#like I know you meant well and I don’t want to dunk on you but. dude.

[s1ater]

the only thing that matters.

pairings. finnick odair x fem!reader

about. finnick is the only one to have ever gotten past your quiet and stoic shell, but neither of you think it’s for the good.

warnings. eh idk

ricky rocks. the hunger games series is honest to god one of the best to ever touch screens.

johanna hated watching you and finnick. it killed her.

since day one, johanna, like all of the others were closely fixated on you and every move you made. you were alluring solely due to the fact that you were silent and completely detached from the destruction of your reality. there was a large admiration for you and whether it was due to your great skill in combat or ability to keep an unwavering face when under the worse of pressure, no one could choose. you were a mystery.

johanna couldn’t figure you out; not for the life of her, and it was absolutely frustrating. especially when her greatest competition did.

of course. of fucking course it was finnick. she wasn’t surprised the more she thought about it—finnick could get anybody to talk. so of course it had to be him who would unravel you like a ball of yarn.

he was prying, and had no problem with being a pest if that meant he got what he wanted—and he always got what he wanted.

it was astounding to say the least.

“they’re sickening aren’t they?” katniss almost jumped at johanna’s jarring words that interrupted the silence.

it took her a moment to realize that the girl was talking about you and finnick and johanna had caught her staring.

“i don’t know… i think it’s interesting,” katniss bit the inside of her cheek as she watched finnick smile genuinely while watching you speak. the two of you were the only thing keeping the group from not seeming depressive. “they seem like polar opposites and yet this is the first time i have ever seen her smile… and it’s because of him.”

once you had gotten out of the blood rain with johanna, crossing paths with katniss and finnick and the rest of their group—you had begun to clean yourself off in the water before finnick had dunked you with reunition. there was no reason, and katniss had thought you would kill him once you came back up, but there you had been; gut laughing, trying to catch your breath while also attempting to return the favor.

johanna chuckles, “he’s a fucking dickhead for that,” she tsks, shaking her head, still watching the two of you, “but i guess it’s sweet in some fucked up way. both found each other amidst of all… this.”

she hated watching the two of you, because it reminded her of something she couldn’t have, something she lost, and something the two of you could so fastly lose as well with any wrong step.

“this is where we finally die, isn’t it?” your eyes watch the calm waves as they slowly wash up further onto the shore, just enough to kiss your feet.

your words make finnick narrow his brows, almost frowning real hard as he looks over to you. you feel distant, out of body and too far for him to reach and yet you were more than close. he feels uneasy at the tone of your voice, like you were almost ready to give up.

“far from it…” he slightly tips his head to look at your face, but he sees nothing, receives nothing despite his hope that you’d be in touch and full of emotion like all other times the two of you have been together. “hey, why?”

his hand holds your shoulder, almost reaching for your face, but you meet his eyes before he could further do so. the concern melted into his face made you inhale sharply, feeling slightly bad for causing the borderline stress in his eyes, “finn, i didn’t mean it… like that.”

“you ready to give up on me?” his eyebrows raise, trying to curve his lips in a accustomed smirk, but you can still see the worry.

“not yet,” you shook your head, almost scoffing as you look back out to the sun sinking into the trees, “just thinking.”

“think more logically, y/n,” he settles more comfortably and over the panic, using his index finger to lightly you tap on the side of your cheekbone. “if i die, who’s going to be your friend? keep you alive?”

you rolled your eyes, mumbling, “we both know i’m more than capable keeping myself alive.”

“we do,” it wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “but outside of the games, what’re you going to do with yourself?”

you shook your head at his silly scenarios, now looking to him with something he didn’t like, “we just try to die together then.”

“she’s the only thing he cares about,” johanna stares harder than katniss was, watching the way his hand clasps the back of your neck while pulling you closer to him. “truly.”

“this is unlike you. since when is death a concern to you?”

“since i met you,” you purse your lips, almost in shame that an obvious dent was made in your principles when you met finnick. “you make me feel so helpless.”

he chuckles, shaking his head at the words coming from your mouth that some could find offense in, “oh, i know you love me.” but it was finnick, and he knew your meaning behind them and he knew exactly how you felt.

before, you were both considered some of the capitols top killers with nothing to lose. but now, everything seemed to not be in your favor the moment you met each other. you had everything to lose now and you both knew it.

“we’ll be the death of each other, y/n.”

navigation.

@transias @cc13723things @thehuntress09 @afidiofobia @savedbythegraceofsoutherncharm @demigirl-with-problems @nyx3028 @missaryasstuff @hizziestial @ritz-hell-hotel @kayalect @mystic-writings @stitch-flo @ancientimes @s0urw00lf @straightzoinked @i44nishi @falcvns @alexxavicry @grxcisxhy-wp @lupinsluvbot

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Can I please request Skz x 9th member with s3lfh4rm like…the boys trying to help and all those things (you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to)

The stages of healing.

warning: eating disorder and mentions of self harm.

Pairing: Skz x 9th member

Summary: the stages are healing are hard but Chan and the boys are here for you.

!not proofread!

Hope you enjoy this bby!

-🩷

*

"Baby you have to eat something" Chan says while pushing the plate back to my side of the table.

We were currently sat in the dining room and everyone had finished eating their breakfast leaving me and chan (who had also finished eating his breakfast) alone.

"Chan I don't want too, I'm full" I complain while looking at the full plate infront of me. It was obviously untouched but i could'nt bring myself to eat it. It was taunting me.

"You only had two bites and we have training all day today, I don't want you passing out my love. You need to eat something," He says while rubbing my back. He was being gentle i cant lie there but the worryb and frustration in his voice caused me to feel more guilthy at the fact that my brain was a constant maze and battle zone when it came to eating

"Look you can atleast just eat the mashed potatoes and peas so you can give you energy. Trust me it wont be bad," He tries to reason with me but I shake my head no. I was so full and food gave me so much anxiety.

I didn't want to grow fat, I wouldn't allow it.

"Channie I don't want too, please don't make me." I beg him while fiddling with my fingers.

"Baby, I'm starting to get worried. You only have one meal a day and when you do, you barely eat. Please don't make me forcefully feed you." his voice was soft and his touch was so warm. i knew he meant well bu the contant voices in my head wouldnt allow me to do anything.

I look at him terrified, mortified because would he really? I knew Chan was stronger than me but he wouldn't pin me down just to make me eat...right?

"Okay Mashed potatoes only." I sigh looking at the plate. Trying not to cry.

"There we go Babygirl" he smiles and kisses my temple. His eyes twinkle and i couldnt help but also smile at how pretty he was.

"what?" he asks chuckling

"your just so pretty"

"ugh stop changing the subject and eat" his cheeks were now a ligh pink and his ears turned a dark red. he rolls his eyes playfully and runs his hand through his hair.

"Yo Chan," Han says coming into the room and looking over at me and Chan. He gives him "the look".

"Is she having trouble eating again?" Han asks worried and Chan nods his head.

"But it's fine she's eating her potatoes today.”

Han smiles at that and comes over to ruffle my hair.

“I’m proud of you kid.” He beams and I poke out my tongue causing him to laugh.

"Chan can you help me look for the flash drive before we leave?" Han asks,

"Yeah sure, babe eat up. I'll be back." He tells me and leaves the room with Han. I let out a sigh of relief and quickly stand up and dunk all the food into the trash can. My heart was beating because I prayed that Chan would take long looking for the Flash drive but luck wasn't on my side because he came right back into the kitchen.

"Hey-" he stops and looks up from his phone. "are you done?"

"I finished them." I said smiling, well whatever you call a plastic smile. A guilty smile.

"You finished all the mashed potatoes?" He says coming close to me. I nod trying to avoid his eye contact.

"Okay then." He simply says before walking to the trash can.

"N-no don't look in there-" I try to stop him but it's too late. He had already opened it and looked inside. He turned to look at me and he was so mad I could tell.

"Your a liar." He growls. i gulp knowing the concequences of my actions.

"i ate half of them?" i sigh and look up at him. He just shakes his head and lets out a frustrated sigh.

"i dont get it! why dont you want to eat anymore? We were doing so well,"

"is everything okay in here?" Felix's head pops up at the corner of the door.

"she just threw out all her food-"

"again? thats the 4th time this week." he frowns and makes his way into the the room.

"exactly my point,"

"i did eat chan, i ate half the potatoes-" i tug on my long sleeves sweaters and look at the both of them.

He frowns and looks down then back up, searching for my eyes.

“Can I see your wrists?” He asks looking back down at my fingers. His eyes were furrowed. Almost in like a confused way?

My eyes go wide at his request but I quickly shove them away.

“Chan they’re ugly, I don’t want you to see them.” I frown. My voice quivers. The tears that had disappeared were now reappearing.

“Chan I haven’t been cutting I promise-“

“Then let me see, I know you too well my love. Let me see.” His eyes are soft now and were reaching out for both my hands that were covered with my hoodies sleeves.

I sigh and give in. His hands are soft against mine but he pulls up the sleeves. He examines the scars that were now slowly healing. His lips in a soft smile.

“See I told you, I promised you I stopped.”

“Hey hey hey and I’m so proud of you. I just wanted to make sure because I care and love you. You’re doing a good job healing.” his hands wrap around my waist and pull me against his body.

“Ew gross get a room.” Felix says killing our moments. Chan chuckles and pushes him away.

"The cars are here everbody!" Hyunjins voice echoes through the house.

"okay this conversation isnt over yet, here take the banana and we'll talk about it after practice yeah?" he kisses my forhead and hands me the banana before we grab our bags and make our way to the car.

"go ahead eat it, im watching you." chan raises one eyebrow while staring at me. "She still isnt eating?" Leeknow asks after listening to our conversation.

"i am! chans just being a overprotective," i sigh and peel the banana.

"i am not!" he defends himself and i let out a giggle while slowly starting to chew the banana and finishing it. "see i told you," i poke my tongue out at him and he let out a little laugh.

"okay whatever but your still having lunch with me." i mentally sigh dreading the feeling of the banana sitting in my stomach.

i play with chans's silver braclet as we wait to arrive at the jyp building. It didnt take long. It was just a 15 minute ride once we arrived. we all make our way up the building to our normal dance room and set everything up.

"lets start with stretching and then get to God's menu, yeah?" we all groan as we get to our places and minho plays the song.

*

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Trunk or Treat with The Yandere Student Council Pt. I

Based Off the OCs in this Post

“Alright everyone let’s start talking about ideas!” 

“Uhm do you mean ideas for what to do with Halloween coming?”

“Oh no darling, we always do a Trunk or Treat kind of thing.”

“We are talking about our costumes.”

As bizarre as it sounds the college’s students look forward to the costumes of the student council

Allowed to enjoy whatever festivity that comes with their choice

For reference they share that last year they had a ‘kiss–in–the–coffin’ booth for their shared vampire costumes

“J-j-just so you know the kisses were on the cheek only!”

“I didn’t ask but okay.”

It set the precedent for this year to be just amazing if not better

“Since we have you now (Y/n) we should have something special that welcomes you in!”

“I-i-i-i think that’s a great idea.”

“I’m all for it too!”

Despite your protests, in fear of being singled out by their fans your haters they forge on

“They won’t be bothering you. Not on my watch.”

“You say that but–”

“Seriously (Y/n) believe us! We’ll make sure there won’t be any problems.”

“And if there are we will kill them.”

“What?!”

“Joking. Joking.”

They’re not

Anyway it was decided on that the council will be Ghostly Royalty

Which makes costumes really easy or so you thought 

According to Min, quite a large part of the budget went into your costumes

“Pick your jaw up (Y/n)! This is the best part! You don’t think we get this big of a budget without showing off, do you?”

“Still…it feels a bit overkill…especially when I don’t have a fan base at all.”

“Ohhh that’s what you think–ow!” 

“Roman, always such an optimistic chatterbox. Always saying things that are not true.”

Lucoa takes the role of the king naturally

Spencer is forcefully given the role of the queen

Min takes the role of the dungeon master, despite his meek character

Roman takes the role of an advisor

Gil as a duke

June as a duchess

“Wait so what am I?”

“Our dragon.”

“What?!”

“We wanted to put a spin on the old system!”

“But that isn’t really accurate…nor does it really fit the ghost royalty theme.”

“.....”

“....”

“So? We’re doing fantasy ghosts then.”

In your opinion, it's just an excuse to make your costume as ridiculous as they please

“This is an early draft of your costume.”

“What!? Wait where are the actual clothes? I’m just seeing gold necklaces and bangles.”

“...That was the idea.”

“I’m not wearing that if there aren’t actual clothes underneath there.”

“...But it will ruin the integrity of the design and disrupt the choreography and–”

“Then hide it under the gold! I’m not going to be half-naked for the entire school.”

“...I will consult the President.”

You owed him a favor after that

Saying you agreed to this as an honorary member

But when you’re not having to fight Gill on your costume designs

You are helping the others

“June…this is just a dress.”

“Right, it’s a perfect occasion to wear it. And don’t my hips feel and look great.”

Adjusting the golden belt meant to hang off his waist you try to ignore how his poses requires that he touch you in some way shape or form

“Well yeah but don’t you feel like your fans would want you in something else?”

“Oh baby! You don’t have to worry, they love this sort of thing.”

And helping with their research

“Roman I know you never seem to run out of ideas to hang out but why a medieval diner?”

“It's for research! By the way, how do you like the food? I made sure the critiques were as positive as they could get.”

“Roman.”

“Yes?”

“Why did that waitress, compliment our relationship?”

“OMG they brought another plate of bread and for free? So cool.”

“Roman!”

Or helping organize their booths

“So Spencer what are you going for?”

“A kind of dunk tank except it drops on me.”

“Oh okay….this says that you’re not actually using water but…oil?”

“Yeah Lucoa suggested I show off my scars and muscles.”

“Wait you have those?”

“Hahaha very funny but seriously give me your opinion.”

“Oh wow….yeah, I think they’ll like it…no they’ll love it.”

“Oh really? Well, thanks!”

As if he didn’t already know

But eventually as the date comes closer it comes time to focus on your booth

But it seems that as an honorary member you don’t get to have much control over your own booth

Or any decision involving your event

“Hey Min what are you building over there?”

“Oh this is the art for your exhibit. Lucoa put me in charge of matching the gold from your costume to the setting around there.”

“Aw thanks can I help?”

“N-n-no!”

“Oh.”

“S-s-s-sorry the President gave us explicit instructions not to include you in the making of it. I’m r-r-r-r-really so sorry!”

“It’s fine Min, don’t worry about it.”

It’s just so apparent how little you would be included in your own activity no one really bothered to hide that fact from you

“Hey Gill this meeting on your calendar, I don’t remember getting your usual reminder for it.”

“That is because you are not invited to it.”

“Don’t be sad (Y/n)~Afterwards we can just come visit you after.”

“No no that’s okay I’ll just take the day off then. Catch up on homework.”

“Aw~ Don’t be like that we’ll come over to your house after.”

“No I’m not sad. I’m going to be happily doing my homework alone!”

“Putting that on our private calendar: Going to (Y/n)’s house an hour after the meeting.”

At the end of the day you’re just as surprised when the event begins and they shove you in the room under the stage with nothing but a warning not to move from the chair you’re in:

Part 2

[eddiemunsonw]

Princess

Gator Tillman x fem!reader blurb

Summary: He's there for duty, but then you are there, you know?

CW/Disclaimer: No special warnings needed I believe

Author's note: I think sometimes this loserboy can have a little bit of rizz if he isn't shut down right in the same second. Y'know, the silence can either fuck him over or give him cocky confidence. Which is kind of what's happening here.

Words: 777

A sigh escaped your lips as you dunked the last pieces of glass in the trash. Thankfully, aside from a few broken pieces of glass and a slippery slope of olives spread around the aisle, nothing eventful had happened at the robbery, if you could even call it that. It seemed more like a kid that had been pressured into a dare to steal something and had massively fucked up by tripping over their own feet and knocking off some products. Still, you had to call someone in. Letting these things go unnoticed would only make you an easy target. Which is why you weren’t surprised when the Sheriff had sent his son your way.

Gator Tillman came to a screeching halt in front of the shop, music blazing through the speakers. You rolled your eyes and folded up your dishrag as you walked to the back to wash your hands. Behind you, the bell to signal someone entering the shop clanged. You took your time to get to the front, already hearing several “hellos”, patience dropping with each new one.

“Yes, yes, I’m here,” you mumbled, holding back a sigh. Gator frowned and already opened his mouth to retort something towards the rude greeting he received until his eyes landed on you.

“That’s no way to talk to— Oh… well would you look at that,” he smirked and moved closer to the counter you stood behind. “If I’d known this place was run by a pretty bird like you, I would’ve stepped in long ago.”

“Well… What do you need, Tillman? The kid’s probably still a minor, I don’t know if the security footage is—”

“Hush, darlin’, there’s no rush on the matter at hand. Rather… I’d like to hold yours for a moment, may I?”

He held out his hand, palm upwards for you to lay your hand in it. You frowned at this weird request of him wanting to shake your hand. Maybe to introduce himself formally, which made no sense considering everyone knew Roy Tillman, which meant everyone also knew his son. However, when you extended your right hand, he tutted.

“I understand the confusion but I wanted to see somethin’...”

He beckoned for your left hand and in your confusion you held it out for him wordlessly. A soft smile introduced itself on his face as he took hold of your hand, thumb dragging over your knuckles. You vaguely noticed his hand was warm and his calloused thumb didn’t feel all that unpleasant.

“Ah… look here,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you it seemed. He looked up, his thumb still circling a repeating pattern over your knuckles as he spoke.

“No man claimed you just yet? Any suitors?”

A dry chuckle left your throat. First of all, no one could claim you. You decided to humor him a little though.

“No one’s stupid enough to try,” you said with a shrug. It was up to him however he took that bit of information. He hummed lowly, eyes flicking back to your hand again, slowly following the path towards your wrist, up your arm… slowstop at your chest, back to your face.

“We’ll see about that, sweetheart. No boyfriend? Man with a plan?”

“None of the sort, no.”

His thumb came to a stop at your ring finger, tapping it without removing his gaze from yours this time. It was your own gaze that shifted as his thumb rubbed the spot with meaning.

“I’m telling you now, I’ll be putting a ring on that finger of yours, darlin’.”

Another chuckle, one of disbelief, escaped your throat.

“I’d like to see you try.”

He smiled and finally let go of your hand to take his vape out of his pocket. You watched as he brought it closely to his lips, halting right before.

“For you, Princess,” he stated before taking a slow drag of his vape, eyes never leaving you, “anytime.”

Only now you realized that your heart rate had picked up just a notch and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to curse him or yourself for it. He leaned forward to say something else just as his radio went off. He snapped his lips shut and listened to the static voice coming in.

“Duty calls. I’ll see you around,” Gator said as he swiftly turned on his heel.

Just as you thought he was going to leave, he suddenly cocked his head back.

“You got beef jerky and Dew?”

“Sure do.”

“Good.”

And with that, he left with what felt like the promise of a marriage involving a whole ton of beef jerky and Mountain Dew. What a Tuesday.

[phlurrii]

Hihi there!!!! I Hope You don’t mind me sending in an ask, but I’m planning on doing the glitch that allows you to transfer the glitch Mew from Red & Blue to Pokémon HOME that you talked about in this post;

https://www.tumblr.com/phlurrii/715585175997825024/okay-were-2-day-late-but

And I was wondering if you could elaborate on what you meant by them loosing their nicknames??? Do all transferred Pokémon from Red/Blue loose their nicknames, or is it just Mew???? And how did you change it back??

Again I really really hope you don’t mind this ask!!!!! I know it’s a really random one but I came across your post when researching for this glitch to make sure I had everything prepared and I’m pretty Attatched to the name I gave my Mew!!!!

Nah I don’t mind at all! Lowkey I thrive off talking about glitches, if you let me I’ll ramble for hours and refuse to let you leave. So I am much more than happy to help ;D

Okay! So regarding the nickname, sadly yes, bank will auto remove all nicknames from any Pokémon off virtual consoles. Whether it’s RBGY or SGC, that shit gets dunked upon transfer. I did not know that initially and was devastated when I found out. However, there ARE solutions to fixing it!

1) Hacked 3DS console, if you know or can find someone with a hacked 3DS you can trade them your lil guy and they can change the name. Obviously the cons of this is the person could scam you, take the mew, and dip. So I highly suggest cloning your mew through any means necessary before handing over a copy. This is what I did, I have a handful of backups of my goobers in general as well.

1.5) if you want to clone your goobers, you can buy a Power Save Pro for 3DS games and clone them there, or you can clone your mew in Pokémon Red… however this is SUPER risky and can corrupt and erase your entire save file. This happened to me once, but if you have no other choice… then I wish you luck solider.

2) transfer your goober up to switch and locate someone with a modded switch, they can do the same thing. Nickname it, send it back. Again I suggest cloning before hand, if you have a cloning egg in SWSH or know someone who does, that’s your best bet. If you don’t, you may have to risk it. However there are people on Reddit who charge like 2-3 bucks to nickname pokemon. I’ve done it before, but frankly I’m looking into just getting a modded switch lol

3) Poke Hex, this is the most complicated way, as it requires a computer, an extra device, dumping your 3DS file onto it, and going into your games code to re-nickname the mew via this lovely program called pokehex. This was originally the method I planned on, but had a nice bloke offer to help me. The good part about this method is it’s entirely just you, no trading or 3rd parties. They have a dedicated forum for assisting too ^^

In summary, there is not an easy way to do it, but if your a nut case like me you’ll find a way or hell will freeze over X3

I’ll also offer my own SWSH cloning egg to help if you can find someone with a modded switch, cuz frankly I need that hook up as well lol, anywho I wish you luck on the gameboy mew adventures ;3

[artzychic27]

What if in the favoritism au, Socqueline was Marinette’s right hand woman and was the only one who knew about her real personality but didn’t really care because she saw herself in Marinette in a way?

Socqueline is just as bad as Marinette, hell, maybe worse. She ran for student body President to keep the outcast students in line and is doing everything in her power to make sure no Marinette has no competition for when she runs

She helps Marinette by taking part in tormenting Marc by assisting in the dress codes and making it so he can’t wear his ripped jeans

And she implemented a “Best Buddies” system for the school, making it so he could no longer sit alone during study hall and write and was forced to spend time with a student who knowingly tortures him on Marinette’s whim

And she acts as if it’s all for the good of the school’s image, when, in reality, she’s giving Marinette ideas for when she runs

In her eyes, there are The Betters like her and Marinette, and The Lessers like Marc. The Betters are the faces of the school, the athletes, the rich kids, the student government, anyone lucky to be friends with them, etc., and The Lessers are meant only to follow the rules of The Betters and no one will remember them when everyone graduates

Socqueline helps Marinette keep tabs on those she has blackmail on, all compiled in a folder on her tablet (Which never leaves her side)

And in that tablet is another folder with blackmail on current and potential students

Marc has been trying forever to get that tablet, but the walls have ears…

When Chloé eventually gets Socqueline expelled (Because student body president can’t trump Mayor’s Daughter), it’s as if a huge weight left the students shoulders, and they aren’t sure why… Yet

Still, they think Socqueline is this saint who only wanted to help them, and Chloé only got rid of her because she was Marinette’s friend

Chloé: *Walks into the bathroom to reapply her makeup. It takes her a moment to finally address Marc standing behind her* … I’m pretty sure this is the girl’s bathroom.

Marc: Don’t care. Just answer me this. Why did you do it?

Chloé: … I think we both know what will happen if DuPain-Cheng becomes president. Rules that will make school even harder for you, dress codes to keep you from wearing nothing but black, and re-instating that God-awful buddy system to make sure you’re paired up with her lapdogs.

Marc: What’s in it for you?

Chloé: *Reapplies her mascara* Well, while I have no opinions of you, I’m not quite fond of DuPain-Cheng’s behavior. It’s a little… Stalkerish? I’ve seen the way she practically drools at the sight of her obsessions, and I saw her digging through their trash cans. And… I don’t know, I guess it’s demented how she’s been treating you, Anciel.

Marc: But why do something now? Why not when she got two assholes from the basketball team to dunk my head in the toilet after I was supposedly caught taking drugs in the bathroom?

Chloé: I didn’t have a reason then. But now, I do. Adrien Agreste is coming here next year, and I know damn well that creep is going to traumatize him. What better way to ensure she can’t get what she wants than by removing her ticket to power over the school?

Marc: That’ll do nothing. These brainless sycophants worship the ground she walks on and the rest will do whatever it takes to make sure she’s president if it means making sure their secrets aren’t exposed to the city.

Chloé: Up for a little voter fraud?

Marc: I’m listening.

[hbyrde36]

Welp, I did this today instead of working on my wips (I regret nothing) 

This was so fun, @every-aj-needs-an-angel 

Thank you for the tag! 💜

Its rules as follows:

1- generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words!

2- tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge!

(If you don’t like the five words you got, reroll them. This is meant to be a fun little challenge, not something to stress over. Have fun!)

My words were:

ruby, haberdashery, knit, screech, official  

I’m sure this is very much not medically realistic, but please suspend your disbelief and go on this journey with me.

Eddie was in pretty bad shape. Ruby red blood poured from multiple wounds in his abdomen, and flooded his mouth more and more with each wet cough. Steve knew they had to get him out of here and to the hospital soon or he wasn’t going to make it, but he was afraid that moving him before they could get the bleeding to stop would just make things worse. Pressure wasn’t working, what Eddie needed was stitches, something to hold it all together until they could get him proper medical attention. 

Steve had already sent Nancy back through the gate with Dustin, ignoring the kid’s screech of protest. He was hurt, his ankle badly twisted, and if the worst did happen, and Eddie didn’t make it, Steve didn’t want him to have to see that. Robin had stayed with him though, listening intently as he explained what he was thinking and how he needed her to go back into the trailer to hunt for a sewing kit and a bottle of booze.

“Okay I understand the sewing kit obviously, and you’re right, judging by the stitching work on that battle jacket, Eddie definitely did it himself, so there has to be some needle and thread around there somewhere, but why the alcohol? Do you really think it’s a good idea to get a buzz on before you start pricking him with a sharp object?”

Steve sighed. “It’s not for me, it’s for the wound, Robin! I need to clean it, and the needle. The situation is already less than ideal, but we need to at least try and be sanitary about it so he doesn’t get some sort of freaky alternate dimension infection.”

Robin giggled. “Alternate dimension infection. Hey, that rhymed!”

“Not the time!” Steve shouted.

She blushed. “Sorry, you know how I get when I panic! I’ll be right back.”

Robin set off for the trailer, it wasn’t that far from the spot where Eddie had dropped, but at this point every minute could make the difference between life and death. 

Steve looked down to where his hands were still pressing into the largest of Eddie's bites. The other boy had passed out at some point, while Steve had been forming his plan. Probably for the best, Steve thought, there was nothing worse than getting a needle through your skin without anesthesia. He would know.

Robin returned even quicker than Steve had hoped for, wielding an old cookie tin and a half full bottle of vodka. Perfect. 

He doused his hands with the alcohol first, while Robin picked through the kit and threaded a needle with the thickest thread she could find, and then they dunked that in the liquid as well.

Finally, he moved the t-shirt they had been using to staunch the blood flow on Eddie’s side, and poured another healthy portion of the vodka into the wound.

Eddie jolted awake with a hiss the second it hit his skin. Steve sympathized, that had to hurt. He offered the other boy an apologetic smile as he held up the needle, It was only going to get worse from here. 

“How the hell?” Eddie croaked. “What, is there a fucking haberdashery in the upside down?”

“What’s a haberdashery?” Steve asked, trying to keep his hands steady as he readied himself to begin.

“Where haberdashers work.”

Typical. Steve rolled his eyes. “Leave it to you, Munson, to be insufferable even on your deathbed.”

“I am what I am, Harrington. Now get a move on, it’s not going to knit itself.”

“I think you mean sew? Y’know, like stitches?”

Eddie raised a weak hand to wave the idea off. “Semantics. Knit, sew, crochet, whatever gets the job done.”

“Jesus Christ.” Steve muttered, before taking a deep calming breath. “Okay, are you ready?”

“Ready as I'll ever be, Stevie. It's okay, I trust you.”

-

Hours later, Steve, Robin, and Nancy were sitting in the hospital waiting room, praying for good news about Eddie or Max. They’d lost, that much was made clear by Max’s injuries and the sudden appearance of giant flaming red fissures spanning across the town. The only upside to it all was that, with so much fucked up shit happening around them, no one questioned either of their injuries, or seemed to care that Eddie was wanted by the police. 

Eddie’s last words had been ringing in Steve's ear since he heard them. ‘It’s okay, I trust you.” He passed out again right after he’d said it, and Steve had gone to task in eerie silence.

His work had been shoddy at best, and more than one stitch had popped in the process of getting them all back through the gate, where thankfully Nancy was waiting with the car running and ready to go. Eddie never woke back up.

Steve wondered now, as they waited for updates, if Eddie had been right to trust him, if he had made the right call. Maybe they had gotten him here too late. Maybe they should have just moved him, bleeding be damned. It would have gotten him here a lot sooner. Maybe he could have worked out a way to keep pressure on the wounds as they moved, as they drove. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Steve groaned, rubbing his face hard with his hands. At this rate he would go crazy before they ever saw another nurse. 

“Hey.” Robin said, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “They’re gonna be okay, both of them.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“No, I don’t. But I have hope. You have to know, even if Eddie doesn’t make it, it’s not your fault. You did everything you could.” 

Steve scoffed. “Did I, though? I just left him and Dusin there alone, Robin. They weren’t prepared for that!”

Robin shook her head. “None of us were prepared for this, and you didn’t leave them there, Steve. We all agreed to the plan, insane as it was. You’re not responsible.”

“If you say so.”

Finally, a nurse appeared in the doorway.

“You three here for Munson?” She asked.

They all stood, eagerly nodding. 

“Your.. friend had to be taken in for surgery. He’s out now, and stable. He’s not awake yet, but that’s to be expected.”

“Can we see him?” Steve asked.

“Are any of you family?” The nurse asked.

Steve hesitated, unsure if lying would somehow hurt Eddie’s case in the long run.

The nurse smiled at him sadly. “I’m sorry but…”

“I’m family.” A gruff voice called, just as a man approached their small group. “I’m Wayne Munson, I got a call that my nephew was here.”

“Oh yes, Mr Munson, I can take you to see him now.”

Steve deflated. He knew he probably had no right, but he really wanted to see for himself that Eddie was okay. 

Instead of immediately going with the nurse, the older man turned to Steve and the girls. “You three the one’s who brought my boy in?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve answered. 

Without a word, Wayne stepped forward and scooped all three of them into a group hug. Amidst the embrace he quietly said, “I was told he could have two visitors, and, well, there’s only me so, one of you three want to come with?”

“You should go, Steve.” Robin suggested quickly. “You’re the one who saved him.”

Steve sniffled, having lost the battle with his tears the moment Eddie’s uncle had embraced them. 

“It’s settled then.” Wayne said. He kept one arm around Steve’s shoulders as the girls fell back, settling once more into the hard chairs of the waiting room. 

“Okay, ma’am, my other nephew and I are ready to go see Ed now.” Wayne said to the nurse, steering Steve along with him back in her direction.

The nurse raised an eyebrow.”You’re other nephew?” 

“That’s right.”

She looked dubious but didn’t argue, and proceeded to lead them to Eddie’s room.

Along the way, Wayne told Steve about another phone call he received just prior to hearing from the hospital. Apparently Chief Powell had gotten word from someone in the government shortly before the “earthquake”, and though it wouldn’t be official until the right paperwork was processed, it seemed that Eddie had been exonerated.

Knowing what he did about the people involved, Steve was surprised the powers-that-be weren’t going to let Eddie take the fall for all of this. Realistically he couldn't be blamed for the fissures of course, but the murders before-hand? Steve shook himself out of his thoughts, deciding it would be better not to question it, and just accept the win.  

When they finally reached Eddie’s hospital room, Wayne walked right up to the bed. Steve, however, froze in the doorway. The boy in the bed looked so small and broken, nothing like the force of nature Steve had spent the past week getting to know. Suddenly he was terrified to get any closer, and unsure of why.

Wayne cleared his throat, waving Steve in. “C’mon, he won’t bite. Not unless you ask nicely anyway.”

Steve huffed a gentle laugh,shaking his head as he finally snapped out of it and approached the bed rail. “I see where Eddie gets his sense of humor.”

Wayne smiled. “He’s much worse than me, boy’s a menace.”

“Yea, I know” Steve agreed fondly, finally giving in to the urge to hold Eddie’s limp hand. 

Wayne’s eyes tracked the movement. “Are you and my nephew close? Can’t say I remember him ever mentioning a friend named Steve before. Unless, well.. No, nevermind.”

“What is it?”

Wayne narrowed his eyes. “What’s your last name again?”

“Uh, Harrington.” Steve answered, confused as to why that was suddenly relevant.

Wayne paused for a moment, and then absolutely lost his mind laughing. If Steve wasn’t sure that Eddie was truly unconscious he’d be worried about the noise waking him. 

“Sir?”

“Typical Eddie, aint it?” Wayne said between cackles. “Wanted for murder, on the run from the law, and still somehow managed to get his man.”

Steve could feel himself turning bright red as the man’s words sunk in. He hadn’t meant to give the man the wrong idea by holding Eddie’s hand, he’d just wanted to feel him. He wanted some reassurance. His first instinct was to drop the hand and back away, it’s what he thought he should do, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He fought to keep himself in place and met Wayne’s eyes. 

“No need to panic, son, I've known about Eddie since he was 12 years old. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Thank you, but, I have to tell you, um, we’re not together.” Steve explained, though the way his gut twisted as he said it told him a lot about how drastically his feelings towards Eddie had changed.

“I see,” Wayne said, holding his gaze for a long moment. “You should consider telling him how you feel when he wakes up. Don’t tell him I said so, but he’s had a crush on you for years, he’ll be thrilled.”

“Am I that obvious?” Steve joked. He must be, he thought, for the man to have picked up on it before Steve had even realized himself.

“It’s okay, kid. Just, be good to him, alright? I don’t want to have to shoot the guy that saved my nephew's life.”

Steve smiled, rubbing his thumb along the back of Eddie’s hand where he still held it. “I will, I promise”

(absolutely no pressure) tagging @penny00dreadful @dreamwatch @vecnuthy @manda-panda-monium @thisapplepielife @brbsoulnomming @thefreakandthehair

[inquisimer]

happy Friday! sending you “his actions speak for themselves” for Neria 👀

happy dadwc friday and ty for the prompt! Some surana & anders circa da2 for this one :3

for @dadrunkwriting

-

“He’s here, you know.”

Neria didn’t even look up from where she was braiding elfroot, tongue poked out in concentration. “Who is?”

“Your pretty boy Templar, of course.”

That gave her pause and her finger froze on the twisted herb stems as she stared over at Anders. His feigned nonchalance confused her; she puzzled over it as she waited for him to look at her, but he kept his head bent over whatever new draft or plan he was sketching out.

In the meantime, Neria’s heart and mind caught up to what he’d said. Cullen was here, in Kirkwall, probably no more than an hour’s walk from the clinic. Did he remember her? Did he want to see her? Did he miss her, miss their chats and company? Perhaps she could—

“He’s at the Gallows.”

Reality slammed into Neria like a cold wave off the Waking Sea. It washed over her idealistic hopes and carried away the pleasant, comfortable memories she liked to reminisce. If Cullen was here, of course he was in the Gallows. Because he was a Templar, and Templars guarded the mages. And if he was here, that meant he was complicit in all that Anders was fighting against. He was complicit in Karl’s death, and so many others. All of the small, frightened faces that she and Anders ushered out through the Underground, Cullen would see imprisoned, slaughtered, Tranquil.

But—there was hope. Slowly, she resumed her braiding and, in a carefully measured voice, she asked, “Do you know if he’s with Thrask?”

Her heart sank at Anders’ answering scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s the Knight Commanders little lapdog, from everything I’ve heard and seen. You should have heard what he said to Hawke, when she barely defended her sister to him—harsher than Greagoir ever was with us, to say the least.”

Neria frowned. It didn’t seem right. She’d known Cullen, as well as a mage could know any Templar that guarded them, enough to know his name, at least. To know of his family and his fears and his wishes for the future. She could not imagine his soft face and gentle curls twisted in such cruelty, lashing out with such animosity.

“‘Mages aren’t people like you and me, Hawke’,” Anders quoted, sourly dunking his quill back into the inkpot. “‘They cannot be trusted.’”

“Maker that’s…something’s not right, then.” Neria shook her head, somewhat unable to reconcile what Anders was telling her with what she remembered. Not that she thought Anders would lie to her, but her own memory was hardly so fallible either.

Anders cocked his head. “Didn’t Solona write you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He swore under his breath, pushing greasy hair out of his eyes as he shook his head. “She was supposed to write you. To tell you,” he muttered. “Of all the things to chicken out on.”

“Tell me what?”

“Well—it’s—I can’t explain as well as she could. Which is why she was supposed to tell you.”

“But you know.” Neria fastened a piece of twine around her elfroot braid and set it on the stack. She folded her arms across her chest and waited.

Anders bit his lip. “Well. You know how Uldred was when we escaped?”

“Batshit and loony?”

“Yeah. So apparently someone ticked him off at Ostagar and he made a deal with Loghain—that idiot believed the Teryn would free them if the Circle helped him take over Ferelden.”

“As if.”

“Exactly. But, so, he decided the thing to do was, once he got back from Ostagar, summon a fuck load of demons and take over the tower with blood magic.”

On instinct, Neria went very still. The scars on her forearms, long healed, blazed as though they were fresh wounds. Anders’ gaze didn’t even flick toward them, but she felt the inexplicable, undeserved guilt just the same.

But—she’d heard no news about Kinloch Hold being destroyed. No annulment, no major catastrophe. And surely the Chantry would have blared any major success far and wide as propaganda.

“So what happened?”

“Solona, of course. What else?” Anders snorted. “She showed up with her Warden treaties, as angelic as if she’d never been gone in the first place. Greagoir was already wrapped around her finger and he fell right back into that. She did right by as many as she could. Of course—“ he swallowed hard, voice and face falling, “—she didn’t get there right away. Things were already…chaotic and out of control. Not everyone made it. Either Uldred or the demons got…far too many of them.”

It was like the world had fallen out from under Neria. She couldn’t stop herself imagining her home—not quite beloved, but comfortable, familiar, all she’d known for almost two decades—strewn with the blood of those she’d loved, her comrades and companions.

How easily it could have been her, if Anders hadn’t dragged her up out of complacency.

A shudder wracked through her and she reached for more elfroot to busy her hands.

“Hey, she saved a lot of them,” Anders said softly. “More than Greagoir would have, at any rate.”

“Of course she did. That’s what Sol does. She saves people.” Neria flicked her wrist against the once-enchanted bracelet, wished she had enough talent to will it back to life. She missed her friend. “So what does this all have to do with Cullen? He was there, I assume?”

“He was unlucky, to hear Solona tell it.” Anders scowled. “I don’t wonder if he was more than unlucky, if this maliciousness was just waiting to be unlocked. It’s not as if the handful of other survivors were nearly as vicious as he was—“

“Get to the point,” Neria cut him off tersely. If this shit-talking was deserved, well, she would let him ramble on and tune him out. But she’d rather know for sure, to sate the growing anxiety in her chest.

“They found him tortured, bloody and beaten, teased by a demon for days, maybe weeks.” Anders tapped his quill on the edge of the pot, dripping the excess away. “He asked them to kill every mage there, just in case. And even after the tower was cleared and Uldred dead, he asked them the same, again. Irving was whole and well, everyone else battered but sound of mind, and he would have killed them all, just in case.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Neria whispered. These feelings coursing through her, she didn’t know them. What was she supposed to feel? Horror? Sorrow? Anger? She felt all of them at once, just in case she chose wrong. Clearly, Anders wanted her to disavow Cullen, to throw herself headlong into their work and forget whatever connection they had before. But—how could she?

“Because if I just told you that he was a twat, you wouldn’t believe me. You wouldn’t change about him. His actions speak for themselves, Ria—he’s everything we’re fighting against.”

Neria shook her head, even as Anders’ gaze hardened with anger, frustration. “No. It’s just—it’s a defense, or something. He went through trauma as well! He was so kind and open, and not just with me. It can’t all have gone away. It’s there, somewhere.”

“Does it matter?” Anders challenged. “If he’s putting mages to the brand and the blade left and write, does it matter if there’s something good underneath?”

Neria tossed another elfroot braid onto the stack. “Careful, wisp. People have said the same about mages, before.”

“Without anything to back it up! I have proof, with him.”

“And the Chantry has blood mages!” Neria cried. “You’re looking for proof, because you don’t want to think there’s anything good left in him. But what if there is? What then?”

“If the proof wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have found anything while I was looking.”

“People change,” Neria said stubbornly. “And I’m not having this debate with you, wisp. What were you trying to achieve? I’m not going near the Gallows, anyway. I’m helping with the underground, anyway. Were you just trying to make me as angry as you are?”

Anders’ eyes flashed blue and she knew she’d hit the nail on the head.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she bit out, tying the elfroot a bit too tight; the bundle snapped in half and the shreds of it fluttered to the floor around her shaking hands. “I don’t get angry. I just leave.”

She threw the remnants of the ruined braid in his direction, shoved her muddled thoughts aside, and did just that.

She left.

[oh-hell-help-me]

July 28: National Waterpark Day

Bowser wasn’t very fond of water.

Hell, between getting dunked in a pool or getting dropped into lava (again), he would always choose the latter.

However, even he is not immune to the call of waterparks.

Rarely had he ever actually went to one when he was Junior’s age, but having kids apparently meant that he would be going to one whether he liked it or not.

Thankfully, having a volcanic kingdom didn’t stop a nearby town from constructing several waterparks- some that are even specialized for Koopas.

So, with several consecutive days of begging, whining, and noise-induced headaches, Bowser relented in clearing out his and Luigi’s schedules and booked it towards the nearest, best-known waterpark called ‘Sliderdown’.

And it went just as expected.

Half of his kids (Larry, Lemmy, Roy, and Junior) went at the slides like they had a mission- bringing a chaotic whirl of activity that traveled the whole park.

The other half had found a particular slide the liked and stuck to it for hours.

And his husband? Well, aside from playing peacekeeper between the kids and attendants, Luigi was the one who was in charge of enforcing a lunch break.

Bowser sort of hung back from the slides, considering his size, but found himself eyeing the biggest slide- one of the ones that uses a raft large enough for six riders.

Maybe…

Before he even started to convince himself out of it, Luigi catches him staring and spends all of two seconds thinking before calmly demanding “Do it.”

“Do what?”

“Ride.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His husband snorts. “You do. And if you want, I can go with you.”

And Bowser doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but the soft, encouraging look in Luigi’s eyes make it easier to do so.

Next thing he knew, he had chosen a raft, been led up concrete stairs, waited patiently as the attendant directed them into position, and held his breath as the raft almost sticks to the precipice of the slide-

And then they were sliding- fast.

Bowser is barely able to register Luigi’s tight grip on his arm as the wind swept past them and the water sprayed at them from below- it felt like they were falling for the most part, and even the whirlpool-like section barely slowed them down before speeding up again-

And with a giant splash, it was over.

Their exit had briefly drawn attention of the public, but one look at the stunned faces of the Kingdom’s Royalty had them quickly look away.

“That. Was. AWESOME!”

“Dios mio…”

“WE GOTTA GO AGAIN!”

And they did, although Luigi has taken to sitting in his lap for the next few rides.

Not a bad way to end a summer day, honestly.

[datawyrms]

It’s Invisobang time!

behold the fic I’ve been working on instead of...anything else! The full thing will be posted this week so stay tuned :v (and enjoy the lovely art surprises on AO3! We’ve only got plaintext here on the tumblrs so you look at their cool posts)

On AO3

Melon slices in neat little triangles, custom cut to be easy to snag with just two fingers. An absolute plethora of salted seeds and candied nuts sat right under them, a tempting selection. His favourite ones, actually. None of dad’s fudge dunked cashews that were way too much chocolate to nut ratio, or those gross banana chips Jazz insisted were the best thing ever- instead of the cardboard disks of disappointment they actually were.

The dream snacks to have if planning to hang out with his friends, or even just to hog for himself. A week ago he would have begged to have even a fraction of this, flown foolish circles of thanks.

Now his stomach was too busy churning to even think about chowing down. Flying was just as impossible. Was he meant to just feel better because he had better snacks? As if that could ever make up for never flying again. Not that it was meant to make up for it. Mom and dad were just being nice. Make him feel loved or something.

“Maybe they’re too busy to come? Like there’s some movie Tucker wanted to go-“

“Danny. Sam and Tucker are coming over. You don’t need to convince yourself they aren’t.”

He wanted to flinch at the scolding, and some of him did. His now worthless muscles twitched and his skin crawled. It probably didn’t look like anything to his mom, a gesture that couldn’t really be finished. “But-“

“They are coming. No more of that.” Maddie’s wingtips gently flicked against his face, messing up his already unruly hair.

He wondered if his parents would hunt his friends down and drag them here if they dared to not show up. Probably. Which would be the worst thing ever. Then he’d have to see how much they didn’t want to be near him in person. Instead of trying to argue he just held his knees close and stared at the open balcony, as if expecting them any second now.

He wondered if it had always been this cold before, if that was just something else about him that was broken. The wind should be refreshing and enjoyable, not making him shudder and huddle up.

The upside to staring at nothing was that he did spot the two specks that ended up being his friends. How they just went right towards his home, how they didn’t play or dart around. Just full speed to their destination- the most boring way to get anywhere. He couldn’t really remember the last time they’d gone anywhere without Sam trying to divebomb one of them at least once. How loud her laugh was when she yelled at them to pay attention, leaving them to either roll out of the way or join her in a stoop.

He never thought he’d just never get to do any of that again. Should he have cherished it more? Now that it was too late?

“Danny!”

Danny blinked, only having a second before Tucker barreled into him, half lifting him as they crashed into the blankets and pillows. “Why didn’t you answer my texts dude?! You’re okay!”

“Um.” Danny said, trying to look away but too surrounded by soft things and feathers to really look away from his friend entirely. Especially when Tucker was squeezing him so tightly. “I was distracted. That’s all.”

“Too distracted for your best friends?” Sam had joined the mess of a huddle, but had her wings more folded back and out of the way.

“Sam! Shh!” Tucker snapped, trying to wave her away with his foot. “Are you still mad at us? ‘Cus I get it and I’m sorry-”

“You guys didn’t do anything?” Danny cut Tucker off before he could get caught up in rambling, wondering if he was hearing things. “Why should you be sorry?”

“Well we all know you wouldn’t have gone in that thing if Sam-”

“Don’t make me throw you out a window, Tucker.”

“If SAM didn’t insist we check it out-” his explanation was cut off with a yelp as Sam flung herself at him. The two wrestled and flapped for a solid minute of chaos, making enough mess that Danny could almost pretend there were enough feathers for three now all over the floor.

“Okay, okay, I take it back! I give! Get off!” Tucker whined, unable to push Sam away and leaving him pinned flat on his back, what flapping he could manage looking pathetic and barely raising from the floor.

“That’s right you do. Jerk.” Sam looked like she might not get off right away, but sighed and helped pull him up after spotting how Danny was staring. “How are you, anyway? We haven’t seen you around.”

“It’s not like I want to go shopping with mom and dad.” Danny said, doing his best to sidestep the question. What else could he do? Say he felt awful and empty and never wanted to leave the house? Just upset them? Say he thought they were only here because his parents would murder them if they didn’t come?

“Yeah but you haven’t been anywhere fun either. The crows keep chasing us for the seeds you’re always spoiling them with.”

“Then give them some? They’re nice.”

“No way man! I’m not spending any allowance on rodent food.” Tucker stuck out his tongue, settling comfortably beside Danny, still ignoring the elephant in the room. “And I’m definitely not giving them any of my jerky.”

“Oh, so you won’t want any rodent snacks. More for us.” Sam moved the bowl of treats away before Tucker could snag a salted peanut. “Right Danny?”

Danny looked up, and back down, stomach twisting. It felt so wrong. Like he wasn’t meant to be here. All the talking and laughter and jokes were just wrong. This was ‘normal’. He wasn’t normal. He didn’t get to have normal.

“Danny?” Tucker was shaking him, gently, arm over his shoulders. “Dude, do you need us to do something? You’re kinda pale.”

The words caught in his throat, thick and too heavy to dislodge. It felt like he was in a cage, not a friendly embrace. Holding him so he could be mocked, so he’d see how wrong and awful he was. His back spasmed, uselessly.

He couldn’t be here. He was ruining everything. He twisted, trying to struggle away from the strangling grasp, panting as he broke free from the black feathery curtains. His eyes darted back and forth as he looked for somewhere to run, somewhere to hide, but all of the best spots were too high. There was a closet, a place to store blankets and jackets. Somewhere you reached into, not a place to be entered.

Yet he could fit now. Easily. He scrambled and closed the door behind him, flattening his back against the wall and letting the darkness act as his wings, his weak shield against a world that was too much.

He felt nuttier than the snack bowl. Freaking out, sobbing in a closet. For what? For getting a hug? That he knew his friends were just pretending because they felt guilty? Waiting for them to ditch him, to get it over with so he could mourn his lack of friends already.

“What’d I do!”

“He can’t push you off if you’re too close, stupid!”

“What, am I supposed to stay far away and act like he’s got some nasty fungus?!”

“No, but you could pretend to be considerate for like, five seconds! Instead of smothering him!”

“Just because you’re all stand-offish doesn’t mean Danny is-”

“Oh, you want to have another go?”

Danny wasn’t sure if their arguing was making him feel worse or better about his stupid ‘escape’. Mostly worse, but it did make the little voice in his head insisting they didn’t want him around shut up a little bit. Wow, what a good friend he was. Needing his friends to fight to feel better about himself, real nice.

He should stop them. Stop acting like a baby, hiding like this. Yet the enclosed dark space felt safer, better than out in his own room. Even if the shirts hanging above him were just another mockery. Nothing fit right anymore, all tailored to accommodate limbs he didn’t have. He always liked his shirts a bit loose, but now they made him seem like he was swimming in fabric, completely emaciated instead of just scrawny. Patching over the holes wasn’t a real fix. Just like how there wasn’t any fix for what happened to him.

“You can stay in there if you want, I clobbered him for you.”

“For no reason! I’m innocent here!”

The sounds of wings flapping and slapping against the ground continued, Tucker apparently trying to fight back again. While failing, like always. Sam was just stronger than both of them were, even if she wasn’t using her wings. If they ever wanted to win they had to team up. And they still lost, sometimes. Always would now, probably. He could hardly help Tucker with his scrawny arms and legs alone. Unless he suddenly started looking like his dad- which had its own downsides. Though he didn’t really have to worry about weighing more, making gliding difficult, or how much more effort his dad had to exert just to keep up with everyone else.

Tucker would like the help, but why even try? It wouldn’t actually get him upright. At best he’d be an annoyance. 

Which should be fine. Yet escape was so much harder now. He shouldn’t feel safer hiding in a small, dark space. He wasn’t a bat, or a rat, or some mole thing. Just more reason to think something was wrong with him.

“We can go see your crow friends once you feel better.”

Danny pressed more into the long coats at the back of the closet, the warmth helping a little. Seeing the flock shouldn’t be a whole outing, just something they did while on the way to somewhere else. Why couldn’t anything be normal?

“Do you want some snacks in there?”

He was so stupid. Still hiding. He had to stop. He was making it more weird, not less. Hiding from his friends like an insect. “I’m good! Just um. Getting a different shirt. So we can go.”

“Dude if you just need some time, it’s okay,” Tucker sounded a bit muffled, but Danny couldn’t tell if his friend was trying to keep his voice low or it was the door’s fault.

“I’m fine! Seriously. Just forget anything happened.” He couldn’t keep acting like a total freak. So he ignored how his hand shook as he reached for the door and forced himself back to the well lit room.

“Sorry Danny, I can’t imagine away my bruises.”

“You’re so dramatic Tucker.”

Judging by the amount of feathers, Tucker wasn’t just being dramatic about their struggle. It did make his room seem more lived in, at least. He could pretend some of the feathers might be his. If it was dark. Somehow they both managed to avoid spilling any of the snacks.

Wait. Did they pretend to fight? To lure him out to help Tucker?

Great. Now he sounds paranoid too. There were always little scuffles. “I guess we can go to the park. If you’d want to get away from my parents hovering around.”

“Great idea! Did your dad find your old bike?” Tucker said, acting like they hadn’t been the one suggesting the idea in the first place.

“Yeah.” Not that he really wanted to use it. Bikes were for babies. They were so much slower than just flying, and you had to stow them somewhere, and you had to follow a trail. Not to mention that peddling was hard work too, it just wasn’t worth it once he didn’t need one anymore. “I don’t have anything for you guys though. So I guess you have to do some laps?”

“Nah. we’ve got some scooters!”

“I brought them over ahead of time,” Sam said, offering an explanation. “Thought it might be fun.”

“Really it’s lucky your parents like living so close to the ground, imagine how sore your arms would be with a ladder to Sam’s place!”

He had imagined that quite a lot actually, but Danny just gave Tucker a weak sort of grin as he reached for said ladder. The Fentons were ‘weird’ for not wanting to have their house on a larger structure- practically hermits with the low to the ground home. Anti-social, hiding something, freakish experiments- he heard lots of people guessing why. Even though the real reason was super obvious. The little lab that made the family a bunch of weirdo freaks. A family that chose to own a place completely on the ground, that wasn’t just a shed. Where his parents studied ghosts.

 Where he lost his wings to their life’s work.

He wouldn’t be going in there again, that’s for sure. Instead he could focus on his old bike. It was too small, really, but his mom and dad had ‘adjusted’ it so his legs wouldn’t hit the ground when trying to peddle. At least they found more astral body stickers to slap on the weird green sections. They still stood out but you could kind of pretend the space themed kids bike should look like that?

Okay. Not really. At least it worked.

Tucker wasn’t having a great time, wings tight against his back as he gingerly pushed the scooter forward, wobbling a little in the second his foot left the metal frame. “Hey Sam? Why did I let you talk me out of a powered scooter?”

“You need the exercise. That, and you started crying when we looked at the price.”

“That could be like, three computer upgrades! I’m not made of money!”

Sam only snorted in response, shooting forward easily. “Maybe you’d have more if you weren’t upgrading every time something new came out.”

If his legs weren’t a bit sore, if he closed his eyes and peddled hard it almost felt like nothing was different. The wind in his hair, the playful bickering was reassuring. It felt more real, that his friends actually meant it like this. Instead of inside and dreading and waiting.

Reality fell back on his shoulders hard the moment they parked their equipment. Having to fumble for a lock and a place to actually secure them was weird. Who’d care enough to steal it? He just couldn’t risk it happening, or he’d be even slower at getting anywhere. 

They’d picked a good time of day, at least. No families with their fledglings near the play structures yet, and there weren’t many people in general. Anyone just stopping by would probably be way up high on the rest platform anyway, where all the water and snack vendors set up shop.

Just him, his friends and nature. He shouldn’t feel uneasy.

“So, Mr. Expert, which snack does this mob of birds like?” Sam’s question nudged him out of his worries, for the moment.

“They’re not super picky. They like pretty much anything. Though there’s a smaller one that really likes the walnuts.” Which he’d packed specifically. That one was sort of his ‘favourite’ in the murder. A braver little guy that sometimes actually perched on him for a bit. Not a real tamed bird or anything. Just sort of a friend? In a bird way? “It’s weird, they usually caw hello”.

“I have no idea how you tell any of these guys apart. They aren’t even all cuddly like the pigeons,” Tucker said, half hiding behind Danny.

“You’re just mad one tried to take your glasses that one time,”

“Hey, friends don’t try and poke friend’s eyes out. Which is totally what they’re doing when they go for my glasses like that,” Tucker said, defending himself.

Sam frowned, watching the small birds hop away with short cries. “Danny? You sure this isn’t a different flock?”

“It’s definitely them, there’s the one missing a toe- and that one over there always favours the right foot,” he said, but couldn’t help frowning either. Why were they trying to get away? Even the more standoffish members could be lured over with the promise of a treat. Yet they seemed skittish and wary. As if they didn’t know what they were looking at.

“Come on guys. We aren’t foxes!” Sam spread her wings out, hopping a bit into the air to give the tossed nut a bit more distance- which was quickly swarmed by the birds. “Birdbrains. It’s kinda weird to think they aren’t that different from us sometimes.”

Satisfied, more of the flock seemed to get over their caution to hop over and get Sam’s attention, but they kept giving Danny and Tucker a wide berth.

“Aren’t crows meant to be like. The smart ones? Or is that ravens?” Tucker asked.

“They’re both pretty smart birds. Even if they can’t talk like parrots can. Or figure out our faces as well as the pigeons can. I hope the little guy didn’t get hurt.” Danny tried to bite down the dread that found his stomach again, tried to ignore the cruel thoughts that the birds were scared of him. They were friends, of a sort. Corvids had pretty good memory, and passed that information on. They knew he was safe.

Yet the birds happily approached Tucker once he stopped cowering and offered his snacks, wings relaxed and easy for all to see.

None of them would approach him.

Worse, when he approached, one shrieked a warning. A threat. Then another, and another as more joined to back up their fearful flockmate until he scrambled backwards.

“Danny? You okay?” Sam asked, somehow much closer to him than he thought she should be. Maybe he’d spaced out.

“Y-yeah. Totally,” he lied, trying to ignore the bird that had chosen to sit on Sam’s shoulder.

“We can do something else or just y’know. Bike around,” Sam said, still frowning at him. Trying to figure out what had him upset.

The crow gave a warning squawk as she approached again, turning her frown into a scowl. “If you’re gonna scream at my friend you can buzz off, feather brain.” Sam shrugged the crow away, that seemed content to just stay away from Danny.

He didn’t want to admit it, but the world was being even more unfair. It escaped even when he wanted to pretend he didn’t know. “It’s like they don’t recognize me.”

“Well you are kinda smaller now, dude,” Tucker chipped in, but cringed when Danny winced. “They just don’t get it! They don’t remember like, faces, I don’t think?”

“Or even wild birds think I’m a freak.”

“Hey. No. They’re just racist jerk birds, alright?” Sam snapped.

“What.” Tucker scoffed a bit. “They’re birds!”

“Yeah, I know. And I know wild birds can be monsters to ‘different’ birds. Come on. We’re gonna go see Iridescent,” Sam said, not allowing for any argument as she grabbed both of the boy’s wrists and started dragging them towards their scooters.

“We’re going to see who now?”

[seal-writes-stuff]

Boyfriend

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: swearing, fighting, alcohol consumption, a brief mention of cults, Christian Hughes (derogatory)

Summary: Turns out things can escalate pretty quickly when it’s just you, your best friend’s asshole boyfriend and a party that you really, really didn’t want to attend.

A/N: Hi everyone! I’ve noticed that I keep subtly dunking on Christian in my fics, so I decided to change things up for once. Time to dunk on him full-force. Hope you enjoy!

“Look, I mean no disrespect and all that,” you sink deeper into the couch. “I just don’t trust these people. End of.”

Dani, who’s sitting right next to you, tilts her head. There’s no judgment in her eyes, just a mischievous sparkle that enables you to continue.

“What, not even Pelle?”

“Especially Pelle, Dani. Nobody’s that nice.”

“Pelle’s that nice.”

“Cult leaders are that nice!” you see the surprised look she gives you and quickly catch yourself. “Well, maybe not cult leaders… I don’t know, I’m getting vibes off of him, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Ri-i-ight. And Mark is…”

“Mark.”

“Yeah, fair enough. What about Josh, though?”

“Josh…” you rub your chin, mulling it over. “Alright, you’ve got me, Josh is okay. But why does he hang out with the rest of them, then? Something’s not right.”

“Maybe you just don’t like anybody.”

“I like you.”

Dani looks away with a smile while you pretend to be extremely interested in the carpet. She’s your best friend, you remind yourself, and she’s taken. Don’t do stupid shit.

“Why are you the one convincing me to go anyway? I thought you hated parties.”

Dani shrugs. There’s a deep sadness in her eyes, a sadness which breaks your heart.

“Well, Christian’s excited. I know you don’t like him very much, but…”

Well… That’s one way to put it. To be more specific, you hate Christian’s guts and the feeling, from what you could gather, is quite mutual. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from saying things you’ll regret later, though. For Dani’s sake, of course – not his, never his. You’d gladly keep your opinions to yourself if it meant her happiness.

Happiness, that is.

“Oh, Christian’s awesome.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“What gives?” you laugh as Dani taps your arm playfully, pretending to punch you. “Okay, seriously though: if you guys love each other, that’s all that matters. Who cares what I think, really?”

“Yeah, you’re right…” she mumbles. She then realizes what she’s just said and blushes. “Wait, I-I didn’t mean it like that. I care what you think, I just-”

“I know! I’m just joking around, relax,” you brush her shoulder with yours, smiling. “No hard feelings, I promise.”

“Oh, okay… Okay, great.”

For a brief moment, Dani looks down, pink still dusting her cheeks. That look on her face, that sweet smile on her lips make you speak before you can talk yourself out of the idea.

“Alright, you know what, I’m in. Let’s go together. If you’ll want to escape, just blink twice or something.”

“Thank you!” Dani throws her hand around you. “You’re the best, you know?”

“I’m trying,” your words are quiet as you hug her back, feeling the subtle scent of her shampoo.

This might be fun, right?

***

Well, who could’ve guessed. This party fucking sucks.

You stare at the kitchen floor, swirling what’s left of your drink in a red plastic cup. Dani’s catching up with some of her other friends while you’re stuck in the sad and inevitable “I should’ve stayed home” phase of any gathering you’ve ever attended.

You can’t blame her, though. You know she would’ve stayed by your side the whole evening if you asked her to, but you didn’t. You wouldn’t, too; she deserves to relax and enjoy herself. Can’t expect her to cater to your every need.

After some quiet contemplation you finally decide that enough is enough. You’ll check on Dani to see if she wants to leave, make up some excuse for the host and then dip. No, first you’ll need to call an Uber – you’re leaving either way, so better to take care of that in advance. Or maybe you should first-

“Y/N.”

You look up, only to be met with none other than Christian Hughes himself lingering in the doorway. The whole evening – just like any other evening, you suspect - he seemed like he desperately wanted to be somewhere else. You’ve never known if it was a result of your presence or his general attitude about life. Honestly, you couldn’t care less either way.

Right now, however, Christians’s not bored. Right now, he wears some kind of a strange blank expression you’ve never seen before.

Oh, to hell with that. He can’t expect people to walk on eggshells and guess his every mood.

“Christian,” you nod, pushing yourself away from the counter. “I’d love to chat, but-”

Before you can finish, Christian blocks the exit, standing right between you and the door. There’s some dumb defiance in his eyes, like’s about to cause trouble and is well-aware of that.

Except you’re not in the mood. You’re tired, you’re irritated and you’re a bit drunk – just enough to lose some of your inhibitions. The only thing you can offer him right now is annoyance.

“Oh, come on.”

“Why are you like this?”

You stare at Christian for a moment, wondering if he’s worth the fight he’s so desperate to start for some reason. You know in your mind that he isn’t. The hardest part is to convince yourself of that.

“Like what?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Look, whatever problem you have with me, it’s not-”

You sigh, exasperated.

“I have no problem with you. Now, could you please-”

“I’m not going anywhere until we sort this out.”

“Dude.”

“It’s because of Dani, isn’t it?”

You feel a wave of all-consuming rage rising deep in your chest. As if every ounce of your suppressed anger, years worth of it, resurfaced to escape your body and strike Christian right in his stupid head. But just a moment later, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to be calm and collected.

After all, you need a clear head to really kick his ass.

“M-m-m...” you look away and bite your lower lip. “Speaking of Dani, what was she talking about in the living room, do you remember?”

This catches Christian off-guard. He blinks at you - you can almost hear the gears turning in his head.

“Wh… No?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit weird? I mean, it happened, like, ten minutes ago.”

“Why does it matter? I’m not-”

“It does matter, Christian, because Dani finally got done with the shittier part of her thesis. Now she’s doing the stuff she actually loves.”

“She-”

“So she was excited and wanted to share with you. You know, because she loves you? And you were too busy being vaguely annoyed, or whatever the fuck, I don’t even know. But hey, at least your buddies must think you’re really cool, huh?”

“I… You’re fucking crazy.”

“I'm fucking cra- Okay, you know what, I'm not even entertaining that. You know I’m right, so you say this shit to feel better about yourself. Cause God forbid you’re wrong for once, right?”

It seems like you’ve hit a nerve. Christian huffs through his nose; his face flushes as you bite back a smirk. You’re past holding back, past feeling bad at all. He started it, and you sure as hell will finish it.

“You know nothing about our relationship.”

“Well, you know nothing about your girlfriend! It’s shocking, really, gets me every time. She always tries to talk things through with you, tries to include you in everything, buys you these … What are they called, these fucking cookies you like every time she goes to the grocery store. Every time! Simply because she cares. So tell me, does she always get that face on your face in response? That’s something I don’t know.”

Shit, what are you even saying? ‘Face on your face’?

“What does it have to do with-”

“Jesus Christ… Okay, third time’s the charm. You treat my best friend like shit. I don’t know why. I honestly don’t care why either. So yeah, I don’t like you, I don’t respect you and the sooner you leave her life the better.”

“Leave? Please. Like anyone would treat her better. You don’t know how much I-”

“Exactly, anyone would treat her better! I would treat her better!” you shake your drink for emphasis. “This fucking solo cup would treat her better! Do you even hear yourself?”

Christian opens his mouth for another retort, but stops before it can come out. His eyes widen in realization.

“Oh, so you would treat her better.”

“Are you really gonna dismiss everything I’ve said-”

“So that’s why.”

“I’m done talking to you.”

“Do you really think-”

“Hughes, if you don’t move out of my way right this fucking second-”

“Guys?”

Both of you fall silent. Christian turns back while you stare over his shoulder in horror.

Dani.

Christian says something in that faux-friendly voice of his while you’re frozen, unable to make a sound. You don’t know why, you don’t know how, but you’re so terrified that you can barely breathe.

How much did she hear?

“I’ve gotta go.”

Panicking, you finally manage to push past Christian and run out of the room, leaving both of them behind. You’re pretty sure you’re choking on tears by that point, Dani’s calling out to you, and all of this is so, so-

Focus. All you need to do right now is leave, now.

***

It’s been two weeks. Two longest weeks of your life, you might say.

You’re curled up on the couch, trying to watch a movie but failing miserably. None of that matters, you think. You’re alone and Dani’s with Christian. Hell, he’s probably having a field day right now: gloating, calling you stupid, crazy, jealous and a million other things you don’t even want to imagine. Guilt-tripping her for something you did. For something he did too, no less.

Son of a bitch.

The worst part, however, is that he wouldn’t even be that wrong. It was stupid to give in. It was crazy to think that it would change something, that it would help Dani somehow. At the end of the day, what did it accomplish? Losing a friend over a petty fight?

And you have to be honest with yourself: you are jealous. You were, you are and you probably will be. This must be the most awful way to finally realize that you’re in love, truly in love, yet you have to deal with it. You’d let go off this jealousy, though, you’d leave it behind in a heartbeat – if she wasn’t with someone who made her miserable every day. If…

You force yourself to stop this thought spiral. It’s all over, the damage is done and there’s nothing you can do about it anymore. It is what it is.

You start to sniffle when you’re started by the knock at your door. Must be the pizza you’ve ordered, you think. Your life’s falling apart anyways, may as well treat yourself. With a sigh, you drag yourself to the door.

“Hi, do you accept ca-”

The rest of the sentence dies on your lips. Dani’s standing at your door, sweet as ever.

Just very, very tired.

“Hey there. Um… I’ve made some cookies, so…”

“Oh,” you rub the back of your neck, trying not to cry. “Thank you. I-I appreciate it.”

Dani nods, pinching her lips. She fidgets with the hem of her hoodie for a few seconds, looking down.

“Are you… Waiting for someone? I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, no. I mean, just the delivery guy. Come in, please.”

Just a moment later you’re on the couch again. The same couch you were on when you’ve decided to go to this godforsaken party. The irony.

You contemplate whether you should offer Dani something to drink, but decide against it. There’s no reason to dance around the issue – it’s what created this whole mess in the first place. You need to be open, you think, you need to be honest.

She deserves that much.

“God, Dani, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t-”

“No, it’s not okay. I’ve made a scene, ran off and then flaked on you. That wasn’t right and… I really regret it.”

This isn’t a lie. You don’t regret what you’ve said – honestly, you’d say it all again. But everything that came with it, the way you spoke on Dani’s behalf…

Yeah. ‘Could’ve handled it better’ doesn’t even begin to describe it.

When you gather the courage to look at Dani again, you see her soft smile. She forgives you. Of course she forgives you, the way she always does. She forgave you before she even entered this room.

“No, that’s fine. Really. I’m not upset,” Dani takes your hand, squeezing it. “I was just worried about you, that’s all.”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“You’re very kind, you know that?”

Dani moves closer to you, putting her head on your shoulder. You close your eyes, your temple pressed to the top of her head.

“How’s Christian, by the way?”

Dani tenses; you feel her calm breathing hitches. Instant regret washes over you, but she replies before you can do anything about it.

“Oh, he’s- I don’t know actually. We broke up a few days ago.”

For a split second, you freeze. Did you hear that right? Are you dreaming?

“Holy shit, I’m sorry,” despite everything that happened, your words are sincere. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I… I don’t know, really,” she shrugs, biting her lower lip. “Still processing, I guess.”

“That’s okay. Look, Dani, you-you don’t have to answer, of course, but…

“But..?”

“Can I ask why?”

Dani lowers her head with a bitter chuckle – something you’ve never seen her do before. You don’t say anything, rubbing her back in gentle motions. Does she feel the same warmth when you touch her?

You hope so.

“What was the final straw?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, that.”

“Well, Christian kept saying things about you… Whatever, I don’t want to repeat it.”

You shake your head with a huff. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“No! No, that’s-”

“I mean, I wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine to him either, so...” you shrug. “And what, that really was-”

“It should’ve been, but no. I… I can’t believe I’ve let him-”

“Hey, hey, Dani, look at me. He’s an adult. He wanted to talk shit, so he did. That’s on him.”

“But I-”

“And besides, we got into a fight. You did nothing wrong, I promise.”

Dani nods in response, still deep in thought. You know that no matter what you say, some part of her still blames herself for how things played out – maybe always will. You know you can’t change that. Because that’s how Dani is, that’s who she is at her core – reflective, responsible, kind.

You’d never want her to change. You just wish that you could make her life easier.

“Thing is,” she continues. “I-I’ve missed you. And I’ve never missed him the way I missed you.”

You swallow, trying to stop the tears threatening to come out. Despite your best efforts, though, your voice still cracks.

“Oh… Thanks. That’s…” you sniffle. “That’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Really?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you pull her in a hug – and Dani reciprocates. Of course she reciprocates.

Like she always does.

You don’t know what will happen next, you don’t know what the future holds. All you know is that it will be better than the past.

And for now, it’s more than enough.

[harlowsbby]

Wait For You Part 1

Requested by 🍉 ( got help from my twin 🌎 )

I will wait for you; I will wait for you.

Jack and You have been friends for the longest since diapers but when the two of you got older feelings got involved and the two of you realized you liked one another on more than a friend level. The two of you of course hooked up many times and the line of friendship tended to get blurred at times. 

Get mad at yourself ‘cause you can’t leave me alone. Gossip, bein’ messy that ain’t what we doing. 

Jack was back in Kentucky for Forecastle, and he of course invited you to come along with him. Jack was staying at him hotel in Kentucky, and he invited you to come over and hang with everyone as they all celebrated Jack headlining Forecastle the following day. 

“I know that isn’t Y/N damn I haven’t seen you in forever.” Nemo greeted you at the door you smiled and hugged him which he happily returned the hug. Nemo was always like a father figure to you he was always there for you whenever you needed him and gave the best advice. 

Please tell a real one exactly what it is. Don’t say it ‘cause you know that’s what I wanna hear. 

“I missed you two Nemo it’s been forever since I seen any of you if were being honest.” Nemo smiled and shut the door leading you back towards where everyone else was at. 

Clay was the first to notice you and he tapped Jack’s leg making him look up at Clay in a confused manner. 

“Your girl just arrived.” Clay teased and Jack looked up and saw you hugging Neelam and Urban. It’s been a while for Jack as well since the last time he saw you and you looked dammed good in his eyes. You were wearing these fitted mom jeans with a white cropped tee with white and red dunks. It was a simple fit topped with your chain he had gifted you but you somehow managed to turn the most basic fits into the best fits. 

You got better when you met me and that ain’t coincidental.

After hugging Urban you turned and faced Jack who winked at you making you smile as you approached him and sat down next to him. He rolled his eyes and pat his lap a sign he wanted you to sit there. You smiled and sat on his lap and faced him his blue eyes looking directly into your eyes making you break eye contact. Jack smiled at you after all these years of being around him you still couldn’t hold eye contact. 

“Damn I can’t even get a hug either or what? What about a kiss on the cheek? I don’t know why you’re acting all shy now.” Jack teased as you smacked your lips and pushed his chest lightly. You leaned into him and kissed his cheek making him smile proudly. 

Guess I’m not the one that’s meant for you. 

“Here you go acting all cocky like always I guess somethings never change.” Jack shook his head no making you laugh. Jack admired you he so badly wanted to make you his girl officially but with his busy schedule lately and the way the press was getting more involved with his life he knew he didn’t have it in him to drag you into all of that. 

“What have you been up to? How’s your sister and your niece do they still cry a lot? You talking to any guys or something shit I hope not.” You actually were talking to a guy his name was Jude, but it was best you didn’t bring that up right now seeming as it wasn’t really any of Jack’s business in the first place. 

When I’m loaded, I keep it real.

“Nope I’m not talking to anybody just been busy getting things together and my life together seeming as we can’t all be superstars like you.” He rolled his eyes and licked his lips making you bite your lips, you hated when he did that because for some reason it always turned you on. 

Jack smirked when he noticed but he knew if he wanted his feelings for you to go away he couldn’t feed into them. He tapped your leg a sign for you to get up and you did. 

“Let’s go join everyone else ma. I want to drink and have some fun.” You smiled and nodded taking his hand as you guys went and spent time with everyone else. 

Halfway through the party you ended up losing Jack you were currently with Neelam she was out of it and so were you, but you were in a way a bit more stable than she was. You knew nobody would do anything to her and Urban was sitting next to her so she’d be safe.

I’m knowing the sounds of the storm when it comes. 

You rubbed your arms the crisp fresh air sending chills down your arms as you went back inside from the patio. The minute you went inside their Jack was laid up with some random groupie that always tagged along with Clay and Sunni. He had his hand resting dangerously close to her ass and by the smile and blush on her face you knew he was flirting it up with her which made your blood boil. That should be you right now and you were ready for it to be you. The late-night hookups with Jack is what you no longer desired but you feared your feelings for him were one-sided. 

You shook your head at him the tears started to brim your eyes you just wanted to go home and be in your bed the pint of cookie dough ice cream calling your name. You were now fully sobered up and made your way to your car before driving back home in complete silence. 

It was around two in the morning when you got a incoming call from Jack you watched it ring for a few seconds before answering. 

When you drunk, you tell me exactly how you feel.

“Y/N where the hell did you go? I was looking around for you like fucking crazy you can’t just get up and leave like that without telling anybody.” His Kentucky accent coming in thick through the phone. You rolled your eyes and sat up in your bed now fully ready to start an argument. 

“You know you don’t love me Jack, you don’t love me enough to actually be with me.” You spat into the phone you felt as if your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Were you really about to confess your love and feelings for this man right now? 

“W-What are you going on about now Y/N?” Jack took a step outside on the patio not wanting everyone to hear what he was talking about. He knew shit was about to go south and it’s the last thing he wanted especially with you. He hated making you upset because he was suppose to be the one making you happy.

I can hear your tears when they drop over the phone. 

“You know what I’m talking about Jack, you just use me I’m just your entertainment to you until you fuck other girls overseas. You don’t love me like I love you.” Jac k didn’t know what to say you just pretty much said you loved him and had feelings for him. He was filled with many emotions right now he didn’t know what to say. 

“Y/N please can I come over right now so we can talk about this face-to-face please.” Jack’s voice was cut off by the sound of someone else’s voice in the back you mentally cursed yourself out knowing Jude was going to be back any minute especially since the gas station was so close to your house. 

“Who the fuck is that Y/N.” Jack’s voice rang through the phone you panicked and hung up on him. 

 I will wait for you. 

[siflshonen]

Not the same anon, but if you don't mind me chiming in, I think, at least for me, the whole "it bothers me that Bakugo's only about Deku now" is not about narrative or thematic purpose, which I get, and which I like. For me it's just that I don't get why this progression can't coexist with Bakugo having meaningful interactions/moments with other people, just like Deku still does, plust the fact that it just doesn't feel reciprocated. And he's done and given up so much for Deku, yet Deku... well.

“Yet Deku… well.” To me this is kinda the point and is a big draw for me, personally, in sympathizing with Katsuki. The uneven reciprocation is a feature in this (still developing instance), not a bug.

If this status quo does not change by the end of the manga I may be more inclined to see it your way, but right now the story isn’t over and I don’t feel like that’s all there is to it for Katsuki and all we’re gonna get. It’s also not actually all we’ve gotten, either. I thought Katsuki and Todoroki’s relationship was pretty solid throughout this whole ordeal, in particular! The “udon, obviously” crack was a little moment, but meant big things! Katsuki getting dunked in the bath by the other boys was so sweet and cute! The boys making fun of Katsuki with the stupid “Change!” gag is worth something (and is fittingly backhanded - that small sense of unevenness is, again, meant to be a feature, I think since it’s so core to everything about him and relating to others.) I also think Katsuki coming to terms with how he pushed Toshinori away despite wanting to be close to him, too, is a big fuckin’ deal!! Like a massive deal!!! While the concepts of All Might and Izuku are related to Katsuki, there are differences! They are different individuals to him with which he has a distinct relationship! And what about Mirko and Katsuki bickering??? It’s small and quick, but it’s cute and there!

AND I MEAN, EVEN MONOMA FREAKING THE FUCK OUT WHEN KATSUKI FALLS IS A BIG DEAL WITH VERY LITTLE TO DO WITH IZUKU!

Do I want more Katsuki-and-others 1v1 or even just in the fringe of others? YES! We were robbed of a Monoma-v-Katsuki fight, we were denied Mirio-and-Tamaki-and-Nejire witnessing the hot mess that is Katsuki Bakugo, fronting, self-hating, lovesick osana najimi in permanent “friendship purgatory”, WE WERE DENIED SIR NIGHTEYE WITNESSING KATSUKI AND HIS BAGGAGE REGARDING ALL MIGHT AND IZUKU, we did not ever get Midnight, Mic, and Aizawa watching tsundere-after-Aizawa’s-own-heart Bakugo make friends with his classmates, particularly Kirishima and Shoto and Denki, and giving Aizawa shit about the similarity in their situation, WE DID NOT GET TOGA GETTING A GOOD WHIFF OF THE BAKUDEKU DYNAMIC, only a short moment when he’s kidnapped. I also think Katsuki and Momo should have a fun mini adventure. I also want to see Katsuki and Hawks or Katsuki and Endeavor try to navigate a conversation between just the two of them. I want to see him go head to head with Gran Torino, socially speaking. With INKO MIDORIYA.

But you know what? Including those scenes or delving into them also runs the risk of extinguishing or too-quickly accelerating, you guessed it, the drama of the Bakudeku situation even as they might create new relationships for Katsuki separate from Izuku. They’re all related, these things, and potentially always will be, but they don’t have to negate each other.

[saintsofwarding]

WE SHALL BE MONSTERS

Header art by Keltii-tea!

Chapter 5: A Story for Donna

"The MARS worked," Rose said. "Aren't you happy?"

Chris looked anything but. They sat together in the BSAA facility's cafeteria. Well, Chris was sitting, and Rose was pacing, back and forth and back and forth. She was on her third cup of coffee- cream and three sugars- while Chris nursed his green tea, dunking the teabag in then slowly withdrawing it before repeating the whole maneuver, his head angled downward, his brows drawn together, a murder's worth of crows' feet cutting lines from the corners of his eyes.

Someone walked past outside the cafeteria, and Rose looked up, eyes big. Just an IT guy. Not anyone coming to get them, coming to take them to see Donna.

"You should be happy," Rose pressed.

"Yeah. HQ is happy. 'An admirable performance.'" He'd gotten off the phone with them a few minutes before. "They're gonna reinstate my control over Hound Wolf Squad for the mission, provided Beneviento cooperates."

"That's good," Rose said.

"Yeah."

He went silent once more. Rose finished another lap, sipping at her coffee, then came to a halt by his side.

"This is gonna work, Chris," she told him. "Not just the MARS, I mean. All of it."

"I'd feel a lot more confident about this if it didn't involve Miranda's bioweapons."

"I know that. I-"

"No, I'm not sure you do."

"You have any better plans, then? I'm all ears."

He glanced up at her, assessing her. "We're still not sure what you are," he said. "Not fully. When Miranda awakened you from the megamycete-"

Rose cut over him. "If you're about to say I'm a dangerous liability, that the BSAA doesn't trust me, that I shouldn't be allowed around humans, then you can save it. I know."

She lowered her voice. "Kind of obvious what with the evil-eye I get when all I want is a snack or something..."

"That's- no, Rose, I wasn't gonna..." He rubbed his forehead, staring down into his undrunk cup of green tea. "We're not still sure how much of Miranda was absorbed into you via the megamycete. How many of her memories still linger within your subconscious. And...with proximity to the village, with more Lords resurrected and reinvigorating the hive mind-"

"You think I could become Mother Miranda," Rose said.

He looked at her again. The answer was plain in his blue eyes.

"You're kidding me," Rose said. "I would never be like Miranda. Never-"

"You said it yourself. The other Lords had no choice in their actions. They were forced to comply to Miranda's bidding."

"I'm- no. No." She slammed down her mug of coffee. "She's...she's dead. She's never coming back."

"So you've never experienced any of her memories?" Chris asked.

"No."

He gave a little nod. "Okay," he said.

"Okay? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm telling the truth. Unlike you have a history of doing."

He lifted his hands in a little fine, fine, gesture. "I meant what I said. Okay. I believe you. As long as you let me know if that changes."

"It won't," Rose said. "I'm way stronger than Miranda."

"She was the megamycete's original host," Chris said. "Channeling all her energy into keeping the villagers and all her monsters under her control. Freed of that...who can say how powerful she really was."

Silence fell. Rose took up her coffee again, but she didn't want to pace anymore. She slid onto the cafeteria table bench opposite Chris, staring down at the light brown liquid in her cup.

"And what about your mother?" Chris said.

His voice was even, but the words drove themselves into Rose like he'd vaulted the table and punched her right in the gut. She gave a little shudder.

"I don't know," she said.

"She was a bioterrorist before you were born, Rose. She went back to that life after you were taken-"

"He didn't...take me, exactly," Rose said. "My father gave me to him for protection."

"Until he could get you to civilization."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Ethan was desperate. He..." Chris gave an exasperated huff. "I can't convince you of this, Rose, and I don't want to try anymore."

"Then don't."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Rose said. "I didn't mean to be so sassy."

"That right."

"Not really."

He almost smiled. He dipped the teabag back into the cup.

"Ethan and Mia..." he began. "I thought I'd helped them. Got it right. After Dulvey, after cleaning up the mess Eveline and the Connections and Lucas Baker left behind, I thought- I'd saved them this time. I'd helped these ones. I'd got it right. Mia was, uh- well. She was getting through things. Taking meds, seeing a therapist, but...anyone would need to, after what she'd been through for the past three years. I never imagined what she'd been keeping secret. Guess it was even more than I bargained for."

"My father's mutation."

"And then, to be capable of going straight back to terrorism..." He gave his head a little shake. "I imagine her bridges to the Connections were all burnt, but there's always a new den of wolves looking for their newest packmate."

"Anyone can pull anything, given the right situation," Rose said. It was a quality she'd always associated with Heisenberg, for better or worse.

"Yeah," Chris said. "I sure know that."

"And Chris?"

"Hmm?"

"You don't have to worry about me."

"About what, specifically?"

Rose licked her lips.

"Miranda," she said.

She paused again.

"I'll never be like her," she went on, after a moment, her voice small. "I would never do the things she did."

Chris nodded, but he had no words of comfort for her. Those were thin on the ground, these days.

"Sir?"

A researcher stood at the door, clipboard in hand. Chris looked up, at once on alert.

"It time?" he said.

The researcher nodded. "She's ready for you."

***

Down white corridors, past labs, past vaults of biohazards, locked up tight. Rose's palms were slick, so she put them in her pockets as they entered the facility's containment area: a labyrinth of cells, guards at every doorway.

"She's been docile," the researcher was explaining. "To a fault, really. Without flora to transmit her hallucinogen, she's of little threat to anyone. While bioscans indicate she has the same increased muscle density and regenerative capabilities as other Cadou hosts, she's...well. You'll see."

They reached the thick glass of what was clearly a cell. Rose squinted in. The lights were down, the room beyond dark to such a degree she couldn't see anything inside.

"She's in there?" she asked.

"Sure is."

Rose paused. Then, "Can I go in?"

"Best not," Chris cut in. "Can you bring up the lights?"

The darkness within the room eased. It was a dull concrete cell, a cot in a corner, a washbasin in another. At the far wall, in a chair angled away from the observation window, sat a slim figure dressed in BSAA sweats.

Someone had detangled her hair, and it hung in a shining black sheet down her back and shoulders. Long, spidery hands with black nails were set lightly on Angie in her lap. Of her face, all Rose could see was the pale edge of one cheekbone, the tip of a nose.

Donna Beneviento didn't move, not even to acknowledge the change in lighting, nor the voices through the observation window. She might have been a still photograph, a projection on the wall.

"Is she...is she okay?" Rose asked.

"Vitals are normal. Cadou activity is lively. She's all there, physically speaking. As for her mental state- well. Redfield, you saw Miranda's files on her."

Chris nodded.

"Is there a speaker?" Rose asked.

The researcher pressed a button by the window. "Good evening, Miss Beneviento," she said, her voice crackling into the room. "You have some visitors."

There was no response.

Chris shifted his weight, crossing his massive arms over his chest.

"The MARS regenerates tissue," he told Rose, quietly. "But neurological patterns...those can be a lot more delicate."

"So let me in there with her," Rose said. "I can talk to her."

"You-"

"I can talk to her," Rose said, more quietly, pressing the word talk. "Chris, please." She decided to go for the big guns. "If you went to all this trouble of fixing up the MARS, recovering Donna's Cadou remnant, regenerating a whole-ass BOW from a couple pieces of crystal and a prayer, and all she does is give you the silent treatment, won't that disappoint HQ even more than you already have?"

He looked sharply down at her.

"Won't it?" Rose prompted.

"Low blow, Winters," Chris said.

"Yeah, well, did it land?"

A muscle worked in his jaw. "You say she's not excreting her hallucinogens?" he asked the researcher.

"Yes, sir. The room's air supply is kept on its own loop, so we know we aren't being affected out here, and sensors aren't detecting any contaminants inside."

Another pause, then-

"Just be careful, Rose," Chris told her.

They ended up giving her a rebreather anyway, the same kind she'd worn into the antiques shop with Chris; if there was any chance at all of Donna tripping her out, Rose supposed the BSAA didn't want her going on some kind of hallucinogen-fueled rampage.

She stepped into the airlock, listened to the doors seal around her, winced as the icy decontamination fog hissed into the air, stinging against her exposed hands. It swirled away, and the second door unsealed with a chunk.

Proceed, a cool, automated voice said.

With a small, steadying breath Rose stepped through the second door and into the darkness of the cell.

The air slipped over her hands, cool and dry. She stopped in the middle of the room, looking at Donna a few yards away.

Close up, she was smaller than Rose had pictured her. In Heisenberg's memories, the ones she'd glimpsed during her time rummaging around in his head, the ones she'd glimpsed in the deep, painful hearts of his dreams, Donna had seemed more...substantial. Maybe because he'd known her when Claudia was alive, before the both of them had been broken by her death, he remembered her as the person she was before.

Now, she sat in the chair with her head slightly lowered, her shoulderblades sharp as bird bones through the incongruous gray sweatshirt.

"Hey, Donna," Rose said, softly.

A faint rustle. She'd shifted in her chair.

Rose's heart gave a little leap. Was she listening? She pressed on. "Are you okay? Is there anything you need? Do...do you feel all right?"

Nothing. Rose glanced toward the observation window, which appeared as a mirror from this side. She looked nearly as insubstantial as Donna in this lighting, her shoulder-length hair and skin colorless in the faint light from above.

The light...

"It's too bright in here, isn't it?" she said. "I get it. I don't like direct sunlight, either. I guess it's the mold, huh? I mean, makes sense, right, mushrooms don't like the sun..."

She was rambling. Donna seemed to have shut down again; she sat frozen in place.

"Chris, you hear me?" Rose said.

A knock came on the glass.

"Turn down the lights again."

There was a long pause. Come on, Redfield, Rose thought, impatient. Then the lights dimmed; only a faint glow through the observation window allowed Rose to see anything at all. Donna became a dark, indistinct shape, her pasty skin making her hands and trace of a cheekbone seem to float disconnected from the rest of her.

"Okay, Donna," Rose said. "Is that better?"

"You really think she's gonna start blabbing to you?"

The voice grated from the darkness, childish and sly. Angie. Rose couldn't see her, but she heard the faint grind and rustle of her movement. A chill feathered through Rose's nerves as she shifted backwards on reflex. Interesting to look at Angie might be, but a creepy doll was still a creepy doll.

A cackle. "Oooh, scared, little Rose? All your power, and you're still struck silly by the dark..."

"You weren't ever scared by the dark, Donna?" Rose said.

There was a silence. Then she heard whispering in it. Faint, rapid; she made out no words, just that there were two voices involved. She couldn't tell which was Donna and which was Angie. Maybe it was Angie talking to herself.

"Donna isn't interested in what you're selling," Angie said finally. "You gotta go through me."

"Okay," Rose said. She inched closer, a hand slightly lifted. "Fine. That's just fine. You know who I am, don't you?"

"The nasty little spawn of the man who killed us." A hiss, like an angry opossum. "Ethan Winters. Oooh, Miranda liked him, she did. Perfect, she said. Perfect. The answer to everything she'd been working toward since, hee hee, forever. We knew it would be the death of us, but...gotta do what Mommy says, that's what Donna told me."

"You...you knew Miranda's end goal was to have you all killed? To replace you?" Rose's heart began to thump. Imagining Heisenberg slaughtered like he was nothing, imagining the magnificent Lady Dimitrescu cast aside as if she was some expendable thing...horrific. Who could do something like that?

I would never, she thought, savagely, toward Chris. No matter what clever little hypotheses you and the BSAA come up with.

"Yep," Angie said, nonchalant. "But Donna was so grateful to Miranda. Taking her in after her parents...after...Claudia."

Her voice dropped on the girl's name, and as she said it, Rose heard a simultaneous scratchy whisper, as if in echo.

"She took care of us," Angie went on. "We would have thrown ourselves off the waterfall if not for her. We tried to cope. Ohhh, we tried."

Her voice grated down and down, like a gramophone losing steam. "We made our cute friends act it out."

"Your cute friends...you mean the other dolls?"

"Mm-hm! We made them be everyone. Mama and Papa. Me and Donna and Claudia. Even Mister Karl, Donna's meanie brother. And then one by one they fell down until only me and Donna and Karl were left."

"Heisenberg was there when Claudia died?"

"He watched it. He watched her. Held her little hand while she spat blood all over the place." The doll made a theatrical blech sound. "She made such a nasty mess! And after, did he help clean it up? No. No. No, he did not."

"He left," Rose said.

"And he didn't come back," Angie said. "And Donna learned he'd come to spy on them, that he was the reason Miranda decided to give Claudia her gift. And Donna broke apart. And so she went to Miranda and Miranda became her new mother."

Angie gave a little snort. "Donna didn't need him anyway. All she needed was me. No boys allowed in our playhouse. Donna thought he might visit when we buried Claudia but he didn't. It was a pretty burial. Flowers and candles and a grand headstone and Claudia with her hair in braids and her favorite yellow ribbons on the ends."

Another lowering of the voice, a hissing hush, as close to the doll could get to a whisper. Another raspy echo chasing Angie's words, Donna speaking in time.

"So small," she said. "So little. Miranda promised she would live through the gift." Her voice became so quiet Rose barely caught the last words. "Miranda lied."

It was beginning to make a bit of sense. So they'd all once been- well, if not close, at least cordial. Heisenberg had spent time at House Beneviento, had become, like he'd said, a kind of surrogate father to Claudia. A companion to Donna, annoying and entertaining her in equal measure, as he was wont. A break in her agonizing loneliness. And when Claudia died, nothing between him and Donna was ever the same again.

Oh, god, and what loneliness it was. The kind that drove someone to go back to the thing that had destroyed them, just so they didn't have to face another day in an empty house.

Rose lowered her hand. Her fear had died down, replaced by a hollow ache, close to tears. All she wanted to do was go to Donna and hold her hands in the dark.

She didn't.

She took a short breath.

"Donna," she said. "Mister Karl is why I'm here now." Another glance toward the glass. Don't you stop me on this one, Chris. "He's gone missing. He was taken, stolen away. And now I'm gonna go get him."

"Why?"

"Because-" It was a long, long story. How to sum it up so that one homicidal doll and one broken, emotionally bankrupt, childishly delusional mutant would understand? "Uh-"

"Was your papa's vengeance not good enough for you?" Angie screeched, over whatever arguments Rose was about to make. "You gotta get him back to make him pay? Is that it?"

"No! No-"

"You should have left us alone. Left us to be dead! Donna doesn't want your pity. She doesn't want this cage. Again and again, so many birdcages. Why can't you just leave us be?"

"Because I need you! Because I want your help, okay? Just listen to me-"

"Our help?" A high trill of laughter, impish and maniacal, like what she'd said was the funniest joke in the world. The sound of sharpening knives echoed from the dark. Rose's palms began to sweat. The doll didn't have any hidden weapons on her- the BSAA had examined her thoroughly- but in the darkness it was all too easy to imagine rusty blades coming from nowhere, going for the eyes. "Our help? Why do you want Mister Karl back, anyway? Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!"

Frustration mounted. How could she make them get it? How could she possibly plead her case and atone for her father having killed them and impress upon them just how much she needed to rescue Heisenberg all in one? She couldn't. She couldn't. This was impossible.

No, Rose thought, with a strange little shudder.

Not impossible.

She reached up to her rebreather and pulled it away from her face, tossing it aside. Chris could chew her out later. Angie instantly shut up.

"Because he took care of me," Rose said. "Like he wanted to do for Claudia. But this time, he got it right. He saved me. And because I love him, and I want him back."

Her voice trembled. She stopped.

Another short breath.

"Please," she said.

Fabric rustled. Not the antique silk and lace of Angie's dress, but sweatshirt material. Donna. Rose blinked as she saw the figure in the chair rise, and turn, her feet in their gray slippers silent on the floor.

Donna stood before her. She was about Rose's height, her long black hair framing an oval face startling in its pallor, and in its beauty. One dark eye looked, levelly, back at Rose. The other was gone, the skin on the right side of Donna's face bubbled and twisted, swollen in a tumorous growth, short veiny tendrils writhing like the touch tank at an aquarium.

Rose caught a trace of a scent- bitter and floral, there and then gone again. Donna's lips twitched in what might have been a smile.

"Our little Rose," she whispered. Her voice sounded like it had rusted somewhere deep in the darkness, a spare whisper, dry as moth wings. "You lived."

"I did," Rose said.

Donna nodded. "I'm glad," she said. "I wanted to say no. To Miranda. But I was scared. Now...she's gone, yes?"

"Yes."

"Good," Donna said. "Then I can help you. First..."

She hesitated, a delicate pause, and fidgeted with a bit of lace on Angie's dress.

"Yes?" Rose said.

"Tell me the the story," Donna said. "It's been such a very long time, and so much has happened. I want to hear everything."

[serenasoutherlyns]

passionately, i'd say

chapter 2 of my woman!jack au. ao3 rewrite of s5e10 house counsel.

“We would’ve been more comfortable in Aruba,” Jack says.

“You prosecutors don’t have the time for frivolous travel like we do. It’s too bad such a great mind is wasted on this office. Third in the class,” Paul volleys right back with a nod to Claire. “But I’ve never lost a case on account of my 2.5, have I. And what do they say, the C students end up kicking the A students in the ass? That’s probably not it, oh well Jackie, I can’t wait to do it anyway.”

“We have Furini on tape,” says Claire. The case is a slam dunk.

“Another A student?” says Paul. He’s smug.

“Law review too,” Claire says, trying not to seem too defensive. “But you don’t have to be to see where this is going.”

Jack leans back a little in her chair and pushes her hair behind her ears, tousling it ever so slightly. Claire likes Jack’s hair a lot. She likes the shine, how soft it is to touch, how it smells like coconut and honey. She does dye it, Jack confirmed one day, looking in the bathroom mirror. She had to get her roots redone. Claire likes her faint crows feet and smile lines, too. She presses play on the cassette. “Mr. Parks is all taken care of, Vin. Bada bing, bada boom.” “Good job, John.” “I think the meaning is obvious,” Jack says.

“Sure it is,” says Paul. “They were talking about Miss America. Look Jackie, I hate to burst your bubble but this case is gonna go the way of all flesh.”

“Because you’re the defense counsel?” Jack says, playfully incredulous.

Paul grins and cocks his head to the side. “Motion to suppress. That tape will never be heard by a jury. Oh, and Anna sends her love. She wants you to come over sometime.”

“Tell her we’ll all go to Aruba this weekend.”

“Sounds wonderful. See you in chambers, Jackie, Miss-”

“Kincaid,” Jack says.

“Miss Kincaid. She seems like a good one,” he says on his way out.

“Jackie?” Claire says when the door closes.

“Yeah, well. Old nicknames die hard.”

“You two seem close,” Claire says, not even trying to hide her annoyance. He wasn’t her typical type. Jack generally has little patience for macho posturing. For dick measuring contests. She does usually win those, however.

“Exes,” she says. “Two years and we never did anything but argue and try to beat each other at pool.”

“Two years,” Claire says. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“I didn’t,” Jack says, her voice matter-of-fact. “Ask Carolyn Waters.” Claire thinks she would not have gotten along with 23-year-old Jack. ---

“It’s about the battle, Claire, not the prize,” Jack says.

“You would agree with me if it was anybody else,” is her response. “You’re acting like defending a mob boss is some sort of noble cause.”

“It’s all a part of the game,” she says. Jack can really piss Claire off. Something about Paul Kopell brings out her cynical, egotistical side.

“Last I heard, it was about justice,” Claire says.

“Justice is a story we tell to make ourselves feel better, not something we can reasonably seek. Effective prosecutors should do their best to let it be the byproduct.”

“Of what?” Claire says, knowing that Jack was about to say;

“Of winning, plain, simple, and as often as possible.”

“I’m not in this to score points,” Claire says.

“Well you better change that, Claire, or you’ll never sleep again,” Jack says with that charming, fond, smile. It’s hard to stay mad at her when she looks at her that way. Claire does her best imitation of a frown.

“Adam, we have the tape on Furini. If we’re lucky, he won’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison.”

“Good,” says Adam in that tired but sure tone of his.

---

“I meant what I said, about winning,” Jack says, and takes another sip of scotch.

“Do we really have to talk about work?” Claire responds. She’s had about enough of the case today, and Jack will not let this go. She insists on winning her over.

“What else is there to talk about?” She says, and she has a point. It’s not like they do much else.

“You could ask me about lunch with my mom,” she says after thinking for a second.

“How was lunch with your mother, Claire,” Jack says, mock-interested (because she can guess how it was). She leans into her space Claire leans in too, matching her challenge.

“Awkward and unpleasant,” she says. Claire takes a sip of her pinot noir and rests her her chin on her hand. “She wouldn’t stop going on about my biological clock.” Jack lets out a bright scoff.

“You’ve got some time on that one,” she says.

“I’m in no rush,” Claire says, and brings her bottom lip between her teeth. She touches Jack’s calf with her own. Jack places her hand on her knee.

“I’d hope not,” says Jack. “Cause, I’d be of no help.”

“Thank God.” Jack raises her glass to that.

“Anyway,” she says, “if you get too focused, you’ll drive yourself insane.” Claire goes to respond, to say something pithy, but Jack doesn’t let her. “I’m being serious, Claire.” Claire opens her mouth and closes it. She lowers her head and picks it back up. She puts her hand on the back of her neck.

“I know,” Claire says. “I can feel it happening.”

“So stop,” Jack says. “Don’t beat yourself up if you lose a motion, hell, if you lose a case. Move on, and do your best to win. But if everything is about justice, and you don’t get it, you’ll--”

“Make myself miserable, I know.”

“Good,” says Jack. “You’re getting it.” She touches her shoulder affectionately. Claire sips her wine.

---

“Your friend plays the game by a different set of rules,” Claire says. She’s standing, leaning over the table. She’s been pacing the room, trying to come up with a way to reindict and coming up empty. Paul Kopell is certainly a smart guy. “He and I are not playing the same game anymore, Claire,” Jack says from the couch. She is sitting back, sunk into the leather, her heels are on the floor and her legs are tucked under her. She’s been staring off into the distance for ten minutes, thinking about what, Claire can’t say. This revelation concerns her, she wonders what Jack is about to get into.

“Is that disappointment, or the sound of your ego deflating?”

“It’s contempt,” Jack responds. “He’s reprehensible. First day of law school, ‘What’s the cornerstone of the adversarial process?’” She rises from the couch.

“I don’t need the socratic attitude,” Claire says. Jack walks up close to her, comfortable. The top of her blouse is unbuttoned and Claire’s eyes linger at her collarbone as she tilts her chin up to face her.

“Just answer the question, Claire.”

“Two independent counsel, arguing points of fact and points of law before an impartial judge and jury,” she responds reluctantly.

“Right,” Jack says. “The operative word being ‘independent.’ Paul crossed a line.”

“He didn’t do anything illegal, Jack. He listened to Dasso brag. You heard the tape.” Claire rests her hands on the desk behind her. Jack stands across the room from her with her arms crossed, anger apparent on her face-- she’s even a little red. Her hands are balled into fists.

“He facilitated the operation of a criminal enterprise.” Jack is enraged. That must be why she hadn’t said a word for so long. “How do you think he knew Lempert’s spending habits?”

“Maybe they had cappuccino together,” Claire says. She can’t help the it. Jack is reaching at best but there was no telling her anything when she got like this.

“The juror questionnaires,” Jack says, realizing mid-speech. “How much do you owe, how much do you make. He knew exactly what he was doing in voir dire, he asked the questions that would find him the person most likely to take a bribe. I can’t believe this,” she says.

“I’m not sure I do,” says Claire. Half of her is trying to spare Jack the pain that finding out something like this is true would cause her. “Paul Kopell goes the extra mile, every time. I just didn’t expect him to drive the car into a wall.”

The clerk leads them to it. Claire sees the devastation in Jack’s eyes, the pain of betrayal. It’s heartbreaking. In the cab back to the courthouse, she takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Jack sighs and squeezes back.

---

“Twenty-five years ago, Paul stayed up until 3:00am with me teaching me the rule against perpetuities,” Jack says.

“Smart has nothing to do with honest,” Adam replies. “What are you gonna do?”

“Burn him at the stake,” says Jack. She looks tired.

“Even if we can implicate Kopell, it’s only an E felony.”

“No,” says Jack, determination and rage in her voice. “It’s an A felony. Conspiracy to commit murder. Paul picked Lempert’s name.” Jack is taking things to far, Claire thinks, or she’s going to. She thinks about asking her, if this were any other attorney, would she do something like this?

She thinks better of it, but tries to sway her anyway. “You don’t think he knew they were going to kill Lempert?”

“It doesn’t matter. He set the chain of events in motion. Do you want to convict Dasso?” Claire and Adam nod. “Paul can give him to us.”

---

“You son of a bitch,” says who must be Paul’s wife.

“Anna, calm down. You could’ve called, Jack, you have my number,” Paul says, bursting with anger, spitting the words out.

“I’m sorry, it fell out of my rolodex,” says Jack. The room feels like it’s going to light on fire.

“Are you happy, Jackie?” Paul says bitterly.

“Happy yes, I’m so happy to discover one of my closest friends is a felon.”

Paul actually laughs. “Even if Dasso bribed the clerk, what the hell has that got to do with me?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Paul.”

Anna looks Claire straight in the eyes as if to say how could you. “This is really getting your juices going, isn’t it,” she says.

“Anna, if you can’t let me proceed, you’d better step outside.” Paul gestures to Claire. Jack makes a stop motion to her, and though she wasn’t going to leave anyway, she appreciates the show of respect.

“Paul, you can put an end to this, right now,” says Jack. “Give us Dasso.”

“Give you Dasso, who the hell do you think I am? You know what, Jackie, you can’t even carry my briefcase, you never could.” Jack shows how hurt she is: her eyes dart to the side, where Claire is standing. She can see Jack starting to lose her composure, like she’s going to cry, or like she’s going to hit Kopell. “I’m gonna get this bullshit charge dismissed and then write you a civil suit that will have your great-grandchildren answering motions.”

Paul storms out and Anna is close behind him. When the door closes, Jack sinks into the couch. Claire sees one tear roll down her cheek. She goes to take her hand, but Jack pulls it away.

“I’m going to go get a cup of coffee,” Claire says. “Want anything?”

“I’m good,” Jack says. She looks out the window.”

---

“I don’t need your sarcasm right now, Claire,” Jack says as they walk back to the office. It’s fair. Claire could stand to be a little kinder.

“Look, Jack,” Claire says as she takes her arm. “Don’t you think this is getting out of hand?” Jack stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk and turns to face her.

“Do you want to convict Dasso?” Jack asks.

“Of course I do.”

“Well I’m fresh out of ideas,” she says. “This is the only way I can see of doing it.”

Claire looks at her and sighs. Jack is right. Her argument against Kopell is sound. But she hates seeing Jack so distraught, so hurt. They haven’t had a moment to themselves since the arrest.

“Alright,” Claire says, takes Jack’s arm again, and walks them down the street.

---

“He’s a murderer,” Paul says. “He’s my client. I don’t judge him. I defend him. It’s what I do.”

“You don’t have to climb into bed with him,” says Jack. “That’s where you’re wrong. I have to get into his bed. I have to think like him. I have to attend his grandchildren’s christenings, I have to eat his mother’s cooking. It’s the only way I can defend him with any kind of passion. How can you not see that, Jackie?”

Claire can see Jack start to bristle at the nickname where she hadn’t before. It was like watching two angry dogs bark at each other.

“That’s your only agenda?” Jack says, disbelieving.

“Hell no,” says Paul. “I do it because I like it. I do it because it’s fun. I climbed macho mountain and it feels damn good.” Jack grips the table tightly. Claire is disgusted. Jack must be too. He really isn’t Jack’s type, after all.

“We’re offering you a way out,” Claire says. Paul looks at her like she’s nothing. Jack bites her cheek.

“Maybe you should hear him out, Paul,” Anna says.

“Absolutely not,” Paul says, stretching the first word out to five syllables. “Don’t you see, Anna? He called this meeting, that means his case is weak. This is a game of chicken. And you just blinked. See you at trial.”

---

They convict him.

The foreperson stands and delivers a “guilty” verdict. There is no celebration, no after-work drinks, no congratulation from Adam. Nobody is happy.

“That sounded like more than a game,” Claire says as the elevator door opens.

“You better take the next elevator,” Jack says. “I wouldn’t be very good company.”

[aegor-bamfsteel]

Some fans have called Jeyne Poole calling Arya horseface or mean to her slightly unbelievable. Considering Jeyne was a stewards daughter and Arya a high-born lady. I think it's Jeyne insecurity and jealousy for what Arya have made her do that. That doesn't mean Jeyne was right to bully Arya. Though I found it slightly weird that Arya never reacted to her or confront her. Regarding class difference it seems like Arya isn't bother about the class status between her and Jeyne.

And that’s another of my pet peeves about fantasies. The bad authors adopt the class structures of the Middle Ages; where you had the royalty and then you had the nobility and you had the merchant class and then you have the peasants and so forth. But they don’t’ seem to realize what it actually meant. They have scenes where the spunky peasant girl tells off the pretty prince. The pretty prince would have raped the spunky peasant girl. He would have put her in the stocks and then had garbage thrown at her. You know.

I mean, the class structures in places like this had teeth. They had consequences. And people were brought up from their childhood to know their place and to know that duties of their class and the privileges of their class. It was always a source of friction when someone got outside of that thing. And I tried to reflect that. —GRRM 2011 interview

Why GRRM goes instantly to rape as the response to a peasant woman’s insubordination is beyond me, but I’m going to digress. If the class structure is supposed to be so strict that even “sassy” words are deemed worthy of violent punishment, then how does GRRM explain this passage?:

When Dunk trotted up to them on Thunder, the boy looked surprised. "She said she wanted to give you a new horse, ser."

"Even highborn ladies don't get all they want," Dunk said, as they rode out across the drawbridge. "It wasn't a horse I wanted." The moat was so high it was threatening to overflow its banks. "I took something else to remember her by instead. A lock of that red hair." He reached under his cloak, brought out the braid, and smiled. —The Sworn Sword

Okay, so a peasant girl sassing a pretty prince gets thrown in the stocks, but a hedge knight who cut off a highborn woman’s hair without her consent (we don’t get her reaction in the novella, but her face in the graphic novel is terrified), gets to walk off scot-free with some presents? And he rejects a horse after losing 2/3 of those he inherited from Ser Arlan and the horse being necessary for a knight? And people wonder why I don’t find Dunk a credible member of the smallfolk. Anyway, compared to some instances in the story, Jeyne smirking and neighing when Arya comes near her isn’t that unrealistic and could be chalked up to schoolyard taunting.

While Jeyne is a steward’s daughter, she is also a minor noblewoman, probably on par with Beth Cassel. Maybe calling her horseface and neighing would’ve been insubordination in King’s Landing (although Sansa would’ve likely put in a good word for Jeyne if the teasing ever reached higher authorities) but this is Winterfell and the children can interact with minor nobles and even smallfolk (Mikken, Harwin, Gage, Hullen, Septon Chayle, of course Old Nan) with some easy familiarity. Arya is used to interacting with Winterfell’s smallfolk men and women to the point she gets another nickname: “Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her "Arya Underfoot," because he said that was where she always was.” —Arya II AGOT. Even though Jeyne doesn’t treat her well, it makes sense she’d see her as part of Winterfell life and not look down on her for being of lower class (however, her lack of knowledge/care about the class structure leads to the confrontation at Darry in which she and Sansa lose their wolves) It’s also part of Kid Code not to go to the adults for something like name calling, though for all we know she did hit her/taunt her back, and this led her to think it’d be OK to react as she did with Joffrey. I think Jeyne was also insecure about her class status, though she also called Arya these names because she was insecure about her looks, as she says “I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all told me I was pretty” and she also wanted male approval. Of course it wasn’t right for her to tease Arya. The true purpose of the teasing was for GRRM to make Arya feel like an outcast, thus connected to Jon; however, in AGOT Arya makes male friends/male mentors easily whereas she has colder relationships with women/girls, so it’s GRRM trying to have his cake (Arya as outcast by women) and eat it too (Arya as beloved kid sister/daughter by the good Winterfell men). Anyway, by the time of ADWD what Jeyne said pre-GOT is so insignificant (teasing vs becoming an abused child bride or trained assassin) in the grand scheme of things that I don’t think it’s going to be relevant going forward.

tl;dr Maybe Jeyne’s teasing is unrealistic, but compared to other scenes, it is more believable and has less of an impact. You could partially explain it by a friendship with Sansa, the looser class structure at Winterfell, Arya’s openness toward the Winterfell men and women, and kids being unwilling to take bullying to an adult. Jeyne possibly teased Arya due to her insecurities as a minor noble girl as well as her looks/crushes. GRRM used the teasing as a character point for Arya as an outcast that he undermines by having many positive male characters drawn to her. However, since the story and characters have grown so much since AGOT, I don’t think “Horseface” will be very significant.