#i hope if she appears in future books they don't fuck her up

[gatorsnot]

"Oh, Crookedstar. You've had to walk a dark and terrible path alone. None of these deaths are your fault. I doubt if they're Mapleshade's fault, either. Sometimes bad things happen for no reason, or for reasons we can't understand. Please never feel like you need to suffer alone again. I will always be on your side. I'm your medicine cat. You can trust me with anything."

~~~

darling, dearest, sweetest heart, don't ever change.

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[thesharkwhalewhoohooooo]

Bridget x fem! Oc

"Hecate! Get back here." Uliana called out to the witch, who send a last sneer to Bridget and Ella, and then quickly followed after Uliana.

"Stupid Bridget." She grumbled as she joined her friends, who were all exchanging glances, all but Uliana, of course.

"Mh, valentine's day is coming up, you two gonna do anything?" Hades asked Morgie and Hook, who looked at each other and shrugged.

"Probably, you?"

"-stop this nonsensical blabbering! She just publicly humiliated me!" Uliana snapped, Hecate nodding along, towering over most of the group.

"So...? What do you want to do about it?" Maleficent gestured for her to come up with something, looking incredibly bored.

"My god, let's go babe." The two left the rest, probably to go make out and scare first years.

"I have homework..." They frowned at her, "I still want a fucking future!" Hecate threw her hands up as she walked away, Morgie and hook whistling after her to tease her.

"Go buff boss lady!"

"Morgs, she's not the boss lady."

"Go buff lady!"

-

"Don't you dare show your face around here again." Hecate almost growled out, staring down at a boy who was trembling so bad she thought he might faint.

"God fucking damn it." She gritted her teeth as she picked up the love letter from the boy, quickly tearing it to shreds before anyone could see the name on it.

"Oh... hi Hecate!" Bridget had trued going to her locker, but Hecate was standing in front of it, little snippets of pink laper in her hands.

"Mh?" She arched an eyebrow, looking down at Bridget with narrowed eyes.

"What." Bridget smiled at her, producing one of the macaroons she had made out of nowhere.

"I made macaroons this morning! Would you like one?" She bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Bridget bite at her bottom lip.

"No." She watched as her face fell, this was good.

"Oh... um- okay, bye then?" Bridget still smiled at her, and Hecate stalked off, shoving the boy who tried to put the letter in a locker down harshly, glaring around, this was a warning.

-

"Wassup fuckers." Hecate grinned madly as she appeared amidst her friendgroup, half of the homosexuals were making out.

"Hi Hecate, one question, let's go ruin Valentines." Hecate shrugged at the not-question, following Uliana as she slammed lockers closed in front of faces.

"Hello." Hecate appeared behind a boy, who was lurking near someone's locker with a red note.

"Let's see shall we? Dear Br-." It burned in her hand, ashes falling down as she slammed her hand into the locker he was about to wiggle it into.

"Huh, I thought I made it clear that nobody-!"

"Oh my gosh! Hecate! Why did you do that?!" Bridget rushed in, and Hecate's hand quickly disconnected from the locker, looking at the princess with a frown.

"Your fist! And my locker..." Her eyes widened, prying open the locker and flattening out the dent from the inside before slamming it closed again.

"What locker." She harshly spat out, Uliana had long left her alone to her shenanigans.

"Your fist! Does it hurt-?"

"No! Stop asking if anything hurts' why do you fare so much! Ugh!" She quickly stormed away, dragging the boy with and pressing his face against the lockers as she walked.

Bridget stood in silence for a second, then slowly opened her locker, still looking down the corridor where Hecate left in hopes she'd turn back around.

"Nothing. Again." She sighed, looking through her books for the book she had to put in.

"Oh! I guess I didn't see it!" She giggled, carefully licking up the pink paper, leaning with her shoulder against another locker as she read it.

Darkening your doorstep, I stand before you.

Darkening your doorstep, I kneel for you.

Darkening your doorstep, I hereby request.

Darkening your doorstep, your forgiveness is not earned, yet.

She sighed, rolling her eyes fondly, it was the same sort of poem she'd been getting for the oast year.

"How sweet, secret admirer hits again?" Ella scared her, reading over her shoulder.

"Oh my-! Don't scare me like that Ella! But yes, he's been doing this for a year now, I wonder when that forgiveness he speaks of will come soon." Ella hummed.

"Yeah, no boy writes like that, that girl is gay and a hopeless romantic." She theorised, Bridget slapping her arm.

"Don't be like that!"

-

"I just don't know what's going on, I just... I hate her and her sweets and everything about her! But I can't have anyone else have her, which is stupid and dumb, I don't even like her."

"No, you love herrrrr!" Morgie smirked at her, using his hyper flexibility to twist his spine and circle his entire body around Hecate's torso.

"Also this is getting creepy, Hook!" The captain poked his head up from where he was laying, rolling his eyes.

"Come here darling!" Morgie unwrapped himself from Hecate, who was rambling about her problems to Maleficent, the only one who really couldn't give a lesser fuck.

"Just fuck her, see if you like it, if you don't, you hate her, if you do... well then you might have some issues to sort out with Uliana." She shrugged, playing around with her hair as she used Hades as a chair.

"Exactly what she said." The god, who was laying down with her on his back, agreed.

"M'kay... i'm not doing that, Uli?" The sea witch groaned, rolling over from where she was trying to sleep.

"Shut up, just go ask her out or something, or write her another one of your poems." Hecate stuttered as she tried to find an answer, looking around to see if they all knew.

"Allow me to step closer as I scream, cry, and beg, scream for the lives i've lost trying to find you, Cry for the time spend without you, and Beg to spend just a mere second more with you'- one of my favourites, honestly, I had to write it down to remember, also, i'm stealing it in like a year." Morgie held up a paper, laying across Hook with a smile.

"It is pretty spectacular." The pirate shrugged, winking at Hecate. "Go over there and just fuck her, prove how amazing you are in bed and you shall see! The doors open before thee!" He mocked the posh royalty, changing his accent.

"Why did I even ask if all you guys think about is sex."

"I don't"

"Uliana, I say this with all respect, but you don't even feel attraction towards anyone."

-

Hecate fidgeted with her rings as she waited for the door to be opened, standing in front of the girl's doors was so much more nerve wrecking than beating people up for asking her out.

"Oh- Hi Hecate, anything you need?" Bridget had opened the door, and Hecate contemplated if she should just take Hook's advice.

"Yeah-!" She coughed as her voice cracked, straightening up and leaning against the doorpost to aat least try seem cooler and more collected.

"I just wanted to ask you out on a date tomorrow, y'know, with it being valentines and all." WHY DIDN'T I SPEAK LIKE I WRITE??? SHE'D AT LEAST KNOW THAT'S ME!!!!!

"Like... romantically?" I should dash now that I still can.

"Yeah, romantically, seems totes cool right?" NOBODY SAYS THAT AND IT'S NOT COOL!!!

"Yes! Of course i'll go on a date with you!"

I'm sorry for darkening your doorstep, I just had to say, a single second spend with you is worth more than a thousand sun filled days.

[sissyisawitch]

It'll Be Okay

Relationship: Sebastian Sallow x You

Summary: After the macabre events that occurred in the Feldcroft Catacomb, Sebastian is devastated. All he can think about is running away and pushing you away from him… but you don't plan to give up on him so easily.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Author's Note: This story is based on the song "It'll Be Okay" by Shawn Mendes. I hope you'll enjoy reading it!💙

Warnings: Major spoilers for the "In the Shadow of the Relic" quest + Angst

“I won’t let her suffer! Avada Kedavra!”

A flash of green light struck Solomon Sallow’s body, before it fell limp on the ground. Sebastian had done it. He had killed his uncle.

Oh, the future we dreamed of is fading to black…

He dropped his wand which clattered on the ground.

And just like that, you and Sebastian's future plans vanished, completely ruined. They used to seem so simple... you were supposed to cure Anne with the relic, make her return to Hogwarts, and then be happy all together with your little quartet of friends.

But as fate would have it, that was never going to happen.

A high-pitched, distraught voice brought you out of your thoughts, “Depulso!”

Anne had appeared in the Catacomb and apparently witnessed the whole tragic scene that had just unfolded, whereupon she herself attacked her twin brother, propelling him with all her might against one of the stone walls to stop him.

Driven by her fiery anger, she used what little strength she had left to cast a couple more spells to defeat the remaining Inferi and reduce Salazar Slytherin's Spellbook to ashes.

“NO!” Sebastian howled. He could do nothing but watch his sister destroy the book that was supposed to contain all the solutions to save her life.

“You’ve made your choice.” She said simply, before disapparating with the inert corpse of their uncle.

“Oh, Anne… What have you done?”

Oh, there's nothing more painful. Nothing more painful…

You were paralysed, unable to move even a finger after witnessing such a heartbreaking scene where a family was completely shattered, with no means or hope of ever repairing their ties. Poor Sebastian was left entirely alone, tears in his eyes, his face contorted by his crushing grief and regret. Merlin, you hated that sight with all your heart.

“I-I must get out of here.” He mumbled as he stood up and quickly looked at his surroundings, as if he were completely disorientated.

“Seb, wait!” You tried to hold him back, but Sebastian would not listen.

Instead, he fled. He ran like mad towards the exit of the Catacomb, desperate for fresh air.

“SEBASTIAN!” You shouted at the top of your lungs as you sped after him, hoping that it would be enough for him to hear you despite his head start.

It was only when you had made your way up the labyrinth of tunnels, once you were back in the Feldcroft countryside and away from the heavy atmosphere of the dusty Catacomb, that you managed to catch up with Sebastian.

Now that he was close at hand, you reached out to grab his arm, “Sebastian, stop!”

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” He roared, sending your hand flying with more force than he would have used if he were in his normal state of mind.

You flinched out of reflex, but you were in no case scared of the boy. You never had been, and you knew you never would be. You understood that he was simply on edge and needed reassurance, so you kept your soft tone, “Seb–”

“STOP SAYING MY NAME!” He continued to shout in anger, but the way he was now gripping his hair and pulling at the roots showed that annoyance was being added to the palette of overwhelming emotions he was feeling at the moment. “For fuck’s sake I should’ve known better than to become friends with you in the first place.”

This. This last sentence. Maybe he could not scare you, but you too often forgot that he was still capable of hurting you, even if he did not mean any of it and it was his amalgam of panic and agitation that got the better of his words.

You tried your best to remain unfazed, “So what? You'd rather our paths had never crossed?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed without thinking twice.

I start to imagine a world where we don't collide…

For a moment, you lost yourself in your own thoughts. You imagined a parallel universe where you had never defeated Sebastian in Defence Against the Dark Arts, where he had never accompanied you to Hogsmeade on your first day at Hogwarts, and therefore a universe where you two had never become friends or exchanged a single word.

It also meant a world where you never fought trolls, goblins, and poachers together, where you never spent long nights in the Undercroft doing nothing but talking, where he never held you in his arms and comforted you whenever you were not at your best, resulting in your feelings for Sebastian blossoming into something much stronger and more genuine than friendship.

“Well, I don’t.” You finally answer.

“Well, you should.” He imitated your intonation with irritating impertinence.

You paid no attention to it, knowing better than to take any of his irrational actions into account, “Why?”

“BECAUSE I FUCKING RUINED YOUR LIFE!”

The screaming was back. Taking you by surprise once again. However this time, you were unable to react. The rawness and vulnerability of his words had hit you right in the heart, knocking the wind out of you.

“I have to go.” He muttered after your lack of reaction. He turned his back on you before setting off again, this time clearly determined to leave.

This was the moment that snapped you out of your stunned confusion, “Oh no, don’t you dare run away from me, Sallow!”

Your feet reacted even faster than your brain. You rushed towards him, but knew you would not have enough strength to hold him back, so you did the only best thing you could think of... You lunged at him and tackled him to the ground. Your body crashed into his with full force, causing his back to slam against the hard, cold, snow-covered ground.

“LET ME GO!” He fought back, kicking in all directions to try and push you off him.

“NEVER!” You pinned him down with all your strength. You were pressed on top of him while holding his hands on either side of his head, and keeping his thighs flat with your own legs. “Because you didn’t ruin my life, Sebastian.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now? I spent months teaching you dark magic. I just killed my uncle in front of you. You're a witness to a murder because of me! You could be sent to Azkaban BECAUSE OF ME! What more do you need to hate me? Tell me, because I'll do it right away if it means you'll stay away from me and be out of danger!”

And it's making me sick, but we'll heal and the sun will rise…

Sebastian's words made your blood run cold. Not because they made you reflect on everything he had put you through, but rather because you wondered how you were going to make him understand that you were not blaming him for anything, that the idea had never even crossed your mind.

“We can get past this. We can make things better together.” You said softly, unable to muster a better response.

He only scoffed bitterly.

“Sebastian, I don’t want to hate you, I want to be here for you!”

Judging that he seemed slightly calmer, you allowed yourself to release one of his hands to cup his cheek instead. With your thumb, you caressed his tanned skin, tracing the freckles splattered across his cheekbones. You did your best to convey your honesty and all your love for him through your delicate touch.

“No.” He replied firmly, leaving no room for negotiation, and then took advantage of your lowered guard to push you away again, this time with his hand which was now free. “Now leave me alone!”

If you tell me you're leaving, I'll make it easy…

You gave up being gentle and tackled him firmly to the floor again. You just needed him to listen to you for a few more minutes, “Okay. I won’t force you to stay if you don’t want to… But you need someone, Sebastian. Please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want your help!” He spat with a fury that was rarely seen in him. You had only seen it once... when he called you ignorant.

“Maybe you don’t want it, but you need it.” Now that everything had been said, you got out of his way to let him go if he so wished.

It'll be okay…

Sebastian sat up again, but stayed there, against all your expectations. You knew that all he needed was one last little push before he surrendered, so you insisted, “Don’t shut me out. Let me be here for you.”

“I–” His voice broke, giving way before he could even begin his sentence. His bottom lip quivered. “I didn’t mean to kill him. He attacked us… attacked you. I had to use the Killing Curse. You know I did!”

“I know. You did your best to protect me.” You reassured him by taking his hands in yours and giving them a little squeeze.

“I never meant for all of this to happen. I just wanted to help Anne.” It was not long before tears started to stream down his cheeks. “I want this hell to be over. Please make it stop.”

“I wish I could… but–” Now it was your voice's turn to fail you.

“I just want my little sister back.”

“I know you do… I know.” You swallowed hard to fight the tears that started to blur your vision. You could not allow yourself to cry. You had to stay strong for him. You had to be the pillar on which he could rest, because right now, he needed your help. If he saw you crying, it would only make things worse. This was not about you.

So you cuddled him against your chest, firstly to comfort him, and secondly so that he would not see the look of total dismay on your face.

“Ominis hates me too, and I can’t even blame him, because I hate myself too.” He was now full on breaking down, his head buried against your chest, and his tears streaming down your uniform jumper.

“I’ll love you enough for the two of us, then… until you learn to love yourself again, and even after.”

“I want the pain to stop. It’s been there for too long. I can’t stand it anymore.” The more time passed, the more erratic his breathing became.

“I know, baby. You’ve been so strong.” You kept spouting all the soothing words you could think of, in the hope that they would work on him.

“Please, make it stop. Please.”

“I’d take it all for you if I could. But I can’t, and I’m so sorry. I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel better.” You slowly ran your fingers through his silky brown locks, over and over again. Then you felt yourself losing your grip on your emotions, and soon your tears were flowing alongside Sebastian's.

Sebastian Sallow – the boy who was never afraid of anything and always had a trick up his sleeve – was on his knees in front of you, crying his eyes out, rendering him nothing more than the very image of misery and helplessness.

It was agonising to see the boy you loved in such a state, and not be able to do anything to make him feel better. How were you supposed to remain impassive in the face of that?

“Please fix everything. Fix me.”

“I can’t…”

And if we can't stop the bleeding… We don't have to fix it, we don't have to stay…

Sebastian's sobs continued unabated, “I’m scared to stay with you. I know I’ll end up doing something stupid and lose you too. Because that’s what I do… I do everything in my power to make the people I care about leave.”

This time, it was all too much. You could not let him belittle himself so cruelly. You grabbed his face between your hands and forced him to look straight into your eyes, not caring if they were red and swollen from all the crying, “Don’t say that. I know you made mistakes, but you’re one of the most brilliant wizards before anything else. You’re the only one who was great enough to steal my heart.”

“You’re everything I have left… I can’t lose you. Not you.” He clutched your shirt in his fists, as if he was afraid you would suddenly vanish before his eyes.

“Baby–”

Everything you were going to say died on the tip of your tongue... because Sebastian smashed his lips against yours.

You did not know exactly how it happened. You did not realise it right away because it occurred in less than a split second. And yet it was well and truly real.

There was nothing tender or romantic about that kiss. No, it was just rough, brutal and messy, reflecting all the despair they contained deep inside. It was a kiss full of passion, but not the kind that made you feel light and gave you butterflies in your stomach. Not at all, it was a toxic passion that burnt the wings off these butterflies and everything around them.

Sebastian was clutching you by the shoulders as if you were his lifeline, the only thing keeping him from tipping completely over into the darkness. And you, you kissed him back fervently, fighting the little voice in your head that was whispering to you that what you were doing was wrong, that you never should have discovered how salty his tears tasted as you kissed him for the first time.

You had to call a spade a spade, you should not be taking advantage of his vulnerability to get what you had always dreamt of... but you could not help yourself. Sebastian was hypnotic, and you could not bring yourself to pull away from him.

It was he who retreated first, and you instantly hated how his big chocolate eyes were filled with nothing but sheer panic, “I feel like I’m going to die without you… What if I die without you?”

Your heart pounded so hard to the point where it felt like you had a lump in your throat. You let out an overwhelmed and broken sob, “You’ll never find out because I’ll never leave you. You hear me? Never. I’m here for better or for worse.”

I will love you either way…

Sebastian let himself fall against your chest, and you welcomed him into your arms without the slightest hint of reluctance. You let him rest there, let him cry, tremble against you, while you caressed his untameable hair and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, doing your best to stop your own tears from flowing. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, but it felt like an eternity. You were probably freezing and soaking wet from sitting in the snow for so long, but thankfully you were unable to feel it thanks to the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Shh… It'll be okay…”

It might be so sweet… It might be so bitter…

In the months you had known Sebastian, you had imagined an infinity of different scenarios of the two of you kissing for the first time. None of those fit with the reality of Sebastian breaking down in your arms after committing murder. The situation had nothing in common with what you had wished for the two of you. You had finally got what you wanted, but you hated it. You just wanted to scream. Fate was even more cruel than you believed.

"Make the pain go away, please." Sebastian begged desperately, echoing your own inner thoughts.

"I'll do everything I can. I’ll do everything to give you the future you wanted." You cried uncontrollably.

Oh, if the future we've dreamed of is fading to black…

Minutes, hours passed, and your tears eventually dried. You spoke again, very quietly, as if afraid to frighten the peace that was slowly beginning to return, “We’ll get through this together, alright?”

“…I’m a monster.” He declared with resignation. He too had run out of tears to cry.

“You’re not.” You replied with just as much conviction.

“What if I get even worse? What if I end up hurting you?” He asked quietly.

“I will love you either way.”

[hopelesslys-world]

50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP | CH. 6

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, reader is kind of a bimbo, heavily detailed smut, basically porn, loss of virginity, harsh language, anger issues, stalking, obsession, jealousy, controlling behaviour, DOM-SUB themes, BDSM Expand considered to be portrayed with incorrect/poor etiquette, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse/assault, statutory rape.

Tell me if I missed anything...( As you can see most of the warnings will appear in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

Y/M/N: Your Middle Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

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*𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐑 dining table. The fourteen-thousand-dollar books have disappeared. Thank God... I have plans for them. She has the most un-Bella ridiculous grin on her face, and she looks mussed up in a sexy kind of way.

Christian follows me into the living area, and in spite of her I’ve-been-having-a-good-time-all-night grin, Bella eyes him suspiciously.

“Hi Y/N/N.” She leaps up to hug me, then holds me at arm’s length so she can examine me. She frowns and turns to Christian.

“Good morning, Christian,” she says, and her tone is a little hostile.

“Miss Clark,” he says in his stiff formal way.

“Christian, her name is Bella,” Elliot grumbles.

“Bella.” Christian gives her a polite nod and glares at Elliot who grins and rises to hug me too.

“Hi, Y/N,” he smiles, his blue eyes twinkling, and I like him immediately. He’s obviously nothing like Christian, but then they’re adopted brothers.

“Hi, Elliot,” I smile at him, and I’m aware that I’m biting my lip.

“Elliot, we’d better go.” Christian says mildly.

“Sure.” He turns to Bella and pulls her into his arms and gives her a long lingering kiss.

Jeez… get a room. I stare at my feet, embarrassed. I glance up at Christian, and he’s watching me intently. I narrow my eyes at him. Why can’t you kiss me like that? Elliot continues to kiss Bella, sweeping her off her feet and dipping her in a dramatic hold so that her hair touches the ground as he kisses her hard.

“Laters, baby,” he grins.

Bella just melts. I’ve never seen her melt before – the words comely and compliant come to mind. Compliant Bella, boy, Elliot must be good. Christian rolls his eyes and stares down at me, his expression unreadable, although maybe he’s mildly amused. He tucks a stray strand of my hair that has worked its way free from my ear. His eyes soften, and he runs his thumb across my lower lip. My blood sears in my veins. And all too quickly, his touch is gone.

“Laters, baby,” he murmurs, and I have to laugh because it’s so unlike him. But even though I know he’s being irreverent, the endearment tugs at something deep inside me.

“I’ll pick you up at eight.” He turns to leave, opening the front door and stepping out on to the porch. Elliot follows him to the car but turns and blows Bella another kiss, and I feel an unwelcome pang of jealousy.

“So, did you?” she asks as we watch them climb into the car and drive off, the burning curiosity evident in her voice.

“No,” I replied, hoping that will halt the questions. We head back into the apartment. “You obviously did, though.” I smirked. Bella always manages to ensnare men. She is irresistible, beautiful, sexy, funny, forward… all the things that I’m not, and I don't mind to honest, it balances our friendship perfectly. Her answering grin is infectious.

“And I’m seeing him again this evening.” She claps her hands and jumps up and down like a small child. She cannot contain her excitement and happiness. I feel happy for her. A happy Bella… this is going to be interesting.

“Christian is taking me to Seattle this evening.”

“Seattle?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you will then?”

“Oh, I don't know...” i fidgeted with my fingers nervously.

“You like him?”

“Yes.”

“Like him enough to… ?”

“Mmmaybe...” I dragged on the word still unsure about this whole sex thing.

She raises her eyebrows.

“Wow. Y/N Y/L/N, finally falling for a man, and it’s Christian Grey – hot, sexy billionaire.”

“Oh yeah – it’s all about the money.” I smirk, and we both fall into a fit of giggles.

“Is that a new blouse?” she asks, and I let her have all the unexciting details about my night.

“Has he kissed you yet?” she asks as she makes coffee.

I blush. “Once.”

“Once!” she scoffs.

I nod, rather shame faced. “He’s very reserved.”

She frowns. “That’s odd.”

“I don’t think odd covers it really,” I murmur.

“We need to make sure you’re simply irresistible for this evening,” she says with dtermination.

Oh no… this sounds like it will be time consuming, “I have to be at work in an hour.”

“I can work with that timeframe. Come on.” Bella grabs my hand and takes me into her bedroom.

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The day drags at Clayton’s even though we’re busy. We’ve hit the summer season, so I have to spend two hours restocking the shelves once the shop is closed. It’s mindless work, and it gives me too much time to think. I’ve not really had a chance all day.

Under Bella’s tireless and frankly intrusive instruction, my legs and underarms are waxed to perfection, beauty masks, face and body creams, it reminded me off girl night sleepovers I had as a teenager with the small friend group I had.

I have to convince Bella that this is what I want to do. For some strange reason, she doesn’t trust him, maybe because he’s so stiff and formal. She says she can’t put her finger on it, but I have promised to text her when I arrive in Seattle. I haven’t told her about the helicopter, she’d freak.

I also have the José issue. He’s left three messages and seven missed calls on my cell. He’s also called home twice. Bella has been very vague as to where I am. He’ll know she’s covering for me. She doesn’t do vague. But I have decided to let him stew. I’m still too angry with him.

Christian mentioned some kind of written paperwork, and I don’t know if he was joking or if I’m going to have to sign something. It’s so frustrating trying to guess. And on top of all the angst, I can barely contain my excitement or my nerves. Tonight’s the night!

After all this time, am I ready for this? Probably...I guess... I still don’t understand what Christian Gray sees in me… mousey Y/N Y/L/N - it makes no sense.

He is punctual, of course, and waiting for me when I leave Clayton’s. He climbs out of the back of the Audi to open the door and smiles warmly at me. “Good evening, Miss Y/L/N,” he says.

“Mr. Grey.” I nod politely to him as I climb into the backseat of the car. Taylor is sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Hello, Taylor,” I say.

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N,” his voice is polite and professional. Christian climbs in the other side and clasps my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that I feel all the way though my body.

“How was work?” he asks.

“Fine, too slow though,” I reply, and my voice is husky.

I need to get a grip of myself.

“Yes, it’s been a slow day for me too.” His tone is serious.

“What did you do?” I manage.

“I went hiking with Elliot.” His thumb strokes my knuckles, back and forth, and my heart skips a beat. How does he do this to me?

The drive to the heliport is short and, before I know it, we arrive. I wonder where the fabled helicopter might be. We’re in a built-up area of the city and even I know helicopters need space to take off and land. Taylor parks, climbs out, and opens my car door. Christian is beside me in an instant and takes my hand again.

“Ready?” he asks. I nod and want to say for anything, but I can’t articulate the words as I’m too nervous, too excited.

“Taylor.” He nods curtly at his driver, and we head into the building, straight to a set of elevators. The memory of our kiss this morning comes back to haunt me.

I have thought of nothing else all day. Daydreaming at the register at Clayton’s. Twice Mr. Clayton had to shout my name to bring me back to Earth. To say I’ve been distracted would be the understatement of the year. Christian glances down at me, a slight smile on his lips.

Ha! He’s thinking about it too.

“It’s only three floors,” he says dryly, his gray eyes dancing with amusement. He’s telepathic surely. It’s spooky.

I try to keep my face impassive as we enter the elevator. The doors close, and it’s there, the weird electrical attraction crackling between us, enslaving me. He tightens his grip on my hand, and five seconds later the doors open on to the roof of the building. And there it is, a white helicopter with the name Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. written in blue with the company logo on the side. Surely this is misuse of Company property.

He leads me to a small office where an old timer sits behind the desk.

“Here’s your flight plan, Mr. Grey. All external checks are done. It’s ready and waiting sir. You’re free to go.”

“Thank you, Joe.” Christian smiles warmly at him.

Oh. Someone deserving of the polite treatment from Christian, perhaps he’s not an employee. I stare at the old guy in awe.

“Let’s go,” Christian says, and we make our way toward the helicopter. When we’re up close, it’s much bigger than I thought. I expected it to be a roadster version for two, but it has at least seven seats. Christian opens the door and directs me to one of the seats at the very front.

“Sit – don’t touch anything,” he orders as he clambers in behind me.

He shuts the door with a slam. I’m glad that the area is floodlit, otherwise I’d find it difficult to see inside the small cockpit. I sit down in my allotted seat, and he crouches beside me to strap me into the harness. It’s a four-point harness with all the straps connecting to one central buckle. He tightens both of the upper straps, so I can hardly move.

He’s so close and intent on what he’s doing. If I could only lean forward, my nose would be in his hair. He smells, clean, fresh, heavenly, but I’m fastened securely into my seat and effectively immobile. He glances up and smiles, like he’s enjoying his usual private joke, his gray eyes heated. He’s so tantalizingly close. I hold my breath as he pulls at one of the upper straps.

“You’re secure, no escaping,” he whispers, his eyes are scorching. Reaching up, he caresses my cheek, running his long fingers down to my chin which he grasps between his thumb and forefinger. He leans forward and plants a brief, chaste kiss on my lips, leaving me reeling, my insides clenching at the thrilling, unexpected touch of his lips.

“I like this harness,” he whispers.

What?

He sits down beside me and buckles himself into his seat, then begins a protracted procedure of checking gauges and flipping switches and buttons from the mind-boggling array of dials and lights and switches in front of me. Little lights wink and flash from various dials, and the whole of the instrument panel lights up.

“Put your cans on,” he says, pointing to a set of headphones in front of me. I pop them on, and the rotor blades start. They are deafening. He puts his headphones on and continues flipping various switches.

“I’m just going through all the pre-flight checks.” Christian’s disembodied voice is in my ears through the headphones. I turn and grin at him.

“Do you know what you are doing?” I ask. He turns and smiles at me.

“I’ve been a fully qualified pilot for four years, Y/L, you’re safe with me.” He gives me a wolfish grin. “Well, while we’re flying,” he adds and winks at me.

Winking… Christian!

“Are you ready?”

I nod wide eyed.

“Okay, tower. PDX this is Charlie Tango Golf – Golf Echo Hotel, cleared for take-off. Please confirm, over.”

“Charlie Tango - you are clear. PDX to call, proceed to one four thousand, heading zero one zero, over. ”

“Roger tower, Charlie Tango set, over and out. Here we go,” he adds to me, and the helicopter rises slowly and smoothly into the air.

Portland disappears in front us as we head into US airspace, though my stomach remains firmly in Oregon.

Whoa! All the bright lights shrink until they are twinkling sweetly below us. It’s like looking out from inside a fish bowl. Once we’re higher, there really is nothing to see. It’s pitch black, not even the moon to shed any light on our journey. How can he see where we’re going?

“Eerie isn’t it?” Christian’s voice is in my ears.

“How do you know you’re going the right way?”

“Here.” He points his long index finger at one of the gauges, and it shows an electronic compass. “This is an EC135 Eurocopter. One of the safest in its class. It’s equipped for night flight.” He glances and grins at me.

“There’s a helipad on top of the building I live in. That’s where we’re heading.”

Of course there’s a helipad where he lives. I am so out of my league here. His face is softly illuminated by the lights on the instrument panel. He’s concentrating hard, and he’s continually glancing at the various dials in front of him. I drink in his features frombeneath my lashes. He has a beautiful profile. Straight nose, square jawed. He hasn’t shaved, and his stubble makes the prospect doubly tempting.

“When you fly at night, you fly blind. You have to trust the instrumentation,” he said.

“How long will the flight be?” I asked.

“Less than an hour, the wind is in our favor.”

Hmm, less than an hour to Seattle… that’s not bad going, no wonder we’re flying. I have less than an hour before the big reveal. All the muscles clench deep in my belly.

I have a serious case of butterflies. They are flourishing in my stomach. “You okay, Y/N?” He interrupts my thoughts.

“Yep.” My answer is short, clipped, squeezed out through my nerves.

I think he smiles, but it’s difficult to tell in the darkness. Christian flicks yet another switch.

“PDX this is Charlie Tango now at one four thousand, over.” He exchanges information with air traffic control. It all sounds very professional to me. I think we’re moving from Portland’s air space to Seattle International Airport’s.

“Understood Sea-Tac, standing by over and out.”

“Look, over there.” He points to a small pin-point of light in the far distance. “That’s Seattle.”

“Do you always impress women this way? Come and fly in my helicopter?” I ask, genuinely interested.

“I’ve never bought a girl up here, Y/N. It’s another first for me.” His voice is quiet, serious.

That was an unexpected answer. Another first? Oh the sleeping thing, perhaps?

“Are you impressed?”

“I’m awed, Christian.”

He smiles. “Awed?” And for a brief moment, he’s his age again.

I nod.

“You’re just so… competent.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Y/L/N,” he says politely. I think he’s pleased, but I’m not sure.

We ride into the dark night in silence for a while. The bright spot that is Seattle is slowly getting bigger.

“Sea-Tac tower to Charlie Tango. Flight plan to Escala in place. Please proceed. And standby. Over.”

“This is Charlie Tango, understood Sea-Tac. Standing by, over and out.”

“You obviously enjoy this,” I murmur.

“What?” He glances at me. He looks quizzical in the half-light of the instruments.

“Flying,” I reply.

“It requires control and concentration… how could I not love it? Though, my favorite is soaring.”

“Soaring?”

“Yes. Gliding to the layperson. Gliders and helicopters – I fly them both.”

“Oh.” Expensive hobbies. I remember him telling me during the interview. I like reading and occasionally going to the movies. I am out of my depth here.

“Charlie Tango come in please, over.” The disembodied voice of air traffic control interrupts my reverie. Christian answers, sounding in control and confident.

Seattle is getting closer. We are on the very outskirts now.

Wow! It looks absolutely stunning. Seattle at night, from the sky…

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Christian murmurs.

I nod enthusiastically. It looks otherworldly – unreal – and I feel like I’m on a giant film set, José’s favorite film maybe, ‘Bladerunner.’ The memory of José’s attempted kiss haunts me. However, guilt isn't what I'm feeling, like I usually do when something happens between me and a close person, like arguments ect.

God, I'm such a people pleaser...

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Christian mutters, and suddenly my blood is pounding in my ears as my heartbeat accelerates and adrenaline spikes through my system. He starts talking to air traffic control again, but I am no longer listening.

We are now flying amongst the buildings, and up ahead I can see a tall skyscraper with a helipad on top. The word Escala is painted in white on top of the building. It’s getting nearer and nearer, bigger and bigger… like my anxiety...

The helicopter slows and hovers, and Christian sets it down on the helipad on top of the building. My heart is in my mouth. I can’t decide if it’s from nervous anticipation, relief or that we’ve arrived alive. He switches the ignition off and the rotor blades slow and quiet until all I hear is the sound of my own erratic breathing.

Christian takes his headphones off, and reaches across and pulls mine off too.

“We’re here,” he says softly.

His look is so intense, half in shadow and half in the bright white light from the landing lights. Dark knight and white knight, it’s a fitting metaphor for Christian. He looks strained. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are tight. He unfastens his seatbelt and reaches over to unbuckle mine. His face is inches from mine.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You know that don’t you?” His tone is so earnest, desperate even, his gray eyes impassioned. He takes me by surprise.

“I’d never do anything I didn’t want to do, Christian.” And as I say the words, I don’t quite feel their conviction because at this moment in time – I’d probably do anything for this man seated beside me. But this does the trick. He’s mollified.

He eyes me warily for a moment and somehow, even though he’s so tall, he manages to ease his way gracefully to the door of the helicopter and open it. He jumps out, waiting for me to follow, and takes my hand as I clamber down on to the helipad. It’s very windyon top of the building, and I’m nervous about the fact that I’m standing at least thirty stories high in an unenclosed space. Christian wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me tightly against him.

“Come,” he shouts above the noise of the wind. He drags me over to an elevator shaft and, after tapping a number into a keypad, the doors open. It’s warm inside and all mirrored glass. I can see Christian to infinity everywhere I look, and the wonderful thing is, he’s holding me to infinity too. Christian taps another code into the keypad, then the doors close and the elevator descends.

Moments later, we’re in an all-white foyer. In the middle is a round, dark wood table, and on it is an unbelievably huge bunch of white flowers. On the walls there are paintings, everywhere. He opens two double doors, and the white theme continues through the wide corridor and directly opposite where a palatial room opens up. It’s the main living area, double height. Huge is too small a word for it. The far wall is glass and leads on to a balcony that overlooks Seattle.

To the right is an imposing ‘U’ shaped sofa that could sit ten adults comfortably. It faces a state-of-the-art stainless steel – or maybe platinum for all I know - modern fireplace.

The fire is lit and flaming gently. On the left beside us, by the entryway, is the kitchen area. All white with dark wood worktops and a large breakfast bar which seats six.

Near the kitchen area, in front of the glass wall, is a dining table surrounded by chairs. And tucked in the corner is a full size, shiny black grand piano. Of course he probably plays the piano too. There is art of all shapes and sizes on all the walls. In fact, this apartment looks more like a gallery than a place to live.

“Can I take your coat?” Christian asks. I shake my head. I’m still cold from the wind on the helipad.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks. I blink at him. After last night! Is he trying to be funny? For one second, I think about asking for a margarita – but I don’t have the nerve.

“I’m going to have a glass of white wine, would you like to join me?”

“Yes, please,” I murmur. I am standing in this enormous room feeling out of place. I walk over to the glass wall, and I realize that the lower half of the wall opens concertina-style on to the balcony. Seattle is lit up and lively in the background. I walk back to the kitchen area – it takes a few seconds, it’s so far from the glass wall – and Christian is opening a bottle of wine. He’s removed his jacket.

“Pouilly Fumé okay with you?”

“I know nothing about wine, Christian. I’m sure it will be fine.” My voice is soft and hesitant. My heart is thumping. This is seriously rich. Seriously over-the top Bill Gates style wealthy. What am I doing here? You know very well what you’re doing here?

“Here.” He hands me a glass of wine. Even the glasses are rich… heavy, contemporary, crystal. I take a sip, and the wine is light, crisp, and delicious.

“You’re very quiet, and you’re not even blushing. In fact – I think this is the palest I’ve ever seen you, Y/N,” he murmurs. “Are you hungry?”

I shake my head.

“It’s a very big place you have here.”

“Big?”

“Big.” I say.

“It’s big,” he agrees, and his eyes glow with amusement. I take another sip of wine.

“Do you play?” I point my chin at the piano.

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“Mhm”

“Of course you do. Is there anything you can’t do well?”

“Yes… a few things.” He takes a sip of his wine. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. I feel them following me as I turn and glance around this vast room. Room is the wrong word.

It’s not a room – it’s a mission statement.

“Do you want to sit?”

I nod, and he takes my hand and leads me to the large off-white couch. As I sit, I’m

struck by the fact that I feel like Tess Durbeyfield looking at the new house that belongs to the notorious Alec D’Urberville. The thought makes me smile.

“What’s so amusing?” He sits down beside me, turning to face me. He rests his head on his right hand, his elbow propped on the back of the couch.

“Why did you give me Tess of the D’Urbervilles specifically?” I ask. Christian stares at me for a moment. I think he’s surprised by my question.

“Well, you said you liked Thomas Hardy.”

“Is that the only reason?” Even I can hear the disappointment in my voice. His mouth presses into a hard line.

“It seemed appropriate. I could hold you to some impossibly high ideal like Angel Clare or debase you completely like Alec D’Urberville,” he murmurs, and his gray eyes flash dark and dangerous.

“If there are only two choices, I’ll take the debasement.” I whisper, gazing at him. He gasps.

“Y/N, stop biting your lip, please. It’s very distracting. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He frowns. “Would you excuse me a moment?” He disappears through a wide doorway on the far side of the room. He’s gone for a couple of minutes and returns with a document.

“This is a non-disclosure agreement.” He shrugs and has the grace to look a little embarrassed. “My lawyer insists on it.” He hands it to me. I’m completely bemused. “If you’re going for option two, debasement, you’ll need to sign this.”

“And if I don’t want to sign anything?”

“Then it’s Angel Clare high ideals, well, for most of the book anyway.”

“What does this agreement mean?”

“It means you cannot disclose anything about us. Anything, to anyone.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Holy shit. It’s bad, really bad, and now I’m very curious to know.

“Okay. I’ll sign.”

He hands me a pen. “Aren’t you even going to read it?”

“No.”

He frowns again.

“Y/N, you should always read anything you sign,” he admonishes me.

“Christian, what you fail to understand is that I wouldn’t talk about us to anyone, anyway. Even Bella. So it’s immaterial whether I sign an agreement or not. If it means so much to you, or your lawyer… whom you obviously talk to, then fine. I’ll sign.”

He gazes down at me, and he nods gravely.

“Fair point well made, Miss Y/N.”

I lavishly sign on the dotted line of both copies and hand one back to him. Folding the other, I place it my purse and take a large swig of my wine. I’m sounding so much braver than I’m actually feeling.

“Does this mean you’re going to make love to me tonight, Christian?”

Fuck. Did I just say that? His mouth drops open slightly, but he recovers quickly.

“No, Y/N it doesn’t. Firstly, I don’t make love. I fuck… hard. Secondly, there’s a lot more paperwork to do, and thirdly, you don’t yet know what you’re in for. You could still run for the hills. Come, I want to show you my playroom.”

My mouth drops open. Fuck hard! Holy shit, that sounds so… hot. But why are we looking at a playroom? I am mystified.

“You want to play on your Xbox?” I ask. He laughs, loudly.

“No, Y/N, no Xbox, no Playstation. Come.” He stands, holding out his hand. I let him lead me back out to the corridor. On the right of the double doors, where we came in, another door leads to a staircase. We go up to the second floor and turn right. Producing a key from his pocket, he unlocks yet another door and takes a deep breath.

“You can leave anytime. The helicopter is on stand-by to take you whenever you want to go, you can stay the night and go home in the morning. It’s fine whatever you decide.”

“Just open the door, Christian.”

He opens the door and stands back to let me in. I gaze at him once more. I so want to know what’s in here. Taking a deep breath I walk in.

And it feels like I’ve time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish Inquisition.

What the fuck.

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[ series masterlist ]

TAGLIST: ( THANK YOU ❤️ (if you want to be added comment in the chapters or send a message:) ) @sophsss867 , @mrapineapplecatfr

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[homunculus-argument]

My first book attempt ended in a depressing note - the protagonist dies, the dark horse villain whose appearance I didn't even plan succeeds in his plot and takes over, and the rest of the main characters scatter, not even knowing what happened to their friends. So I got the idea of starting a new book with the same setting and characters, but skipping 20 years into the future, and the new generation of protagonists are the offspring, nieces and children of the previous cast.

The main protagonist is a farm girl who sets out on a grand quest with no idea how dangerous it is. Her uncle, who has some idea of how dangerous it is, tags along with the attitude of "I can't stop you so the best I can do is to help you." He tells her that while he doesn't really know what to do, there is a man in the great city whom he used to know in his youth, who knows more of the ways of magic than he does, and the two of them should go to him for aid.

The protagonist has never been further from home than the village market, and hearing snippets of the Grand Dark Adventures of her uncle's youth that he has never talked about before, she imagines the Wise Man In The City as some great wizard and sage, a hardy hero who saved her uncle's life and knows the ways of the world, who will surely help her achieve her impossible goal.

Once they get there (after some misadventures), the protagonist is shocked to find that her uncle's old friend mostly seems like a completely ordinary guy, a fat middle-aged man. A father of a large family, gently trying to herd his flock of curious kids back into the house so they could talk. The protagonist and her uncle are invited in, and while she makes friends with the Wise City Man's offspring, the two older men talk in private.

And all illusions of Wise Mentors Who Know What To Do shatter when they sit down and they start talking. The other guy looks at the uncle and goes "dude come on. Twenty years and you haven't changed at all. Your get your stupid farmboy hero ass involved in some trouble way over your head and the first damn thing you do is come drop it on my lap, hoping I could fix it. No don't get me wrong, of course I'll fucking help, you saved my life more than once and I haven't forgotten that, but dude. I thought you were dead for twenty goddamn years, I'm raising six kids in here, and then you show up completely out of the blue, dropping some wildly illegal shit on my doorstep. Also since when did you start talking like an old man, you're like 38."

[darklinaforever]

I've had ten people mention to me that "You have the books" whenever I talk about my disappointment with the Michael(a) change. And I find it so hypocritical because it would be so insensitive if someone adapted a sapphic love story and then decided to change the gender of one of the characters. The very same people crying about "you have the books" "bffr it is just a show it's not that serious" would be throwing hissy fits if the opposite was done. One girl got bullied and made fun of because she had stayed up all night to watch Bridgerton and ended up crying. She was disappointed with how Polin was handled and then was even more shocked with Michaela that she started crying. Like?? Please have some nuance. You can't act like it isn't "serious" but at the same time talk about how important LGBT (and other diversity reps) are important (they are!!). Because if it isn't that serious than it isn't that serious to care about a show not having LGBT characters as a lead? The logic isn't there.

I am angry about Michaela. Just like how I would be FUMING if any of my LGBT ships were altered or messed with. My OTP is literally Nico and Will from Percy Jackson series. If someone decided to make one of them into a girl, I would fucking riot.

It is very simple.

I would have the same reaction for any type of character.

If we change a woman into a man. Or if we change a queer couple into a heterosexual couple.

I would have the same type of reaction if we did this to any franchise with characters that are close to my heart and of whom I already have a precise image formed in my head.

The worst part is that I'm not completely outraged.

Part of me is happy to tell myself that we will have a central queer romance between women in future seasons. It's always cool to see representation when you're a queer person yourself.

But with Bridgerton I don't feel like it was the right place for this type of central romance.

Because there was already a story for Michael and Francesca. Which will surely be very different from the book in the show. While once again, it's literally the best of the lot and for which I hope for a fairly high level of loyalty. But Netflix also decided to go into fanfiction mode for WHWW.

And yes it disappoints me a little. And I'm not ashamed of it.

Who cares if I'm ironically called queerphobic for that / or for hating queer people. Or that tumblr is apparently a gay website, under the pretext that many members of the queer community are there, and therefore it is not the place to make this kind of comment.

I remind that I'm bi and that I love tons of queer romances and that I actively hate queerbaiting. I'm still not over Supercorp to this day by the way...

The fact is that the situation is very simple but many people deliberately do not understand our discontent. We have loved a male character established within a specific story for years and we do not appreciate that all of a sudden, we are deprived of the expensive and bone vision of a Michael Stirling that we have already waited a long time.

Besides, for the most part we would hope that they would not screw up the trio Fran, John and Michael, as they were able to do with Anthony Kate and Edwina (seriously, the madness with Edwina went too far in season 2). Well it looks like it's also on the verge of being destroyed. Fran didn't seem to enjoy her first kiss with John, but she seemed to have an instant crush when Michaela appeared, while Michaela didn't seem to have any particular reaction. And that already goes against all the foundations laid between these three characters... and that annoys me even more.

[pumpkinrootbeer]

Not enough Avatar fans recognize how good of a bender Bolin is bcuz he's mostly busy being played as comic relief. But even just at the end of TLOK he's praised by his personal hero Toph Beifong and is one of 3 known lavabenders, has gone toe to toe and bended alongside Toph's talented daughters and displays similar feats.

And he's shown to practice bending seriously and improve between time jump, b/c have you noticed that he observed and mastered the Red Lotus lavabender's lava glaive trick and uses it to cut through platinum in Book 4? That and Toph said that she'd be willing to teach Bolin metalbending b/c she brags about being able to teach anyone metalbending (Toph's metalbending school comics reference yay) & in the TLOK comics Toph is shown to go out of her way to leave the swamp & head to Rep. City to hang out with her granddaughter and her future grandson-in-law, so I'm betting Bolin's been getting some tutoring in and officially become one of Toph's students.

TLDR I hope Bolin shows up in the new Avatar series and shows up how strong he is at old age, b/c half his canon appearances so far are him at 16 and he's underratedly really good.

no because Bolin is genuinely an unparalleled bender. he has sheer power on the level of avatars, see how catches an entire building dropped on a room full of earth benders before anyone else and then was the only one holding it up despite TOPH BEING IN THE ROOM? for one.

he also has the drive to be good at his bending that we don't really see with mako or even really korra in the show. sure, we see korra learn air bending but then she's just frustrated it's not coming naturally. with Bolin we see him struggle with his bending and still become the best. see how quickly he mastered an element with No One to teach him or him throwing himself at metal bending over and over. Which I'm honestly torn if I want him to learn it? On one hand, literally op earthbender which is amazing yes please. On the other, I kinda like that metal bending, something that is traditional earthbending techniques taken to the extreme, is what Bolin struggles with.

It's pretty heavily implied Bolin and Mako had no formal bending teacher and are completely self taught. In fact, the times we see Bolin do the most traditional earthbending moves are in season 4, which takes place after the 3 year jump. This is also when he's working for Kuvira and is probably the only time he did get formal training in earthbending, so it would make sense he would incorporate that more.

and ive talked about this before but, Bolin is the quickest earthbender in the entire show. he is incredibly talented in his craft and no one else in the entire show bends like he does. like, okay. This?

that move? that spin kick he's doing? That's a fire bending move.

he's doing a fire bending move with earth. kinda like iroh's move for redirecting lighting, bolin's entire bending style is this quote "when you take (wisdom) from only one place it becomes rigid and stale. understanding others, other nations, will help you become whole" Bolin is an earth bender who grew up learning to bend by watching fire bending. and that is a huge part of why Bolin is such a unique and talented fighter.

tbh I hope he never learns metal bending because the contrast between him and toph is nice. Toph is someone who excels at traditional earthbending, to the point of inventing a new type of sub-bending. whereas Bolin is so skilled at adapting and integrating different bending styles that he's able to master a volatile element that is eath that behaves like water with properties of fire at 17 with no teacher.

so yeah I agree 100% I would fucking love to see Bolin older because he would be a fucking powerhouse.

[asofterhibou]

I make no promises of how many of these I will do, but in honor of the Great Magicians Rewatch, here's a part one of a recap of The Magicians season one, episode one, "Unauthorized Magic", for anyone who didn't have time to rewatch but wants a refresher. Notes about spoilers and warnings below the cut.

Spoilers: for season one obviously and also probably future seasons, as I'm not going to hold back commenting on future episodes.

Warnings: The Magicians has so many warnings, friends. So many. I would ask you to please google the warnings for this show if it's at all an issue, but general series warnings: graphic violence, graphic sexual assault, child abuse, heavy themes of depression and suicide, suicide committed on screen at one point, themes of drug and alcohol abuse, graphic animal death.

We begin in New York City in 2015, on a busy city street. A door opens in one of the graffitied buildings and reveals, impossibly, a sunny green lawn on the other side. A man walks through; he's Henry Fogg, Dean of Brakebills University, and he sits on a bench and has a cryptic conversation with a woman named Eliza.

She's late, he says, which in context is very funny. She drops a dead moth on his newspaper and tells him, "It's happening."

"They're not even at Brakebills yet," Fogg says, and she tells him to get 'them' there, and hope they get a little something under their belts before 'he' finds them.

They argue about how much control is possible over the situation, and whose responsibility it is, Eliza saying that Fogg has to train them, because they know nothing, especially 'him'.

"I will do what I can," Fogg says, and Eliza gives him a pocket-watch, tucking it into his jacket pocket.

"You still have an eye on our boy, don't you?" Eliza asks, and Fogg says yes, before admitting the answer is "not exactly."

"Why not? Where is he?"

Cut to: the Statue of Liberty, and a sign saying 'Midtown Mental Health Clinic', and then to a spinning coin on a table, and a finger reaches out to stop it in place - finally, our boy, Quentin Coldwater, hoodie-clad and rolling the quarter across his knuckles before using sleight of hand to make it disappear, as the opening notes of MGMT's 'Pretend' start up, and yeah, it's an excellent fucking intro.

"Wow, nice trick," the psychiatrist sitting across the table from him says, and Quentin looks at her and makes the quarter appear again in his hands.

"I'm sure you're a hit at parties," she says, and Quentin grimace-smiles in a way that says about a million words.

Cut to the party in Julia's loft that night, full of people dancing - and Quentin sitting in a beanbag chair with a red plastic cup in his hands and staring pathetically at the ass of the girl dancing in front of him. She catches him staring and leaves, Quentin hiding his face behind the cup, and we get a back and forth between Quentin being godawful at parties and the conversation earlier that day with the psychiatrist where he tries to convince her that he is totally good to sign himself out of the clinic and leave, despite having signed himself in saying that he couldn't eat or get out of bed, felt like he didn't belong anywhere and was the most useless person who ever lived. (shout-out to Quentin telling someone at the party that the Danish version of a film is better because "the Danish people have a dark soul," iconic, unforgettable) Quentin tells the psychiatrist that when you're a kid you have notions about what life is and what it could be - but eventually you have to let all that go, and that's what he's doing. "It's part of growing up. Selling the comic book collection and getting serious."

At the party, Julia tries to gesture Quentin over to where she and James are sitting, but he retreats.

The psychiatrist asks him what he's doing after graduation, and Quentin tells her he has a grad school interview for Yale on Tuesday. When she says she would recommend further treatment, Quentin says quickly that he's never threatened to hurt himself or anyone else, so she can't make him stay, his confidence slipping slightly at the end with a "Can you?"

Back at the party, Quentin’s hiding in his room reading a book, his meds on the nightstand, his room filled with books and memorabilia of Fillory and Further, a fantasy series. The book he’s reading is Fillory and Further Book One, The World in the Walls, it’s got a old-fashioned cover with a picture of a grandfather clock with rams’ heads carved into the top. We get Quentin’s voiceover giving a summary of the book: the Chatwin siblings Martin, Rupert and Jane had been sent to the countryside, and the three of them enter into the doorway of the grandfather clock and emerge into a forest filled with trees with clocks inside them, a fountain and a castle in the background: the magical land of Fillory.

Julia comes to find Quentin in his room, and tries to talk to him about the girl whose ass he was ogling earlier, because she was wearing a unicorn t-shirt and so clearly is into fantasy, which speaks to a certain level of desperation of Julia’s part here I think. She comes to sit next to him on the bed, Quentin defends his party-reading by saying he’s getting a last look at the first edition before selling it on eBay. Julia scootches down next to him, shoulder to shoulder, says she was calling him all weekend, her voice getting quiet. “Where were you?” Quentin lies and says he was at his dad’s. Julia leans over to kiss his cheek just as her boyfriend James comes in, who fakes shock and then leaps onto the bed yelling “Threesome!” (I love how hard they go at foreshadowing the actual threesome, it’s so important to like, the themes, guys.)

It’s the day of Quentin’s grad interview and Julia’s walking him there, both of them in their wool-coat dark academia best, talking about how Quentin shouldn’t stress at all, “It’s only the alumni interview. It’s only Yale.” “Right, lesser Ivy.” Quentin says Julia doesn't have to come in with him, she smooths his hair and tells him to tighten his shit, their whole relationship in a nutshell.

They go into the house for the alumni interview, there’s no one answering their calls but there is an extremely familiar grandfather clock. And then Julia screams, because there’s also a dead body sprawled in the chair in the corner.

The paramedics are wheeling the body away, and one of the paramedics is Eliza. She hands Quentin a manila envelope before Quentin and Julia leave, saying that she thinks the dead alumni guy had left it for Quentin.

Out in the street, Quentin opens the envelope and finds a handwritten manuscript titled Fillory and Further Book Six, dated 1952. Quentin starts losing his shit in excitement - there are only five Fillory books but there have been rumors of a sixth, Julia is much less enthused. (I get that this has to lead up to the fight they’re about to have, but getting randomly handed a Fillory manuscript from the dead alumni guy’s house actually is pretty weird, so it’s a little strange Julia’s so blase about it) Julia finally tells him he has to stop: “You can’t run away hard enough, can you? What happened to giving up on the Fillory crap?” And then they have an ‘old-friends-with-years-of-built-up-issues’ fight; Quentin’s side - Julia uses to like Fillory, Julia in fact got him into Fillory, it was their thing, Julia’s side, I liked it (I loved it, she says), and it was silly nerdy bullshit that got us through high school, but -; Quentin: “it never seemed to bother you until right around the second you met James.”

Julia stops, then brings out the big guns too - she knows he was at the mental hospital this weekend, not at his dad’s, and that he feels the same as he did the last time. “Life is starting, for real,” Julia says. “You’re good at so much stuff, pick something. Please. Start living your life,” and like, she’s not completely wrong, but it’s not helpful, and Quentin’s not having it. And she has to leave to go meet James, of course. “I love you. Call me, okay?” and Quentin says nothing as she walks away. (also the first time you hear what I think of as ‘the sad magicians theme’ which rips at my heart every damn time. someone please tell me the real name of this music)

Quentin walks alone down the street with his manuscript, a page blows away from it and he chases it down an alleyway.

Julia goes into a building and gets in an elevator.

Quentin chases his lost paper into a gated wintry garden, and Julia’s elevator is going down to the parking garage instead of up.

Quentin pushes his way through the tall bushes at the back of the garden - and emerges into sunlight, onto a large green field with imposing college campus like buildings all around him.

Julia’s elevator opens into a bright hallway with a sign saying ‘To Exam’. Julia walks down the hallway and we see Quentin outside her building walking in parallel with her: wherever they are, it’s the same place.

Quentin walks across the field to Eliot, who’s stretched out smoking a cigarette on the large stone sign that says “BRAKEBILLS”. Eliot pulls a card out of his pocket, checks the name, and asks, “Quentin Coldwater?” like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. He then gives Quentin a once-over, tells him he’s late, and to follow him. Quentin’s freaking out, Eliot tells him he’s at Brakebills University in upstate New York and has been offered a preliminary exam for entrance to the grad program; and also points out that it doesn't do much good to ask your suspected hallucinations if they're hallucinations.

Quentin and Eliot get to the exam room, and we get a good first look at Penny who’s also at the exam, and Penny’s amazing biceps, thank you for that. Quentin and Julia start to work on the exam, a paper booklet whose questions move and change. Julia tries to ask a question and is refused.

As they go up to the front to pass in the finished exam, Quentin and Julia see each other and hug. Quentin’s relieved that Julia’s here and seeing what he’s seeing, since he just started new meds and was worried none of this was real.

In the next room for the final exam, Julia is alone except the examiner sitting across from her, who says first that they suspected she has nascent magical abilities - Julia smiles and starts to say, “I used to think that -” (a moment for me to cry over baby Julia who thought she had magic and then clearly put that aside with the rest of her childish things) and then the examiner tells her actually she failed the written exam and he’s there to send her home. Julia immediately starts to protest, says the test was crazy, “don’t you want students who make actual inquiry instead of just accepting like sheep?” The examiner gives her a look, and she reins in it, puts on the charm instead, says she can’t go to Yale if she knows this place exists. The examiner says essentially no worries, because she’s not going to remember this place exists. He gets up to sanitize his hands, and Julia takes off one of her rings and scratches it hard up the inside of her right arm, drawing a long line of blood.

In Quentin’s final exam room, there’s a panel of judges with Fogg sitting in the middle. “Quentin,” Fogg says, “let’s see some magic.” He places a pack of cards on the table.

Quentin starts to do card tricks, Fogg asks for real magic. Quentin drops cards on the floor, picks them up as Fogg gets up from his seat and starts to circle him. Fogg asks if Quentin wants to go back to his old life (“that pointless, miasmic march to death”), back to feeling alone and wrong. “No.” “Then quit dicking around.” “Stop it.” “And do some goddamn magic!”

“I said stop it,” Quentin yells, and does some goddamn magic, the cards in his hands flying into the air and then hanging in place, before spinning into shapes that turn into a castle made of cards on the judges’ table. “Holy shit, I’m doing this,” Quentin says. (Notable: the card castle is Whitespire, the castle in Fillory with the spinning towers; and the shadow of the cards flying through the air looks creepily similar to the shadow of the cloud of moths that we’ll see later) Quentin passes out in a dead faint on the floor and the castle collapses.

Quentin’s walking in a dark forest, looking at a clock tree: Fillory. When he goes to touch the clock, the young girl sitting in the tree warns him that time magic is difficult, “you’ll just make it worse.” It’s Jane Chatwin from the Fillory books, and she appears next to Quentin on the ground to tell him that it won’t stop the Beast from coming. “You’re in the school, he’s going to find you. You’re the one he wants.” She tells him to look down - he’s standing on a stone path. If you stay on the garden path, the Beast will kill you, she says, kill everyone. Step off the path, or -

There’s a growling sound, a blast of wind and a glowing blue moth flying directly at Quentin’s face - and he sits up in bed, waking up from his dream.

End of part one.

[alaffy]

Riverdale, ep. 7x13 - The Crucible (spoilers)

Well, we're finally moving the story along in episode thirteen...of twenty. Sigh. I will say that I didn't dislike this episode as much as I have the past few but still....

It all starts with an accusation of Communism against the English teacher. She's fired and Penelope is put in her place (temporarily). She actually doesn't do much. Archie is bummed because she was the only teacher who understood him (seriously, this should have been a warning).

Betty, meanwhile, finds out the Blue and Gold is being shut down because, well, teenagers don't have anything to say. This is also reinforced by the fact that Alice takes Betty's typewriter and telephone. Betty decides to start an underground newsletter instead and it becomes popular. God, let this mean our Betty is coming back.

Cheryl is told by Clifford that she's been named as someone who has an unnatural relationship. Clifford is able to squash that rumor, so long as Cheryl confirms the names of others on the list. Cheryl refuses, but then Clifford threatens to take the Vixens away. Cheryl warns Toni, Clay, and Kevin about the list. She realizes that it must be Evelyn who ratted them out. Cheryl then spends most of the episode trying to figure out a way to refuse to sign the confession without loosing the Vixens. Strangely, Toni, Clay, and Kevin treat this as some sort of true moral dilemma and not point out how these accusations could, in fact, completely destroy their lives. They even decide that the best option is that Cheryl and Kevin pretend to date and Clay and Toni pretend to date so that they can say the accusations aren't true. Still, in the end, Cheryl hears a Archie speak a monologue (more on that in a minute) and decides to tell her father she won't sign the papers, even though it means loosing the Vixens. The two couples still do the pretend dating thing because they ain't stupid and their names are still on a list.

Veronica, meanwhile, is surprised to discover that Hiram has come to see her. He has, in fact, not come to see her. He's in trouble, again. He's being accused of being a Communist because of a trip he made to Cuba. And because he happened to be photographed with Castro (give him whatever fake name you want. It's Castro). He wants Veronica to lie and say it was a family trip. It was not, in fact, a family trip. He was there with his mistress. Veronica, after seeing Archie's monologue (more of that in a minute), decides to say that it was a family trip...provided that Hiram is honest to Hermione and gives Veronica the deed to the apartment. Later, Hermione comes to the apartment and lets Veronica know that she and Hiram will divorce. By the by, so much of this story is lifted from Lucille Ball's actual life that it's...just pathetic on the writers part.

Archie is bummed about his teacher, because she was the only one who supported his poetry writing (clearly she has no taste). The adults in his life are concerned that she may have tried to influence him (God, the clues were...right there about what would happen next). Well, not Frank. Frank's worried that people may feel that, if Archie writes poetry, he might be *gay.* Archie decides to visit his teacher, who gives him a copy of The Crucible (which really doesn't help her case any). Archie decides to preform a monologue from that play (and KJ is clearly trying to audition for future acting rolls). Veronica meets up with Archie and tells him how much she appreciates what he said. She gives him a kiss on the cheek. And then they kiss. Well, we figured they would bring back the old triangle. It could be worse.

And then Grundy appears.

Fuck. My. Life.

But, wait, she's married; which is hopefully the shows way of saying nothing will happen. But it's Riverdale...and they took hope out to the back and shot it a long time ago.

Finally, we have Jughead and Ethel. It turns out that no one will sell comic books anymore. So, Jughead and Ethel...steal some of the comics from Pep to run an underground side hustle? Seriously, they couldn't have stolen every single one they sold....so was Pep involved somehow? But Dilton turns Narc and they're shut down. And so, they adults decide it's time for full measures. The principal tells the students that he'll buy their old comics and then he burns them in the Riverdale High parking lot (ok, as a Library Associate who lives in a state that is very much trying to censor what people read...yeah, that was terrifying).

Anyway, next week is our final musical episode. And, as it's all about Archie, the rumors must be true and it's all original music written by Roberto. We're truly in the deepest pits of hell now!

[kimberlyannharts]

LAST TIME ON RANGER ACADEMY: Sage is fully committing to the high school life, even if there are some obstacles like bullies, hard classes, her friend's tragic backstory, and the discovery of the Chamber of Secrets.

But there's no time to dwell on that, because it's time for the Morphin Trial, where kids are dumped in a hostile landscape to be color-coded by some weird old alien cult. Sounds legit!

It's Ranger Academy #4!

Before we begin let's take another look at that Katie cameo. Sure she doesn't do anything but drive the bus and I still have no fucking idea how these cameos work when they're appearing in-person vs those inter dimensional tubes but it's at least nice to see her

ANYWAY. Time to drop some children off to die

= So some lore stuff established already is the Bandorian Monks reside on the planet "Chromia" specifically in the "Zeo Chamber" in "Prism Peak." It only opens for a limited amount of time once a year. From what I can remember none of this, except the Zeo Chamber I suppose, was in Eltarian War's established lore, but I guess that can be chalked up to Ranger Academy being its own thing. (And for what it's worth, the Zeo Crystal itself is not in the chamber.)

= yes yes guys we get it you want that video game/RPG adaptation

= This is so valid of Theo but unfortunately for him I know what happens to PR characters with his kind of jokey, charismatic personality

= So are they going to be the book's main romance or not. I'm calling upon protection spells against sisterzoning

= NO NONON ONONONONON NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DON'T DO THIS

= So.....okay. Here it is. Here's the line

So obviously there are colors missing from the Academy and at the very least Theo's dialogue is implying that's on purpose. Which makes me hopeful for my old "Camp Half-Blood" theory that this book will end with more color campuses being added. And obviously, Theo's source isn't telling the whole story or getting facts wrong.

But. Look.

Even if Lindy's dialogue is only saying that Green and Orange Rangers don't exist in the Academy rather than the universe as a whole, the entire concept of certain colors being forbidden or unknown is ridiculous when this is a school that fully encompasses itself in Ranger history. Sage mentioned in a previous issue learning about Jen and why their library is named after her, so their adventures must be part of the curriculum. Even if it isn't, their teachers are Ranger alumni. ONES THAT HAD GREEN RANGERS ON THEIR TEAMS. Their bus driver was KATIE! She can't talk about Trip, her best friend? Crueger never brings up how Green is the third-highest ranking ranger at SPD? I think this wouldn't even annoy me so much if they weren't equating Oranger Rangers (of which there have only been three official ones in the franchise, with others being so-so canon) to Green Rangers (of which there's only been. four seasons, I believe? where there was no Green at all). I know Power Rangers wants Green to be special but it just simply doesn't work because by definition, it isn't.

I think this would only work for me if a) we establish that the present of Ranger Academy is set either extremely far in the past or extremely far in the future, where Rangers either barely exist yet OR it's been so long that the canon we know has been shrouded in legend or b) we didn't have the alumni ranger cameos and we establish this school is completely cut off from the established canon we know. And the last one doesn't work because they clearly want the cameos to be one of the main gimmicks of the series. So idk. It's probably Ranger Academy's biggest headache for me

And just in general I don't know how "forbidden colors" work when the students' color is just chosen based on what the Monks see inside them. It should be unique to them, not based on a criteria that can pick and choose or throw out different options.

ANYWAY. The trio finds Kartyr and Maev and, unsurprisingly, these children are about to die

= what's with Green Rangers having to rescue their rivals that suffer broken ankles. Oops, spoilers

= Sage has only been part of this school for a few months and she's already indoctrinated into their religion

= Kartyr is such a hater for no reason. You should be connecting with your green-haired brethren

= Also I just realized that Kartyr is most likely a Xybrian yet he doesn't follow the naming motif that Trip and the Supersonic Rangers did. I won't hold it against the author as the Supersonic Ranger origin story is pretty obscure but still, it's funny to me.

Though wait if he's a Xybrian shouldn't he know about Trip and how he's a Green R [I am yanked offstage via a giant hook]

= Okay guys I get we're using MMPR theming but are really trying to say Pink Rangers are good pilots? Because what, Kim had flying zords? That's getting a little ridiculous. What's next, Pink Rangers are all amazing archers?

= Maev becoming Yellow was a little surprising since Mathis is already a major character who's yellow, but at the same time I'm really not sure.....what the guidelines are to what color each person becomes. It feels kind of arbitrary at this point tbh. Though maybe it's just because I don't really know Maev as a character yet compared to Theo, who fits the Black Ranger archetype like a glove

and speaking of which

= Lindy not being able to morph genuinely pissed me off like. Again. What are the guidelines here. What about Lindy isn't ranger-worthy. Can I just call the Bandorian Monks racist for denying a Black girl the chance to morph because I think I'll just do that

= SHAME SHAME SHAME SHE HAS THE MARK OF THE DEVIL (her novelty lightning bolt coin turned green, a color that has never existed before this)

[witheredoffherwitch]

Yeah I agree with the last anon. I definitely don’t think all stories should be catered to us but it is kind of laughable to see the amount of unfiltered misogynistic discourse directed towards her and people consuming these stories always rooting for her to die so that him and the wattpad-esque OC can end up together. It’s definitely a trend and as the anon said, very much eye-roll worthy and unoriginal. It’s fine if people want to practice their writing skills ofc but a huge part of being a writer is being able to accept criticism and feedback related to the sort of the themes and tropes we use in stories. I think this is oftentimes conflated with “hate” and that’s just not the case. The “evil witch” trope has been around since fairytales existed and I get why people find it lazy because it inherently is.

Hi nonnie, hope you're doing well.

I do not condone this point of view. Every fanfic writer is allowed to create and narrate their own rendition of these stories however they wish. I believe shaming or even 'taunting' these authors is the worst course of action here. In fact, constantly questioning these genres/tropes can sometimes bring them into the spotlight - Lucemond and Jonsa are two great examples! I personally read stories filtered under both of these tags and have met with a great deal of pushback from other shippers for liking or even promoting these stories on my page. Fanfic writers put in a great deal of time and energy into writing these stories for free, without seeking any financial gain from their readership. Therefore, there is no significant loss for a reader who may dislike a story. While art is certainly open to criticism and interpretation, it's different from critiquing a more financially incentivized book or film aimed at a wider audience.

Secondly, I understand why you feel so exasperated - it is disheartening to witness the frequent rejection of Alys' character. I'm more sympathetic to those who view her as a victim in this dynamic - something of a 'war trophy' for Aemond. What really irritates me is how some downplay Aemond's power in the relationship, making him out to be a victim. If Ewan's portrayal hadn't gotten so much traction, I don't think many people would have even noticed Alys' role in his storyline - or perhaps they'd be applauding her for 'bewitching' him and ultimately sending him to his death.

That being said, I don't think fanfictions are the main issue here. Do people make Alys into an evil temptress and diminish her role as the other woman? Yes! However, we have yet to see her appear onscreen and we're still unaware of what direction the show will go in. With recent rumors that Nettles and Daeron may not make an appearance (which I'm desperately hoping isn't true), many Alysmond shippers are now concerned that Alys will be given the original arc between Nettles/Daemon before Aemond enters the picture. If this is the case, how fucking disappointing! As an Alysmond shipper, these fanfictions are the least of my worries. Other fanfic writers will keep crafting content for these two in the future - I'm positive of that.

I still believe (hope?) that Alys' character will gain popularity when she's introduced in the show but until then, it's best to maintain a healthy dose of caution when discussing them.

That's all 🤗

[eartheats]

status: part 1 of 3

[a video seems to be posted. care to click?]

[the video starts a bit unintentionally; one can hear somebody fumbling around what appears to be a backpack before there's a sudden, bright light of the backpack being opened, before the rotomphone is unceremoniously dumped out with what appears to be quite a few things. some pencils, notebooks, pokemon treats, and lots of other stuff; it all gets cleared as ren seems to be setting up their room in the blueberry academy. they're full of giggles and bright laughter, and one can see madison (out of nurse uniform for once) in the background as they both help get the room set up]

🔆: Hey, Mads! Should I start puttin' these books up on this shelf we got here, or do you think they'd be better off in the bookshelf?

[madison looks over for a moment, contemplating before pointing to something off in the background]

👩‍⚕️: I'd probably say the bookshelf. Unless you think there's going to be a lot of books you'll need?

🔆: Well, ya never know. I've been gettin' by at Uva through Completely Legal Downloads [ren airquotes this, to the amusement of themself and madison, who chuckles] of the books I need. But I like this place so far! If they ain't super expensive I'll probs buy 'em to support the place, y'know?

👩‍⚕️: Sounds like someone's developing a bias.

[that gets ren to laugh a bit as they start putting some of their notebooks on the bookshelf]

🔆: Can ya blame me? I mean, I like Uva as it is now--Mr. Clavell definitely hasn't been lyin' when he said he's trying to improve the school. But...there's somethin' about an experience that doesn't have any shitty memories attached that's appealin', you know?

[madison seems to pause at that, as she gets to work on organizing some of the other stuff ren brought with them--clothes new and old, for starters.]

👩‍⚕️: I guess I can't. Not entirely, at least. You do seem infinitely happier than I've seen you in a bit, though.

🔆: Eh, ya think so?

👩‍⚕️: ...Maybe not as much as when you got to go and see your friends in Unova, but it's still pretty noticeable. [madison laughs a bit, getting all of ren's clothes on hangers] I'm glad that hasn't been taken from you. I was worried after...you know...

[madison gestures at the air a bit, and ren doesn't respond for a bit. their face goes...notably more blank, than anything, and they just keep putting notebooks away for a bit until they're done; madison's done hanging their clothes by the time they are.]

🔆: I'm not gonna let her take anymore happiness from me. [ren's tone is surprisingly determined] I've...I've worked so damn hard to find an arcdamned bright side in life, and my own happiness. Somethin' I can be proud of, and share with everyone I know. And fuck, I actually wanna get to know people! I wanna learn all about this school, and more about battle that I'd have never gotten the chance to. Me an' Lulu especially love it, and Bouton and Soba have been showin' a lotta promise too. I just don't want it all to be for nothin', y'know? And that's why I ain't gonna let her take it. I'm--

[there's a pause, and eagle eyed watchers might have noticed madison moving in the background beforehand--what stops ren's words is a soft hug from madison. one she has to lean down for, admittedly, because she does have a foot or so on ren's tiny ass, but it causes them to start for a moment.

it isn't long before they lean in and wrap their arms around madison in kind; mads' hand goes up to run through their hair]

👩‍⚕️: ...Good. I was hoping you'd say that, kid. [madison sounds genuinely proud of them, and though it's barely able to be seen, her expression is warm] You deserve all of the good things in life. And I want you to be able to experience them, too. Without worrying about the future, or what's to come, or anything like that. You go out there and enjoy every bit of what the Academy has to offer, alright?

[madison lets go of ren--or at least tries to. they cling tighter for a moment, startling madison before bringing themself up and wiping their eyes.

they were clearly crying, but the smile on their face is extremely bright]

🔆: I'm...I'm gonna, Mads! You better watch--by the time I'm done learnin' all I can here, Paldea's gonna have to crown a new Champion! Maybe even a new Top Champion, heehee!

[that gets madison to laugh]

👩‍⚕️: Well, look at you starting to dream big! You're gonna have a lot of responsibilities if you take the Top Champion position, though. Are you really prepared for that?

🔆: Nope! Not yet at least! But I'm gonna learn, and I'm gonna become the best damned trainer! Just watch me, Mads!

[madison laughs again, ruffling ren's hair a bit before separating; this time, ren obliges]

👩‍⚕️: Alright, kid! You get out there and enjoy all this Academy has to offer! But you better promise to keep us all updated, you hear me?

🔆: Heehee, crystal, Mads! Ahh, I should probs get going--there's probs some kinda orientation, right? But I still have...

[madison starts to gently shoo ren out the door, smiling a bit]

👩‍⚕️: Don't you worry about unpacking everything else; you leave that to me, kiddo. You get out there and start your school life!

🔆: Heehee, I will! Thank you bunches, Mads, I'll pay you back for the help!

[ren darts off after a wave goodbye, prompting a bit of laughing from madison]

👩‍⚕️: You try, and I'll repay it tenfold, kid. Focus on class!

[it goes quiet for a bit as madison seems to go back to getting everything organized for them. it last for a few minutes, and the recording almost shuts itself down, but...

madison's phone rings, and she picks it up without missing a beat.]

👩‍⚕️: Hello? ...I'm not sure if you have--oh! Oh. Hello, Detective. Yes, you've reached the right number, this is my burner phone. --Yes, this is Madison. Can I help you with something...?

[...]

👩‍⚕️: Discussing the case and gathering information, huh...well, I'm at about the safest place both of us can be, so sure. I'll bite. What do you want to know?

[to be continued]

[springsheep]

War of Faith Notes Ep. 21 - 25

Ep 21 -> Shen Tunan: You'll be in charge of this as well, Wei Ruolai.

Lin Qiaosong is forced to sell opium for Mr. Kang even tho he and Meijuan have agreed to go to Singapore...

Shen Tunan tells Wei Ruolai to talk to Shen Jinzhen (make sure she isn't a communist, etc), so WRL invites her to dinner.

Ms. Zhou is so funny hahaha

Wei Ruolai eats and cooks for Shen Jinzhen. Nvm his cooking is... hahaha questionable.

Wei Ruolai eating. Wei Ruolai: Please respect my faith.

Shen Jinzhen: Don't you want to know why I became a Communist? Wei Ruolai: Nope. (lololol)

Wei Ruolai: I'm sincerely pleading with you. Even if you don't support Xiansheng, don't stab him in the back.

#Shenlai

A cute kidd!!! Niu Chunmiao (who is dis?) SO CUTEE

Okay so she's his... fiancee apparently lol, and she's 19?! She so shortttt so cuteee

Wei Ruolai you can say byebye to your fiancee, I want her shes so adorbs

Wei Ruolai: Uhh i've told my dad I want to break off my engagement with you ah!

Niu Chunmiao: WHATT? how dare you? Do you have a person outside??

Niu Chunmiao and A'Wen are friends.

Niu Chunmiao (to WRL): Nonono if you cook I'll lose 10 years of my life.

Ep 22 -> Niu Chunmiao meets Shen Jinzhen.

Niu Chunmiao: As long as you pay the transfer fee, I'll give WRL to you.

Shen Jinzhen: Uhm...

Shen Tunan looks at WRL in his office. STN: Later come to my house to eat. I'll give you a book.

Shen Jinzhen (to WRL): Be nicer to Niu Chunmiao...

WRL: Uhm, what did she say to you?

Shen Jinzhen: She said... you still wet the bed when you were seven, and you were a coward, always hiding behind your brother, and you were almost tricked by traffickers as a child...

WRL: !!!

WRL is angry at Niu Chunmiao, her coins are fake...

Fake coins: WRL and Huang Congyun must investigate it.

Wei Ruolai riding motorcycle hahaha

Wei Ruolai is going to escort the car with the details and information about the counterfeit money.

THE CAR CRASH. Wei ruolai could only save one box.

Shen Tunan: Are you okay? Are you really okay?

STN punches Yu Zhiying.

Wei Ruolai's prison bros (The Rickshaw Guys) help him look out for counterfeit money.

Zhabei... But Lin Qiaosong and co are eavesdropping on the convo...

Ep 23 -> Wei Ruolai senses something is wrong with the crime scene and tells Shen Tunan.

Kang Shaojie: Anyone who comes within 100m of the factory, shoot to death!

Shenlai in a rickshaw together.

Shen Tunan in Wei Ruolai's house hehehe. Shen Tunan: I gave you a raise, why are you still living here?

BAHAHA Niu CHunmiao appears! Finally meeting Shen Tunan!

I seee... Niu Chunmiao tells Shen Tunan Wei Ruolai's nickname: Gou guzai. 狗牯仔

Shen Tunan: Then in the future I should call you Gouguzai... hope you live a long and happy life. Wei Ruolai smiling: Yes, thank you sir.

Shen Tunan: So... tell me WRL's childhood stories. WRL: !!! Niu Chunmiao: SURE

Niu Chunmiao complains that WRL Almost died in the car accident. Shen Tunan: It was my fault.

Shen Tunan: Chunmiao, tell me what you think of the Red Army and Kuomintang. Niu Chunmiao: Uhh my elders said Kuomintang is pieces of shit... WRL: !!! Shen Tunan: ...

Shen Tunan, WRL, and Huang Congyun find the real factory and goes there... I think Mr. Song won't be sending reinforcements.

Shen Tunan: We have a gun.

Big fight, Rickshaw bros and Niu Chunmiao save the day!

Lin Qiaosong is captured, counterfeit money and opium is found...

But they're surrounded by Yu Zhiying. fuck. so m any rickshaw bros died... WRL is stunned.

Shen Jinzhen the sniper saves them.

Rickshaw bros are captured by the police.

Wei Ruolai goes to the Shen residence to save his rickshaw bros, Shen Tunan is angry, drinks wine and smashes the glass.

WRL and Shen Tunan are fighting, shouting at each other, because the higher ups don't want to pursue the case of counterfeit coins and opium... they can only stop here. Wei Ruolai is upset, Shen Tunan is upset too.

Shen Tunan: Wei Ruolai, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I let you down. I'm disappointed in myself too.

Wei Ruolai is upset. Lin Qiaosong is the scapegoat.

The police said, "We've killed the people responsible for this crime, they pretended to be rickshaw drivers..."

Wei Ruolai explodes in fury: Fang pi!

And Wei Ruolai curses and tells the media the truth, has to be dragged away by Huang Congyun and co.

Wei Ruolai: Sir, have you forgotten the party manifesto? Sir, what about the promise you made me remember? Sir, have you forgotten the Three Principles of the People? SIR!

(This is like a divorce scene for real...)

Wei Ruolai is punched, Shen Tunan winces in pain awww

Ep 24 -> Shen Tunan picks up Wei Ruolai from "jail" again.

Shen Tunan: Did they give you a hard time?

Lin Qiaosong confronts Shen Tunan and Wei Ruolai, saying (to STN): I thought you of all people would stand up for the people.

Lin Qiaosong (to WRL): You'll end up like me one day.

Wei Ruolai and Shen Tunan drink together...

Wei Ruolai: I don't understand.. why? why? Shen Tunan: We just have to stay true to our ideals. Wei Ruolai: Xiansheng, are you true to your ideals/original goal? Wei Ruolai: What I'm afraid of is, I'll become like Lin Qiaosong. I-- Shen Tunan: You won't! You're not like him.

Shenlai walks home together with Shen Jinzhen behind them.

Meijuan visits Lin Qiaosong. (damn these two... are so in love they need a happy ending).

Wei Ruolai uses the 10 gold bars (that he took when he killed Li Shengda) to bail out the rickshaw bros. Hao: Now I know why the people from our hometown join the Red Army.

Shen Jinzhen gives WRL a book about communist ideals (god the propag is just)

Niu Chunmiao and WRL burning joss paper for the people who died that day. Niu Chunmiao: The thought of you dying is less scary than the thought that you can become like these people, Doggie.

Shen Jinzhen teaches Wei Ruolai how to shoot. Wei Ruolai in the shooting range.

Shen Jinzhen tells Wei Ruolai about her faith and ideals.

Timeskip to 1932. Japanese grr Riots in the streets

Wei Ruolai's house (Qibao street) is in Zhabei, near the japanese, so if war breaks out, Shen Tunan is afraid he'll be implicated. Tells WRL to move house.

Bombs(?) in Zhabei, Qibao Street is on fire, people dying, etc. Wei Ruolai is on the verge of tears.

Ep 25 -> Shen Tunan talking with various bank leaders to stop the banks indefinitely (show the Japs their attitude).

Shen Jinzhen distributes bread to Qibao street. Radio from the 19th Guards comes, Lin Qiaosong and other prisoners want to fight.

Miss Zhou crying (so sad QAQ)

Wei Ruolai and rickshaw bros bringing supplies for the Chinese Army. Japanese try to stop them. Saved by Lin Qiaosong and prison guys...

Lin Qiaosong: What, you don't recognize me? Wei Ruolai: UHm...

Shen Tunan is helping out in Qibao Street!! Aww

Shenlai eating together in Qibao Street.

Japanese are pushed back (victory!). "War bonds" and treasury bonds (idk man) anyway SHen Tunan, Wei Ruolai and co are buying it to prove the Central Bank is trustworthy.

Mr. Yu and Mr. Kang are scheming... fuck, they want to take down Shen Tunan...

Shenlai in the stock exchange, smiling at each other (go get a room guys)

Wei Ruolai smiling and eating with Ms. Zhou and rickshaw bros and co.

[despair-to-future-arcs]

Pills? Please don’t tell me that this go where I think it goes.

*In the bathroom, Komaru finds 2 bottles* These look to be sleeping pills and anti-depressants... well, can't say I'm surprise she has these...

And wait, are these scissors? They look a bit red... did something happen here?

JATARO: Komaru? I got the thing!

Oh good, just a moment! *Komaru walks out and grabs the 2 bottle and scissors*

Seems your done now, I got what I came for!

*pulls out a bag of hair* Monaca told me to keep this with me!

A bag of hair? What's that for?

Not sure, all I remember that she needs my hair for something and she got hair from somewhere else.

But yeah, I figure I give this to Future Foundation since they might need it, anyway... is that mommy's pill bottles and scissor?

Yeah I just pick these up, figure I take them with me.

Yeah that might be a good idea; I'm not sure why mommy has those but I did remember she took nearly a whole bottle of sleeping pills and was knock out.

Huh? Wait she took a whole bottle, say uh... Jataro? Give you kill your parents, how was your mom like?

My mommy? Well I did remember we all saw them but when it came to mommy she was pretty easy in fact I even remember she didn't put up much of a fight either...

...

...

...

*As then Jataro's mom woke up as she look around to find herself hand cuffed and to see her son standing there with his mask off*

Wh-What?! What's going on!

Hello mommy, seems your awaken now or... should I say demon? I guess it doesn't matter, anyway what do you think of my art?

Wh-What the hell! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Seriously this makes no sense! How could anyone like this sort of thing, I knew you were mess up in the head but now you did all this - your a disgusting little brat!

Aww, and there's that hatred that I always loved; thank you mommy! I love you soooo much! But sadly, it's time to die but don't worry I'll make sure your death isn't as painful as long as you don't struggle. *gives her a book*

What's this...?

Well... given you are gonna die, you can write whatever you want; anything to make this death easier.

I see... so you intend to kill me...?

Well... I think this was what I always wanted, I get to finally be free from this damn hell away from you... *sniff* Fi-Finally...

Mommy...?

You have no idea how much I wanted to kill myself and frankly this truly is a blessing in disguise so thank you... truly, thank you...

*As then Jataro's mother began writing and after a bit she closes the book* ...There we go, everything I wanted to write ever since you existed.

Well... time to die I guess, finally I'll be away from you, honestly I'm relieved to finally die and no longer having to see your worthless face... goodbye to you.

'I wasn't sure why Mommy seem happy that I killed her, it confused me but the other Warriors of Hope or well... Monaca say and the others follow...'

Honestly out of the parents we faced so far, Jataro's was weirdly easily; she didn't put up much of a fight.

I guess given how weak and pathetic Jataro is, his fight would be super easy!

Yeah unlike me and Nagisa, she gave up and didn't struggle a lot...

She seems tired and a rather sad women, probably this might be for the best.

Well looking at her appearance she seems quite young, maybe in her mid 20's? I guess she must be one of those high school drop outs, which means that she must of gotten knock up by some guy and he abandon her.

Probably she's one of those 'easy girls' I heard about that get with any guy to get her way and is just dealing with the consequences; truly what a pathetic, selfish bitch - I hope that demon rots in hell for what she has done but even then hell seems far too harsh maybe she rather just rot here to die alone, as deserve.

'I took my friends word for it, I figure what a lot of what they were saying was true but now...'

[messedupessy]

Ok so I really just want to talk a bit about the Indigo disk dlc for a moment, as I finished the main story of it last night and I got allot of thoughts, so spoilers down below under the cut!

So firstly I enjoyed it allot, been sick off my ass with a massive cold and this dlc been the only thing keeping me sane, but the characters been so much fun, the new places to run around and hunt pokemon were so good, new mons been good, and the overall story was great! But, unless I have missed something as I haven't done the after stuff yet I only talked with Briar and gotten her book, but I feel there is just something missing with the last parts of the story even though I still loved it. The biggest thing I truly feel was such a missed opportunity was Briar, firstly she didn't appear in the whole dlc until you beaten Keiran, and I truly felt and believed she would end up been evil as she just kept on looking classically evil with her expressions and behavior and disregard for others safety and invading others personal shit, but instead it's just "hoho i'm so silly I let my obsession take a hold of me, and now I have learnt my lesson to handle it better!", like what was that? I truly felt through the whole part when i played through the lowest part of area zero that she was going to turn on my character and the other two at any time, but no nothing of the like happened and it was just, just weird and such a missed opportunity as now I feel her whole character just falls flat and is doing a Sonya from Sword & Shield where she gives you her book, she is supposed to be the descendant of Heath give us something more please.

Also Geeta why the fuck did she send just the MC and two kids with 1 teacher into the depths like I know we can defend ourselves but lady pls! Also I want to know more about her she still shady af herself!

I wanted to talk about Keiran too, but I don't know what to say except I liked what was going on with him for the most part, I was kinda expecting that it would turn out he was been possessed by that new purple pokemon I seen floating around or something, since that boy was behaving pretty fucking deranged through the whole dlc and it just really felt like something was possessing him, but who knows I might have missed something since I haven't done any of the after stuff just yet, but I was kinda sure that was going to be the case and that it was why he was called into the classroom with MC and the others that they had found something off about him or something. Like that the pokemon was amplifying his feelings to the extremes and making him do things he like did want to do but usually wouldn't, but who knows I have to do some of the other stuff and see if anything will come up. We also did not get any like answers properly to what the paradox pokemons are, I still believe very strongly that they are imagined up beings and not from the future or the past, they are not real creatures but made up by peoples imaginations or by Terapogos however you spelt it, I still think that since everything points to it but there is no proper answer that I have seen to it been so yet. I really want to know what is going on and the whole trip down deeper into area zero just have given me more questions. And the whole dlc also just made me miss Nemona, Penny and Arven so much, think I saw some spoiler about Arven been part of something thanks to a dumb thumbnail on a video I glanced over earlier, but other than that I don't know if they will appear or not and I just miss them, wish we had gotten some banter between Briar, Carmine and Keiran while we went down into area zero, but I also get why that didn't happen as there were way more places for those characters to fall down as fuck there so yeah, sad. Also speaking of Carmine, I love that girl she a fucking mess, but I truly do hope she will be nicer to Keiran now and that he will stand up to himself when she gets too much, it made me really glad when both of them burst into tears at the end there as that's good she was so worried about him and his obsession, but I just hope she chills out when it comes to him as she was part of the issue there which he yelled at her that she was which i so loved, but I just hope it will actually show when they interact in the future. And that's all for now, might reblog this later on and add some more stuff as I just need to get these thoughts out, got no one to talk about them with so you who reads this will have to do xD but I do feel the whole "what is up with tera energy and what is paradox pokemon" still have not been answered, and I desperately want them to be answered!