#cause the way y’all’s people have been exploiting us and our bodies the way we talk the way we dress our languages n dialects

[weirdo09]

i don’t think y’all understand what it’s really like being of african diaspora descent

[theladysexpistol]

100 follower celebration part 1!

Phantom kiss (Guido Mista x fem!reader)

Hey guys, so you’ve probably noticed by now I’ve been a bit slower than normal on the response time to your requests, and that’s because I have been working on my way to celebrate gaining 100 followers on this blog!!

Now that we’re halfway to the next milestone (insert: bree screaming. y’all are literally insane I can’t believe I’m already at 150!), I’ve finally finished the first of three “freebie” reader fics.

To no one’s surprise, the first one is Mista.

I’ve actually been working on this one very slowly, wayyy before I even started this blog. I’m glad I waited until after to finish it up, because I feel like I’ve learned so much already.

The fic’s gonna be under a cut just for length’s sake. It’s totally SFW.

Summary: Mista’s got it bad for Bucciarati’s new ward, a young woman with a Stand power that’s made her the target of exploitation by others within Passione. But if Mista loves her, that means his attention-seeking Stand does too... which can only be bad for him.

  “Mista! Mista! Miiiiista!”

   Frustrated by the lack of peace and quiet, Guido Mista threw down the pen in his hand and glared at the source of all the noise. The six little figures that make up his Stand had been bothering him nonstop since breakfast, apparently too hungry today to let him accomplish anything. He didn’t like to ignore his Stand, but he was in the middle of finishing a report for Bucciarati that should’ve been done... well, a long time ago. Way before Giorno joined, at least that much he was sure. He didn’t feel like getting his ass chewed out by Abbacchio today - though he was sure there’d end up being some other reason to get nagged at later - and so he was trying to get it done in a timely manner.

   When he heard the door to his bedroom open, Mista gave a sigh. It could be Abbacchio or Giorno with some serious business, or Narancia just playing around trying to bug him too. What Mista hadn’t expected was to turn around and for his eyes to land on the beauty that was you.

   Soft hair, wide eyes that haven’t had their innocent gleam stolen by the world just yet; slim, defined cheekbones and the slightest upturned nose. His eyes knew the curves of your body quite well, having watched you a fair number of times since you moved in to Bucciarati’s home with them. You were a genuine Italian beauty, and you unknowingly had the gunslinger entirely at your mercy.

   “Sorry to bother you, Mista,” you said, and his heart pounded a bit more in his chest. Mista abandoned the report for the moment and straddled the back of his chair to watch you. “I’m just coming to get your laundry.”

   “Mia bella, you work so hard for all of us,” Mista leaned his cheek on his hand as he watched you, chuckling softly when he saw your nose scrunch up just ever so slightly. He was well aware and accepted the fact by now that people thought he smelled a bit strange, and had resigned himself to being amused with the reactions. At least yours was cute.

   “It’s the least I can do,” you answered as you straightened back up, looking back over toward him with a kind smile. “In return for everything you guys do for me. My Stand’s pretty useless after all...”

   “Well I wouldn’t call it useless,” Mista mischievously grinned back. “Isn’t that why you’re even under our protection here in the first place? Because people want to use it for themselves?”

   You shot him an unamused look, but knew he was right. Your Stand, Marina Diamonds, gave you the ability to turn anything carbon-based you touched into precious jewels and metals by rearranging the chemical structure of the object. There was little to no combat ability to your Stand, but to a gang that already utilized these strange manifestations of the spirit to a great deal in its everyday business, exploiting a young woman off the streets seemed like a no-brainer. After becoming a target for the greedy mafiosi at the top of Passione, you’d taken a risk and gone to the one group that the people of Napoli trusted for protection, though they also happened to be members of the same gang that was targeting you; Bruno Bucciarati and his team. Bucciarati had a good heart though, had taken pity on your plight and negotiated your safety; however, he’d taken you on as a protected ward in case anyone in the gang tried to go behind his back. Living with a group of gangsters certainly wasn’t the life you enjoyed before your secret ability had been found out, but you were incredibly grateful for their protection and their companionship. 

   “I’ll be making lunch in a bit too,” You huffed, changing the subject immediately as you walked across Mista’s room and back to the doorway. “I think everyone else left for Libeccio’s, so I’ll make something for you too.”

   Mista was a bit hurt to hear he had been left behind by the rest of the team, but was very tempted by the fact that he was left alone with you in the house. He had been trying to put the moves on you for some time now, and he loved the way you got flustered under his compliments, despite that he got the feeling you didn’t take them seriously. None of the others would be around to tease him, or interrupt, or snatch your attention form him. But this damn report had to be finished; so with that he let you go. “I’ll probably have something later, thanks.”

   The moment you disappeared from his bedroom however, his Stand returned as antsy as ever.

   “Miiiiiista! We want something to eat now!” whined Number 6.

   “We get some chow and you get to spend time with that beautiful babe!” Number 2 chimed in. “Sounds like a win-win for everyone right? Let’s go!”

   “I already told you guys, I’m busy,” he groaned.

   “I bet she’ll give us food without you even being there,” Number 3 mocked him.

   “And lots of headpats!” Number 5 chirped, and Mista was surprised to find that not a single one, not even 3, made fun of him for that. In fact, they all seemed rather delighted at the idea.

   The pestering continued, perhaps even now with a renewed vigor, and Mista had had enough. “Maybe if you six are going to keep bothering me, you should go bug her for food!”

   “Didja hear that boys? Mista said so, let’s go!” Number 7 cheered. “Yeehaw!”

   He watched with some relief as the flea-sized Stand hopped off his desk and floated through his open bedroom door, laughing and cheering the whole way toward the kitchen. Mista wasn’t worried; he could sense where all six of them were at all times, and if they were really that hungry they’d head straight to the kitchen without causing any trouble.

   No sooner had he gone back to the report he had writing that Mista realized his grave mistake in allowing his Stand to be alone with you. Any chance at peace of mind was immediately squandered when he remembered one simple fact - if he was in love with you, the Sex Pistols were too. And those little bastards had no filter on their mouths; they would tell you. They’d tried before, but he’d been there to silence them. And he had just sent them on their own straight to where you were.

   Mista stood up so fast he knocked the chair over in his haste and rushed after them.

~

   He heard you giggling as he approached the kitchen, and the whining voices of his Stand begging for more attention over the others. Figures they would fight over you, you showered them with affection enough to make him jealous sometimes.

   The smell of baked lasagne drifted toward Mista, and the rumble of his stomach in response made him regret telling you he’d put off eating til later. The image of you, sharing your heavenly cooking with those little brats who made up his Stand would have him even more jealous if he hadn’t been so worked up over leaving them alone with you.

   “Now, now Number 3,” came your sweet voice, and Mista strained his ears to hear what was going on. “How many times have I told you - if you want food and pats from me, you cannot be mean to Number 5. All of you work so hard for Mista! There’s no need for such things. Come here, Number 5.”

   There was enough of a silence - aside from the soft protests of the other Pistols - to drag out Mista’s curiosity and he briefly used his connection to his Stand to view, through Number 1’s eyes, what on earth was going on. That was how Mista found himself staring up at you, much larger by the Pistols’ standards, cradling Number 5 in both your hands as you raised him toward your face and puckered your lips.

   Mista realized what was going on and pulled back to his own consciousness with a gasp, but that did little to change what happened. At the same time that you must have placed your lips on the little Stand, Mista’s cheek heated with the sensation of a phantom kiss. Some part of his brain shut down as he tried to process what just happened.

   You had done that so casually, it couldn’t have been the first time, right? But gods above, he was sure he would’ve remembered something like that. Something like the feeling of your lips on his skin, you, the object of his affections, when he hadn’t seriously fallen for a woman since joining Bucciarati’s team.

   On top of that, you had a Stand yourself! You had to know that every sensation felt by a Stand went straight back to the user, right? You had to know that kissing the Sex Pistols would be felt by him too, right?

   Almost perfectly in time with Mista successfully gathering his thoughts once again, the Sex Pistols’ whining caught his attention again.

   “Bella, you’re so cruel! You can’t just give kisses to Number 5!”

   “If he gets kisses, we should all get kisses!”

   “There’s nothing more we could want than grub and kisses from a beautiful lady!”

   He heard you giggle once again in response, surprisingly genuine and bubbly despite the obnoxious pestering of his Stand.

   “I can’t imagine how I’m going to explain this to Mista,” you replied sweetly. “But all right, come here, all of you. You’re just so charming, how can I resist!”

   Mista cheered to himself silently. I was the first thing she thought of. If she finds them charming, then I must be downright desirable.

   And then his thoughts froze, just as he felt the first touch of your lips on his Stand, and therefore by association his own face. He felt dizzy at the sensation of being peppered in kisses, and leaned back against the wall he was hiding in. He imagined your face, right in front of him, holding his chin before dipping in.

   Mista held his breath. It was nearly too much for him to handle, but he didn’t want to make any noise that would give away he had been spying on them. Oh boy, he was screwed.

   After a moment, the sensations stopped, and Mista released his tension all at once. He immediately strained once more to hear the conversation, and his heart leapt into his throat.

   “Bella, you should kiss Mista too!” Number 6 exclaimed loudly. “He’d like it even more than we do!”

   Panic overcame him. Now what could he do? He had to stop the Pistols, but if he jumped into the room right now, you would figure out he had been listening this whole time. A sense of dread washed over him as he realized that there really was no way to get out of this without his feelings for you being exposed. Surely, you knew he was attracted to you; but finding out he was in love would probably be a bit more of a shock. Mista braced himself, hoping it would be all over soon.

   “Oh? I don’t know about that...” your voice was gentle and soft when you replied, not at all like it had been before. You sounded... nervous? “I mean? Mista? I can’t imagine a kiss from me being anything special.”

   He almost wanted to yell “Yes! Of course it would be!” but other than that obviously giving away his hiding spot, his body seemed to freeze again.

   “You should! You should!” Number 5 chirped.

   “Mista is very fond of you,” That was either Number 1 or Number 7, Mista’s brain was racing so much further ahead than the rest of him that he couldn’t even recognize the voice of his own Stand.

   “He’s always thinking about how he can protect you!” Number 6 exclaimed.

   All of their voices began to blend together, pestering and crying as they swirled around you, while unbeknownst to you their master stood a mere few feet away on the other side of the wall. Your face flushed a deep red. Of course you had feelings for Mista. Who wouldn’t be enchanted by the handsome, boyishly charming gunslinger? And the excitement with which his Stand was teasing you, well... you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading in your chest at the thought that Mista could possibly feel similar.

   With a small smile finding its way into your face, you exited the kitchen to the cheers of the Sex Pistols, a spiritual octopus limb extending from your arm as you rocketed yourself around the doorway and into the hallway toward his bedroom; before you smacked roughly into something built and towering over you. You knew exactly what it was though, and smiled up toward Mista.

   His face was a similar shade of red to yours, and you couldn’t remember ever seeing him flustered before.

   “Mia bella, my apologies,” he finally found the words as he steadied you, hands on both of your arms. “I came to look for the Pistols, and you know I actually was kinda getting hungry so I hoped I could-“

   “The Sex Pistols,” you interrupted him with another smile. “Are in the kitchen. They wanted me to give you something.”

   “They did?”

   Without answering, you folded your hands behind your back and stood up on your toes, leaning in to plant your lips on the one spot on his face that hadn’t reacted when you kissed the Sex Pistols. When you pulled away, Mista was tongue-tied; even though your lips had pulled away from his.

   “I hope you don’t mind,” another giggle escaped from you, before turning on your heel and going back toward the kitchen.

   Mista, finally shaking off his shock, stood up a bit straighter as a grin found its way onto his face once again. “Well, guess I shouldn’t have been so worried after all,” he mumbled, following after you with all the intent to return the favor tenfold.

[bracedfangirl]

I know I should be putting out the next Fatal Mistake AU chapter but-

School’s got me a little, and I can only put out snippets for a few more days, before I finish the end of the next chapter of it. So here I am with yet another teaser from the later part of the AU, introducing a very much unseen side of Morro

(Small clarification: For a reason the ninja and Morro will have to work together around 2 months after Lloyd dies. I’ll put it in a chapter too later, but if y’all want to know it just send an ask)

"So let me get this straight, Wu never told you anything about how souls and minds and all these things work?"

"Uh no..."

"Shit... Okay, then I guess we'll have to start with the basics… Soul types. There are 5 main ones, and each type has variations of it's own, and each type has a rarity and default traits. Trego, tria, geeda, keydro and sikol. Let's start with tregos. They're stable, possession suitable spirits, who are very common, and can heal their breaks and wounds. Aggressive and impatient most of the time."

Morro says while giving a subtle glare at Kai who tries to hide his offense without success.

"The red is the most aggressive, the intensity getting less in orange and yellow ones-"

"Well I bet Kai's one of these right?"

Jay totally fails changing the mood, but Morro seems to comply.

"You're spot on with that, he's the most hot headed red trego I've ever heard of."

"Hey!"

"What Flamehead? I'm just stating a fact. Anyway, the next are trias who... really differ by variation but are the most common... Possession suitable, usually able to heal their wounds. There's orange white and malachite. Malachite is fairly aggressive and possessive, orange is more like a sane, calm but protective spirit and white... well white is pretty much a very chill, calm and gentle variation."

Jay cuts in again, seemingly oblivious to who he's talking to.

"Okay well they may be common but I didn't recognise any of us."

"You gotta be kidding me! Three of you are trias! Nya's the most vicious malachite I've ever seen! Being an orange is written on Cole's face, and since Zane has an artificial mind, there isn't even any other option."

"What? When was I vicious with you?"

Morro laughs lightly at Nya's protest, before taking up his annoying smug grin, that's been sickening Kai ever since he first saw it.

"Who said I know your personalities from meeting you enough times in person?"

That causes an awkward silence, the urge to break the deal with Morro and just kill him already rapidly growing in Kai.

"A broken soul and a pretty much nonexistent mind doesn't have secrets if you're a possesser ghost. The memories just show up on hit..."

Cole has to keep him down after that, his boiling hatred threatening to burst out of him.

"Anyway back to the original topic, the next are geedas. While you can possess a geeda, it's not the best choice... These guys have issues with emotional control, and often are panicky or anxious. Somewhat stable, but not the best at fixing themselves. There's blue grey and yellow, the grey being the absolute embodiment of anxiety."

Cole snorts, looking at Jay with mischevious eyes.

"I'm sensing Jay in this one."

"He's a yellow one, the second worst to deal with."

"What- rude!"

Zane's eyes light up, and he turns to Morro, words chosen way too carefully.

"What are you? I didn't really see any match yet."

"I'm a keydro, probably a yellow one... Mood swings and emotion control issues are let's say common, but at least mine is so much of a hostile type that you wouldn't ever get possessed. It wouldn't end well for that ghost. We're more of possesser spirits in general. There's grey and green too, but there's not much difference."

Nya isn't exactly subtle at voicing her opinion, voice venomous.

"That would explain why you're such an asshole."

Kai's uncertain, quiet voice suddenly rings out, grief clearly staining it.

"What about Lloyd?"

Morro freezes mid-turn at that, stalling for a few seconds before sighing and flopping down on the ground, eyes miles away. His voice is quiet, and Kai catches a slight emotion in it, something he never thought he'd hear from the ghost.

"Sikol..."

It's terror… fear…

"Black sikol... and trust me, that's not something you want to meet in pure form. Especially not in… his case... Sikols are... unusual and… rare. They have insane mental birth defects, completely missing whole emotions sometimes..."

"Mother of god-"

"Too unstable for possession, but you can't recognise them at all... they don't have a trait you can see to recognise them. They can't heal either… at all."

"So that's why the kid still had nightmares about Darkley's years later-"

"Yes… their wounds stay open for years, making them unpredictable and agressive… Very aggressive… They're vicious, and don't care about anything… sometimes not even their own lives… There's white, gold, grey and black and-"

Morro takes a few seconds to stabilize himself before somehow continuing in a more panicked manner.

"And black ones resemble demons more than humans… they take a dragon like shape and a… shadow like appearance, with glowing wounds and eyes... Fighting one isn't just unwise, but downright suicidal… It's like you picked a fight with a rabid dragon!"

It's in that moment that the question he's been wanting to ask for months explodes out of Kai, anger and pain soaking his voice.

"Then why didn't you stop? If it was unwise and dangerous why didn't you just let him go and try possess one of us? Why him?"

"Because he was the leader, and if I let him get home and tell you about me I won't have a second chance! It's just simple strategy Kai! Besides this way there's at least one person who knows how close he was to snapping permanently... an abandonment break blinding your soul's right eye isn't something you can ignore for long-"

"What's an abandonment break?"

"I said too much again didn’t I? *sigh* It's the most dangerous mental injury you can suffer from... Any break is dangerous, as it's the damage of an emotional core, and you can get it with emotional trauma. An abandonment break is when your love and trust cores get damaged, and the name comes from it being found mostly on people without parents... I've never known that it can appear over your eye until I've seen Lloyd's... It looked serious and like it has been there most of his life... I'm pretty sure it's from Darkley's."

The silence that follows Morro's last statement is so thick, they could cut it if they tried. Everyone is trying to understand the new information, still partially in denial.

"I've been taught how to possess, how to keep control and how to try to avoid sikols for decades, but never once did anyone mention that a 14 year old with the soul injuries of a 90 year old war veteran can exist, much less how he fights! He was weak but attacked in waves, and then it took a lot of force to keep him down... The-The only good thing that came out of this is that I completed the mission given to me and that I showed the world how weak it is. I don't think people should depend on just a person to protect them this much...There's simply no way Helena is doing this for fun, she probably feels like I took something from her and in return she's gonna mess with something she doesn't understand, and-and that will result in chaos! People who feel like they were exploited in their lives are agressive upon forced ressurrection! The problem isn't that Helena is planning to do something disrespectful and disgusting, it's because she's planning on unleashing something no one can control! That's why it's important to stop her. I doubt you'd be happy if someone woke you up at 1 am demanding you to save the world... Imagine how Lloyd will feel, waking up in his fucking rotten body!"

The silence after this is far less thick, Kai making an uneasy, seemingly forced statement.

"Then I suppose… we can work together… but only if you play fairly and by our rules."

"I never expected anything else."

[picturetoburnnn]

Vipers | Michael Clifford x Reader

pairing - y’all just look up about two centimeters

word count - 2.9k

warning - cussing and repeated mentions/descriptions of abuse

A/N - this fic is heavily inspired by one i read on wattpad a few months ago and haven’t been able to get out of my mind

taglist -  @songforhema @my-world97 @lukesflaredpants @sunflowerxcal @star-gazing-calum @cxddlyash @emomack @merryblueberry02 @kinglyhood

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, babe,” her boyfriend said as she stepped into the kitchen.

Y/N said nothing, not daring to tell him that it wasn't him that woke her up, but rather her own body's internal clock. Let him continue to believe her whole life revolved around him.

She looked down at her hands, at the red and purple bruises that littered her wrists. He followed her gaze.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he sighed. “How many times do I have to apologize?”

“You hurt me,” she mumbled, looking up into his eyes. “A lot.”

“And what did I say?” His voice was suddenly stern, no longer sorrowful. He grabbed her cheeks harshly, forcing fear to enter her eyes. He was used to the sight. Instead of having the comfort of a calming sea breeze, his voice held the sharp edge of a thousand steel blades. “I do it for your own good. You need to learn to listen to me and do what I say.”

She whimpered in pain, but he showed no pity. “Do you understand me?”

She nodded as best she could, managing a quiet “Yes.”

He all but threw her to the floor as he let go, looking at her scornfully. “I’ve done my best to help you realize that you need to change for me, and you just can’t get it through your thick skull.”

He huffed a sigh, looking away from Y/N’s downcast figure. “I have to go in to work, since I’m the only one who pulls their load around here.”

She didn’t dare mention how he wouldn’t allow her to leave the house long enough to look for a job, and any time she did happen to have an application of sorts, he would rip it from her hands, claiming she only needed him and nothing else.

“I want this place spotless by the time I get home. But it probably won’t be, huh? Cause you can’t do shit for yourself,” he sneered before slamming the door behind him.

Y/N balled herself up on the kitchen floor, a crumpled up figure laying discarded like a promise that was always destined to be broken.

He never treated her the way she was supposed to be cared for. He’d kiss her bruises and apologize in the mornings, only to add more to the ever growing collection in the night. He threw her about in the darkness, a plaything that he never knew had a label of ‘handle with care.’ Her body was art, and he was a boy who didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to touch a masterpiece. She was a canvas that he painted red and blue with the pain of her mistakes.

Y/N sniffled, as she finally made up her mind.

She was getting out of this. She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down every phone number she had on her phone, then left the device on the kitchen table (so he couldn’t call her). Grabbing the spare suitcase from under the bed, she stuffed all her clothes in it (which wasn’t much, since she was never able to buy things for herself, only what he deemed acceptable for her).

Y/N didn’t stop until she was standing at the front door, taking one last glance at the life she was leaving behind.

Maybe I could stay, maybe he’ll be better when he gets home, maybe--

No. Her life was full of maybe’s, full of decisions that were never fully hers. She was changing that. One final deep breath, and she shut the door to both the house that had never been home and the love that had never deserved the title.

~~

Slowly, she got better.

She remembered how she liked this food or that type of dress. She remembered that this way of sitting was comfortable and that movie really was her favorite.

Slowly, she remembered who she was.

And eventually, she became herself again.

Y/N couldn’t drive past his street without a shiver down her spine, but she could laugh again. She could sing along to the songs on the radio again, could be who she wanted. With a newly purchased phone, she connected with once-lost friends who helped her be who she was.

Her eyes actually lit up with a smile again, her grin was toothy once more. Two years of not having been able to be fully herself, and she didn’t realize how she had taken her own attributes for granted, didn’t realize how she’d stopped doing these things, until she was free to do them once again.

She still had her fears, though. No amount of rehabilitation, no matter how hard she tried, nothing and no one could take away the impression he had left on her. Nothing could change his mark on her, even as the bruises healed and scars faded. She still flinched at loud noises, still shrunk when someone raised their voice. Y/N thought it’d be permanent. But then she met Michael.

~~

She didn’t mean to meet him, and certainly didn’t mean to fall for him.

But it blew her mind when he fell for her too.

She’d met him when trying to love herself again. When she asked what he was doing in the self-help section of a library, he replied “Same as you. Just trying to fix myself.”

He was just a friend. A friend she could talk to on her darker nights, when the inadequacy and insecurities got to her. He was just a friend she could call when she wanted to hang out with someone who didn’t hold her to a standard she used to live up to.

He was just a friend who would sing her songs that he knew would cheer her up. A friend that didn’t question why she didn’t talk about her past.

He was a friend that sat a little closer to her than everyone else. A friend who let her use his lap as a pillow when she couldn’t stay up to finish the movie.

He was just a friend, and nothing more, her brain said.

He’s ours to love, her heart told her.

But she was scared, Y/N realized. When she started to notice the lilt in his voice when he sung her a song he’d written especially for her, when she noticed how lovely his laugh was, when she started to catch herself falling into the depths of his eyes, Y/N was scared. The last time she’d fallen in love, she’d fallen bloody, bruised, scraped, and broken to the floor as well.

She was scared by how much she wanted to know how it felt to be held by him for more than one fleeting moment.

She was scared by how much she wished to know how his lips would taste against her own.

She was scared by how much she loved him.

~~

He loved her too.

Michael loved her too and she wanted to shout for joy.

Her feelings were requited and she wanted to cry at the same time. What had happened the last time she’d trusted someone with her heart? He’d ripped into it with a sneer, had cackled at how much it had bled for him.

“Just let me try.”

Did she not learn from last time?

“I promise that I won’t stop loving you.”

What if she did?

“You don’t have to love me today, or tomorrow. Or ever, if you don’t want to. But you deserve to know.”

Well, that was new.

“But I’d wait forever for you.”

She’d never been told that before.

So it was with a smile that Y/N said “Forever’s an awfully long time.”

Michael didn’t miss a beat when replying, “You’re worth it, sweetheart.”

~~

It was only days before she agreed to a date. Michael was ecstatic.

“I promise you’ll love it,” he beamed as he walked her to his car. “I’ve got the entire night planned. We go to dinner, then to a movie, and after that - weather permitting - a cute as hell walk through a park of sorts.”

The fact that he had put this much effort into this made Y/N blush. He was treating her like a princess, whereas she was used to only being the scullery maid. He placed gentle kisses on her knuckles when she was used to having bruises there from being pushed to the floor. He opened the door for her instead of slamming it in her face.

It was a nice change of pace when she pulled out her wallet for the dinner bill and he all but forced her to put it back. Or when she offered to buy her own ticket and he said “Nonsense.”

The theatre was dark, and filled with people. Y/N’s attention was only half focused on the movie when she noticed Michael yawn and stretch, leaving his arm draped around her seat. She smiled to herself and took a sip of her drink. He wasn’t as discreet as he thought when he stared at her adoringly.

~~

A blissful three months had passed before he finally worked up the courage to ask her.

“What happened to you that you had to be in the self-help section of the library?”

She froze. How was she supposed to explain to him that a man who she had trusted had ruined her, had left her heart shattered like glass on a cold tile floor every night for two years? How do you tell someone that you weren’t able to defend yourself against a demon that everyone thought was an angel?

“I…”

As if sensing her fear, Michael grasped her hand, pressing another damn kiss to her knuckles. She didn’t let him kiss her lips, not yet. She wasn’t ready to let down that defense, no matter how much she wanted to.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he back-pedaled. “I’m sorry, I should have respected your privacy, I’m sorry sweetheart, please forgive me.”

Never her fault. He never blamed her for anything. It was always him, in his mind. She could never do anything wrong.

“No,” she whispered. “You should know.”

A deep breath, then she told him. She told him a story of a girl too dumb to know what love was, and the tale of a boy who knew exactly how to exploit that. She told him how the girl was lured into a trap with the promise of a happily ever after, but was met with a living hell, seemingly inescapable.

Michael was horrified, but everything made sense. Why she never fully kissed him, why she’d pull away before she could, it all made sense.

“Love,” he whispered, eyes wide as he watched this woman he’d come to know as home wipe tears from her face. Gently, oh so gently, he placed his hand under her chin, turning her head to look at him. Michael searched her eyes before wrapping his arms around her in the tightest embrace he could manage.

“My strong princess,” he breathed in her ear. “You didn’t deserve that.” One hand ran up and down her back, the other cradling her head. “I’m so sorry.”

She let out an unsteady breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong; don’t be sorry. I… I’m sorry for being broken like this.”

“No, no, no.” He pulled away to look her right in the eyes. “You do not have to apologize. Not for that. Not ever. It was not your fault.”

“What if it was?” Her quiet whimper made his heart crumble. She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Lovie,” he tried. She didn’t meet his gaze. “Nothing he told you could have been true. Anything he said that made you feel less than perfect - that was never true. Because you are, baby. You’re perfect to me, and you can’t let the memory of that dick tell you you’re not, okay?”

Y/N nodded weakly.

“I love you,” he said as he wrapped her in another breathtaking embrace.

And she believed him.

~~

It was stupid. It was a stupid fight about something dumb that neither of them could remember. Because something dumb had turned into something a little less dumb and a little closer to home, and it kept growing until neither of them could stop even if they wanted to - and she wanted to, so bad.

Michael was screaming poisonous phrases and Y/N was shouting daggers back at him, and all she heard was yelling and yelling and yelling.

Anger radiated off both of their bodies and neither of them knew how to handle it until they found a fix of venomous words slung into the air like arrows speeding for their target.

Michael stomped closer to her, and she hated how she was crowded against the wall in return. She thought she was better, she thought that part of her life was over. She was wrong, she realized, when Michael kept storming her way and she shrunk down into the corner. So small, she felt so small compared to his thunderous anger in that moment.

His words bit like vipers under her skin - you’re tougher than this, she reminded herself. You are not helpless anymore. You will not be hurt by him, but she was anyway because she loved Michael, and the things he hissed displayed nothing even close to how she felt.

She refused to crumble, refused to be as small as she once was to a man she once loved. She refused to become a shell of herself again.

Y/N held her head high as she took the words, as she spit them back, regardless of the red lining her eyes and the silver tears that were falling.

But god damn it, Michael looked so much like him when he was storming towards her, anger glowing in his beautiful green eyes. This new love of hers looked so much like him when he stormed her way, and she couldn’t help but shrink even further in on herself.

And with every step he took, her body trembled as she remembered how he had forced his way to her and thrown her down every damn time.

She shrinks into herself - she thought she was better than this, but apparently not. And she can’t help the white hot shoots of fear that dash through her system as he corners her in their bedroom, a place that was so comforting and safe no longer.

But Michael clenches his fist and Y/N’s widen and suddenly she’s back in his house, back under his mercy, and the memories she spent so long pushing away and getting over flood her senses and she’s pretty sure she’s crying now if she wasn’t already.

“Please don’t hit me.”

She doesn’t know if he heard her or even cared, because he never did. She guards her face, bracing herself for a blow that hasn’t yet been delivered. But the seconds drag on and nothing happens, and she slowly lowers her arm.

All the anger had seeped out of Michael. Every ounce of rage and venom was gone and only remorse was left.

“Did… Did you think-- Oh god,” he breathed, slowly sitting on the floor next to her.

“Sweetheart,” he reached for her, but she flinched away. “Love, I wouldn’t -- I would never, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Still she didn’t let him touch her, try as he might.

“Y/N, I love you, I wouldn’t--”

“He said that too,” she whispered quietly.

And Michael was dumbfounded because how was he supposed to explain that he was different without sounding exactly like him? “I could never bring myself to lay a hand on you, baby. I love you, and I mean really truly love you. Not like he did. I’m so in love with you, and I promise I’m gonna keep you safe, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes slowly slid up to his. “How do I know you won’t change? Won’t decide one day that I’m worthless and you have to keep me for my own sake?”

Michael’s heart was pounding until she said those words - then it felt like it was being pulled right out of chest.

“Because I already know I want to spend forever with you, love. I fucked up, I know I did, and I know I’m asking a lot of you to forgive me, but sometimes I will screw up, and I know you’ll love me anyways, which is a part of why I love you. But you have to know that if I ever hurt you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, princess. You’re my world, even if you don’t think you are.”

She’s silent and Michael feared he had lost her until she crawls into his lap and he feel his chest might burst.

“I spent a lot of time with him before I realized I was losing myself,” Y/N whispered. Michael bristled beneath her. “I don’t want to do that again,” she said quietly, but not weakly. “I’m never going to let myself become a ghost again.”

“I know, love, and I don’t think I can apologize enough.” He rocked the two of them back and forth.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” he breathed in return. “Because I’m gonna protect and love you for the rest of my damn life.”

[skylightsofmylife]

1-86 pleaseeeeee

1. Are looks important in a relationship?

Nope. I’m demi so it’s all about personality

2. Are relationships ever worth it?

Most definitely

3. Are you a virgin?

Take an educated guess based on my girlfriend’s post

4. Are you in a relationship?

Extremely happily so

5. Are you in love?

Hey babe! Are we in love? I forgot. 

6. Are you single this year?

I can’t see the future but I seriously hope not, I’m kinda smitten with this girl who sends me asks…

7. Can you commit to one person?

Prefer to actually

8. Describe your crush

Oh, let’s see. She’s a dork, with a sense of humor, has the most adorable smile, always knows how to cheer me up, might have a really hot haircut or something???

9. Describe your perfect mate

Kitten (She knows what this means)

10. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Love is blind, she don’t work based on sight

11. Do you ever want to get married?

If the moment felt right, yes. *adds honeymoon to gift registry* 

12. Do you forgive betrayal?

Regrettably, yes *massive eye roll at self*

13. Do you get jealous easily?

I might have a little bit of a green monster in me, *green monster shouts* a little, who are you trying to fool

14. Do you have a crush on anyone?

Does a bear shit in the woods?

15. Do you have any piercings?

Yeppers, pretty sure I’m naked enough on here you can find it easily

16. Do you have any tattoos?

A phobia of having ink on my skin keeps me from getting them

17. Do you like kissing in public?

Babe, we are still making out in the middle of the airport next time right? 

20. Do you shower every day?

Yes, in the tears of my enemies, mwahahahahha, again, who am I kidding. It’s my own tears cause I have estrogen coursing through my veins

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

She better for making me answer all of these

22. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?

*sends nood to GF* yep pretty sure someone is

23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat?

What even is this questions? If you can’t do this may I suggest polyamory my dear

24. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years?

I honestly don’t know, it’s something I have resisted for a very long time but recently my feelings have changed on it because of someone

25. Do you want to be in a relationship this year?

I hope so being I am

26. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you?

Ditto baby girl

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you?

Poem, yes. Does a theme song count?

28. Have you ever been cheated on?

I’d have to resort to calculus to get the exact number of times it’s happened it’s so numerous at this point

29. Have you ever cheated on someone?

Per the previous question, I know how much it hurts first hand and could never bring myself to inflict that kind of pain on someone

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body?

*Giant book thuds on counter* Story time children. I’d have my nose thinned and shaven down, chin rounded and cleft removed, hairline rounded, ears pinned, love handles removed, maybe boobs just to round them; don’t really want bigger. Having the major one I want in two days. 

31. Have you ever cried over a guy/girl?

*gets out the tear bucket* oh, we come prepared around these parts. Flooding and leakage is imminent 

32. Have you ever experienced unrequited love?

Maybe, idk. I have a rather unique experience that keeps me from falling in love with people who don’t feel the same

33. Have you ever had sex with a man?

I wish I could say no

34. Have you ever had sex with a woman?

Girl what that tongue do? 

35. Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

Yep. 

36. Have you ever liked one of your best friends?

Like, all of them

37. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

Probably, in high school

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to?

Oh definitely. But usually that ends up being your best friend

39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?

I honestly don’t know if I couldn’t have her… just never asked

40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone?

Lots of poems, had an ex that loved them so I would leave them as notes on my pillow since I got up way earlier

41. Have you had sex so far this year?

Just a little bit

42. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander?

What are we counting as wandering? Touching hips/waist, not very long. Anywhere else I can make out for hours without hands roaming.

43. How long was your longest relationship?

3 years (woot for psychology being so predictable for the end of the honeymoon phase)

44. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had?

Not many actually. Discounting the one I was in against my will, 3.

45. How many people did you kiss in 2012/2013?

Why y’all gotta pick my hoe/college years?! Give me a sec to count… 8?

46. How many times did you have sex last year?

Not a lot… Maybe 10 times? It’s somewhere around there. (All with the same person mind you)

47. How old are you?

Some would say I look good for 428

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

Good for them honestly. I’ve been in this situation but I always put other peoples’ happiness before mine. 9 times out of 10 I end up helping them get with the person they like

49. If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend, what is your favorite thing about him/her?

She keeps me grounded. No matter what she can always make my darkest day brighter just by being there. (Also the hair)

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept?

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Leave the gifts, don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Oh, and let people decide things for themselves

51. Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for?

Mostly anything, yes

52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why?

I wouldn’t say given up but more so realized we were fundamentally different people and things would never work between us

53. Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are?

I mean probs. Maybe not mad but there’s definitely someone jealous out there

54. Is there someone you will never forget?

Yes, friends I have had to move away from due to mental health issues

55. Share a relationship story.

Jess, just read our texts. Everyone else, Jess is reading our texts

56. State 8 facts about your body

Pokemon #188

57. Things you want to say to an ex

If you’re going to cheat have the decency to break up with your partner first or be able to admit your wrong instead of finding flaws in your partner to exploit and make them feel like it’s their fault

58. What are five ways to win your heart?

Be easy to talk to, have emotional intelligence, love me for who I am not what you want me to be, make me laugh, *cough cough - cover your eyes children* make me moan loudly (sorry, not sorry)

59. What do you look like? (Post a picture!)

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/skylightsofmylife search #me

Jess, just look at your photos

60. What is the biggest age difference between you and any of your partners?

7  years

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone?

The way they talk

62. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you?

Whisper in my ear what they want to do to me (unless they are a stranger then it’s creepy, cause both have happened)

63. What is your definition of “having sex”?

Oral or anything that penetrates (that includes fingers and toys)

64. What is your definition of cheating?

Anything beyond non-sexual flirting

65. What is your favourite foreplay routine?

Oh goodness, babe here’s your playbook. Shove me against a wall, throw my hands above my head, kiss my mouth just a little then go straight for the neck. Once you’ve done that for a little, take a hand and put it under my shirt and scratch (HARD) from my under-bust to my pant-line. Take me to a bed and push me onto it rather hard, straddle me kiss my mouth and neck some more, whisper what you’re going to do next in my ear, take my clothes off, kiss my breasts and stomach, after that a little gently play *down there* and I’m yours. 

66. What is your favourite roleplay?

N/A

67. What is your idea of the perfect date?

Backyard movie date; with a sheet, projector, and a picnic basket

68. What is your sexual orientation?

I put lesbian in my bio because it’s easier and I only date women/non-binary/gnc. But the whole thing is demi pansexual, homoromantic. 

69. What turns you off?

Weirdly my biggest turn off is getting my hair wet. No idea why

70. What turns you on?

Running a hand up my inner thigh

71. What was your kinkiest wet dream?

I’m honestly not sure… my sex dreams often include consent cause it’s a big deal to me so they typically don’t get far because that’s the majority of it

72. What words do you like to hear during sex?

Fuck, that feels amazing, don’t stop doing that *moan*, my name, Jess knows the last one

73. What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you?

Buy me an outfit just because they think it would look cute on me

74. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?

Smile?

75. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you?

Found a private showing of my favorite movie on Valentine’s day

76. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone?

Probably cooked a 3 hour meal just because I knew they liked it that much

77. What’s your opinion on age differences in relationships?

So long as it’s legal and consensual I really don’t care. I personally will not date beyond the 7 years I’ve already done but that’s just a personal choice

78. What’s your dirtiest secret?

Probably my needle fetish

79. When was the last time you felt jealous? Why?

About 5 years ago. My ex was leaving me for the person they said they had no feelings for

80. When was the last time you told someone you loved them?

Like an hour ago

81. Who are five people you find attractive?

Jess, Jess, Jess, Jess, and Jess

82. Who is the last person you hugged?

My mom

83. Who was your first kiss with?

A narcissist who ended up using me in the end so I’d rather not name them 

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

Because I wasn’t cis-enough

85. Would you ever date someone off of the Internet?

Oh hey babe!

For real, fuck you Jess. I’m packing now. Unless you wanna do 65…..

[heyauntieeee]

First Impressions (1)

T’Challa X Black!Reader

Warning: Language: I said nigga way too much yo

Summary: After meeting Reader in a restaurant in the strangest way, T’Challa can’t help but be fascinated by her.

Words: 2,701

“First impressions last the longest.”

“So, what are you gonna do?” Kadijah’s question rang through your ears as you sat and ate your food. You were at dinner with your cousin and a couple of your friends in a desperate need top get out of the house. The restaurant wasn’t as crowed as it usually would be on a Thursday night. The atmosphere was pleasant, filled with the murmur of conversation and utensils clinking against the plates. No different than what was going on at your table. You shake your head and sigh. This wasn’t necessarily the desired topic of discussion for you tonight. You wanted to forget about your troubles at home, even if it were for just one night.

“I don’t know Dee,” You say putting my fork down. I sit back in my seat and sigh again. “I don’t know what I can do about the situation. I just want what’s best for Olivia. Will needs to be present in her life. That’s all I want.”

She smacks her teeth. “Ok but he barely is. He’s still fucked up from when Ciara left, he can’t hold on to that shit forever. It’s almost as if he want’s nothing to do with that child cause she not here.”

At this point you were starting to get a headache. “Can we talk about something else please? That’s the reason we came out right, to get away from all the bullshit?”

She takes a long look at me with her deep brown eyes letting you know that she was adamant about having this conversation, but she sighs, signaling that she’s giving in.

“Yeah I guess.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you.”

“Well now that we done talking bout depressing shit, can we talk about how fine them two niggas at the other table are?” your friend Gina pipes up flipping her braids over her shoulder and resting her chin on her hands. Her eyes peering over at something behind us. “Dude with the dreads got me feeling a way, I need him to rearrange my guts yesterday!”

You look at her unimpressed. “Bitch you always talkin about getting ya back blown out. Weren’t you just complaining that you couldn’t walk the other day when you hooked up with Daquan? Walked into work all bow-legged and shit. I thought you need a handicap decal.” You feign concern. “Ain’t you tired sis?”

She rolls her eyes. “Tuh! When you can’t walk that just mean he hitting it right you can call me Kevin Gates cause ion get tired!”

You stare at her “Wow.”

Kadijah shook her head. “You are triflin as hell.”

“Indeed, she is. What you need to do is find you a husband and not just some guy to fuck. I’m telling you, you’d be much more satisfied.” Your other friend Danita says looking at Gina with disgust. She just got married last year and now she thinks she’s above everyone else. She’s like that light-skinned girl from Insecure who thinks she has the perfect man and the perfect marriage, but the more layers you peel back, the more dirt you find. Not to say that you weren’t happy for her, cause you were, but you just wish she would shut the fuck up sometimes and let ya’ll single bitches live, shit.

Gina throws Danita a look. “Girl shut yo boring married ass up and besides fuck me, look at the them.”

You and Kadijah both roll your eyes and finally turn around to see 5 people sitting at the table behind us two men and three women. Two of the three women had shaved heads and were dressed in what looked like armor the red uniforms highlighted their dark skin as their alert eyes scanned the room wearing bound and determined looks on their faces letting folks know that they weren’t anyone to fuck with and they were prepared for anything to pop off. Sitting next to them was the first man, and you had to admit he was fine as hell like Gina said. His short dreads hung on the left side of his face, brown eyes, nice full lips, he looked kind of irritated though, like either he didn’t wanna be there or he wasn’t feeling the conversation that was taking place at their table. But damn even with that scowl on his face he still looked good. He was looking kinda swole too, like he was finna bust out that jacket he had on. The other girl looked to be the youngest out of all of them. Her braided hair was done up in a high bun and was wearing a black and white dress. She was talking to the man sitting next to, who, if you were being honest, the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life. From his brow skin to the curls in his hair, large dark eyes that you could get lost in for hours, that smile and infectious laughter. Jesus Christ, he could light up a room with that smile and his full lips, not as big as the other one’s but still you could think of quiet a few things he could do with tho-

You shake your head and turn around you didn’t need those thoughts in your head with all these people around.

“He aight,” you say dismissively trying to shake off those feeling. But sis you were shook.

“Aight?” Gina questioned. “Bitch is you blind?! You see two fine black men sitting 10 feet away and you just say they aight?”

“Yeah Y/N you trippin,” Kadijah.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Danita spoke up.

You roll your eyes. “I was talking about the nigga with the dreads but go off I guess.”

“When you’re loud and wrong but ok so then what you think about the other one?” Gina asks. Like why she gotta know your opinion about shit? Nosey ass. You look away not wanting to look her in the eyes cause you knew she’s know what I thought right away. A big grin makes its way on Gina and Kadijah’s faces. Ain’t this bout a bitch.

“He’s cute,” you mumble not wanting either of them to hear you.

“I’m sorry what was that,” Dee says putting her hand up to her ear. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Yeah hoe speak up,” Gina says.

“I would like to hear what you have to say as well,” says Danita. This bitch was starting to get on your nerves.

You huff. “I said he’s cute damn! Finest man I ever saw in my life. Y’all satisfied?” You fold your arms and pout. Bitches always putting you on the spot.

“Mhm I knew it! She want that di-”

“Dammit Gina!”

“You should go over there and say something,” Danita suggests. Dee and Gina nod their heads in agreement.

“Yeah and I should say ‘fuck you I ain’t doing that.’ Can we just enjoy our meal please?”

They throw their hands up and go back to eating their food. You take a sigh in relief and do the same.

Meanwhile, T’Challa, Erik, Shuri, Okoye and Ayo were at their table eating when Erik chuckles. It seems that your conversation wasn’t as quiet as you thought it was.

“What is it cousin?” Shuri asks wanting to know what was so funny.

“You know they over there talking about us, right? Well not all of us, just me T’Challa.”

“Who?” she’s really curious now.

“Them female sitting across from us. Apparently, we some ‘fine ass niggas T.’” He says full on laughing now. Shuri rolls her eyes and so does T’Challa.

“Don’t be ridiculous Erik,” he says cutting his food.

“Ain’t nothing ridiculous about it. You heard everything they said just like I did so don’t even try to deny it. That one,” he begins, pointing toward your back. “Thinks you’re the finest nigga she ever seen. I mean ion know what the fuck she talking bout but-”

“N’Jadaka!”

“And her sexy ass,” he continues pointing toward Gina. “Wants me to turn them guts inside out. And far be it from me to block her blessing.”

“Isilwanyana esilwe ngesondo” Okoye mutters as she sips her tea and Ayo chuckles. She’d much rather hear anything else in the world than hear about Erik’s sexual exploits.

Before Erik can form a rebuttal, a loud voice yells from the front of the restaurant.

“AYO E!” a tall dark-skinned man shouts and starts making his way over to their table.

“Aww shit man here this nigga go.” Erik says under his breath.

“Who is that man?” T’Challa asks.

“Man that nigga Tyrone. I used to run the street with him a until I left for MIT. I fucked his ass up cause he stole from me. I shoulda murked his shit but I let him go, made an example out his ass, but he wouldn’t let that shit go and started talking shit round the block. Said when he saw me again it was a wrap. Bitchass.”

“Bast sake,” T’Challa says pinching the bridge of his nose.

Tyrone gets to the table, folds his arms and smirks. “Wassup nigga you thought I wasn’t gon see yo ass again? I said on sight nigga and I meant that shit.”

Erik stays seated and sucks his teeth. “I see you ain’t learn the last time. Get the fuck outta here with that bullshit you ain’t bout it!”

T’Challa tries to intervene. “Excuse me sir, I understand that you have some issues with my cousin here, but I can assure you that we can settle this, how you say “beef” another way.”

Tyrone looks at him like “Man sit yo dumbass down and shut up.” T’Challa clutches his invisible pearls.

“This ain’t got shit to do with you. And as for you nigga, I want my round let’s take this shit outside.”

Erik takes a deep breath as he tries his best to keep his cool. Every bone is his body is telling him to get up and snap this nigga’s neck, but he let the man talk his shit cause he’s just been redeemed and had been trying to check his temper.

“Aye man I’m telling you now back the fuck up, you don’t want no smoke nigga”

Okoye and Ayo stand and give Tyrone a menacing look. Okoye speaks. “I suggest you leave now before anyone gets hurt. Rest assured, it won’t be them, it will be you.

“Man who the fu-”

T’Challa and Erik stop them, they didn’t want to cause even more of a scene. Other patrons were starting to look toward their table because Tyrone was so loud.

“It is ok, General no need to cause a scene.” T’Challa says. “We’ll get him out of here soon enough. Have a seat.”

“Yeah, y’all ain’t even gotta do allat I got it handled.” Erik conceded. “Imma tell you one more time keep it up and Imma rock yo shit.”

Okoye takes looks at T’Challa then looks at Tyrone and takes her seat. Ayo does the same.

Tyrone chuckles. “Bet you broads don’t think you’re so tough huh?”

Shuri is finding this entertaining as hell. “Bast, dinner and a show this is going to be fun!”

T’Challa shakes his head, trying to figure out a way to deescalate the situation. ‘I can’t have one moment of peace’ he thinks as he sits back with a sigh.

You can hear the commotion coming from the other table. You all were trying to figure out what was going on.

“Man why niggas gotta come up in a spot all loud and acting a fool?” Gina says as she strains her neck to see what was transpiring. “What the hell is going on?”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t know but he starting to get on my fucking nerves.” You say. All you wanted to so was have a nice dinner with your friends and this nigga was just killing the vibe. “And there ain’t nobody from management coming to throw his Bruhman looking ass out here yet.”

Then you hear again from across the room. “Nigga I’m not finna say it again we going outside or what?”

“That’s it!” You say turning around in your seat despite your friends’ protest.

“Y/N, don’t!” Kadijah hissed as she grabs at your arm to turn you around. You snatch your arm away.

“That nigga probably crazy as hell, you don’t know what type time he on.” Gina says.

“Gina, I don’t care that nigga is outta control messing with them for no fucking reason. Ain’t nobody doing shit so Imma handle it.”

You turn around once again and glare at the offender.

“Do you know exactly how loud and annoying you are? We can hear you all the way over here.”

They all freeze and look at you. You start to lean over your chair still looking right at Tyrone.

Tyrone looks at you and scowls. “Who the fuck you talking to?”

“I’m talking to you. What y’all exes or something you sound like a bitter baby mom.”

“Aye what the fuck is your problem yo? Turn ya ass around and eat ya food.” You were really starting to get heated. This nigga was starting to get real disrespectful and it was only so much you could take before busted his shit wide open.

“You my goddamn problem! You coming up in this bitch like you big bad and bold, tryna start shit with this dude and he ain’t even tryna fuck with you like that yet you keep running yo mouth. If was really bout shit you woulda been swung on his ass but you ain’t did shit yet. Talking all that shit and can’t even bust a grape get the fuck outta here.”

Shuri’s confused. “When did we start talking about grapes.”

T’Challa just stares at her both surprised and amused that a complete stranger would go out of her way to defend his cousin. He wasn’t sure if it was because she cared or because her dinner was being ruined by Tyrone. Either way, he was interested to see how this would play out. Even though he knew this couldn’t continue for too long as he didn’t want he, his family, or the other party to be kicked out by management.

“What would you like us to do, my King?” Okoye asks. She was growing annoyed with the commotion, but like T’Challa, she did find this stranger entertaining as well.

“Stand down for now. I don’t see this going further than exchange of words across the room. I’ll take care of it if necessary.”

Okoye’s purses her lips. “As you wish.”

Ayo just sits, watching the fuckery unfold and she is here for it.

Kadijah is desperately trying to get you to turn around and just shut the fuck up but you just can’t let it go. “Y/N turn the hell around and mind yo business!”

Tyrone smirks and still wants to talk shit. “Sweetheart I suggest you listen to ya friend cause I’m not gon say that shit a third time turn the fuck around”

“I ain’t turning shit around and I suggest you shut the hell up and go home. Cause you ain’t nothing but a fucking bully and that shit is whack as fuck!”

Erik decides to intervene before shit really gets outta hand. He turns to you. “You ain’t gotta fight my battles for me babygirl, his punk ass ain’t gon do shit, believe that.” He gives Tyrone a look so fierce that if looks could kill he’d be dead and gone.

Tyrone sucks his teeth. “Man, ion even know why we wasting time on this raggedy bitch, let’s handle this shit right now.”

Shuri shrunk back in her seat, T’Challa’s mouth hung open like a fish, Okoye and Ayo looked at each other in shock as well, Erik puts his head in his hands and mutters “Shit”. You looked back at your friends to make sure this bubblegum-built bitch was talking to you. Time literally froze. Before T’Challa could even think about standing up and doing something you speak in a low voice.

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

Y’all... I can’t even tell you happy I am to have this out. This has been in my head for months and took me over a month to write it. Y’all would’ve got it last week but my computer is a whore and she don’t like me right now but it’s cool tho. 

Anyway let me know what you think. I tried to edit and proofread as best I could so I’m sorry for any errors. And if you want to be tagged let me know!

Tags:  @youreadthatright @muse-of-mbaku @sunigyrl @brianabreeze @misspooh @killmongersaidheyauntie @kenqueenken @princesskillmonger @ororowrites @texasbama @wawakanda-btch @purplebish @royallyprincesslilly @halfrican-heat @curls-and-crosses @princessstevens @lunaerly @tchallamakesmeh0lla @kumkaniudaku @sarahboseman @sisterwifeudaku @dramaqueenamby @laketaj24 @hearteyes-for-killmonger @pocmarvelworks @bartierbakarimobisson @adahjones @uhlxis @panthergoddessbast @babygirlofwakanda @killmongerdispussy @erikismybitch @bakarijordan @thehonorablekingerik @teheeboo @eriknutinthispoosy @wakandas-vibranium @wakanda-4evr @90sinspiredgirl

[village-skeptic]

on “having it both ways”: thinking about S2 and looking ahead to S3

So apparently once a year I end up latching on to Riverdale pre-season promo and having WAY TOO MUCH to say about it.

Image analysis, pop-culture riffing, S2 criticism, meditations on resistant reading, my own discomfort with “wrongfully accused” narratives in this particular historical moment, and some hopes on the literal eve of the S3 premiere, below the cut...

So, last week when this piece of promo dropped, the very first thing that I thought of was the visual reference to Chicago and the Cell-Block Tango.

(I didn’t do it! - but if I’d done it? - how could you tell me that I was wrong?)

HOW perfect is that homage? The red lighting, the raised arms? The promo still just FEELS like a snapshot from a Fosse dance routine. (A little more on legendary choreographer Bob Fosse here.)

It’s a defiant pose, right in the center of the frame, but a slightly vulnerable one at the same time. There’s nothing hidden here; everything’s on display. The pose draws the viewer’s eyes inescapably to the body - a muscled body, but one which here seems like a gymnast or dancer’s body: lithe figure, tapered waist, power that is channeled into performance.

(this is tasty; this is plenty; this is hungry work)

So, on a first pass, insofar as it puts this demonstrative male body on display, it’s a little bit of a subversive image, I think. And that’s well in line with the way that Riverdale so often courts the female (and/or gay male) gaze, and at its best does some really unusual stuff with masculinity. 

I thought about all of this - and then, silly me, I saw that this piece of promo was NOT a still, but is, instead, a short clip. 

Archie doing pull-ups on the prison bars, as another heavily muscled dude saunters behind him, reads to me like a completely different type of performance! To the degree that it invites the eye, it sends the message: don’t fuck with me. In motion, we have purely the pursuit of greater strength, the purging of weakness in favor of the means of self-protection. 

Instead of Chicago, my mind jumps to 3x01′s title source: Fortune and Men’s Eyes. Dominate or be dominated. 

Realistically, I’m willing to believe that the ambiguous interpretation here between “still” and clip is just a quirk of how it happened to be uploaded to Twitter by a social media intern. 

Still - the interpretative gulf between the still image and the image in motion got me thinking how often Riverdale seems to want to “have it both ways,” and what that does to the audience’s experience and expectations of the show.

For instance:

Other people have written at length about how Riverdale’s pursuit of aesthetic homage or plot contrivance has created character inconsistencies that occasionally baffle. Cheryl is alternately a tragic Gothic heroine and a lacquered, ruthless Mean Girl; Jughead is both a sensitive loner writer and also a bad-boy gang leader; Betty is both Betty and Dark Betty. (GOD.)

Other folks have discussed how the show needs to really play out the consequences of conflicts between the characters. It’s not that the show shouldn’t drop bombshells like the Bughead breakup(s) or the conflict between Betty and Veronica/Jughead and Archie, but it seems all too willing to reset back to milkshakes in a booth at Pop’s without doing enough work to explain WHY things are okay again. (See also: resolving major conflicts between characters literally with a song.)

The desire to “have it both ways” also really shows up in the show’s tendency to engage complicated issues (racism, sexism, colonialism, the prison-industrial complex) on a shallow level - thus getting credit for mentioning them, without really taking the time to explore them meaningfully or to explain the characters’ investment in them. 

The result of this, in terms of storytelling, is that you leave a lot of room for resistant (even combative) readings of the text to emerge. To name a few of my own:

frustration with Jughead’s acceptance of what feels like a suuuuper patriarchal role as “the Serpent Prince” (and later King)

the fact that it’s really hard to sympathize with Veronica throughout entire swathes of season 2

a profound opposition to a storyline that sexualizes Betty’s mental health issues in a really exploitative fashion

And then... there’s Archie.

In the “Cell Block Tango,” the murderesses of Chicago (bar one) get to justify their crimes. Conversely, as we open the third season of Riverdale, the audience knows that Archie’s being blamed for something he didn’t do. Despite bragging about it (!!) to a bunch of mobsters (!!!!), Archie is not guilty of the murder of Cassidy Bullock. 

...but he IS guilty of so! many! other! things! across Season 2. I’m sure I’m forgetting some, but aiding and abetting a criminal, covering up a murder, blowing up a car, and forming an extralegal vigilante militia group - TWICE - all come to mind. 

The last bits of S2 offer us a version of Archie’s amends-making that comes in the form of defending the Serpents, turning on Hiram, supporting his father, et cetera. And then the very last image of S2 - Archie being clapped in cuffs right at the moment that he’s supposed to be sworn into office - is meant to distress us.

But a season of watching Archie embrace fascism leaves some marks, y’all. And a not insignificant portion of the audience, still frustrated with the character’s choices, couldn’t help but say - well, he had it coming.

So, yeah. It’s been a few months between the close of S2 and the open of S3, and in most cases that would be enough time for me to sit with the story in and of itself, to consider more broadly where it had failed or succeeded, and to allow some of that “resistant reader” response to drain away.

But real talk, you guys: I’m finding it really hard right now, at this moment in American history, to connect emotionally with the story of a young man trying to fight the charges of which he has been wrongfully-yet-ever-so-plausibly accused.  

[Please note, I am NOT trying to say that RAS is somehow trying to weigh in explicitly on the SCOTUS debacle. The S2 finale laying the groundwork for this plot aired this spring, and S3E1 has (presumably?) been in the can for a while now. And, to its credit, Riverdale has in both seasons explicitly criticized a sexual culture that objectifies young women and reduces them to “points” (the football team’s playbook) and to prey (Nick St. Clair).]

But, for me personally, I can’t help looking at this plot and hearing echoes of “It's a very scary time for young men in America when you can be guilty of something you may not be guilty of.”

Here’s the interesting thing: I think RAS knows this, and I think the promo around this plot is partially designed to try to dispel these connections. 

(For me, at least, it’s having mixed results.)

(source)

For instance, I can’t look at this still (young man, formal suit intended to project good character and youthful vulnerability, sullen face, flanked by counsel) without thinking, “Wow, this feels....Brock Turner-y.” 

I don’t know if anyone’s written about courtroom photos and sketches as a genre of visual composition, but I feel like I’ve seen variations of the Riverdale still a million times, often printed on the front page of the local university newspaper, discussing the controversy over the conviction (or NON-conviction) of a promising young athlete accused of something awful that no one who knows him EVER would have suspected he would do. (Nice boy, nice family, so many extracurriculars, such good grades!)

Of course, there’s a major difference between the photos above: Archie’s defense team is entirely female. 

Obviously this makes sense because Mary Andrews and Sierra McCoy are both major supporting characters who are also lawyers - but it also makes sense in trying to dismantle some of the potential gut reactions to this visual framing. There’s some “innocence by association” going on here, I think. And after all, Archie IS innocent of this particular crime!

This still lands with mixed effect for me though, because any defense strategy that suggests the intentional composition of a visual tableau feels inherently cynical, even when the character is sympathetic or innocent. 

For instance: I just watched The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which features a scene where the main character shows up in the courtroom in full Upper West Side respectable regalia to try to get the obscenity charges against her dismissed - she fails and ends up having to plead guilty, because she mouths off at the judge. Anyone who’s familiar with Amy Sherman-Palladino’s work will recognize this bones of this plot point in the courtroom scene in Gilmore Girls: Rory’s grandparents’/lawyer’s attempt to portray her as a naive little angel backfires, and she ends up getting a ton of community service as penance for stealing a boat. It’s important to note that the characters are both guilty of their charges - although, as another favorite show of mine might note, “the situation’s a lot more nuanced than that.”)

(source | source)

Another way in which the pre-season promo is distancing Archie from both his actions last season, and the present context external to the show, is to emphasize his profound contrition. In this teaser from Riverdale 3x01, we get Archie declaring that “whatever happens to me in the courtroom on Tuesday - that is what I deserve.” This a statement of universal guilt and responsibility (one might say martyrdom?) that goes well beyond the scope of his actual infractions.

Now - I really, really appreciate that we’re getting a sad Archie rather than a mad Archie. And I want to acknowledge that he’s so definitely a kid here, trying hard to “man up” and to grapple with the fact that he screwed up big time and that there are consequences for his actions. After a season of doing the wrong thing over and over and OVER again, he’s trying to do the right thing. 

But here’s the thing: Fred responds to this confession of near-universal guilt with what (in this snippet) feels like a pair of universally-exculpatory statements: “You are a good kid. You got manipulated by a mobster.” (Mary is more nuanced: “You do not deserve to be framed for murder.”)

Archie does not deserve to be framed for murder, and he certainly did get manipulated by a mobster. In fact, I would like to formally start a petition to have Archie not fall under the control of an unscrupulous adult in S3!

However. 

Instead of accepting guilt for anything and everything and being immediately absolved for non-specific sins because of his inherent “goodness,” I really want to know that Archie understands what he actually DID do last season. He climbed wholeheartedly on board with the plan to Make Riverdale Great Again, and in that process, he did things that were NOT AT ALL commensurate with being “a good kid.” I think both the character and the show would benefit from a more explicit meditation on exactly why Hiram’s manipulation was so effective, and why Archie moved so quickly past being merely Hiram’s pawn, and voluntarily embraced the role of Hiram’s very ambitious accomplice. 

One of the specific preconditions of restorative justice is that the offender has to acknowledge their actions and the hurt that they caused. Reconciliation and vagueness are incompatible for so many reasons, but one of them is because a BIG part of learning from your mistakes is thinking precisely about what you did so that you can choose not to do it again.

I read a bunch of the new Archie comics over the break, and I think I now have a greater appreciation for the trope of Archie as a schlemiel. Despite his best intentions, the Archie archetype keeps making the same goofy, klutzy mistakes over and over again. This is fine, even funny, when it means that Archie just keeps accidentally ending up with a bucket on his head. Whoops! 

It is super not okay if it means that Archie just keeps finding himself supporting fascists. ...whoops?

(At present, my entire country is being “manipulated by mobsters.” Clearly, I have some feelings about this.)

I don’t actually know how to wrap all the loose ends of this analysis up meaningfully and coherently at the finish here - but then again, that probably puts me into good company with our showrunners. Optimistically, I’m going to hope that that’s intentional - that I’m judging in media res, and that plotlines and character arcs in S3 will weave together in a way that will surprise and delight me! 

But mostly, I’m going to reiterate my hope that S3 makes meaningful choices. That the people in charge don’t waste their actors’ time filming oodles and oodles of material that gets sliced and diced to ribbons. That they make choices EARLY about major plot points; that they stick to them; and that they let the rising action and falling action of your narrative reflect those choices, and the consequences that naturally accompany them. 

I hope that the people in charge of S3 will resist the ever-present temptation to “have it both ways” - which ultimately works out to really no definitive way at all. Telling a sturdy story is risky in a totally different way than courting controversy - but it’s so, so worth it. 

[otomeshistarlight-blog]

Rant incoming

I was scrolling through the JoJo tag when I saw this post and I just ... I’m really tired y’all.

First of all, according to a google search it looks like the age of consent in Italy is 14 (if I’m wrong, please correct me) so Narancia is very legal, as is Giorno. America’s laws are not universal. The world is not so UScentric that whatever we as a country deem inappropriate is likewise considered to be inappropriate in other countries. There are varying standards throughout different societies and one is not necessarily more correct than the next. Whether or not I think real life fourteen year olds should be having sex is irrelevant- because even if I don’t agree with it, it’s gonna happen anyway - but Narancia is not a real fourteen year old so whatever the law dictates in America OR Italy is irrelevant.

What this boils down to is that there is no victim here. Narancia cannot be taken advantage of. Narancia cannot be sexually assaulted and face the physical/emotional consequences of such trauma. There is nothing inherently wrong with shipping him in ANY pairing, regardless of the ages involved. If I want to write about him getting wrecked by Bruno I will damn well do it because not a single person is being hurt by me doing so. If this is something that triggers you and causes you distress then don’t 👏🏻 fucking 👏🏻 look 👏🏻 at 👏🏻 it. 👏🏻

Fighting for the rights of fictional characters solves nothing. It helps no one. It doesn’t benefit real victims and it sure as hell does not stop real people from being victimized in the first place. This is a nonissue that people are taking up arms over for no reason other than a perceived moral superiority that makes them feel more in control of the world around them. It stems from feeling helpless and lost in a society that doesn’t bend to their every whim. Fandom space is the only place they feel like they have any power so they take on the role of morality police, try to dictate what people can and cannot like, and then accuse anyone who won’t do what they say of heinous crimes. It’s extremely toxic and harmful, not to mention it lessens the severity of sincere pedophile/abuse finger pointing so the chances of a real predator getting away with it are greatly heightened, and I’m just done with it at this point.

Let’s say I’m looking through the porn tags as I am won’t to do and I come across a post that features blatant child porn. Real child porn. The 3D kind that, yknow, actually features real children being exploited and assaulted for realsies. I’m understandably appalled so I file a report with tumblr and they don’t even look at it because they’ve been bombarded for the last year with false harm to minors reports and the user is never penalized for actually doing something inherently wrong and immoral. Y’all have heard about the girl who cried wolf right? Like, y’all know how that story ends don’t you?

But no. Instead of directing your efforts towards anything worthwhile, you’re going to keep going after shippers. And for what? Because oh no, the fictional seventeen year old who could just as likely be nineteen is being paired with a fictional twenty-five year old. The horror. What is the world coming to? Think of the children!

Except ... these supposed children don’t exist. How can you victimize a piece of paper? The same argument applies to loli/shotacon too mind you, and there is no crime in looking at drawings regardless of their perceived age, especially when the topic is anime where you can have a character who looks like a five year old girl and she is in fact a 400 year old vampire. Like?? There is absolutely no logic you can apply to this that has any internal consistency let alone actually makes sense.

Me: these fictional minors don’t even look like sixteen year olds, where have you seen a real teenager who looks like this?

Antis: they look like teens you pedo!! And ageing them up is still pedophilia because they are canonly sixteen so you’re still thinking about teenagers in a roundabout, highly contrived way

Me: *shows you a 300 year old loli vampire* okay so I can definitely fuck this one right? She’s unrealistically old!

Antis: no!!!! You’re just using her canon age as an excuse to be a freak who preys on children! She might be 300 years old but she still has the body of a child!!

Me: okay so I’ll just age myself down to self ship, no biggie.

Antis: absolutely not!! You’re still an adult and ageing yourself down doesn’t make it okay!! I’m reporting you to the authorities right now!

Me: but ... who am I supposed to imagine fucking then?

Antis: one of the few adults you find in anime, except this one because he’s an abuser, or this one because he tortured a little girl and not the serial killer either because wow problematic

Me: so what you’re telling me ... is that I’m only allowed to thirst after your preapproved, precious cinnamon roll faves even though my tastes or needs in a relationship might vary greatly from yours?

Antis: yes, exactly. I’m so glad you’re finally on my level of intelligence and moral superiority. : ^)

Me: oh, I see now. So what this boils down to is that you just don’t want people to enjoy something you don’t personally agree with. Got it.

Antis: absolutely not!! I’m thinking about the betterment of society by telling you what you can and cannot enjoy! You liking these questionable things is harmful against the greater good! Won’t you think of the children!?

Me: soooooo we’re just gonna ignore how much that sounds like a fascist/communist society or ...?

Antis: : ^)

Y’all should absolutely read 1984. It would do you some good. Because having an attraction to a fucking anime character is not a slippery slope, but this puritanical shit? It sure as hell is.

Let me pose this query: what is stopping an anti from going on a book burning campaign or fighting to get certain books banned? Lolita? Flowers in the Attic? All of the works by Marquis de Sade (a personal hero of mine)? Alternatively who are the only people who actually engage in book burning/banning?

Overzealous religious nuts. Everything about the anti movement is the same “our children shouldn’t be exposed to such filth” battle cry that religious sects - specifically the western ones - have screamed for decades now except with a cute little sjw hat on top. No rock n’ roll music. It’s Satan’s music. No porn. It’s tainting America’s youth. No alcohol. It’s leading our country down the path of sin. No violent video games or movies. They’re turning people into mass shooters. No problematic themes in fictional works because it’s turning people into pedophiles/abusers.

And that is just ... factually incorrect. There is absolutely no correlation between Lolita being published and an uptick in children being sexually assaulted. There is no correlation between lolicon or shotacon breeding more pedophiles. Because that’s literally not how it works. Period. I’m not going to accidentally stumble on a loli doujin and think “huh yknow what? This sounds fun!” I could even read loli doujins at length and that’s still not going to convince me that actually engaging in sexual situations with toddlers is okay. Like ... I don’t know why these people think we’re so stupid that we don’t know the difference between right and wrong but this is just insane. The only people who look at loli or shota and then go on to commit crimes against real children are the ones who were already having those kinds of thoughts in the first place. The only people who play Grand Theft Auto and then go shoot up a church are the ones who were already having violent thoughts to begin with. These thoughts are not magically implanted into our brains regardless of what media we consume and that’s just a goddamn fact.

Yes, media impacts reality but not the way you think it does. Even all those sources antis link to about the supposed correlation between the two are twisted to meet their own rhetoric. It’s called marketing and anyone with half a brain cell knows that it exists. It’s meant to encourage us into thinking we need some product so we spend money on junk and keep capitalism going strong. it works more often than not. However no amount of marketing is going to convince a mentally sound person that shooting up a mall is a valid life choice to make. It just doesn’t work like that and you could scream until your blue in the face that fucking kids is the bees knees and I still wouldn’t touch a real child because that’s gross. Period. And since I can’t touch Bakugou Katsuki or Narancia because they’re just figments of someone’s imagination and pen and paper ... then where lies the problem?? What is the issue with writing or drawing fictional characters, regardless of age or moral compass, in sexual situations?

I’m a CSA survivor that has been on the internet for a LONG time. I’ve seen some shit I sorely wish I could forget. Everything from real life gore, real life death, bestiality, necrophilia and yes even real life child porn. I don’t think there’s a single problematic thing I haven’t accidentally stumbled on and it’s horrific. It’s disgusting. I know all too well how awful these things are and I know even better how it feels to be a victim of rape and sexual assault and pedophilia and grooming. Like. That was my life growing up. I know what these things look like and I can assure you without a shadow of a doubt that whatever is going on in fandom space isn’t even comparable. Please. Draw your OC fucking a dragon mascot character instead of fucking a real animal. Please write about a fictional father fucking his fictional son instead of fucking a real child or a real sibling. Do whatever you want with your imagination - and I do mean WHATEVER. If you want to think about eating your favorite characters shit then by all means. Enjoy. It doesn’t effect reality in any way besides maybe giving someone a cathartic coping outlet and there’s nothing wrong with it.

There’s nothing wrong with ANY topic being explored in fiction.

The only problem is when someone commits a crime in reality. When someone hurts another living being. And consuming this so called problematic fiction does not lead someone to real life crimes. Period.

Finding myself on that stupid gore site when I was 14, BestGore I think it’s called? Did not make me want to try killing someone. I’ve never even seriously contemplated doing it because death is awful in every regard, I wouldn’t seriously wish that on anyone let alone convince myself that it’s okay. But according to antis me being exposed to that sort of content means I’m more likely to go out and commit murder?

Literally what crack are you smoking?

Get the fuck out of here and do something worthwhile with your time if you honestly find these topics so disturbing. If not then shut up, sit down and let people enjoy their fandom experience however they see fit. Because this right here? This treating fictional characters like they matter, like they’re real people? It’s not fucking cute. And as someone who was raped from the time I was eleven until I was eighteen by a family member I can safely say that you aren’t doing shit to help anyone with this holier than thou, I know better than you crusade.

And that is the goddamn truth whether you like it or not.

[atamascolily]

more Crystal Star quotes from Vonda N. McIntyre

The third [ship] was Alderaan, Leia’s pride and joy. Alderaan was a sleek little ship with hyperdrive capabilities. Luke had chided her for spending the time to learn to fly it that she could have used to study the ways of the Jedi. But the truth was, it was much easier and faster to learn to fly Alderaan than to learn to be a Jedi Knight. And a great deal more fun. Maybe that was why she loved the little starcraft so much. Her responsibility to the Republic kept her from having much fun.

The same was true of everyone she knew. Luke worked himself to exhaustion. Leia thought that he deliberately worked himself beyond exhaustion, either to test himself or to take himself to another level of achievement. But he scared her, sometimes. She wished they had grown up together; she wished she had known her brother as a child, so she could understand him better.

Han did not deliberately push himself beyond his endurance. He had passed plenty of tests in his life; he never needed to give himself more. But he did press himself to his limits without meaning to. Often Leia would come home after a diplomatic reception or a long meeting with her advisers to find Han facedown at his desk, snoring. Once he fell asleep in his bath. Leia was convinced that if she had come in five minutes later, he would have drowned.

That was why he and Luke had gone on a quest together. They were both burning out. They needed time off.

She doubted Luke would find any other Jedi Knights on his quest, but she hoped he would find some rest. And she hoped Han would let loose, like in the old days.

Errr... exactly like the old days? I don’t think you want that, Leia. But I love Leia having her own ship, though I don’t buy Luke chiding Leia for it. I mean, he’s a fighter pilot, he understands or ought to.

Leia laid one hand on the silver flank of her ship. No distinguishing mark marred its limpid finish, which looked like puddled mercury. It was registered to a person who did not exist, a second identity Leia had established so that someday, sometime, somehow, she would be able to take a few days off and fly away to a pleasant place without being recognized. Its ship’s signature did not even list its name, only its number, because the name of Alderaan gave too great a clue to the true identity of the ship’s owner. Almost all the citizens of Alderaan had perished in the attack of the Death Star. Only a few had survived. Princess Leia Organa had been one of them.

I woulda called it something else, but okay...

She opened her hand. In her wide palm lay a deck of cards. A design of complex knots decorated the back. The enhanced human moved her hand, and the deck flipped over. Chance & Hazard, illuminated with gold and emerald paint, topped the stack.

I love sabacc, even if no one in the EU evr figured out consistent rules.

The letter of resources was a worthless piece of trash in Han’s pocket. His immediate impulse was to rip it to shreds and throw it into the nearest crater. But that would be stupid as well as impossible. It was printed not on paper, but on a practically indestructible sheet of archival plastic. The edges would cut his skin before they would tear.

SOLID. Cash flow is a major problem in Han’s subplot, #respect.

Ghostlings had always mesmerized him. They looked like humans, but were not. Their ethereal beauty tantalized humans and they in their turn were fascinated by human beings. They were as seductive as incubi and succubi, but as fragile as spiderwebs. For a human and a ghostling to enter into a physical relationship meant certain death for a ghostling. But there’s no harm in looking, Han said to himself.

Cool world-building detail to borrow.

Han displayed the rainbow edges of a few bills of New Republic currency. He was glad, for old times’ sake, for the sake of his smuggling days, that the Senate had failed to pass a law abandoning physical currency. Smuggling would have been a whole lot harder without hard-to-trace cash money. Of course, that was why the Senate wanted to abandon it.

LOL.

“Just thinking about the Jedi Academy. I hate to leave my students, even for a few days.....”

...because they’ll set everything on fire, right, Luke? Right?

But if I do find other trained Jedi, it’ll make a big difference. To the Academy. To the New Republic …” “I think we’re getting along pretty well already,” Han said, irked. He had spent years maintaining the peace with ordinary people. In his opinion, Jedi Knights could cause more trouble than they were worth. “And what if these are all using the dark side?”

Luke: Yeah, Jedi are awesome!

Han: *recalls being personally tortured by Vader, plus all the drama involving various Force-sensitives over the years* Whatever you say, kid. 

But she and Jacen had lots of hold-fathers and hold-mothers. Anakin had lots of hold-fathers and hold-mothers.

YEAH extended families. But I prefer “Uncle” and “Aunt” myself.

"[Winter's] services are no longer necessary,” Hold-father Hethrir said. “Children, children! You are important! Your abilities are precious! You cannot be raised, you cannot be taught, by a servant.” “She isn’t! She’s our friend!” “She has her own life to live, she cannot raise you properly with no one to pay for you.” “We wouldn’t eat much,” Jacen said hopefully.

LOL. Though FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PEOPLE, WINTER IS NOT A SERVANT.  Also, she is a badass.

Tigris tried to take Anakin from Jaina. She stepped back. Jacen jumped in front of her to help protect their little brother. Together, they created the barrier Uncle Luke had taught them to make. No one would be able to get through it. They would not let Tigris take Anakin! The barrier shimmered around Jaina. And then it fell apart like a sand castle in the tide.

It’s never explained how the villain can do this, but yay for family solidarity and Uncle Luke’s teachings even if it doesn’t work. 

She thought of a soft camp mattress under her, just dried out, nice and warm. And her smart camping blanket. It knew when she was cold and it knew to warm up. It knew to snuggle down around her to keep out the wind. It liked to get wet sometimes—it liked to swim. Then it lay flat on the ground, because it did not have any feet. And it wriggled and shook until its fur was dry and warm and Jaina could wrap it around her shoulders and go to sleep. When she was little she even liked to sleep with it at home.

Awww.....

The blade of Lord Hethrir’s lightsaber could only be activated by the use of the Force. Hethrir would not accept anyone into his inner circles who could not complete the circuit and generate the blade.

This is.... not as useful as you think it is, Hethrir.

“Why, I can virtually feel my intelligence circuits exploding beneath the assault.” “Your intelligence sounds normal to me,” Luke said.

SASSMASTER.

Hethrir had built his private receiving chamber from the finest wood of all the old Empire. Body-wood, they called it. It resembled the flesh of the people who had inhabited the forest, before the Emperor claimed the world. To his most favored officers he had dispensed the right to exploit certain resources. Hethrir’s reward had been the license to export body-wood. Lord Hethrir had begun his fortune from the license. But he used the wood profligately for himself as well. The walls and floor and ceiling of the chamber glowed with it.

The surface of the polished body-wood was the palest pink. Scarlet streaks shot through it, gleaming with light, like cut and polished precious stones. Tigris always thought the wood looked alive, and indeed it was said that the body-wood trees sustained a certain intelligence. It was said that they cried, when Hethrir cut them down. Tigris almost believed that they cried. He knew their wood bled. He had the task, the honor, of cleaning up the scarlet rivulets before they pooled on the floor and stained it.

CREEPY.

She imagined the molecules of air all around her. She imagined one molecule. She imagined it moving, faster and faster. She felt the molecule respond.

Hethrir’s power did not react. She knew it was around her, she could feel its attention off in the distance. But it did not notice the tiny motion she created. She added another molecule, another, doubling and redoubling the number she affected. Soon a small handful of air vibrated with her energy. Its warmth took the chill from her cell.

The swirl of air glowed red, then yellow, spreading light into the corners of Jaina’s cell.

Size matters not, y’all. 

"Of course thou didst comprehend the connection between the ego-flux and the universal backlight, but I wonder if thou didst make the conceptual leap to the synergy of intellectual realization and quantum crystallization?”

“I am embarrassed to admit that I had not,” Xaverri said, “though now that thou hast shown me the path, I can see that the interaction is completely inevitable.”

WARU, you complete bullshitter.

Jaina knew Jacen had asked the myrmins to climb up the stage. One of the Proctors leaped to his feet with a shout. He thought he just had sand in his pants. Then the sand bit him. The other Proctors started jumping up and yelling and scratching. And stamping, stamping on the myrmins. “Oh!” Jaina whispered. “Oh—poor myrmins, thank you, myrmins.” Some of them were running away now, disappearing into cracks and hiding. But some of them were being killed.

“We’re sorry, myrmins,” she said, sincerely, the way Chewbacca spoke to insects he sometimes killed, even if he never meant to, when he harvested forest honey. She risked another glance across the hall at Jacen. Stricken, he started to cry. He cried when Chewbacca apologized to the forest insects, too. But this time it was his fault that the myrmins were being hurt. Suddenly the myrmins all disappeared. Jaina felt the flare of Jacen’s abilities, whisking the little creatures out of danger.

Aww...

Maybe I could tame her,” Jacen said. “And we could ride her away!” Jaina had no idea how Jacen knew it was a Mistress Dragon and not a Mister Dragon. But he was always right about this sort of stuff....

No, wait!” Jaina snatched it back. “Don’t throw it.” She opened up the lens and caught the light and flashed it on the ground in front of the dragon. “Isn’t she pretty?” Jacen said. When the dragon opened her eyes, she saw the concentrated point of light from Jaina’s lens. She snorted and lowered her head. Jaina gave the multitool to Jacen. He was better with critters than she was. He wiggled the light near the dragon’s front paws. The dragon put her paw on the place where the light was. Then she had to put her other paw on top of her first paw, and still the light was not covered. She pulled her first paw out from under her second paw and lost her balance. She rolled completely over, snortling and wriggling. Then she jumped up and looked around for the light. Jacen moved it around for her to chase. She jumped forward after it, shaking the ground when she landed, raising great sprays of sand. Jaina laughed with delight. By now all the other children had gathered behind Jaina and Jacen to watch the dragon play. Jacen danced the light before the dragon, who gallumphed after it, pouncing to try to catch it. Jacen skipped the light up the cliffside that projected beyond the fence. The dragon scratched the rock with her front feet, ripping loose bits of stone. She roared joyously. She lashed her tail.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Solo twins.

Anakin plopped himself down on the seat beside Tigris. “Bad mans, Tigis,” he said solemnly.

Baby Anakin is always right about this stuff.

[sapphicscholar]

Prompt 1: Could you write a fic where Alex and Kara are de-aged into teenagers physically, not mentally, so they just have to deal with still having adult brains while being too young to drive anymore, or drink (poor Alex :P), and general teenage awkwardness?

Prompt 2: I really loved the de-aging fic that you wrote a while back. Could I request another fic with de-aged Alex, except this time Winn has to babysit her (because I think that would be really hilarious)?

A/N: I don’t know if you’re the same anon or if you two strangers happened to catch the same idea in the same hour (if so, that’s neat! Maybe y’all should try to find each other cause you’re weirdly on the same page), but in any case, I combined these two into de-aged Danvers sisters – they’ve got their adult memories and such, but have the brains and hormones of their new young selves (aka teenage brains, which aren’t fully developed, so things literally feel and seem different) For another de-aging fic, feel free to check out Chapter 14 of Stronger Together!

Chapter Text:

“Agent Schott!” came J’onn’s booming voice.

“Yes?” he squeaked in response, quickly minimizing the game of Minecraft he’d so definitely not been playing on a government computer.

“I need your help.”

“Oh, yes, sir! What can I do? Need me to hack the unhackable? Slip on under some firewalls? Type my way into—”

“Just come with me,” J’onn sighed.

“Right, yes, on it.” Winn hurried to catch up with the brisk pace J’onn had set as he strode through the DEO’s long hallways. “What’s up?”

“Supergirl and alpha team went out on a routine containment mission, but while team members were bringing in the alien, Supergirl and Agent Danvers came into contact with some of the technology that had been left behind in the alien’s lair.”

“Did they switch bodies again?” Winn sounded positively delighted by the prospect.

“No, Agent Schott. They are…well, they’re younger.”

“Are we talking baby young or like just shaving a couple of years off younger?”

“The medics seem to think they’re 13 and 15, give or take about a year.”

Before Winn could ask any more questions, they arrived at the med bay, where he was confronted with the sight of two teenage girls sitting side-by-side on one of the examination tables wearing slightly baggy clothing that had surely been scrounged up from the XXS bins of DEO uniforms. Alex had a phone out and headphones jammed into her ears, while Kara was sitting with her hands folded in her lap, leaning slightly into Alex’s space.

“Wow,” Winn whispered, startling slightly when Kara’s gaze immediately jumped to him. “Oh, uh, hey, Kara,” Winn waved. “My name is Winn Schott.”

“I know,” Kara responded simply, her voice quieter than it usually was.

“Oh.” He turned to look at J’onn.

“They seem to still have all of their memories,” J’onn explained. “I need you to watch them.”

“What? You think he’s gonna do a better job?” Alex scoffed. “Let me guess, you found him playing video games.”

“It’s city-building,” Winn huffed, biting his tongue when he realized that he was about to argue semantics with a kid.

“We’ll be fine on our own.”

“As adults, yes. Not in your current state, Alex,” J’onn told her, ignoring the eye roll he received in response.

“This is bullshit.”

“Language!” J’onn and Winn both called in response.

“Whatever,” Alex scoffed, stuffing her headphones back in her ears.

“Alex. Alex! Can you take those out?” J’onn asked, finding himself growing increasingly exasperated with the surly teenager who had replaced his capable second-in-command.

“What?”

“I’m going to need you to go with Winn here. He’ll watch you until we have an antidote ready.”

Alex looked ready to argue, but then the corners of her mouth twitched upward for a moment. “Alright.”

“What…what does that mean?” Winn hissed. “J’onn!”

“You’re perfectly capable, Winn.” He didn’t add that James and Maggie both happened to be out of town; surely Winn would be just fine for a day or two. He liked kids, could relate to them. J’onn convinced himself that young teenagers would work just as well.

“You’re the Papa Bear here! You should probably, you know, be the one to play papa.” Seeing the resolved look on J’onn’s face, Winn conceded, “Fine.”

“Perfect. You can take them back to your apartment—less to get into there than here at the DEO.” With a clap to Winn’s shoulder, J’onn strode out, yelling over his shoulder that he’d send some supplies to them that night if it looked like it wouldn’t be an easy fix.

Winn nodded grimly. “Alright!” he announced, his voice strained with fake enthusiasm at the prospect of trying to watch over an Alex that lacked the self-control of the already somewhat angry agent. “You two ready to come hang out at my place?”

Alex stood up, and Kara followed in her wake, standing slightly behind her and looking cautiously around. As much as she remembered liking Winn, she didn’t yet feel the same friendship she remembered, couldn’t drown out the loud footfalls all around her, the loud whirring and beeping of medical equipment, the sound of people’s hearts beating, their feet tapping, fingers drumming.

“Do you need to get anything? If not, my car’s just down in the garage.”

“I’ll take my bike,” Alex said, skirting past Winn.

“Oh, no you won’t.” Winn quickly side-stepped his way in front of Alex. “You’re not 16 yet! And wait, no, you have to be 18 to drive a motorcycle, so you’re definitely not able to do that.”

“I have the memories of a 30-year-old.” Alex crossed her arms across her chest and glared up at Winn, who didn’t budge.

“And would you suggest I let your little sister go off and fight aliens just because she remembers doing it?” Winn countered.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“One is dangerous.”

“Do you even know how many people die in motorcycle accidents each year?” Winn couldn’t even care that he sounds like every sitcom mom in that moment.

“That’s because they’re not doing it right.”

“Maybe we should just go in the car,” Kara whispered to Alex. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Ugh, you’re such a goody two-shoes.” Alex stormed ahead, her phone out and in her hands. She didn’t really have anything to do on it, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone else.

“Alex,” Kara pleaded, trying to get her sister to look at her again. She raced to catch up to her, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. “C’mon, Alex, talk to me.” But Alex just shrugged her shoulder, pushing away Kara’s hand and steadfastly ignoring her.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Winn assured Kara, who hung back, staying a few feet away from Alex. “It’s just, you know, a lot to deal with all at once.”

“I’m going through the same thing, though.” Kara’s voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it, and Winn fought the urge to hug her, figuring that was probably only good to do with grown-up Kara.

“I know. But hopefully we’ll have you two back to your normal selves in no time! And while we wait, you can totally come have fun at my apartment. I’ve got video games and lots of movies.”

“Can you get us pizza and potstickers for dinner?”

“So that part of your personality was pretty constant throughout your life, huh?” Winn teased. “And yes, we can get them.”

Kara beamed up at him and looked significantly happier than she had just a few minutes ago, though Winn wasn’t dumb enough to comment on the mood swing there.

By the time they got back to Winn’s apartment, his nerves were already feeling slightly frayed from a less than relaxing car ride. Between Kara’s squealed warnings when she heard a horn or screeching breaks—often miles away from where they were—and Alex’s snorts of condescending laughter each time Winn tried to stick out the “mom arm” when he had to break hard to convince Kara that they were safe and he was listening to her warnings, Winn was ready for a nap.

“I’m hungry,” Kara stated bluntly, plopping down into the same chair adult Kara always claimed when she hung out at his place too.

“Well, lucky for you, I always keep Kara-sized amounts of snacks around—just in case.” He ignored Alex murmuring something about his lingering crush showing and rustled through his cabinets until he found the jumbo tub of frosted animal crackers. “Can I get you anything, Alex?”

“Pass.”

“Oh-kay.” Eventually he cleared his throat. “Um, did you two want to…do anything? I have games or television? We should probably order dinner soon—it’s getting late.”

“I want Thai,” Alex offered, breaking her general silence.

“I still want pizza and potstickers!”

“I—well, I guess we can get both,” Winn shrugged, picking up his phone to call not one, not two, but three different restaurants for delivery. At least they were somewhat familiar with getting large orders from him for the nights Kara and the rest of the superfriends came over.

---

After dinner, J’onn popped in with a bag of clothing, as well as toothbrushes and phone chargers for the Danvers sisters.

“How’s it looking?” Winn asked, his tone pointed, anxiety radiating off of him like waves.

“We’re working, but it’s…slower going than we’d have liked.”

“I could probably fix it within the hour,” Alex pointed out, barely looking up from her phone.

“Mm, yes, and think about the headlines now – covert government organization exploiting child labor.”

“Whatever.”

“Hi, J’onn,” Kara waved. “Do you have any of those noise-dampening headphones?”

“I can look. Are you alright? Were your powers affected?”

Kara shook her head. “I don’t think so…it’s just, sometimes when there are big changes, like, oh, I don’t know, getting much smaller and younger, it’s harder to control my powers.”

While J’onn talked to Winn about ways they might be able to minimize the stress, Alex turned to Kara, her phone suddenly forgotten. “Hey, can I help?”

“No, it’s just…really loud. And when I can’t focus there, it’s harder to control everything else.”

“Well, why don’t you try just focusing on my voice or my heartbeat like you did when you were still getting used to it here, huh?”

“Yeah…yeah, okay,” Kara agreed, settling her head against Alex’s chest and closing her eyes as she focused in on the steady beating of Alex’s heart, willing herself to drown out the rest of the world.

When J’onn left and Winn caught sight of the two of them curled up, he was tempted to tiptoe away, leaving them be, but Alex’s voice startled him back to the present. “I can feel you hovering.”

“Ah, yes…did you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure,” Alex shrugged. “But I get to pick.”

“I guess that’s alright…”

She ended up choosing Jennifer’s Body, much to Kara’s chagrin, and within the first half hour, Kara has singed burning holes into his coffee table and plant after getting spooked and accidentally sending bursts of heat vision through his furniture.

“Perhaps we should find a new movie,” Winn suggested, only to have his concerns rebuffed. When Jennifer began stripping, though, Winn called it quits and paused the movie. “That’s enough. This isn’t appropriate for you.”

“I’ve seen literally everything that could be shown here,” Alex countered.

“But this isn’t an appropriate context.”

“I’ve had sex, Winn. Lots of it. I remember it all,” Alex argued with him.

“Not at your current age!”

“You don’t know that,” Alex shot back, crossing her arms defiantly. She was so sick of hearing that she couldn’t do this or that, all because she happened to be in a smaller body.

Winn stammered until Kara cut in, giggling softly: “She’d only ever kissed a boy at 15.”

“Shut up!” Alex yelled, her face flaming bright red as tears prickled at her eyes. She hated that she couldn’t simply tamp down on her emotions the way she normally did, hated how everything felt so much closer to the surface, like one small crack in the façade was all it would take to bring her control crumbling down around her. Grabbing her phone, Alex stormed off into the guest bedroom where Winn told them they could sleep and slammed the door behind her.

She sniffled, refusing to let the tears fall. She just wanted Maggie, wanted her life back. Figuring it was late enough that Maggie might be done with her training, she sent her a text: “Shitty day. Wish you were here.”

A few minutes later her phone chimed back with a response: “Miss you too babe. Just one more day.”

Realizing that Maggie didn’t know, might be the one person who would treat her normally, Alex happily fell into a routine, texting back and forth about Maggie’s training and her own day, only mentioning that the containment mission had gone poorly and that Winn was being particularly frustrating without going into the specifics.

About an hour later, there was a soft knock on the door. “What?” Alex yelled.

“Can I come in?” Winn’s tone was even, though she suspected that no wouldn’t be an acceptable answer.

“Fine,” Alex huffed, standing up and unlocking the door.

“Hey,” Winn greeted her, sitting down on the chair in the room, leaving the bed to Alex. “I know this is tough, but we’ve gotta be really careful until we have you back to your normal self, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Alex,” Winn sighed, rubbing at his forehead. He was good with real kids, the ones who didn’t have 30 years’ worth of memories shoved into their heads, coexisting uneasily with the emotional volatility of an adolescent. His attention snapped into focus at the sound of her phone’s text alert. “Who are you texting?”

“None of your business. It’s my own damn phone.”

Winn grabbed the phone from her, grateful that she was still small enough that hopefully her threats about all that she could do with her index finger were empty. “You can’t text Maggie! She doesn’t know! It’s—it’s unethical!”

“She’s my girlfriend!”

“She’s 30-year-old Alex’s girlfriend!”

“It’s not like we’re sexting!”

“Did you tell her you’re 15 now?” Winn demanded.

Alex just glared at him.

“So you didn’t,” he concluded.

“What? Is it really so bad that one person might treat me like a normal fucking person?”

“Just…you can’t be talking to Maggie like that now. I’m keeping your phone.”

“What the hell! J’onn didn’t give you permission to cut off my ability to communicate with him.”

“If it’s an emergency, you can use my phone.”

“Get out of my room!” Alex ordered, and Winn finally gave in, taking Alex’s phone with him.

An hour or two later—Alex couldn’t quite be sure without her phone, she heard Winn wishing Kara a good night and showing her where towels and toothbrushes were to get ready for bed.

“Do you want to take my bed? I can take the couch,” he offered.

“No, Alex will be fine.”

Winn sounded unconvinced, but he figured Kara had memories of teenage Alex, so he’d let her serve as the subject expert there.

After a bit, Alex heard the door creak open, and she pretended to be asleep, unwilling to deal with whatever heart-to-heart conversation Kara thought they might have had together. The mattress dipped slightly when she crawled in, and she felt the weight of Kara’s gaze as she peered over at her big sister before finally dropping her head down to the pillows.

Once enough time had passed that Kara appeared sound asleep (and Alex figured Winn would surely be passed out, exhausted from his afternoon of parenting), Alex crept out into the living room, poking around for her phone until she found it in the menu drawer. Rookie mistake, she thought.

She sent a text to Maggie, only to have it ignored. She wondered if Winn had called her, told her not to speak to Alex. Increasingly frustrated, she pulled open cabinet doors until she spied a bottle of whiskey she’d left at Winn’s place after their first game night there when she found out he only stocked beer and some old bottle of gin that tasted more like nail polish remover than something she would voluntarily ingest.

She turned the TV on, keeping the volume low, and settled in with a glass of whiskey to watch something without having it censored mid-viewing.

An episode and a half of some vaguely remembered legal procedural and another glass or two of whiskey later, Kara wandered into the living room. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I mean, why aren’t you in bed?” Kara asked. “And why are you drinking. It’s bad for you.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Alex retorted, ignoring the fact that her words slurred together against her best efforts.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Can you just stop—stop trying to be so damn good for one second. This sucks. It’s shitty. Can you not admit that?”

“I…yeah, it does,” Kara finally conceded. “I miss having control over my powers that doesn’t feel like hard work all the time. I miss, ya know, not accidentally shooting lasers from my eyes,” she chuckled softly, eyeing the coffee table that had, at the very least, stopped smoking.

“What if we did something to feel better?”

“Like what?”

“What if we went flying?”

“I don’t know, Alex…that sounds like the kind of thing we definitely got in trouble for when we were this age.”

“What are they gonna do? Take dad away again? Drag us into the DEO? Guess what, both of those things have already happened.”

“Um, yeah, okay…I guess.”

“It’ll be fun. You can let loose, not have to worry.”

Alex was always convincing, and Kara found herself nodding, even though her stomach still twisted with nerves. But when Alex carefully pried the window open and the cool night breeze hit her, Kara relaxed slightly. “C’mon,” she whispered, motioning for Alex to clamber up around her the way she had when they were younger and had to fit through small bedroom windows.

With a few less-than-coordinated movements, they managed to get outside, and Kara shot up in the air gleefully only to find Alex yelling at her to stop.

“What? This was your idea, Alex.”

“The world is spinning. Everything is spinning,” Alex whimpered, closing her eyes tight and trying to take deep breaths to soothe her churning stomach.

“I told you that you drank too much,” Kara scolded, carefully lowering them back down with as little back-and-forth movement as she could manage.

“I’ve never gotten that drunk from just a few fingers of whiskey,” Alex whined, letting herself sink down to the ground and pressing the back of her head against the cool wall, willing the room to stop moving around her.

“I bet you would have back when you were 15,” Kara countered.

“Who’s here?” Winn yelled, stumbling out of his bedroom in Supergirl pajama pants and a Superman t-shirt—as if to prove how unbiased he was—and looking completely unthreatening. He flicked on the lights, spotting Alex sitting on the ground and Kara hovering beside her, the window still open and a bottle of whiskey out on the counter. “What the hell, guys?” he whined, feeling the weight of responsibility falling heavily back on his shoulders. “It’s nighttime, time for sleeping. Could you not let me have just this one thing to myself?”

“Alex is drunk,” Kara informed him. “Like, really drunk.”

“Please don’t throw up on my floor.”

“I won’t,” Alex gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Here just”—Winn took a deep breath, trying to wake up fully—“Kara, you go close the window. Alex, you stay there or move to sit on the couch.” He walked into the kitchen and filled a tall glass with water, then pulled down a bag of pretzels, pouring a few handfuls into a bowl. “Sip slowly, and eat carbs—it should help you from being too hungover tomorrow.”

Alex nodded, gratefully accepting the food and water from him. Once she finished the glass of water and had eaten enough of the pretzels to feel her stomach settling slightly, she offered to go to the guest room and let Winn get back to sleep.

“Not a chance. Another glass of water.” Kara grabbed the glass and quickly refilled it for her. “I’ll sit up with you until you’ve sobered up a little more. Don’t need you laying down and getting the spins.”

“They’re the worst,” Alex agreed.

“Yeah…yeah, they are.” After a few more minutes of silence, Winn spoke up again. “Remember that night Mon-El, uh, went missing from the DEO for a bit?”

“You mean when you too him out drinking?” Kara corrected, remembering just how dead to the world Winn had been the next morning.

“Yeah, alright, fine. Well, he’s pretty much immune to Earth alcohol, like Kara, though we didn’t know it yet. So I was matching him drink for drink, and suddenly the whole world was spinning. He thought it would be the nice thing to do if he carried me home…”

“Oh god,” Alex groaned. “Did he do the leaping bounces the whole way?”

“He did. God, I feel sick just thinking about it,” he mused, pulling laughs from Kara and Alex as well. “I sat up the whole night just drinking water after I let my head drop for just a second and felt I was on a tilt-a-whirl ride. Point being: I’ll sit up with you as long as it takes, Alex.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “You don’t—I know we’ve not really been the easiest on you.”

“You haven’t,” he admitted. “But I imagine it’s frustrating—knowing everything but not really being able to do anything about it.”

“I wasn’t one of those kids who thought high school was the best time of my life. In fact, I decidedly did not want to go back to those years.”

“You were popular before I showed up,” Kara volunteered.

“But if the people I hung out with were such jackasses to you, I think that’s proof enough that they’re not the people I’d want to go back and spend even more time with now.” Kara smiled up at her and dropped her head to Alex’s shoulder.

“Now it’s just like prom,” Kara murmured. “You—drunk and dizzy. Me—hanging out alone.”

“You weren’t old enough for prom. Don’t make it sound like you were Carrie or something,” Alex snorted.

“Wait, I think I need to know about drunk Alex Danvers at prom,” Winn cackled.

“Someone spiked the punch, then we had an afterparty on the beach. Lots of really cheap beer. But my date got—well, I didn’t want to, you know, so I stumbled home. We lived close by.” Alex paused for a moment in tipsy contemplation. “A lot of things make so much more sense now.”

“Like why you shouldn’t drink cheap beer?”

“Like why I wanted to ditch my date and spend all night with Vicky.”

Winn and Kara laughed at that, nodding in understanding. They chatted for a while longer, finally heading back to bed around the time the sun began to rise.

---

Over breakfast, J’onn called, informing Winn that they hoped to have an antidote to test by that evening. Yesterday Winn would have been horrified by the idea of having to babysit for another full day. But after last night, he felt like they had reached an uneasy truce. And since J’onn had given him the day off, he found he had more than a few ideas.

“Well…you know how there are some things that kind of require a kid…or are less awkward if you bring a kid?”

“What movie do you want to see?” Kara asked, knowing Winn well enough to know what he was thinking before he even voiced it.

“There was that new Cars movie,” Winn suggested. Kara looked pleased by the idea, though Alex remained unconvinced. “And then I thought maybe we could head down to the gocart track…not quite the same thing as a motorcycle, but you’re just the right size for those carts.”

“I’m in,” Alex quickly accepted the offer, figuring enjoying a day or two without the weight of adult responsibilities might not actually be the worst thing in the world. And the greasy egg and bacon sandwich Winn made her for breakfast, paired with a side of advil, had already done wonders for the wicked hangover she’d managed to incur during her overnight adventures.

---

Maggie got back to National City and rushed over to the DEO just in time to see teenage Alex for a few minutes before she went in for the antidote. Even with just a hug from Maggie, Alex had managed to flush a deep shade of red, stammer over her words, and stumble over her own feet on her way in between her girlfriend and the med bay. Luckily when she came out a few minutes later looking much more like her adult self, she had sense and composure enough to loudly threaten anyone who had seen her awkward teenage self within an inch of their lives if they ever brought it up or told any of the new recruits a word about it.

“Very convincing after the whole lovestruck teenager look,” Maggie teased.

“Oh shut up.”

“C’mon, Danvers, let’s get you home. I hear you’ve got quite the hangover to sleep off.”

“Winn!” Alex roared over her shoulder. The sound of his laughter echoed all the way down the DEO hallways.

[spraggamuffin]

Michelle Obama has never been one to mince words. She’s the girlfriend in our head and an example of a woman we all wish—and need—in our lives. She speaks for many women in this county, but she’s not afraid to call the men out, as well. Now that she is no longer FLOTUS, she and the former POTUS have been using their time wisely by flexing their philanthropic muscles, including expanding their initiatives under the Obama Foundation. The foundation aims to inspire the next generation of leaders to change the world, and their Inaugural Summit kicked off earlier this week. While speaking with poet Elizabeth Alexander on the value of having female friends during the summit, she mentioned that her girl tribe helped her keep her “sanity” during her stint as First Lady. “Women, we do it better than men,” she said. “I’m, you know, sad for you guys. Y’all should get you some friends. Get you some friends and talk to each other, ‘cause that’s the other thing we do; we straighten each other out on some things, our girlfriends . . .” In our society, men are taught to keep their emotions in check. Men don’t seem to gather around like we women do to talk about feelings and other “mushy stuff.” This surface level of communication might be having a bigger impact on society as a whole than we might initially recognize. If these guys out here spent time more “straightening each other out” than talking about the game on tv, maybe then we see more real men and less “savages”. Without saying so directly, Michelle Obama made a point about the way we raise our boys differently than our girls and the long-term effect it is having on these boys turned powerful, and potentially exploitative, men. “The problem in the world today is that we love our boys and we raise our girls. We raise them strong and sometimes we take care not to hurt men. And I think we pay for that a little bit and that’s a we thing because we are raising them, and it’s powerful to have strong men but what does that strength mean? Does it mean respect? Does it mean responsibility? Does it mean compassion? Or are we protecting our men too much, so they feel a little entitled? And a little, you know, a little self-righteous sometimes, but that’s kind of on us, too as women and mothers as we nurture men and push girls to be perfect.” So many of us can relate to the pitfalls of the expectation to be perfect. We act certain ways, wear certain clothes, and we tweak the things on our body that we think aren’t perfect enough. I am willing to bet that there are as many of us that strive perfect that have also dated or have encountered “self-righteous” and “entitled” men. I’ve always said, if you want to know what’s wrong with a man, look at his father. Look at his mother. Look at the women he has chosen to date and the friends he surrounds himself with. Are the people in his life coddling him or are they pushing him every day to be better? This isn’t the first time Michelle Obama has spoken out for the betterment of men. During last June’s United State of Women Summit, the former first lady had a discussion with Oprah Winfrey where she told it like it was: “[Men] be better. Be better at everything. Be better fathers. Good, Lord. Just being good fathers who love your daughters and are providing a solid example of what it means to be a good man in the world, showing them what it feels like to be loved. That is the greatest gift that the men in my life gave to me and we’ve talked about this. The fact that I’ve never experienced abuse at the hands of any man in my life, and that’s sad to say that that’s a rare reality. Men can be better at that.” When you know better, do better. In that order.