#it is far from a terrible book don’t get me wrong that’s not what I’m trying to say here

[i-just-really-like-renga]

Everyone who had me thinking Ballad of Sonbirds and Snakes was going to be good???

I want my money back

Low key tempted to write a fuller review, might if I find the time, or the ability to care.

[unicyclehippo]

ok so i submitted a story for a competition & didn't get far but i was pretty happy with it so imma post it here for y'all. pls enjoy!

YEAR OF THE WOLF

Blood and shampoo wash pink down the shower drain. My body aches, back hot with pain. I gotta stretch more, I think, before remembering what time of month it is.

I’m not stupid, I want that to be known up top.

Tired? Yes. A bit forgetful now and then? Certainly. Overly reliant on blind optimism? Of course. Who can afford for things to go wrong these days? But stupid? No. Not about this, anyway. I’ve known for almost a decade that I’m a werewolf. I just thought if I ignored it long enough it would stop, or at least stay low on the list of important things I had to deal with—somewhere between turning thirty and the world burning down around our ears.

Still, it manages to take me by surprise each month. I see the blood, feel the shift-pull-crack of bones and vitals, the wet throb of viscera and organs, as my body reshapes itself. The wolf and I share a space not big enough for two; something must give way.

I lose time daydreaming about it. Transforming. My only plan for the day is work, maybe video games later, cooking dinner. I could call in sick. I could clear away the bathmat and towels and fall to my hands and knees and change into something bloody and terrible and wonderful, I could lay myself down on the soft carpet in the sunrays, decadent, I could leap from my balcony, powerful, and lope away into the bush off the track to explore the silver-blue of the leaves and the cathedral termite mounds, I could—

The shower pipes groan, rattle, and spit freezing water down onto me.

I don’t transform.

I towel off. The mirror shows me a human with the same soft features as ever. Shampoo suds clinging to my shoulders. Hair cut short and plastered down on chalk-white skin paler than usual. The doctor warned me low iron was a side-effect of transformation but I look myself over for another cause. Lift my arms, twist to check my back. There’s a pimple or two where my binder digs in but no injuries. I promise the doctor in my head I’ll bring it up at our next appointment.

My doctor is a careful woman, dedicated and precise. She sits primly and dresses well—her blouse is fashionable, flowery, her trousers professional and practical. She keeps notes in a leatherbound book and her thoughts securely behind her eyes. She asked me to keep track of any changes Inoticed. I pull out a crumpled receipt where I’d scrawled some notes.

tired

hungry

headaches

more dreams than usual

tired—oh I already wrote that down. still true

irritated way more by stuff?

jaw hurts?

‘Alright,’ she says, writing it down on her page about me.

I sit hunched opposite her, then fix my posture, then let my shoulders droop again, conscious of being too broad, too big. In the time it takes for her to commit a few brief notes to paper, I’m struggling not to get distracted by the lights and their electric buzz—the popping stop and start as the filaments crackle in the bulbs. My eyes wander over neat stacks of paperwork, a penholder with all the pens pointed in the same direction.

‘We’re going to order a blood test. You’re right, the fatigue and headaches could be an indicator of iron deficiency.’

‘Okay.’

‘Do you know if there’s a history?’

‘Of…iron deficiency?’

She smiles. ‘Of lycanthropy.’

The question makes my head spin. There’s been some excitement about there being some genetic predisposition to lycanthropy (unconfirmed), which half my friends were leery of, seeing the research as another way for hunters to exterminate us, and half took to romantic spirals, daydreaming about their ancestors being just like them. But the doc is asking about, like, my parents and grandparents, and it makes me laugh.

‘No. No way.’ I think harder. Is it possible? My maternal grandparents, definitely not. But my dad’s parents…I don’t know that well. ‘I could ask, maybe.’

After the three haphazard sessions we’ve had stretching across eleven months, which chiefly feature my repeated and sustained reluctance to talk, she indicates her doubt with a quiet raised brow.

It’s fair. I don’t tend to do things I don’t want to do, even if they’re important. Sometimes, especially if they’re important.

At the end of our fifteen-minute session, she walks me to the door and beneath the stench of eucalyptus-scented cleaner that makes my nose itch and head ache, I catch a whiff of her cologne. Wood pine and wild.

I think about it all day.

Has she helped me because she’s like me? The thought races ahead of me, tempting; I sprint after it. I wonder what she wears at home. Does she google boxers for bed because they seem so comfortable? Does she veer at the last moment to Boyfriend shorts! Now in satin – for HER! Or does she kick the world off at the front door next to her shoes and just…exist. Is she like me? Just a person who does things? Or is she a woman who does things? Or a person who does woman things or a woman who does womanly things or a woman who does things knowing they’re not womanly and caring or not caring? Does she splinter the cage that would contain her and let the hungry animal of her body carry her to meat and sleep and hunting and to the warmth of her partner at rest?

Is she like me?

As a kid, I wanted to take karate. My brother wanted to sing. Somehow, I ended up in the music class. It was in a demountable that creaked, off-key, with every step and stunk of the creek next door. The singing teacher had a red round face and told me not to sing too loud—I was practicing to be part of the choir, I should be part of the group. That group was made up entirely of nervous and near-silent girls who shivered with the desire above all else not to stand out. (I learned that part well.)

On the other side of school, my brother stood in karate class with a teacher who ignored him and older boys who picked on him—he was short back then, with baby fat still on his cheeks, and had a close relationship with boredom and distraction that came from being smarter than most.

Once we figured out the joke being played on us, our places switched, we made a pact to teach each other what we learned. It didn’t last. Within three lessons, I spent more time on the walk to the classroom than in class; I dawdled in the fields and by the creek, tracking beetles and digging for dinosaur bones in the mud. When I did arrive, it was twenty-five minutes late with dirt under my nails and finally the teacher told me not to show up. My brother took a faster approach and called the teacher a moron. Mum had to pick him up early from class and neither of us learned very much.

My gran lives hours away and I never got the impression she liked me much. I think about sitting in her drawing room, the sticky-sugar smell from bottles of fancy port on the shelf, and her sitting opposite, eyes hawklike, mouth pursed and tongue sharp. I don’t visit her. I think about asking my dad instead and, while he does like me, he doesn’t like werewolves and I’m not ready to risk exile.

I get my blood drawn. The doctor prescribes iron pills and congratulates me on my teeth coming in.

My mother doesn’t like my sharp teeth or short hair or the way I sit. I want to tell her I didn’t do anything to my teeth; that if anyone is to blame for the handsome jut of my canines, the neat, careful way they can tear flesh from bone, it’s her. She made me. But saying stuff like that only opens up the room for more questions.

‘Do you like it? Looking like that?’

It will hurt her if I say yes. When you are a daughter, wanting to change means you don’t want to become your mother, which means you don’t love her.

I can’t say no.

The wolf stirs. It wants me to say yes. It loves fiercely and loves me most of all. But it isn’t the one who has to live here—work, be a daughter, a sister. It won’t be the one who has to listen to my mother tell me to be sure before I tell anyone else because there’s no going back and people will hate me for it, just for being, and that she can’t support me doing that to myself, that it’s against the god she’s never thought twice about, and has someone talked me into it?

I’m not ready for that.

‘It’s just teeth,’ I say.

She shakes her head but doesn’t ask any more questions. I think she’s scared I’ll tell her the truth.

am i a coward?

My friend Luna takes a long while to answer.

While I wait, I wash the dishes I’ve been “soaking” for three days; the kitchen smells of dish soap when I’m done and the world is a little cleaner. Outside, my balcony is drenched in sunlight. I make my coffee and sit out there, turning my nose to the wind. Somewhere close by, someone is cooking chicken loaded up with paprika. It’s more accurate to say they’re burning chicken. Next door, my neighbour digs through the rich dirt of their garden and plants rosemary and lavender.

My phone lights up.

No, she says. Then, Why do you ask?

the whole werewolf thing. i won’t transform, wont tell my family.

This reply is much faster. Definitely not.

i feel like one

First of all, you transform when it’s right & as much or little as you want & that changes from person to person. Second, being safe is not cowardly.

yeah

Do you want to tell them?

The coffee is gorgeously strong. After a few gulps, I feel like someone has brushed the cobwebs out of my head.

it’s like. there’s this version of me in their heads that isn’t real yknow. like im not a person im a cloud in person shape & sometimes they get a glimpse of my hand or whatever. & its safe inside the cloud its harder to hit me but . they cant see me

Mm

sorry i know this is teenager shit

In the distance, a fire alarm starts to blare.

No it’s good. I get it, obviously. And you know my parents were awful when I told them but we go running every month now. The question isn’t “am I a coward”. The question is, are you prepared to confront that version of yourself in their heads? Are you ready for it to change?

i wish i knew. how it would change i mean. bc i feel like if i knew for Sure that they would take it badly then that’s one thing & i could deal w that. & if i knew theyd be fine w it i could deal with That but. i don’t know. & its freaking me out. but it’s also like…ok i don’t live w them, i’ve got a job, idont rely on them for anything. what real bad consequences could there be?

Dots pop up at the bottom of the screen. They disappear after a minute, then reappear, as Luna takes her time to answer. Finally, she says,

By announcing the real version of yourself, you open yourself up to vulnerability. Things that didn’t bother you before will feel uncomfortable or hurt because it touches you. And when you change the way that you exist in the eyes of people who are supposed to love you unconditionally, you invite the possibility that they will reveal the love was in fact conditional & not for you, that you somehow failed to live up to the person they imagined you to be

mate i’m already scraping the bottom lol

You’re wonderful, Luna says, because she can tell when a joke isn’t really a joke. Her worst trait. If they can’t see that, it doesn’t mean it’s not true.

yeah

You don’t have to tell everyone. You could pick whoever would take it best & get someone on your side. When I take too long to answer, Luna sends a string of photos—her dogs, her family in matching hiking shirts, the view of the nearly full moonon her side of the world. I’m on your side, she says. Always. Let me know how it goes.

The full moon burns, beckons. We are both gloriously awake this time. I have never been more awake. The sky is a black lake and when it rains we taste space and stars and smog. The stairs are slick with the rain. On all fours we are sure, quick, eager! The grass is waiting for us! Splendid! Everything is incandescent in silver, including me. The grass—dew-wet, green scent full in our nose—invites us to roll in it, sticks its seedlings to our fur, tagalongs on our adventure. We run! Smell everything! ticklegrass wetmoss possum pee BUG rough brick mud SPIKY plant big tree lavender dog smell road gutter old leaves bird feathers vinegar shARP on my tongue bag crinkles between our teeth

The days’ heat still smoulders on the surface of the road. We are standing in the centre of it, massive, when a car crests the hill. It stops, engine rumbling and blue-glare lights illuminating us. It waits for us to cross the road before driving on. The driver stares from their seat. In one easy jump, we clear the fence and disappear.

Three more streets and the road ends. The world is huge, bigger than I could have imagined. There’s dirt here! dirt mud rocks beetles scuffling under the leaves koala musk leads to claw marks at the base of trees.

The wolf likes it when I’m awake. It wants to show me the world. Look, its questing nose says, look what you miss out on when you sleep.

It takes us to a termite mound and we listen to them sing.

We stay out all night, trekking through the pocket of national park. I am the biggest thing in the forest. Nothing frightens me. We find a creek filled with every fascination the world has to offer. Ten thousand wet stones, bottle caps, an ill-tempered fish.

When the sun rises, I am sore and covered in blood. I call my brother to pick me up. I stand by the edge of the park to wait for him; at the bottom of the hill, the highway stretches out like a grey branch, cars buzzing along it like bugs. A firefly splits off from it, flying towards me.

The yellow of the headlights cuts through the trees. Inside the car, my brother jumps when he sees me and the light reflecting off my eyes. The wolf is still awake and we move fast and strong to the passenger side door.

He knows.

I can tell. Smell it on him, see it in his uneasy posture. He knows and still I can’t say it. It feels like I’ve swallowed a bird whole, alive. It trembles, stuck in my throat. When I think about talking it pecks at my tongue and if I open my mouth, if I try to explain, he will see my bloody tongue and the bird and he’ll see me all wrong, all the ugly brutish parts of me I’d like to keep hidden, if I can.

The wolf is still awake. It isn’t scared; it is massive and powerful, it can bite through anything, it can run forever without getting tired. We can. And if there is ever a time to talk to my brother, to let him know who I am, it is now.

I do not want him to think I am a bloody-mouthed girl.

I want him to know I am not a coward. I am myself, a werewolf, alive and finally happy for it.

The wolf yawns. I catch a glimpse of my teeth in the mirror, sharp.

‘Hey.’ Of all the ways to break a very tense silence, it’s not the worst. ‘Thank you. For picking me up.’

He risks a look at me, away from the road. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah.’

A muscle tics in his cheek as he chews on silence. He’s upset that I won’t say more. So am I. I want to. The bird is in the way. I have always had to trick myself into talking; it is never easy, not in doctor’s office, not in my parents’ home, not in the forest, or my brother’s car.

We slow. Ahead, the traffic lights paint the dashboard red. The car shivers around us, idling. I can feel it shake through my bare feet, dirty and scratched up from the rocks, pressed to the rubber floor mats.

The first word comes out like a pulled tooth.

‘I—need to say.’ He glances my way. I think, briefly, about jumping out the window but the light turns green so I can’t. I have to talk instead. ‘I’m a werewolf.’

He drives. I realise he must have been waiting to talk, really talk, because this is the first time I’ve been in his car without music playing.

‘I think the proper term is lycanthrope,’ he says, finally.

‘Dude.’

‘Sorry. Just, medically speaking...’ He shakes his head. Drums his fingers against the wheel. ‘How long?’

‘I dunno.’ I do. A decade of knowing and doing nothing about it. Almost a year of thinking very hard about it and doing slightly more.

He knows me better than my doctor; both his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, entirely unconvinced.

‘I’m still me,’ I tell him, because that’s what everyone says in books and movies. I guess it’s what you’re supposed to say. What I want to say is that I’m more me than ever. What I want him to say is thank you, and I’m his favourite person, and that he understands how hard it was for me to share but he’s proud of me. But I would have to ask for that and the bird in my throat won’t budge.

‘Okay. Wow. So… Are you going to move? Change your name? Are you going to get claws? A tail?’

‘Okay, never ask me that again.’ He laughs. ‘And no. I don’t think so. I kind of like that it’s not super obvious. It’s no-ones business but mine.’

‘And mine now.’ I think he’s smiling, a little. ‘Why did you tell me? If you don’t want anyone to know?’

I wish I was still a wolf. If I were a wolf, I would howl and people would understand. The tenor, the tremble, the shivering cadence. There would be no need for picking the right words, no eye contact, no consequences for an ill-timed joke, no shame for feeling everything so big and weird, like there’s a forest in my chest and a songbird choir blocking up my throat. My hands itch as the claws retract under my skin and I fight to keep from scratching, fidgeting. I turn to stare out the window.

To his reflection in the glass, I say, ‘I want you to like me.’

‘Of course I like you—’

‘I’m louder like this,’ I whisper. He looks unconvinced, which is fair. I’m still hiding. ‘Messy. Bigger and stubborn and hairier and angrier. It’s not the wolf. I’m like that too. I wanna be like that. Real. I’m so—I’m so tired. All the time. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to be me and I want you to like me as me.’

My back aches as everything in me crunches back into place. The wolf is asleep and it has left me alone with my words and my brother.

‘I really love you,’ he tells me as he pulls up outside my house. He puts his hand warm on mine. He doesn’t flinch at the blood. He hugs me close. Plucks a leaf from my hair.

My brother offers to come with me to tell our parents. It probably would have been smart but I’m still wary. If it goes bad…I don’t want him to see that.

‘How did it happen?’ my mother asks when I’m done, like it’s something you can catch.

For a moment, I entertain the thought of lying.

Do you remember my uni friend? Verne? Well he’s part of a pack and if he brings in three new werewolves over three months, and they each bring in three new werewolves, he gets a bonus. Why? Are you interested in this exciting new life opportunity?

I can’t joke about it yet. Worst outcome, she thinks I’m serious about it being a some kind of cult. Less worse but still bad outcome, she thinks I’m being unserious about the whole thing. Nevermind that I have thought about it every day for ten years, this inevitable confrontation, this moment where I have to explain myself, defend my existence, back up my claims with proof and research like it’s my thesis. I tell her,

‘It just made sense.’

She likes that less than she would have if I’d joked about it, gets all stiff and pinched.

‘It doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t understand where this is coming from—you’re human. You’re not –‘ She shakes her head. ‘Maybe if you left the house more often. These things you’re imagining about yourself, if you were around more people…you’re not like that. You’re lovely,’ she insists. ‘You’re not that.’

It should hurt to hear. It probably does, in a way I’ll feel five years down the line, and I’ll wish that I had bit back, told her that just because she thinks there’s something wrong with me doesn’t make it true.

My dad hasn’t said anything.

When I look at him, he’s staring down at his plate. He eats everything on it, even the tomatoes he usually tries to hide under the broccoli stems. Then he stands, puts it in the dishwasher, and walks away.

‘It’ll pass,’ my mother tells me. ‘You’ll come to your senses. This won’t last—don’t do anything permanent. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.’

Don’t give in.

Don’t transform.

Don’t smile wide enough to show your teeth.

Don’t tell anyone else.

I realise I’ve been trying my hardest not to do anything, like being nothing would be preferable to being me. When did I get the idea that to starve would be better than anyone seeing me hungry?

‘I don’t want to hide anymore.’

‘But it’s no-one’s business,’ she insists. ‘I don’t understand why anyone needs to know, I mean, I don’t go around telling people I’m human.’

The words sound different coming from her mouth but they’re the same.

It’s no-ones business but mine. That’s what I told my brother and I thought I meant it but now I think I was still scared. Biting off bits of myself before anyone pulled out the silverware and cut it from me.

There’s a bird in my throat and the little bastard is choking me. It’s not fair. I don’t want to die without saying what I mean for once.

I bite down on it, blood between my teeth.

‘It’s not the same thing,’ I snap. There’s a gorgeous growl to my words I’ve never heard before. No one told me that would happen. I love it. I love the sound of my voice. ‘No one tries to kill you because you’re human.’

‘Exactly!’

When I stand up fast, chair scraping against the floor, she freezes. Caught between telling me to pick up the chair first and not knowing how to talk to a monster in her daughter’s skin.

It hadn’t occurred to me that telling the truth wouldn’t change just me.

Staring back at my mother, I find I don’t much like the woman I see. If that’s what awaited me, I’m glad to have changed. The world is huge and beautiful and painful and I am kinder, stronger, hardier for it.

I pick up my bag from the floor.

‘I’m the same person, it’s just now you know I’m a werewolf. When we went out for lunch last week? Werewolf. When I got you groceries when you were sick? Werewolf. Every birthday, holiday, every vacation we’ve had since I was nineteen? Werewolf.’

She looks sick. Puts a hand on the counter to steady herself.

When I get home, I’m going to curl up in my closet for a week. The bird is going to come back any second now with backup. Eagles, this time. ‘I’ve had a really long time to think about this and you haven’t so I’m - I’ll give you time. But you should know that I’m happy and healthy and safe. All the things you said you wanted for me.’

As I leave her house, maybe for the last time, I hope she’ll call. I don’t know if she will.

I have been sleeping better and dreaming more. In my dreams, I am always the same. I have a wolf head, with sharp teeth and keen eyes. I sing with a powerful voice that has unsettled for centuries. I cannot see my pack but I can hear them out there, howling. My body is the same; the only difference are the claw marks across my flat chest, red and raw and careful. I am not dead, only transformed.

[mayghosts]

OBSESSED: (Kate Martin x Reader)

Summary: You and Caitlin ended your relationship as good friends. However, one of Caits new teammates seems a bit too interested in your last relationship.

Warnings: used Y/N 🫤, alcohol, obsessive crushes

AN: I almost didn't post this but... we will see how long i leave it up for b4 i redo it

Kate always considered herself to be a perfect friend, but lately something has been hanging over head.

From the first time Caitlin had introduced you to the team. Kate knew she was cooked. Her stomache flipping and her face heating up as you smiled and introduced yourself. Cooked. You got along so well with the team, and watching you talk about your hobbies and interests only made Kates butterflies increase tenfold. That night Kate took it upon herself to find your Instagram, as well as your moms Instagram… and most of your extended family.

And if you knew how much I looked at her pictures you would think we’re bestfriends

Two months later Kate felt like she was in some sort of “What Would You Do?” show, listening to Caitlin explain how you two had ended things on good terms. On one side she was sad for her friend. On the other hand she had just swiped off your Tik Tok profile and was just a bit too excited that you were single.

And I know you loved her and I know I’m butthurt But I can’t help it, no, I can’t help it, Im so obsessed with you ex.

Seeing you in the crowd at the next Iowa game was slightly unexpected. You and Caitlin had been broken up for almost two weeks now, maybe you were on better terms than Kate had thought? She pryed her eyes away from you in the stands, attempting to re-focus on the game. Every basket she made that night, she felt her eyes drift up to where you were sitting. Were you watching? Did you see that? Even though Kate had been a top scorer that game, she secretly accredited that Iowa win to you.

I'm starin’ at her like I wanna get hurt, and I remember every single detail you have told me so be careful baby

It was driving Kate crazy, having a crush and not being able to tell her friends. You were driving her crazy. She was at the point that she knew far too much about you, and she probably wouldn’t be able to have a normal conversation with you. In her mind there was no better solution to this than getting drunk and starting a life altering situationship.

However upon entering the bar, she was met with your smiling face. Kate felt herself loosing her sanity as she watched you dance with your friends under the colored lights. She had no idea how long she sat at that bar, just keeping an eye on you. Long enough to get absolutely hammered. She was absolutely obsessed with you.

She's got those hips she's got those lips, the life of every fucking party

The next morning Kates hangover anxiety quickly turned to hangover guilt as she noticed she spent all of late night thirsting over her best friends ex- girlfriend. Not being able to take it anymore she slid off her bed, making her way to Gabbies room.

Gently knocking she pushed the door open, “Gabbie, I need your help. I think I’m fucked.” Looking up from her book Gabbie responded “Kate whats wrong? How drunk did you get last night!?” “No this isn’t drunk me being dumb its sober me, I am going to tell you this but please don’t freak out I know its so bad.” Gabbie stared silently at Kate, “I have the worst crush on y/n… you know.. Caitlins ex?” Silence fell over the room. “Jesus Christ Kate you made it sound like you killed someone…. I mean that's not terrible, like they're on good terms and all that. Y/N is so sweet, and incredibly talented. I know she has said good stuff about you in the past, she thinks your cute.”

“She's talented, she's good with kids, she even speaks kindly about me”

“Hey Cait can we talk?” Kate felt like incinerating herself. Her hands were sweaty as she fiddled with the end of her pony tail. The locker room was empty aside from the two of them and Kate knew it was now or never. Caitlon glanced over, taling in Kates anxious appearance "yea whats up?" Taking a deep breath Kate started, "So... I have a crush, but its someone we both know. It's really shitty of me, but I need to tell you."

[about-faces]

Batman: Caped Crusader, Episodes 1-2 thoughts (SPOILERS)

First things first, Harvey is as bad as I’d expected. I honestly can’t tell whether this is worse than the version we got in the last Timm-produced animated Batman show, “Beware the Batman.” That Harvey was a humorless prick straight out of the William Atherton school of jerkasses, while this one is a smug sleazebag who would be someone you’d love to hate if he weren’t also a complete inversion of a great tragic hero turned villain.

I’m just so sick of people portraying Harvey as a politician first and foremost, performing for the cameras and thinking about his career ambitions. I’m sick of him being a corrupt asshole and even an authoritarian. I’m sick him being two-faced, when the irony of his character is that he himself never WAS. Now that that’s out of my system, I’ll move on, because I know he has an arc in store that may prove more interesting than the usual Asshole Harvey takes.

They tried several things with the Penguin, and I’m not sure they gelled into anything that worked for me this time out. Making her a woman, that’s no problem, and I appreciate her classic style and appearance in a time when everyone just wants to turn Cobblepot into a boring Tony Soprano knockoff.

Ultimately, though, it all just served to make her a standard “Ma Barker” archetype. You know, the alleged matriarchal crime boss who was killed by Hoover’s FBI, who may have dragged her name through the mud to excuse their killing of an old woman? There used to be several takes on her in pop culture, although nowadays the only famous one is probably Ma Beagle from “DuckTales.”

With that in mind, they should have just cast Margo Martindale. Excuse me, didn’t use her full name: Beloved Character Actress Margo Martindale. Minnie Driver is a fantastic actress (I’m still mad that “The Riches” was not only cancelled but totally forgotten), but it was a waste not to let her use her real accent. As it was, she was fine, but she didn’t bring anything special to match the physical design. As an actress, she deserved more to play with.

Also, “Oswalda” is a terrible fake name. Like come on guys, you can do better. That’s on par with Revolver Ocelot’s real Russian name being “Adamska.”

The biggest problem with this take on Penguin is that she’s set up as some kind of brilliant mastermind, only to act incredibly stupid, reckless, and gullible. She kills not one but two innocent goons, including her own son, without so much as an investigation or even keeping tabs on the suspected rats to use them as pawns against Thorne! To paraphrase Dijkstra from the “Witcher” books, you don’t kill spies, you USE them. You feed them misinformation! You blackmail them into being double agents! This Penguin is bad at her job, so no wonder she loses everything within hours. It’s amazing she was able to build a crime empire in the first place!

I also dislike Bullock being a corrupt cop in the mob’s pocket. That fits Flass perfectly, but Bullock? Fuck no. Bullock IS dirty, but he’s dirty in a very acceptable way to cops. He’s brutal, he cuts corners, he’s crass, and he’s probably not above planting or concealing evidence, but selling out to the mob? Hell no. That’s just wrong. Hate that choice. Unless it’s a misdirection. This show sure does love its misdirections from what I’ve seen so far.

Batman himself is… fine. He’s Batman. He’s not a bad Batman. He’s serviceable but unremarkable. But at least he wasn’t an irritating asshole, which is more than I can say for most Batman depictions these days. I liked Bruce trying his “falling off a boat” joke a second time, delivered verbatim after it flopped with Barbara.

Barbara being a defense attorney is a rather contrived choice, one that gets to put her at odds with Harvey while also giving her a professional in with both Batman and Gordon. Essentially, she’s in the role Harvey Dent is supposed to play. Except here she’s a defense attorney, which SHOULD put her at odds with her dad, since lawyers and cops don’t seem to like one another, for SOME reason!

And Harvey, even as District Attorney, can’t be in the role of legal ally to either Gordon, because the story is far more focused on making him a mayoral candidate who throws people under the bus for his own advancement! Feh.

Anyway, that was episode one. It was fine, I guess.

The screenplay is by novelist and DC veteran Greg Rucka, so of course Renee Montoya is the central focus. Seeing her interact with Sleazebag Harvey gave me war flashbacks to what Rucka did with Renee and Harvey in the comics: setting them up with a poignant dynamic of tenuous respect and kindness before dashing it all with “Gotham Central: Half a Life,” which solidified the perception of Harvey as a creepy, obsessive stalker for a generation of fans. That version of them was very much of display here. Sigh.

Also, Lucius Fox is Bruce’s lawyer now? Why? And also, what the hell? God, poor Lucius. He starts off in comics as the guy actually running Wayne Enterprises, then “Batman: The Animated Series” makes him Bruce’s right-hand-man, then Nolan and Goyer get the inspired idea to make him the Q to Bruce’s 007, while the comics don’t know what to do with him and even make him an authoritarian to cause friction with his vigilante son, and now this? It’s such a random choice. There’s no reason why this character should be Lucius. Hell, Lucius could have shown up there WITH the lawyer and that would have been fine. As it is, it’s just weird.

That said! I overall liked this episode an awful lot! For DECADES now, I’ve wanted to see someone remember that Basil Karlo was an older actor in the classic horror movie vein (his name is literally a combination of Basil Rathbone and Boris Karloff), but ever since “Batman: The Animated Series,” everyone has just tried to make him BTAS’ Matt Hagen. Like, I really liked the “One Bad Day” issue for Clayface, where he gradually killed his way to the top of Hollywood stardom, but even that was still BTAS Hagen, the Serious Actor, not Karlo, the old horror ham actor.

But with this episode, someone finally drew on the old Hollywood horror roots of the character, and they found a way to combine his shape shifting abilities into the mix! I’m so happy!

Of course, this is me, so I still have criticisms. Like, I think it was unnecessary to frame it as a mystery, because that added unnecessary complications. I know the original Clayface story was a whodunnit and you can’t do that now that everyone knows that Karlo is Clayface. I was annoyed by the misdirection of Karlo’s “death,” in part because I feared this would be another Clever Subversion, just like how the animated adaptations of “Gotham By Gaslight,” “Hush,” and “The Long Halloween” purposely went against expectations from the source material in stupid ways. Hell, they’re doing the same thing now with Penguin (“But wait, there’s a twist: she’s a woman!”) and Harvey (“But wait, there’s a twist: he’s an asshole!”), so I was afraid this Clayface would end up being someone else entirely. I was okay with it in the end, but I’m annoyed at the cheap fakeout as a plot point.

Furthermore, I don’t get why Basil disguised himself as the doctor (whose name I don’t remember) for the benefit of the actress (whose name I don’t remember) he had chained up in his hideout. What benefit was there in making her think he was the doctor? She was already aware she was a prisoner and was scared, so why the facade? It served no purpose in context, only just to misdirect the viewers.

This is what happens when you try to make something a mystery when it would work better as a thriller. Stop trying to wow audiences with twists and surprises when you could just be focusing on telling a good story. So what if everyone figures out Karlo is Clayface? Who cares! Just go with it! Let them be in on it while Batman and Montoya figure it out themselves, that’s where the tension lies! Stop trying to be clever.

Regardless, I really liked this episode. I want this to now be the canon comics origin for Basil Karlo’s Clayface. Just explain that the treatments for his face gradually affected his whole body, and boom, you’ve successfully explained how classic Slasher Clayface became Mud Monster Clayface. This is how Karlo should always be written from now on. If you really want a sensitive, angsty lug Clayface, bring back Hagen. Let Karlo be the gloriously hammy monster with aspirations of stardom.

[spilledcoffeeclub]

I can explain.

Well, can I?

Those who follow me or have followed my Filofax journey know that this image is Wrong. I use a Filofax for all my planning, memory keeping, journaling and commonplaceing. So what is this?

Honestly I blame Lindsey @/lindseyscribbles and her new moleskine daily journal. We’ve all seen it, it’s amazing. And usually I would say I’m sort of immune to fomo from watching other peoples notebooks, I’m so wrapped up in my own notebooks and honestly looking through my old notebooks is usually what gives me the most fomo I would say. But Lindsey’s video just struck a cord with me. I looked at her moleskine and I thought “that looks so nice”.

Moleskines in general were my first love, from before i knew how to plan (I very much believe planning and journaling etc is a skill just like drawing or taking neat photos, something you have to learn and practice) or what I would ever do with a notebook. They were and are very widely available where I live, can be found in any stationary section or bookstore quite easily. And they’re so fancy. Not fancy enough that you wouldn’t give a pocket moleskine to a 10 year old, but fancier than spiral bound notebooks or cheap notebooks marketed for kids. It felt like such a an adult thing, I guess.

So I think that’s one of the reasons why Lindseys videos struck a cord within me, to begin with and I just couldn’t get the thought of a daily dated journal out of my mind. This is such a huge move (for me at least) from the ever adaptable Filofax with endless customization and flexibility. A Filofax is also such an open system, where as a moleskine daily journal is very much a closed system. It has dated days - meaning that if you fall sick for a week and don’t feel like writing in your little journal, you will always have those blank pages there. This was what scared me most with this and one of the reasons why I have stayed away from dated planners for such a long time. I just don’t trust that I’m gonna keep it up for the entire year and I don’t like backfilling, and previously that has sort of made it impossible for me to keep a dated journal. Having spent more time in the planner community though, I’ve realized that it’s okay to leave a couple of pages blank, and that your notebook will still have value if you have a couple of missed sections. Another thing that scared me was that what if I need more than one page to write about my day? Because we all have those days.

But still with all these thoughts bouncing around in my head, not to mention the terrible paper quality in moleskine - the fact that they differ from book to book, even within the same series or from the same place is just TRASH - there was something that felt so comforting about a dated journal.

And I think that was what really sold me in the end. I wanted that comfort of knowing where I would be for the next 12/18 months. Coming from Filofax with its endless customizability there is a constant upkeep with new pages and because there is always other options its easy to fall into the trap of never really stopping to adapt and pick at your system which just becomes exhausting after a while. With a bound, dated book you only have the system that they offer and you can manipulate it a bit but there’s really only so far you can go with it. And somewhere in between having these thoughts I had put the 18 months in my cart and ordered it.

The experience has been maybe not as glamorous as i had initially hoped - a new sketchbook has a lot of promises and potential until you realize its just a couple of papers bound together and its you who have to bring the magic. I’m using the page very much as Lindsey does, a small timed to-do list and then just rambling about my day. It’s only been about a week and I feel like I’m still learning what I want from this. It’s not so much memory keeping, because nothing all that exiting happens in my life, but rather a sort of mixture of talking my way through various tasks I need to do, and small sort of check-ins on how I’m feeling and if I’m eating etc. It’s something I’ve been doing for a long time in both bound books and Filofax and while I dont put too much value into these inserts after they are done - as they don’t have a lot of substance - it is still something I need to do every day to function and having a separate space for this has just made a lot of the noice in my head just lessened a bit. I also think that this could be something I use for a longer period (I’m not gonna say this is the one because that would just jinx it) because its such low maintenance - there is no memory keeping or decorations or backlogging, just brain dump after brain dump. I’m also very much open to the fact that my page layout will shift as the year goes by, but that hopefully all the change will happen within these pages instead of in another system.

Obviously, I’m one week in and have a terrible track-record when it comes to dated planners, but I’m feeling optimistic. Has anyone else recently changed systems?

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 5!!

Hiya! Sorry about the delay! Life got in the way there for a bit ^_^" But I am here! With Part 5!!

Beginning || Previous || Next

*************

Crowley had liked Hozier (although Take Me To Church, predictably, wasn’t his favourite), and after whining at Aziraphale that it’s nooooooot ‘bebop,’ you finally managed to get an admission that all right, it wasn’t all that terrible. You took the win.

But the dance party couldn’t last forever. There’s still a world to save, after all.

And so, all of you sat, thumbing through Revelations. Well, Aziraphale and Muriel were. You and Crowley had given up on the fancy Bible-ness of it and googled the Cliff Notes version.

“Ugh,” You say, “John really hated the Romans.”

“Well, yes,” says Aziraphale, “He had decent enough reason, though, as far as humans go.”

“What, he hated indoor plumbing and heated floors?”

“Actually, he hated people of the Christian faith being arrested, tortured, and killed for their beliefs.”

“Oh….yeah that makes sense,” You say, and after a moment you add “...Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright,” Aziraphale replies kindly, “He wrote Revelation as a way to reassure Christians that all of their suffering would mean something in the end. That it must be part of the Great Plan.”

“The Ineffable Plan, you mean,” chimes in Crowley with a smirk. Aziraphale rolls his eyes.

“Yes, that one,” he replies. You notice the microscopic-Michael-Sheen-ian smile on his face as he says it. Honestly, the resemblance is uncanny. Aziraphale continues. “He wanted Christians to feel heard, and to encourage them to hold fast to their faith.”

You pause for a minute before saying anything. Then you remember a tumblr post or something from forever ago.

“Santa Claus,” You finally say. Crowley spurts wine from his nose, and begins to laugh. Aziraphale is confused.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s like Santa Claus,” You say again, “Like ‘be good, and you’ll get presents! it’s almost Christmas Eve! Santa’s watching!’ You know?” You look at Aziraphale imploringly. Crowley is still laughing. Aziraphale doesn’t look impressed.

“I think that’s rather an over-simplification.”

“Am I wrong?”

“…..It’s...it’s not...That’s not how it works!”

“Oh, okay, so I’m wrong then.”

“Sounds about right to me!” Crowley calls with glee from the other side of the room. Aziraphale looks all flustered, his face beginning to go red. Crowley hands him a glass of wine and Aziraphale downs it in one go.

Okay, winding him up is a great deal of fun, and so easy, but I’m guessing, dear Reader, that you love Aziraphale just as much as I do. You don’t actually want to hurt his feelings. Thus you decide to concede the point.

“So,” You say, “He said he had a dream about things getting really bad and then Jesus coming back and saving everyone.”

“In a nutshell, yes,” Aziraphale sighs, clearly relieved to be back on topic. You think back to old interviews with Neil and Terry about their back-then-hypothetical sequel would look like.

“Okay, well the only thing I know about it was something about it taking place in America. I read in an old interview somewhere that Jesus was meant to descend from the heavens in a private jet with a bunch of like...bodyguard angels or something.”

“America? Again? I mean really.”

You shrug. “Neil Gaiman really likes America.”

“But it doesn’t have to be,” says Muriel now, flipping back through their notes, “You said that the sequel was never written, and the third...season?was still being written too when you left. And you said that book isn’t the same as what happened in the tv show, or the radio show, or the musical. So how do we know it would be the same here?”

They make a good point.

“Maybe ask that author of yours,” says Crowley, looking over from his drink, “You said he answers questions sometimes. Who would he be to deny,” he swishes his glass around with what you suppose is meant to be grandeur, “The Famous Crowley and Aziraphale?” He empties his glass.

“Anathema might be able to find him,” You say after a while, “Jesus, I mean. She did a good job finding everything in Armageddon Part 1. Or Adam. I mean, Jesus is supposed to be all about love, right? Maybe we can convince him not to, you know, end the world.”

Aziraphale hums to himself. “Revelations states that Armageddon is meant to be started by the seven angels of the church, bringing together seven keys. I mean, John could be wrong of course, but I wonder...Could one of you find me a map and search these names? I might have an idea why Mr. Gaiman wanted to set The Second Coming in America.”

Good Reader, guess which country contains cities named after 5 of these 7 angels. I’ll give you three guesses, but you’ll only need one.

And so now we have three directions we can take this story in.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[infiniteetcetera]

RAPID FIRE ACOTAR CHARACTER HOT TAKES

. [Mostly focused on side characters but thoughts about our mains too BC why not]

🔥Emerie is one of THE most underrated characters and deserved a bigger storyline in ACOSF (obviously it’s Nestas book but other side characters like Gwyn, Feysand, etc got more time that could have been hers)

🔥I don’t know why people really like Helion or want him with LOA😭 mans has let her be in an abusive relationship for DECADES & I feel like if he really loved/deserved her he would have blood dueled by now. he might make a fine father for Lucien but I don’t want to read a love story that involves a few centuries of abandonment

🔥I like genuinely wonder often if the rest of Lucien’s brothers are evil evil. Like if Eris is playing along to their abusive dad’s whims, how do we know the rest of them aren’t? They likely don’t know Eris is different so why would he know that about them? Lucien didn’t? IDK i’m just curious about more Vanserras

🔥Jurian is genuinely one of the funniest characters👀 his revival may be a little pointless but his vibes are immaculate and he’s underrated

🔥You don’t have to hate Mor for leading Azriel on (there are others reasons to not like her) but she definitely did💀aside from the fact every character including her says it we get literal scenes of it too. like she FR tells Feyre he has a huge dick and just says so many other sexual/romantic things about him that are NOT platonic, it makes sense he’s been confused AF😭

🔥Kallias and Viviane have one of the sweetest love stories in the series and I wish we saw more of them. they also just have such good vibes & if they’re gonna keep popping up for little cameos I want more deets

🔥TW SA: I won’t even argue about Tamlins wrongs against Feyre bc i’ve done so before & it isn’t worth the breath BUT it bewilders me that so many people ignore/excuse what he did to Lucien😭 aside from just the generally abusive vibes he not only ignored what Ianthe was doing to Lucien (when equally if not more depressed people like Feyre/Rhys noticed) but also made him have sex with that creepy ass predator😩 Lucien’s struggle with that is so overlooked in general but still bothers me people ignore Tamlins fault in it and that Lucien is now groveling for his friendship

🔥 While on the topic of SA, i’ve seen a lot of people in the fandom have such a gross attitude about what happened to Rhys recently. like man has plenty of flaws and has done a lot of wrong things but that’s not an excuse to make jokes about him being SA’d for DECADES especially when male SA representation is so rare and it’s dumbass jokes like the kind fans are now making that makes guys feel uncomfortable about speaking up

🔥One more on this topic, the SA Nesta experienced is also SO overlooked, even by the narrative itself. The general fact she was using sex as a form of self harm/punishment is also weirdly addressed a few times but then excused if it’s with Cassian in a way that’s so gross

🔥Feyre and Rhys having Nyx so soon was a bad decision. No matter how many people bring up the “oh they were so close to dying” “oh they don’t want to waste time” blah blah blah doesn’t change the fact that’s a TERRIBLE reason to have kids😭 like does the fact they made that decision kind of make sense given what they experienced? sure! was it at all smart or level headed or much more than a trauma response? literally no

🔥I feel like Rhys’ mom…kind of sucks? She’s spoken about more highly than any of the other ACOTAR parents but she literally forced her son to go to a child soldier camp she knew was full of misogyny, poverty, and a bunch of other barbaric practices, did nothing to help any of the other kids unless she was forced to (Rhys brought cassian home, and Az’s mom begged her to take him, she then let Rhys & Cas beat on this poor traumatized boy) and overall Rhys turned out far from perfect but actually could have been SO much worse when you think about it

🔥On the topic of bad parents KIER BEING ALIVE STILL IS SO STUPID AND MAKES NO SENSE.

[romancomicsnews]

Do we need live action heroes?

To me, nothing has ever gotten me excited quite like superheroes.

I remember way back to my 7th grade. I was 12 years old, and had an incredibly difficult time that year. I did not have many friends yet, transferring into a new school, and was struggling to connect to anyone.

All I had was in that huge building was my brother, who was off dealing with high school. My grades slipped, my friends from my old school slowly drifted, and I found myself running more and more back to heroes for comfort. Whether it be movies, comics, or animated shows, superheroes helped me escape what would be the worst year of my life that far, with most of my joy and anticipation that year surrounding one singular event.

2012’s The Avengers.

All year until May I watched the trailer, looked at posters, and watched Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Iron Man, Thor, or Captain America The First Avenger to get myself ready. I remember smiling, sitting for 3 hours in line before the film to get good seats for the gathering of my heroes, a culmination of years of waiting.

To this day, movies like Endgame or No Way Home come very close, but nothing felt like that to me. And while I understand part of it was me being a child, the MCU and other superhero movies have continued to give me comfort in the best of times and the worst times. They have constantly been a force for good for me and a way for me to connect to those around me. 

Which is why I’m sad to say, things have been bleak. Not in my life, but rather in the content that has been seen as acceptable to put out. Several big companies have been fumbling the ball lately with some devastatingly mediocre chapters in their respected sagas.

Last year was an abysmal year for DC, as they produced 4 flops at the box office. With the exception of Blue Beetle (which I love), each other entry in DC’s last year ranged from forgettable to downright abhorrent (I’m looking at you Flash). I was a big fan of the last Shazam and was pleasantly surprised by Aquaman, but both felt like they were going through the motions instead of bringing us exciting fresh takes on the characters that made the original two films great.

Due to the ever growing SPUMC (Sony Pictures Universe of Marvel Characters), we’re looking at a terrible year for superhero movies. We already had the perplexing Madame Web, with Venom The Last Dance and Kraven the Hunter to end the year. While these movies can have some fun performances, in general they feel sloppy, mismanaged, with subpar writing at best. As fun as it is to see Tom Hardy in a lobster tank, I don’t feel anything for Eddie Brock. And that sucks.

Finally, there’s the MCU.

Now, if you’re looking for me to bash entries in the MCU like The Marvels, you came to the wrong page, that’s not what this is.

In GENERAL, I like a lot of the swings they’ve taken since Endgame. Shang-Chi is still one of my favorite MCU movies. No Way Home had heart to it and wasn’t just a cash grab movie. Eternals had a vision and beauty I appreciate. Loki has one of my favorite finales of any tv show.

But they’ve been disconnected. It isn’t this seamless chapter book with a clear beginning, middle and end anymore. There is so much expansion with characters that we have no idea where they are going. To go back to just one of those I just mentioned, where is Shang-Chi? That movie was a hit, and yet we have yet to hear anything about a sequel or return.

Due to this focus on expansion, it’s hard to keep that connection with these characters if we don’t see them every few years. Where is America Chavez? Vision? Kingo? Thor? She-Hulk? This is a problem.

Couple this problem with the fact that VFX workers are worked to the bone, movies are being filmed without scripts finished, an emphasis on a multiverse storyline that doesn’t have a really clear path, and what seems like a vendetta against using comic book storylines, the films and television shows have been struggling to connect.

After all these catastrophes, you’d think it’d be a rough time to be a superhero fan. But really, it’s never been better.

Animation has been saving us.

To be fair, animation has always been respected and loved by the comic book community. X-Men the Animated Series, Batman the Animated Series, Young Justice, Spectacular Spider-Man and more have not only been people’s favorite superhero content, for many it is their in. I started by watching Spider-Man the Animated Series, and things have only gotten better from there.

Shows like My Adventures with Superman have reintroduced a new generation to Superman in a way that feels extremely accurate and fresh. It has also given us an incredibly adorable and heartfelt love story between Lois & Clark, something live action movies and shows really struggle with. Can you think of the last good couple in the MCU? And don’t say Spider-Man and MJ, because most of why we like them is because we like Tom and Zendaya.

Other shows like Invincible & Young Justice deal with heavy topics, such as grief, sexual orientation, gender identity, and trauma all in a way that feels human and real. Invincible in particular deals with grief and betrayal in its second season beautifully, all enhanced by incredible voice work from actors giving it their all.

Even the MCU has used animation in surprising ways. X-Men 97’ recently brought back the styling of the X-Men animated series, with the powerful messaging the X-Men are known for. With enhanced animation, a clear vision, and an emphasis on using classic comic book storylines, many are not only considering it a hit, but the best thing Marvel has done in years.

Even it’s more MCU heavy animated show What If had a much better second season, and while it’s not as deep or as good as the other shows I’ve mentioned, it’s worth noting it was a lot of lighthearted fun during the holidays. Definitely check out the Happy Hogan Die Hard episode.

Finally, Sony of all people gave us the best superhero film of the year last year with Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse. While everyone expected it to be good, I don’t think anyone expected it to be such an achievement. With incredible voice acting, a meta narrative about fans' relationship to the character of Miles, incredibly human moments and of course, a hero no one can not root for, Spider-Man Across the Spider-Verse easily will go down as one of the best superhero movies ever made.

I remember the ending of the film, where our heroes are finally gathered, and Miles is faced with what seems like impossible odds, and as the music swells, Gwen Stacy asks the audience “Are you in?”

And that was the moment I felt it again. The excitement, the joy, I really was a kid again, jumping out of my seat excited to see Beyond the Spider-Verse.

So if we can use animation to tell stories that connect, that show love stories in a way we haven’t seen, action in a way we haven’t seen, utilizing and respecting comic books, all while drawing out incredible performances, why are we emphasizing live action? 

I don’t think we truly need more live action shows of B list characters. And to their credit, I think studios are noticing too. Marvel has a few more animated projects coming out, and DC will be releasing Creature Commandos this year. But they will be putting out just as many live action shows focused on expansion as they have been.

Is it time to reconsider how we tell these stories? 

I know no matter what I say, we will get live action. And I’d be lying if I were to say that many projects out there excite me. Superman, The Penguin, Spider-Man Noir to name a few.

But I think it’s time we use superheroes to go back to their roots. We should be using superheroes to bring artists and animators to the forefront. Shows like Invincible, My Adventures with Superman and X-Men 97’ give us a clear picture of what superhero media can and should be. Story driven, beautiful, and full of meaning. Something we as people can finally connect to.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider following, and check out my socials and other sites here! And let me know: What's your favorite animated superhero show?

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Was This Vacation a Mistake?~Crazy Rich Asians (Astrid x black! fem! reader) ~Part 3

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 

Summary: After a traumatic night, you decide to stay with Astrid a few nights before you depart back to America. The situation left you angry and terrified, but Astrid proved to be an amazing hostess and a shoulder to cry on.

Word Count:

Warnings: Talk of racism and microaggressions. 

Author’s Note: Here’s part 3 guys! As always tell me how this is going so far and what you like about it. Idk if this is good or not but I really want to finish this series soon. Anyway, hope y’all enjoy.

The cup of tea Astrid offered grew cold in my hands as I sat on her fine couch in the living room, my head against Rachel’s shoulder. Astrid strolled back into the room, returning from putting her son Cassain back to bed. 

“Do you need anything else, Y/N?” Astrid said as she circled the couch and leaned against its back. “Blanket or something, you and Rachel look like you’re about done for the night.”

She wasn’t wrong, my eyes were heavy and Rachel was quiet for a while. Her phone dinged, awakening her from her semi sleepy state.

“Mmh, N-Nick! He’s outside!” she said, eyes and fingers sweeping her phone simultaneously. 

I sat up to the best of my abilities and try not to blink too much with grogginess and stress already pulsing around my temple. Grading papers should have been the move from the beginning; I wasn’t welcome here from the start, people like me weren’t welcome from the start.

“Y/N,” Nick’s caring voice broke me from my thoughts thankfully. He stood in the center of Astrid’s living room with Rachel at his arm, his eyes sparkling  in concern. “First of all, I’m so sorry this happened. Come here.”

Nick pulled me into his arms, nearly making me weep from the contact. His tall frame was soothing, yet I felt terrible because of all that’s happened; this happened because of me. If I stayed home, they wedding would have gone on, Rachel probably wouldn’t have to worry as much as she has to. I wouldn’t be the center in all this, so much pity. It isn’t pity, I should know that, it’s racism. Full blown racism in my face and I can’t fathom it for some reason. I don’t know why. Frustration pooled at me, tears and heat pricked my skin and eyelids.

“Y/N? Are you all right?” Nick asked. He pulled back to pat my elbows. 

Rachel sunk to my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Y/N?”

“I-I’m OK. I-I’m fine, I-I just need a night to, I don’t know, forget all of this,” you said as you leaned into Rachel. “I want to go home though, I’m sorry, guys.”

Nick shook his head. “No, no. In fact, I booked you a ticket home the day after tomorrow. First class of course, my friends stay in style. It’s the least I can do for how uncouth and down right disgusting my family and our associates were. I can even book you the best hotel around here.”

The thought was nice, a little too nice but I had to declined. 

“Sorry, Nick, I don’t think that’d be a great idea. Don’t want to seem out of place again.”

“Would a coastal house work? A short heli ride would get you there in--”

“Nick, I don’t think that’ll help,” Rachel said, cutting him off. “Traveling somewhere that isn’t home won’t help, yeah? Y/N?”

I nodded. Nick’s amazing, I love him but throwing money at everything isn’t going to bring me the comfort he thinks it will. It is endearing though. 

“She can stay here for tonight, tomorrow as well,” Astrid said, speaking up from her position behind the couch, hand smoothing out the plushness of it. “Anything she needs, I’ll be willing to provide, no issue.”

My heart skipped a beat at the offer; Rachel’s trying not to grin from ear to ear, brought me closer by the shoulder to look at me with those brown eyes. They’re still glossy, all authentic for me I know but know she’s using them to her advantage I swear. 

“Astrid sounds like great company, yeah?” she said. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She’ll look out for you, I promise.”

Nick embraced Astrid prior to turning back to Rachel and I. “Thank you, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

Astrid smiled, it reached her beauty mark, highlighting her face perfectly. How was I going to survive a night in her home? Two nights even. Rachel beamed back as if she heard my mental question, squeezing my shoulders.

“You got this, call us when you feel a little better. OK?”  

I nodded. Rachel and Nick gave me quick hugs, doing the same with Astrid before they left, leaving me alone with her. Alone with Astrid Leong. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with all that’s happened.

“Y/N?” Astrid called.   

Her voice soft, as it was before yet lower, tender. I didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want her pity. I just want to go home already. 

“Y/N?” she called again. I glanced at her, she’s close now, right in front of me; the pity I harped on wasn’t there in her eyes though, hurt and worry, similar to how she seemed at Nick’s grandmother’s house.  

“C-Can I hug you?” she asked, opening her arms a bit. Her mouth twitched in a tiny smile while she hesitated with her movements. “Hugs always put me at ease, I-I want to put you at ease.”

The word ease broke me, almost. Tears pricked at my eyes, Astrid found them as she inched closer. She didn’t hug me though, still gauging my reaction. I nodded and met her in a warm embrace; it eased me as she said: her arms wound around me perfectly, fit me well and the tears slipped. A sob broke through too. Why the fuck am I crying? I was supposed to forget about all of that shit. 

“It’s all right, darling. Let it out, it’s OK,” Astrid whispered. She pulled back to wipe my tears. She nodded to her couch. “Want to sit?”

I nodded, pursed my lips to keep from tasting the salty tears. 

Astrid led me by the hand toward the couch, left some space between us when we got there, still holding onto me. Her touch proved pleasant, more so than it has been before--I was at ease. Her hand wrapped around my own wasn’t a huge deal either. I’m not even sure how long I can last but its working so far.  

“T-Thank you, i-it means a lot, letting me stay here,” I managed to say. Astrid’s thumb rubbed my knuckles a little prior to her pulling it away. 

“It’s nothing you have to thank me for,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it at all?”

This is a safe space I realize, however I’m not completely sure about opening up about these racially charged encounters. Sure, she’s non-white but like Rachel, sometimes it’s difficult bringing these matters up and talking through them. Sometimes I just need to deal with it on my own, then again, I do need to talk it out--somewhat. 

“I-I just expected to tag along with Rachel and for this to be a normal vacation,” I started. “But I got centered, I-I should have known. Anti-blackness is global. I should have thought about it more, researched. I’m a professor for God’s sake, I always tell my students this. Maybe this vacation was a mistake, maybe I should have just stayed home.”

Astrid’s hands flocked to mine again, her eyes glossy once more. “No matter how much research or preparedness you set yourself up for, no one deserves to be harassed or see something like that.”

I nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s the same. We both experience some fucked shit, I’m sure, you went to schools in England right? Most of those posh white folks, right?”

Astrid giggled at the description. “They were the living embodiment of posh. And you’re right. My experience is not the same but I can tell you about them. Take some of the weight off from today. Will that help?” 

“Yeah,” I said. 

Maybe I said it too quickly. It was her touches and how intense she looked to me: attentiveness deep in her brown eyes, paying all the mind to me, I had to glance to the spotless carpet below. 

“As you know, or maybe you don’t, I’m not sure how much Nick has shared about me, I attended Harvard during university,” Astrid explained. She ceased holding my hands, calming my heart for a bit. “At this time, I was eighteen, away from home with enough money to make my posh peers turn their heads. Unfortunately, my money wasn’t the only thing they noticed.”

Astrid grimaced and I didn’t want her to delve back into anything like that. It’s different yes, but it can still hurt people. Rachel’s told me plenty.

“Astrid, you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much,” I said. My hand moved on instinct, holding her hand myself. “I-I get it.”

“Darling, it’s fine,” she said. “It’s not the most pleasant story to look back on but it happened. First semester, I was the only Asian girl in my class. There was an Asian boy, but he flocked with the white boys and a grade above me so there wasn’t too much we’d mutually have in common besides our ethnicity. I was Astrid the princess, according to Nick and I wished my white peers saw me as just some spoiled girl. Instead I was Astrid the girl who could grant you a happy ending; Astrid the girl who had to sit up front because her eyes were too slanted. There was worse things but, Y/N, you shouldn’t have to limit yourself because of what history has done. What these systems and institutions have done. Don’t let that stop you.”

She’s right. Astrid’s  absolutely right. The dam broke again at this obvious realization and I’m crying again, trembling and all. 

Astrid just pulled me toward her, embracing me yet again. I feel so stupid.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed against her shoulder. “I-I don’t mean to do this. I hate feeling like this.” 

“Don’t apologize, it’s OK.”

We stayed like that for a while: Astrid wrapping her arms around my back, my head against her chest, heartbeat nearly lulling me to sleep. Tiny footsteps neared however, along with a few creaks of the floor and staircase. 

“Mommy?” 

Astrid tore herself away to face the child standing in a purple satin sleep shirt and matching pants. His hair askew, face clearly scrunched up from sleep. Cassian. Astrid’s son. I pulled myself further from Astrid, wishing I could sink into the couch altogether. 

“And what are you doing up, sweetie?” Astrid said, grin plastered on her face, not feeling awkward about her son seeing his mother hug a woman he doesn’t know. “You should be in bed.”

Cassian rubbed his eyes with the back of a fist, attention on me while Astrid lifted him up to her lap, showing the boy off to me. 

“Who’s that?” he asked. 

Astrid’s eyes shined, love filling them to the brim as she stared at her son, then to me. I still wanted to disappear; Astrid’s got my heart flipping again and skin set to a scorch. Maybe Rachel had a point, definitely not telling her about all the details of tonight.  

“This is Y/N, Nick and mommy’s friend and our guest for a few nights,” she cooed, kissing Cassian on the forehead. “How about we go settle in bed and give her some space, hmm?”

I waved at the boy awkwardly. He seemed delicate in Astrid’s arms, fluttering his eyes, squishing and yawning as she stood engulfing the boy in tender love. 

“C-Can you read me a story too?” Cassain whined. 

“Of course we can, my love,” Astrid said. She was halfway up the stairs; I couldn’t stop looking at her. She turned back toward me, voice dropping a bit.“I’ll bring you some blankets to get comfortable, darling.”

Astrid’s gone before I can react, off to her motherly duties like the day we met. I’ve talked with her, seen her heart, been catered by her heart and I’m still skeptical about the entire thing. A mother, divorcee and a rich person. Rich rich. Loaded and her actions, her demeanor already triggers me, in a great yet intense way. Is she just being nice? Or is Rachel right? Should I talk to Nick about this? Should I not take this venture? Leave it alone before something drastic occurs again, her family is still old money, old traditions, old systems. Maybe I shouldn’t be looking at a potential straight woman like this? 

The thoughts continued to linger while I sunk deeper into the couch. 

Astrid returned after a while, a set of fancy comforters and covers hulking her arms. “I wish I would have prepared the guest room better but the couch is just as comfortable. Make yourself at home, stretch as much as you’d like, all right?” 

I nodded, laid across the couch and reached up for the covers. Astrid pouted and shook her head. 

“No, no. Let me, I am your hostess after all,” she said as she fluffed up the covers. “I need everyone under my roof safe, sound and more importantly, tucked in.”

My face and heart raced among-est each other each time Astrid placed a layer on me, tucked a cover against my arm and back, patted in place. She’s so close, there’s no way she’s just being nice. 

“Y/N? Are you all right? This didn’t make you uncomfortable, did it?”

I shook my head fervently. “No, this is so much more than I can ask for Thank you.” 

Astrid’s eyes softened. “Not a problem, darling. I hope your dreams are sweet and more pleasant than today.” 

Those words tingled me to my bones, warmed me more than the massive quilt bulking me and allowed sleep to overtake me. 

[mortyvongola2-0]

Period Pains

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Reader

Genre: Drabble, fluff

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: afab!reader, period/menstruation symptoms, fluff

A/N: I'm in a Kakashi brain rot right now if you couldn't tell. This was originally made for my OC, in a wonderful chat with my lovelies, but I decided it wouldn't be too difficult to turn into a reader insert~

Read it on AO3

There it was, that familiar feeling in your lower abdomen. The beginning of cramps that you knew would be plaguing you for the next few days, perhaps a week. It was late this time, probably due to stress from your latest mission. You pressed your chapped lips together with a frown.

The cramps were the absolute worst, even with painkillers there would be some days where you were down for the count, not to mention the intestinal discomfort that accompanied them. You wouldn’t be able to be too far from a bathroom for the first few days. A whine of annoyance left your throat. Periods are the worst.

“What’s wrong?”

You glanced at the silver-haired man on the couch next to you and immediately all you wanted was to whine and be coddled by him. You held yourself back though, figuring you could save it for when your sensitivity was at its worst. “My period is coming.”

“Oh, I see,” he set his book down on his lap before running a hand through your undone hair. The both of you had already changed into your sleep clothes.  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Hold me, rub my cramps away, buy me chocolate- oo no wait cookies. “No, I’m okay for now.”

“You sure? Do you have everything you need?”

“Hm,” You pressed your head further into his hand. “I think so?”

“That sounds more like a question than an answer.”

“I’ll be fine.” He let out a thoughtful hum and brought an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side. Kakashi kept his arm draped over you and you leaned closely into him as he picked his book back up. “This definitely doesn’t hurt though.”

You were right, the next morning you woke up with painful cramps and an intense need to use the restroom.  Most of that day went relatively alright, your cramps bothered you, but you were still able to do most things, and the second day went by in much the same manner. But the third day was terrible, the absolute worst.

Kakashi had woken you up gently to press a goodbye kiss to your forehead as he headed to work and usually, you loved it, but that morning you were agitated that he had woken you up. So, instead of telling him to be safe, like you usually did, all you managed was an irate goodbye. You went back to sleep for a few more hours after that, then when you finally got out of bed you stubbed your toe on the nightstand that you swore hadn’t always been in that exact spot because you never would’ve stubbed your toe otherwise. Your cramps were killing you, they had you constantly hunched and if you weren’t standing you were curled up in a ball on your bed.

Specifically on his side, because you missed him.

There were so many foods that you were craving but you had none of them and you knew going to the store to get any would be too taxing. You really really wanted something sweet, those cookies you’d thought about the other day, but none magically appeared before you, which also irritated you. You couldn’t focus on anything, nothing was helping. As another wave of intense cramping hit you, you couldn’t help but think about how miserable you were.

Pain-killers weren’t working, your food cravings were going unfulfilled, and you’d even run out of your favorite bubble bath so you couldn’t even try that to relax! You felt so sensitive and there was no one paying attention to you! By the time your boyfriend came home, you were squatting on the kitchen floor sobbing as you tried to open a jar of pickles.

You heard his chuckle- when did he get home? - and glared up at him from your place on the tile. “Don’t laugh,” you pouted, your voice more of a whine than the agitated grunt you had been going for. You sniffled as he squat down beside you, you heard the shuffle of a grocery bag as he set one down beside him. “It’s not funny.”

“No, no, you’re right,” he responded, you could see the upward turn of his lips even under his mask. “It’s definitely not funny.”

Annoyed, you shoved the unopened jar against his chest and he took it, his eyes still wrinkled with mirth. Your agitation grew. The sixth Hokage lowered his mask and gave you that chauvinistic smile that you loved. A huff left you and you pointed and told him, “It won’t open.”

“Well, if a shinobi as strong as you can’t open it, then this can’t be an ordinary pickle jar.”

Another sniffle. “It’s not.”

“I know,” he chuckled again and brought a finger to your eyes to wipe at your frustrated tears.

He looked away from you and down at the jar. The silver-haired man made a show of inspecting it before opening it with one quick twist. You wanted to cry all over again.

Kakashi set the now opened jar down before sliding over and wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, he couldn’t help the laughs that escaped him every few seconds as he tried his best to console you. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not, I’m not. Honest.”

Despite you agitation with him you melted into his embrace. His warmth comforting and even those patronizing chuckles caused a weight to lift from your chest. “I loosened it for you,” you insisted.

He hummed in affirmation and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Absolutely.”

After a few more seconds you felt a bit better but you still didn’t want him to let you go. You didn’t even care about the stupid pickles and their evil jar anymore. “Can we go to bed early tonight?”

“Of course, but how about we eat these cookies first?”

You peaked down at the bag he held up. They were your favorite cookies, from your favorite bakery, the one across from the bookshop. That time, you did start to cry again. “You love me so much,” you cried.

“Hm, maybe a little,” he teased.

Both of you ate the cookies, you ate the majority, and laid down to go to bed. You felt much better after complaining to him about every minor thing that had gotten on your nerves that day, and soon as his warm hand pressed against your lower abdomen when you spooned, your cramps lessened to an annoying ache. You fell asleep feeling much better and exceedingly loved.

tagged list: @therantingfangirl @justmyownreality @hashira-mal

Thanks for reading~

[thosehallowedhalls]

Second Thoughts

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Raine of Riverbend (F!MC)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1235

Summary: After choosing to leave the portals open, Raine is wrestling with second thoughts. Tyril is there to help her through them.

A/N: This started out as pure fluff and took a turn into the slightly angsty. Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge, prompts: flowers & "Your laughter is my favorite melody."

The first tulips begin to bloom in April, dancing merrily amidst the crocuses and daffodils. Raine can’t resist leaning in every so often and simply taking a deep, cleansing breath. There’s something invigorating about those first shaky efforts of springtime.

After the winter they’ve had, they deserve some spring.

It’s been six weeks since she made the call to leave the portals open, letting people and magic pass through them freely, but she can’t stop wondering if she made the wrong decision. For the first three weeks or so, she’d wake up in a panic in the middle of the night, heart racing and convinced she’d doomed everyone in both realms to a slow and painful death. Tyril talked her down from many a nightmare during those long, terrible nights, and she’d fall asleep again within the protective shelter of his arms.

She hasn’t had one of those nightmares in three weeks, but her waking hours are still plagued by doubts.

“You’ll get yourself stung by a bee,” he tells her fondly.

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Stopping to smell the roses is a time-honored human tradition. You’re just jealous you don’t have flowers in Undermount.”

“We do, too.” He gently tugs on her braid. “Next time you visit, I’ll show you the greenhouse.”

“How in the world do you…” She stops herself. “Ah. Magic.”

“Conjured in tandem by enough elves that only a little lifeforce is taken from each.”

“Tyril, you know I love flowers, but are they worth your lifeforce?”

His eyes light up at the promise of a debate. “Isn’t it also a human saying that beauty is its own reward?”

She takes his hand as images of him nearly falling at the battlefield flash before her eyes. “Nothing is worth your life, Tyril. Certainly not a few flowers.”

The argumentative light in his eyes gives way to tenderness. “I’ve never been one of the flora elves, Raine.”

“And you never will be. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

She exhales. She feels like they just cheated death again. She feels like they just cheated death entirely too often. For once, she wants them to have simple, uncomplicated fun. “Let’s go on an adventure,” she tells him.

He raises an elegant brow. “May I inquire as to what you think we’ve been doing for the past year and a half?”

“I mean a fun adventure. Low stakes, no near-death experiences, absolutely zero monsters” A pause at his doubtful expression. “All right, fewer monsters.”

“We’re due to meet with Nia in less than two hours.”

“We can make it in time. Why don’t we go on a picnic to the woods?”

He looks at her. “Your heart is set on this, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Then I suppose we’re going on a picnic to the woods.”

“This was a good idea,” she says an hour later.

They’re sprawled out on a blanket, two goblets of elven wine and a bowl of assorted fruit resting near them. Tyril looks relaxed, his forehead free of the worry lines that are rarely far behind.

“Has it made you happy?” He asks, as if that’s the only relevant criteria.

“It really has. We needed this.” She raises herself up on an elbow and grins at him. “Especially you. Your frown lines were developing frown lines.”

“I believe I’ve had cause to frown lately,” he says dryly.

She reaches out to trace the little crease on his forehead with her fingers. “Of course. But the worst part is over, Tyril. We can relax.”

“That’s sound advice. Do you intend to take it?” He gives her a knowing look. “I’m not the only one who’s been frowning recently.”

She shifts, a guilty look in her eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

“No,” he admits. “You hide it well. It’s only that I watch you very closely.”

Well, hellsfire, what’s a girl supposed to say to that? “I keep wondering if I made the wrong decision. Should I have merged the realms? Or gone into the Shadow Realm? What if I made a mistake?”

“Uluvalir, I don’t think there was a right decision here.”

Despite the heaviness of the moment, she can’t resist teasing him. “That must’ve hurt you to say out loud.”

He ignores her. “Yes, leaving the portals open wasn’t a perfect solution. But if we had merged the realms, untold quantities of people would have died. Would you have been able to accept that?”

“No,” she admits. “It would have haunted me.”

“And if we had gone to the Shadow Realm, we don’t know what would have happened. We might have become infected by Shadow.”

“I’d never be able to forgive myself if you or the others had been hurt.” She blows out a breath. “Okay, I get it. There were no right choices, but there was the right choice for me. And I made it.”

Tyril takes her hand and tugs her closer. “Do you feel better?”

“I do.” She kisses him, then grins. “But you know what else would make me feel better?”

“I believe I have an idea…”

When he reaches for her, she scrambles back. “Mind out of the gutter, Lord Starfury. I meant a race.”

“A race? You want to run?”

But she’s already on her feet and making for the trees. She’s starting to gain a real advantage when the sound of her name stops her dead in her tracks.

“Raine!”

Alarmed, she skids to a stop. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I was promised no monsters!”

She runs back to him so fast her breath is coming out in short gasps when she finally reaches him. “What are you talking about?”

A blue finger points at a creature that’s… surprisingly small to be a monster. “That!”

She follows his line of vision and breaks into helpless peals of laughter. “Tyril… those aren’t monsters. Those are geese.”

“The difference is hardly significant!” He glares at her. “Are you enjoying this?”

“No! I’m not! It’s just…” But she’s doubled over now, laughing so hard she can’t finish her sentence. When she looks back up, she’s surprised to find him smiling slightly.  “Is that a devious smile? Are you planning to feed me to our geese friends?”

“They’re not our friends. And no. It’s only that I haven’t seen you laugh like that in a very long time.”

“We haven’t had very many reasons to laugh.”

“No. But I suppose I’m glad for those blasted things.” He shoots the geese a distasteful look. His hand twitches, as if he’s considering casting a spell to keep them far away from him. But his face softens again when he turns to look at her. “Your laughter is my favorite melody.”

Undone, she walks to him. “And your smile is my favorite sight.”

“I suppose I’ll have to smile more often.”

“Yes please. You of all people don’t need more frown lines.”

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to him. “I don’t believe it’s possible to be with you, Raine, and not smile.”

“Back at you.”

She tips her head to his chest. The sound of his heartbeat soothes her, and the scent of flowers wafts up around them in a gentle welcome, a promise of more beauty yet to come. Her friends are safe, the realms are thriving, and Tyril is right here in her arms.

For once, all is right in her world.

[unicyclehippo]

touch

‘you know i’m like this all the way down, don’t you? it isn’t - it isn’t an act, i do laugh it off sometimes dear, it can be terribly funny but. i am like this. forever. and it’s—could you—do you think you might be able to withstand that for a long time? i should like to be with you for a long time but it would depend on - on when you get exhausted, you see, because i must live with this or - ha - not live with, i suppose, but survive, contend, with this for however long i shall live but you, well.’ laudna’s twists her face into graceful acceptance. soft, understanding, hardly sad at all. it’s very easy to do, once you have the trick of it. ‘you needn’t. deal with this. the bark and the hair and the nails. the popping joints. the ichor, the aches, the smell, the stares, the rot.’ the word drops between them, gross, embarrassing, like she’d spat by accident. her teeth are hatesharp in her mouth. ‘the teeth,’ she adds.

imogen looks up from the book she studies with such careful, wonderful intent. so smart. she quirks a brow, amused. ‘i know what you are, laud. you forget we’ve been travellin’ together awhile now?’

‘no, no.’ her stomach twists, her hands twist, knot, roots. so is she, rooted in place. ‘i know, dear, i only mean to remind you—should you need a moment to yourself, or, or should something in particular sicken you—‘

‘laudna.’

she sinks low. imogen isn’t listening. of course not. she is kind. she lo-hmm. yes, well, laudna can surmise imogen likely loves her. which is, well, lovely! but they haven’t been in love for very long and laudna has never done it before, romance, love, but she knows herself. how she clings to things. she knows herself. love to her is like…tar. sticky and black, bubbling and pouring up and up around their ankles their calves their knees her beautiful knees. if imogen doesn’t know that now then gods help her, what if she drowns her—them—in it? and she would, imogen would stay with her she would be pleased by it, even, because she loves her, but there is something wrong with it. impossible to know if it has always been this or if it’s all the death and the accessories she’s obtained through it—lady d, trauma, blah blah blah—but she thinks she has a capacity for love like a pyre, grease-fire and rising choking smoke; like a hungry dog, snapbite shut around the hand outstretched. and she knows what she wants for imogen, the kind of love she deserves, and how far it is from what she has to offer.

‘what are you afraid of, honey?’

laudna nibbles at her bottom lip. she takes up the bone she has been carving and turns it between her fingers, not wanting to see the moment imogen sees her, maskless, exposed.

‘i want to hold you until we both die,’ laudna says, sad and sweet. ‘i want to lay down in a grave with you side by side and i shall never move again and every worm that comes to eat us up will be little versions of us, because they’ve fed on us, and they will be in love and they’ll feed all the farms and chickens and we’ll be a thousand souls in love. i want to open up your scars and see what is under your skin, what your magic does under there. i want,’ she says, and folds her elbows close to her rotten chest, folds herself small, words small, so not a page stirs, not another soul could be stirred by what she admits. ‘i want to taste it. i want to grow into a tree and grow around you like armour like a second skin so you are always safe and maybe grow taproots, grow into you. through you. i want you as part of me forever. i want to touch you, i want to always be touching you, i want you to never be able to move without feeling me beside you, i want you to crack me open and see how vile it is inside of me and plunge in neck deep and when you struggle to get out, i want to hold on.’ she pauses. ‘i want to dislocate my jaw.’

imogen sits very still. her eyes very dark. she lets out a slow breath, pink tongue flicking out to wet her lips. ‘what-‘ she clears her throat. ‘what does that last one have to do with me?’

‘it doesn’t really. but. i’ll always be quite horrible to be around and i want you to be with me anyway.’

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

literally so done with rhaegar antis at this point. we know practically nothing about this character besides all the good things other characters say about him and the fact that robert baratheon hates him and says things about rhaegar that ned disagrees with. and robert baratheon is a pos so being hated by him only does favors for rhaegar’s character imo.

but somehow all these characters who think well of rhaegar are just lying. even though almost all of the characters who have spoken/thought well of rhaegar come from different families and have different allegiances. make it make sense. explain it to me like i’m five. what do jamie and ned have to gain by thinking positively about rhaegar? what about jorah? and barristan?

seriously. stop with the “prophecy obsessed freak” and the “rhaegar was mad” bs. none of this is supported in the books.

for 1) the prophecy is real! this is a fantasy series! and it’s very likely that jon snow (his likely son) is one of the azor ahai/prince that was promised figures! the other completely certain azor ahai figure is his own sister! so yes this prophecy seems to be centered around rhaegar’s family.

2) rhaegar being “mad” is not supported whatsoever. prophecies and magic are very real in asoiaf. so believing/trying to figure out prophecies is not an act of a madman. if anything, we should praise rhaegar for having the foresight to be actively concerned about this world ending threat! he was right. and one mention, if not the first mention, of the song of ice and fire comes from a vision in the house of the undying… from rhaegar. please remember what the title of this series is…

now, it is fair to criticize rhaegar for how he treated elia at the tourney at harrenhall. he was wrong there and that was a terrible thing to do to elia. however, saying that rhaegar was awful to elia throughout their whole marriage is not supported. and saying that rhaegar was awful to his children is not supported at all.

also, getting angry at a fictional character for needing a son to secure the succession to the throne is hilarious, especially since it was necessary for not just rhaegar, but also for elia to secure their own positions at court. they both needed a male heir, but elia needed to have a son more than rhaegar to secure her position. so why are people so mad that rhaegar and elia had aegon? andal tradition says that a son comes before a daughter and a daughter before an uncle… but aerys had viserys to threaten rhaegar with because aerys was king and had the power to change the succession. having aegon was very important for both rhaegar and elias futures and protected rhaenys position as well. just look at what happened to alys karstark when all of her male brothers were gone. she was almost usurped by her uncle. do you really think aerys would let the throne pass to a girl? aerys??

anyways, we don’t know enough about rhaegar and elias relationship to actually make any concrete statements about them, but, from danys house of the undying vision of rhaegar and (likely) elia, their relationship seemed fine and they seemed open with each other. not every marriage of duty ends in nedcat and five kids, but their marriage was clearly far from the robert and cersei nightmare.

another thing rhaegar antis love to harp about is how he is a pedophile. i’m literally so sick of it. rhaegar, someone who seemingly struggled with some form of depression, finally found some joy outside of a marriage of duty. the author himself called rhaegar a love struck prince. ned never thinks ill of rhaegar, even though if the stories robert baratheon would have us believe were true then ned would be the first character who thinks rhaegar is some sort of monster. but ned doesn’t. back to the pedo argument… anyways i have issues with the age gap as well. but i know where to lay my criticism. with george. he’s weird about ages and it pisses me off. however, i won’t let this change the way i see a character, especially since westeros doesn’t have any age of consent laws.

god just criticize george already.

but to be clear, rhaegar, a tragic character who died trying to protect his family, who’s daughter hid underneath his bed for protection, is not some monster. he was born in grief, lived in grief, found some joy, and died whispering the name of the woman he loved. that’s sad. and it’s horrible that he’s blamed for his family’s deaths even though he fought and died trying to protect them. and then robert baratheon sat on his throne and drunk and whored the realm into debt. thank you mr. boar. and good riddance. cersei slayed with this one.

now if you want to blame someone for the war and what came after, then blame aerys for his cruelty. blame brandon for his foolishness. blame robert for his warmongering. blame tywin for his monstrous actions. blame gregor and amory for their terrible violence.

stop blaming the guy who died trying to protect his loved ones.

and tbh, we literally have so little knowledge of what happened before the rebellion and after harrenhall. we just don’t know what happened between rhaegar and lyanna besides what george has told us and whatever small scraps we get in the book. we don’t know if it was a rash decision or if there was some plan in place when rhaegar and lyanna ran off. we just don’t know.

so please stop treating your headcanons like canon facts. especially when your headcanon isn’t supported anywhere in the books! it’s so tiring to see! i get it! you hate this character! whatever! but stop acting like what you’re saying is canon!

rhaegar is simply a ghost haunting the narrative. but his legacy lives on in dany and (likely) jon. and both of them are saviors fighting the good fight. and based on the descriptions we have of rhaegar, i can say that he’s likely very proud of his sister and son.

[mouthfullofmunson]

Clueless bestie Eddie though…

Eddie and Y/n have been friends for years and years

It all started when he bumped into her in the hall when they were in 7th grade (mainly because she was staring at him and he didn’t have a clue, he was nose deep into some random book his uncle had given him so he didn’t see the girl staring at him)

And both of their hearts dropped the second their supplies fell out of their hands and onto the floor, scrambling to grab their books. “I didn’t even see you. Jesus Christ, I’m sorry!”

And y/n is so choked up and shocked that the boy is even talking to her all she can say is “I love that book”

“Oh, you’ve read it?”

“I- well yeah. Who hasn’t? I’ve read it like a thousand times.”

“My uncle just gave it to me. It’s really good so far”

And that’s how their friendships started

And 7 years later eddie still hasn’t noticed the way y/n looks at him, she’s absolutely head over heels in love with this man

Even hopelessly in love with him when he starts dating some random twenty something year old who got a job at the hideout

And he talks about her all the time to y/n

“She’s just so sweet. She said she loves my hair and never wants me to cut it. And she said that she would love to watch hellfire and I’m going to teach her how to play d&d.”

“I tell you I love your hair all the time Eddie…”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to say that stuff! You’re my best friend.”

Great way to get friend zoned

And I can see y/n getting really hurt because he’s spending more time with his girlfriend and less time with y/n

And the limited time they have together is now spent fighting because

“I’ve missed this! We haven’t had a movie night in forever but I told Harrington that we’re having a best friend movie night so I need the best horror marathon he could wrack up.”

“Yeah we haven’t had anytime together.”

“Well yeah, I know. I’ve missed you. But I’ve got a girlfriend now.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just forget about me. If I was dating someone I would still make all the time in the world for you, Eddie. That’s because you mean a lot to me.”

“Are you seriously starting a fight on the one day we have together?”

“It doesn’t have to be one day, Eddie!”

“It does! And don’t make me feel bad for having a girlfriend just because I’m the only friend you have.”

“Fuck you eddie”

But of course, late one night y/n hears ticks at her window, sliding the window up to see Eddie shimmying up and sliding into her room. His eyes red, tears streaming down his cheeks, sniffling

He grabs one of the tissues on her nightstand and blows his nose, sitting there and hugging while harshly brushing his tears away

“What’s wrong, Eddie? What happened? Is it Wayne? Is he okay? Oh fuck, did he lose his job?”

“We broke up.”

“You broke up?”

“Well, she broke up with me.”

“Why’d she break up with you?”

“Cause she said she never really liked me that much and something with her using me to get back at her boyfriend. It’s all really childish and stupid.”

Y/n sits next to him and pulls him in a hug because as much as she hates him for what he did while he was with that girl but Eddie is her best friend after all and she feels terrible that he is so heartbroken

“No, that really sucks, Ed. I’m so sorry. I know you liked her.”

“I didn’t even like her that much, actually. She was such an asshole. I just loved being loved, you know? It felt so good to be loved by someone who didn’t have to… and even then. You know…”

And she finally has the courage to wipe his tears and press her lips to his big, puffy, chapped from being bitten at lips

And when they finally pull apart Eddie is so speechless and his hand comes up to brush over his lips, licking over them

Y/n is just proud she got the courage to kiss him, and she’s trying to focus even though she’s buzzing with excitement because the taste of him is still on her (which is cigarettes and apple juice)

“I love you, eddie. I actually love you. I know you have trouble trusting people but I would never do what she did to you. I really love you. More than a friend.”

“More than a best friend?”

“Yes!” She jumps up from her spot on the bed

“It’s not like a brother thing. You don’t see me like a brother?”

“No, Eddie! I’ve loved you since seventh grade. Do you know how crazy I’ve gone watching you date that girl. And you’ve been so fucking clueless all these years!”

Eddie finally has his “it was you all along” moment and grabs her hips, pulling her into him and kissing her like I’d be their last

And the next time Eddie takes y/n back to his trailer, looking all lovestruck while he holds Y/n close, leading her toward his bedroom

And Wayne sits there, drinking a cup of coffee

“I see you finally found out that girls in love with you. I thought you’d never figure it out, boy.”

Wayne definitely teases them 24/7 🤭

Okayyyyy!!! That’s all my thoughts!

Let me know yours if you have any!

:)

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 4

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: underage drinking

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

All my life, I’ve always found beauty in chaos. It has its way of following the boys and I around, constantly looming over our shoulders—overcast but responsible for many precious memories. When it becomes overwhelming, the knowledge that we’re always in it together makes everything seem smaller and possible.

This is the first time I’ve faced it alone.

Because growing up, you learn about two people loving each other. It’s impossible not to when it’s etched into our everyday lives—romcoms on the television, love songs on the radio, my mom and dad at home. The sacred marriage is traditionally shared between two and so, a variation of it hasn’t been discussed in the small redneck town of South Park.

I became terrified that there was something wrong with me, that I was terribly sick and in need of help. Because as far as I knew, no one else felt the same way. It scared me enough to the point where I just tried to suppress it, ignoring it in hopes that it’d somehow resolve itself and disappear. It’s frightening to think of because everyone wants someone to love and cherish. I knew I was different and I was scared.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When the girls delivered the news of my acceptance into the cheer team, I informed them of my commitment right away. This decision would’ve been surprising a month ago but it was an excellent method of distracting myself. Although I was initially bummed out at how lonely I felt when the boys became busy with football, not having to make an excuse to get some space from them turned out to be a godsend. Granted, they still didn’t know about cheer because our practices lined up perfectly.

The announcement of the first football game coming up led to excitement throughout the school but for me, it unknowingly set the gears in motion to ruin. It started with throwing myself into cheer, forcing myself to unhealthily strive for perfection. Coming home tired, I’d then immerse myself in homework. Pages upon pages of supplemental material that was not mandatory were then consumed when the upcoming coursework was finished. Sleep became rare because lying down in bed, waiting for sleep to overtake me allowed enough time for unwanted thoughts to consume my mind.

I felt numb, as if I was watching myself from the outside, screaming at myself and trying to take control but unable to. Stuck on auto-pilot, going through the motions of everyday life: school, practice, homework, repeat. My memory became hazy, tunnel vision forcing me to just forget. It started off small and back then, it was manageable. But now I feel like I’m floating, lost and alone.

Seeing the red mark on my paper, the low number felt like it was mocking me. My hands begin to clench in frustration, creases ripple throughout the offending material until small tears upon it begin to form. What use am I when I’m already so sick, if I can’t even get good grades with all the time spent forcing myself on books?

A failure, is what.

Disgusting, even.

Repulsive.

I shakily turn the doorknob, lightly closing the door behind me lest I make a sound. I rummage, digging deeper until I find the temporary salvation I’m looking for. Nervous tremors reverberate along my hand as I don’t want to get caught. Searching and searching until shaking digits feel smooth glass, cold yet inviting.

My brother’s hidden alcohol stash.

The amber liquid burns down the length of my throat, the stinging a welcome feeling because I deserve the pain. This is what I needed and although temporary, I finally feel a sense of euphoria. Laughter emerges through the hurt, steadily growing louder and louder. There’s this near overwhelming feeling in my chest and I feel drunk on happiness until my body starts to rack in erratic shudders. I’m sobbing, I realize.

I want to curl in on myself and die in the safe confines of my bathroom but I feel bile start to slowly rise in my throat. It feels like I’m throwing up my intestines but it’s nothing but stomach bile from the lack of food. I hunch over the toilet bowl, my head aches and my chest feels so heavy. I cough and try to loosen up the tightness I feel in my ribcage but nothing helps, tears continue making their way down my cheeks.

I feel so mangled, like nothing makes sense anymore. I feel utterly lost, like I’d have a better chance at surviving in a scorching hot desert by myself than this. I’m in such a state of oblivion that I don’t notice the crowd beginning to form in the bathroom. Hands grasp at my shoulders until I tiredly pick up my head from the toilet seat, not caring about how disgusting it is. How disgusting I am.

The toilet flushes and a hand softly wipes my mouth with tissues before a new one is gently patting my cheeks dry. The action proves to be futile as tears continue to pour, relentless in escaping the confines of my tired red eyes. These hands are taking care of me in a way that is so nurturing and tender that I can’t help but to feel like I don’t deserve this kindness. I weakly lift a hand and try to swat the person away, shame filling me to the core.

“Shh, it’s okay.” I’m somehow able to make out Tweek’s worried form from the tears blurring my vision. The boys are behind him and the amount of bodies have them spilling out of the door frame. They’re all watching the scene in front of them in horror, completely lost and feeling useless.

“Leave me alone.” I babble hysterically. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. I especially don’t want to see any of them. I only did this because no one was home, my parents out for date night. No one was supposed to be here.

The edge of cool glass touches my lips and I see that Butters is trying to gently urge me to take a sip of water. I don’t relent, my cries echo into the bathroom as the blonde’s other hand rubs soothing circles onto my back. Ripples of water touch my lips but I don’t allow them entry as sobs rack my entire body.

“Y/N, breathe.” I hear multiple voices in the background and I can’t discern who anyone is because this all feels like a dream, like a nightmare. I clench my eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to stop the tears.

I sob, “D-d-don’t touch me, you’ll get sick too.”

“It’s alright, baby. It’s probably just the flu or something.”

“No! N-not the flu.” I go back to hunching myself over the toilet bowl, bringing my arms up to settle my head into.

“What is it then, N/N?” I just shake my head in shame, my knee knocks over an empty can of beer in the process.

“We can’t help you if we don’t know what's wrong, babe. Tell us what’s wrong.”

I don’t respond, merely shaking my head again.

“You being sad makes me sad. Please, what’s wrong? We just want to help you feel better.”

Hands try to help guide me into a standing position but I let out a whine, refusing to budge. A sigh can be heard and I peek my head up to see my brother. He looks as lost as I feel.

“Will you at least talk to one of us if the rest of us leave?” He softly says and I feel bad, guilt consuming me. This is my problem, none of them should get dragged into it. Yet here they are, always sticking their noses into places they don’t belong.

I shrug.

“Y/N. Please.”

I burrow myself back into my arms, “Kyle.” I lowly mutter out.

Kyle, to me, is someone that I’ve always known to be both logical and empathetic. He’s a great older brother to both Ike and I, a person anyone can depend and rely on. He gives the best advice and his perspective on things always helps broaden mine. He’s always there to listen to me talk about anything or nothing at all.

Shuffling can be heard as everyone hesitantly disperses from the bathroom, the door shutting lightly behind them. I feel someone settle themselves behind me on the floor, their legs on either side of me. When I see that it’s the person I requested, I allow his arms to guide me into his caring embrace, leaning my head onto his chest.

He kisses the top of my head, and softly asks into tufts of hair, “What’s wrong?”

“Something’s wrong with me.” I hiccup.

“There’s nothing wrong with you... You don’t have to tell me now, okay? Just take your time. I’m here for you and I’m not going anywhere.” His arms tighten their hold around me.

I indulge myself in his comfort and burrow my face into the crook of his neck, seeking out his warmth against the contrasting cool tile lying underneath us. He doesn’t say anything when my sticky cheeks touch his skin.

“I love you.” He reassures me quietly despite the silence of the bathroom around us.

“And it hurts me to see you like this.” His voice cracks, making me feel worse. The kindness feels suffocating, consuming my body until I start to quickly gasp for air. Tears of frustration picks up, messily spilling their contents down already irritated cheeks.

It pains me to do this to the people that care, to push them away and hurt them when all I want is to surround myself in their solace. I try to speak up, babbling as hiccups start to rack my entire body.

“I can’t understand you, love.” Kyle softly says, “Take a deep breath, please.”

I desperately try to get some more air into me, one of my hands shoots out to shakily clutch at the material on his chest in an attempt to ground myself. “You’re doing good. Keep taking deep breaths for me, okay?”

I feel myself steadily calming down as I allow his soothing voice to guide me, focusing on the feel of fabric underneath my fingers, “There you go. Good job, beautiful. Tell me, what’s going on?”

“I’m sick.” It hurts me to say this because verbalizing my thoughts and feelings will speak it into existence, confirming that this is definitely real and that it’s actually happening.

“You’re not sick, N/N.” He patiently reassures me, his words of affirmation encourage me to continue.

“I am, Ky. I am. I’m disgusting.” I bitterly laugh, reciting the self deprecation I’ve been internalizing lately.

“No one thinks that of you, but tell me why you think you are.” I’m terrified to tell him and for Kyle to start hating me but I need to tell someone before I drive myself insane.

“I… I think I lo-... I think I like two different people… No, I know I like two different people.” I clench my eyes close, anxiety coursing through me as I await for his response. My heart beat starts picking up in pace and my hands begin to get clammy.

“... I don’t think I’m following. What's wrong with that? People have crushes on multiple people all the time.”

“No, no. It’s different.” I hesitate but with liquid courage still flowing through me, I decide that it’s now or never. “I think I like… Uh… Kenny… And Craig… Kenny and Craig… Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a moment too long and I start to worry.

“Wow, uh. I’d rather you not like anyone at all but I guess I’m just glad that it’s people I know and trust. This is still surprising though, I think I’m having a hard time processing this because I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you liking anyone.” It feels like a weight has been lifted off of my chest at the ushanka wearing teen’s words, his reaction a lot more mild than what I was expecting.

“You still don’t get it, Ky. Kenny and Craig. They’re not just crushes. I like them. Both of them, at the same time.”

“Okay, and?”

“It makes me feel bad… It makes me feel guilty because if for some reason, one of them were to ever like me back, I’d hate to ruin the years of friendship we have. To ruin the group dynamic and make things awkward if something were to happen.” I quietly confess.

“But most of all, I feel like I’m cheating on the other, I guess. I feel selfish. I know I’m not dating either of them but emotional cheating is still a thing. When I share a moment with one of them, I think about the other and feel terrible. I feel disgusting. I think to myself: how can I do this to him? It doesn’t feel fair to either of them. They don’t deserve that. They don’t deserve me. They deserve to be loved by someone who can wholeheartedly commit themselves to just them, someone who can devote all of their love to them.” My breathing starts to slowly increase as I continue, revealing my biggest concern and the current bain of my existence.

“How do I feel all of this for two people at the same time? What’s wrong with me, Ky? This makes me feel like a bad person but I can’t help what I feel for the both of them. I tried, and it won’t go away no matter what I do. Am I a bad person, Ky? Am I selfish?” Gasps of air start to resound the once quiet room as I struggle to inhale in my steadily mounting hysteria.

“Hey, hey. Everything will work out. Remember to breathe.” He patiently waits until I’ve calmed myself down.

“I can see why you’d feel that way. It’s completely valid but I think you’ll be just fine. The friendship between all of us isn’t that fragile and it’d take a lot to break it, so don’t worry. I’m actually kind of offended that you think so. If that were true, we would have dropped fatass a long time ago.” I lightly smile at the ginger’s words. Making fun of Cartman always cheers me up, it never fails.

“As for Kenny and Craig, I can’t say for certain on what's to happen. But I really don’t think you should feel guilty since you’re not officially committed to either of them. I think this just means you have a lot of love in you to give. And if it ever comes down to it, just be honest. Communicate.” He peers down at me, flashing me a warm smile in reassurance.  

“I just know that life gives us hard times, but you’re strong N/N. You’re gonna get through this and you’ll get through this with all of us because we love you and we care for you. You only feel so bad because you care about the both of them so much, pretty girl. They’re both so lucky to have you, we all are.” His grin grows wider, pearly white teeth making their appearance.

“... You think so?”

“Yup, I know so. We’re okay. You’ll be okay. We’ll always be okay.” He kisses the top of my head, gently squeezing the arms around me tighter.

“I’m so proud of you for telling me. And I’m so proud of you for being honest with your feelings. I know it must have been hard. I love you.”

“I love you too, Ky.”

When Kyle and I exit the bathroom, we’re surprised to find the guys waiting for us out in the hallway in worry. I apologize for worrying them as Butters and Clyde pull me into their arms, Tweek nervously hovering nearby for his turn. I catch Kyle’s eyes over the blonde’s shoulder and he tenderly smiles at me, miming himself zipping up his lips and I smile.

Stan doesn’t mention me making a dent in his precious stash and for that, I’m thankful. When he’s not looking, I hide a blunt in between his clothes to find later. That night, I sleep with my older brother, his arms wrapped around me and my head to his chest listening to the other half of me.

I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The day that everyone has finally been waiting for has come: the first football game of the season. Although things have gone back to normal (well, as normal as South Park can be) and I don’t need the distraction anymore, I’m still a member of the cheer team. And as a cheerleader, I’m required to wear the uniform to school as today is an official game day.

I leave the house early, before my brother even wakes up, and I catch a ride to school from Wendy. To my luck, there's a student council meeting today which is typically held an hour before school starts. I decide to take the time to wait it out in the library, seeking solitude in the quiet space. I know that the boys will eventually make the discovery but I’m going to do whatever I can to prolong the reveal.

My anxiety steadily climbs up as the time goes by and I wait until there’s just enough time to barely make it to class before the bell rings. I share homeroom with all of the boys and it’s the only class with all of us in it.

Adjusting my cheer bag, I take the time to correct my crooked bow and flatten my white, green, and black skirt. After scanning my appearance a final time in the bathroom mirror and making sure that everything is in place, I exit to see that there are only a few late stragglers in the almost desolate hallways. This prompts me to finally make the journey to class as no more detours can be made any longer.

I stare up at the door, my last barrier to the boys, and I silently curse at myself as I dreadfully realize that coming as late as possible means that all eyes will be on me when I make it through the door. I slowly push it open and take a tentative step into the classroom right as the bell rings, keeping my head down in a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety. But before I can get any step closer to my desk, the teacher calls me to his and I wince at my horrible luck.

“Ah, Ms. Marsh. A second please? Your science teacher received an assignment with no name on it and she wanted me to ask if it was yours. It looks like your handwriting so if it is, could you please write down your name on it? She won’t be here today so she left it with me yesterday. Hold on, let me look for it.” The teacher informs me, rummaging through the papers on his desk.

“Now, I know it’s here somewhere…” I internally scream at him to hurry the fuck up.

It’s quiet as the class waits for the morning announcements, only a few hushed conversations can be heard here and there as I awkwardly wait. The seconds go by and when I chance a glance at the clock on the wall, I can spot the guys from my peripherals. I’m presented with varying reactions of raised eyebrows or exaggeratedly dropped mouths. My cheeks redden and I quickly turn my head back to the teacher, fidgeting in place. When I get to my seat, the droning of the teacher gets interrupted as I feel a vibration from my pocket.

GROUP CHAT (EVERYONE)

ICantBeliveItsNot (Butters): thank you so much for helping me with my math hw, kyle! you’re such a thot :) <3

ElfKing (Kyle): I’m a WHAT??

ICantBeliveItsNot (Butters): a thoughtful person? eric taught me a new slang yesterday :3

HawkEyes (Clyde): Y/N!!!

HawkEyes (Clyde): UR IN CHEER?

HawkEyes (Clyde): ???

HawkEyes (Clyde): (picture of me at my desk in my cheer uniform)

HawkEyes (Clyde): (blurry picture  of me in my cheer uniform irritated, trying to grab Clyde’s phone)

HawkEyes (Clyde): ????????

HawkEyes (Clyde): or is this some type of sexy cosplay

HawkEyes (Clyde): cause i'm down for either, so

N/N: UR SO ANNOYING LEAVE ME ALONE CLYDE

N/N: I’LL SUE YOU FOR UNSOLICITED PHOTOGRAPHY

HawkEyes (Clyde): HOW CAN I NOT

HawkEyes (Clyde): !!!!!!!!!

HawkEyes (Clyde): (heart eyes emoji) (drooling emoji) (red faced emoji with a sweat drop and its tongue hanging out)

ElfKing (Kyle): Dude.

Congo (Tolkien): Tweek has some coffee if you need something to drink, thirsty ass.

PeruvianPuffPepper (Craig): lmk if ur cold, i’ll give you my jacket to put over ur legs

N/N: <3

PussyMagnet (Kenny): nah nah if you need a jacket take mine, pretty girl

PussyMagnet (Kenny): it’s bigger and bigger is always better ;)

PeruvianPuffPepper (Craig): i doubt urs is warmer w/ all those fucking holes in it

PussyMagnet (Kenny): fuck off, asshole

KrazyKrippled (Jimmy): i agree w/ clyde

KrazyKrippled (Jimmy): i’d come to school everyday if it meant seeing you in ur cheer uniform

GrandWizard (Cartman): no wonder ms. ugoo hasn’t been bitching about football practice taking up our time

ICantBeliveItsNot (Butters): can you fellas stop texting in class, i don’t want the girls sitting next to me to think i’ve got a vibrator up my ass again

ElfKing (Kyle): Huh?

Congo (Tolkien): Pause.

StantheMan (Stan): ur WHAT??

GrandWizard (Cartman): again? wdym again???

ICantBeliveItsNot (Butters): (smiling emoji with its hand covering its mouth)

KrazyKrippled (Jimmy): i-

GrandWizard (Cartman): i fucking hate you so much, butters.

Congo (Tolkien): Oh god, the mental image.

HawkEyes (Clyde): here, let this cleanse ur eyes

HawkEyes (Clyde): (image of me flipping the camera off in my cheer uniform)

HawkEyes (Clyde): (praying hands emoji)

PussyMagnet (Kenny): shit, baby girl

PussyMagnet (Kenny): amen.

N/N: fuck off clyde, my parents wanted me to join so i did

StantheMan (Stan): mom and dad did? since when?? how did i not know about this???

N/N: it’s cause ur actually adopted, stanley. even shelley knew

N/N: step up

HawkEyes (Clyde): who the fuck cares dude, look at this!

HawkEyes (Clyde): (blurry picture of my bare legs and my cheer skirt)

PeruvianPuffPepper (Craig): dude. can you fucking stop

HawkEyes (Clyde): stfu tucker, i saw you save these pictures

StantheMan (Stan): craig???

PeruvianPuffPepper (Craig): (middle finger emoji)

KrazyKrippled (Jimmy): to be fair stan, i think everyone did

GrandWizard (Cartman): you guys are the reason why Y/N is so delusional about not being ugoo

ElfKing (Kyle): STFU cartman, delusion is you calling yourself big boned when you’re really just fucking fat.

GrandWizard (Cartman): AYE!

PussyMagnet (Kenny): give sharon and randy my thanks, stan

HawkEyes (Clyde): for the both of us, pls and thank you

PussyMagnet (Kenny): yeah, i’ll have tweek bake them cupcakes or something as thanks

IHateGnomes (Tweek): wh aaAa ?? ?

N/N: this is why i didn’t tell you guys

ICantBeliveItsNot (Butters): ahhh, pouting Y/N in her cheer uniform!! so cute :D

HawkEyes (Clyde): TAKE A PIC

StantheMan (Stan): QUIT IT W/ THE FUCKING PICTURES

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

In celebration of winning our first game, the boys and I decided to celebrate at the Donovan residence. Glowing embers wash all of us in golden hues as we gather around the campfire we set up, the warmth a contributing factor to our red cheeks along with the stolen booze from our parents. The energy surrounding us is infectious as laughter rings all around us in the air, a wide smile etched onto every face. Low music plays in the background, food filling our stomachs as we begin to roast some marshmallows for s’mores.

A large hand creeps into my vision in silent invitation and my eyes follow up along its owner's arms until I see that it's Kenny standing over me. He flashes me a boyish smile and when I softly place my smaller hand into his, the blonde’s cheeks cutely scrunches up as his teeth start to show. When long fingers wrap around mine, he gently tugs me into a standing position and I escape from the warm confines of the wool blanket that I was sharing with Tweek.

He leads me away from the group, fingers intertwined, a reassuring squeeze as orange hues gradually fade away until darkness surrounds the two of us. Kenny takes off his parka and drapes it over my shoulders before nudging my arm to get me to climb up Clyde’s treehouse, my lips quirking up at his constant caring virtue. I playfully shoot him a look of warning before I start my ascent up the ladder and despite it all, he still lightly taps my ass in jest to let me know that he was indeed, checking me out.

Once we’ve both made it to the top of the wooden structure, he gently wraps his arms around my waist and softly sways us to the beat of the faint music that could still be heard from outside. I giggle as I place my arms around his shoulders, following his slow steps as we launguidly move to the melody playing down below.

“Keeping me all to yourself, McCormick?” I lightly tease, “We could’ve done this down there.”

“You caught me.” He smirks, moving his hands to find purchase at my hips as his thumbs lightly smooth over the skin under my shirt. Goosebumps arise at the sensation and he gently says, “We’ve all been busy lately and after everything that’s happened, I just figured that I didn’t want to let any more time slide like this. I caught a glimpse of what I failed to see and that’s all I needed. I’d trade in a thousand nights for just one with you, Y/N.”

I shyly smile at him, my cheeks slowly heating up despite the dropping temperature. The moonlight streams in through the open window, casting its luminescence over us. The light kisses the handsome visage of the boy in front of me, hugging his features and accentuating the sharp angles that make up Kenny McCormick. On a moonlit night like this, I don’t think I’ve ever seen stars as bright as I did at this very moment.

“Look at the stars, look how they shine for you and everything you do.” The blonde softly coos in time to the music, as our feet glide across the wooden floors.

Our faces are close enough that every small wisp of air that escapes his parted lips lightly touches mine, a ghost of a touch that I wish to release reckless abandon on. I long to dive in and embrace their warmth but I fear that if I do I may sink in too deep, never able to go back up for air.

This close, I study the deep blue of his striking eyes, every shade made apparent from the small distance between us. His eyes are ever expressive, able to articulate all on their own without his lips having to move. Because of this, I never knew why no one ever understood the blonde when we were younger and his speech was muffled from his parka. Their beauty draws in my gaze and at this very moment, I feel like my whole world is reflected in them.

I gasp, spotting something twinkling from the corner of my eye, “A shooting star! Make a wish, Ken!”

“Did you wish for anything?” I excitedly ask, a broad smile adorns my face.

He softly chuckles, gently caressing both of my cheeks with slender hands and pressing a kiss to my forehead. He keeps hold of the sides of my head as he says, “No. How could I? Everything I can ever ask for is right here. You’re a dream come true, Princess. Not much I need when my whole world is literally in the palm of my hands, not even all the money in the world.”

I shove my face in the crook of the teen’s neck in embarrassment, his arms wrap back around my waist as his chest rumbles in fond laughter. I softly sing back to him, “Every word feels like a shooting star, I’m at the edge of my emotions.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The girls and I have a spontaneous day out at the mall, treating ourselves out to gossip over manicures and some much needed retail therapy. Towards the end of the day, we decide on watching the latest romantic comedy that Bebe has been vying to watch, to which we all agree to see for the blonde’s sake and ours lest she complains nonstop. Exiting the heavy doors of the movie theaters, we’re treated to the sight of the mesmerizing, vibrant colors of the sun as it begins its descent to sleep.

Content with the day I just had, I then decide to stop by the shop of my favorite coffee connoisseur on my way home, humming to myself as I jump over every crease I find on the sidewalk in childish delight. Skipping in happiness, I twirl to the beat of the music coming from the headphones over my ears, my skirt flaring all around me at the movement. I abruptly stop as I faintly hear someone calling out my name and I scan my eyes for the source until I see one of my old friends from North Park High.

He crosses the street with a grin on his face, delight at spotting a friend shining through his eyes, “Oh my god! Y/N! I haven’t seen you since what, June?”

I giggle in joy and relish in the warmth of the teen wrapping his arms around me in greeting, “I missed you, Bradley!”

We enter Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse together and I head to the counter to order our drinks as the blonde grabs us a seat. “Hi Tweek!” I happily sing, making grabby hands at the teen behind the counter.

“Ack! My cutest customer!” He laughs, reaching out his non-dominant hand so that I can intertwine our fingers together, the unoccupied one taking my order on the screen. I giggle, “And your favorite!”

“My favorite customer is also the cutest customer! Ngh! Y/N! Who’s that?” The barista asks.

“Hmm? Oh, Bradley? He’s a friend back from my freshman year!” I excitedly inform him, watching as he swiftly makes our drinks. I’ve always found joy in watching him make beverages, his twitching momentarily seizing as he confidently goes through the motions deeply ingrained in his body. His long fingers are mesmerizing as they produce delicious concoctions, his serious expression handsome.

Settling myself at the table, Bradley and I catch up on my old classmates, ooh’s and ahh’s animatedly escaping my mouth as I listen to the latest news.

“I’ve missed you so much, Y/N.” He softly tells me behind the porcelain mug holding the sweet hot chocolate he elected to indulge in tonight.

I playfully punch his arm, gently smiling. “The phone works both ways, Bradley. You know I’m only a phone call or text away. We may not go to the same school anymore but you’re still my friend. I’d be happy to hang out and catch up whenever our schedules align.”

He chuckles and before he can respond, a screeching sound pierces through the quiet ambiance of the cafe as someone loudly pulls out the chair next to mine. Despite not having an invitation, a figure seats themselves at my side, a muscular arm settling itself over my shoulders. I glance to my right in bewilderment, seeing that the self-invited guest joining us is Craig.

The stoic teen lightly squeezes my shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to the side of my head. “Hi, babe. Who’s this?”

“Craig! What’re you doing here? This is a friend from my old school, Bradley!” I giggle at the pleasant surprise, wrapping my arm around his lower back at the waist to bring the two of us closer.

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you.” The blonde greets, confusion crossing his features as his eyes dart between the two of us.

“Hmm.” Craig completely disregards him, grabbing my cup and drinking from it.

“Oh, uh. So, how do you two know each other?” Bradley is caught off guard when the newcomer completely disregards returning his greeting. A nervous smile presents itself on his face at the impartial teen seated in front of him as he tries to continue the one-sided conversation.

When Craig doesn’t respond, I gently pinch his side to urge him to reply. “Huh? Oh, you’re still here. I’m her boyfriend. Right, babe?” He lands a swift kiss to my cheeks, plush lips touching rapidly heating skin as the hand belonging to the arm wrapped around my shoulder possessively grasps my chin to angle it towards him.

My head snaps towards the tall teen after his display of affection as Bradley vocalizes both of our thoughts, chuckling uncomfortably. “Boyfriend? I didn’t know Y/N had someone in her life like that.”

”Oh, you’re not close enough for her to have told you?” One of Craig’s eyebrows pettily lifts up, trying to make the North Parker insecure about his relationship with me.

”Ah, I-… The info must have gone over my head.” Bradley purses his lips, offering the teen in front of him a tight smile.

“Yep.” The chullo wearing teen offers no other words, continuing to sip at the stolen drink, a blank stare on his face.

This causes an awkward standstill in the conversation as I’m lost as to what’s happening, unable to provide any explanation to the confused North Parker. I look between the two boys, Bradley exuding nervous energy and Craig nonchalant. Eventually, the curley haired blonde quickly excuses himself from the oppressive atmosphere in a bid to escape.

“Boyfriend? What was that about?” I question in confusion, my head racking through my memories in panic to see if I forgot something as monumental as the Craig Tucker becoming my significant other. Did I accidentally confess to him the last time we got high or something?!

“Tweek texted us about you being on a date. I thought you went out with the girls today?” He quirks an eyebrow at me and my jaw drops.

“I was! I was just heading home when I ran into a classmate from my freshman year! And why are you guys keeping tabs on me like that?” I sharply turn my head to squint my eyes at Tweek. A clatter is heard as he drops something when he ducks behind the front counter, a shrill Gyah! accompanying the sound.

“You bumped into a guy from North Park, all the way here? Hmm.” It doesn’t sound like he believes me.

“Yeah! He was here because he had to-, wait… Were you jealous, Tucker?” I slyly ask even though my heart feels like its about to rip out of my chest and butterflies will escape through the subsequent opening.

“Of course I was.” He calmly says as he drains the last drops of my caffeinated beverage.

“Yes, you wer—what.” I’m caught off guard at his easy admission, ready to be annoying if he denied it.

“What? Why’re you so surprised?” He finally places the mug down, his undivided attention now on me.

“I just… Uh…”

“I thought you knew that I’ve always chosen you. And I’ll continue to choose you, over and over. Without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I’ll keep choosing you because for me, there’s only you. So of course I’d be jealous to see you with another boy like that.” My cheeks quickly heat up at his casual admittance.

I shyly mutter, voice soft. “Bradley’s just a friend, Craig. His parents sent him to Camp New Grace when he was younger.”

Recognition flashes through Craig’s eyes, remembering the homophobic Christian camp that Butters was sent to when his parents thought he was bi-curious.

“Ah.” Various shades of pretty red adorn the teen’s cheeks in embarrassment at the misunderstanding.

It was a funny thing. Feelings, and the way that they blossomed in places that they had no business being in. Those very specific stomach churning butterflies and skipped heartbeats were unmistakably there every time I found myself in Craig Tucker’s presence.

“Well, regardless if you were interested in him or not doesn’t change what I said. You are, and always will be, in my heart. You have it now, and you’ve had it since I first laid my eyes on you. You own the biggest part of me already and I would love for it to remain that way.” He averts his eyes, using his unoccupied hand to scratch the back of his head in embarrassment.

My cheeks begin to ache at the ever present smile that presents itself in the boy’s presence. I bring my hand up, gently intertwining my fingers with those on the hand wrapped around my shoulder and lean my head against him.

Whenever Craig says stuff like this, I can never find the words to properly express the elation I experience at his charming words. Happiness floods my entire being to the point that it feels like I’m drowning. Not a bad kind, it’s the most beautiful type of drowning a human being can ever experience. The one where it’s all inside my rapidly beating heart. If I could just rip my heart open and let him see my feelings, then maybe he’d know. Because it would take a lifetime of both actions and words to convey the fondness I feel for this boy.

Despite knowing him all my life, I’m still always in awe that I’ve been given the chance and opportunity to be in the presence of someone as aloof as Craig. Someone notorious around South Park for his cold attitude, never giving girls the time of day.

I’m abundantly grateful to have a person like him in my life that it’d be hard to show any measure of it. Sometimes you don’t need to say words to say what’s in your heart but for him, I want to try. I can only hope to convey at least a small fraction of that with all the things I’m capable of doing on this Earth.

And to start that, I order us another round of beverages and a dessert to share between us, if only so we can stay here, in this moment, a little longer.

song: [yellow - coldplay]

a/n: the song kenny sings along to was what inspired this scene so i highly recommend having this play when you read this section of the chapter!♡

[anonymousewrites]

Portal to My Heart (Book 3) Chapter One

Loki x Reader

Chapter One: To the TVA

Summary: (Y/N) and Loki arrive at the TVA, but their bodies keep distorting.

Mouse Note: Welcome back to Portal to My Heart! I know I've been looking forward to sharing this story for a long time, ever since the first episode of LOKI Season 2 came out. I know that for me this is going to be emotional since I love Loki and have been a fan of his character since I discovered Marvel. I am very happy with how this story turned out, and I'm so excited to show you all. So, please enjoy and comment your thoughts so I can interact and freak out with fellow fans (it also makes me want to keep posting haha). And thank you all for supporting me so far. You're the best and make writing worth it!

Previously…

            (Y/N) landed roughly next to where Loki was sitting, disheartened, in a TVA interrogation room. She cried out as her wound ached from hitting the ground.

            “(Y/N)!” Loki’s eyes widened in horror, and he rushed to her side, holding her tight against him. “Gods…did Sylvie do this to you?”

            “It was an accident,” coughed (Y/N). “But shit, it hurts.”

            “Someone!” cried Loki. “I need someone!” Cursing as no one came in, he lifted (Y/N) up and set out in search of help. “Keep your eyes open, everything’s going to be all right.” Loki brightened in relief as he saw Mobius, free of any bonds, speaking hurriedly to B-15.

            “Sixty-three new branches in this unit alone? Does he want us to just them all branch?” said Mobius to B-15.

            “Mobius!” shouted Loki, slowing to a stop. “We made a terrible mistake, and now everything’s gone wrong and (Y/N)’s hurt!”

            “What?” asked Mobius. His eyes widened as he saw the bleeding woman in Loki’s arms.

            “Freed the timeline, found the bastard, war…need to prepare…” murmured (Y/N), dizzy from blood loss.

            “I don’t know what happened to you analysts—” (Y/N) and Loki looked at him in confusion and alarm “—but we need to you to a medic, now!” Mobius flipped open his Tempad and called medics. “Now, who are you guys?”

            “What…?” breathed Loki.

            “We need boots on the ground, stat,” said B-15.

            Loki just sank to floor and held (Y/N) close as he realized they had really messed up. They could both see the statue looming over them on the elevator, not of the Time-Keepers, but of He-Who-Remains. Everything had gone wrong, and now they were in an even bigger mess. Loki took a deep, shuddering breath as he waited for the medics to arrive.

            “Please don’t leave me…” he whispered. “I need you here. You were right about everything. Please stay.” “It’s a pity she won’t live as long as you.” Loki’s heart clenched at the reminder of (Y/N)’s mortality. “You can’t die today, (Y/N). You can’t…because I love you.”

l

            “Hey, we’ve got a medic!” called Mobius, running back towards Loki with B-15 and a medic at his side.

            Loki stood and picked up (Y/N). No, no, he needed to protect them. This Mobius didn’t know them. If this was some other reality or something, he couldn’t trust them to heal her. He needed to escape, get somewhere where he could help (Y/N) and make sure they recovered.

            “Hey, where are you going?” asked Mobius.

            B-15’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at them. “They’re not analysts. They’re variants.”

            That settled it. Loki ran, holding (Y/N) tightly to him.

            “Wait!” shouted Mobius, running after him.

            Loki ignored him and ran. B-15 ran in front of him with Minutemen behind her.

            “Hold it right there, Variant!” shouted B-15.

            “Mobius, it’s me. I’m not a variant. Well, I am, a little, but we’re friends, we know each other,” pleaded Loki.

            “I don’t know you,” said Mobius. Around Loki, the Minutemen grabbed their pruning sticks.

            Loki did the only thing he could and threw himself out the window. He held (Y/N) tight as they fell and wished that he had his magic to make sure they were protected. They hit a truck hard, and Loki and (Y/N) groaned. His heart jumped in his chest. They were barely responsive, but they were still there.

            Maybe…Maybe their abilities will let them survive. Loki dearly wished that was true, but even if it was, in the TVA, there was no magic. There was no way for them to survive even if there was a chance.

            The driver screamed and panicked upon seeing them. The truck hit the side of a building, crashing through a window. Loki and (Y/N) were thrown from the back of the truck, and Loki tucked (Y/N) into his chest so he hit the ground harder than them.

            Loki grunted and stood up, holding (Y/N) up. They were struggling to keep their eyes open. It was clear that they had no idea what was happening as their blood loss got to their head. It was partly a relief since that meant his confession wouldn’t be remembered. Loki had spoken in the that of the moment, but now was not the time to be dealing with that, as much as he wanted to. (Also, Loki was awkward and a bit nervous).

            “We’re fine. We’re fine,” muttered Loki as TVA workers stared at them. Behind him, the truck tipped back out the window. Everyone watched in horror as it fell to the ground below and landed with an echoing crash. Loki coughed. “She’ll be fine.”

            The TVA timeline display landed on the ground and cracked it. The people gasped. Loki panted in exhaustion and looked down at (Y/N)’s nearly unconscious form.

            “Level five intruders,” announced the PA system. “They’ve hopped into a mail cart and descended to the lower level.”

            “Casey,” breathed Loki in relief as one man drew closer.

            “Have we met each other?” asked Casey in confusion.

            “Casey, help us. Please, tell me you know what’s going on,” said Loki. “Don’t you remember us?”

            “I got them! I got the intruders!” said Casey nervously into his communicator. “I got the intruders!”

            Loki’s eyes widened, and he backed up worriedly. And then his entire body distorted. (Y/N) groaned and winced as her already exhausted body glitched alongside him.

            They disappeared from the room with Casey and reappeared in another room of the TVA. Loki looked around himself in confused and checked on (Y/N), making sure nothing bad had happened to her when they distorted. To his dismay, it was clear the energy going to keeping her alive was getting exhausted by the glitching.

            “Loki. (Y/N).”

            Loki looked up in relief to find himself in the same room, just decorated differently, and Casey looking down at them.

            “What? Just a second ago, you didn’t know us,” said Loki in confusion. “Casey. Casey. Casey, something terrible is happening.” He pulled (Y/N) closer. “Please.” He trailed off when he noticed a crack on the floor from where he had just seen the TV display fall. Only now it was hanging up again. “Has…Has that always been there?”

            “The crack? It’s been there as long as I can remember,” said Casey.

            Was it possible that time had passed? When Loki and (Y/N) glitched? But that was impossible. And yet…

            “We were in the past,” breathed Loki in realization. He shook his head. “No, no, it doesn’t matter now. Please, Casey. (Y/N) needs help.”

            Casey nodded shakily and ran to call someone.

            Loki sank to his knees in relief and held them close. “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll be alright. I’ve got you.” Before he could rest, though, they distorted again.

            They landed in front of Casey, and Loki stumbled, holding (Y/N). He nearly cursed but just looked to Casey. “Casey, where is Mobius?”

            “He’s…in the War Room,” said Casey, staring at Loki and (Y/N), bloody and tired.

            Loki stumbled to the War Room and kicked the door open. No one was in there, and he groaned. In his arms, (Y/N)’s heads lolled and hit his chest. Her consciousness was completely gone. That meant her life was really in danger. He needed to find Mobius.

            Loki stared at the carvings of He Who Remains on the wall of the War Room and felt anger course through him. HWR was still haunting him.

            And then he and (Y/N) glitched, and he nearly collapsed as he appeared back in the War Room. This time, Mobius, B-15, and several other TVA members were staring at them. He grunted in pain.

            “Loki? (Y/N)?” said Mobius, eyes widening as he saw their states.

            “Mobius! You know us!” cried Loki.

            “Where the hell were you two?” asked Mobius worriedly.

            “Help us,” said Loki, pulling (Y/N)’s body closer to him. “Please. A moment ago, you didn’t know us. Tell me you know who we are.” Behind them, a Minuteman went to attack, and B-15 blocked him.

            “Yes, yes,” assured Mobius.

            “Everyone, stand down!” shouted the general of the TVA, Dox.

            “Please, Mobius, we found him, but (Y/N)’s hurt, and we keep disappearing, please, she’s dying, please help her—” Loki’s rambles continued.

            “Hey, hey, who did you find?” asked Mobius in confusion.

            “Him.” Loki looked at the wall where the carvings of HWR had been a moment before. He handed (Y/N) to Mobius, who was startled but held them, and grabbed the pruning stick from the Minuteman.

            “Loki?” asked Mobius, glancing down in horror at (Y/N)’s bleeding stab wound.

            “Get back!” said Loki when the hunter tried to attack. Then, he stabbed the stick into the wall, and the mosaic of the false Time-Keepers burned away to reveal HWR’s face carved into the wall. The truth of the TVA hidden just beneath the surface. “That’s who built this place!” shouted Loki. “That’s who stole your lives! That’s who’s coming back!” He stared at Mobius pleadingly. “Now, please, get (Y/N) help. Please.”

l

            “She’s going to be okay. The medics say the wound will scar, but otherwise, she’ll be alright,” said Mobius as Loki hovered at (Y/N)’s bedside.

            She still looked so still. Loki didn’t want to leave (Y/N) for a moment. He needed to watch over her, protect her, succeed where he’d failed.

            “Loki. We need to talk about what happened,” said Mobius.

            “I need to make sure she’s alright,” said Loki fiercely.

            “Okay, okay,” said Mobius. He sat down next to Loki. “We’ll talk here. That way you know how she’s doing.”

            Loki nodded shakily. “Right. Right.”

            “So what happened? The last thing I knew, you guys were going to face the cloud monster,” said Mobius in concern.

            “Alioth?” said Loki. He shook his head. “Alioth was a distraction. He was a guard dog. We found him. A Citadel at the End of Time.”

            “But where’s Sylvie?” asked Mobius.

            Loki’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. She’s still there. She…She stabbed (Y/N) trying to kill He Who Remains. She’s the reason she’s like this right now…We just wanted time to think, and Sylvie wouldn’t just stop, and now (Y/N)’s…” Loki was spiraling, and he slumped over. “It was an impossible choice, but she seemed so certain. How could she be given the circumstances?”

            “Okay, okay, slow down, Loki,” said Mobius calmingly. “You wanted time to think, so let’s think.”

            Loki took a deep breath and looked at Mobius. “Mobius, we got the man at the End of Time, and he made sense. We thought it was about freeing the Timeline, but that brings only more malevolence, more violence, more war. More of him. They’re coming. They’re all coming. ‘You came to kill the devil.’ ”

            “I don’t understand,” said Mobius.

            “Maybe he was,” murmured Loki. “But maybe he wasn’t. Sylvie was convinced he was. We fought, Mobius. She kicked me through a Time Door, and she and (Y/N) fought, and (Y/N) got hurt, and then Sylvie kicked her through, and…”

            “Well, I’d ask who won…” remarked Mobius.

            Loki huffed. “It was a draw.”

            “You all kicked each other through Time Doors simultaneously?” said Mobius.

            “No. (Y/N) and I were actively trying not to fight her,” said Loki. “That’s why (Y/N) was hurt…” He looked at her and reached out to her. He drew his hand back awkwardly. “She was trying to stop Sylvie. She was trying to kill him.”

            “Stop, relax,” said Mobius. “(Y/N) is going to be fine. She’s alright. Look, just calm down.”

            “I just wish I had tried harder,” said Loki ruefully. “I wish we’d had more time.”

            “Don’t do the coudlda-woulda-shoulda. Focus on what we know,” said Mobius.

            “War is on its way,” said Loki. “That’s what we know. I have no idea if he was right about everything because his variants are on their way! It was about preventing more of them! There was no simple choice, no other way.”

            “That’s who you showed us in the War Room?” asked Mobius.

            “He Who Remains,” said Loki, nodding. “This is his kingdom. And he says he keeps us safe, but how can you believe that? He built this place.”

            “No, how would I not remember that,” said Mobius. “How could he—”

            “He wiped your memories.”

            Loki’s head whipped to the cot where (Y/N)’s eyes were open and she was trying to sit up. Instantly, Loki was by her side and supported her. In relief, he saw that the wound was healing well due to the TVA’s technology.

            “You’re alright,” said Loki.

            (Y/N) smiled at him and covered his hand with her own as he helped her. “Of course. A stab isn’t going to keep me down.”

            “We’re glad you’re okay,” said Mobius, smiling.

            “Thanks,” she said, nodding. She frowned. “But what happened? Last thing I remember was falling through the Time door…”

            Loki stared at her. She didn’t remember. (Y/N) couldn’t recall his confession of love. The injury had been too much, and she had no idea what had happened. Part of Loki was disappointed since he couldn’t get her response, but the other part of him was thankful. He had no idea how to tell her again, how to deal with everything. (Y/N) was the person he loved, and he wasn’t sure how to tell her again, and with all the chaos going on, Loki was afraid of adding more to it.

            But he wanted to tell her. So, so badly.

            (Y/N) frowned and touched her chest. “And it felt like I was coming apart at the seams.”

            “We, uh, glitched?” said Loki. “I’m not entirely sure, either.”

            “Is that how you appeared in the War Room?” said Mobius in confusion.

            “Yes,” said Loki. “Well, partly. We were in the past.”

            “Don’t you mean the End of Time?” said Mobius.

            “No, we were in the War Room already,” said Loki.

            Mobius looked at (Y/N) in confusion, and she shrugged. “I believe Loki, but I was way too out of it to know what was happening.”

            Loki was once again torn from disappointment that he still didn’t know how she felt and relief that the chaos of feelings wasn’t involved in the difficult situation developing.

            “We were in the past,” reiterated Loki, shaking himself from his thoughts and looking at Mobius.

            “What do you mean in the past? Where?” said Mobius in confusion.

            “Here, in the TVA,” said Loki.

            “No, there is no past TVA,” said Mobius, shaking his head. “Time doesn’t work like that here.”

            “It does, it’s happening to us,” said Loki.

            “It’s impossible,” said Mobius.

            “It’s possible,” said Loki.

            “No, it’s not,” said Mobius.

            As if on cue, Loki and (Y/N)’s bodies distorted and came back together. They disappeared from the room, appeared in the same one but empty, and then popped out of existence again, reappearing in front of Mobius. (Y/N) groaned at the sensation. It was painful, but at least she wasn’t bleeding out.

            How skewed are my priorities that my cells rearranging is preferable to a stab wound? thought (Y/N). “See that? I think that confirms Loki’s story,” she muttered.

            “Uh, yeah, I saw it,” said Mobius.

            “Yeah? What does it…What does it look like?” asked Loki.

            “It looks…” Mobius grimaced. “I mean, how does it feel?”

            “It’s not that bad,” said Loki, lying.

            “I think my cells are getting spliced,” muttered (Y/N), brutally honest as ever.

            “I think (Y/N)’s assessment is better than yours,” said Mobius, looking between (Y/N) and Loki. “And we definitely need to get you help. Let me call Miss Minutes.”

            “No,” said (Y/N) and Loki sharply.

            “What?” asked Mobius.

            “You can’t trust her,” said (Y/N).

            “Are you sure?” said Mobius.

            “Pretty sure,” said (Y/N). “She was there with him at the End of Time.”

            “We still need to get your guys checked out,” said Mobius. “Yeah, let’s swing you by Repairs and Advancement. Come on.”

            “(Y/N) needs to rest,” said Loki instantly.

            “I’m fine,” said (Y/N), standing. “The tech did enough; it was just blood loss.”

            Loki hovered nervously. “Are you sure?”

            “Yes, Loki,” said (Y/N), glancing at him with a fond smile. She looked down at her torn shirt from the stab wound. “But, uh, I do want a new shirt.”

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