#like. watching mash the difference is so stark

[good-night-space-kid]

Actors in shows don’t even look real anymore :/

[strawberrysunsets]

The Empty World (Ch. 9)

Donald Pierce x fReader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: The mutant discovers what happened to Laura at Transigen's labs, and has a run-in with the Reaver Commander.

Warnings: Swearing, injuries, mention of cannon death, mention of cannon torture, mention of cannon suicide, manipulation.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: six months later, another chapter! Hurrah!

Chapter 9: Revelation

Strips of motion-activated fluorescent lighting flickered on one after another as the man before you strode through the cold, stark basement, glancing back for you to follow. 

It had been a few days since your admittedly ill-advised first aid soiree with Pierce, and your pager had notified you this morning that you were due to be fitted for gear for your upcoming assignment. While you’d been hiding in your rooms since, hoping to avoid what was sure to be an awkward encounter the next time you saw Pierce, mission outfitting had sounded non-optional. So here you were, hoping against hope that you wouldn't run into the Reaver Commander in Transigen's basement gear storage unit. 

The Recon Manager arrived at a side door, and swiped his pass to open it. Inside, racks of Kevlar and carbon fibre swished on either side of you, and you brushed a hand along the garments as you passed. 

Going into Pierce’s rooms had been fun, in a perverse sort of way. Like watching a crime documentary. It was a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the life of a sociopath. And, yes, he was a sociopath with soft hair and a smooth southern accent – but he was only attractive in the way that any lethal weapon was. Like a blade honed to an edge, or a corrosive substance just whispering at you to touch it, his presence beckoned towards the heady rush of danger. 

A masochist’s dream, you sighed internally. But at least you knew your own weaknesses. And something you’d gleaned from Pierce the other night, whether or not mashing your face to his had been a mistake (which was pretty inarguable), was that there were different facets to him. There was an off-duty version of him, for example, who seemed a hell of a lot more open to chatting about things that verged on the personal than the business-hours Reaver Commander did. 

And that was something that might be useful, seeing as you were still in the dark about almost everything that went on at Transigen. Like why were they so invested in - and 'responsible for' - the mutant kids. Or what the hell kind of information they were so desperate to get back from Zenith Labs. Or how the fuck they’d made evil-buzzcut-logan, X-24.

So yes, you were toying with the idea of fucking Donald Pierce. If it got you any information, it didn’t sound like the worst possible way to pass your time at Transigen. If that failed, you could always go play in the radiation lab.

“Don’t touch anything,” the Recon Manager snapped, glancing back at you as he pulled open a storage locker. You raised your hands from the garment rack in surrender, but continued to stare around the room, casually itemizing what you could see for future reference. It might be handy to know what kinds of gear were down here, in case you ever had to make a short-notice departure from Transigen. Not that you wanted to do that, seeing as the fate of Laura and the others depended on your contract with Ansley. But still, it felt nice to know a few of their secrets. 

When the Manager had collected an assortment of garments and pieces of equipment, he handed them to you with a cold expression, crossing his arms as he waited for you to pull on a Kevlar vest to check its size.  He wasn’t a Reaver, judging by his lack of military apparel and macho attitude, but he was clearly anti-mutant. A Purifier? A follower of the Church of Human Potential? Who knew. It barely mattered, since there were too many varieties of hatred out there to count. And Logan had always said that they were all the same, in the end.

“These aren’t yours,” the Recon Manager said gruffly, when you nodded in assent at the size of the vest. “They’re equipment on loan from the facility. What comes back damaged comes out of your pay. If you get paid, that is.”

With that, he strode towards the door, and stood waiting for you to exit the room before he shut it behind you. 

Just another day at the office, you sighed internally. And I’m sure this isn’t even the most toxic workplace out there.

Then again, you were considering starting a workplace situationship with your sadistic mercenary supervisor, so there was still plenty of room for things to go downhill from here.

~~~

As you lay in bed that night, you stared at the screen of the phone in your hands, reading the message you’d received that morning over and over again. 

We are safe. Across the border. 

The unknown number from which it had come was undoubtedly Laura, using the burner phone you’d given her. And they were safe. You didn’t know what that meant – if they’d found a true hiding place, or even other mutants, or had just escaped the tails Transigen had on them – but your heart ached with relief. For now, they were safe. And they would continue to be, as long as your deal with Transigen remained. 

You flipped away from the messages app, and scrolled through the phone’s home screen, trying to get used to its controls. It was the phone Laura had given you, previously belonging to someone named Gabriela. Who that was, and what her story was, you had no idea - but she assumedly had no use for it, anymore. Maybe she'd been Laura’s family, or maybe just some unlucky bystander who’d helped the mutant kids and gotten themselves in the Reaver’s crosshairs, but she was clearly gone, just like every other person who'd ever stood between Transigen and their goals. 

Your finger brushed the camera app in the phone's corner and it opened involuntarily, causing the ‘recent videos’ icon to catch your eye. Because there was a video there. You sat up in interest and tapped on it, and shaky footage immediately grew to fill the phone's screen. 

“My name is Gabriela Lopes,” a woman said, sitting back in a chair in a warmly lit room. “I am a nurse, and for ten years I have worked at Transigen research in Mexico City.” The footage flashed, changing to a video of the exterior of Transigen’s gates.

Your eyes widened, and you sat up further, gripping the phone tightly.  

The next clip was of Gabriela in a storage closet somewhere inside the lab, breathing hard and obviously filming in secret.

“Transigen is owned by an American company,” she continued. “What I am about to show you is illegal in the US, and Canada.”

The camera panned around to the hallway, and you watched in growing horror as a line of children – a few of whom you recognized from North Dakota – filed past. 

“They told us we were part of a pharmaceutical study,” Gabriela continued breathlessly. “But that was a lie. These children were born in Transigen. They were born here, and never left. They have never seen the sun, or the ocean. Rain, or snow, or any of god’s creatures. They have no birth certificates, no names besides the ones we have given them.” 

Then Laura appeared on the screen in your hands, asleep in a narrow bed, and you made an inarticulate sound of horror as you covered your mouth. 

You’d heard Laura imply that she and her friends had been at Transigen's lab together, but you’d thought that it was because they’d been kidnapped and brought there. That Transigen had wanted to study them, because they were the first mutants born in 25 years. Not that they were from the lab. 

“They were raised in the bellies of Mexican girls,” Gabriela's voice continued, careless of your mounting horror as the video panned over a few bloody hospital beds. “Girls no one can find anymore. Their fathers are semillas geneticas; special seeds in bottles.”  

Then Pierce appeared on screen, and you inhaled sharply, watching as he dismantled the domestic scene of one of the kids’ birthdays. The video continued, flashing past scenes of the children being injected with large syringes full of fluid, and then a boy using his powers wildly, attacking the personnel around him. And then Laura was back – only this time on a bloody surgery bed, with half a dozen tubes sticking from her arms. A team of doctors worked on her, and familiar metallic claws protruded from her knuckles. 

You choked out sob, and tried to steady the phone in your shaking hand. 

Laura, slashing her own forearm with the Adamantium blades.

Men running up a flight of stairs, in time to see a young boy throw himself from the roof.

A computer screen open to a file titled ‘X-24’, followed by a series of disembodied limbs, floating in blue tanks. 

Then, men - Reavers - were grabbing the children, and pulling them out of their rooms. Pierce appeared, zapping a child with a metal rod before dragging their unconscious body into a lab room. 

“We are going to save as many children as we can," Gabriela continued, voice choked with emotion. "I read about a place up North. A place for mutants. They call it Eden.” 

Then the video changed, and the kids were running down the halls, accompanied by Gabriela and a few of the other nurses. Escaping. 

“If you’re watching this,” Gabriela said, now addressing the camera from what looked to be a motel room, “it means that I am dead.” Her dark, soulful eyes filled with tears, matching the tears now streaming down your own cheeks. “I am not sure if any other children survived. We were separated.” 

You were breathing hard, and you lowered the phone shakily to your bed as the recording neared its end. 

“Please,” Gabriela’s voice finished. The voice of a dead woman. “Take her to safety.”

Then the video shut off, returning you to the phone's black camera screen, and leaving your room in darkness. 

Your chest rose and fell erratically as if you’d just sprinted a mile, and it felt like there was a vice gripping your stomach, making it hard to breathe. You rose from the bed and walked desperately to the window, then back to your bed, pacing.

“Fuck.” The images from the video flashed through your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!” 

You crossed to your door and threw it open, not knowing where your feet were taking you – only that you needed air. This building felt different, now that you’d seen what had gone on here. The pain. The fucking torture, and all the other things you could barely comprehend. Your bare feet slapped the cold floor - you'd not bothered with shoes in your rush - and you took the stairs at the end of the hall two at a time, ignoring the strain on your still-healing shoulder and legs. 

You burst out onto the lab's roof as your vision blurred with tears, and gasped for breath. The night was warm outside, and the sounds of the city - dogs barking, distant music playing, and far-off sirens - rushed in around you, replacing the eerie silence of the compound.The sharp gravel of the rooftop bit into your bare feet, but you barely felt it. You put a hand to your stomach, fighting off a wave of nausea as you leaned against the cement wall to your left.  

You’d known Transigen were evil. But – that? That was fucking insane. 

You leaned your head back against the wall and took a few steadying breaths, trying to process it all.

Far below you, a car door slammed, and loud laughter echoed through the lab's concrete yard. You walked slowly to the edge of the roof and looked down, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you spotted a group of men exiting a dark truck stationed in front of Transigen’s main entrance. A blond head swung from the truck’s cab, and your stomach tightened as you recognized Pierce's tall form. He handed off a black case to another man who carried it inside, and turned to grab something else from the truck. 

The image of him dragging an unconscious child across the floor of one of the labs flashed before your eyes, and before you knew what you were doing, you’d stepped off the edge of the roof, curving your wings in sharply for a quick descent. The rush of air pulled at your sore shoulder, but you ignored it, landing soundlessly on the pavement before the vehicle. Your chest heaved as you stared at the men encircling the truck. Then men who’d tortured Laura. Who’d tried to put the mutant kids to death as soon as they no longer served a purpose to the lab. 

Pierce was turned away from you, but his head cocked slightly to the side when your bare feet landed on the pavement, as if he’d heard some minute noise behind him. That was the only warning you had before he’d pulled his gun from its holster and swung it around to aim it at your head, almost quicker than you could blink. 

Then his eyes found your face, and wings, and a grin spread across his face. 

“Well hey there, sweetheart!” He said, returning his gun to its holster and leaning back against the SUV. He wore a sleeveless black shirt above his fatigues, suited to the warm night, and it showed off his muscle-corded arms and the skull tattoo on his neck. The men nearby turned to see what was going on, and quickly caught sight of you standing in the darkness down the walkway. Some stared at you coldly, while others jostled each other, chuckling at unheard jokes.

“Finally come to join your pals?” Pierce asked, a glint in his eye. “Get a little team bonding in?” 

But you weren’t in the mood for banter, tonight.

“Transigen made the mutant kids?” You spat, staring at him as your skin prickled with hatred. “This fucking place made them, locked them up, and tortured them, until you decided to kill them?” 

The men behind Pierce quieted, and some lab worker who’d been on his way in through the automatic doors paused to glance your way, eyes wide. 

Pierce showed no signs of surprise at your outburst, but his eyes grew cold as he tilted his head slowly to one side, examining you. He took in your messy hair, bare feet, and the dark shorts and t-shirt you slept in, before his gaze rose back to your face. “Who you been talking to?” He asked, deceptively casual.

You choked out a harsh laugh. “As if I’d fucking tell you.” 

He raised a brow, and snorted incredulously. “For the sake of your little friends, baby, I’d suggest you do,” he drawled. “Otherwise–” he opened a hand helplessly, “who can say what’ll happen to ‘em.” His grin faded, and his eyes glinted with predatory delight beneath a veil of mock regret. “As you know, we really got no issue killing what needs to die.” 

Your skin prickled as you held his gaze. Because just like that, you were reminded of the violence simmering beneath the surface of this place. And how easily they could take everything away from you, while you remained a prisoner here in all but name. You ground your jaw, wishing that you’d restrained yourself from hopping down here and confronting Pierce with what you’d learned so quickly, because now, of course, he was suspicious about how you you’d figured it out. 

“Laura mentioned being at a lab, but I didn’t put the pieces together till now,” you replied, crossing your arms before you and glancing away as you fabricated an excuse. You couldn't let Pierce find out about Gabriela’s phone, or they’d find the messages between you and Laura. And then you’d lose the only mode of contact you had with her and the others.   “I thought she’d just been kidnapped and brought to the lab,” you continued, staring rigidly away at the fence surrounding Transigen. “But if she had Logan’s DNA, then it must’ve meant that someone engineered her. And tested the Adamantium on her. And if you did that to her…” you finished, motioning with a hand to express that you’d extrapolated the rest. 

Pierce scrutinized you for a moment, then his mouth curved in a slight smile. “Hm,” he grunted. You couldn’t tell if he believed you or not, but he leaned back against the SUV, and waved at the Reavers who’d gathered to watch the little scene play out, motioning for them to continue on their way. Some chuckled as they turned away, shooting you cold smiles before walking off towards the parking lot or turning to grab things from the truck’s trunk. 

“Well, great powers of deduction, darlin'," Pierce said, raising something to his lips – a vape – and taking a pull. “But you always knew what you were signing up for. Ain’t no use getting cold feet now.” 

Your breathing had gradually slowed, but rage and disgust were still warring with disbelief inside you. But below that, yes; there was also a grim lack of surprise. Of course you knew what Alkali-Transigen was capable of. They’d been hunting mutants to either kill or experiment on for the past 25 years – and if they’d found a way to make mutants of their own, of course they’d be lab rats. But you just couldn’t reconcile that idea with Laura and her friends. 

Laura, lying on the surgery table, amidst all that blood. 

“Sure, Pierce,” you replied sardonically, your nausea slowly giving way to fatigue. “Of fucking course I shouldn’t be surprised that you like killing kids. I’ve truly never hoped hell exists quite this much,” you added, pitching your voice to reach the receding Reavers. “Cause you fucking monsters will have reserved seating.” 

One of them turned to shoot you a smile, waggling his fingers mockingly as he disappeared around the corner, and Pierce sighed, pushing up from where he leaned against the SUV. 

“C’mon now, honey,” he said, walking towards you. “Ain’t no such thing as monsters. Just people willing to get things done, and people who ain’t.” 

You stared at him in disgust as he approached, while the Reavers’ truck pulled away behind him, leaving the sidewalk outside the lab’s main entrance empty.

“That’s a great line of bullshit you got going there,” you replied tiredly. “Write a fucking book.”

He came to a halt beside where you stood, and gazed skyward, taking another pull from his vape. “I know you don’t get it, sweetheart,” he replied. “You’re soft. Thing is, if we hadn’t done those experiments, someone else would have. And then they’d be getting the big bucks when all of this pays off.” He glanced down at you, unfazed. “See? It’s all just choices.” And as always, his smooth drawl was like warm water on your skin, working to soothe you into believing that he was right. That this was what the world was, and there was no way around it. “You either choose to win,” he finished, “or you’re alright with losin’.”

You rolled his words over in your head, and snorted derisively. But one phrase stuck in your mind, catching your attention through your fatigue. When all of this pays off. So there was a master plan behind the experimentation. Some kind of goal Transigen had, that they knew would pay off big time. 

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you replied, too tired to come up with a better insult. It was simply the truth. The revelations of the night had left you drained, and your rage and horror were quickly fizzling into numb disgust. 

“Mm,” Pierce hummed in agreement, nonplussed. “Tellin’ me that ain’t what you're into?” He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “Cause the other night, it seemed to me like –” 

“Shut–” you said, turning sharply as you cut him off, “–the fuck up. I was dizzy and fucking injured.” And you were currently in no mood to discuss the other night. You may have decided this afternoon that fucking Pierce for info was a good idea, but that was before seeing taser a fucking child. Though on the one hand, you now wanted to know Transigen’s dirt even more badly. Cause there was clearly a lot of it. 

Pierce chuckled at your evasion. “Guess that means I’ll have to kick things off this time,” he shrugged, sighing. Before you'd registered his intent, he was moving towards you, forcing you back against the compound’s cement wall. You glanced up at him in shock, but he only smirked as he snaked an arm around your waist. Then his lips were pressing hotly against yours. 

What the fuck, you thought, hands rising to press against his chest, uncertain of whether to push him off. But all thought fled from your mind as he kissed you hard, hungrily, and when you gasped in surprise, you felt him smile against you. And you were breathing in his scent – fucking vape smoke, and sweat, and cologne – and it was disgusting, and intoxicating. 

You couldn’t decide if you wanted this, but he pressed you back into the wall, forcing your hands out from between the two of you. You steadied yourself against the wall with one hand, and when you wrapped the other around his waist, he pulled you against him, wrapping his cold cybernetic hand around the back of your neck.  Stick to the plan? You thought frantically. Seduce him and see what he lets slip? Or go back to my room and process what the fuck I found out today like a sane person?

Pierce’s hot weight against you made it hard to concentrate on any thoughts, though, and he grew bolder, his human hand sliding under your shirt and up your back, sending shivers racing through you. Finally, you leaned your head back against the wall as his hand slid down to grasp your hip, and gave in to the sensations. 

Ah, fuck it. 

Pierce felt the tension leave you, and bent his head to trail his tongue up your exposed neck, exhaling in satisfaction. You shivered at the tingling sensation of his breath on your neck, and pulled him closer, winding your fingers through his hair. Then he took your chin in his cold metal hand, and forced your mouth back to his. His tongue parted your lips, and quested deeper.   

Dizziness washed over you, and you inhaled deeply, trying to catch your breath. His breath hot against your cheek, and smelled of beer and minty vape smoke. “Mm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gaze down at you. “Now this is better, ain’t it?” 

You met his gaze, breathing hard. “Better than trying to hold a conversation with you,” you shot back with mock sweetness. Pierce grinned, and returned his metal hand to the back of your neck, grip tightening. Then his mouth was back on yours, stealing the breath from you. 

Admittedly, it had been a while since you’d been with anyone, but this felt fucking intense in a way you weren’t used to. Probably the constant threat of imprisonment and death, you reasoned. One hell of a kink. 

Your skin buzzed in the warm night air, and all focus was lost to the inebriating press of his body against yours. His hips pressed into yours, and he slid a knee upward, parting your legs. You inhaled sharply, and he moved his hands down to the backs of your thighs, preparing to hoist your legs up around him. 

But then the doors to the lab whooshed open a few yards to your left, and someone made a startled noise. Whoever they were immediately hurried away towards the parking lot, accompanied by the blip of a pager. But their reaction pulled you back to reality. 

And it turned out that while you wanted to be a no-fucks-to-give secret agent who slept with the enemy and stole their secrets in the process, fucking a murderer less than an hour after watching him torture children, and learning that the company he – and now you – worked for had created and experimented on them, felt a bit too icky. 

Alright, you sighed internally, so it's gonna to be a 'go back to my room and process what the fuck I found out today like a sane person' kind of night. Bummer. But the murderer in question would undoubtedly still be here tomorrow, and more than willing to continue carrying out your plan. 

“Alright cowboy,” you said, pushing up from the wall and forcing your way to the side, extricating yourself from his grasp. “That’s enough for tonight.” 

Pierce scoffed, turning his shoulder to lean against the wall as he watched you go. “Really? You ain’t sticking around?” He called, then snorted in laughter. “I don’t know what the fuck kind of game you’re playin’, baby."

You flipped him off as you walked away, disappearing past the sliding doors and back into the cold air of the lab.  But yeah, you thought, your exhaustion returning in a wave as the hot adrenaline began fading from your limbs. That makes two of us. 

Taglist:

@humongousgalaxycoffee @drowningnikki @mischiefmanaged71 @lostcause514 @capvengrs @forever-nerd @pancakesandlolliepops @kingredking @gremlinfuck @marvel-at-my-obsession @padawansubscription @rebeccaofrivia @toobsock

[apoptoses]

the mercy in you armand/daniel 3.2k shotgunning/blood sharing/discussion of lowered appetite due to blood sharing

Now on AO3 (thank you to everyone who helped with the ao3 issue, and to @cup-of-lixx for beta-ing this for me!

It was no struggle to look upon his Denis with the cattle farmer’s benevolent detachment, knowing that one day he would die. That Armand himself would give him a good death, and in doing so prevent him from ever suffering the ravages of poverty and plague and the pains of old age.

Denis had been easy. Daniel was a new and delightful challenge every day.

1980

The lights of the fast food sign illuminated Daniel in blue and fluorescent white, carving out the hollows beneath his eyes and the sharpness of his cheekbones in stark relief. He’d always been a slender thing but lately he seemed drawn, worn like a child’s plush toy that had been loved too hard. His hands trembled, crinkling the paper bag as he pulled it open and began to extract the contents, and Armand wondered if he’d been sleeping. He turned the key, cutting the engine but leaving the radio on, and decided once they returned home he’d demand they lie down and watch a film. If he dragged his fingers through his hair the right way surely Daniel would doze off. 

 “You’re gonna give me a heart attack if you keep dragging me through drive thrus left and right,” Daniel muttered as he picked at his fries. “This is the fourth night this week. You speak at the microphone box, food comes out the window, it’s the same thing every time. Even a little kid would find it routine by now.”

 Armand frowned and shifted in his seat, angling to see him better. Even with pale blue grey circles beneath his eyes he was still such a lovely thing, violet eyes still sharp and alert as they flicked back and forth between Armand and the cardboard containers in his lap. 

 “You need to eat, Daniel,” Armand said. “Is there a problem with the taste?”

 Daniel shrugged. “I’m just sick of it. Nothing tastes good when it’s the same thing prepared by different hands everywhere you go,” he muttered. “Not that it really matters. Pretty sure my taste buds curled up and died the week you had me eating nothing but airplane food, even if it was all first class fancy shit.”

 “I don’t understand. How is it that in an age where every type of food imaginable is available at any price you enjoy none of it? In my time-”

 “Yeah, yeah, I know, you had to walk a mile uphill in the snow just for a taste of spice and we’re all so spoiled by having a veritable treasure trove of it in any grocery store. All hail Walmart and the McCormick spice company.” Daniel shook his head. “It just all tastes…synthetic, somehow. Bland. Steak and potatoes is still steak and potatoes whether you get it at a diner or pay out the nose for it, the only difference is whether or not they’ll let you in the door wearing jeans.”

 Ah. That, Armand understood, even though food hadn’t passed his lips in centuries.

 He’d experienced it that first time Marius had given him the blood, when all the world had seemed alight with colors previously undiscovered and mortal needs had ceased to matter. He’d sat with Riccardo at a tavern and marveled at how bread turned to ash in his mouth. 

 He wondered when Daniel would realize it was the blood. Would he care that despite not taking his life in the literal way, Armand was inadvertently taking his mortality from him little by little every time he pressed his wrist to Daniel’s mouth, his mouth to Daniel’s neck? That in meeting Daniel, Armand had begun to learn to be a selfish thing? 

 In all likelihood he would not. It would only be another weapon to add to his argument for giving him immortality. 

 Armand pushed the thought aside and pried into Daniel’s mind. He thought about Thanksgiving dinners, about his mother’s homemade mashed potatoes. All of the butter she mixed in, until they were heart-stopping in their decadence. Such a simple thing to make but so delicious. 

 “You would prefer I cook for you then?” Armand asked. Surely he could do it. Mixing butter and a potato together couldn’t be difficult. Perhaps there was even some machine to do it, something he could order off the television-

 Daniel barked out a laugh.

 “No,” Daniel said. “God no, I’m still recovering from the shit you used to put in the blender and try to get me to taste. You can’t even make a smoothie, you think I’m going to turn you loose with a stove and a sharp knife?”

 “I could learn. We could go to lessons,” Armand said. Daniel shot him a dry look. “Or would you prefer we ask your mother? You have her telephone number in your wallet-“

 An image of how that conversation would go flashed through Daniel’s mind, of him trying to wrestle a phone from Armand’s hands. What a gong show that would be. He grips shit like a vice, there’d be no hope unless I ripped the cord out of the wall. Even then I’d have to call her back and explain to her why my vampire boyfriend is calling at 2am asking how to bake a fucking potato, she’ll think I’m on drugs.

 “Daniel, I would never be so rude as to call so late.”

 Daniel’s cheeks flushed. Great, he heard me thinking of him as my boyfriend, I’ll never get to live that one down. 

 “We’ll go to a class,” he finally said. “Just please don’t call my mom.”

 Armand considered pressing him on what was so shameful about the word boyfriend, but then again Daniel had already derailed the purpose of their evening enough with his arguing. He pushed the still wrapped burger towards Daniel instead. “Eat, beloved. It’s getting cold.”

 Daniel didn’t pick it up. “Jesus, you sure you haven’t called her already? You two are starting to sound alike with the nagging.”

 Armand sighed, soft enough Daniel couldn’t hear. Of course he had to pick the defiant one, the one who required so much care. 

 There was a tin in the glove compartment, meant for mints but Daniel had taken to stashing a joint inside it. Armand took the thing out, placed it between his lips, and without asking rummaged through Daniel’s pocket for his lighter. Daniel jumped but he didn’t protest; he was too used to Armand picking his pockets, and besides he was too curious about what he was about to do. His eyes tracked Armand’s hand as he flicked the switch and brought the flame up, lighting the end of the joint. Armand made a little show of it for him, hollowing out his cheeks as he inhaled, acrid smoking filling his mouth and spilling out into the car when he exhaled it in a steady stream. He couldn’t resist, Daniel was just so easy to impress. 

 His mouth was agape when Armand held out the joint to him. He didn’t take it right away, in his mind he kept replaying the sight of Armand’s lips around it, the way his eyes had closed when he’d inhaled. 

 “You’re staring,” Armand said. 

 Daniel shook his head and finally he reached out. “I just didn’t know you could do it, being dead and all.”

 “I don’t have to breathe but I can. Muscle memory never dies,” Armand said and settled in, back against the car door as he watched Daniel carefully. “And besides, it unnerves people when one doesn’t breathe or blink.”

 Daniel made a quiet sound of acknowledgement as he wrapped his pale lips around it and inhaled. “You do a lot just to keep me comfortable, huh?”

 Armand settled in, back against the car door. Daniel understood so little. 

 It didn’t take long for the thing to do its job and stimulate his appetite. Armand watched him unwrap the hamburger, pull back the bun and take the pickles from it, tossing them into the bag and sucking the condiments from his fingertips. He considered asking him why, if the taste of the pickle doesn’t remain after their removal anyways and if so why hadn’t he told Armand to order it without them, but Daniel was lifting the thing to his mouth to take a bite. He didn’t want to distract him. To distract himself even. It was so easy to get caught up in their conversations and forget Daniel’s needs. 

 He’d never tried to be so careful before. Armand wondered how that had happened. Surely he hadn’t planned for things to go this way. 

 His previous pets had been different. Denis had been an innocent orphan boy he’d pulled from the streets and made into his little ortolan. Kept him in a gilded cage and fattened him on figs and brandy, his entire existence revolving around being fed and then fed upon as Armand handed him life upon a silver plate and then took it right back from his little throat. Armand never had to cajole him to the dinner table and never suffered guilt upon bewitching him into sleep. 

 It was no struggle to look upon him with the cattle farmer’s benevolent detachment, knowing that one day he would die. That Armand himself would give him a good death, and in doing so prevent him from ever suffering the ravages of poverty and plague and the pains of old age. 

 Denis had been easy. Daniel was a new and delightful challenge every day. 

 Perhaps it was because he had never been an innocent, that he’d shown up with the urge to run head on into chaos. That he’d read Faust and the Divine Comedy and the poetry of Keats specifically to debate them with Armand, go toe to toe with him and then dismiss them all with his great modern flippancy. That he’d come to forget that Armand was a powerful, ancient thing and would tell him off as easily as he would any mortal, as if they were truly equals. 

 He’d never treated Armand as a thing, a toy to play with and put down, or as a monster to which he had merely bent and scraped and obeyed, and that was how he’d dragged Armand out of detachment and into the mortifying world of feeling. 

 Perhaps that was how Armand had ended up in a car in some suburban rest stop town worrying about such mortal cares as hunger and nutrition and exhaustion. At the root of it was love after all. 

 Daniel wadded up the empty wrapped and tossed it in the bag, joint dangling from his lips as he hunted for a little packet of salt. Armand watched him, helpless as a butterfly pinned to the board with the realization of just how much he’d learned to care again. 

 “What? Do I have ketchup on my face?” 

 Daniel wiped at his mouth, suddenly self conscious under Armand’s gaze. There was nothing there but Armand rubbed his thumb against the corner of his mouth anyways, just for the way Daniel tilted his face into his touch. He was always so easy for affection, even more when he was intoxicated. 

 His fries still remained but he’d finished his burger. Perhaps he deserved a reward. A pleasant distraction for the both of them. 

 Armand kept his hand on his cheek and took the joint from his lips. It tasted no better the second time around but he let the smoke fill his mouth. In an embarrassingly human gesture he wrinkled his nose at the burn of it as he held in his mouth and leaned in. It took Daniel a second, whether that was from the effects of smoking or because he was busy staring at Armand’s mouth he wasn’t sure. He didn’t bother to rifle through his thoughts to find out, he was too busy sealing his mouth to Daniel’s to care. He was always so deliciously warm. 

 Daniel got the hint, let his lips part so that Armand could exhale the smoke straight into his mouth. He brushed his thumb back and forth on Daniel’s cheek, waiting until he’d breathed in to brush his tongue against his lips. Daniel’s heart was racing again but it was a lovely sound, better still when it mixed with the desperate groan he gave as he clutched at Armand’s shirt and tried to drag him in closer. 

 Armand should have broken the kiss. He should have pulled back and used Daniel’s neediness to convince him to finish his meal. 

 Deep down he’d always been a selfish thing. 

 He stubbed out the joint on the dashboard and hooked his fingers in Daniel’s belt loops. Pulled him across the bench seat and into the narrow space between Armand’s body and the steering wheel, where Daniel settled easily into his lap. Daniel had six inches on him and at least fifty pounds but he made himself small as he hunched to keep kissing him, made himself fit perfectly in Armand’s arms. 

 Daniel’s hands were everywhere on him, tangling in his hair and caressing down his chest, fascinated by the texture of his sweater and the smoothness of his skin. Embarrassing, how weak he was to a pair of broad hands, especially when they touched him like he was such a precious thing. Daniel had only to curl his fingers around the back of Armand’s neck, to squeeze there and groan into his mouth, and already the thirst was building in him. 

 Armand bit down on his lip. It was all he could do to keep from groaning right back, to keep his reactions in check. Not that it really mattered. There was no way Daniel hadn’t begun to realize how he affected him. 

 Daniel shuddered at the pain and pressed harder into it, desperate for Armand to kiss him deeper. He tasted like salt, like sharp and acrid smoke. And then when Armand let his fang nick his tongue came the hot and metallic taste of blood. He sucked at it and reveled in the sound that dragged from Daniel, something close to a whine. 

 Dinner for two, Daniel thought, soft and delirious. Armand pinched his ass for making such a terrible joke and Daniel laughed against his mouth. 

 He’d only meant this to be a little reward. A kiss and a cuddle while Daniel was feeling good. But a kiss turned into Armand’s mouth roaming over Daniel’s throat, sucking marks into his skin like any needy teenager while Daniel clutched at his shoulders. If Armand didn’t have such a tight grip on his waist he probably would have been rutting against his thigh. 

 The feeling of Daniel’s pulse beneath his mouth had him on edge. It would be easy to bite down and drink his fill. Any other night Armand would have, without fear or guilt. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Daniel’s tired eyes, how he’d only just gotten dinner in him and he would drink it right back out and leave him exhausted. Armand rested his forehead against his shoulder and took a deep breath. 

 “Come on,” Daniel murmured against the side of his head, where his face was buried in his hair. His heart was pounding. Armand could barely hear the radio over it. “Do it.”

 Armand caught his earlobe between his teeth and worried at it until Daniel gasped. “Do what?”

 “You know. I know you’re hungry.”

 Daniel rolled his shoulder down, tilted his head. He was practically baring his throat for him and just the sight of his skin bathed in neon light made Armand tighten his grip on him. 

 “You want it that much?”

 “Yeah. It feels good,” Daniel said, unusually honest. Perhaps Armand would have to get him to smoke before dinner more often. 

 It feels like the only way I can truly be close to you. To really be intimate.

 There was no mistaking that Daniel had wanted him to pick up that particular thought. He drew back, craned his neck awkwardly to meet his gaze. 

 The hollows beneath his eyes were deep, smudged dark like he hadn’t had a full night's sleep in weeks, his eyes were bloodshot to match. But his expression had gone soft around the edges. All the self conscious, nervous energy gone and left in its place was something so open and intimate caught Armand off guard.

 “And besides,” Daniel continued, as if he actually had to encourage him. “You’ve had that look on your face all night.” 

 “What look?”

 Daniel shrugged. Caught his lower lip between his teeth and worried at it. “Like you want to devour me.”

 “Oh Daniel.” Armand laughed softly and curled his fingers around the back of his neck to guide him back in. I always want that.

 Daniel worked his hands in between Armand’s shoulders and the seat, was practically hugging him against him when he broke his skin. He tried to be gentle, he didn’t want to jar him out of the hazy trance he was in, but it was difficult when the blood was so hot in his mouth. Armand let out a low, pleased sound at the taste of it, at the way Daniel’s fingers curled against his shoulder blades. Other pets had clung to him as sweetly but with them Armand had never struggled so much to pull away. Daniel’s heartbeat raced to match his. It would be so easy to get lost in it. 

 Sometimes Armand wished he could. But already he knew Daniel’s life was the one he could never bear to take. 

 Armand drank deep, until he felt himself grow warm right down to his fingertips, the drugs in Daniel’s blood transferring to him and leaving him in a pleasant haze. Armand shuddered as he lifted his head, kissing over the wound until it had healed. Daniel was trembling in his arms. He held him there while he caught his breath, absently petting his hair as he listened to the slowing of his heart. 

 Armand glanced over and noticed the fries were spilled across the seat beside him, knocked over when Daniel had climbed into his lap. Right. Dinner. By now they’d gone soggy and cold, and he brushed them off the leather and back into the bag before he helped Daniel off his lap. 

 He didn’t go easily. He was hard beneath his jeans and confused about why Armand was pushing him away. Armand gently pried his fingers from his shirt and guided him to settle back into the seat. He looked so sweet in his disappointment. 

 “Don’t worry, beloved. There’s another restaurant across the street, I’ll get you more,” Armand said, as if he actually thought that was what Daniel was worried about. He turned the key in the ignition and the car hummed to life. “Perhaps if you finish them all I’ll suck you off.”

 He was particularly proud of himself for remembering that modern turn of phrase. Even more so when it got a laugh out of Daniel. He was always so startled and delighted by Armand being crass. 

 “Alright,” he said and scooted into the middle of the seat so that he could rest his head on Armand’s shoulder as he drove. “If I don’t leave any crumbs behind do I get a drink off of you too?”

 “Don’t be-“ Armand paused, trying to think of the word. “What is the modern word for someone who requires a great deal of effort?”

 “High maintenance?” 

 “Yes. Don’t be high maintenance, beloved.”

 Daniel snorted. “Yeah, that’s me alright. I’m the high maintenance one in this relationship.”

 Armand pulled out into the street. It was lined with restaurants up and down each side, and as he waited for the light to change he shifted through Daniel’s memories. He had an array of opinions on the quality of the food at each one, a veritable maze of options to dig through to figure out which one he’d be happiest eating from. 

 He reached up and brushed his fingertips over Daniel’s cheek as the light turned green. Oh Daniel, how naive you are. 

[3pirouette]

Distraction asks:

What are some Christmas traditions that Steve and Peggy share with one another? What are some new ones they invent with their kiddos?

What's a favorite gift that Peggy has ever gotten from Steve and vice versa?

What's the most ridiculous gift that Howard has ever gotten them? (Bonus points if its something they never use and throw it in what is slowly becoming a 'Howard Stark's gift closet.')

Here's something to imagine I thought of while typing these: Steve has his heavily bundled-up baby in his arms and shows his little bundle of joy all the pretty Christmas lights and the decorations as they walk around the neighborhood. He's talking, all excited to them, not even sure they're listening to their daddy or just like the pretty lights and comforting presence. Meanwhile, Peggy has taken a few steps back to watch all this because she can't get over how adorable this is and how lucky she is to have Steve in her life.

okay, sorry for being annoying! I hope you get to feeling better, friend. I'm sure your giftee will understand if you're late. The flu is no joke.

Hello! I am... somewhat... recovered. Still not feeling as good as I'd like. But this is lovely!

I love that little scene there... sooo cute. I'm a sucker for baby fic.

What are some Christmas traditions that Steve and Peggy share with one another?

I think Peggy's used to a fairly posh Christmas, and Steve's used to pretty calm one, so trying to merge those things together, along with cultural differences, means they have an odd miss-mash of things they do. The get all dressed up for Howard's Black tie Christmas Eve, but follow it with Christmas Crackers at home in front of the fire. Christmas Morning Steve insists on breakfast in Bed and gift under the tree, while Peggy is still trying to get used to the idea of moving about the house in anything other than a fully done up look. Steve likes baked cinnamon apples and popcorn and Peggy insists on a full meal (that they usually end up paying someone else to cook for them).

What are some new ones they invent with their kiddos?

Steve 100% makes sure they all are incredibly thankful for their gifts, and wants to instill in the kids that things aren't the only gifts worth giving, so every year the kids spend time making cookies and decorating cards and drawing snowmen or gingerbread men to give to their numerous adopted Aunts and Uncles in exchange for the sea of gifts they're usually surrounded by. Steve also makes it a point to take the whole family out to chop down their own tree every year, and even though Peggy rolls her eyes at his dramatics around chopping it down and lifting it high over his head to attach to the car, she makes sure he knows just exactly that view does to her once the kids are in bed.

What's a favorite gift that Peggy has ever gotten from Steve and vice versa?

Steve insists that Peggy and the children are the best gift he's ever gotten and Peggy doesn't need to ever buy him anything. Peggy insists he's full of bullshit and she'll but him whatever she damn-well pleases, which usually involves her buying him art supplies, or a new desk, or a new contraption to use int he yard, after which he initially insists it was too much but she knows it was perfect as he always has to play with it like a child as soon as everyone else is settled. As for Peggy, she holds a little silver locket dear. Steve managed to paint a tiny portrait of their family inside it, and gifted it to her the Christmas after their youngest was born. How he managed, she'll never know, but she wears it only on special occasions and keeps it safe and close the rest of the time.

What's the most ridiculous gift that Howard has ever gotten them? (Bonus points if its something they never use and throw it in what is slowly becoming a 'Howard Stark's gift closet.')

Howard Stark is no longer allowed to buy them all presents on his own, not after the incident where he tried to present them with an exotic bird and Steve nearly lost an eye trying to keep the bird from picking their youngest out of the cradle like it was food and their oldest had a breakdown after he was told they couldn't keep the bird. If Edwin and Ana don't do the shopping with him, Howard is required to show a list of gifts to Peggy before handing them out to try to prevent another catastrophe.

[landlordrecords]

Films, Films, (TV), Films

The last year has seen all sorts of upset & moving around for me, so (after a strong start to 2023), I haven't watched half as much film & TV stuff as I did in the coupla years previous. However, I'm still chipping away at my Great Lifetime Film Catch-Up list (to be followed by similar for books), with the assistance of streaming location finder JustWatch and, in the last year or so, the insanely good Cully's World of Blackpool, which reputedly holds 100,000 DVDs, generally priced at four for a fiver. As previously, I hadn't seen them unless I say so below.

Eyes Wide Shut (After all the Greatest Ever Vs Total Rubbish, turns out to be a solid bit of stuff, sort of stayed with me a bit without being as full of portent as some seemed to have suggested)

Knives Out (greatly enjoyed this with the missus)

The Watcher (TV series - we also quite enjoyed this)

Charade (Not quite as amazeballs as all the Hitchcock-He-Never-Made press, but well worth a watch)

Dynamite Chicken (tenuously Richard Pryor-connected DVD that had been sat around for about 15 years with me never quite getting to it...quite good in the end, one of those 60s mash-up thingies, all sorts of clips splurged out in a row)

Seven Of One (Ronnie Barker 70s pilots series, from which sprang Open All Hours & Porridge - very good, enough so that I soon after chewed through the first series of Open All Hours, and greatly enjoyed it)

Gregory's Girl (quite good...I wouldn't rush to see it)

Rocky (had started & stopped this previously, due to the mumbliness, but glad I eventually persevered, top movie!)

Henry: Portrait of A Serial Killer (after the fuss had long died down...quite good)

Shaolin Drunkard (great fun...& the Wu-issued DVD actually had a significant amount of decent clips from other related stuff as well, good package)

Stark Raving Mad (rave-heist mash-up DVD that had sat around, again, for about 15 years...Alright! Can't have been too bad, cos a bunch of that pile went straight into my swaps pile in the end)

Gangland (bonkers so-bad-it's-good one with minor Ice T role)

Glass Onion (see Knives Out)

Collateral (decent blockbuster)

Dark Knight Rises (I had to remind myself which one this was...Not at all bad though)

Never Been Kissed (this was just on the telly, but I did actually enjoy it quite a bit in the end!)

Big Momma's House (continuing my soft spot for extremely stoopid comedies...Not quite as much laughing as at White Chicks, but still pretty darn funny in part, provided you leave your brain at home)

Angels With Dirty Faces (solid super-retro classic)

Batman Vs Superman (Yes, quite Crash-Bang-Whallop, but not as bad as people had said, I thought)

Black Bird (TV series - we thought this was really good)

The Chumscrubber (another from the ancient DVD mop-up pile...Again, I did watch it, so it must've been alright on some level, but not a great movie, lots of bad stylistic choices)

Art School Confidential (I couldn't quite remember if I watched all of this originally, so returned to it, & laughed like a drain, great fun)

Shottas (a bit low rent, but a bit different if you like action movies, being genuinely Jamaican-themed)

Fist of the Vampire (a so-bad... one...I did doze off a bit in the middle, but pretty insane, yeah)

The Public Enemy (another super-retro gangster classic)

The Hurt Locker (bit laddish for me really, but very well-done)

The Artist (boss)

The Chaser (Korean action thingie - good stuff, pretty tense)

Spellbound (on the second or third go...pretty good)

Napoleon Dynamite (I gave up on this after a while at first, cos the guy is so unsympathetic, but I guess that's the point...Lots of very funny bits, if you haven't seen it, & pleasantly surreal in a small way)

Blue Remembered Hills (Would have doubtless had more impact at the time. Having known the conceit for decades, it just seemed OKish at this point)

More of Dekalog

Escape Plan (pretty good fun)

A load of shorts by that Cornish guy

Wicker Man director's cut

Dirty Harry (solid classic)

Blood Simple (on the second go - a bit low rent compared to their later ones, but good plot etc)

Raging Bull (I tried the stream & the DVD & still thought the pic was shady, so picked up a Blu Ray cheap in the end, my first, thought it deserved it. Obviously a very good film but not much up my street apart from the peerless boxing ring scenes)

Woman Of Tokyo (super-retro Ozu bit...not as good as the later stuff but worth a look)

The People Just Do Nothing film (we were actually surprised how good this was for a broad Brit comedy film)

Elephant (1989) (absolutely excellent, seems a bit forgotten, glad I tracked it down)

Samurai Cop (probably fairly well as good as people say, in terms of so-bad... ones, although I'd seen so many by the time I finally saw it that it didn't have quite the impact expected)

To Catch A Thief (not bad)

The Asphalt Jungle (this is really good)

Detour (OMG, SEE THIS! The main print kicking around is nearly unwatchable, but I read there was a Criterion or whatever one where they had blended that with a much better print, just to fill in losses, and it is SO much better, & the film is thus revealed to be as good as all the cineastes say. Famously Poverty Row stuff, yet transcending that - storyline is good, actors great for the roles, and...it is all of about an hour & 10 & yet fits tons in. Highly recommended)

Stranger Than Paradise (I'm glad I watched it but I'm starting to realise I'm a bit pickier with which Jarmusch ones I like than I originally thought)

The Bat (another that had sat around on a DVD for years - no classic, but worth a watch, quite nice eerie atmosphere)

Death Wish (really good, I thought!)

School Daze (I got through half of this years ago & had to stop it, with an enormous eyeroll...I felt I had to finish it this time, & tbf I was kinda half-watching it while doing something else, but...I actually quite enjoyed it this time! Weird!)

Sunset Blvd (obvs a classic)

The Crazies (70s OG, not bad considering how low rent it is).

That was Jan/Feb last year...then my Dad had a stroke...Didn't even watch any more til end of March...Friday The 13th (OG...kinda does the job, doesn't it, despite not being very original)

Death Wish 2 (surprisingly not a total disaster after the first)

The Bay season 4 (fairly well dug in with these now, with the missus, set just up the coast)

Bullitt (super stylish)

Junebug (picked it up for Will Oldham, who is barely in it...I thought this was pretty darn good, very different, off-beat stuff)

3 Colours Blue

3 Colours White (realised I had seen White before. Obvs both classics)

Nil By Mouth (I was slightly terrified of watching this, owing to the strength of clips I've seen, but it is all justified in the context of the film, which is a corker, really convincing slice of life, well recommended)

The Honeymoon Killers (sleazoid!)

Rust Never Sleeps

Hukkle (obscure little Hungarian offering I stumbled across...DVD pic is quite poor quality, but great little film, very distinctive)

Get Out (very good)

Yojimbo (classic)

The Pledge (probably not regarded very well or whatever, but I liked it)

Birth Of A Nation (long - had started it sometime before & didn't rewatch that portion, then sorta did other stuff through portions of the rest. We all know the score - deeply controversial but massively important, off the list now!)

This Is Spinal Tap (thought it was time for a rewatch, still extremely funny)

White Chicks (rewatch - same)

Bodies Bodies Bodies (no classic, but very watchable)

Who Killed Captain Alex (rewatch)

Under the Ice (Henry Kaiser rewatch, still beautiful)

The Witch of King's Cross (doc, about some freaky-deaky Aussie woman, good stuff)

Love In the City (intellectual chore)

Meet the Parents (rewatch, umpteen time)

Step Brothers (same, White Chicks down all while a friend staying over at the start of June)

The 6th Commandment (TV series, think everyone watched this)

The Tower (TV series - quite good)

A quite good BBC grime documentary

A really interesting documentary about an ancient Yank crossdressing resort called Casa Susanna

80. Still Life (very good stuff)

81. Inside Man (Lee - rewatch - start of a small season of rewatching ones you are 'meant' to see more than once)

82. Usual Suspects (rewatch)

83. Memento (rewatch)

84. National Treasure (TV series - been meaning to watch this for years, pretty good)

85. The Ladykillers (OG - I don't think I've seen any of these before, should probably watch more)

86. That Steve Coogan Savile TV series, & the Netflix doc (seedy)

87. Psycho (OG - finally!! Very good, of course, & starting a brief season of films reffing the Psycho shower scene)

88. Friday The 13th 2

89. Aerobicide (superior so-bad... movie)

90. Scream (season ends)

91. Astrid (TV series - joyous)

92. Everything Everywhere... (these multiverse things are all somewhat gimmicky, but pretty great to look at)

93. Movie Hoarders (decent enough doc)

94. Vatican Girl (TV series - pretty good)

95. Dahmer (Netflix series - again, pretty good)

96. The Night Agent (TV series - same again)

97. Easy Come Easy Go (lesser-known Elvis film,watched with Diehard Elvis fan My Dad)

98. Death In Paradise catch-up (sorry not sorry)

99. Vera catch-up

100. Ban the Sadist Videos! (good - if dated - video nasty doc)

101. Still Tickin (similar Clockwork Orange doc, from the DVD)

102. Old School (had to eventually watch, as I really like Will Ferrell...not the best one to feature him, but very watchable)

103. Anchorman (second try...some laugh out loud moments, but again not one of my favourite Ferrell Man-Baby ones)

104. Spider Verse 2 thingie (see Everything Everywhere...)

105. The Pez Outlaw (highly entertaining doc on something I was almost totally unaware of)

106. Widows (superior heist shizzle from McQueen, great cast)

107. Texas Chain Saw Massacre: The Shocking Truth (decent enough doc)

108. Blood & Flesh (quite interesting Al Adamson doc)

109. Anatomy Of A Fall (extremely well-made)

[sciencestyled]

When Paintbrushes Meet Test Tubes: A Comically Genius Guide to the Art-Science Mashup

Ah, the age-old debate: science versus art. It's like choosing between pizza and ice cream for dinner – both fantastic, but oh, so different. But what happens when you mash them together? You get a sundae topped with pepperoni, my friends – weird, but strangely satisfying. This is the space where beakers and brushes coexist in quirky harmony, creating a fusion of knowledge and beauty. And, of course, we're going to explore this delightful conundrum with as many pop culture references as humanly possible. Hold onto your lab coats and berets, folks!

First off, let's address the neon elephant in the room: Art and science are often seen as polar opposites. Science is all logic, numbers, and facts – the Spock of our story. Art, on the other hand, is the Captain Kirk – impulsive, emotional, and wildly creative. But, as any "Star Trek" fan will tell you, Spock and Kirk are better together, and the same goes for art and science.

Now, imagine if Leonardo da Vinci had decided to stick to just art or just anatomy. The world would have been robbed of a man who could sketch a Vitruvian Man in one hand and dissect the mysteries of the human body in the other. Da Vinci was the OG (Original Genius) of combining art and science. He didn't just paint pretty pictures; he used his art to dig into the scientific wonders of the world.

Fast forward a few centuries to the era of Instagram and TikTok, where art promotes science education in the most dazzling ways. Ever seen those hypnotizing videos where someone pours colored liquids into a petri dish, and it blossoms into a psychedelic display? That's art teaching science, folks! It's like watching "Breaking Bad," but instead of cooking meth, they're making art and teaching chemistry.

Speaking of chemistry, let's talk about the explosive reactions that happen when art and science collide. For instance, have you ever seen a sculpture that moves with the wind or changes its appearance with the angle of sunlight? That's not just art; that's physics and engineering donning a beret and calling itself "sculpture." It's like Iron Man building his suit – a perfect blend of tech and aesthetics.

And let's not forget biology, the science of life, which has been inspiring artists since the first caveman drew a woolly mammoth on his living room wall. Today, we have artists using living cells to create bioluminescent art. It's like "Avatar," but in a petri dish.

On the flip side, science benefits immensely from art. Ever heard of data visualization? It's the art of turning rows of snooze-worthy numbers into stunning graphs and charts that even a six-year-old could understand. It's like taking the plot of "Inception" and turning it into a Dr. Seuss book.

Moreover, art challenges scientists to think outside the proverbial box. A scientist might see a blob of cells under a microscope, but an artist sees a potential masterpiece. It's a bit like how MacGyver looks at a paperclip and sees a tool to save the world. Artists can inspire scientists to view their work through a different lens, adding a splash of creativity to their logical minds.

Now, let's talk about technology, the love child of art and science. From stunning video games that teach physics (Portal, anyone?) to virtual reality experiences that let you walk through a human heart, technology is the bridge between art and science. It's like if Tony Stark and Bob Ross had a baby – it would create beautiful landscapes with a suit of armor.

In conclusion, the intersection of art and science is like a Marvel movie – full of unexpected crossovers, collaborations, and a fusion of different worlds. It’s a place where creativity meets logic, where beauty intertwines with facts, and where education becomes fun. So, the next time you think about art and science, remember they're not just two separate subjects; they're two sides of the same coin, flipping endlessly in the air, waiting for us to catch them and marvel at their combined beauty. And who knows, maybe one day we'll have a school subject called "SciArt" – where students paint with chemicals and calculate the geometry of sculptures. Until then, keep mixing those test tubes with your paintbrushes and create some explosively creative magic!

[ateezmakemeweep]

lights out.

neighbor!yunho

word count: 7k

angst, fluff

you had three requirements when searching for your first apartment: a good location, an all pets allowed policy and access to the rooftop.

it seemed a little unusual, that you’d really find the perfect place, all the other check marks and lovely amenities secured, and just say no because you weren’t able to escape to the roof. 

but it was a place you always found solace in. 

cold nights overlooking the city or warm, spring days in the sun - and when you first moved in a few months ago, overjoyed to check out your new daily view, you saw one of your other neighbors also had an affinity for the rooftop. 

he was softly humming to himself as he looked out over the roof, his tall, broad figure covered in a yellow hoodie. just the profile of his face alone had your cheeks warming, faded light blue hair peeking out from under his hood.

a peaceful look covered his face, all the light in eyes and softness of his features making him look boyish and sweet. 

and then as if he sensed your presence, or more like your fascinated stare of admiration, he looked to you and his lips pulled into a bright smile. 

“hi.”

you bit down on your lip at the realization you got caught, a slight blush on your cheeks as you shot the handsome stranger a shy smile. 

“hi,” you said softly, your eyes moving from him to the view behind - all very picturesque and pretty, tall skyscrapers and a clear, blue summer sky. “i’m sorry if i interrupted you.”

“not at all,” he hummed, his arms crossed carelessly over the edge. 

an awkward silence hung in the air, unsure if you should stay grounded in your place or make a move closer to him; you chose the former, in case the handsome stranger was weirded out by your closeness - but he seemed to take it another way.

“are you scared?”

your eyebrows pulled together at the teasing smirk on his face, an interesting contrast to the slightest hint of concern in his eyes. 

“of what?” you ask in confusion, looking from the view to his cute, questioning face. “you?”

a smile crosses his face that has your heart jumping in your chest, the sun shining down on him and proving that he really is just as perfect as he seems even from afar. 

“i was thinking more the heights or the view but i guess the fact that you’re on the roof with a stranger could be scary too.”

an awkward chuckle leaves your mouth, not so much because of his comment but because you don’t know how you’ve managed to develop a crush on this man in less than 60 seconds. 

you hesitantly make your way over, your eyes shining with nerves and slight amusement. 

“actually, i’ll have you know, access to the rooftop was one of my three requirements for getting a place.”

“oh yeah?” he asks, a smile on his face as he turns his body toward you. “did you just move in?”

he’s pressed up against the concrete without a care in the world, eyes roaming your face and not once dipping toward your dress-covered body. 

“i did,” you smile, “about an hour ago.”

“no shit,” he smiles, the profanity leaving his mouth a stark contrast to the sweet smile on his face. he makes his way over to you, his large form towering over you making you swallow nervously - he’s far too handsome and big, two factors proving to be a major weakness for you.

“i’m yunho, apartment 304.”

“y/n,” you smile, the way it lights up your face making yunho’s heart jump in his chest - you’re even prettier looking this happy and excited. “apartment 305.”

you should’ve known then that the handsome man on the rooftop was gonna turn out to be the kindest neighbor you’ve ever had. 

he welcomed you into the building with open arms, invited you to a dinner party with his friends mingi, wooyoung and san who also lived on the same floor as you two. 

he was always quiet and considerate of the people around him, making sure his tv and music was low by the time 9:00 came around - and even when it wasn’t, you couldn’t help but mind because it was always sweet, soothing tones of comedic chatter or soft pop music. 

he always lended you extra butter or milk when you needed, the first time he saw you in your messy ponytail and pastel pink apron the time he realized he might have a little crush on you.

that the times he got excited seeing you down in the lobby or in the elevator were more than just his heart having random palpitations. 

the knock on his door that day was soft in a distinct pattern of two, opening up his embarrassingly messy apartment to see you standing there with flour in your hair and a sheepish smile on your face. 

“hi neighbor,” you smiled sweetly, your small hand with chipped nail polish waving to him. “do you have an extra egg you can spare?” 

“depends,” he smiles, leaning his head against the doorframe cooly. “what are you making with it?”

“pumpkin bread,” you inform him cheerfully, just about the only festive, fall food you’re able to make apart from sweet potato soup. 

“ooh that sounds good,” he smiles, his large hand ushering you inside. “come on in. excuse the mess.”

it was your first time stepping inside his apartment, messy and properly lived in but a nice, clean scent in the air - like laundry, home and men’s cologne. 

he had a large sectional to fit his crazy group of friends he told you about once in the hallway, a large tv perched on the wall and a small dining room table with rickety folding chairs.  

you could tell immediately that it was an apartment that was like a home rather than a house, the same type of warmth in it that shines through the man taller than his own refrigerator. 

“i wish i could say my apartment isn’t always this messy but that’d be a lie,” he says, one egg in hand as he makes his way over to you. he looks down at you with a smile, his eyes going back to the cute little apron adoring your body. 

“that’s okay, so is mine,” you say, far too guilty of skipping your sunday cleaning day for the past three weeks.

you can’t help the way your eyes trail over his soft brown ones, everything about him and his aura only making you develop a stronger crush on him. he just seemed like such a sweet and genuine person, always looking out for you and going out of his way to send you a smile. 

no one has ever made you feel so welcomed in a new place before nor have you ever seen someone with such a sweet, soft smile and kind eyes.

“so just one egg?” he finally asks, breaking the silence and the way your eyes roam over each other intensely. 

“i.. oh- yes! yes, thank you, just one,” you stutter out, taking the cold egg from his large hand. you never noticed how nice his hands were either, veiny and large with long fingers and clean nails. 

there doesn’t seem to be anything about this man that isn’t perfect, apart from maybe his disaster of an apartment. 

“i’ll be sure to bring you a piece of bread when i’m finished,” you say sweetly, the man smiling down at you teasingly causing your heart to jump.

“and if you burn down the complex?” 

a mock gasp leaves your mouth as you hit him lightly, his soft chuckle ringing through the air as he watches you turn to leave his apartment. 

“forget it then!” you squeal jokingly, knowing right when it’s done, you’ll be rushing over to make sure it’s still nice and warm for him.

his eyes linger on the bounce of your hair and your messily tied apron as you disappear into the hall, letting out a small sigh when he feels the remaining hints of butterflies in his stomach. 

“are you ever gonna tell her?” his best friend mingi asked, the two of them going down to san’s for thanksgiving dinner a few weeks later. “you’ve known her for three months now. that’s a reasonable amount of time to have a crush, she wouldn’t be weirded out.”

“i know but we haven’t really like... talked talked, you know,” the tall boy explains, a bowl of mashed potatoes in hand. “we have... neighborly chats in the hallway or in the elevator, sometimes even on the roof if we’re both there, but we really don’t know each other that way.”

“okay and that’s what a date is for, the fuck?” his younger friend spats, a small chuckle leaving his mouth; he wishes it really were that easy for him. 

“do you just wanna give her eggs and sugar for the rest of your life?”

the tall boy lets out a sigh as he looks at his friend, the dramatic, playful flair of his body causing him to bite back a smile.

“and it’s obvious she doesn’t have a boyfriend, you would’ve seen him coming and going by now,” mingi continues, their loud footsteps stomping further and further down the hall. “you really have nothing to lose.”

but he kind of has everything to lose. 

he likes being the friendly neighbor you can get eggs from or see on the rooftop. 

he likes being the person who’s made you comfortable here, helping as you adjust to a new, intimidating setting.

he likes being a friend to you, one that genuinely cares for you and doesn’t have any ulterior motives because he may or may not have feelings for you. 

“i don’t know, maybe one day,” yunho says, knocking on san’s apartment door with his free hand. “but today is not that day. today is not the day i confess my tiny, small, minuscule crush to-”

the door opening causes his words to halt, potatoes nearly slipping from his grasp when he sees your smiling face and the light brown sweater dress clinging to your body. 

“y/n,” he smiles, shocked but pleasantly surprised to see you here. “hi. i-i didn’t know you’d be here.”

san comes out from behind you less than a second later, throwing a friendly arm around your shoulder as he smiles at him connivingly - yunho knew he was gonna regret letting his little crush on you slip when he and san went out and got shit-faced at dinner together. 

“i heard she made delicious pumpkin bread so she had to make the cut,” san said, bumping your arm teasingly when you turn to narrow your eyes at him.

“oh? you heard i made good pumpkin bread?” you question, remembering the events from a few weeks ago very differently. “or you demanded to be let into my house for a bite after you smelt it through the walls?”

“eh, tomato, tomahto,” he says quickly, ushering in mingi and yunho who are holding in their loud, contagious chuckles. “come in, we’re fucking starving waiting for your slow asses.”

you catch yunho’s soft gaze moving to you, smiling at him sweetly and heart fluttering rapidly when he smiles back.

“hi, neighbor. surprised to see you here.”

“yeah,” you chuckle out awkwardly, not wanting the man to think you’re intruding on him and his friends after your short time knowing them. “i hope it’s okay. once san smelt the bread and heard i wasn’t doing anything for the holidays, he kind of, basically, insisted that i-”

“oh, no, no, i’m... i’m happy you’re here,” he says, his words rushed out and awkward but full of sincerity. “i’m really happy to see you here.”

your heart jumps at the sentiment, a soft blush on your cheeks that you’re somehow ignorant to on his face as well. you bite down on your lip to control your smile, giving him a small nod before offering to take the potatoes from his hands. 

when you turn to bring the bowl over to the dining room table, your back to the two giant boys watching your retreating form, you miss the way yunho’s blush becomes darker. 

you miss mingi elbowing his friend obnoxiously and mimicking his cute, flustered “i- i’m really happy to see you,” resulting in yunho elbowing his friend back roughly.

he’s able (aka cuts off, both, wooyoung and san) to secure a seat next to you at dinner a few moments later.

he tries to ignore the way your elbows bump all night, the two of you awkwardly giggling and apologizing with soft smiles before finally allowing your arms to just... touch. 

remain close to one another and find comfort in the way your skin is warm and soft on each other.

he tries to ignore the way your fingers graze as you wash the dishes and he dries them later that night, what feels like electric sparks shooting through your skin every time you touch.

“that was really good,” you tell yunho softly, your eyes observing the boys throwing left over remnants of food at each other or picking through the netflix movie selection. “you guys are good cooks.”

“like your bread wasn’t demolished in three minutes,” yunho huffs, pride and assurance in his tone that causes you to smile sheepishly; there’s a few beats of silence, embarrassed by the compliment, before he begins to speak again.

“our first thanksgiving together was also the first away from our families,” he shares quietly, ignoring the way his heart jumps as he takes a plate from you. “we didn’t know what the hell we were doing and completely fucked up the turkey.”

you let out a giggle as he recalls the disaster that was thanksgiving day two years ago, airing out the smokey apartment and waiting for their thanksgiving feat of chinese food. 

“well you guys definitely redeemed yourself, it was all very good,” you compliment proudly, a pretty smile stretched across your face. “one of my best thanksgivings.”  

“did your family not celebrate?” he asks absentmindedly, watching the way your face falls for a split second before masked by a small smile. 

“not really,” is all you share, both of you quickly pulled away by wooyoung’s incessant demands to “hurry up so we can bust out the second desserts.”

you both try to ignore the slight tension in the air as you walk back to your apartments that night, arms bumping and soft giggles echoing through the walls. 

it feels as if the night shouldn’t end yet, like you guys have been talking in this hallway for hours upon hours because neither of you wanna go inside and separate yet. 

a couple of nosy onlookers can’t help but observe the scene, your back pressed against the wall as you talk animatedly about your journey for a pet.

“i wanted a cat but i also want a dog,” you tell him, the light in your eyes as you talk about the possibility of orange tabby cats and golden retrievers. “maybe i’ll get both one day.”

yunho’s smiling down at you with such a fond softness in his eyes, like he’s hanging onto each and every word you say no matter how small or casual.

“they’ll be dating by next,” san says, bumping his arm into mingi playfully. 

“nah,” the taller boy says, knowing that while his friend definitely likes you, he’s slower and shyer when it comes to romantic feelings. “give it two months. and that’s if we’re lucky.”

you never considered yourself to be a lucky person, although luck seemed to be on your side when you found this apartment complex in the first place, so you can’t say you’ve been cursed with terrible luck. 

but it’s certainly how you feeling right now, in the dead of a january snowstorm and one of the only apartments in the complex with absolutely no power.

“it could be a problem with your breaker in particular,” the maintenance man said over the phone, “someone could come look at it tomorrow.”

but no power meant no heat despite the negative temperatures outside, all of your freshly cooked food rotting spoiled and no means of communicating with your cell phone currently on 1%. 

“tomorrow?” you squeak, understanding the horrific conditions outside are making their job difficult but also not wanting to freeze to death. “would it be possible if someone could come-”

your phone light shines on your face before it promptly fades to black and dies, the only source of illumination in your dark apartment now gone as well. 

you let out a sigh as you resist the urge to scream, attempting to move around your apartment without impaling your body parts.

you’re able to light the three wick candle on your table with little to no problems, collecting all the blankets and fuzzy socks you can find and placing them on your couch.

you have a long, cold night ahead of you with nothing to do but an attempt at rereading some old books and forcing yourself to sleep. 

but it’s then, right before you sit down, that you remember all of the food in your fridge. 

you used every last bit of your ingredients for this week’s meal prep, knowing that if you it goes bad, you’re not gonna have that much around the house until next week’s trip to the grocery store. 

you guess that’s on you, though, foolishly forgetting to not go to the food store before a massive winter storm.

you notice a faint stream of light coming from under your front door on your journey to the kitchen, lips pursing to the side before you open it up with a squeak. 

you peek over at yunho’s door besides yours to see light coming from underneath his - so he didn’t lose power it seems, the lucky bastard. 

it takes you just as long to convince yourself to go over and ask if you can store the food in his fridge as it does to pack it all up into two containers, not wanting to inconvenience yunho and his storage any further than you are by asking. 

you reluctantly knock on his door with the two containers in hand, forgetting you already have on about three layers due to your freezing apartment. 

a smile immediately lights up his face when he sees you standing outside his door, small and cute and bundled up like you’re ready to brave the snow storm outside. 

“hi, y/n,” he smiles, noticing the two containers of food in your hand. 

“hi, yunho i’m sorry for bothering you,” you begin apologetically, a slight grimace on your face as you prepare yourself to ask him for a favor.

“i lost power for the night and just meal prepped the rest of my food for the week yesterday so would you be able to keep this in your fridge for me?” you get out quickly, for some reason feeling panicked and grimy. 

“someone’s gonna come fix it tomorrow but when i tried to ask someone to come tonight, my phone died and now i just don’t want this to go to waste because i stupidly forgot to-”

“hey, hey, relax,” yunho says calmingly, his voice all kinds of sweet and soft as he takes the food from your hands immediately. “of course, y/n, no problem.”

you smile at him gratefully, slightly embarrassed by the desperation in your tone.

“thank you, i promise i’ll be back tomorrow to pick it up. i just don’t want everything rotting overnight.” 

the wind howling outside causes both your eyes to widen, a sinking suspicion coming over him after he hears the horribly stormy conditions outside.

“wait... does that mean you have no heat?”

“no, i found a lot of blankets and fuzzy socks though,” you chuckle out humorlessly, gesturing down to your ridiculously layered outfit and purple socks. “also found some candles so as long as my food is taken care of, i don’t think it’ll be that-”

“stay with me, are you crazy,” he says, his eyes looking at you in disbelief. “you can’t sit there in the dark and freezing cold all night!”

“it’s okay, yunho, really,” you quickly insist, about ready to take off and into your apartment because you know how overwhelmingly nice your neighbor is. “i just didn’t want my food for the week to go to-”

“y/n, please,” he begs, the soft, sympathetic look in his eyes tugging at your heart. “it’s too cold tonight. even with blankets, you’ll be freezing. and your phone died, that’s dangerous.”

a small, touched smile covers your face, heart warming at how kind and thoughtful this man is - how could you not have the biggest crush on him still? 

you thought after a few weeks that you’d be over it but he just makes it harder and harder the more you get to know him. 

“i don’t wanna intrude,” you weakly protest, the heat coming from his apartment far too tempting right now.

“you’re not, i’m inviting you,” he says, dragging you in by the sleeve of your sweater and leave no room for protest. 

he places the food back in your hold before his large hand rests on the open front door, peeking his head into the hallway to see your door still open.

you watch as he walks into the hallway before quickly reappearing a few seconds later, the sound of your apartment door closing echoing through the hallway. 

“don’t worry,” he hums, smiling at you as he walks back into his apartment and closes the door. “i blew out your candle.”

you let out a soft, amused giggle as you look at the boy, his sweet smile mirroring yours as he takes back the food and walks toward the fridge. 

“got any 4s?”

“go fish.”

“got any 7s?”

“go fish.”

“got any aces?”

“go fish.”

“okay, one of us has to be lying!” you squeal from the other side of the coffee table, yunho throwing his head back in laughter at your competitive, feisty side.

he couldn’t help but smile at the way your eyes lit up when you saw the pack of cards on his table, leftover from poker night with the san, mingi and wooyoung that rid him of his last $50. 

his smile only grew wider when you told him the one family tradition you had, at least before the age of ten, was to play go fish - especially on nights when the electricity was turned off, although you left that part out. 

in all your experience of playing go fish, however, you’d never seen a game go on for this long. 

“i’m not, i swear!” 

“so you’re telling me the one four i need is in that deck?” you ask, not even realizing you outed yourself until he throws you a wide-eyed, playful look. there’s a silent stare-off, able to hear a pin drop in his apartment. 

your eyes are  roaming each other carefully before down to the deck in complete ignorance of who’s turn it is to go. 

you let out a squeal when chaos erupts afterward, the two of you frantically grabbing at the cards. you make a mess over the table as everything goes flying off, a melodic giggle leaving your mouth nearly causing him to stop his futile attempts at grabbing the next card.

it should be considered unsportsmanlike, really, for you to unknowingly use your cute giggle and wide, happy eyes against him. 

you just get even happier when you grab at the desired card, flipping it over and letting out a squeal when you’re lucky enough to flip over the last remaining four in the deck.

“i got it!” you squeal happily, yunho at a terrible loss as he sees all your matches lined up in front of you. he can’t even be sad about it though, accepting defeat as he throws down his cards. 

“that was probably the longest game of go fish ever,” he says, stretching out his long arms; you guys had played several rounds but that one had to have lasted over forty five minutes.

probably because you two kept getting distracted, babbling about stories of friends and family or the real pet fish yunho won at a fair that lived for three and a half years. 

“i know right,” you giggle, picking up the cards from the floor as you start to tidy up his house. you ignore his pleas to leave it alone and let him clean up instead, your head shaking as you continue to clean the mess you helped make.

you hand him the deck a card a few moments later, your fingers grazing as he takes them from his hand. 

“thanks,” he smiles at you, his eyes roaming your slightly flushed face. 

he’s never had you in his apartment for longer than ten minutes, never had you so close to him with your bright smile and cute giggle. it’s proving to be very trying for him already, trying to keep you entertained and himself distracted so he doesn’t do something, or say something, he regrets. 

a silence hangs in the air as you look up at from your spot on the couch, about to make a comment about something, anything, when your stomach decides to do it for you in the form of a growl.

it’s embarrassing and makes an awkward giggle leave your mouth, a handsome smirk crossing his face as his eyebrow quirks up playfully.

“hungry?”

“just for a snack,” you mumble shyly, in disbelief you’re still hungry after your left over pizza. “i ate about four slices of pizza before.”

he lets out a low chuckle as he rises to his feet, sock-covered feet padding over to see kitchen where he holds up a big tub of chocolate chip cookie dough. 

“wanna make cookies? i was prepared for the storm tonight, unlike some of us.”

you’re so excited at the prospect of making cookies that you ignore his snide, teasing comment, letting out a happy gasp as you rush over to him. 

the two of you stand side-by-side as you prep the oven and cookies, rolling the cold dough between your hands. he makes the cookies a lot bigger than yours, an obvious difference in who made which ones on the baking sheet.

“they kind of look like us,” he remarks playfully, a loud giggle leaving your mouth as you poke his arm.

you two linger in the kitchen once the cookies are in the oven, sharing shy smiles and softly spoken words with the scent of chocolate and warmth in the air. 

you thank him again for allowing you to stay in his warm house for the night, grateful for his ample food and running refrigerator. 

“it’s kind of crazy since we’re literal neighbors,” you speak aloud, your hip leant against the cabinets. “i didn’t even know that could happen.”

“i know, right,” he chuckles, his smile and eyes getting softer as he looks down at you. “but i’m happy you decided to stay. i wouldn’t want you there alone in the dark and cold.”

and perhaps that’s the bare minimum. that someone wouldn’t want their neighbor, someone considered an acquaintance or even a friend, to be without heat or food in a snowstorm. 

but to you, it’s something you’ve never had before. 

you’d spent far too many nights cold and hungry where nobody cared if that was the case. it’s why you so often escaped to the rooftop, away from the loud voices and looming presences that made living there just a little too difficult.  

it’s why you blurt out, “why?” not meaning to sound as brash and sudden as you do but it’s just something that gets to you sometimes. how kind and thoughtful and genuinely good jeong yunho is.

his eyebrows pull together but he’s still wearing a soft smile, his body inching just a little bit closer to you.

“what do you mean why?” he questions, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy. “why didn’t i let you freeze to death?”

he tries to keep his tone light and teasing but feels like it falls flat when you give him a sad smile. he thinks it would’ve fooled anyone else, a person who basically hadn’t fallen in love with your smile in five months, but it doesn’t fool him. 

he doesn’t know what or why something is bothering you, how your mood seemed to change after his reassurance, but he just wants to make sure, above all, that you’re okay and comfortable. 

he doesn’t realize how close his body is to yours until you’re looking up at him, your head just meeting the top of his chest in a way that makes him wanna protect you even more. 

his eyes roam every part of your face, wondering just how warm your skin is or if your hair is as soft as it looks. 

this would probably be the perfect time to confess his feelings to you. 

to tell you that he wanted you over tonight because he likes you. that he’s really, really come to like you over these past few months of getting to know you and he wants to know you more.

he wants to take you on a date and show you off to the world and maybe one day, if things go well, introduce you as his neighbor turned girlfriend.

he wants to make sure you’re never cold or alone in your apartment again, that you know you could always come to him for anything whether it be reassurance or an egg for pumpkin bread. 

but instead, he gives a slightly less intense, cheesy version. for now.

“you’re my favorite neighbor,” he begins quietly, not quite the confession he wants to make right now but the one he settles on. there’s an aroma of cookies and heat around you as you stare up at him, eyes so wide and curious, he has to swallow down a second rushed out, bumbling confession. 

“i didn’t want anything happening to you, especially when i’m right here to make sure you’re safe.”

safety is always what you craved. safety and security and warmth, even if just for a fleeting moment. 

and your fleeting moment proved to be tonight. 

the ding of the oven as you both got the cookies out silently, pulled from a moment you both felt forming but was quickly pulled away from. you ate the gooey chocolate with quiet hums of “mmms,” and “ahhs,” softly padding your way over to his couch when he suggested watching a movie. 

he sat on one end and you sat on the other, before your bodies eventually inched closer and closer to share a light blue throw blanket in the middle of the movie. 

“this is really nice,” you comment as you touched the fabric, observing the intricate stitching on the soft blanket. 

“yeah? my mom made it for me actually,” he tells you, watching closely as you play with the blanket between your fingers. he wants to reach out and just hold your hand, feel your smaller one in his and see just how much they fit. 

“when i first moved out, she was slightly distraught,” he chuckles out, remembering the dramatics that were his mom’s tears and demands to visit once a week. “i was the first one to move out and she didn’t know what to make of it. i swear she brought me over food every day for the first six months.”

your heart feels heavy as you hear him talk, not only because of the fond moments between parent and child but because of the love in his eyes as he talks about it. 

how, even though he’s complaining about it, it’s obvious there’s a love and affection there that you, yourself, could never understand or reciprocate in your own life. 

“that’s really sweet,” you comment, his gaze catching that sad smile once again.

it causes his heart to drop, a slight sinking feeling in his stomach as he tries to understand what made you that way. are you uncomfortable here with him, just a few inches away from each other under the shared blanket?

or is it something more, the topic of conversation regarding parents and living alone and all things deeper and more personal. 

“me and my parents were never really closed,” you find yourself saying. 

you don’t even mean to blurt out the words but it’s like one second it’s silent and then the next, it’s not. 

the next you’re telling him about how you couldn’t wait to get out. how fighting and loneliness and the cold was a big part of your life growing up, how you got so used to it, it’s taken you a while to adjust to a normal life.

you’re still trying to adjust to a normal life, honestly. 

“i don’t know why i just told you all of that,” you confess awkwardly, the blush on your cheeks causing his heart to soar in chest - he likes you, he really really likes you and now he won’t ever be able to let go of these feelings. 

“but... i just wanna thank you,” you tell him, embarrassed that you somehow managed to make the conversation and vibe like this. “you and san and wooyoung and mingi made the adjustment a lot easier for me. but you, especially.”

“oh? with all my eggs and sugar?”

you let out a soft giggle as some of your anxiety eases, your eyes flicking toward his to see, despite his teasing, his eyes are 100% serious and locked on you. 

“yes, definitely that,” you smile, biting down on your lip as you look back down on the blanket. 

“but amongst other things too. it was funny meeting you on the rooftop, actually, because that’s always where i felt most comfortable. i’d always escape there but i’d be alone. it was nice... it’s been nice having someone, i guess.”

it feels like you could just about die from embarrassment, oversharing with the most handsome man you’ve developed a massive crush on about your tragic tales of a broken home and pretentious love for the roof. 

but then he inches just a bit closer to you, placing his hand atop yours on his mother’s soft blanket, and just smiles at you. everything about him warm and soft and sweet, making you feel the safest and coziest you’ve ever felt in your life. 

“if you’ll keep allowing me up there, i promise i’ll come every time,” he promises softly, the pounding in your chest and butterflies in your stomach overwhelming you to the severest degree.

your cheeks are burning and you’re positive he can feel the frantic beating in your chest but you try to keep it together. smile at him with a a breathy little giggle, tell him that while you love that he’s asking, you have no control over who does and doesn’t go on the roof. 

he lets out a soft chuckle as he pinches your arm gently, the hand on your arm slowly falling down until your fingers are just grazing. 

closer and closer and closer until they’re locked around one another, both of you eternally grateful for the lights being off because of the burning on your cheeks.

he wakes up around 2 a.m. to the bright tv blasting, a heavy ache in his bladder and your head on his shoulder. 

it takes him a moment to remember where he is and what’s going on around him, the events of the night quickly swarming back when he peeks down at your sleeping face.

you look so peaceful and at ease in your sleep, eyelashes brushing against your cheeks and your lips pressed into a firm line. 

he wanted to kiss you for half the night, every time you giggled or moved closer to him or asked him a question about the movie getting distracted by your lips or pink cheeks.

he felt an immense amount of happiness at the fact you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him, that you were still here beside him and so comfortably sleeping against him. 

told him things about your life and family that make him wanna be there for you even more now.

he doesn’t wanna move, he doesn’t think even the snowstorm crashing through his apartment could get him to tear himself away from you, but the embarrassment of pissing his pants right beside you on this couch outweighs everything.

his eyes roam your pretty, peaceful face on more time, moving a stray piece of hair with his long fingers and watching as you stir. press yourself further into his hand and let out the quietest of groans, he has to stop himself from proclaiming his undying love for you on the spot. 

it only gets worse when he remembers he gave you his clothes to wear. noticing just before the movie ended, you were picking at your leggings that stuck to your skin uncomfortably. 

“do you want a change of clothes?” he had asked, noticing your discomfort and only wanting a little bit to see how much his shirts engulfed you. “i have sweatpants and a clean t-shirt sitting in my dryer right now.”

you took up his offer for two reasons: your leggings were sticking to your ass and there was nothing you wanted more than to wear this man’s clothes. feel the soft material on your skin and have his manly, teakwood scent surround your very being.

but right now, as he stares down at you and attempts to keep you as comfortable as possible, it feels as if this might’ve been too much for him. 

seeing you wrapped up in his clothes and on his couch so comfortably, moving your smaller body so you’re laid out on the cushions and resting your head on the pillow.

your eyes pop open, confused and in a daze, as you look around at the unfamiliar surroundings and sound of movement. you smile softly when you see yunho’s sleepy, pink face at face-level with you, his large body knelt down beside you on the couch.

“sorry for waking you,” he whispered into the dark, the tv and snow reflecting outside the only source of light. “i had to pee and wanted to make you comfortable.”

“it’s okay, thank you,” you mumble, stretching out your arms when you realize the sleeves are well past your hands. “forgot i changed into your clothes.”

“yeah,” he chuckles lightly, not being able to help the way his eyes roam over you. 

even sleepy in the dark and the daze that you’re in, you’re able to see the slightest bit of hunger in his eyes. the way they trail over your body slowly and surely, taking in the way his shirt engulfs your figure and looks against your skin. 

how if you stood up, he’d see the way the pants are baggy and making your smaller figure looking even more short and petite and cute.

it makes your stomach flip and swoop uncontrollably, your own eyes staring at his lips and picturing what they’d feel like on yours. 

“i hope that’s okay. they’re a little big on you.”

you let out a soft, quiet giggle, adjusting your head on the pillow so you’re staring up at him even closer. 

“it’s okay,” you assure, tongue peeking out to lick at your dry, hopefully not crusty lips. “i like it. i like them.”

it takes everything in him not to let out some sort of growl, throw all of his sweet and nice boy caution to the wind and confess to you how much he likes them too. 

how much he likes seeing you in them and how much more (or less) he wants to see you in them. 

but because the time isn’t right, because he knows for sure the time isn’t right and he wants something a lot more pure and honest with you, he doesn’t say anything. 

he wishes you a goodnight after a nearly ten-minute bickering fest back and forth, yunho offering you his bed three times before you eventually flipped over and put your back to him.

he let out a deep chuckle as he ran his hand through your hair instinctively, smoothing out the parts that stuck up in your sleep, before bidding you one final goodnight. 

it was around 10:00 when he woke to the smell of bacon, eggs and pumpkin bread. walking out of his bedroom to see you there still clad in his clothes and your hair in a messy bun. 

you jumped when you noticed his presence perched against the doorframe, a wide smile on his face when you let out the softest but harshest of curses. 

“what’s all this?” 

“i made you breakfast. and your very own loaf of pumpkin bread.”

a soft smile covers his face when instead of looking over the food that looks and smells delicious, he looks at you. standing there smiley and sweet, in clothes that morph your body and make you smell like him. 

he feels grateful for the extra bit of counter space he has when he places a hand on your waist, lifting you off your feet with ease and plopping you right down on the granite. 

your eyes are wide and your heart is racing but you’re staring right at him, happiness and excitement swelling in your chest when you catch the look in his eyes - you thought you made it up last night in a dream-like daze but you’re still seeing it right now.

a certain kind of softness mixed with desire and fondness, the way his eyes take in every part of your face before finally landing on your lips. the very same way you dreamed of him last night, with his lips against yours and a sweet smile on his face.

“thank you, neighbor,” he mumbles with a smile, voice low and deep and making your stomach swoop dangerously. “did i mention you were my favorite?”

“you might’ve,” you respond breathlessly, all too aware of the way he’s leaning in closer and closer until you’re pushed flush against the cabinets. 

his large body is covering yours but he doesn’t make any moves until you do, your bodies naturally drifting closer and closer together until, finally, you’re the one to do it.

press your lips against his so so hesitantly, scared and unfamiliar about making the first move but wanting him to know you wanted to kiss him - you needed to kiss him, or you would’ve gone crazy.

he smiles against your lips as he deepens the kiss, keeping you perched right on the counter as his hands rest on the sides of your legs. he doesn’t make any moves to touch you further or deepen the kiss, allowing it to be sweet and soft and as chaste as could be. 

you both pull back and stare at each other with soft smiles and pink cheeks, silence lingering between the both of you before you let out soft chuckles at the same time.

“do you kiss all your neighbors?” you finally ask, fighting the smirk threatening to make it’s way on your face. “or just your favorite ones?”

“just one,” he says, tapping the tip of your nose gently and feeling his heart jump when you smile widely at him. “just you.”

it’s 2:00 on the snowy rooftop and bright summer sun when you hear the heavy metal door squeak open, turning around to see your handsome, smiley neighbor coming toward you with two mugs of hot chocolate in hand. 

you take it from him with a soft “thank you,” pressing up on your toes to peck a sweet, soft kiss to his cheek. 

it was only fitting that you had your first date where you two first met, shy smiles and nervous jitters turned soft pecks and loud giggles as you got to know the sweet, handsome neighbor you just knew you were gonna fall for.  

tag list: @mochibabycakes​ @atinyarmyx1​ @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich​ @baekhvuns​ @marksflvr​ @bunbaebae​ @markleeyeosang​ @inkigayeo​ @nlost21​ @hyunjeansuniverse​ @cherryeonii​ 

[hilarychuff]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ♥️

ok before i do mine i just want to shout out yours!!! everybody go check out @cellsshapedlikestars' fave five fics (especially the crime noir one) ❤️

ok now back to me looks like i’m going with a counting down format

5. in any world (in any way) - sansa aus

link to ao3 and link to tag

i put two on here but i couldn’t pick just one more!!! i love overboard i love anastasia i love parent trap i love miss congeniality i love house of wax i love princess diaries

there are a couple i did not mention specifically but genuinely truly truly i love all of them they are each a little labor of love putting together the graphics and sometimes trying to be very intentional with those but as i talked about earlier even when the graphics are done and how i like them these days i never share them if i don’t also have the blurb where i want and if i haven’t also figured out how everything slots into place

it is so fun to do a little au like this because it’s like a puzzle figuring out who is who and how you can make it work being true to the source material you’re using as your framework while also adapting as necessary for your character’s actual character arcs like!!!! they are much bigger in my head then they make it onto the page, also. i wish i could fully write all of them out but it would take me forever 

4. while you were sleeping jonsa au 

link to blurb and link to drabble and link to tag

related to what i was just saying..... i did write out a scene for this one actually!!!!! this movie makes my heart so warm and thinking about it in terms of jonsa made my heart so warm and i just love that scene and i loved writing it out and i had a few other blah blahs that i’ve shared in my tag too

3. sweet/vicious - sansa and arya au 

link to blurb 

this one may not have an audience anywhere other than with me bc i feel like i am the only person who didn’t work at mtv who watched this show while it was airing but i have shown sweet/vicious to approximately one million friends and it is just such a little gift of a tv show and i feel like the dynamics fit really well for sansa and arya. i love love love a sister moment and the way that jules and ophelia care about each other but also fight sometimes and are so different lends itself really well to these two girlies. also jon as tyler is really truly honestly very special to me too (although i do hate to make the stark sisters unrelated bc then i’m always like ok do i give them last names lmao who gets what parent how does all that stuff work)

2. i carry it in mine - jonsa soulmate au

link to ao3 and link to tag 

i think this one speaks for itself. it’s the most popular thing i’ve ever written, which isn’t really that important to me in a numbers sense, but it’s very special to get to talk about a story that i wrote with people who liked it and the larger number of eyes on it provided that opportunity. it’s also been a fun experiment in switching perspectives, because i usually just stick to one at a time. and there is just a lot in there that i love. it is very much still like an adaptive work but trying to come up with solutions to these plot issues that people have with those works or trying to guess where things are going when we don’t have the real answers yet (not necessarily in an attempt to get things all right but just to make sure they make sense!!!) has been a hard and interesting challenge too. 

1. howl 2 (but also all of howl) - jonsa scream au

link to ao3 and link to tag 

look clearly i love working in adaptations and mash ups and that’s why this is just my absolute fave i think. sansa/jonsa/sansa and her siblings plus the scream franchise!!! and howl 2 specifically because while i love howl 1 i like marathon churned it out in a 72 hour period basically just plagiarizing and novelizing the scream script without pouring in too much additional effort. i just thought it would be like a fun halloween drabble sort of deal. but then howl 2 i put a lot more time and thought and effort and love into and it felt more like writing an actual story. also there are more jonsa feelings in it!!!!! idk it just was the most labor of love too bc i was like..... truly nobody is going to read this i am only writing this for myself and i still finished it!!!!!! go me

[scrawnydutchman]

How ‘What If . . . ?’ Further Exposes the Problem With Captain Marvel

*General MCU spoilers ahead, especially for ‘What If . . . ?’*

Hey everyone. After a long time of not writing any essays I’m back with what many might consider a somewhat touchy subject. It’s no secret that of all the characters in the MCU, Carol Danvers has seen the most controversy surrounding the character itself. One side turning their discontentment into justification for throwing the actor Brie Larson under the bus every chance they get and the other claiming that the hatred around the character comes from a deeply misogynistic place, especially in comparison to other conceptually similar heroes like Superman. So before I get into this, I want to put up a quick disclaimer:

The purpose of this essay is not to undermine anyone’s opinion that Captain Marvel is great. If you love this character, God knows I wouldn’t want my opinionated ass to ruin the fun for you. I can also appreciate Marvel’s honest attempt at writing such a strong woman character in a franchise that has an abundance of strong leading men with their standalone films. I can also appreciate Brie Larson’s actions in taking a more active role promoting women’s rights and good women representation in media after this role had given her more of a platform to do so. I may have my problems with how Carol Danvers is written in the greater context of the MCU, but that is NOT permission to harass anyone or to be a misogynistic prick. My goal is to be as constructive and objective as I am capable of being in my analysis and perhaps even offer solutions for how the goal of this character can be achieved better.

With all of that said . . . MCU Captain Marvel sucks. I’m sorry, but she does. I know I started this essay out TRYING to have a better spirit about it, but the way this character is written into the larger MCU narrative is just so contrived. It honestly feels like the MCU writers really wrote themselves into a corner with how to use her.

Those who watch Endgame and the ‘What If. . . ?’ episodes in which Captain Marvel appears will notice a very troubling pattern with her. That pattern being . . . why the hell is she never around when she’s needed most? Endgame tries (poorly) who answer the question of why she wasn’t there for the first battle with Thanos in Infinity War by claiming that she was needed on other worlds and that not every planet has a team like the Avengers to protect it.

I don’t buy this explanation one bit. It’s complete bullshit.

We’re talking about Thanos with all the infinity stones. What could POSSIBLY be so important that you can’t be around for that? Her presence in that fight is literally the difference in whether or not half the entire universe dies. I THINK whatever she was doing can wait. It only gets worse the more you think about it. Where was she when Ronin had the power stone and was about to destroy Xandar? Where was she when the Grandmaster was enslaving an entire planet of creatures for his own entertainment? Where was she when Ego the Living Planet was expanding his consciousness across the universe? When you really stop to think about it, Captain Marvel never gets involved in anything. At least not until it’s too late.

And btw, I blame Fury for this too. Surely he MUST have known about Thanos’ invasion. It made the news for christ’s sake. Why wasn’t he mashing the shit out of the Captain Marvel button BEFORE everyone was getting dusted? And to really drive home how little Captain Marvel gets involved, think about this: After the blip, Tony Stark and Nebula were floating around space . . . .FOR OVER TWENTY THREE DAYS. it took TWENTY THREE DAYS for Captain Marvel to find them. What that means is that Carol Danvers had not responded to Nick Fury’s distress call for nearly a month. That is shit.

And this flimsy excuse for why she’s never around is carried over to the rest of her absence in the MCU. It’s why she wasn’t there for the time heist in Endgame. Her excuse then is “what’s happening on earth is happening on other planets” but if you guarantee the time heist goes without a hitch by being there you immediately take care of what problem for everyone, yeah? And then of course she wasn’t there for the majority of the second war with Thanos. She can’t swoop in unless it’s an excuse to come off like a deus ex machina. Remember that one moment in Endgame that was a big moment for all the women of the MCU? The context of that is that the rest of the women were going to help Captain marvel get through the huge horde. Nice gesture and a nice little moment for the women in the audience . . . until it’s revealed that Captain Marvel can pile drive through the army by herself basically effortlessly. She’s literally so powerful that she undermines the efforts of all the other female characters in comparison . .  . in what was supposed to be a woman empowerment moment.

This underlines the problem that sadly has not been properly rectified since . . . . Captain Marvel CAN’T be more involved . . . because if she is, the conflict is over immediately. You know how everyone complains that Superman is too powerful? Well at least Superman has Kryptonite and other obvious weaknesses. At least DC makes a point about giving Superman limits so that conflict can still reasonably happen even if he’s there. Carol Danvers in the MCU is like if Superman had no canon weaknesses and no virtually no characters of comparable strength to keep him in check. The only way conflict can exist in the MCU is if Carol Danvers is never around.

The cost of this is that she has almost no chemistry with the rest of the MCU cast. She has no relationship with any of the Avengers. She doesn’t know any of the Guardians. She BARELY has one with Fury given how long it’s been since he’s seen her. They even poke fun at this in the after credits scene of Shang Chi where she hangs up on a call and Bruce Banner is like “yeah, she does that a lot”. So the MCU writers are at least somewhat aware of the fact that she never does anything. NEWSFLASH, marvel: being too important for the movie you’re in is NOT an endearing character trait.

Hell, even the SIDE CHARACTERS OF HER MOVIE get more involved in the greater narrative of the MCU. Monica Rambeau plays a crucial role in Wandavision. She has banter with the other SWORD agents. She has her own arc. She connects with Wanda on a personal level. Wandavision alluded to the fact that Monica is going to become her own hero soon just like in the comics and I am pumped for that, because .   .tbh, I always like Monica more as Captain Marvel anyway.

Endgame really tries to make up for this by giving the Avengers lines where they vocally accept her presence. Tony Stark saying “we need her, she’s new blood” and Thor saying “I like this one”. It comes off as disingenuous. Like, it literally feels like nobody in the scene actually likes her. When Rocket asks her if she’s “gotta get another haircut” I honestly sided with him.

All of this carries over to “What If . . .?”. It seems that even in a series literally about anything being able to happen with a change in the narrative Captain Marvel STILL can’t get involved (with the exception of one episode that enacts the changes I hope to see more of). There’s of course the murder mystery episode where she doesn’t show up until Loki has already taken over. 

There’s also the Party Thor episode where FINALLY, FINALLY someone thinks to call Carol at a reasonable time (not before his party destroys many landmarks though). This is the most Carol gets in terms of interaction with the rest of the MCU that she has ever gotten. It’s worth pointing out that She can be here now because suddenly Thor is a match for her, despite never really having feats similar to her in the rest of the MCU (like how Thor struggles to take Thanos on head to head but Carol can take a headbutt like it’s nothing). Their fight is cute. I like how they make a point about her being a massive stick in the mud. Give this episode even MORE credit, They even give her a nice moment at the end where she does Thor a solid by helping him maintain his lie, proving that she isn’t COMPLETELY joyless. THIS is what I want to see more of with this character. I want to see her play off other heroes. I want to see her partake in a way that goes beyond being a plot device. The only way this episode manages to do that is by making it so she CAN lose. She CAN have somebody who matches closely to her in power. Again, if Thor were only as powerful as he is in the main MCU, the conflict would have ended immediately. Some might say she was holding back . . . to which I reiterate my point that the only way she can be meaningfully involved is if she’s stripped of some of her power, be it self imposed or otherwise.

And then there’s the latest episode as of this essay. The first appearance of the multiverse hopping Ultron (besides the ending to the Party Thor episode). There’s a montage of him destroying multiple worlds . . . and Carol does not show up until Xandar. She wasn’t there for earth (again, Fury, why the fuck were you not mashing the button??? they’ll push the button for fucking Party Thor but not for this????), She wasn’t there for Asgard or the Sovereign. By the time she shows up billions of casualties are already enacted and when she finally gets there she comes the closest out of everyone by several miles in stopping Ultron . . because of course she does.

sigh . . we’re back at square one. We made good progress with her in the Party Thor episode, but now she’s back to being stupid powerful and therefore she can’t get involved until it hardly matters anymore.

And then of course, there’s the thing about her being nowhere to be seen for the zombie apocalypse . . .  

Are you starting to see what I mean? She’s too powerful to be involved in a meaningful way and she’s too underdeveloped to have a meaningful connection with anyone. Her power is the ONLY thing going for her as a character and it handicaps her from being more. All she has to do now is be a living measuring stick for how big a deal the baddie is.

In contrast, let’s compare her to my absolute favorite female character in all of the MCU, Nebula

Nebula has everything going for her that Carol Danvers doesn’t. She has direct ties and involvement with the rest of the MCU cast, ESPECIALLY the main villain of the infinity saga Thanos. She has memorable chemistry with her sister and the Guardians and Tony Stark. She has character traits beyond “strong”. She’s ill tempered, she’s pessimistic, she’s snarky, she’s spunky, she’s vengeful, she’s sensitive, she’s awkward. She has funny lines and interactions. SHE FUCKING GETS INVOLVED IN SHIT. Not only is she ACTUALLY IN THE TIME HEIST, but she plays a crucial role both in getting the power stone and how the time heist ends up going wrong. Nebula is fucking awesome and I want her to have her own solo series or movie so bad. I’d watch the shit out of that.

So what to do about Captain Marvel? How do we make her both more endearing and more involved? Honestly, I think the number one solution is to nerf her powers a bit. She can’t be an immediate easy solution anymore. Party Thor already alluded to this as previously mentioned. I think she’s a misguided attempt at strong female representation in which writers think a woman being strong means she can’t be any kind of vulnerable. It’s okay for a female character to need help. It’s okay for a female character to be able to lose or even to not even come close to winning. I get that women being victimized has become a huge issue in literature, but the solution isn’t to go to the complete opposite side of the pendulum. I don’t want to just shit on Captain Marvel for the sake of it; I DO want to see more of her. I DO want to see her get involved more often, but I want her involvement to have more purpose beyond being a plot device.

So how do we strip her of some power? There’s many ways to go about that, but here’s my favorite answer

Introduce the X-Men to the MCU and have Rogue steal some of it permanently

It’s an excuse to bring the X-men in, it’s logical AND it’s a nice little nod because this literally happens in the comics. It’s why Rogue can fly and is super strong in the 90s X-men cartoon.

Anyway, there’s still more Captain Marvel stuff coming out no doubt, especially “The Marvels” which as I understand it will bring back Monica Rambeau AND will introduce Kamala Kahn. I’m optimistic that that will sort out the issues with this character. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time a character got drastically improved after an intial appearance after a particularly great movie gave them a makeover (looking at you Thor and Captain America).

[trekwiz]

I just finished watching Under the Dome--it was ok. I don't think the series was quite as bad as the reviews made it seem, but I also wouldn't call it good, either.

It did something, though, that I find really unappealing: season 3 had such a stark shift in tone and characterization that it just felt like a completely different show. I've noticed this in other shows, most notably Earth: Final Conflict. Its last season was so wildly different from everything before that they even swapped out almost the whole cast.

For me, it's really jarring. It forces you to re-meet the characters because they're essentially different characters now; they have the same name, same actor, and same scenario, but they're effectively new people.

And the plot shift--any time this is done, not just in this show--doesn't feel like a progression. I don't know how to define what I mean; the general vibe, I guess, is if two of us wrote for the same writing prompt with the same characters, and just kind of mashed them up at the middle. It just feels like a different work at that point.

I think what frustrates me about it is that it doesn't feel planned. When a show feels like a completely different show after a season break, it means they didn't adequately connect the dots on screen. It's most likely because they've changed plans based on poor ratings; they want to ditch what's not working, and move forward with what does work.

That can be a good thing. But it really makes mediocre writing fall apart. If you don't have a good sense of what you're trying to do in the story, it's impossible to just prune out what's not working without losing structural elements that support everything else. If you do it right, it shouldn't feel like a different show; the changes shouldn't be noticeable on a casual viewing.

Like on Picard: shifting Rios back to Starfleet had some grounding in what was established for his character arc in season 1. It probably wasn't the plan when they wrapped season 1. But the writers were familiar enough with their story to know how to make it work. It didn't feel like a stretch. It was convincing.

One example of tone shift really stuck out to me in Under the Dome. Seasons 1 and 2 had an ongoing theme of "everyone's important. Value life. The dome needs even those who are creating deadly conflict to live" which is contrasted by season 3, "the dome only needs useful people to live, everyone else is expendable."

Which in itself is fine; a story can evolve and change purpose. It just wasn't convincing here; it felt like a twist for the sake of having a twist. I don't feel that the season 3 alien life-force we meet could be the same aliens who initially dropped the dome in season 1.

They just feel too different; some of the actions of the dome in season 1 and 2 just don't make sense with the motivations of the season 3 aliens. The whole 8 hands thing is completely meaningless with the resolution provided: the concept was just dropped and no longer served a role in the story.

There were pieces in season 3 that could have been salvaged to make a more convincing continuation of season 2. Here's my proposed what if:

Get rid of the kinship. It was a stupid idea. I know everyone wants their own Borg, but it just didn't work. So, no vats and simulation world either.

Instead, the town makes it to the exit, but: surprise, it's not really an exit. (Ok, that part of the setup is the same. It works.) They've just entered the guts of a starship. They're on a gangway, and they meet the aliens who created the dome.

There's a lot of room for storytelling here. The aliens must be at least slightly telepathic, and have some type of ability to see the future. The 8 Hands are sensitive to the aliens' telepathic abilities, and are key to finding a way to communicate with each other.

That adequately explains the seizures and prophetic paintings, and continues the usefulness of those plot points. It also provides a reason they could see any of the future at all. Season 3 aliens didn't demonstrate any ability to see the future, so the idea that any of the 8 Hands could be given premonitions is a plot hole.

There's a lot of conflict that can surround this type of first contact, and competing agendas. A large chunk of the town will be angry at being kidnapped and subjected to those ordeals. Some will be curious about why. Others would be horrified to find out there's a spaceship under their town. And they all want to get out.

The final revelation at the end of the season--and a decent place to end the show--would be finding out that these aliens arrived ahead of a coming asteroid impact; to save humans from an extinction level event that they were able to forsee. (Yes, keep this "fake" scenario from the hostile aliens and make it the prime story. It's much more interesting than what they did with it.)

This can now tie into a series-wide act 3, adequately explaining everything that came before. It was a mission of mercy to save some of humanity; they only had a few ships that could make the trip, and the others were lost to a greedy corporation trying to profit off the technology. The other ships/eggs broke, and that's how Aktion knew how valuable this egg was.

The dome is protective for the coming trip through space. The egg was needed to build out the rest of the infrastructure under ground; it's an all-in-one device that housed the crew's consciousness, the ship's database, the ship's power, and construction tech. The crew could be holograms, androids, constructed biomatter, whatever; the specifics aren't important.

The initial seizures were the aliens' attempt to telepathically warn humans of the coming catastrophe. As a mission of mercy, the aliens would want to preserve lives--rendering them unconscious until they prove they're willing to stop killing would be a great way for a telepathic species to get that point across.

Survivors would have to be able to work together to begin their lives anew on another world. Violent power games would just get the whole community killed, ensuring extinction. Why save humanity if they're not going to help themselves?

The big crises from the dome, such as the dust storm, could be explained as one or two things: an unavoidable function of the technology employed to move a whole biosphere.

Or, fitting the themes of the show, a means of getting people to work together to solve real challenges inherent to surviving on another world. Not an arbitrary test, more of a, "this is what might kill you later, so come up with solutions that you can apply at scale when the threat is less controlled."

I think this solution to the dome mystery is far more consistent with the story established in the prior seasons. The alien takeover plot just didn't work at all.

[midknight-hour]

y’all remember this

bc i was bored and couldn’t sleep last night so i made a littol drabble. it’s not much and i’ll probably actually work on a story at some point but i thought i’d share to the riddlebat stans <3

btw this is literally a mash up of any canon i enjoy <333333333333 it’s my fanfic and i get to choose the backstory and ships

— — — — — —

It wasn’t often that Edward was allowed to watch television at home. His father would kill him if he even saw him near the thing, of course. He couldn’t be trusted with such expensive items with his lack of sense. Though it seemed as though everyone in the city was currently tuned into the news… all because their royal family had been slain.

It had dominated the public sphere since the moment the press caught news of the killings. Martha and Thomas Wayne, Gotham’s saviors, had been gunned down in a back alley in front of their own son. It was a tragedy, though clearly one the news was choosing to sensationalize for their own gain.

Or at least that was what Ed had surmised.

He’d been following the story intently, sneaking into the living room late at night to watch the news as his father slept on the couch. The ceremonies and court hearings. The crime itself, and the manhunt that went on without any sort of breakthrough for days. The media treated it like some sort of twisted crime thriller, or a mystery novel. No sympathy, just unabashed curiosity. No stone was left unturned as they pried into the personal lives and final days of the deceased.

The funeral was mostly attended by cameras and anchormen, the young Wayne boy sitting in front beside the old butler of the house. It was a replay, obviously. The midday sun, barely visible behind the dull rain clouds, a stark contrast to the pitch black night he was currently enveloped in.

The procession was grim, the burial quiet, but that was all that the bereaved were allowed before the storm of questioning began.

“Bruce Wayne! Over here!”

“Mr. Wayne! A word, please!”

“Sir- Sir! Are you the legal guardian of the boy? I’d like to speak with him.”

The older man seemed to be attempting to guard Bruce from the onslaught of camera flashes and clamoring voices, but there wasn’t much he could do as they began the treacherous walk back to the limousine. It made Edward feel sick. He couldn’t imagine how he would have felt if things had been so hectic on the day of his mother’s burial. Though perhaps his own father had been enough of a spectacle to make up for it. Either way, he felt a deep connection to the other boy, even through the screen.

The Wayne boy was still being cornered by the hounds, each question being barked somehow worse than the last.

“Who are you wearing?” “Do you have any family coming to the manor to claim you?” “Bruce Wayne! How are you feeling about your inheritance? How much did your parents leave you?”

“Please…. Just leave me alone.”

Edward’s blood ran cold.

“I just want to go home.”

No. It can’t be.

“Get out of the way!” The boy snapped, his sadness morphing in anger at the frothing crowds. And just like that, he was whisked away by a police officer to his vehicle to avoid any further confrontation. And the clip ended.

Now, one would expect Edward to be feeling nauseous simply due of the exploitation of someone his age at such a vulnerable time. Which he was, partly. It was despicable. But it wasn’t the main reason he felt like throwing up as he stumbled back to his room and slammed the door behind him.

He locked himself in his bedroom, ignoring the sounds of his waking father down the hall. Then he fumbled with the edges of his shirt as he pulled it up and over his head, reading the dark lines embedded in his skin, across his chest just like it had always been.

“Please, just leave me alone.”

After years of his life assuming his soulmate would be rightfully disgusted by him in their meeting moments…

“I just want to go home.”

— — —

Bruce was a drastically a different person then he had been in his youth.

As he stood vigilant in his superhero’s fortress, which Alfred had lovingly nicknamed his “bat cave,” he thought back to that day in the cemetery. The way his anger had suddenly surged, like a wave. Over the years he had learned to aim his anger and vengeful spirit at something more productive, starting out with the task of finding his parents’ killer. Though when that didn’t pan out, he found it in himself to instead focus on the public good. To prevent others from feeling that same pain he still held in his heart. But unsurprisingly enough, that made him a lot of enemies.

He had been on the case of a rather curious criminal the past few days, one which seemed to have some sort of vendetta against the law. He merely went by the name of E. Nigma, and he had been terrorizing the GCPD by hacking into theur systems to release sensitive information to the masses, despite any and all security measures put in place.

He’d left cryptic hints as he went- some mentioned him by name. “The Batman.” Others were addressed to Gordon or Bullock. Each was mysterious, and vague, though seemed to allude to a bigger picture. Names of specific officers had been sprinkled throughout by means of codes and ciphers, so he’d been holed up in his cave researching each named figure on the GCPD’s archives.

He had some of the most advanced technology in the world at his disposal, and his main computer was no different, so he hadn’t expected this so-called enigma to find his way into his system any time soon. But then again, underestimating the enemy was so often the folly of confident heroes.

All at once, just as Bruce felt like he was beginning to get somewhere, the monitor went dead.

There was a sharp ringing in the air as the speakers crackled around him, a deep, malicious laugh pouring around him. The screen sporadically began to flash- off, on, off on, before a single, pixelated, green question mark floated in the middle of the dark plane before him.

“Riddle me this, detective~”

Oh.

Well.

This is going to be interesting.

[gotnofucks]

My Little Girl - 2

Pairing: dark!Tony Stark x reader , slight dark!Steve x reader

Summary: Prince Tony has taken you, but keeping you proves more difficult that he imagined.

Words: 3.4k

Warning: Breeding Kink, DUB-CON, Smut, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Uh…seems to be turning into a series.

Read the first part here  

Part 3

MASTERLIST

——--—————————————————–

You were laying before the royal physician, the old man poking your stomach. Prince Tony stood behind him, refusing to wait beyond the privacy screen. The physician took your wrist in his hand, taking your pulse and waited. Finally, he let your hand fall and shook his head at the prince.

“I’m sorry Your Highness, she is not with a child.” He said to your relief and Tony’s vexation.

The Prince had claimed you for his own months ago, hoping to get you pregnant so he could convince his parents to break royal protocol and marry you. However, you had not conceived till now and his patience was thinning.

Princess Pepper of the neighboring kingdom was living in the palace with them, already betrothed to the Prince. Their wedding loomed closer with each passing day, and your childless womb prevented the Prince from breaching the topic of your nuptials with the King and Queen. Without the excuse of an heir, it would be impossible for the kingdom to accept a mere maid as their princess. As fearful as you were of public ostracization as a ruined woman, you were still relieved you didn’t have to marry the prince. It was a wonder how you hadn’t conceived yet, since Tony was insatiable, taking you multiple times every day. While he would partake in the pleasure of your mouth, he would always release in your cunt, holding his seed inside with his cock and fingers.

Tony came closer to you and took your hand in his, kissing it softly.

“Don’t worry my little girl, it will happen soon enough.” He assured you, one hand caressing your cheek. Then he turned to the physician who looked at you both with disapproval. “What is wrong with her? Is she sick?” Is she barren?

You and the physician both heard the unsaid question in his voice, and you felt both relived and dejected when the physician shook his head.

“Your Highness, the maid is –”

Before the poor man could utter another word, Tony’s sword was at his throat threatening to end his life.

“This is the last time I’ll remind you to not call her that. She is your future queen; you’ll address her with the respect due to her!” Tony thundered and the physician blanched in fear, nodding aggressively. You touched Tony’s hand and he looked at you, softening slightly before pulling away his sword. The old physician cleared his throat before continuing.

“As I was saying Your Highness, the lady is fertile and healthy. It seems something else is the matter for which she can’t conceive.”

“Are you telling me that my seed is sterile?” Tony asked in a hard voice and the old physician scrambled in desperation, shaking his head in negation.

“No, Your Highness, you and the lady are both in perfect health. However, other aspects may affect her childbearing abilities. Stress, physical exhaustion, food intake also affects a lady’s health.”

“And how do I make sure she’s fit to take my seed?”

“Your Highness, if I may be bold enough to say, I will urge you to desist. Your union is not sanctified by holy matrimony, and a child out of wedlock would bring nothing but misfortune to the kingdom.” The old man seemed to almost tremble as he finally said what had been on his mind since Tony first consulted him about you. It was not unheard of for royals to take pleasure in lowly servants, but to think of marrying one and having a child was blasphemous. The physician was loyal to the court and to the King, and if the Prince didn’t take his advice, he was determined to go to the King himself.

Tony’s eyes flashed and he stepped close to him, invading his space. Nose to nose, the young prince’s gaze bore into the old man’s, rage and challenge lightening them.

“You are the royal physician, so you already know the truth about my father’s health. How long do you think he’ll live, huh? How long until I take over the throne? Do you really want to cross your future king right now?”

His voice was deceptively soft and calm, and even you shuddered though the threat wasn’t directed at you. With the sure way he spoke of His Majesty’s health, you wondered if he had something to do with it. It was clear to the servants that King Howard Stark would have preferred any other son to Prince Tony, and only the interference of the Queen kept peace between them. Blasphemous though it was to even think such a thought, you would not put it past the Prince to commit treason. When Tony wanted something, he got it, consequences be damned.

The royal physician quivered in his feet, his aged and saggy face showing his inner turmoil. Finally, accepting that he would rather live a long life than a loyal one, he bowed to the Prince.

“My apologies Your Highness. I’ll prepare some herbs for the lady to help increase her chances at conception.”

Tony nodded and dismissed him, turning his attention back to you, sitting on the bed and leaning down to kiss you softly. You kissed back out of habit, not knowing what would happen to you now. Tony’s wedding with Princess Pepper was just around the corner, and you hoped that it would take place before you got with a child. Polygamy was not permitted under the laws of this kingdom, and even if you bore a child, The Prince could never marry you as long as Princess Pepper lived. You could run away to some far land where no one knew you, maybe salvage the rest of your remaining life somehow.

“My little girl, you need not worry.” Tony said, smoothing the frown that had appeared between your brows. He could be so tender and kind, that you almost felt bad about leaving him. But then you remembered that he controlled your life, every move you made was under his supervision. Not only had he snatched you from your family and kept you hidden in his own chambers, he took away your choice and honor. Even if you managed to escape his clutches, you will never be a respected woman.

Tony traced your face with his finger, leaning over you to place kisses over your neck and chest. You squirmed, your hands fisting his tunic as he pulled down the neckline of your dress and exposed your bosom. He flicked his tongue over your buds, watching them harden in the open air. You moaned softly when his hand reached between the folds of your dress, finding your core drenched.

“I will make sure you take my seed. You will bear my heirs; you’ll grow round with them. Your breast will leak and nurse them, and you’ll beg me to do it again and again.” His words were whispered to different parts of your body: your breasts and stomach and cunt. You couldn’t help your reaction to him, The Prince played your body like a maestro plays his instrument.

Your heart beat a staccato in your chest, breath getting sharper as your bare body met his and tangled in a dance of sweat and sweet sweet pleasure. Tony entered you in a long hard thrust making you arch your back and took your mouth in a possessive kiss.

“Tell me what I want to hear” He said.

“I am yours Tony. I belong to you my Prince.” You parroted as always and he rewarded you by mashing your nub between his thumb and finger, making you mewl in pleasure. You panted in his mouth, your hands around his neck and your fingers digging into his flesh.

Tony suddenly pulled out of you and flipped you on your back, pulling your ass up in the air. He thrust inside you from behind, his body curving over yours and hitting new angles. Your whines echoed across the chamber and you wondered for the hundredth time how no one knew you were here, or if they did and just didn’t care.

“Look at you, taking me so well. No one makes me this hard. Only you my little girl, only you. Soon we’ll have our brethren squealing around us, a family of my own.” He kissed your back before sucking your neck and marking you as his. One of his hands travelled down and found your nub again, and with a few expert tweaks the bubble inside you burst, your heat washing over Tony’s cock. He hissed in pleasure when you clamped around him, your softness making his balls tighten and release their load deep inside you. You dropped down on the bed, limp and spent. Tony’s weight crushed you before you whined and he rolled to the side, taking you with him.

He held your sweaty body flush to his, both your hearts beating fast and breaths coming down to normal. You curled into his warmth, the only time you allowed yourself to actually feel close to him. He was a cruel man, but he tried his best to never hurt you. When he lay with you, he made sure you got your pleasure. It seemed important to him that you enjoy it as much as he did.

You looked up at him with sleepy eyes and found his gaze already locked on you. He tipped your chin and kissed you slowly, savoring every second of it. Kisses like these scared you the most, for somehow, they felt more intimate than the act you had just done with him. Every time he kissed you like this, you allowed yourself to love him for that small time and it scared you more than anything else.

“I’ll make sure you’re my wife. Even if you aren’t with child until the wedding, you’ll still be mine. I’ll make it happen.” Tony said, tucking your head in the crook of his neck and pressing another kiss on your head.

“What about His Majesty? And Princess Pepper?” You asked softly, playing with the spattering of hair on his chest. A round scar was proudly displayed in the middle, a testament to his bravery where he almost died in a battle.

“I don’t care what they think. I promised you that I won’t abandon you and I am a man of my word. You’ll be my wife even if I have to rewrite the laws of the kingdom myself.”

You sat up at his words, looking at him with worry and trepidation in your heart.

“Tony, what have you done?” You asked softly and he signed, pulling you close and resting his head in the valley of your breast.

“Don’t worry about anything. You just look after yourself. No more stress for you, you heard what the physician said. You take your herbs and think about being my wife.”

You knew he wouldn’t say anymore on the subject, and you were too scared of the answer to push for more. Only the King had the power to rewrite the laws, and Tony couldn’t be king unless his father died. You ran a shaky hand through his hair, wondering how much he was willing to lose and sacrifice to have you.

“Y/n?” Tony asked, his voice heavy with sleep. You hummed and kept caressing his hair, lulling him deeper into his slumber. “Do you love me as much as I love you?”

His question made your hand still for just a moment before it started carding through his soft hair again.

“I care for you My Prince” You said but you didn’t know if he heard you, his sleeping body curled around yours and head resting over your heart.

 —————————————————-

You twisted in the sheets, your body writhing in agony, a hand putting pressure to your throat. You clawed in the air, choking over a cry, eyes searching the darkness for him who’s hands were kind and gentle. The pressure increased and your breath escaped you, your body seizing in on itself and falling limp.

You woke up with a start, your hand flying to your throat in fear. The dream felt too real and you turned to see Tony’s side of the bed empty. Your heartbeat was unnaturally fast, and you stumbled out of the bed to pour yourself a glass of water. The pitcher was empty, and your dry throat burned with need of cool liquid to sooth it. You wanted to ring the bell beside the bed to call a maid in, but you were supposed to be a secret until the Prince convinced his parents to allow your marriage. As far as you knew, only the guards at the entrance knew you were hear and they were loyal to the Prince. They had explicit orders to not let you leave but you figured you could ask them to bring you water.

You opened the ornate doors of the prince’s chamber and poked your head out, the two guards who stood at attention turned to look at you.

“Can you please ask someone to get some water here? I – I would go myself but…” You trailed off, ashamed of being a kept woman. One of the guards nodded and told you to wait inside. You lay back down on the bed, wondering where Tony had gone off too. It was too early for him to be gone.

You heard the door open and assumed the guard had returned with the pitcher of water. You turned your back towards the door, hiding your face inside the sheets.

“Please keep it on the table, thank you very much.” You said and heard feet shuffling. When you didn’t hear them leave, you turned around and saw to your horror Lord Steven Rogers standing there. You gasped and sat up, pulling the sheets to your chin despite begin dressed in a modest nightgown.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice revealing how scared you were. While it was the Prince who coveted you, it was his Lord who terrified you more. The Prince fancied himself in love with you, so you knew his chances of hurting you were little. But Lord Rogers was a different case. Despite knowing you had the Prince’s favor, his eyes wandered over you and made you feel cheaper than any night spent with the prince made you feel.

“Hello, lovely maid. Or should I start calling you My Princess?” He asked, his voice just as mocking and amused as ever.

“What are you doing here? The Prince would not like you being in his chambers alone with me,” you said, thankful your voice came out a little stronger.

Lord Rogers smiled at you, and to your surprise poured you a glass of water and approached you with it.

“You’re under his highness’s protection. I’m making sure you’re comfortable when he’s away.” He said and held the glass out to you. You took it with shaking hands and sipped silently, looking at him with vary eyes.

“You have done your job then, please leave.” You said and he chuckled.

“Oh, look at you, learning to give orders. Is his seed blessed that taking it makes you a royal?”

He was standing too close to you, so much that with another step he would be leaning almost directly over you.

“Please, leave.”

His hand shot out and touched your cheek, making you jerk back in alarm.

“You look so pretty when you beg, lovely maid. I can see now what he sees in you. What wouldn’t I give to have you to myself.” Lord Rogers mused and the moment you saw his hand move you jumped over to the other side of the bed, taking the sheets with you. He didn’t follow like you expected and stayed far with a smirk on his lips.

“Lord Rogers, you must leave now, or I’ll scream”

He shook his head, the golden hair on his head gleaming in the sunlight that filtered through the window.

“I almost feel sorry for you, for the false hopes he’s given you.” He said and leaned against the opposite wall, staring at you. “You are after all innocent in this game, but you will suffer the most.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking to the door, and hoping Tony will walk in and rescue you.

“He will not marry you. He can’t, until you are with a child, which you won’t be.”

You looked at him sharply, suspicious clouding your vision.

“How do you know I’m not with child? What do you mean that I won’t be with one?”

Lord Rogers smiled a secret smile, his eyes twinkling in mirth and intrigue.

“My lovely maid, you’re so naïve. Haven’t you heard that even walls have ears? This is the royal palace, and you’re consorting with the prince. You already have many enemies.”

He pushed away from the wall and came for you before you could move. Cornered against the cabinet, he leaned close to you, taking in your scent.

“When he pushes you away, I’ll be waiting with open arms. Unlike him, I’ll actually make you mine.” He said.

He moved away not a second too soon as the doors opened with a bang and Tony swept inside. He looked at your scared, wide eyes before narrowing his gaze at Steve who gave him a small bow. Tony came up to you and took you in his arms, your body pressing into him.

“Steve, what are you doing here?” Tony asked, anger evident in his tone.

“Just bringing your lady some water that she asked for,” Steve replied. Tony looked at you in question and you nodded, burrowing your face in his chest. When it came to the two men, you would always choose the Prince.

“Get out. You’re not to be with her alone.”

Steve nodded and without another glance at you left the chambers. The moment he was gone, Tony fisted your hair and pulled you in a long and arduous kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“What did he really want?” Tony asked and you hugged him tighter.

You almost kept mum, scared that what Lord Rogers said was true and Tony would abandon you and throw you to him. But one look in Tony’s eyes and you knew he was much too possessive to even think about letting you go. So, trusting your gut you told him everything that Steve said.

“My little girl,” Tony said, your face cupped his hands, “tell me you didn’t believe a word that bastard said. I will never leave you.”

You nodded tearfully, snuggling into Tony’s warmth.

“He said I can’t bear your children.” You whispered and Tony grunted in displeasure.

“That’s something I’ll look into. Steve is not under my control anymore. He reports directly to my father, but you don’t worry about that. He’ll not get to you. I’ll kill him if he ever so much as looks at you again, I’ll kill him even if I have to bear my father’s wrath for killing one of his men.”

While Tony tried his best to reassure you of your safety, you wondered how much of that was true. Steve’s words made sense. Your relationship with the Prince must have made you enemies, and you wondered if running away would be a good choice even if you get a chance to do so. Staying with the Prince would guarantee you your life and protection, but if you leave and Steve catches you…you shivered in fear. Even the thought of him putting those hands on you made you sick.

You looked at Tony who was sleeping beside you, one of his hands clasping yours. You realized suddenly that though he may be a Prince, he was still not in control of his own destiny. If the danger you sensed in your heart was true, then not only were you in danger, but the Prince was being conspired against by his own people.

You touched your stomach, your mind going over Lord Roger’s words over and over. The way he said that you can’t bear kids…it made it sound like you couldn’t have Tony’s children, but the physician had said you were both is perfect health. Your head hurt with what that might imply, and you turned to the side, shifting closer to Tony’s warmth. His arms wrapped around you even in his sleep, and you closed your eyes, hoping sleep would claim you.

—————————————–

 TAGLIST IS OPEN FOR ALL CHARACTERS. LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED. 

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette: Stone Cold

Ok so i love this prompt but it took forever to get to. And as soon as I did its like suddenly I was swamped with everything. So frustrating. But I finally finished it. And I love it. @vixen-uchiha​

              Marinette was six-years-old when her parents died in a car crash. She had been at school when the vice principle, Mrs. Valmontes, stopped by and pulled her out of class. The little black haired girl had known something was wrong instantly as Valmontes had smiled just a little hard at her and much more gently than what she was known for.

           Still, she had been really surprised to see Office Raincomprix, her classmate Sabrina’s dad, waiting for her in the principle. Marinette always thought he was really nice; always jolly and quick to lend a hand to the teacher at the end of the day if he got to class early to pick up Sabrina. However, he too, seemed rather despondent when Marinette entered the room. His partner, a rookie named Lorna, looked really sad too.

           They took her down to the station where she was led to one of the back offices. Sabrina’s dad waited with her there. And then woman name Susanna LeFlont, who Marinette would later learn was a grief counselor. Then they told her.

           Susanna held her as she cried and begged and called them liars, until she couldn’t cry anymore. And then they gave her a stuffed animal, and said they would try calling her relatives to pick her up.

           They came back an hour later, saying they got ahold of her parents’ emergency contact…

           Marinette’s Uncle Jareth Dupain.

           She had frowned when they said his name because to her he had never been Jareth Dupain. No, he was always her cool Uncle Jagged. So it took her a second to remember that his real name was Jareth Dupain-Stone, her father’s younger half-brother. Marinette even briefly remember her dad mentioning having to change their emergency contact after his mom, Gina, passed away a few ago.

           He was only 20 when Marinette born and he was always a budding Rockstar so he wasn’t around too much. And 6 years later he was the biggest rockstar in the world. Still, that didn’t stop him from rushing to the police station, Penny hot on his trail, and pulled his sweet niece into the biggest hug he could.

           Jagged took his niece to the hotel room to get her settled and had Penny go back to the bakery to get some of her things. He didn’t think it was a smart idea to take her there yet; not when the wounds were still so fresh.

           Still as the twenty-six year old Rockstar stared at the small form cuddled up to Fang, he realized for the first time that he was all Marinette had in the world; the only family she had left. The only family he had left.

           So he knew, despite the lawyers taking days to contact him regarding who Marinette’s guardian would be, that it was him. Jagged was the person Tom had entrusted to protect and watch the most precious thing he had the entire world; his daughter. And he wouldn’t let his brother down.

Tom had always been the best big brother anyone could have. And when Jagged’s own father, Tom’s Stepfather (as tom’s own father had suffered a heartache when Tom was a teen), had walked out, Tom had stepped up. He showed Jagged, who was still called Jareth at the time, how to be a man. He believed in Jagged’s rockstar dream when Jagged didn’t even believe in them himself.

Jagged would do right Tom, by Sabine; he would do what they would do if the situation was reversed and they were given Jagged’s kid to care for.

He would raise Marinette as he own. And though he knew would never come close to being the father that Tom Dupain had been…

Jagged would damn well try to be.

…

…

Jagged Stone, Shattered Roses, Nightmare’s Hail Mary, Unmasked Dragon, True Born Rejects, and Emancipated Mirrors were some of the biggest rock band in the world. Whenever, they went on tour together, they were the epitome of what people thought Rock Stars were. They were loud. They partied all night. Groupies hung around everywhere. To them, it was paradise. When all the bands were invited to go on the Kings of Neverland tour, with Jagged Stone headlining, they expected very much the same as they were used to. Jagged always had the most Rockin tour bus. His parties were legendary. They came to expect it.

However, when Neon Savage (front man of the Shattered Roses), Austin Knight (Leader of Unmasked dragon and lead Guitarist), and Niklaus Bane (Lead vocalist of True Born Rejects) showed up with beers and all other sorts of alcohol the day before their opening concert for the tour, they came across something very unexpected.

Or rather someone.

A little Asian girl with pigtails in her Blue hair, a tiara on her head, in a rainbow tutu paired with a black too large Guns N Roses shirt, her hand on her hips, no shoes, and a rather large crocodile next to her.

“What’s with the ballerina?” Austin asked. He had dyed silver hair done in a stereotypical emo style, grey eyes, and too many piercings. He was slim and tall.

           Niklaus sighed in relief, “Oh good, you see her too!” He had curly blond hair, dark brown eyes, and wore mostly black. He had ripped jeans and a red tie. The tie was as red as the whites of his looked. “Why is your hair blue?”

“Because Uncle said I could,” She answered and pointed a figure at them, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Savage scoffed, “You got that twisted, kid.” He was a bulk guy, with long dark hair, and a severe expression on his face. His arms were covered in tattoos. He played in a metal band, and it was obvious. “Where’s your mommy?”

“Dead,” The little girl said bluntly. “I live with my Uncle Jagged now. This his tour bus, and you’re not supposed to be here.” She glared at them. “Fang, Stranger Danger!”

           What happened next was a bit of a blur. One minute they were fine, the next they were being chased around Jagged’s tour bus by a rather vicious crocodile while pint-sized twerp laughed.

           Lucky for them, their yells for help were overheard by Penny and Jagged who had been working in back, “What’s going on?” Penny asked as she ran in.

“Mates, what the h. e. double hockey sticks is going on?” Jagged asked right on his assistant’s tail.

           Austin, who had jumped on top one of the shelves, gave Jagged a confused look, “Better question; what the hell did you just say?”

“Ooohhhh! There’s five bucks for the swear jar!” The little girl taunted.

           Jagged glared at rockstar, “Watch it! A Kid’s in the room!”

           Savage glared at his longtime friend, “Who the fuck do you think set Fang on us?!” He cast a dark look at the crocodile. “Stranger danger my ass! I’ve known you sent you hatched, you overgrown cheap pair of boots.”

“That’s ten buck for the swear jar!” The girl said.

“Ten bucks?” Austin frowned. “Kinda of steep for just two swear words.”

“I swear to God-” Savage growled but was cut off.

“Chill, mate,” Jagged said. “This is my niece Marinette.” He gave her a loving smile. She beamed up at him brightly. He had been taking care of her for a year now. “I told ya about her.”

“You didn’t say she was Satan!” Austin whined. Fang had bitten him, the slowest of the three, quite a lot, and he had a giant hole in his jacket.

“I’m not Satan,” Marinette huffed. “I’m a ballerina, princess, Rockstar on my way to a tea party with Duchess Rosy Sparkles, of the Unicorn Fairies. And guess what, you’re not invited!”

“Oh that’s just mean,” Niklaus complained.

“She sicked a mini dinosaur on us,” Savaged hissed.

“Yeah, well, now she hurt my feelings.”

           Jagged sighed. The guys were some of his closest friends, and by the look up the “entertainment” they brought, they were ready to raze it up like always. But things had changed. Jagged couldn’t be that guy anymore. “Marinette’s staying with me from now on,” He reminded them. “No parties on the tour. She has a bedtime. And doesn’t need to see “us” at our finest, no matter how Rockin we are.” Jagged shrugged. “Spread the world, my bus is off limits.”

The rock stars grumbled a bit but didn’t leave. They could hang with Jagged without presence of booze, weed, loud music, and groupies. It would be a little weird but they’d managed. Jagged was their friend; they’d known him before any of them became famous and stayed close well after. They hadn’t been there for him as much as they wanted to after Tom died; too many commitments, too many required appearances in different countries that had taken them away. But they were there now. And if being there for one of their best friends meant regularly chilling with a six-year-old, then they’d deal.

Savage grunted, “Austin, get rid of the booze.”

“By ‘get rid of’, I assume you meant put back in my tour bus,” The silver haired guitarist corrected.

           Niklaus raised his hand like he was a student in class, “I get the whole no alcohol thing; that stuff will kill ya. But what your feelings on pot?”

           Jagged just sighed. It was going to be a long summer.

           The three musician, and even the other Rockers on tour, slowly but surely got used to the seemingly near constant presence of a six-year-old around Jagged or running around backstage. And the swear jar was a serious thing. It didn’t count when they were singing on stage but off it and anywhere near Marinette and they found themselves forking over five dollars for ever swear word. It added up a lot. And quickly.

           Jagged’s tour bus, instead of being the Party palace it used to be, now was the chill zone. It was also the cleanest of all the tour buses. No empty beer bottles everywhere. No one random passed out anywhere. No having to watch out for throw up. No rabid fans, as Jagged had increased his security to Tony Stark worthy levels.

           All they had to do was mind their manners and remember that Marinette was very impressionable at her age.

“OH screw you!!!!!!” Savage roared as he jumped up and frantically mashed buttons on his controller. “I’m not losing!”

           They had been babysitting Marinette all day while Jagged did an interview Buzzfeed.

           Austin snickered, “Says you.” His character raced past Savage’s. Only for something to hit him and send poor little Yoshi spinning out of control. “Did you- did you just blue shell me, bitch?” He hissed at Niklaus.

“Nooo!” Niklaus said sarcastically. “Hey!!! Not nice, brat!” He told Marinette after a banana caused him to slip off the ice.

           Marinette smiled easily, but there was a determined look in her eyes. Her hair was jelled into a faux-hawk courtesy of Ashley Crimson, from lead singer for Emancipated Mirrors, an all-girl punk rock band.

“Die, scumbag!” Ashley roared as her racer zoomed by. She was a vivacious redhead. Her and her bandmates got used to being some of the only girls around that weren’t either working for one of the rock stars or were scantily clad fangirls who do “anything” to get backstage.

“You’re going down, twerp!” Savage told Marinette.

“Bite me!” She snapped back just as Jagged and Penny walked into the tour bus.

           Jagged crossed his arms, “What did you morons do to my sweet little niece?”

“Nothing!” Niklaus, Ashley, Savage, and Austin chimed together.

“Savage taught me to throw a punch, and or kill a man.” Marinette smiled happily. “I helped Austin set up a glitter bomb in Nightmare’s Hail Mary tour bus. Niklaus and I are banned from Chuckie Cheese. Ashley and I spray painted her ex boyfriend’s car. Cleo and I got arrested. We disturbed the peace!!” Cleo was a pink haired girl who played drummer from Nightmare’s Hail Mary. She had to rush off for her own interview. “Oh and we’ve only been Playing Mario kart for an hour but they each owe like a hundred bucks to the swear jar.”

           There was silence as the words were processed.

“And not one of us taught her how to keep a freaking secret?” Ashley face palmed.

           Jagged just sighed.

…

…

           For the next few years that was Marinette’s life. Austin, Niklaus, Savage and Ashley became pseudo Uncles and Aunt to Marinette.

She spent most of her childhood on tour with her Uncle; going from to place, concert after concert. Marinette was homeschooled and didn’t mind it. Jagged went on tour with a bunch of different people over the years and she got to meet all sorts musicians; Clara Nightingale, Ed Sheeran, Adam Levine, Brendon Urie from Panic! At the Disco, Taylor Swift. Her favorite were the award shows though. Through them, she got to meet all her favorite actors. And was inspired to start designing on her own clothes after seeing so many fabulous looks. She got to model and do some acting. In her free time, she ran a very popular fashion blog/youtube channel.

The press had always loved her. To them, she was Marinette Stone (Jagged didn’t want her real name released to the media). She was always on the best dressed list, frequently seen with various celebrities, and could be found on the cover of various magazine.

However, when Marinette was eleven, she begged her Uncle to let her go to school with other kids. She was getting older and she wanted to have some type of normal childhood. It took him a year to agree. Her uncle Jagged had become quite protective over the years.

So Marinette went back to Paris. She cut her hair, used her given name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Her Uncle bought a grand penthouse not too far away from her new school, and whenever he was gone her bodyguard, a sweet woman named Harlow who was former CIA, was in charge of her. She started at her new school with a smile on her face.

Not long after, she became the hero Ladybug.

Everything was great. She had friends, a normal social life, went to school with other kids her age. She wasn’t constantly being followed around by paparazzi. She still ran her fashion blog and had frequently updates. It was perfect.

It took two years for it to go bust.

The reason’s name was Lila Rossi.

And she was the biggest liar Marinette had ever met. And Marinette had grown up in the entertainment industry.

Lila made wild claims that the other kids just ate up. A simple google search could refute all of them. The ones Marinette could stand was always about Jagged. Like her Uncle, or an airline, would be reckless enough to let a kid race on to an airport to save a cat; not that Jagged had ever own one. Fang was territorial.

Lila made her out to be a bully, and slowly Marinette lost all her friends. Her only one left was Adrien, her partner Chat Noir. The blond and Marinette had modeled together a few times and he had recognized Marinette despite her new looked but he kept it a secret. Because of their history, Marinette developed a crush on the other and Adrien was quick to lose his crush on Ladybug once he found out it was his dear friend behind the mask.

When Marinette was exiled to the back, Adrien was quick to join her (much to Lila’s fury) and nothing could change his mind. Mostly because he was sick of Lila always touching him despite his vocal protests, and Bustier not doing anything about it.

Soon Marinette things started being messed up or destroyed; her homework, her sketchbooks and pencils, her jacket. She was tripped and called rude names. Her cellphone, (Well one of her phones. She had two; one she used as Marinette Stone. One for Marinette Dupain-Cheng; a number only her classmates had.) was filled with mean texts.

Bustier caved to demands and had her excluded from class trips and events due to being a negative influence; again Adrien decided not to go either, and Lila was Akumatized once he said this. Marinette hadn’t been surprised. Bustier always ignored the bullying and harassment clearly happening in front of her. Still, Marinette decided to start recording her classes a hidden camera on her desk, on the corner of the celling and even on top of the whiteboard behind Bustier. It was just in case anything took a serious turn.

Still losing all her friends because of a few promises and dreams of glitz and glamour had been a wakeup call. Her Uncle had warned her. Her Aunt Penny, who Jagged had married with Marinette was ten, had warned her. So did Savage, Ashley, Cleo, Austin, Clara, and Niklaus. They told Marinette to watch out for fake friends and gold diggers, coattail clingers and desperate wannabes; people who would sell out every secret she had to the paparazzi behind her back just for five minutes in the spot light. So called friends who would do anything to get ahead, to get famous.

And it was clear that’s who most of her ex-friends were. Even Lila learned the hard way. When she told Alya about her mom meeting with some important celebrity about their Go Green initiative, this wasn’t a lie as it would turn out. However, the glasses-wearing girl posted it online, despite Lila legitimately asking her to keep it a secret. Lila got in big trouble with her mom apparently.

The teacher, Bustier, was awful but she always had been. Marinette ignored it in the past because at least she had her friends. But if that witch told Marinette to be a better example one more time, it was over.

           Everything came to a head after Marinette got expelled, granted she was brought back after evidence that it was impossible for her to have cheated surfaced, and the bluenette decided enough was enough. She finally gave in and told her Uncle everything.

           Jagged was pissed. He cursed up a storm; enough to fill the swear jar ten times over and buy Marinette a car.

           It took a while to get him to calm down. And to convince him that Marinette could handle it. She had a plan.

           Still, she remembered that Uncle was a wild card.

           Friday, during lunch, Marinette was eating in the cafeteria, when suddenly the lunchroom doors burst open, “Marinette,” Jagged called as he entered, trailed by a happy Penny and bodyguards “Where’s my favorite little fashion designer?”

           Marinette just sighed.

Adrien smirked at her; looking way too amused. The jerk must’ve known. She had thought it was strange that he wanted to eat in the cafeteria. The two rarely ate on the school grounds, opting and preferring to go to local restaurants rather than deal with terrible food and pesky classmates. Still Marinette didn’t mind as long as they away from her classmates. And they did.

Kagami, Aurore, and Claude gave her perplexed looks.

           The students in the cafeteria went wild. Girls and guys screamed, and tried to get pictures. Jagged ignored them and went straight to Marinette’s table, walking passed where Bustier’s student at lunch. Alya shook Lila’s shoulder and pointed at Jagged, and loudly asked if Lila could get her an interview. Lila looked horrified.

Jagged beamed when he reached Marinette, “There you are, you’ve been ignoring my texts,” He accused. Which to be fair, Marinette had been. Her Uncle had been coming up with way too many revenge plots to be healthy. “I decided I need a new look for the VMAs; something rockin, something tasteful, something to show remind the world the amazingness that the Rock Gods have blessed them with.”

“I’m at school,” Marinette told him.

           He smirked, “Then Learn to answer a text,” The Rock star shrugged. “But fine; we can talk later. How about at my concert, yeah. You and your friends” he motioned to the kids at Marinette’s table, “Can have backstage passes. We’ll talk then. But I really want you to wow me. Maybe get a matching hat for Fang too.”

“Fang?” Adrien asked innocently. Still Marinette could practically hear see the script he was reading off of.  “Is that your cat?”

           Jagged gasped as if insulted, “Cat? Do you think I’d ever own anything as ordinary as a cat? Me? Jagged Stone?! I should be insulted, mate. I hate cats, always have. Never owned one, never will. Fang’s a crocodile. Marinette’s knows. Fang loves her.”

“That is strange,” Kagami shot Marinette a smirk which caused Marinette to nearly hiss at the betrayal. Kagami knew too?! “Lila said you did.”

“Lila?” Jagged asked. “Who’s Lila? I don’t know a Lila.”

“Lila Rossi?” Aurore offered. “The Ladyblog practically swears in an interview that Lila Rossi saved your cat from being hit by a plane or something.”

           Jagged scoffed, “What a loud of bull! Any journalist that believes that is not worth the pen they write with.” Gasps were heard. “But I heard that rumor. Didn’t know where it was from. Thanks for letting me know who I should sue. This Ladyblog and Lila Rossi will be hearing from my lawyers.”

           It was a photo finish as to who fainted first; Alya or Lila.

           Lila went home right after that. This caused the reactions of the class to be split. Half the class still defended Lila; refusing to believe their golden ticket was lying. The other half was ready to burn her at the stake; they had carried her books, done her homework, wrote her notes, nearly everything for her.

           Marinette just sat back and watched with amused eyes. If they thought this was bad, they hadn’t seen anything yet.

           That weekend Marinette Stone released a video on her blog about bullying. She had been mentioning her own trouble with bullying for months and people had asked her for more information.

           The title of the video was:

           Bullying Stone: The Expose

           In it Marinette revealed that at her school she went by Marinette Dupain-Cheng, her real name, and had a new look. She told about how much she liked school at first. And they what changed; that it all started when a new girl arrived and started telling lies about celebrities about Marinette. She told the story of how she was expelled; and just how many procedures were broken when it happened.

           Marinette used the recordings she had of class, and even showed up the horrible texts she got.

“As you can see the teacher does nothing,” Marinette frowned. “It’s all happening right in front of her and she does nothing. In the next video, you’ll see someone being sexually harassed, in front of the teacher and she doing nothing about it. And then what victim blaming looks like. Again, as a reminder, all these videos and pictures are unedited.” She had offered to blur Adrien’s face but he declined, and even appeared in the video too and talked about his own experience.

           At the end of the video, Marinette looked straight at the camera, “Anyone can be bullied; famous or otherwise. If you’re being bullied; speak up. Tell your parents, your Aunts, your Uncles, your siblings, your cousins, teachers who you know will actually do something about it. I waited too long to tell someone. I regret that. They thought what they were doing was hurting me.  They thought I’d be miserable without them. They thought I’d cry and break and come crawling back to them. They thought wrong. You can bully Stone but it takes a hell of a lot more than that to break it.”

           The video went viral in an hour. And people were angry. The people who knew Marinette and loved her were beyond furious. Jagged, even more so, as he hadn’t seen the videos before, read the texts.

           Marinette Stone’s phone blew up with texts and calls. She was tweeted and retweeted thousands of times. And she got far too many, ‘You want me to kick their asses for you. I can kick their asses for you,” texts. But she had known she’d get them.

           The Ladyblog was ripped for lies by celebrities who been lied about on site and fans.

           Gabriel Agreste, Adrien told her, was pissed about what had been happening to Adrien, in front of a teacher no less. Lila Rossi fired. And if Lila ever had dreams about working in the fashion industry, they were over.

           Savage, after berating her for not kicking Lila’s ass, told her he and the gang (Austin, Cleo, Ashley, and And Niklaus) was coming over for some Mario Kart and artery clogging fast food.

           When the call disconnect, Marinette got a text from him.

Why did you sic Fang on them?

And that’s a five for the swear jar!

           Marinette couldn’t stop laughing.    

[notaqueenakhaleesi]

AHAHAHHAHAHA

That is the case though. Like she hadn’t even done anything remotely “mad queen” other than watch her best friend get murdered and REACT to it like any normal person would— and Varys and Tyrion just turn on her like that because now they know that Jon has a better claim because he’s a man.

Like what is the message D&D want to send?

Even a completely made up fantasy world is exactly the same as the one we live in where if you are a man you have better rights over women? That is, unless you’re a stark.

And let’s not forget, every woman in power is mad, yes? But if a man did anything— like burning random people plus his own daughter alive because the leader of your chosen cult says so/using wildfire to destroy stannis’ fleet— it’s a power move 🤷🏻‍♀️

I’m just ranting here and honestly I could go on for days about it, but IF you are at war then surely you will do everything in your power to WIN the war. That includes using whatever assets you own. So dany using dragon fire to destroy Cersei’s army in spoils of war/battle of KL is just the same as Tyrion using wildfire to destroy stannis’ fleet in black water.

Dany proves many times in the past seasons that she is nothing like her father and only uses her power against her enemies. Which people still call her mad for IDK.

Point is, if you take away what happened at kings landing before dumb and dumber tried to make her a villain, she literally did what everybody else would’ve have done in order to win. But everyone would rather follow somebody who spouts the same three lines in the span of six episodes just because he’s the pRInCE wHo wAS PRoMisED and because Varys — somebody who everybody knows can’t be trusted— says so 🙃

And then in the end it doesn’t even matter. Honestly this whole season felt like a bunch of fanfics who were written by completely different people and then just mashed together in way that felt like it could work.

Still don’t know how this won an Emmy

Sorry. Rant over. For now.

[motownfiction]

stale cornbread

They serve stale cornbread with dinner. In retrospect, nobody knows what else they expected. Sam picks up his slice and drops it on his plate. It lands with an almost cartoonish thud.

“Well, the good news is, if I need a weapon in the middle of the night, I’ve got one,” he says, just to pick it up and drop it again. “Blunt force trauma of the edible kind!”

“I’m not sure we have enough time to pick apart all the puns in that,” Lucy says.

“What do you know?” Will asks. “You’re so straight edge, even Minor Threat wants you to chill out.”

“Do you like being married to me, Will?”

“Not as much as you like being married to me.”

Lucy narrows her eyes at him before quickly kissing him on the mouth. Sadie turns her head and looks at the floor. Watching Lucy and Will has never been so much before. She feels Daniel’s hand on her back, and she thinks she might crawl out of her skin.

“Man, it really sucks that Fischer won’t let you and Lucy bunk together tonight,” Daniel says, his hand still firmly placed on Sadie’s back. “I was really hoping I could sneak out and share a room with Sadie.”

Sadie feels herself turn bright red before she turns stark white. She stares at her food and wonders what will happen if she eats the stale cornbread. Maybe she’ll get sick, and then nobody will want to bunk with her. For a second, it feels like the right thing to do.

“It all sucks, man,” Will says. “But I know my wife, and if we try to pull something after somebody already told us no, she’s gonna freak.”

Lucy turns to Will with a sharp look in her eye.

“You know you’re sitting next to me, right?” she asks. “Like, you know that’s something you’re doing right now?”

Will winks at Lucy like he’s much cooler than he really is.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he says.

“Well, what about me?” Daniel asks – a little more demanding than he usually gets. “Am I gonna have to room with Mark Doherty and his bad taste in music or what?”

All eyes land on Will, who swallows hard, almost like he took a bite of the stale cornbread. He looks back at them like an animal realizing he’s in the zoo.

“Don’t all stare at me,” he says.

“Can’t avoid it,” Sam says. “You made it pretty hard not to.”

“Yeah, especially when you said you promised on your daughter’s life you’d get me into a good room and everything,” Daniel adds.

Lucy’s hand comes down on Will’s shoulder and almost scares the shit out of him.

“Yeah, Will,” she says. “Did you figure this out, or are we gonna have to give our daughter to Rumplestiltskin?”

“I always get Rumplestiltskin confused with Rapunzel,” Steph says.

“I think Rumplestiltskin kidnapped Rapunzel,” Daniel says.

“Is that it?”

“I like to say ‘Raputa,’” Sam says. “‘Hey, Raputa! Raputa the Beauta! Flip me down your hair! Let me climb up to the ladder of your love!’”

“Thank God J. Geils is here,” Sadie says. “I don’t know what we’d do with him.”

Sam does finger guns at his sister, and she rolls her eyes.

“Seriously, did Rumplestiltskin kidnap Rapunzel?” Steph asks.

“No!” Lucy says, as though they’re all childishly stupid for wondering.

“Then who’s Rapunzel?”

“Rapunzel’s the girl in the tower with very long hair.”

“But didn’t Rumplestiltskin put her there?”

“No! Am I the only one who understands the differences between Brothers Grimm fairy tales around here?”

“Yes!”

Lucy turns an awkward shade of red and bows her head, staring into the instant mashed potatoes on her plate. They’re even worse when they’re cold.

“Well, you try having a baby daughter at seventeen,” she mutters. “You learn all sorts of subtle differences between fairy tales you never thought you’d have to learn before.”

“We all know that’s a lie,” Sam says. “You knew way more weird shit about fairy tales before you ever knew one thing about changing a diaper.”

“Some days, she still can’t remember what to do with a diaper,” Will says, and Lucy shoots him another sharp look.

“Uh-huh,” she says. “Are you just happy this conversation took the heat off you?”

“As a matter of fact, no,” he says. “I know exactly how I’m gonna help Daniel get a good room tonight.”

“And yet, you’re saying nothing.”

“That’s because none of you will let me.”

He looks around the room to see if there’s anybody listening. Luckily for him (and everyone else involved), Mr. Fischer is telling a very bored Mrs. Renaud about the time he saw Suzi Quatro at the mall. He’ll continue to tell that story for years, long after the time any of his students know who Suzi Quatro is.

Will looks back at Lucy with a clever smile on his lips. She’d kiss it right off him if she wasn’t waiting to hear what he was going to say.

“OK, so first thing is that Lucy should unpack her bag.”

[elwenyere]

A Very Small Grease Fire (and Other Human Disasters)

(Thanksgiving ficlet for the Stony and Avengers fam; also on AO3)

The Avengers didn’t have the best track record with Thanksgiving. The first time the dinner had ended in disaster, it had been Steve’s fault. One rainy fall Sunday, just months after the Battle of New York, Steve had been picking at a bowl of mint-chip ice cream, feeling tired of getting looks of sympathy about the holidays and absolutely exhausted by feeling sorry for himself. If Bruce and Clint hadn’t chosen that particular afternoon to ask him whether there was anything special he wanted for Thanksgiving – raising the question with just enough gentleness to make Steve’s jaw tighten – he probably would have said, “I’m a sweet potatoes guy” and left it at that.

Instead, Steve had been seized by a spirit of mischief. Putting on his most morose poker face, he had proceeded to invent a series of Depression-era dishes, from “Hoover Rolls” to “Poor Man’s Potatoes,” the recipes for which he concocted out of the blandest ingredients he could imagine. By the time he was in the process of describing his third Crisco-based dessert, Steve was sure he had gone far enough to reveal the joke; but Bruce and Clint had continued nodding encouragingly and jotting down notes.

The results had been borderline inedible. And even though the sight of Tony doubled over with laughter when Steve finally fessed up had thawed out a part of his heart he hadn’t even known was still on ice, the experience of eating a holiday dinner in which half the dishes tasted like over-starched socks forced even Steve to admit that the prank had been a bit of a Pyrrhic victory.

The second time…well, Steve would have said the second time was his fault too – though he supposed the rest of the team would blame the extremists who tried to kidnap the governor. Clint had just started basting the turkey when the “Assemble” alarm went off, and the team had to pile in the Quinjet to deal with a hostage situation at the capitol. It should have been an easy job – in and out with plenty of time to take the butter for the piecrust out of the freezer – but then one of the extremists had pulled the pin on a grenade just yards away from a state senator’s eight-year-old son, and four hours later Steve was waking up in the burn unit at Walter Reed hospital with the anguished sound of someone shouting his name still ringing in his ears.

“You fucking idiot,” the same voice had greeted him, and Steve looked up to see Tony sitting by his bed, the lines around his eyes drawn tight over a surgical mask. “You’re supposed to be a tactical genius, and you haven’t learned a single new method for containing explosives since basic training in 1943? I’m going to equip your suit with goddamn ballistic plates.”

“Tony,” Steve managed, feeling a halo of pain radiate up his scalp. “Are you okay? Was anyone hurt?”

Steve thought he saw something mist across Tony’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. The more fully he became aware of his body, the more he noticed the pull of his skin cells contracting in uneven loops around the burns on his torso, and it was taking a considerable amount of energy to keep Tony’s face in focus.

“Everybody’s fine but you, Steve,” Tony assured him. “And the doctors said you should be able to move to the general floor in a few hours. So shut those baby blues and let the serum do its job, because there’s a whole team of keyed-up superheroes waiting to see you, and they’re emptying the hospital vending machines fast enough to cause a run on the Frito-Lay factory.”

Steve had drifted in and out of consciousness for a while after that, finally waking up long enough to eat a holiday dinner of contraband take-out, which Natasha had smuggled into the hospital using only Thor’s tendency to knock over delicate instruments and Bruce’s oversized jacket.

“When you sign up to be an Avenger, no one warns you about doing overtime as a falafel mule,” Bruce had mused, leaning back to let Natasha steal a fry off his plate.

“I still think we could have gotten that eighth kebab if you’d been willing to consider pant legs as additional real estate,” she told him.

"You should all be eating stuffing and pumpkin pie,” Steve grimaced. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here on Thanksgiving.”

“Listen, Cap,” Clint replied, waving a dolma at him, “if you’re going to apologize for anything, apologize for the purgatory potatoes you tricked me into making last year. At least this year we have food that doesn’t have the texture of fast-drying cement.”

“Those tubers had truly been abandoned by the gods,” Thor agreed solemnly. “But I maintain that the Big Band Banana Pie was actually quite delicious.”

“Just don’t make the third-degree burns and hypovolemic shock a holiday habit, Rogers,” Tony put in. “Some of us are trying to watch our blood pressure.”

Tony had leaned over to adjust the settings on Steve’s bed as he spoke, and by the time he finished, a dull tugging sensation across Steve’s chest had loosened – the pain subsiding almost before Steve could register that it had been bothering him.

So that was why, after two years of throwing wrenches in the Avengers’ Thanksgiving plans, Steve was determined to make sure that year three went off without a hitch. He’d drawn up an elaborate plan for maximizing the utility of the Tower kitchen’s two ovens and seven burners and for optimizing the team’s various culinary skills. The operatives had been briefed the night before, and by 10:30 AM on Thursday, Steve was fluting a pie crust, Bruce was stripping fresh thyme leaves into an herb blend, Clint was whipping up a roux for the mushroom gravy, Thor was mashing potatoes and parsnips in an industrial-strength metal vat, and Natasha was dicing carrots and celery with a speed and precision that felt vaguely unsettling.

After checking the team’s progress against his itinerary, Steve turned to the next task on his own list: bringing Tony Stark his emergency coffee. Bruce had just made a second pot, and Steve poured some into the largest cup he could find: a purple novelty mug, featuring a drawing of the Hulk and the words “You Wouldn’t Like Me Without My Coffee.” He paused to tuck a few biscuits into a napkin (Tony’s relief at sighting fresh coffee sometimes opened up a narrow window during which Steve could feed him breakfast without being noticed), and headed down to the lab.

He found Tony standing with both arms braced against his worktable, designs for what looked like the paneling of Steve’s uniform projected in front of him. Steve cleared his throat, and Tony whirled around, the slump of his shoulders morphing into a graceful lounge by the time he was facing Steve.

“I was just about to come up,” he said. “I have a few finishing touches left here and then I’m all yours, Cap. Give me everything that can survive being the tiniest bit overcooked.”

Steve walked over to put Tony’s coffee on the table and then felt his breath catch in his throat when Tony reached out and took the mug from his hand instead.

“There’s no need,” Steve responded to cover his reaction, flexing the hand that had brushed Tony’s as he let it fall back to his side. “We’ve got the schedule covered for now. I was actually hoping I could talk you into a snack break.”

He waved the napkin of biscuits experimentally.

“Are you cutting me from the Thanksgiving roster, Rogers?” Tony asked. “Just because one time I set a very small grease fire – which I contained almost immediately, by the way.”

“The vase I broke when I sprinted into the kitchen would beg to differ,” Steve smiled. “But it’s not that. I just wanted to do this for you: a big dinner and sitting down with family.”

“For me?” Tony blinked at him. “Why?”

Steve started to cross his arms across his chest before realizing that he would risk crushing the biscuits. He settled for clasping his wrist with his free hand instead, widening his stance slightly and taking a deep breath. Come on, Rogers. Take it on the chin.

“Because I wanted to tell you that I woke up in this century alone,” he said, “and that you were the first person stubborn enough to make sure I wouldn’t stay that way. Now I wake up to a kitchen full of people who tease me about my lists but who know why I need them – who will eat dinner rolls that taste like soggy chalk just to make me feel at home.” He paused. “People who stay by my side for eight straight hours at the hospital.”

Steve looked up and caught Tony’s eyes, his heart rate picking up speed as memories of those same eyes flashed through his mind in quick succession: tearing up with laughter over a plate of cornstarched bananas, pinched with fear over a surgical mask, narrowed in concentration over the remote control for an adjustable bed.

“Romanov has an awfully big mouth for a spy,” Tony said with a rueful smile.

“I think it was a tactical leak,” Steve acknowledged, “to motivate her mark. She knew I needed a push. Because I’ve messed up the past two years, and I needed to tell you: pretty much everything I’m thankful for in my new life is here because of you.”

Tony was staring at him, his eyes darting quickly across Steve’s face as if JARVIS were scanning it for data. Steve held up under the silent scrutiny as long as he could before letting out an explosive breath.

“Anyway, sorry to interrupt you,” he said quickly. “You’ve got work to do, and I’ve got to go make sure everything’s on track upstairs. I’ll uh – I’ll have Bruce come get you when dinner’s ready.”

He started to make an about face toward the door, but Tony caught his arm and held him in place.

“Give a guy a goddamn minute, Steve,” he said softly. “I’m having to do a major cognitive reboot over here. It takes a while for the operating system to come back online. Just…sit down? Let me show you the new flame retardants I’m adding to your uniform.”

Steve complied. And as he watched Tony run through the specs, gulping coffee and nibbling absently at the biscuits, he realized that he knew what Tony was saying even before Tony finally spoke the words: “I’m thankful every time you wake up.”