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everafterkeiji · 4 years ago

Text

Song: Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

Summary: Hanamaki finally seals your fate by proposing to you- with a crappy ring that is.

Pairings: Takahiro Hanamaki x fem! reader

Word count: 6.9k

Genre: absolute fluff and crack, curse words

A/N: not me screaming when i had this idea, I've never felt more single in my life- brb bawling my eyes out- also let's pretend their in the same classes✋

Well, fate isn't something to be entirely trusted upon and neither should Hanamaki.

"Aw, shit."

He cusses when you bump into him, considering his incredibly tall figure, you were caught off guard on who you even crashed into. A small clink sound lands on the floor as you immediately face the boy who was looking at the ground, quite weirdly searching his pockets.

"Sorry- wait you're Hanamaki right?" You asked him, familiar with his hair color. You've seen him play countless of times due to the support of the school for each of their games yet you've never been this close with him. With his state, you immediately question what's got him so frantic.

He eyes the pen that was dead on the floor and he pouts before crouching down to reach it before he dusts off the dirt on it. He opens the cap of it before mindlessly writing on his hand and frowning even more when the ink didn't held its usual consistency- every stroke of a word had it loosing its pigment.

"Man, 'Kawas gonna kill me." He sighs before putting his hands and pen in his pocket as he looks at you surprised. How can he dismiss that he'd bump into you? He immediately bows in a way to apologize to you, completely forgetting that you were the one to hit him.

You knew he was pertaining to the well known setter but you were solely confused in what he was so worried about. Looking at the pen in his pocket, you saw how the ink was full but there were black spillage in the inside. You raise your eyebrow in confusion.

Did he just drop a new pen?

"I'm sorry I dropped your pen- I can let you borrow mine." You propose to him as he takes the pen in his hands admiring it like a wound in someone's arm. Seeing how you were scrambling in your bag to reach for your pencil case, his eyes sparkled at how it contained numerous pens, highlighters and mechanical pencils.

"Looking at the murder you caused, I'm simply asking for more than one pen then."

You tilt your head in curiosity but instead you opened your pencil case as he digs his hand in there picking three pens making you want to scoff at how he picked the gel pens that were your favorite. He looked at each one, writing on his palm if everything was working. He raises an eyebrow at you making you question if this was a fever dream because of how random it was- he acted like he was in a stationary section and it benefitted him that this particular section was free.

He then takes your hand causing you to internally yelp at his actions. Your eyes trail to what he was writing, you noticed it was his name instead. You look up at him as he smiled. Once he finishes writing, he extends his hand out while with the other hand held a pen ready for you to take.

"What's your name?" He asks processing on your features and asking himself why he's seen you dozens of times yet he's yet to get your name.

"Y/N." You say as he gestures for his hand as if telling you to write it. Somewhat following your instincts, you write your name on his hand. After it, he peeks the spelling of it and then casually shakes your hand as introduction.

"See you around, Y/N! You saved my ass with those pens so I guess I owe you one."

"Those are expensive."

"Now hold on there-"

That was how you met and the universe couldn't even joke about how they put you two together.

Now here you two are, invested in a stare off as Matsukawas sleepy eyes often switch his gaze between you and his best friend.

"Makki, it's in a week."

"I specifically remember it's the week after that."

"You two are hopeless." Issei comments making you laugh as Makki pouts at how you agreed with him. Nevertheless, Matsukawa leans his head on his arm ready to fall asleep at any moment. You return to arranging your notes while Makki twirls a pen in his hands while glancing at you once in a while.

Truth be told, it seems that fate still worked its way to the both of you. Ever since your-rather unique- encounter, a friendship was bound to happen. He surely made an impression on you and how could you miss to not be around him? Soon enough, you were also introduced to his teammates and you disliked how it strengthened your bond with him. There was comfort in his presence and to see him fool around with his teammates always radiated an amazing energy between you and him.

You also wanted to thank Oikawa for being somewhat the reason your conversation led to where you are now.

"What'd the pen do to make you this- scared?" You asked as he puts both hands behind his head, leaning on the seat.

"It's a scary pen when it belongs to Oikawa." You turn to him confused as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand, ears perking up at how interesting it was.

"You're telling me you don't own a single pen and you always borrow Oikawas?" He scoffs with a smile before looking at you.

"Of course I bring pens, it's just better if it was from him." You let out a loud laugh, finding it hard to believe this was the sole reason Oikawa would commit murder on him. Hanamaki smiles at the sound of your laugh before shaking his head, at awe at the situation.

It was a coincidence how Oikawa always found a way to strike a nerve to Hanamaki when you visit them in the gym. He knew that beyond his teammates calm composure was a boy who undoubtedly likes you. Ever since Hanamaki returned the pen to him, he knew it wasn't his and in his mind, he asked himself who could've lent him a pen, more so that he had three brand new ones.

So when he sees you tagging beside him, he's taken his first lead to figure the two of you out. After a few more observations, he's convinced that you two were just blind to the feelings that were lingering around.

He's told Iwaizumi about it but all he got was a lecture on how he should let Hanamaki take it easy with asking you out. Which he also argued since it was taking too long, making Iwaizumi land him a smack to the head.

He had his boundaries, maybe not for himself, but for his friends he was more than willing to wait for this relationship to come together.

"So- a date? That's cool right? I mean arcades and shit."

"Makki, you're a loser."

"Arcades are awesome shut up."

"Yeah, for sure. Like Y/N is interested in 'arcades and shit'." Mattsun chuckles as Hanamaki lets out another pout as he sinks in his bed.

"I mean- we've gone on hang outs, she likes them anyway!" He argues making Mattsun shake his head with an amused smirk on his lips.

"So you're telling me you've actually had dates with her then?" Issei asks as Hanamaki shrugs making the other boy groan at the lack of response. Hanamaki raises his head, pursing his lips at the actual thought.

You have actually gone on multiple dates with him. If you could even call it that. To Makki, he thought they were just subtle friendly things but he realizes how he's actually grown some fondness in each place.

"Y/N no I'm telling you- if I were the mastermind, we'd be successful." He argues before taking a sip from his drink. You rolled your eyes as you let your mind ran through the scenarios of having a heist with him and the boys.

You two just finished a heist movie and now you had to endure Makkis fantasies of how it would go down if the characters were him and the rest of the volleyball team. He was so invested in it that you actually had an entire plot and characterization for each teammate.

He argued that he'd be the best mastermind to ever conjure a plan for a heist. A stealthy ninja is what he says he mimics. You tried to argue that Iwaizumi would be good at it, since you noticed how responsible and at control he was but it had Hanamaki listing his reasons.

"No one would ever notice me! Because you know what- their attention would be on Oikawa! Then boom, get in the getaway car with a shit ton of money and thanks to who? Me of course." You let out a laugh making him stop his occupied thoughts to take a look at you. He adores the sound of it too much, especially since he was the usual cause of it. He sees the way you were wiping your eyes with the scenarios he'd told you.

Then your laughter slowly fades when you started to eat again as Makki admires you and how you've effortlessly got his mind to set more dates just to see you this happy.

You look up from your previous position, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Wait, where am I in the heist then?"

He looks at you, almost blurting out the initial idea he had for you in this specific role.

Honestly, I'd spend the money on you. Take you anywhere you wanted to go, Y/N.

That was what he wanted to say but his mouth translated it to a different saying.

"You could die-"

"Makki!" You shouted playfully, ruffling his hair. He laughs but unknowingly, his hand lands on top of yours when you sat back down.

"Excuse you, I can be a good distraction and assistance for action." You commented making him scoff.

"Yeah like you'd be able to hold a gun for a second."

"Please, I had Oikawa beg me to delete a photo of him."

"Okay maybe you are powerful."

You laughed once again, not even feeling how right it was for you to be holding hands like this. It felt comforting yet it brought your heart to speed up like it was in a marathon. You wondered if Makki felt the same, or was this another act of friendliness?

"I wouldn't want you to get hurt though." He whispers, making you smile and blush at the same time. As if it was another point on the score board for how many times he's had your heart go on a frenzy.

"Well, that's what the great mastermind is for right? To keep us safe and succeed?" You say, making him give a gentle squeeze to your hand, as you glanced down on them enjoying the way it looked.

As if I'm gonna let anyone lay a hand on you, Y/N. You're safe with me always.

After a few sly times where he'd hold your hand while you crossed the street or even tugging on your jacket when passing through a huge crowd so he doesn't lose you, he's realized he would absolutely drop the stars for you. He doesn't know whether he should feel terrified because of how he could put your friendship at risk but then he feels- almost relieved that the first person he could ever love is you.

It shouldn't even be difficult to ask you to hang out. You'd usually respond a second after he asks you, it's not even that big of a deal.

Now it's different.

He's finally gotten a clutch on his feelings and he thinks about his next moves. He often just let things happen, loving the way the moments just flowed naturally and perfect in some way but now he's choosing his words since he didn't plan on confessing in such a dorky way- especially when he just says it out loud without proper practice.

"Why don't you ask Oikawa for help then?" Issei suggests making the boy shake his head at the thought already.

"Do you know how much blackmail that idea comes with? He'll never live it down." Hanamaki says as he scrolled through his phone, almost frowning at the thought of humiliation coming from their captain.

"C'mon! He knows a lot of shit about flirting and dates! Maybe even help you in confessing, idiot."

He thinks about that deeply. Each member of the team would have completely diverse answers. As of the mean time, the only proper suggestions he'd get is from Iwaizumi, Oikawa and Mattsun. Though Mattsun has given him plenty of advices, he knew Oikawa was at the top for someone's idea of romance. The man has fangirls, he's obviously heard and experienced many hopeless romantic scenes in his life.

Iwaizumi would've actually been a lot of help knowing the guy is very good at maintaining control and responsibility. He'd give the proper date ideas, the mood to set. He looked like the perfect blueprint for Hanamaki to copy. He also believed that Iwaizumi would think nothing of these advices so it's a win-win if you ask him.

"Right, okay. I got this."

"Why me though?" Iwaizumi asks as Hanamaki spikes another ball.

"Look Iwa- I genuinely trust your judgment more. I just need help." Iwaizumi chuckles before collecting another ball.

"Fine fine. Just meet me after practice."

Hanamaki cheers when he hears him, even smiling now that he can figure out a way to show you how much he likes you.

Sure, he's doing it unintentionally sometimes. Tiny signs that should show you how he is absolutely in love with you. He'd show this in various ways as well. It comes as an instinct in some way. He'd hit you with a "let's have lunch" and you'd gladly accept. Mattsun has pointed out that Makki has already made a move on you countless of times but it had Makki questioning the depths of being friendly and going through courting you.

You haven't even made things official yet these so-called dates had your classmates wondering how your relationship started, even if it hasn't. Makki would always lean his head on your shoulder during lunch, to rest his brain from the lessons. For you, it's nothing. Makki has always been like this after you got comfortable with each other. This affectionate side of him even had Mattsun wonder why on Earth would he ask for help when he clearly doesn't need it.

The three of you are now seated in a lecture, boredom crossing your minds but Mattsun's mind was rattled by Hanamaki. After their conversation about asking help from Oikawa, he thought that Makki would actually go through the plan. Looking back on his motives with you, he just doesn't see a reason why he needs assistance from the setter. He can handle this all on his own, so scribbling down on a piece of paper, he throws it to Hanamaki who awakens by the action.

Hanamaki yawns as he opens the crumpled paper, his eyes widening and cheeks heating at the group of words.

'You can literally just confess to her now, even without shittykawa.'

He glares at Mattsun while the other boy shrugs with an expression that says "seriously, it's not that deep." He huffs before grabbing a pen and replying to his previous statement, then throwing it again.

'Try confessing to the girl you like during a lecture, Sherlock.'

Mattsun chuckles as Makki crosses his arms in front of his chest. His eyes land on you, who is fixated on the lecture. He smiles softly at the idea of a date with you, but this faint moment was ruined when Mattsun directly throws the ball of paper to Hanamakis face, earning a chuckle from some of his classmates.

He opens with eyebrows furrowed, annoyed at the shot.

'Not now dumbass, after classes. Just go up to her and say you like her, it's that easy dude.'

Hanamaki turns to him mocking his words while Mattsun rolls his eyes as Makki writes again. As he was about to throw the paper in Mattsuns direction, a student raised their hand hitting the paper and it suddenly landed on the floor beside you instead. The boys had their eyes widen as you saw the paper.

In a flash, Hanamaki picks up the piece of paper before you could grab a hold of it and you let out a gasp when he suddenly appeared in front of you. You blinked at him as he slowly walked away, wide eyed, to avoid conflict with the teacher.

You and Mattsun share a look together as you looked away, utterly speechless at what just happened. When you looked away, Mattsun hides his laughter by stuffing his face in his arm as Makkis cheeks never grew out of its red shade.

Meanwhile, Mattsun finally held a memory that he can never forget.

"It's not a big deal. You guys have been friends for so long. I don't think Y/N would mind." Iwaizumi comments making Hanamaki silent.

Can you really feel the same way?

A year of knowing you- should that be enough to fall in this deep? Is there even a requirement before someone can confess? Because in a span of time knowing you, there wasn't a moment where he regretted anything. He could thank the universe for one stupid pen, maybe even Oikawa. Everything that led to where you are now, he's never been more contented in his life.

During movies, your favorite spot was to lean your head on his shoulder. To just sling your arm around his waist on the way home, holding his hand while walking through crowds, it just fits. No matter where you were, what you were doing with him, it seemed like there wasn't an extra space in the puzzle pieces, it all connected.

But you two couldn't figure it out for yourselves.

"Well, does every confession need some sort of grand gesture?" He asks Iwaizumi. The ace bites his lips before kicking a rock on the path he was walking on.

"I don't really know. What does Y/N like anyway?"

"Hopefully me." Hanamaki jokes, but he deeply wanted it to be real. He figures if all of this asking for help was going to guarantee him something good, better yet, a yes from your lips. But first, he had to answer Iwaizumis question.

"She likes simple things- you know how she likes it when I like hold her stuff and all? She also likes those weird food thingys at one date-or hang out we had- you know that scent that reminds you of a romance movie-"

"Makki, you know her this well and you're nervous for nothing. I'm sure that she'll love whatever you do- you're friends for a reason." Iwaizumi says making Hanamaki sigh, hearing those words again.

"Exactly! That's the problem. Fuck- I can't even act like I don't like her. Am I being too obvious or friendly? I don't know where the line ends or starts. I shouldn't get nervous cause it's her- she doesn't care what I do- she's happy with whatever but I just want it to be.. perfect." He rants and ends it with a tired sigh. God, he was getting frustrated. At this point his feelings were overwhelming him, he just needed an outlet for it.

He can't just act like the sight of your smile doesn't make him smile as well, or even just seeing your sleepy state when you walk into class. If his heart didn't flutter whenever you were around, maybe by then you couldn't call it admiration but he just fell and there wasn't a way to stop him.

He didn't wanna stop either.

"Mattsun." You say as Mattsun lets out another laugh as you roll your eyes. It was after practice and since Takahiro couldn't walk you home because he told you he had to talk to Iwaizumi about something, Issei was the one to walk you home.

"This is gold." He states making you shove him a bit. He smiles when he sees you pout. This is where he decides. He could literally say how Hanamaki was asking him for advices like you are right now, but a side of him just wants to see what Makki could do. It was all too funny for him, even if hated how oblivious you two were.

If Hanamaki was falling for you with each day, you did the same. It was inescapable. You met him during second year and the fact that he had you tugging on your heart strings, it was something you can't ignore.

"What exactly are you doing?"

"I'm studying, 'Hiro. What's up?" You asked him as he raised an eyebrow at you. You stopped writing to look at him fully.

"We're at a mall." He states like you didn't know. It was bizarre to go to a mall cafe and your purpose was to study when you were with the spontaneous Hanamaki. That's on you for getting distracted on your strict teachers subject.

"Yes, Makki. I know that." He lets out a pft then takes the notebook of yours, closing it. Even putting on the caps of your pens and placing them back in your pen pouch. He also grabs your bag and placing all of those items inside.

You didn't stop him though. You've had enough with 'studying either way'. You'd die if saw how you weren't even taking notes, you were actually writing about how beautiful his eyes were. You were just purely lucky that he didn't care what you were writing because he thought it was about school.

"Happy now?" You asked him as he nods with a childish grin.

"Super. Let's go, cutie." Your eyes widened with his statement so you turn your head away to sling the backpack on your shoulder but he stops you before you could.

He removes his hoodie and hands it to you, making you stare at him.

"What for?"

"It's hot- well duh it's cold, Y/N. C'mon I wanna go to cinema. " He says nonchalantly as you take the hoodie and wear it. What causes you to stop midway was when he pulled down your blouse to prevent it from rising up when you wore his jacket. After placing your arms in, you blushed at minimal gesture.

It made Hanamaki let out a cough, when he did it like a reflex, not even thinking about it.

"Cutie huh?" You teased making him roll his eyes, though he was thankful that you broke the silence.

"Yeah no shut it."

There were many more memories that could list out why you liked him but maybe they just held the same reason.

"Leave him a note then if you can't say it in person." Mattsun suggests, even though he wishes he could've said something else. He doesn't know if that was a good suggestion or not. This could ruin whatever Makki was planning on doing. He should ask him about his plan later on so he can tell you what not to do in order for his best friend to succeed.

You reached the front of your house as you gave Issei a hug, to thank him. He pats your hair as your pull away from him.

"Hey, you've got this. It's you and Makki." He says smiling, assuring you. You nod at him as you sent a wave, him doing the same then walking away.

When you entered your room, your phone rang. Seeing Makkis name light up your room had you answering it in a heartbeat.

"Makki, what's up?"

"Hey, I just called to say I'm sorry I couldn't walk you home today. " He says running his fingers through his hair. He did want to walk with you but he trusted Mattsun. He couldn't waste the time Iwaizumi gave him for advice.

"It's fine, 'Hiro. Mattsun and I are fine." He smiles at what you said, while you left your phone on the nightstand you decided to change out of your uniform. While Makki decides on what to say next.

"Hey Y/N?" He calls for you, once you were done dressing up, you took the phone lying down on your bed.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna go out, for real this time?"

"I'm gonna go sleep." He says, biting his tongue, despising how he couldn't say it. He hears you yawn on the other end of the line.

"That's a lie but night Makki Makki!" You said chuckling as his ears turned red at the nickname. He shakes his head with a smile.

"Goodnight, dumbie."

"Hey! I called you a decent nickname."

"Wow okay then. Goodnight, princess."

Hold up, he said what?

I said that?

He quickly ends the call before you could let out a comment on what he just said. A wave of panic rushes to him not knowing your reaction. You covered your face with the pillows the surrounded you, letting out a frustrated scream.

Fuck.

The morning comes and Hanamakis heart was racing like he going to attend a deadly match but in reality he was just going to confess. He's set all the things that he needed for today, mostly the materials but he himself wasn't nearly as ready.

He's going to wear a uniform. How the fuck do you make that look presentable and polished? Should he wear a new hoodie for you to wear afterwards? Just- how?

He's been staring at himself for too long then he hears his parents call for him saying that Mattsukawa was at his front porch. He sighs before grabbing his bag and heading out of his room.

"So you ready?" Issei asks as Hanamaki shrugs. He wanted it to end right away but then again he wants things to slow down while he sees your reaction when does it.

"Fuck no. Iwaizumi helped me with a few things, he said something about gifts so I searched for some." Mattsukawa nods, as he thinks about what you were up to. Can it actually happen now? The two idiots would finally have the guts to confess on the same day?

"Honestly, this will be very entertaining. What time?"

"I was thinking kind of like after school." He says making Mattsukawa agree with him. It benefits the both of you. Never in a rush to admit, it could also give Makki some time to accomplish some of his plans.

"Do you think it'll go ok?" Hanamaki asks, almost nervous for his answer. Mattsukawa only smiles, knowing the possible ending.

"Yeah."

Betrayer. Oikawa thinks.

He lets out a pout of annoyance and when he spots you, he immediately walks over to you before Hanamaki could.

"Morning Oikawa! Have you seen-"

"Y/N-chan! I'll walk you to class today!" He says sweetly making you question in what was going on. He sees you peer your head over his shoulder, looking for Hanamaki which made him scoot a bit so your vision was blocked. Realizing that Hanamaki probably hasn't arrived yet, you shrugged.

"Okay, Tooru."

As Oikawa slings his arm around your shoulder, he could feel Takahiros stare as he walked with you. Even Iwaizumi had to double take on what he just saw.

"What's with him?" Hanamaki asks, feeling a slight burn in his heart when he sees you laughing with the pretty setter.

"I don't know, maybe he's just bugging her." Iwaizumi comments, making Makki roll his eyes. Mattsun takes notice of his behavior and lets out a chuckle.

"Aww, seriously. It's Oikawa! He's not going to steal your girl." Hanamaki blushes at his words and the boys eye his reaction, making them laugh at the change. Makki rolls his eyes before letting out a sigh, an act as if to reassure himself that things would go according to plan.

When Makki enters the room and meets your eyes, you already flash him a smile gesturing for him to seat with them. Oikawa sends a glare in his way making Mattsun lazily raise an eyebrow to the setter. Oikawa turns his attention to you once again, his chin on his palm as he stares at you.

"You're so pretty Y/N-chan! Wouldn't want that to go to waste do we?" Your ears couldn't really believe what you just heard. A sea of gasps echoed through the room when the compliment left Oikawas mouth. Murmurs of how luck you were started to spread and Makki was stood frozen.

"Flirting with my best friend isn't cute, shittykawa." Hanamaki comments, a distinct tone in his voice that didn't sound all too jokingly. The word best friend rings in your head as you actually felt a strike to your heart with his words.

How can you confess like this when you're down to rejection?

You felt like Hanamaki gave you a wake up call. Is this really the farthest you could go? Just friends? You let out a sigh, suddenly throwing away your previous plans of admitting your feelings for him. You gripped the pen in your hand as you tried not to be controlled by the pain.

Mattsukawa sees how your hand was trembling, replaying what Makki said, he nudges the boy next to him who was busy giving a cold shoulder to Oikawa. Mattsukawa prays that Hanamaki realizes what he just said.

Hanamaki feels the harsh nudge of his best friend making him look your way, a downcast evident in your features. Before he could ask you what's got you upset, the teacher walks in making Oikawa and Iwaizumi leave. Oikawa passes by Hanamaki making the tension even more noticeable.

Mattsukawa grips Hanamakis arm, to stop his mouth from sending a snarky comment and to hold him back from a glare. Hanamaki sits in his usual place as he ponders on what's gotten you this down. Was it Oikawa? What did he tell you? Could it be something that included him?

He sincerely hopes it doesn't involve him or else his hearts going to keep aching with jealousy.

What the fuck?

That was the only question that lingered in Hanamakis head.

Throughout the day, he figured that he'd be able to avoid you without you knowing what he was doing but instead, he found himself getting distracted in the fact that you sat with Oikawa between breaks. He couldn't even focus where to put the gifts in, he's totally forgotten about his locker and the possibility of you finding about it makes him panic.

He just hated how he feels the envy consume him. It took him a while to not give in to it. He had to continue, if he didn't- he would cower away. He wasn't going to waste another chance because of Oikawa, he can promise you that.

"You think Oikawa knew something? Maybe he's actually stalling you." Mattsukawa suggests, to remind Hanamaki that he was sure the setter isn't a barrier to his plans.

"He said something to her- I just know it. She's distant with me." He says tiredly, Iwaizumi leans on his arm to whisper to Hanamaki.

"Maybe he figured out you were going to confess." Iwaizumi says shrugging, Hanamaki shakes his head.

Are you turning him down then if this was real?

A way to softly push him away and tell him that your friendship mattered more?

If this was the case, he's leading his heart to a trap.

And it went like this until Makki had to confront Oikawa, sick of the change in you. It was practice time so he had the setter to himself. He knew you were waiting for him so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

He just wanted to be yours already.

"Oikawa, what did you tell her?" He asks quietly. Even if his heart held its beat because of jealousy, he's sure that the boy he was talking to had no interest in you the same way he has. Oikawa has never shown you signs of love or any affection at all. Sure, it was fun to be around him but he looked at you as a friend, a company he can find comfort in but who's to say Makki doesn't feel nervous?

"I didn't tell her anything what are you talking about?" The boy answers making Makki sigh.

"She's avoiding me. It doesn't make sense then." Oikawa raises an eyebrow at Takahiros expression. He looked so- distraught. It starts to sink in him how the lack of your presence takes a toll on his friend and there was the tiny ounce of regret that hits his mind.

When he sees Hanamaki open his locker to reveal a boquet of flowers, his eyes widen. He then closes them immediately, cursing himself for the misunderstanding.

"Isn't that what you were supposed to give Aika?" He asks, his throat dwelling with nervousness. Hanamaki furrows his eyebrows, evidently confused in how their classmate who he is even close to, got dragged into the situation.

"What-"

"Shit."

"Oikawa!"

I hate running.

He says to himself whie doing it, he's never ran this fast before. God, now everything was at rush. He had to pack his things immediately, make sure the sweat didn't cling to him like it did. He even had to rummage through his locker to make sure everything was inside his bag. Mattsukawa was also frantic. Iwaizumi was calm enough to knock some sense into Oikawa after Hanamaki tells the news on what exactly happened.

So here he was running to your neighborhood, flowers and all because he'd be dumb enough to be the guy in Oikawas misunderstood scenario.

"Oikawa!"

"Wait okay fuck I'm sorry- I might have heard something wrong earlier." He says, a hand to the back of his neck. Hanamaki isn't sure if he should feel relieved that Oikawa doesn't have any admiration towards or feel the fucking rage to strangle him for whatever led to this.

"What exactly did you hear anyway?"

"I can't just give the flowers to Aika. I can't act like an admirer of hers, I have to confess to her myself." Hanamaki says sighing as Iwaizumi and Mattsukawa nods.

Oikawa turns his back on the trio as he frowns at the idea of you and Hanamaki not being a couple. It seems that his friendly gestures didn't actually hold anything else, he'd fallen for Aika instead. Though he feels slightly pissed that Hanamaki led you on in some sort of way.

Once he sees you, he immediately goes your way in order for you to not witness the heartbreak that was about to unfold.

"Oikawa, I was planning to confess to Y/N. Mattsukawa suggested that I try to give her the flowers anonymously at first by letting Aika bring it to her but like I said, I didn't wanna look like an unknown loser." Hanamaki lets out a puff of annoyance as Oikawa rests his hand on the boys shoulder, now that tiny ounce of guilt grew and grew.

"I'm really really sorry, Makki." He says sincerely, Hanamaki sighs before nodding at Oikaws, accepting his apology knowing Iwaizumi could lecture the boy after his slip up.

"I need to go to Y/N now." He says but Kindaichi looks at his teammate with a water bottle in hand.

"Y/N-san left hours ago." He says as Hanamaki sends a glare towards Oikawa then he looks at Kunimi just to confirm Kindaichis statement. Kunimi nods before returning back to his unbothered state. Hanamaki lets out a scream of frustration as he dashes towards Mattsukawa and Iwaizumi, Oikawa being dragged along by his shirt.

"Oi, did you two fight?"

"Long-story short he thought I was giving the flowers to Aika. Now please, lecture the damn asshole- I need to find Y/N." He basically hands Oikawa to Iwaizumi who already landed a ball to the captains head as he runs off to his locker to leave immediately.

He could never adore someone else when you remained to stay at the top of his list- since no other name follows it.

He pats down his sweat with a towel before drinking water then spraying his cologne all around him. He was in front of your room door since your parents gladly invited him in while he mentions to be quiet at the sight of the boquet of flowers in hand and now it's finally happening. He was either going to face a prize or a bucket of tears.

Here goes nothing then.

He knocks on the door as you continued to scroll through your phone but you spoke, "It's open!"

He opens it softly, before stepping in your room, closing the door in the process. You look up from your phone only to get the life knocked out of you when you see Hanamaki.

"Hey Makki-"

"Y/N please I just need to tell you something okay."

He takes the vacant spot next to you on your bed as both your hearts pounded loudly with each second. Your mind couldn't stop racing at what he was going to say if it was just flat out rejection, meanwhile Hanamaki doubts what he bought you. He carefully takes your hand with his, caressing it gently while your cheeks were heating at the moment.

"Y/N I-"

You roll your eyes before ending the call, not even caring to know who called. Meanwhile, Makki wanted to stop himself from coughing from the embarrassment.

The phone rings. Oh, fuck me.

"Go on- really sorry." You say with a slight chuckle, as he smiles, thankful you read the room at how nervous he was. Instead, he went to his bag to find a certain box. Once he finds the blue box, he takes your palm and places the object on it.

You smiled at him you opened the box, praying that you don't let out a squeal when you see what's inside.

"Paper rings?" You say chuckling as Hanamakis eyes widen, threatened to pop out of his sockets since he was in full disbelief. You laughed as Hanamaki tried to get the back from you but you ran from your bed to wear the damn thing.

"Y/N!" He yells trying to reach the box from your hands but your laughter echoes through the room.

You're too fucking cute for me. You think to yourself.

"It's a perfect fit on me, Takahiro." You say even holding out your hand with the paper ring as Hanamaki hides his face on a pillow, an attempt to hide the humiliation. He can never bounce back from this. Where was the actual matching rings that he bought? The one with yours and his initials were embedded on? Did he leave it on his desk when he was trying to figure out your ring size? He was truly fucked.

When you tried to reach for him, the ring broke since it was surrounded by tape and it didn't really held strength to it. Realizing that it was folded paper, you opened it seeing scribbles and doodles from Makki.

Y/N's ring size is 6 maybe 7?

Get the flowers that Iwaizumi suggested. Which flower was it again? The ones that symbols love? Fuck it.

Does she prefer me with this perfume or not?

She smells amazing all the time, I hate it.

God, I like her too much it's unbelievable.

I feel like I'm proposing to her but I'm not complaining.

You immediately drop the paper to look at him, switching your gaze between him and the paper. You hid your face in your hands as you wondered if this was actually reality. Hanamaki likes you back? Proposing? It was overwhelmingly cute.

Hanamaki lifts his head from the pillow and he sees you looking like you were embarrassed for him. He immediately goes to you, hands on yours as he tries to lift them off your face.

"Do you want me to kiss it better?" He teases, hopefully it was able to grab your attention, and it did. You slap his chest from how flustered you were as he laughs before taking you in his arms, playing with your hair as your mind goes blank.

"Okay maybe the secret is out but I'm serious, Y/N. I like you- so fucking much it makes me wanna buy all the shit you want if we succeed in a heist- and I never wanna stop feeling this. The ring is crappy but I've got the actual one in my room so" He pulls away from your embrace as he lifts your chin to meet with his face who was intoxicatingly close.

"Do you accept my proposal of being my girlfriend?"

"If I said no?" You teased with a smile as he chuckles before locking his lip with yours, his hand finding its way to your cheek as you immediately kiss back, the pieces finally clicking in its rightful place. He deepens the kiss as your hand finds its way to the nape of his hair, pulling him closer while his own hands make a trip to your waist who he soon finds addicting.

He pulls away, caressing your cheek as your forehead touched, smiles plastered on either faces.

"I gladly accept, 'Hiro."

"Not like I'll take no for an answer, princess."

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#hanamaki x reader #mattsukawa x reader #mattsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #oikawa tooru #hajime iwaizumi #aoba johsai #xine's world of romance

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chasingthepoguelife · 4 years ago

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Head, shoulders, knees, and toes, but don’t forget ankles

Got to my first request! The next few will be coming this week. Thanks for requesting and being patient. I love you all!

Summary: Y/N has been a pogue for only a few months. Keeping up with the pogues meant spending time with JJ and knowing all about his hook ups all around the island. JJ and y/n had no trouble admitting the other was attractive, but left it at that. It isn’t until JJ notices something on y/n body that surprised both of them.

A/N: I apologize again for the terrible writing. I’ve only started writing again after a few years. I’m sorry if you don’t enjoy it, I’m trying. Also not my gif! Credit is under the gif.

Warnings: smut, a bit of angst, swearing, un safe sex ( wrap it up kids), jewelry kink

Hanging out with the pogues came with a lot of advantages. You were always doing something fun and crazy, always in the know of everything going on around island. Keeping up with the pogues seemed liked a full-time job most days between all of John B’s spontaneous adventures and Pope freaking out about what you guys did the next morning. Sometimes you’d get a nice break when the boys would throw parties at the bone yard. Pogues, kooks, and tourons would flood to drink and have fun, especially with JJ Maybank. If it had a pulse, JJ would swarm to add that person to his body count. Kie had filled you in on each of the three boys when you met the group a few months ago, and almost everything she said has been proven right. JJ’s adventurous life style made it hard not to know where he’s been and everything he’s done. Whether you overheard conversations between him and John B, or the touron girls giggling in town over what they let JJ do to them the night before, you knew pretty much everything he was into. The list ranges from daddy kinks to choking, but nothing compared to the night you were trying to sleep on John Bs couch and you had to hear JJ pretending to be a vampire for over an hour. Your crush on JJ had been put to a stop after a few weeks of just listening to him talk. There was always some sassy banter between the two of you, with the occasional civil chats. You had no trouble admitting he was beautiful, but after knowing about every encounter, you decided you didn’t want to be another body count to JJ.

The pogues spent all say setting up for Pope’s surprise party. After all the shit he’s been through, JJ knowing the most, it seemed like the least everyone could do for him. For once, something was going right and smoothly for the pogues, not a trouble insight. Everything was ready to go until the power had gone out at the chateau.

“Can’t we have one nice thing?” Kie screamed into the air.

“It’s not that bad,” y/n said. “We have a few hours till the party. If we get a holder that is big enough and lots of ice, we can keep the food and drinks cool until we make it onto the beach.”

“Easier said than done,” JJ mumbled.

“Do you have a better idea?” y/n yelled in JJ’s face.

“Ok that’s enough you two,” John B interfered. “If one of you messes up Pope’s big night I’m dumping you at the Crain house and you’re walking back. Kie and I will head out for the supplies, and you two will stay here and get your shit together before Pope arrives.”

John B was the voice of reason in this group, and you hated it when he was right. You’ll just have to wait until he leaves to get a few good passes at JJ. Kie and John B had left 30 minutes ago, and with no AC and no breeze from the beach, the chateau was burning up. JJ was already shirtless, sitting on the floor, sweat droplets already running down his abs. JJ and Pope had a nice mid-section on them, but no other abs in the OBX can compare to JJs.

JJ was about to absolutely lose it. It’s a billion degrees in here and he’s stuck with y/n. Just when he thinks he’s starting to like her she has something to say. He’s found her arrival into the group difficult. This is not what he had in mind when Kie said she’s be brining a new girl into the group. He was busy daydreaming when he noticed y/n in the corner of his eyes. She was down to nothing but her bathing suit now. He’d seen her in her suit plenty of times by now but as he watched her shift, his eyes landed on her ankle.

“Is that new?” JJ’s mind asked him.

His eyes grew wide on that shiny material wrapped around y/n’s ankle. It looked so right on her thin ankle, connected to long tan legs. JJ had eyes, he knows y/n isn’t exactly ugly, but something went off in his head seeing her leg pointed up as she laid on her bank, keeping his eyes on her ankle.

“Hey-y y/n?” JJ stuttered. “What’s that on your ankle?’

“This?” y/n pointed. “It’s an ankle bracelet, you know a bracelet that you wear on your ankle.”

Normally this kind of response would’ve riled JJ up, but this time it went right over his head.

“Have you always worn that? It looks different? Does Kie or Sarah wear one because I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen one before,” JJ rambled.

“You’ve had to of seen dozens on all your touron girls,” y/n snapped.

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed on before, but if you must know, I’m not really looking there most of the time,” JJ smirked.

“We live on an island, I’m pretty sure you’ve seen one before JJ.”

Without warning JJ scooted over and sat down in front of you.

“I know what it is y/n, it just looks different on you,” JJ said as he began to play with the piece around your ankle.

“I like it on you. It’s different,” he said softly.

“This is another one of your weird kinks isn’t it?” y/n asked in disgust.

“Y/n, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous,” JJ said.

“If I was jealous, I could’ve had you from the moment I met you,” y/n said confidently.

The room was now quiet. JJ hadn’t said anything else, which made the tension worse. He was just staring at you, up and down. He started to move, lowering his head to your feet.

“W-what are you doing?”, y/n asked.

“Proving you right, that you could’ve had me from the start,” JJ said.

JJ grabbed your ankle and began kissing on and around your bracelet. This was definitely a first for you, but there was something about the feeling of the cold metal and JJs lips on you. He paid more attention to your ankle and began working his way up to your inner thigh. Your hands made their way to JJ’s hair as he licked up and down your things. JJ’s head was in between your legs and you couldn’t fucking believe it. In just your swimsuit bottoms, you could feel JJ’s breath close to your core.

“JJ,” y/n whined.

“I know baby, me too,” JJ smirked.

JJ’s hands were circling all around your stomach and core. You made the deepest eye contact with him than you ever have before. It was a sweet moment between pogues in the midst of all the sex. You could feel his hand inching closer into your swimsuit bottoms, giving him the nod to proceed. JJ’s hand landed on you, all soaked and trembling. You knew JJ was skilled from all the chatter, but you can’t believe how much he’s affected you with so little.

“If you must know y/n, I never spend this much time,” JJ said as he kept his hands on your core.

“It’s always a quick tap and bounce. I never take the time to get them this worked up.”

“You know what the say JJ, hate sex is great sex,” y/n whined.

As JJ was working his hands and tongue all over your body, he still couldn’t believe that you were under him like this, that after all the name calling and bickering fights, a tiny ankle bracelet connected the two of you like this.

“I’m going to have to declare John B’s no pogue on pogue macking rule void for now, I need to be in you y/n”, JJ whined.

With both you fully naked now, there was only one thing to left. Both JJ and y/n could feel the sweat of each other, feel the hot air only made hotter by your activities, and especially JJ’s hot breath as he whispered into y/ns ear.

“I always thought you were beautiful. I was so excited when Kie brought you into the group, and then it all went downhill. I think we all know you threw the first insult so you have to continue to make it up to me baby,” JJ commanded.

So close to your entrance, something didn’t feel right to JJ.

“Not so fast baby. I’m going to need you to lift your left ankle up and keep it on my shoulder. Don’t move it until I tell you,” JJ ordered.

Upon placing your ankle on JJ’s shoulder, he slammed right into y/n, causing her to moan louder than JJ had ever heard before. Her nails were tearing up JJ’s back and shoulders as he was tearing into her.

“Every, thrust, is -for -all -the- times -I- wish, you were nicer to me,” JJ said in between breaths.

JJ was on cloud nine. Between your moans, letting him control you, and the sound of your ankle bracelet on his shoulder every time he thrusted harder, this has been the happiest he’s felt in a long time.

“JJ!”, y/n yelled, Y/n really didn’t know what to say. JJ was so rough but caring at the same time, lasting more than you thought. He was really taking care of you, unlike that random kook that was your first time a few months ago.

“Oh god y/n! I don’t know how much more I can last. I need you to finish with me!” JJ yelled as he brought his hands now to your clit.

“JJ my god, please don’t stop,” y/n yelled into the crook of JJ’s neck.

Before either of you knew it, JJ was spilling into you, your release onto his cock following. Pure, raw JJ has been in you in several ways today, dare you say your soul as well. Still in disbelief even after JJ pulled out of you, you stared into each other’s eyes as he laid on top of you.

“I’m not just saying this y/n, but that blew away every touron that I ever laid eyes on,” JJ complimented.

“You should know that I never hated you JJ. Moving here and not knowing anything about the future was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. It seemed easy to hate you because then at least I knew where you stood. Although I’m not sure what to think about that ankle bracelet kink,” y’n laughed.

“Well I hope we can change things between us,” JJ said cupping your face.

“I’d really like that,” y/n smiled into JJ’s neck.

“And I’d like it to” a feminine voice was heard from the back.

JJ and y/n turned around bright red to see Kie and John B by the door, grabbing each other’s faces.

“I’d like it to, so much,” John B said to Kie, clearly making fun of his friends.

“But seriously, we’d like it if you would put on some clothes, just imagine if it was Pope that caught you, “John B said.

Both you and JJ laughed at your friends reaction, getting dressed and following them out to the beach, into the first night where you and JJ wouldn’t hate each other.

#jj maybank #jj #Outer Banks #obx #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow

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fantasticstoryteller · 4 years ago

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New Dynasty Chapter 35

Wade, in his Deadpool suit, sat in Tony’s office. Arachne was in his lap, because once she learned where he was going she refused to let go of him and as he and Peter could vouch—once she clung to something there was no removing her until she let go. Peter was standing in the corner of the office, and Wade could tell that he was he was hiding a smile.

[You’d think the little girl didn’t trust Tony.]

{She probably still thinks he blew us up on purpose.}

Wade didn’t want to talk about it. He kept his voice on the subject at hand. “So, after a little bit of digging I found out that not only is someone trying to build a gate—the same gate that keeps letting explosive little blobs through—but they tried to hire mercs to guard it. Key word being tried—no one’s willing to touch that job.”

Tony rubbed his hand over the small beard on his face. “And just where,” he asked wearily, “did you get this information?”

“Where else?” asked Wade with a shrug, Arachne still clinging to the red leather.

Tony’s face suffused with red. “You took a child to that God-forsaken—”

Peter came around and stepped in between Tony and Wade. “Arachne,” he said, “what happened last night?”

Arachne was always willing to answer Peter.

[And us too, don’t forget that she likes us too.]

{And she’s adorable.}

“We went on a field trip,” Arachne said. The last two words were spoken like a foreign language. “Wade said that a field trip is where you go out to have some fun strictly for educational purposes, like that trip with Coraline.”

“Good God, is that psycho back in town?” groaned Tony.

Peter ignored the outburst. “He’s not wrong,” he said. “So, did you have fun?”

Arachne’s face lit up. “Oh, yes!” she said. “We got there and the skinny guy behind the bar yelled at Wade but the pretty lady—she said her name’s Andrea—came over to talk and she has a really nice and soft, furry kind of voice and was wearing a pretty dress and she says that it’s okay for a woman to wear a little girl’s dress because some people like it like that—and she didn’t explain that,” Arachne added with a frown, “but Domino said it was okay because I’m not old enough to need to know and Elektra taught me how to pick locks.”

“How to what?” shrieked Tony.

Arachne paused and looked concerned. “Don’t worry about Tony, Arachne,” he told her calmly. “Please, continue to tell me about the night.”

“Well—I brought out my ball,” she said. “Wade said I could take one with us when we left and I was showing them how high I can make it bounce—I made one bounce twenty feet!—when it rolled under a table and I got it out by picking up the table and they all wanted to know how much I could lift so they kept piling people on a table until the table broke and while a couple people got hurt nobody died.” Arachne took a breath and added, “And the skinny man gave me white-yellow apple juice.”

“Pineapple juice,” Wade corrected.

Arachne frowned. “Is that a different fruit?” she asked turning to look at Wade.

[That’s so cute!]

{Uh, how is she supposed to know what fruit looks like? Has anyone taught her?}

“Yes,” said Wade, “it is a very different fruit.”

“Oh. Tastes good though,” said Arachne focusing on the important thing.

“Yes, pineapple juice does taste good,” Peter admitted. “Arachne, do you remember the way to the cafeteria? Not the one that everybody uses,” Peter added hastily, “but the one that only the people on the top floors use?”

“Yes,” Arachne said.

Peter dug in a pocket and pulled out a card. “All right. Go to the cafeteria and get some juice. Try some different kinds, and hand this to the woman working the counter. Okay?”

She looked at Wade and back at Peter. She seemed hesitant. “It’s okay,” Wade told her.

Peter smiled at her. “Are you worried about him getting hurt again?” he asked. She nodded, hesitantly. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “I won’t let Tony hurt Wade.”

[I think we’re about to get yelled at.]

{For what? What did we do wrong?}

Arachne still hesitated. Tony spoke up. “Pepper and Friday have Sasha, Brian and Howard secure in the penthouse Arachne. They won’t be in the cafeteria.”

“Okay,” said Arachne. She took the card from Peter. “Friday?” she called to the ceiling.

“Yes, Arachne?”

“Would you please keep an eye on me? To make sure I don’t get lost?”

“It would be my pleasure Arachne. Rest assured, I have been well programmed to do multiple tasks at a time.”

“Thank you Friday.” Arachne got off Wade’s lap, politely bowed (something she must have picked up from one of the female mercs at the bar) and then calmly left the room.

As soon as the door shut Peter spoke up, keeping his voice down. “I could have sworn I asked the two of you to stay safe,” he said.

“We did!” protested Wade.

“You think taking her Sister Margret’s is staying safe?” demanded Peter.

“No one would dare hurt her there!” Every mercenary in Sister Margret’s had a single, iron-clad rule: no children. No matter what happened and if anyone broke that rule, well, there would be dozens of mercenaries willing to explain to the bloody corpse why that was a bad idea. With random bits of the city exploding Sister Margret’s was probably the absolutely safest place Arachne could be.

Tony scoffed a laugh as Peter hung his head in his hands.

[It feels like we did something bad.]

{But what did we do? We’re right about Arachne’s safety—no way would we compromise that.}

“Wade, how many people die in fights at Sister Margret’s?” asked Peter. Wade shifted nervously as he recognized the tone of voice—it was the tone that said, “I’m only being patient because I know you sometimes have trouble understanding how normal people act.”

“I don’t know.”

“Usually three a night. Three dead bodies a night Wade,” Peter pressed. He sighed. “Wade,” he asked, “what would have happened if one of them had died while Arachne was there?”

Wade felt a chill roll down his spine. Where Arachne came from, people died because they were “failed” experiments. And given how she felt that people getting hurt was her fault if she had seen someone die—

[She would have been traumatized.]

{Damn, we got lucky.}

Wade leaned forward in the chair. “I didn’t think of that,” he admitted.

“You didn’t think,” said Tony.

“Tony,” said Peter warningly.

“Hey,” said Tony, “it’s fine. At least the one you’ve got isn’t a soulless little monster willing to use anyone and anything to get what she wants.”

“So—Howard takes after you?” asked Wade. Peter shot him a quick glare and he shrugged.

[He can’t expect us to not rib Tony.]

{It’s practically a sport!}

“That’s what Pepper said,” Tony said wearily. Peter moved to stand next to Wade and Wade could see the man searching through his desk drawers. “Problem is that the two Nat and Bruce have are just as bad. Dammit,” he swore as pulled out a liter bottle of ginger ale with a note that said, “Try Me” on it. “I thought she didn’t know about this one.”

“Pepper’s been your secretary for the last fifteen years and dating you for ten of them,” Peter pointed out. “I don’t think there’s a lot about you that she doesn’t know.”

Tony sighed and put the bottle back in the drawer before slamming it shut. “Be glad you’ve only got the one,” he said.

Oh! Author!

What now Wade?

Can Peter and I have another kid?

No.

Why not?

Because that’s not possible in the AU that this story is written in.

What? Those little shits from that manga get that, but I don’t?

Don’t you dare bring that story into this. The settings are completely different.

But author—

Don’t whine Wade.

But—

No.

Why not?

It won’t fit, that’s why not. This story has an established set of rules and logic and I am not going to introduce mpreg out of nowhere.

What about another story?

Wade. I only agreed to write one of them. Remember?

Ah, come on. Just think—you won’t have to search for ideas. It’ll already be there.

Okay, I’ll make a deal with you.

Let’s hear it.

If anyone, and I mean anyone, comments and asks for it, I’ll write it.

Awesome!

But—it will be in a universe without the Marvel powers, which means it won’t be a Spideypool story. It will also be complete and utter fantasy, because that’s my genre. Also, you won’t be aware in it.

If you’re going to do that I want Peter to rescue me!

Fine. Can do. But remember, someone has to say they’ll read it.

What? Who wouldn't want to read something with me in it?

I think you are seriously overestimating the selling power of Wade Wilson without Deadpool. And I’m finishing this one first. I’m only working on one of these at a time.

“Deadpool, are you listening?” demanded Tony.

“No,” said Wade with complete honesty. “I was asking the author if Peter and I could have more kids.”

“What?” asked Peter, confused.

“She said ‘no’,” Wade explained.

“So the world does have small mercies,” muttered Tony.

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool

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makeste · 4 years ago

Note

Given the absolute tatters of the top 10 after this arc I wonder if Mt. Lady will land herself up there, especially given her current performance!

hopefully so, and if she does it will definitely have been earned! she’s come such a long way and she deserves THE WORLD.

here are my current submissions for the top 10 following this arc, mostly based on my evaluation of how badly they’ve managed to screw up in this beautiful chaotic arc full of screwups galore.

Mirko (listen, I don’t care how many limbs she’s got left. it will not slow her down at all, and pretty much the only impact it will have is that out of consideration for the time it will take her to recover before getting back in the field, I decided not to write in her name for all ten spots on this list)

Midnight (SHE COULD HAVE TAKEN GIGANTOMACHIA OUT. literally the only thing stopping Midnight from taking over the entire world is that she’s a nice person. we are fortunate)

Fat Gum (one of only like three heroes who hasn’t made any critical mistakes this arc, aside from letting Tokoyami fly off to save Hawks, but it all worked out fine so I forgive him)

Aizawa (lost a lot of points for being part of the “we’ll just let Mirko handle everything all on her own for a while” squad. it’s because Hawks and Mirko had custody of the shared communal pro hero braincells at the time. very unfortunate, but since then he’s rallied and is currently saving the world, thank you very much! you can’t keep him down for long. if this was a list of top ten sexiest pro heroes he would be second instead of fourth; still loses to Mirko, though)

Mt. Lady (she’s so great?? and like Mirko before her she’s somehow found herself in the position where she’s basically the only one out of DOZENS?? or HUNDREDS?? of pros who is actually doing anything at this most critical of junctures. well, aside from Kamui Woods. and the child soldiers)

Ms. Joke (THE DARK HORSE CANDIDATE YOU ALL FORGOT EXISTED. where is she?? her quirk is criminally underrated and I would give anything to see it in action. all of the villains would immediately die but they would die happy!)

Present Mic (so cool and awesome but lost points for the same reason as Aizawa, and also for just leaving poor X-Less there to die like that. he’s lucky that punching Ujiko in the face basically cancelled all of that out)

Ryuukyuu (again, was part of the “Mirko can handle it” squad who all thought it might be good sportsmanship to give Ujiko a five minute head start on the battle. still, since then she’s been a goddamn MVP. I wish more of the pros had followed the children’s example and learned how to fly like they all have)

Edgeshot (I love you dude but ngl I wish you were a little more focused on stopping Gigantomachia the walking natural disaster, rather than Re-Destro, the guy who got suplexed by a sixteen-year-old’s shadow like three seconds into this arc. ah well)

Cementoss (hasn’t really done all that much compared to the rest on this list, but is still A BADASS, and is basically carrying the Gunga villa raid on his shoulders. respect)

bonus: Majestic (ARE YOU ACTUALLY A REAL PERSON. OR ARE YOU JUST A LIE, LIKE SANTA CLAUS. PLEASE SHOW UP ALREADY AND PROVE TO US THAT YOU EXIST).

also, Endeavor would be up here if I didn’t currently have a big question mark next to his name on account of The Curse of The Billboard Top Ten seemingly being a real and actual thing. Edge and Ryuukyuu should also have question marks, I suppose! but whatever, it’s not like I’m submitting this random list that I wrote on a whim at 11:30pm on a Monday to be peer-reviewed or anything lol.

#bnha 278 #mt. lady #mirko #other people #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #bnha top ten #bnha ranking

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radramblog · 3 years ago

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AFR Precon Commanders

Look I literally did this last week, but also, I haven’t really thought about Magic since then, so I don’t have any particular ideas about what to write other than just another long list of cards. I had an idea for an Ebondeath dech tech, but I’m going to put that on the backburner for a day where I have a bit more time.

Besides, there’s a reason Set Reviews and the like are so popular among players. They’re fun to make, and they’re fun to read/listen/watch. And for whatever reason, WoTC has opted to give us effectively two full Commander sets this year, with AFC having just as many precons and almost as many new Commanders as the 2016 precon offering. So there’s a lot going on, and a lot to talk about.

With only 12 new cards to talk about this time, and them being actually designed for the format, I’ll try to spend a bit longer on each one. And the first one is….

Catti-brie of Mithral Hall

There’s a lot going on here for two mana. Catti-brie is Selesnya’s second Equipment Commander, with her compatriot Nazahn being a bunch more impact, but also triple the mana cost. This is besides the part where Nazahn is not that good outside of finding his absolutely bonkers hammer.

I think Catti-brie has a lot of potential. With the right build, she can get very large very quickly, and considering she costs two whole mana, that’s fairly impressive. With no ramp and just Grafted Wargear, she’s swinging for 6 commander damage turn 3, and only getting bigger from there- literally a 3-swing clock with the extra counters.

I literally cannot envision you ever using that last ability unless someone snipes her mid-combat. But you probably don’t need it? I like her either way. Bit awkward she releases the same day as fellow two mana Selesnya Commander that gets bigger for (deckbuild mechanic), Trelassara.

Galea, Kindler of Hope

…eh?

Okay, so it Future Sights, but only for Auras/Equips, and it gets the Sigarda’s Aid ability for Equipment, which is kind of gross- you get the card and mana advantage at the same time there. As someone with a Gruul topdeck deck, I know that Green doesn’t really offer much to that pie, but I know Blue absolutely does- not gonna be super hard to manipulate and chuck the swords you want on top of the deck.

But like…eh? This commander doesn’t excite me. They’re obviously powerful, but I just don’t care that much. There’s nothing they do that other things don’t, you know? Bant already has topdeck in Amareth, Auras in the three commanders from the Bant Enchantress deck, and arguably Voltron in Rafiq. I guess this is Bant equipment, but…Rafiq………..

Karazikar, Eye Tyrant

Goad is such a fun mechanic, and I’m so happy to see it every time. Not only does this basically Edric in Rakdos, it also helps you force the issue? Yeah okay, that’s a solid commander. 5 mana is awkward, especially since they can’t really swing in safely themselves that often. With that in mind, the tap ability is deceptively strong, especially combined with, say, Menace.

There are currently 372 Kardur, Doomscourge decks, which is way, WAY more than I expected. I’d imagine a lot of those are switching to Karazikar, considering it’s basically the same but better. Not that I ever really care for “just better” cards, but not everyone sees things the same way I do.

Klauth, Unrivaled Ancient

What if we made Savage Ventmaw a legend? Okay, cool, but also we fixed it so you can’t go infinite. Wait no stop don’t put Ventmaw in the deck anyway noooooo-

Whoever decided this should have Haste deserves a raise, as the card would be nigh-unusable without it. As it is, this is going to basically let you doublespell constantly, especially if that first one has Haste. Ramp, Beaters, and X-Spells are going to abound. It’s hardly the most unique Gruul commander- Radha 2 exists, after all- but it’s still a solid one.

Lorcan, Warlock Collector

I think I’ve played D&D with this guy before.

Lorcan is basically Grave Betrayal in the zone. Upside: Grave Betrayal is a bonkers card, and this doesn’t have the end step clause. Downside: 7 mana in the zone is huge, and the life cost will add up very quickly. Upside: Unironically the exile clause is good, since it means you get to effectively grave-hate with this guy. Downside: some good cards, like Marshland Bloodcaster, are Warlocks, and you don’t want to be exiling your own things.

Lorcan is probably a very fun commander, because Grave Betrayal is fun and cool. It’s probably not actually a very good one. I like it in the 99, though? Might pick one up for Gonti.

Minn, Wily Illusionist

Okay I don’t care if this card is good it’s so fucking cool. Finally, Illusion Tribal! Get out your Krovikan Mists and Lords of the Unreal! Blue has no trouble drawing extra cards, even on your opponent’s turns, so she’s going to be pumping out a bunch of these tokens.

Oh, also that second ability is bonkers. It doesn’t say nonland, you can ramp with this! Very solid for a more permanent-based Blue deck. There are also just a bunch of random Illusions that this greatly benefits- Murmuring Mystic and Mordenkainen and Meloku all make tokens, and Draining Whelk and Fathom Seer have the type. Not a huge number of sacrifice outlets, but Drowned Rusalka is probably the best it has ever been here. Very interesting card.

Nihiloor

Mx steal-yo-girl here is certainly a unique effect, but not the most interesting one. The second effect benefits Theft tribal, but not, like, well? Though I suppose ganking creatures is a strong enough effect already.

And yet, on this one it’s really awkward? Esper isn’t known for bigboy creatures, but that’s something this deck wants, apparently. It has a lot of potential, but also, there’s a huge amount of setup and a huge potential to get blown out, since blowing them up gives all opponents their guys back immediately. I like what they were trying to do here, but it’s a tad naff.

Prosper, Tome-Bound

Ah yes, the one everyone’s hyped about. And for fair reason, this card is cool as fuck. It’s a unique effect in the colour, and it’s both card advantage and ramp in one card, and it’s in Rakdos of all combinations? Also, it’s a Tiefling, so surely people are horny for him. There’s a good reason this is the most popular commander from the set, including the main set cards.

This is not the only cast-from-exile matters commander in existence- Laelia came out this year too, but she’s weaker and also not black. The extra colour adds a bunch more to this- theft effects mostly, but also more Cascade cards like Bituminous Blast, things like Dream Devourer, and fucking Valki babyyyy. Add in the black Artifact synergy and you’ve got a both flexible and powerful general.

Sefris of the Hidden Ways

This is probably the only commander that’s going to see any play with the Venture mechanic, so get it while it’s hot. “From anywhere” is a huge line of text, and I suspect Syr Konrad is going to find his way into a lot of Sefris decks.

I’m sure there’s a combo this can do or something, but at the end of the day: Do you like the dungeon mechanic? If so, you’ll probably like this card. If not, you probably won’t. Also, since they are surely not going to make more Dungeon cards any time soon, and maybe never again, this deck is going to look very the same for a very long time.

Stormvald, Frost Giant Jarl

Sheesh, Bant kinda lost out on this one. Storvald is so incredibly eh.

Ward 3 is, like, juuust on the edge of not really doing that much, where it makes removal cost 4-5, so it’s awkward, but you’re still going to do it if the target is threatening enough. What I’m saying is that it isn’t actually an especially good protective ability on your 7-drop, even if you are in Green.

Making creatures big is decent enough- I’m of the opinion that Gigantomancer is an underrated card, and this gives more colours for things to embiggen. Making things small is slightly less relevant, especially since your 7/7 commander and beater are likely to be crunching through most things anyway. The card is fine, but unexciting.

I like Bant well enough as a colour combination, but like, none of the commanders are my jam. Maybe one day.

Vrondiss, Rage of Ancients

Iiinteresting. Look, let’s not beat around the bush, dice-rolling isn’t really a thing unless you’re silver bordered- yeah you could get a few of the better things in there, but you’re probably better off just playing ping effects. Pyrohemia this fucker up.

Enrage was a funky mechanic that didn’t actually get a commander, aside from just the Dino tribal ones. But now we have a proper one, and they’re a Dragon to boot. Also, this is probably the easiest its ever been to generate a bunch of Dragon tokens, so getting triggers from them is real easy, even if they are one-shot-pops. Keep in mind that doesn’t say Combat Damage, so Scourge of Valkas and Dragon Tempest are kind of a nonbo.

Gruul obviously already has Dragon Tribal options, but this is still a good thing to have around.

Wulfgar of Icewind Dale

WoTC apparently decided to throw everyone a curveball on this one. Because from my recollection, everyone on r/custommagic assumed we’d get this effect at some point, now that technology like Panharmonicon exists, but they and I assumed it would be, you know, Boros. The colour combo that probably needs it more. Gruul, really? Come on Gavin, you’re a great dude but what the fuck is this.

Sigh. That’s not especially fair.

This combos with like half a dozen things to make mana and probably triple that to make damage. And there’s surely ways to draw cards, and blow things up, et cetera, et cetera. I’m just salty. This isn’t the note I wanted to go out on!

Fuck it, at least you can still double a Drakuseth trigger. But my Aurelia……..

#ramble #adventures in the forgotten realms #mtg #commander #edh #mtgafr

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doofbox-hero · 3 years ago

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Long Snippet from A Possibly Abandoned WIP

My first fic I was planning on writing and posting was a cooking competition similar to the The Great British Bake Off with inspiration from a few other shows as well. It was full of OCs and I had big plans but it has since fallen far into the back seat. I like sharing snippets a lot so here is a long snippet though the last paragraph is more notes for me lol. |----| CW Food (Of course) In the lobby of the Black Spire Hotel a very tired looking Remus sits with a cellphone in hand staring at the screen with eyebrows knitted close together in both concentration and slight frustration. The frustration comes from getting far too many messages from friends, family, and people he barely considers acquaintances linking the same promo video he has been avoiding for the past few days since the official Ultimate Kitchen Witch website made it public.

While he is happy the promotion for the show has been an obvious success he absolutely hates seeing any media with his face in it at any point in time. The attention is anxiety inducing in a way that feels almost constricting and leaves him confused on how he of all people ended up here.

But the longer he sits staring at the link the more curious he is what clips they used and which of the other contestants have been featured in the promo. Sirius of course and probably Ignotus if they’re using Sirius. He taps his foot nervously as he presses the link and waits for the video to load.

The video opens with the famous Ultimate Kitchen Witch logo transitioning into existence with some white sparkles against a black background as soft violins begin to play a tune that could only be described as jaunty. This fades from top to bottom to reveal “Mad-Eye” Moody and Nymphadora Tonks standing by a tree in a beautiful field looking wistfully out towards a tent set up in the middle of the space.

“It’s almost time you know.” Moody says with a soft smile as he gives the woman next to him a quick glance.

“Time for what?” Tonks asks with a slight crook in her neck, eyes still trained on the tent.

As he turns towards Tonk his face drops losing any amusement it once held as he raises a hand to punctuate his words as he speaks. “Tonk, did you really just ask that?” She turns towards him looking confused and shrugs her shoulders.

“Yeah I guess, I did.”

“It’s less than two weeks before the Ultimate Kitchen Witch begins, a show that you and I are hosting, and you’re really just asking, ‘time for what?’”

“Hold on. Hold on. What’s happening in less than two weeks? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Moody’s eye seems to almost pop out of his head as he looks at Tonk in utter shock and then shifts to angrily glaring at her in an almost comedic way. “Tonks, you agreed to co-host the show with me. Do you even know what the Ultimate Kitchen Witch is?”

“No I don’t think I do.” Tonk says as she rubs a hand against her forehead feigning an almost obvious fake embarrassment. The man looking down at her rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh before patting her back and gently turning her towards the tent again.

“Come on. Let me run you through the basics.” With a fade from left to right the two are now walking inside of the large tent down the middle of two rows of small, wooden workstations equipped with some basic cooking utensils in polka dotted holders and a cooktop on one end. Moody and Tonks turn to step behind one of the workstations and stop once they’re both standing in a spot where they can both comfortably rest their elbows on the countertop and rest their heads in their hands looking at the camera now zooming in on their faces.

“So what is the Ultimate Kitchen Witch, Moody? Is it magical?” She asks looking his way without turning her head.

“I would say very magical, but not in the wands and shape shifting ways you’re probably thinking.” As he continues on clips from past seasons show in a montage of many memorable moments. “The Ultimate Kitchen Witch is a competitive cooking show where we put 12 up and coming chefs to the test to show us the magic they can do in the kitchen. Each week they are given a different theme and a catch they must keep in mind as they prepare for the three challenges.”

All of a sudden it cuts to Tonk and Moody by a river side and she is reeling in a big, fake carp with a neon pink fishing rod. Tonks looks up at him with an inquisitive look on her face as she asks. “What’s the catch?” He rolls his eyes at her and lightly knocks the rod out of her hand with a displeased look on his face but she just shrugs.

Remus quietly laughs and shakes his head a little at the antics which have always been pretty slapstick on the show but he had a feeling it was only going to get worse with Tonks involved.

The video cuts back to the tent where Moody is leaning against the front of a workstation now mixing what seems to be cookie dough in a bowl while Tonks watches with wide eyes following the spoon. “The catch is mostly what it sounds like. Our chefs must make dishes that fit the theme as best as possible while keeping whatever factor has been chosen in mind as the catch. My favorite example from the past was the week the theme was cookies but chefs had to make everything gluten free. Themes can vary from an ingredient, to an aesthetic, or honestly some of the most random bull I’ve ever heard.”

“So what are these challenges you spoke of earlier?” As she asks she reaches her hand slowly towards the bowl which Moody catches and taps her hand with the spoon causing her to stop. He shakes his head as he goes back to mixing the dough and before he goes on he notices Tonks lick the back of her hand then looks back to the camera with an eye roll.

“There are three challenges. The first challenge is called ‘The Personal Charm Dish’ and it gives the chefs a chance to work on recipes that really show the judges who they are as a person and chef. Winner of this challenge is usually based on who best executed the concept within the theme while still making a spellbound dish. The second challenge is the Zippy Skill Exercise which is where the competitors are given a surprise recipe missing some key details they have to use their experience and knowledge to successfully complete in a very short amount of time.

Of course the winner of this round is mostly based on whoever can actually make the damn recipe correctly but on a rare occasion someone wows the judges with something less accurate yet spectacular. Now the third and final challenge…”

When he looks over at Tonk she’s now eating chocolate chips out of a bag while nodding along in a way that makes it seem she’s only half listening. He grabs the bag out of her hands and dumps half of the chocolate chips in his bowl before putting the bag down on the counter on the opposite side of where she is standing. As he continues to stir he side-eyes her with his non-eye-patched eye and purses his lips before asking. “Were you even listening to a word I just said?”

Tonks rolls her eyes and reaches behind him to grab the bag of chocolate chips. “Yes. Yes I was. Personal Charm Dish, Zippy Skill Challenge, and the third and final challenge is?”

With a face devoid of amusement he turns his eyes back to the camera and continues. “The Truly Magical Challenge. This is where chefs have to show the judges something that ‘makes them believe in magic.’” While he says the end of the sentence a sparkle effect floats in from the left side of the screen to the right passing over his head. “The winner is based on who does the best job of amazing all of the judges with something special. Over the course of 10 weeks the judges take into consideration things like amount of wins, consistency in performance, a real wow factor, and growth over the competition in order to pick an Ultimate Kitchen Witch.”

Now the video cuts to the two looking into an open oven as Moody slides a tray of cookie dough balls in. “But Moody who are the judges?” She turns her head to look at him as she asks and he gives her a glance before looking back at the camera with a cheeky smile.

Another montage of clips play including a very no nonsense Rowena Ravenclaw cutting up an onion while she tells someone off camera why they need to immediately leave her kitchen, Helga Hufflepuff precariously carrying a tray full of dozens of different cookies looking wide eyed and scared of the possible tumble, Godric Gryffindor laughing and handling a large blow torch in way that seems very unsafe, Salazar Slytherin just looking into the camera with a pointed unpleasant look before he grabs a plate from the table in front of him and throws it across the room against a wall, and then varying black silhouettes against a pastel blue background as the words ‘Surprise Guest Judges Announced Every Monday’ roll in front of the figures.

Once the video cuts back to Moody and Tonks she is softly bouncing with a cookie in hand while he just admires the tray holding the rest. “This is so great, I’m gonna get so fat on amazing food and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me.” The two laugh a little before a look of realization appears on her and holds up a finger to single she has something to add. “What do the chefs get if they win?”

(Moody explains[I still need to figure that out] and then prompts a montage of the contestants this season. Each one has a few clips from various sources shown before they play a short clip of them against a pastel blue background with words with their name and occupation displayed beside them. Remus is annoyed with the clips they used for him, shocked by the clips of Sirius they used, and clicks off after a few more including Sable, Edmund, Ignotus, and Hudson).

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thanksjro · 5 years ago

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More Than Meets the Eye #4- Man, Talk About Timely, Huh? It’s Time for the Plague Storyline!

Issue #4 opens up with First Aid writing in his diary about the less-than-stellar working conditions at Delphi medical center, and it’s not because Ambulon caught him reading Wreckers fanfic during office hours for the eighth time this week.

So, here’s the thing: you can’t be demoted from doctor to nurse. That’s not how that goes, because doctors and nurses aren’t on the same career path ladder. A doctor can have certain accesses and privileges taken away if their performance slips, or can be moved to a different ward or transferred to another facility, but outright demotion to nurse status isn’t a THING. If anything, First Aid would be performing nurse duties to cover for the fact that Delphi seems to have a grand total of three staff members for the entire outpost. Hell, they’ve had to outsource their mental health checkups to a guy who was in orbit over Cybertron until a couple months ago.

But anyway, something’s up at Delphi, and it all started when they let a couple of Decepticon surrendering combatants inside. These two dudes were running from the Decepticon Justice Division, a group who basically super-murder any Decepticon who’s decided to do a runner from the Cause. The DJD’s base of operations is in the same general area as Delphi, which seems like maybe not the best idea for the Autobots when it came to outpost placement, but it seems to be working out pretty well for the surrendering combatants.

Pharma shows up, and is ready to throw them back outside- he’s the big boss, so he can make that kind of call- but after a little detective works they figure out that the two don’t have their t-cogs anymore, having had them removed for religious purposes. Ambulon sees them as the exact opposite of a threat because of this, not to mention him having a soft spot for surrendering ‘Cons, and manages to convince Pharma to let them stay, and also not violate the Autobot Code, Article 7, which states that all surrendering combatants must be granted safe haven. Ultra Magnus would be proud.

They lock up the Decepticons, slate them for a patch up, then things get complicated as it turns out, they’ve got a branched spark. The last time we saw a branched spark, things didn’t turn out so hot, and it looks like things have started going similarly downhill.

But enough about the horrific deaths of dozens of robots on a frozen planet, it’s time for bar shenanigans!

While Skids prepares to commit an act of violence on a droid that’s done absolutely nothing to him and is just trying to do its friggin’ job, Swerve reveals to Ratchet that he’s decided to follow his dreams after all and open a bar. He doesn’t have all the paperwork turned in yet, per se, but he’s working on it. He hands Ratchet a free drink to celebrate the off-panel event of the Lost Light having found itself on the map again, and Ratchet, who’s apparently never heard of a shot, gripes about the portioning.

Of course, he might have a bit of a point, as the drink seems to shrink more and more as he talks to Swerve about the fact that they’re both giant nerds who were subscribed to Wreckers: Declassified.

Was non-war-related entertainment just not allowed for the last four million years? No wonder the war went on for so long- everyone was so steeped in it they forgot how to function like regular people. Since the logs were beamed directly into the brain, I can only imagine the amount of physic damage that last entry caused.

The reason Ratchet’s brought up everyone’s favorite podcast is that there was a new entry last night- odd, considering that Ironfist’s been dead for a couple years at this point. It was just a series of seemingly random numbers, or at least it would have been, if Ratchet wasn’t a good doctor who kept up-to-date on his medical news.

My my, I do wonder which Wreckers: Declassified subscriber could have sent those statistics on Delphi out into the aether.

As luck would have it, the Lost Light isn’t terribly far away from Messatine at the moment, which is the planet Delphi is on. Ratchet decides it’s time to check things out.

Over in Rodimus’ very pink room, Ultra Magnus wants to have a discussion about Tailgate, and the fact that he wants to be a Decepticon. This is, obviously, a problem, considering the fact that everyone on the ship, who wasn’t stuck in some sort of hole or alternate dimension for the last six millions years, is staunchly anti-Decepticon. Magnus laments on the fact that now that the war is over, he has to start seeing people as people, as opposed to cogs in the machine. Magnus is one of those guys who functions better with structure, which the Lost Light doesn’t really have a ton of.

Rodimus tells Magnus to lighten up a bit, before he pulls something trying to bring military regulation into civilian life, and says that he’ll handle the whole Tailgate thing.

Back down on Messatine, Ratchet’s dragged Drift and Pipes of all people into his little visit to Delphi, and they’re rocking up to the scene on the MARBs- Mobile Autobot Repair Bays. This is Pipe’s first space adventure, and he’s really happy to be here!

We’ll see how he feels a little later in the day.

As the boys make their way over to the plot, Drift and Ratchet lay a bit of groundwork down for future storylines, then arrive outside Delphi to find the door locked and spray painted with a big ol’ X.

Shane McCarthy slipped James Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet. Let’s see how that pays off.

Pipes decides to do a thing and crash through the entrance like a hooligan. It goes about as well as one could expect, though we do a pretty sweet and unnecessary flip from Drift out of it.

We’re going to need to soak Pipes in rubbing alcohol for a good hour.

Ratchet yells at Pipes for busting into a medical outpost that clearly wasn’t meant to be cracked open like a cold one, not to mention knocking over at least three hospital beds.

Then a sick guy shows up and Drift flips the hell out and slices up a guy so hard Pipes has to remove his visor to watch the insanity unfold.

The whole “sword murder” thing doesn’t really gel with the idea of “do no harm”, so Ratchet and Drift get into it a bit before First Aid shows up and starts drawing on Pipe’s face.

Back on the Lost Light, Rodimus is keeping his promise and dealing with Tailgate, with the help of Rewind, resident historical archivist and the guy who’s about to rock Tailgate’s fucking world in under 12 seconds.

Okay. So.

The thing about recorded history is everything has a bias. No matter how impartial the recorder attempts to be, no matter how detached, there will ALWAYS be at least a little bleedthough. Now, while it’s unlikely Rewind’s been in direct combat, because he’s friggin’ tiny and turns into a data slug, and while he doesn’t seem the patriotic type, he’s still an Autobot. He’s only been on one side of the war, so most, if all all of his archive, is built from the framework of being surrounded by Autobot mindsets and propaganda. It would appear that this isn’t the first time Rewind’s done something like this, if he already has the upload time committed to memory down to the tens decimal. If he’d been asked to do this prior to the conclusion of the war- very likely, considering it ended a few months ago- what are the odds that he was asked to frame things a little more in favor of his own team? Pretty good, I’d think.

Guys, I don’t think Tailgate is having a good time with the history lesson.

Needless to say, any concern over Tailgate wanting to be a Decepticon is pretty soundly quashed after this.

Back over with the plague plotline, First Aid gives Ratchet the rundown on the symptoms they’ve run into at Delphi.

You fucker, you got that line from Wreckers: Declassified.

Delphi hasn’t been able to call for help, because even if they didn’t have their hands full of liquified robot, communications have been out since something went off and broke pretty much everything in the outpost, general health and well-being included. First Aid suspects a dirty bomb, curtesy of the DJD. The tour of the facility ends in the medical bay proper, where Ambulon is hard at work trying to keep folks alive.

Ratchet looks over the scene, and notes that the older patients in the ward aren’t crying their literal eyeballs out. Weird, that.

Ambulon shows off their super-secret patient, who is kept in shadow for the reader, to keep the suspense going for a bit longer. Mystery patient’s been in an “everlasting coma” since he got here, and while Ambulon and Pharma don’t think anything can be done, First Aid’s willing to get weird with it.

Earlier in the issue, it was mentioned that Ambulon didn’t think First Aid took any initiative. Turns out, First Aid does, and has, just not on things Ambulon agrees with.

It was at that point that Ratchet decided he rather liked First Aid.

Back with Tailgate, he’s returned to his room to confront Cyclonus, who’s busy doing something on the computer. What exactly isn’t revealed, and never will be.

Tailgate is really cross about the fact that Cyclonus let him walk around on a ship full of Autobots claiming he wanted to be a Decepticon. Of course, it’s not like Cyclonus knew he was going to be such a loudmouth about it, otherwise maybe he would have told him to maybe NOT do that, if only to prevent his life getting further muddied up by a war he wasn’t even around for.

Tailgate’s gotten really worked up over this, because that’s just how he is as a person, and even goes so far as to punch Cyclonus in the arm in his frustration. He apologizes almost immediately, but the bear’s already been poked, unfortunately.

Oh, honeybunches, you are going to be regretting that move for the next five years.

But not before the customary “pulling away from the one guy who’ll even talk to you because you don’t know how to properly react to anything anymore" thing.

Back on Messatine, we find out where Pharma got to- he’s been locked into the quarantine room by accident, and will remain there until all technopathogens are completely dead. This will take millions of years.

That seems like poor planning for such a room.

Or, at least, it would be, if Ambulon was still running the show.

How the fuck has Ambulon survived this long without dying of stupidity?

As Ratchet starts trying to get Pharma out of his glass case of emotion, Pipes is starting to not have so much fun on his first-ever field trip.

Yaaay, space adventure!

Ratchet warns Drift not to kill Pipes- repeatedly- and Drift manages to do that, though it looks a little dodgy for a second, as he bonks the little guy on the head and knocks him out. Ratchet’s managed to get Pharma out, and Pharma immediately runs for the prison cells, saying he’s figured it out.

Ambulon carries what’s left of Pipes back to the emergency ward, and Ratchet holds the little dude’s hand while they get him hooked up to some feeds. Drift starts bleeding from the eyes. Awesome.

Enter Pharma.

Today just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?

Turns out those two Decepticons from earlier got out of their cells somehow, and they’ve got guns. Things aren’t looking too good for the Autobots.

Well, I mean, if he says it’s fine, then I guess…

Yep, our mystery patient is none other than Fortress Maximus, warden of Garrus 9, victim of Overlord, and glorified lock-pick for the Aequitas chamber. He’s looking a lot better than the last time we saw him, in that he’s got some limbs attached to that torso of his, and also eyeballs. Good for him.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #issue 4 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing #overthinking about robots

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cagestark · 5 years ago

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Better Late Than Never//1

And Merry Christmas to YOU

Aka I started another project that I will take twenty years to finish. But @starkerflowers prompts were just too fucking good.

About: With interest in his work waning, famous writer Tony Stark (under the pseudonym AE Potts) changes his entire public relations platform, which includes hosting a meet-and-greet contest where one lucky fan will get to spend the day with him. That one lucky fan is Peter Parker. Peter is 21. Will contain nff, alcoholism, suicide attempts, character death (not major), drug mentions, anxiety, anxiety attacks.

Read here on AO3.

Tony is awakened from a drunken, dreamless sleep by a tub of envelopes and small packages being upended over his head. He jerks upright with a shout from where he was slumped over his writing desk, upending the (empty) bottle of whiskey that had lulled him to sleep. Pepper stands over him, impeccable in every way he is not.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, pushing envelopes off of where they have pooled on his lap. “You could have taken my eye out, Peppercorn. What are you trying to do, perform Lingchi on me? What is all this?”

“Fan mail,” she says. Her voice is stern and unsympathetic. The first time she’d found him passed out drunk over his desk, she had panicked and nearly called for an ambulance. The next handful of times she had just covered him with a blanket and regarded him with sad eyes the next morning when she brought him coffee. But those were ten years ago. Not to mention, all in her first few weeks on the job— “Social media is revolting. You never answer fan mail, you never do Q&A’s, you haven’t done an interview in almost a decade.”

“Fuck this,” Tony mutters, opening one drawer. “Where’s my whiskey?”

“In your bloodstream, I’d imagine. Don’t brush this off, Tony. Sales are waning. We need to make some serious changes in our PR or I’ll be putting in my two-weeks’ notice.”

That gets Tony’s attention. Pepper hadn’t threatened to quit after his last book when he’d killed off one of the most popular characters (one of his personal favorites, may she rest in fictional peace) and the public had flipped their shit. She hadn’t threatened to quit years before that when she walked in on him hunched over his desk with a straw to his nose, three sheets to the wind on far more than just whiskey. She has the disposition of a mountain: unflinching and ever-enduring.

“You mean it,” says Tony.

“I mean it.”

His shoulders sag. He glances around the room: the mess, the junk, the empty alcohol bottles, the half-finished manuscripts. There’s a strange feeling in the back of his throat, acidic, like he might throw up. Or cry. When his mouth opens to say something sarcastic, something about not letting the door hit her on the way out if she expects him to play nice with the media, all that comes out is a broken: “I can’t lose you, Pep.”

She puts a hand on his shoulder. “You will. If you don’t make some changes. Okay?”

Maybe this is what it means to be balanced on a knife’s edge, where one way ends in pain and the other ends in terminal inconvenience. But he knows which one he has to pick. His whole life is just a big inconvenience, but pain? Tony has spent enough time with his hand flat against the stove’s burner to know that he’d rather die than feel it again, rather die than lose one of the only people left who can stand him.

He picks up the closest letter and tears it open, blinking heavily to clear his eyes. Pepper leans down to press a kiss to the crown of his head and then gags. “Take a shower, when you get the chance,” she mutters, smiling.

The letters start off by being good for one thing: his ego. Adoring fans have been writing to his penname and business address for decades since he put out his first super-hero novel, titled IRON-MAN. Pepper has chosen to give him recent fan-mail, considering he’s spent so long ignoring it that if he were to answer them in order of reception, he might encounter fans who didn’t even remember the letters once sent. Or ones who were dead.

They are all variations of the same thing. The handwriting changes, gentle feminine cursive to childish scrawling to neat block lettering, but the message is usually the same. DEAR MR. POTTS. I’VE READ EVERY BOOK YOU’VE EVER WRITTEN. I GOT YOUR NAME TATTOOED ON MY ASS. IRON-MAN IS MY HERO. I’VE NEVER READ PROSE AS LOVELY AS YOURS. WHAT IS YOUR SECRET?

At Pepper’s request, Tony drafts a generic letter to send in response, something about how he can’t respond personally to every letter but he wants them to know that he’s read what they’ve written and ‘holds it close to his heart’.

“It’s good,” Pepper approves. “Sign them yourself.”

“Good?” Tony says. “I was joking—this letter is trash. Anyone who knows me would see this for the sarcasm it is—”

“Then thank God none of the fans know you,” Pepper responds coolly.

She has a point. Tony has existed in relative seclusion since he first began publishing his works at 24. After twenty years, he’d managed to remain mostly anonymous. A pseudonym does most of the work, including non-disclosure agreements for his employees. Any time a presence is required, he sends Rhodey or Happy or Pepper even. Theory pages abound on the internet, sites devoted to finding out who the real AE POTTS is. Even though one picture leaked of him during the early 2000’s (a grainy godforsaken thing that didn’t even show his best angle), there were still some disbelievers. One popular conspiracy theory is that AE is Pepper, considering Tony stole her last name to use as his own.

Maybe that’s why his declining image in the media bothers her so much.

A week later, Tony’s hand has a cramp the way it hasn’t since he was a little boy learning to write his letters. Freehand has never been his specialty—it’s far too slow for the way his mind works, bounding a sentence, a scene, a chapter ahead. Signing so many letters is going to freeze his hand in a claw like position. He’s sure of it.

Then Pepper drops the next bombshell on him: the contest.

“It goes against everything I’ve been working so hard to do for the last twenty years,” Tony shouts at the zenith of their argument. “I do not want to be known! I don’t want the fame; I just wanted the goddamn fortune, is that too much to ask for?”

“Times have changed,” Pepper says through her teeth. She holds her own, spine straight. She hasn’t shirked away from his angry outbursts ever, not even when they were children growing up together in Manhattan. “I’m not asking you to do a 20/20 Special. I’m not asking for an interview on Ellen. I’m asking for you to meet with one fan. Have a goddamn lunch with them. If you can’t handle that, then you can kiss your fortune goodbye. Mark my words.”

Tony marks them. He fucking marks them, okay? When he’s drinking himself blind, locked in his office (good luck getting in now, Pep), they ring around his skull like a dime in the dryer. Sometime around dawn, she picks the lock on the door and mops his brow while he vomits in the tiny trashcan beside his desk.

“I’m not doing this to torture you,” she says with uncharacteristic tenderness. Her hand on his forehead occasionally rifling through his greasy hair is not what’s making his eyes prickle with tears—it’s the vomiting. Honest. He’s not that touch-starved. “You know that, right? I hate seeing you like this.”

“I know,” he chokes miserably, gagging again. So he agrees to the Willy Wonka Initiative. Pepper puts out the word that the infamous AE POTTS will be selecting a single fan to meet face to face. Anyone eighteen or older is eligible to participate, as long as they write a letter explaining why they should get it blah blah blah. A golden ticket might have been funner. At least then Tony might have had an excuse to wear the tacky purple suit and tophat.

In the meantime, Pepper reveals that she’s been having Happy screen his mail to only show him the happy letters—figures. His hate mail isn’t extensive, but it certainly exists, having increased exponentially since he killed off Natasha in the last novel.

FUCKING MYSOGINISTIC ASSHOLE, Cheryl from Newport tenderly writes. YOU HAD ONE GOOD FEMALE CHARACTER, AND YOU KILLED HER OFF. I HOPE ANOTHER WOMAN NEVER LETS YOU BETWEEN THEIR LEGS AGAIN AND YOUR DICK SHRIVELS OFF.

Tony thinks that’s pretty succinct. He posts it up on his desk propped up against the last picture ever taken of him and his mother. Killing off Natasha had been an idea he’d personally revolted against for months. Sure, it made sense that sensitive, strong Natasha would be the one to sacrifice herself in order to stop the villain from succeeding in wiping out half the universe. It made sense for a woman to be the one to give her life to protect others.

After all, hadn’t his own mother died trying to protect Tony?

The weekend after the contest drops on their social media platforms, Pepper texts to tell him that it’s being received far, far better than they might have ever hoped for. Already dozens of letters had been received, letters which must have been penned and mailed just hours after the news had spread.

Joy, Tony texts back.

I haven’t told you the best news, she says. That’s how Tony knows that the next news will be the worst news, absolutely the worst news of all. You get to pick the fan.

“Any letter catching your eye?” Pepper asks him over lunch in his office.

“They’re all the same,” Tony laments. Even his own ego can only take so much stroking. After a while, the fan mail has become mostly routine and lackluster, though he keeps opening it, keeps signing the response letters, keeps sending them out. “I’m going to end up picking one at random, Pep.”

“I don’t care how you pick,” Pepper says. “As long as you do—and as long as you’re ready to suffer with the consequences of your choice.”

“Suffer? God, I love the light you bring into my life. The unending optimism. The unparalleled faith and trust in me.”

Her eyes glitter even as they roll. “If you like me so much, you can buy lunch next time.”

Tony snorts, taking a large bite from his burger. “Gold digger.”

“I’ve seen your taxes, Tony. These days, there isn’t much gold to dig for.”

“Ouch, kill shot.”

The letter arrives only one week before the contest deadline. In the top drawer of his desk are three other letters from potential winners, mostly picked at random, sometimes because Tony likes their handwriting, sometimes because they say something funny that actually makes him laugh. When he opens up the letter from Peter B. Parker, he scans the first lines not intending to be impressed.

Dear Mr. Potts, Peter writes.

I’ve written you so many letters that it should be easy by now. I don’t know why my hands are shaking. Maybe I’m nervous because I know for certain that this one, someone will actually read.

I received my first copy of IRON-MAN when I was eight years old—yes, a little bit heavy for a kid that age, but my parents had just died unexpectedly in a car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in, and my uncle gave me his first edition. Iron-man’s story was one of the only things that got through to me as a kid. His struggle to come to terms with losing his own parents, his loneliness, his fear. The way he overcomes all of that and still goes on to do good…yeah. It meant a lot to a grief-stricken kid. Obviously.

Pretty much every birthday and Christmas, I end up receiving one of your books as a gift. My family and friends know me so well, I have nearly a half-dozen copies of AVENGERS (it’s one of my favorites). The things you write about are so close to my heart, so close to some of the experiences I’ve had in real life. My struggle with mental illness. My abuse and neglect. And the way you write these things makes me think…fear, I guess…that maybe you know something about them too.

I would love to get to meet you and talk about your incredible books. I’d love to get to know you. Not going to lie, as a fanboy, I’d probably be happy to just sit at the same table with you and have a meal. I’ll buy. We don’t even have to talk (okay I swear I’m not as desperate as I sound!). I’m sure you’ve received so many awesome letters, and I know that the fan you pick will be so, so lucky.

(Every letter I write to you, I ask if you could please return my book. It’s been five years since I sent it. I’m sure you don’t even have it anymore, maybe you threw it away from the start. But if you do have it, even if you don’t pick me to win the contest, it would mean so much if you sent it back. When I mailed it to you in Jan. 2014, my uncle was still alive. He’s gone now…anyway it’s one of the only things of his that I have left.)

Your fan always,

PETER.

PS: please disregard the last letter I sent…obviously.

Tony rereads the letter twice. He feels a swirl of emotion in his stomach, not dissimilar to the queasiness after a long night of drinking. This—this is what he sacrificed by being so closed-off from his fans. While he’d known that his fans were real and obviously human, a part of him had never felt the magnitude of it before. These are people with feelings and experiences. This Parker kid (a self-proclaimed fanboy) lost his parents too, and far younger than Tony had. In a car accident.

Maybe Peter hadn’t been there, hadn’t been in the car, hadn’t watched his mother parents go up in flames, but it’s still a tragedy all in its own right. And all at eight years old. Jesus Christ. This kid has been looking up to him for ten years and more, and he had no fucking idea that kind of dysfunctional altar he’d been worshiping at.

Tony goes into the private bathroom connected to his office and gags up—nothing. Drool. But it still leaves his mouth slimy, so he brushes his teeth until he’s spitting pink into the sink, and when he catches sight of the haphazard reflection in the mirror, he pities it. He leans forward to touch foreheads with it, auto-intimacy. Do better, some voice in the back of his head says, but it’s not his voice.

Happy picks up his cellphone on the first ring. Of the ninth call.

“What do you fucking want, Tony?” he hisses into the receiver. “I’m at the movie theater seeing that new Star Wars. You made me go out into the lobby—”

“Then I’m doing you a favor,” Tony says, cracking open the cap on a sparkling water. “Look, I have important questions, I wouldn’t have called otherwise. My fan mail—how much of it has Pepper kept?”

“Jesus, how should I know? Totes and totes full, at least—”

“Brilliant—”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? I’m missing the movie!”

“Didn’t I say you’re not missing much? I’m asking you because Pepper will make me do it myself: I need you to find specific letters from one fan: Peter B. Parker. Address is Queens, but he could be from anywhere. I’m also especially interested in acquiring a package he sent me in January 2014.”

“Christ, could you be any more mysterious?” Happy mutters. “Text me the details you bastard, I’m not missing another moment of Mark Hamill.”

It turns out that Pepper is not only a saint in all ways previously mentioned, but she is a saint in this as well: his fan mail from the last ten years has been saved and meticulously organized by month and year of reception. Happy comes to Tony’s office in the city the next day with a package, the outside brittle but address clear.

The writing is the same script as the letter newly received from Peter, though the handwriting has become more mature over time. Neater. Confined. No more hasty slant from an enthusiastic hand. The kid’s contest entry is in the top drawer of Tony’s desk—the previous potential winners are now the cherries on top of the reject pile. His stomach is heavy as a stone while he tears open the five-year-old package.

Out tumbles a pre-addressed package that was meant to carry the book back to its owner, back to Peter. Then, one first edition of IRON-MAN, the cover a little tattered, the spine creaky. Also included is another letter, torn from a spiral notebook. He opens it with shaking hands.

DEAR MISTER POTTS

I KNOW THAT GETTING A RESPONSE FROM MY LETTERS IS A LONG SHOT, BUT I’M REALLY HOPING THAT YOU’LL AUTOGRAPH THIS COPY OF IRON-MAN AND RETURN IT TO ME. IT IS MY UNCLE BEN’S…

It goes on to describe how his Uncle’s birthday is coming up and Peter hopes to give the autographed book to his Uncle. Tony reads with a heavy heart, knowing now that Tony hadn’t bothered even opening the package, hadn’t tried to sign it—and even if he had, Ben hadn’t lived long enough to celebrate his next birthday. What a son of a bitch Tony is.

For the first time in three months, Tony goes home.

Most days he stays at the space he rents in the fancy Manhattan building, the one that holds his office and Pepper’s own workspace as well as the other people who work for him (Happy, Beck, Rhodey). The mansion outside Manhattan belonged to Tony’s father and his mother. When his mother had still been alive, it had been a cold place that he had endured staying at for her sake. After his mother had died, it had been a torture chamber, or worse—a stale, suffocating tomb.

Then Howard had died and somehow left it to Tony (probably out of some misguided duty to ‘keep it in the family’). Tony made a personal habit to visit it infrequently and stay there even less often; but Pepper maintains it for him, has it cleaned, keeps it safe. Uses it as storage, Tony knows. For his fan mail.

It takes up three entire rooms, floor to ceiling clear totes labeled with months and years. Just looking at it makes Tony feel small, ashamed of how little he cared about interacting with his fans. It’s no wonder sales were down. Searching for Peter’s letters would be like looking for a needle in a haystack—but he has to do it, and he can’t let Happy bear the brunt of the weight anymore either. This is on Tony.

So he begins pulling totes from the room and scattering their contents on the oaken table and floors of the dining room. Five hours and seven totes later, and Tony still has no letter from Peter.

Pepper finds him at midnight. She comes bursting in through the front door—Tony can hear the sound of the door colliding with the wall from the force she’s used—shouting his name. The hysteria in her voice chills him to the bone. It’s worse than the tone she uses when Tony fucks up; this is the tone she uses when there’s a Tragedy, when something is Wrong.

She finds him in the dining room surrounded by letters, kneeling up from where he was slumped on the floor. He must be a sight, but she is one too, her hair a mess, her eyes red. When she sees him, all the breath goes out of her, one hand clutching at her breast as the other grabs the back of a chair for support.

“Jesus, Pep, what’s happened? Is it your father, another heart attack—?”

“Why don’t you ever answer your goddamn phone, you bastard!” She says through heaving breaths. “You don’t leave the office for weeks and suddenly no one can find you, you won’t pick up your phone—”

It takes a long moment for the pieces to connect.

“Oh Christ,” Tony says, chidingly. “What, you were scared for me?”

She slumps into one chair and puts her face into her well-manicured hands. Tony drops back onto his ass. He’s not a good man, not a sensitive man. The last woman who had cried in front of him was his mother, and look at all the ways he had failed her. But the longer he sits letting Pepper cry, the more it feels like bamboo shoots growing under his tender fingernails. Fuck it. He gets up, knees creaking, and goes to her.

They sit side by side at the dining table no one has eaten at in twelve years. Pepper leans into him, her thin shoulders shaking. Shame makes his own eyes burn, because he thought what did she have to be afraid of? But maybe she saw his car in the driveway of the unhappy home he avoids and assumed that he’d come here to Hemingway himself. Maybe she sat in the drive steeling herself to come into the sight of his body.

“I’m going through the fan mail,” Tony says at last.

“I can see that,” she says. Her scathing tone drips with tears.

“I’m okay, Pep,” he says. He’s not sure if it’s true. He’s not sure if he’s been okay ever since he blinked awake upside down and suspended by the seatbelt in the back seat of his mother’s Cadillac, glass littering the roof (and the roof had become the floor, then, see? Because they were upside down), the smell of gas and smoke in his nose). Maybe he’s not okay. Maybe it’s all a fucking lie, but he’s not going to off himself. Not when there’s a mystery afoot. “I promise.”

She nods, one damp hand reaching out blindly for his. It’s an awkward angle to hold hands at, but he doesn’t complain. And awkward or not, it feels nice to be touched in a kind, even platonic way.

“What are you looking for?” Pepper asks at last, wiping at the wet, swollen skin beneath her eyes.

“Why? You want to help?” Tony asks.

“Might as well,” she says. “I always do your heavy lifting, don’t I?”

With Pepper’s help, they find the first letter. Somehow the Willy Wonka Initiative has reversed until Tony feels like a kid, ripping open chocolate bars, desperate for a glimpse of gold. At dawn, a cry echoes in the dining room startling Tony from where he was slumping against a tote, dozing.

“I’ve got one, Tony!” Pepper shouts. She’s barefoot, her panty hose taken off and folded on the table, her sensible jacket removed and slung over the back of a chair. Her rumpled shirt and tendrils coming free from her ponytail reveal how much energy she’s been putting into this with him—maybe to make up for her emotional outburst earlier, maybe like a mother humoring a child’s singular beneficial interest. “From Peter B. Parker, address is Queens, same as before.”

“What’s the date?” Tony asks. He slips in a pile of letters from last August and nearly breaks his neck. Wishful fucking thinking.

“Last May. Here—”

Tony takes the letter and collapses in a chair, his lower back grateful for the support. He recognizes Peter’s handwriting as he tears the letter open, and he can feel Pepper’s presence over his shoulder, reading along with him.

This letter is different from the others. Tony knows it right away. The first indication should have been the date; Tony’s most recent novel dropped early May of last year. His most controversial work to date, with praise glorious and venomous in kind. Which way did the scales tip when it came to Peter, Tony wonders.

I know that you won’t read this. I’ve written you twice a year since I was ten years old, and you’ve never written back. I don’t blame you. I’m sure you’re busy—I guess I just needed to get these words down somewhere, so that they exist, so that somewhere there is a record of me after I’m dead.

Tony reads the rest in a dazed blur. At one point, Pepper’s hand lifts to press against her mouth, but still they read on, huddled together for convenience and then for comfort.

In the letter, Peter describes the tragedy of his uncle’s death and how he felt personally responsible, and how after months of guilt, when he’d read about Natasha’s sacrifice, he’d decided to take action. Against himself.

If someone’s death can do so much good in the world, Peter wrote with shaky script. Then maybe mine could too. I’m not deluded or anything. I know that I’m not a superhero and that I’m not fighting against some sanctimonious super villain. But I feel like if my death could make May’s life easier, then I have to do it.

“Jesus. Tony, don’t read this—” Pepper reaches out for the letter but Tony nearly rips it in half trying to keep it away from her.

It’s not just for May, Peter admits. I’m ready to stop hurting, too.

Peter signs off, for good. Only it hadn’t been for good—Peter’s most recent letter had obviously proven that, and hadn’t he written it himself? Ignore my last letter, obviously, he’d said. Something must have changed Peter’s mind, but one thing was clear: it hadn’t been Tony. Because Tony had been so self-absorbed, so tangled in his own grief and ego and addictions he hadn’t even read the letter. If Pepper hadn’t saved it, then it might have been destroyed, no record left of Peter’s words at all.

“Tony,” Pepper says. She takes the letter from his fingers and he lets it go. His hands are numb. “This isn’t your fault. Peter obviously was unstable—he’d just watched his uncle being murdered in front of him. No one in their right mind would read Natasha’s death and think that you were encouraging them to take their own life.”

“I know that,” Tony snaps. Lying. Then: “I’m not an idiot, Pep.”

Maybe the biggest lie of all.

#starker #writer!tony #fan!peter #tw: alcoholism #tw: drugs #tw: suicide attempt #cagewrites

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deannastrois · 5 years ago

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to the end of the decade

I started this decade out…not great. And straight. I’m ending this decade maybe not perfect but accepting that I need to get better and working on it through therapy and drugs. And bi. So I’d say that’s at least something of a step up despite that I’ve had bad depressive episodes this year alone.

I also started this decade being a shadow in fandom, a lurker with nothing to say and not making friends. I’m ending it on a completely different note having actually begun creating and writing and having people on this site I’m more grateful for than anything. (and I’ll put my thanks to specific people under the cut cause I am nothing is not a weak, soft bitch at heart)

To all mutuals, thank you really for sticking around. I know I’m not the easiest to get along with and I hope to talk to some of you more at some point. I’m just so bad at it but <33333

@lembeau, I know things have been weird this year and that’s on me but at the end of the day you are always my forever girl and original otp. I don’t know how I would have gotten through some of the years without you, you’ve been my (salt)rock and best friend and everything in between. I hope things go well for you in the coming decade and know that I’ll always have your back and be immensely proud of what you’ve accomplished. I love you more than Eliza loves Goliath and in every universe the Middleman could ever give us.

@xsarahx, you were the very first person I started talking to and befriended on this site, even pre-musketeers days which is more of a throwback. We’ve come a long way from the Andrew Lee Potter days and I am always glad to talk to you about anything, including, of course, how comics have fucked up so badly these days. I’m with you till the end of the line, babe.

@sidewaystime, okay this one time I’m not gonna go with the red vs blue joke with your name I promise. Even if in my head I definitely am. Thank you for standing by all these years and I disastered my way through a career in computers, I’ll always appreciate someone knowing my absolute pain when it comes to users. Beyond that you’ve always got the best ideas for fandom aus and I love to hear them, especially if they’re old 90s fandoms. (and Canadian)

@sweetlyfez, remember back in the day when I was figuring out I was bi and it was all Constance’s fault? Well thank you for standing beside me as I figured that all out. And then laughing about it later because okay let’s be real, it is amusing in hindsight. You encouraged (and sometimes goaded) me on to writing femslash and I’ll never forget that.

@fonapola, we’ve come a long way from the musketeer-ing days. Who’d have thought our love our rare pairs would take us here but I’m glad we got there. Thank you for always letting me ramble on about those ideas and your own amazing ideas and fics and vids and everything when it came to that. You let a small thing grow large and kept the excitement going. Maybe one day we really will write our own thing together and have a shared world of sci fi and magic and someone clearly ready to be played by Howard Charles…Here’s hoping there’s more games I can drag you into it because I cannot wait.

@biportamis, oh Hannah I’d say I’m sorry for the million and one spams this year but that’s a lie and I’m not and if you’re gonna make me have musketeers feelings in 2019 then I’m gonna make you cry over Hawke. It’s equality. Jokes aside though I’m glad we always have those and holy shit you wrote a book!! Remember that?? That’s wild and I’m so proud of you for it, I can’t wait to see what you do this next decade.

@vulpyx, I am eternally grateful we got to talking and sharing fandom things, you’ve always been fun to talk to and I look forward to every pokemon game so we can make jokes about it and just be excited over it. And books! We need more good books, I hope that next Kyoshi one is gonna be good. I’m also really thankful that you’ve understood my anxiety and I wish I could help you with your own but know that I’m always here if you want to talk or need a distraction. <3

@waverly-earp, we have been through a lot of fandom madness together. Starting with AoS way back in the day and it just kept going. You’ve been a wonder through it all and an inspiration to make better gifs that look half as good as your beautiful edits. I love everything you create and wish this site wasn’t so terribly broken that it missed out on a good chunk of that stuff, but I hope you don’t stop because they always look so good. See you in the next decade with probably a dozen other fandom things to complain about (sorry not sorry)

@amandatapping, wild how quickly we bonded when it came to star trek but I’ll never regret that, the crazy things and injokes we ended up coming up with still make me laugh and you are the only person (aside from those femslash events) I’ll make ENT gifs for. Sorry I don’t love it like you do but I’m always willing to hear about how much you love it because it’s important to you and you’re important to me. #legged, baby!

@girlonthelasttrain, has it really only been two years since we started talking because it feels like we’ve been sharing memes forever. I’d say I’m sorry for spamming you with them but let’s be real, I’m not and it’s what Tidus would want. Truly a millennial icon. But really thank you so much for being around these past few years, I appreciate it every time you let me go on about my latest worries and panics and hyperfixations. I hope we get to share even more terrible memes over the next decade and I love you more than 13x7.

@alluringcliche, it’s been a while since the AoS days which really feels like it was already a decade ago but regardless I’m glad those days made us friends. Thank you for supporting me when I needed it and being there, I hope I could do the same when you needed it. I’m always down to talk about whedon shows even if joss has disappointed us terribly and this is our city now. All the best for the new year/decade and I hope to keep up more.

@dragoncharming, I was gonna call you my fandom backup but then that doesn’t feel like the right term but I also can’t think of the term to use when you’re always the person I count on to know if I’d love/hate something. You’re my guiding star for fandom, knowing where to steer me and what to steer me away from and I love you for it. I hope we get to play dnd together soon because that would be so exciting and thank you for everything.

@boydetective, oof I need to get better at texting more because I feel like I fell off the map this year and I’m sorry. I love getting to talk to you about small fandom-y things and sharing the wildness of KH and BNHA (aaaand I need to catch up again) and thank you for just rolling with it as I appear and disappear and I’m sorry about that. I’ll try to do better next decade.

@vulpixelates, thank you so much for letting me join a dnd group, it’s been a lot of fun and I am looking forward to meeting more of your characters in one shots and later on. And thanks for letting me ramble on about a million things and have Bi Panic about fifty times a year because that’s very real and I am very bad with it.

@adhd-athena, you know how next decade is starting with the KH DLC and it’s like…finally…some answers…. Well I bet we spend the next decade with just more questions and by the end of it we’ll finally have KH4. And even more questions. Regardless I’m looking forward to speculating all about that and DSC and other things with you, sorry for all the spams about those in advance I’m sure. Thank you for always listening <3

@malarkiness, I’m tempted to stick a picture of troi in here because that’s usually what I send to you and I have no regrets. Okay that’s a lie, I send you other things and I’m grateful I can always send you the most random things or rambling things and you just roll with it and amazingly haven’t blocked me yet. I hope we get to talk more about KH and FF and holy shit the remake is so close but it’s only like ¼ of it and Nomura what are you doing. (no one knows, not even him) All my love for you and the next decade of SquareEnix confusion.

@twilightacespect, it’s funny to think that I didn’t know you on this site until only about three years ago because it feels like we’ve always had this friendship. And by this friendship I mean you sending me cowboy things and me being haunted by them. Thanks beks. Okay okay, I love you a lot despite the cowboys. We’ve shared a lot of stuff and you’ve let me go on about a lot of fandom things and I’m sorry for the million and one spams over it when I hyperfixate on something we share. Except I’m not and suffer with me.

@organasoloskywalker, this year has been hard and I’ve said it a dozen times before but I wish I could be there with you. I’m always here for you though and I love you so much. Thanks for always being around to watch things with me and dragging into PGSM hell (“it’s a musical, you like those!” LIES LEXI, IT WAS PAIN) and a dozen other things. I hope we get to see each other sometime in the future and do a TAZ show or something but I’ll always be the voice on the other end of the line texting you pictures of my cat and loving Wedge Antilles. (and you) Also you know see you tonight for Fantasy High watching. <3

#and with that emotional display I'm just gonna go

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margridarnauds · 4 years ago

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Feel free to ignore this message, but I've got a question regarding the Mythological Cycle; top 10 characters, rated best to worst. Let's go.

WHY WOULD I IGNORE THIS? THIS IS GREAT.

So, as a warning, since this is a very, very subjective list, I am not going to be............as academic as I could potentially be. I’m willing to chat any of this, since....I’m always down for any asks, specifically re: THIS most niche of niche topics, but in this particular list, I’m not rolling out all the sources I probably could, I’m not doing any massive Old Irish parsing, though I am trying to reference at least where I’m getting this from for the most part. Also, just because a character ends up on one end or the other doesn’t mean that I don’t ACKNOWLEDGE their complexity, it’s just that one end of it kind of sticks out to me. As we’re going to see.

[rape mention tw]

1. Bres- Best boi. Next question. (I mean, come on, my #1 location to visit here since the first day I got off the plane has been Mizenhead, because that’s where the Dindsenchas say he died.)

2. Sreng- Look. Sreng gets ONE text where he has a prominent role (that would be the Early Modern text Cath Muige Tuired Cunga, for anyone following), but my GOD does he make it count. Brother and son to a slaughtered king of Ireland, the warrior who didn’t want to go to war, the man who made the gods bleed and held out an entire ass battle by himself, the boyfriend of Bres. He’s definitely a figure who tends to go beneath the radar, and when he is brought up, it’s generally to present him in an unfavorable light compared to the TDD, but like. He deserves the world and I love him.

3. Lugh - This is going to be an absolute SHOCKER for people, because I think that people tend to think that, because I rip him routinely and my nickname for him is “The Bitch”, that means I HATE him. And I don’t. Not really. I don’t think he’s a straightforwardly HEROIC character, at least not all the time. I get slightly annoyed when people gloss over his flaws in order to paint him as a perfect figure even in texts where that is BLATANTLY not the case. But Lugh is FASCINATINGLY complex, and I love the texts that show that. The Early Modern edition of Cath Maige Tuired, Cath Muighe Tuireadh, shows a complex Lugh, as does Oidheadh Chloinne Tuireann and the Dinsenchas poem Carn húi Néit. Hell, even in the Táin, is Lugh really a GOOD guy, or is he just a “good guy” because he tends to Cú Chulainn? He doesn’t really give a damn if anyone else dies, so long as his own son is taken care of. He loves his father, and is willing to do anything to avenge his death even if it means that the innocent family members of his father’s killers get caught up in it as well. Lugh is a GREAT hero, he’s one of the pre-eminent figures of Irish Mythology, with some fairly strong evidence to indicate that an equivalent figure to him was the most widely revered deity in Gaul. But he is also, depending on the text, absolutely RUTHLESS in attaining what he feels is a greater good. He IS “dutiful/pious Lugh”, but what does that duty mean? How does he interpret that? He kills his own family members quite routinely (the Sons of Tuireann, Bres, Balor, Cermait, off the top of my head), and basically gets himself killed because of a marital dispute, and that’s an element of him that I think that people are afraid of, but I ADORE. It makes him HUMAN.

4. Ériu - The only person in the myths to love Bres as much as I do. Down to lose her virginity to a random stranger on the beach. The Sons of Míl come in and she’s like “Yeah, okay, just make sure to name the island after me, okay?” I love her. (Okay, but talk to me about how Bres is her ONLY CHILD across the various myths, about how it’s HER who gives him land, it’s HER who goes with him to Elatha and negotiates for his sake. She was willing to put aside her own people, travel to a foreign country filled with people who have been raiding her own people for years, and she did it for love of her son. You can argue over whether she indulged him too much, but you can’t argue that she’s possibly one of the single most devoted mothers in the Mythological Cycle.)

5. Carmun - Only gets one Dindsenchas poem to her name, but WHAT a showstopper it is. “One fierce, marauding woman” indeed. An Athenian witch who tries to invade Ireland with her three sons, only to be captured by the Tuatha dé and kept as a hostage. Longing (for her children? For freedom? For her old home of Athens?) eventually kills her, and she, like Tailtiu, another foreign woman who has a meeting space named after her, dies in an oak grove. An interesting example of a female villain in a myth, with the text obviously having quite a bit of respect for her, and her obviously genuinely caring for her sons and vice versa. There’s really not all that much more ON her, but I’m not sure that there really needs to be all that more because her story isn’t REALLY an epic. It’s very neatly contained as it is.

6. Bríg - It isn’t that I don’t LIKE Bríg, it’s that. Well. I get tired of talking about Bríg when there are a dozen characters more who actually DO things in the saga literature. You know. Like her husband. Who is almost never brought up in discussions on Bríg as if he’s not there. NOT THAT I’M BITTER.I just.....don’t really CARE for her. At all. And the way that people tend to discuss Bres in conjunction with Bríg has given me a certain level of resentment, so I just............ignore her whenever it’s at all possible. She gets points for the scene where she keens for Ruadan, since that’s a wonderfully human scene in a text that tends to be rather inhuman and detached in the amounts of blood, gore, and sex that saturate it, but like....I just don’t CARE. I don’t believe, at this point, that there is any way to really make me invested in Bríg, as a character. But I can’t really rate her lower because like. Below this, we start getting into the “Hall of Dicks” territory so I’m just putting her here.

7. Tethra - Interesting figure. Not an awful lot about him, so I can’t really say all that much. But I do think that he tends to get under-discussed, in general, and put kind of in a generic “Evil Fomorian” category when he is, and...he DOES invade Ireland, along with Elatha and Indech (Indech is not on this list mainly because it is hard to properly quantify my “You are a total trashbag, but also you’re very interesting to me, but also I want to light you on fire and feed you to the dogs” feelings re: him.) But also he is the great uncle of Emer, he is described in a positive light in a few other texts, including IN CMT ITSELF. He seems to be married to Badb, which is....someone just GIVE ME THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS POST-CMT STORY, FT. A FOMORIAN WARLORD FALLING OVER HIMSELF FOR A TERRIFYING SCALD CROW WAR GODDESS.

Anyway, only reason he isn’t ranked higher is because we don’t really know all that much about him and I thought it would be a little unfair to, say, Bríg to rank him higher when I used her lack of personality/overall narrative to place her lower out of spite. He doesn’t have any actual APPEARANCES, no lines, etc. So like. I love him, I’m endlessly interested in him, but he’s gotta be near the end.

8. The Dagda - “Now, Rachel, the Dagda is a very important figure, with a variety of appearances-” and like. You would be RIGHT. He IS very important. And, actually, I’m INTERESTED in him, which is why he’s not at the bottom. He’s a very interesting figure, and I’d be lying if I said he doesn’t make anything he appears in more colorful.

He is also a DICK.

So, like, he fucks a married woman (I WILL say, Boann enthusiastically consented so....props? You were NOT as much of a dick as you could have been), he sends the husband out on a trip to his weird half-Fomorian brother (Bres deserved sainthood for that one ALONE), and then....oh wait.....when it comes time to provide for the partitioning of Ireland he just GIVES AENGUS ELCMAR’S HOUSE? Like. Come on dude. That’s a way to just add insult to injury. That’s a dick move. (Thomas Charles-Edwards DID write an article that discusses how the Dagda is not as much in the wrong as you would think, but like. Still a dick move, I’m sorry.)

How the Dagda Got His Magic Staff? He gets these three brothers to lend him their magical staff so he can resurrect his fuckboy son, then KILLS THEM? Then his son is like “Dad, that’s a dick move” and he brings them back, on the condition that he KEEPS THEIR STAFF? AND THEN HE RAISES AN ENTIRE ZOMBIE ARMY IN ORDER TO ASSUME THE HIGH KINGSHIP OF IRELAND?

I just. I just.

In the Intoxication of the Ulstermen (Mesca Ulad), we learn about what the Dagda DID with his Necromancy Staff: He created a corpse xylophone where he keeps nine people in front of him, hits them with one end of the staff in order to bring them back to life, and then hits them with the other in order to kill them, on and on.

AND SPEAKING OF MORALLY DUBIOUS SHIT: Tell me that there is another way to interpret this Dindsenchas tale than....the one that seems most obvious.

“Let come of it what may.”

And of course CMT, where he does totally kill Cridenbél with the whole “PSYCH you asked for the best three bits now EAT GOLD” Thing, even if it isn’t the way that Bres thought AND Bres did overreact. The Dagda should have paid the proper honor price for Cridenbel, Bres should NOT have tried putting him to death. It was a STUPID move, since it led to Bres’ ruling being called into question. And.....the porridge incident in that same text. Which. I can. Discuss. If asked to specifically. But will leave for now in case anyone should instead want to search for it on their lonesome.

His relationship with the Morrigan is interesting to me, in that you have these really rather amoral forces being married to one another, having a relationship of long-standing, even though they have no issues getting sex elsewhere. And it is my pure scholarly opinion that she pegs him.

Basically, the Dagda is interesting to me, I think that there are two principal things that motivate him in any given tale: His own id and his loved ones, in exactly that order. He’s a rather disgusting figure, but you kind of keep wanting to peer in to see how far the muck goes. And, if it isn’t obvious, I definitely prefer, say, Lugh to him, because I feel like, of the two of them, at least Lugh DOES believe that he’s doing the right thing. It’s just not always in any way that anyone, not even in medieval Ireland, would really think about “doing the right thing.” There’s this complexity to Lugh, even at his absolute worst. The Dagda just doesn’t care. The Dagda is more a God in the way of Zeus or Poseidon where it’s like “I’ll do what I want and damn the consequences.” Interesting to see, but not my favorite as far as character.

He kind of reminds me of Cú Chulainn, actually, where it’s like. He’s interesting. But also there’s this sort of rank misogyny and brutality that tends to be drenched in the texts that he’s featured in, even by Medieval Irish standards (and I’d argue that those standards are MUCH more flexible than we give them credit for), so I can never really enjoy him. And I’m saying this as someone who deeply loves some VERY VERY MISOGYNISTIC TEXTS.

9. Balor - You would not THINK that Balor would be near the top of ANY lists on Mythological Cycle figures, but he’s actually very interesting to me, in terms of his evolution. In folklore, he is very much a straightforward villain, kind of adjusting to fit whoever the invaders of the time were. I am NOT saying there is no basis for a villainous Balor, or even that a villainous Balor is an INNOVATION like it is for Bres. I am DEFINITELY not saying that, especially since those folklore stories tend to include Proto-Indo European elements that indicate that they could be VERY old, possibly older than the saga material. But I am saying the man is interesting. Something that tends to be totally overlooked in discussions on him is that he was a BOY when, in Cath Maige Tuired, he peered in on his father’s druids performing magic and it seeped into his eye, giving him his Evil Eye. He was a KID. Of COURSE he would be curious and want to explore. And because of that, he was turned into a monster. How would you go about it, as a kid, learning that you had to keep one eye closed forever because you could kill everyone nearby? How would you cope, really, seeing everyone turning away from you in fear? And, in Cath Maige Tuired, he doesn’t even KNOW that Lugh is his grandson when Lugh kills him. He knew he gave his daughter away in marriage to a young man of the Tuatha dé, he would probably guess that he had a grandson there, or at least the possibility of one, but like. He didn’t realize it was Lugh SPECIFICALLY then. And then Lugh killed him. Lugh was, for once, RIGHT to kill him, but. Still. There’s something a little tragic about Balor’s death, even if it’s 100% not what the redactor intended. I have to have a little sympathy for him, despite it all. Also his wife, Cethlenn of the Crooked Teeth, is very interesting to me, as a figure. I’m really curious what kind of marriage they had. I kind of like to think, regardless of what evidence there really is for it, that they had that type of Bad Guy Relationship where they were absolutely ruthless and awful, but fairly devoted to one another. That’s outside the realm of scholarly observation, but I like to think it. She’s the one who kills the Dagda, btw. Absolute underrated BADASS.

Also like he did try to kill Lugh in the Early Modern Cath Maige Tuired with the whole “Put my head on yours” thing so like, props for trying Balor. Props for trying.

The main reason Balor is rated so lowly despite everything else is......folkloric Balor. Because fuck folkloric Balor. He still isn’t my LEAST FAVORITE of the Fomorian lords, because we have #10 and Indech, but like. I can’t REALLY put him so high up in my favorites list.

10. Elatha - I hate him. I actually hate this man. I know he gets a few sentences, really, but God. I hate him. The only good thing that he, as a character, did is to give us Bres, the Dagda, Ogma, and Lir. (NOT including Delbaeth. For Reasons.) I could discuss how, like Bres, he was not always a villainous character, how his image was molded to suit the Scandinavian setting for the Fomoire in Cath Maige Tuired, but consider: I hate him.

Actually, let’s go more in-depth here. “WHY do you hate Elatha more than Balor, Rachel, he only has small appearance in one text? And you already said you like Balor-” Which is a GOOD question. Very good. So, let’s go into the Elatha Call Out Mode.

So, first of all.

He has sex with Ériu, gets her with a kid, and then leaves. He KNEW she was pregnant. But no, he doesn’t give a damn, he just drops a ring into her hand, gives him his name + a name for the kid (GOOD THING ÉRIU DIDN’T HAVE ANY OTHER NAMES SHE WANTED TO GIVE THAT KID) and fucks off to his own people. Now, I will say, he didn’t deceive her, in the sense that she was never PROMISED marriage, but. God. She was a virgin, she was presumably quite young at the time. He was a king of the Fomoire, and she sure as Hell didn’t know THAT when she slept with him. And she obviously didn’t have his certainty that a kid would result from it. I don’t think there was straight-up DECEPTION involved, per se, I don’t believe that we’re looking at a case of rape, in either the modern or the medieval understanding of it (he isn’t Cú Chulainn, after all), but Elatha sure as Hell didn’t give Ériu ALL the information that he had until it was too late.

Okay, okay, dickish, Bres was forced to rely on his maternal kin-group all of his life and Ériu was basically fucked (though aristocratic enough that she obviously had land to give him in the first place, so not MASSIVELY inconvenienced), but like. Not really UNUSUAL for an Irish “hero”.

So, let’s go into this further.

He raids Ireland, alongside the rest of the Fomorian lords. “Now, Rachel, that is unreasonable, as you’ve already said you like Balor and Tethra, who also-” But consider: Tethra didn’t KNOW he had a son on the other side. (Balor didn’t raid Ireland until the battle itself, so he gets a few Brownie points. A few.) Elatha DID. Elatha knew damn well where his son was, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had at least some idea that his son was king of the Tuatha dé, given how much he ALREADY knew about Bres’ birth. I can’t prove it with the information given in-text, so I can’t argue it in a scholarly setting, but like. He fucking knew. If Bres had been an average warrior, he could have DIED because of Elatha being a massive dickwad, because like. Even if we ASSUME that Elatha gave a damn about what happened to his son and wouldn’t attack him directly, he couldn’t exactly control ALL of his men during a raid. People are going everywhere, weapons are flying.

BUT ELATHA IS THE ONLY GOOD FOMORIAN, AM I RIGHT?

ANYWAY, next we see him, Bres is going to him for help. He’s at his most vulnerable, his most humble after being yeeted off the throne by the Tuatha dé. He SAYS exactly what he did, that it was wrong, with a level of humility that’s honestly rare in anti-heroes even today. What does Elatha say?

‘That is bad,’ said his father. ‘Better their prosperity than their kingship. Better their requests than their curses. Why then have you come?’ asked his father.

‘I have come to ask you for warriors,’ he said. ‘I intend to take that land by force.’

‘You ought not to gain it by injustice if you do not gain it by justice,’ he said.

“But Rachel,” you might say, “This makes perfect sense, this is GOOD advice.” But consider: Bres had ALREADY admitted his wrongs. He doesn’t need a lecture. Elatha’s advice gives him absolutely NOTHING, while conveniently absolving him of ANY accountability for Bres’ actions. (And keep in mind, under Medieval Irish law, the kin-group WAS deemed as at least partially responsible for the actions of its members, so like. I’m NOT just putting modern ideas onto Elatha here.) Also: THIS IS LITERALLY BRES’ FIRST TIME MEETING HIS FATHER. He has traveled SO far to see this man, and what is Elatha’s reaction? THAT. Treating him as essentially a flea to be swatted away with platitudes while absolving himself, even though he was the one who set Bres up to be in that position from the get-go.

I’m not saying that Bres is flawless here, given that he ADMITS HE ISN’T HIMSELF, but Elatha? Is a douche. And then, to compound his douchiness, he doesn’t keep Bres in line. He doesn’t bother to deal with him, he just sets him up with an army and goes back to invade Ireland again. I know that some scholars (chiefly Elizabeth Gray) have read it as paternal indulgence, but personally? I don’t think his moral qualm was EVER with invading it. I don’t think he had a single issue with invading Ireland, given that he’d already done it before. He just wanted to hammer it in hard to Bres how utterly he’d failed. If he had REALLY given a damn about him, he could have spent time getting to know him, trying to tone him down, be more of a proper FATHER to him, but he doesn’t. And, if Bres’ actions during Cath Maige Tuired cause thousands of people on both sides to die, then Elatha set everything in place so he could. The only difference is that Bres almost never gets a trace of sympathy for it, while Elatha is presented as a tragic figure whose son is an unfortunate accident.

Also like. Bres is the only one of his kids he’s even involved with to begin with, for better or worse. Like, this is 100% a scribal error, but I’m using it to further my “Elatha is a dick” agenda: Ogma, in Cath Maige Tuired (so I’m not even using outside genealogies that the scribe of CMT might not have been aware of), is described as a son of Elatha. So, not only did Elatha fuck over ONE SON, but he did this type of shit repeatedly. He didn’t give a damn about any of his kids.

Anyway: THE ONLY GOOD FOMORIAN. AM I RIGHT?

#irish mythology #long post #this is an elatha hate blog #as always #simsreport

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balmacedapascal-archive · 5 years ago

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summary: weddings are always a bit of a pain to deal with and being maid of honor certainly isn’t an easy task. so kate’s more than grateful to have her lovely dweeb of a boyfriend around to swoop in and save her when the night gets a little chaotic. pairing: joe mazzello x original female character words: 4096 (holy crap wtf) a/n: so this whole idea came up after these gorgeous pictures of joe started popping up on my dash and then i rambled off a random idea to the lovely, wonderful kyra. and for that reason and the fact that she’s the absolute sweetest and keeps me going and ilysm, this is 100% dedicated to @mrbenhardys thank you for encouraging me and being an absolute angel, you’re so lovely. also, guys, this is my first time really writing anything for joe (and not a character of his) so please be gentle. i hope people enjoy this.

It was safe to say that, by the time the wedding party had arrived in the hotel ballroom for the reception, Kate was ready to call it a day. Ready to just ditch the heels and the slightly painful updo and just hide out in the room waiting for her upstairs. But it wasn’t that simple. When it’s your baby sister’s wedding and you’re the maid of honor, sneaking away from all the excitement is not that easy. Which means Kate hadn’t so much as had time to breathe since she’d reluctantly crawled out of bed that morning and headed off to begin the whole crazy process of getting ready for the big day. And really it hadn’t been that bad. She’d been over the moon when Megan and Tom had announced their engagement last year. And she’d been more than willing to step as maid of honor and deal with all the headaches that thankless job entailed. But she couldn’t help but feel exhausted by the time the photographer had finished with the countless snapshots of the wedding party in various poses and groups and settings. She could feel the muscles in her cheeks straining from the number of smiles she’d had to force in the face of the camera. And now there was going to be at least a good three hours of the reception that she’d have to power through before she could even think of calling it a night. Thank god for the open bar that Tom’s family had paid for for the reception. It was going to take more drinks than she’d like to pay for to get through all the polite conversation and family bullshit that came with a gathering of this size.

“Excuse me, do you think you could help me out? I’m looking for my girlfriend. About your height, probably looks like she might be ready to beat someone to death with a bouquet, wearing the exact same dress you’ve got on.”

A smile was pulling at her lips the second she heard the sound of her boyfriend’s voice behind her. That was the other downside of the whole maid of honor nonsense. They hadn’t gotten more than five minutes together since Kate had left the apartment that morning, dashing out the front door in a pair of track pants and one of his old Yankees tees to go and get all dolled up for the day while he continued to lay in bed with one eye cracked and a sleepy pout over the fact she’d hadn’t still been in bed with him when he’d woken up. Spinning on her heel, she found Joe standing behind her, a little smirk showing just how funny he found himself at the moment. He still had the suit jacket on for the moment but the knot of his tie had been loosened a bit at some point since she’d seen him after the ceremony. This was definitely the highlight of the day so far, finally getting a moment with him and the added bonus of seeing him decked out in a well tailored suit.

“You’re in luck, I think I know exactly who you’re talking about,” Kate played along, taking the few steps to be right next to him. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, she leaned against his chest, his own arm looping around her waist without hesitation. It was a wonderful moment of not only getting a break from the wedding party but also using him for a bit of relief off her already sore feet. “You have no idea how ready I am for this all to finally be over with.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m just as ready as you are. Finally get to cross hook up with a bridesmaid off my bucket list.” She let out a small snort of laughter, giving his chest a small smack and shaking her head. “Ow, hey! It’s gonna be you! Why are you getting all violent on me woman? Keep it up and I’ll see if Tessa’s free tonight.”

Another snort of laughter slipped out as she pulled back a bit to look up at him with an eyebrow raised. “Tessa? As in the one who’s about six months pregnant? That’s your backup plan for your bridesmaid hookup?”

“Wait - Tessa’s the pregnant one? I thought that was Jill.”

“No, Jill’s the one with the undercut and the gorgeous half sleeve.”

“Then who’s the one with the pink highlights and the Russian studies degree?”

“That’s Lena, she was Meg’s roommate sophomore year.”

“Ohhh….well, shit. I got everybody all mixed up.”

“Well, how many of them have you actually addressed by their first name?”

“All of them. You know I talk too much when left alone with new people in weird settings. And you abandoned me at the rehearsal dinner.”

“Abandon is such a strong word.”

“I was left alone with a group of women whose name’s I apparently didn’t remember. That feels like abandonment.”

“MAID OF HONOR! You’re needed for a few more photos please!”

Kate let out a heavy sigh, slumping against Joe’s shoulder for a moment before straightening up and glancing over to where the call had come from. The photographer was across the room with the bride and groom, all of them gather under the large floral archway set up by the entrance to the ballroom. Joe offered a sympathetic smile, giving her a quick squeeze before they both heard another call for her presence. “Look, I’ll come find you as soon as I can. And if you can come rescue me even sooner, I will love you forever.”

“You got it, babe,” Joe replied, leaning down for a quick kiss before she reluctantly returned to the chaos of the day.

An hour later and unfortunately, Kate still hadn’t managed to make her way back to Joe. Between another round of photos and then all the other pomp and circumstance that came with the demands of being a member of the wedding party, she’d gone back to not having a moment to catch her breath. She’d been pulled in a dozen different directions, having to deal with people from the catering company, employees from the hotel, and family members who were eager to give her their two cents on everything from the ceremony to her own status as an unmarried woman. She wasn’t particularly surprised by the number of “you’re not getting any younger” comments but she was definitely getting more and more jealous of Joe, who had the easy task of just sitting with the handful of cousins she actually got along with. He was definitely much better off at that table than he had been sitting with the other bridesmaids the other night. And she was beyond ready to finally be able to join him.

Finally, much to her relief, things seemed to be calming down a bit. Dinner had come and gone with no major issues that she was aware of. The happy couple had gone out onto the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife and now everyone seemed to be settling into the more relaxed portion of the evening. It was time for dancing and drinks and finally a chance for her to ditch the rest of the wedding party in favor of the guy she had waiting for her.

“Oh, Katie darling! There you are!” She’d only gotten about ten steps from the table they’d all been sitting at at the front of the room when a familiar voice stopped her. Great-Aunt Linda, the last person she really felt like dealing with and the one who could easily keep the most boring conversation going as long as humanly possible, had shown up all of a sudden and Kate was stuck like a deer in the headlights. “Oh, don’t you just look lovely! Such a beautiful bridesmaid!”

“Hey Aunt Linda,” she greeted with a polite smile, trying not to breathe in the overwhelmingly strong perfume she was wearing as they hugged. “How’ve you been? You enjoy the wedding?”

“Oh, it was such a gorgeous ceremony. Absolutely gorgeous. And you’re sister - well, she looks absolutely stunning in that dress of hers. And the groom’s not a bad catch either. But what about you, darling? Not too upset about seeing your baby sister walk down the aisle before you?” Here we go again. “I mean if you’re grandmother had gotten married before me back in the day I would’ve just been beside myself. But I guess times are changing and you’ve still got a few years left to have children and all of that so-”

“There you are!” Both women turned at the sound of Joe’s voice coming up to the table and in that instant Kate was pretty sure she’d never loved him more. It was a whole two seconds before he’d swopped in and wrapped an arm around her, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You promised me dancing and I fully intend to make you keep that promise. Oh, hey Aunt Linda, how’s it going?”

“You remember my boyfriend, Joe, right? He was with me at Gran’s house last Christmas.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning against him and hoping they could both escape sooner rather than later.

“Oh, of course, so good to see you again, dear. Hope you’re taking good care of our Katie here.”

“Absolutely. Only the best for our Katie.” She normally was annoyed by the childhood nickname but at the moment, she didn’t care. All she was hoping for was for them to escape from the conversation quickly. “But you’ll have to excuse us. This one here owes her dance card for the evening and I fully intend to take advantage of that.”

Grabbing her hand, he managed to navigate the both of them away to the table he’d been sitting at without any more interferences from staff or family. She dropped down onto one of the empty chairs with a heavy sigh, immediately reaching down and pulling off the heels she’d been stuck in all day. “You have no idea how much I love you right now. I thought I was going to be stuck back there forever.”

Joe chuckled as he sat down on the empty chair to her right, scooting closer so that they could hear each other over the music being played. “Yeah, you looked like you might be in need of some rescuing. What was the unfortunate subject this time?”

“Oh, just the fact that I should apparently be mortified that my baby sister managed to get herself a husband before me and that I’ve only got a few good childbearing years left before my eggs shrivel up and die and I’m left a childless, unwed disappointment to everyone in my family over the age of sixty.”

His eyebrows both shot up at that and he was quick to give her a sympathetic look despite the initial breath of a laugh that slipped out. “Okay, yeah, you definitely need a drink. Or like seven. C’mon, let’s go get you several drinks. I promise to keep all the elderly with intrusive questions at bay.”

The couple made their way over to the bar, heels left behind at the table and making her grateful fo the floor length dress that had been selected for the bridal party months ago. Joe kept an arm around her shoulders, keeping close as they maneuvered past the various wedding guests talking and moving about the room. A few people said polite hellos as they passed but most of them simply kept to themselves to Kate’s absolute joy. And once they reached the bar and a screwdriver was in her hands, she was much happier with the evening. “Yeah, I definitely think I’m going to need about seven of these. Honestly though, like how are we in the twenty-first century and I’m still getting these bullshit questions about when I’m going to get married. I’m not even thirty. I have a month left to that milestone but I might as well be fifty-two for all the comments I’ve gotten tonight.”

“I mean, I can probably go track down the priest and we can make an honest woman out of you, right here right now, if that’s what you really want,” Joe offered as he sipped at his own rum and Coke.

That made her laugh, a quiet chuckle into the glass as she finished off the drink and proceeded to swap it out for the second one already mixed and waiting for her. “Yeah, I don’t think that would be a good idea. Meg would probably throttle you without hesitation for stealing her spotlight. But I appreciate the offer.”

“Anytime, babe.”

It wasn’t the first time a joke had been made about the two of them getting married. They’d been together for a little over three years and both of their families had made their fair share of inquiries about whether or not there’d be a wedding for them sometime in the near future. It didn’t help that Kate had been his date to his younger brother’s wedding six months into their relationship. Both of their mothers had had several discussions about what the wedding would look like one day. And Kate might have spotted a ring box tucked into the back corner of one of his dresser drawers sometime last year but she’d chosen to just let that little detail fade to the background for the time being. It was easier not to stress about the idea of marriage and they were both happy with how things were going, ring or no ring.

By the time she’d finished her second drink, Joe was dropping a ten in the tip jar and pulling her back across the room to where the dance floor had been set up. Making an exaggerated gesture for her hand, he was quick to pull her onto the dance floor with a spin before wrapping an arm around her waist and leading to the jazzy Ella Fitzgerald tune playing.

Another three hours and finally it seemed that the night was winding down. Speeches had been given by Kate and the best man, Lucas, as well as one by father of the bride who’d done his best not to start crying front of everyone and then Aunt Linda had managed to get her hands on the mic after a few too many glasses of wine and rambled on for a minute before someone stopped her. The bouquet had been thrown and the garter had been tossed and they’d all cheered and laughed as the newlyweds had shoved cake into each other’s faces. For the most part, Joe had been her partner on the dance floor all night long, spinning her round and round to fast songs and slow songs and several of the cheesy wedding reception classics. At some point his jacket had been left at the same table as her shoes and his sleeves had been rolled up to the elbows, a look she was particularly fond of. And by ten o’clock, everything had wound down enough that Kate didn’t feel too guilty about giving her sister a tight hug and quick kiss on the cheek as she announced that they were going to call it a night. Megan had hugged her back just as tight, a little wobbly in her shoes but still smiling like she was on top of the world. She’d cracked a joke about making sure they used protection and a promise that they’d see each other in the morning before the sisters parted in search of their respective partners.

The lobby was empty for the most part as the two of them made their way to the elevators, her fingers laced through Joe’s as they walked. She’d graded her bouquet before they’d headed out and he had the heels she’d ditched in his free hand with his jacket tucked into the crook of his elbow. There were a couple employees still on the clock, offering polite greetings as the couple passed but for the most part it was quiet and Kate was rather grateful for that. The elevator was called and thankfully empty when it arrived. They stepped inside and pushed the button for the ninth floor and, as soon as the door were closed, his arms were wrapped around her waist. Kate didn’t hesitate in leaning against his chest, humming softly as he bent his head and pressed a few lazy kisses along the side of her neck. “Did I mention just how good you look in this?” he mumbled against her bare shoulder, the arms around her waist giving her a quick squeeze. “Because you look really fucking gorgeous. Like normally bridesmaid dresses are some of the worst things out there but this? I won’t complain if you decide to wear this around the apartment every now and then.”

“Is that so?” she asked, head tilting back against his shoulder as she looked up at him with an amused smile. His hair was a little messy and she was glad he’d chosen not to shave the layer of stubble long his jaw that morning. The five o’clock shadow tickled her skin as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck and it sent a quick shiver up her spine.

“Definitely. Just for like lounging around or whatever. Mainly so I can repeat the fun part of being the one to toss it across the room.”

Another well placed kiss sent more shivers and it took everything not to start fidgeting and turning around to face him. Instead, she turned her head just enough to press a kiss to his cheek as the elevator came to a stop on their floor. “How about we make it to our room before you try and act out that fantasy?”

He didn’t need any more encouragement to grab her hand and all but drag her down the hallway to their room, leaving Kate trying not to giggle too hard at his enthusiasm for them to finally be alone. The door was barely closed before she was being pressed back against it, Joe’s lips connecting with hers without another moment of hesitation. It was a deep kiss, deeper than anything they’d been able to share while in a room filled with her family and friends and it was enough to make her toes curl against the carpeted floor. Everything they’d been carrying with them was dropped to the floor, none of it important in comparison to removing any space from between them. Her hands quickly made their way into his hair, loving the soft feel between her fingers and the way he pressed closer as she gave the auburn locks a little tug. His own hands had mapped their way up and down her spine before wrapping around her waist, leaving absolutely no distance between the two of them.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this all day,” he mumbled against her lips, giving her hip a squeezes his lips traced their way down from her jaw to the hint of cleavage the dress offered and earning a soft whimper for his efforts. “You really do look so gorgeous in this dress, baby.”

“Think I’d rather be out of the dress at this point,” Kate replied, hands moving down his chest and pulling at the tie still hanging loosely around his neck. He hummed his approval at that idea before they started stumbling over towards the bed, still kissing and touching and keeping close to one another before finally hitting the bed suddenly. With a few more playful nips along the side of her neck, Kate propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Joe finally undid the knot of his tie and tossed it aside before popping the first couple buttons on his dress shirt. The night was finally taking a turn that they both could get excited about when a long yawn slipped out despite her best efforts to hold it back.

Joe’s face immediately shifted, a small frown pulling at his lips. “Well, that’s not exactly the reaction that I was hoping for. I’d like to think we’ve got at least another five years before the sex gets yawn worthy.”

Kate offered an apologetic look, sitting up and letting her hands rest against his chest. “It definitely hasn’t hit yawn worthy status. I think I’m just running on fumes. All this bridesmaid bullshit is apparently very tiring. And I think sitting on a bed was like the trigger to remind me how much I love sleep and how much more I can get now that this stupid wedding is over.”

“You’re very lucky you’re cute. And I’m a very understanding fella. And that the shower looks like it’d be really damn enjoyable even if I didn’t need a cool down.”

“Give me coffee and waffles in the morning and I promise to make it up to you?” she offered with a smile, earning a laugh from Joe.

“I’m gonna hole you to that one, pretty lady,” he replied, leaning down to press a softer to her lips, slow and sweet and just as toe curling as the others but in a different way. “So late night TV and cuddles instead?”

“Sounds perfect,” she agreed, smile widening as she stretched up to press a few quick kisses to his lips in return. “You go shower while I take out the five million bobby pins I’ve go stuck in my hair.”

“Yes ma’am.” A quick peck to her nose and a mock salute and then Joe disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower quickly filling the room. Kate sat there for a moment, enjoying the comfort of finally being off her feet and sitting on something soft before going over to the overnight bag they’d brought with them for the night. The dress was a little tricky to get out of, some careful maneuvering needed to get a hold of the zipper and get that pulled down but thankfully she managed okay on her own. The gown was left in a pile at the end of the bed and she quickly changed into the old Yankees tee she’d been wearing when she left the apartment that morning. It was came down to the middle of her thighs and it was all she really needed before going back to make herself comfortable on the bed. Flipping through the channels on the television, she settled in in the middle of the bed, working her way through the numerous pins keeping her hair in place. By the time Joe came out about twenty minutes later with a just a towel wrapped around his waist, she’d settled on a marathon of Chopped reruns and had a growing pile of hair pins in front of her. He grabbed his own clothes, lingering long enough for her to give a little wolf whistle before disappearing back into the bathroom. Another few minutes and he was back, clad in a pair of boxers and the Jurassic Park tee she’d given him as a gag gift for his last birthday. Crawling across the bed to where she was seated, he made himself comfortable behind her, taking over the process of undoing the intricate hairdo and carefully pulling out the last handful of pins. By the time he’d finished and her hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, Kate was more than ready to just curl up with him for the rest of the night.

“Promise me we don’t have to go to anymore weddings for like at least a year?” she requested, stretching out with arm draped over his stomach and her head resting on his shoulder comfortably.

“Hey, this one was because of you. Tell your sister not to get married again any time soon. I’ll tell my siblings the same.”

“Fine. And we can just tell our friends we’re gonna be out of town if any of them are crazy enough to get hitched.”

“Sounds like a plan babe.”

“A good plan. Cuz I make the best plans.”

“Someone’s a little cocky when they’re sleepy.”

“Shush. I need to see who’s going to get chopped this round.”

“Fine. But waffles and sexy times in the morning?”

“Waffles and sexy times. Promise.”

“Excellent.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, cuddling up as the episode played out and Kate slowly drifted off to sleep.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello fic #joseph mazzello #borhap cast fanfic #i honestly don't really know what to tag this other than just joe #*mine #*writing #i hope you guys enjoy this

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calleo-bricriu · 5 years ago

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Guess what I’m still reading? Still reading out of spite but, still reading?

That awful book.

Right, let's get back to the worst book I've ever read and, to note, I am including every single malicious, aggressive, definitely is trying to kill you it's not your imagination Dark Arts book I have ever handled in my entire life, just so we're clear about how bad this story is.

Chapter 5 opens with Leigh, the clear projection of the doctor-author himself, waking up in a room he doesn't recognise and not thinking anything about that is weird, instead writing it off as to it being his "inherent love for the sea" guiding him there.

He then talks for most of the rest of the page about how he has no idea how long he's been there and maybe it was his 'second personality' that was in control which is the first mention we see of that ever having been an issue from him--unless that's just his way of saying, "Must've gone on a bender again."

Tries for awhile to figure out what day it is, apparently gives up, and decides to re-focus on winning...something...from his sister and that doing that would save his son who, as far as we know (as he's only been briefly mentioned), is perfectly fine and not in need of any sort of saving.

Several paragraphs of rambling about how sane and calm he is to the point that he’s sort of proven he’s neither.

Buys a newspaper, finds out he's been blackout drunk for ten solid days, finds out from some random guy on the hotel porch that he bought a yacht.

At this point, I'll remind you that previous chapters indicate he hasn't held a steady job in over a year (mostly due to being drunk and crying to the barman that he's such a misunderstood genius), is always weeks behind on bills, and hasn't paid rent in a few months but somehow dredged up money to buy a yacht while on a bender.

Isn't bothered by this, doesn't think it's indicative of a drinking problem and also it's not his fault because the yacht seller should have known he was drunk and not sold it to him or something.

This is, like, four entire pages in to chapter five and I'm already so tired.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement could read this book aloud in interrogations but even the Ministry might consider it torture.

Oh, Leigh’s problem isn't drinking, by the way; it's "psychic epilepsy" so it's definitely not his fault.

That's--not actually a real thing.

Anyway.

Dozen or so pages of him internally trying to figure out how the hell to get out of this, "I bought a yacht with money I have no idea how I got and possibly got by doing something very illegal" situation.

His wife is also apparently not bothered by this behaviour either, she's just happy to see him; I'd be the opposite because this has been shown to be a pattern of behaviour on his part but, well, she buys the "psychic epilepsy" excuse because she's terrified of being seen as a nag.

Nag him, good lord, do something that isn't completely enabling him to be this way.

Now the narrative is going on and on and on about "unreasonable women" who would pretty reasonably be upset if their husband couldn't hold a job, wouldn't even try to get one, wouldn't let her get one, couldn't pay the bills, and routinely did things like tell her he'd be home in a few hours then go on a 3-10 day bender and show back up without a word.

That's a reasonable set of behaviours to be at least a little annoyed about.

Leads into how it's hereditary, this psychic epilepsy thing, so absolutely not his fault.

He's a regularly paid published author now, by the way, and has been for some time despite this being the first time it's ever been mentioned in any capacity. The only two other careers we've seen from this guy are something to do with working in a laboratory in Germany and working at a hospital as a doctor before being almost immediately fired for a combination of the constant drinking and possibly just being sort of insufferable to be around at work.

Some guy named Rob walks in. No introductions apart from that, we're all just meant to know who the hell Rob is despite this being his first appearance.

Some guy named Charlie/Dr. Bell is also just randomly mentioned and is also in...the house sleeping. People think he's lazy but he's really just conservative, whatever that means.

Find out Mizpra was engaged to some guy named Moore who dumped her to go to Yale, which is evidently why she turned into a "masculine" bitch. Sure, why not?

Philosophy attempts again from Leigh the Misunderstood Genius (who definitely does not have a drinking problem and knows more than you about everything): "Love, Charlie, is like medical treatment; if it is free, given lavishly and procured without sacrifice, it is thrown aside at pleasure, and the giver ridiculed and derided. Haud expertus loquor."

Okay, first of all, that's not what love OR medical treatment is like. Not even--remotely, especially medical treatment.

Second, stop trying to sound smart with the Latin; all you said was "not experience" there, Mr. Genius who is definitely not a direct projection of the quack doctor of an author.

Leigh used to pay stenographers to go to class for him and take notes so he could go and give theatrical performances to "insane patients". Lovely guy.

Just to remind you, we’re meant to be sympathising with Leigh in this story, not wanting to strangle him every time he opens his mouth to bore everyone for ten pages.

Leigh refuses a drink while they're all at dinner which is one of the few good choices he's made in 81 pages and a little over a year in terms of the story's time line but then ruins it all for answering a joke about it being because he's married with PAGES AND PAGES of him trying to be a fucking philosopher again and just boring the bollocks off of everyone both in the book and reading it. How the hell does this guy know what delirium tremens are yet still thinks his entire problem is caused by psychic epilepsy and not alcoholism?

Charlie asks about money for some reason, probably trying to change the topic and get this moron to stop pretending he knows what he's talking about in any capacity.

That triggers three pages of him doing the same thing, only about money this time. At least in this case, it's mentioned that Leigh "got carried away" so there's a glimmer of self awareness. Probably the only one we'll ever see.

They agree to play golf tomorrow and Leigh and Obera just--get up and leave, despite dinner having not even been delivered to the table yet. Nobody seems to notice.

Chapter 5 is now over.

Chapter 6 time skips an entire year and starts with Mrs. Newcomber and Mizpra sitting outside and it's mentioned it's been a year since Leigh tried to see her so--about a year passed between chapters five and six.

Mother dearest is described as a "pliant tool" that Mizpra somehow convinced to go to Colorado Springs to open up a school, and that's where we are now.

Colorado.

Mizpra gets to pick the ladies who get to go to the school and just seems to do so on a whim, which has made her and it wildly unpopular; fair reaction, no explanation given as to why she acts like that just that she did it "without giving any satisfactory reason."

Colorado has lots of "clever physicians" (but not enough, probably because Leigh isn't there. Yet.) but Colorado is populated by people who just hate doctors. Despite that, they keep moving there.

Then, it skips to Mizpra reading mail and one letter, "announced the marriage of the plastic Zora to an untutored, scheming Yankee lawyer."

Okay.

First question: Who the HELL is Zora?

Second question: This isn't really a question, I'm just reasonably certain that lawyers, even lawyers in 1901, had to have some level of formal schooling. Then again, so did doctors and here we are with this guy who apparently just slept through every single year of med school he went to.

Someone named Marcia wrote as well and Mizpra doesn't like her either because she "insisted on standing for her rights" and was married to an "unknown quantity." No idea who Marcia is or how she knows Mizpra, it's not been explained yet but has been introduced in a way we’re supposed to know already.

Dr. Bell we finally fucking find out was a friend of her father's and that's why he knows both her and Leigh.

Could have explained that back in chapter five when the character was introduced but, hey, I'm no doctor, what do I know about constructing a coherent story?

Dr. Bell wrote to yell at Mizpra about her being mean to Leigh and his son. Not to Obera, to whom she has been directly mean multiple times so far, just to Leigh and his still unnamed son. The kid's like two years old now and we still haven't been told his name he's that irrelevant to the plot.

Somehow this trips her to decide she needs to just completely ruin Leigh's life because he's an obstacle to her 'designs and ambition' but it's never been explained what those are. It also doesn't explain what she's planning to do just that "she must place him in such a position as to make him helpless in his struggle for his rights. With these thoughts, horrible, fiendish, partly laid schemes arose".

They are never explained.

Maybe she's going to open another school that's just for boys and purposely and repeatedly deny his 2 year old son entrance, I have no idea at this point.

While she's distracted coming up with vague plans, her mother interrupts and says what amounts to, "I'm blind but even I can see you're an old maid."

Harsh.

Her response is to go on about how disgusting marriage is and "what poor, weak, helpless creatures women are! Such a degrading, vile, humiliating acceptance of the loss of personal freedom."

...okay. I guess that's one way of telling your mum to fuck off and that it's not that you CAN'T get married it's that you don't WANT to.

She calls some woman named Jane in to ask her if she...washed the horse yet.

The reply is "yes, mum" which is evidently how Jane pronounces ma'am. She tells Mizpra that she'd be better off hiring a man because mares respond better to men which is not at all how horses work.

Then, we have this exchange:

"No, Jane; what a man can do a woman can do better."

"You do be joking, Miss. How about the babies?"

"There are two many of them now. You should be a woman, Jane."

I was following Mizpra there up until the, "You should be a woman, Jane" bit when Jane has already been described as a woman several times in two paragraphs.

Jane tells her she is a woman and wants to get married and start a family some day, which makes Mizpra angry and somehow the author seems like this is a good time to mention her muscular frame because--that's not a thing women are allowed to have, and to emphasise that Mizpra is not a ‘good woman’, we just occasionally remind everyone how masculine she is.

I know we're meant to dislike Mizpra but, at this point, she's the most sympathetic character here, having to put up with all this nonsense and having the only reasons we're told she's 'bad' is because she has all these masculine traits (from previous chapters, broad shoulders, a deep voice, a square jaw, an 'unwomanly' figure, narrow hips, the author stopped just short of saying, "Yeah, she's basically a man in a dress that tells everyone she's my sister.")

This is page 88 of 403.

Anyway, Mizpra storms off because Jane's, "I want to get married some day" got her that mad, sits down at her desk, and starts reading which is also framed as a bad thing because Good Women don't use their brains for that, what's the matter with you?

Starts talking to herself about how her mom called her an old maid which, I mean, if she's single, not married, and implied to be over 40 that's--sort of what old maid meant. She says, to nobody in particular because she’s the only one in the room, "Well, I think I can show my sisters that I can throw off that appellation and still rule man!"

Now she needs a secretary and a lawyer to always be with her 24/7 and we finally find out that Zora and Marcia are her sisters.

That could have been mentioned much earlier in the story.

What is up with the naming conventions in this family anyway? Every other sibling gets a normal name and the others get names like Zora and Mizpra?

So, what we know now is that Mizpra:

A) Thinks her sister Zora is dumb as hell.

B) Thinks Marcia is whoring around and the way it's written comes off as envious not, "How shameful!" Nothing is stopping you from doing it too, Mizpra.

C) Thinks Leigh is a "clever fool" with a "spewing brat" and a "little, weak, dependent" all of which are entirely fair.

She goes off to arrange visiting Leigh, hoping the trip back East screws with their mother's health enough that she'll gain full power of attorney which is part of whatever evil devious plot she's got going.

Gets up to go to the mirror and get dressed, laments that she "had lost all youthful appearance of womanhood, though still young in years" gets mad at her reflection and throws everything on the vanity at the mirror then goes with, "No, I'll use my intellect, my power over him, not the feminine baubles of Eve."

Over who? Your brother? Please tell me you weren’t considering trying to be sexy for your brother.

She is then described as "short of hair and short of sex" on account simply because her hair is short. Again, the whole, "Hey, hey, have there been enough clues given to tell you that she's just straight up ugly like a man in a dress??" thing.

Even with the, "Hopefully this trip basically almost kills my mother so I can take all of her stuff and cut my brother out of the will" thing she's still the most sympathetic character so far.

Mrs. Newcomber's only real skill aside from being blind and insulting one of her daughters is droning on and on and on about the religious of ancient Egypt.

Then it goes into something that's--nice, actually, though probably wasn't considered a good thing at the time--about how more women should focus on getting an education so they're not stuck being a housewife if that's not what they want to do but, since it's 1901 that's not a thing and it wraps up with how they only think that because "neither knew they the emotions dormant in a woman's breast."

Which are, apparently, to be an uneducated housewife and mother because that’s what the men like.

We’ll just forget the fact that Mrs. Newcomber was married and has had at least four children that have made it to adulthood. That’s not important now. The important thing is she’s being an icky teacher and learning things now. How fucking unladylike.

Mizpra then goes outside, says hello to someone, like that's it, "Hello, Burke!" and it's framed as a "clumsy attempt at coquetry". What? She--she literally just said hello to someone she knew! That's not how flirting works.

Burke, who is a pale, sickly young man, had evidently told her however long ago the other day was that he loved her and he thought she was mad at him about that.

She tells him she's not mad and explains she was in Denver and his response is to ask her why she's playing with him, she says she's not, he tells her she's being cruel (somehow? maybe because she keeps calling him a silly boy, which is, frankly, rude as hell), and we find out that Burke--as if the name and physical description weren't enough to indicate this--is kind of a social outcast because he's awkward and weird and more than a little bit dim.

But, he overheard some gossip about her and now she's literally shaking him down to make him tell her. Basically, The Men Folk don't like her ideas about women having an education, the public hates it too, and if it were the Middle Ages they'd just burn her at the stake.

Again, Mizpra comes off as the most sympathetic character in the story so far.

Oh, and she apparently doesn't like corsets and made some doctor's daughter, who is a student at her school, remove it at the front of the classroom then kept her standing there while showing all of the other girls the creases a corset puts into the skin which is admittedly entirely inappropriate for a dress code violation.

That's not the problem though, the problem is that Mizpra’s hands were "so cold and rough" that she fainted, and the implied manly hands and fainting are the part everyone is upset about.

Her reasoning for it was that the doctor's daughter, "is suffering from the feminine folly of imitating the male sex in all animal life on the globe--that is, the garnishing of the body to attract the opposite sex."

Again, not how that works; in most species, it's the male that gets all flashy and showy to attract a much drabber female's attention. I do sometimes listen to Lazarus ( @pocketsfullofspiders ) when he's talking about his work.

At the end of all that Burke...asks Mizpra to marry him at specifically 8pm that evening? What?

Okay.

Her response is to ask him if he knows how to use a typewriter. I actually kind of like her at this point, apart from the whole half undressing a teenager in front of the entire class thing.

Anyway, she agrees, because he knows how to use a typewriter so I think she just hired him as her secretary and he agreed to it because I guess his payment is getting to marry her at 8 that evening.

She leaves to go do the getting a marriage license thing and just talks to herself the whole way about how gross Burke is and, ew, he kissed her chin because she didn't get out of the way fast enough, what a fucking creep.

That's going to be a great marriage.

She chose her dressmaker based on the fact that that particular dressmaker's shop offers free cocktails to customers. Fair enough if you're getting fitted for a wedding dress to get married to someone you can't stand.

The reverend that's going to marry them is someone she's got under her thumb; she basically paid to clean up his reputation because he'd ruined it due to just sort of being a drunk, kind of like her brother. Takes him outside and first says she needs to ruin her brother's life.

With alcohol. "[...] and any other scheme you can concoct."

Leigh's weaknesses are, of course, alcohol and evidently women.

She'll pay him a salary to do this and also essentially said if he spends i ton gambling she'll track him down and break every bone in his body.

I'm still not really disliking her.

She then calls him a wind bag and a hypocrite, which he takes as a set of compliments.

He's also mad she's getting married but corrects himself and says it's a miracle; she tells him it's to Burke Wood, and gets, "He can't live six months; and married he won't live six weeks."

HAHAHA! Wives are terrible, am I right?

Her response to that is he definitely will because she's going to take good care of him and 'treat him humanely' which I feel like is the bare minimum required for a marriage, treating someone humanely.

His take on that is, "She is a eunuch in heart and mind! She possesses the soul of a sewer."

And Mizpra becomes an even more sympathetic character.

Some family she knows passed by in a carriage didn't see her so didn't wave to her and now she's also spitefully planning to ruin their lives over being blanked. Settle down, Mizpra.

Goes home, tells mom she thinks they should go see Leigh, mom rightfully points out that Mizpra has spent like two entire years repeatedly explaining why they shouldn't ever do that for any reason and that turns into a debate that the mother eventually loses and is convinced to sign over power of attorney to Mizpra.

She then explains she's getting married that evening then going to Denver the next day and her mother's only concerns about this are of her not--"taking care of Burke on your wedding night". Good priorities.

For some reason she goes off on how she has a fucking job and isn't getting married to turn herself into "a mere setting hen, a female destitute of all ideas save one--that of breeding" which is somehow shocking to her mother.

Mizpra isn't even going to tell Burke she's headed to Denver tomorrow morning until after they're married so he can't back out.

This honestly sounds like a lot of Pureblood marriages now.

Later on we find out that Burke has inexplicably been asking Mizpra to marry him for "some time" now so he's really bad at taking the hint.

So, those two are married now and he has no problems with her going to Denver on business and I'm not sure why the last half of the chapter was spent making it seem like that would be a Big Issue when his response was, more or less, "That's cool, I know how work is."

That's the end of chapter six and this is just so stupidly exhausting that I'm not even going to try to start chapter seven tonight.

Up to page 103 of 403 though!

#terrible literature #books #hp rp #spite reading #I wonder if anyone would notice if I borrowed a Time Turner from the department #and used it to go back to 1918 when this idiot of an author died so I could be his cause of death #and yes I know you're not supposed to use those things to go back more than a couple of hours #but this feels like a valid exception to that #stuffing a fascinating toque down his throat seems like a very specific way to indicate #that that's not how you describe something fascinating #because fascinating can mean damn near anything and is highly subjective #JUST DESCRIBE THE HAT THE WAY YOU SPENT 15 PAGES DESCRIBING HOW GETTING BLACKOUT DRUNK AND BUYING A YACHT ISN'T LEIGH'S FAULT

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tearlessrain · 6 years ago

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all right time for Scorpion King: Book of Souls Liveblog Part 2

we last left bootleg xena and zach mcgowan’s abs in ancient egyptian jello narnia with a mostly naked lady who is also a book and her wildly unnecessary comic relief rock golem friend and there might even have been hints of a plot. I have a feeling it’s only downhill from here.

we’re back to the people who gallop around menacingly on horses and their completely normal bird that keeps getting screentime for some reason. their specific objectives remain unclear, as they have been for the entire movie.

oh hey they found the mad max tribe, maybe there actually was a point to the interlude earlier

shut up mediocre henchman 5 I still hate you

hm, nope, still no point to this. they just rode away again. menacingly.

please someone make the cockney rock golem stop talking

she has been trying to seduce matthias since she first came on screen and despite the fact that they’ve known each other for five minutes I have a sinking feeling that it’s going to work before this movie is over

ookay the rock golem is afraid of fire, that makes sense.

WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT ABOUT THIS BIRD IT’S A NORMAL GODDAMN BIRD IT HASN’T DONE ANYTHING

oh thank god they’re leaving the rock golem behind in jello narnia

living the dream, book lady

yep here we go with the romantic subplot nobody asked for between two people who met like three hours ago at most

is he the only man she’s ever seen because like. talk about setting the bar high

here come the menacing riders, riding menacingly

NOBODY LIKES YOU, MEDIOCRE HENCHMAN 5

oh yes I think xena’s finally gonna kill this fucker

and now we can just watch zach mcgowan kill people which is really what 90% of the movie’s content should have been in the first place

HE KILLED MEDIOCRE HENCHMAN 5 WE ARE FREE.

oh fuck the rock golem is back and they’re bringing him to a market

this movie’s plot is so vague as to be on the verge of doing a full 180 into “dadaist masterpiece”

now I’m not saying I expected better from the direct to DVD fifth sequel of a spinoff of a reboot of The Mummy but it needs to be said just once: why is the scorpion king a white guy

okay there we go back to killing people don’t worry about things like plot and why they all have vaguely british accents

ah he has learned from the last time he beat up a bunch of ninjas, no getting shot this time

[Black Sails theme playing on a single kazoo in the distance]

at least the boat’s too small for them to get any time alone together and progress the unneeded romance

oh hey it’s glowy eye dude who we haven’t seen since the prologue despite his being the main antagonist. I like that dude. mostly for his rad aesthetic.

ooooh glowy eye dude killed bootleg xena’s brother who we’ve literally never seen or heard of before book lady explained it

and apparently she’s the last remaining heir so we’ve got the queen of nubia, the king of... scorpions, I guess, a human book, and a golem all on a boat. I feel like I’ve literally been in this D&D party.

there’s that bird again seriously why, there had better be payoff for this. maybe the bird is secretly anubis or something. which would be weird, since anubis is the one with the jackal head, but I can’t think of another reason to keep drawing this much attention to it.

there had also better be a damn good payoff to the golem being afraid of fire because it’s getting really annoying

OH MY GOD A GIANT ROCK

they very clearly didn’t give zach mcgowan any direction regarding what accent he’s supposed to have because he’s just trying them all out

imagine if he’d just smashed the head clean off that stone sphynx and it turned out there was nothing in there

book lady has taken over for prologue narrator I guess

what is with this anubis, this is like a deviantart anubis. this is just “abs for days: the movie”

okay evil xena, “men are simple” isn’t really a fair thing to say considering you shot him with a poison dart. falling over after someone shoots you with a poison dart isn’t really a gendered thing. and like she didn’t try to seduce him first or anything she just walked in, shot him, and said that as if it was somehow relevant.

oh it’s the mad max tribe yet again. maybe THIS time they’ll have a purpose.

nope they’re just here to comment as the plot coincidentally passes them on the way to somewhere else. okay.

okay so maybe the blacksmithing and hunting and badass fighting and full on nudity haven’t been enough to distract you from how bad the writing is. don’t worry fam we’ve got you.

it’s like they’ve got a checklist or something

at least the ugly and useless leather armor thing is gone though

okay know what as an aside, shoutout to this random ass bird that gets almost as much screentime as the actual protagonist yet has done nothing except completely normal bird things for the entire movie

“before I kill him let’s see how he fights” well you just signed your own death sentence. see even your wife who can see the fourth wall knows this is a mistake.

glow eye dude is entirely too good of an actor for the lines he was given, this is like watching jeremy irons in eragon

wow I mean you could just kill book lady, setting her on fire seems excessive.

uh I was joking before but he appparently actually is the literal king of scorpions. and getting stung by them is I guess what activates his powers. being the scorpion king SUCKS.

wow it didn’t half work though, he just samsoned right out of those chains. good thing it wasn’t a bamboo and string cage, or he would have been trapped for good.

hell yeah finally a showdown between glow eye dude and zach mcgowan. this is why I’m here.

wait, the mad max tribe is back. maybe THIS time they’ll do something relevant!

yeah there they go. finally. killed psychic wife

random bird approves.

and now it’s just everybody fighting everybody so in other words the movie is looking up

evil xena vs good xena FIGHT

I can’t believe the fucking golem was the one who finally destroyed the sword.

so now the mcguffan is just freaking gone and matthias and evil guy are just punching the shit out of each other for the hell of it and I’m not even mad

I mean I guess one of them still has to be defeated but still

he just fuckin Simba’d that guy right into the fire

like can we please take a moment to appreciate that this is the exact fight choreography and aesthetic from the lion king

to the point that there was a literal lion roar sound as the guy died??? I’m not even kidding what the hell

“and we helped!” - the mad max tribe

oh the sword wasn’t destroyed. but at least the rock golem is gone so that’s something.

“remember who you aaaaaare” - the mad max tribe

ooooh he must choose between destroying the evil sword and the life of book lady, his true love who he met yesterday

I mean don’t get me wrong I’m sad to see her go she was one of the least annoying characters, but still you could have cut out the mad max tribe and developed her more so this would have more impact

aaaand THERE’s the obligatory tragic kiss

honestly though know what I can’t begrudge her this, it’s not like I wouldn’t do the same thing if I were a human book living alone in a tomb and some absurdly attractive dude just showed up one day and was like “climb on my horse so we can gallop sexily across a beach.” that’s completely reasonable.

matthias... I don’t feel so good...

(I’m sorry I had to)

that looks like it should be the cover of a drug store romance novel. maybe after the cowboy fad dies the next one will be “white guys who are kings of ancient egypt for absolutely no discernable reason”

NARRATOR! I missed you my dude.

he never forgot his destiny again. still no mention of exactly what his destiny is or even what exactly he’s king of aside from about two dozen literal scorpions

but seriously “getting stung by scorpions” is the absolute worst superpower ever. no wonder he abandoned his destiny to be a blacksmith, I would too.

there he goes

well that was pretty much exactly what I expected it to be but somehow even more so. gratuitous fanservice and absolutely no substance or meaningful plot, 10/10 would not watch again but had a great time watching it once. roughly on par with Eragon but this time ancient egypt flavored.

that bird never ended up doing anything, by the way. 10/10 completely useless but extremely photogenic bird.

#tearless liveblogs #some say the cameraman is still following that bird around to this day #filming it as it continues to do regular bird things

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poly-carbon-based-lifeform · 7 years ago

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Hey, Yell at Me If You Want Me to Keep Writing This Because Motivation Sucks

Inspiration

Chapter One: “The Sword-Dancer”

“Lacertans love beauty,” Loys said, peering through the crack in the fence at the crowd. Havierre and Amelie were on the other side, standing on opposite ends of a small wooden platform in the grass, facing away from the fence and towards the dozen-or-so common folk watching from the wooden benches that had been lain out. Beyond that, the New Sun Fair was a bustling crowd of music, food, drink, and joust. Further still, the city walls of Lacerta looked down on the surrounding villages like a caring mother. On this side of the fence that served at their “backstage” divider, a pair of girls quick-changing deftly pulled off blue dresses in exchange for leather armor, readying to play a pair of Benvolian Knights. Sitting in folding wooden chairs were several musicians, playing their music from beyond the sight of the audience...

“Seriously, they call themselves the holy city of Canopus, but the queen would probably let a horse fuck her if it would be considered artistically ‘beautiful.’”

The sword-dancer, who had been leaning against a fence post with his arms crossed, turned to Loys scrunching his face in a confused and bemused what the fuck? expression. “How would that even work? You can’t get a horse into a bed, plus it’s way bigger.”

“Just need a stool and some sugar,” Loys waved his hand dismissively. “Your intermission cue is coming up.”

“No, wait a minute,” the sword-dancer snorted and stood up to face Loys. “How do you know that? Sounds like you’ve put thought into this…”

Loys waved his hand more impatiently, gesturing for the sword-dancer to go. “Here’s the cue!”

The sword-dancer cursed under his breath as he grabbed his blades off the top of an avocado green chest overflowing with costumes, just as Havierre clearly projected the words “I shall love you until the Old Gods devour the New!”

The sword dancer moved to the edge of the fence, slipping a pair of dagger blades between the fingers of his left hand, gripping the hilt of a short sword in his right, and then adjusting the leather straps under his shirt, listening to the footsteps of the actors moving “offstage” and the applause of a small crowd melding into the noise of the fair as a whole. Right at the moment when he sensed Havierre and Amelie were turning the corner at the fence, he did the same and stepped into view of the fair.

His audience was his focus at the moment. They were the most important thing. The rest of the fair was a lot of noise and color. Beautiful? Probably, Lacerta was “the most beautiful city in Midas.” But awe-inspiring? He took them in. A man and a woman, down house right. Two men, down house left. A man and his son, up house left. One elderly man, down house right with an empty space on the bench next to him. Behind them all stood a rugged looking man, tanned skin, rough hands gripping a gnarled walking stick. He looked like a traveler, but he didn’t have a backpack. Instead, hanging from various straps and ropes were a gourd bottle, a bedroll, a small tin box with a latch, a bundle of torches, and a sack slung over his shoulder. His bare feet were caked in dirt, and the sword-dancer allowed himself a brief moment to wonder What has this guy been doing? before returning to the show at hand.

“Ladies in general!” he declared with a wide smile, and for a moment this mostly-male audience of less than a dozen processed what they heard and realized he hadn’t said “and gentlemen” before squinting in confusion at what he meant. “You are sure to leave your husbands and wives forlorn when you see the daring feats I am about to perform today!” He winked in particular at one young woman in the front row, who blushed and turned away from the offended young man sitting next to her. “You do have quite the artistic and romantic city, good Lacerta, City of Light! But the dangerous performance you are about to see uses techniques developed in the cutthroat theatrical world of the Walled City of Yukai! I ask, please, anyone of the faint of heart or slow of reflexes, keep a good distance!”

His voice dropped low as he bowed, and then sprung up, tossing his left hand skyward as his daggers flew towards the sun. Simultaneously, his right hand slid behind his back and tossed the shortsword to the left, deliberately dropping his left hand back down to catch the hilt. His left hand began spinning the sword in seemingly random directions, twirling it in circles up down, left right, occasionally even reversing directions, once or twice forcing him to lean back as it came perilously close to his face or making him jump over it as he swung it at his own ankles. All while this was happening, his right hand was absentmindedly juggling the two daggers, and the violinist had come out from behind the fence to play a tense, fast-paced piece to complement the act. Once he’d done the twirling routine, he switched hands and performed a summary version of the same thing- just to prove he could.

There were two dull thumps against the wooden fence, which the sword-dancer doubted the audience could hear. Something had gone wrong in back and Loys needed him to improvise. Fortunately, the sword-dancer had been completely prepared for that.

Suddenly, with both hands he juggled all three blades simultaneously. After a few seconds to make sure he wasn’t about to muck it up, he allowed himself a quick glance at the audience. Many more women had gathered around, and more than a few men. The sword-dancer estimated their audience ranged about thirty now, though only eight or nine could fit on the meager benches. And yet, standing in the audience, making solid eye contact with the sword-dancer, was the dirty traveler. While his audience was enraptured, this one man with the long, unkempt brown hair and beard, seemed to be watching the dancer more than the swords.

Tossing his nerves aside with aplomb, the sword-dancer winked with a blown kiss at one of the women in the crowd, not really paying attention to whom, and in between juggles swiftly pulled out an apple from his pocket and added it to the assortment. Several in the crowd were awed by the number of objects he was keeping track of, while others wondered why an apple was part of this ensemble.

They were about to find out. The violin struck a crescendo as first the sword-dancer tossed the apple into the air. The daggers were coming down at him, but instead of tossing them he curled his fingers into flat fists and with the butts of his hands he hit the flats of each dagger as it came so that they were flung aside, embedding themselves in the grassy soil on either side of the platform, but the sword he tossed up as well, just as the apple was coming down. The crowd, tense with anticipation watched as he caught the apple in his mouth, biting firmly into its flesh. A few started to clap, but others went wide-eyed as they realized what was coming next.

Still facing straight up, the sword-dancer shimmined side to side, trying to align himself with the falling blade which reached the apex of its toss, lost momentum, and then the point began to fall back down to him.

And it drove straight down into his throat.

Women gasped or shrieked, the parents in the audience covered their children’s eyes, but this moment of absolute shock and horror quickly passed when the sword-dancer raised both hands with a flourish, holding up his palms as if to say “You got me.”

Both hands then moved to grip the pommel of the sword, then slowly and carefully pulled it straight back up out of his mouth. Pressed against the hilt of the blade, the apple had been perfectly impaled, and the audience jolted to their feet to applaud.

Thump! Another noise against the fence meant that whatever issue they were having had been resolved. Smiling and breathless, the sword-dancer allowed himself a moment to soak in the praise of his viewership before leaning over on either side to pick up his daggers. Slipping the smaller blades into small sheathes on his belt, he waved with his left hand to his audience, and saw the dirty traveler’s lips twitch with disappointment before he pushed through the crowd to leave. The sword-dancer raised an eyebrow as he slowly backed up around the fence as the four other actors went around the other side.

“Great work, when did you have time to figure that out?” Loys laughed, pushing the sword-dancer playfully on the arm.

The sword-dancer smirked and looked down at the shortsword through the apple. Nobody had noticed with all the movement, but it was a bit thinner from edge to edge than the one he’d been spinning. “Didn’t really require much physical practice, I figured out the technical aspects during the caravan here.”

As he stared at the iron of the blade, he found it a bit brown. He could see the dirt on the ground on the other side, and eventually the sword and the apple faded completely away, the illusion ruined. He retrieved the real apple with the bite out of it from his sleeve- he’d slipped it in when he rose his hands to remove the faux sword- and reached behind his back to grasp the pommel of the sword sticking just out from under his collar- the real sword, which had been sheathed under his shirt just before he tossed the fake one. He couldn’t have focused on both the illusion magic and the daggers at the same time, plus illusions were hard to make realistic if you were moving them too fast, so he’d needed the real sword for most of the act. There was no way he was going to actually risk the sword impaling his face, though.

“Nicolle,” Loys said. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, but you really are an artistic genius.”

The sword-dancer, Nicolle, gave a shrug of false modesty. “There’s no genius necessary when you have magic.”

Loys wasn’t having it, and he shook his beaming head. “But it’s how you use the magic. You summon an illusion in front of them, let them see you do it, they’re just impressed you have a skill, the way people are impressed a man can make a sword, or lift an ox. But you hide the real stuff, let them believe they’re watching just another average Jacques swing some swords around. You make them believe you’re doing something truly amazing… and that is truly amazing.”

Loys was a manager, and a Lacertan manager at that, and Lacertan managers were always known for being flattering, telling the patrons what they want to hear, get the best performance, get the best coin. But more importantly, Loys was a director, and as he was born a commoner in Lacertan territory, he preferred Kotan directorial methods to Lacertan. Kotans hated falsehoods, and they hated half-truths maybe more, and since they didn’t get a lot of artistic business they didn’t have time to waste. When a Lacertan director lavished their actors with praise, it was to assure them that nothing was wrong, to keep them complacent and doing what they did best, leaving tougher decisions to the director. When a Kotan director paid an actor a mild complement, that actor would keep looking over their back waiting for an Old God to smite them for their fortune.

For this reason, Loys was very pleasant with all of his performers, on a first name basis with each individual, and often drank with them. But Loys had been completely honest with Nicolle, good or bad, for the decade since Loys found him starving in an alley with nothing but a sword and a name. His praise was from the heart.

Yet the smile faded from Nicolle’s face. He flipped his collar up, half dramatically and half to apprehensively conceal the pommel of his sword while he took off the belt with the daggers. “Not everyone had such high praise out there. There was this guy… old, dirty, worn. Had a bunch of stuff and no shoes, just seemed like he wandered out of the woods and into the fair. Seemed upset when I did that stunt.”

Loys shrugged. “What do you want me to say? There’s one in every crowd.”

Nicolle looked at Loys. Loys looked at Nicolle. Five seconds. Loys gave in first. “You want to go ask, don’t you?”

“I have to make every performance perfect, Loys!” Nicolle whispered urgently. The audience would definitely hear him if he spoke up. “I disrespect the art if I don’t try.”

Loys groaned. “You sound like a Lacertan.”

“I am Lacertan. So are you!”

Loys waved his hands. “Fine, go, find him. If we need to stall again before you’re back, I’ll just go out and tell some jokes.” Nicolle didn’t move. “Or I’ll get Nathalie to sing something, whatever!”

Nicolle quickly leaned in and kissed Loys’s cheek. “You’re a lifesaver!” he said, and then jogged off from behind the fence, briefly attracting the attention of some audience members, and joining with the throngs.

Loys scoffed to himself. “If I’m a lifesaver, you’re a jack-sword. Heh, a jack-sword-dancer.” Loys hesitated for a moment, then pulled out a small journal from a nearby pack to write down his joke.

#midas #contest #book #lacerta #nicolle #my writing

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wordsinwinters · 7 years ago

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Then Again: P1 Peter Parker x Reader

Author’s Note: This is the first fanfiction piece I’ve ever posted, so I’m learning how this all works as I go. I’ll probably post this on AO3 sometime soon, but because I’ll need to make an account, etc, it might be a little while before it’s available there.

Additionally, please review!

I’m excited (and extremely nervous) to put my writing out there for the first time, so any comments, questions, or advice are absolutely welcome!

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Then Again, Part 1:

(Word count: 1,358)

Living in New York City rarely feels as glamorous as the movies and aesthetic blogs make it seem. Most days, that lively hustle and bustle of our beautiful, always dreaming city reminds me of a horde of flies conducting emergency drills underwater. Especially on foggy days. And muggy days. And Mondays, Tuesdays, occasionally Wednesdays. However, the almost-weekend to weekend days that sprinkle in refreshing breezes alongside bright sunshine - those days pull you up by the back of your collar and shove optimism down your shirt like it’s a cool, wet towel. The city tingles from the ground up.

Today is one of those good days.

Ironically, I woke up exhausted. I nearly spilled my breakfast in my lap (but didn’t, thanks to Peter) and I walked with my three best friends to school through fields of exhaust fumes half-awake. Once there, however, it all seemed to turn around. The classes I attended went wonderfully and the classes I didn’t attend, I’ll assume went just as well. I skipped half of them for the first time in my life.

Besides occasional “homework sharing,” I rarely break rules, it’s just that Ned and Michelle can be extremely persuasive… not that I needed much persuasion today. The suggestion was enough. I’ve been so giddy this week that I embraced the tiny taste of teenage rebellion with open arms. (“Tiny” seems like an appropriate description: all we did was hide out in random parts of the school watching Vines, playing minor pranks in the hallways during breaks, and stealing food from Peter’s stash of locker snacks as payback for his refusal to join us.)

Today has been a great day, and outside of Peter acting a bit strange, it’s been a good week overall. It’s just so easy to be happy with everything going on. Tonight: special dinner with our friends. Tomorrow: Midtown’s academic decathlon team heads to Washington, D.C. Shortly after, my friends and I will attend Prom, go on summer break, and enter our senior year of high school. My anticipation for this trip, the dance, the summer, and our eventual graduation bubbles up inside my stomach anytime the conversation between me and two of my best friends takes a short dip as we walk back from school.

Despite all of the upcoming things I have to think about, this walk is making my thoughts drift back to the one topic I’ve been trying most to avoid. Why wouldn’t Peter sneak out of class? He isn’t always such a rule follower anymore. And then why leave seventh hour when we all have class together? Is it just a today thing? He’s seemed… off all week.

I need to stop thinking about him. Wondering why he’s been strangely reserved or else imagining the previous seven hours with him more present in their events is not going to help me keep our friendship normal. Just think about something else. Anything else. Even someone else.

“Should we invite Flash?” I ask. I ask this partly because it’s a question nobody has brought up yet, and partly because the conversation has certainly dipped and my brain wants to sprint away from my control. I even thought I saw Spidey a minute ago. By now he’s on the other side of Queens. Think of something else.

We stop on the sidewalk, traffic rushing in front of us, countless buzzing people behind everywhere else.

Ned and Michelle turn to me with matching expressions.

“And why would we do that?” Ned asks.

“Because every-”

“Oh, shit.” Michelle groans. “Because everyone else, bar Mr. Harrington, is going. The entire team except Flash. For being so smart, we’re all a bunch of fucking idiots.”

“Technically we don’t have to do anything,” Ned says, obviously resistant to the idea. “It isn’t an official team dinner or whatever. We can’t get in trouble for it.”

“Still, as captain, I can’t organize a social gathering with everyone but Flash and pretend it isn’t a shitty thing to do. God damn it.”

The walk signal turns white as Michelle starts a text to Flash. Peter’s apartment is only a few blocks away.

Once we reach the door, Ned knocks. We all know Peter and May won’t be in, but Ned has a habit of politeness that even that can’t shake. After a couple seconds, he unlocks it himself with one of the five total keys to the apartment. (Strictly speaking, May isn’t supposed to have had three extra copies made, but she wouldn’t be May if she paid mind to that rule.)

“So,” Michelle says, heaving her bookbag onto a chair. “Music and clean, then Netflix and chill?”

The three of us look around at the destruction our last night of studying brought the apartment. Snacks and dishes are strewn in odd places and our fallen pillow fort is a ruin. A sticky 5 Hour Energy must have splashed on the carpet at some point, given the pink stain to the right of the couch. Coating most of the colossal mess are countless pieces of scribbled-on paper.

Ned and I nod in agreement.

Michelle’s speaker beeps awake and we set to work.

As I gather garbage, I let the music fill up my skull. I imagine confetti raining down inside of it, each piece sparkling with tiny letters that read: It’s just one of those good days.

The only thing that could make this day better would be the presence of Peter and May Parker. But then again, Peter ducked out of last hour, I suppose to get a head start on his “internship” (he’s never done that before though, so the irony of his skipping part of Psych and not any other classes did not slide by unnoticed by Michelle or Ned either) and May has… a job, a hobby? I really don’t know. Wherever they are and whatever they’re doing, I can’t help wishing they were home.

May returns around 5 p.m. As usual, she is unsurprised to find us watching Netflix. Over the last couple weeks, we took study breaks by picking out a lighthearted show and making questions from an episode. Today is an exclusively no-studying day, but we can’t help continuing the mini-tradition while we marathon Friends.

“Ah, the Studying-Not-Studying game.”

May walks over smiling, her arms crossed.

“It’s a vital healing process for our near-fatally strained brains,” I joke.

A phone buzzes.

“Wait, Miss MJ! You can’t answer that text until you answer my question for this episode. Were they,” May says, “or were they not,” she pauses, “on a break?”

“Oh god, no,” I plead. “Please, please, don’t start this again! Ned and MJ argued about this for twenty minutes before you got here!”

“Okay, but Rachel did say-” Ned begins.

“Oh my god, Ned! We talked about this!”

Michelle begins explaining with her hands and May grins, walking into the kitchen. Feinting defeat, I put my head in my hands and sink into the couch cushion. Slumped, I take out my own phone. Nothing.

I text Peter.

“Still good for 7:30?”

Whoosh. And now the waiting game begins. Actually, it began at 3:00 p.m. when I sent the first of a dozen messages. But none of them were questions, so an answer wasn’t necessary.

“Hey MJ,” I say. “What was that text you got?”

Michelle and Ned halt, hands frozen in expressionistic flight.

“Let’s see.” She flips her phone over. “It’s from Flash.”

Ned clasps his hands together.

“Dear merciful God,” he prays. “Please, please, let MJ read us a rejection text from Eugene ‘Flash’ Ass-Hat Rich-Boy Bitch-Boy.”

We made up that nickname today while cutting fourth hour. Not quite eloquent, but to the point. Plus, it’s almost impossible to say seven times fast. (We made a game of trying.)

Michelle types a quick response and takes a breath, placing her hand on Ned’s shoulder.

“Prepare yourself for something dreadful, Ned.” She hangs her head. “Eugene ‘Flash’ Ass-Hat Rich-Boy Bitch-Boy is… ‘super doped out’ to accept our invitation.”

“God damn it.”

“Kids!” May calls from the kitchen. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you to watch your language?”

Part 2

A/N: The content above is only 3 pages of a current 44 pages. If there are any mistakes in it, I apologize. Tonight was my self-set deadline and I didn’t edit it as thoroughly as I would have preferred. (Betas welcome!)

I’m hoping to update again around Saturday,

but because my weekend is so busy, I’m can’t promise anything. Still, I am planning to update weekly!

Again, please let me know what you think – I’d love to hear from you!

P.S. I love writing stories that have background plots spinning behind closed doors, so if you have any questions about little nods/hints you might find in this, I wouldn’t mind writing some “note” posts to explain details that may not be explicitly explained throughout this story.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #spider-man x reader #spider-man fanfiction #spiderman x reader #spider-man fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland #peter parker #spider-man #spiderman #tom holland x you #spider-man homecoming #spider-man homecoming fanfic #marvel #part 1

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