#like I actually CAN back up the case for getting rid of billionaires in fact it’s a very easy argument

[hella1975]

me and my sister were watching the news last night and i was casually in the way you are when talking to family and not before an official debating panel like ‘we should just axe all billionaires’ and my sister got mad? she was like ‘no one will listen to you if you say crazy stuff like that’ babygirl you want crazy london is ON FIRE

[qqueenofhades]

Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.

[phantoms-lair]

I know very little about Leverage as a show except for what I've read on your tumblr. But I've been on a crossover spree, and from what I've learned about Leverage? My mind suggested a crossover with Danny Phantom while reading your tumblr. If only to bring down Vlad, and to help a trio of TEENAGERS defending a town.

Mr. Lancer took a sip of the coffee offered him and glanced at the people facing him. He didn’t know what they could do, didn’t know what anyone could. But he was out of options, so he had to try.

“Last year Daniel Fenton entered Caspar High as a freshman. His sister was a joy to teach and I’d hoped he’d be the same. And while he didn’t have her raw genius, he was a bright inquisitive boy who was fascinated by space and dreamed of being an astronaut.” “Then in mid fall he changed overnight. That’s not hyperbole. There was some sort of accident, no one ever got any details as far as I know. But suddenly Mr. Fenton was withdrawn and skittish. He also became incredibly clumsy, ending up being banned from holding things like glass test tubes and beakers. He also skipped his homework and fell asleep in class. Any one of those things wouldn’t be odd for a teenager, but all at once?” “At one point we hired a school psychologist. I hoped she’d help, but it turns out taking Mr. Fenton there was the worst thing I could have done. That...that bitch was using her skill in psychology to manipulate the students into states of apathetic depression, which I’m sorry to say it seems many other school districts translated as ‘good behavior’. She was chased out, but the odds of Mr. Fenton trusting an adult, especailly one of the faculty, because nil to none.” Nate listened. He hadn’t heard anything they really could help with. His first impulse when he heard about the mysterious accident was that Danny’s behavior was linked to something his parents had done, yet that didn’t seem to be were Lancer was headed. “I made some small attempts, but nothing became clear till spring, when Amity Park got a new resident. One who was, it seemed, an old friend of the Fenton family. And what became immediately and readily apparent was Mr. Fenton- Daniel that is, not his father, loathed the man. One could not even mention his name without seeing the boy tense. His sister actively tried to keep him away from the man, seeming angry and scared in turn. I made a discreet inquiry to the Fentons and Jack, Daniel’s father, mentioned said friend had lost contact with him, but they’d gotten back in touch. Last Fall.”

The insinuation couldn’t be clearer. “Mr. Lancer, who is this friend.?” Nate asked. It had to be someone powerful, or else the man would have gone to child services at least. Lancer scowled. “Vlad Masters.”

“Vlad Masters, as in CEO of Dalv Vlad Masters?” Sophie clarified.

Lancer nodded tightly, anger etched on his face.

Hoo boy, This wasn’t going to be easy, but not the worst they’d done either. “Mr. Lancer, what is it you want us to do?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Protect the children. Ideally drag that rat bastards name through the mud and cost him every cent of his billions. But above everything else, protect the children.” He took a deep breath. “But you need to be aware of what happened in November. Our Mayor was up for election and Masters, despite only living in Amity Park a few moths threw his hat into the ring. He shouldn’t have had any chance and yet he won - by a unanimous vote.”

“Little obvious he fixed it,” Elliot commented.

“If it were just that...I remember going to the polls that day. I remember showing my ID. However, I have no recollection of actually voting. I can tell you for a fact I was fully intending to vote for Montez, but the truth is I can’t say for sure what I did in that booth.” 

That...was significantly more worrying.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Lancer. Handling these cases is what we do.” Nate stood and shook his hand. He and the team had planning to do.

~

As soon as the client left, Hardison was on his feet, pacing the room trying to get rid of all the nervous energy he’d had building the moment he’d head that name. “I know him.”

“You know Vlad Masters?” Parker asked. “Have you hacking his system already? I was getting ready to rob him right before Dubenich.”

“No. The kid. Danny Fenton. I know him. He’s...he’s best friend with my nephew. There’s some billionaire bastard targeting kids and Angela’s baby boy is right there.” His voice was thick with emotion and it was obvious he was trying to hold back tears.

Sophie put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that.” Hardison snapped.

“It’s going to be okay.” Elliot repeated, putting his arm around Hardison’s shoulder. “Because we’re going to make it okay.”

“It’s what we do.” Parker chirped, hugging all three of them.

Nate didn’t join in the hugging, but he did catch Hardison’s eye and nodded. “Let’s go steal a billionaire’s peace of mind.”

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Under My Skin (Ethan x MC)

Warning: 18+, NSFW

Summary: Set in the middle of chapter 6, Ethan and Naomi have it out over the current state of the diagnostics team.

Tags: @colourmeshy @virtualrain202 @fanmantrashcan @writinghereandthere @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune ~v~

Naomi stares at the textbook in front of her, eyes tired and blurry. She checks the time on her cell phone and 3:22 AM stares back in bold, white letters. Craning her head slightly, she spots Ethan standing at his kitchen island, looking at something on his laptop. 

She never thought she’d be back in his apartment, but he invited the entire diagnostics team over so they could get some research done on Leland Bloom’s case. Ethan wants it to be solved as quickly as possible, and he wants to be rid of the tech billionaire, so after work they all congregated in his apartment, eating Chinese food, drinking wine, passing around textbooks and throwing out theories. 

They’ve been at it for almost 6 hours now. 

The energy in the room is off. Ethan’s been pissed ever since the board told him they’d need to be for-profit and start accepting wealthy clients and potential donors, and everyone feels it. June, Baz, and Naomi have been walking on eggshells around him, but aside from occasional snark from Naomi, they’ve been extremely curt.

Jenner likes her though. The golden retriever took a shine to her the moment she crossed the threshold to Ethan’s condo, sniffing at her feet and attaching himself to her hip. He’s now lounging with her, head in her lap and she pours over this book, and she’s glad. The friendly dog provides an excellent distraction and Naomi is thankful, because his owner currently sucks.

Naomi has dealt with a lot of Ethan’s moods before: upset, defeated, angry, happy, the works. But she’s never had his ire directed at her before. They’re in this mess because of her, and it’s a tricky space to occupy. It’s not fun.

“As much as I love reading, if I look at another word, I think my brain might melt,” June says, breaking the tense silence. She stifles a yawn.

“I’ve tapped out for the night as well,” Baz adds. “I’ve looked up every possible kidney and bladder disease and disorder known to mankind. I’m on sensory overload. I think it’s time I go home.”

Ethan looks up from his laptop. He knows his team is probably exhausted. He can’t believe they’ve actually stayed over this long. “Well, thank you for staying. Go home, get some rest, I’ll see you at the hospital.”

June and Baz gather their belongings and all of the study material they brought along with them, returning Ethan’s living room to its original tidy state. Muttering goodbyes, the two of them exit the apartment. 

And then there were two. Naomi ignores the tension, ignoring the fact that they haven’t been alone together in over a week. Instead, she buries her face in her book, trying to focus on the words.

Ethan doesn’t bother sparing Naomi another glance before asking, “You didn’t want to leave with them?”

“Why, are you about to go to bed?”

“No.”

“Then, no.” She’s not going to stop now, and give him the satisfaction of thinking she’s given up for the night. Her stubbornness won’t allow it. “I don’t want to disrupt the process. I want this guy diagnosed and treated as badly as you do.”

Ethan scoffs. “I doubt it.”

Naomi has been giving as good as she gets when it comes to the passive aggressive snark, but it’s just exhausting at this point. She refuses to be his emotional punching bag any longer. She whips around in her seat. “God, is being a petulant little crybaby a second full-time job for you?”

That manages to get Ethan’s full attention. He levels a cool glare at the young resident, eyebrow raised in challenge. “You’ve gotten real comfortable calling me out of my name recently. Care to repeat that, Valentine?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Ramsey. You’re being a petulant little crybaby. You’ve been trying to pick a fight with me for the past 2 weeks. Look, I apologized, multiple times, for going behind your back or over your head, but I will not apologize for doing what I believe is right, not just for the team, but the hospital.”

“And you’re an insubordinate know-it-all!” Ethan shoots back. “You’re the type to touch the hot stove despite being repeatedly told not to because you think you’re a special snowflake who’s above getting burned. You lack foresight and analytical thought and self-preservation.”

Naomi recoils, having not expected Ethan to snap at her like that. “Excuse me?”

Jenner recognizes the change in tone between both adults. Not wanting to be caught in the crossfire, he moves from his spot on the couch and trots out of the living room, disappearing into the hallway.

“You thought this was going to be easy, that patients would just come flocking to us, but look at us, and everything would be perfect. We’re part of some social media...something or another’s video diary, we’re competing with a subpar hospital for patients despite being better than them, wasting time and resources because he wants to treat this like a reality show contest, and who knows what’s next, because you’ve opened Pandora’s box. We’re whoring ourselves out to the highest bidder, and the integrity and core foundation of this team has been compromised. So please spare me the martyr act, Naomi, and while you’re at it, please remember that I’m still your boss the next time you want to spout off at the mouth.”

Naomi’s hands are shaking, and she can practically feel the anger boiling in her blood. The nerve of this man. She stands up, ignoring the heavy book that fall out of her lap and onto the floor as she does so. She charges over to him, and sizes him up. Ethan’s almost a foot taller than her, but Naomi doesn’t care about the height disparity. She tilts her head back so she can look him in the eye.

“I’m not a martyr, but you’re a self righteous hypocrite. You’ve been pouting and waxing poetic about Naveen’s mission when you were the first one to mess with his legacy.”

Ethan’s nostrils flare at the accusation. “Excuse me?”

“Last year, you got into bed with Declan Nash and big pharma, compromising your own shaky moral code in order to save the life of one person. I’m trying to keep the team around in order to save a lot more people than just Naveen!”

“That was different!” Ethan argues. It doesn’t even feel right coming out of his mouth, but they’re far too deep in the argument for him to do anything besides dig his toes in.

“The only difference is you were the one in control then. But because it is my idea, you’re rejecting it. You’re being completely unreasonable here, Ethan. We’re standing in the middle of a sinking ship. Edenbrook is in trouble. My friends and I didn’t get our new salaries upon becoming residents, there’s talk of them shutting down the free clinic, and they’ll be coming after our team next. Who knows, maybe they’ll decide that mental health isn’t important and the entire psychiatric department should go. And then the nurses. And then they’ll start ordering less and less supplies, just to stay above water. And maybe you don’t care, because you’re Ethan Ramsey, you’re so wealthy that you only get a one dollar salary from the hospital, you’re established, your livelihood isn’t on the line, and I’m sure any hospital in the world would kill to employ you, but the rest of us? The little guys? We don’t have that option, so again, if you’re looking for me to kiss your ass and grovel because I made an executive decision, you’re going to be looking for a mighty long time.”

Ethan studies her, his gaze coolly fixated on her as she rants because he’s waiting for the second she stops talking, so he can jump back into his own argument. He realizes that it’s not an effective way to debate, and he falters slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Naomi goads, her voice taking on a singsong tone. She’s embroiled in the fight now. “Cat got your tongue?”

In his 37 years of living, Ethan can confidently say Naomi Valentine is the most infuriating woman he’s ever met. A stubborn, impulsive, hot-head with a smart mouth. 

And fuck, he’s made a mistake.

Her mouth. Now his gaze is fixated on it, her full lips that she’s repeatedly bitten down on during this argument, the tackiness of her lip gloss, the way her tongue darts in and out.

Their argument is now the furthest thing from his mind, and he’s actually annoyed by it. What is it about this…woman that completely bewitches him? He wants to argue, not be transfixed on how pretty she is. She doesn’t even have to do anything and he’s under her spell again. 

A sharp jab in the middle of his chest pulls Ethan back to reality. He looks down and realizes that Naomi poked him in the chest, out of anger or to get his attention, he’s not sure.

“Hey!” The fact that he’s ignoring her only makes her more incensed. He started this fight, he doesn’t get the right to dissociate and shut down in the middle of it. “Have you listened to a word I just said?”

“No,” Ethan answers honestly. Naomi’s eyes darken at the response. He didn’t say that to piss her off further, but he won’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy the sight.

He can tell she’s going to launch into another tirade, one that’s completely separate from their original issue, because that’s just how things are between them; they spiral before either of them knows what’s happening.

Before she can even fix her mouth to call him another name, his hand cups her jaw, tilting her head back, and he slants his mouth over hers, kissing her fiercely.

She gasps. This is the first time he’s ever caught her off guard and initiated a kiss. She’s usually the one to be in control.

All too quickly, Ethan pulls back, locking eyes with the young woman in front of him. She’s dazed, chest heaving and eyes glazed over.

“Did you do that to get me to stop talking?”

“No, I kissed you because I wanted to. But the fact that it got you to stop running your mouth is a personal bonus.”

Naomi huffs, but doesn’t say anything else. God, he could be such an asshole at times.

“I want to do it again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His blue eyes pierce into her own, and it suddenly becomes hard to focus on anything other than him. “Can I?”

She doesn’t know why it’s so sexy, him asking for permission, but she feels the butterflies in her stomach rumble at the question. She’s barely able to nod her head before Ethan launches himself at her, sending her flying back into the kitchen counter.

It’s so different from any other kisses they’ve shared. This one she can feel all the way down in her toes. His tongue darts out, gliding against her bottom lip and demanding access to her mouth, which she eagerly grants him.

Everything about him invades her senses: the feel of his calloused hands touching her jaw, the scratch of his beard against her face, the smell of his cologne (something by Gucci that she’s been yet to narrow down), his taste (she can still taste the wine on him, even though he drank it earlier), his sounds (the little groans that only she’s privy to, always gravelly and smooth, that make her knees buckle). It all culminates into this one man that is so all-consuming, it makes her lose her mind.

The kisses become shorter, more teasing, allowing Naomi the opportunity to actually breathe. He leaves kisses along her jaw and neck, making her whimper.

Ethan wraps an arm around Naomi’s waist and spins them, pushing her against the wall. She winces upon contact. “Warn a girl next time.”

“You want to know what’s been on my mind recently?” Ethan asks, nipping at Naomi’s earlobe.

“W-What?”

His hands find purchase underneath the grey Henley she’s wearing and he lifts it up. Her stomach clenches under his touch and it’s maddening just how responsive she is to him. “I haven’t been able to get the sight of you out of my mind since I came to pick you up from your apartment the other day.” With trembling fingers, Naomi helps him remove the shirt, and it’s tossed somewhere behind them.

She’s not wearing the grey bra he saw the other day, this one is a soft pink, and he groans at how it contrasts against her skin. There isn’t a color that doesn’t look good on her. “I stood there…” he only pauses to place opened mouthed kisses on her collarbone. “...like a floundering idiot…” this time he kisses slightly lower, earning a sharp inhale from Naomi. The noise does nothing to soothe the erection straining in his jeans. “...while you decided to tease me.”

“You’re the one who decided to stay,” Naomi shoots back with a shrug. “So I had to put on a little show.” He hums in agreement. His tongue darts out, flattening over her lace covered nipple. “Fuck, just take it off!”

“You still have no patience,” Ethan observes. He yanks at the material, until he hears a loud tear.

“That’s La Perla!”

Ethan blinks, struggling to find the significance in that statement. Was it supposed to mean something to him? “Okay?”

“It was expensive, you jerk!”

“I’ll buy you 10 more,” he replies with a shrug before resuming his previous activity, pulling one of her nipples between his lips, sucking lightly. Naomi’s breath comes out in quick bursts, and it’s becoming harder for her to stay grounded to reality. She reaches out, wanting to touch him, but he intercepts, catching her wrist. “Hands to yourself, Valentine.”

Ethan’s fingers make work of the button holding her jeans together, and he drags down the zipper. He yanks at her jeans with the same care he afforded her shirt and bra, tugging them down until they pool at her feet. Naomi does the rest of the work, hopping around until the pants are fully off.

“You and the thin scraps you call underwear, have been driving me insane all week,” Ethan confesses. “The other day when I came to pick you up, part of me was so mad at you because of your blatant defiance, but the other part of me wanted to push you onto that bed, and do very, very inappropriate things to you.”

The wetness that floods her panties is overwhelming. She clenches her thighs together in hopes of alleviating some of the tension, but it doesn’t help. Figuring out a new strategy, she wraps a leg around his waist, pulling him flush to her. She rolls her hips, grinding into him. The growl that escapes his lips only fuels her and strokes her ego. “You should’ve.”

Ethan kisses her again, reveling in the needy way Naomi claws at him. Her fingers are desperate, fingering into his t-shirt, twisting at the fabric. He’s unsure if she wants to take it off, or if she’s impatient enough to say ‘fuck it,’ and just rip it.

Whatever the case, he doesn’t let her continue. Grabbing both of her hands, he forces them on either side of her. “You really do have a problem with listening. No. Touching.”

The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down her spine, but whatever rebellious side of her that wants to challenge the command is squelched with one look into his eyes. She can tell he means business and now isn’t the time to challenge his authority.

With restraint she didn’t know she had, Naomi places her palms on the hall behind her, and she stays as still as she can.

“Good girl.” Ethan smirks and drops her hands. He untangles himself from her and steps back an inch to admire his work. “You followed directions for once.”

Whatever smart aleck reply that was about to fly from her mouth is stifled by Ethan pulling her soaked underwear down and slipping two digits past her folds. The noise she lets out is a mixture of a high pitched yelp and a strangled moan, something that threatens to choke her.

The pace he sets is random and uneven, never giving Naomi a chance to settle into a rhythm, and she wonders if this is his way of punishing her, keeping her keyed up and writhing on him for what feels like eternity, trapped in her own form of purgatory.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and bucks her hips wildly into his hand, trying to keep pace with him.

“Stop doing that,” Ethan demands, using his free hand to pull her lip out of her mouth. “I want to hear you, Rookie.”

Something about the use of her former nickname makes her moan, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Ethan.

“You like the nickname,” he states. “It’s funny, you know.  You take every opportunity to defy me, argue with me, and push my buttons, yet you get off on me controlling you.”

She can’t focus. He’s too close, it feels too good, and her brain can’t function properly under these conditions. He presses forward, the heel of his palm pressing into her clit, earning a hiss.

“Admit it.”

At this point Naomi would admit to committing armed robbery if it meant he’d keep doing this. She nods frantically. “Yes, Doctor.” He groans at the use of his title, and he pumps harder, curling his fingers inside of her. 

Naomi stands on tiptoes and desperately claws at the wall behind her. “Fuck Ethan, please!”

“Please, what? What do you want?” His lips find her neck again, and he sucks on her pulse point, only making things more hazy. “Use your words, Rookie.”

She wants a lot of things. She wants to cry out, she wants to dig her nails into his back until she draws blood, she wants him to keep talking her through this, his gruff voice in her ear as she shatters around him.

Unfortunately, Naomi cannot form a coherent sentence to save her life. She just rolls her hips, shamelessly grinding herself into his hand. “I...I…” The pleasure mounts, building in the pit of her stomach, spreading out. She’s so close, she can almost taste it. 

“Do you want to cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, please, I want–” Ethan rewards her for her honesty and his thumb drags into her clit and he rubs the sensitive nub in tight, quick circles. That’s all it takes, and she orgasms with a strangled cry and she’s thankful Ethan is right here because he holds her upright as her legs momentarily give out.

When Naomi regains the ability to stand on her own, Ethan lets go and slowly removes his fingers. Moving fast, Naomi grabs his hand, and without breaking eye contact with him, she slides the two digits into her mouth, licking them clean.

Ethan’s next breath is a shaky gasp that leaves his lung far too quickly. “Fuck, Rookie.”

“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom?” Naomi suggests, releasing his fingers with a loud pop.

Ethan shakes his head. “No.”

He registers the confusion on her face, but Ethan doesn’t give her a chance to respond. He grabs her by the waist and kisses her again, walking them towards the living room. He only breaks the kiss to pull his t-shirt over his head, and it joins the growing pile of discarded clothing scattered around. Naomi helps him speed the process along, getting rid of his belt and popping the button on his jeans. Her fingers hook into the belt loops of the pants and she pulls them down.

Before she can do anything else, Ethan stops her wandering hands. “Wait, wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Ethan knocks his forehead against hers and he sighs deeply. “Naomi, if you don’t want to do this, please stop me now.”

She thinks it’s cute that he’s giving her an out, but she doesn’t need it. Her fingers slip past the waistband of his soft cotton boxers, a warm dainty hand wrapping around him.

Ethan shudders as a warmth spreads through him at the touch of her hand, and he mentally curses himself. He pushes her hand away.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m not cumming into your hand.” Ethan spins Naomi around and bends her over the arm of his couch. 

While it’s not the desk in his office, Naomi won’t complain. She feels one of his calloused hands trace the length of her spine and her eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

No patience left, Ethan tugs down his underwear, letting the material pool at his ankles. Without another word, he lines herself up at Naomi’s entrance and thrusts into her all at once. He groans at the sensation.

Naomi has never been more thankful for couch cushions, as they muffle the scream that escapes her.

“Fuck, Naomi.” He digs his fingers into her hips before pulling out and slamming back into her. He doesn’t give her any time to adjust, but she doesn’t mind. They both know patience isn’t her forte. “You’re...so...tight.” His words are punctuated by sharp thrusts that threaten to steal the air straight from her lungs.

He leans forward slacking against her, but Naomi welcomes the weight. His beard scrapes against her shoulder blade, his breath warm against her ear, his fingers which are no doubt going to leave a bruise, all of it makes her dizzy, and god, this isn’t going to last much longer.

His thrusts become sloppier, more frenzied as the pleasure mounts, his blood boiling in his veins like molten lava. The only thing he can hear is the sound of the skin slapping, and his ragged breaths.

“Are you close?” He asks. But Naomi can’t think, let alone actually speak words, even if something monosyllabic would suffice. Why does he keep trying to make her speak? Her head drops with a thud and she mumbles something incoherent.

“For someone who had so much shit to talk earlier, you’re mighty silent.” Letting go of her hip, Ethan tangles a hand in her hair, yanking it back so she can’t hide her face in the cushions anymore. His other hand reaches around and he rolls her clit with his middle finger. Still way too sensitive from her last orgasm, she thrusts back, clawing at the couch with her nails, but he holds her in place, refusing to let her move.

“Ethan, fuck, don’t stop!” The words fly out all at once, shaky, fast and jumbled, but it’s all Ethan needs. 

With a burst of energy he didn't know he possessed, he drives into her, plunging deeper. “Cum for me, Rookie.”

Naomi screams. Loudly, and she’s sure his neighbors might be very annoyed, but she doesn’t care. Everything goes white behind her eyes as he all but pushes her over the edge. She clenches around him and Ethan hisses as she’s holding him in a vice-like grip. A few quick thrusts later, and he’s joining her in ecstasy, spilling inside of her. The hand holding her hair tightens for a second, then relaxes.

She’s pretty sure she blacked out for some period of time because when Naomi is finally able to focus, they’re no longer obscenely bent over the arm of Ethan’s couch. They’re on the floor, in the cramped space between the couch and the coffee table. 

She’s hot and sticky and absolutely exhausted. She places her hand over her heart, willing it to stop beating so erratically. Stealing a glance, Naomi peers up and looks at Ethan. He looks as disheveled as she feels, his hair tousled, lips swollen, chest and neck flushed red.

Her voice is horse and completely shot to hell when she finally speaks, “If that’s how our fights are going to play out from now on, I’ll let you pick more fights with you. And I’m a Cancer, we’re stubborn people.”

“I think we can find a happy medium somewhere.”

Naomi rolls over, until she’s nestled into his side and her head is on his chest. She can feel his heart beating rhythmically under her cheek. “Are we still fighting?”

“No.”

“Are you still mad at me?” He doesn’t answer the question right away, and a sense of dread fills her.

“I was never really mad at you,” Ethan admits after a long bout of silence. “I’m just mad at the entire situation. I’m mad at the budget cuts, I’m mad at our country’s healthcare system, I’m annoyed with your inability to listen to me. I’m mad at Leland Bloom’s obscene wealth and the fact that he gets to dangle his money in our faces like we’re horses waiting for carrots.”

“You made the right call, Naomi,” he continues. “But it’s a call you shouldn’t have been forced to make in the first place. I’m sorry for making you carry the brunt of my misplaced anger.”

“Apology accepted. And since we’re apologizing, I’m sorry for calling you a petulant little crybaby.”

Ethan chuckles. “Do you apologize for calling me a goddamn diva, as well? Don’t forget ‘entitled jackass’ and ‘spoiled child’.”

“You co-signed ‘spoiled child’ so I am not apologizing for it.”

“Fair point,” Ethan concedes.

Blindly searching with an outstretched hand, Naomi finds her cell phone and checks the time. She has to be at work in 2 hours, though she’d much rather get into Ethan’s bed and go to sleep.

“That happy medium that you mentioned? I think I have it figured out.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh, yeah?”

“First and foremost, I promise to never go over your head again, if you agree to do a trial run on whatever ideas I may come up with. You can’t shoot me down immediately.”

“I’m...willing to agree to that.”

“And once this all settles down and the hospital isn’t on the verge of complete financial collapse, maybe we can convince the board to only take on one or two billable patients a quarter.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” 

“Yeah, I tend to have those every once in a while,” Naomi teases.

Ethan stares at Naomi as she laughs at her own poor joke. Everything about her is an anomaly to him. She blew into his life a little over a year ago and here he is, willing to adapt his entire ethical code for her. And here they are, entangled together as if he didn’t spend 2 months on a different continent in order to get her out of his head. What is it about her that he can’t shake?

He gently cups her jaw and kisses her as if she’s a precious gem, like he didn’t just try to devour her. “What are you doing to me?”

Naomi smirks, recalling that it’s the same question he asked her in Miami. “Hopefully something good.”

He kisses her again. “Better than good actually.”

Realization washes over her that once she leaves this apartment, things are going to go back to being the way they were. He’ll go back to pushing her away. “So does this mean you want to have another reset?”

The question throws him off, but he soon understands what she means. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Ethan repeats. If there’s a happy medium to be found between his team and the board, maybe there’s one for him and Naomi.

She doesn’t allow herself to get swept up by his words, but instead she braces herself for the chance that he pulls the rug from under her feet. “Well, what does that mean?”

“It means you and I are going to take a shower together, go to work, and we deal with our obnoxious patient. And after work, you’re going to put on something fancy because I’m taking you out to dinner. How does that sound, Dr. Valentine?”

Naomi can’t stop an annoying grin from spreading across her face. “I think it sounds pretty damn good, Dr. Ramsey.”

[crazy-loca-blog]

Personal thoughts on Open Heart Second Year, Chapter 18

Note: As the title says, these are just personal opinions on Choices books and chapters. Of course, you may agree or disagree with them, I only use this platform to express my thoughts on what I read every week and what I’d like to see in the next chapters, because none of my friends play Choices so I have no one to comment the books with.

Last week I was so, so overwhelmed (in a good way) for everything that happened at that gala that I couldn’t even begin to write a post. My head was a mess! I had so much information on my mind that it was impossible for me to get one nice paragraph. Luckily, this means this week I have so much to say! So get ready, because this post is a long one!

First of all, let me tell you that after what happened this week, I’m betting for a 20 chapter book. It’s the only way I can see them making a proper closure to the story (with chapter 19 focused on saving Leland Bloom’s wife AND Edenbrook, and chapter 20 focused on fixing our own mess with our LIs).

I have mixed emotions on this chapter. At first, I absolutely loved it. It gave me such a rollercoaster of emotions that I just couldn’t help loving it. I went from being surprised to see Aurora back, to laughing with Zaid and Baz treating a patient together, to almost crying with the night out scene. I was really hyped! But then I replayed the chapter and I began to notice all those small details that you don’t notice when you first read it, and yeah, I have to agree with a lot of people who are as invested in this series as I am: something is not adding up after the rewrites.

As a person who’s romancing Ethan, Chapter 17 was a HUGE step in the relationship with the MC. The guy finally got rid of all his morals and his visions of what’s ethically correct dismantled the diagnostics team (aka “he’s not our boss anymore”) and decided to make things public with the MC (not “official”, but “public”). Now that I look at that moment in retrospective, I might understand the scene made sense so that the writers could finally level the field with people who are romancing Rafael, Jackie and Bryce. But this is when the first problem arises: the relationship with Rafael, Jackie or Bryce has never been public either. Sure, there has been some PDA between them and the MC throughout the whole series, but it’s not like our friends can say “oh, they’re a thing”, it’s not something evident. Why didn’t they use the gala for that? I simply don’t get it! They didn’t need to be “official”, just “public”. It was so easy, and I think it would have made things easier for the rest of the book.

And then we have this time jump… which now I’m beginning to realize it wasn’t as huge as we originally thought! Sure, we skipped Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year, and we went from winter to spring in, literally, one screenshot. So it may seem it’s been a long, long time since the gala… BUT… the book has been settled on winter since forever now (there was already snow in Chapter 13 when we returned to work!), so even though we know it’s been over a month since the gala (because, and here I quote Ethan Ramsey, “this will actually stretch our budget for much longer than we expected”), it’s not like we’ve been on that limbo for a really, really loooong time!

Of course, this doesn’t justify the fact that the relationships with the LIs were affected by this time gap. And this is where I think the writers made a huge mistake. I actually said something about it already, but the fact that we’re not staying in Boston to continue our residency (even though we know in the end we’ll stay) may be the thing that it’s delaying the fact that we’re not official with our LIs. Again, Rafael is staying in Boston… after the Panacea scandal, Jackie will go wherever she’s accepted… Bryce was looking at a hospital in Chicago… and the more I replay the chapter, the more I think Ethan is overworking to avoid thinking about his own future (yup, he is a mess and he’s delaying the inevitable… as usual). But this doesn’t mean we don’t want to know what’s going on with our relationship… like… long distance? breaking up? enjoying it while it lasts? Chapter 18 was the right moment to have “the talk” (there were at least two moments in the chapter that would have worked perfectly: those free individual scenes that we had with our LIs… or during the night out, after Ethan joined the gang at the helipad) and it didn’t happen… and yes, it’s disappointing and frustrating. They missed a HUGE opportunity.

Despite all this, this chapter gave us a bunch of good scenes:

1. The hospital scenes. This was a brief moment, but it was simply beautiful. In Chapter 17, we realized that “everything was about the mission” and that seemed to be a breaking point for everyone at Edenbrook. Seeing all of them working as the huge team they are, everyone overworking and helping each other just to help as many people as possible gave me all those community vibes that we constantly hear about in this series. I definitely need more of this in Book 3. The fact that they also connected all this madness with the closure of our interns plots was a nice detail. Can you believe that Gary Garrison was definitely the “last man standing”? Also, did you notice that Sothy and Elijah’s plot changes depending on the choices you made in past chapters? And I want to think that Sienna and Mitch finally talking about what happened will give her the peace of mind she needs and deserves.

2. Bryce’s diamond scene. I had so much fun with the Lahelas in Book 2. I love these two… I just can’t stop making puppy eyes every time we have a chance to witness such a wonderful relationship between these siblings. And Keiki leaving to boarding school was the happy ending they deserved. I’m so glad to see that there won’t be a new drama for them and that their parents agreed to send Keiki to boarding school. I loved to see how much Bryce grew in Book 2 (you know that I’ve always loved him, but now I came to consider him a “national treasure” type of guy) and how he really made his biggest effort to become the best version of himself we’ve seen so far. I’m so proud of him that it hurts!

3. Esme’s plot. It was nice to see that the relationship with her actually changes based on our choices. It still bothers me that we won’t know if she did it on purpose or not (I really hope we get to know the truth by the end of the book), but I felt proud of defending her after seeing how she seemed to be the only one who actually cared about Levi in that negotiation between his parents and the board, where everything was about “how much is Levi worth”. And I have to say that I fully agree with what Esme tells us if we don’t defend her… let’s be honest, the main reason why we got away with all Mrs. Martinez stuff was because PB was already planning a Book 2 of what Ethan did for us at the hearing.

4. The night out with our friends. We asked for it for a really, really long time. Book 2 was so focused on the hospital stuff that we missed those moments with our friends. It was so different from Vegas! It was intimate, it was emotional, there was this much needed bonding between the gang… there was a heart to heart that was long overdue! It was definitely a proper temporary goodbye to them. Besides what I mentioned before about “the talk”, I don’t think I would’ve changed anything about this scene.

By now, the final chapters of the book seem pretty obvious. I mean… Leland Bloom is a BILLIONAIRE and he loves to negotiate. Will he save Edenbrook if we save his wife? Absolutely, there is no question! We know the man is an ass****, but we also know how much he ADORES his wife and how genuine their marriage is (it’s 100% true love). She is also a caring woman, so I definitely don’t want to see her die. But how will they approach it? And here is where I want to see something HUGE happening (fingers crossed!). We know that the diagnostics team has been reduced to three people: the MC, Baz, and Ethan. BUT, at the same time, we have a full staff of people available to help (in the words of Ethan, “The other departments have taken the diagnostics team’s lead”... which leads to an inconsistency because the team is supposedly dismantled). So not only I see our team solving the case, but also everyone at the hospital involved on it. I can see Caroline Bloom taken by the paramedics to be admitted to Edenbrook, the nurses taking care of her, our friends helping to solve the case as part of the diagnostics team, Bryce, Harper and Tanaka performing some surgery, Kyra working on the paperwork… I’d love to see that, in the end, saving Edenbrook was a group effort and not only something like “the diagnostics team saved the hospital from closing”. That would be so, so nice to see and it would give every single character in this book the recognition they deserve!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

21st Century Friction

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T Word count: 10,817 @spideychelleweek​

Spideychelle Week Day 6: Enemies to Lovers

Summary: Peter needs an arts credit to graduate, but he didn't mean to pick the course that even the English majors avoid! Luckily, he has the help of Michelle Jones, the tutor Tony hired for him. Unluckily, she just overheard him insulting her entire academic discipline. They're not breaking off the arrangement―Peter's determined to do well in this stupid English course to keep his average up and Michelle won't let his bad attitude stand in the way of a cheque from Tony Stark.

With one tempestuous meeting down, they only have two semesters and twenty-five books to go.

Peter’s in big trouble―huge―and Mr. Stark did tell him that if he’s ever in trouble he should ask for help, so he calls, looking for help, and gets nobody, so he calls again and gets Happy, who hangs up once Peter makes him understand that, no, this isn’t about somebody trying to kick his Spidey-suit ass but about him trying to pick a new class (Happy’s next to some freaky machine at the time and it makes the cell reception wonky), but who finally listens all the way to the end on the seventeenth time Peter manages to get through to him without having his call dropped, and then Mr. Stark is told about it and though Peter isn’t immediately apprised of the solution to his own problem for some reason, he’s informed that cash has been flashed and that the solution will, inevitably, be attained.

Until then, Peter begins the first week of his third year of college and shows up to the labs and lectures of every class on his schedule, including English 1034: 21st Century Literature from A to Z.

AGUALUSA, José Eduardo ― A General Theory of Oblivion

“A tutor?” Peter hisses into his phone, pacing the tight corridor of the library’s fourth-floor stacks. “How is his solution to get me a tutor? I don’t need a tutor! I’m smart, Happy, remember? What did I want instead? Well, I don’t know! I have to keep all my core classes for my major, but maybe he could’ve made them give me credit for taking something online from another college? I’m not screwing up my schedule for English lit. I don’t even know why I gotta take this! I know how to read, you know? I’m just―”

Oh sure, he heard the other person enter the aisle, but he assumed it was to grab a book, so the noise of annoyance that leaves his mouth when his phone is snatched from his hand and his call ended is absolutely genuine.

“’Sup,” says the person, who’s a woman his age, who’s handing his phone back with a lazy gesture, who’s apparently entirely cool, casual, and unapologetic about unceremoniously hanging up on Happy for him. “You gotta take English lit because it sounds as though your vocabulary needs it and, hi, I’m Michelle. Your tutor.”

She mumbles an indelicate string of words after that as she turns and walks away from him out of the stacks and Peter picks up ‘entitled asshole’ even though he isn’t trying to listen, just follow her and set this thing straight.

“Uh, no, you’re not,” he assures her, alarmed when the place he’s trailing her to turns out to be a table where her stuff is waiting―open notebook, two different coloured pens, a copy of the syllabus for English 1034. No, no, no!

“Well, I can’t guarantee you’ll actually learn anything since you seem to have a combination of a pretty thick skull and an overinflated ego, but I’ll hold up my end of the deal. Let me guess, Business major?”

“Bio,” Peter grits out, grasping the back of the chair intended for him as this Michelle person slides neatly into hers, like the library’s her living room because she lives here. Fine. He’s happy for it to stay that way. He has access to all the books he needs in the sciences library on the other side of campus.

“Well, my condolences to the parts of your brain which, in most people, would produce non-literal comprehension and creative thought. But I’m sure you know the names for those, don’t you, Science Guy? Ok, quit making that face and let’s go over your syllabus.”

She doesn’t look up the entire time she speaks and Peter has never heard a person sound so pretentious in real life.

“Are you kidding me? No. Even if I wanted or needed to be tutored, it wouldn’t be by you. You grabbed my phone out of my hand!”

“Yeah,” Michelle agrees, meeting his eye with something firm in her own, “and you were talking on it in one of the library’s Quiet Zones. I’m not here to give you a lesson on Comparative Ignorance.”

“What makes you think you can just do that?” Peter demands. He feels sort of ridiculous and like he’s simultaneously taking the argument a step too far and a step not-far-enough; he’s not usually like this, but then, other people aren’t usually like that.

��The fact that I was paid in advance.”

She nods towards the chair and Peter doesn’t know why he does it, but he sits, still mad.

“Stark paid you to tutor me,” he states.

“Boy, are you struggling with the concept of exchanging currency for services too? Maybe there’s a basic Econ class you could still get into.”

“Why you?”

“Why you?” Michelle counters. “Why can’t smarty-pants, Stark-patroned Peter Parker just suck it up and get through a single English credit? Seriously, why not, since you seem to think it’s just reading and therefore easy. Why not just bribe the college to hand you the credit? You want me to tell you where the Financial Office is? I could show you because, ok, about me now, I’m here on scholarship because I couldn’t find a benevolent billionaire to smooth my path for me.” She straightens up in her chair, eyes practically volcanic with heat. “And here’s another why me for you: because I love what I study, I think literature has worth and beauty, and, oh right, I have the highest grade point average in the entire School of Arts and Humanities.”

Peter’s so floored for a minute that he forgets why he’s angry.

“It wouldn’t be right,” he finally says, trying to at least regain the moral high ground after her offhand suggestion of bribery. “Buying a credit. It wouldn’t be right.”

“So… instead you demean the entire discipline, like that’s going to help you.”

He scoffs.

“It’d help me more than you would.”

“Helping you is why I’m here.”

“You sound thrilled about it.”

“Hard not to be when I have the honour of tutoring the Spider-Man,” she says, matching his sarcasm.

Ugh, he hates that she brought that up. By his third year, he’s become less of a novelty in the halls―these days, people get more excited about a sighting of the local gopher who lives in a hole near the Astronomy building―and having it thrown in his face like this is even more uncomfortable than requests for selfies. Or the few mortifying pleas for his autograph. They’re locked in a mutually-irritated glare, which Peter breaks with a groan and a roll of his eyes.

“I didn’t want to be in this class,” he admits.

“And yet the online course selection process is so very hard to fuck up. Thus, you did in fact choose this class. Unless… does Tony Stark pick your classes for you?”

Peter ignores that. He can’t both fume and be cooperative enough to get her help, which he’s starting to think he might need. Maybe she can give him some kind of insider English department knowledge that will rid him of English 1034.

“It is an interesting choice,” Michelle continues carefully. Is she smirking at him? He can’t quite tell.

“I didn’t read the description.”

“What did you expect ‘20th Century Literature from A to Z’ to be?”

She’s mocking him, but Peter feels like his mistake in taking this particular class is an easy one to make. He has plenty of reasons to back him up.

“It’s a first-year level English course, it’s non-essay, and ‘A to Z’ made it sound like an overview,” he lists confidently.

“In case you don’t already know or suspect this, nobody who’s actually in the English program takes it.”

Michelle’s tone is extraordinarily smug.

“I thought you guys loved to read,” Peter says accusingly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Not a novel every week for two semesters! Dude, you picked a course with twenty-six required texts. ‘A to Z’ is for the alphabetical order of the authors’ last names.”

“I know that now,” he grumbles, eyeing the booklist Michelle has neatly aligned next to the syllabus on their study table. “And now all the other full-year non-essay English classes are full, so I can’t drop this one because there’s nothing to pick up in its place.”

“That’s an insanely stupid mistake.”

“Noted.”

“Ok, if you’re ready to move on, what were your thoughts on Agualusa?”

“You still want to tutor me?”

She looks at him like he’s truly the uncomprehending, unimaginative Bio-dunce she described.

“There are few things I want less than I want this. The only possible enjoyment here is getting to meet one of the unsuspecting idiots who signed up for that class, and even that doesn’t cancel out the way you belittled my area of study and those who study it. So.” Michelle extends a hand and, when Peter realizes what she wants, accepts his panic-purchased copy of A General Theory of Oblivion. “Time to prove you can read.”

BEATTY, Paul ― The Sellout

“I see you found the place,” Michelle greets without looking up from what she’s reading (which is the book for his course).

Peter attempts to glance around without being obvious about it.

“It’s the same table we sat at last time,” he says, mostly certain.

“I know.” She looks up. “I just thought you might get lost in unfamiliar territory. Had you ever been in here before last week?”

He laughs bitterly as he slings his backpack off and lets it slam into the leg of the table, making Michelle frown.

“Yeah, I had.” Once. When he toured the college with May before applying to undergrad. “Don’t be so gatekeeper-y. These books aren’t just for English majors.”

“Oh, so you avail yourself of them often for pleasure reading? Sorry, sorry,” she adds quickly and something inside Peter eases at the hope of an apology, “I forgot I was talking to the guy who signed up for the most reading-heavy class the English department offers. Of course you must love to read.”

“I just want to get my mandatory arts credit to graduate.”

The motive should be obvious, Peter thinks, but maybe she’ll take pity on him because he’s offering an explanation.

“You’ve already successfully postponed it your first two years. Why not push it to next year when you can take a lighter class?”

“There are a lot of required fourth-year courses for my major. I don’t have room for anything that isn’t impor―”

He cuts himself off, but Michelle looks pissed. What? It’s the truth! If he thought English was more important than Biology, he would’ve studied English!

“You’re trying to get me to wait for an easier class and you told me I shouldn’t assume English was easy,” he accuses.

“It’s not! I didn’t say an easier class, I said a lighter one. You know, with fewer books to read. English ten-thirty-four is an easy class.”

“Yeah right!”

“Really, Peter?” He’s startled to hear his name leave her mouth. “Exactly how deep were you expecting the analysis to go when you only spend a week on each book? That’s a Monday and Wednesday course, right? So you’re only actually discussing the book for three hours. A bunch of your assigned texts are over four hundred pages, which means covering around one hundred and thirty-three pages every hour of discussion, or a little over two pages every minute. And that’s just content. If you were actually digging into any of these books, you’d discuss themes, historical context of the subject matter, intertextual influence…”

“You’re pretty good at math,” he says wryly. “I bet you could have majored in that instead.”

“I could’ve majored in anything, but I chose a subject that actually has a soul.”

“It’s cute that you’re so noble about it,” Peter says, feeling like an honest-to-Thor asshole because he’s never disparaged anyone or anything by calling them or it ‘cute’ before, “considering the current arrangement.”

She gives him a harsh look before finally asking, “What do you mean?”

“You’re studying something so intellectual and culturally important or whatever and looking down at people in Business and the sciences. Lots of us love what we’re majoring in and some of us are in it for a career with a good salary. I’m just worried you’re being a bit of a hypocrite. How superior can you feel when you’re peddling your English-major wisdom for a paycheque from Tony Stark?”

Michelle can’t really murder him―his reflexes are too fast, his body too durable, and the most dangerous thing she appears to have at her disposal is a blue ballpoint pen―but she kinda looks like she might give it a try. Ok, so undercutting her integrity in a vengeful rant was probably beneath him. She was being such a snob though!

Finally, her expression relaxes and she uncaps her pen (Peter flinches), poising it over the page where, last week, she composed him a strong set of notes as they attempted a rocky discussion of the book.

“How much did you get read?”

CHOI, Mary H.K. ― Permanent Record

Peter sits and nods at Michelle when she looks up.

“We’re past the add/drop date,” he announces. “Guess I’m officially in English ten-thirty-four for the rest of the year.”

“And when you graduate, it’ll be right there on your transcript, smuggled through in between the important courses. Even if you can’t hack it and fail the class,” she concludes with a small, scornful smile.

“As far as I know, you’re being paid too much to let me fail.”

It feels like a gross powerplay the second he’s said it. If they’re really going to do this, he needs to start taking the meanspirited way that she roots against him in stride. Does he think about finding a different tutor every time she makes a sly comment like that? Sure, but he’s stubborn enough about maintaining a strong average to recognize the value of learning from the best student in the program.

“So…” he says after a minute, watching Michelle flip through his book to find where he’s marked the passages examined in class. “We never really agreed to it out loud, but I guess this is our standing place and time to do this?”

“Yeah, there’s a clipboard where you sign up to reserve a specific table. I put our names down for every Thursday for the rest of the year.”

“Really?”

“No, numbskull,” Michelle informs him lightly. “You can’t reserve a table, only the study rooms. I knew you didn’t know how the library worked.”

“How ‘bout, instead of that, we talk about the demands of fame.”

“Oh? Are you trying to open up to me?” She taps the end of her pen hard and fast against the table as though to emphasize this is something she doesn’t have time for.

“No. I did my assigned reading.”

He reaches out and grabs his book, dragging it back across the table.

DAY, Kate Hope ― If, Then

“I kept waiting for it to get good. Why didn’t it get good?” he asks, spinning the book on their table, then trapping it under his palm.

“Patience, spider-brain,” Michelle instructs. “It is good. It’s suspenseful and subtle and atmospheric and it’s no wonder those things went right over your head. Weren’t you at least interested in Ginny? She’s a surgeon.”

“So?”

“So, you’re in Biology. Don’t you want to be a doctor or something?”

“I don’t know yet,” Peter says with a shrug. Man, is she going to start bugging him about figuring out his career path? He has May for that. “Do you know what you want to be?”

“A tutor,” she responds flatly.

He’d smile if they were friends because she’s apparently hilarious.

“It takes some time to build if the part you’re most interested in is the sci-fi stuff,” Michelle concedes. “Did you read it to the end?”

“I didn’t have time. I had to start the next book early because I have a big lab assignment next week.” He sighs and lets his head fall into his hand just thinking about it.

She frowns and looks down, so he can only assume she disapproves of his priorities or his poor time management or something.

But then she mumbles, “You should try audiobooks.”

“Thanks,” Peter says, because that’s actually a great idea. He can listen on his way to campus in the mornings and he won’t have to carry the book on the days he doesn’t have that class. It’ll mean buying an audio copy of everything he already purchased, but he’ll still use the hard copies most of the time, and it’s not like Mr. Stark’s going to begrudge him another hundred bucks. Plus, almost all of the books for this course are novels, so it won’t even feel like doing homework!

In the midst of excitedly thinking over how much time he’ll have if he takes her advice, he glances at Michelle. She’s ignoring him.

ENDICOTT, Marina ― Good to a Fault

It’s the first week of October and Peter thinks he has the hang of this being-an-English-student thing. He read-slash-listened-to the whole book this week and even though the next two weeks’ novels are a couple of the longest in the entire course, he’s undaunted. When he gets to the library and finds Michelle―the classes they have right before this tutoring session end at the same time, but she always beats him here―he brags about being totally on top of his reading. She’s possibly starting to smile at him when he says, “I’m getting good at this. You want any tips?”

“God, Peter!” she blurts. “This is the third year of my major! Try to have some fucking respect!”

He holds up his hands placatingly. Once his books are out, Peter starts watching her and notices a syllabus at her elbow that isn’t for English 1034. Aggressively highlighted in green is tomorrow’s date and ‘MIDTERM.’ His don’t start for another week. He never consciously realized that Humanities students had midterm stress too. Michelle must be taking more than one English class right now, plus whatever else fills up her schedule. Jeeze, that’s a lot of reading, and she’s reading enough of his books to help him on top of doing her own shit. Peter winces and keeps his mouth shut until she’s ready to begin.

FLYNN, Gillian ― Gone Girl

They’re in the thick of midterms and having a particularly grouchy (on both sides) tutoring session.

“Quit writing a bunch of nothing,” Michelle criticizes, like that’s somehow useful feedback.

“I’m getting to my point!” Peter complains.

“They’re long answer questions, not essays. You won’t get any pity marks for filler like you do in a Bio exam.”

“They don’t give marks for filler in Bio exams!”

“Well then where did you learn to answer questions like this?” she snaps. “Do you want to start this one over or try another one?”

They glare at each other for several sluggish moments.

“I’ll start over,” Peter decides, meeting her challenging look with his own.

“Fine.”

This time, Michelle not only passes him the question she came up with but also rips a piece of paper out of her notebook, tears it into thirds, and hands him one of those as well.

“One-sided,” she instructs.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Be concise.”

“If you took your own advice, I’d be able to write in silence right now instead of being distracted by the sound of you talking!”

In what seems like a blink as Peter looks up from his paper and tightly-gripped pencil in confusion, Michelle has her bag packed and shoves back from the table.

“Help me study!” he yells after her in desperation.

“Earn it with something more than money,” she calls back, flipping him off over her shoulder.

GO, Justin ― The Steady Running of the Hour

Groveling wouldn’t be well-received, Peter thinks. Instead, he brings Michelle an iced coffee as an apology for being a dick last week when he was freaking out over midterms. They’re experiencing a final flare of summer weather and it seems like a practical offering as well as a symbolic gesture. Unfortunately, the man at the front desk makes Peter toss the coffee before he’s allowed in because of a No Food and Drink policy. He feels really awkward about it and distinctly emptyhanded when he approaches Michelle at their usual table.

When it’s clear that she’s not focused on anything else, Peter spills the story and does end up saying, “I’m sorry” out loud. She likes one of those things enough to smile at him―not a big one, but not a sarcastic one either―and he exhales in relief.

“I really appreciate that you’re doing this,” he adds during a lull when they’re looking over the notes he made in class, trying to decipher his professor’s analysis of a certain passage.

He studies Michelle’s downturned face until she looks up and meets his eye.

“When do you get your midterm results?”

“Not for a couple of weeks. The prof doesn’t seem like he’s in any rush.”

“Are you worried about how you did?” she asks, propping her chin up with her fist. It makes her mouth slope into a playful pout and he follows the line of it with his eye for a second.

“Kinda.”

Michelle shakes her head.

“You shouldn’t be. You’re working hard. I know you passed.”

It’s the first session that they don’t fight. Feels good.

HAM, Rosalie ― The Dressmaker

“Holy shit,” he breathes when Michelle enters. “What is that?”

The day has finally come that he beats her to the library, which is the first shock, but this is an entirely separate and far less expected thing.

“It’s Halloween,” she states. As though it’s no big deal that she just walked in here wearing a silky-looking, floor-length, emerald green gown. Well, he assumes it’s a gown and not a skirt that sits really high on her waist, but he can’t see the entire thing; she’s wearing a cropped hoodie over top. The juxtaposition makes him grin.

“Where did you get that?”

“I made it.” Just as Peter’s mouth is dropping open, she huffs a laugh and says, “Of course I didn’t. It was my grandma’s. The style’s not totally right, but I thought the colour was a pretty good match.”

“Right,” he agrees as she swishes over and sits, cautiously smoothing the dress as she does so. “Because you’re obviously supposed to be…”

Michelle rolls her eyes as she takes the opportunity for illuminating him.

“Cecilia Tallis. From Atonement,” she prompts. “Keira Knightley played her.”

“Oh, ok, yeah. I think I saw part of that one time when my aunt May was watching it.”

“It was a book first,” Michelle teasingly informs him.

“I know you’ll be amazed to hear that I haven’t read it.”

“So amazed.”

“You look good in green,” Peter throws out there while she’s still looking at him.

“Don’t be weird about it, Parker.”

He totally sees her smiling to herself when they turn to their books and wonders if they’re friends yet.

ISRAEL, Lee ― Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Nope, nope, nope, they’re definitely not friends yet! After their revision session last week, Peter thought more about his and Michelle’s potential friendship, then started to feel weird about the fact that he’s paying her―or that Mr. Stark is, on his behalf. It’s been rare lately that both he and Mr. Stark aren’t busy at the same time, but with Peter’s midterms over and a new month beginning, Tony worked out a time for them to speak in person. Peter might have got rambling a little under the heady influence of his mentor’s full attention and maybe some things came across incorrectly. It wasn’t a meeting though, and he definitely didn’t know that decisions were being made!

“I thought you were finding this helpful!” Michelle says.

“I am,” he insists. “I left Mr. Stark a message. I’m gonna set it straight!”

“Oh, like you set it straight over the weekend? He fired me as your tutor!”

“I didn’t know he was doing that!”

“What did you say to him?” she demands.

Fuck, this is going to be embarrassing to say face-to-face. Peter glances at their table―where they didn’t sit down, due to this accidental termination―and feels himself get all overheated and shifty.

“That I felt weird about paying you.”

“Because English is so worthless you should be able to learn about it for free? Yeah, I guess you could’ve made the internet your tutor, but it’s a full two months too late for that!”

“Dammit!” Peter says, frustrated. “No! Because I thought maybe you and I were friends now because it seemed like maybe we were and I’d definitely like us to be friends, but I didn’t want you to feel obligated to be nice to me as a friend or anything more than a tutor just because you’re being paid. Do you want to be friends with me?” he summarizes bluntly.

“Yes.”

He frowns in confusion.

“Really?”

Michelle’s eyes dart to the side, then zip back to his face.

“…Isn’t that what you want? I think that’s literally what you just told me you want.”

“And the money thing?”

“Yeah, you’re definitely going to fix that as soon as we’re done today. My time and expertise are valuable as hell and I’m super willing to take Tony Stark’s money.” She gives him a weird look. “My friendship is not for sale.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to assume―”

“I mean, I don’t know how people make friends over there in Biology, but―”

“Ok, that’s far enough,” he says, laughing when she smirks to admit she was kidding.

“I guess you better start calling me MJ too,” she says, taking her usual seat.

“If I had any extra names you didn’t know, I’d totally let you use one in exchange.”

She shrugs easily and picks up this week’s novel when he places it on the table within her reach.

“Speaking of people using other names…” MJ says as she taps the cover. “Ready to talk about a famous forger?”

“Smooth transition.”

“Thanks… pal?”

“No,” Peter says to ‘pal,’ making a face.

“No,” she agrees. “I’ll just have to remember that we’re friends now without a new name to remind me.”

“You’re officially my meanest friend,” he jokes.

MJ snorts.

“Peter, with all the time we’re spending together this year, I’m gonna be your best friend.”

JOHNSON, Adam ― Fortune Smiles

“Seventy-three!” Peter cries out when he strides into the library that Thursday. Desk Man shoots him a look and Peter mouths, “Sorry.” But if that guy’s annoyance with Peter is on the rise, so is the strength of his friendship with MJ.

“Seventy-three?” she repeats excitedly, then pauses, seemingly waiting for him to say more.

He understands. For her, getting a 73 on an English exam would probably be a blow to her average and something she’d struggle to course correct from on the final. He’d feel the same about receiving that grade in one of the classes that make up his major. But for his first college English exam? A discipline that’s forcing him to learn a completely different type of material and regurgitate that knowledge on an exam that’s neither practical nor multiple choice? It’s huge. He beams to let MJ know he hasn’t come to complain about her ineffective tutoring. Totally the opposite.

“That’s great,” MJ says. She rises from her chair because Peter’s too hyper―even a full day after getting his mark―to sit down yet.

“Yeah?”

“I told you you’d do fine,” she reminds him.

Then she goes to shove his arm and Peter misinterprets it, pulling her in to finish what he thought was the beginning of a hug. Just as he’s realizing and loosening his arms from around her, MJ’s hands come up and squeeze his back once, ending in a few reassuring pats. They break out of it, holding each other at arm’s length and she gives him a firm nod in conclusion. Peter laughs awkwardly. After that, they re-establish their usual rhythm.

“So, the first short story collection on your booklist,” she says as she sits. Rather than taking his regular spot across from her, he drags the chair around the circular table so they’re side by side. MJ watches him without protest.

“These are the first short stories I’ve read,” he tells her.

“What did you think?”

“I like it. It’s nice how it breaks the book into chunks. Makes it seem shorter maybe?”

“Definitely.”

Weirdly, their opinions about the book and what his prof wants him to learn from it continue to closely align. Of course, they don’t get through everything because, after about 15 minutes, MJ asks if he brought his midterm with him. He yanks it free of his backpack and they spend the rest of their time going over it. With a 73, Peter expects a lot of the review to be criticism (of the constructive variety) and notes on what he should’ve done better or different. Instead, it’s MJ gasping (quietly but happily) every time she finds a place where he mentioned something they went over together. He watches her eyes scan over where he described If, Then as ‘suspenseful, subtle, and atmospheric’ before going further into his comparison between that novel and Gone Girl. She catches his eye, her expressions changing like a shuffling card deck. Peter sees impressed come up, then pleased, then a third, unfamiliar thing that’s gone when MJ flips his exam to the next page.

KOCH, Herman ― The Dinner

“How is this book so horrific and so good?” Peter asks wonderingly.

They were going over his class notes until the notes referred to a page number of the novel. When he couldn’t remember what happened there, they looked it up. It was just supposed to be a refresher, but it turned into them reading nine pages―waiting for each other before flipping when their reading speeds raced, constantly slipping out of and regaining first place.

“It’s giving me rage-hunger,” MJ said.

“Rage-hunger?”

“Yeah, you know, when you’re incensed about something to the point that you start getting really hungry? Happens to me at protests.”

“Listen,” Peter says, dropping his voice to a compelling whisper. “I have pretzels.”

“Here?”

He nods.

“Do we risk it?”

“Yes,” she insists.

While she keeps watch, glancing around, Peter grasps the edge of the pretzel bag in his backpack. His expression feels pretty constipated as he struggles to open the bag soundlessly, but it’s worth the effort when he feels it give. Furtively, they sneak pretzels from his bag―balanced between their legs under the table―up to their mouths, attempting to chew as silently as possible and speaking in a soft slur with pretzels distending their cheeks.

LINK, Kelly ― Get in Trouble

Yeah, so, after being caught with mouths full of pretzels, they’re slightly afraid to immediately return to the library. Instead of meeting there on Thursday to go over all of Peter’s notes at once, he and MJ snatch time all week long. It’s another collection of short stories this week, so they go over the first one before he even attends his Monday English 1034 lecture, meaning he’s super prepared to participate for once, after running his thoughts by his tutor in advance. The next time, they do story number two, plus his class notes, then continue meeting when they can.

Peter hesitates before asking if she still wants to get together at their regular hour on Thursday. What if she feels like she’s given him enough of her time this week? What if she made other plans? But when he does ask, she’s surprised that he ever considered them not having their scheduled session. He’s not entirely sure why he was so scared she’d say no. That was silly. Although they both acknowledged that they’re friends, he thinks they’re finally starting to act like it.

So they meet on Thursday. And then they meet on Friday too. They say it’s for tutoring and keep Peter’s copy of Get in Trouble between them on the table of the student community centre, but they don’t open it. MJ trades him a bite of her pizza slice for some of his fries. He laughs hard when she gets ketchup on her lip, then swallows the sound down as she licks it off.

“Did I get it?”

“Um, yeah,” Peter replies, stupefied.

MOYES, Jojo ― Me Before You

“Well,” he says, retyping his notes to add MJ’s insights, “here’s another one where I can count watching a movie as part of studying.” Peter keeps typing for a minute, but she doesn’t respond, so while his eyes remain on the screen he asks, “Are you judging me? I promise I’m still going to read the rest of the book.”

Finished, he looks over to see MJ staring intently at the open novel. Peter concentrates on the book first―she’s right near the end―then on his friend’s face. Is she…?

“Are you crying?” he asks softly, leaning towards her.

He thought she might hide her reaction, but she raises her head and sniffs as tears pour down her cheeks. She’s so naked with emotion that Peter shudders.

“Maybe,” she says, making them both laugh, hers a bubbling noise from the wetness in her throat. “But ignore this. I said I wouldn’t spoil the ending for you.”

“Obviously, nothing dramatic happens,” Peter sarcastically infers. “You cry all the time. I have zero reason to think it has anything to do with Me Before You.”

Smiling, she finally wipes the last of her tears away with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“I still have a little bit left to read.”

“Borrow it,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I can listen to the audiobook for a while, or you can just keep it overnight and we’ll hang out tomorrow and I’ll get it back from you. Unless you think you’d need longer.”

MJ rolls her eyes at him.

“Please. I eat Jojo Moyeses for breakfast. I’ll probably finish it during the break in my next class.”

“So, you wouldn’t even need it overnight then,” he says, trying to be sly. She lets out a laugh.

“You want to read it so badly, don’t you?”

“Maybe I just don’t like lending out my books.”

“Liar. I bet you’re going to read the rest all in one sitting.” MJ smirks and stands the book on the table like both she and it are taunting him. “Don’t you need to prioritize your other courses, Peter? What about Biology?”

“Offer revoked,” he tells her, making to take the book back. She doesn’t let him, holding it up and away from him.

“Are you going to spend all night reading for pleasure instead of doing your science homework? Shame on you, Peter. What about your future?”

He stands too quickly in his attempt to grab the book, startling MJ, who rocks back in her chair a little too far. But it can’t tip faster than his reflexes can react; Peter instinctively grabs her around the waist and pulls her against him as the chair topples and the paperback hits the ground with a soft thump. They haven’t been this close since they hugged after his midterm results. He opens and closes his mouth without saying anything, fingers shifting against MJ’s back as she gets her balance. Seems to take her longer than it should, but he won’t let go before she’s ready. Which’ll be any second now, he’s sure. She’s flushed, eyes roaming his face. Probably about to tell him she can stand all on her fucking own.

Any second now.

NG, Celeste ― Everything I Never Told You

It’s the second week in December and their final tutoring session of the semester. Exams start tomorrow, though the one for English 1034 isn’t until the 21st. Peter should be psyched―after this exam, he’s halfway done the course―and yet his shoulders carry some heaviness into the library, along with big, wet snowflakes. He perks up at the sight of MJ, then grows subdued just as fast. They’ve become the kind of friends who meet during the week, always at school, usually with at least the pretense of studying. She’s never been to the apartment he shares with three roommates; he has no idea where she lives. Their most secure connection is a list of 26 books and after today’s session, 14 of those will already be behind them. Theoretically, they’re committed to spending another semester together (unless the world ends via hostile alien takeover, or Mr. Stark fires MJ again and she agrees to it for some reason). What happens after that?

Peter doesn’t like the way winter break looks like a preview for the end of the school year in April. He’s sure that’ll come up quick after the new year because second semester always feels shorter than first. Will they be close enough by then to make plans for hanging out over the summer? He knows MJ’s from here, but not if she’ll be around. And what about next year? He won’t be studying English. Are they gonna see each other on campus or both be too busy with their final year of undergrad―keeping up grades and searching for their first job opportunities right out of college? And then? Will one or both of them move away for work or grad school, or just to find a cheaper place to live while they’re starting out? Seriously, they could be faint memories to each other in under five years.

He's weighed down with all of this as he flops into his seat at their table.

“Do you think you’re ready?” MJ asks just before she glances up.

“What?” Peter replies, devastated.

“For your exam.” She meets his eye and her expression collapses inward a little as she assesses his mood. “What’s wrong?”

He looks at her face. It’s easy to admit to himself that her eyes are more trusting than they used to be when they stared back into his, and he has to allow that she’s more trusting too. Same with him. They’ve smoothed each other out, rounded off each other’s bluntest angles. Peter has no desire for them to ever have another shouting match like they did during the early weeks of this arrangement. In fact, his ideal dynamic for them would be the complete opposite.

“I guess I’m… worried.”

“We should get together next week.”

“That would be great,” he tells her with eager relief.

Wow, what would they do? Grab lunch? Dinner? Hot chocolates and ice skating at Rockefeller Center? A movie at his place? All of his roommates have early or no exams (lucky bastards) and plans to head home for the holidays right after, leaving him alone in the apartment.

“This is a late exam,” MJ says, doublechecking the date in her planner, which includes all of his deadlines (in red ink) alongside hers (in blue), “but the library’s open practically every day but Christmas.”

Oh. She means get together here. Of course. He didn’t really make it clear that the exam isn’t what he’s worried about, or at least it’s not the main thing.

“Well,” Peter says, “consistency.”

“What’s up with you?” she asks, narrowing her eyes are him, apparently not satisfied since he does still sound kinda bereft.

Retrieving his novel and his laptop, he says, “Nothing,” and thinks, I was just wishing we were more than friends.

OZEKI, Ruth ― A Tale for the Time Being

They hang out once before his exam, when MJ helps Peter with prep, and once after, when he’s getting a jump on his reading for semester two. The second time, totally by accident, she meets May.

MJ’s at his apartment for the first time and the two out of three of his roommates who’ve already returned are being loud enough that Peter can’t forget their existence the way he wants to (just for right now) and ignore everything in the world that isn’t his tutor/friend/person he’s been pining for every spare second since they’ve been apart. Two weeks is too long. They’re finally taking an honest crack at the novel he’s been assigned for next week, the first week back at school, when there’s a knock at the door, followed by cheerful hollering from his roommates. Peter knows who it is even before he rises and sheepishly lets his aunt hand him everything he forgot at home when he packed; his roommates love May.

Though he told MJ she didn’t have to get up, she’s suddenly next to him at the door―he’s startled to feel her briefly lean against him―then being pulled into a hug by his aunt. When she leaves for a minute to go to the washroom, May drags Peter away from his roommates.

“Who was that?” she wonders, face lighting up with curiosity and premature excitement.

He feels himself turn red and itches at his cheek like he can scratch the flush out.

“Just a friend.”

His aunt raises her eyebrows doubtfully.

PALAHNIUK, Chuck ― Choke

After spending last Thursday giving A Tale for the Time Being the attention they should’ve the week before, they’re back on schedule with a new book. Sort of back on schedule. They start off discussing the novel, but when Peter runs one of his prof’s assertions about it past Google, he finds out Choke has a movie version. He and MJ glance at each other. Yeah, why not? It’s only their second week back on campus and they don’t have their full studying stamina back yet. They trek down to the film library in the basement to see if they have a copy.

Soon, they’re wearing bulky borrowed headphones, hunkered down at the corner computer in the viewing lab that’s kept in the dark, watching a film about a sex addict. They’re awkward at first, or maybe it’s just Peter, but eventually he relaxes, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. MJ shifts around next to him. She kicks her shoes off and brings her feet up off the floor. They’re tightly side by side to watch the same computer screen, so when she crosses her legs, her knee lands on his thigh. Peter stares at it for a minute in the screen’s glow, missing the movie. He lays his palm on top of the rough, cool denim, and MJ turns her head to see what’s up. Immediately, he moves to withdraw his hand from her knee, but she pats the back of it, giving him permission.

Heart thumping, Peter eases the headphones off one ear. The room’s completely quiet, apart from the way MJ exhales heavily through her nose as she settles into position for the rest of the film. He swallows. He should tell her, right now.

“Hey, MJ…” he starts.

But she doesn’t look, doesn’t turn. Can’t hear anything outside those fucking headphones. Weirdly, she does glance at him a few minutes later, unprompted. She reaches out and pauses the movie. He lifts his headphones off when she does, eyes drawn to how they mess up her hair.

“Did you say something?” MJ asks.

Now, now, now, Peter tells himself.

“Uh, no.” He gives her a tight smile and unpauses Choke.

QUICK, Matthew ― The Good Luck of Right Now

“You have other friends, right?” Peter wonders aloud as MJ reads over the short responses he’s composed for an online participation thing that his prof made worth a truly stupid 4% of his grade.

“A couple.”

She says it straight, unembarrassed. He understands her well enough to know she has no interest in tricking people into believing she’s more social or at all inclined towards networking. Those people, whoever they are, were lucky to have her let them in. Abruptly, Peter realizes he’s probably being counted among them. He grins to himself.

“Plus, like, class friends.”

“Sure,” he agrees.

He does the same thing―always attempts to figure out who seems nice so he can try to be paired with them for group projects or have someone to sit with if they have another class together in the future.

“Any other kind of friends?” Peter asks tentatively. MJ quits reading his laptop screen and side-eyes him. “Like a… like maybe a boyfriend?”

It’s probably a no. It has to be a no. Even with the length of time it took for them to talk about their personal lives, she would’ve mentioned a boyfriend by now. Wouldn’t she?

“I… a boyfriend? No, I… Why would I have…? Do you?”

Well, this is a surprise. He expected her to either answer straightforwardly or question if he ever listens to what she says. But she’s oddly flustered and inarticulate. And blushing, Peter notices, though she won’t let him hold her gaze.

“No,” he says, settling for the single syllable that’ll do the job.

MJ sort of nods, then directs his attention to the screen.

“Just a question, but has anyone ever taught you how to use basic punctuation? Jesus, Parker.”

As much as that comment’s much more in character, every one of his senses screams, ‘MISDIRECTION!’

ROWELL, Rainbow ― Fangirl

“Say nothing,” MJ instructs when they run into each other in front of the library, coming from opposite directions.

About what? Peter wants to ask, but he doesn’t say even that much because the look on her face is intense and because the wind is icy, slicing their faces with snow that’s more like sharp daggers. He bounds up the stairs next to her and straight inside when she jerks the door open with her mittened hand. All the way upstairs and to their table, he keeps wary eyes on her. He only looks away for a minute to set his backpack down and shrug out of his outer layers; the library’s kept almost stiflingly warm and dry. They pile their wet outerwear on one of the extra chairs, then MJ glares at him before he can sit. He stares back, baffled.

“Nothing,” she reminds him, and unzips her hoodie.

Does he look silly with the way his jaw drops? He can’t even care. She’s wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt.

“I―”

“No words. No sounds of any kind.”

So Peter grins in silence and retrieves the usual studying accessories from his backpack. Eventually, MJ groans out her admission.

“I forgot to do laundry.”

He continues to say nothing about the shirt, even when he is permitted to speak so they can discuss his reading. What he wants to say isn’t something she’d like―that he’s deduced from the laundry comment that this is an old shirt, not a recent buy. Meaning she’s had it since who knows how long before she ever met him. Meaning she’s a fan.

SENNA, Danzy ― New People

“How are you liking the course?” MJ asks him out of the blue. She’s tracing the curving shapes and purple letters on the cover of this week’s book with her fingertip.

Peter laughs.

“My prof’s never even asked us that.”

“That’s because profs don’t want honest answers. Only in essays, and even then, you have to pad them with all the shit the prof said in class in order to stroke their ego into giving you a good mark.”

“Cynical.”

She smiles dryly.

“Thank you. But really, how are you finding it?” She looks nervous about how he might answer.

“A lot of work,” he says honestly, “but it also feels like less work than my other courses.”

“Because it’s a fluff discipline compared to Biology?”

“Stop it, no, because you’re helping me. It feels like something I’m doing for fun.”

“Who are you?” MJ shakes her head, wearing a smug smile. “If the you from September could see you now. Oh, actually, that reminds me. Put your number in.”

She hands him the new phone she mentioned she’d be getting last weekend.

“What did you have me saved as in your old one?” he asks, adding his number to a new contact page. MJ takes the phone back before he can input his name.

“Oh, you don’t want to know.” He’s fairly certain she’s joking.

“Did it contain the word ‘dickhead’?”

She shrugs and slouches in her chair, phone held low and close. She finishes entering his information out of his line of sight.

“You’ll never know.”

Maybe not, Peter thinks, when MJ gets up a while later to refill her water bottle, but he can at least check what she has him under now. She left her phone out on the table, screen up, so he texts her an innocuous ‘testing, testing’ and watches for the new message to pop up.

Evidently, he’s in her phone as his normal name. His name, plus a heart. His real one’s suddenly beating very fast.

THIEN, Madeleine ― Do Not Say We Have Nothing

It’s almost Valentine’s Day and their college’s week-long study week, two compelling reasons for Peter to tell Michelle Jones―tutor, friend, precariously deepening crush―how he feels about her.

Before their tutoring session, he psyches himself up in the bathroom mirror, until other people walk in and he has to pretend to be coughing. He doesn’t really feel ready and their time together ends up being sort of a flurry anyway because part of the library’s being painted and there are fewer tables. With a ton of people on the cusp of more exams and big assignments due before the break, it takes Peter and MJ a while to find a table. Even after that, the paint smell gradually fills the air, forcing them to stop early.

God, and he didn’t say anything!

“We should meet up later,” he asserts firmly, at the same moment MJ says, “Try again tonight?”

“Yeah,” they say together.

Peter grins and she smiles back before quickly ducking her head. He bites his lip, restraining himself from catching her chin with his fingers and tilting it up.

“Ok then,” he says. “Ok. The library’ll probably still stink, so… my apartment?”

“Or my place,” MJ offers, slightly wide-eyed.

“Oh, yeah. That would be, that’d be good.”

“You can walk back with me, if you don’t mind waiting for my class.”

He doesn’t, and they do that, and as MJ’s unlocking the door to her apartment, he finds out two things: that she has a roommate and that her roommate’s staying the night at her boyfriend’s. Whatever, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be romantic or anything. They’re discussing art and politics during China’s calamitous Cultural Revolution. There’s no way MJ would even be thinking about… but then she leads him to the couch instead of the kitchen table. And she sits down next to him, letting their thighs touch. And his breathing just isn’t steady for the hangout that goes two hours before they even think to check the time. So many times, he has the feeling they’re one brush of their legs, one bump of their shoulders, one tuck of her hair with his fingers away from something more, but every chance seems to come and go while the tension stays.

Eventually, Peter gathers his stuff and lingers with her in the open doorway of her apartment. She’s leaning into the frame, smiling at him as he says a bunch of nothing, just to make the night last longer. He takes a breath. Ok, he’s gonna do it. He’ll tell her.

The next second, MJ’s pressing her mouth to his. Then, while he’s still dazed from the kiss, she pushes him out the door and says, “Um, see you after study week, Peter.”

URQUHART, Jane ― The Night Stages

What’s this mean? Peter wants to ask her, right after the kiss and for the whole study break. Except he’s in the city, doing Spidey-patrol and finishing the nearly-500 pages of Do Not Say We Have Nothing, and she’s in New Orleans, building affordable housing with a charity. When he texts her because he can’t resist asking how she is and what she’s working on that day, she always gets back to him, but there’s nothing flirtatious in her words, nothing to assure him she shares his preoccupation over the kiss. So startling, so make-the-hair-stand-up-on-the-back-of-his-neck. And it was supposed to make everything clear, when one of them made a move (in his head over the weeks before it happened, it was him), not confuse the hell out of him.

It's awkward when they meet on campus on Monday. Neither of them goes in for a hug and they carry on a stilted conversation about how each of their breaks went, Peter twisting his fingers around in his sleeves. At least they didn’t postpone this until Thursday. He senses that they’re both thankful for the length of this week’s novel and how many times it guarantees they’ll meet (their productivity per session definitely took a nosedive when they became friends). He assumes the relief comes from wanting to push past this awkward stage by getting used to each other again. Then, when they meet in the library the next day, MJ picks a different table. Actually, a completely different floor. It’s basically dead, no other students or staff in sight, and, with his face flushed with desire and anticipation, she braces a hand on his thigh, leans in, and kisses him for the second time.

On Wednesday, it’s the same spot (but later because Peter has an evening lab) and he initiates, hand on the back of her neck as they kiss slow and deep, never even unpacking their bags.

Thursday, they meet at their old table, like normal, and do some actual work. But that night, he walks MJ home and tries to give her a goodbye kiss that turns into them making out with her pressed up against the closed door of her apartment.

They agree, on Friday morning, that Peter really needs to devote some concentration to this novel, so they study at his place that evening. Because all of his roommates are home, they’re camped out in his room, on his bed, but with his door wide open. The most they attempt is holding hands, anxiously separating when one of his buddies pokes a head in to ask if Peter’s seen his phone charger.

By Saturday, at her apartment, they abandon pretenses, though they haven’t exactly said in words what it is they’re doing without those pretenses. Are they friends who kiss? Are they dating? Is MJ his girlfriend? None of that is as pressing as pulling her onto his lap and kissing her until they’re tired and she checks her phone to see that it’s almost two in the morning. Reluctantly, MJ climbs off his lap and Peter watches her disappear into her bedroom. He strips off his jeans and falls asleep on her couch wrapped in a blanket and his school hoodie.

The next morning, they look over his notes because he’s here and they might as well. Their socked feet overlap beneath her kitchen table. She refills his glass of orange juice before he notices it’s almost empty.

VÁSQUEZ, Juan Gabriel ― The Sound of Things Falling

He’s in love with her. It’s the beginning of March, the air has quit biting, MJ’s blushing when he uses his high school Spanish to correctly pronounce the characters’ names, and he’s in love with her.

WALKER, Karen Thompson ― The Dreamers

Peter falls asleep at her place again. This time, MJ’s tucked into him when he wakes up. Gradually, he drags up a fuzzy memory of her padding into the living room during the night, putting him on alert until she nudged him over to make room on the couch. Her roommate’s home. They don’t care, don’t flinch apart when she walks into the room. He hangs around most of Saturday, only leaving because he really needs to do some work on his other courses. MJ kisses him when he goes, gently stroking his earlobe with her thumb.

X ― N/A

“No X?” she checks. “Are you sure?”

“It’s on the syllabus,” Peter points out, pulling MJ’s feet across his thighs as he eats an apple. They found an alternate study spot that allows food.

“Yeah, I know, I have the copy from the beginning of the year, but I figured your prof would update it to add something.”

“I think he told us one time that he was going to,” he says, trying to remember exactly. “Now, he says he was always planning on leaving this week free for us to ask questions in class before the exam.”

“But there are still two full weeks of classes before exams,” MJ says skeptically. “If this break was intentional, he’d do it the last week of classes instead.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know there are two weeks left, but I don’t know what else to say. No X.”

“Semi-related,” she prefaces, giving him a serious look that makes Peter pay attention, “is it ok with you if I consider you my boyfriend?”

He laughs until he realizes she looks genuinely unsure of what his answer will be.

“Please.”

Peter holds his apple out of the way when MJ wiggles forward to hug him.

YAZDANIAN, Showey ― Loopholes

“You wanna go somewhere with me?” MJ asks.

Peter knows she’s been watching him rearrange the digital copy of his notes―simplifying and streamlining so they’ll be easy to study from between now and the date of his final exam. It’s very comforting, her undemanding gaze, and he feels himself emotionally stretching into it, like a cat. He loves to be near her. His girlfriend.

“Yes,” he says. “I mean, where?”

She laughs gently at him and props her elbow on the table, right next to his.

“The English Department scheduled a year-end trip to see a play.”

“That sounds very… high schoolish,” he decides, grinning.

“Hey, some of us aren’t too up our own asses to understand the thrill of a field trip. Maybe in Biology―”

“Ugh,” Peter groans jokingly at her relentless, unserious digs at his chosen discipline.

“―you’ve lost your sense of childlike wonder.”

“But I might be able to get it back if I go to this play? What’s the play?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” she mumbles.

“You want to see that? It’s depressing and, and overdramatic,” he states, though he’s never seen it performed, and definitely never read the play.

“I don’t really care about seeing the play,” MJ says as she gives him a meaningful look.

“Oh. Aw.” He smiles at the thought that she just wants to spend time with him. “Do I have to sign up or something?”

“I… might have already signed you up.” Peter raises his eyebrows at her and it’s enough to push her to continue. “It’s supposed to be an internal thing, just English majors, but the turnout for anything with any significant cultural value’s always really low―” MJ rolls her eyes. “―especially right at the end of the year, when people are starting to focus on exams, even though it’s a great opportunity to see a high-quality production with cheap student-group-discount tickets. Anyway, I talked to the prof because he knows me from teaching me last year and asked if you could come because you are taking an English class even if you’re not majoring.”

“He agreed?”

She nods.

“As I suspected, there were a bunch of tickets left over because they always reserve too many. They’re great seats.”

“Why are you trying to convince me to come?” Peter teases. “Apparently, I already signed up.”

Despite the dozens of times they’ve met this year, comprising probably a hundred hours, and the affectionate admissions, and the kissing that’s been driving him insane for more, this is their first date date. He’s excited to be at the theatre because he’s never gone before, and he purposely didn’t tell Mr. Stark about this so he wouldn’t try to pay for it; Peter bought his own ticket. They’re deep into the second part of the play, intermission behind them, and before things can get gruesome on stage with the stars meeting their violent ends, he leans in so close to MJ that his nose brushes her ear.

“You’re my best friend,” he whispers.

She turns her head, smile clamped together by the way she’s biting her bottom lip. There’s joy in her eyes that makes his heart drop and flip and soar back up, too high, into his throat. He’s still looking at her when she turns her face back to the performance.

“Also, I love you,” Peter says, almost choking on his heart.

Swiftly, he kisses her cheek and settles back into his seat, but MJ tugs the hand that’s been entwined with hers since they sat down. She leans across the armrest between their seats and he’s happy to move the rest of the way. Something hot courses through him when she not only kisses him more roughly than he anticipated but grabs the tie he wore with his button-up, blazer, and good jeans. When she releases him with a smirk and a pat on his chest, Peter practically collapses back into place, stunned.

“Oh,” MJ adds, glancing at him again in a quick flick, “I love you too.”

ZOBOI, Ibi ― Pride

There are three stacks of books on the surprisingly nice hardwood floor of MJ’s bedroom. It’s small compared to the size of his sense of accomplishment for seeing this demanding course through to the end. Although this is the first time Peter’s assembled all 25 books at once, they aren’t organized alphabetically; there’s a pile each for books he remembers well, those he wants to reread sections of, and ones where, logically, he knows he read them, and yet he can barely recall the plot. He feels pretty goddamn good about the fact that, out of 25, only 2 made the third pile. Actually, one’s unaccounted for, because it’s the last book on his syllabus and it’s currently dangling from his hand while he takes a break from reading it.

“Hey,” he hisses at MJ.

Lying on her back on her soft, thick rug while she studies for one of her exams, his girlfriend angles her head to look at Peter, hanging over the side of her bed.

“What?”

He grins.

“Nothing. Just wanted to say, ‘hey.’” He’s so used to her rolling her eyes. “How’s the floor?”

“Not bad.”

“You wanna come up here?”

MJ eyes him suspiciously.

“I need to study,” she reminds him. “Everything I know about your books got mixed up with everything I’m supposed to know about my books and I’m still mentally untangling.”

Peter keeps staring down at her, trying to make his eyes wide and pleading. It takes her seconds to give in. She groans as she starts to sit up, appearing to lead with her knees and elbows as she rearranges her limbs, collapsing and unfolding like a portable lawn chair. MJ steps gingerly over his book stacks, then he’s grabbing her waist and pulling her to the bed, where she flops down beside him. Her head’s facing the wrong way though, so Peter shuffles around, getting her socks out of his face. They take turns sighing tiredly―the extreme burdens of another year of lectures over and another round of exams about to begin―then Peter tilts his forehead to touch hers.

“Happy you’re almost at the end?” MJ asks softly.

“Yeah, but I also kinda wish I could take another English class next year. I think I actually did better in Bio this year because I got to take a break from it with something that was totally different. Does that sound possible?”

“Mhmm.”

She lets her eyes close―probably resting them after concentrating for so long.

“I’ll miss reading this much.”

“And?”

With her eyes shut, only her eyebrows prompt him to go on.

“And I’ll miss talking about what I read with you,” he says.

“Maybe you don’t need to worry about that,” she suggests.

“Why not?”

MJ smiles.

“Because I’ve been working on a new list of books I think you’ll like since October. We can meet in the library and talk about them.”

“Every week?” Peter checks. “What about Biology?”

“If you have time,” she clarifies.

“No, I mean I’ve spent a year studying English lit, learning about your discipline.” With a grin, he trails his fingers down MJ’s throat, stopping at the neck of her long-sleeved shirt. “So, I was just wondering, if you’d be interested in studying Biology.”

He kisses her neck where he stroked, then up beneath her jaw, making MJ laugh until she gasps instead, gripping his hair.

“I don’t think we should wait for September.”

“Well, you’re still the tutor for another week,” Peter reminds her. “I’ll follow your lead.”

[wxldchxld]

The World, The Star, The Hanged Man (for Beck) & The Fool, Judgment, The Devil (for Harper)

The World: What has been your muse’s greatest success?

Beck's greatest success is definitely her ability to utilize her power without going feral (aka, giving herself over to the nature spirit entirely). She is one of very few witches in my lore that has mastered more than one animal form, and the only witch that has learned to shift into a bird that wasn't born into a bird clan.

Her influence over animals is just as impressive, and also connected. It even extends to magical creatures (though not without limitation).

The Star: If your muse had one wish, what would it be?

As much as Beck wishes her father had never died or that Dawnbreaker had never been murdered, I don't think she'd actually wish for them back if the chance came. She's smart enough to understand messing with the past can have major impacts on the future.

So I'd say her wish would either by for her brother to find peace and happiness or for her to be able to see Dawnbreaker again.

The Hanged Man: Name a bad habit your muse can’t give up.

Biting people for no goddamn reason. She will never stop. Also I guess smoking but idk if that’s a bad habit bc in Beck’s case it can’t like... make her sick.

For Harper:

The Fool: What is the stupidest thing your muse has ever done?

There are a handful of vampires that Harper wishes she hadn’t made. When she was first trying to start her business, she had to rub elbows with some pretty gross billionaires. Her initial offer to them was eternal life (vampirism) in exchange for extremely large sums of money. However as I’m sure everyone could imagine, these old white men who were used to power and greed and disregarding the safety/comfort of others didn’t turn out to have the best control over their thirst. 

Unfortunately she had to be the one to personally end them. If whatever special organization or task force that exists in that universe (SHIELD, SCP Foundation, etc) managed to capture them, they would certainly discover what she was doing and end her. So she had to undertake the arduous task of getting rid of them on herself.

These days she’s much more careful who she gives immortal life to, and when she does, she is careful to put loopholes into the contract that would allow them to be disposed of easily should they step out of line.

Judgement: Would your muse ever go back to their most recent ex-lover?

That would be Beck and the answer is yes. I'm still not sure if Harper ever moves on from Beck and currently I won't role play it because I'm still trying to get my head around it.

Ultimately while there would be a lot of pain, and they'd probably need a lot of help to move forward, Harper acknowledges that she made a lot of mistakes that didn't exactly make life easy for Beck. She still very much loves her, and would be willing to work on compromises if Beck would just come home.

The Devil: What was the worst relationship your muse has ever had?

I’m struggling to understand whether or not this is romantic. Romantically it’d probably be Beck? And that’s really confusing given all I just said but Beck kind of wins not because they were super toxic but kinda by default. 

Beck and Harper dated when they were teens. Harper dated one person before Beck, a teen boy in her class at school (she wasn’t home schooled like most witches), but even at the time Harper knew she wasn’t really interested. But all of her friends were interested in boys and she figured if she tried hard enough she’d be interested too. She wasn’t, and their relationship didn’t get much farther than a few very awkward movie dates.

Beck was the first person Harper properly dated, and when they broke up so that Harper could go to NYC, it was really hard on both of them. Harper didn’t understand why Beck couldn’t go, and Beck was too scared to tell her. Harper left, and she wasn’t in any kind of head space to have another relationship. Shortly thereafter, she began her mentorship to become a necromancer. Between the long hours and the fact she was absolutely miserable having to put up with her trainer, she didn’t really want to be with anyone.

She’s had some casual relationships and a couple like d/s partners but new relationships for Harper tend to fall apart. They lack the advantage Beck had as someone who knew Harper before all the walls came up. The romance faded into either friendship or dissolved altogether, and the d/s were mutually short, with each party knowing what they were getting out of it from the start.

So yeah... I guess Beck wins by default because as much as Harper still loves her, she broke her heart.

If we’re talking about in general it’s with her mentor who taught her necromancy.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 8 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

8. Double Teamed

It had been an incredibly trying day, and Winston was more than glad to be home. Chaos greeted him as he walked into work and had remained until it the end of the day. His ears were still ringing from a rather vicious call from a mother claiming that the school was somehow brainwashing her child. Although it was quite possible that one of the teachers had said something questionable in class, he highly doubted that aliens were in any way involved. To make matters worse, he was forced to go to a meeting afterwards with one of Vlad's representatives, which ended up being far more problematic.

The representative as well as the state mediator (who had been sent to babysit them) explicitly told him that a date had been set for a hearing, and if the judge found that the accusations were valid, than Danny's case would go to court. It sounds simple enough, but Winston had no idea where Vlad had managed to get his so called evidence. Maltreatment of a child? That was preposterous! He had done the best that he could to take care of the boy, and although he was nowhere near perfect, he felt that Danny was growing up just fine. How Vlad managed to convince the state that there was a problem was beyond him.

What was even more surprising was learning that the date for the hearing was so soon, just after Danny's birthday. Due to how busy the U.S. court system could be, it could take months to years for a hearing to occur, let alone an actual case. Yet, he was going to have to deal with one in just a couple weeks. It was, for lack of a better word, uncanny. It was possible that there just happened to be an opening that particular day, but it was more likely that Vlad had somehow used him money to move up the date.

There was just something not right about the entire mess, and the more Winston thought about it the more he became convinced there was something else to the motives of the eccentric billionaire. When the representative called his boss during the meeting and mentioned when the date was, the man seemingly lost it. Although Winston could not make out any of the words, it was very clear that something about the date was in no ways appealing. It was also odd that Vlad had managed to convince the state of a possible problem with Danny's current situation. With there being no previous reports, complaints, or evidence it seemed utterly ridiculous that the state would have taken such a claim seriously, especially without having sent their own investigator out.

He also had a sinking suspicion that Vlad was somehow involved with Plasmius, but there was no way to prove it. The strange co-appearance of the two had strengthened previous misgivings that had been brought up by the letters the Fentons had sent him prior to their disappearance. But Vlad was too intelligent to have any dealings with a creature like Plasmius. They could be in contact through a second party, but that would be stretching it as well. There was also the fact that Vlad had alluded to having knowledge about what was currently plaguing Danny. If that was true, how would he have gotten that knowledge?

A throbbing pain interrupted his thoughts. The migraine he had been trying to ignore throughout the day was no longer manageable through willpower alone. As he searched the kitchen cabinets for some medicine that could take the bite out of the pain, he tried to push the previous thoughts from his mind. It was true that Vlad's motives did not seem to add up, but it was probably nothing more than the man's unusual nature. Paranoia and anger can be some of the best motivators of the imagination.

It was probably in his best interest to lie down once he managed to take the medicine, but he figured that he should at least try to get some idea of how he was going to break the news to Danny first. The boy had finally gotten out of the funk he had been in after being informed about what had happened to his parents with the help the apparent help of his friends. It had been their idea to have a sleepover tonight, since tomorrow was the start of the weekend, to help keep him in good spirits. Winston had been very glad that they had been worried enough to try and get through to him. Everything he had tried with the boy had failed miserably, and had been considering taking him to a psychiatrist if his closed off mood continued.

As he thought about it, he figured that it would probably be best to explain the situation fully once Danny returned home. He had tried to keep most of the details hidden as to not worry the boy, but with the severity of the current situation, the time for secrets was over. Danny was going to need to know exactly what to expect.

He sighed as he rubbed his forehead. His migraine was getting worse. After checking to make sure that all of the legal papers he was going to need within the next few days were organized, he decided to turn in for the night.

….

Getting to sleep was harder than Winston thought he would. His migraine prevented any position from being comfortable. After about twenty minutes, he had finally managed to start to doze when a strange noise caught his attention. Sitting bolt upright, he strained his ears for any further noise. The house seemed quite enough and his throbbing headache was a compelling enough reason to go back to sleep.

As he lay back down, a severe chill crept over his body. Knowing that the situation was quickly becoming dangerous, he slowly reached down to retrieve the gun that was hidden under the mattress.

"Do you really think that toy will be effective against me?"

He had rolled out of bed as soon as the voice had begun to speak. A moment later, he was standing with his gun trained on the specter. "Plasmius…." he hissed, "what do you want?"

The ghost smiled as it placed its hands behind its back. "Normally, I would say the boy, but he's currently not here at the moment, is he?"

"If you already knew that, why did you come?" Winston asked while trying to determine a possible escape route. Of course the ghost had placed itself between him and the door.

"It's simple, really," it told him with a flourish. "The current chain of events is moving a bit too slowly for my liking, so I'm speeding it up a bit by removing you from the equation."

Winston cocked the weapon in his hands as he readied himself for any sign of attack. "Sorry to burst your bubble," he told it as he slowly started to move towards the door, "but if I'm gone, Danny will just be sent to Vlad Masters. And believe me when I tell you that the man has the money to get what's needed to keep you away."

An amused laugh answered him. Winton eyed the specter carefully as he asked, "What's so funny?"

"Because that's exactly what I want to happen," it replied as it suddenly fired a plasma ray at him.

He barely managed to dodge, and by the time he had caught himself, another blast was coming his way. The strange cool but burning energy sent him flying backwards into the wall when it hit. After sliding down the wall, he glanced up at his attacker. "I don't understand," he told it as he winced. The attack had done some damage to his ribs.

It laughed again as it approached him. "With as intelligent as you are surely you've noticed that there's some sort of connection between myself and Masters. Only, it's far more complicated than you think it is." As it spoke, a strange black ring of energy came into existence around its waist before it split. Both halves of the ring traveling along both halves of its body as it melded its appearance into that of Vlad Masters. "Ta da. It's a handy little trick, don't you think?"

Winston had seen a great deal during the course of his life, especially after having served in the military, but not even that had prepared him for such a shocking event. "Wh-what are you?" he stuttered.

"Me?" the billionaire asked with faked surprise. "I'm the same as young Daniel is… or I should say will be once his birthday comes around."

It suddenly became apparent to Winston why Vlad had been so angry during the phone call earlier. The hearing would fall after Danny's birthday… after he became… He didn't even want to think about it.

"Did you know that Jack and Maddie had gone into the field of paranormal studies in order to find a cure for their son's 'aliment' years before he was even conceived?" Vlad gave him a disgusted look as he… it began to pace. "They knew what a child of theirs could end up being, but they failed to see the truth of the matter… The boy would be given gifts that no human could ever dream of understanding. So, I did the boy a favor and got rid of them. But, unbeknownst to me at the time, they had thrown a wrench into my plans, you!" It glared at him as the black rings formed again and returned it to its proper appearance. "But after tonight, that's not going to matter anymore."

"And I say that it's not going to be as easy as you think, you crazed-up fruit loop!" he shouted as he raised his gun, stared into those crimson eyes, and fired.

xxxxxxxxxxx

"Guys, after everything that's happened, do you really think it's a good idea for us to be out, in the park, alone, at night?" Tucker asked as he followed behind him and Sam. His voice betrayed just how frightened he was.

Sam just rolled her eyes as she continued to walk. "Wasn't it you who said that the ghost couldn't leave its haunt?"

"Well, yeah… but…"

"But what? Come on and live a little!"

Danny smiled as he watched his two friends argue. Although he too was a little wary about being alone, he figured that nothing too bad could happen to them. Ignoring the ghost that appeared on Wednesday, Amity Park was usually a very safe place to live, even at night.

It was Sam who managed to once again convince them to come out at night. Though, this time, he wasn't exactly sure if it was to talk privately or just to get away from her parents. She had decided to have a sleepover at her house because she thought that they were out of town, but something had prevented them from going. He couldn't forget the look of horror she wore when they entered her impressively large house to find them waiting for her. In a way, it was apparent why she didn't like them too much; they were dressed very brightly and had an unusually sunny disposition making them the complete opposite of their daughter. After having dragged himself and Tucker into her room, she apologized, much to his surprise.

"So Danny," Sam said suddenly, catching his attention, "have you heard anything new about what's going on with your case?"

"No, not really… Winston had mentioned on the phone earlier that he was supposed to be going to a meeting for it today. I guess I'll find out tomorrow if anything happened," he replied with a shrug while trying to keep his voice neutral. Winston had kept saying that everything was fine, but a worried expression seemed to be appearing on his face more and more after getting off of the phone with anyone who had anything to do with the case.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Tucker asked, his voice betraying a strange mixture of hope and concern.

Danny shrugged and continued walking. Although it concerned him, without having a lot of information, he couldn't get too worked up about it. "So, pushing that aside, what's going on in the realm of the normal?" Little did he know how much trouble he would get into by Sam from just using the word 'normal'.

….

After a few hours of walking around the park and having Tucker continue to complain, the three of them decided to return to Sam's house. Although he couldn't be certain, he was fairly sure that it was after midnight. There was just something about the silence combined with the lack of cars or other people that suggested it.

There was something about the night that was concerning him. Perhaps it was the paranoia of everything else that had happened weighing down on him, but the shadows seemed to be darker and more defined than usual. The feeling of being watched was also present, though this time, he was unable to see any movement.

A cold chill ran through his body. Thinking it was just the wind, he hugged himself hoping to gain a little more warmth as they walked. "Dude, are you okay?" Tucker asked, surprising him.

"Yeah," he replied as he tried not to let his teeth chatter. "I'm just a little cold." His friends looked like they were about to shrug it off until he and they noticed that his breath was slowly becoming visible. He stared at the misty vapor as it formed for a moment before disappearing. Had it really gotten that cold?

After sharing a look, both Sam and Tucker grabbed his arms and began marching, for a better lack of a word, towards the entrance of the park. "Guys, stop! What's wrong with you?" he demanded as he yanked his arms out of their grip.

"Um, Danny, I don't know if you've noticed, but every time something weird happens to you, something weirder happens," Sam told him.

"And after hearing about what happened last time, I really don't want to be around when it does," Tucker continued.

He just stared at them. "What do you mean weird? It's just cold out here!"

"That's the thing. It's not the temperature that's cold, it's actually you," Sam tried to explain. "I don't know what it is, but you're skin's like ice, and I'm fairly certain that you weren't like that earlier."

Danny frowned as he looked at his hands. How was that even possible?

"Anyways," Sam told him with an uncertain tone as she gave him a slight push, "let's get you back to my house so that we can get you a blanket. No matter what other weird stuff is going on with you, it is probably not a good idea for you to continue to be that cold."

He grudgingly agreed and allowed himself to follow his friends. An uncomfortable silence fell between them as they walked, which really began to grate on his nerves. Okay, so he was cold. That was a problem how? Not all that strange. Falling through solid objects, on the other hand? That was a completely different matter.

As they approached the street a high pitched whine disturbed the night. He had just enough time after noticing the initial flash of light to make some sort of noise and tackle both of his friends to the ground. The sharp vibrations that followed verified his initial fears.

"What was that for?" Sam demanded as she pushed him off of her.

"You're welcome," he replied sarcastically as he stood up and glanced around. Something told him that was just the opening for something much larger.

"Um, guys…" A hand was tugging on his pant leg. Glancing down, he saw Tucker pointing at something. The boy's face was as white as a sheet, which was rather impressive for how dark his natural skin color was. Danny allowed himself to take a look and gasped. Where the three of them had been standing only moments before, the ground was warped and destroyed. Whatever that light had been, it was certainly strong and dangerous. He did not want to think about what could have happened if they hadn't moved.

The feeling of being grabbed startled him, but he quickly learned it was just Tucker using him as leverage to help stand back up. "What… what was that?" His voice was little more than a frightened squeak.

Danny did not replay immediately. Inwardly cursing that there weren't more lights in the park, he tried to find any sign of where the source could have been. There was absolutely nothing! No shadow, no further noise; just an eerie silence that was only broken by the sound of breathing. "I-I'm not sure…" he told his friends hesitantly as he turned back towards them. "But, we need to get out of here… Wait… what was that?"

A strange noise had broken through the silence and was quickly becoming louder. It was difficult to place what it could be, but it definitely had a metallic sound to it. But there was an unusual sort of hitching within the sound, which almost made it seem like it was laughing.

"Come on!" Sam's sharp tone brought him back to reality as she again tried pulling on him and Tucker. "I really don't think that we want to be around when that thing shows itself." She had just managed to get them moving again when another blast hit nearby sending them back to the ground.

He must have hit the ground pretty hard because the next thing he knew, Tucker was trying to shake him awake. "I'm okay…" Danny told his friend as he tried to push himself up. As he did, he could feel something wet beginning to run down his face. Great, he was bleeding, but he was going to have to push that aside, escaping was far more important.

After a few more heart pounding moments, the three of them had managed to get to the outskirts of the park. Taking a hesitant breather, they scanned the area hoping that they were free of whatever had just attacked them.

Thankful for the temporary break, Danny took the chance to wipe the blood off his face and out of his eye. If he was going to have to run again, he really did not want any other distractions. Grimacing at the sight of his blood covered hand, he realized that he was going to get the cut taken care of as soon as possible. He was also going to have to figure out what else had managed to get on his face. Although it was faint, there was an odd looking green color that had gotten mixed into it.

"Danny! Behind you!"

The fear in Sam's voice was nothing like he had ever heard before. Startled, he turned to see what was wrong and found himself face to face with the barrel of a gun.

"I have you now, ghost child."

[thewriterwithnoplan]

Dirty and Useless (Part 10)

Summary: Jason Todd had always said there were only two types of cop; Dirty and Useless. So when Y/N comes along with a spunky partner and a laughable code name it’s safe to say they don’t exactly see eye to eye. But if they’ve got anything in common it’s their secrets. Both are hiding behind masks whether they know it or not. Will the Robin get the Nightingale to come out of the shadows? Pairing: Titans!Jason Todd x Reader Word Count: 1449 Warnings: Swearing

There were many things that Jason Todd would never admit to anyone. The fact that he craved comfort and affirmation was one of those things. The fact that he often found himself in the alley behind his school with new bruises down his side was another one of those things.

Gotham Academy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Not that he’d expected anything else but coming into the school – which Bruce practically owned – he’d expected a little more respect. From teachers, he’d heard all about how Dick Grayson had been a mathlete and a social butterfly.

While Jason was more into literature and time spent alone, he had at least assumed that people would be polite. He hadn’t come from a wealthy family but people like him – the Wards of billionaires who own half of Gotham – were supposed to be begrudgingly respected at the very least. Right?

Apparently, he was very, very wrong. In his first week, the other students had made it explicitly clear what they thought about him. Street rat was a name he’d thought had been left behind when he joined Batman’s crusade but the snotty rich boys at the Academy seemed to like it. Although the female population seemed to like Pity Case much better.

“Fuck you, Gregory,” Jason spat up at the rich kid gangs ring-leader.

The brunette snob gargled out in a clearly fake British accent, “Stay down, street rat. Wouldn’t want to have to call your fake dad.”

“I bet he’s never even met a Wayne,” Gregory’s current bottle blonde girlfriend added. “Why would they associate with a pity case like him anyway?”

Jason fumbled to his feet and reminded himself for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, that he was supposed to be just like them. He was supposed to play his role as protégé son, a rich boy who couldn’t throw a punch. According to Bruce and his disappointment speeches, Dick Grayson had caught on much quicker.

“Of course, I’ve met the Wayne’s,” Jason bit out, “I’m the one who tracked down Y/N Wayne and brought her back to Gotham.”

He knew it was a cheap boast, he had been the one to “find” her but if Y/N hadn’t wanted to return to Gotham, she wouldn’t have. Realistically he hadn’t done shit to find the girl, he’d just been in Chicago at the right time. But Nightingale had taught him something important – it was about wielding symbols. And despite all that the girl could argue, Y/N Wayne was as powerful a symbol as any.

“You talk a lot of shit, Todd.” Gregory brushed at an invisible speck of dirt on his blazer before turning, “Prove it or I’ll make you pay for lying to me.”

Jason really really should learn to keep his mouth shut.

***

It was lunch, four hellish lessons down and he’d finally been given a break. Although sitting under a tree at the front of the academy, trying not to draw too much attention and keeping an eye out for Gregory seemed just as stressful. It was usually at lunch that the boy returned to follow up on whatever threat he’d made to Jason the morning earlier.

“What are you doing hiding out here Street Rat?” Speak of the devil.“Waiting for your fake girlfriend-slash-sister? You know that’s kinda messed up right?”

“Funny, coming from an asshole.” Was all Jason allowed himself to say. He was worried that if he said anything more it would be accompanied by his fist in Gregory’s face.

The bottle-blonde and one of Gregory’s henchmen began giggling, “I bet he’s just dating her to make sure the Wayne’s don’t get rid of him.”

Jason almost expected anger to bubble up, he half thought he might have shoved the blonde on her ass but that rage he’d become so accustomed to wasn’t there. He actually thought this whole thing was hilarious. They thought he was that desperate, that he would make up a story so utterly stupid-

He almost started cackling at the idea. He would have laughed at it, had the revving of a motorcycle engine not interrupted him. Their mismatched group – consisting of Gregory, his flossy and a very unintimidating backup dancer – turned toward the noise in confusion. Even Jason was startled by the bike, which stopped just in front of them.

The rider kicked the stand down, threw their leg over the bike and approached them. Pulling off the black helmet and shaking out H/C hair the rider finally paused in front of the group, raising an eyebrow. Y/N smiled in greeting at Jason, who could only stare dumbly up at her.

“Sup J.T?” Her eyes crinkled mischievously, “Bruce sent me to get you, we need a hand a Wayne Enterprises.”

“Uh-huh yeah,” He took her hand, heaving himself from the floor. “What do you guys need me for?”

“I need someone to go over the specs for the new building in Star City and Bruce needs help planning the next Charity Gala. I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

Y/N’s eyes strayed to Gregory and his entourage before she mouthed a word to Jason. It took the boy wonder a moment to understand her, his lip-reading skills were still a little rusty, not that he’d ever admit it. But after a moment he understood; three.  She wanted him to follow her third condition, play along.

“Nah we were just having a lovely chat,” Jason said dismissively, a smirk working its way to his lips. “Nobody told me about the Gala. Don’t suppose you need a date to it?”

“You wish Jay,” Y/N made a good show of giving him a teasing smile. Then she shoved her helmet back on and handed Jason the second one from her bike.

“W-wait!” Gregory stumbled forward, “You’re Y/N Wayne as in the Lost Daughter of Gotham – What are you doing with someone like him?”

“You mean Jason?” She hopped onto her bike, letting Jason circle his arms around her waist. “He’s the one who brought me back. It’s a pity really, I finally made it away from Gotham, but you know, I grew up in these streets. I guess you can take the girl out of Gotham, but you can’t take Gotham out of the girl.”

***

“How did you know?” Jason finally asked when they stopped at some unnamed park. It was nice, empty and by no means lively, but it wasn’t yet destroyed by the cities night time visitors. Y/N raised an eyebrow in question, though her focus never left the ice cream she’d bought from the car down the street – both were sure it was an undercover GCPD truck but neither commented. “You showed up out of the blue – you said some things like... like you knew. How did you know those things?”

“You’re an ass and all but you’ve got guts. I admire that,” Y/N gave him a playful smile, “But you lack something that can’t be taught.”

Intrigue colored the boy’s face as he sat forward to better look at her. But in a very Wayne like fashion, Y/N only went back to her ice cream. For a moment he simply waited for her to tell him, but evidently leaving Jason to find the answer to his own question was much more entertaining.

“You didn’t,” He suddenly shouted, scrambling for his bag.

“What you lack is attention to detail,” She gave him a smug look, “A vigilante should be able to sniff a tracking device from a mile away. It was all too easy to slip the bug into your bag this morning.”

He groaned lowly, shoving his bag down as he held up the small device, “You were messing with me, is there even really a gala?”

“Oh, there’s a gala, you aren’t getting out of it that easy. But do you think Bruce would ask for your help on it?”

“Who else would he ask?” He snarked.

Y/N fell silent all at once. It startled Jason quite thoroughly – he’d been expecting some quick-witted rebuttal. He eyed the Wayne heiress carefully, wondering if he’d said something wrong. She wouldn’t outright attack him, would she? Jason wouldn’t rule the possibility out, but it was unlikely.

“Sorry,” She chuckled lightly – though her mind still seemed a million miles away, “You just reminded me of someone.”

“Who?”

“Someone gone,” Y/N shook her head, “It doesn’t matter.”

Perhaps Jason was having a stroke, but she seemed almost tender. In an attempt to stop her from falling back into their routine he said, “Tell me.”

She took a long breath. And told him.

[elisaphoenix13]

Safety Tempts Fate

It all started with Rhodey. He got up from the couch to grab a drink from the fridge, opened the door, stared for a little while, then quietly closed it after grabbing a bottle of beer. He took a few more seconds in the kitchen before returning to the living room but no one thought anything of it. Stephen was next. He went into the kitchen to make lunch for everyone, opened the refrigerator door, let out a long suffering sigh, but grabbed what he needed and shut the door again.

All three kids were completely unperturbed by the reactions from the kitchen and it immediately had Tony suspicious. Stephen didn't do his Mom Sigh unless it pertained to them after all. The engineer didn't do anything until after Wanda opened the fridge and snickered, and he stood from the couch to go into the kitchen himself. Wanda had already closed the fridge and moved on to help Stephen with lunch, so when Tony opened the fridge and looked inside, he immediately burst into laughter.

There were googly eyes on everything. Not only that but one of the kids staged a murder scene on one of the shelves with a couple of the beers and an orange cut in half. Tony was relatively positive that was Harley's idea.

"You kids need a hobby." Tony says after his laughter subsides and he closes the door to return to the living room and his previous spot on the couch.

"We do have hobbies." Peter replies as he throws down an Uno card.

"Was the murder scene necessary?" The engineer asks and watches the boys look at their sister as she innocently places her own Uno card down.

"That was actually Dia's idea." Harley says. "She has a dark sense of humor."

Tony narrows his eyes. "I don't believe you."

Cassie snorts as she pulls a card. "Who do you think came up with the idea to replace the cream in the oreos with toothpaste?"

Peter blanched. "That was Dia?! I was puking for the rest of the day!"

So Diana filled the cookies with mint toothpaste. It was one of the few things mint flavored or smell that was allowed on the family floor. Peter's spider DNA had the poor boy sick as a dog whenever he consumed anything with mint, and he had hated the fact when he first discovered he couldn't eat mint. He loved mint before the bite. It was definitely a sacrifice he was forced to make.

"To be fair, we tried to warn you." Cassie says and Peter opens his mouth to say something, but he immediately snaps it shut and whips his head around to look at a nearby window. Tony catches the action and immediately taps his housing unit, his suit forming around him, and covers Cassie and Diana.

"STEPHEN! SHIELD!"

Gunfire follows the billionaires shout immediately after, and everyone ducks and takes cover as Stephen drops everything to conjure a shield around the tower. Once checking that Cassie and Diana are unharmed, Tony turns to fly out of the destroyed window and toward one of the armed helicopters. He fires his repulsors at the base of the blades just as pillars of light shoot out of the ground and direct the falling chopper away from populated areas. More gunfire comes through the comm and Tony turns away from the second helicopter as Quill destroys it, to find more attackers in the tower.

"Harley! Peter! Get the girls out!" Tony commands and watches with relief when Rescue and Spiderman escape the tower with Diana and Cassie.

He was grateful Clint and his family were back at their farm or there would have been more vulnerable people to take care of. The next thing that caught his attention was the flickering shield around the building. If it flickered, it meant that Stephen was hurt and having trouble keeping his focus. Then it fell completely seconds later.

"Tony! Mom is down!" Natasha confirms over the comm and he curses colorfully in Italian as he flies back into the tower and shoots a repulsor at the attacker closest to the fallen sorcerer.

Unsurprisingly, their attackers were Hydra. They never believed they got rid of them because they always seemed to come out of the woodwork like cockroaches. It was bold of them to attack directly though, and definitely new. Harley and Peter would go to one of the safe houses and stay to protect the girls until either Tony or Stephen called and gave them the okay that it was safe to return, or they joined them. They were thorough about emergency protocols in case the tower was attacked.

Tony kneels next to Stephen and applies pressure to the major gunshot wounds, and Wanda keeps her own magical shield up to protect them. More bullets from a third chopper scatter through the tower and Tony looks around for the direction it's coming from until he finds it outside the window across from the counter they're hiding behind.

"Quill, North side! Banner, you better not be jolly green right now! My wife needs help!"

"So do Sam and Steve! How bad is it?" Bruce asks over the comm.

"Friday, scan Stephen."

"The doctor needs immediate medical attention. His vitals are dropping rapidly." Friday says with worry.

"Shit. Tell me what I can do to stabilize him until Bruce can get up here."

His AI instructs him to use his medicated spray as well as compression webs (something Tony installed into his, Stephen's, and Harley's suits) and then looks next to him at Wanda.

"Protect him."

She nods. "I got him."

"Quill! On me! We're about to light up these cult wannabes."

Tony flies back outside of the tower, and asks FRIDAY to target all non friendlies as Quill joins him. Once he locks on, he opens the back of his suit to safely redirect the celestials powers, something he had to make a small modification to since it was originally for Thor's lightning. Now the suit could use both lightning and literal light.

"Don't hold back Porcupine."

Quill sends his celestial light into Tony's suit and it comes out in smaller beams that hone in on the remaining, standing Hydra agents. Once the last man falls, Tony and Quill fly back into the tower and the billionaire asks Scott, Natasha, and Bucky to clean up. Tony returns to Stephen's side as bodies get dragged away and he looks around for Bruce.

"Is Banner still helping Sam and Steve?!"

"Tony…" Stephen whispers and winces when he tries to move.

"Hey, Mama Bear. Try not to move. Bruce will be here soon...unless you can heal yourself?" Tony asks hopefully but his shoulders slump when the sorcerer shakes his head minutely.

"Can't focus."

"Shit."

There was too much blood. The compression webs were helping, but it didn't look like Bruce would be arriving in time to help Stephen. Tony's worry was now through the roof. Even Wanda focused on Stephen's injuries with her magic and was a huge help, but also temporary. Then he looked at Quill. The man was still discovering what his powers were capable of, and Tony wondered if he could redirect his healing abilities to Stephen.

"Porcupine...your powers heal you right?"

"To an extent." Quill affirms.

"Do you think you can turn that focus on Stephen?"

"...I don't know. I don't want to hurt him anymore."

"At this rate he'll die!" Tony shouts. "He's losing too much blood! At least try!"

"Fuck alright! Fine!"

Quill kneels next to Stephen and releases a heavy huff before willing the light into his hands and placing them over Stephen's major wounds. He focuses on the healing factor and attempts to redirect it toward Stephen and his eyes widen when he feels the sorcerer's wound knit themselves closed. When he finishes, he pulls his hands away and both he and Tony stare in wonderment at the healed skin.

"First, holy crap, I didn't know I could do that. Second, I need to go sleep for a couple of days."

Tony looks up from Stephen and curses. "Shit. The kids. Friday-"

"Unharmed at a safehouse. They weren't followed." She interrupts immediately. "The doctor is stable but needs rest."

"Okay. There's no way it will be here. Well go to the safe houses. Friday, call my usual contractors and ask them to make repairs to the tower. Tell the team to stay at the safe houses until the tower is repaired." Tony says as he taps his housing unit and his suit crawls back into it and FRIDAY confirms his commands in his comm piece. "Any cars survive the attack?"

"The garage was untouched Boss."

"Give temporary authorization to the team to use the cars. Quill, help me with Mama Bear."

Stephen groans quietly when Quill helps him to his feet as gently as possible, and both he and Tony each throw one of his arms around their shoulders. Thankfully, the elevator was safe to ride, so they took it down to the garage and walked over to one of the cars, to carefully lay Stephen down in the backseat. Tony walks around to the driver side and slides in as Quill gets into the passenger, and the engineer gives him a look.

"I expected you to come to the safehouse with us, but are you really leaving the flea behind?"

"It figures you would come up with a new nickname." Scott's voice responds and Tony rolls his eyes as he starts the car and peels out of the garage.

"Is there space for both of our families at this safe house?" Quill asks.

"Porcupine, look at me, and then rethink your question."

"Nevermind." The celestial says, and the rest of the drive goes by in silence.

When they arrive at the safehouse, it was clear why Tony told Quill to think about it. The style wasn't much different from the tower. It was smaller but there were enough rooms to house all eight of them. One for each couple, one for the boys, and one for the girls. One of those rooms, Tony and Quill dragged Stephen into and got him into bed as the kids rushed in to check on their Mama Bear. Scott had grown back to normal in the meantime and started making a late lunch/early dinner that was so rudely interrupted by Hydra, and the kids curl up with Stephen once they get his okay. He slept most of the time, but having the kids around was comforting for the short times he was awake. They just watched movies to keep themselves entertained until Tony called them into the kitchen to eat. Stephen's eyes slowly open when the kids climb off the bed and he sits up and follows them at a slower pace until Quill stops him halfway down the hall.

"We'll bring you your food. Get back in bed."

"I'm well enough to join the rest of you." Stephen says quietly and Tony motions Quill away to take his place.

"At least sit on the couch okay?" Stephen nods and his husband helps him to the couch where Scott hands him his dinner.

"Mommy? Are you okay?" Diana asks.

"I'm fine. Just need some food and rest." Stephen mumbles and Tony sits next to him.

"And a little extra attention and TLC from Dad."

"Just for clarification," Harley starts. "These walls are not sound proof."

A disappointed sigh comes from both Scott and Quill, and the three older kids make a face.

"Tough it out for a week. Two at the most." Tony says. "That's how long it will take to fix the tower."

Quill's eyes light up mischievously and he looks at Scott. "Dude! You can shrink us-"

"Absolutely not!" Stephen says tiredly but firmly. Mama Bear always got the last word after all.

[lazy-crow-writingblog]

Publicity

Promt: "So you don't mind going public?"

Word Count: 1,874

Paring: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Tony was in the middle of brewing himself a new pot of coffee when FRIDAY gave him the news.

"Boss, there's something you need to see. It's about you and Doctor Strange." She said.

Tony heart jumped into his throat and he began to sweat.

"Show it to me baby girl." He said walking over to his flat screen completely forgetting about the coffee.

FRIDAY turned on the t.v. and changed the channel to the news and lo and behold his hisand Stephen's faces are the first thing he sees. Stephen kissing his cheek of all things.

"It appears Tony Stark has got himself some new eye-candy. Is this playboy back to his old ways?" A lady newsreporter said, sitting at a table.

"Sure looks that way Kacey, and with a man. That was a surprise non of us were expecting. He's always been a ladies man when we saw him in galas and events now here he is with what appears to be the so called "missing" neurosurgeon Dr. Stephen Strange." The guy said with an almost painful looking fake smile.

"It would appear that the Doctor didn't actually go anywhere Dave, well, unless you count a billionaire's bedsheets somewhere." Kacey said followed with ooh's from her coworkers.

The showed the picture again and, if this was a different situation, Tony would find the picture cute. Tony had his cheek puffed out and a frown on his face like he was angry. He wasn't angry, the picture was from yesterday, Stephen had bested him in wit and he was just being petty he lost. So he kissed his face because he was apparently cute when grumpy like that. The action made his heart swoon and picture would've done the same, but at the current moment he felt like he was going to pass out. His phone began vibrating like crazy. He looked at it and it was Twitter. He was getting tagged out the ass, a lot of what he could make out was about the picture, of course, and how cute it was. Others were either surprised that Stephen Strange, was indeed, not dead and surprised that Tony had a thing for men. His hands were shaking, he was shaking. What if Stephen saw this? They never really discussed the topic of coming out to the public, it wasn't that he didn't want to tell the whole world he loved this man, it just never came up. What if he gets angry? What if he wants to leave him because of this? Tony couldn't handle that, his heart would shatter.

"Boss?" FRIDAY's voice came in braking Tony from his thoughts.

"Y-Yeah?" He was stuttering. He was a mess.

"Doctor Strange is calling."

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Fuck!

'Calm yourself Tony. Maybe he hasn't seen it yet. He probably had his head burried in a book doing research or something. Yeah, yeah that's it.' Tony thought to himself.

He needed to calm down. If Stephen thought something was wrong or that he was upset he'd drop everything he was doing and rush over. Tony knows he will, he's done it before.

"Okay, FRI. Mute the t.v."

As she did that Tony answered his cell and sure enough it was Stephen.

"Hello sweetheart, honey, the love of my life." He said all a little to fast.

'Smooth. Like sandpaper.'

There was silence on the other end, like Tony accidentally hung on him.

"Hello, Stephen?"

[I]"What did you do?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

[I]"You get excessive with the pet names when you did something."

"I do not."

[I]"Or want something."

"Rude."

He heard Stephen chuckle and it was light and breathy. Cute.

[I]"Anyway, Wong wants to ask you a scientific question and refuses to let me know what it is."

[I]"You wouldn't be able to answer it!"

[I]"Excuse me!?"

[I]"Give me the phone!"

There's some shuffling over the phone before Tony hears someone huff into the phone. Then he hears Wong yell at Stephen to go into a different room and tells him not to use magic to spy on him like last time followed by a unintelligible groan from the other man. After a few more seconds of silence Wong finally spoke.

[I]"Hello Tony."

"Hey Wong, what's up?" He asked trying to sound as much of himself as possible.

[I]"Apparently Stephen's fan base."

Wong said and Tony could hear the amusement in his voice.

"So you've seen it."

[I]"In the press's defense it is a cute picture of you two."

"Thanks Wong." Tony groaned to himself. He needes to sit down, this much strees is not good for his heart or his pressure.

[I]"You don't sound to happy about it. Did you not want to go public?"

"Yes, I mean no, I mean... Yes?" Tony was fumbling with his words and it's embarrassing. Especially since Wong has not shown a ounce of judgement in his voice and is waiting patiently for Tony get himself together.

"Yes, I did, but on our terms. Not abruptly because of some snoopy photographer. I wouldn't care if it wasn't for the fact that it's Stephen. I don't want to drive him away."

[I]"I can assure you that his sudden return to the living in media isn't going to drive him away. He does care for you and he's incredibly stubborn."

Tony know how stubborn he is and it's infuriating at times, only Tony is just as stubborn and the fact that they work the way they do is baffling.

"Thanks Wong." Tony said. He was genuinely greatful for him.

[I]"Don't thank me for stating facts Tony. Thank me for what I'm doing next."

"Wait, what?"

Tony heard a click on the other end and his phone hanging up. Did Wong just hang up on him? Not even a minute later a golden circle formed behind the couch and out came Stephen looking worried.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Wong said it sounded like you were having a panic attack."

"No." I was but not anymore.

Stephen turned and glared at Wong through the portal. Wong's solution to that? Close it. Stephen sighed and shook his head.

"If he wanted to get rid of me he could just said get out." Stephen said in a somewhat annoyed tone.

When he turned to face Tony his eyes looked up and an eyebrow lifted up. Tony was confused until he remembered the t.v. was on. And that he was on a news channel. He completely forgot he had it on mute. Stephen's eyes landed back on him and Tony swore his heart leaped into his throat.

"I can explain." Tony began, figuring he was fucked.

"Okay." Was all he said.

"I was going to tell you, but I just found out and I wasn't sure what to say or how to react or if you'd seen it yourself so I was kinda worried and I'm sorry I should have been more careful I swear I didn't do this on purpose and-"

"Tony calm down, breath." Stephen hands were on Tony's shoulder doing his best to stop his shaking and steady him.

Tony hadn't realized he was saying everything in one breath. Took a deep breath in and let it out, he could feel the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. Stephen pulled him up against his chest and allowed Tony to bury his face in the fabric. They stood like that for a minute before realizing that it wasn't the most comfortable position. Stephen standing behind the couch and Tony leaning over the back of it made for a very awkward hug. The Cloak, the very helpful artifact it is, lifted Stephen, and essentially Tony as well since he refuse to let go, high enough so that he could get over the couch and sit on the cushion. Stephen pulled Tony into his lap, readjusting the hug so now Tony's face was in his neck, and they sat like that for some time. FRIDAY pausing the t.v. just in case it was distracting. Stephen rubbed smoothing circles in the smaller part of the small man's back. Tony was the first to break the silence.

"I'm sorry." He said, barley audible. If it wasn't for his mouth being so close to his ear Stephen wouldn't have heard it.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"For making you worry. For dragging into my mess. For this." Tony points to the t.v. screen where the damn picture was there.

Tony slumps in Stephen's holds, looking miserably.

"Okay 1. I'm going to worry about you Tony. It can't be helped. 2. You didn't drag me into anything. I have, will continue, to help you clean up your quote unquote "mess" and 3. That" Stephen said, motioning to the screen. "is a reality I accepted when I said I'd date you. It's a given to have your life put out there when dating the great Tony Stark."

"So, you're not mad?" Tony asked looking up from where his head lay on the Sorcerer's shoulder.

"No, of course not. It's going to take a lot, and I do mean a lot, of things to even make me think of leaving you." Stephen finished his sentence with a smile and it made Tony smile.

Maybe he over-thought how Stephen would take it. He's usually level-headed about most things.

"Plus I've already seen it." Stephen added.

"Who told you?"

"No one. I snuck up on Wong while he was watching it. He still has no idea I know."

Tony chuckled at that.

"What surprises me is that apparently people missed me."

"Hm?"

"I wasn't all that famous outside of the medical field. Plus I was an ass-"

"You're still an ass." Tony added in.

"And you love it. The fact that anyone would miss me is a surprise in of itself."

"Well no, not really. You we're talked about when you went missing."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, most were just trying to figure out if you kicked the bucket after accident. If they found out about your magical abilities they'd either shit their pants or call you a complete nut."

"Really? Wanna test that theory?"

Tony lifted his head up off of Stephen's shoulder and gave him a confused look. Stephen moved Tony off his lap and stood up, with a wave of his fingers his sorcerer clothes were changed into a blue long sleeve sweater, black jeans and a red scarf, the Cloak of Levitation he presumes, opens a portal to outside and held his hand out for Tony to take.

"Come one, I'll allow you to parade me around this once."

Tony face lit up with a bright smile. He hopped off the couch with a little bounce. Cute. He takes his lover's hand and they walked through the golden ring. They end up in front of a little coffee and tea shop and sure enough not even 10 seconds after the portal closed paparazzi were taking pictures of them and Stephen simply responded by putting his arm around Tony's waist. Tony leaned into the touch and they both smile. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

[hopewritcs]

shipwrecked. two.

pairing: tony stark x f!reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: au based on the film overboard ( both the 1987 and the 2018 versions influenced this ).  y/n is a widowed mother of four children, who works constantly to make ends meet, and relies on her friends and family to help out with her children.  all the while she’s still working toward her own goal of publishing a novel.  y/n is working at a “last minute emergency” party on a yacht where she meets tony who seems to believe that since it’s his boat, he can order her around like any other person who works for him.  let’s just say their first meeting does not go well, as it ends with y/n in the water and a laughing tony topside on the yacht.  their second meeting?  oh, thanks to a bump on the head and a case of amnesia, it’s all going to go according to plan ( she hopes ).  

notes: chapter two baby.  pov jumps around a bit but it’s only to set up the story!  there will be a couple of pov jumps throughout the story, mostly between tony and the reader, but there will be a couple more sections with scenes focused on other characters.  this chapter is shorter than the previous because i thought that was a good ending spot.  remember to let me know what you think, comments are appreciated and loved :) 

masterlist: here

shipwrecked tag list: @and-drew-101, @witheringblooddemon, ( if you want to be added to the tag list, send me a message !! )

Obadiah Stane had never felt quite as lucky to be himself than when he woke up the morning on the yacht to find that Tony was nowhere to be found.  Of course, he was met with a gnawing feeling of guilt in the back of his mind ( the way way back ) that the man whom he’d looked after “like a son” for all these years since his business partner Howard died was missing and Obadiah’s first thought was to celebrate.  

Then, just as he was feeling better and certainly over the minuscule moment of guilt, one of the yacht’s staff members had run up to him holding out a news article from the local Elk Cove Gazette that a man had been found ashore.  He’d cursed himself in his mind--of course he wouldn’t be rid of Tony Stark that easily.  No, nothing to do with the Stark heir was ever easy.  

So the crew pulled the ship back around to the docks and Obadiah went ashore, in a cab he’d had to wait twenty-seven minutes for ( and, yes he was bitter about that ), to the local hospital to see if said man was Tony.  He’d have crossed his fingers or prayed that it wasn’t, but he didn’t believe in luck.  It bit him in the ass too many times for him to actually think he could will the situation away.  

He still had his plan for Tony, he’d hired the men months ago to set this up and Tony would be going with James Rhodes to Afghanistan in a couple months time.  It was still a ways away, but if Obadiah had to wait that long for Tony Stark to be out of his life, then he could bear it.  

“I’m here about the man who you found washed ashore.”  Obadiah pulled his sunglasses off of his face and placed them in his shirt pocket, attempting to grin at the woman sitting behind the nurse’s station.  

“Thank God you’re here.  He’s been insufferable to the doctors, making all sorts of demands.”  

Sounds like Tony alright.  The woman motioned for Obadiah to follow behind her and he did so, moving slowly and counting the steps it took.  It was seventeen steps to the room where his dreams laid crushed in a hospital bed.  Even if his face was bruised, Obadiah would know Tony Stark anywhere.  He sighed 

“But I guess he can’t help it.  The poor man can’t remember a thing.”  

That got Obadiah’s attention, his posture straightened at the comment.  Amnesia?  “What do you mean he can’t remember anything?  At all?”

“No, not even his own name.  We’ve reached out to local PD and state, but we haven’t heard back about anyone missing matching his description.”  the woman seemed sad as she spoke this, but Obadiah was focused on the man in the bed.  He hadn’t moved from his spot.  “But, hopefully you being here will help spark something in his memory.”  

“Sorry, I don’t recognize him.”  

The words were out of Obadiah’s mouth before he could process what he was doing.  He wanted Tony Stark gone, he wanted Stark Industries to himself.  Maybe this was the way to get it.  It was so easy and he didn’t feel that voice of reason trying to claw at him like it had earlier.  In fact, he felt like a weight was lifting off of his shoulders.  

“Are you sure?”  

“Positive.  I’m sorry, ma’am, hopefully someone comes along to claim him soon.”  He patted the nurses shoulder and threw one last look at the sleeping man before turning on his heels and leaving the hospital and headed back to the awaiting cab.  

It really was Obadiah’s lucky morning after all.  

You had left your kids in Lenora’s partner Billie’s hands.  They were going to go pick up some clothes for your “husband” and set up the house with the photographs that Lenora’s connection had managed to make.  There weren’t many ( just a couple of wedding ones and a couple with his face photoshopped onto your husband for the family photos ) but it would be enough to prove that you two were married. 

Billie had also agreed to let Tony work at her garage with little begging required--Billie figured that if you and Lenora were going through all the trouble that it was better to go along with you two than to put up a fight ( she was right ).  You and Lenora had gone to pick up the faked documents from Lenora’s friend--which you really wanted to know more about how she knew someone who could fake legal documents and papers so well, but you didn’t ask--and then you would be on your way to the hospital to pick up Tony.  

All things considered, you weren’t nervous.  You knew you had to play the part of being the man’s wife, but you weren’t nervous about that at all.  You were more nervous about driving home with him and if his memory came back and he realized everything wasn’t true--that scared the hell out of you.  So you tried not to think about it much.  

Except, with not thinking about it, it loomed over your head as Lenora got closer to the hospital.  Your hands were playing with the ends of the folder you’d been given with all the information.  You were holding onto a marriage license, passport, and a driver’s license all for “Tony Y/L/N”.  

“What if his memory comes back right away?  Like he sees me and he’s like I’m not married to her!”  You looked at Lenora out of the corner of your eyes as your voice raised with worry.  

Lenora waved her hand as she continued driving, “Don’t think like that.”

“It’s possible!”  

“Yeah, well, the Earth could just end tomorrow.  Is that going to stop you?”

“This is not the same as that, Len.”

“Oh my God, would you relax you’re going to give me an ulcer!” 

You sighed and leaned back in the seat, covering your face with one hand before shaking your head.  You turned your attention to the folder in your lap and opened it, flipping through the files inside of it once more.  

“I know you’re nervous.”  Lenora said, to which you turned and raised your eyebrows at her.  “Okay, petrified.  Is that better?”  she let out a chuckle at your annoyed expression, reaching over to take your hand and squeeze it.  “Y/N/N, it’s going to be fine.  It’s going to work out, trust me.  This is fate’s work.”  

“If you say that one more time.”  

“What, that fate gave you the super hot billionaire?”  You swatted your hand at her arm, shaking your head at the comment but she just continued speaking.  “I think this is just meant to be.  Maybe that’s crazy, but after everything...” she trailed off, wetting her lips and giving a pause before finishing her thought, “I just think that this could be a good thing.”  

You scoffed, “You haven’t met him.”

Obadiah had had a lot of work to do once he got back on the yacht.  He’d managed to come up with an explanation for Tony vanishing and keeping everyone from worrying.  Thankfully it wasn’t unusual for Tony to go on benders randomly taking trips and dropping off the face of the Earth for long periods of time.  His explanation of Tony got an invitation to a party in Vegas and left early that morning had been bought by everyone.  

Except when they’d gotten back to Malibu and Pepper Potts had greeted the yacht at the dock.  She didn’t seem completely convinced when Obadiah told her the same story he’d fed to the crew, Happy, and Rhodey the previous day before they’d set sail back.  

“But Tony usually calls me when he goes to Vegas, to set him up at the hotel.”  Pepper had said, glancing down at her palm pilot to see if she’d missed something from her boss.  

Obadiah had put his hand on Pepper’s arm and shook his head, “Don’t worry about Tony, Pepper.  He’s staying with a friend for a couple of weeks, he’ll be back in one piece.”  he did his best to keep his voice even, a chuckle even fell from his lips when he shook his head and gave Pepper a smile to comfort her.  “Tony will call when something’s happened, or when he’s ready to have the jet bring him home.”  

Pepper had no reason not to trust what Obadiah was saying, so she nodded her head, sticking the device back into her pocket.  As the pair walked toward the awaiting car Pepper turned toward him, “Are you going to New York on your own for the board meeting then?”  

Obadiah nodded, “It’s what Tony said to do.  Continue business as normal.”  

Obadiah settled into the car next to Pepper, taking the newspaper from the seat as Happy drove them to the Stark Labs.  Pepper began filling Obadiah in on what calls he’d missed as she made note of meetings of Tony’s that would need to be pushed back and cancelled.  Some of them again.  

Arriving at the hospital, Lenora dropped you off and called out a you got this as she honked the horn and told you to text her when you finished.  You nodded, waving as the car drove off and you made your way into the hospital and took a deep breath.  

At the nurses station you leaned on the counter and waited for one of the nurses to look up before you greeted him.  “Hi.  I called earlier about the--”

“You’re Mrs. Y/L/N?” The nurse said, standing up and grinning at you.  They were delighted when they got your phone call earlier--the John Doe had been driving everyone nuts with his behavior, and even though they’d been disappointed by the previous person calling and it not working out they all had hopes that this would work out.  

You nodded, “I am.  Where’s my husband?”  

“He’s right down the hall, let me find his doctor and he’ll show you the way.”  

You said thank you and stood off to the side, holding the folder tightly to your side as you looked around the hospital.  Now the nerves were hitting you.  

“Mrs. Y/L/N?”  You turned your head to look at the doctor and nodded, holding out your hand to shake his outstretched one.  “Good to meet you.  If you’ll follow me I’ll take you to your husband.”  He gestured for you to follow him, which you did just a step behind him so you didn’t block the hallway.  “I must warn you that it’s possible your husband’s memory won’t come back right away.  It could take a while, try not to pressure him to remember everything at once.  It could come back slowly, or all at once.”  He stopped before a common room, where Tony was sitting at a table with a puzzle in front of him.  “Why don’t you wait here for a moment and then you can come in.”  

“Sure.”  your voice was small and soft.  The doctor must have taken that for nerves ( which it was, but not for the reason he was probably thinking ) because the look he gave you was probably his there’s always hope smile.  You just nodded your head and stood in the doorway with the folder as he walked to Tony’s table.  You were worried that if he saw you everything would come back and that was not what you needed.  

It was Tony’s exclamation that got your attention back to the room in front of you.  “Wife?!  I’m not married.  Are you sure?  I’m married?  To who?!”  Tony stood up violently, the chair pushing backwards as he spun around the room to where the doctor pointed at you in the doorway.  When he spoke again, his voice didn’t cary as much shock as before but there was still some--it was just muffled by the confusion in his tone.  “You’re my wife?”  

“For better or worse, honey!”  You grinned, taking a step into the room.  “We’ve been worried sick.”  You took his hand in yours and smiled at him kindly.  

He jerked back and you watched his eyes studying your features.  “I’m-I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”  

“It’s okay, the doctor said that was possible.  We’ve been together for fifteen years, well almost.  We got married ten years ago, just before we had the twins.”  You started explaining as you pulled out the marriage certificate to show him.  

“My name is Tony.”  He was holding onto the marriage certificate tightly as he read the paper over and over again, his eyes flying over the words.  His voice was questioning when he spoke.  

“Tony Y/L/N.”  

“I’m sorry, I really just don’t think we’re married.  I don’t remember any of this.  Nothing seems familiar.”  Tony said, handing you back the paper and turning to sit back down on at the table, moving some puzzle pieces around.  

“Alright, I didn’t want to say this in front of everyone, but you leave me no choice honey.  You’ve got a mark on your upper back thigh, kind of looks like the moon.  You were working in the garage when you accidentally caught on one of the machines.  It never really healed right, I always call it your moon mark.”  

It was surprising how easily the lie rolled off your tongue.  You hadn’t even thought of the story beforehand, but had remembered the mark you’d seen on him when you were on the yacht.  It was the only thing you could tell about him that could spark something.  Of course, you could tell him some other things but that would ruin the whole plan.  

Tony turned around to look at you and raised his eyebrows, scoffing.  “Not possible.  I’d remember something like that.”  He was already turning back in his seat but then he stopped halfway.  You opened your mouth to speak but he jumped to his feet and moved to the bathroom that was attached to the room.  No sooner did the door close did you hear a muffled shout and the door opened again.  

“Ready to go home honey?”  You grinned at him, holding your arms out for him.  

[lmonsour]

( sarah gadon, 30, cisfemale, she/her ) Have you seen LEMON BAILEY around ? I hear they’re a PHILANTHROPIST (WANNABE VIGILANTE) who can sometimes be DOGMATIC & PHARISAICAL. But I also heard they can be INTREPID & CONVIVIAL if you catch them on a good day. They’re usually hanging around UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO in their spare time. I sure hope they’re alright !

howdy!! helloooooo!! I’m so pumped for this roleplay!! I’m hannah and I live in the central timezone! 24 and ready to explore!! Nyway, hit me up for plots!! lets get rowdy.

TW:  MURDER,  PARRICIDE

DOGMATIC: inclined to lay down principles as indisputably true. PHARISAICAL: hypocritically self-righteous and condemnatory. INTREPID: resolutely fearless; dauntless. CONVIVIAL: cheerful and friendly; jovial.

pinterest (TW: blood, teeth, knives, guns)

whispers   batman

anyway

lemon was born to some wealthy, powerful parents! like I’m talking  ––  had their own estate, their name was printed on everything  ––  rich.  they were old money based out of orange county, ca.  never needed nor wanted for anything growing up, except maybe some attention. as the problem often lies for children of affluent families, affection was hard to come by in the bailey household. sure, they could pretend all they liked in front of others, but truly  ––– lemon was a lonely, unloved child.

she had no siblings and was home-schooled with a hired tutor, so ultimately the girl had quite the isolated upbringing. not being socialized with children her own age, lemon became... a strange child.

the tutor, on numerous occasions, was left baffled by the girl’s behavior. on several occasions, the older woman had recommend to her parents that the young girl attend therapy. the baileys, ever concentrated on their public appearance, got rid of the tutor, not wanting the world to know that their “perfect” princess was broken. and with the only person who truly cared out of her life, lemon continued on the path of solitude.

college was quite the wake up call. lemon moved away to study at university of southern california. with the minimal knowledge on making friends and acquaintances that she had, the girl struggled her first semester. that spring, she decided to rush as the school was big on greek life. with rich parents and a pretty face, she was quickly recruited into a sorority. lemon would study her sisters and learn to become more of a charming and charismatic person. it was all an act, of course. fake it till you make it, right?

she met brandon at a swap one evening. she was immediately besotted with him. no person, male or female, had given her such attention before!! she felt fulfilled by the other and grew obsessed with the other, craving his presence like a drug. it was he who convinced her that her family had wronged her. although they had given her everything, she would never be normal because of the lack of parental nurturing. the young woman was easy to manipulate and soon she was wrapped around the man’s finger. she’d do anything he ask. even kill her own parents.

it had been easier than lemon could have ever imagined. the killing had been the simplest part of all the plan. and deep down inside, she liked it. getting rid of the evidence and thus, the bodies had been the complicated part of the plan. in fact, it didn’t pan out like brandon had planned and was caught with the bodies in his trunk. the young man tried to take the girl down with him, but the family lawyer was a sly one and managed to get lemon out. she HADN’T been involved, after all, despite what brandon (the liar) said.

she was the last living bailey, so she inherited everything. the new benefactor of the estate and now billionaire at the age of twenty. but lemon no longer wanted an easy life, not the one she was expected to have, at least. she wanted to make a difference, wanted to help. and in her twisted little head, becoming a vigilante was the answer.

for years after, she trained and trained and trained. hired the best to teach her everything from guns to hand-to-hand combat to seduction.

her marks tend to be men who have wronged women in some way or another. she doesn’t want other girls to be in the position she was in. but also, wants a hand in the punishment and retribution. she has a weird sense of justice?? like sometimes she goes way too far for simple things?? tends to be very hypocritical because she believes that while she is not spotless in her sins, that she’s the only one capable of bringing righteousness back to this world.

she’s currently in chicago because one of the professors at the university has picked up quite the record of avoiding consequences. many girls have come forward, claiming misconduct from the man, but again and again, he manages to get away with only a slap on the wrist. not her first case and certainly not her last, the bailey woman moved east to fix this wrong, all in the guise of the new opening of a charity!!

her hair’s bleached!! almost no color to it! but her natural color is a darker shade of blonde so she really has to stay on top of it. a way to tell if she’s doing well is to judge the roots of her hair. if she’s out “on the job”, her hair is in tight twin french braids. always, without fail. its a superstitious thing for her. but nonetheless, stay out of her way as this particular hairstyle is a bad omen of whats to come or has already been done.

likes to use knives but mostly stick to guns with silencers or a sniper rifle!!

TLDR: she’s basically trying to be batman, but has too much harley quinn in her to ever be truly good. and by good, I do mean both morally and whether she’s actually suited for this line of work. she’s a bit too unhinged to be trusted. a chaotic neutral, if you will. her story was highly publicized so your muse may recognize her but for the most part, she’s known for her charity work, her rubbing elbows with celebrities and politicians.

[bighitnoona]

(yn) is a heirs of her family’s business and soon to found out that she was arranged marriage with kim seokjin, the youngest billionaire in the world.

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pairings: seokjin x reader

genre: fluff, angst,

current status: ongoing (10 chapters perhaps)

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”sweetheart, you need to come with us..” your dad said for a hundred times forcing you to come with them on a business occasion that gets to happen on wednesday, the day after tomorrow to be exact.

”dad, i dont want to..you and mom knows that i get bored easily on the other hand you’ll end up sending me home anyways..” you despised, you got used to this lifestyle.

”this time its different..” your mom interfered while walking down the stairs. you dont know what she means by different but in any case..

”fine fine.. but in one condition...” you smiled devilishly and your parents had nothing to do with it. they been knew you always have conditions in terms of forcing you to get involved on something you dont like.

”alright, speak it up..” your mom gave up.

”bring back my bank account” you raise your eyebrows up and down, silly girl. they took down your bank account when they find out that you’re spoon feeding your friends, fake friends, is the right term i guess..

”okay fine. just make sure not to cause trouble on the occasion..” you almost jump out of happiness. you hugged your mom and dad and hurrily went upstairs to pack your things.

”lets go, tokyo!” you screamed mentally.

by the time your plane got landed, there were many people in the waiting area who brought signage to be recognized easily. your mom went straight to the direction of a foreign 40’s woman. they peck each other’s cheeks like they’re bestfriends.

”so is this (y/n) already? woah you grew up so fast and you turned in to a fine young lady! i remember the time when my husband and my son visited you, you were still small..” she started to tell you stories when you were small like she knew you since you were born.

”are we staying on their house or are we booking on a hotel?” you asked referring to the woman’s house

”we’re staying on hotel since they’ll be staying there, too!” your mom responsed happily and you just shrugged about it.

when the program started, the guests were called out by the mc and thats the cue for the entrance. your family was called out first thing when everyone was settled its not new anymore.

you were smiling confidently showing off your shimmering and sparkling long evening gown colored in black. everyone is dressed in formal, ladies wore dresses and gowns with accesories, gentlemen wore their tuxedo’s and americana suit’s pairing with their clean hair-cut.

you admired everyone, honestly speaking you’re not one of those brat who had so much pride and ego in herself, you atleast know how to appreciate small things. what makes your night more enjoyable was seeing the tall guy with brown under-cut hair, thick eyebrows and lips, broad shoulders and fascinating long neck.

he caught you staring at him, he smirked. and that made you flustered. he was obviously older than you. 26 perhaps and you’re like 21. you took your eyes off him and made yourself busy with other things like making friends with your dad’s business partners but let’s be honest your only friend right here is your cousin and his friend.

”so.. what will you do after this?” your cousin, jungkook asked you. he looks miserably bored and you know it.

”sleep. what else? there’s no fun here.” you said, atleast keeping the fact that you were intrigued on the guy you saw earlier.

”there’s a club on the roofdeck, would you mind to check it out later?” he wasnt really asking at you, he was pleading.

”yeah. i actually agree with jungkook. c’mon (y/n) it’ll be fun!” taehyung butt in to your conversation.

”okay fine, you’ both will keep me company alright?” they happily nodded on you, however you know that’s a lie, you know your cousin is a fuckboy cannot deny the undeniable fact.

after the program, everyone went out as well as you but you were not with jungkook qnd taehyung anymore. you halted when you saw your mother with the guy who glued your eyes earlier.

”oh hey! that’s my daughter right there. i hope you still remember her.. come here (y/n)!” you were supposed to take a detour but oh no, your mom started to call you. you politely joined them with an awkward smile.

”goodevening gentleman..” you shyly spoke and lightly bowed. you saw your mom bringing up her proud face that she taught you so well.

you hardly gulped when he took your hands and kissed it. that was the most respectful way of greeting a lady. oh it sucks, he looks hardcore. you erase the thought that has been bothering you.

”hello m’lady.. it’s nice seeing you again..” he smiled and you giggled when he’s puffy cheeks showed. sure he was confused why did you giggled but it gave him the right satisfaction. hearing you giggles is like a music to his ears.

you didn’t have the chance to ask if you have met before because you barely remember anything from your childhood you were flustered when a hands were wrap on your shoulders. ”goodevening, seokjin. goodevening, auntie..” jungkook greeted. you saw how seokjin’s jaw clenched.

”hey, kid..” he smiled devilishly, fair enough you both have something in common.

”don’t kid me, you old-man!” jungkook hissed and at some point that made me laugh, i see how my cousin made seokjin taken aback.

”Auntie, I will borrow your beloved daughter for a while!” jungkook said to your mom and pulled you out on the most awkward conversation you ever had to your mom knew she couldn’t disagree so she let jungkook took you away.

”god, thank you for saving me..” you could almost kiss your cousin’s cheeks for feeling relieved.

”yeah.. i see how tense you were..” he chuckled. funny thing is he whistled something with a rythmn and taehyung suddenly went out on the room before you.

”woah what sorcery was that?” you laugh.

”something you can’t do..” they both laugh and mock you on your way to the roofdeck.

the moment you got inside.. the room was half filled of people and mostly its adults. the sounds of glasses clinking, the crowd’s noise and the background music that has been played of the DJ. you can already taste the alcohol just by smelling to it.

”lets get wasted!” taehyung shouted and started to dance while walking to the dance floor. he looks insane. but cute.

both of you and your cousin jungkook directed to the bartender. he ordered for you apparently you’re not good in this and he knows.

”what is this?” you asked and smelled it when your drinks has been served.

”that’s an americano. its just equal parts to amaro and sweet vermouth, built over ice and topped with soda. its like a negroni with soda to make it even more refreshing plus the perfect balance of bitter and sweet in addition with this aperitivo, you can drink it before or after dinner and still be able to make good conversation afterwards..” he explained.

”i am honestly thankful that you are the one who’s with me right now and not taehyung he might order me some hard drinks.. and make fun of me whilst wasted” you laughed.

”I bet you really are.. anyways i also need to get myself comfortable with ladies so... cíao” jungkook excused himself and joined every tables where women are.

”i bet he’ would have a good fuck tonight..” you mumbled and sip on your drink.

”yeah, i bet too..” you almost choked on your own drink when you heard his voice. this fucking guy.

”you’re here????” you awkwardly laugh.

”and so you are.. one irish bomb please..” he grinned at you and made his way to the bartender.. seeing him right now he didn’t got to change his clothes like you but atleast he got rid of his americana. he’s currently wearing his white polo, tucked in until his elbows and first three buttons were unbottoned. how freakin’ hot!

you shook your head immediately, you’re not supposed to fantasize of him again. not him. he screams danger and wildness.

”one irish bomb..” the bartender served his order and he drank it smoothly.

”cool, so you’re used to this?” you asked out of curiousity, you saw him fvking finished the irish bomb for 0.1 second

his adams apple moved harshly. ”yeah. you could say that..” he moved his bangs upward and made his forehead more visible.

shit. you mentally screamed why is he doing this to you? he can’t be this good looking! oh my god i could’ve kneel down.

”so -uh have we met before?” you finally had the chance to ask him. you are a bit surprised since he is not talkative like what you’ve imagined.

”yeah. when we were little, my family went to vacation on your place..” he responsed while nodding his head, he’s literally spacing out like reminiscing a familiar dramatic story.

”cool so have i ever knocked you out before?” you sudden asked that stupid question made him laugh.

”so you’re really knocking out boys don’t you?” he laughed so hard that he had to touch his stomach.

”yeah. i didn’t know why, i dont really remember what happened before that but jungkook said someone taught me to knock the boys out..” you smiled remembering the boys you punched and kicked.

you accepted the fact that you are honestly the weirdest and roughest girl on your childhood, boys are mostly frightened of you except of jungkook and your dad.

”that’s great and cool of you..” he smiled. honestly the reason why seokjin smiled and looks proud because he was the one who taught you to treat boys like that.

jin can’t deny the fact that he had a crush on you when you were kids. he correctly remembers that you always tells him secrets and so on, even the boys who confessed that had crush on you.

thats the reason why he had to taught you how to punch and kick someone specifically boys, he was 13 years old back then and you were 8. he knows that he was very protective of you.

”so how’s your life now? do you have a boyfriend?” he suddenly asks you and surprisingly out of the topic.

you shook your head. ”nah. my parents doesnt allow me to have boyfriends, officially speaking but yes i had.. a lot of hidden and secret relationships..”

he clenched his jaw and you noticed but just shrugged it away. ”why wont they allow you to have a boyfriend?” he continues to ask anyway.

”they said someone was already destined for me.. like they knew who is meant to me already..” you smiled and played with your glass.

he nodds ”so... are you fine with it?”

”i am always fine of their decisions.” you shrugged and sighed undeniably sad, you can’t despise your parents, not even once.

”no, i mean what about you? i want to know about your own feelings and opinion. are you really fine with that?” he repeated his question, seeking for the accurate and sincerest answer.

”i didn’t actually have a serious relationship before.. so as long as he’s not interested with my family’s riches, and accepts and love me for who i am.. i might be inlove with him already before i could ever know..” you said in a fantasy way however there is no such man and you know it, reality speaking.

”you’re a sweet girl, a loyal friend and an obedient child to your parents, (y/n).. you deserve everything in the world and that includes someone who will love you for the rest of your life..“ his smile was like the assurance of everything bout’ what he said. you felt comfortable.

”thank you, bro..” you responsed.

”you bro-zoned me that shit hurted.” he touched his chest and pretended to be hurt and laughs eventually.

”crackhead..” you mumbled and laugh.

how fast the time have passed you cant clearly remember how did you get back on your hotel room, seeing both jungkook and taehyung wasted on the other bed made you smile.

that seokjin is quite a catch.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❪❐❫━━━━━━━━━━━━━

a/n: hey everyone! this is my third ongoing series! i know its kinda hard to write 3 stories at the same timr with different plot but i will hopefelly get to finish any time soon! i wanted to fill up my empty list on my masterlist library tho.

anyways, honestly speaking i am not expecting anyone to like my works, I just happen to wrote whats on my mind and most especially this written one since english is not my first language and im still figuring out how to enhance my writing skills especially how to be good in describing things, events, places, people and so on.

[ncrissamalfoy]

Determine Your Face Shape In 5 Easy Steps

And with a Don King hair can impact More than simply your physical appearance. As per research from Yale college, adult men that are not pleased using their own hair have a tendency to become self-conscious, a lot more self-critical and not as social than their well-coiffed counter parts. The notion of the poor hair was demonstrated to change self esteem radically.

 Previous to you actually pull out your hair, Bear in mind that there surely is nothing as'ordinary' as it has to do with the items in mind -- only the hair that you chance to own been coped with hair which is particular for you personally. And that which exactly makes it exceptional is dependent upon its own arrangement.

 Evaluating Your Own Hair Variety

Hair changes in depth -- out of 50 microns (a component of measure equivalent to at least one percent of a metre) in people with nice hair over one hundred microns. Thickness also is dependent upon the amount of hairs onto your own mind.

 The Way a hair acts Is Based on the form of The individual bottoms. Asian hair thinning, as an instance, can be around, thus lies straight and flat; wavy hair is a little more oblong, which has a tendency to ensure it is nice together with varying amounts of waviness; and also afrocaribbean hair really is curved and flat, offering it its curly look.

 What is more, hair thinning density -- just how lots of Individual bottoms you can find all on the mind -- has been influenced with its own colour, together with blondes with probably the maximum hair and also red-heads the very least.

 "Half the battle will be studying the way to Do the Job Together with the hair you have ever been awarded," states Wendy Lewis, composer of Hair Affair. "You will understand how your own hair acts, but also getting hired look healthy, manageable and shiny may require just a tiny understanding."

 To this (divide ) finish, this manual is really here to Aid. Whether a mop is curled, curly, frizzy, thick or merely won't lie level, we've got a struggle want to conquer any sort of terrible hair .

 Coping With: Thick Hair

At an Identical manner it's Difficult to sympathise Having a billionaire who cares concerning the cost tag on sustaining his yacht, then it truly is difficult to really feel shame for a guy who whines his own hair really is overly delicate. However, if you should be this person in question, then a thick thatch may be described as a steady supply of aggravation.

 "With hair that is thick, that the Most Important dilemma is Manageability along with also the absolute amount of their own hair," claims Jaymarie Winkler, a shop director in the brand new Ruffians barber-shop at London office store Liberty.

 The Way to Create Thick Hair

Ordinarily, marginally shorter hairstyles Do the Job Most useful the following. "Believe Caesar fringes, buzz blows, textured plants and brief weathered quiffs," says Winkler.

 In Case the hair Is Particularly thick, then inquire your Barber or woman to choose a number of out the weight with exclusive thinning scissors. "This may aid in case your hair is quite thick, but stay clear of doing this in case your own hair is too rough, since it's going to help it become carbonated and more uncontrollable."

 In Addition, it Is worth Making it possible for the hair to wash naturally if potential since jelqing could boost volume, so which makes it appear much sexier. If blowdrying is very important, stay glued to some trendy feeling.

 Everything Services and Products To Utilize For Thick Hair

Perhaps not volumising mousse, such as you personally. Scrub hair Advantages of styling services and products which offer hold with no incorporating quantity or stickiness, S O Winkler proposes stocking upon clays or even pastes.

 In accordance with Paul Morgan, a Learn barber In Jacks of all London, a fantastic moisturising shampoo can be crucial, as would be an adequate conditioner. "They will prevent hair-drying and be sure that it remains in very good shape, and it is essential as when dry remains dry that the cuticles [the surface of one's hair] will stay receptive plus it's going to look fuller and straw-like."

 Conditioners also Keep thick hair relaxed and also lead at a more glowing and not as voluminous appearance. "Moroccan Oil is good for brittle hair since it moisturises and, even using protracted usage, may adjust the feel and also soften the entire scalp," states Morgan.

 Coping With: Wavy Hair

Approximately 40 percent of men have Slightly curly hairand in the event that you should be one among them, then you are in fine business --David Gandy, Orlando Bloom and also Roger Federer are 3 famous adult males who understand just how to experience waves.

 Like curled hair, the watertight material could seem Bulky and will to answer this current weather with an tide turning into more conspicuous sometimes of higher humidity or if there is drizzle in the atmosphere. Supplemental waves may additionally sprout in regions you had rather they did not and receive knotted and uncontrollable in case your hair is too long enough.

 The Way to Create Wavy Hair

"in the Place of the usual Terrible matter, in most respects, Hair thinning hair really is your sacred grail of hair thinning styles," says Winkler. "just about all fashions operate, however whatever pushed backwards genuinely shows off this tide. When a hair is thick in addition to wavy, even however, your own barber usually takes a number of some of the majority out having a wig or thinning scissors without even risking frizz."

 Notably Fantastic reductions for men together with wavy hair Hair include things like the under-cut (at which both sides and rear a maintain very short with all the hair worn on shirt ), the people school facet area (at which in fact the fringe drops forwards ) or unfastened and tousled (feel Jon Snow or Harry types ). Only recall: that the more your hair, the more conspicuous the tide, therefore in case restrain can be your own target, maintain your own hair underneath about three inches approximately in total.

 To muster more hair thinning hair which will become Bit shaky, Morgan indicates linking this up broadly instantly. "disassembled from the daytime it is going to have natural, very cluttered, wavy appearance -- low care and very easily trendy "

 Everything Services and Products To Utilize On Wavy Hair

"I urge a Sea-salt or even volumising spray To offer a little bit of oomph prior styling either a glistening pomade or perhaps a shaving glue," says Winkler.

 You May increase (and seem following ) your waves With hair goods developed to identify and boost waves and curls while still cutting down the insane scientist appearance by having an anti-frizz serum.

 If you Really Need to wave goodbye, then you then can Always briefly take them of with all the aid of some of ceramic sprays. If the trimming is very brief, then elect to get a version having bigger plates since these supply larger accuracy -- and that's actually the gap involving smouldering appearances and second-degree burns off.

 Coping With: Scrub Hair

"hair is curled due to the follicle It develops from underneath your entire scalp isn't directly," claims star hair dresser and also trichologist man Parsons. An average of, curled hair can be somewhat rough in feel, and also the coarser the hair, the water it's and for that reason the drier it's.

 "Additionally, it absorbs mild instead of reflects It, therefore it will not have to seem like'glistening' as well as hair might," says Parsons. "Another drawback is it could eventually become curled in humid weather, so and that's the reason why it is crucial that you make use of services and products which make a protective guard ."

 The Way to Create Frizzy Hair

A Whole Lot of men find affectionate for curled Hair overpowering, ignoring this into the purpose of humor 1980s scouser ("it really is not the simplest hair variety to take care of," admits Parsons).

 You've got three choices: battle this from maintaining It shot (and that's the way Justin Timberlake tackles his famously curled mop shirt ), get rid of the curls having a enjoyable therapy, or and that really is unquestionably the simplest & most accurate alternative -- you are able to merely take advantage of exactly what character has presented you. Afterall, it is less though there are not a lot of poster-boys to get curled hairthink James Franco,'' Adrian Grenier and also Carlos Valderrama. Ok, so not Valderrama, nevertheless, you receive the concept.

 "To preserve define curly hair, inquire your Barber to get a level, layered minimize create the entire, curled end," advises Morgan. "that you really do not desire an excessive amount of reduction or texturising to occur" A curled haired (quick in the sides and back, extended and curled in addition ) consistently appears excellent, as does a curly haired quiff and hair increased into jaw-length a manhattan project Aiden Turner at Poldark.

 No matter fashion you Opt for, be certain to obtain it shaped or cut after tender. Wild hair is much more comfy once moist, flapping a little once warm, therefore with this manner guarantees that the length and style that you desire.

 Everything Services and Products To Utilize On Your Hair

"Product or Service option Is Critical for curled hair," Claims Morgan, that urges a moisturising shampoo to avoid hair turning out to be watertight and dry with a shaving product such as Moroccan Oil Moulding Cream. "It could be implemented to damp hair and, like it truly is exceptionally moisturising, is ideal for curled hair," he states. "It helps define both the curls give decent grip"

 If you are at a knot, then select up the proper Tool, also. Hair might be retained tangle-free by simply making use of a brush developed particularly for curled and thick hair; those possess elastic teeth which gently moisturizes down and smooth the hair of the cuticles though firming hurt. Additionally, drying hair using a hair drier with a diffuser may help to protect your hair and specify curls without even leaving them watertight.

 "To get a relaxed curled Appearance, simply towel Scrub your hair and employ a normal hair drier nozzle or link to aid moisturize your hair to get an even longer stimulating flake out," states Morgan. "Or even in the event that you'd like them, straighteners can provide you a brand new style for daily "

 Simply Keep in Mind that Utilizing warmth on curls -- combined side alcohol-based sprays and mousses -- may create desert-dry hair drier, and thus do not neglect to undo the ramifications having a moisture-rich, non-volumising shampoo and also intermittent freezer.

 Coping With: Unruly Hair

Like Younger kids, hair could be obedient And nicely behaved or unruly and rebellious. Ever since your thoughts of hair really is exceptional, odds are it's going to possess a unique kinks and quirks. The majority of them you have adopted and heard to dwell together with, however a couple of -- cow-licks and dual shingles, especially -- could be especially debatable.

 Crowns are (mainly abbreviated ) whorls of baldness That form in a core stage in the rear part of the skull only down by the peak of your face -- however a few individuals have just two of them, generating a'double crown'. These are able to be catchy for barbers to bargain with due to the fact they need to bargain with just two centers of expansion to create round.

 Cow-licks, meanwhile, are somewhat little segments of Hair which extend contrary to the typical management of baldness increased over your mind to develop gravity-defying tufts which stand upward and withstand most efforts to tame them together with services and products such as waxes and pomades.

 The Way to Create

"In case you Are in Possession of a conspicuous double crown, then you Need to dedicate to a lengthy, really dimmed or quick design," says Winkler. "more will weigh down the crown, rendering it noticeable, and moving brief and weathered will conceal it" Such a thing among and also you're seeking problem, together with various segments of one's hair growth markedly aside.

 The Simplest way to Handle a stubborn Cowlick will be really to really go to get a brief, spiky or eclectic style which is employed using it instead of it, disguising the hyper-active hair from the procedure.

 Everything Services and Products To Utilize On Unruly Hair

That isn't any magical potion that could help the following. But a couple of styling methods will certainly help for making matters less difficult.

 As an Example, Blowdrying can briefly Transform the management of hair development should cow-licks certainly are a issue, even though raising your hair more may aid by weighing down it.

 Lately, washing your hair Often can be a fantastic hack whilst the all-natural oils may consider exactly the patient Strands down in your origin canal.

[ideadudes-blog1]

7 Steps To FINANCIAL FREEDOM & INDEPENDENCE For Millennials & Students!

Being young and starting out in life is a little scary. We have all been there. Myself that was a little while back. No it was not before the dinosaurs roamed the earth or when Adam and Eve were created. But, I am not a spring chicken. But, one thing that I did realize growing up is that time flies. So, you need to be prepared for the future. If you are not then it will bite you in the assets. So, where do you get started , when do you get started, these are the questions that need to be answered. In this article I will point out some of the things that you can do to get started the right way. You are the next generation and the pride of the future. Make us proud. Mindset Discontinue your fascination about the doom and gloom and start fascinated by the options, begin thinking about what you could create for yourself. Even though it can be only something really small, doing it given that as you do it you see the outcome you see how powerful and persons who you might be. Even have a fairly good think about your attitude on the subject of spending. My money mantra is handiest purchase what you love, value, use and appreciate. Building wealth has surely nothing to do with how a lot you earn however what you do with what you earn. Don't get me wrong I like a luxury purchase. Nevertheless, I do it inside a balanced process. I prioritize my economic objectives and my monetary successes earlier than I am going and reward with some extravagant high-priced purchase. Have a fiscal snapshot You have to comprehend where you stand financially proper now. So, open up your Excel spreadsheet and write down cutting-edge date and write down your whole belongings, all of your liabilities and the way much passive income you earn. Now, whilst you first begin doing this it would seem very small. Now not much to place into the Excel spreadsheet however as you see as time goes with the aid of and you frequently replace this Excel spreadsheet, you will see that you're absolutely getting wealthier and wealthier and due to the fact that you can see that growth you can be more influenced and extra committed and related to growing these numbers. So on the subject of what you place in that Excel spreadsheet. I'm fairly sorry, it doesn't comprise cars, depreciating property, even those luxurious purchases like a fashion designer purse. It's actual monetary property So you'll write down your retirement savings reminiscent of your 401k plan or your superannuation account. You'll write down any money savings that you've any investments that you might own like shares or term deposits and even property or bonds. Put them down on this Excel spreadsheet and add them up. On the other column in the Excel spreadsheet you write down your whole liabilities. So any credit card debt that you just might possess, any scholar debt that you just would have, any investment loans or mortgages. Write down these numbers and add all of them up. This will then enable you to create a net determine. This is the place you are taking the belongings and deduct the liabilities. It'll provide you with a internet wealth better and as I mentioned, ensure you set down trendy date. In the third column, I want you to write down how a lot passive earnings you earn. On the moment it probably zero, but that's something we're going to study to construct by means of gazing my videos and being subscribed to this channel. Now, examples of passive earnings you might earn it things like earning curiosity off bank bills you might only be $1 per thirty days that they earn in interest and that is okay considering the fact that I'm going to show you how to construct it. We're going to rather flip up the quantity for your passive income due to the fact that's the key foundation to actual financial independence and protection. Now, whenever something alterations on your trouble or even each month, go into that excel spreadsheet and replace it evaluation it. See what is working and notice what's growing. Possibly your organization is hanging more cash into your superannuation. Account might be you are paying off these credit card debts. Now, as I said review and replace this Excel spreadsheet on a general basis. It's a little bit like reducing weight or going on a health plan. Whilst you soar on the scale, you will discover exactly how much you weigh and that's manner that you would be able to set the targets as to how so much weight you want to truly free. Now, while you see that weight coming down. You're feeling extra inclined and extra influenced extra sticking to the food regimen, the endeavor plan on account that you will find it can be really working. This is exactly the same precept in relation to that wealth spreadsheet. You will see that you are surely getting wealthier. You will find that economic safety is realistic and you can see how powerful and able you might be.   Have the Finances Having the finances just isn't about being restrictive or depriving yourself or being imply. It is simply with ease about having spending boundaries so that you do not go and blow all that money and get up at some point and go woah, where is all my cash long gone? That isn't what we wish to do. We wish to sincerely use our money and spin it and invest it and put it aside accurately earlier than it all goes and when you have the finances you could genuinely put within the finances your fiscal ambitions. So say for illustration, you will have an intention to save lots of up thirty thousand greenbacks for a deposit for your first house. For your budget you set in a regular financial savings plan so that you are making it sincerely happen. Set monetary ambitions You need to have fiscal pursuits which might be brief, medium and long term. They must be distinctive. So you need to say to yourself. I need to construct up a passive revenue of $100,000 per yr or I want to buy an investment property worth $300,000. You must have a numerical small print in your fiscal goals and must be competent to articulate them. So in case you bump into me in the street and come to a decision to come back as much as say hello, which I would love.

I need to hear what your friendship goal is. I would like you to turn up and say good day Michael I read your article on Biz Owner Survival Guide, my economic goal is to get rid of my $10,000 credit card debt through January 2021. I need to hear exactly how so much and with the aid of what time limit because it makes you responsible. Places a lie on the stand and you understand that point is ticking so you'll pull your finger out and make matters occur. So that intention has got to have it in quantity and it has to have a cut-off date. On no account say in three months time or in six months' time because you are normally pushing that intention into the long run. Supply your self up a relatively strict closing date so that you just work towards it at all times. These short and medium-term targets can also be daily and month-to-month, quarterly and with the aid of yearly and annually. Make certain that they're all in line with every different. So that you your whole short-time period targets are positively aligned to the fulfillment of the massive photograph intention. I love that announcing we perpetually overestimate what we can do in sooner or later, however we underestimate what we can acquire in a single yr. Through breaking one gigantic intention into little chunk-sized mini manageable and viable pursuits just like the ideas of a thousand dollar mission. That is how we get stuff performed. That is how we develop. That is how we succeed. Coach yourself Ensure you're reading books and listening to podcasts on Success Stories. One of the first books that you should read is "Think and Grow Rich". It was written in the 1920's but all of the Billionaires have read it. There are so many other books that you can read by well known authors. Get your head out of the TV and the computer. This is extremely most important. You have to be feeding your brains with you fully grasp what cash is. How cash work, the right way to use money, the best way to spend money, find out how to invest money and find out how to grow cash. Read some of my other articles on my blog. They have tips and tricks about finance and business. We share pointers and tricks and each week I speak about books that I am studying. I share with you other key features about these books. It's an incredibly connected and powerful crew where we're all helping each and every other acquire our financial objectives due to the fact we're making each different accountable. Do it Stop talking about it and just do it. You can plan all day but until you actually do it, nothing get's done. Don't be afraid of failing. Failing is all about learning. You may not want to hear it but the most successful people failed before they accomplished anything. Take Abraham Lincoln, he failed every time that he ran for office except the President of the United States. Do you use a light bulb or a lamp? Of course you do. Do you know that Thomas Edison failed 10,000 times before succeeding. I am glad that he did not give up or we would not have lights. What about the Wright Brothers, do you think they succeeded on the first time with inventing flight? No way. Don't take it from me. Do you research ,but don't just read about it. Do it. Nike has the famous saying "Just Do it". Well start listening. That is how I get forward financially. So discontinue the entire chatter on your mind speaking to your family your acquaintances about your goals and your passions. That used to be satisfactory however tell them what you might be truly doing rather than what you are going to do. Make silence be your success. Simply get out and start doing it and as you do it you are going to inspire different persons to keep doing it as well. So ensure you keep people up to date on what you have been doing considering it's significantly strong and magical.

Start Investing Of direction, it's principal to save and store up for these big monetary ambitions, like buying your home paying, off your debt those don't seem to be really fundamental, however once you've gotten achieved that start investing start constructing lengthy-time period passive income streams. There are different ways that you can start investing. One of the principles that you should learn is the principle of 72. Divide the interest rate into 72 and this will give you how many years your money will double. Take if you are 22 years old. If you were to take $25 and invest it each month for 10 years how much would you have? You would have $3000 right? Wrong you would have a lot more. Depending on the interest rate that you have will determine how much you would earn. Can you put aside $25? Sure you can, just give up a meal at McDonalds or a movie once a month. Let's figure how much you would have in the account. Say, hypothetically you had found an account that paid 6% interest (money market account). You take 72 divide it by 6 and that is 12. So, your money will double in 12 years. Let's make this interesting. Say, you were able to earn an additional $1000 a month above your regular job. Take that money and invest it. At the end of the year you would have $12,000 saved. Now let that set for 10 years. Guess what you would have. $24,146 would be in your account. Let that sit for 30 years. You would have $72,585 in the bank. If you have $12,000 you could probably get 12%. I can show you investments that have paid over that. You would have $428,919.22. Say, we put away $120,000 in 10 years. Let that set for 30 years. Who wants to be a millionaire. How about $4,389,192. It is not about how much you invest but consistency. You have the ability to start now , while you are young. The question is where can I find the extra income. Well you could go and borrow money from a bank. That is not likely to happen. You could go back to school and get another degree. Well that will cost you the $120,000 that you wanted to invest. You could buy a franchise but then you will be working 80 or more to make that $120,000 plus have employees and more liability. Another option is to find a part-time gig and work to make that $1,000 a month for investment. I have done that as I was growing up but did not take all of my advice. I found a company that I could work 10 hours a week and make an additional $1,000 or more per month. If you are interested in learning how, then click on this link Extra Income. Do you research and you will find something that meets your passion. But just Do It. The bottom line is when it comes to investing. Be smart. Do you research. Find advisors that can help you make educated decisions. Build an income that is residual and also passive. Enjoy your younger years but don't forget about the future. When you think. Do I need another car? Do I really need that new pair of sneakers ($200)? How much will I loose if I buy it now? Just think financially smart. Don't do what our generation has done and buy another house or car. Put money away so that you can retire early and enjoy the rest of your life. The only think that we cannot get back in life is time. So, don't waste it. By the way, ask for help. Your parents have already done this before, so they know what is coming. Think before you act. You can always reach out to me for answers to your questions. I may not know all of the answers but I can lead you to those that do. Henry Ford was told the one time "You do not know anything about motors". He said "I don't need to that is what I pay these people to know." You need to surround yourself with a mastermind. People that you know and trust that know more than you do. That is the last point of success. Read the full article