,” Kyle began, addressing the room.  “I know John let you know you all needed to stay back.  It’s because I need to speak to you guys.”  Aberdeen looked to her left and saw Sheldon lurking in the shadows.  He smiled at her and she smiled back.  “I want us to have a long, constructive conversation before you guys go back out there…because when you do, there’s going to be a big change,” Kyle continued.  A lot of the guys looked confused.  “That change being…well…Mike Babcock has been relieved of his coaching duties with our club,” he announced.  She watched as some of their jaws dropped.  “And your new head coach is someone many of you know very well – Sheldon Keefe.”

When Sheldon walked into the room and stood beside Kyle, the team broke out into a round of applause.  Guys like Zach, Travis, and Andreas were smiling and clapping for him so Aberdeen could only assume that they had played for him on the Marlies.  Jason seemed extremely happy.  Tyson looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.  

She watched William.  She couldn’t tell what he was feeling.

***

November 21st, 2019

It was William who texted Aberdeen first that night, when they got back to the hotel after the game.  im coming over and u cant stop me.  At least he gave her warning this time so she didn’t have a sheet mask on and her hair wrapped in a towel.  When she heard the lightest knock on her door, against all her better judgement, she ran over and opened it.  

William slipped into her room, wearing trackpants and a Gucci t-shirt that probably cost more than her last paycheque.  She closed the door and locked it before turning around to face him.  “Hi,” she said, her breath caught in her throat.  Here he was, in her hotel room…again.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts after practice?” he asked, getting right into it, not bothering with pleasantries.  

“Will, I couldn’t,” she said.  “I knew but I couldn’t say anything.  I couldn’t risk it.  Brendan swore me to secrecy.  I was on my couch eating Doritos, and then one hour later I was on the MLSE private jet on my way here.  I still can’t believe I am here.”

William nodded his head.  He broke eye contact with her as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.  “I’m sorry.  I was just – I was just so worried when I saw you.  I mean I was happy, don’t get me wrong, but you know.”

“Yeah.”  She looked at him, lost in his own thoughts.  There was a moment of silence because, Aberdeen thought, he was still processing everything that happened today – and that didn’t include the game they won.  A good start for a new coach, she thought.  “Will?”

“Yes minskatt?”

“How are you feeling about everything?”

He let out a long breath – one he didn’t know he was holding in – as he pushed himself further onto the bed.  He rubbed his face with his hands as she moved to sit on the opposite side of the bed cross-legged.  “I don’t even know minskatt,” he finally admitted.

“I mean…I don’t mean to tell you what to think, but there must be some…I don’t know…relief,” she said cautiously.

He looked over at her, smiling slightly.  “Yeah.  Relief.”

“Because, you know…the backhanded compliments.  You don’t have to take his shit anymore.  You have a coach now who actually, like, values you and your skill and doesn’t throw you under the bus all the time,” she clarified.

“Yeah, I guess.  Conflicted that I feel relief, though.”

It was glaringly obvious that he didn’t want to talk about it – well, that, or he really didn’t know what to feel about it all.  He was hard to read; he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like she did most of the time.  And she didn’t know whether to blame him, the time of night they were having this conversation, or something else.  “Will—”

“Minskatt—”

“Can you just like…talk to me, please?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.  She didn’t even look at him; she looked down and fiddled with the rings on her fingers nervously instead.  “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Will.”

His hand reached out and grabbed hers in her lap, making her stop fiddling with her rings.  Her skin felt like it was on fire as she looked up at him as he rubbed his thumb quickly over the back of her hand.  Her mind quickly flashed back to the first night they were together in her bed – how electrifying his touch was then, too.  Nothing had changed.  “I’ll be fine, minskatt.  You don’t have to worry about me,” he said, shifting to lie down on his side with her hand still in his.  

But she did.  That was her problem.  She was getting herself deeper into this mess even though she knew she had to get out.  Like, he wasn’t even supposed to be here, yet here he was.  Never mind just being in her hotel room – now he was on her bed.  Lying down.  “Will—”

“There’s been a lot of change in my life already, minskatt.  This is nothing,” he smirked, letting go of her hand.  

She knew that.  She remembered what he told her about his family moving around a lot.  It seemed like the only thing constant for him was change.  She thought maybe his long-term contract brought an end to that, but there were so many other variables in hockey she constantly forgot about.  “So long as you’re alright,” she said.  

“You know what would make it more alright?”

“What?”

“If you tell me how freaked out you were stepping onto that private jet for the first time,” he smiled.

Aberdeen started to giggle uncontrollably.  She shielded her face in her hands and shook her head, hearing William’s infectious laugh.  “Don’t even get me started.”

“Come on!” he beckoned.  

“It was torture.”

“Torture?”

“I’m not used to all that, Will,” she said, finding herself lying down on her side to face him.  She probably shouldn’t have.  “Like obviously it was nice – don’t get me wrong.  Beautiful.  But it was all so…crazy.”

“Crazy?” he just kept repeating her words.  

“Not all of us are accustomed to Gucci t-shirts and private jets,” she chastised.  “God, Will.  Sometimes I feel like the theme song to Murder, She Wrote is just playing in your head on a constant loop.”

“What’s it sound like?”

“Oh my God,” she mumbled, pulling her phone out from charging and opening the YouTube app to find the song.  She played it out loud for William, and the more the theme played, the harder William laughed.  His eyes crinkled and his smile stretched across his face; her eyes crinkled at the sound of his ridiculous laugh.  More than anything, she was just happy that he was laughing after everything that had happened.  

Will shoved his face into the pillow as he continued to laugh, the song ending not long after.  “Nobody roasts me quite like you do, Aberdeen.”

She thought about the list of the things she’d say he looked like whenever he asked “What do you think?” when he walked in with his game-day suit on, her most recent being, “You look like a medium pepperoni pizza with garlic dipping sauce.”  The guys got a kick out of that one when they heard about it.  Kasperi was even recording them all in the notes app on his phone.  “You love it,” she said without thinking.

“Of course I do,” he mumbled, his dumb smile still on his face.  “Tell me something Aberdeen.”

“What?”

He stretched out his hand again, one of them gliding over the skin near her elbow.  “What do your tattoos mean?”

It was her turn to shove her face into the pillow.  She knew this would come up one day, and truth be told, she wondered why it didn’t happen earlier.  “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got a lot of time.”

He did?  That was news to her.  It was late at night and he was in her hotel room instead of his own.  “This one…” she began, pointing to the first, “‘to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield’…it’s the last line of one of my favourite poems, Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.  Do you know it?”

“No.”

“Well, it's a good poem.  You should read it,” she quipped.  “It’s about, like, the need of going forward, despite challenges, despite tragedy, despite anything.  About being strong in will, pushing forward relentlessly.  You know…persistence.  Never facing life passively.  It’s an attitude that I want to have in my life too.  An attitude I want to try to embody every day.”

William’s warm smile made her nervous.  “And you’re other one?”

She paused.  “That one’s even more personal.”

“Tell me.”

“Do you promise not to laugh?”

“Of course.”

She paused.  “This one is from Seneca.  He’s a Roman philosopher.  ‘We are waves of the same sea’.  It’s…my family,” she began.  “Mom is Scottish but grew up in Northern Ireland, and my dad is from Iran.  And if you know anything about the history of those two countries, it’s, like, focused on people’s apparent differences with each other creating conflict.  But in Canada, when they met, despite the cultural differences, they came together.  So like, we’re all waves, but at the end of the day…we’re part of the same sea.  We’re in this together,” she explained, embarrassed.  “I don’t know.  I just thought it was beautiful.  We can have all these differences, but at the end of the day we’re part of the same sea.”

The look on William’s face was one of pure adoration.  He was biting him bottom lip trying to suppress a huge smile, and his eyes so blue and dewy-looking she thought she would faint if she looked at them any longer.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.  Maybe he thought the whole explanation was stupid.

“You’re just so adorable, minskatt,” he said, not trying to hide his smile anymore.  “I could listen to you talk for hours.  Sometimes I even just imagine you talking so I can hear your voice.”

“You do?  Really?”

“Aberdeen…I think about you when I’m not even thinking.”

Her heart stopped beating.  She felt a rush of blood warm her cheeks as she pushed her face into the pillow again.  God, he was really going there, wasn’t he?  As they were laying in the same bed together.  “You can’t just say stuff like that to me and think I’m gonna react normally.”

“I know,” he said.  She shot him a look.  “Aberdeen.  I could listen to you talk all day and night.  I’m serious.  And besides, who was Ulysses or Alfred, Lord Tennyson anyway?”

“You don’t know?!” she asked, flabbergasted.  

William shook his head.  Aberdeen began talking, and he began listening.  And to William, all was right in the world.  

***

November 22nd, 2019

When Aberdeen awoke sometime the next morning, her body still felt tired and fatigued.  She knew the day before was long and tedious with the press conference and the game, but she thought sleep would rejuvenate her.  Apparently not.  She brought her hand up with her watch and took a look at the time.  It was still only 6:30am, so no wonder she felt the way she did.  Why in the hell was she waking up now?  

She sighed.  

Then something moved out of her corner of her eye.  A body.  On her bed.

As if on cue, everything from last night came flooding back into her mind.  William coming over to her room.  Talking about Mike Babcock’s firing and how he felt.  Talking about her tattoos and what they meant.  “Sometimes I even just imagine you talking so I can hear your voice.” “I think about you when I’m not even thinking.”  Then he’d asked who Ulysses and Alfred, Lord Tennyson were and she’d fucking taken the bait hook, line, and sinker so easily.  They had ended up talking for so long they just fell asleep.  Together.  In the same bed.

Oh my fucking God.

She looked at how peaceful his face looked.  God, he was fucking beautiful.  Just…beautiful.  But he couldn’t be here.  He shouldn’t have been here in the first place.  It went against everything.  “Will…” she said softly, hoping he’d wake up.  He didn’t.  “Will,” she said more forcefully.

“Hmph?” he grumbled.

“Will, you have to go.”

He furrowed his brows at the sound of her voice, obviously not expecting it.  He opened his eyes slowly, only to see her staring back at him.  “Minskatt?”  

“Will, it’s 6:30, you have to go back to your room,” she whispered.

He looked around, realizing just like she did what had happened.  “I don’t want to.”

“I know you don’t want to but you have to go before everyone starts waking up,” she reasoned.  “If anyone catches you walking out of my room Brendan will have my head on a spit.”

He took her words into consideration before nodding his head and getting up slowly.  He looked at the time before running his fingers through his hair.  He looked back at her as she lay in the bed looking at him.  “I’ll see you at breakfast, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head.  

“Good,” he said as he got up, making his way over to the door.  “I’ll see you in a bit.”

When the door closed behind him, Aberdeen sighed and brought her hands up to cover her eyes.

She was fucked.  

[kazeofthemagun]

Kaze - Character Tropes

[A thing I compiled for fun for my portrayal of Kaze and all my headcanons. There is so much stuff on TVTropes that I may keep adding as I go. He does have a page on it but it's lackluster for my taste XD but here it is.]

[Putting all this crap under a read more cuz that is long.]

Purpose-Driven Immortality / Regenerative Immortality - as long as the prophecy holds and Chaos still exists, Kaze cannot die. When his body is killed, he comes back through regeneration, centered on the Magun.

Soul Jar - the Magun, specifically, his heart that had been transplanted into it and bound him to the Gun Dragon sealed in the Demon Weapon. The vial is warded by very potent magic - supposedly, only another Unlimited has the power to break it.

Touched by Vorlons - granted immortality by Bahamut, the Gun Dragon, upon being accepted as Magun's prophecized perfect wielder - Unlimited.

Cybernetic Mythical Beast - the Gun Dragon and how he came to be - made from the slain Bahamut's corpse and infused with tech, animated by his still-living soul. As such, all Summon Spirits that come from the Gun Dragon and his Magun are also biomechanical in nature.

Dracolich - Gun Dragon is technically undead, while also reinforced with machinery to create a "perfect Weapon". He's forged from parts of his own corpse, bones showing through such as the arms, legs, exposed spine.

Draconic Abomination - Gun Dragon.

Dragons are Divine - Gun Dragon as the Windarian God of Destruction - the title gets passed on to Kaze as his chosen and vessel. Also War God.

BFG - Magun is fucking massive.

Bling-Bling-Bang! - Magun seems to be made of gold, but is really composed of an unidentified alien metal. Shiny tho.

He Who Hunts Monsters - fanatical levels of obsession with hunting everything Chaotic. (His title of choice being literally the Hunter of Chaos, Hunter for friends.) Definitely partially a personal vendetta - his whole world was devoured and his own mind was ripped nigh to shreds - but also a purpose felt strongly through the connection with Magun/Gun Dragon, a Demon Weapon forged specifically to combat Chaos that activates only at its scent, pre-repaired verse. Almost leads to a Van Helsing Hate Crime against Ai and Yu - luckily, Kaze is not that merciless and spares the kids for wanting to live as humans and not demons. All in all, Kaze/Gun Dragon are a cosmic force that opposes Chaos till the end of time. Also Married To The Job.

Collateral Damage - piss him off and you're gonna go. Alongside everything in approximately a 5 mile radius of where you're standing. (Thankfully he learns more restraint with time, attempting to minimize casualties where possible. Still, if ending Chaos requires sacrifices.. so be it.) Probably also Inferred Holo//caust in FFU. He had blown up huge chunks of land to end his foes. Likely killed people or at least animals :/

The Stoic - His personality archetype.

Weak to Magic - Blue Elenium, a special type of water magic that corrupts Soil. As an extension, Kaze is harmed more by water magic in general, seeing as the energy messes with Soil flow.

Trauma Button - having his hand held/touched suddenly. It brings painful memories of his sister, Aura, who died holding his hand. Under Chaos' influence, it was one of the only memories Kaze still had of her, rendering the trigger particularly intense and sending him into dissociative episodes. Furthermore, a fear of Gaudian flowers - the blue phantom flowers that herald the arrival of Chaos. Suffers from visions and nightmares of a very gory nature that involve said flowers.

Shell-Shocked Veteran - of the War with Chaos.

Loners are Freaks - he is an introvert born to a society that abhors weakness as disgraceful and sinful. Has trouble connecting with people - but he also (mostly) doesn't need to. Due to the nature of his quest, accepts his fate as the one who will never fit in anymore. "I am the monster who hunts monsters so that you may sleep at night human. It is a thankless job."

Beware the Quiet Ones - his silence precedes a storm. When he speaks, his words boom as thunder - be they a roar or a whisper. This man wastes no words.

Aloof Ally - self-explanatory.

Tranquil Fury - most of the time. Also, Rage Breaking Point applies when facing Kumo mid-show. Except Kumo promptly wrecks him, without much effort involved. It is only later (After-series) that Kaze recovers most of his power and sanity, and gains equal footing to his rival.

Firing One-Handed - can only do so this way. Only has one hand 99% of the time, the other is bound to the Magun and is reformed only to fire it.

Guns vs Swords - him and Kumo - Demon Gunman vs Demon Swordsman. Gun Dragon vs Sword Dragons.

Hand Cannon - Magun, to a lesser degree Orthrus.

I call it "Vera" - with Orthrus, named after the patron shepherd dog spirit of the sun's blood-haired children.

Improbable Aiming Skills - especially with the Gun Demon sight.

Overheating - the Magun when too many summonings are performed too quickly. As an extension of it, Kaze himself. May result in a death via Spontaneous Human Combustion.

Sawed-off Shotgun - Orthrus, double barreled.

Sniper Pistol - Orthrus.

Trigger Happy - self-explanatory.

Ancestral Weapon - the Magun, passed down the line of the Windarian summoner prodigies.

Made of Indestructium - the Magun, which cannot be broken by anyone short of another Unlimited.

Living Weapon - the Magun. Also, Legendary Weapon.

Shapeshifter Weapon - the Magun, a part of Kaze's body - gauntlet, windmill, gun. Replaces his right arm.

Only the Chosen May Wield - the Magun.

They Call Him "Sword" - except, gun. Kaze views himself as more of a weapon than a person at times. Makes sense, considering he is one - his true body is the Magun, which houses his heart, binds his soul and consciousness, and serves as the core from which his regenerative immortalitysets to work.

Nemesis Weapon - Kaze's Magun to Kumo's Maken. While forged for the same purpose, they govern conflicting energies. Also, Sword vs Gun.

Weapon Wields You - the Magun to Kaze with its funky laser-guided teleportation, always going after Chaos. Oh, Chaos' signature is underneath the ocean? Too bad.

Equippable Ally - Kaze, after reducing himself to the Magun and having Kumo and Lisa wield him to bring out the Gun Dragon.

Human Weapon - Kaze, literally.

Become Your Weapon - Kaze with the Magun.

This is a Drill - the Magun's Soil engine that activates Soil through spiral motion. Combined with a wholeass windmill.

Spectacular Spinning - the Magun's windmill. Plainly put, Spin to Deflect Stuff. Also, Blow You Away applies due to the Tornado Move.

Deadly Rotary Fan - the Magun's windmill used offensively.

Swirling Dust - Soil Spiral on the winds generated by the Magun.

Transformation Is A Free Action - seems to be the case in the series. May not be the case always.

Mechanical Lifeforms - Gun Dragon and all its summons.

Badass Cape - of course.

When Things Spin, Science Happens - the Magun's spinning shenanigans empower Soil.

Stock Footage - the summonings. He is become budget, Destroyer of Chaos. Also Transformation Sequence. Guy has a routine.

Running Gag - his spontaneous appearances, seemingly from nowhere.

Emergency Transformation - soul reforged into a Soil bullet, summoning himself as the Gun Dragon.

Elemental Powers - all the summon spirits.

Soul Power - Soil.

Soul-Powered Engine - the Magun/Gun Dragon.

Merger of Souls - Kaze with all of Magun's leftover Soil, as well as Bahamut's soul that animates Gun Dragon. Also Many Spirits Inside Of One - Endless White as the confluence of all the colors.

Emphatic Weapon - the Magun has a mind of its own, considering it is a vessel for the Gun Dragon.

Shoot the Hostage Taker - with Soljashy. Goddammit, Lisa.

Theme Music Power Up - Demon Gun Dissolve and Demon Gun Shot.

Black Blood - Kaze's blood, corrupted by the Magun's smoke. His earring, made of his own red blood mixed with tree sap, is a reminder of when he was still fully human. Technically also Machine Blood - it serves as a coolant for Magun and catalyst for Soil. Furthermore, My Blood Runs Hot - whenever Magun malfunctions. May be dangerous, as already mentioned.

Important Haircut - Kaze wears his hair long specifically as a "fuck you" to Windarian folk beliefs related to the blood hair curse.

Dark-Skinned Redhead - self-explanatory.

Death Glare - his usual go-to method of communication.

Icy Blue Eyes - a cold stare.

Eyes Do Not Belong There - Gun Dragon, with four eyes on the chest and one on the belly in addition to the four already on its head, also, many other summons, such as Phoenix or Raiden.

Glowing Eyes of Doom - Kaze's special Gun Demon crosshairs eyes, for when the time comes to be particularly scary.

True Sight - Kaze is capable of seeing through most basic illusions due to an extremely sharp spirit sense. Can see certain types of ghosts. Also Supernatural Sensitivity.

Cool Shades - wears a dark lens over his left eye to minimize distraction via Orthtus' muzzle flash. Also, Sunglasses At Night.

Megane - lol.

Lean And Mean - also lol.

Jerkass - he is. Sometimes Jerk With A Heart Of Gold.

Facial Markings - the wave on his nose and the solar marks under his eye.

Power Tattoo - the Embrace (Gun Dragon's claws upon the shoulders.)

Fingerless Gloves - wears an archery glove that covers the pointing finger and thumb only.

Eccentric Artist - also outside of battle. Primarily a poet, draws sometimes.

Being Tortured Makes You Evil - by Chaos, after being possessed. Returned to being good-aligned after some time.

Brainwashed And Crazy - by Chaos, to obsessively hunt Kumo. Now recovered. Also Mind Rape.

Laser-Guided Amnesia - his memory loss and subsequent insane pursuit of Kumo mid-show.

Curse - according to his people's folklore, the unusual color of his hair.

Stress-Induced Mental Voices - happens a lot, bothin hallucinations and the Soil speaking.

Heroic Willpower - to stand strong against Chaos.

Dark and Troubled Past - everything about him. Everything. Also Born Unlucky - cursed from the start.

Sole Survivor - of Windaria's fall.

Last of His Kind - last Windarian.

Meaningful Name - Black Wind.

Rite Of Passage Name Change - from the nickname "Wolf" to his current name, as granted by his clan.

Driven to Madness - first somewhat by his pursuit of power, then more so by Chaos.

No Medication For Me - good luck getting him to medicate for his issues. Chances are it would not work anyway due to his altered nature.

There Are No Therapists - on Windaria.

Good Thing You Can Heal - gets injured or killed multiple times during his quest. Good thing he's immortal, right?

I Can Still Fight! - frequently, especially when Kumo is somehow involved.

Organ Dodge - his heart is no longer in his chest.

Wound That Will Not Heal - still feels a type of phantom pain where his heart once was - the surgery scar is the only scar that refuses to heal.

An Arm And A Leg - the Magun essentially removed his right arm below the elbow.

Arm Cannon - the Magun.

Artificial Limbs - the Magun, replacing Kaze's right arm.

Handicapped Badass - despite possessing only one hand (when Magun not thawed).

Don't You Dare Pity Me! - Kaze and most of the Wind Warriors' culture in general.

All Are Equal In Death - as Soil.

Anti-Hero - also Pragmatic Hero.

The Cynic - self-explanatory.

Badass Creed - “From the Glory of Death, for the Glory of Life.”

Battle Cry - “Soil is my power!” Also Catchphrase and Calling Your Attacks.

Pre-Asskicking One-Liner - sometimes. "What is the matter with the Magun? Why won't you use it?"

Giving Someone the Pointer Finger - “The Soil Charge Triad to use on you has been decided!”

Big Brother Instinct - around Aura.

Parental Abandonment - never knew his parents, grew up on the streets as an orphan.

Summon Magic - Soil-Adherents train in Soil summonings - the Magun allows Kaze control over all summons, except ones of Mist.

Summoning Ritual - the Soil Charge Triad.

Offscreen Teleportation - played for comedic value. Is actually Soil Spiral teleportation, though.

Forced Sleep - induced by Kumo, causing Kaze to slumber for twelve years. Sleep, bitch!

Mage Marksman - self-explanatory.

Warrior Poet - "The gilding of a blood indomitable... True Sanguine."

Religion is Magic - the Soil poetry is sacred to Windarian summoners.

Dark Messiah - as the Dark Unlimited, Hunter of Chaos.

Duelling Messiahs - him and Kumo, who fits the light end of the spectrum. But will Makenshi's purity serve him? Hmm...

In Love With Your Carnage - You can kill efficiently and potentially kick his ass? Hot. Also Power is Sexy.

Magitek - the Magun and all its summons.

Human Alien - Windarians, Kaze's species. Also Proud Warrior Race.

Martyrdom Culture - the Missionary caste Soil-martyring for the Adherents.

[peterstanslizzie]

Mulan (2020) Was Such a Cringey Film (Trigger Warning)

My Thoughts On The Live-Action Remake of Mulan

Overall, I would describe this movie as a well-wrapped Christmas present but after opening it, you tell yourself, REALLY?! 

This movie is also seriously giving me ‘The Last Airbender’ movie trauma vibes…

7 NON-SPOILER THOUGHTS

1. This movie takes itself way too seriously. The lack of comedy combined with the emotionless acting done by majority of the cast members felt to me as if I was watching a low-rent dramatic stage play.

2. Liu Yifei, in particular, looked the part but I can’t seem to connect with her emotionally as Mulan. Her portrayal of someone who was supposed to be relatable and rootable to the audience was so underwhelming. It felt stoic, robotic and completely sterile. 

3. There were tons of ICONIC scenes from the original film that were surprisingly excluded from this film. WHY DISNEY, WHY? I will elaborate on this in the spoilers section.

4. The inclusion of new characters like the Witch, Xianniang and Mulan’s sister, Hua Xiu were completely unnecessary. It’s like they wanted to incorporate Gong Li (whom I adore btw) in this film no matter what but couldn’t quite figure out a good way to do that.

5. The fight scenes were pretty good. But they really needed to chill out with the dramatic slow motions and aerial stunts, seriously. 

6. Mulan is such a Mary Sue in this movie, it’s not even funny. What happened to the concept of character development?

7. The film was gorgeous to look at but everything seemed so well-packaged to the point that it sucked all of the heart and soul out of why I fell in love with Mulan’s story in the first place. 

9 SPOILER THOUGHTS (TW TERRITORY)

1. Going back to point number 3 of my ‘7 NON-SPOILER THOUGHTS’, where the heck was that iconic hair-cutting scene when Mulan bravely decided to take her dad’s place in the army? Also, where was the scene of Mulan finding the little girl’s doll in the village rubble? And lastly, why did they change the way Mulan’s true identity as a woman is revealed? There were so many unnecessary changes; It’s like they purposely gone out of their way to make me angry. Not to mention, the film tends to transition between scenes really quickly; Let each scene breathe on its own for like 2 seconds damn…

2. I hate that they got rid of Mushu, Cri-Kee and Grandmother Fa. With Mushu, he was absolutely integral in helping Mulan succeed in becoming a warrior and saving China. But instead, we got a discount (albeit pretty) version of Mushu in the form of a phoenix that does absolutely nothing but serves as Mulan’s GPS. 

3. With the grandmother, I loved her dry and witty sense of humor, which was seriously missing in this film. With Cri-Kee, it was just a cute little character but somehow it got replaced by an actual human character and he was given the name Cricket? Ummm, what? Couldn’t the actor just play Ling or Chien-Po or something?

Another iconic scene left out….ugh

4. Speaking of the trio consisting of Yao, Chien-Po and Ling, apparently from reading up on the film’s cast, they were actually in the film. I literally do not remember anything significant that these guys had said or did in the film. That goes to show how dull these portrayals were.

5. According to the writers, Hua Xiu, Mulan’s sister was included because “this added a broader emotional context and added more motivation for [Mulan’s] character”. I completely disagree; Excluding her wouldn’t make any difference in my opinion.

6. So Chen and Commander Tung were two characters based on Li Shang. I’m always going to like Donnie Yen; So, he was alright as Tung and with Chen, I’m on the fence with his portrayal by Yoson. He gave off an energy that was very similar to what I wanted to see in terms of a live-action Shang but there’s something missing about Chen as a character that I can’t quite pinpoint. Maybe it’s just a lack of prominence, especially in the second half of the film? Or maybe it’s because we didn’t see him having any personal ties to the war unlike Shang whose father died in battle.

7. Mary Sue Mulan. This is my biggest pet peeve about this remake. What I liked about the original Mulan is that she didn’t start out strong; She had to work extremely hard to gain the respect of her comrades. Instead, live action Mulan entered the Imperial army already having the fighting ability since she was more or less born with chi powers. I’m calling BS on that. Disney why? Why do you think that in order to make a female protagonist fight alongside her male counterparts, you need to give her powers? What happened to good old intelligence and hard-work?

8. Is it just me or did it feel like watching Mulan 2020 was like watching an English dub of a period Chinese film? I felt like with some of the characters (for example Jet Li’s The Emperor character), the sounds that come out of their mouths did not match the mouth movements or basically, it just doesn’t feel natural. Is it bad audio mixing or I wonder if a voice over was actually done…

9. Favorite moment in the film? Ming-Na Wen’s cameo in the film. I freaked out when I heard her voice. I was like OMG that is OG Mulan.

[tiesandtea]

Mat Osman about Coming Up - Boston Phoenix, May 1997

Direct drama: The Suede get swayed by soul

By Amy Finch for Boston Phoenix, May 15-22, 1997. Original article archived here.

"With this album the stuff I like the best is stuff like ‘Saturday Night,’ which is really plain. I think one of the things we tried to do was be less impressive. Brett had always written these lyrics that were quite impressive and they were quite," Osman pauses, "artistic. They sounded like they could almost be poems. This one we tried deliberately to make it a lot more heartfelt and a lot more simple."

On their first two full-length discs, the London Suede played pop symphonies that sparkled with glitter and swoon, and the bliss of feeling dreadfully sorry for yourself. No doubt the boys and girls who once worshipped the Smiths found a new home for their ardor in the glam-and-mope artistry of Suede ('93) and the theatrical elegance of Dog Man Star ('94). Both recordings forged a matchless mix of style and soul.

Suede's genius was fed by fetching androgyne Brett Anderson, who wrote and sang in a rapturous sob, and co-writer Bernard Butler, who constructed guitar backdrops steeped in drama. Drama that might've felt like insufferable farce if not for its self-awareness and rich beauty. "Have I gone too far inside my mind?", Anderson wondered at one point. Not too far to forget the allure of melancholy set to sound.

Right after Dog Man Star, Butler left the band, and fans worried that it meant the finish, same as when Morrissey and Johnny Marr stopped talking. Now that there's finally a Butler-less Suede disc, Coming Up (all are on nude/Columbia), one's first impulse is to zoom in on the imprint of his replacement, Richard Oakes, who was only 17 when he got hired two years ago. Sure enough, Coming Up does unveil a different Suede. ("London" was tacked on a few years ago in the US for legal reasons -- an American singer named Suede.) Coming Up turns away from lushly drawn self-obsessions in favor of a pared-down approach. And Suede come across as bent less on shaping intricate tableaux than on getting glitzed up for adventure.

Coming Up is full of exuberant decadence and pride, from the single "Trash" ("We're the litter on the breeze") to "Saturday Night" ("We'll go to peepshows and freak shows/We'll go to discos, casinos/We'll go where people go and let go"). Where did all that life-loving sparkle come from?

"Partly it came from Richard," explains bassist Mat Osman over the phone during a break from a tour that brings the band to Boston this weekend. Oakes, Osman says, was writing "really compact pop songs. It was the first record he'd ever made, and I think your debut record tends to be quite vibrant and quite exciting. It's a natural thing. You just want to stamp your mark on the record. And partly we were just happier. Dog Man Star was made in such an oppressive situation. We were fighting and it was done in bits, and you can't help but for that to come out on the record. This one, as a band, we were just a lot happier. It was actually fun to make.

"With this album the stuff I like the best is stuff like ‘Saturday Night,’ which is really plain. I think one of the things we tried to do was be less impressive. Brett had always written these lyrics that were quite impressive and they were quite," Osman pauses, "artistic. They sounded like they could almost be poems. This one we tried deliberately to make it a lot more heartfelt and a lot more simple."

Coming Up is the first Suede album done without a handful of outside-musician help. Besides Oakes, keyboardist Neil Codling joined the band. The new structure allowed for new freedom, says Osman. "It probably gives you a chance to shut up a bit because you don't have to fill in so many gaps. We're probably tighter than we've ever been, but that's also because we spent a year touring and a year practicing before we made the record."

"We used to be very rigid. In the past the songs would be written on guitar. Brett would put a tune to them, and then the band would flesh them out. But Richard's pretty open about the way he works. Some would just be Brett coming in with a phrase or a rhythm and we write around that, or just stuff the band does all together when we rehearse. We're trying to be quite open in the way we write."

For all its virtues Coming Up often lacks the earlier Suede's haunted fragility. The band's penchant for building an album around a thematic core is still in evidence, but the most glorious song on the disc is the understated "By the Sea." No glamor or primping here -- just a man and woman living along the shore, in a seaside shack, waiting to see what happens. The songcraft of other numbers may be more technically adroit, but "By the Sea" lingers like an unfinished love story. This time, the soul outweighs the style.

The London Suede play the Paradise this Saturday and Sunday, May 17 and 18, with Longpigs opening. Call 562-8800 or 423-6000.

[universal-casey]

This is the story I was talking about earlier that my anon Phoenix wrote!!! It’s so good and I’m sure you all will love it too!

He didn’t know how it started. They were fighting, fighting half the world, and they were losing. Then Soviet said something, an order from his position on the ground where he had been put by an angered, hurt and grief-stricken father... his father. A word, in that language he cursed to hear from that monster’s mouth. But that word, that single word ignited something in him, and all he saw afterwards was red and all he heard was screaming. Then they went from losing, to red-painted winning. He tore the man he called father once so long ago off his master with a cry full of blind rage. What was he even angry at? He should have been happy that his family was finally coming to help him, and he was at one point, but he was also saddened at how brutal the battle became as Soviet tried so hard to keep him under his grasp. But those feelings were gone now, buried under the blinding anger he felt. 

He tore through more people he cared about, watching the crimson from their veins flood and stain his hands. At some point, his blindfold fell off. He could hear his mother’s strangled cry of horror at the sight of his missing eye as he wrapped his hands around her throat. The cry triggered something small in him, but it wasn’t enough to overcome the fury in his head. France fell unconscious and he moved on. He moved on… Why had he stopped moving? The red cleared enough for him to see why. His sweet little brother, Canada was next. The younger man stared into his older brother’s single eye with horror, grief, and compassion? This confused America, did his brother, even in face of such horrendous crimes and empty movements, still love him? Even as he hurt their mother and father to the point they could die? Why hadn’t he killed them? He realized he hadn’t killed any of the countries he had attacked for some unknown reason.

He could hear Soviet screaming orders at him, commanding that he kill one of the people he was closest with. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. As the red cleared more, Soviet’s words began to fall on deaf ears as a rhythmic pounding resounded through the country’s body. It only took a moment for him to realize that it was his heart, singing its song of lament and love to him. Something he hadn’t heard in years. Something that broke down all of the walls he had built to keep himself together. Because somehow, someway, even when battered, bruised, bleeding, even broken at points, it had stayed intact. As he focused on Canada again, looking into the other’s wide eyes, his heart quickened as the tears began to run out. Unable to stop them, or the pent up pain that consumed his body, all America could do was let out an agonizing scream that one could swear was heard all over the globe. A scream so heart wrenching and gut turning as his mind and heart battled within him, fighting each other in a twisted tangle for dominance. 

Covering his eyes in a vain attempt to stop the jumbled overflow of everything, he fell to his knees as the deafening sound continued to tear at his windpipe. An overflow of pent up emotion of all kinds; overflow of his senses, the salty taste of tears and burning smell of smoke and iron cutting through dragging guilt and depression through his shattered soul. The overflow of just pain. The pain of loss, the pain he felt when his body bled, the pain in his heart that took over and infected every vein. He… He couldn’t focus, and all he could do was scream into the darkness he had enveloped himself into, the sound blocking out every other sound in the torn battlefield around him as all people could do was watch. All there was, outside of him, was silence. A cold dead silence. 

But even if he wanted to, even if he tried, he couldn’t stop screaming. He couldn’t stop letting out all the pain. He felt a pair of thin, but strong arms wrap around his body as he continued to let out everything. Those arms held something he hadn’t felt in a long long time. Love. Something he had craved. Something he yearned to have… and here it was. So he took it, even if there was a promise it wouldn't last. Wrapping his arms around a person he couldn’t see, he buried his face into the shoulder, squeezing them tightly and he sobs. Finding some small comfort in the darkness of the world around him. A different scent flooded his nose, pine trees, and the sweet scent of maple. It was a welcome break from the wartime smells he had before, and he embraced his brother a little tighter. 

Canada didn’t care that he was having difficulty breathing due to his brother hugging him too tight. He understood that he was in a lot of pain and needed someone to be there. He understood that long before this mess, even when America would smile that bright signature beam and say he was alright. But he was also angry. Angry at himself for not being there to help his brother when he needed him, angry at Soviet for hurting him so deeply, and so very angry that this had happened in the first place. Maybe there was a world somewhere, someplace where this had never happened, and he would be able to see his brother as fine as he could be and happy. But if it did exist, it wasn’t here. So Canada just hugged his brother tighter, rubbing a circle on his back just like how their Mother showed them when they were young and innocent.

***

As for Soviet? Oh he was pissed. He didn’t spend years breaking that striped freak down into being the perfect weapon for him to become so useless! Soviet picked himself off the ground, grunting in pain as he put his arm back into its socket. Growling in frustration, he dislodged his weapon from Britain's hands, unaware that the other was still alive, even with bones peeking through his flesh. Dragging himself, and preparing his SVT-40 to fire-- but not unlocking the safety just yet-- and to get rid of the nuisance once and for all. Not before getting some last insults, curses and a proper beating, of course

***

As America’s heart rate began to slow, he became aware of his surroundings once more, the crackle of the fires around him, the steady but strained breathing of his brother and the silence. But in that silence, he heard a familiar sound of heavy boots hit the ground, the subtle click of metal, coming towards him, gripping him in the vice of fear, cold but homely. Canada noted this, looking up and seeing Soviet coming towards them. The tall, bloodied man, imposing in the flame-lit dark of night, his eye empty but filled with the intent to kill as he held his rifle in his hands. Letting go of his brother, and twisting himself out of his grip, he decided that he would make up for not being there in the past, by being there now.

Canada put himself between America and the Soviet Union, preparing himself to die if he must. Soviet smiled at him, amused by this, that crazed look of murder not changing. America perked his head up, and began to process what his brother was doing. He turned, and tried to speak out, to tell his brother no, but his voice failed him: catching in his throat and choking him. He could only watch as the man that had tortured him for so long began to hurt his brother. As he watched the life-giving crimson begin to pour and the screams start again, something in him snapped.

What happened next was a blur, but to an outsider, they would see the smaller man spring from where he had fallen to his knees, grabbing the barrel and the stock of the union’s gun. It was torn out of the gloves of the larger communist as a cry of defiance and rage ripped itself from America’s dry windpipe, a fire once seen only 200 years before lit in his eyes as both glowed with a small pinprick of light.

***

Elsewhere, a group of people on a fleet of ships awaited the signal from the mainland as their king watched the shore. Then the signal was seen, a simple raising of a flag. The flag’s fifty stars and thirteen stripes raised high in the wind, flapping greatly. With that, two hundred thousand soldiers joined several million on land in a fight for something so simple, yet so great. Freedom. Not just any freedom, no. Freedom to themselves, freedom in love and life. A freedom that would sound so simple and so human, and yet wasn’t seen so very often. The freedom of choice. As they fought, pushing towards a capital once held in such high regard, they raised their flag of freedom. As they fought for that simple freedom to be human in all aspects.

***

This freedom and the constant battles made for it, pushed that fire to burn brighter and more powerful than ever before. So bright that it was almost blinding, as a different type of tear rolled gently down his cheeks. He wasn’t fighting for himself. In all of his battles, he never was just fighting for him. Here, now, he was fighting for the world and its freedom from the tyrant before him. Glancing at his injured sibling, he issued one single request of him as his eyes swept over the landscape, “Get them all out of here,” was all he said, before shoving Soviet back. The larger man pulled out a pistol and started shooting at Canada as he moved to evacuate the area, but America stepped between them, taking each bullet and not flinching even as the wounds burned.  

Another roar of rage, fueled solely on his true anger now, led him to spring at Soviet as the planes, tanks and trucks that weren’t damaged began to leave the two behind. Using his bare hands, he wrapped one around the other’s neck, squeezing it tightly. The other curled into a fist as he punched the face that had taunted and pained him. Soviet was no longer smiling, especially not as he felt the crack that had formed on his cheek begin to grow. Using his empty hand, he hit back, managing to throw the other off of him. Raising his pistol, he fired, but America moved, so it only grazed his cheek. America moved in closer, twisting his body in a kick that knocked the weapon from the other’s hand. 

Surrounded by a ring of fire, the two took a few steps back and circled, breathing heavily. Both were aiming to kill, and they may as well kill each other in this. But that was okay with America. If he was going to go down, he sure as hell would bring this bastard of a human with him. Hatred and animosity reached a boiling point and they clashed again, Soviet aiming a punch at the smaller man’s head, leading the man to dodge and kick his knee to the side, bringing the taller down so he could reach his head. America punched, but Soviet moved his head, grabbing the arm and twisting it behind America. Still facing each other, America bashed his skull against the other’s and used his still propped up leg to leverage himself into a back flip over Soviet’s arm, twisting himself out of his grasp.

Grunting and rubbing his forehead, Soviet stumbled back before growling at America who returned the noise, the two pacing around the other in the fiery cage like two tigers. Soviet saw something glint out of the corner of his eye. His pistol flashed in the dancing scarlet. He reached for it as America ran at him again, firing and boring another hole in the country's body. This didn’t stop him, though. America tackled him, wrapping both hands around Soviet’s windpipe. The man choked, his mind losing focus as he struggled for air, as he tried to aim at the other’s head. Shooting again, he caught America’s left shoulder, easing the grip as one hand went to cover the wound. Regaining air, Soviet kicked America in his chest, winding him and getting him off. 

The two stared at each other, breathing heavily and grunting like animals as they glared into each other's souls. Soviet raised his gun, aiming for the hole he had made, knowing that since there was no eye, the bullet would likely go directly into America’s brain. America ran at him again, the middle three fingers of his right hand curling slightly. A gunshot rang out.

***

Several hours later, the chopping of a helicopter was heard, as a bright light shined down. Something on the ground moved slightly, and the people on board landed to investigate. They found a messy scene: one body and a charred jacket of a smaller person was found. The body was unrecognizable due to being burned by the flames and was noted to have the throat ripped out. “Over here!” came a cry, as the team rushed over to find a survivor, barely breathing, half hidden by the charred grass. Blood was pouring from the right eye, but they were still alive. But for how much longer? Quickly and carefully they got the person on a stretcher and took off.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep. A blinding white light flooded his vision. Was he dead? Somehow, even with all he had done, he made it into heaven? Does heaven even smell like birch pines, roses and… wait is that a crepe? Processing this for a moment, he realized he somehow wasn’t dead. His sight finally adjusted to the light, and he could see three people in the bright hospital room. The two sat, clearly conked out in the chairs, were Great Britain and France, his parents clearly exhausted: his father’s brow crinkled in a worried crease that hadn’t yet softened, a few emptied plates on the table next to them. Next to him, in the chair directly by the bed, hand locked within his own, was his brother Canada. All of them were still bandaged, he noted his father didn't have his usual top coat over his button up, leading him to believe that he was still admitted, but allowed to be here. It was peaceful, other than the steady noises of the machines that told he was still alive. 

The peace he felt didn’t last as his cranium was slammed with a pounding headache. Groaning, he brought his free hand up to his head, and rubbed it, noting a large bandage was wrapped around where his right eye had been.

…

Oh right. The events of yesterday flooded back to him, making his headache worse. Another groan was heard as Canada woke up, rubbing his eyes, and readjusting himself to the light. Seeing his brother was awake, he beamed, months of waiting finally over. “America! You’re awake!” He whisper-shouted excitedly.

“Yeah, but I feel like death. How long was I out?”

“6 months.” At this, America gawked at him, appalled. In his mind, that battle-to-the-death was only yesterday. 

“6 months?!”

“Yep. Also, not too long after the doctors let you out of surgery, your flag changed. It actually looks really cool.” Canada went over to where France was and pulled a mirror out of her purse. Bringing it up to America’s face, he saw that he kept his stars and his stripes, but the stars were now in the middle of his face, over a pale red center, with the stripes circling out from around them. Similar to the bands of the milky way, curving out from the center. The stars that didn’t fit in the middle dotted along the dark navy lines that contrasted the white ones. Bringing a hand to his face, he saw the new look for his hands. For the most part it was the same as before, with the blue and the big star. But the stripes on his fingers, he had three on each finger now, and went red, orange and yellow.  He didn't have to go far to find the green, blue and purple lining his wrists where the dark navy ended. He actually found it pretty cool, he had always loved the rainbow from since he was child, the colors meaning the duality and diversity of life to him, and how it all fits together,  and how it wouldn't be complete if you removed any color.

[disgraceddogstar]

Sirius Orion Black III

birthday: november 3rd house: gryffindor blood status: pureblood loyalty: order of the phoenix clubs: astronomy, astronomy homework, dueling zodiac: scorpio mbti: enfp-t (campaigner) alignment: chaotic good

✓ Humor ——- “Did you like question ten, Moony?”

He is barking laughter and poorly timed jokes, puns upon puns - seriously. A grin as wide as the day is long, carefree and easy. Light in the black of war; white sheep in the Black family. His good humor has covered him and carried him through all that he’s seen. It’s as much a shield for himself as it is those with whom he surrounds himself.

✓ Loyal  ——- “Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!”

He is fierce, heart full for those he holds dear. Not many are kept that close, but there is no hesitation when asked to give his life. Warmth and comfort, in the crook of his smile and the corners of his eyes. Brilliance and steadfast companionship: a dog is man’s best friend.

✓/✕  Strong-Minded | Judgemental ——- “Besides, the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters. We’ve all got both light and dark inside us.”

He is a tree rooted to the earth, tall and proud. Unmoving and firm against the hailing storm. Beliefs, unwavering, unwilling to hear. Opposition is wrong, and he knows it as well as he knows the stories written in the night sky. He is strong-willed and stubborn; a brick wall would be more receptive. He thinks himself open-minded, but it is only another belief.

✕ Impulsive ——- “What is life without a little risk?”

He is snap decisions made in the heat of the moment. Turbulent and emotional, judgement shifts as easily as debris caught in the tide. Words, biting, leaving scars as easily as laughter erases them from his mind. Passing thoughts in an endless stream of chaos - why waste time paying mind to outcomes when you can just act?

✕ Rebellious ——- “There are things worth dying for!”

He is 2 am, leather, and a mess of discarded liquor bottles scattered about the floor. Blood-kissed knuckles and knuckle-kissed jaw. Smirks and sighs toppling from carved lips. Caught in a tempest, winds whipping his hair about his face, unable to see, blindly stumbling along, deafening roars threaten to consume him - one foot in front of the other. Raw magic crackling in the air, electricity against your skin; a beautiful sight when it implodes.

headcanons: (tw: mania, depression, alcohol, slurs, mentions of dysphoria, mentions of abuse)

Patronus: It’s commonplace that a Patronus will match a witch or wizard’s Animagus form, if they happen to be such, and Sirius is no exception. His Patronus takes the form of a dog, matching that of his Animagus counterpart: a bear-like German Shepherd. German Shepherds are known for being intelligent, loyal, and fiercely over-protective. Any close friend of his would attest to the fact that Sirius exemplifies those qualities. He is a bright wizard, and he would do anything for those he cares about.

Wand: As badly as Sirius sometimes wishes his wand was made from Dogwood (think of the irony! the puns! the beauty of the universe!), he was chosen by a Cypress wood wand with a Dragon Heartstring core, 15 inches, rigid.

“Cypress wands are associated with nobility. The great medieval wandmaker, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death. Fortunately, in these less blood-thirsty times, the possessors of cypress wands are rarely called upon to lay down their lives, though doubtless many of them would do so if required. Wands of cypress find their soul mates among the brave, the bold and the self-sacrificing: those who are unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ natures.”

Sirius won’t think about the wandlore behind cypress wands and their masters dying a heroic death until the fleeting, infinite moment in which he begins to fall in the Department of Mysteries. He will think it ironic, then, that his death is hardly heroic at all; that, naturally, James and Lily had far more heroic deaths than him. (He will also think about finally, finally reuniting with them again, and he will think of how sorry he is for leaving Remus and Harry behind, but James, here I come.)

“As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.”

It is of interest to note that dragon wands tend to be easily swayed towards the Dark Arts. Sirius thinks it should be noted, and then he will tell it to fuck right off, thank you very much. He knows that, had things gone just a little differently, he wouldn’t have had any difficulty using Dark Magic; in fact, he’d have been rather adept at it. Sirius laughs at the notion - and would like to tell the Dark Lord that he can fuck right off, too.

Sirius is a very quick learner. He is intelligent and, when he puts his mind to a task, he is able to stay determined and focused. Magic runs strong in his veins, so it’s only natural he be paired with a wand that is able to keep up with him and his raw power. That being said, however, Sirius’ magic is - too often - unpredictable. It has been since he was a child, and he still experiences outbursts of unintentional magic when his emotions get the better of him; the dragon wand nurtures his accidental magic, at times.

    &--------Little Lion Man

He is named for the Dog Star, the most brilliant star in the sky, visible from anywhere on Earth - an actuality he embraces and carries with him from the moment he is able to understand its meaning. Ancient namings signify he is scorching, sparkling, bringing destruction and rebirth. He is important, and his name informs everyone of such.

But he is the point of Canis Major, a hunting dog, ever looking towards his master, Orion. Later, he would think it ironic that he was intended to obediently follow the hunter across the sky. When he was young, though, he did follow his father, his master, with wide eyes and a thirst to learn, to emulate. He did, after all, carry his father’s name as one of his own. He thought it only right that he be his hunter. He learned quickly enough to leave Orion Black be.

His name embraces the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - a reality he despises when he is older. He is taught to believe that to be a Black, to be a Pureblood is to be royalty. He believes it.

He spends the majority of his childhood being trained to be the perfect Pureblood heir, to be the perfect Black. He attends many Pureblood-only balls and events, and is taught the proper way to mingle with other Purebloods. He learns manners and etiquette, and he is expected to be a proper child. There are never many other children at the balls, but he is reminded that it is improper to run about and make a fool of oneself like ordinary children; he is, after all, anything but ordinary.

How could he be? His name attests to his brilliance.

    &--------My Manic & I

Sirius is living with undiagnosed Bipolar 1 Disorder. It won’t ever be diagnosed or named in-game since they’re living in the 70s (it’s still fairly misunderstood now), but it definitely affects him. I feel like his upswings are pretty intense, and it usually results in him wanting to be out all the time and doing things, and he feels infallible and invincible, and he’s a lot more likely to be reckless (even more so than what is typical for him) and make snap decisions. He definitely has a tendency towards dangerous ideas that he thinks are absolutely brilliant (see: the Prank with Snape). On the other end of it, though, Sirius’ lows are very low, and he self-medicates with alcohol when he’s suffering from the worst of his depression (see: pretty much all of Order of the Phoenix). But I don’t think that Sirius recognizes the depression as such. It’s a lot easier for him to acknowledge when he’s feeling great and on top of the world as opposed to when he’s feeling like shit and struggles with getting out of bed in the morning. He’s a lot more likely to hide that side of himself, too, and play it off with a smirk and light-hearted joke at someone else’s expense. He became an expert at hiding his emotions at a young age, after all.

     &--------I Want to Break Free

If someone were to ask Sirius his gender and sexuality, he would quirk a brow and scoff and let out a bark of laughter because what sort of daft question is that? But, secretly. he enjoys the company of both men and women.

Sirius doesn’t remember the exact moment when he realized that he was attracted to men. Maybe it was sometime in his third year, when he had accompanied James to watch the Quidditch team practice. Maybe he had caught himself staring at one of the seventh years - a boy with shaggy brown hair and a strong jaw - as he flew around the Pitch. Maybe he had felt the distinct swoop in his stomach as he had watched, and maybe he had imagined what it would be like to kiss the older boy.

But Sirius only really remembers being too afraid to say anything to James, Remus, and Peter, being afraid that it would change everything and they would think him a freak that they didn’t want to be friends with, anymore. Especially after his “prank” on Snape in 5th year, Sirius doesn’t want to do anything that could again alienate him from his friends. They’re all he really has.

Something else he would never admit to is the many times he has passed frilly shop windows and imagined being able to wear whatever clothes he wants that he sees, or wished he could be as comfortable in his own skin as David Bowie, or Freddie Mercury. Sirius doesn’t always feel exactly right in the body he has, and he doesn’t understand it even a little bit. After all, it’s hard enough to deal with the war; he doesn’t want to even begin to focus on the whole gender bit.

In modern terminology, he would identify as gender-fluid demiromantic pansexual, but that’s too fancy and way ahead of his time, so all he knows is that he’s queer - just another way in which he would have disappointed his family.

     &--------The best thing that has ever happened:

“I know that you will make us proud, Sirius.”

No one ever expected Sirius to be a Gryffindor; he certainly hadn’t when he had stepped up to the stool to be sorted his first year at Hogwarts. His entire family had come from Slytherin. He even knew that, somewhere in his lineage, he was related to Salazar Slytherin himself. But as Sirius’ attention had drifted to the far table of green and silver, he had felt a tug in his stomach that he hadn’t really understood.

….“GRYFFINDOR!”

He ignored the shouts and jests coming from the Slytherin table to rightfully take his place amongst the lions of Hogwarts. He was joined, thankfully, by James and the redhead he had met with the greasy boy (he was grateful - and always would be - that the greasy one ended up in Slytherin).

It wasn’t before he was whisked away to his dorm and he got to know his fellow dormmates: one sickly-looking boy named Remus and a short, ordinary boy named Peter. Sirius thought he could do without Remus and Peter. Who needed them when he had James, his best friend? But Remus and Peter did prove themselves when they turned the greasy boy’s hair a bright shade of pink for a week. That, Sirius decided, was enough to earn his respect.

The four of them quickly became inseparable, and Sirius decided that being a Lion was worth the consequent Howlers he received, even if meant returning from the Christmas hols with bruises hidden beneath scratchy sweaters.

    &--------And the worst:  "Blood traitor! Filth! Scum!“

He tried not to cry out as his mother punished him one final time for being an insolent disgrace; he wouldn’t give her the pleasure. He was worse for the wear, however, when she finished with him and sent him off to think about his disobedience. Again. Sirius sat, on the edge of his bed, trembling; it was out of his control. He thought, but it didn’t take long for him to realize what he must do.

He needed to leave.

He hastily threw what belongings he could into his school trunk, gathering up anything he deemed important. He was able to perform a simple expansion and levitation charm - he decided he could deal with the Ministry later - and led his trunk out of his room. But he knew he needed to stop at his brother’s room before he left.

Sirius loved his brother and he has always loved his brother, but Regulus was not like him. He was weak-minded and bent to the wishes of their parents. Sirius always wanted to keep Regulus safe from them, from Mother, but he went to school and was sorted into Gryffindor and it changed. He became the disgrace, and it had been up to Regulus to be the perfect son. Sirius never wanted that for him, and he didn’t want that for him now. So he tried to bring Regulus with him. He wanted to ask, wanted him to leave and escape the hell they had grown up in.

But Regulus didn’t leave with him. He wasn’t like Sirius. He was an idiot, and he didn’t leave. So Sirius goes. But not before he watched as his mother blasted his name from the family tree.

(Sirius will always regret not making Regulus leave with him.)

[ajokeformur-ray]

What’s your favorite thing about each joker? Ledger joker and Phoenix joker

Nonnie omg 🥺😭 these two men save me daily istg.

My favourite thing about Ledger Joker is the way he just... doesn’t care. About anything. He does what he wants when he wants and he's just totally apathetic. As someone who worries too much and then worries because I worry too much, I’m really drawn to people like J because I’d freak out on him and he’d be like, “... Yeah?” and his apathy would calm me down. He’s also... he’s just hilarious? His pencil trick is my favourite 😂 and every scene makes me giggle. J just makes me forget my troubles and he makes me laugh and even though I’d get shot in the face for it, I want to cup his face in my hands and squish his cheeks and call him beautiful 😂 I could go on but these are the highlights of his character for me.

My favourite thing about Phoenix Joker cannot really be summed up... His entire being is my favourite thing about him. He’s just... so beautiful and so ethereal and everything about him commands my attention, demands that my eyes never leave his lithe form. He is the embodiment of beauty and of love and he is... he never stops. He tries again and again and he did his best. Society was gonna drag him down no matter what he did but he still tried and I... there’s music within his soul and there’s magic in his heart and I just... my favourite thing about him is him. I don’t know if that makes any sense but there’s no way to describe how I feel about him or what my favourite thing about him is... it just is. I think if I could explain it... it wouldn’t be real, would it? Some things can only be felt, beyond rationalisation or explanation.

Thank you for the ask, my love!💖

[wrathofthewind]

viii. Ash

A thin blade came to rest near the young woman’s throat, so that should she dare move an inch her main artery would be instantly sliced. But when the girl took another step it was as if the skin cracked like paper, and nothing came out. Tyssen didn’t notice this detail and, just as she was about to leap forward and take hold of Arnalt, the blade swiftly tore through her like a bolt of lightning.

Arnalt barely screamed “NO!”, before that entire body crumpled and cracked and suddenly burst into shreds floating all over the room while a flurry of powder sprung from her throat like a fountain, where the blood should’ve been. Arnalt had barely woken up, with no time to rush to Pallax or Tyssen’s side and cover their mouths, himself taking a gulp of the powder and coughing incessantly.

“What—cough—sire!” Pallax shouted.

It was like a hurricane had been unleashed within the tiny room and metal and wood clang and danced, the table with scissors and needles lifting and forcing Arnalt to jump from the bed towards the far stone wall, holding his shoulder with one hand.

All three instinctively closed their eyes. The illusion soon broke, the powder stopped slamming against their throats, and the body standing like a mass of crinkled parchment simply collapsed on the ground.

“This is—!” Arnalt wanted to explain but the quality of the air quickly changed and suddenly they were enveloped in a blue mist.

Tyssen and Pallax looked at each other, with Pallax being the first one to slam a palm to his face in annoyance. He gruffly mumbled. “Gala.”

Tyssen looked pale. Arnalt quickly comforted him. “It’s alright, it’s not your fault, that…” he looked at where the “girl” had been. “That was her best puppet yet.”

“I—“ Tyssen was shaking, feeling both responsible and the most afraid. Arnalt understood. The one most susceptible to Gala’s formidable spell would always be Tyssen, it was the nature of those with the most regrets, the most secrets in their heart, and the most painful pasts to bear. Tyssen had all three in spades. Arnalt never dared ask too much about Tyssen’s upbringing or how he’d lived before he came to train at his palace. But he knew enough by the shadow cast on his face to not pry. And the last time Gala had done this cruelty, Tyssen had been found curled up and shuddering, his arms scratched bloody by his own nails as he wailed in a corner.

“It’s just one of us that has to get through the maze, it’s alright if you stay here Tyssen.” Arnalt controlled his coughs.

“Sire, I should be the one to go this time, you’re injured.” Pallax squeezed Tyssen’s shoulder, which Arnalt found a bit rare, and started heading towards the door which now glowed in a faint purple light, or a deeper blue than the mist in the room. It was hard to tell, Arnalt’s eyes felt itchy and blurry, but he still shook his head resolutely and walked to block Pallax.

“This is just because of me, you two have nothing to do with it. Gala’s angry, you know how she gets.”

Tyssen was still shaking slightly, looking down with his fists clenched.

Pallax continued, “why would she be mad this time? You lost! Ithana won!”

Arnalt chuckled slightly and winced with the pain in his shoulder. “I still hurt her didn’t I?”

It had been subtle, barely there, but when that one hit had connected and Ithana widened her eyes slightly and praised him, her fingers vibrating at the impact before she applied full force and sent him flying to the other side of the arena, Arnalt knew that she’d only acted like it was nothing. To the outside world, it was as if he’d barely gotten one solid, but still useless, hit. In fact, he’d soundly cracked one of her spiritual veins, and the force she’d used to shove him was precisely because she’d freaked out so bad. The whole time, she’d been slightly afraid that he’d managed to do that. With the King present, with her own name on the line, she’d then been so brutal to his arm but at least let him keep it. The injury hurt but it would heal eventually.

And sure, it wasn’t the time to feel cocky, but it’s not like he hadn’t improved and was glad he could finally show it to her, even if it meant that now Gala was enraged.

He opened the door and a hallway, endlessly white beckoned him. “It doesn’t seem to be a nightmare this time, just a mirage or something. I’ll go ahead and as soon as I solve the maze, we’ll return.” He glanced at Tyssen. “Pallax, take care.” … of him, he wanted to finish, but didn’t have to. Pallax nodded and put a single arm around Tyssen, even more concerned than what Arnalt had anticipated. He wanted to ask some questions when he returned.

Arnalt passed through the threshold of that door and was immediately spirited into a familiar mirage. His palace, near the kitchens, next to the training grounds. A long figure stood in the center practicing his form. His lips curled up a bit, and he leaned against the wall to watch.

“Alright Gala, I know you’re angry but think about my arm? Ithana paid me back tenfold, she should be fine after ten days, but what about me?” He spoke absent-mindedly to the air, chuckling slightly at the sight of Marius, again, tripping over a complicated combination and falling on his face. Another thin chuckle erupted to the side and he found a younger version of himself was also leaning against the opposite wall, his face equally rapt with the sight.

He hadn’t seen what his face looked like when he was appraising Marius, but now that he could stare, he found that it was a little bit cold, a little bit wicked, and a tiny bit soft. It was jarring to see himself this way. He knew which memory Gala was plucking this dream from, though he didn’t know why.

Suddenly his face turned sour, and in a minute, he would see that sour expression reflected on his younger self.

Footsteps approached and a few people clad in the most exquisite of attires surrounded Marius. The boy was still trying to get his bearings when a the practice sword he was using got swiped abruptly from his hand and broken clean in two.

“Arnalt, what is the meaning of this?” A deep, velvety voice calmly drifted to his younger self. “Sword arts? Since when do our servants practice sword arts?”

“I gave him permission.” A young Arnalt replied.

“Your permission has no authority when I’m here.” This person, whose voice became deeper and richer the more he lowered it, forcing everyone into an uncomfortable silence just to hear him, was a member of the High Council; the one known as Phoenix Rain, the words on his hilt spelling out clearly “Rebirth”—his Highness the crown prince, Ronan.

“Whatever punishment you might have for him should still fall on me.” That younger self of his walked firmly to stand in front of the even younger Marius, who at that point was wide-eyed and shaking. No wonder. Ronan was a large man, the shadow of a beard always clinging to his wide square chin, a scar on his eye and long refined nose did the bare minimum to give him a human appearance, because the rest were harsh lines like a carved gargoyle. He looked endlessly bored and naturally malicious. His armor was a second skin and though he didn’t wear it now, even the casual robes he wore to take a stroll somehow glinted like metal and chain. Upon closer look, it wasn’t too far off. Ronan wore a chainmail frock, casual, aware, that any moment someone might strike from the inner family and claim the title… just as he had.

“Boy, I could crush your skull.”

“I’m no threat to you brother, I’m not even a top ten contender, so just how satisfying would that be?” Arnalt realized his younger self did indeed look overly presumptuous and cocky.

“You dare call me that.” Ronan wouldn’t humor him by repeating it. In a flash, this dear older “brother” of his struck him so hard with the back of his palm Arnalt coughed blood on the floor and had to choke back his sobs. Marius had immediately rushed forward, like a tiny beast and Ronan simply lifted him by the neck and threw him soundly towards the well. With a bump he bounced off the edge and into the orifice. Arnalt heard the scratches and bangs before he splashed below.

“He looked a little thirsty. Consider that generous.” Ronan wiped his hands. “Arnalt, I know the Opal favors you, and Father looks away because you have that precious face of yours… but I won’t tolerate your breaking the Azurian mandates. Your mercy keeps the Kurian alive, but that doesn’t mean he’ll want to live when I’m through.”

Arnalt, the present one, hadn’t noticed when his fists clenched so ruthlessly his nails broke skin. He felt the blood on his hands. He abhorred this memory.

He’d been powerless to stand and do anything and was only praying that Marius knew how to swim.

It was then that his attention was drawn to the young maid who came over and bowed deeply to the prince. “Magnanimous Lord, Light of the Eastern Aurora, your guest has arrived.”

Ronan shifted his tunic slightly and gave her a sweeping glance, then turned with his retinue and was on his way. All Arnalt remembered after that were some fuzzy noises, some “quickly, quickly!” And the sound of rope, pulling and heaving. But watching the scene unfold and gradually turn grey as his consciousness faded, he realized his mind retained more information than he’d thought. Like the fact that this maid looked awfully familiar…

He saw her call over others but no one dared to come. Saw her lift his young body and carry him to a wooden bench, laying him there carefully, softly placing a wet compress on his head. Saw the “splash” he remembered, as she took a rope and dived into the well. Moments later she brought out a crying Marius. She was soaked to the bone and heaving. He’d thought others had come, but it turns out no one had helped her. And the last thing he remembers, the last thing he heard… “You, come here.” His brother’s voice before he’d passed out.

Her face. It was the same face of that puppet in the medical room that burst like paper and turned to ash.

His soul turned cold. This was definitely a mirage maze. 

But this was not done by Gala.

[murfeelee]

My Top 10 Games of All Time

I saw this games list on my dash, but I felt it was dated, so here we are:

10. Tetris

I don’t like puzzle games and platform games and stuff. But Tetris might be one of the very first games I ever played, and to this day it’s just a ton of fun. Very nostalgic.

9. Castlevania

Vampires, medieval, bishounen, great story? Sign me up! I got into Castlevania while I was neck-deep in all things gothic and dark and creepy. It’s such a fun game! The Prince of Persia-esque mechanics with swinging from the whips and chains were freaking hard, and the dungeons were cool, and I love the out-of-place cartoony summons, that dial back the creep factor just a smidge so I don’t feel I’m trapped in Dark Souls where everything’s tryna give me a frikkin heart attack. I wanted so many more Castlevania games. But nooooo~! It’s all about effing pachinko machines now! Jim Sterling said it best: F*k Konami. >_<

8. Warriors Series

The ham and cheese of it all in this delicious sandwich of a Chinese, Japanese, and Asian mythology hack and slash series. Delicious. Tedious and predictable AF. But still delicious. Unfortunately, Koei just about tanked Dynasty Warriors with the more recent installments. U_U And it’s so hard to play the Samurai Warriors games since they bailed out on effing localizations, like thanks, that’s rude.  >_>

7. Shin Megami Tensei/Persona

I freaking luuurve how effed up and zany and twisted this dystopic cyber-ish world is. SMT and Final Fantasy have hands down the best summoning systems in games (Pokemon does NOT count), with an entire array of multicultural pantheons incorporated into the in-game universes. I swear, just researching the references they use is half the fun for me, cuz I’m that kind of nerd; sue me. :P

6. Legend of Dragoon

I never got into Final Fantasy 7 the way other folks did, cuz I was busy playing Legend of Dragoon, baby~! ^0^ The FF7 train whizzed on past me, but that was fine. I was happy right where I was. LoD’s battle mechanics were HARD, but SO good to master. I was always excited to keep progressing; the story’s one of the best I’ve EVER played (ROSE! My bish!); and the worlds and cutscenes and music were BEAUTIFUL. When TF is Legend of Dragoon getting it’s next-gen remaster with Cody Christian voice-acting Dart, Sony, huh, HUH. HUH!? >_<

5. Tomb Raider

My girl! ^0^ YES, I’m the RL archaeologist who’s never seen a single Indiana Jones movie (cuz eff ALL that racism), but you best believe I saw both the Tomb Raider movies, and played a crapton of the games! XD Gravity deaths, T-rexes, zombie samurai and all. Werk it, queen. With your double pistols. And Double-D cups.

4. Skyrim

I hate 1st-person perspective in games, in literature, everything. If they hadn’t added a 3rd person I’d’ve been like nope. But yeah, Skyrim’s freaking epic. It’s got DRAGONS, for starters, and sith lord lightning spells, and giant open worlds to explore, full of lore and magic, and one of the most amazing soundtracks of all time, and did I mention the dragons? I was so hyped for Elder Scrolls 6, but with Bethesda being frikkin INCOMPETENT lately *(*cough* Fallout 76 *cough*) I dunno about ES6 now. :\ If it stinks, I won’t be surprised. But Todd Howard KNOWS the entire community will FUS RO DAH his arse if it bombs! >_<

3. The Sims

Skyrim’s Hearthfire EP tried it, but NOTHING compares to The Sims franchise, allowing us to create our characters’ entire lives in a game. From birth, to childhood, adulthood, the elder years, death, and even afterlife, in The Sims we can control and customize every aspect of the characters’ story, to fit our own unique tastes and style. And that’s why I love TS3 the most out of the bunch, with it’s in-game Create-A-Style, open world with CAW and Edit Mode, and so much more. I wish all games had non-linear customizeable aspects where you can just sit back from the main story and quests; take a gander at your surroundings, build a house, marry that cute NPC you bumped into in the marketplace, have some babies, and let Alduin just do his thing till the next Dragonborn comes along; cuz I’m retired and living my best life in this here village; bye Felicia. 8)

2. Final Fantasy

No game franchise has ever made me cry as much and as hard as I did than while playing Final Fantasy. Holy. Crap. Their stories? THE BEST. EVER. You get seriously ATTACHED to these characters! Aerith, Angelo, Vivi, Sir Auron, Fran, Fang, the Regalia...they’re FAMILY! XD And the villains? ICONIC. Simply iconic. Eff Dark Souls; the side-bosses in FF are frikkin IMPOSSIBLE. SO dang good! And I love the touches of in-universe continuity, with Phoenix Downs, chocobos, cactuars, tonberries, airships, and the strangest fashion choices I’ve ever seen. Say what you will -- what I HAVE -- about certain polarizing entries in the series, but that’s just because we KNOW there’s a certain standard FF has, and a bar it’s classic titles have set, that you just don’t sneeze at. You just DON’T. (But FF15 was a piece of shhiiii~!)

1. THE WITCHER 3

If y’all can’t tell, I LOVE me some RPGs. Give me a set of beautiful ancient/medieval worlds to explore, full of elves and dwarves and of course MONSTERS; and protagonists with magical powers and big freaking swords, and I’m in it to win it, baby. Suffice to say: I WAS NOT READY for TW3. I STILL haven’t recovered from how good that game was! Even the MINIGAME within the actual game was legendary (Gwent had me BROKE, lemme tell you). And the Blood and Wine DLC was...like....something else; bumped it from a 10/10 to a 15/10, easy. The combat, the world building, the characters, the dialogue, the sidequests, the main plot, the MUSIC, UGH. If Netflix effs up The Witcher tv series Imma be MAAAAD.